Werewulf Journals: Weddings, Bells, and a Brownie

by Camille Anthony

  Hunter came and sat beside her. Hazel eyes swimming in tears, he made no effort to hide his emotional response. Taking her hand in his, he raised it to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “My heart is full to bursting and I have only you to thank for it. You’ve given me back my friend.”

  Melody laid her head on his shoulder. “I’m just thankful you’re so forgiving. I don’t know if I could have been, under the same circumstances.”

  “Then you have no idea how much I love you.” Hunter eased Melody around to face him. “If I thought you loved another man, had given birth to his children, I would have done the same thing Kevin did. Only I would have gone one step further and killed my rival. Imagine what Kevin has lost all these years, thinking his children were fathered by someone else.”

  “I love you.” She kissed him, her lips parting beneath his, tongue flicking out to taste his dark, addictive flavor.

  “Sweetness, you have no idea how much you sustain me.” He pulled back. “But let’s hurry and get changed so we can get out of here before something comes up to interfere with our honeymoon.”

  A frantic knocking on the front door made them both exchange rueful glances.

  “Too late.” Hunter shook his head. “I’ll get the door, you keep changing.”

  Barefoot and shirtless, Hunter went up the hallway. Before he reached the door, another flurry of blows thundered on the sturdy wood.

  “Keep your shirt on! I’m coming!”

  He flung the door open to find a young wulf standing at the door, her eyes wild and frightened. With a hiss of surprise, Hunter glanced right and left, scanning for additional trouble. The bitch smelled of fear and panic, of -- he leaned closer and sniffed -- recent birth. Oh, hell ...

  “Come in.” Hunter stepped back and beckoned the bitch into the house.

  The wulf entered with head bowed. “Alpha.”

  “Talk.”

  “Alpha, I made a mistake.” The bitch swallowed hard. “I should have killed it right off, but I didn’t. When I went back, someone had taken it ...”

  “What the hell are you talking about? What’s your family name? What bitch are you out of?”

  Startled eyes stared into his before dropping in respect. “I’m Joeline, out of Geraldine, the breed bitch mated to Joel Winter.”

  Hunter placed her now. He’d known her father well once upon a time. “I know your family. Start over again. Why are you coming to me? Are you in danger?”

  Self-pity colored her next words. “I will be when the pack finds out I’ve given birth to a half-human male.”

  Hunter froze. “That’s impossible. Don’t you mean a breed?”

  She sneered. “Our scientists shouldn’t go around telling everybody it’s impossible. Because they said so, I never thought there would be a child, not with a straight dirt monkey. I tried to abort it, but it clung too tightly.”

  Fighting a growing anger, all Hunter heard was the bitch had tried to injure her pup ... several times. Babies were so few among the pack that they were almost sacred. “Where’s the infant now?”

  “I don’t know. It wasn’t in the Dumpster where I left it.”

  Anger won out. “Bitch, to give birth, you had to fuck the human in your wulf form. Such action is against our laws unless sanctioned by the pack’s Alpha Prime. Did you have Lachlan’s permission?”

  She shrank in on herself. “No. But the human fucked me, not the other way around.”

  Hunter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was the bitch really that stupid? Or naïve? “How old are you?”

  “Nineteen.”

  A heavy sigh lifted his chest. The bitch was a true baby, still a puppy herself. She had no business being off pack lands. He didn’t know what to do about the missing pup, but he could rectify this young bitch’s situation.

  “Return to the pack land and present yourself to Lachlan. Tell him everything you’ve shared with me, except tell him I will attempt to find the hybrid and take it under my protection. He will tell you what to do after that.”

  The girl/woman cringed against the door. “He’ll order me killed.”

  Hunter couldn’t find it in him to sympathize with her terror. After all, she had tried to murder her own son. “He might, but I will kill you myself if you disobey my orders. I have your scent. You could never escape me.”

  The young bitch’s eyes widened and a low cry left her lips. Fumbling for the door handle, she fled into the dark, looking back only once.

  Eyes gleaming gold in the shadows, Hunter watched her leave before shutting the door and heading toward his bedroom. He pondered the chaotic hell that could rip the packs apart if word of this hybrid birth became public knowledge.

  “Who was at the door?”

  Melody had dressed in the flowing two-piece he liked so well. Hunter green velvet, heavily embroidered, and so soft it felt like fur against his face whenever he lifted the skirts to seek her hidden sweetness. She looked delicious.

  “You wouldn’t believe ... well damn!”

  Another knock sounded at the door -- this time, accompanied by yelling.

  “Yo, Uncle Hunt, open up!”

  “Isn’t that Fortrayn?” Melody caught Hunter’s hand and went with him toward the door. “You’d think he’d be getting busy with his own celebration rather than interrupt ours.”

  Fortrayn hadn’t waited for them to answer the door. He’d let himself in, and he wasn’t alone. Rosa stood beside him, cuddling a swaddled bundle, her face bathed in tears. They caught the tail end of his firm words to his wife.

  “... can’t keep him, Rosa, you know that.”

  “What’s going on, Fort? You know we have a flight to catch.”

  Fortrayn gave Rosa one more warning glance, then turned to address his cousin. “Hunter, we found a basket on our back porch when we returned from the reception. Actually, one of Chase’s bodyguards found it. A baby was inside with a note attached to his blanket. The note was addressed to Rosa and me.”

  “Let me see it.” Hunter held out his hand, not at all surprised when he spied the magical mark at the bottom of the sheet. His lips turned up in a wide smile. He read the note out loud.

  “How full your hearts, how empty your hands

  When nature fails, there magic stands.

  Two worlds collide within your den

  Methinks this babe will fit right in.

  Blessed be.”

  Hunter raised his head and looked at Fortrayn, who was patting his wife on the back, trying to soothe her tears. “Did you recognize the mark?”

  “No. I haven’t really looked at the note, just glanced over it. There’s something you should know about this baby, Hunter. I think he’s breed.”

  Hunter laughed, thinking about his plans to search for the child lying in Rosa’s arms. “He’s not a breed, Fortrayn, but it looks like he is yours and Rosa’s.”

  “Thank you, Hunter! Oh, thank you!”

  Hunter shook his head. “Don’t thank me, honey. This letter is signed with a brownie mark. Brownies are the patron saints of babies and helpless ones. I’ll wager our brownie had something to do with the return of the missing babies. All the parents report they received a note that mentioned coal being left the next time.”

  “If that’s so, why wasn’t this child returned to its parents?”

  Hunter felt saddened at the thought of the little tyke being threatened by his own mother. “This child was never reported missing because he was abandoned. I know for a fact the mother is not going to ever want to claim him.”

  He looked at the three people in the room with him. “What I’m about to tell you must never go beyond the four of us.” He waited for their nods before continuing. “This is a hybrid child, the result of a casual mating between a bitch wulf and a non-breed human male.”

  “That’s impossible!”

  “So the scientists say, and so I believed until today.” Hunter turned to Rosa. “You’ve always wanted to give Fortrayn a child. Like the note says, this ch
ild is a blend of two worlds and will fit into your den nicely. Will you accept him and raise him as your own?”

  “Yes! We will.” They answered together, their words sounding as solemn as the vows they’d spoken in church earlier that day.

  Melody stepped up beside them. “Hunter and I will stand as godparents to your child.”

  “Name him, Rosa,” Hunter instructed. “It’s the bitch’s place to name the offspring. Then Fortrayn will mark him and bring him into the family.”

  Rosa looked to Fortrayn. “Do you like the name Andrew -- after Andrea?”

  Fort wiped at tears and nodded his head. “It’s a good, strong name.”

  “Andrew it is,” Hunter said. “Now, do your part, Daddy.”

  Fortrayn removed his clothes and shifted into fur form while Hunter undressed the baby and laid him on the floor in front of his cousin. Approaching the watchful babe, Fort stared into the wide black eyes before lowering his muzzle and closing his jaws on a plump butt cheek and biting down.

  The resultant cry from the infant stopped short when Rosa cried out in sympathy. The baby turned his head sharply, eyes meeting hers. His little hands waved in the air, feet kicked as if he would run to her.

  Mama? Don’t hurt, Mama!

  Rosa lifted her astonished face to Hunter. “I can hear him!”

  “Of course you can. The babe’s telepathic. Now he’s been brought into you private link, he can send to you as well as receive.”

  Rosa dropped to her knees and re-diapered her new son. Finished, she hugged him tightly and promised, “I’ll never hurt you, Drew. I love you already.”

  Trust us, little one, Fort sent to the cub, your new mom and I will fight anyone who tries to hurt you or take you from us.

  Rosa and Fort passed the baby around so he could become acquainted with his new god-parents, who gave him hugs and kisses, too.

  A short while later, arms around his wife, Hunter waved goodbye to the little family. He felt pretty mellow. Their flight time had been changed to the next morning, all the cases had been solved, and a miracle of circumstances had given his cousin a son. Even better, he’d regained Kevin as a friend and had spent time with his god-children who swore they’d never forgotten him. Finally, unbeknownst to Melody, he’d arranged a special treat of outdoor Red Riding Hood play for her once they arrived in Drestovia, the small European country ruled by Prince Wagner Rupert Rickard Orloffberg, overlord of the local wulf pack there.

  Melody turned in Hunter’s embrace and gazed up at him. In that uncanny wifely way she had, she echoed his recent thoughts. “We’ve had two weddings, a gift of bells, and a baby -- compliments of our local brownie -- all in one day -- how could anyone top that?”

  Bending down, Hunter whispered in his wife’s ear. Her mouth fell open then closed with a snap, cheeks flushing with enough heat to set off a nuclear blast. He released her and watched her fly toward their bedroom as he rocked back on his heels and let out a joyous howl. A moment later, he raced after her.

  Life was good.

  Camille Anthony

  Camille Anthony is a pseudonym for the author who lives in the beautifully wild Low Country of South Carolina. She is a transplant from Sunny California. A fertile imagination and a love of romance fuels her writing, which she has been doing since grade school. Her favorite stories are those of strong, honorable people ‑‑ whatever the race, or planet of origin ‑‑ who are driven by love and lust to find and hold that one special someone. She likes her heroines feisty, her heroes dominant and her passion red hot!

  She loves to hear from her readers. Your comments and suggestions are appreciated.

  Visit Camille on the Web at www.camilleanthony.com or e-mail her at camilleanthony@camilleanthony.com.