by Ellis Leigh
They both looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. There was no time to accommodate their assumptions, though. He had a job to do, one that had just gotten harder. And more urgent.
Luc needed more backup than the two wolves could offer him. “Call in the rest of the team.”
“What?” Phego asked. “Why?”
Because he needed more time to determine what his attraction to the woman meant. He also liked the quietness of her emotions on him—the softness. He’d been under attack from everyone else’s presence for centuries—she certainly seemed like a nice change of pace. But devoting time to her meant he had to finish his job there. Meant he needed to cure the region of the sickness.
“Because I’m done hunting these fuckers. We need to find the two women and destroy the pack, and I want all hands on deck to do that.”
Michaela looked almost horrified. “But the babies…”
The babies. The pups. Thaus’ mate, Ariel, had given birth to the first child of the Dire pack, and Levi’s mate, Amy, was pregnant with the second. Dragging them up here would put those tiny lives in danger, something he couldn’t force them to do.
“Ariel and Amy can decide if they want to come.”
Phego glanced at his mate. “I’ll call Levi—”
“No.” Luc stepped closer to his brother, his snarl pronounced. The order clear as the image of that tiny woman with her gun to her shoulder popped into his head. She wouldn’t have wanted him to tell her what to do. He somehow knew that with a certainty that refused to be cowed. “Call the women first. Give them the chance to decide before their mate can make the decision for them.”
Phego stared back at him, not breaking. A growing sense of unease wafting off him. “Thaus and Levi won’t like this.”
Yeah, Luc knew that, but he didn’t give their dislike more than a single thought. Instead, he recalled his journey through the woods and how he’d felt the pull toward that lake, the woman with the gun appearing as if he’d somehow called her from the heavens. She lived there alone from what he could tell and had an obvious backbone of steel, along with a strong distaste for his wolf. She made her own decisions, and he would expect all of the Omega sisters to do the same.
“I don’t care if our brothers don’t like it,” Luc said, his voice strong. His mind made up. “The women of this pack can and should decide their own fate.”
A picture of the woman standing and pointing a gun at him invaded his mind once more, making his blood run hotter. Making his determination that much more solid. She would never allow someone else to choose her fate for her—he believed that all the way to his bones. And Luc wouldn’t take the choice away from someone like her. Someone with strength in their heart and fire in their soul. Hell, he’d walked away from her—had left her there in the woods all alone after just finding her. Had probably turned his back on the mate the fates had thrown in his path. Maybe. Possibly. At least, from his side of the bond.
He’d left her behind because she was strong and independent and didn’t need him or fate itself to make her choices for her.
Much like his Omega packmates.
What was she?
4
Cassiel powered through her morning routine, not stopping for a moment once she walked outside. She couldn’t—if she hesitated, the fear would come back. No, not fear. Anxiety. She’d been living under the low-level buzz of anxiety since the day that beast—that wolf—had come padding out of the forest like some sort of wraith and thrown her life into upset. That energy—that tingly feeling that made her want to run back inside and lock her doors all the time—pissed her right off. She refused to be afraid of the life she’d built, of the world she lived in. She would not give in to the phobia that had plagued her since she’d been that little girl in a group home looking out over the wilderness of Denali. She did not want to live in the nightmares she’d always had about the animals that seemed to haunt her. To hunt her.
For as much as she loved her dogs, wolves had always been something she avoided.
When the morning tasks were completed, Cassiel grabbed the ganglines and harnesses, and started hooking up the dogs to her summer sled. It was going to be a relatively warm day, which would make the run to Bettles a little tough on her furry engine, but she only had one shot this month to trade her products and pick up her orders. She could have taken her ATV and ridden there, but the idea of leaving her dogs behind where she couldn’t watch over them terrified her. No way was that happening, so sled it was. She’d simply have to leave with plenty of time and let them trot their way there instead of full running.
“Come on, Moxie. Let’s put you in the swing spot.” The little black-and-white Husky jumped and whined, so excited to be getting on the trail. Running was what these dogs loved; it was what they were meant to do. They’d run all day and night if she let them, not that she would. She wasn’t one of those mushers who chained the dogs outside and ran them thousands of miles a season. Her dogs were her pets first, her transportation second.
Dogs in place, sled loaded with jars and tubes of her handmade medicinals, Cassiel grabbed the ganglines that connected to the harnesses, held on to the back of her sled basket, and began to push.
“Hike,” she hollered, using the language she’d been taught by other mushers in the bush. “Let’s go, dogs.”
A solid push, a good scramble as the dogs found their footing, and they were off, racing along the path they’d cut through the spruce trees over the years. The wind on her face cleared much of the last few days’ stress away, and she found herself smiling and relaxing into the ride. No worries about wolves or predators, no thinking about what could go wrong as the midnight sun of summer retired and fall came back to Alaska. She let everything go and enjoyed the ride. That was what she loved—time in the wild with her family of sled dogs. That was all she needed.
The mush to Bettles didn’t take long at all—not nearly enough running for her or the dogs to feel tired—and the team arrived with time to spare before the bush plane landed. Cassiel found a shady spot, piled a little bit of dried grass for the dogs to lie on, and gave each of them a rubdown and a decent snack. Once the dogs were taken care of and resting, she got to work, organizing her shipments and readying a few boxes in case any of the tourists coming in for their fishing, hunting, and hiking adventures wanted to purchase from her. Most of her items were purchased by the local tribes and the people who worked the adventure fishing and hunting businesses, but quite a few were also shipped to other bush communities, picked up by the pilot and dropped off along his regular stops.
She had four boxes for the plane with her, all filled with tinctures and essential oils to help her neighbors heal their small scrapes and burns, their allergic reactions and skin afflictions. Those boxes would bring her food for the dogs and supplies for her own kitchen eventually, maybe even gasoline or oil for her snow and four-wheeling machines. She never set a firm price with her bush neighbors—simply trusted in the honor of the folk that they’d send her what they thought was fair for what she sent them.
The plane was also how she received the few things she needed that she couldn’t grow or hunt, and she was expecting a good load of food—a couple blocks of cheese, flour and yeast to make bread, sugar and spices. All luxuries in her world, and totally worth the wait.
The low hum of the approaching plane growing to a roar as it dipped low enough to touch down didn’t even bother the dogs, though that didn’t surprise Cassiel. She’d been making this trek with them since they’d each been a pup. They were used to the noise. They even slept through the squeal of the brakes and the pilot—an older gentleman named Frank who claimed to have flown missions in the Vietnam war—hopping off.
“Good to see you, Miss Cassiel,” Frank said with a tip of his baseball hat. “What do you have for me today?”
“Four boxes going on down the line. The stops are listed on the tops.”
Frank nodded, likely knowing Cassiel always sent her shipments in an organi
zed fashion. “I’ve got a couple notes for you from my last stop—you may have another order or two. I’ll go ahead and start loading while you look them over.” He handed Cassiel two sealed envelopes. “There’s plenty of room for your boxes. I only had a couple passengers this time, and this is the end of the line for both.”
Cassiel opened the envelopes and read over the notes, grabbing a couple bottles from her sled and wrapping the paper orders around them. She took a pen from her pocket and wrote the names and stops on them, knowing Frank would make sure they arrived safely even if they weren’t boxed. Once ready, she worked with Frank to load her products, helping him organize the weight so the shipments would be easier to hand off at the stops and keep his plane balanced. Once done, he pulled her supplies from another compartment.
There weren’t a lot of them, something that disappointed Cassiel. “No dog food?”
Frank shook his head. “The seller in Fairbanks said there were slow downs at the docks, and some of the freight forwarders were stuck waiting to unload. Do you want me to contact someone for you? See if I can get another plane up here?”
“No, it’s okay. The weather’s likely to hold for another few weeks, so I can make the run over every two weeks instead of monthly. The dogs will like the exercise.”
“Those critters just like being with you, Cassiel. They adore their human momma.” He handed her one last small box. “A present from my daughter. That ginger tincture you sent her has really helped with the nausea.”
Cassiel took the jar with a smile, already knowing what would be under the fabric wrapping. Frank’s family ran an apiary that supplied bees to larger farmers in the lower part of the state. His wife and daughters sold and traded the honey they harvested from the hives, which Cassiel had been lucky enough to get her hands on a few times. When Frank had mentioned his pregnant daughter was having trouble with severe morning sickness, she’d known her ginger tincture might help her and had offered the family a bottle. She had to admit, she’d hoped to get some honey in return but hadn’t asked for or expected it. That jar would be a treat.
“Thank her for me, please. This is a true gift and completely unnecessary.”
“You are the gift. That cream with the yellow flowers has done wonders for the wife as well—her eczema’s almost all cleared at this point.”
“Well, you make sure she knows I’ll always have more for her. Just let me know when she starts running low, so I can bring it out here.”
“I will. And you enjoy that—it was a good harvest this year.” Frank shook her hand and left to close up the storage compartments, leaving Cassiel to load her sled with the few boxes she’d received. A whine from her dogs caught her attention, though, making her stand to look over her surroundings. The dogs seemed on edge, something that rarely happened in town unless there was something in the woods to worry about.
Which there likely could be.
“Come on, pups,” she said, rubbing each head in turn to grab their attention. “It’s about time to go home.”
But before she could get her team on the trail, a man stepped around the side of the plane and right into her path. Someone she didn’t know. He carried a huge rucksack that looked as if it could hold a person’s whole life in it and was dressed like someone who understood the bush. The man looked prepared for his trek, unlike some of the touristy hikers she’d run into through the years. Not an unusual sight in these parts, and yet…
As she looked him over, something inside her pinged. Something that made her heart jump and her breath come faster, something that reminded her far too much of fear. That feeling plucked at a memory, and a certainty grew within her. She knew the guy, and yet she was positive she’d never met him. Tall, huge really, with long legs, light eyes, and a mop of wild, shaggy hair—he was too handsome to forget, too striking to ignore. He had a cruel sort of beauty, an air of danger and harshness about him. One that she liked. A lot. In fact, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
When he noticed her looking, she nodded, trying hard to not seem too forward as she asked, “You don’t look like someone who hired out a fishing tour.”
His face stayed stoic, his pale, blue eyes locked on what seemed like her chin in a way that felt oddly predatory. “Likely because I’m not. Bettles was just the closest town to where I need to be.”
That fit the region for sure. The range didn’t have a lot of what one might call towns. Or roads. “Where are you headed?”
“I’m camping out at an old, abandoned homestead on the far side of the lake there, so I’m angling that way.”
Cassiel knew the basic location of the place—she’d seen it on her flights in and out of Bettles over the years. A good chunk of flat land with five, maybe six cabins and a decent structure used as a drying rack and for storage. She was pretty sure no one had lived there for years, though it seemed as if that was about to change. Perhaps only temporarily. “Big place and far enough to need more than your feet for transportation. That’s a multi-day hike.”
“Two days from here, I figure.” He shrugged, still not looking directly at her but acting totally casual. Calm. Seemingly confident in his abilities.
Cassiel didn’t feel calm or confident, though. All she could think about was the wolf—the huge beast that had walked up on her the other day. Two days alone and unprotected in the wild with predators like that could end badly for the man. Something she did her best to stop thinking about.
Something she failed at. Completely.
“On foot and with the land as sloppy as it is in the summer, plus all the bugs? It’ll likely be more like a three-day hike for you.”
Needing a moment to collect her thoughts, she fiddled with the ganglines and verified that her dogs were paying attention and ready to go, then she did the neighborly thing. What any good bushman would do.
“I’m mushing out in that direction. I can take you to my land, which will put you most of the way to yours if you like, but there’s no way I can take you all the way. There’s no trail around the far side of the lake, and this isn’t the weather to make my dogs forge one. They’ll overheat.”
He looked at the dogs, suddenly seeming uneasy. No longer calm. “You want me to ride that little sled. With the dogs pulling us.”
The way he said the word dogs—with a bit of a judgmental sneer—knocked neighborly right out of her vocabulary.
“No one said you had to take me up on my offer.” She turned and grabbed the back of the sled, ready to make a running start to the ride home, but he stopped her.
“Wait, please,” he said, coming up behind her with quick strides and solid footfalls. “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to this mode of transportation. Dogs make me…nervous.”
She patted the seat of the sled and gave him her best smile. “Well then, hop in and prepare to be amazed.”
He took his time loading himself into the sled, not that Cassiel could blame him. The man was large—tall and muscular, with long legs that had to be folded just so for him to fit in the seat. She was not tall and had always been in the musher’s position on the runners. She’d never really thought about the comfort of a rider because she’d never had one. Her basket sled wasn’t really built for a rider—it was more of a sprinter’s sled than a distance one—but the dogs could handle the weight if she was careful about her pacing. They’d pulled more for longer, just not another human being. How could they? She’d been their only passenger for…well, Moxie was coming up on seven, and since before her so…
A long darn time.
Had she really been alone all those years?
Not the time to think about this.
Once the man was settled, Cassiel pushed the sled to a start and hollered to the dogs. “Hike. Hike!”
This time, she let the dogs run however hard they wanted, let them pick up a little speed on the way home. She couldn’t help herself—the faster they went, the more expressive the man became. In fact, as the dogs hit a solid gallop, he had slid into a full-blown pa
nic. With every turn, he grabbed the slide of the basket as if afraid they’d tip or crash, which made Cassiel laugh. He definitely did not laugh.
“Are you sure this thing’s safe?” he asked for the fourth time as they rounded a particularly sharp turn.
“Oh, sure. We only crash once or twice a year.” She chuckled as he gripped the sides of the sled once more, his knuckles white with the pressure of his hold. Cassiel enjoyed having this man in her sled—he was fun. And easy to make uncomfortable.
As the dogs slowed around a massive rock formation that marked the trail to her property, Cassiel took advantage of the quieter moment to be polite. “I’m Cassiel, by the way. And I live right up ahead if you end up needing anything. I figure I’ll be your neighbor for your stay here. What’s your name, stranger? And how long are you planning on living at the homestead?”
The man looked over his shoulder, his eyes nearly silver and so much like those of her dogs that she almost slipped right off the runner. That look, that meeting of their gazes, sent something spinning inside her. Punched her square in the stomach and left her breathless. And hot. So very hot.
“I’m Luc, and I’m here until I get a particular job done.”
5
The ride through the woods pleased Luc more than he’d thought possible. It could have been that the constant internal pressure, the static of other people’s presence and feelings, quieted when he was around Cassiel. That stillness in and of itself he considered a gift. But really, his enjoyment came from more than just the silence. The peace he felt around Cassiel originated from a deeper place, one he couldn’t quite grasp. One he didn’t know how to access. There was a wall around her that he would eventually like to break through, but for now, the silence in his mind that she seemed to bring with her was lovely.
The dogs settled into their run well, though they’d been a little antsy when he’d walked up. Nervous, likely sensing the predator in their midst. But once Cassiel had mounted the sled and started them moving? They were excited but steady, doing the job they obviously enjoyed doing. He was almost jealous of them—he wanted to be running, too.
