Winter of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  And Shay…”

  Despite the blood loss and the tremors shaking his body, the wolf stil tried to guard Bree.

  “That’s not how a shifter acts toward a human,” Zeb finished, trying to keep pressure on Shay’s neck and instil strength into his partner through his touch. Fuck, the stubborn mongrel was going to bleed to death in front of them al.

  “No. It isn’t.” Calum took a knee beside Zeb, caught his gaze, and held it. “How do you feel toward Breanne, Zebulon?”

  “Like Shay.” Insanely protective didn’t even come close.

  “So.” The Cosantir considered only a second. “Donal, try to heal the girl first. Let’s see if you succeed.”

  “But…” Donal’s silver-gray eyes showed his protest.

  The Cosantir tilted his head in a silent command.

  “As you wil, Cosantir.” Taking Zeb’s place, Donal puled the gauze back, hissing as the damage to Bree’s arm was revealed. He glanced at Calum in obvious disapproval of wasting time, then bent his dark head and set his hands around the wound.

  Zeb puled Shay closer so he could put pressure on his shoulder wound as wel. And he watched.

  Magic shimmered the air as the Mother’s soothing power moved through the healer. The bleeding slowed. Zeb held his breath as if a noise would start the flow again.

  The healer pushed the white tendons together, and the cords fused. Stayed. He moved to the muscles, layer by layer. His touch was slow, careful, thorough. Finaly, he slid the pieces of skin together, like a jigsaw puzzle, and then only fragile pink lines remained to show Bree had been hurt.

  Shay’s tail thumped the ground.

  “By the Mother,” Zeb whispered. “She’s one of us.”

  “Now the wolf,” the healer said, using his forearm to wipe the sweat from his brow. He motioned Zeb away from Shay.

  Zeb moved back gladly. A healer. Shay would live.

  “One of us? That answers a question or two,” Alec commented.

  “And raises more,” Calum said dryly. “She doesn’t smel like a shifter, and I don’t sense her as one either. If she were thirteen, this would make sense, but she’s far too old to never have trawsfurred.”

  From the pain in his leg, Zeb knew he’d fal if he tried to stand. Instead, he scraped across the concrete to the little female. As her eyes fluttered open, he couldn’t keep from gathering her up. Smal and soft and so fucking brave.

  His hand on Shay’s neck, Donal glanced over his shoulder. “Cosantir, no matter how old, that female is a shifter, and she’s got major problems.”

  * * *

  “… is a shifter…“

  Bree heard a man’s voice as she wakened. She started to panic, then remembered: the monster was dead. Zeb had kiled it.

  Warmth surrounded her. The roar of pain in her arm had died to an aching noise.

  After a moment, she realized someone had her on his lap.

  Her cheek lay against a solid chest—a man’s chest. His heartbeat thudded in her ear.

  When she tried to sit up, she heard a rumble of denial, and the arms tightened. “Stay put, little female.”

  “Zeb?” She tilted her head, but saw only his corded neck and the strong, clean line of his jaw. As he held her firmly against him, he rubbed her back in slow, comforting strokes.

  She sighed as exhaustion blurred her mind. Everyone was alive, but no—they were hurt. She jerked upright, and Zeb grunted in pain.

  “S-sorry,” she stammered. His leg—the monster had bitten him. He was bleeding while she sat al comfy on his lap.

  Was he insane? “Let me up. I need to check your leg. And Elvis too.”

  “Shhh.” He snuggled her closer, and his long hair brushed against her cheeks in a soothing kiss. “I’m okay. Donal’s taking care of…Elvis.”

  She should check anyway. From Sensei’s classes, she’d She should check anyway. From Sensei’s classes, she’d learned men never admitted to being hurt. She tried to get up, despite Zeb’s hold, but the effort only made her muscles tremble. “Why do I feel so weak?”

  “A healing uses some of your own energy. You’l be tired for a while.”

  “A what?”

  “Dammit, lie down.” A man’s voice.

  Bree lifted her head. People everywhere. Calum and Alec, others.

  Elvis stood in front of her and Zeb, facing away. A tal, dark-haired man was coaxing the dog to lie down, but Elvis didn’t move. He was guarding them.

  “Fuck, Shay,” Zeb said and tried to rise with her in his arms.

  “Let me up.” Struggling against Zeb’s hold, Bree looked for Shay. He could help with Elvis.

  With a grunt of exasperation, the stranger turned to Calum.

  “Cosantir, he’s too agitated to cooperate. The humans are gone. Shift him back.”

  “Seamus.” Calum grabbed the loose skin on the dog’s neck, holding Elvis despite his effort to pul away. His voice deepened, vibrated like the lowest key on a church organ.

  “Trawsfur.”

  The dog blurred as if a mist had surrounded him, and then Shay appeared on hands and knees. Naked. No dog.

  Shay appeared on hands and knees. Naked. No dog.

  “No!” The monster had changed like that. In her apartment. To a man. And then… Panic swept through Bree, and she struggled against Zeb’s merciless hold. “Let me go!”

  “Shhh.” His deep rough voice anchored her against waves of terror. “That’s Shay. You know Shay. He’d never hurt you, Bree.”

  She shuddered in a breath. Shay. Not a monster.

  His shoulder was a ghastly, mangled mess. His neck was worse. Like Elvis’s had been.

  Tears burned her eyes and spiled down her cheeks. “He’s bleeding. We need to help him.”

  “The healer wil.”

  Alec laid a blanket on the ground beside Shay. “Here, cahir. Onto this.”

  Stil on hands and knees, arms shaking, Shay didn’t move.

  His steel-blue eyes were glazed as he looked at her and Zeb.

  “She’s al right,” Zeb said. “Get your fucking ass on the blanket and let the healer work.”

  Shay shook the hair out of his eyes, staring at her.

  “I’m okay,” she whispered.

  With a low groan, Shay colapsed sideways. The white blanket started to turn red.

  “‘Bout time.” The dark-haired guy knelt and put his hands right into the open neck wound. Shay’s face contorted in pain.

  pain.

  Bree struggled. “No, he’s hurting him. What’s he doing?” Shay didn’t make a sound although the muscles in his jaw corded tight.

  “Shhh. It’s okay,” Zeb murmured. His arms caged her.

  She strained against his embrace and—

  Shay’s bleeding slowed. When the man’s fingers nudged the gaping edges closer, the flesh remained together.

  She blinked, shook her head. Dreaming? A dog turns into Shay? A person makes bleeding stop? How was he doing that?

  The man sagged, his face turning pale. His shoulders heaved as he gasped for breath.

  Calum grasped his colar and tugged until he no longer touched Shay. “Stop before you damage yourself, Donal.”

  “I can—”

  “You cannot.” Calum glanced at his brother. “Alec, find some women Donal has mated with—”

  Alec grinned. “Ahead of you, brawd. I already caled a couple. Should be here any minute.”

  “He’s speaking English, but he’s not making sense,” Bree whispered fuzzily to Zeb.

  He made a low sound, almost a laugh, and actualy nuzzled her hair.

  A car turned into the lot, and a woman jumped out. No coat. Her shirt misbuttoned. When Donal beckoned to her, she dropped to her knees, embracing him from the back.

  Donal revived as if the woman was water in a desert. Leaning forward, he set his hands around the ripped flesh on Shay’s shoulder.

  Bree could only watch in fascination.

  After another minute, Shay puled away. The wound was mostly
closed. No longer bleeding. “Enough, Healer. Help Zeb before you exhaust your strength.” Mouth set in determination, he pushed himself to a sitting position on the blanket.

  After studying Shay for a moment, the healer nodded.

  “Trade places with your brother then.”

  “He’s not—” Shay started. Stopped.

  The healer gave him a steady look. “Most brothers share a womb. Some, instead, share life and blood and death.” Shay’s head turned, and he stared at Zeb with an unreadable expression. Pain and exhaustion and…something else. “Wel.” His voice was husky, strained. “Guess you’re right.”

  Bree realized Zeb had stopped breathing. His muscles were rigid.

  Shay let Alec pul him to his feet. Taking a step forward, he looked down at Bree. And Zeb. “A bhràthair, give Bree to me and let the healer tend you.”

  Silence.

  Zeb’s chest expanded as he puled in a slow breath. His Zeb’s chest expanded as he puled in a slow breath. His voice sounded as if he’d swalowed gravel. “Brother.” Shay’s shoulders relaxed. Stil staring at Zeb, he lifted Bree into his arms.

  As Zeb was helped onto the blanket by the healer, Shay settled onto the pavement, adjusting her in his lap.

  She felt his cheek rest on the top of her head for a moment. “By the God, you scared me, Breanne,” he murmured. “I’l yel at you later.”

  Okay. She leaned against his shoulder, soaking up the warmth of his body. Shudders ran through her, and yet, as with Zeb, she felt safer than she’d felt…ever.

  I’m sitting on a naked man who was a dog a few minutes ago.

  It didn’t seem to matter. Exhaustion swept over her and dragged her back into the depths.

  * * *

  Hours later in Breanne’s cabin, Shay watched her sleep.

  By Herne’s hooves, she’d come so close to dying. Her tiny freckles stood out on a pure white face. Needing to reassure himself she was alive, he brushed his knuckles over her cheek. Warm.

  She was going to be al right.

  With a groan of exhaustion, he walked out into the main With a groan of exhaustion, he walked out into the main room.

  Legs stretched out in front of him, beer in hand, Zeb rested in a chair and stared at the fire in the smal woodstove.

  My brother. When he concentrated, Shay could feel the link to Zeb, warming the deep places inside. He’d shared the same tie to his littermates before they’d died. This bond might have been there a while, but the healer’s recognition had brought it into the light.

  He wasn’t alone in this world any longer. “Mo bhràthair.” My brother.

  Zeb lifted his head, and the acknowledgement showed in his eyes. Not that the gruff wolf would say anything.

  Not that anything needed to be said.

  Shay puled a battered leather chair closer to the woodstove and imitated Zeb’s position, noticing a cold beer for him on the end table. Soothed by the crackle of the fire, he watched a salamander dance in the flames. His bones felt filed with lead, the familiar aftermath of a healing, and his partly healed wounds and bruises ached. Didn’t matter though. Not when they were al alive.

  Might not have been. If he and Zeb hadn’t already been headed back to report in, Breanne and Jamie would be dead.

  If Breanne hadn’t been insanely brave and diverted the helhound’s attention, he and Zeb would have died. If a healer hadn’t been available, they al might have returned to healer hadn’t been available, they al might have returned to the Mother.

  He touched his shoulder and neck—tender, but intact. No additional scars this time. If the Mother graced a shifter with her touch, she didn’t leave scars. Just warmth and love. What would it be like to be a healer and have that sensation moving through you? He shook his head and opened his beer.

  Zeb glanced at Shay’s neck, then his own leg. “Cold Creek’s smaler than Ailil Ridge, but has a healer.” Odd how their thoughts often folowed the same trail. “If you were a healer, who would you choose for your Cosantir?

  Calum or Pete?”

  “Good point.” Zeb turned his gaze back to the fire. “She’s a shifter.”

  “Explains the lifemating bracelet.”

  “I don’t get the bracelet being on a cub.”

  “My mother let us wear hers. Just for a minute. It gives you a sense of the Mother, almost like when you trawsfur.” Smiling at the memory, Shay glanced at his new brother. Had Zeb’s mother never shared? Or perhaps she’d not been lifemated. Not al mothers were.

  “You figure she wore the bracelet when her parents were kiled.”

  “Seems like. Car accident. Helhound. Avalanche. She may never find out what happened.” Shay glanced at the bedroom, his ears tuned to her slow breathing.

  bedroom, his ears tuned to her slow breathing.

  “Rough way to start a life.” Zeb drank some beer, then his rare grin appeared. “When she wakes up, Elvis might end up neutered.”

  Shay winced. “By the God, she’s going to be upset.” He’d first accompanied her as a wolf because she’d worried him.

  So weak, but determined to push herself up the trails. But after she grew stronger, he went simply because he liked her company. Liked seeing her increasing delight in the forest.

  “Yep.” Zeb leaned his head back, his face in shadow.

  “She’s a shifter, brawd. We going to do anything about that?”

  It took a second for Shay to get past being caled brother before he comprehended what Zeb had asked. Did they want to try to win her as their mate? “I—no.” The taste in Shay’s mouth turned bitter. “You could pursue her, but I can’t. No female would want me for a mate.”

  “Oathbound?”

  “Aye.” Shay rubbed his jaw, searching for words. “When Cosantirs send requests for help with helhounds, I can pick and choose like you do. But if Herne summons me to a location, I have to obey. My mate would have to folow, and everywhere I’m sent, the helhounds are the worst. She’d never be safe. I’m oathbound until death, and face it, my life won’t be long. What female would tolerate that?” In the two years they’d been partners, Zeb had never asked about Shay’s past. Now the question lurked in his silence.

  Shay owed his brother the truth. “I’d led my pack for only a year, then I lost a member to a helhound.” Mason had been scrawny teenager with green eyes. The helhound had left very little behind. Shay’d been furious that something—

  whatever it was—had kiled one of his wolves. “Although the pup’s blood was stil warm, the elders advised against going after the creature. They’d heard of helhounds.” Shay gave a bitter laugh. “I ignored them. I took the males, and we trailed it. My brothers and I led.”

  He’d seen the helhound and charged. So stupid. “It caught me, shook me like a rat, and threw me into a tree.” Shay’s throat tightened, but he forced the words out. “By the time, I roused, my brothers were dead.”

  “A helhound let you live?” Zeb asked incredulously.

  “Dawn was close. The fighting delayed the helhound, and it fled…too late. The sun caught it, forced it to human form, and my wolves tore it apart.”

  “Lucky timing.”

  “Aye.” The demonkin could have kiled his whole pack.

  “When I saw…” Peter and Thomas had died in agony because they’d tried to save his worthless hide. With his littermates gone, only the need for vengeance had remained for Shay. “I gave the pack to a wiser wolf and offered Herne my oath in return for making me a cahir.” A cahir possessed my oath in return for making me a cahir.” A cahir possessed the size and strength to fight helhounds. He leaned his head back.

  Although the fire had died to coals and a chil crept around the edges of the room, Shay felt the warmth of the brother-bond inside him. The thought of losing it was hard, but he forced the words out. “Eventualy, Herne wil summon me to the next territory that needs me.” Into the loud silence, he added, “If you want Breanne, you should stay here.” Zeb turned, his face unreadable. “You dumping me?

&n
bsp; Brawd?” Pain threaded his voice.

  “By the God, no. Not wilingly.”

  “My place is at your side, asshole.” Yet Zeb glanced at the bedroom door, and his unhappiness matched Shay’s.

  Breanne was special, puling at Shay in ways he’d never felt before. But she deserved a life. Trying to win her, to see if she’d choose them, mustn’t happen. The knowledge joined the ache in his bones.

  But at least, when he left here, it would be with his brother.

  Shay puled in a slow breath. “Then we travel together.”

  “Fucking right.” Zeb opened the door of the woodstove and tossed a log on the dying coals. As the wood caught fire, the salamander rose to twirl and dance in the golden flames.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Thirteen

  Waking up sucked. Bree’s head hurt. Everything hurt. And there was an excessive amount of sunlight coming through the window. She squinted at it in annoyance.

  Shay slept in a chair beside her bed. The lines beside his mouth had deepened, and he looked as tired as she felt.

  When she stirred, he woke immediately. “Look who’s back among the living.” He leaned forward to stroke her hair off her face. His hand was gentle, and she pressed her cheek against his warm palm, needing the comfort.

  Where had that lost feeling come from? As she pushed up in the bed, her arm flared with pain.

  “Hold on.” He stood. Hands around her waist, he effortlessly lifted her to a sitting position. His face was so close she could see the dark gray circle around his blue irises.

  “Better?” he murmured, eyes intent.

  Far too aware of the strength of his hands, she couldn’t move, couldn’t look away. “Uh. Yes?”

  His lips curved. After he resumed his seat, he leaned forward and set his elbows on his knees. The sleeves of his blue and green flannel shirt were roled up, showing off the thick muscles of his forearms and his golden tan.

  He was tanned al over, she knew, because she’d seen him naked last night. She shook her head. Right. Dreaming, naked last night. She shook her head. Right. Dreaming, Bree.

  “Breanne?”

  She frowned. “Why are you here?” In my bedroom?