Winter of the Wolf (Hunt 2)

by Cherise Sinclair

  Not that he’d done a very good job. Seemed like every time she was out of his sight, someone hurt her. Of course, if she’d told them about Klaus’s behavior at the pack run, the asshole wouldn’t have had a chance at her the second time. Knowing she’d tried to protect him and Zeb had sure left them both off-balance.

  Nonetheless, the solution to her getting hurt was obvious—he’d just leash her to his side. Yeah. For now, he needed to get back to work.

  After returning to the grill, he finished tossing on the steaks, counted the pint-sized bodies, and added hamburgers and hot dogs too.

  A few minutes later, Breanne checked the results of his cooking, gave him a pleased smile, and bore the platter away. Her composure was back, and she had a slight bounce in her gliding walk.

  By Herne, she was a pretty sight. Her sweater had a folded-over loose neck that kept sliding down, leaving her pale shoulder bare and begging for a male to nibble on the soft skin. If he pushed the fabric down farther, it would expose—frame—a firm, full breast. He’d wanted to nibble on those breasts even before he knew she was a shifter.

  His cock hardened. Bad wolf. But by the God, he liked watching her.

  She was in her element. With laughing firmness, she broke up an impending fight among the teens, then snagged a lost-looking college girl and introduced her to a bunch of youngsters her age, found a chair for an old geezer and plopped down a game that drew several others to his table.

  No, more than her element, this was her domain where she ruled. And beautifully.

  He should be doing the same, so he turned to the nearby bunch of his lodgers. “How’s the fishing, guys?”

  “Hey, I caught a couple of rainbow trout this morning.” The nerdy-looking twenty-year-old puffed up as if he’d saved the world from famine. “Only I’m not sure what to do with them now.”

  “Did you gut them?” Please say you gutted them.

  “Yeah. Devin showed me. But how do you cook them?”

  “Easiest is toss some butter in a pan, coat with flour or cornmeal, salt and pepper them, and fry them up. If you want fancier, ask Breanne.” He jerked his head toward where she was setting out big bowls of beans and salads.

  “Oh, man, I’ve wanted to meet her. Thanks!” The nerd and his friends trotted off.

  Shay growled, then stopped. They were human. Breanne wouldn’t be interested.

  Yet the irritating anger—jealousy—didn’t disappear, and he shook his head. His path was supposed to be a solitary one. Yet he’d acquired a brother. Then Breanne. Hell, the whole town. He gave a grunt of exasperation and noticed a girl waiting patiently for his attention. “Hey, you. Burger, hot dog, or steak?”

  Golden-haired with a sprinkling of freckles, she reminded him of a teenaged wolf pup, all angles and no grace. “I’d like a hot dog, please. I’m Jamie, and you’re Seamus, right?”

  Seamus, my ass. “You’ve been talking to Calum.” After tossing on another dog, he stuck out his hand. “Call me Shay, and I’m glad to meet you, Jamie.” He frowned. Damned if she didn’t seem familiar. He’d heard her name somewhere. “Have we met?”

  “No, sir. Not really. You and Zeb saved me and Bree from the hellhound. I wanted to say thank you.” To his shock, she hugged him. Him, the terrifying hellhound-killing cahir.

  He held his hands in the air for a second, then caved and returned the hug. Damn. “You’re welcome, Jamie.”

  “You got really hurt,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt.

  “Not that bad.” He eased back, saw tears on her cheeks, and almost panicked. Carefully, with clumsy fingers, he wiped the tears away. “Listen, cub. I can’t think of anyone I’d like to save more than you and Breanne. It was my honor. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She sniffled, and then her smile broke out like sunshine after a cloudy day. As she ran over to Alec, Shay shook his head. Calum and Alec’s cub—no wonder she was disconcerting. Even more terrifying, she had the lethal Vicki as a stepmother. Shay picked up his spatula with a smile. The girl was going to play havoc with the males in a few years.

  He flipped some more burgers and checked around.

  The ping-pong table at the end of the patio had a group of younger guests while the checkers board he’d left out had attracted Thorson and Baty. The trying-to-appear-cool teenagers played badminton and exchanged banter with the opposite sex. Jamie had joined them, he noticed. At the tables, the older people chatted, feet tapping in time to the Beach Boys music on the stereo.

  The barbecue looked to be a success.

  “Go deal with the guests. I’ll do this.” Zeb appeared at his elbow. “Avoid the pack; Gerhard’s spoiling for a fight.”

  “That alpha-hole. He knew what Klaus was like. He should have caged him instead of ignoring the problem.”

  “Too late now.” Zeb plucked the long fork from Shay’s hand. “No fighting. I just finished the last repairs from our fight at the tavern.”

  Suppressing a smile, Shay headed off to do the host duty. His brother had lasted longer than Shay’d expected. Even better, he’d lost the deadly expression he normally wore in public. Cold Creek was good for him.

  At the drink table, Shay picked up a wine bottle in one hand and the iced tea pitcher in the other and started making the rounds. He got in an argument with Thorson about a controversial book, admired two newborn cubs, and dodged a pack of milling toddlers. He met Jody and her males who ran the local cleaning service and lingered to discuss rates.

  At the sound of cheering, he turned to see a delighted look on Breanne’s face.

  As Bree brought out desserts, the hearty applause thrilled her. She’d made cakes with thick gooey frosting and had ice cream to go with them, plus added a variety of cookies for people who wanted less mess.

  The plate of brownies was because she deserved chocolate after the lousy week. And, okay, maybe because she loved seeing Zeb’s blissful expression when she handed him one.

  Even the pack relaxed as everyone enjoyed a sugar rush. Cake in hand, most of the men—including Gerhard—wandered over to watch the badminton game.

  Some stayed. When the hair on the back of Bree’s neck rose, she turned. Surrounded by pack women, Thyra was glaring at her.

  And this is why I wanted you here. Bree squared her shoulders and approached the alpha female.

  Thyra opened her mouth, undoubtedly to say something nasty.

  “I didn’t understand the rules before,” Bree said quickly. “I’m sure you know that I didn’t grow up knowing about shifters, and I’m still just learning. I hope you will all help me out.” She smiled at the other women before looking Thyra dead in the eyes. “Please forgive me for my mistake, alpha.” She lowered her gaze, but it took an effort.

  Silence.

  Bree stared at her feet, her anxiety smothered by a need to laugh. Most of the pack females were here, witnesses to Bree being all humble and polite. With the Cosantir, other non-pack shifters, and a bunch of humans, Thyra could hardly trawsfur to a wolf and beat her up, or even be blatantly rude. Gotcha, you bitch.

  “Apology accepted,” Thyra finally snapped. “Make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  Bree nodded, keeping her head down. Don’t snicker. Control the face. She heard the alpha female walk away, followed by most of the pack.

  A hip bumped Bree’s, and she looked up.

  “Good job, girl.” Angie’s serious expression belied the laughter in her eyes. “Very sneakily done.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “When you bring your goodies in tomorrow, we’ll have a nice chat.”

  Yes! “Sounds good.”

  Lips twitching, Angie stepped over to the checkers players, “Thorson, when you win, I get the next turn.”

  Glowing with her victory, Bree went to the dessert table to assess the damage. Shay was still by the ice cream, using the scoop to gesture as he talked with Alec. Most of the cake had disappeared and over half the cookies. Laughter filled the air, conversations hummed.

  The bar
becue was a success.

  * * *

  The event ended, guests reluctantly left, and finally only Shay, Zeb, and Breanne remained. Shay finished wiping down the grill and shut the cover. By Herne’s antlers, he’d have felt less tired if he’d chased a buffalo herd across the Great Plains. Breanne hadn’t been the only one worried. “I enjoyed that. Aside from the pack.”

  Zeb closed up the trashcan. “Wasn’t bad.”

  “Well, don’t go chasing your tail with enthusiasm.” Shay grabbed a beer from the icy water in the tub and handed another to Zeb. With a grunt of relief, he dropped into a chair, set his aching feet on the table, and sucked down half the can. “First beer I’ve had all night.”

  Settling across from him, Zeb raised his drink in a salute. “Likewise.”

  “Good people here, a bhràthair.” Shay tipped his head back. As the sun’s glow faded, stars grew in the black sky. An owl hooted nearby. The spruce tree’s pixie, who’d watched the party all afternoon, had retired into her nest.

  “True.”

  “You know, I haven’t stayed in one place since I was twenty-three or so.” Since his brothers had died. He sighed. “I’m tired of moving.”

  “Pups shouldn’t make life-long vows.”

  Shay ran his fingers over the two marks on his cheekbone. Herne’s antlers for the oathbound. The blade of a cahir. Both had appeared with Herne’s acceptance of his oath, right before the agonizing changes to a cahir’s massive size began. “I didn’t see any future for myself. Too filled with anger.”

  Zeb’s black eyes met his in perfect understanding. And regret.

  “Hey, guys.” Breanne used her hip to knock Shay’s legs off the table, then set down a tray. Plates were filled with steak sandwiches and potato salad. “I saw you didn’t get anything to eat.”

  When the scent of meat reached Shay, his stomach growled louder than a bee-stung bear. He picked up a sandwich. “You, a leannan, are a treasure.”

  “I know,” she said. With a heartfelt groan, she put her feet on the adjacent chair. “This is way more work than being a barmaid.”

  Shay gave her a grin. “But it pays better. We made a nice profit.”

  “Cool. I can buy some better kitchen equipment. Angie wants to sign a contract.” She beamed at them. “I have a business.”

  “You look happy, lass.”

  “I am.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she confessed, “I hated Calum for making me stay here. I’d never been out of Seattle, and it was my place. My home.”

  “And now?” Shay asked.”

  “Little towns are different, aren’t they? People stay put, don’t move away. It’s stable. I really, really like stable.” She grabbed a sandwich for herself. “I moved all the time when I was little, and I hated it. This…it might work for me. I’m going to stay here and make this my home.”

  Zeb’s gaze met Shay’s. All too soon, they’d be called away. And have to leave her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  There were only four days until the dark of the moon, and the guys were out somewhere, instructing the Cold Creek cahirs in hellhound killing. Keeping the world safe for shifter-kind. After a couple of glasses of wine, Bree had taken a shower—another one—and readied for bed, but the lodge felt too empty.

  Abandoning sleep, she padded back downstairs, still in her flannel pajamas. After dropping a pile of soft blankets by the glass-fronted fireplace, she set her glass and bottle of wine on the hearth.

  With a sigh, she settled into her nest and poured herself more wine. The level in the bottle was dropping nicely. After Angie’s revelations earlier, she’d needed two showers and lot of liquid courage. Would’ve been nicer if one of the guys was home, but hey, more alcohol for me.

  The smoke-darkened fireplace glass showed salamanders dancing in the flames, twining together in very sexual patterns. Yeah. Sex. That’s why she was drinking and depressed.

  With her usual bluntness, Angie had laughed at Bree’s plan to drink herself to unconsciousness for the next Gathering. She’d said no matter how plough-faced Bree got, she’d still try to mate. Maybe she’d pass out for a couple of hours, but it wouldn’t last all night.

  So Bree had visit Donal next. Talk about a humiliating conversation. He wouldn’t knock her out without the Cosantir’s orders—and Calum wouldn’t give them. Not to avoid the Law.

  So she was stuck going to the Gatherings.

  And dealing with other things as well. She picked up her glass and drank half the wine. Angie had mated with Zeb at a Gathering. Bree had wanted to slap the older woman and tell her to keep her hands off, but Angie hadn’t done anything wrong. Supposedly, mating during a full moon created no ties.

  And…apparently, at Gatherings, Zeb and Shay attracted females like coyotes to carrion. If a guy was God-chosen—like the cahirs, the Cosantirs, the healers, or the blademages—then women wanted their genes.

  She scowled at the salamanders. They looked back, unnaturally still, their eyes like shiny black coals in their glowing skins. Scaring the children, Bree? She sighed. “Sorry, guys.”

  Tails swished and they started playing tag, diving into the coals and sending glittering sparks into the air.

  Time to face the facts. Gatherings and heats were going to be part of her life, which meant she needed to be able to have sex without panicking.

  And she wouldn’t have oversized babysitters to guard her either. Angie had been impressed Zeb and Shay had stayed with her, but the Cosantir wouldn’t allow it for long. Cahir genes were valued in the clan.

  Bree smiled ruefully. The two did have great genes. Shay was gorgeous, Zeb deadly, both devastatingly male. She rubbed the cold glass on her cheek. They seemed attracted to her. Were always touching her. Kissing. Hugging. What would it be like to go further?

  Which one would she want to make love with? She’d asked Angie about that multiple men/one woman marriage stuff, and the woman had laughed. “One thing at a time. If you aren’t having sex, then the number of men doesn’t exactly matter.”

  Good point.

  The sound of thumping on the porch made her jump. Cool wine sloshed over the sides of the glass, running over her fingers.

  The door opened, and Shay stepped inside. White covered his shoulders and hair. As he set his boots in the wooden bin, she realized the noise had been him stamping the snow off his boots. The storm must have hit.

  No one else came in. “Where’s Zeb?”

  Shay threw his jacket on the coat rack. “He lost the toss and has to walk the route with the younger non-cahirs, teaching them tricks to survive.”

  Oh dear, Mr.-Count-Every-Word would be a grumpy-pants when he got back. She giggled.

  Shay tipped his head, his blue-gray eyes penetrating. “I’ve never seen you drink alone, a leannan. Is something wrong?”

  “Yes.” She frowned at wine bottle. Not much left. “Angie told me I can’t get drunk enough to skip the Gatherings, and Donal won’t knock me out for them.”

  “Ah.” He walked over, silent in his stockinged feet, and crouched in front of her. His hard hand cupped her chin, tilting her head up. “I didn’t realize you thought you might escape it.”

  “It sounded like a good plan to me.”

  When she pouted, amusement filled his eyes. “Got a new plan instead?”

  “Yes.” If she could get the words out. She swallowed, her throat appallingly dry. “Would you make love with me?”

  Her courage to face her problems was going to break his heart. Shay closed his eyes. This was going to be as dangerous as stealing honey from a bee tree. At least for him. He’d give her what she needed, but…it couldn’t be making love, as she’d said.

  He mustn’t try to win her to be his and Zeb’s mate, no matter how much he wanted to do just that. Don’t ruin her life, furface. He looked into her big blue eyes. “Yes. If that’s what you want.”

  As he knelt in front of her, her scent carried fear, not arousal. At this point, she’d scare herself into backing out
before he even moved. “Give me your hand.”

  She set her hand in his. The pretty fingers trembled in his big grip.

  “Breanne, have I ever hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I’m not sure.” Her brows drew together. “Um. Mostly?”

  He barked a laugh. “Well, that’s honest.” He kissed one finger. “Did that hurt?”

  “N-no.”

  He kissed another, letting his lips caress her skin, alternating kisses with small licks. She tasted of sugar and apples. He moved closer and kissed her wrist, inhaling the beginnings of arousal. There was no scent like it in the world, and on Breanne’s skin, it was a heady fragrance. “Did that hurt?”

  She choked on a laugh. “Just stop, okay? I see where you’re headed with this.”

  He was close enough to cup her face in his palm and meet her gaze in the dancing firelight. “I know you’re frightened.”

  She tried to pull back. He followed, keeping his hand on her face, his eyes on hers.

  His hand was hot against her face, his eyes steely blue as he trapped her with his gaze and his touch. “Shay, I—”

  “Breanne, let’s try something.” His slow smile lightened his face. “I have a friend who is into bondage, whips, that sort of stuff. He’s weird, but he likes it, and so do his females.”

  “You’re going to whip me?” Her free hand fisted. I can’t—

  His hearty laugh echoed against the log walls. “By Herne’s antlers, no. But his mates say a special word if anything is too much—the pain, the ropes, whatever. If he hears it, he stops right away. We’ll use Elvis.” Shay leaned closer, his body almost touching hers. “Say it. What’s the word to make everything stop?”

  Inside her stomach, a quiver started. “Elvis,” she whispered. Her dog that had risked his life to save her. “Elvis.”

  “Good lass. If you say ‘no’ or ‘stop,’ I’ll slow down. Elvis means full halt.” His eyes were level.