Winter of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

“Move, little human,” he growled, wiping the blood from his face.

  Human? What kind of derogatory term was that? “I’m not little,” she growled back, “and I’m not moving.” He grabbed her shirtfront faster than she could block.

  With no apparent effort, he lifted her off her feet like an With no apparent effort, he lifted her off her feet like an errant puppy and set her to one side. She brought her fists down on his forearm, broke his hold, and planted herself in his path again.

  “Fuck, you’re stubborn.” He gave her a lethal look. “I could hurt you. Badly.”

  The whiplash of fear made her mad. She glared back. “I’d do my best to hurt you. Badly.”

  He exhaled loudly and glanced over her head at someone behind her. “You got a problem too?”

  Easing sideways, Bree folowed his gaze.

  Hands on hips, Vicki blocked Shay who had the same frustrated expression as Zeb. “Are you finished?” Vicki asked Shay.

  “Hel.” Shay looked at Zeb. “Are we done?” Zeb cupped Bree’s face with a battered hand. His thumb traced her lips so very gently that a tingle shimmered through her. “Guess we’re done,” he murmured.

  Shay tugged on Vicki’s hair, then limped over to Bree.

  “Brave little warrior, aren’t you?” He tucked her disheveled hair behind her ear before turning to Zeb. “Most fun I’ve had in weeks. C’mon, I’l buy you a beer.”

  Bree stared as the two guys walked to the bar, side by side. Around her, people set tables and chairs in place and picked up spiled drinks. A few muttered about damned cay-heers, whatever that meant. She shook her head. “They try heers, whatever that meant. She shook her head. “They try to kil each other and now they’re best friends?”

  “Guys. Assholes. No difference.”

  As Bree folowed Vicki to the bar, Calum smiled and set out their working drinks. Diet cola for Bree, water for Vicki.

  “Efficiently done. Thank you.”

  Even as the compliment sang through her, Bree narrowed her eyes. “Seems like a man would worry about his wife getting hurt.”

  “My mate could take those two with one arm tied behind her back,” he said mildly. “Even without the unfair advantage.” At a hail from a customer, he moved down the bar.

  “What advantage?” Bree asked Vicki.

  “Being female.” Vicki drank some water, glanced over at Zeb and Shay. “Any shif—um, around here, most men would die before they’d hurt a woman. As long as we were obstinate enough to stay in their way, they couldn’t fight. But if Calum had intervened, the guys would have happily turned it into a three-way brawl.” She sighed. “It would’ve been more fun if they’d thrown a punch or two.”

  “Jeez, you’re as crazy as they are.” Bree frowned at the bartender. “I’m not sure whether to be horrified or impressed that he’d risk you.”

  “Calum uses al his resources, even me. It’s one of the reasons I love the overbearing bastard.”

  Calum apparently heard. His eyes turned darker as he Calum apparently heard. His eyes turned darker as he gave his wife a look that should have been x-rated. Even weirder, she could swear she heard Vicki purr.

  Bree suppressed a sigh. What she wouldn’t give for some man to look at her as if she was his whole world.

  Chapter Eleven

  Heart pounding, Bree tore out of the house, gagging at the taste of blood. Mr. Harvey had tried to force his thing into her mouth and she’d bit it. Her scalp hurt from where he’d gripped her hair. She reached the end of the block and turned. She couldn’t go back. No one would ever believe a fifteen-year-old over a foster parent.

  Bree startled awake, heart pounding, then felt a brush of fur against her arm and the warmth of a furry body against her side. Elvis was sprawled beside her on the smooth boulder in the forest glade. She relaxed.

  Over the past few days, the amber-eyed dog had joined her on most of her lazy-paced hikes. His limp was almost gone now. And she was healing as wel, both mentaly and physicaly. She slept late every morning, read books from BOOKS, and quizzed the townspeople about her photo.

  Unfortunately, no one remembered her parents.

  Afternoons, she practiced her shooting—and was getting better. Even though Shay had cut the target in half, she could stil hit it, although she was nowhere near as accurate as the men were. Wasn’t it a shame she couldn’t bring them back to Seattle for protection? Hi, guys. Would you help me pack…

  and if a nonexistent monster crashes through the door, you please kill it. Oh, and bring your guns. You’ll need them. She roled her eyes, imagining their reaction.

  No, she’d return to Seattle by herself. But she wasn’t stupid. She’d stay in a hotel while she searched for an apartment. Then maybe she’d give herself a giant moving-out party so she could pack and load her stuff surrounded by people. With luck, the noise would drown out her memories of Ash’s laughing, scolding voice. Of her screams. Of my screams.

  Her shudder attracted Elvis’s attention, and then he was licking her face and neck, washing away her grief, and making her giggle as she tried to fend him off. “Ew, dog spit.

  That’s just gross.”

  He gave her a canine grin, tongue loling out, totaly unrepentant.

  “It’s late, buddy. We’d better head back.” After a final swipe of his tongue over her chin, he jumped off the boulder and started down the trail.

  Folowing behind him, she grinned. The bossy dog never Folowing behind him, she grinned. The bossy dog never let her go in front…which might be a good thing. “You know, I’d probably have gotten lost if you hadn’t been with me.” His tail wagged with his obvious agreement.

  “But that’s not true anymore.” Stopping for a moment, she looked around. Yes, she recognized this trail. “Not my fault. I never hiked before. Actualy, I’d never left Seattle before this trip. Isn’t that weird?”

  The dog tilted its ears back. Best listener she’d ever met.

  “I was scared to leave the city.” Her hiking boots thudded as she crossed the wooden footbridge. Sunlight glinted off the creek and melted the ice along the banks. “I was found in the woods somewhere—at least that’s what the social worker said, and I get nightmares about being lost.” As the wind rustled through the evergreens, the branches sighed. The creek gurgled and sang, and in the sky, a lonely eagle cried out. The damp green scent of the forest filed the air, seasoned with the tang of snow. “Who knew mountains were so magnificent?”

  A few minutes later, she smiled at the sight of her cabin.

  No, it wasn’t home, but it had been a good sanctuary.

  Hearing thuds, she walked around the side of the building to the front. Elvis folowed.

  Coat discarded on the ground, Zeb transferred a load of firewood from a wheelbarrow onto her porch. As he hefted several pieces, his muscular biceps and shoulders bulged.

  several pieces, his muscular biceps and shoulders bulged.

  The neck of his flannel shirt was open, displaying the scars that ran down his neck onto his chest. So many scars.

  Bree shivered and cleared her dry throat. “Thanks for the wood.”

  He nodded, then raised one eyebrow at the dog. “Got a pal?”

  Odd how reassuring it was to have Elvis next to her, even if Zeb didn’t scare her anymore. Much. She hugged the dog, got her face licked, and laughed. “Elvis is a darling. Do you know who owns him?”

  “Elvis?” Zeb snorted a laugh. “Nobody owns that noisy mutt. Keep him—but you should probably neuter him.” The dog showed its fangs and growled at Zeb.

  Bree’s mouth dropped open.

  Even more startling—Zeb actualy grinned.

  * * *

  The next evening, Bree walked a circle around her table.

  The display of cones and twigs looked appropriate and rustic with the heavy stoneware.

  Three place settings.

  Her cold hands trembled as she straightened a napkin.

  Dinner was almost ready, the table prepared. Now she had to invite th
e guests. She put a hand on her quivering stomach.

  to invite the guests. She put a hand on her quivering stomach.

  Two huge men. She glanced longingly at her purse by the door, but wearing her pistol to supper would probably be rude.

  Honestly, Bree. Get over yourself .She stiffened her spine. If she couldn’t even have a couple of guys over—no matter how tal—then how did she expect to return to a city filed with men?

  Zeb and Shay had been kind. And hey, they’d each given her a kiss—if those little brushes could be caled kisses. It was odd that after she got past being startled, she’d actualy wanted more. She snorted. Like more kissing would happen if she ran screaming for the woods.

  So—next step. Desensitization. That’s what an alergic friend had caled it when the doc injected her with increasingly higher doses of ragweed. If the method worked, eventualy she’d stop being frightened of humongous guys.

  Okay, then. After yanking on her coat, she hurried over to the lodge and pounded on the door.

  She squeaked when it jerked open.

  “What the fuck is—oh.” Zeb looked down, and a glint of humor lit those dark chocolate-colored eyes. “Little female, you knock like someone much bigger.”

  “Are you ever going to stop caling me little female?” He studied her for an interminable minute, his gaze starting at her feet and moving up her body in a way that made her at her feet and moving up her body in a way that made her catch her breath. Heat flooded her cheeks.

  “No.”

  She blinked. “No what?”

  “No, I’m not going to stop caling you little female.” When Shay appeared in the doorway behind Zeb, the two together looked like they’d need the side of the house removed for easy access. “Is Zeb bothering you? Should I beat on him?”

  “You two did enough fighting the other night. Was Calum angry?”

  Shay tilted his head. “Does he get mad?”

  “He does,” Zeb said. “Don’t go there.”

  Bree remembered her first visit to the bar and how Calum’s gray eyes had turned black.

  “He wasn’t upset about the fight. Just wanted us to fix what we broke,” Shay said.

  “You here for a reason?” Zeb crossed his arms over his chest. Not into smal talk, was he?

  “My vacation time is over. I’m leaving Saturday,” Bree said awkwardly.

  “That’s a shame.” Shay studied her. “Why do you—”

  “I cooked a pot of spaghetti,” she interrupted hastily. No questions, please. “To thank you for the stuff you’ve done for me. You know, firewood and shooting lessons and repairs.

  Escort services. Stuff.”

  Shay leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, his smile slow. “You want to feed us; we’re there.” Zeb just nodded, his gaze flat and watchful again.

  “Uh. Good. Dinner’s in twenty minutes.” As she walked away, she felt their eyes on her back. Walk slower. Don’t act like a kitten fleeing from a dog. They didn’t need to know her heart was bruising her rib cage.

  * * *

  Being human, the female had never seen cahirs eat, Zeb realized, enjoying her surprise when he and Shay polished off the salad, garlic bread, and an entire pot of spaghetti. The stuff from a can never tasted like this. With the scents of food, wood smoke, and female, the cabin smeled like what he imagined a home would.

  Since Shay kept the conversation roling despite Bree’s nervousness, Zeb could eat and enjoy the scenery. The little female was definitely worth looking at, even if she was human.

  After teling them to stay put, she started clearing the table.

  Every time she turned, her long hair rippled with different colors. Some strands were the color of sunshine, some as white as the glaciers on Rainier. Fascinating. His hair was black and…black.

  Shay leaned forward and said in a low voice, “If you keep Shay leaned forward and said in a low voice, “If you keep watching her like she’s a breakfast rabbit, I’l smash your face.”

  “You and what pack?” Not his fault that he remembered the feel of her lips, her scent. Her blue sweater looked softer than a wolf’s downy undercoat and cupped her ful breasts in a way that stirred his cock. They’d be heavy, would fil his palms, would taste like—dammit, why in Herne’s name was he so attracted to her? Humans were nice enough, but not for sex. He’d known a few males who’d fuck anything, but he wasn’t one of them.

  Yet she puled at him—her scent, her body, even her personality. Especialy her personality.

  She wanted to take care of everyone, from cuddling the children in the bookstore to feeding him and Shay. And she had to be the most stubborn, bravest little female he’d ever met. When her rounded chin came up and her lips compressed, she wouldn’t budge from a decision. Especialy when it came to shooting that fucking pistol.

  Or stopping a fight. The little human had moved with the sureness of a cat. Considering how easily she’d broken his hold and the graceful way she’d kicked the grabby human, she knew some sort of fighting skil.

  Calum’s mate moved in that manner too…and a year ago, Vicki had been human also. What was wrong with human males that their females must learn to fight and handle males that their females must learn to fight and handle firearms?

  “You leave on Saturday. For Seattle?” he asked, even as a pang hit him at the thought.

  She hesitated, then her chin came up. “Yes.”

  “Is that why you bought a pistol?” He caught the faint scent of her fear, arousing every protective instinct in his body.

  “Cities are dangerous. Women sometimes need to defend themselves.”

  So whatever had made her afraid, had happened in Seattle. The gutsy human was going back to face it.

  Admirable. But why the hel had she been hurt in the first place? Why was no male protecting her? Someone this sweet must have males fighting for her favor. “I don’t think—”

  “True,” Shay broke in, giving him a shut-up-or-I’l-put-my-fangs-in-your-neck look. “You don’t.”

  Bree laughed, her fear scent dissipating. “You two are so funny. How in the world did you end up partners?”

  “Wel…” Shay leaned back in his chair. “Zeb worked at a fishing camp. He’s excelent at maintenance and repairs, but the owner wanted someone to handle promotion and business.”

  In other words, someone who wouldn’t scare the fishermen away. Zeb’s mouth tightened.

  A delicate hand covered his. Bree glared at Shay, then A delicate hand covered his. Bree glared at Shay, then looked at Zeb with gentle blue eyes as clear as a mountain lake. “That stuff is overrated. I like people who don’t lie or make things sound better than they realy are.” She defended him? His gaze met Shay’s, sharing both the humor and the disbelief…but the warmth he felt at her words he’d keep to himself.

  He realized she’d asked something. “What?”

  “Do you guys like chocolate? I made brownies.” Zeb stared at her. Brownies are born, not made. “You can’t—”

  “Hel yes, we like chocolate,” Shay interrupted. As Bree headed for the kitchen corner, he said under his breath,

  “Humans have a chewy cake they cal brownies. She didn’t mean OtherFolk.”

  Food? Did they eat desserts caled dwarf and pixie as wel? That was just wrong.

  Nonetheless, Zeb took one of the dark squares. The chocolate burst in his mouth like a mountain springtime, and he growled his pleasure before taking another.

  When Breanne laughed and pushed the plate closer to him, he caught sight of the scars on her arm. He wrapped his fingers around her tiny wrist.

  “Zeb?” She tried to tug away.

  “Shay said you were hurt. I wil look.” Holding her firmly, he slid her loose sleeve up to expose ugly bite marks on her he slid her loose sleeve up to expose ugly bite marks on her fair skin. The scars were as wide as some of his. “What did this?” Couldn’t be a helhound or she wouldn’t be alive.

  Whatever had savaged her, he’d enjoy kiling it.

  She yan
ked away and puled her sleeve down. “You have less manners than a—a—”

  “I’ve heard that.” He ignored Shay’s chuckle. “Answer me.”

  She shot him an icy glare.

  He waited.

  The sound she made was almost a growl and absurdly arousing. “Fine. A dog—a very big dog. Okay?” The way her voice trembled made him want to pul her into his arms and surround her with safety. He knew better—

  she’d run from him.

  “Is it dead?” Shay asked harshly.

  A haunted look filed her eyes. “It got away.” I want to kill it. He couldn’t. Tracking would be impossible in a city of concrete and metal and far too many bodies. He eyed the way she fingered her sleeve. Stil upset.

  Unhappy. He’d done that. “Sorry, Bree.”

  Surprised, she looked up. “You’ve never used my name before.”

  Shay laughed. “Got you pegged, doesn’t she?” With an effort, Zeb puled his gaze from hers and searched for a diversion. A photo lay on the coffee table. He walked over to look, needing to escape his growing awareness of her as a female. Perhaps it was good she was leaving.

  The picture was the one she’d shown to Thorson.

  Shay folowed. “You were a pretty toddler, a leannan.” She had dimples when she smiled. “Thank you. Now tel me, what does a leannan mean?”

  “It’s something like sweetheart or darling,” Zeb said.

  Apparently, Shay wasn’t immune to the breakfast bunny either, and yet, the knowledge didn’t raise Zeb’s hackles.

  “Darling. That’s almost as patronizing as little female.” Bree frowned at Shay who shot an evil look at Zeb.

  As Zeb set the photo down, he saw a lifemating bracelet.

  Silver discs progressed from a thin crescent moon to a ful circle and back down. Magic-enhanced silver wires between them ensured the band would change sizes during a trawsfur.

  How had a human come by it? “You find this around here?”

  “No. I’ve had it, oh, forever.” She gave him a smile as fragile as the bracelet. “I was abandoned and only had these two things.”

  Perhaps a human had found the bracelet and given it to the pup as a toy? But the photo was of the Wild Hunt, implying a tie to the Daonain.