Boa waved me to my feet. "I'll show you our cabin now." He smiled sweetly.
The others must have work to do. So, we stepped back into sunlight, skirted a motorcycle, and headed to one of the smaller lodges until Boa blocked the door.
"Gotta follow tradition." He smiled.
Devilishly. Would he want to mate here? For all to see? No wonder everyone was watching.
He grabbed me, swinging me into his arms, and grinned. "Before the extraterrestrial invasion, men carried their mates over the threshold of their homes for good luck." He kicked the door wide and carried me into the room.
The door clapped shut behind him.
Oh, the squeak of wooden floors. A sink and counter along the far wall. A shiny arching faucet. A square table and two-seater benches.
"Behind that blanket," he pointed at a drape of what had to be gray wool cloth, "is our bedroom." He growled slightly at that point.
With his Wolf talking. I met his now golden gaze.
His Wolf wanted to show off the bedroom too.
"I hope you like this place." He swung my feet to the floor.
"I do." I turned to take in the space, stopping when my gaze met his.
He studied my features until landing back on my gaze.
I'm really here. At the enemy's outpost. Mated to the alpha. And my sire wants nothing to do with me. Nothing. I'm going to have his grandchild. And that means nothing.
"You look like you're having a deep thought," he said.
Would he care? Would he be angry?
"Willow?" He just stood there, looking at me.
Would he understand? He has to even though he just lost his sire. I threw my arms around his barrel of a chest and hugged his warmth.
His strength. Right beneath that neatly-kempt dark circle beard he loved to barely scrape across my skin. "I'm sorry, Boa. I know it sounds crazy. But I miss my sire. Well, hate that he won't have anything to do with me. And I know it's horrible to say this when we just learned what happened to Falcon." It's so terribly true. My sire means more to me than I could begin to quantify.
Boa's arms snaked around my shoulders, squeezing me. "It's alright. I can't say you'll forget about Croc. You shouldn't. Maybe he'll change his mind. Maybe he'll come around. And, don't worry. I'll be okay. We'll start planning for the baby. We'll stay busy." He managed a cute thoughtful smile. "And Wolf has plans of his own." His arms tightened for good measure, pressing his Wolf's branch into my thigh as he leaned down pressing the air into a hot embrace that resulted in a sweet gentle kiss.
Yes. We'll prepare for the baby. A child Falcon would never see. And one Croc didn't seem to care about. Or he felt too angered to be able to visit when the baby arrived.
"What's wrong, Willow?" he whispered.
"I'm going to miss my sire as much as you'll miss yours."
He ran a palm across my hair, down from the crown to the ends. "I'm sorry. I didn't want our mating to hurt you like that. But--" he pushed me back to look into his bright green eyes.
Eyes begging me to smile.
"I'm taking you to harvest wild rice tomorrow. A trip by motorcycle is the best and fastest route. We'll follow the old roads into Idaho. To where you said Croc took you each summer to collect the grain. You'll like that? Won't you?"
Of course.
"It's only for a week. We'll be back soon." He managed to hold his persuasive smile.
Never cracking that mask with all the fear and pain he had to be hiding behind his smile. He wants to do this for some reason. I have to go. "Alright."
****
Willow stood in the canoe, one stick bending the long stems of wild rice over the boat from where they poked toward the sky through the dark water, the other hand tapping on the first stick with the stick's twin, rattling the rice's green seed heads, knocking those ready for harvest into the boat's bottom. Over and over, she worked the stalks as I tucked the end of a long pole into the Idaho lake's mucky bottom to hold the canoe steady while she worked.
To see her so happy. So content. Engrossed in her work. It was all worth the ride across mountains and valleys to reach Lake Benehwa's rice crop. This year we could manage the journey. Her belly hadn't changed over the past two weeks. Next year, we'd be at home with the baby, missing harvest. But she'd get her fill while we could. "Ready to switch positions?"
Her gaze snapped to mine. Something akin to panic washed over her features. "No. Not yet." She turned back to her work.
Loving it. Obviously reveling in the fact she felt one with nature or knocked seeds off the grassy stems like the wind would do in a day or two if we left the seeds in place. My little gust of wind. I gulped down a chuckle. "A little longer, Willow. But I don't want you to be in pain tomorrow. We'll have to lay these grains out to dry. The harvest will be nothing but wasted time if we don't save energy for tomorrow. So, you'll have to let me take a turn at the sticks."
She shot me a sideways glance. "You're bossy."
More like she'd harvested rice every summer she was old enough to help because survival in The Wild required every person to put forth the effort to help the family survive. But things would be different next year when she had a baby to care for. And my mate had to understand she isn't a slave to my clan. "It's my call. And I'm not going to watch you flinch and groan for days because you insisted on having all the fun yourself."
"Killjoy."
I didn't even get a stern glare with that note as she maneuvered her sticks for another tap of wild seed heads. I chuckled outright. "You go ahead then. I'll get my revenge in bed tonight when you can't lift an arm to fight me." I winked.
Her mouth pursed then slid into a contemplative smile. "That's a nice reward for all this hard work. Don't you think?"
Talk about something you say returning to haunt you. But she's right. And it would be easier to tame the wind if it was exhausted from a long day's work reseeding the world. Or at least going through the motions.
Chapter Nine
Our daughter was four amazing days old. Old enough to make me feel I'd aged a hundred years. Good thing I hadn't because a sire's responsibility increased exponentially when he became a father. I thrust my hands beneath my coat's thick wooly bear fur into the pockets of my camouflage pants and stared past the sun-lit mounds of snow between Falcon's lodge and mine.
The howling bitter wind seemed to mourn Falcon's loss.
When would the relentless mourning wind ease to let the sun's warmth melt winter into spring? To welcome the one thing that would allow me to take the baby and Willow to visit Croc. I'd had to promise that the day the baby arrived. To quiet Willow when she cried from missing her sire's presence. Luckily the baby could cry louder. Blessed distractions served many purposes.
Still the way Willow's gaze wandered off on occasion to stare into the distance showed she chewed on Croc's absence too often for me to forgive the man. Croc should have come. Or sent word. What's wrong with the man? Shifters are better than mere humans, genetically tweaked to know excommunication is too brutal a punishment for the average Normal who hadn't done anything wrong. He should have conceded and come to welcome his grandchild. He probably didn't even know Falcon died last summer.
But all of our problems didn't stem from there. I wanted to name the little one Aeon for the ageless blue eyes she'd inherited from her mother's perfect DNA. But Willow argued that such a name might make the little one old before her time. Maybe so. Still a name was just a name.
The door whined behind me.
Not a sound noted the baby was awake.
"Boa?" Willow spoke loud enough to be heard above the cold wind.
Sweetly, as always. I turned to her long white braid draping down the front of her buckskin jacket. And those blue eyes. "Yes?"
She pulled the door inward.
Silently inviting me inside. Even though the savage Montana wind curled through the lodge. But her wicked smile was strong enough to scare the wind away. What did she want? I stepped through the doorway and shut the
door at my heels.
She grabbed my chest, pressing those hidden curves against my length, standing on her toes to kiss my cold lips. "You're cold. And I'm hungry," she laughed. "Can you find some food?" She wriggled and pressed those sexy smashed milk-laden bulges of her breasts against me. "And we'll get warm and cozy while we eat."
Of course. I planted a kiss on her lips and forehead before meeting her gaze. "I'll be back in a few minutes." I strode back into the biting wind, crossed the even colder open area between Falcon's lodge and mine, and entered the welcoming warmth of his large spacious log cabin.
I'd left it to my brothers until spring came around. Willow didn't need to relocate so soon after her arrival here. And I just couldn't stomach the thought of taking over my sire's lodge when I'd rather him have stayed around a few more years.
Viper sat on a chair near the fire, his boots propped against the wall, tipping his chair back on its rear legs. He whittled something long. Maybe another gift. But he'd already given the baby a wooden rattle carved from a stick with two rings attached to one end. To make another so soon meant he wasted time he should spend carving tools.
Viper locked a stare on me and nodded.
Solemnly. The winter had a way of sucking the life right out of a person beyond the loss of our sire. Hopefully, the damned chilling northern wind wouldn't linger into the summer months. Willow needed time in the forest. Picking chokecherries. Harvesting rice. Wandering. Growing in the sun's warmth.
"What brings you out into this weather?" Viper rose to stand next to the hearth's dancing flames set in the wall beneath a thick dark wooden mantle.
He seemed so aged, his temper squashed with the loss of Falcon. "Willow sent me for food."
My next eldest brother turned to face me in his mountain boots fashioned from wolf fur, ready to yank on his military parka and to help outside. "There's plenty. Cornbread on the table. Stew in the pot. Take all you think Willow needs. She's still healing."
It's good to see him so concerned about her health. I nodded and found two aluminum pans to fill.
"Is she still depressed?" Viper asked, still standing in the same spot.
"On and off." I covered one dish of steaming venison stew and chunks of cornbread with the other aluminum pan to keep the food warm.
He was waiting when I turned to leave. "If Croc doesn't come, he doesn't deserve to have a daughter or grandchild."
So true. "She hasn't cried today."
"He's a stubborn bastard. But I can't believe he'd let a grandchild go. Not Croc. He's all about family."
That's anything but true. "How can you say that when he's abandoned Willow? She's his daughter."
"He'll come, Boa. Keep her smiling and busy with the baby until he does."
Easier said than done. I could control her thoughts as much as I could shackle forces of nature. I nodded and faced another pummeling wintery gust.
The sun struggled to warm my cheeks.
Futilely. Yet nobly.
Something moved in my periphery.
Protect, Wolf growled.
I turned without thinking, pulling Wolf into my eyes and ears.
A large male wearing thick furs rode a black stallion between the distant pines.
Wolf sniffed the wind hitting his face.
A familiar scent slapped us hard.
Croc. The Gods-be-damned fool had journeyed into the freezing wilderness. To his enemy's camp. He'd best be coming to see Willow. Because if he's here to start trouble, more than one Wolf would take care of him. I waited for him to break through the closest green pines and stop about ten feet away.
He stared at me with pink cheeks and nose.
Frozen features. Just sitting in his stallion's saddle. Why? "What brings you here, Croc?" I shouted as the freezing wind tried to shove my words back down my throat.
His gaze slid to my boots then glided up my length to meet my eyes. "I've come to meet my granddaughter."
My knees almost knifed.
Thank the stars. "You are always welcome. This way." I turned to the door, giving him my back, showing I accepted his presence.
Hopefully, he hadn't come to attack me. To seek revenge. When I reached the door, I turned to find Croc tying his mount's reins to the ice-covered ring on a tethering post. Croc threw his shoulders back and joined me at the door.
Willow would be thrilled and relieved. So happy. I shoved the rough wooden planking into the warmer lodge interior.
She stood with her back to me over the cradle, lifted something, and turned to me, holding the baby at her chest.
Any moment those eyes would widen. "We've got company."
Her pale eyebrows pinched together. But she only patted the baby's bottom.
No more delaying the inevitable with the way the wind bullied its way inside our warm little sanctuary. I stepped aside, allowing Croc to fill the doorway.
"Croc!" She almost leapt across the room.
The baby's presence seemed to still her feet.
The baby wailed.
So much for not waking the baby. I waved her sire's bulk into the room. "Come in. Let's shut the wind out."
"Yes." Willow bounced the baby again. "Please sit." She glanced between the hearth in the floor and her sire. "Would you like some hot tea?"
Croc took one tentative step and nodded. "Tea would be nice."
Willow hurried to the circle of stone around the fire and descended to sit cross-legged.
I guess I'd get the tea. I placed the dishes on the table and tried not to stare. But hell, this is too damned fascinating not to watch the two sit together.
"I'm so glad you came," she finally blurted.
"She has your mother's eyes," Croc stated cautiously.
Not the mention of his late wife. What else will Croc do? I turned to watch him. To see his behavior.
"May I hold my grandchild?" He extended his palms.
Willow slid her questioning gaze to mine.
Of course. I nodded and placed two cups on the table for tea.
"This one," Croc grinned at Willow holding the baby, "She will be the death of her sire. Too beautiful for her own good."
Willow's smile faded into bewilderment.
What is Croc saying?
Croc shot me a grin. "You'll have the same problem I had, Boa. The valley will crawl with suitors looking for a mate. And we can only hope," he turned his gaze back to Willow, "that she will have the sense her mother had when choosing a Wolf."
No matter how big the smile on Willow's face, she couldn't fight her tears.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
He shot her a content smile and wrapped one long arm around her shoulders. "It has been a long lonely winter with no one but my stupid sons and nephews to keep me company. I had to come. I miss you, Willow."
"I missed you too." Her smile grew impossibly huge.
Maybe it was time to bring the two clans back together. To work together to survive. To have a larger outpost.
"I heard you haven't named her yet," Croc stated.
Where did he hear these things? He must have been camped nearby. Waiting.
"No. We're not certain of which name to choose," she replied.
They didn't include me in their discussion.
"She's a Molly," Croc announced.
What? He came to visit and suggested we name the baby after his wife whose death caused the feud?
Willow nodded exaggeratedly, more tears rolling down her cheeks. "She does look like a Molly." Her pleading gaze locked onto mine.
How can I say no? The baby's name just might be the one thing to solidify the truce between the clans. A way to fill Croc's sense of loss. "Of course, Croc. We should have thought of that already." I passed out the steaming cups of tea and descended onto the hard wood floor next to Willow.
And they say reuniting a fractured clan is near impossible.
Well, with Willow's smile, I know you can harness the power of the wind and never break its spirit. I've proven that
if a man lays in wait long enough, he can even seduce beauty.
"Molly Aeon," Willow announced. "That's the perfect name."
[The End]
~~~~Sneak Peek~~~~
Werescape 7: BLACKBERRY WINE
Chapter One
Post-apocalyptic Earth, AEI, 2065 A. D., Bitterroot Forest, Colorado Territory, The Wild
"Gods-damn, Raven, give me a fucking gun," my uncle Thomas yelled at my heels over the deafening gunfire I popped off at the Normals falling on their faces onto the hard-packed earth between me and the destroyed gate of our ColoradoTerritory homestead.
A lot of good giving him a gun would do after these bastards just blew off his left hand. He's left-handed. And a tinker without his good hand is a dead man. I lined up the notch of my pistol's site with another one of the fools, pulled the stiff trigger then switched to the pistol in my other hand, and planted a bullet between the eyes of one seriously inbred-looking scraggly-toothed Parker running straight for me.
Goodbye, Stan. It's not like the man had anything left to live for with only the few teeth one could see when he stuck that nasty-ass tongue through the gaping hole where his front teeth used to be. Implying he could use it to please me. Yes. Fall into a heap of maggot fodder, jerk. Leave what's left of humanity a fighting chance against the aliens. I squeezed the solid grips of both guns and scanned the tree-trunk palisade surround of logs, standing on end flanking the twisted gate's sheet metal where the Parkers' bomb blew a hole into our homestead, looking for any sign of movement over the bodies littering the inside of Thomas' little haven in this AEI catastrophe of a drama.
Not even a breeze whispered over the silence beneath the baking sun.
Baking vermin. The Parkers bred like roaches. Only half of them, the seven I'd filled with lead, were dead. Where in the hell are the rest?
"I'm sorry, Raven. Just put a bullet between my eyes. You can save yourself if you don't have to worry about me."
With my back to the barn's wall and the only person on the planet who couldn't die on me, chances are pretty good I'd live. The Parkers had come for me. Yes. But they won't shoot me--a female of reproductive age. And they're the easiest damned targets. Brainless. Desperate. Looking for nothing more than another woman to add to their breeding harem. And there's no way I'm going to drop on my hands and knees and breed roaches.
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