Winter of the Wolf (Hunt 2)

by Cherise Sinclair

  As the wind rustled through the evergreens, the branches sighed. The creek gurgled and sang, and in the sky, a lonely eagle cried out. The damp green scent of the forest filled the air, seasoned with the tang of snow. “Who knew mountains were so magnificent?”

  A few minutes later, she smiled at the sight of her cabin. No, it wasn’t home, but it had been a good sanctuary. Hearing thuds, she walked around the side of the building to the front. Elvis followed.

  Coat discarded on the ground, Zeb transferred a load of firewood from a wheelbarrow onto her porch. As he hefted several pieces, his muscular biceps and shoulders bulged. The neck of his flannel shirt was open, displaying the scars that ran down his neck onto his chest. So many scars.

  Bree shivered and cleared her dry throat. “Thanks for the wood.”

  He nodded, then raised one eyebrow at the dog. “Got a pal?”

  Odd how reassuring it was to have Elvis next to her, even if Zeb didn’t scare her anymore. Much. She hugged the dog, got her face licked, and laughed. “Elvis is a darling. Do you know who owns him?”

  “Elvis?” Zeb snorted a laugh. “Nobody owns that noisy mutt. Keep him—but you should probably neuter him.”

  The dog showed its fangs and growled at Zeb.

  Bree’s mouth dropped open.

  Even more startling—Zeb actually grinned.

  * * *

  The next evening, Bree walked a circle around her table. The display of cones and twigs looked appropriate and rustic with the heavy stoneware.

  Three place settings.

  Her cold hands trembled as she straightened a napkin. Dinner was almost ready, the table prepared. Now she had to invite the guests. She put a hand on her quivering stomach. Two huge men. She glanced longingly at her purse by the door, but wearing her pistol to supper would probably be rude.

  Honestly, Bree. Get over yourself.She stiffened her spine. If she couldn’t even have a couple of guys over—no matter how tall—then how did she expect to return to a city filled with men?

  Zeb and Shay had been kind. And hey, they’d each given her a kiss—if those little brushes could be called kisses. It was odd that after she got past being startled, she’d actually wanted more. She snorted. Like more kissing would happen if she ran screaming for the woods.

  So—next step. Desensitization. That’s what an allergic friend had called it when the doc injected her with increasingly higher doses of ragweed. If the method worked, eventually she’d stop being frightened of humongous guys.

  Okay, then. After yanking on her coat, she hurried over to the lodge and pounded on the door.

  She squeaked when it jerked open.

  “What the fuck is—oh.” Zeb looked down, and a glint of humor lit those dark chocolate-colored eyes. “Little female, you knock like someone much bigger.”

  “Are you ever going to stop calling me little female?”

  He studied her for an interminable minute, his gaze starting at her feet and moving up her body in a way that made her catch her breath. Heat flooded her cheeks.

  “No.”

  She blinked. “No what?”

  “No, I’m not going to stop calling you little female.”

  When Shay appeared in the doorway behind Zeb, the two together looked like they’d need the side of the house removed for easy access. “Is Zeb bothering you? Should I beat on him?”

  “You two did enough fighting the other night. Was Calum angry?”

  Shay tilted his head. “Does he get mad?”

  “He does,” Zeb said. “Don’t go there.”

  Bree remembered her first visit to the bar and how Calum’s gray eyes had turned black.

  “He wasn’t upset about the fight. Just wanted us to fix what we broke,” Shay said.

  “You here for a reason?” Zeb crossed his arms over his chest. Not into small talk, was he?

  “My vacation time is over. I’m leaving Saturday,” Bree said awkwardly.

  “That’s a shame.” Shay studied her. “Why do you—”

  “I cooked a pot of spaghetti,” she interrupted hastily. No questions, please. “To thank you for the stuff you’ve done for me. You know, firewood and shooting lessons and repairs. Escort services. Stuff.”

  Shay leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb, his smile slow. “You want to feed us; we’re there.”

  Zeb just nodded, his gaze flat and watchful again.

  “Uh. Good. Dinner’s in twenty minutes.” As she walked away, she felt their eyes on her back. Walk slower. Don’t act like a kitten fleeing from a dog. They didn’t need to know her heart was bruising her rib cage.

  * * *

  Being human, the female had never seen cahirs eat, Zeb realized, enjoying her surprise when he and Shay polished off the salad, garlic bread, and an entire pot of spaghetti. The stuff from a can never tasted like this. With the scents of food, wood smoke, and female, the cabin smelled like what he imagined a home would.

  Since Shay kept the conversation rolling despite Bree’s nervousness, Zeb could eat and enjoy the scenery. The little female was definitely worth looking at, even if she was human.

  After telling them to stay put, she started clearing the table. Every time she turned, her long hair rippled with different colors. Some strands were the color of sunshine, some as white as the glaciers on Rainier. Fascinating. His hair was black and…black.

  Shay leaned forward and said in a low voice, “If you keep watching her like she’s a breakfast rabbit, I’ll smash your face.”

  “You and what pack?” Not his fault that he remembered the feel of her lips, her scent. Her blue sweater looked softer than a wolf’s downy undercoat and cupped her full breasts in a way that stirred his cock. They’d be heavy, would fill his palms, would taste like—dammit, why in Herne’s name was he so attracted to her? Humans were nice enough, but not for sex. He’d known a few males who’d fuck anything, but he wasn’t one of them.

  Yet she pulled at him—her scent, her body, even her personality. Especially her personality.

  She wanted to take care of everyone, from cuddling the children in the bookstore to feeding him and Shay. And she had to be the most stubborn, bravest little female he’d ever met. When her rounded chin came up and her lips compressed, she wouldn’t budge from a decision. Especially when it came to shooting that fucking pistol.

  Or stopping a fight. The little human had moved with the sureness of a cat. Considering how easily she’d broken his hold and the graceful way she’d kicked the grabby human, she knew some sort of fighting skill.

  Calum’s mate moved in that manner too…and a year ago, Vicki had been human also. What was wrong with human males that their females must learn to fight and handle firearms?

  “You leave on Saturday. For Seattle?” he asked, even as a pang hit him at the thought.

  She hesitated, then her chin came up. “Yes.”

  “Is that why you bought a pistol?” He caught the faint scent of her fear, arousing every protective instinct in his body.

  “Cities are dangerous. Women sometimes need to defend themselves.”

  So whatever had made her afraid, had happened in Seattle. The gutsy human was going back to face it. Admirable. But why the hell had she been hurt in the first place? Why was no male protecting her? Someone this sweet must have males fighting for her favor. “I don’t think—”

  “True,” Shay broke in, giving him a shut-up-or-I’ll-put-my-fangs-in-your-neck look. “You don’t.”

  Bree laughed, her fear scent dissipating. “You two are so funny. How in the world did you end up partners?”

  “Well…” Shay leaned back in his chair. “Zeb worked at a fishing camp. He’s excellent at maintenance and repairs, but the owner wanted someone to handle promotion and business.”

  In other words, someone who wouldn’t scare the fishermen away. Zeb’s mouth tightened.

  A delicate hand covered his. Bree glared at Shay, then looked at Zeb with gentle blue eyes as clear as a mountain lake. “That stuff is overrated. I
like people who don’t lie or make things sound better than they really are.”

  She defended him? His gaze met Shay’s, sharing both the humor and the disbelief…but the warmth he felt at her words he’d keep to himself.

  He realized she’d asked something. “What?”

  “Do you guys like chocolate? I made brownies.”

  Zeb stared at her. Brownies are born, not made. “You can’t—”

  “Hell yes, we like chocolate,” Shay interrupted. As Bree headed for the kitchen corner, he said under his breath, “Humans have a chewy cake they call brownies. She didn’t mean OtherFolk.”

  Food? Did they eat desserts called dwarf and pixie as well? That was just wrong.

  Nonetheless, Zeb took one of the dark squares. The chocolate burst in his mouth like a mountain springtime, and he growled his pleasure before taking another.

  When Breanne laughed and pushed the plate closer to him, he caught sight of the scars on her arm. He wrapped his fingers around her tiny wrist.

  “Zeb?” She tried to tug away.

  “Shay said you were hurt. I will look.” Holding her firmly, he slid her loose sleeve up to expose ugly bite marks on her fair skin. The scars were as wide as some of his. “What did this?” Couldn’t be a hellhound or she wouldn’t be alive. Whatever had savaged her, he’d enjoy killing it.

  She yanked away and pulled her sleeve down. “You have less manners than a—a—”

  “I’ve heard that.” He ignored Shay’s chuckle. “Answer me.”

  She shot him an icy glare.

  He waited.

  The sound she made was almost a growl and absurdly arousing. “Fine. A dog—a very big dog. Okay?”

  The way her voice trembled made him want to pull her into his arms and surround her with safety. He knew better—she’d run from him.

  “Is it dead?” Shay asked harshly.

  A haunted look filled her eyes. “It got away.”

  I want to kill it. He couldn’t. Tracking would be impossible in a city of concrete and metal and far too many bodies. He eyed the way she fingered her sleeve. Still upset. Unhappy. He’d done that. “Sorry, Bree.”

  Surprised, she looked up. “You’ve never used my name before.”

  Shay laughed. “Got you pegged, doesn’t she?”

  With an effort, Zeb pulled his gaze from hers and searched for a diversion. A photo lay on the coffee table. He walked over to look, needing to escape his growing awareness of her as a female. Perhaps it was good she was leaving.

  The picture was the one she’d shown to Thorson.

  Shay followed. “You were a pretty toddler, a leannan.”

  She had dimples when she smiled. “Thank you. Now tell me, what does a leannan mean?”

  “It’s something like sweetheart or darling,” Zeb said. Apparently, Shay wasn’t immune to the breakfast bunny either, and yet, the knowledge didn’t raise Zeb’s hackles.

  “Darling. That’s almost as patronizing as little female.” Bree frowned at Shay who shot an evil look at Zeb.

  As Zeb set the photo down, he saw a lifemating bracelet. Silver discs progressed from a thin crescent moon to a full circle and back down. Magic-enhanced silver wires between them ensured the band would change sizes during a trawsfur. How had a human come by it? “You find this around here?”

  “No. I’ve had it, oh, forever.” She gave him a smile as fragile as the bracelet. “I was abandoned and only had these two things.”

  Perhaps a human had found the bracelet and given it to the pup as a toy? But the photo was of the Wild Hunt, implying a tie to the Daonain.

  She wasn’t of the clan though. She carried no shifter scent, and she was far past the age when a Daonain begins to trawsfur. Perhaps her parents knew some shifters.

  “You were lost in a forest when they found you,” Shay said.

  “Why, yes. How did you know?” Breanne asked.

  Shay winced. Apparently, Breanne had talked to her doggie friend. What else had Elvis learned?

  “I thought that’s what Zeb meant,” Shay answered in an innocent voice.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  Someone pounded on the door.

  When Bree startled, Zeb instinctively moved between her and the entrance.

  Shay took point and answered the door. “Evening, Alec.”

  Alec was still in his sheriff’s uniform. “I couldn’t find you at the lodge, and I heard voices here. I thought we were meeting at eleven.”

  Zeb glanced at the sky, visible through the doorway. Late.

  “Sorry. We lost track of time,” Shay said. “Our renter stuffed us like geese for the slaughter.”

  Shay returned to Bree and held out his hand. After a second, she put her fingers into his grasp. “Thank you, Breanne. It was the best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

  “You’re welcome. Thank you for all the help.”

  Before she could pull away, Shay drew her hand to his lips and kissed her palm so slowly and thoroughly that a flush rose in her cheeks.

  As Shay joined Alec, Zeb took his place. Unable to resist pushing her limits himself, he cupped her cheek. Silky smooth and pale. The little female was like peach tree wood, delicate grained, but incredibly durable. “I also thank you.” He paused. “Bree.”

  Her breath hitched.

  Pleasure rippled through him, for along with the faint scent of fear, he caught something more elusive—a whiff of arousal.

  Chapter Twelve

  Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory ~ Dark of the moon

  My last night here. Her three weeks had flown by, and tomorrow, she’d leave for home. Only she didn’t have a home any longer, did she? Melancholy shadowing her, Bree stood in her doorway, staring into the night. No moon ruled the sky, and darkness reigned. The cabin echoed with emptiness.

  Faint country music wafted from The Wild Hunt like an invitation. She stepped into the cabin to get her coat and purse. The tavern would have people and noise. Just what she needed.

  A few minutes later, she pulled into the half-empty parking lot. Strange—the place was usually packed on a Friday night. As she grabbed her purse and slid out of the car, Boot Scootin’ Boogie drifted through the air unchallenged by loud voices.

  No matter. Calum and probably Vicki would be there. Maybe Shay and Zeb also, since the lodge was dark.

  The thought of the two men made her smile. Shay had kissed her palm, and the look in his eyes had said he’d wanted to do more. Lots more. Just thinking about him set off a tugging deep in her lower half, a…wanting.

  Not only him either. The memory of how Zeb had cupped her face in his big hand seemed to heat up the chill night.

  Bad Bree. How could she be attracted to both Shay and his partner? But she was. Her arms wrapped around herself as she remembered the way Zeb’s dark, dark eyes would glint with amusement, how a corner of his mouth would curl up, almost against his will, at something she’d said. She wanted him to wrap those muscular arms around her.

  She stared at the tavern, shocked to realize that for the first time, she was actually interested in guys…like a perfectly normal woman. Jeez, this was so amazing.

  Delighted with herself, she spun in the pale glow of the streetlight, then stopped at a sound from the right.

  A small figure trotted across the road with something in her arms. Blonde hair glinted in the parking lot lights. Slender. Young. Vicki’s daughter.

  Zipping up her sweatshirt, Bree walked toward her. “Jamie, what are you doing out here?”

  The girl stopped, so revved up that she hummed like a racecar engine. “Hey, Bree.” She was holding a squirming puppy. “I heard something crying, and I snuck out. Some tourist must have tossed him in the ditch.” She giggled as the fuzzball energetically licked her chin. “Isn’t he cute?”

  Bree fondled the downy soft ears. “He’s adorable.” She glanced at the ditch, then the second floor where Vicki said they lived. “You heard him from up there?”

  “I’ve got good ears.” Jamie shifte
d her weight with a nervous glance at the tavern. “I need to get inside. We’re not supposed to go out after dark tonight, and if Daddy finds out, I’ll be doing dishes for a month.”

  We? “Scoot.” Hopefully the girl wouldn’t get into trouble for her good deed.

  As Jamie trotted toward the private gate at the right of the building, Bree headed for the bar. Her anticipation started to rise. Would Zeb or Sh—

  A terrified scream split the night air. A yelp of pain.

  Bree spun and broke into a run. “Jamie? Jamie!”

  There she was—sprawled on the ground, trying to stand. The puppy cowered against her legs.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I saw something. Something awful.” Jamie regained her feet and snatched up the dog. She turned in a circle, her young face twisted with fear.

  As Bree searched the darkness, she smelled it. Decaying meat, rotten orange peels. The monster. Her heart slammed into overdrive.

  Had it followed her from Seattle?

  A rustling noise came from the right, barely audible over the country music. Probably no one inside had heard the kid scream. Undoubtedly, the monster had.

  Quietly, despite her trembling hands, Bree slid the pistol from her bag. “Come here, Jamie. Now.” She dropped her purse and shoved the kid behind her. The memory of doing the same with Ashley stabbed at her, but a spark of anger burned away some fear. This time…this time, she’d kill the thing.

  “Bree,” Jamie whispered. “It’s—”

  “Shhh. You run…” Bree paused. The creature had attacked Ashley first. Did running incite it? “Wait till it charges me. Then you run. And scream for help.” Step by step, she backed them toward the tavern. Please, God, let me get the child close enough to get in the door.

  “It’s a hellhound.” Jamie pressed closer. “I don’t think—”

  The leafless bushes at the lot’s edge rustled, and the monster stepped out. Huge. Bony plates. Eyes the color of dried blood.

  It is—it really is the monster. Bree’s hands turned cold and numb, and she gasped for air, not finding any. As her body remembered the horrific pain, every nerve shrieked for her to flee. Screams echoed in her memory. She spun…and bumped into Jamie.