Jarvis probably knew what any werewolf knew about the dangerous and unstable breed of werewolf. The Malta werewolves had lived in Malta until one of their pack leaders decided he tamper with the elements. He sniffed out a way to bend them, control them to his own benefit. Fire, water, earth and air—the Malta pack leader manipulated them to his own will. Then he taught his pack how to do it. But that wasn’t enough for this deranged pack leader. He took this knowledge into a laboratory and began messing with his pack until he’d altered them somehow. Altered them in a way so that each time a mated couple had a litter, their cubs were born with the ability to alter what should have been sniffed out naturally. The natives of Malta, along with leaders worldwide, including WA, Werewolf Affairs, which was part of the American government, decided this pack had become too dangerous and burned them out. It was the only time in history werewolves had decided to destroy another pack.
“I think I would know if Katrin weren’t a Cariboo.” Jarvis shook his head. Just the implication pissed him off and he didn’t mind smelling that way. “You’re wrong, McAllister. Katrin isn’t a Malta werewolf.”
“Her mother was Cariboo and her sire a Malta werewolf. Ask her. If she denies anything I’ve told you, let me know.”
Jarvis smelled the truth of it now. He and Katrin hadn’t been brought to McAllister’s den because Katrin had announced a mating. They were here because McAllister believed her a Malta werewolf. What did the Cariboo cop plan on doing with his little red Cariboo female?
Chapter Six
Katrin glanced around the spacious bedroom the human had shown her to upstairs. The female’s scent was curious. She wasn’t nervous around Katrin. Heather smelled relaxed, content and even happy.
“You two should be comfortable here. Take advantage of anything. Our den is your den,” she said, smiling.
Katrin stared at her. “I don’t want your den.”
Heather’s smile didn’t fade. “It’s a take on a human expression. Mi casa es su casa. It’s Spanish for my home is your home. I guess something is lost in the translation.” She shook her head, still grinning. “But anyway, the bathroom is at the end of the hall. There are fresh towels in the linen closet just outside the bathroom. Marc called before bringing you two out and suggested you might not have eaten yet today. I’ll have steaks ready in no time.”
“You honor me by welcoming me into your den,” Katrin said seriously.
Heather waved off the formal praise. Then instead of leaving Katrin alone, which she desperately wanted, the human walked around the room. She stared out the window for a minute with her back to Katrin. Not knowing what to do to get rid of the human female, Katrin stood planted where she was and watched her.
Finally Heather left the window and sat on the edge of the bed. Fucking tail. Katrin really didn’t want to have female talk with a human.
“I understand your plight.”
“You understand my plight?”
The human nodded.
“How could you understand anything about me?”
“Werewolves don’t corner the market on pain and suffering. It happens to all of us, unfortunately.”
“I’m sure,” Katrin said drily.
“I lost my mother when I was eleven. Marc said when he met me, my emotions were stuffed so deep inside me it made me stink.” She laughed after insulting herself.
Katrin didn’t understand why any werewolf would mate with a human. They were a disgusting race. Heather still smelled. Marc McAllister was a good-looking male, and with a fair amount of power and a nice den. He would be a catch for any female.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Katrin said.
Heather squinted in Katrin’s direction. Her scent matched her expression, perplexed.
“You lost your family too,” Heather pressed.
“My litter.”
“I’m sorry. You lost your litter.” Heather sighed. “I’m just trying to say we have something in common.”
“Comparing the loss of members we were related to doesn’t seem good grounds in establishing a connection between the two of us.”
When Heather laughed she didn’t smell the least bit humored by what Katrin just said. “You’re right. It doesn’t.”
Since Heather sat on the bed, and although the room was spacious, there wasn’t anywhere else to sit. Katrin remained standing just inside the doorway. There was a closet with sliding, folding doors partially closed and concealing anything that was in there. There were two windows, one facing the north and one the west. With the sun probably not quite over the den at that moment, not a lot of sunshine came in through either window. Small matching wooden nightstands were on either side of the bed. Identical lamps were on each nightstand. There were corded, oblong carpets, one on each side of the bed. A dresser was alongside the wall next to her. There was nothing on it. Katrin didn’t notice anything on the walls.
Other than the multitude of old emotions coming from Heather, with new ones stacking in on top of them, the bedroom had no other smells. Katrin guessed that she and Jarvis weren’t putting anyone out of a bed by staying here. In spite of the human’s determination to howl about matters best left alone, Katrin was raised better than to be rude to her hostess. She wasn’t sure, though, if humans qualified as someone her good breeding applied to or not.
The faintly sour odor of her awkwardness was almost too much to handle. Katrin was torn between simply leaving her alone in the room and sniffing out Jarvis, or asking the human to leave so Katrin could air out the room.
“I guess I just wanted to say I’m sorry you lost your litter,” Heather finally said, after the moment of silence had stretched between them. “I know how unbearable the pain is.” Heather stood and looked around the room as if searching for something. “I hope you find this room comfortable,” she said in a softer tone.
The female was searching for things to say. For some reason the human wasn’t leaving Katrin alone. She was mated to a werewolf so it couldn’t be her lack of trust in Katrin.
“Do you know who killed your mother?” Katrin decided to ask.
Heather quit looking around the room and focused on Katrin. “No one killed her. Nor did anyone tell me how sick she was. I thought my mom would live forever. But when I was in the fifth grade she died. I think I’ve blocked most of it out of my head. All I remember is she went to the hospital one night and never came home. I refused to care about anything after that.”
When she smiled her entire face lit up and suddenly she jumped from smelling sad to happy. “Until I met Marc. Those were some crazy times when he and I first started dating,” she mused, now glowing. “Remind me to tell you sometime how he hauled me out of a coffee shop where I was with my friends.”
“I expected my sire and mother to run for many more years as well,” Katrin blurted out, although she didn’t know why she shared the most painful part of her past with a human female. “Until humans burnt them to their death in our den.”
Heather stared at Katrin only a brief moment before her scent changed. Just the slightest spiciness but enough to reveal her anger. “I didn’t kill your parents, Katrin. Please don’t hate me because other humans ruined your family—I mean litter. I would never do something like that.”
Katrin sighed and stared out the window facing west. The McAllister den was on beautiful land. “I believe you. You mated with a werewolf.” Her comment, which she forced out and at the same time tried for a calming breath, had her immediately thinking about being mated to Jarvis. Would he ever talk to her again? He hadn’t said a word in the police cruiser. Nor had his scent helped reveal his emotions.
“And I haven’t regretted it for a minute.” Heather smelled happy again. When she continued talking, something changed in her scent. “Marc wanted me to talk to you about your sire, and the fact that he was a Malta werewolf. I don’t know a lot about that breed but apparently your behavior at the Toubec ranch raised curiosity that the mixture of Cariboo and Malta are a bad mix.” Heather clas
ped and unclasped her hands on her lap. She chewed her lower lip before looking at Katrin. All anger was gone, but the female still held on to salty nervousness. “I’m sure your mate will be up soon. Your mate and mine are downstairs discussing this now.”
“Discussing it. Discussing what?” Katrin demanded.
Heather stood, taking her time and never taking her attention from Katrin. “Marc has already told me.” Her tone turned as cool and unfriendly as her scent. “You hate humans. I get that. But that doesn’t give you the right to almost kill someone. Then there were the other things you did at the Toubecs’.”
Katrin stared at her, stupefied. “Doesn’t give me the right? What are you talking about? All I’ve ever done is defend myself. You’re the one who doesn’t have the right to stand there and accuse me of things when you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Heather stood, hesitated a moment, then walked toward Katrin. She was one hell of a brave female. Katrin barely managed to control the change as fury mounted inside her. Tiny hairs tickled the back of her neck and down her spine. Being human might not have allowed her to smell Katrin’s outrage over the accusations just thrown at her, but Heather was smart enough to see it in Katrin’s face. Instead of being nervous, as she should have been facing a pissed-off werewolf, her expression turned determined.
She glared at Katrin. “I don’t need to hear your defense,” she said, her tone low. “Whether you’re fucked up because of what happened to your family or because of your breeding isn’t for me to decide. All I know is you’re staying here until they decide what to do about it. This is a nice room. Make yourself comfortable.”
Heather slipped past Katrin and closed the door after leaving the room. Katrin was too stunned to move. McAllister had found out about her litter. Even as anger coursed through her, enough clarity remained for Katrin to smell the big picture. She was half Malta werewolf. McAllister was the law. He would kill her. Panic shivered through her and she was unable to suppress it. Her stomach jolted, fear and anger peaking along with an immediate urge to run.
Katrin heard a click. Her wits returned and she spun around. Nausea rose inside her but she managed to suppress it even as her mind began spinning with possible outcomes to her secret being discovered.
“Fucking tail, crap,” she spit out, shaking in spite of her efforts to regain control of her senses. “No, no,” she mumbled, willing it all not to be true.
Then staring at the door, she lunged, grabbing the doorknob. But she knew the truth before turning it. The human bitch had locked her in the bedroom. If she broke down the door all she would be doing was running toward the werewolf who planned on killing her, probably as soon as the pack leader showed up.
Katrin growled before she roared. Her fingernails and teeth grew as her heart began pounding too hard in her chest. She fisted her hands, staring at the door. It would take nothing to plow right through it. That Cariboo cop hadn’t brought them out here to be hospitable. He’d brought them out to his den to imprison her. But at the moment it was just the four of them in the country, in his den. Maybe killing him would give her time to escape.
What was she thinking?
She needed to think her way out of this—and without killing the pack leader’s bulldog. If that was in fact the real reason the male wore that human uniform.
After pacing the length of the room once, she wasn’t able to take the confines of four walls anymore. Instantly the bedroom was too small. She was claustrophobic and she was pissed as hell. The Cariboo cop had sniffed her out, learned about her litter. He and the Toubecs had determined her unstable and now she was trapped in this human-smelling cage. How dare they condemn her like this!
“Oh my fucking tail,” she whispered, stopping in mid-pace as a thought hit her.
Were they hunting down her littermates? Were Leisa and Magda in danger?
Katrin pressed her hands on the cold windowpane and looked at the yard below. She tested the lock. The window slid open easily.
Why hadn’t they secured the windows? Or had they thought she might leap through panes of glass to escape and there was an ounce of compassion in that human-loving cop?
Katrin didn’t take time to think about it. She was out the window, gauging the distance of her jump before forming any type of plan other than escaping and saving herself and her litter. If they knew she was half Malta werewolf, they’d brought her here, locked her in this den, for one reason. Once that pack leader arrived he would howl for her death.
“I’m sorry, Jarvis,” she whispered, and jumped.
The change hit her with violent speed. Her clothes ripped off her body as four legs, not two, braced for impact with the ground.
Katrin fought to regain her bearings after smacking hard on the ground from the two-story fall. She had a possible sprain, maybe even a fracture in her right hind leg, but it didn’t slow her down. She was already in a terrible predicament and taking time to inspect her leg would only make it worse.
McAllister and the Toubecs condemned her dead sire without ever knowing him. He had been one hell of a good werewolf, a saint, a powerful, proud male who had fought tooth and claw her entire life to make sure she and her littermates had wanted for nothing. She would never forget the smell of the explosives used, thrown through the windows of their den that had ignited it in flames and killed her sire and mama. The sound of their den blowing up would haunt her dreams forever.
She and her littermates had gone down the mountain to take some of their fresh kill to an older couple who lived alone. They might not have been part of an official pack, but the dens on the mountain had taken care of each other when times howled for it. It had been her sire who had first smelled the sickness in that particular den and had encouraged the other dens on the mountain to assist the older couple when possible.
Her sire and mama had hunted all night and had fallen asleep after she and her littermates ran down the mountain with the fresh kill. Magda, Leisa and Katrin had returned to find their den in flames. The fire had been so hot there was nothing they could do to put it out.
Other dens had been destroyed as well, some with their entire litters asleep inside. Since most werewolves ran at night and slept into the day, it had been a blessing Katrin and her littermates weren’t also killed. Their sire had saved their lives by waking them and insisting they take the meat down the mountain.
This was the male the werewolves in Prince George believed had given her bad blood.
Katrin put all the muscle she had into running. The McAllister den was already on the outskirts of Prince George and she skirted the edge of the city, her only focus running south. Magda and Leisa had mentioned a sanctuary run by owls in Washington State, outside of Seattle. From there, they had howled about traveling in their human form to a pack in Minnesota. It was all the information Katrin had. She hadn’t heard from her littermates since they’d left her in Prince George. Hopefully these owls would harbor her without flapping their wings about it. It wasn’t much of a plan but on a moment’s notice, it was all she had.
Katrin didn’t want to think about Jarvis. It hurt too much. She’d just found the perfect male, not only physically, sexually, but emotionally as well. Jarvis ran with more honor than any werewolf she’d ever known, shy of her sire. Everything she knew about Jarvis appealed to her. The way he’d stood up for her at the grocery store, when he’d hurried from Howley’s right after she’d paid that pup to go inside and find him, and how he’d insisted on brushing her hair and bathing her before they approached the humans and Cariboo cop.
Pushing herself, she ran faster, ignoring the growing pain in her back paw. No matter how fast she ran, her thoughts stuck with her. She was doing a lousy job of not thinking about Jarvis. She was probably leaving one hell of a strong scent for anyone to track her by.
Katrin tried drawing in her emotions, putting all of Prince George and everything that had happened to her there out of her thoughts. So much easier growled about than done. Already she ached
for Jarvis. She wanted to howl to him about the injustice done to her. Katrin wished she had shared with him what had happened to her litter. Then he would have known how great her sire was. He would have smelled the truth in her howling of the many great things he had done throughout Katrin’s life. Jarvis would have known.
But what did it matter? Jarvis hadn’t lived in Prince George that much longer than she had. What if the McAllister male and the Toubec litter hadn’t believed him? Just because he smelled of the truth when he told them wouldn’t have made them believe a half Cariboo-half Malta werewolf hadn’t convinced him of her lies. After all, Katrin must be some kind of monster with the blood of a condemned species flowing in her veins.
This wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Her sire hadn’t deserved any condemnation in his life and he sure didn’t deserve to be dishonored this way and howled badly about in death. What had Malta werewolves done to this community to result in her being locked in a room while Jarvis was informed of her bloodline?
Katrin came across a highway and barely slowed after noticing no approaching cars, flying across it and continuing her trek. Only once did she glance over her shoulder. She didn’t smell any werewolves close by. Jarvis wasn’t chasing after her.
Her hind leg increasingly throbbed and her anger and bitterness lessened as remorse grew stronger. It shouldn’t be like this. Her littermates—who had so much more of their sire’s blood in them with their black hair and beautiful, long black coats when in their fur— shouldn’t have had to run to the safety of an American pack. The three of them should have been able to run together. Just because Katrin took after their mama didn’t mean she fit in with a lunewulf pack.
The ground grew hillier and rockier and she was forced to slow. When the trees thickened, only then did Katrin dare stop to take a look at her hind leg. The moment she saw the swelling her brain registered the pain.
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