by J. K Harper
“Don't stop!” Her fingers curled into his hair, pushing his head farther down into her intoxicating, soft, super-heated center.
Smiling into her, puffing out a breath onto her swollen lips and enjoying the small buck of her hips as he did so, Tate shook his head. He pulled back just enough to say, “I'm not stopping, darlin'. Hell, no. I'm just getting started with you.” He dragged his tongue over her sweet creases again, enjoying her nonsensical gasps as he did so. “We've got all night.”
* * *
Claire stretched. Her body felt limp, loose, utterly sated. Visions of herself thrashing around on the bed with Tate, tangled up with him, under him, over him, every sense she had filled by him, flooded her mind as gray, stormy mid-morning light tried to creep into the room. Smiling, she reached out for him, even though she knew he was gone. He'd left before the sun was up, reluctantly pulled away by horses that needed feeding and a Guardian patrol for the day. She knew what Guardian patrols were, of course, but he'd told her a little more as he'd gotten dressed. Right before he'd left, he sat back down on the bed, curving his hands over and over her body beneath the sheet.
“Claire.” His eyes still held the same sense of wonder and awe she knew hers did, but a serious note shadowed them as well. “I know why they haven't bothered you yet.”
Frowning at him, she'd shaken her head. “Because they don't need me. That's why.”
But he was shaking his head almost before the words left her mouth. “No. No, that's not the reason at all. Rogues always need something, and they especially need females.”
She argued, still not convinced. “You said Bashar was still involved with his native pack in some sort of plot to create havoc with the North American wolf packs. Don't they have enough females of their own?”
Tate's expression was more than troubled. “I don't think so,” he finally said in a low voice. “I think that may be part of the problem. That's what my alpha thinks, at least. And Luke said it's very possible, too.”
“Then I don't understand why he wouldn't have just dragged me back to Canada,” she said, frowning. “It's not like he didn't have a thousand chances.”
The stone-cold glare that abruptly descended on Tate's face—her mate! She still loved thinking that, despite everything that still meant, that she still wasn't quite ready to closely look at—both thrilled and unnerved her. She'd seen him as sweet, kind, gentle, perpetually sunny. He was all those things, certainly. But this darker side was coming out every time he sensed a potential threat to her. The hint of her past with a rogue, a rogue who knew where she lived, brought Tate's highly protective wolf crashing to the forefront. His eyes even began to show that telltale light.
She had to admit it was unbelievably sexy. Even if there was no way she'd admit to him that she, the self-reliant wild wolf, found it very arousing that he was so protective of her.
Her wolf sniffed and gave the wolfish equivalent of an eye roll at Claire's silliness, then turned her back.
Tate unclenched his jaw enough to say, “You might still be a prize to them. But more importantly, I think you're a lure.” Rain began to lightly patter on her window as he spoke.
Claire stared at him in puzzlement, absently reaching out to touch his dark hair and drift her fingers along his deliciously stubbled chin. “A lure for what?”
There was a short silence, then: “Your mother. You told me she carries the gene for your coloring, right? The Upper North Woods Pack is very close to the arctic north themselves. They probably have some white wolves in their pack as well. I'll have to ask Luke.” He offered a grim smile at her suddenly horrified look as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “I think they want you to lure your mother here, Claire. That way, they can have two female wolves for the price of one, so to speak.”
“But they don't know about her! I've never mentioned her to anyone, except you.”
His face suddenly softened as he searched her eyes. Without saying anything, she could tell she'd just touched him deeply with her trust. But he didn't push it. Still treating her like a skittish thing, she thought, although it made her smile a bit.
Then he glanced out at the living room. “What did you tell him about that photo of you and your mother?”
“That she was long gone. That she'd gone wild and disappeared years ago. It's the cover story she and I chose to use years ago. And it's true, in a fashion. She's gone from the human world, at least.”
“And he never scented her?” Tate looked doubtful.
Claire could positively shake her head at that. “No. She doesn't come to my house, ever. I meet her in the canyons.”
Still unconvinced, Tate had nevertheless drawn her to him for a lingering kiss. “Even so,” he said, somewhat breathlessly, when they finally broke apart, “be careful. I'll call you later.”
“What, no dramatic scene today to make me come with you?” She smiled as she teased.
He chuckled, but then said simply, “You accept that we are mates. I accept that you're a wild wolf. I have no idea either how that will work, but I do understand I need to honor you for what you are. You have managed to survive just fine on your own for a little while now, I guess,” he teased her right back, which earned him a playful tussle on the bed and made him late going out the door.
Replaying that conversation in her head now, Claire felt the stirrings of desire again just thinking about the man. She had no idea how to do this either, but damned if she wouldn't try. Somehow, this had to work. There must have been a similar pairing in shifter history, right? Not, of course, that she'd ever heard of one. Melle had never told her of a wild wolf-pack wolf mating before, either. But that didn't mean there was no precedent. There had to be a precedent. No way could she live without her sweet, sexy, delicious, gentle, assertive, amazing mate.
Swinging her feet onto the cool wooden floor, smiling as she pictured Tate's face when he'd finally claimed her body again last night, Claire padded naked into her kitchen to fix some coffee.
A violent banging on her door made her jump a few feet into the air, sending her wolf straight into her eyes and chills straight down her spine.
“Open up, Claire,” came the deep voice that suddenly froze her blood. “Time for you to come home with me now.”
The knock again violently pounded at her door. Her heart threatened to leap right out of her chest.
When she didn't answer and the door suddenly crashed in, smashed open and torn from its sturdy hinges, she thought she might be having an actual cardiac arrest as four large wolves filled her doorway, one of them smiling at her with abruptly loathsome and downright terrifying familiarity.
* * *
Tate shook water off his coat, sending a slightly baleful look at the sky. Their entire patrol had been drenched with freezing rain, which meant any rogue scents left out there were effectively washed away. It also meant wet wolves, which was fine except when it rained the entire damn time. Autumn was rapidly swinging into that odd state caught halfway between falling leaves and falling snow.
He'd much prefer either colorful leaves or soft white snow. At least with the snow he could think of Claire.
She was still on his mind as he showered and changed in his little cabin on the den property. Maybe Claire would one day learn to like it here, he mused as he glanced around the place. Toweling off his hair, he tugged on his boots, then pulled a vest over his long-sleeved shirt. He planned to spend some time with the horses he had in training, then head back out to Claire's. She might not come here, but she'd made it clear it was fine for him to spend his time with her at her place.
He'd take any bone she threw him right now.
He'd pulled on his second boot when claws skittering on his small porch outside made him quickly stand up. Opening the door, he stared at Lily, whose fur nearly stood on end. His wolf leapt into his eyes, immediately catching his sister's anxiety. Without bothering to shift and make herself more clear, she simply jerked her head at the den, then turned and pelted off back the
way she'd come.
Dread suddenly clutching at his heart, Tate barreled off his porch and raced after her, although he was pitifully slower in his human form. Yanking his cell phone from his pocket, he stabbed at it in jerky motions as he ran.
Claire's phone rang once, twice, five times. As soon as she picked up, he relaxed. Until he heard the voice that came over the invisible radio signals.
“Well, well, well. Another Bardou, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Your pack has no manners, it seems.” Cultured but arrogant, sharp but tinged with the wild, ugly madness Tate had witnessed once before, Bashar's voice menaced through the air into his ear, filling him with a sudden blinding rage as his feet skidded from mid-run to a halt.
“Where is she, you bastard?” Tate's breath pumped out of him in furious, desperate waves.
Bashar laughed, the sound filled with a glee that made Tate's blood ice in his veins. “Right where she needs to be. With me. On her way to her new pack.”
The roar that tore out of Tate's throat was a bizarre mix of human yell and a wolf's howl. An answering howl, Lily's wolf, sounded closer to the den in startled, wary response.
“She is my mate. You will not harm her.” How he managed to keep his ragged voice understandable was beyond him.
“Semantics, silly wolf.” Bashar's voice hissed down the phone. “We can break the mating bond. And for a wolf like Claire, we certainly will. Especially when we also find her mother. Two prizes. Rare, and perfect for my pack. Not for yours.”
“Put her on the line,” Tate demanded. “I need to know she's safe.”
Bashar tsked, the sound grating on Tate's ears. “Patience is a virtue. Did not your sire teach you that? It seems he has fallen away from the old ways. Modern packs are weak. No wonder my foolish brother joined yours. He needed one as pathetically ineffective as he is.”
Tate urged himself not to fall for Bashar's goading. He needed the other wolf to slip up and give him a clue. Any clue. Straining to hear anything else over the line, willing his breathing to slow as he listened as hard as he could, Tate forced himself to think. “She will never betray her mother to you. Claire is much too loyal for that.”
Another ugly laugh.
Galloping paws and human feet alerted him to Lily's return, along with Kieran and few other pack members. Frantically, he waved his arm at them, shushing their arrival without saying anything out loud. They drew up beside him, panting and stark-faced.
“You'll never get to her in time.” Bashar's voice held a gloating edge. Desperately, Tate played up to it.
“You're probably right. You must have been waiting for me to leave this morning.” Wondering how far he could push it, Tate tried. “Your brother does hate you, yes. But he also tells us how smart you are.”
A pause told him he'd taken the other wolf by some surprise. Good.
“Does he now. Well, let me continue to prove him right, then. Game on, silly little wolf.” Bashar's voice oozed disdain as it lowered into a taunting whisper. Behind it, Tate heard another whispering sound. “Try to find her. You'll never reach her until we have her where she belongs. She and her lovely dam both.”
The dead silence after that told Tate he'd been hung up on. Even so, he aimed a grim smile at his family as they hovered near, waiting with snarling faces or clenched fists. “I think I know where to find her.”
19
Claire spat again, which was challenging in wolf form, but doable with practice. This time, it landed on the already wet sand close to Bashar's paw. She smiled at him, letting pure contempt drive through it. “That's pretty much what I think of your plan, Bash. And you.”
Her former lover didn't even flinch. With his three other wolves lounging around, all in wolf form, he knew full well Claire couldn't do anything to him, even if she attacked him right then.
Tempting, her human growled, glaring through Claire's eyes.
Maybe, but it was also utterly impractical. She was less than no match against four large male wolves. Even though she understood they didn't want to physically hurt her—well, she was pretty sure about that—they certainly wouldn't let her either hurt them or escape. They were in a small box canyon anyway, with high cliff walls that were unscalable by either hands or paws. Her only escape route was blocked by the wolves. As cold rain sliced down on them, dripping into her eyes, she kept a level glare on her ex-asshole, while trying to make her brain work better at a plan.
The weirdly-speckled wolf on the far edge of the small canyon opening kept eyeing her, a nasty grin adding to his overall creepiness. His bright yellow eyes were locked on her, tracking her every movement. Although larger than Bashar as well clearly higher in rank than the other two wolves also there, the speckled one definitely deferred to her ex.
No good, indeed.
“Temper, Claire,” Bashar said now, looking at Claire with cold eyes. Brilliant blue in his human shape, she'd once thought them interesting. Now, and especially after Tate's soft, welcoming brown eyes, she only found them utterly arrogant and even somewhat sinister, either human or wolf. “I've always enjoyed that about you, actually. A sometimes fiery personality to match your beauty. It makes you quite the prize.”
Infuriated at his mocking tone—how had she never heard that before?—Claire lifted her lip in a snarl. Otherwise, though, she kept a tight check on herself. These wolves would slip up, and her moment would come. Patience was all she needed in this seemingly bleak situation. That was one lesson Melle had well drilled into her throughout her entire life.
“Stop talking about me as a commodity,” she said, keeping her tone as cool as she could. “I'm no one's damn prize.”
Bashar leaned his entire frame toward her, the coldness in his eyes more frightening than his menacing stance. “Oh, but you are,” he said. “Your mother's family lineage runs through your veins. That makes you quite attractive to us.”
Claire bit back a retort, her human forcing her to count to ten before answering. Glancing around the wet, gloomy canyon yet again, she hoped for the millionth time two things would happen: her mother would have sensed her call but stayed well hidden if she was indeed in the area, and that Tate would not fall for Bashar's taunting phone call earlier and show up in a blind fury, ready to defend her from the crazy rogue wolves.
She could now clearly see how crazy they were. Oh, not the two lackeys, who were simply following orders with the pathetic eagerness of losers everywhere hoping to curry favor from someone stronger than they. She doubted they even originated from Bashar's native pack. But Bashar and the speckled wolf reeked of madness. After Tate had filled her in more on her ex's psychologically ill native pack, she understood she was dealing with some very alarming and even dangerously unstable wolves.
How the hell the bastard had hidden his natural ugliness from her during their months together, she had no real idea. Either he needed an Academy Award for acting, or she was a bigger fool than she felt right now.
Probably true on both counts. Not taking her gaze away from Bashar, she wished she'd been allowed to hear Bashar's conversation with Tate earlier. They'd all still been in human form, far away enough from Claire's house that they could easily disappear into the canyons, but still close enough to catch the last few bars of cell reception. His three goons—her human mockingly supplied that word, which seemed to fit well—had kept hold of her arms to keep her in one place while Bashar took her phone from her pocket, insolently letting his hand slide over her body as he did. “You used to like this, my sweet white wolf,” he'd said, flicking his tongue over his lips. “You will again.”
“Never!” She'd spat at him then, which was much easier as a human. It had landed on his cheek, mixing with the rain that already had started to very lightly patter down.
Once again, he'd only laughed before he stalked far away enough none of them could hear his call. When he returned, he informed her he'd told her “mate” he was taking what was rightfully his. First, though, he needed her for something else. With that, th
ey'd told her to shift, then formed a deadly ring of large wolves around her as they forced her to march, stiff-legged all the way, deeper into the canyons.
She'd already had a tiny dread then that Bashar fully meant for her to call in Melle.
Now, after reaching ten in her head, Claire spoke again, struggling to keep her voice even. “Fine, I'll bite. Why exactly are you so interested in my maternal line? You don't even know anything about it, except that I'm an arctic wolf. Arctic wolves are rare, but not that rare.”
He was already shaking his head, that cocky grin in place again. “Wrong, my beautiful white wolf. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You're gorgeous, but you don't get it at all, now do you?”
Despite herself, Claire gave an internal shudder at his abruptly singsong tone. Okay, fine. Maybe Tate had been right to worry about her staying alone at her house.
Yes, her human whispered. I'm an idiot to not have listened to him. He does know more about rogues and whatever else is going on than I could possibly understand.
Bashar strolled a few paces away, pausing to glance at the sky. “Ah, rain,” he said, opening his mouth to catch a few drops. Then he shook his head, water droplets flying off his muzzle. “Cleanses everything, doesn't it? It should clean the stink of that pathetic wolf right off of you, Claire.” She knew he meant Tate. “His reek doesn't belong on your beautiful coat.” Bashar looked at her. His entire stance screamed dominance, craving, and an imbalance that had started to fray her nerves.
She'd never seen this side of him before. It was vile. It was also deeply disturbing. Gripped by her sudden unease at witnessing his true nature, Claire felt herself stilling into the extraordinarily watchful state of predators on the alert.
“Now that the rain is getting stronger, it hides our tracks as well as our scent.” His tone was oddly conversational. “But if another wolf is nearby, it can't completely hide her from us.”
