“Can the five of you share?” She set it down for the she-wolves to figure out.
Kallie rubbed the back of her neck with both hands and scanned the clearing.
“Looking for Wolfrik?” Heath asked.
Her attention snapped to the dark-haired shifter, who smiled kindly, and inclined his head in the direction of the den’s communal shed. “He grabbed a dress for the human and left early to bring it to her.”
Kallie’s heart turned to stone inside her chest.
He’d given her a rabbit, but he’d left her to bring clothing to the woman. Would he feed her, as well? He’d have to. It wasn’t as though the human could hunt down her own meal.
Kallie understood the woman was a prisoner—a means to an end. But she still didn’t like it.
If the human had taken a shifter lover before, what was to stop her from trying again? She was alone in the forest with only one familiar face—Wolfrik’s.
And although he’d gravitated toward Kallie—slept with her—he was unpredictable, and their relationship, if she could call it that, was so new.
chapter fifteen
Morning birds sang outside the cave—no care in the world. How lucky they were. If only Sparrow’s name could give her wings to join a flock in the great blue sky.
Despite being a prisoner, Sparrow had slept the sleep of the dead. For better or worse, she’d reached her destination and was no longer being chased down by hell beasts. The dark, cool, quiet cave cocooned her body and gave her a false sense of safety.
Sparrow had never seen a wolf shifter as large as the neanderthal guarding her at the cave. He was huge—even bigger than Wolfrik.
His presence made her feel safe, even though it shouldn’t. “Aden,” Wolfrik had called him. Aden was the one who suggested killing her. Thankfully, he’d made no move to act on that idea—going silent as soon as Wolfrik left the day before.
Sparrow hadn’t spoken either; she’d been too busy seething at Wolfrik’s mean-spirited words. Once the skies had darkened, she’d taken the blanket into the cave, settled against the sandy ground, and clutched the thick material against her.
It covered her now as she lay awake, her thoughts drifting like gray clouds across a stormy sky. She couldn’t think of one reason to get up. And it wasn’t as though her watchdog was ordering her out. He hadn’t checked on her once all night that she was aware of.
The scent of roasted meat drifted inside the cave, and her mouth inadvertently watered. Soon her stomach joined in, growling at her like an animal wanting to be fed. She ignored the hunger pains as long as she could, which wasn’t long, before peeling the blanket back.
She got to her feet and wrapped the blanket over her shoulders, taking tentative steps around the maze of boulders jutting out from haphazard angles.
When she emerged from the cave, she was temporarily blinded by morning daylight. She held still as she blinked rapidly. Once her eyes adjusted, she averted them from the neanderthal who stood beside a small cook fire naked as the day he was born. Sparrow hadn’t considered she’d be joining a nudist colony when she fled the city.
What had she been thinking? She had no place here. Even if Wolfrik had welcomed her into his pack, she would never belong—never fit in.
“The grass is always greener on the other side,” she thought bitterly.
That much was true. As to the rest, she’d foolishly pictured a utopia in the woods and now had to face the harsh reality of life in the wild—and the creatures that came with it.
Aden didn’t greet her. From the corner of her eye, she saw him turn a stick that pierced two skinless squirrels. Sparrow’s stomach gave a queasy flip as she looked at the squirrels’ mouths open wide in silent screams. A scan around the firepit showed her what she already knew. It was squirrel meat or go hungry.
Aden removed the stick from the fire and held it away from the flames, waving it with slight, gentle shakes of his arm. It only took him a few steps to reach Sparrow. Her heart thumped against her chest heavily to see such a big man coming at her, but it was only to offer her the meat. He held the stick in front of her.
She looked from the cooked squirrel meat to his face and asked, “What about you?”
“I already ate.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the stick.
She sat on a rock and breathed in the aroma of cooked meat. Her stomach growled, seeming to say, “What are you waiting for? A napkin and cutlery? Feed me, you sad little fool!”
“Hold your horses,” she nearly muttered before blowing on the meat.
She held her tongue. It was one thing to talk to herself alone, but she’d be damned before she did it in front of the neanderthal or Wolfrik.
Once she’d blown on the meat for what felt like a reasonable amount of time, she bit into the middle of the squirrel. She had to scrape little bits of meat off its scrawny body.
Hunger stabbed at her stomach harder as she swallowed down the first little bits. The dark meat was tender and gamey, somewhat similar to chicken. Her gut seemed more insulted than pleased by the meager offering. She continued chewing and working more bits of flesh off the squirrel as though it were corn on the cob. What she wouldn’t give for a side of potatoes and corn—with butter.
Early on, Hawk had rounded up a group of homesteaders and made them teach a hand-selected group of his people the lost art of animal husbandry, in addition to food gardening. He’d also raided the last remaining supplies of canned and dried foods within a fifty-mile radius of the compound, including a warehouse loaded with freeze-dried everything: canned meats, 3600-calorie emergency food bars, food buckets, and meal packets that only required water and heat. There had even been buckets filled with emergency seeds for growing. Everything was labeled Endurance Emergency Food Company. They ate it sparingly, ignoring expirations dates—ignoring the concept of time altogether—and had started saving their own seeds after the growth of their first crops.
For all his brutality, Hawk knew how to think long term.
What would happen to the compound after Wolfrik disposed of him?
Hope sprouted wings and spread inside Sparrow’s chest. Maybe she could return and help create a kinder, more harmonious civilization. The first thing she would do is release all the shifters Hawk had captured and return the children to their mothers or find them homes.
There’d be no more fights or breeding. No more unnecessary violence for sport. People would work together to not only survive, but to build a legacy for a better future.
She finished the first squirrel and gnawed on the second one with renewed vigor as excitement buzzed through her veins. Surely even Wolfrik would love the plan. They could work together, temporarily, toward a common goal.
For the first time, she gave tremendous thanks that she hadn’t given in to despair and shot herself in Eric’s name. Her death wouldn’t have helped anyone. Now she had a second chance. She and Eric had dreamed of escaping together. Instead, she’d honor his memory in a much more noble way—by freeing all the captives and ensuring the practice never got taken up again, at least not in her city.
Early that morning, Wolfrik strode into the glade, a backpack slung over one shoulder. Maureen sat on her knees sawing away at a bow drill beneath the cauldron. When the dry nest she’d built caught fire, she leaned down and blew on the flames.
Wolfrik slipped the pack off his arm and waited patiently until the flames caught in the kindling. He pulled a mason jar he’d found in the den out of the pack and held it out.
“I need this filled.”
Maureen squinted at the jar then at Wolfrik. “The porridge isn’t cooked yet.”
“I’ll cook it at the caves.”
She nodded and took the jar, spooning the morning mixture until it was full.
“Thanks,” Wolfrik said as she handed it back.
Time to head back to the
caves, he thought with an inner sigh as the pack settled over his shoulder. He slipped the second strap on. He meant to make good time, even if it was on two feet. But before he could clear the glade, Raider barreled in from the western trail.
“Wolfrik, I’d like a word with you.”
“Bye. There’s your word.”
Raider glowered as he marched over. Wolfrik puffed out his chest and stood his ground. He figured Raider had something to say about Sparrow, so it surprised him when the big lug said, “I think you should stay away from Kallie.”
Anger sparked along Wolfrik’s spine and shot into his brain. He ground his teeth as a snarl rose up his throat. Tight fists curled at his sides. He took in a deep inhale and released it slowly, uncurling his fingers, and snarled at Raider. “Does Jordan know you have a thing for Kallie?”
“I don’t have a thing for Kallie,” Raider gritted out.
“Then why do you care if I’m humping her?”
Raider’s lips drew back, and his nostrils flared. “I’m looking out for her.”
“The way you looked out for her when you let the vulhena get her?” Wolfrik fired back.
Raider’s face contorted right before he punched Wolfrik in the eye. The force of his fist sent Wolfrik reeling back. He’d been taken off guard—a mistake he wouldn’t make a second time. For all the baiting he’d done, he was truly pissed off.
Shit brain had no business telling him to stay away from Kallie.
As Wolfrik’s eye closed up, he grinned viciously. “Now you’re speaking my language.”
He yanked the pack off his back and set it on the ground then lunged at Raider, a fist flying toward his face to return the favor. Raider jerked sideways in time to save his eye, but not his lip and cheek. Wolfrik’s knuckle struck the ape’s face with satisfying force. Raider’s lip split, and blood spilled down.
A strangled scream of surprise arose from the area of the cauldron.
Maureen wasn’t much of an audience, but this wasn’t for sport. No, Wolfrik would teach the big ape to keep his damn mouth shut. Raider wasn’t Kallie’s guardian or lover. He’d failed her, and now he had the nerve to tell Wolfrik to stay away?
Wolfrik threw another punch, grazing Raider’s jaw. The beast was taller, which made reaching his eye more of a challenge, but Wolfrik still planned to blacken them both. On his third attempt, Raider jumped forward, rather than back, and gripped Wolfrik by the shoulders, pulling him closer. He swung around, a big, beefy arm snaking under Wolfrik’s chin, and took him into a chokehold.
Wolfrik roared, jerked, and threw his head back, but Raider held on, squeezing tighter, blocking the air from Wolfrik’s lungs.
The anger that raged through his mind was indescribable. No one got the better of Cujo. No one. Fucking no one!
Black spots swarmed in front of Wolfrik’s open eye. He could have sworn his head was physically spinning. The rest of his body tipped to join the cyclone—one that tunneled into the earth rather than up to the sky.
“Raider, stop!” Sasha screamed. “Stop it now. Let Wolfrik go.”
Once released from the stranglehold, Wolfrik coughed and made a gagging sound as he gulped in too much air at once. He took a staggering step forward. He knew he needed a minute to recover his breath, but he couldn’t let Raider get away with this humiliation. Before he could manage another step, Sasha rushed to his side and slipped a slender arm under his. Wolfrik stilled as she pressed her body against his side and stroked his back tenderly. Her eyes shone with loving concern. This wasn’t typical Sasha behavior. She’d never been one to coddle.
Raider’s mouth fell open as she fussed over Wolfrik, and his shoulders sagged in shame.
Maybe getting strangled wasn’t so bad, after all. It was worth it to see Raider disgraced in front of Sasha when the ape had worked so hard to hold himself to the pack’s highest standards. Who was the brute now?
Sasha continued rubbing Wolfrik’s back and glaring at Raider.
The ape lowered his eyes to the ground. “I shouldn’t have let him provoke me. I’m sorry, Sasha.”
“It’s not me you need to apologize to.”
Wolfrik bit his tongue to keep from smirking. Sasha was no fool, and if she saw him making faces, it might end this amusing reprimand. Instead, he looked at Raider and lifted his brows—or tried to, anyway. His swollen eye made the surrounding area of his face ache and feel like mushy morning porridge.
Raider lifted his head and shoulders, towering over them both. His jaw clenched. “That, I will not do.”
Wolfrik glared at him. “I don’t need your apologies. I just need you to stay out of my damn business.”
“Someone has to keep an eye out. You’ve given me no reason to trust you,” Raider said before turning on his heels and storming away, bulky arms swinging at his sides like axes ready to level the forest as he entered the woods.
Sasha’s lower lip curled when she shot one last glare across the glade at Raider’s disappearing back. She slipped her arm from under Wolfrik’s and cupped the side of his face gently. “Are you okay?”
Wolfrik sniffed. “This is nothing. I’ve had much worse done to me.”
Tears glistened over Sasha’s eyes. She lowered her hand and gripped Wolfrik by the wrists. “We’re going to kill the bastards who captured you. I’m glad they’re coming. I can’t wait for them to reach our border so we can tear out their rotten hearts and feed their corpses to the worms.” She snarled.
Wolfrik chuckled. “Oh, how I missed you, Sasha.” He pulled her into a hug against his chest, glad Tabor wasn’t around to stop them. They were only friends now, but that didn’t make much difference to an overly protective mate, especially when the friends in question had bumped bones for years.
She squeezed him tight then took a step back and nodded at the nearby backpack Wolfrik had set on the ground. “Are you headed to the caves?”
“Gotta keep our prisoner fed and clothed.” Wolfrik grunted.
“Is she giving you guys any trouble?”
“She has nowhere to go, and she knows it.”
Sasha nodded. “Let me know if you need relief or reinforcements.”
“Aden and I can handle one little human.”
“I’m glad the two of you are working together. Aden’s a good partner.”
Wolfrik shrugged. “He’s tolerable.”
Sasha studied his face. “Perhaps you’d prefer a female partner?”
Wolfrik’s thoughts ran straight to Kallie with her untamed hair and adventurous spirit. His groin tightened, remembering the way her glorious breasts had bounced when she straddled and rode him with wild abandon.
How would she react to his black eye? Would she fuss over him, as Sasha had, and offer comfort? His heart warmed at the idea of Kallie tending to him—not only sexually, but with the kind of concern Sasha had briefly shown.
He’d taken the black eye for her, after all.
Too bad he had to spend the night at the caves guarding Sparrow. He wanted Kallie to see his bruised eye. He wished he could march back to the den right then, but he’d promised Aden he’d be back.
“I need to go,” Wolfrik said gruffly, ignoring Sasha’s last question.
“Remember, if you need anything—”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Sasha.”
She gave his arm one last squeeze and offered him a kind smile.
Wolfrik had a long trek in front of him and plenty of time to brood over Raider’s thinly veiled warning. He’d thought the mongrel had a thing for Sasha, but it was Kallie who had inspired Raider to go against his steadfast nature and attack Wolfrik.
The ground below his feet turned to air and the trees parted out of his way as his thoughts drifted off.
He replayed the punch and subsequent chokehold over in his mind on endless repeat—the same way he went over his moves after every fig
ht. Unlike the pit, Wolfrik hadn’t been expecting the strike. That had been his first mistake, assuming Raider would stick to his typical passive nature. Everyone had their limit—even a sensible council member.
Wolfrik snickered to himself then clenched his teeth. Getting under the brute’s skin wasn’t so satisfying since Raider had managed to get his arm around his neck.
Wolfrik punched the nearest tree trunk with a roar, imagining it was Raider’s face. His knuckles bled afterward, but he felt better.
He didn’t stop to rest, moving at a fast, steady pace for the Manama River. When the caves were roughly fifty paces away, Wolfrik put his fingers to his lips and gave a shrill whistle to let Aden know he approached.
The werewolf shifter sat beneath a tree in animal form—probably so he wouldn’t have to talk, or listen, to Sparrow. Wolfrik’s lips curved up. Wise werewolf. Sparrow had a way of worming her way in. She’d managed to get Eric to fall for her, and Wolfrik to open up and even confide in her. Then again, there had been no one else to talk to. The loneliness during those years of captivity had been far more punishable than the violence. The fights had been exhilarating, entertaining, and an escape of sorts from his caged isolation. Sparrow had kept coming by, talking in a compassionate, sorrowful voice—never giving up, even when she got no answer, until the day she did.
Everyone had their limit. Hawk couldn’t break Wolfrik, but gradually the monster’s sister had cracked through his defenses.
Sparrow sat on the ground, building small rock towers. There were six around her, and she was just topping off the seventh.
Wolfrik gave Aden another glance from under his tree before running his one good eye over Sparrow and smirking. “I see you’ve already pushed Aden out of his skin.”
Sparrow knocked all the rock towers over one by one, methodically, and glared up. Her mouth fell open and eyes widened in their sockets. “What happened to your eye?”
“None of your business.”
“Is there a lot of fighting in your pack?”
Born Wild Page 17
