Chapter Twenty-three
Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory ~ Dark of the moon
With the sleeves of her sweater pushed up to her elbows, Bree looked around the kitchen at Angie’s Diner for anything else to put away. The room was fragrant with the scent of the spaghetti sauce simmering for tomorrow’s special. The counters were clean. No dirty dishes out. She closed the dishwasher. “Do you want me to run this now?”
“No. The noise would make me nervous.” Angie hung up her apron and gave Bree a wry grin. “More nervous. I made some chamomile tea while you cleaned. Let’s go drink it.” Picking up the large white teapot, she nodded toward the public area of the diner.
Bree picked up a couple of cups and followed her out.
She grinned at the empty room. Although the Cosantir had set a sunset curfew for shifters on dark moon nights, Angie had stayed open for human customers. Not any more. According to Jody, Zeb had been furious. He’d told Angie that a hellhound could walk in looking human, then shift…and she’d be the main course.
Tonight—well before the sun went down—she’d put out a “CLOSED” sign and lowered the blinds. Any human wanting a meal was out of luck.
The only light in the room spilled from the open kitchen door, and Angie chose a table in the darkness by the front window. “We can watch the outside from here.” She pointed. A gap between the blinds offered a view of the empty street.
Bree rubbed her arms to chase the sudden chill away. The cahirs were out there, patrolling in the cold night. Hunting or being hunted.
“They’ll be all right,” Angie said softly.
“Of course they will.” Please be safe. “Thanks for letting me spend the night. The lodge felt awfully isolated.”
“I’m delighted you’re here. With my daughter out of town, I’d have been jumping at every noise.”
As Bree took a seat, the darkness folded around her reassuringly, and the iron bars on the big window were even more comforting. She looked through the blinds. The relentless rain had rendered the old-fashioned streetlights ineffective, and on the center island, the tree branches fought against the gusting wind. “I’m not used to feeling hunted like this. How do you all stand it?”
“It’s new to us too. Cold Creek was isolated and safe until that retirement community sprang up less than an hour away. Calum wasn’t happy, but it’s not in our county.”
“So there won’t be any end to hellhounds?”
Angie grimaced. “The cahirs may kill one, but another will eventually find us. Or more than one at once.”
They both shuddered.
“Thank the Mother, the Cosantir got Zeb and Shay to train our cahirs. I wish we could keep them.”
Bree scowled at the cup. “Me too. They look so happy taking care of the Wildwood.”
“Calum asked them to stay. But Shay’s oathbound, and where one brother goes, the other follows.” Angie refilled their cups.
Cold Creek without Zeb and Shay. Bree stared out the window, feeling as if the cold wind was carving a hollow in her chest. Somewhere inside, far away from her logical mind, her subconscious had planned a future. With them. Not going to happen. She needed to come to terms with that.
In the street, the shadows wavered.
“Angie, what’s that?” Dimly visible in the dark and rain, something moved toward the diner. Bree’s heart started to pound, and her hands chilled. “Someone—something is out there.”
Angie leaned forward, peering into the darkness. “It has two legs, not four. Must be some idiot human out for a walk in the rain. Hope they’re not coming here, expecting to be fed.”
“But, they’ll be killed. We need to warn—”
“No, Shay said a hellhound in town will scent shifters and focus only on us. It’ll treat humans like furniture.”
Bree’s muscles loosened. “Good. That’s good.”
Struggling against the sleeting wind, the well-bundled person moved up the street. Awfully small. A woman? When Bree spotted the basket over the woman’s arm, she stiffened. “Is that Nora?”
In the rain, the woman lifted her face, pale in the flickering glow of the streetlamp.
Angie groaned. “By the Mother’s breasts. Nora…”
They ran for the entrance. Bree flipped open the multiple locks and opened the door.
A shape erupted out of the darkness and wet bony plates glinted. The hellhound hit Nora from behind. Her hands flapped out like wings as she went down with a high scream. Her voice broke off abruptly.
“Nooo!” Bree started out and was yanked back by Angie.
“You can’t fight that thing with bare hands!” Angie poked her head out and screamed, “Help! Hellhound! Help! Main Street.”
The monster whipped around.
Angie jumped back, slammed, and locked the door. “Herne help us,” she moaned. “Nora—”
“Bare hands.” Bree ran into the kitchen. They couldn’t kill it, but surely they could slow it down until the cahirs came. A knife lay on the counter. Well, she knew that didn’t work. Maybe a loud diversion? With shaking hands, she grabbed an armful of cast-iron pots and pans, the heaviest she could find.
Face dead white, Angie stared at Bree’s load. Her mouth firmed, and she nodded.
Bree glanced at the massive pot of simmering spaghetti sauce. “Bring that too.” She dropped her load to the right of the front door.
Angie set the sauce beside the pile.
A trickle of fear-sweat ran down Bree’s back as she picked up a huge fry pan. “Open the door for me. Close it after I throw.”
“Got it.” Angie undid the locks and pulled open the door.
Bree forced herself to step outside. The hellhound raised its head from the limp bundle that was Nora. Blood smeared its muzzle as it stared at Bree. She froze, every nerve jittering, panicking, screaming. The ground rolled up and down as if she was drunk, and she felt the skillet slipping from numb fingers.
Won’t let it win. Her fingers clenched on the handle. With a grunt of determination, she flung the pan with all her strength. The metal hit the hellhound’s skull with a horrible thud.
The monster snarled in fury and charged. Bree lunged back inside. Angie slammed the door and flipped the locks.
A second later, the hellhound hit the wood so hard the tiny glass panel cracked.
Bree’s scream caught in her throat, her heart banging painfully against her ribs. Her insides shook as she grabbed a cast-iron pot.
Silence. Had it left?
The monster’s long ugly growl raised the hair on Bree’s neck. Angie jerked back a step. A second later, the hellhound trotted back to its kill. Bree sagged against the wall, her legs weak. Could they do that again? Was there a point? Nora couldn’t be alive, not any longer. Sorrow for the cheerful old woman ached like a pulled muscle as Bree peered through the cracked window onto the street.
“Hey, demon scum!” Ben’s loud bellow came from down the street. Bree leaned her head against the wall in relief. The cahirs were here.
Three figures converged on the hellhound. Two men with knives flashing: Alec, his face filled with fury, Ben, a lumbering mountain of muscle. Owen, in cougar form, flashed in front of them and struck the hellhound. Slash, slash to no effect as the cat’s claws scraped off the plating. The cougar sprang away, and the futile snap of the hellhound’s teeth was louder than the rain.
The two men bore down on the monster, but it didn’t wait. The hellhound leaped forward and rammed Alec, knocking him backward before charging Ben.
Ben’s downward slice bounced off its shoulder. The creature reared up and its jaws closed on Ben’s arm. The man shouted in pain. The shark-like head whipped back and forth, then the hellhound tossed him carelessly away. The cahir hit an iron bench in the center island and didn’t rise.
The hellhound stared at Alec as it licked blood from its snout. Bree’s insides chilled, ice filling her veins. Those cahirs couldn’t kill the monster. They’d get hurt. Die.
Owen attacked
from the rear again, rolling onto his back like a kitten. The cougar’s front paws fastened around the creature’s hind leg; his hind claws scrabbled at its stomach.
Bree’s hands fisted at her sides. “Do it, do it, do it,” she chanted. Hurt it bad.
The monster turned, teeth closing on the cougar’s leg, flinging the cat away. As the hellhound followed, Owen rolled. Blood streaked his golden fur. Bree held her breath as he scrambled up and sprang out of reach, his grace gone.
Alec had regained his feet and faced the monster with only a knife.
“He’ll die.” Stay here, stay quiet, stay safe. She couldn’t. Couldn’t. She opened the door and grabbed the pot of steaming spaghetti sauce. So heavy and big, and her legs felt like rubber. Rain lashed her face as she staggered out onto the street. Farther. Her jaw clamped over the screams welling up inside her. I can’t do this. Two more steps.
Spinning in a circle, she flung the spaghetti, pot and all, at the hellhound. The trailing spray of sauce burned her arms.
With a dull clang, the pot hit the monster’s back. Sauce spilled down its sides. As Bree backpedaled, it roared in pain. Alec struck then, rolling under it and jamming his knife upward. The blade scraped off a plate, entering the stomach at an angle.
Releasing another snarl, the hellhound twisted around, knife sticking sideways. Not deep enough.
Alec rolled away and—
Angie stepped up beside Bree and shoved a cast-iron Dutch oven into her hands, then flung an even bigger one. With a high yell, Bree threw with all her might. Both hit, diverting the creature.
Alec lurched to his feet and ran. Ben was up, but one arm hung limply. His knife was in his other hand. A flash of golden, and Owen was there, circling. All of them were hurt, moving badly.
Bree’s heart sank.
* * *
No. Please, Herne, no. Shay’s pulse roared in his ears. If Breanne stepped farther out, if the hellhound went for her, he’d have to attack.
To his relief, the demonkin concentrated on the cahirs.
Don’t let it look at the females. Shay stalked down the sidewalk, paws silent on the wet concrete, veering to stay behind the creature and out of its line of sight. Recessed in the plating, the hellhound’s eyes had a limited field of vision, something he and Zeb had learned to use.
“Try me, you fucking demon-dog.” Zeb’s gravelly voice sounded over the cougar’s snarls. The monster spun to face him.
Like a human gunslinger, Zeb sauntered down the street.
Shay eased up behind the demonkin, timing his attack. Almost. As Zeb moved closer, the hellhound’s hind end lowered in preparation for a spring.
Shay darted in, snapped his jaws closed on the lower hind leg, biting down, working his jaw quickly until a fang found the gap between the thinner plating. Acrid demon blood burned his mouth. He released instantly, seeing the sag of the leg. The hellhound spun and caught Shay’s shoulder. Pain flared. With a snarl, Shay ripped himself loose.
Remembering the other prey, the hellhound whirled around. Zeb stood at just the right angle, only a foot away. He fired two shots.
Black blood splattered outward from a recessed eye. The hellhound stood immobile, a statue of death, then collapsed. As it hit the ground, it shifted into human. Dead and done.
Shay raised his nose and gave a long howl to celebrate the kill. As the sound echoed from the mountains, Zeb’s voice, less tuneful from a human throat, joined in, lifting the melody into something strong and beautiful.
When they finished, there was only the sound of falling rain and the rustle of tree branches in the wind.
Standing in the rain, Bree listened to the wolves, their song bold and glorious, filling her heart, pulling her into the melody, telling her she belonged. She was of the pack. Her eyes filled.
Angie wrapped an arm around her and leaned against her side. The feeling was right; she was also pack.
As the song finished, Bree hauled in a breath. Reality returned when her gaze fell on a small basket, colorful yarns spilling onto the muddy street. Oh, Nora. Like the pouring rain, grief sheeted over her. With Angie beside her, she reluctantly moved toward the old woman. Her feet dragged as if they’d turned to concrete. She didn’t want to see—
Hard hands closed on her upper arms, lifting her into the air. She gave a panicked yip.
“Dammit, female! Are you insane? Trying to die?” Shay’s roar filled the street, the town, the entire valley. Naked and furious, he held her a foot off the ground, glaring into her face. He shook her, making her teeth snap together. “What in Herne’s name are you doing out here? Don’t you ever, ever, ever do something so stupid again.” He gave her another hard shake.
Her brains were scrambled forever, she knew it, yet he didn’t scare her a bit. All his anger and bellowing came from worry for her, and the knowledge melted her heart.
He dropped her on her feet and yanked her close before her legs could collapse. His embrace mashed her face into his chest, as he tried to squeeze her to death. Her ribs groaned. “By the God, I almost died seeing you out here.” He growled and darned if he didn’t squeeze her harder.
“Shay, she’s a little female. Don’t crush her.” Anger and amusement mingled in Zeb’s rough voice.
The iron bands loosened. Bree sucked in a breath and tipped her face up to say…something, but Shay spun her, none too gently, to face his brother.
Zeb’s eyes were like black fire.
Shay gripped her upper arms as he growled in her ear, “Tonight. After I have you in every way possible so I know you are alive, I plan to yell at you some more. A lot more.”
Her breath caught at the carnal threat, at the warning.
He pushed her toward Zeb. “Your turn to yell at her, a bhràthair. I’ll go tell our cahirs everything they did wrong.”
Zeb’s hands clamped onto her arms in the very same locations. Painfully. But then he pulled her against him. His embrace was tight. Possessive. He murmured against her hair. The feeling of safety surrounded her, and she sagged.
As adrenaline drained away with each beat of her pulse, cold replaced it. A hellhound. The monster was dead. She was alive. As she burrowed closer, she started to shake.
Silently, he held her as she shuddered against him. The men were alive. But Nora… That sweet, confused old woman. Tears filled her eyes.
His arms gentled as she cried for Nora, as she sobbed away her terror. His hand stroked up and down her back, and his cheek created a warm spot on the top of her head. His breathing, slow and steady, became a recipe for her own until his calm settled into her.
With a trembling breath, she realized her arms were wrapped around him. One hand gripped his pulled-back hair like a lifeline. She didn’t want to let him go. “Thank you,” she managed shakily.
“Courageous, resourceful female.” His raspy voice was as gentle as the warm hand curving under her hair and around her nape. “I have never seen such a thing. Alec owes you a life.” He nuzzled her neck and let her loose.
She stepped back, wobbly but upright. She could manage now, and at least he hadn’t yelled at her. She needed to check on Nora, check on Angie—
His callused hand caught her chin and raised her face to meet his gaze. His black eyes blazed with the same fury as Shay’s had.
She tried to take a step back and failed. Wow, wolfies got really riled up didn’t they?
“Little female.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel. “Be very grateful I have not had you, for I would make you pay for your actions here tonight.”
At her startled gasp, a flash of humor lit his eyes. “Sorry, cariad—sweetheart. I forget you’re not used to a male’s response to seeing a female in danger.”
He turned her, holding her immovable between his big hands. Growling the entire while, he bit her on the nape of her neck.
Hard.
* * *
Not long after dawn, Shay finished showering off the dirt, sweat, and dried blood. After taking care of Ben and Owen, Do
nal had healed Shay’s shoulder, despite his protests that it wasn’t worth attention. The healer had laughed, saying Shay and Zeb had collected enough battle marks to impress the females. No need for more.
Shay glanced down at his body. He didn’t have as many scars as Zeb, and they didn’t stand out as well on his lighter skin, but yeah, he had quite a few.
Breanne didn’t seem to mind.
She wasn’t in his bed, as he’d hoped. Still not that sure of herself, was she? He stepped into her bedroom. Although she’d returned to the lodge at sunrise, she was already sound asleep. She’d had a hard night, the brave little female.
As the memory of her attacking a demonkin returned, his anger and fear reawakened like flames from smoldering coals. The hellhound could have torn her to pieces.
“Breanne,” he growled.
She woke with a start. The second she recognized him, he scooped her up, netting a tiny yip that hardened him past bearing. Soft female, warm and flushed with sleep, fragrant with feminine musk and soap.
Mine.
He tumbled her into his big, littermate-sized bed and followed, pinning her on her back. No fear in her expression, just growing arousal. Her scent drew him down her body. Pulling her legs apart, he exposed her wetness.
“Shay, I—”
“Do not speak to me until I have you at least once,” he said. Her eyes widened. “Unless I hurt you.” Then, to be certain she wouldn’t be damaged, he licked over her female parts, savoring the heady musk, the tremor that rolled through her. His tongue teased inside her entrance, then over the nub, and, despite her squirming, he mercilessly held her open as he drove her over the edge.
Her long moan made him grin. She came so easily now.
Thank the God, because he couldn’t wait any longer. Each time he relaxed, he saw her facing a demonkin. Her courage awed him, terrified him. Infuriated him. Throwing pots at a hellhound. Spaghetti sauce.
With ruthless hands, he turned her over.
Bree felt anxiety clog her throat when Shay yanked her up onto her hands and knees. He’d never tried to take her this way, not after she’d panicked the first night.
Winter of the Wolf (Hunt 2) Page 25
