Wolf Hollow (Wolf Hollow Shifters, Book 1)

by Nikki Jefford

  If Hector wanted to find her, he could do so without help. Better yet, he could select someone else. Just because he was a pureblood didn’t mean she wanted his paws on her. And if he was anything like his cousin, she couldn’t imagine claiming him for a mate.

  Tonight, Sasha didn’t wish to be sought out. She intended to do the seeking. The sound of the drums filled her chest like a second heartbeat as she searched the darkness for a pair of green eyes.

  chapter six

  Drumbeats filled the small clearing, their entrancing melody weaving through the trees and reverberating against the gathered shifters. The flames of the fire rose and sparked into the night sky.

  Tabor sat on a log facing the bonfire. Zackary and his cronies were on the other side of the fire, blissfully obliterated from sight by the roaring flames. Everyone who wanted brew had been served. Tabor held a tin cup and alternated between sipping and wincing as the foul liquid shot down his throat. The stuff tasted like squirrel piss, but it helped get him through the ceremony.

  He’d always found the mating dance to be a ridiculous display of savagery. It began with five women in wolf masks, and little more, dancing to the drums. Soon they’d be joined by five men, also in wolf masks. The males would make a tedious show of selecting a partner and finish out the performance by mimicking the mating ritual in movement and dance.

  Not even Jager’s brew could numb the bitterness he felt over the timing of Hector’s arrival.

  Why couldn’t the pure-blooded prick have shown his illustrious mug in Wolf Hollow a month ago, or even a week ago? Tabor wouldn’t have cared then.

  Now the thought of Hector putting his grubby paws on Sasha made him want to spit fire.

  There was nothing he could do about it. Sasha would be all for it, of course. The call of duty was practically second nature to the pure-blooded she-wolf. The sooner Tabor got her out of his head, the better. He could start by leaving the celebration. The festivities to follow weren’t temptation enough to sit through this torture.

  Tabor drained his cup and set it on the ground. His head gave a slight spin that didn’t feel half bad. He placed his palms on the log to push off, but before he had a chance to slink away, one of the dancers caught his attention. She, along with the other four females, had been dancing around the fire, but now she danced directly in front of him. She swayed her hips and thrust them back, dipping forward, which brought her breasts eye level with Tabor.

  He stared wide-eyed, throat going dry.

  After lifting herself gracefully back to full height, the female turned to face the bonfire and shake her ass. Tabor swallowed and reached over to shove the nearest person’s shoulder. A shifter named Hudson looked over.

  “Do you know who that is?” Tabor asked.

  Hudson grinned. “Chase and I were just speculating. We think it’s that shifter from Glenn Meadows. Alexa.”

  “Alexa,” Tabor repeated, transfixed by her movements.

  “The guys in the den said she has the confidence of an alpha,” Hudson said.

  Chase leaned forward and grinned mischievously. “And look at those legs.”

  Tabor hadn’t stopped looking.

  One of the reasons he sat through these things was to appreciate the silky, smooth legs of the dance performers. He’d fantasized about mating with one of them after the ceremony, but they almost always ran off with one of the male performers. Jager had never selected Tabor to perform, which was good because no matter how appealing the dancers were, Tabor would never subject himself to such a public spectacle.

  “Raider is one lucky bastard,” Hudson said.

  “Must be nice having Daddy on the council,” Chase said grudgingly.

  Hudson sighed and handed Chase his cup. “Here, buddy, finish mine.”

  “Sure?”

  “Yeah. You drink down the brew while I drink in the ladies.”

  Chase grunted then gulped the liquid down and began to cough. Hudson chuckled and slapped his back.

  “Jager wasn’t joking when he said this batch was his strongest.”

  Tabor turned back to the performer a mere six feet from where he sat drooling over the log.

  Her movements were fluid and seductive. The firelight seemed to dance with her, lighting her skin. There was something both desperate and evocative in the way she swayed in front of the fire.

  Tabor’s eyes glazed over as he watched her. Spells were his forte, yet he was the one falling under a trance. He blinked rapidly then got to his feet, having no intention of sticking around to watch everyone else pair up. If he had to spend the night alone, he’d do so in the peace and quiet of his own secluded cabin, a place left to him by his mother.

  Tabor brushed off his pants and gave the dancer one last longing look before stepping around shifters clustered near the fire. Most were already well into their cups and not paying attention to the dance.

  The path leading into the forest darkened as Tabor left the bonfire behind. Two shifters were already sneaking off into the woods. Tabor didn’t feel like following on their heels. He veered off the trail into the woods.

  “Hey, Raider, you ready?” a voice called, stopping Tabor in his tracks.

  “Yeah, in a minute. I gotta take a leak,” Raider answered from nearby.

  Tabor slid behind a tree and held still as Raider strode into view wearing a loincloth and wolf mask pushed back on top of his head.

  A smug smile appeared over the shifter’s lips as he spread his legs wide and pulled the cloth aside to pee on a bush.

  A sss sound followed for some time. Tabor stood as still as the tree he’d molded himself behind.

  “Raider!” a man yelled.

  “Go ahead. I’ll catch up,” Raider yelled back.

  Savage brute, Tabor thought bitterly.

  Lucky bastard, Hudson had called him. Well, Raider’s luck was about to turn sour.

  As the big beast of a man headed toward the bonfire, Tabor stepped out from behind the tree and whispered, “Sulumpa, prevada slumbero formella soel,” at Raider’s back.

  Raider stumbled forward as though he’d tripped on a tree root and went crashing down face-first onto the forest floor. His body remained motionless, like a fallen tree trunk, as he began to snore.

  Tabor had once tried this spell on a deer he’d found nibbling on his mother’s herb garden. The pack had been happy for the fresh kill that helped feed them for weeks. But before Tabor dragged it to the glade, his mother had made him shoot an arrow through its heart and swear he would never reveal how he originally knocked it unconscious.

  The spell worked as quickly and efficiently on a shifter as it had on the deer.

  A pit opened inside Tabor’s stomach and guilt crawled up his spine.

  What was he thinking knocking out another pack member? This was far worse than the levitation spell he’d performed on Zackary. At least in that instance he’d spoken in self-defense, whereas Raider hadn’t posed any threat.

  Tabor ran his hand through his hair and stared down at Raider snoozing on the ground. He had no counter spell. He ought to hurry straight to his cabin and pretend they hadn’t crossed paths that evening. Yes, a long, lonely night in isolation would serve Tabor right for such an egregious breach of trust. Then again, with Raider out cold, there would be one female shifter minus a partner. For the first time in Wolf Hollow history, the mating dance would come to a thundering halt once Raider’s absence was noted. A search would ensue. Panic would arise . . .

  Disastrous.

  Tabor had made a mistake and now he had to follow it through and hope lightning didn’t strike him down, or Garrick, if he ever caught wind of what he’d done.

  Berating himself one last time, Tabor walked over and bent down to remove Raider’s loincloth and mask. He carried the articles with him to a spot a good twenty paces away where he stripped out of his clothes, ba
lled them up, and hid them inside the foliage of a large fern.

  Tabor tried not to grimace as he tied the skimpy loincloth around his hips. He never dreamed he’d be doing this, but that was before Alexa had beckoned to him with her legs, hips, and breasts. He’d jump through the fire if it meant a chance to get his hands on those hips and burn away all his idiotic notions of Sasha ever considering him for a mate. No brew was strong enough to numb his desire for her, but maybe, just maybe, he could forget the pureblooded she-wolf for a few minutes.

  Loincloth in place, Tabor tied the mask over his face then sprinted through the trees to catch up with the other masked male shifters. The group circled the clearing from the trees and were too intent on peering through the eyeholes in their masks at the females around the fire to notice that “Raider” had shrunk by a head and forty pounds.

  The men howled from the woods and Tabor found himself howling with them. The women did not answer. The drumbeat continued as the men closed in on the female dancers and the women kept up their fast-paced movements, ignoring the men.

  Tabor’s heart rate picked up speed as he approached Alexa from behind. When he was two feet from her body, she swooped away. She danced from her new spot as though she’d never been interrupted.

  Again, Tabor approached and, again, the female shifter gracefully avoided his advance.

  Another male attempted to try his luck, but not before Tabor snarled. The man growled back but veered off toward a different female shifter who had not yet been engaged.

  Soon the shifter Tabor had warned off had his new quarry by the hips. Their bodies began to sway as one. The other females were quick to succumb to their partners’ attentions, but not Tabor’s intended. Every time he closed in she moved away.

  Blood rushed to his groin. If he did catch her, he didn’t know how to perform the dance without ripping off her skirt and giving them all a live enactment of the actual mating part.

  When the female shifter sidestepped him yet again, Tabor snarled with impatience. Usually his human side was most dominant, but this particular shifter was bringing out the wolf in him.

  The other couples were blurs against the fire.

  The drumbeat fueled Tabor’s urge to have her. He circled the shifter and tried approaching from the front. She took a step back. Tabor moved in from the side and managed to take hold of her. His hands slid around her waist. She growled and began to step away, but not before Tabor pulled her back against him.

  His erection pressed against the thin skirt barely covering her.

  She sucked in a breath the moment he shoved himself against her. Tabor took his cue from the surrounding performers and gyrated against her back.

  The female shifter stilled, no longer performing the dance movements. Several drumbeats later, she thrust her ass back and joined Tabor’s movements, rocking back and forth. Tabor tightened painfully.

  Sweet torture. He didn’t know how long he could perform in the dance.

  He tightened his hold on her hips and ground into her.

  Some shifters in the audience had returned their attention to the dance, howling their encouragement. One of the performing females got onto her hands and knees on the ground and shifted. Her skirt and top ripped from her body and her mask dropped to the ground in front of her snout. Her partner took off his loincloth, got onto the ground, and shifted too. He was on her back in a flash. They didn’t even bother running off into the woods, just went at it right there. Another couple from among the performers shifted and did the same.

  The audience howled again. The drumbeats grew louder.

  Tabor doubted Sasha was one of the wolves rutting in the dirt for all to see.

  The thought of Hector rubbing himself up and down Sasha’s back made his stomach churn like a charred squirrel over a pit.

  Some of the people in the audience shifted into wolf form. Some joined the dance on two feet. They mixed together and still the music went on, though the performance was over.

  A warm hand took Tabor’s. The shifter he’d claimed in the dance stepped away, but this time she gripped his hand and pulled him with her. Glancing over his shoulder in one last feeble attempt to spot Sasha, Tabor turned his attention back to the female in front of him as she led him into the woods.

  The drumbeat chased after them before fading the farther they went into the woods.

  Neither of them spoke, even as the sounds from the campfire receded and stillness settled around them. Tabor breathed heavily.

  The female kept hold of his hand. Where she’d avoided him before, she now seemed insistent he shouldn’t get away.

  They hurried down one of the western paths leading to the Forest of the Ancestors.

  How far did she plan to take him?

  Where was she taking him? Did she even know? She led him as though she knew the hollow well, which didn’t make sense if this was Alexa. But who else could it be?

  Tabor kept his questions to himself. Whoever she was, he felt certain she’d allow him between her legs and the anticipation had him keeping pace with her. Maybe a rough-and-tumble was exactly what he needed to get Sasha out of his mind.

  Glenn Meadows females were certainly assertive, if this was, indeed, Alexa. Tabor couldn’t imagine it being any of the Wolf Hollow females. Not a single face came to mind, save Sasha’s. He pushed the image of her away. Sasha was bending over for Hector. Soon he’d have to walk past their litter of pure-blooded pups when visiting Heidi, Peter, Amy, and Eric in the den. The thought made him snarl.

  The female leading him paused at the angry sound. She tried to pull her hand free. Tabor tightened his grip on her fingers, but she yanked her hand away and snarled. Tabor snarled back, done with games. They were far enough from camp and the others.

  He spun her around to face him. He pressed his erection against her thigh and drank in the sound of her gasping behind her mask. Tabor trailed his fingers down her sides and pulled tentatively at the lining of the skin skirt. The female took a step back, leaving him pawing the air. He wasted no time stepping in. This time he ran his hands beneath her skirt and didn’t hesitate. He slid a finger inside her, quickly followed by a second.

  Sweet mother of moonshine, she was dripping wet.

  The female sucked in a shuddering breath, her body yielding to him as she moaned. Tabor continued to rub and stroke, drinking in the sounds of her pleasure and the slick, tight warmth around his fingers.

  When he pulled his fingers out, she turned her back to him and bent over, taking hold of the nearest tree trunk.

  Tabor knew what it meant and still the blood rushed to his ears. It took him a moment to register her submission to him.

  But not that long.

  With deft fingers, he untied his loincloth and tossed it aside, followed by his mask. He needed to breathe in the woman’s scent and the night air. As he lifted the female’s skirt over her hips, she inhaled sharply. Her body heaved against him with excitement. Tabor rubbed the tip of his penis against her and relished the sound of her moan. She thrust her hips back, demanding penetration. Tabor’s jaw ached as he ground his teeth together in eager anticipation. He guided himself between her legs and entered her delicately despite every instinct to shove himself inside.

  The female shifter had other ideas. She rocked against him impatiently. Tabor gave in to what she wanted. He gripped her and pumped his hips against her back. Hearing the female’s eager panting set Tabor’s blood rushing. The night was young. He wanted to play with her, torture her for a while until there was nothing in the world she wanted more than him. Tease her until it was him—not the moon—she howled for.

  He increased his speed. The female’s panting turned to moans that increased with every thrust. Tabor didn’t let her catch her breath. He could listen to her moan all night.

  Her grip on the tree trunk slipped momentarily and she dipped forward. Tabor helped guide
her to the ground, onto all fours. He got on his knees, thrusting behind her.

  Her moans oscillated against the night’s sky and appeared almost to brighten the stars winking above them.

  It became harder to hold on when she tightened around him. Suddenly the torture was very much two-sided as the friction increased and more blood rushed to Tabor’s head. He gulped in raspy breaths. The female cried out, a sound more thrilling than a howl during a hunt.

  The sound echoed and died away, her body going limp following her release. Tabor let go of his control and pumped into her like a wild man until exploding inside her. He groaned and shoved himself against her hips one last time before collapsing against her back.

  Reluctantly, he pulled out of her. The female smoothed down her tiny skirt, rolled onto her back, and sat up.

  She grabbed the chin of her mask and slowly pulled it off.

  Tabor watched raptly. As soon as she uncovered her face and he saw it was Sasha, his eyes bulged out of their sockets. A flush covered her exposed skin and her lips parted slightly.

  Seeing her jolted him to his feet. He snatched up his loincloth and rushed to tie the scant thing around his hips.

  “Sasha! What are you doing here?” he demanded as the cloth settled into place. There was nothing Tabor could do about the tepee erected between his legs.

  Sasha remained on the ground, watching him with a peculiar look on her face.

  How much of Jager’s brew did she drink before the ceremony? She looked dazed. Tabor expected her outrage at any moment. Better to beat her to it. Once her head cleared she’d be furious over the fact that a half-breed had made her pant. Obviously there had been a mix-up.

  Tabor lifted his chest. It was hard to strike an imposing figure in a loincloth, but that didn’t stop him from posturing. “Before you threaten to banish me if I tell anyone about this, let me assure you I’d rather live off vulhena meat for the rest of my life.” He crossed his arms over his chest.