Her Forbidden Harem

by Savannah Skye

  “It would just be temporary,” Uncle Farley pointed out. “While she’s in danger. Where did you have in mind?”

  “Our village,” said Jackson, having taken a deep breath.

  “A Wolf Taker village!” It was actually nice to see my father raised to real anger again, yelling at someone. “I’m not having any daughter of mine living among Wolf Takers.”

  “It would just be temporary,” Farley reiterated, but my father cut him off.

  “I don’t care if you just want her to pop in for tea, I’m not allowing it!”

  “Is anyone going to ask me what I think?” I asked, rather sharply, as I had been so far excluded from this conversation.

  “I hadn’t planned on it,” muttered my father. It was an attitude I well recognized from his treatment of my mom, but I was not about to stand for it.

  “It’s my life we’re talking about, my safety. I think I ought to have some say in how it is conducted.”

  “You lost all say in how your life was conducted,” my father responded, his voice raising in volume once more, “when you ignored death threats, ignored me, ignored your bodyguards, crossed into another pack’s territory, used yourself as bait and almost started a war. I feel like we’ve reached the point where it is safe to say that you suck at running your own life.”

  I let his rant flow over me like water off a duck’s back. “Maybe so. But it’s still my life, Dad. Mine to live. Mine to decide how I live. And yes, mine to fuck up. Everyone is entitled to fuck up their own life, it’s the joy of being an adult.”

  “And standing back while your child does it is the curse of being a parent.”

  I never really thought of my father as a ‘parent’. Which sounded stupid but… I knew that he loved me, but beyond telling me how to live my life, had never done any of the usual parental things. It was strange to hear him speak like that now, strange to think that he had probably always felt like that but had struggled to show it because he was who he was, and that was a façade that could never be let down. The great Pack Leader Hokkai Jack, One-Eyed Jack, could never be anything as prosaic as a father, scared for his daughter’s safety. He must have worried every time I went out with questionable company – which was a lot – every time I brought home strange boys – also, a lot – every time I had ignored werewolf tradition to do my own thing and pissed off a whole bunch of people. And this was where it had ended up. He probably blamed himself for not speaking up, not holding me back, not treating me like a child. I hoped that he knew that all the mistakes I had made were in spite of him, not because of him, that they had been the mistakes I had wanted to make and that I would make them all again in a heartbeat. I hoped he understood that. I could have told him, but again, I was so very like him, and these things are hard to say.

  “We wouldn’t tell our villagers who Bailey is,” said Jackson, and I saw my father’s eye flicker as he called me ‘Bailey’. “We wouldn’t tell them what she is. There’s no reason anyone should find out.”

  “You’d lie to your own people?”

  “To protect Miss Hokkai, yes.” He got it right that time but the damage might already have been done.

  Dad looked at me. “Go on then; what is it you want?”

  “I think that’s where I’d be safest,” I said.

  “For what it’s worth,” said Farley, “I agree.”

  “Outnumbered,” muttered my father.

  “Since when did that stop you?” I asked.

  “True,” he nodded. “But, irritating though I find it, I think you’re all right. I think the Wolf Taker village is about the safest place from The Brotherhood I can imagine.”

  I smiled. “Who would think to look for a wolf in a Wolf Taker village?”

  My father returned the smile ruefully. “True. If only because no wolf in their right mind would go within thirty miles of one.”

  Chapter 13

  The village was called Hobton, a simple name for a simple place, and it was like nothing I had ever seen before.

  I was very much a city girl, born and bred, and I liked the city comforts and the city lights. I liked the crampedness of the city, being forced up against people on a crowded street, the smoky bars and littered streets – the little imperfections that just added character to the whole seething mess of it. Naturally, being a powerful werewolf family, we had a nice country retreat – a mansion some miles outside the city – but Dad was seldom there because he had a pack to run and I was seldom there because the city was my home.

  This was true of many wolves. In only a few generations, we had taken that very human habitat of the city and made it our own. Perhaps that was why the Wolf Takers – those humans least comfortable living in close proximity with wolves – had reclaimed the countryside as their own. Time was when humans in small rural communities lived in constant fear of wolf attack, and many moved into cities to get away from that threat. Now, those small isolated villages had become havens where you might not see a wolf from one decade to the next. On the drive out to Hobton, with Clarke behind the wheel, I had wondered if this might feel like coming home to me – drawing on hereditary memory of my rural ancestors. It didn’t, it felt like a new world.

  As we reached the outskirts of Hobton, the dirt road ran through fields in which people were working, some with old-fashioned tools, others with more modern machinery. The Wolf Takers did not reject the modern comforts of technology like the Amish, but they could take it or leave it. If there was a job to be done then they would do it by whatever means were at their disposal – the important thing was that the job was done.

  “You grew up here?” I asked Clarke, as we pulled up outside a timber house.

  “Uh-huh. Spent pretty much my whole life here.”

  “You see,” I admitted, “on the one hand; that sounds sort of crazy to me. I mean, it’s a big world, look at what you’re missing. On the other,” I looked about the peaceful town square, “I get it.”

  Clarke flashed a smile. “Good. You could be here awhile.”

  “You’ll enjoy that.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “You’re warming to me.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  Clarke had been the most suspicious of me, and of what I was, since this had all started, and I didn’t think he was completely cool with me yet. But I was seeing a change in him. I found him very difficult to read, but my best guess was that I irritated the crap out of him, and yet he was still quietly impressed. That seemed to be my sweet spot these days; people didn’t necessarily like how I behaved, but they grudgingly admired me for doing my own thing. Clarke, of course, was a Wolf Taker and so had been raised to mistrust and dislike me and my kind. Unlike Jackson and Colt, I wasn’t sure that Clarke had gotten past that, and that sort of narrow-minded thinking did not predispose me to like a person. And yet… I really wanted Clarke to like me. Which wasn’t like me at all. If someone didn’t like me then my attitude had always been ‘Fuck ‘em’, and I thought that was a pretty good attitude to have. A person shouldn’t have to bend over backwards to make someone like them, certainly not when that person has done nothing to warrant their dislike.

  Well... almost nothing.

  The point was; I was actually trying to make Clarke like me. I wasn’t baking him cookies or anything, but I was being nice, I was biting my tongue rather than making sarcastic comments. I was being thoroughly unlike myself to make him like me. Why was I doing that for someone like him?

  Was it because of his friends, both of whom I now felt quite close to? And both of whom I had slept with? Or was it because I found Clarke powerfully attractive and I was just that shallow?

  Yeah, it was probably the second one.

  It was not just how handsome Clarke was. It was not just the way that athletic body looked in the noon sunshine. Even with all his snide comments about me, and the way he seemed to automatically put himself on the opposite side of every argument to the one I picked, there was something likeable about him. He was funny
– even when he was using that humor as a weapon against me, he was funny. He was so personable that his basic good nature trumped his dislike of me, as if he had been so well brought-up that he would have offered his worst enemy a cup of coffee before killing them. One other thing, and now I thought about it I realized that it applied to all of the guys; he was absolutely dedicated in his defense of me. He had hated me from day one, and yet I had had no doubts from day one that he would have risked his life, even given his life to keep me safe. That was his duty and he would do it. The guys were not soldiers – though their training was not dissimilar – but they had that soldiers’ sense of duty. I admired that. And I found it very attractive. Most of the men I had been with, human and werewolf, were selfish to the core. They wouldn’t have crossed the street to save me, let alone risked their lives. How did you not like someone who would risk his for you even if he didn’t like you?

  “Clarke.” A woman hailed Clarke from across the street and he waved back with a smile.

  “Hi there, Bridget.”

  “You’re back already?”

  “Easy job.”

  Bridget looked through the car window. “No Colt? No Jackson?”

  Clarke shrugged. “There were a few loose ends.”

  That was true. While we had confirmed some connection between The Brotherhood and the Hokkai Pack, that did not mean that another pack was not involved, and while we had been happy to rule out the Kenai, the Arctic Pack was still suspect. Under their new Pack Leader, Arctic Solana, the pack had taken a somewhat backseat role amongst the city’s packs, following the unconscionable behavior of their previous Pack Leader, Arctic Venus. But there were those amongst the Arctic Pack Court who, while acknowledging that Venus had gone about matters in the wrong way, still lusted after power and did not like the direction in which Solana was taking their pack. Bottom line; there were people in power in the Arctic Pack who might be funding The Brotherhood and it needed looking into. Jackson and Colt had stayed to help out in the raids that were to be conducted on Brotherhood properties. I wasn’t sure if this was being done with or without Solana’s knowledge, which did make me a little anxious for the guys’ safety, though Clarke seemed unconcerned.

  “And who is this?” I could hear the unsubtle hinting in Bridget’s voice – that tone that older women always use towards younger men who show up with a pretty girl.

  “This is Bailey. She’s a friend I met in the city. She’s staying a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks, eh?” Bridget’s voice almost leered.

  “Yes, Bridget, a few weeks.”

  “At your place?”

  “On the couch,” said Clarke, with an air of finality.

  Bridget shrugged, unwilling to let the point go. “Well, when you’re in a hurry you don’t always make it to the bedroom.”

  “Bridget, for the love of…”

  “I’m just teasing you,” Bridget laughed. “Nice to meet you, Bailey.”

  “Nice to meet you, too,” I smiled.

  “You two have fun,” said Bridget, as she went on her way. “Lots of it.”

  “Thank you, Bridget,” said Clarke, darkly. He turned to me. “Welcome to Hobton.”

  “I like it already. People are friendly.”

  “People are nosey,” corrected Clarke. “Which may not be good for you. You need to keep a low profile.”

  The area in which werewolves certainly scored above Wolf Takers, no matter how well-trained they were or how unfit the wolf might be, was that a wolf always knows when they are talking to a human. We have a highly developed sense of smell, and even in human form the world of smells is almost as vital to us as that of sight. Humans and wolves smell very different. By contrast, Wolf Takers could be talking to a werewolf and not know it until the wolf ripped their arms off – as Bridget had just proved.

  “What would she have done if she’d known what I was?” I asked.

  “Well,” Clarke considered as he hoisted my bags out of the back of his car, “she certainly wouldn’t have been making sex jokes.”

  He led the way into the house and I took a look about me.

  “Lot of wood.”

  “Are you making fun?”

  I actually wasn’t, though I could see why he might think that. The rural, homespun, rough-hewn, hand-carved by my grandpappy and handed down aesthetic of the interior was the sort of thing that I would normally have made fun of like a shot. But truthfully, this was exactly how I had imagined the guys would live and also how I would have wanted them to. In a way, they seemed to me to be as handmade as the surroundings, like someone had carved them from a local tree.

  “I like it,” I said.

  “No you don’t,” Clarke scoffed, dropping my bags by the couch.

  “As a matter of fact, I do. Maybe it wouldn’t suit me, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like it. And I think it suits you really well.”

  “Simple, you mean.”

  “Much as I appreciate you telling me what I mean all the time, I’d be happier if you could stop now. The three of you live here together?”

  Clarke nodded. “Wolf Taker men, when they leave home, usually team up with a couple of the guys they trained with and build a place together. Somewhere they can live and train as a team.”

  “And Wolf Taker women?” I wondered.

  “Actually, they do pretty much the same thing,” acknowledged Clarke. “There may be more scatter cushions involved.”

  “Naturally. They build their own houses?”

  Clarke nodded. “Why shouldn’t they? The men do.”

  I shook my head. “I wouldn’t even know where to start in building my own house.”

  Clarke headed towards the kitchen. “If we’re going to make a list of things Wolf Taker women can do that you can’t then we’re in for a long day.”

  “Well,” I followed him, not letting him shoot me down that easily, “I can drink my own body weight in hard liquor, I can dance like a diva, and if there’s a sexual position I haven’t mastered then I can’t even imagine what it would be. Any of your Wolf Taker girls got that going for them?”

  Clarke nodded as he pulled a beer out of the fridge. “Yeah, most of them.”

  “Well, I can turn into a wolf, can any of them do that?”

  At least I made him grin. “I would say not. Beer?”

  “Yeah. You have electricity?”

  “The village has a generator.” He tossed me a beer and I opened it with my teeth – because I could.

  “You do your own electrical when you built the house?”

  “Colt wired it up,” nodded Clarke. “Then there was a small fire and Jackson took over.”

  I laughed. He really was very easy company, even when he maybe didn’t want to be.

  “You gonna show me around?”

  Clarke nodded. “This is the kitchen. Our bedrooms are upstairs; you’re on the couch. Wash room is out back and through the door is the outhouse.”

  “Outhouse?”

  “Plumbing can be more complex than electrical work. Everything’s got to go somewhere and we have crops to fertilize.”

  I nodded. “Okay. I won’t be eating while I’m here.”

  Clarke looked at me grimly. “That would be just as well.”

  I frowned. “I’m not going to tear anyone apart, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He shrugged. “Birds gotta fly, fish gotta swim, werewolves…”

  “Have no self-control?” I suggested.

  “Just saying.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m very grateful to you guys for letting me stay here and for looking after me. And right now that gratitude is the only thing that’s allowing your head to remain attached to your shoulders. Anyway, I didn’t mean show me around the house. Are you gonna show me around the village?”

  Clarke shook his head. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think we’re better off keeping you on the down low.”

  I was quite tou
ched. “You think The Brotherhood might have connections here?”

  “Hell no,” Clarke scoffed. “But the more people you meet the more questions get asked, and I don’t want any of the people I grew up with thinking I associate with wolves.”

  I got a grip on my temper – which for a daughter of Hokkai Jack, was not easy. Irritatingly, alongside the anger I was feeling, was a measure of hurt. I didn’t want him to see me like that, I wanted him to like me. Even now, as he openly insulted me, I wanted him to like me. How fucking pathetic was that?

  “Look,” I said, “if you think showing me around is liable to get tongues wagging then just what do you imagine people will think if you keep me locked up inside all day? Bridget already saw me and – granted, I only just met her – she doesn’t seem the type to keep her mouth shut. How long before ‘Clarke brought a girl home from the city’ becomes ‘Clarke brought a girl home from the city and he won’t let anyone see her’? How much more curious are people going to be about me if they’ve never even laid eyes on me? Why are you keeping her a secret, Clarke? Why can’t we meet her, Clarke? Is she a werewolf, Clarke?”

  “They’d never guess that.”

  “But still…”

  “Yeah,” Clarke sighed. “Point taken. You’re right. Better to get it over with. If I show you round now then hopefully people will think that you’re nothing special.”

  I tossed my hair and rolled my eyes. “They’ll never think that.”

  If anyone had told me a week ago that I would be strolling through a Wolf Taker village, saying hi to the locals, being introduced and generally made a fuss over, then I would have said they were either crazy or on something. Perhaps even more surprising than that was how much I enjoyed the experience. This was a really nice place, I liked the goats that wandered idly between buildings and the horses tethered up in the street like a town in the wild West. I liked the mix and match nature of the houses – each one different, reflecting the Wolf Takers who built them. I liked the band who had set up on a corner to practice and about whom locals congregated to clap along and dance. I liked the slow pace of life, something for which I had never craved and would always have thought was a bit dull. Maybe it would have been dull with someone else as my guide.