Panic spiked through Tabor’s mind like a skewered squirrel thrust above the flames. He wasn’t about to lose his tongue. Unfortunately, Zackary outweighed him by nearly a hundred pounds.
“Formella lavita!” Tabor cried.
Zackary flew off him, dropping the blade and landing five feet away on his back, his eyes bulging in astonishment.
With the weight now off him, Tabor scrambled to his feet. He could have left it at that, but he didn’t. Zackary had poked fun at him one too many times.
Besides, putting Zack on his back was an opportunity Tabor simply couldn’t resist. He flung himself on top of the burly man-wolf and punched him in the face, hoping to return the favor of the bloody lip. A black eye would sweeten the deal. Zackary’s swagger would be greatly reduced if he had to walk around the hollow sporting bruises from a half-breed half his size. Humiliation was a much greater prize than pain.
But before Tabor had a chance to aim for Zackary’s eye, he was yanked backward. He swung his fist around, thinking it had to be one of Zackary’s friends jumping in.
Good thing Sasha released him and ducked in time or she might have been the one brandishing a black eye.
Once Tabor’s fist passed over her head, she popped up and grabbed his arm.
“Stop it!” she cried.
Behind her, Zackary snatched the blade off the ground and got to his feet, murder on his face. He gave two of his cronies a pointed look and the three of them stalked toward Tabor.
“What is going on here?” a male voice grumbled, stopping Zackary and his friends in their tracks.
Zackary pocketed the knife.
Tabor went still too. Garrick had that effect on everyone in Wolf Hollow with only a few exceptions, one of them being Sasha.
“I have it under control,” she snapped at the broad-shouldered, bare-chested man who barreled over.
Garrick glowered at the group with a tight jaw and cold eyes. He was short yet massive—like a boulder that would easily crush anyone in his path. He was one of the few elders who had not only survived the vulhena attack three years ago, but had come out of it without a single wound and more ferocious than ever.
“The boys had a small skirmish. It’s over now,” Sasha said.
“A skirmish? In Wolf Hollow?” Garrick bellowed. The veins inside his thick neck bulged. “We save the fighting for the vulhena. Do you understand me, Zackary?” Garrick glared in Zackary’s direction.
Zackary lowered his head and nodded.
Garrick glanced over his shoulder. “And you, Tabor, do you understand me?”
Tabor’s dignity prevented him from bowing his head.
“I understand perfectly,” he ground out between his teeth.
A vein throbbed in Garrick’s neck.
“Now tell me what happened here.”
“Tabor used witchcraft on me,” Zackary said, pointing a beefy finger at him.
Garrick’s head jerked up. “Magic is not allowed on fellow shifters. Magic,” he said, pausing for emphasis, “is not allowed for any reason. This is a wolf pack, not a coven.” He took a menacing step toward Tabor. “If you used your sorcery on Zackary, I will be forced to banish you from Wolf Hollow.”
Tabor felt as though an inferno had blasted up his throat and scorched his tonsils, turning his tongue to ash. His first instinct as a shifter should have been to take wolf form and deal with the threat using fangs and claws. Instead, his natural-born powers were called up from some dark, hidden place.
His mother had insisted he accept the gift he’d been born with and work on harnessing his abilities in private. No one else could know how powerful he was or they might send him away.
A valid point, but energy had already begun building in his chest and flared down his arms, making his hair stand up. He felt magic crackling like static electricity in his fingertips. There were half a dozen spells on the tip of his tongue, all screaming for a target, and Tabor had one: The man threatening to banish him from his home.
Sasha went very still beside him.
Tabor pointed a finger.
Sasha grabbed it, crushing his hand in her firm grip, but not before a surge of energy shot through Tabor’s fingers and shocked hers. Her body twitched. She released his hand as though having touched fire.
Tabor held his breath, aware this was it, Sasha would out him and he’d be banished from Wolf Hollow forever.
The issue of where he’d find a new home suddenly felt like a very real problem.
Sasha gathered herself and glared at Garrick. “From what I saw, Tabor threw Zackary off him. No sorcery was involved.”
Tabor stared at her slack-jawed.
Why the hell was she defending him again?
She strode closer to Garrick, stopping a few feet in front of him.
“And let me remind you, Garrick, that you don’t single-handedly decide the fate of pack members.”
Garrick’s lip curled back, showing gnashed teeth.
“Perhaps not,” he said, “but the council has always trusted my judgments. You, however, have yet to prove your usefulness.” He stared at her flat belly.
Red-hot fury surged through Tabor anew. With the exception of his mother, he’d never known anger on another’s behalf, but here it was, out of the blue, a manic desire to send Garrick flying backward into the nearest tree trunk for insulting Sasha. Worse, Garrick had done it in front of an audience, one that included his least favorite shifter . . . make that, second least favorite. Garrick had now taken the number one position from Zackary.
Even with all the anger raging through him, there was still enough room to direct some of it back at himself for taunting Sasha earlier about breeding.
Perhaps he could make up for that now.
The only thing that saved Tabor from casting a spell and getting banished on the spot was his indecision as to which spell to use. While he searched his mind, Sasha folded her arms across her chest and glared at Garrick.
“I’m sure the rest of the pack feels differently regarding my value when I have tracked down two vulhena this very day. How many have you killed in the last month, or even year?”
Zackary and his buddies studied the trees intently rather than look at either Garrick or Sasha. They hadn’t been dismissed, but Tabor knew they were wise enough to keep quiet and wait until it was safe to move away. Tabor glared at Garrick, prepared to shift and rip into him if he attempted to shame Sasha one more time. But Garrick’s shoulders relaxed.
“Two dead vulhena are worth celebrating,” he acknowledged. “It is fortunate that Aden was with you.”
“What’s fortunate—” Sasha started to say before Garrick cut her off.
“Let us prepare for supper. We have wonderful news to share with the pack, news which will especially please you, Sasha.” Garrick’s teeth glinted when he grinned. Before she could respond, Garrick turned to Zackary and his friends. “Come along, you hound dogs, get in line. Aren’t you hungry?”
They nodded gratefully. Zackary’s friends scurried away with Garrick on their heels. Zackary lingered behind to glower at Tabor.
“Good-for-nothing half-breed,” he said, low enough for only Tabor’s and Sasha’s ears.
“Better a half-breed than a halfwit,” Tabor returned.
Zackary sneered. “I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you, half-breed.”
“Come near me, and I’ll slip you a shrinking potion,” Tabor said, grabbing his own crotch for emphasis.
Zackary reared back. His head jerked when he looked at Sasha, expectation written all across his face.
“He’s joking,” she said in a sleepy voice that sharply contrasted with the tone that followed next. “But if either of you attempts anything on the other, you won’t have to worry about shrinkage so much as removal.”
Zackary’s mouth fell open. He closed it and nod
ded. “I, too, was only joking around,” he said, lifting his chest.
“Good,” Sasha said, sounding bored again. “You can join your friends.”
Zackary scuttled off without a second glance, leaving Tabor alone with Sasha for the second time that day. Tabor wondered if she’d noticed the care with which he’d folded the dress she now wore. It was a thin wisp of material only half covering her limber body. The fabric molded itself to her breasts. As with earlier, Tabor’s groin tightened with desire. This time he had the benefit of clothing, but pants could only hide so much.
The moment Sasha had threatened the removal of body parts, Tabor’s desire for the she-wolf had magnified tenfold. Even though she’d included him in the threat, he couldn’t help feeling it had been directed specifically at Zackary.
The way she dominated the brute with her calm gaze and sharp tongue was hotter than hell. That was when he knew he wanted her—not just in the physical sense. He wanted her as his mate.
chapter three
Sasha waited for Tabor to stalk off to the dinner line, but he had an unnerving way of sticking around and sizing her up.
“That’s twice in one day I’ve had to save your skin,” Sasha said.
She waited for one of his snarky rebuttals, but he continued to stare at her before lifting his arms in a lazy shrug.
Naturally, he’d brush her off even after she’d stopped him from doing something stupid. If he’d managed to strike down Garrick with his powers, even Sasha wouldn’t have been able to prevent the council from banishing Tabor.
Even though he was a major pain in the ass, he was still a member of her tribe, as was Zackary.
Sasha placed a hand on her hip. Tabor’s eyes followed the movement before his gaze returned to her face. She cleared her throat. “You know, it might help if you weren’t always reminding the pack that you’re a wizard.”
Tabor sniffed. “Doubtful. You don’t go prancing around rubbing it in that you’re a pureblood, but the pack doesn’t forget that either, does it?”
“That’s different,” Sasha said.
Tabor leaned forward on his toes. “How?”
Her muscles tensed. She couldn’t tell if he was goading her or truly curious.
“I have certain duties I must fulfill because of my heritage.”
Tabor took a gliding step toward her, his tall, toned, muscular body moving with ease. Green eyes shining, he leaned in close enough to steal Sasha’s breath. “But what if it’s out of your control? We all know Wolfrik isn’t coming back. Good riddance to him,” Tabor scoffed.
“Wolfrik suffered a terrible loss when his parents were killed.” Sasha swallowed past the thick lump in her throat.
Tabor’s eyebrows slanted. “So did you, and you didn’t lose your mind and abandon the pack.”
Sasha’s eyes went out of focus. The greens of Tabor’s irises blurred into the foliage, leaves falling from the branches, decaying on the ground where she crouched beneath a maple tree, hugging her legs that fall day Wolfrik disappeared. She’d been the last to see him. The last to hear his scathing words, each one rising from the shadows of her mind with haunting clarity.
“They forced us together and we rolled over like obedient dogs.”
Muscles cording, Wolfrik paced alongside the Forest of the Ancestors where, early that morning, they had buried what was left of their parents’ mangled bodies beneath evergreens. His shoulder muscles bulged against the narrow straps of his gray tank top. He lifted his arms, so powerful, so beautiful, and scooped the air in his palms, head bent, glaring into his fingers.
Tears streaked down Sasha’s face. She craved his comfort, a kind word, but Wolfrik refused to look at her as he continued his rant.
“I respected my parents and yours—they were purebloods—but Jager, Garrick, and Palmer are a joke. Palmer wasn’t even there.” Wolfrik’s lip curled. “They dare tell us to make a claim tonight, to boost morale—” A nasty laugh ripped through Wolfrik’s lips. His chest expanded, afternoon light reaching through the trees as though unable to resist the perfection of his body, a touch of light defining the sculpted muscles of his arms and softening his deep brown close-cropped hair. “Purebloods don’t take orders from urban wolf descendants,” he snarled, his beauty sharply contrasting his spiteful words. “I’d rather wander the forest alone than stick around to see those mongrels assume leadership over Wolf Hollow.”
“Wolfrik.” Sasha choked out his name. “We need to stick together.”
Finally, he’d looked at her, but it would have been preferable if he’d kept his blistering glare on his palms.
“There is no ‘we.’” His words were clipped, jagged shards deepening the cuts inside her punctured heart.
She could barely take air into lungs that had turned to bedrock.
Wolfrik ripped his top down the middle, the pieces hitting the dirt, jeans swiftly joining the heap at his toes. He left her on the ground while she choked on a sob, offering no goodbyes as he stormed into the forest never to be seen again.
The memory clogged her throat. She cleared it, blinking rapidly and bringing the present moment, along with Tabor, back into focus.
Tabor studied her. “All I meant was, you’re strong, and I respect that. We all do.”
He stepped over to her cautiously, eyeing the ground one moment, then raising his head the next and piercing her with his gaze. “The council can’t force you to remain single, can they?” he asked. “Even those old coots must know it’s better you take a mate. Any pups of yours would still be stronger than the rest. Even the offspring from a half-breed,” he said, lowering his voice.
Heat flamed up Sasha’s neck, filling her face and warming her ears. Her arms slid down her sides, fabric bunching in her fingers as she clutched at her dress.
“The council is looking out for the pack’s best interest,” she stammered.
A smile crept over Tabor’s lips. “Undoubtedly,” he said, “but that still doesn’t answer my question. Are you interested in claiming a mate, even if he isn’t a pureblood?”
Why did she feel flustered all of a sudden? Why did Tabor have to stir up all these feelings to begin with? She would have been angry at him if he’d been taunting her, but he looked genuinely curious.
Sasha’s breath came out rapidly. “I have no wish to remain single,” she said, feeling frustrated at how breathless she sounded. The thought of Aden, of being his mate, sent her heart rate skittering all over the place.
Tabor smiled cryptically after she’d spoken. His whole face seemed to light up, which further confused Sasha. He stood taller, looking at her with a shimmer in his green eyes.
“We should dish up before all the food’s gone,” Sasha said hastily.
It was Aden, not the food, that made her eager to join the group. Ever since they’d been partnered, they’d taken to eating meals together. It happened a lot when shifters were paired. Patrolling formed a natural bond between shifters during the duration of their partnership. Sasha only had two short days left with Aden, unless she was lucky enough to be paired with him again.
She took a step back from Tabor and his unsettling smile.
“Enjoy your dinner,” he said. “I’m going to take mine with Heidi and Peter.” Tabor’s grin widened. “They’re trying for a pup in a few days.”
Sasha didn’t know how to respond so she nodded before walking away.
Conversations and laughter caught her ears as she approached the group gathered in the glade.
Community meals were a longstanding tradition that went back as far as Sasha could remember. Patrolling as they did, broken into pairs, meals were about the only time their pack gathered in large numbers to socialize.
A fire burned bright beneath the community cauldron. Three young men got up from their shared log and dipped their bowls inside for seconds.
Sasha looked around, s
pirits dropping when she spotted Aden sharing a log with a blonde shifter named Lacy. Soft-spoken and sweet, Lacy was one of the pack’s darlings. Apparently Aden thought so too. He couldn’t stop smiling at her, or talking, or gesturing with his hands, while Lacy listened raptly. Whenever Aden stopped talking to laugh, Lacy laughed too. Her smile filled her face and reached her eyes.
If only Tabor hadn’t picked a fight with Zackary right before dinner and waylaid Sasha. This was what she got for doing the responsible thing and stepping in. If not for Tabor, it might have been her seated beside Aden sharing a laugh, shoulders brushing, thighs touching . . .
She swallowed back a frustrated growl.
Next time she should let Tabor and Zackary beat each other to bloody pulps. It was a good thing she had happened by, though. Garrick was overstepping his bounds more and more. Sasha would speak to Jager about it. The whole point of forming a council was to vote on pack issues as a group. Their council consisted of five shifters: Sasha, Palmer, Jager, Garrick, and Garrick’s son, Raider. Palmer, Jager, and Garrick were the only remaining elders in all of Wolf Hollow. If any female elders had survived, Sasha would not have found herself the lone woman on council. She and Raider were inducted as council members a month after Wolfrik disappeared. Ironically, Wolfrik would have served on the very council he bemoaned if he hadn’t abandoned the pack. She would have liked his input and support in both personal and pack matters. Instead, she’d lost her parents and closest friend all in one fell swoop.
Sasha leaned her back against a tree, having lost her appetite.
She surveyed the group, trying to look anywhere except at Aden and Lacy, but her traitorous eyes kept returning to them. A surge of pain spiked inside her chest every time she saw the pair smiling at each other.
Palmer sat cross-legged on the ground beside his young, pregnant mate, Francine. She rested on a log above him, belly large and rounded beneath a loose dress that settled over her knees.
Palmer grinned when he noticed Sasha. He lifted his bowl over his shoulder and handed it to Francine then got to his feet.
Wolf Hollow (Wolf Hollow Shifters, Book 1) Page 3
