Savage Love

by J. L. Madore

  “Rude.” Kobi snorted. “Accurate, but still rude.”

  The moment she brushed my mind privately, I felt her concern. With no Scourge to battle and an unknown future, we’re all a bit lost. You won’t find your answers in a world of strangers. You’ll find them here, with your family.

  I winced as I shrugged on my jacket, wondering if the hole in my hip would be an issue. A curvy blonde noticed me readying to leave and headed over. I waved off the interested party. My sights were set on the brunette who stole my cold, dark heart years ago.

  Man, this evening had taken a one-eighty.

  Glancing at the repacked antiseptics and gauze, I wondered if I should stash a few supplies in my pockets to go. Hannah was gonna tear me to shreds for darkening her door after how I left things. How could you want something so bad you tasted it, and also dread it with everything you had?

  Was that normal?

  “I’ll walk you out and fill you in,” Kobi said, following as I crossed the dance floor. “So, this Hannah woman. Julian said she runs a ranch on the opposite side of the creek from Cowboy’s pack lands. Her dog caught a scent, and when she chased him down to Cowboy’s old family farmhouse, she found a pair of male wolves with their throats torn out.”

  I focused on the neon sign in the door, hoping the brisk January weather would cure my sudden case of the tipsy-topsies. There was more. With this kind of shit, there was always more. And who wanted to bet that I wouldn’t like it?

  “But since three wolves should’ve been there, the woman was going out to search for the female—Cowboy’s mother.”

  Fuck. Of course she was. Because when a defenseless human came across the slaughtered Alpha and begotten of a volatile pack of Werewolves, her first instinct screams for her to dive into a situation she knows nothing about and put herself in harm’s way.

  “You know how Weres are, Sav. If it’s a changing of the guards, it’s over. If there’s more to it, and this woman gets between a bunch of bloodthirsty wolves and what they want, she’ll end up shredded.”

  I missed the step and dropped off the wooden porch of the dive bar. The collision with the ground knocked the wind from my lungs. I fought not to lose my shit and met Kobi’s concern with my own. I get it. I’ll keep her safe.

  “Hey, do the wolf deaths make Cowboy the new Alpha?”

  I checked my watch. Almost three-thirty in the morning. Why the hell is Hannah out and about in the middle of the night anyway? Would have—I suppose—if he wasn’t dead.

  “They don’t know he survived?”

  I sighed at the twenty questions routine. When everyone you love celebrates your elimination, it doesn’t make for any warm fuzzies. Cowboy left them all in his dust.

  I learned that lesson but did the opposite. When my twin tortured me and left me for dead, I spent every moment of the next fifteen years tracking the bastard down to even the score.

  Family you choose for the win. I held out my fist for the bump. I’ll check it out.

  “You sure? I bitched, but I can go. Or I can go with you.”

  I fought the urge to growl. I’ll have to clear my schedule, but I can squeeze in some family drama for our boy. I’ll check in when I know something.

  “’Kay, I’ll text you the addy.”

  After a quick nod, I threw my molecules into the night. I didn’t need directions. I could find that ranch like a homing pigeon, my time there etched into my very DNA.

  Hannah reined Whisky Jack to a stop and shielded her eyes from the blistering wind. Scanning past the herd huddled along the fence line, she searched for anything out of the ordinary to explain the knots in her gut. Her family land was her stomping grounds, her sanctuary. She never felt uneasy out here. Tonight—she did. With a winter storm blowing in, and a full moon shifting behind clouds overhead, shadows slinked across the pasture. Maybe it was the shock of finding Jed and Jessop dead, but she couldn’t escape the ominous sense of foreboding.

  She glanced back to the wolf lying motionless, wrapped and bound in Whisky Jack’s blanket. The makeshift drag she’d fashioned behind her horse was crude but would do the trick long enough to get them back to the house. If Myra wasn’t dead, she was darn close to it. From rescuing Waylon years ago, she’d learned that a Werewolf shifted back to their animal form when asleep, unconscious, or dead.

  Myra wasn’t napping, so whatever she suffered from, it wasn’t good. Sadly, she had no idea how long her neighbor had lain on the icy creek bed by the time she found her.

  Hannah drew a deep breath, and the cold ached in her lungs. Frigid Oklahoma winter chilled her nostrils, and she wished she could filter scents that came to her like the Weres.

  What would she smell? Her horse, the herd, the dried wheatgrass of the main pasture, the creek beyond, and the evergreen forest beyond that? Would Myra’s scent bring Jed and Jessop’s killers straight to her door?

  She prayed that the wind of the coming storm would buy her time. But the time for what? She couldn’t take Myra to the doctor or the vet. The only thing she could think of doing was to get her inside and keep her safe and warm.

  Chief barked beside Whisky’s flank, and she startled. Her border collie growled, his head dipped low to the frozen ground, his hackles raised straight up. Following the dog’s line of sight, she focused on the darkness west along the foothills. Something wicked this way comes.

  Hannah gripped the reins tighter and got their party moving again. She didn’t dare go too fast, not with Myra getting pulled along the ground behind. She shot a glance back to the shifting shadows.

  Yep. Still coming.

  “It’s likely just a deer foraging before the storm, Chief. Nothing to worry about.” Except it was half-past three in the morning, and with a winter storm brewing, the deer were hunkered down. Man, she couldn’t even lie to herself.

  Besides, whatever was stalking her didn’t move with the tentative steps of a deer. Wishful thinking wouldn’t change reality. It was a man—a big man.

  Woodsboro Creek was home to more than its share of big men. Coming from the direction of Jessop’s land, where she’d found the Alpha and his son, there was no doubt in her mind. A Were had tracked them down.

  Hannah brought Whisky around and reached back for the stock of her rifle. When the gun rested across her lap, she took off her gloves, drew her sidearm, and checked her Colt.

  Chief barked a second time, and she sympathized. “I know, boy, and you’re right. But like Daddy always said, ‘If you’re goin’ out,—best to go out fightin’.”

  Every warning bell she possessed clamored as she pocketed her handgun, raised the rifle, and sighted the lone man prowling toward her. In the pit of her stomach, she dreaded killing someone she knew. If this was pack politics, the killer or killers were people she’d known her entire life—maybe people she considered friends.

  Sadly, that wouldn’t work in her favor. These Weres believed in their pack above all else.

  Humans were second-rate citizens.

  Her only saving grace was that they didn’t know that she knew about them. She was simply a good Samaritan lending a helping hand to an injured animal on her land. Her heart hammered as the figure drew nearer and she made out his features—Carter Hurley.

  “Howdy, stranger,” she said, her finger poised on the trigger of the rifle. She took in his easy stance, wishing it was lighter out, so she could gauge his animal’s intent by the color of his eyes. “Mind if I ask what you’re doin’ on my land so late at night, Carter? You scared me half to death.”

  She didn’t know the man well but knew enough. He’d come to town about eight months ago from somewhere out east. As a lone wolf, Jessop had taken him into the pack, and the rest of the town had accepted him after that. He’d gotten into a few scuffles at the local bar on Saturday nights, but other than being a hot-head drinker, he seemed all right.

  Whisky Jack adjusted his footing and nickered, tossing his head so his mane batted against the suede sleeves of her jacket. The movement rocked
her in her saddle, but she didn’t let that affect her aim.

  Carter remained locked in her sights, his relaxed body and sly smile implying he was out for a leisurely stroll in the country. It didn’t fool her for a second.

  The vicious growl behind her came out of nowhere.

  Before she could turn, something hard and heavy struck her back and toppled her from her horse. She hit the ground hard, shrieking as her wrist bent at an awkward angle.

  As pain overtook her, everything happened at once. Whisky bolted past her, and she rolled to keep from being trampled. Carter yelled and lunged to catch the horse’s bridle. Chief turned, snapping and snarling at a massive silver wolf. And her good hand fell against the smooth walnut stock of her rifle. Rolling onto her stomach, she reached to grab it.

  Carter kicked it out of her reach and tsked her for trying. “Now, Miss Hannah. Settle yourself.”

  She called Chief back. Her old pup was brave but had no chance against a Werewolf. After a few more heated calls, he obeyed and closed ranks, bending low with his teeth bared.

  The wolf prowled past her and rounded Whisky Jack toward the drag. Her pulse rushed in her ears. Weres were massive beasts. Terrifying. Breathtaking. They pretty much made her pee her pants. She’d only been this close to one once and that was more than a decade ago.

  The wolf nuzzled Myra’s bundle, growling long and low.

  Carter secured her rifle and shook his head. “Now, what have you done to poor old Myra?”

  “Myra?” she said, laying as much confusion into her voice as she thought she could pull off. “What are you talking about? I found that wolf unconscious in the creek. I was taking it to the pen in the drive shed to get her warm and dry.”

  Carter pulled the folds of the blanket back to examine its contents. “She didn’t say anything to you?”

  Hannah squinted at him, the pain in her arm making it hard to keep a clear head. “The wolf? What exactly do you think she would say?”

  The darkness of night kept Carter’s face in the shadows. “Come on, Hannah. The pack has suspected for years that you know what we are. Jessop may have protected you, but that’s over now.”

  Hannah swallowed. She’d always been on friendly terms with Jessop but didn’t know he’d protected her. All the more reason to try to save his wife. “I couldn’t leave her in the creek to die.”

  “That’s exactly what you shoulda done. Now you’ve gone and meddled in pack business. What were you even doing out this time of night? You woulda been all right if you were warm in your bed.”

  Hannah was dead. Even without a broken wrist, she couldn’t defeat two Werewolves. They were preternatural creatures with enhanced strength and heightened senses. The only thing she could do was to try to convince them she’d only been innocently trying to help Myra.

  Not that it would work.

  “The storm came up outta nowhere,” Hannah said, her breath escaping in white puffs of cloud. “I needed to bring the cattle in before it hit. Chief caught wind of Myra’s scent and took off. I followed and was taking her home to warm up.”

  “And that’s it? That’s the whole story?”

  She blinked and nodded. Weres could smell lies, but with the wind swirling and carrying on in the opposite direction, she’d risk it. “I swear.”

  “Then why pull a gun on me?”

  “A man came up on me in the dark when I’m alone. Why wouldn’t I pull a gun on you?”

  Carter frowned. “Your scent is rife at Jessop’s farmhouse so you can cut the innocent act. You know more than you’re saying and we both know it. How dumb do I look?”

  Lying had never been her strong suit. Might as well go with truth. “Dumb enough that I thought I might have a shot.”

  Carter stomped forward, pinning her broken wrist under his boot. She gasped, the agony excruciating. Her vision blacked out and then burst into white splotches behind her eyes. He stepped harder and the bones ground together under his heel.

  Her scream echoed across the flat plane of the main pasture and darkness narrowed her field of vision. Chief whined, and she pressed her face into his cold, snow-crunchy coat. “S’okay, boy.”

  “You shoulda minded your own, human.”

  Hannah blinked past her tears, and her future flashed briefly. He had no intention of her living. She would die, right there in the field. Riley would be alone and defenseless. Alone in a vast, empty farmhouse on the edge of town . . . what would he do to her. Would he go for her next or end it here?

  “Don’t do this.” She inched her fingers toward the Colt bruising her hip. “You know me. You don’t want to do this. I’ve got my kid sister to raise . . . this farm to run.”

  Carter kicked her shoulder and rolled her. The force of the momentum tore the gun from her feeble grip, and it clattered at his feet. A second later, Carter aimed it straight at her head. “You shoulda thought about that before you messed in pack business.”

  Hannah closed her eyes.

  The shot cracked in the air, and everything went black.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I took out the Were with the gun first. The shot to his shoulder spun him away from Hannah and with the crack of his neck, the male fell to the ground and morphed into his base form. Adrenaline exploded in my veins. Hannah lay helpless on the cold ground, and I had no idea how badly she was hurt. I readied for the wolf’s attack—welcomed it. The sooner this was over, the sooner I could assess her injuries and help her.

  The silver timber wolf advancing, stood smaller and less muscled than Cowboy. I had no doubt I could hold my own one-on-one. I’d tussled with Bruin and Cowboy enough over the past decade to know what to expect. Hell, Bruin transformed into an oversized Kodiac.

  After facing that, nothing much worried me.

  This opponent, however, had no idea what he faced. The wolf would overestimate his skills, and that would be his undoing. As the beast charged, I drew the dagger sheathed to my thigh and Flashed to the side. Grappling the thick ruff of his coat, I severed its throat.

  Quick and dirty.

  The eerie yelp carried on the wind long after I pivoted and lodged the blade deep into the beast’s chest. Heaving for breath, I went down with the weight of my kill and rested on one knee. Grabbing a handful of snow, I brushed my gloves clean and shifted to where Hannah lay waaaay too still on the ground. Two fingers against Hannah’s neck gave me no pulse.

  Fear plunged into my heart as sharp as my dagger into the wolf. How? No! Panic sucker punched me so hard I felt it push its way into my lungs, expanding, taking the place of oxygen until I fought for short, quick hits of air. No matter how I gasped and panted, I couldn’t breathe.

  I wanted to fight. I wanted to kill these men again.

  A muffled groan brought me back to sense and my entire body sagged with relief. Stupid dumbass. I pulled my gloves off and tried for the pulse with my brain in the game this time.

  Strong and steady. Thank the gods.

  I flopped onto my ass and waited until the shakes cleared. Why was it I could never think straight around this woman? She was my emotional Kryptonite but at the same time, my addiction. I tried not to think about how badly I’d tanked the relationship and got back to the situation at hand.

  What were we dealing with? Judging by the flaxen and caramel pelt, the wolf bundled behind the horse might very well be Cowboy’s mother. I crawled over to where the wolf lay, and placed a hand against her chest to gauge her breathing. Weak and thready.

  Hard to say if that was a win or a loss.

  Returning to Hannah’s still form, I surveyed the land and assessed my options. It would be light soon, so I needed to hurry. I could save Hannah and erase the mother from the equation. I could leave the mother with the other bodies and let the Weres have their fun. Or, I could save them both and let the Fates decide.

  I chuffed. Yeah, the Fates would pick whatever result screwed the most people—preferably me. My self-absorbed, self-serving, self-righteous half-sisters were vengeful bitches, an
d Zophia and I were currently high on their shit-list.

  The gutted wolf’s blood steamed from the ground as I mulled things over. Choices, choices. Hannah’s dog rubbed against my hip, and I scrubbed the pup’s ears. Hey, Chief. What do you think we should do?

  The dog whined and nuzzled Hannah with his snout.

  Yeah, me too. Gathering Hannah off the thin layer of snow, I Flashed across the pasture and into the ranch house. After setting her on the couch, I unzipped her coat to examine her injuries. The line of her clothes hugging her curves stole my breath and scrambled my thoughts.

  Right. Injuries. A couple of scrapes and a bruise coming up on her cheek. Her wrist took the brunt of the damage and was swelling fast. Running my hands down her body to check for injuries flipped my train to another track entirely. This was why surgeons weren’t allowed to operate on their loved ones, right? No objectivity.

  My clinical assessment hadn’t lasted long—which wasn’t my fault. C’mon, look at her. Bundled for a ride in the country, Hannah was an attractive woman.

  Once you undid things and got down to the cling of her knit sweater and the way her jeans hugged her curvy hips, yeah, she was a cock-hardening knockout.

  Static spiked her chestnut hair as I tugged off her hat. With a gentle hand, I tamed it down. Still soft as silk. Just like that, all the feels and memories buried and barricaded for three years resurfaced.

  Drawing a finger over the scuff on her cheek, I marveled that I’d been able to stay away from her this long. I closed my eyes, reliving the sound of her voice, the feel of her lush, generous curves, the scent and taste of her bronze skin. Yeah, time and distance hadn’t dimmed anything from my memory.

  Growling at myself, I got back to it. I’ll be back, baby. You’re safe now.

  The drive shed door creaked as I opened it, the hinges not hanging level. I made a mental note to fix that and Flashed back to the pasture with the tools. Leaving shovels beside the dead wolves, I patted Chief and mounted the horse.