Heart of the Winter Wolf

by Heart of the Winter Wolf (pdf) (lit)

  A mate. Even if he wanted such a thing, he didn't deserve it. Not after what had happened to Evelyn. Weary in body, heart, and soul, James sank onto a bale and dropped his head into his hands. The crushing weight of guilt on his shoulders was as familiar as the endless litany that echoed through his mind. Should have known there was danger, should have been more alert, should never have left Evelyn alone. Should have been strong enough to walk away from her in the first place, should never have gotten involved with her. His fault, all his fault, accusing him every time his human awareness surfaced within the wolf. Small wonder that he'd lived as a wolf, hunted and howled as a wolf, lived and breathed and existed solely as a wolf.

  He wished he was in lupine form now. Being a wolf was easy. Too easy? It was certainly tempting to submerge himself beneath the wolf persona right now and not have to feel anything, think anything. Shit. Wasn't that exactly how he got into this impossible situation? He'd buried the man deep inside the animal, so deep that now the animal was determined to take over not only his life but Jillian's, too.

  He couldn't allow that. Nor could he allow Jillian to be harmed in any way. He had brought danger to Evelyn and their unborn child, danger and death. And he would bring the same to Jillian if he didn't find a way to stop the wolf within. But the only way he could think of was to remain human, and that he could not bear.

  James pounded a fist into one of the heavy bales, knocked it flying off the top of the stack. Pounded another until it burst. And another. His heart was going to explode, he was going to explode. He beat upon the heavy hard-packed bales, dozens upon dozens of them with all his Changeling strength, until his hands were bloody and not a single bale was left unbroken. He fell to his knees in the midst of the straw and howled, a long ululating howl from his very soul. Howled again. And again.

  But he did not Change. He dared not. He couldn't trust the wolf, couldn't make it stay away from Jillian, therefore, he would not be a wolf. He would damn well walk out of this town--and her life--on two legs, if he could believe for one moment that the wolf would let things be, would give up on its quest to be near Jillian. But James knew now that wasn't going to happen. The first time he fell asleep, the wolf was likely to take over and make its way right back here.

  Jesus Murphy. Looked like he was not only stuck with being human, but stuck with staying here.

  "Fine," he said aloud, baring his teeth in defiance at whatever Fates insisted on screwing up his life. "If that's what has to happen, then fine." He felt anything but fine about it. Frustrated, pissed off, apprehensive and even--if he admitted it--pretty much scared spitless at the prospect of resuming a human life. But he wouldn't shy away from this decision. He would protect Jillian from the wolf and from anyone or anything else, too. At all costs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Connor hadn't been at the North Star Animal Hospital for a week. The tall vet had drafted Caroline for an annual trip to a number of small isolated communities further north. And that meant Birkie and Jillian were running the clinic, and running, literally. Today had already included two Caesarians (one cow, one dog), four pet spays (two dogs, one cat, one ferret), and a goat with a broken leg.

  As much as Jillian enjoyed the work, was stimulated and challenged by it, the sheer volume of it was something she had never experienced before. She couldn't imagine how on earth Connor had managed it on his own for such a long time. She wasn't certain how she was going to manage it until he got back, but fortunately she'd continued to sleep well. She blessed Birkie's name frequently for that. Although Jillian had been skeptical at first, the herbs seemed to be doing the trick. Even the dreamcatcher seemed to be working, since she couldn't remember a single dream. She smiled at that. The dreamcatcher's power probably lay in suggestion, but that was fine by her. Whatever worked.

  However, she had to admit she was certainly tired now. A headache was throbbing behind her eyes, probably because she'd had nothing but coffee since breakfast. Come to think of it, there hadn't been any breakfast. Thankfully, this day was almost over and Jillian had already checked on patients who were staying overnight. As soon as the clock struck five, she had plans to go straight to her apartment and either eat or lie down. Maybe eat and lie down at the same time. The ancient Romans were said to have dined like that, so maybe she could, too.

  Jillian made her way to the front reception area to ask Birkie something but what was coming through the door made her forget all about it. A very small woman with blood-spattered jeans was dragging in the largest dog Jillian had ever seen, a Great Pyrenees. The giant breed was often used to protect livestock from predators--and this one's thick white fur was soaked and matted with blood. One of its ears was mostly torn off. Even injured, the dog looked formidable as it growled with lowered head and showed its sizable teeth.

  The woman jerked the leash as they cleared the door. "Goddammit, quit that snarling this minute." She looked up from under a broad-brimmed hat, nodded at Birkie, then fixed bright black eyes on Jillian. "You'd be the new one. Name's Ruby. We had a little trouble with some coyotes. Cujo'd taken care of most of them by the time I got out there with the .22, but as you can see, the coyotes got a piece or two of him."

  Jillian directed the pair to an examination room, and Ruby hauled on the leash like she was leading a recalcitrant steer. Cujo followed his mistress but glanced back at the vet and growled all the way down the hall, in spite of the trail of bright blood he was leaving.

  "You can tell by the name that Ruby's a die-hard Stephen King fan," explained Birkie. "Most of the time, Cujo's actually quite a friendly and loveable fellow. But he flat-out hates this place. Some animals just get bad associations, no matter how good we are to them. Last time he was here, he'd been in a fight with a black bear and had the skin peeled off one of his hindquarters. Connor had to roll it up like a big sock and sew it back on. Time before that, one of his feet was bitten clear through."

  "Dog's a real warrior then."

  "Has to be. Ruby runs the biggest sheep operation in northern Alberta. And there's nothing a Pyrenees won't do to protect his flock." Birkie stood up from her desk and straightened her pristine lavender jacket. "Connor just called to say he's still finishing up inspections at that new bison processing plant. He'll be back tonight, but it'll be a good six to eight hours at the very least. Caroline's with him of course, so there's just you and me and Ruby. I figure if we all pile on Cujo, we might be able to get a shot into him. But it'll have to be an elephant tranquilizer--that boy doesn't go down easy."

  Jillian took a deep breath and considered her options. Although she appeared old enough to be someone's great grandmother, Ruby was clearly tough as nails. Tough enough to put a muzzle on her injured pet? Or hold it down? The heavily muscled dog had to weigh in at over 200 pounds, bigger than even a St. Bernard and certainly a lot heavier than Ruby. And although Birkie was adept at restraining small animals, throwing an arm around this beast promised to be a real rodeo.

  Jillian ran both hands through her hair and thought out loud. "I'm reluctant to give him a tranq or even a muscle relaxant. He may be on his feet, but his eyes look shocky to me, probably from blood loss. I wish we could wait for Connor, but we've got to stop that bleeding. Plus, that ear's got to be stitched back together quick or we'll lose it," she said. "And if Cujo hasn't eaten us by then, every one of those bite wounds will have to be washed out and sewn up, or there'll be infection from hell."

  She grabbed a large muzzle and walked quickly down the hall--sideways to avoid the blood--and entered the surgery. Ruby had both hands on the dog's collar and was trying to pull him into a sitting position, but he snarled and lunged at the vet the moment she appeared. The massive jaws snapped shut with a chilling ring, as Ruby swore like a construction worker and muscled the animal back a couple steps. He twisted free and ran to the other side of the steel table, where he crouched behind a chair, dwarfing it. There he continued to bare his teeth and growl, even at his owner.

  "Just leave him be, Ruby. Move back
away from him for now. He's in pain and he's pretty scared, plus I think he's in shock. Sometimes injured animals will lash out at their owners without meaning to. Birkie...." Jillian knew the receptionist was close behind her. "I don't want you to come in here right now." Knowing her only hope lay in gaining the animal's cooperation, she stood still and spoke quietly to the dog. "Hey Cujo, you're not very happy to be here, and I don't blame you a bit. But you need a little help, so we're going to see what we can do for you." Slowly she began to move, intending to try to restrain the animal herself, when suddenly a tall, broad-shouldered man pushed roughly past her. For a moment she thought it was Connor--and then her brain registered the blond hair. "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

  * * * *

  He shushed her with a backward wave. All his attention was on the dog. He didn't communicate with four-legged creatures in quite the same way as his brother--Connor could have whole conversations with animals if he wanted to--but James' Changeling abilities could easily quiet a dog, even a monster like this one. A few murmured words and a light touch was all it took before Cujo's lips relaxed back over his teeth, and the growling ceased. A muzzle was no longer necessary, but James knew the humans in the room would feel a whole lot better with one in place. Quickly he took a roll of heavy gauze from the wall and tethered the threatening jaws with a simple but effective figure eight, then lifted the dog to the stainless steel table. "Atta boy," whispered James and lightly placed a powerful hand on the animal's thick neck while sending soothing thoughts. Cujo lay quietly on the table as Jillian approached, remained still while she tended to the injured ear. Ruby talked incessantly about the sheep market while her dog was stitched up, but James paid little attention to the monologue. He was too busy wondering why Jillian was so angry. Fury radiated from her in waves.

  In fact, Dr. Jillian Descharme didn't say a single word to him. Not until she was done, her patient was on his way home with his owner, and Birkie had left the building.

  "Okay, what the hell did you think you were doing?" Her sea green eyes were bright with indignation as she wiped down the table with antibacterial spray. "I don't need untrained people jumping into dangerous situations like that."

  James went over to the sink and washed his hands, even though they really didn't need it. Every movement was calm and deliberate, not just because he had to remember how to do this task--and the water felt strange, almost tickly on human skin--but because he was trying to measure out how to respond to Jillian when he didn't have a clue what the problem was. "Exactly right, doc. It was a very dangerous situation. The owner was in danger, and your receptionist. And so were you."

  "I knew what I was doing. I'm not helpless, you know."

  "I didn't say that. No one's accusing you of being helpless, doc. But trying to handle everything yourself isn't necessary or smart--"

  "What the hell do you know about what's necessary?" she snapped. "I have to handle stuff like this every day on my own. If I can't do the job, I have no business being here."

  He glared back. Why the hell was she so upset? "The job doesn't require you to place yourself in harm's way."

  "Dammit, I'm a licensed veterinarian …," she began but he cut her off.

  "Yes, you are, and because you are, you know damn well that going into that situation alone was stupid. If it had been a poodle or a cocker spaniel, it might have been different." James shook the towel out before putting it back on the rack, aware that he'd like nothing better than to shake Jillian. "But that animal outweighed you, was injured and in pain and looking to tear into you. And not one soul in that room, including you, doc, would have been able to stop it." The mental picture of that clutched at his gut.

  "So you decided you should just waltz in and rescue us females?"

  James' voice dropped lower, his eyes narrowed to steely blue slits. He stalked forward until he was nearly nose-to-nose with her, although he had to lean over to achieve that. "Don't you reduce this to gender shit. That just demeans both of us. I stepped in because I had the experience and the muscle to do what was needed in this particular situation. So you could then do what you're skilled and experienced at. What I did is nothing against you, doc, and if you think it is, then you're not as smart as I pegged you for."

  She was spitting mad. James could see the rage radiating from Jillian like smoke from a wildfire. If looks could kill, he wouldn't be breathing. But there were other things in those glaring green eyes. Tiredness. No, more like all-out exhaustion. And pain. A headache? Suddenly concerned, he skimmed her cheek with the back of his knuckles--and caught her lightning fist in his hand an instant before she connected with his face. Caught the other fist, too, and held them both captive. Then James did something else completely reflexive. Still holding her hands, he bent his head and kissed that angry mouth.

  For a split second he was certain she would either bite him or head-butt him. He could feel the outraged shock vibrate right through her. Then something shifted subtly, changed. Whether it was in him or in her, or both, he didn't know, but there was a sudden spark of surprised recognition. The spark flared. He released her hands, and she didn't pull away. The kiss deepened, and they all but fell into each other. Her lips were both giving and demanding, and so were his. Hungry. Needing, then needing more. Neither of them was steady on their feet when they finally stepped back from each other.

  "Why the hell did you do that?" Her voice was still angry but also a little shaky. Then he looked in her eyes and saw not anger but desire. Raw desire. The surprising power of it punched him in the gut a full three seconds before her fist did. By the time he got his wind back, Jillian was gone.

  * * * *

  Jillian tried walking for an hour to distract herself, calm down. Then she shopped in every store along Main Street. She needed a giant economy package of tube socks, didn't she? But even with her body still vibrating like a plucked string, tiredness and hunger won out. She had to find a place to sit down, refuel and regroup. She considered going to the Jersey Pub but remembered there was a baseball game on the big screen TV tonight, which would draw a large and boisterous crowd. Instead she headed over to the Finer Diner. Birkie had brought her there during her second day in Dunvegan, claiming it was the best place in town to eat. The little gas station and convenience store combo hadn't looked promising as a restaurant, but Jillian was a believer after that meal. Although she could sample much of the Finer Diner cuisine from the staff fridge anytime, microwaving a container just didn't equal the fresh-made experience. She waved at the big man working the till as some teenagers purchased giant cups of soda and multiple bags of chips. Bill Watson was nearly as tall as Connor and built like a champion wrestler--which at one time he was--with a multitude of both tattoos and freckles covering his muscled arms. The backstreets of London were in his voice, and pure good humor. Deep and loud, his words boomed easily across the store to the red vinyl booth where Jillian had planted herself.

  "Right then, lovey, no doubt you'll be looking for supper. The special is fish'n'chips, and Jessie's made her best-ever slaw to lie down wi' that."

  "Sounds great." She leaned back and surveyed the store, glanced out the window at the row of businesses across the street and watched the gaggle of folks who stopped in front of the post office to chat or to sort their mail. It never failed to surprise her how much she enjoyed the little northern town and the people who lived here. There was a sense of community she'd never experienced before, even though she was more of an observer than a participant.

  She certainly hadn't been just an observer when James kissed her. That kiss... Good God, she could still taste him. Jillian sighed a little in spite of herself. She remembered the way James had pulled her close, the feel of his hands running up and down her body, the incredible heat that radiated from him, that blond beard surprisingly soft against her face.

  And then she remembered the way she'd plowed her fist into James' solid body before running like a rabbit. Her cheeks flamed. That had been dumb, just pla
in dumb, a reaction worthy of a school playground kiss. She could have just said no thanks, could have backed off, could have not kissed the man back in the first place--but she'd have to be made out of stone not to respond to James Macleod. Okay, maybe she could have kissed him and then said something supremely mature and dignified that would--what? Let him down easy? Discourage him? Was that what she really wanted?

  Leaning her head on her hands, Jillian closed her eyes wearily. Okay, I admit it, I'm attracted to him. But who wouldn't be? She supposed she should probably apologize for hitting him. But having James pissed off at her was good insurance against a repeat of that kiss, and right now she wanted some insurance like that. Deep down, she was just a little afraid of being kissed like that again. Who knew what might happen? Something, anything. Everything.

  She furrowed her brow and deliberately recalled the events that preceded the kiss. Like his lecture. And the way he'd arrogantly pushed her aside and taken over restraining the dog. Jillian tried so hard to find her edge, drum up some anger so she could ruthlessly douse the little fires his kiss had kindled. Couldn't do it. The truth was, James hadn't been arrogant, hadn't been showing off or trying to take over anything. He'd been trying to keep her from being badly mauled.

  Oh, crap. As much as she hated to admit it, he'd been right, totally, absolutely right. She'd been too tired to see just how risky and stupid--he'd certainly picked the right word there--she'd been to even think of touching that monstrous dog without extra help. Her instructors back east would be the first to give her an earful about 'risk management'. Connor would have been within his rights to fire her for endangering herself like that. His employee insurance rates would have skyrocketed if anything had gone wrong. And the dog could well have injured not only her, but the other women in the room, too. Now I'll probably have to thank James or something.