Healing of the Wolf Page 19

  “Manipulative, you mean.” Vicki handed the blonde cubling to Heather. “I was hoping you’d come up from Rainier this month.”

  “Ah well, I have to make sure you’re treating my Sorcha like the princess she is.” Heather settled into a chair and started telling Sorcha about her horrible week. Apparently being CEO of a software company was akin to being in a war zone.

  The kit waved her hands every time Heather laughed.

  “I need a snuggle, too.” Margery gave in to her own cub-craving and picked up Toren. As she nuzzled his downy-soft black hair, he gurgled his enjoyment.

  Vicki shook her head. “You know, I’ve noticed the first thing any female wolf does is cuddle a baby. Angie doesn’t even say hi before she snatches one up.”

  “Us wolves are all about the pack—and the pack is all about cubs.” Heather blew a raspberry on Sorcha’s tummy, getting a squeal.

  Sitting down beside Vicki, Margery looked at the females around her. “Did you just come for the meeting? Cuz…aren’t most of you lifemated? I thought Gatherings were only for single shifters.”

  “We’re not here to have sex.” Darcy nibbled on Artair’s fingertips to make him laugh. “We’re here to keep Vicki company until our males drag us home for fun times.”

  “Okay, then why is Vicki here?” Margery put Toren on her knees to let him practice sitting. His wide smile said he liked the position.

  “For Calum. Having the Cosantir here keeps the males in line, so he stays for most of the night.” Vicki took a sip of her drink. “He likes lifemated males here for the same reason. Discouraging a brawl is easier than breaking one up.”

  Brawling. What she’d hated most about the Ailill Ridge Gatherings. “Bless him.”

  Bree nodded. “What with the abusive examples of the previous alpha and betas, Shay and Zeb try to keep an eye on our wolves. Me, too, because a couple of our female wolves sometimes need a good bite on the butt. So, I’m here to keep them in line.”

  Heather smirked. “Until your two cahirs give in to the full moon’s effect on their testosterone levels and haul you away.”

  “Well, yes.” Bree flushed a colorful pink. “Last month, we didn’t even make it back to the lodge. I got ravaged right there on the path—bare-ass naked in freezing weather.”

  Snickers broke out.

  Margery sighed because, admit it, she could imagine herself there with Donal and Tynan. But thinking there could be anything permanent with them? Those were autumn leaf thoughts, doomed to be swept away by a brisk wind.

  Because, realistically speaking, all she had to do was look at Heather—so pretty and lean and smart and nice, yet still unmated.

  Before the conversation continued, the Cosantir’s deep voice rose over the noise. “Daonain. It’s good to see you here tonight before the rising of the moon.”

  As the room quieted, Calum started the meeting. He talked about humans encroaching farther into the territory. About hellhound sightings. He reminded them to stay inside and safe on the dark of the moon.

  Finishing up, he told of births and deaths and ended with, “We welcome a new shifter to the North Cascades Territory. Margery, originally from Dogwood, is a server at Angie’s Diner. She’s also a banfasa and is working with Donal. The clan increases.”

  The crowd in the room echoed back, “The Clan increases,” and Margery was the recipient of a myriad of smiles.

  Donal was used to people not being completely honest.

  To his littermate, everything was black or white, and lying was wrong. Period. Many law enforcement people had that mindset.

  But, truly, dishonesty came in many shades. Lying to a healer was common, and his patients misled themselves as much as they did him—and for the same reason. Fear. They wanted to deny anything was wrong with their bodies, their minds, their loved ones. Understandable enough, although not something he would allow.

  However, malicious lies about another person fell into a whole different category.

  If he’d been in cat form, his claws would be unsheathed right now.

  After talking with Margery last Monday, he’d dropped in at the B&B and the Wildwood Lodge. On Gathering day, there were always a few Rainier Territory shifters in town. Donal had sniffed out any Ailill Ridge shifters who’d been tended by Margery—like the two cats after a wolf-cat brawl—or had relatives or friends who’d been her patients. They all said she was excellent. Were appalled she’d left. Wanted her back.

  Self-reproach nipped Donal’s conscience. He should have asked Gretchen and Caleb more questions. They’d out-and-out lied to him about the little banfasa, and he now had proof.

  Now he could play with them.

  His gaze turned toward the bar and the two lying weasels.

  The meeting was over. Seniors, lifemated adults, and children were heading home, leaving the tavern to females of child-bearing age and single males.

  Donal strolled up to the bar and halted behind his prey who sat on barstools. “Gretchen, Caleb. Just who I wanted to speak with.” His voice was loud enough to attract attention, and curious gazes turned his way.

  “Donal, how nice to see you.” Gretchen leaned forward to give him a view of her breasts.

  Pretty breasts. Not interested.

  Gretchen’s outer appearance might be perfection, but inside she was pure ugliness.

  Beside Gretchen, Caleb growled at what he saw as competition. “What d’you want?”

  “Last Gathering, you told me about a banfasa named Margery.” He moved within sniffing distance. The moon hadn’t yet risen so the air was mostly free of the scents of testosterone and heated females. If he made Gretchen or Caleb nervous, everyone around would be able to sniff out their lies.

  Gretchen sneered. “What about Margery?”

  Behind the bar, the Cosantir silently moved closer.

  “You said Caleb almost bled to death because the banfasa insisted on caring for her friends first.” Donal tilted his head in consideration. “Yes, that’s exactly what you said.”

  Gretchen frowned. “So?”

  “Where were you injured that night, Caleb?”

  Caleb scowled. “None of your fucking business. I’m not—”

  “I’d like to hear the answer, as well.” Tynan joined Donal.

  Brows drawing together, Caleb looked around…and tensed.

  Scars like white tattoos running up his forearms, Thorson stood on Caleb’s other side. The old werecat had a deadly look in his eyes.

  Alec took the stool next to Gretchen. Owen, his fellow cahir, stood beside him.

  “Caleb? I’d like an answer, please.” Donal kept his tone polite, his claws sheathed. Mustn’t kill the prey too quickly. “Where were you injured?”

  “My arm. A cat clawed my arm.”

  “Ah. Show me where. Exactly.”

  Scowling, Caleb curved his fingers and motioned down the outside of his left arm.

  “There are no arteries there.” Donal put a snap in his voice. “Were you really in danger of bleeding to death?”

  A long growl preceded the answer. “No.”

  “So, Gretchen lied to me, and you backed up her lie.”

  Another growl, that of a trapped dog. “Aye.”

  When Tynan growled back, Donal shot his brother a shut-it glare, before turning his attention to Gretchen. “You told me the banfasa was terrible at her job. Is that a lie, too?”

  “Of course not. I wouldn’t—” Gretchen faltered when Donal and the others lifted their noses and sniffed. The air held the foul stench of a lie. “Fine, yes, I, maybe, stretched the truth a little bit.”

  “You lied,” Donal said flatly. “Aside from her move to Cold Creek, was there any time someone needed the banfasa where she wasn’t available?”

  “I have no idea. I don’t keep track of her movements.”

  “That you know of—was there any time?”

  “No,” Gretchen muttered.

  “Why did they lie about our banfasa?” Alec’s soft voice was louder
than normal.

  Clever Alec. It would be good to let people know how Rainier Territory tried to manipulate the people in Cold Creek. “You tried to destroy her reputation as a banfasa with us—so she wouldn’t be able to work here. Is that right?”

  Gasps sounded around the room.

  Neither Gretchen nor Caleb spoke.

  Their fucking lies could have destroyed Margery. The anger grew inside him until he was ready to shift and start ripping guts out. He hissed a warning.

  Caleb flinched back, then gave a jerky nod.

  “You wanted to make sure she’d have no choice except to return to Ailill Ridge and be your banfasa there?” Donal looked at Gretchen.

  The silence lengthened.

  “Answer me.”

  “Yes, okay. Yes.” Gretchen scowled at him. “That was why.”

  A lust-filled howl sounded from near the door. The moon was rising.

  “You fecking, lying weasels.” Tynan’s voice went guttural with his rage, and his hands were in fists. He took a step forward.

  Donal did, too. “Let’s rip them to pieces.”

  “Sorry, lads.” Alec gripped Donal’s arm, then Tynan’s. “You two would destroy them—and the Cosantir gets irritated about blood on his pretty hardwood floors.”

  Tynan’s response was a threatening growl.

  “Now, Deputy.” Alec half-smiled. “Don’t do this, because…I’ll help. And if I jump in, Calum will lecture me…again…on decorum and other annoying subjects.”

  Tynan’s hands slowly unfisted. “Fecking liars.”

  “Dammit, Alec,” Donal muttered, exchanging a frustrated glance with Tynan.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry.” Alec rested his hand on his weapons belt. “However, I daresay Calum will express his displeasure.”

  As if to confirm his littermate’s opinion, Calum leaned on the bar. “Gretchen. Caleb. If I could have your attention, please.”

  The two stiffened and turned slowly.

  They should be worried. The Cosantir’s expression was colder than the glacier on Mt. Baker. “Dishonesty is repugnant, in and of itself. But your lie wasn’t to escape trouble. You deliberately lied about another Daonain to force her to do what you wanted. To destroy her life if she didn’t.”

  Both shifters stared at the Cosantir, too terrified to even move.

  “You aren’t in my clan and not mine to punish, but I can and will keep you out of my territory. In the morning, leave—and do not return.”

  Donal heard Gretchen heave a relieved breath…until Calum looked over her head at Alec. “Sheriff, I have no interest in monitoring these two during a Gathering. Remove them to your station and lock them in separate cells until moonset.”

  The sheriff covered his mouth, trying to smother a laugh.

  And Donal had to do the same. Talk about torture… When the moon rose, Gretchen would grow desperate for males and matings. Being penned up in a cell would be acutely painful.

  Jailed next to her, every breath bringing him the scent of a female in heat, Caleb wouldn’t be much better off.

  Tynan grinned as Alec snagged the two and escorted them out of the Wild Hunt. “Good punishment, but how’d Calum know?”

  Donal bumped his shoulder against his littermate’s. “The Cosantir has exceptional hearing. It’s why I ambushed them at the bar.”

  “You’re a credit to your feline genes.” Tynan narrowed his eyes. “Their lies… That’s why you were so rude to Meggie? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Since she said—at first—she didn’t want to be a banfasa, her incompetence wasn’t important.” Donal shook his head. “Only she’s not incompetent. Quite the reverse.”

  “Couldn’t you tell she was extremely skilled from seeing her with our wounded in Seattle?”

  “In Seattle? You mean at the compound?” Donal frowned, trying to remember through the fog of that night. “Was she…? Of course, she must have been there.”

  “Oh, gnome-nuts,” Tynan said. “You don’t remember, do you?”

  “I vaguely recall removing the females’ trackers…I think.”

  Tynan snorted. “You took the trackers out while Meggie dressed the incisions. Then you dropped like a rock, and even though all the other females left, she insisted on staying behind to care for the injured.”

  A captive in the middle of a battle. She must have been terrified. Yes, she stayed. Because it was who she was. Yes, she belonged here in the North Cascades Territory where they would treat her right. “I know the truth now. Even better, she forgave me for being a boggart-brain.”

  Tynan barked a laugh. “You’re lucky she’s not a werecat, or you’d have lost some blood.”

  “Ah, but she’s a wolf. A sweet little wolf…who likes us both.” As Donal felt the slow rise of desire in his blood, he smiled at his littermate. “It’s Gathering night.”

  A corner of Tynan’s mouth tilted upward. “Shall we see if she’s interested in two unworthy males this night?”

  It had been too long since he’d shared a female with his brother. “Aye, we—”

  “Healer!” Rebecca hurried up to him. “Three yowling idiots were showing off for a female and jumped off their balcony at the B&B. Can you come?”

  Cat-scat. With a resigned sigh, Donal asked, “How bad is it?” Would he need additional power?

  “One broke his ankle. Couple sprains. I think the third dislocated his shoulder.”

  “All right then.” There were days that life simply wasn’t fair. The air was scented with the potent fragrance of fertile females. Shifters were already heading to the mating rooms upstairs. And he had to leave. “The mangy, sprite-brains are going to get a healer grumpier than a burrowless gnome.”

  Rebecca burst out laughing. “They’ll deserve anything you say.”

  With a sigh, Donal nudged Tynan’s shoulder. “Don’t wait for me, brawd. Go let the little banfasa know she’s desired.”

  “All right.” Tynan nudged back, sympathy in his gaze. “Perhaps this is better—for her. She’s still new to Gatherings. Two-on-one might be best saved for later. There will be other nights.”

  Trust Tynan to find the good in a situation.

  Donal followed Rebecca out.

  Really, shouldn’t I claw the stupid fairy-farts just a little? For their own good?

  Under the power of the full moon, Margery had dutifully mated with one shifter, then another. Mother’s breasts, but it was embarrassing to realize she didn’t even remember their names.

  Back downstairs, she found herself at the bar, standing like a fool as sensations swirled around her. The forest scent of shifters was intensified by the masculine musk of so many males. The rumble of their deep voices created a captivating song.

  However, her body was satisfied enough…at the moment…that she could tell she was thirsty. And look, she stood at the bar. How convenient was that?

  The Cosantir was working, serving drinks as needed, and watching the interactions of his clan. Occasionally, amusement would flash over his face.

  Although he must feel the moon’s effect as much as anyone else, he never looked uncomfortable or impatient. The territory’s guardian had amazing control.

  Turning, he spotted her and walked over. “Banfasa, might I get you something to drink?”

  Being given the respectful title by the Cosantir sent pride rushing through her. “Yes, please.” However, she’d never learned to like the alcoholic stuff. “Do you have any fruit juice?”

  “Apple, cranberry, and orange.”

  “Oh, apple would be wonderful.” Her favorite.

  When he set the glass in front of her, she drank it down within seconds. “Thank you.”

  Plucking the glass from her, he refilled it and leaned against the bar top. “I was hoping to speak with you tonight.”

  Alarmed, she took a step back. What had she done wrong?

  No, she’d done nothing wrong. Don’t scurry off the trail at a few crackles of the brush. She swallowed. “Of course, Cosantir. Yo
ur will.”

  “Donal is pleased you agreed to work with him tending our people’s health.”

  Oh, by the Mother, Donal had said that to the Cosantir? Sweet happiness rushed through her. “I’m pleased, as well. To be of value to the clan would be…” The most wonderful thing she could imagine, but she couldn’t say something so emotional.

  His severe expression lightened with his smile. “He said you want to continue serving meals at the diner, but also work as a banfasa.”

  “The diner is a wonderful way to meet people.” And she couldn’t afford to quit. Sometime soon, she’d have to talk with Donal about money. “And it pays the bills.”

  “Aye, Donal mentioned your treatment in Rainier Territory. It’s not how things are done here.”

  The Cosantir looked pissed, and his eyes darkened.

  Shifters standing at the bar were edging away.

  As Calum pulled in a slow breath, his eyes returned to gray—and he continued. “In most territories, a shifter who provides essential services to the clan receives a stipend, the amount dependent on the time they put in. Most, like cahirs, work other—regular—jobs.”

  She nodded. Alec was the county sheriff. Shay and Zeb ran the Wildwood Lodge.

  “Donal has no other job—he already puts in too many hours as a healer. I’m pleased you’ll give him a chance to cut back.”

  The thought of making Donal happier was simply lovely. She’d seen how hard he worked. Seen the lines in his face that disappeared when he laughed.

  Calum said, “Until we know how much time your banfasa work requires, I’ll start you at the minimum amount. If you provide me your bank account number, I’ll get automatic deposits set up.”

  “Automatic deposits?”

  “Aye. Vicki is slowly dragging us into the current century.” He glanced toward the fireplace where his mate sat, then smiled at Margery. “Donal also said he likes having you next door. Something about his sensitive ears?”

  “Oh, that. He hates when pups cry or scream—and he’s started sending someone over to fetch me.”

  Calum snorted. “The cat is the most skilled healer I’ve ever met and has the least amount of patience.”