Quentin ran his hands over the hind leg as the wolf whined in pain. “Busted it good, Walter. You clumsy idiot.” Zeb padded over. To his shock, the female turned and stroked her hand down his back. “Thank you, cahir, for stroked her hand down his back. “Thank you, cahir, for saving my mate.” She glanced over the edge and shuddered.
“He wouldn’t have survived that fal.”
Quentin’s face turned grim. “He might not survive the trip out.” He set his hand on his hurt littermate. “It’s a long way back, brawd.”
And too steep for an old wolf using only three legs. Zeb shifted to human form. “Stay wolf, Walter,” he ordered.
“You’l be easier to carry.”
“But…” Quentin started.
Zeb lifted the injured wolf onto his shoulders. “The trip out wil be easier for you two as wolves. Shift back.” The old wolves stayed close as Zeb turned back, struggling to keep his footing. A rock scraped his bare foot, and another, and he silently cursed the fucking alpha with every painful slip and slide.
* * *
Shay noticed when the older wolves started to fal behind and was grateful his brother was wiling to watch over them.
As independent a wolf as ever born, Zeb didn’t care if he was alone, or with a few wolves, or in the middle of a pack.
Shay was different. Although, over the years, he’d learned to tolerate solitude, being surrounded by packmates filed his soul in a way nothing else did. Like now, as he greedily soul in a way nothing else did. Like now, as he greedily absorbed the sounds and scents. To his right, a wolf pounced on a rodent, giving a yip of delight. Two young males quarreled in a dominance spat. Other wolves brushed against Shay as they ran. The scents of the females added delight to the evening. Shay let his mind settle and his instincts come forward.
Nonetheless, he kept the youngest female within sight and scent, running slightly behind her, and wondering where her teacher was. A mentor always stayed beside a new shifter until a certain competence was achieved. This pup was quite a ways from that.
She was flagging by the time they reached the bottom of the valey. A giant tree had falen across the narrow hunting trail, and the wolves scrambled over it. The young female jumped and jumped, trying futilely to get over it. The wolves divided around her, ignoring her, leaving her behind. With her two front paws on the trunk, she looked forlornly over the log as the pack disappeared down the trail.
A few feet behind her, Shay waited for her to notice him and was disgusted at her lack of awareness. She must have a lousy mentor.
She scented him, finaly, and spun. Her ears went back.
Her tail tucked between her legs.
He didn’t move. Had Klaus’s influence extended so deep into this pack that a female would be afraid of a packmate?
into this pack that a female would be afraid of a packmate?
He trawsfurred, pretending he didn’t scent her fear. “There are a couple tricks to use when you jump something big.
Want me to show you?”
Her ears came forward, and her tail lifted to wave slowly.
Good, she wasn’t giving up. He returned to wolf and showed her how to find dents for the front paws, then replace them with back paws for the impetus to get over. She finaly succeeded and stood on the top of the trunk, tail wagging furiously, yipping in joy.
Once more, Shay shifted to human. He grinned at her. “Do it two more times, then you’l never forget.” She obeyed, improving each time.
“Wel done. Let’s rejoin the rest.”
When she started to folow the trail, he shook his head.
“Use your ears, pup. Where’s the pack?”
Her ears pricked forward, back, then her nose pointed to the west.
“Aye. They’re circling. We’l meet up with them.” A quick trawsfur, and he led the way at an angle.
When they intercepted the pack, and he realized the Gerhard was searching for prey, a snarl of disgust escaped him. Most alphas would scope out an area before a pack hunt. And to keep hunting here? Where was the alpha’s nose? The scent of deer was old. There would be no large prey in this area, not when the foothils had greening grass, prey in this area, not when the foothils had greening grass, and new buds on the brush and trees.
With a frustrated growl, the alpha headed back, ignoring the stragglers like Baty, Angie, and a wolf with a cut paw.
Back where they’d started, Gerhard trawsfurred and braced his feet, scowling. “The noise of al you clumsy retards must have scared the game away.”
His brother, having shifted also, nodded agreement.
Scenting Zeb, Shay looked around.
“Need help over here.” Zeb’s voice came from under a sheltering tree. “Walter has a busted leg.” Gerhard and Dieter walked over to look at the panting wolf. “Bad deal, Walter,” Gerhard said. “Make sure you take it slow going back down.” The two changed back to wolves and trotted away, folowed by Thyra.
Fucking lazy assholes. Shay trawsfurred to human and strode over. “How bad?”
His brother’s face was streaked with sweat despite the cold air. “Lower hind, but he’s got arthritis and doesn’t balance worth shit on three legs.” Zeb pushed his hair back.
“I splinted it, but he looks like hel.”
Shay’s temper edged toward boiling. This was an elder of the pack, and no one cared. Angie and Baty had hurried over, but they were too old to help.
A young male joined them. “Dad, what happened?” He dropped to his knees, and Shay recognized Warren from the hardware store.
“Angie, where would the closest litter be? Back at town?” Shay asked.
She knelt beside Walter and patted his shoulder. “There’s a cabin a quarter mile away. Calum keeps first aid supplies and a litter in there.”
“Warren, go get it. We’l start down now, so just catch up.”
“Yes, cahir.” The young man trawsfurred and streaked out of the clearing.
By the God, Shay was fed up with this lack of pack cohesiveness. He walked over to the young males who were trading stories of the run. “We need help with the older wolf.
Put yourselves into pairs of about equal height and line up for the walk down. We’l take turns carrying.” One of the youths sneered. “Why the fuck should we do anything you say? You’re not the alpha.”
His littermate puled the same attitude.
Shay stepped closer and unwrapped the dominance he kept buried when in a pack.
They took a hurried step back.
He smiled and said mildly, “You wil do the fuck as I say, or I wil rip your arms off and stuff your smart mouths with them.”
Their faces paled.
“Line up over there.”
“Line up over there.”
As they hurried to where he indicated, the rest fel in.
Attitude adjustment complete.
Warren caught up them before long, and, with the efforts of Shay’s draftees, they reached the Wild Hunt cave without a problem.
Shay picked up the old guy to carry him upstairs.
“Hold up,” Walter said. His face was white and pinched with pain, but he raised his voice to be heard. “Thank you al.
I wouldn’t have made it without your help.” The young males stared at him, as if they’d not realized what they were doing. As if embarrassed to be thanked.
Shay kept his face straight and gave them a nod of approval. “You did wel. You should be proud.” As he carried Walter up the stairs, he saw the pups grin at each other and stand taler than they had before.
After settling the old man on the couch in the locked room and sending Warren to phone the healer, Shay puled on his clothes. Already dressed, Zeb silently struggled to get his socks and boots onto his gashed, bleeding feet.
They met Sandy in the hal. “I don’t know how we would have managed,” she said, reaching up to kiss their cheeks.
“Thank you so much.”
As they entered the bar, Shay saw Zeb’s face was a dark red—and he c
ould feel the heat in his own.
“Brawd,” Zeb muttered, “I need a beer.”
“Brawd,” Zeb muttered, “I need a beer.”
“I’l buy.”
* * *
Bree giggled as Heather finished a story about her first Gather. Earlier, Vicki had shared her experience with being human, then shifter, then having two mates. They had more beer. Then Bree had talked about the Gathering. That had required another round of drinks.
“A first Gather is scary enough without adding trauma like you had,” Heather said, patting her hand. “Have you been with anyone since then?”
Bree’s face turned hot, even as she grinned. “I have.” Vicki laughed. “And you look quite proud about it too.
Knowing you, Miss Never-Back-Down, I bet you asked one of the guys to help you out.”
Heather’s eyebrows rose. “Now that was a smart move.
Who’d you pick?”
“Shay.” Bree smiled, remembering his deep smooth voice, coaxing her along bit by bit. “Good girl. May I have a hug now? Can you dare that much?” “He was wonderful.”
“Zeb didn’t try to help too?” Vicki teased. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”
“Zeb? And Shay?” Heather’s eyes widened. “You said you stayed at the lodge, but I didn’t realize you were you stayed at the lodge, but I didn’t realize you were involved with them.”
Bree nodded.
“I’ve mated with those males, but only in a Gather heat.
I’m not sure I’d dare otherwise.” Heather grinned. “By the Mother, you’re braver than you look.”
Jealousy punched into Bree’s chest, and she choked on her beer. Her coughing covered the anger and unhappiness in her voice. “You. And them?” Heather was so striking, so smart, and they’d made love to her? My Shay and my Zeb?
“Stop.” Vicki closed her hand over Bree’s. “You’re alowed to be jealous, anywhere except at a Gather. Didn’t you notice how the heat affected you?”
Bree bit her lip, seeing Heather’s dismay. The woman hadn’t meant to hurt her. In fact, she had said she’d mated with the men only during that heat stuff. Zeb and Shay had lived in Rainer territory for a couple of years. They’d undoubtedly had been with a lot—dismay tangled her thoughts—jeez, the guys had moved so often they’d probably bedded every Daonain woman in the western states.
She glanced around the room. How many here had known Zeb and Shay in the biblical sense? Darn them. Unsure if she was more furious at the women or the men, she offered Heather a wry smile. “Sorry. It’s a human thing.” Heather shrugged. “Possessiveness is a Daonain trait too, Heather shrugged. “Possessiveness is a Daonain trait too, but it’s hammered into us that a Gathering is sacred time, so jealousy can’t be alowed.” She held her hand out. “If it helps any, there was nothing between me and either of those males except a ful moon heat.”
Bree squeezed the redhead’s fingers. “It helps. Thanks.” She picked up her mug, but it was empty. So were the others’. “My turn to get the beer.”
As she walked across the room, she felt as if her world had tilted, and not because of the alcohol. I have two lovers who want to share me, and the other two women think that’s normal.
Calum spotted her and held up three fingers in question.
She nodded, knowing she’d get the brands that each woman was drinking. The man had a memory like a steel trap. She winced. Perhaps traps weren’t the best comparison to use with animal shifters.
A stool emptied, and Bree slid onto the seat. Leaning back against the bartop, she looked around. Ful place tonight. The single guys clustered around the bar with a sprinkling of younger women. Older women and mixed groups preferred the tables. Pack members were scattered here and there.
Their outing must be over.
A woman’s voice, loud and harsh, made Bree’s insides curl up into a tight bal. Thyra. She glanced over her shoulder to see the alpha bitch and her sidekick, Candice, with a devastatingly gorgeous blonde at a nearby table.
Thyra’s sharp voice cut through the chatter. “No, Gerhard is stil our alpha. Shay acts as if he wants to take over, but he doesn’t have the guts.”
Bree stiffened, and her hand fisted.
“He was the same in Rainier.” The blonde’s laugh was a high tinkle, like the shattering of wine glasses. “Have you had problems with Zeb yet?” Her voice grew louder, as if she wanted to attract attention.
“That cahir.” Candice shivered. “He’s so nasty looking with al those scars, and he’s always starting fights.”
“Oh, he does worse than that,” the blonde said, even more loudly. People turned to look. “With the females—oh, I shouldn’t say.”
Thyra leaned forward. “Tel us.”
“He’s vicious during matings and has even left some females bleeding. Hurt. Crying.”
Angry muttering came from the people nearby. Gretchen continued, “He brutalizes every female he mates.” Anger ran through Bree fast and hard. Her hand slapped the bar, and she glared at the woman. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re a liar.”
The blonde gasped. “I am not. I’ve mated with Zeb and
—”
“So have I.” Bree tossed her hair back and grinned evily.
“Frequently. And with any luck, I wil continue. The man is
“Frequently. And with any luck, I wil continue. The man is superb in bed.”
“Wel, maybe you don’t—”
“Poor Gretchen.” Angie shouldered her way over to stand beside Bree. “Are you stil bad-mouthing any male who doesn’t trail after you, sniffing your butt?” Angie curled an arm around Bree’s waist. “Having enjoyed Zeb’s attentions at a Gather, I’d have to say Bree’s entirely correct. The male can win my favor any ful moon.”
At their table, Heather stood and lifted her hand as if caled upon in school. “I agree. He mates as magnificently as he fights.”
The blonde’s mouth opened and closed.
Bree smothered a smirk. She’d been in enough crowds to know when the tide had turned. She snagged her beer that a tight-faced Calum had set on the bar. “So there you go. That cahir risks his life every month to save ours—and he’s darn good in bed.” She lifted her beer. “Here’s to Zeb!” Al over the bar, glasses were raised, and the roar came back to her, “To Zeb!”
A second later, she realized al attention had focused behind her. She turned and, oh jeez, Zeb stood beside Shay.
She’d never seen that unsettled expression on his face before.
Grinning, Shay slapped his shoulder and shoved him toward her.
toward her.
“A helhound attack would be easier to take,” Zeb rasped as he approached. He nodded at Angie, and she winked at him before heading back to her table. He turned to Bree and studied her with unreadable eyes. “I thought we were fighting.”
Bree rose on tiptoe to whisper in his ear, “I hate her more than you.”
“Wel, then.” Tangling his fingers in her hair, he tipped her head back and set his mouth on hers in a demanding, possessive kiss. With an iron-hard arm around her back, he yanked her against him, and continued—taking it deeper.
Wetter. By the time he finished, heat ran like boiling oil through her veins, and the entire bar was whooping and cheering.
He nipped her earlobe, adding a sizzle of pain, and whispered, “You may enjoy my attention any time your heart desires. My door wil be open.”
After setting her on the bar stool, he jerked his head at Shay and headed for the exit, suffering the hands that slapped his back and the lifted toasts.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory ~ Full moon Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory ~ Full moon To a chorus of greetings, Bree entered Heather’s room in the Victorian bed and breakfast. Angie was painting her toenails, and Heather was at the mirrored, antique dresser, curling her hair.
Vicki popped out of the bathroom, dressed in skin-tight jeans, a low-cut knit shirt, and makeup th
at made her dark eyes look huge. “Hey, Bree.”
“Wow—look at you. I thought lifemated people didn’t attend Gatherings?”
“We don’t.” Vicki tossed her long hair back over her shoulder. “But my guys take turns supervising the tavern, and I want to make sure they don’t think they’re missing anything.
Too many gorgeous women come to the Gatherings here.”
“I’ve never seen Alec or Calum give anyone a second look,” Bree said.
Heather shook her head. “I keep teling Vicki that lifemating is more than a bracelet and a vow. It’s caled life mating because it goes to the center of you.”
“Oh, yeah.” Vicki set her hand over her chest. “It’s got the pul of a magnet, only it feels like a glowing light.” Then she grinned and puled her shirt down to expose more cleavage.
“But I’ve seen a damned lot of married men screwing other women in humanland.”
women in humanland.”
“I’d feel the same way.” And it would be hard seeing Zeb or Shay with someone else. Her mouth turned down.
“Whatcha got in the backpack, girl?” Angie asked.
“I brought clothes.” Bree dropped her backpack on the floor. “I remember women dressed sexy at the Gathering, but it’s kind of a blur.” And face it, her attention had been on the men. “Can you help me figure out an outfit?”
“No problem,” Angie said. “Show us what you brought, and I hope it’s better than the uninspiring clothes you’re wearing.”
So maybe business casual clothes weren’t that glamorous.
Bree glanced at the dressy—loose—slacks she’d packed.
Guess those wouldn’t work. She puled out a pair of jeans, ones with the higher waistband since the low-cut styles pushed up her flesh until she had handles on each side.
“They might be tight enough,” Heather decided. “Let’s see.”
After tugging them on, Bree dug in the backpack and held up her selection of tops. A long-sleeved white shirt was booed down. A cowl-neck sweater was pronounced the right color, but Angie said the tavern got overheated, so it went back in the bag. Her last choice—a green silky top—
was rejected for the high neck.
Winter of the Wolf Page 31
