Winter of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Okay.” She sniffled, and then her smile broke out like sunshine after a cloudy day. As she ran over to Alec, Shay shook his head. Calum and Alec’s cub—no wonder she was disconcerting. Even more terrifying, she had the lethal Vicki as a stepmother. Shay picked up his spatula with a smile. The as a stepmother. Shay picked up his spatula with a smile. The girl was going to play havoc with the males in a few years.

  He flipped some more burgers and checked around.

  The ping-pong table at the end of the patio had a group of younger guests while the checkers board he’d left out had attracted Thorson and Baty. The trying-to-appear-cool teenagers played badminton and exchanged banter with the opposite sex. Jamie had joined them, he noticed. At the tables, the older people chatted, feet tapping in time to the Beach Boys music on the stereo.

  The barbecue looked to be a success.

  “Go deal with the guests. I’l do this.” Zeb appeared at his elbow. “Avoid the pack; Gerhard’s spoiling for a fight.”

  “That alpha-hole. He knew what Klaus was like. He should have caged him instead of ignoring the problem.”

  “Too late now.” Zeb plucked the long fork from Shay’s hand. “No fighting. I just finished the last repairs from our fight at the tavern.”

  Suppressing a smile, Shay headed off to do the host duty.

  His brother had lasted longer than Shay’d expected. Even better, he’d lost the deadly expression he normaly wore in public. Cold Creek was good for him.

  At the drink table, Shay picked up a wine bottle in one hand and the iced tea pitcher in the other and started making the rounds. He got in an argument with Thorson about a controversial book, admired two newborn cubs, and dodged controversial book, admired two newborn cubs, and dodged a pack of miling toddlers. He met Jody and her males who ran the local cleaning service and lingered to discuss rates.

  At the sound of cheering, he turned to see a delighted look on Breanne’s face.

  As Bree brought out desserts, the hearty applause thriled her. She’d made cakes with thick gooey frosting and had ice cream to go with them, plus added a variety of cookies for people who wanted less mess.

  The plate of brownies was because she deserved chocolate after the lousy week. And, okay, maybe because she loved seeing Zeb’s blissful expression when she handed him one.

  Even the pack relaxed as everyone enjoyed a sugar rush.

  Cake in hand, most of the men—including Gerhard—

  wandered over to watch the badminton game.

  Some stayed. When the hair on the back of Bree’s neck rose, she turned. Surrounded by pack women, Thyra was glaring at her.

  And this is why I wanted you here. Bree squared her shoulders and approached the alpha female.

  Thyra opened her mouth, undoubtedly to say something nasty.

  “I didn’t understand the rules before,” Bree said quickly.

  “I’m sure you know that I didn’t grow up knowing about shifters, and I’m stil just learning. I hope you wil al help me out.” She smiled at the other women before looking Thyra dead in the eyes. “Please forgive me for my mistake, alpha.” She lowered her gaze, but it took an effort.

  Silence.

  Bree stared at her feet, her anxiety smothered by a need to laugh. Most of the pack females were here, witnesses to Bree being al humble and polite. With the Cosantir, other non-pack shifters, and a bunch of humans, Thyra could hardly trawsfur to a wolf and beat her up, or even be blatantly rude. Gotcha, you bitch.

  “Apology accepted,” Thyra finaly snapped. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Bree nodded, keeping her head down. Don’t snicker.

  Control the face. She heard the alpha female walk away, folowed by most of the pack.

  A hip bumped Bree’s, and she looked up.

  “Good job, girl.” Angie’s serious expression belied the laughter in her eyes. “Very sneakily done.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “When you bring your goodies in tomorrow, we’l have a nice chat.”

  Yes! “Sounds good.”

  Lips twitching, Angie stepped over to the checkers players, “Thorson, when you win, I get the next turn.” Glowing with her victory, Bree went to the dessert table to Glowing with her victory, Bree went to the dessert table to assess the damage. Shay was stil by the ice cream, using the scoop to gesture as he talked with Alec. Most of the cake had disappeared and over half the cookies. Laughter filed the air, conversations hummed.

  The barbecue was a success.

  * * *

  The event ended, guests reluctantly left, and finaly only Shay, Zeb, and Breanne remained. Shay finished wiping down the gril and shut the cover. By Herne’s antlers, he’d have felt less tired if he’d chased a buffalo herd across the Great Plains. Breanne hadn’t been the only one worried. “I enjoyed that. Aside from the pack.”

  Zeb closed up the trashcan. “Wasn’t bad.”

  “Wel, don’t go chasing your tail with enthusiasm.” Shay grabbed a beer from the icy water in the tub and handed another to Zeb. With a grunt of relief, he dropped into a chair, set his aching feet on the table, and sucked down half the can. “First beer I’ve had al night.”

  Settling across from him, Zeb raised his drink in a salute.

  “Likewise.”

  “Good people here, a bhràthair.” Shay tipped his head back. As the sun’s glow faded, stars grew in the black sky.

  An owl hooted nearby. The spruce tree’s pixie, who’d An owl hooted nearby. The spruce tree’s pixie, who’d watched the party al afternoon, had retired into her nest.

  “True.”

  “You know, I haven’t stayed in one place since I was twenty-three or so.” Since his brothers had died. He sighed.

  “I’m tired of moving.”

  “Pups shouldn’t make life-long vows.”

  Shay ran his fingers over the two marks on his cheekbone.

  Herne’s antlers for the oathbound. The blade of a cahir. Both had appeared with Herne’s acceptance of his oath, right before the agonizing changes to a cahir’s massive size began.

  “I didn’t see any future for myself. Too filed with anger.” Zeb’s black eyes met his in perfect understanding. And regret.

  “Hey, guys.” Breanne used her hip to knock Shay’s legs off the table, then set down a tray. Plates were filed with steak sandwiches and potato salad. “I saw you didn’t get anything to eat.”

  When the scent of meat reached Shay, his stomach growled louder than a bee-stung bear. He picked up a sandwich. “You, a leannan, are a treasure.”

  “I know,” she said. With a heartfelt groan, she put her feet on the adjacent chair. “This is way more work than being a barmaid.”

  Shay gave her a grin. “But it pays better. We made a nice profit.”

  profit.”

  “Cool. I can buy some better kitchen equipment. Angie wants to sign a contract.” She beamed at them. “I have a business.”

  “You look happy, lass.”

  “I am.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she confessed, “I hated Calum for making me stay here. I’d never been out of Seattle, and it was my place. My home.”

  “And now?” Shay asked.”

  “Little towns are different, aren’t they? People stay put, don’t move away. It’s stable. I realy, realy like stable.” She grabbed a sandwich for herself. “I moved al the time when I was little, and I hated it. This…it might work for me. I’m going to stay here and make this my home.” Zeb’s gaze met Shay’s. Al too soon, they’d be caled away. And have to leave her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  There were only four days until the dark of the moon, and the guys were out somewhere, instructing the Cold Creek cahirs in helhound kiling. Keeping the world safe for shifter-kind. After a couple of glasses of wine, Bree had taken a shower—another one—and readied for bed, but the lodge shower—another one—and readied for bed, but the lodge felt too empty.

  Abandoning sleep, she padded back downstairs, stil in her
flannel pajamas. After dropping a pile of soft blankets by the glass-fronted fireplace, she set her glass and bottle of wine on the hearth.

  With a sigh, she settled into her nest and poured herself more wine. The level in the bottle was dropping nicely. After Angie’s revelations earlier, she’d needed two showers and lot of liquid courage. Would’ve been nicer if one of the guys was home, but hey, more alcohol for me.

  The smoke-darkened fireplace glass showed salamanders dancing in the flames, twining together in very sexual patterns.

  Yeah. Sex. That’s why she was drinking and depressed.

  With her usual bluntness, Angie had laughed at Bree’s plan to drink herself to unconsciousness for the next Gathering.

  She’d said no matter how plough-faced Bree got, she’d stil try to mate. Maybe she’d pass out for a couple of hours, but it wouldn’t last al night.

  So Bree had visit Donal next. Talk about a humiliating conversation. He wouldn’t knock her out without the Cosantir’s orders—and Calum wouldn’t give them. Not to avoid the Law.

  So she was stuck going to the Gatherings.

  And dealing with other things as wel. She picked up her glass and drank half the wine. Angie had mated with Zeb at glass and drank half the wine. Angie had mated with Zeb at a Gathering. Bree had wanted to slap the older woman and tel her to keep her hands off, but Angie hadn’t done anything wrong. Supposedly, mating during a ful moon created no ties.

  And…apparently, at Gatherings, Zeb and Shay attracted females like coyotes to carrion. If a guy was God-chosen—

  like the cahirs, the Cosantirs, the healers, or the blademages

  —then women wanted their genes.

  She scowled at the salamanders. They looked back, unnaturaly stil, their eyes like shiny black coals in their glowing skins. Scaring the children, Bree? She sighed.

  “Sorry, guys.”

  Tails swished and they started playing tag, diving into the coals and sending glittering sparks into the air.

  Time to face the facts. Gatherings and heats were going to be part of her life, which meant she needed to be able to have sex without panicking.

  And she wouldn’t have oversized babysitters to guard her either. Angie had been impressed Zeb and Shay had stayed with her, but the Cosantir wouldn’t alow it for long. Cahir genes were valued in the clan.

  Bree smiled ruefuly. The two did have great genes. Shay was gorgeous, Zeb deadly, both devastatingly male. She rubbed the cold glass on her cheek. They seemed attracted to her. Were always touching her. Kissing. Hugging. What to her. Were always touching her. Kissing. Hugging. What would it be like to go further?

  Which one would she want to make love with? She’d asked Angie about that multiple men/one woman marriage stuff, and the woman had laughed. “One thing at a time. If you aren’t having sex, then the number of men doesn’t exactly matter.”

  Good point.

  The sound of thumping on the porch made her jump. Cool wine sloshed over the sides of the glass, running over her fingers.

  The door opened, and Shay stepped inside. White covered his shoulders and hair. As he set his boots in the wooden bin, she realized the noise had been him stamping the snow off his boots. The storm must have hit.

  No one else came in. “Where’s Zeb?”

  Shay threw his jacket on the coat rack. “He lost the toss and has to walk the route with the younger non-cahirs, teaching them tricks to survive.”

  Oh dear, Mr.-Count-Every-Word would be a grumpy-pants when he got back. She giggled.

  Shay tipped his head, his blue-gray eyes penetrating. “I’ve never seen you drink alone, a leannan. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes.” She frowned at wine bottle. Not much left. “Angie told me I can’t get drunk enough to skip the Gatherings, and Donal won’t knock me out for them.”

  “Ah.” He walked over, silent in his stockinged feet, and

  “Ah.” He walked over, silent in his stockinged feet, and crouched in front of her. His hard hand cupped her chin, tilting her head up. “I didn’t realize you thought you might escape it.”

  “It sounded like a good plan to me.”

  When she pouted, amusement filed his eyes. “Got a new plan instead?”

  “Yes.” If she could get the words out. She swalowed, her throat appalingly dry. “Would you make love with me?” Her courage to face her problems was going to break his heart. Shay closed his eyes. This was going to be as dangerous as stealing honey from a bee tree. At least for him.

  He’d give her what she needed, but…it couldn’t be making love, as she’d said.

  He mustn’t try to win her to be his and Zeb’s mate, no matter how much he wanted to do just that. Don’t ruin her life, furface. He looked into her big blue eyes. “Yes. If that’s what you want.”

  As he knelt in front of her, her scent carried fear, not arousal. At this point, she’d scare herself into backing out before he even moved. “Give me your hand.” She set her hand in his. The pretty fingers trembled in his big grip.

  “Breanne, have I ever hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “No.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her brows drew together. “Um. Mostly?” He barked a laugh. “Wel, that’s honest.” He kissed one finger. “Did that hurt?”

  “N-no.”

  He kissed another, letting his lips caress her skin, alternating kisses with smal licks. She tasted of sugar and apples. He moved closer and kissed her wrist, inhaling the beginnings of arousal. There was no scent like it in the world, and on Breanne’s skin, it was a heady fragrance. “Did that hurt?”

  She choked on a laugh. “Just stop, okay? I see where you’re headed with this.”

  He was close enough to cup her face in his palm and meet her gaze in the dancing firelight. “I know you’re frightened.” She tried to pul back. He folowed, keeping his hand on her face, his eyes on hers.

  His hand was hot against her face, his eyes steely blue as he trapped her with his gaze and his touch. “Shay, I—”

  “Breanne, let’s try something.” His slow smile lightened his face. “I have a friend who is into bondage, whips, that sort of stuff. He’s weird, but he likes it, and so do his females.”

  “You’re going to whip me?” Her free hand fisted. I can’t—

  can’t—

  His hearty laugh echoed against the log wals. “By Herne’s antlers, no. But his mates say a special word if anything is too much—the pain, the ropes, whatever. If he hears it, he stops right away. We’l use Elvis.” Shay leaned closer, his body almost touching hers. “Say it. What’s the word to make everything stop?”

  Inside her stomach, a quiver started. “Elvis,” she whispered. Her dog that had risked his life to save her.

  “Elvis.”

  “Good lass. If you say ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ I’l slow down. Elvis means ful halt.” His eyes were level.

  He would stop if she needed him to. A little of the fear drained away.

  “Now you’ve made me anxious, so you should kiss me,” he said. “Can you dare that much?”

  A kiss. She stared at him.

  The sun lines at the corners of his eyes creased as he smiled. He didn’t have dimples—his jaw was too strong. He had a little dent in his chin. She’d like to touch it.

  Surely, she could kiss him. She had before, just not as a prelude to… She rose up on her knees and was stil too short. He didn’t move. Her hand shook as she put it behind his neck. His thick hair curled around her fingers as she traced out the lines of muscle. She puled his head down and lifted her face.

  lifted her face.

  His lips were gentle. Smooth. She brushed her mouth across his lips and started to pul back.

  He murmured, “More.”

  Her heart was beating fast, but she could breathe. His mouth opened under hers, his tongue tracing her lips. She shivered with the sensation. He nibbled on her chin, gently sucked on her lower lip, and swept his tongue inside.

&n
bsp; Heat swirled low in her stomach, as he explored and coaxed her tongue into the play. A man’s lips felt different from hers. Firmer. When he rubbed his cheek over hers, his day’s growth of beard scratched lightly over her skin.

  He lifted his head, his eyes warm. Intent.

  Somehow, she’d leaned into him, and her breasts were flattened against his hard chest. She tried to draw back, but he put his hand behind her, stopping her.

  “Is something too much, lass? Use your word if you need to.”

  She stiled.

  As he waited, his hand stroked slowly up and down her back. It was comforting, and yet the hardness of his palm through the flannel fabric was…arousing. “Breanne?”

  “I’m okay.”

  “Good lass.” The approval in his deep voice warmed her.

  “May I have a hug now? Can you dare that much?” Even as she was trying to decide, he puled her arms up around his she was trying to decide, he puled her arms up around his neck again and inched her closer until her knees rubbed his, and she pressed against him. “You feel good, mo leannan.” His arms tightened. “Kiss me again.”

  She managed a shaky breath before tipping her head up.

  This time he took charge of the kiss, possessing her mouth so completely that her head whirled. His hands moved, down her back to cup her buttocks. To squeeze them through the flannel fabric. Arousal seeped into her blood.

  He lifted his head to murmur against her lips, “We’re overdressed.” Button by button, he undid her pajama top, his gaze on what was being revealed.

  As air brushed over her bare breasts, she grabbed his hands, then hesitated. This is what I want. “I can take off my clothes.”

  His heavy-lidded gaze held heat along with a tenderness that turned her body to mush. “Why don’t you let me do it instead?” His gaze didn’t leave hers as he curved an arm behind her back. His other hand slid under the gaping shirt and over her neck, her colarbone. “You’re so pretty, little wolf, and your skin is so smooth.” He inhaled. “You smel like vanila and sugar. I wonder—do you smel like that al over?”

  When his palms grazed over her breasts, panic stabbed her. Her breathing hitched, and she tried to pul away, stopped by the merciless arm behind her.