Winter of the Wolf Page 17

  A week. That meant her time with Shay and Zeb was limited as wel. The empty feeling that swept through her was disconcerting. When had she grown so attached to them?

  With a sigh, she wrapped the towel around herself. After pushing her wet hair back, she opened the bathroom door and ran right into Zeb. She squeaked.

  His chuckle sounded like rocks grating together. He held out jeans, a sweater, and underwear. “From your cabin.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled up at him, and her breathing stopped.

  His eyes were molten darkness as his gaze slowly dropped from her face to her bare shoulders to where the towel barely covered her breasts. “You’re al pink, little female,” he murmured, handing her the clothing.

  When her hands were ful, he stroked his calused fingers down her neck and across one shoulder. He turned his hand over to brush his knuckles over the tops of her breasts. His skin was so warm, and an answering heat pooled in her lower half.

  “Do you need help getting dressed?” he asked. His index finger curved under the edge of the towel between her breasts.

  Her mouth dropped open, then she fled back into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face. Her hands shook as she dressed in the jeans and cashmere sweater he’d brought.

  She couldn’t get past how he’d looked at her. Touched her.

  He didn’t make her feel dirty, but he’d woken a funny…

  anxious…feeling deep in her stomach. Not scary though. Not quite.

  A thump on the door made her jump. “Let’s go, female.” On the walk to the tavern, Bree listened to the men idly discuss which cabins needed more repairs, what the weather would be, who was patroling for helhounds.

  Helhounds. Plural. She ignored the coldness in the pit of her stomach and firmed her voice. “Zeb, when I shot at the helhound, my bulets bounced off. What are those creatures made of anyway?”

  “A kind of bony plating.”

  Shay added, “A paleontologist said some dinosaurs had plating as good as body armor. Helhounds do too.” He patted his stomach. “A strip down their bely is the only place not armored.”

  No wonder her blade had broken. She frowned at Zeb.

  “When you were under it, you stabbed it with a knife. Why not use your pistol?”

  “Good way to die,” Zeb said.

  “Good way to die,” Zeb said.

  Now there was an informative answer. She gave him a dirty look.

  “Two reasons. First: the angle’s wrong to hit the heart,” Shay explained, taking pity on her. “Ripping downward with a knife wil slice through a big artery, but bulets can miss it, and you don’t have time to keep trying. If a helhound doesn’t die fast, it kils the cahir.”

  She swalowed hard. Zeb could so easily have died. “The other reason?”

  “Bulets usualy embed in the armor, but sometimes wil bounce off,” Shay said, a hint of humor in his eyes. “If you’re underneath and miss the strip, the bely plating means you’re liable to eat your own bulet.”

  Jeez. “You two looked like an acrobat team. How many have you kiled?”

  “With Shay? Around a dozen,” Zeb said absently.

  The lack of air made her clutch his arm. “So many?”

  “Some before we got together.” Shay tugged her hair.

  “Zeb and I hunt them, remember? And looks like there’s stil one around Cold Creek.”

  The blood drained from her head.

  “Easy, little female.” Zeb put his arm over her shoulder and the heat of his body melted some of the chil. She concentrated on inhaling slowly, on feeling the warmth of Zeb against her, the hardness of his body, on watching Shay move against her, the hardness of his body, on watching Shay move ahead of them, al power and skil.

  “Hey, have you seen the gnome under cabin seven?” Shay asked lightly.

  She tried to smile at him, knowing he’d changed the subject for her. And Zeb, antisocial Zeb, kept her snuggled against his side the rest of the way.

  At the tavern, Shay opened the door and motioned her inside. She stopped for a second to let her eyes adjust, after the brightness of the outside. The jukebox was turned down low, and the place was almost empty except for a couple of truckers at the bar.

  Calum spotted them and nodded at a table near the front window. After she and the men had sat down, he arrived with a tray of drinks and handed them out.

  Bree studied him over the rim of her diet cola. So, he was like the king in the area? Admittedly, the man seemed quite authoritative. But stil…

  He met her look with a slight smile before turning to Shay and Zeb. “I heard about last night. I’m pleased Breanne wil stay with you.”

  Shay nodded.

  Calum looked at her. “I wanted to speak to you about your future.”

  “Excelent idea.” She set her glass down. Gerhard had said the Cosantir wouldn’t let her leave. She’d just see about that.

  the Cosantir wouldn’t let her leave. She’d just see about that.

  Before she could speak, he continued, “New shifters, no matter their age, are taught by the old ones. Like you, Victoria became a shifter as an adult and lacked the knowledge we normaly gain in childhood. She’s at Elder Vilage now, getting lessons in Daonain history and customs.”

  “Oh. I was wondering where she’d gone. I miss her.”

  “As do I. Normaly, I’d send you to the vilage to get formaly recognized, if nothing else. But I cannot spare Shay or Zeb, and you’re not ready to be parted from your mentors. I’l get you there in a month or two.”

  “A month or two?” She stared at him. Gerhard had been right? How long did they think she’d be here?

  He nodded at Shay and Zeb. “I’d like the Elders to recognize you two as wel. Once the other cahirs are trained, one of you can travel up with Breanne, meet them, and return. Later, the other can go and bring her back. Then I can do a proper introduction to the clan here.” Bree pursed her lips. He was certainly free with planning her life. Too bad. She didn’t want to go to some vilage and meet new people. The ones here were bad enough. “Listen, Calum, I don’t want to go—”

  “Breanne,” he interrupted. “This is a tradition and requirement for new shifters. Unfortunately, our Elders are just that—elderly—and they cannot travel to meet you. It would be a courtesy if you would accommodate them.” would be a courtesy if you would accommodate them.” Heck, saying no would make her sound inconsiderate to old people. “You’re sneakier than I thought.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Thank you. Meantime, you have lessons to learn here.”

  He was not going to run right over her, the big jerk. “You act as if I’m staying here, and I’m not. I need to get back to Seattle.” The restaurant wouldn’t hold her job forever.

  “Your life is here for the foreseeable future. After your lessons are complete and you’ve achieved control, you may go wherever you wish.”

  Her mouth tightened. He wasn’t giving an inch, was he?

  “Breanne, we have hidden for thousands of years. I’m sure you can understand why.”

  Actualy, she did understand. Every other science fiction movie showed what happened when aliens—or anything different—came up against the military or scientists. She nodded.

  “Because being revealed would be disastrous to us al, our law states that if a shifter reveals the existence of the Daonain to humans, he is kiled.” His uncanny eyes darkened to black, the color of death.

  “Oh.” That wasn’t an idle threat.

  “Since we usualy trawsfur at least monthly to stay healthy, most live in wilderness or mountain towns.” He leaned back in his chair. “Shifters do not fare wel in cities, surrounded by humans and metal.”

  But that’s my home.Her stomach tightened.

  Shay shook his head. “I can’t imagine how the noise and smels didn’t bother you.”

  “She wasn’t a shifter then.” Zeb frowned. “But—you ever hear of a Daonain not shifting?”

  “Donal wondered the same,” Calum said. “Being surrounde
d by metal might delay the magic a year or two, but not another decade. You should have died, Breanne.”

  “I’ve heard nasty things about city people. Drugs, maybe?” Shay’s gunmetal-blue eyes narrowed. “Did you do drugs, little wolf? It’s al right—we don’t care.” He said drugs as if it were a foreign word, and Bree roled her eyes. “No, big wolf. I tried some as a teen, but nothing even provided me a buzz. Probably the shifter blood.” She gave them a wry look. “The only drug I ever took was birth control pils. I’ve been on those since I was fifteen.” They stared at her like she was naked or something, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”

  “Are you stil taking them?” Calum asked slowly.

  “No. I screwed up, and my refils went to Seattle.”

  “You think that was it, Cosantir?” Shay asked.

  “Very likely. Between the suppression of magic in the city and a medicine that warps hormones, she might have gone into a type of suspended state.” He studied her for a minute.

  “Did you ever experience an overwhelming need to mate?”

  “Did you ever experience an overwhelming need to mate?”

  “No.” Jeez. From the heat in her face, she’d turned the color of a tomato. He was stil waiting, so she added, “I’ve never been interested in sex at al.”

  Shay’s warm hand closed over her cold one. “It’s good you didn’t stop the pils before you found us.”

  “Shifting is that important?”

  Calum nodded. “Being descended from the Fae means we’re partly magical, if that’s what you want to cal it. The animal form connects us with the source—Mother Earth—

  and replenishes us. You were dying slowly in the city. And once off your pils, you were wel on your way to death.” Shay’s hand tightened painfuly. His jaw was tight. Zeb looked the same.

  “Wel, I didn’t die,” she said lightly.

  “No.” Calum leaned back. “But I wonder if we have more lost ones in the cities.”

  “That’s not a good thought,” Shay said.

  “One for another time.”

  “So how long must I stay here?” Bree asked, returning to her main concern.

  “Until your mentors judge you capable of being on your own.” Calum tapped his fingers on the table. “Most shifters master everything by five or six months.” Months? “But that’s my home.” Not here. Seattle was home. Friends. Routines. “I have a-a job. How wil I live?” home. Friends. Routines. “I have a-a job. How wil I live?”

  “Ah. Seamus, let us give her free lodging at the Wildwood.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You can’t force Zeb and Shay to put me up. They’re running a business, not a charity.”

  “Quite fierce on your behalf, isn’t she?” Calum murmured.

  A crease appeared in Zeb’s cheek as if he tried not to smile.

  Shay grinned. “Thank you, Breanne, but no worries. The Cosantir owns the Wildwood, so the charity wil be his.”

  “Oh.” Wel. Now she felt stupid. Her gaze slid to Calum.

  “Sorry.” Belatedly she added, “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome.” His eyes held amusement. “It’s partly self-interest. An unattached female werewolf would never lack for offers of shelter, but your remaining at the Wildwood wil disturb my territory less than other alternatives.” Shay snorted. “Discreetly put.”

  “As for earning extra income, the Wild Hunt can always use a barmaid on Friday and Saturday nights.” His gray eyes were kind. “You’ve helped Victoria out for fun. Let me pay you for your time.”

  She wasn’t going to win against him. Looked like she’d be here a while. Oh God, somehow she’d have to avoid Klaus.

  Her heart thumped hard at the blast of fear.

  But, at the same time, she didn’t have to return to her apartment right away. Like a pendulum of emotion, relief apartment right away. Like a pendulum of emotion, relief blew through her. Being with Zeb and Shay was…safe.

  And yet, she wanted to go home. My city, my friends, my job. The need to be surrounded by her comfortable routine shook her.

  But until she managed to control the unexpected shifts to wolfy form, she couldn’t go back to Seattle. Just imagine her boss’s reaction if she suddenly had four feet and a tail.

  Just imagine the Cosantir’s response. Turning into a wolfy in the wrong place wouldn’t just lose her some friends, but would be her death sentence.

  * * *

  That evening, Shay finaly finished the paperwork. He gave a grunt of exasperation. By the God, the previous owner must have learned bookkeeping from the dwarves, who believed math was invented by demons. After stretching his cramped back muscles, he grabbed a hard candy from the dish on his desk. Maybe he’d help Zeb with caulking the bathtub upstairs.

  As he left the office, he glanced over at the library area and paused.

  Bent over a wide oak table, Breanne was working on a jigsaw puzzle. Her golden hair spiled over her shoulders, bright against her fuzzy blue sweater. Her lips pressed bright against her fuzzy blue sweater. Her lips pressed together as she concentrated.

  Playing with a little wolf would be far more fun than caulking. He stroled over. “Can I help?”

  She jumped and glared at him. “Would it hurt you to make a little noise? Warn a girl?”

  “Ah, but sneaking up on vulnerable females is so much fun.” He stood beside her, close enough her shoulder brushed his. When she stiffened, he picked up a puzzle piece.

  Sky blue—the color of her eyes.

  After a few seconds, she relaxed. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.” She fit a piece into what might eventualy be a log cabin. “I met a woman today. She and her husband run a cleaning business. Jody said the previous owners handled the usual lodge cleaning—like you do—but would cal the service for more rigorous stuff.”

  “Rigorous?”

  “Um. Yeah. For when someone drinks too much”—she wrinkled her little nose—“or has a fight and leaves blood everywhere. Do fishermen do that much brawling?” Shay smothered his smile. Not fishermen. The records indicated the cabins filed every ful moon with unmated shifters here for the Gatherings. Single males were always fighting, hoping to impress the females. “Hiring her might be a good idea. I’m not the greatest housekeeper in the territory.

  Not like Zeb.”

  “You keep leaving the place a mess, and he’s going to walop you one of these days.” Her sweet giggle grabbed Shay by the bals and squeezed. “I’ve been wondering—how did you learn to fight together?”

  “You’re ful of questions these days,” he mused. “I should charge you. Colect some thanks.”

  She gave him a puzzled look.

  “I showed you how a female thanks a male.” He set a finger under her chin, lifted, and kissed her. Soft, soft lips. A feminine scent with vanila and cinnamon and as sweet as any pastry. He felt her stiffen…but not in fear.

  Shay was being so gentle, Bree thought. His lips brushed over hers, then he licked her lower lip. A shiver ran down her spine and pooled into a warm lake at the base.

  “Mmm, more,” he murmured. He nibbled on her lips until she opened her mouth, and then swept inside.

  He tasted of peppermint and power. As her head spun, she gripped his arms, disconcerted by flexing muscles under her fingers. Anxiety ran through her, and she puled back.

  He smiled and turned back to the table as if he hadn’t made the floor shift under her feet.

  She stared at him a second, then—heart stil hammering—

  picked up a puzzle piece. It dropped from her shaking fingers.

  With amusement in his blue-gray eyes, he handed it to her With amusement in his blue-gray eyes, he handed it to her and answered her question. “I was in the Sawtooth Territory when I felt the pul of Herne, caling me to Rainier Territory.

  Ailil Ridge has more helhound activity than here, and they’d lost a couple of cahirs. Zeb had already been there about a month.”

  “Wait. The pul of Herne. What does that mean?” When he
reached for her, she dodged. “Hey, you haven’t answered my question yet.”

  “As a lodge-owner, I’ve learned to get payment in advance.” The sound of his smooth husky voice increased the heat rising in her veins. He slid a hand around her waist and puled her to him. His chest was big, wide, and she rested her forehead against it, trying to think.

  “Breanne?”

  When she lifted her head, his mouth claimed hers. No light kiss this time. His tongue swept in, taking possession. His arm around her waist kept her pinned against him, and his other hand squeezed her bottom.

  A hurricane of sensation crashed over her. Her arms wrapped around him, and she could only hold on. The place between her legs woke up, tingling, needing.

  He finished with a light nip to her lower lip. Before she could get out of reach, he cupped her chin in a big hand and studied her face. His lips curved as if pleased.

  “My answer?” she asked, breathless.

  “My answer?” she asked, breathless.

  “Years and years ago, I vowed to fight helhounds for the God of the Hunt. Herne.” He traced the mark on his cheek that resembled blue-tinted antlers. “Being oathbound creates a kind of trail between him and me. Of course, it’s nothing like the highway to the God that the Cosantir has.”

  “Oh, sure.” Her laugh died when she remembered the shimmering air around Calum, how power had flowed into her when he forced her to shift. “Go on.”

  “Now, Zeb likes to move around. No real direction, just whatever place has helhounds. Since I’m oathbound, when Herne needs me somewhere, I’m puled in that direction. I pack up and folow the cal until I arrive.” Pack up and leave? Just like that? Years of various foster-homes had taught her what moving was like. Never belonging, always the new girl. And al Shay had to look forward to was blood and death? She wanted to give him a hug.

  “When I got to Rainier Territory, the Cosantir assigned me to work with the newest cahir—Zeb. Said he was an evil-tempered wolf.”

  Bree choked on a laugh. “So true.”

  “Aye. At first, we fought more than we cooperated.” Shay grinned. “He didn’t like taking orders.”

  “And Shay never stopped giving them,” came a rough voice.