Lifting her hands above the water level to spread them out to either side, she motioned to the creek. “You already found the only place I run to,” she spat, the admission burning her chest. He’d invaded her privacy and her peace. “What is the point in trying to evade you further?”
He shrugged.
“So I can stroll back to the pack alone and let you catch hell for letting me escape twice?”
He narrowed his eyes, and she smiled. “Tempting, I admit. But I will make a deal with you,” she offered.
His laugh echoed around her, bouncing off the water and into her ears. “You’re in no position to offer me a deal, Little Wolf.” The nickname rankled. “Naked as you are, and by your own admission, with nowhere left to run to, I am in a position to call all the shots.”
“Nevertheless, here are my terms,” she continued, ignoring his mocking laughter. “You turn your back and I will get out, get dressed and walk back with you, even let you spread word of my ‘attempted escape’ which you naturally foiled.” She smiled. He appeared interested all of a sudden. She had him.
“All this simply for turning my back?” he demanded, in disbelief. He threw his head back and emitted a loud barking laugh, motioning for her to halt her speech.
“Of course not!” she spat, thoroughly fed up with his sarcasm, and his laughter, which pulled at things low in her belly. She hated that he’d always had this effect on her. “You won’t speak to anyone of this place,” she demanded, infusing her voice with an authority she had no right to effect.
He did stop laughing then, and looked at her hard, seeing into her very soul, it seemed. “This place means much to you?” he wondered.
“Look, it’s getting chilly here. I’m getting out. Turn your back or no, I no longer care!” With that, Beth rose from her crouch in the water and strode for the rocks. She was a she-wolf. Weres did not suffer from self-consciousness. A large part of their lives were spent shimmering from one form to another, completely naked, and no doubt he’d seen what she had to offer many times before.
The cool air wrapped her damp skin in chilly arms, and she longed to stretch out on the rocks, warm up as she dried, and spend an hour in thought. The Guardian, who had in fact averted his eyes when she broke free of the water, made this impossible. She was angry with him for finding her, finding her place, her secret. She wanted to punish him and entertained the passing fancy of doing another Houdini, but knew he wouldn’t hesitate to inform her Den House of her secret place. She would do what was required to keep this secret.
She wouldn’t put it past her Den Father to station guards around here on the off chance she escaped her guard again. She would find peace nowhere. “Don’t look,” she warned him. “I don’t have anything to dry myself with, so I’m going to have to either air dry, or put clothes on while I’m still wet, and I don’t know about you, Gareth, but I don’t like wearing damp clothes.”
The use of his name was a mistake, she realized. It made the whole thing more intimate somehow. Maybe she’d suffer the damp clothes after all.
“I won’t look, Little Wolf,” he assured her.
The nickname still rankled – all the more because that pull came right back into her tummy when he called her by it. “Mind that you don’t!” she grated. She recognized the attraction for what it was – how could she not? He was very handsome in human or wolf-form. She’d seen his wolf-form at every Moon Feast, from the time she was old enough to join the hunt – sixteen human years – and noticed even back then that he was Alpha material.
But attraction or not, it made no difference. He would most likely rise in rank to replace Marcus, the old Alpha, and she would be purchased by a Den Father for one of his sons. It was so medieval she wanted to scream. But at least she knew she was a commodity that few could afford – being the only un-mated purebred female of the pack was a very good bargaining position. Unfortunately not a position she occupied. The Alpha would decide when and to whom she was mated. Besides, the attraction was probably due to her heat coming on, and nothing more. Her hormones were all over the place, to hear the Healer speak.
Obviously long silences didn’t bother Gareth, as she realized she’d been staring into her own mind for quite some time with no interruption. She gazed at the back of his head, where his black hair curled softly against the collar of his shirt, wishing he hadn’t found her. This was her place. She didn’t want to share it even for this day. Soon enough her Den Father would find someone else to put on Beth duty and she would have her creek back. But for now, she had to co-operate.
He seemed to be rather relaxed, leaning on his elbow, facing away from her, the sun warming his face. She wondered what occupied his thoughts. No doubt he was thinking of the admiration he would receive when the pack heard his tale of foiled escapism. She snorted.
“Something amusing you, Little Wolf?”
She briefly thought of asking him to use her real name, but nobody did that. The Alpha had christened her Little Wolf the morning he’d found her scrabbling in the dirt with only her dead brothers for company. So small and malnourished was she that nobody thought she’d even recover. And no matter how tall she grew, she was to be forever called, Little Wolf.
“I was just thinking of pushing you into the water, Gareth,” she answered with a grin. “Let’s see how you feel about damp clothing.”
“I wouldn’t do that, Little Wolf,” he informed her in a quiet but intense voice, the timbre intimate and touching on the attraction she was sure he could smell coming off her in waves. Quit it, she scolded herself. His head is quite big enough already!
“And why is that?”
“Well, how can I turn my back if I’m to scramble out of the pool?” She could hear the smile in his voice, and cursed herself for a fool. He did know. And he’d guessed at her discomfort at him seeing her naked because of it.
Only one cure for that, she told herself, and before she could change her mind, she stood up and strolled by him slowly, affording him the full view of her derriere as she sauntered. Face burning, she murmured to him as she walked by. “I’m already naked, I might as well shimmer,” and before he could object, she was in wolf-form, trotting in the opposite direction. Screw it; she had other clothes at home.
“Exasperating little wolf!” he called to her retreating form, scrambling to a standing position he took off after her, laughing and cursing. He paused to snatch up her clothing and trainers, cradling them in the crooks of his tanned arms.
CHAPTER TWO
“You gave your guard the slip again, I hear,” David said by way of greeting. He shook his head, charcoal hair swaying about his shoulders, blue eyes twinkling. “You really have to stop this at some point, Little Wolf. It’s time you grew up and accepted that you’re part of this pack and you must live by pack law.” Her Den Father handed over her small pile of clothing with a grimace.
“I know. I do. Just, sometimes everything becomes too much for me, you know. I need to escape.” Eyes downcast to hide her surprise, she gave him the standard answer, taking the proffered items. David was the only one who knew her reasons for taking off as she did, but not where she went. No, only Gareth knew that. At least, it had been only him who had known earlier. But as he’d been found out in being left in the dust by her, she had to wonder what else he had told her Den Father. “How did you find out?”
The scraping of a chair across the floor was her only answer and she sighed. They never told her anything. She was forever to be an outsider. “Tell me, Den Father, what use is it to accept and live by pack law if I’m never to be truly pack?”
Her blunt question took him by surprise. His eyes immediately lifted to meet hers and they were wide with shock. “Of course you are pack!” he bellowed in his scratchy voice, wide shoulders tight, hands fisted. He was a large man, and quick to defend each and every member of the pack, no matter the transgression. This was why she loved him. He was ever her savior, the only ears that heard her sorrows. “Any who say different can answer
to me! And let it be known!”
Her Den Mother fidgeted by the stove, no doubt fearful of a violent outburst from her beloved mate. Werewolves weren’t exactly known for their peaceful dispositions. “No one says it, Den Father, but I know that they all think it. Nobody tells me anything, even when it concerns me!”
Frustrated, Beth sank into the chair beside her Den Father. She bit her lip to stop the dreadful sting in her eyes from forming tears. It wouldn’t do to cry. Werewolves don’t cry.
“Nobody tells you anything because you are still a juvenile, Little Wolf.” He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “It’s the bane of every un-mated wolf, girl. Until you are mated, you are not fully grown.” He put up a hand to forestall her complaint. “I know it’s not fair, and it’s far from modern thinking, but it’s pack law.”
Beth nodded, thinking that pack law was as outdated as the idea of Guardians these days, but she dared not say it aloud. David was unfailingly faithful to his black and white idea of pack law. She would not win that argument.
Silence reigned, interrupted only by the bubbling of the casserole cooking on the stove, and the shuffling of her Den Mother’s feet as she traipsed from one cupboard to another, locating spices and herbs, refusing to interfere. Her Den Mother didn’t like Beth much – not since Beth began participating in the Moon Feast with the other juveniles. She especially didn’t like it very much when Beth fought tooth and nail to secure a place in the hunting party. According to her Den Mother, hunting was a job for the males, and females had no place interfering. Females belonged in the home, preparing the catch and serving their mate.
Beth could remember a time when Bea was soft and gentle with her, but it was so long ago that it was only a hazy recollection. When Beth’s body had started to fill out as she approached womanhood, Bea had taken her affection back as if it were a bad purchase. Beth was capable of the one thing Bea longed for more than anything – birthing children.
She wondered how far away a confrontation with Bea was. Surely the woman would be glad to be rid of her to a mating ceremony, while Beth would fight it to the last second. It would not be a pretty argument and Beth was convinced there would be harsh truths spoken.
“Yes, Den Father,” she whispered, defeated for the moment. She’d spend an hour in her room before dinner and then go hunting for tomorrow’s meal with her Den Father. They’d caught a deer last evening. The best catch of any of the others. The thought warmed her. She loved to hunt.
“He admitted it, Little Wolf.” David caught up to her half-way up the stairs. “He came right to me and told me you’d disappeared on him, but he found you again and you apologized. I’m proud of you, Beth. Perhaps you’re not such a little wolf these days.”
He turned and trod back down, settling himself by the fire in the living room to read one of his books.
She almost collapsed on the stairs, so shocked was she. David had called her by her name. Her real name. The one nobody used anymore unless she was in dire trouble for some misdemeanor. It was the only thing her real mother had left her – a collar on her neck with her name and a symbol of her species. There had been three collars, one each for the cubs. Elisabeth, Joseph and Philip. She still had those collars in her dresser. A reminder of what leaving the pack would cost her.
Wait a minute...had he...he’d just...admitted she’d disappeared, for no reason at all? And cast her in a good light by telling her Den Father she’d apologized? Why? He could have just told everyone he was too skilled a Guardian to let her slip away. The glory and kudos he would have received were unimaginable. Finally, someone that could be trusted to keep an eye on her and not lose her. He would have gained a great deal of prestige.
She was not arrogant in her claim to be the swiftest wolf, the shimmer coming to her like a bird to flight, hard to track and impossible to catch. She was all these things. Perhaps she’d just met her match. Either way, Gareth had earned himself some of her trust, if nothing else, and, she thought, maybe that’s the why of it.
At least he hadn’t spilled her secret. The whys didn’t matter a scrap as long as he kept his mouth shut about her creek. The comforter was soft beneath her cheek as she curled up on her bed, the idea of a nap not unwelcome. A power nap before the hunt. Re-energizing and refreshing. Yes, she would nap. She ignored the part of her mind that was still thinking of Gareth’s laugh as she drifted off to sleep.
The night was cold. Her breath fogged in front of her as she panted in the undergrowth. The chase had been hard, but the boar had been worth it. Wild boars were dangerous, possessing a will and intelligence even the nature-blind humans recognized. He had fought ferociously and died slowly, the fight draining out of him grudgingly as Beth and David harried, attacked and retreated. Worn down and tired out, Beth leaped for its soft underbelly, providing the necessary distraction for David to latch on to its throat, snapping and tearing its windpipe.
He would make a fine meal tomorrow, she knew, reluctantly giving her Den Mother props for being a great cook. Maybe a spit roast in the clearing so others could join them? While they were eating the food she had helped to hunt and kill, the others forgot she was an outsider, if only for a precious hour, and Beth lived for those times. Merriment was had and stories told, affording the juveniles a rare chance to fully join in pack life.
Beth’s mind cast back to her first hunt. She’d begged for weeks after her first Moon Feast, eventually wearing her Den Father down enough so that he’d requested permission from the Alpha to take her on an official hunt. Before that, she’d still been in training with the other juvenile hunters, and she could still picture the look of envy on their faces when the Master of the Hunt had announced her training complete. She knew David had insisted, and she’d vowed never to make him regret it.
With age and experience comes caution. Being sixteen human years old, Beth had none of the above, but she had spirit and daring. Though a stag was a worthy opponent, and less dangerous than a boar, it could still gore and trample, and if you gave it a chance, it could kill you. Ending up with the tip of an antler stuck in her haunch wasn’t Beth’s idea of making David proud, but he’d laughed it off and told the story of his own first hunt, when he’d had to shimmer in the middle of a human car-park after he’d been doggedly chased and ripped open by a bear he’d mistakenly enraged. Some humans had found him, naked and bloody, and he’d barely managed to run off before a meat-wagon turned up to haul him off.
A soft yip alerted them to the presence of another wolf, and Beth turned toward the sound, her mind instantly recalling an embarrassing dream she’d had during her earlier nap. David growled lightly in welcome and nudged Beth with his cold nose. Fine!
She greeted the Guardian as was proper, by presenting her throat for his perusal, which he gazed at for longer than was proper, before playfully nipping at it and rubbing his head alongside her own. Strange, she thought, he’s never done that before.
The presentation of her throat was tradition, as he was higher in the pecking order than she, and therefore her life was forfeit if only he wished it. What was odd about the whole thing was his reaction. Guardians, along with any other member of the pack usually ignored the throat, preferring instead to growl a reply somewhere along the lines of “yeah, hey”.
She supposed in older times the wolves adhered more stringently to the rules of nature, but since packs had officially started taking in survivors, rather than killing them on sight, they’d softened somewhat. It was no bad thing, she decided – the sheer awkwardness she was feeling right now was not something she’d appreciate often.
David’s wolf face flicked from Beth to Gareth and back again, in question. Shrugging in wolf-form wasn’t easy, but Beth managed. She had no idea what Gareth was up to either. It was almost as if...no, it just wasn’t possible. He wasn’t interested in her – she’d definitely scent that in the air. More likely was that he wanted her to think he was, to confuse her and keep her docile.
The longer she thought about it, the more
concrete this reasoning seemed to her, so she decided that it was going to backfire badly for poor Gareth. Poor misled Gareth, thinking he could manipulate her into behaving. He was about to be taught a very good lesson. Beth 101.
Going for a run. David’s mind-voice. Stay with your Guardian, Little Wolf.
If she were in human-form she might have grinned. Oh goody, she thought, school’s in session the minute he’s gone.
In her own mind-voice she wished her Den Father a good run, and sauntered off. David would pick up the carcass of the boar on his way home. No other animal would touch it. Not with the scent of werewolf all over it. It was just such a shame she couldn’t saunter properly in her wolf-form.
With a frown, she watched the silent exchange between her Den Father and her Guardian, as their eyes met and locked for a slow, torturous moment. Eventually Gareth bent his muzzle in a nod, and perhaps a show of submission. David growled one last time and turned his massive wolf-form towards the deeper woods.
Time to teach this wolf a lesson, she told herself.
Gareth’s amazing black wolf-form followed her easily as she led them a merry dance through the woods, twisting around bushes and leaping over streams. For over an hour she let him keep pace with her before she let her legs really stretch. Now to lose the tail. If she could have giggled she would have, but in wolf-form it came out as a rumble deep in her belly. Gareth glanced at her, and his eyes twinkled in the light of the moon, a shadow surrounded by shadows. If you didn’t know he was there you’d never even notice him. She took off at full speed, ignoring Gareth’s warning bark, and soon lost him among the foliage and the trees. The moon shone upon her coat, and she wished for Gareth’s darkness.
She was a dark blond wolf, in keeping with her own hair color in human-form. Her silver eyes though, they were pure wolf whether she was in human-form or wolf. She’d noticed some of the un-mated males gazing at her eyes sometimes as if they were an anomaly, which she supposed they were. The only un-mated, purebred, female wolf, and just to mark her as even more of an outsider, she was the only one of her pack with silver eyes. God, that stuff got old fast!
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