Winter of the Wolf Read online

  She wasn’t of the clan though. She carried no shifter scent, and she was far past the age when a Daonain begins to trawsfur. Perhaps her parents knew some shifters.

  “You were lost in a forest when they found you,” Shay

  “You were lost in a forest when they found you,” Shay said.

  “Why, yes. How did you know?” Breanne asked.

  Shay winced. Apparently, Breanne had talked to her doggie friend. What else had Elvis learned?

  “I thought that’s what Zeb meant,” Shay answered in an innocent voice.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  Someone pounded on the door.

  When Bree startled, Zeb instinctively moved between her and the entrance.

  Shay took point and answered the door. “Evening, Alec.” Alec was stil in his sheriff’s uniform. “I couldn’t find you at the lodge, and I heard voices here. I thought we were meeting at eleven.”

  Zeb glanced at the sky, visible through the doorway. Late.

  “Sorry. We lost track of time,” Shay said. “Our renter stuffed us like geese for the slaughter.” Shay returned to Bree and held out his hand. After a second, she put her fingers into his grasp. “Thank you, Breanne. It was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for al the help.” Before she could pul away, Shay drew her hand to his lips and kissed her palm so slowly and thoroughly that a flush rose in her cheeks.

  As Shay joined Alec, Zeb took his place. Unable to resist As Shay joined Alec, Zeb took his place. Unable to resist pushing her limits himself, he cupped her cheek. Silky smooth and pale. The little female was like peach tree wood, delicate grained, but incredibly durable. “I also thank you.” He paused. “Bree.”

  Her breath hitched.

  Pleasure rippled through him, for along with the faint scent of fear, he caught something more elusive—a whiff of arousal.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory ~ Dark of the moon

  My last night here. Her three weeks had flown by, and tomorrow, she’d leave for home. Only she didn’t have a home any longer, did she? Melancholy shadowing her, Bree stood in her doorway, staring into the night. No moon ruled the sky, and darkness reigned. The cabin echoed with emptiness.

  Faint country music wafted from The Wild Hunt like an invitation. She stepped into the cabin to get her coat and purse. The tavern would have people and noise. Just what purse. The tavern would have people and noise. Just what she needed.

  A few minutes later, she puled into the half-empty parking lot. Strange—the place was usualy packed on a Friday night.

  As she grabbed her purse and slid out of the car, Boot Scootin’ Boogie drifted through the air unchalenged by loud voices.

  No matter. Calum and probably Vicki would be there.

  Maybe Shay and Zeb also, since the lodge was dark.

  The thought of the two men made her smile. Shay had kissed her palm, and the look in his eyes had said he’d wanted to do more. Lots more. Just thinking about him set off a tugging deep in her lower half, a…wanting.

  Not only him either. The memory of how Zeb had cupped her face in his big hand seemed to heat up the chil night.

  Bad Bree. How could she be attracted to both Shay and his partner? But she was. Her arms wrapped around herself as she remembered the way Zeb’s dark, dark eyes would glint with amusement, how a corner of his mouth would curl up, almost against his wil, at something she’d said. She wanted him to wrap those muscular arms around her.

  She stared at the tavern, shocked to realize that for the first time, she was actualy interested in guys…like a perfectly normal woman. Jeez, this was so amazing.

  Delighted with herself, she spun in the pale glow of the streetlight, then stopped at a sound from the right.

  streetlight, then stopped at a sound from the right.

  A smal figure trotted across the road with something in her arms. Blonde hair glinted in the parking lot lights. Slender.

  Young. Vicki’s daughter.

  Zipping up her sweatshirt, Bree walked toward her.

  “Jamie, what are you doing out here?”

  The girl stopped, so revved up that she hummed like a racecar engine. “Hey, Bree.” She was holding a squirming puppy. “I heard something crying, and I snuck out. Some tourist must have tossed him in the ditch.” She giggled as the fuzzbal energeticaly licked her chin. “Isn’t he cute?” Bree fondled the downy soft ears. “He’s adorable.” She glanced at the ditch, then the second floor where Vicki said they lived. “You heard him from up there?”

  “I’ve got good ears.” Jamie shifted her weight with a nervous glance at the tavern. “I need to get inside. We’re not supposed to go out after dark tonight, and if Daddy finds out, I’l be doing dishes for a month.”

  We? “Scoot.” Hopefuly the girl wouldn’t get into trouble for her good deed.

  As Jamie trotted toward the private gate at the right of the building, Bree headed for the bar. Her anticipation started to rise. Would Zeb or Sh—

  A terrified scream split the night air. A yelp of pain.

  Bree spun and broke into a run. “Jamie? Jamie!” There she was—sprawled on the ground, trying to stand.

  There she was—sprawled on the ground, trying to stand.

  The puppy cowered against her legs.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I saw something. Something awful.” Jamie regained her feet and snatched up the dog. She turned in a circle, her young face twisted with fear.

  As Bree searched the darkness, she smeled it. Decaying meat, rotten orange peels. The monster. Her heart slammed into overdrive.

  Had it folowed her from Seattle?

  A rustling noise came from the right, barely audible over the country music. Probably no one inside had heard the kid scream. Undoubtedly, the monster had.

  Quietly, despite her trembling hands, Bree slid the pistol from her bag. “Come here, Jamie. Now.” She dropped her purse and shoved the kid behind her. The memory of doing the same with Ashley stabbed at her, but a spark of anger burned away some fear. This time…this time, she’d kil the thing.

  “Bree,” Jamie whispered. “It’s—”

  “Shhh. You run…” Bree paused. The creature had attacked Ashley first. Did running incite it? “Wait til it charges me. Then you run. And scream for help.” Step by step, she backed them toward the tavern. Please, God, let me get the child close enough to get in the door.

  “It’s a helhound.” Jamie pressed closer. “I don’t think—” The leafless bushes at the lot’s edge rustled, and the monster stepped out. Huge. Bony plates. Eyes the color of dried blood.

  It is—it really is the monster. Bree’s hands turned cold and numb, and she gasped for air, not finding any. As her body remembered the horrific pain, every nerve shrieked for her to flee. Screams echoed in her memory. She spun…and bumped into Jamie.

  A child. Can’t run. She fought the constriction in her lungs.

  I have a weapon.

  The monster advanced a few steps, red-brown eyes focused on them. But it seemed smaler. Thinner.

  It was smaler. Not the same creature? There were more?

  With a vicious snarl, the helhound trotted across the lot toward them.

  Bree took a step forward and snapped, “Run, Jamie!” Don’t let it look at the girl. As Jamie fled, screaming shrily, Bree aimed. She puled the trigger three times. Bulets hit the creature along the head and shoulders. Dul thuds. A ping as something hit the concrete. Why wasn’t it bleeding? Dying?

  Terror iced her bely as the creature advanced, step by step. She couldn’t stop it. The shark-shaped head turned toward Jamie.

  No no no. You can’t have her. Bree charged and puled the trigger. If she could divert it long enough…

  Even as the pistol clicked on empty, the creature veered Even as the pistol clicked on empty, the creature veered toward the child.

  Bree rammed into its shoulder. It staggered back a step, then turned.


  Jaws closed over her forearm. Its teeth punched through her sweatshirt, through her skin, into her flesh. Pain ripped up her arm. Hurts; it hurts. As her vision fogged, her knees buckled.

  Something barreled into the creature.

  It released her and whirled.

  Bree gasped. “No, Jamie!” But it wasn’t the kid.

  Zeb had hit it. On his hands and knees, he tried to dodge, but the helhound grabbed his leg. He grunted in pain.

  No! Arm burning like fire, Bree scrambled to her feet.

  Elvis darted from the darkness and attacked from the rear.

  The big dog’s growls filed the air.

  With a snarl, the monster dropped Zeb and whipped around.

  Elvis jumped away—too slow. He yelped as the monster caught him, shook, and flung him across the concrete.

  Zeb roled to his feet, puling a pistol from a tied-down holster. “Hey!”

  The monster turned, and Zeb fired. The bulets thudded duly. Some were deflected off the plating, shattering the concrete.

  “Fuck.” With a growl, Zeb puled a knife from a hip sheath

  “Fuck.” With a growl, Zeb puled a knife from a hip sheath and planted his feet.

  An uncontrolable scream rose in Bree’s throat. His knife wouldn’t work. It would break as hers had. The men had no idea what this was.

  The monster charged Zeb.

  Snatching her revolver off the ground, Bree threw it, then gravel as wel. “Get away from him!”

  It veered toward her…

  Elvis attacked again. The monster snapped around and ripped at the dog’s furry neck. Elvis gave a pained, gut-wrenching whine.

  Zeb lunged forward in a low dive, hit the pavement on his shoulder, and roled onto his back. Half-under the monster, he punched his knife up into the beast’s bely.

  In. The knife went in. Bree stared as Zeb slashed toward the monster’s back legs, gutting it like a chicken.

  Dark blood gushed. Everywhere. Snarling continuously, the creature staggered. Fel. It landed heavily on Zeb, and he cursed.

  As the rust-colored eyes filed with emptiness, Bree panted. Would it get up? In movies, monsters always came back to life.

  It didn’t move. And Zeb was alive, swearing and trying to shove out from under the thing.

  Elvis. His furry body lay unmoving.

  Elvis. His furry body lay unmoving.

  “No. No, this can’t happen.” Tears blurring her eyes, Bree to him. Not Elvis. Not another death. Oh please. She fel to her knees beside the dog. He whined. Stil alive. She hugged him with her uninjured arm. “You saved us. Please be okay.” But blood poured from his gashed flesh, warm over her chiled fingers. Too much blood.

  Choking on sobs, she tried to check how badly he was hurt, but the lot was too dark and kept getting darker. She heard people running, yeling. Getting closer, even as the noise slowly faded…

  Shay! Zeb tried to see over the helhound’s body, but fucking plating pinned his legs against the concrete.

  The sound Shay had made rang in his ears. And Bree—

  where was she? Sweating with fear, Zeb shoved at the helhound, ripping his leathers, then his skin on the sharp points of the armor. Finaly, it shuddered and died, shifting back to its lighter human form.

  “Fucking demon scum.” Zeb pushed the corpse off and staggered to his feet. Pain blazed down his leg as he half-ran, half-limped to Shay.

  Find Bree too. How the hel had she gotten hurt? In a town of shifters, no helhound would attack a human. It should have gone straight for Calum’s werecat kid.

  When Zeb reached Bree and Shay, he tried to kneel. His When Zeb reached Bree and Shay, he tried to kneel. His leg buckled, and his knees impacted the pavement in a blast of agony. “Fuck!” Teeth clenched, he slid closer.

  Bree was out cold, lying half across the wolf.

  “Dammit, little female.” His chest tightened as he remembered how she’d deliberately drawn the helhound’s attention. So appalingly gutsy. He gently moved her off of Shay, so he could check their wounds.

  His gut clenched. Blood everywhere, from both of them: matting the fur on Shay’s shoulder and neck, drenching Bree’s pale blue sleeve with darkness. Fuck, where was he supposed to start?

  The weaker human. He tore her sweatshirt sleeve away.

  By the God of the Hunt. Her arm looked like she’d shoved it in a wood chipper. Delicate female skin—wrong to see it damaged. The scent of blood filed the air. Too late. Again, too late.

  He pressed his palm over her wounds, trying to staunch the terrifyingly fast flow of blood.

  People were coming, at long fucking last. Three cahirs ran across the parking lot from the direction of the road. More people poured from the tavern, and he realized the fight had lasted only a minute or so.

  Spotting Calum and his daughter in the lead, Zeb yeled,

  “Get medical supplies!”

  “I wil,” the Cosantir’s cub yipped. “I’l get them.” She spun around, dashing back to the bar.

  Calum reached them first and simply ripped the sleeve off his white shirt. He knelt beside Shay and used the fabric as a bandage, putting pressure against the wolf’s neck wound.

  Shay didn’t make a sound.

  Dammit, Shay. Zeb found it hard to breathe. “Is he…?”

  “He’s alive.” Calum motioned one of the cahirs over.

  “Owen, Donal returned yesterday. Get him up here.”

  “Aye, Cosantir.” Owen puled a cel phone from his pocket.

  In a lower voice, Calum ordered the other cahir, “Ben, get the humans out of here before the healer arrives.”

  “Wil do, Cosantir.”

  “We heard screaming.” Alec dropped down beside Zeb, scowled at his leg and Bree’s arm. “There’s a mess.” The Cosantir’s cub skidded to a stop. “Daddy, here’s the stuff.” Choking with sobs, she laid a metal box on the ground.

  “Thank you, Jamie. Now go back in the tavern.” Calum silenced her protest with a glance. As she left, he flipped up the lid of the medical kit with one hand and handed Zeb dressing supplies. “Tend your leg.”

  As Zeb took the gauze, Calum said, “Alec, see to the girl.” Every territorial instinct in Zeb objected. Mine. Biting back his protest, he started wrapping his leg.

  Alec puled supplies from the box and pressed a handful of gauze to Bree’s arm. She moaned, rousing enough to pul gauze to Bree’s arm. She moaned, rousing enough to pul away.

  With a snarl, Shay scrambled to his feet and snapped at Alec.

  The cop snatched his hand back. “By the God, Shay.” Shoulder and neck streaming blood, Shay positioned himself over Bree and growled.

  “Shay, stop it.” Relief lightened Zeb’s voice—his partner was alive.

  When Alec tried to touch Bree, Shay growled again.

  “Wel, that’s helpful,” Alec said, holding the useless bandages. “You’d think he was her mate.”

  “So it seems,” Calum said.

  The other two cahirs were stil moving people away.

  Headlights streamed down the road as the parking lot emptied of cars. Despite shaking hands, Zeb finaly knotted the fucking dressing on his leg. Bree was bleeding. He must

  —

  “Zebulon.”

  “Cosantir?”

  “Take the dressings and bind up Breanne’s arm. Shay might permit you to touch her.”

  Finaly able to do as he needed, Zeb snatched the gauze pads and rols from Alec. He shoved a wad of gauze against Shay’s ripped up neck and curved his hand over it, holding it here. With his shoulder, he nudged the wolf sideways.

  here. With his shoulder, he nudged the wolf sideways.

  “Move, dummy.”

  As the wolf eased over, Zeb used the gauze in his free hand to put pressure on the mess the helhound had made of Bree’s arm.

  Her cry of pain broke Zeb’s heart.

  Shay snarled, and he snarled back. “You bite me and I’l break your fucking teeth.”

  With a low whine, Shay lea
ned against Zeb’s side, and the warmth was comforting. But Bree’s bleeding didn’t slow, and the gauze Zeb held on Shay’s neck was already blood-soaked. Fuck. Would the idiot let someone care for the wound on his shoulder?

  A car roared into the lot and screeched to a halt a few feet away.

  “Thank the Mother,” Alec muttered.

  As the lanky driver dashed over, Zeb spotted a silvery crescent-moon on his cheekbone—the mark of a healer—

  and he echoed Alec’s sentiment.

  Shay growled weakly as the man approached.

  Zeb huffed an exasperated breath. “That’s the healer, and by Herne’s big bals, you need one.” Quickly. Not even a cahir could bleed forever.

  A human would have even less time. He looked up at the Cosantir. “What about Bree?”

  “An ambulance is on the way from the valey. Keep

  “An ambulance is on the way from the valey. Keep pressure on her arm.” Calum’s eyes were dark with frustrated anger as he walked over to speak with Owen. Zeb understood. But a Cosantir’s power didn’t include the ability to snuff out helhounds.

  That was a cahir’s job. Zeb’s guilt increased.

  “This is the new cahir, right?” The healer knelt and reached for Shay.

  The wolf twisted. With his nose, he nudged the healer’s hand toward Bree.

  “She’s not Daonain, Shay,” Alec said. “The healer can’t help her.”

  Shay growled at Alec, then whined at Zeb.

  Did Shay think she was a shifter? Not possible. She had a human scent. Yet the helhound had attacked her, not Jamie.

  With the scent of a Daonain in the area, the demon-dog shouldn’t have wasted a moment on a human. Zeb stared at Bree, tracking the elusive thought, trying not to panic at how much blood Bree and Shay were losing. Maybe…maybe.

  “Cosantir?”

  Calum returned and gripped Zeb’s shoulder with a pulse of power. “Cahir, what do you require?”

  He tried to speak quickly, yet make sense. “I think… As a child, she was found with a lifemating bracelet.”

  “Was she now?” Calum murmured. “Go on.”

  “The helhound attacked her instead of going after Jamie.

  “The helhound attacked her instead of going after Jamie.