Wolf Hollow (Wolf Hollow Shifters, Book 1)

by Nikki Jefford

  Following her release, Tabor roared and ground his hips against hers one last time before exploding. He pitched forward, catching himself above her on shaky arms then eased himself off, body shuddering as he flopped onto his back beside Sasha.

  They lay together staring into the clear blue sky, their breaths eventually slowing. The sun’s rays felt glorious against Sasha’s skin. There were few times she could recall feeling this content. She knew she needed to sit up and get back to patrolling. She shouldn’t have stopped. But in this moment, she felt content.

  Tabor took her hand in his, entwining their fingers. “Be my mate,” he rasped.

  Sasha turned her head to face him. She’d never felt this kind of closeness, this affection she had for Tabor. Not since Wolfrik.

  “Give me until the end of our patrol month,” she said.

  “I don’t want other wolves thinking they can try and make a claim with Hector out of the way,” Tabor growled.

  Sasha chuckled. “What other wolves?” she asked.

  “Raider, for one,” Tabor said without pause.

  Sasha arched an eyebrow. “Raider?” He’d never shown the slightest interest in her. It was amusing Tabor considered him a rival.

  As Tabor sat up, his fingers slid out of Sasha’s. She sat up and faced him.

  “Jager’s always pairing the two of you up during the full moon ceremony. Probably had him in mind as backup in case Hector didn’t come through. I wouldn’t put it past the council to press for a union between the two of you. You’re both on the council, both considered two of the hollow’s most valuable members.”

  Sasha scoffed, but Tabor frowned.

  “I’d never accept Raider as my mate,” she assured him. “I can’t imagine having Garrick as a father-in-law.” He tried to boss her around enough already. The thought of him instructing her on how to be a good mate to his son and mother to their pups made her want to gag.

  Tabor scowled. “Is that the only reason?”

  “Far from it. I have no interest in Raider. I don’t find him attractive.” Sasha lifted her chest.

  Tabor’s fiery green gaze slid over her breasts. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of one nipple. It tightened in response. Tabor reached for the second one, but it slipped out of his grasp as Sasha stood.

  “Time to return to duty,” she said.

  Tabor pressed his hands against the sides of his legs and groaned. He sucked in a breath and stared up at her with beseeching eyes. “You won’t consider anyone else during our month, right?”

  “Of course not,” Sasha said, batting the question away with her hand. “But I don’t go jumping into commitments either. Even Wolfrik had to wait. Good thing,” Sasha said. She crossed her arms over her breasts. “Having him desert the pack was hard enough. If we’d been mates when he abandoned me . . .” She made a choking sound, unable to finish the words. Waiting was the safest course of action because once Sasha claimed a mate there was no turning back.

  Tabor got to his feet and took both Sasha’s hands in his. He stared into her eyes with a look of adoration that stole her breath away. “I would never abandon you,” he said. “There is nothing more important to me than you, Sasha. Nothing.”

  Words clogged her mind, but none came forth. She was too overcome. She hadn’t realized how much Tabor wanted her as his mate until that moment.

  He released her hands and ran his fingers through his hair, sweeping a gaze toward the edge of the bluff.

  “Take whatever time you need to decide,” he said solemnly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Tabor stood waiting, accentuating his point. He waited to take his lead from Sasha. Waited until she shifted to do the same and followed her along the bluff. He trotted behind her at a respectful distance, but Sasha didn’t run from him. She led him to an outlook point where they stood side by side and howled together, their cries echoing across the valley.

  Tabor nudged Sasha playfully with his snout and Sasha nudged him back. They remained wolves for the remainder of the day and stuck close together. Perhaps he wanted to show her he meant what he said, that he’d never leave her. Or maybe he worried she’d run off again and leave him in the dust.

  At the end of patrol, Sasha and Tabor ran back to the cave, shifted, and dressed. Tabor slung his quiver over his shoulder and held his bow under his arm.

  He hadn’t stopped grinning at Sasha since shifting.

  “Stop that,” she growled at him. “Everyone’s going to know.”

  Tabor arched his brows. “I thought you said you didn’t care if they knew.”

  “I didn’t the first time because I didn’t think we’d be doing it again. If they know what we’re up to on patrol, they might try to interfere.” Sasha took a long hard look at Tabor. She really didn’t want anyone sticking a nose into their business.

  His face relaxed into a smile. “I’ll try not to be too obvious—today. No promises for tomorrow.”

  Sasha laughed and shook her head.

  As they headed down the path toward camp, Tabor reached for her hand. Sasha snatched it away.

  “What did I just say?” she chided.

  Tabor’s eyes glittered. “I know, but it’s extremely difficult not to touch you.”

  “It will be a lot more challenging if Jager reassigns us to new partners.”

  Tabor merely smiled. At least he kept his hands to himself, but his eyes were the problem. They lit up whenever he looked at her.

  He sniffed. “Speaking of the old man, I have to make up a fresh batch of potion to last the month or he really will reassign me.”

  “Will you have time before dawn?” Sasha asked.

  The few hours surrounding the full moon was the one time of the month when single shifters had to patrol together. An hour before, they were all assigned to keep a close-knit watch around the perimeter of the den.

  “I’ll have to skip dinner,” Tabor said.

  Sasha’s forehead wrinkled. “But you must be starving.”

  “Famished,” Tabor said with a wink. “But worth it.”

  It was impossible not to return his grin and it was probably a good thing Tabor wouldn’t be at the group dinner tempting her with his hooded gaze. An observant shifter would draw quick conclusions, and she wanted more time with Tabor before the elders took notice and tried to interfere.

  At the next fork in the trail, Tabor slowed and nodded sideways.

  “I’m headed to my cabin.” His eyes dropped to Sasha’s lips. “You’re welcome to join me.”

  She took a tentative step toward the glade.

  “I wouldn’t want to distract you from potion making. You need to make Jager happy.” She took another step back and shot him a look filled with promise. “And maybe tomorrow your wolf will find a way to make my wolf happy.”

  Tabor’s eyes flashed. He took in a deep breath. “This is going to be a long night.”

  “Save some energy for tomorrow,” Sasha said. This time she winked. Then she spun around as she headed into camp, feeling Tabor’s eyes on her until she disappeared into the trees.

  When Sasha caught sight of smoke billowing ahead, she was unpleasantly reminded of the incident that had taken place earlier.

  The flames that burned tonight were free of charred flesh and fur. Instead, the scent of a meaty vegetable stew rose into the air and wafted through the trees.

  Shifters were already in line at the cauldron, dishing up. One group of males hadn’t bothered to take a seat on the logs and stood in the clearing, swallowing down the stew with their bowls raised high in the air.

  Sasha got in line behind some female shifters who whispered to one another as they waited. One of them was Lacy.

  “Too bad Trish is unwell,” a shifter named Jolene said. “We could use every single shifter on duty tonight, especially after a vulhena and a rabid wolf got in.”r />
  Her friends nodded their agreement.

  “At least Aden’s on duty. The pack’s lucky to have him,” a shifter named Maureen said.

  Jolene sighed. “Who knows how much longer he’ll be available to patrol, though.” She elbowed Lacy in the ribs.

  Lacy didn’t respond. She turned a bashful shade of pink. Luckily her friends didn’t tease her further. Sasha was relieved for both their sakes. Even though she didn’t think about Aden that way since mating with Tabor, she could still pass on their giggles.

  Once the women changed subjects, Sasha’s thoughts drifted to what they’d first said about Trish being unwell. Tabor had said she’d lain with Palmer. The lout better not have hurt her. Then there was the second, but unlikely, possibility that Francine had done the female harm.

  Belly pointing everywhere she walked, Francine moved around the clearing carrying a woven basket against her hip. She walked up to the group of males who ate standing. Several of them placed their bowls in the basket. Another one lifted his bowl higher, gulped rapidly, then set his bowl in Francine’s basket with a sheepish smile. He swiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Sasha turned her attention back to the line, which was nearing the cauldron. After dishing up, she carried her warm bowl to an unoccupied log and sat. Sasha tilted her head back and coaxed the first bit of her meal into her mouth. She chewed quickly and swallowed. Soon she’d emptied her bowl.

  That left a good seven hours before full moon duties officially began. Some shifters spent it napping while others stayed up the entire night, especially when the time fell between dusk and dawn. For the single shifters, it was the one night the sexes were segregated. The female shifters took one half of the den’s outskirts, while the men took the other half.

  Elders didn’t sanction single shifters coupling during the full moon. If anyone wanted a pup, they’d have to first claim a mate. Separating the males from the females made the night go smoother.

  Already, females were grouping together on logs, sharing their meals as they talked between bites. The males mostly stood around, laughing and gesturing.

  Sitting alone, Sasha realized how much she missed Tabor’s company. Before she could dwell on her feelings longer, a figure stepped in front of Sasha, her rounded belly obstructing Sasha’s view of the cauldron. Francine smiled down at her. She no longer carried the woven basket for collecting bowls, otherwise Sasha would have set her empty dish inside.

  “I see you’re eating this evening.”

  “Yes, I worked up an appetite during patrol,” Sasha said with a wry smile.

  “I heard you were partnered with Tabor,” Francine said, nose wrinkling. “What was Jager thinking?”

  “Patrol partners are chosen randomly,” Sasha responded in a bland tone that gave no hint of believing otherwise.

  Francine gave a loud snort.

  “Sure they are. I can’t believe Jager’s still telling that story. Even more perplexing is why he would pair you first with a werewolf and now a wizard.”

  Sasha shrugged. “Aden and I worked well together. I’m sure Tabor and I will have equal success.”

  Francine placed a hand on her hip, eyes narrowing. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at Aden. Just remember the two of you can never be mates. He’s a werewolf, not one of us. You wouldn’t be able to mate properly, nor would the pack stand for it.”

  Funny how Francine’s suspicions rested on the wrong shifter. What really irritated Sasha was Francine’s misconception that she had a say in who Sasha claimed.

  In a calm, icy voice Sasha said, “If I were you, Francine, I’d worry about my own affairs.” She could have left it at that, but she didn’t. Sasha got to her feet, bringing herself eye to eye with Francine. “I hear Trish isn’t feeling well tonight. You didn’t serve her rotten meat or noxious berries I hope?” Like Tabor, Sasha wasn’t one to beat around the bush. Perhaps they’d been well suited for one another all along.

  Sasha expected Francine to scowl or bare her teeth. She had every right to. None of this was any of Sasha’s business, unless Francine had done something to taint another pack member’s food.

  But Francine merely smiled with self-satisfaction. “On the contrary, I’ve been looking out for young Trish. I made sure she’ll be very comfortable.”

  Sasha raised her eyebrows. The calculated gleam in Francine’s eyes didn’t put her at ease.

  “I love Trish like a sister.” Francine stared into Sasha’s eyes, unblinking. “It’s the truth.”

  Sasha studied her old friend for several heartbeats. Her voice, though smug, sounded sincere. Maybe Francine had learned to be a little less uptight, although in the case of her wandering mate she had every reason to bite his head off. Their relationship perplexed Sasha, but discontent among pack members was the last thing she wanted for Wolf Hollow. They all needed to live together in harmony for their community to thrive.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Sasha said.

  “I care about you as well,” Francine said. “We used to be close. I guess I’ve been a bit preoccupied ever since claiming Palmer as my mate.” She rubbed a hand over her round belly and smiled.

  “I’m happy for you,” Sasha said warmly.

  Francine nodded.

  “I want to see you happily mated. It’s past time. We’d hoped Hector would stick around.” Francine sighed, eyes glazing over. She blinked and lifted her nose in the air. “No matter. We adapt here in the hollow. I will speak to Jager about partnering you with Raider. The two of you haven’t been on duty together since September last. For such a virile man, he sure does need help in the mating department.” Francine tsked. “How many times does Jager have to pair the two of you together in the mating dance before he gets it through that thick head of his to make a claim on you?”

  Fury scorched Sasha’s insides, singeing every nerve ending like the edges of leaves touching fire. She was tired of everyone treating her like a mere animal lacking feelings. Her sole purpose in life was not to breed with the most potent shifter. Ever since she’d heard those horrible humans speak that way it had opened the floodgates of rebellion inside her belly. Their pack didn’t work that way, and it was time someone reminded them of that.

  chapter ten

  A few small jars of potion sat near the window, curing inside Tabor’s cabin.

  He’d barely had time to start a batch before going to Jager with his request, and he’d need much more to get him through the month.

  Luckily, the healing potion was second nature to Tabor, whose mother had suffered aches and pains as she aged. This was one of the few potions he knew how to make by heart. That didn’t mean it would make itself, though. Tabor had to gather up the lavender, holy basil, and St. John’s wort growing on the south side of the cabin, and grind it, boil it, allow it to cool, and strain the liquid into jars.

  It would have been helpful if he had the entire night to work on it rather than wasting it pacing the perimeters of the den with all the other single shifters.

  The full moon was usually his least favorite time of the month.

  Sasha could change all that if she claimed him.

  Clearly she found him desirable and she wasn’t hung up having a pure-blooded mate.

  Tabor puffed up his chest as he moved around the small cabin. He grabbed a strip of fish jerky stored in a dark, cool cupboard near the ground. He bit into the strip and began chewing to ward off the hunger rumbling inside his stomach like approaching thunder. After another bite of the jerky, Tabor took his mother’s old woven basket and headed outside to gather ingredients.

  Tabor worked quickly. Soon the herbs were gathered, ground into mash, and boiling over his firepit in front of the cabin. While the herbs infused in the water, Tabor went back inside and scanned his small collection of spell books.

  Large leather-bound journals filled one shelf inside the
cabin. Although magic wasn’t in his mother’s blood, she’d taught Tabor to read, a skill without which he wouldn’t have been able to learn and memorize spells, though the incantations themselves looked and sounded like gibberish.

  He dusted the volumes regularly, especially in the summer months when the window shutters were always open.

  The journals had appeared one at a time over the years when he was younger. Each appearance caused his mother a great deal of excitement in the form of rantings about how Tabor’s father was a powerful wizard and that he’d left the journals because he wanted Tabor to work on his powers.

  “Your father says you will become one of the most powerful wizards the land has seen. But first, you must practice your spells,” she used to say.

  To which a young Tabor would demand, “How come my father doesn’t teach me himself?”

  He never pushed it too far, not when the slightest display of anger caused tears to gather in his mother’s eyes. Just as quickly she could put herself into a trance that lasted days and scare Tabor that he’d lost her for good. All the pack members said the same thing of Lucinda, that she had been a strong, clear-minded member of the pack before she ran into the wizard Lazarus.

  From the shelf, Tabor pulled the thickest journal, a faded brown tome with swooping handscripted words on the first page, Defense Against Foes, and set it on the table. It had been the last journal to appear and, like all the others, his name had been inscribed inside with ornamental lettering someone had put great effort into scripting. The penmanship appeared feminine and Tabor had wondered if he’d one day meet the witch who wrote his name with such elegant flourish. After several years passed, and no new journals appeared, Tabor had remarked to his mother that perhaps this meant his father, the almighty powerful wizard, had met his end.

  This had set his mother off wailing, which didn’t stop until she went into one of her trances. That one had lasted weeks, and Tabor began to fear he’d lost his mother as well.

  In the end, Tabor had brought his mother back to consciousness one evening when they sat together in front of their fire eating dinner. Tabor had to spoon-feed her, otherwise she wouldn’t have eaten at all. Lucinda chewed absently, staring into the fire.