Cat's Howl: A Macconwood Pack Novel (The Macconwood Pack Series Book 2)

by C. D. Gorri

Cat was glad to remove some of her layers. Especially her shoes. She scrunched her toes in the deep carpet that sat in front of the fire and purred in her throat. Boy oh boy, did it feel good!

  The round log walls were rustic and masculine, but the soft ivory furniture and the colorful throw rug made it warm and inviting. A Native American tapestry hung on one wall

  She listened to the sound of Tate’s efficient movements as he moved about the kitchen which was just off the living room. It was a really great room. Central to the floor plan. You could see and hear just about everything from there.

  She heard a popping sound and was surprised to see him come back with two stemless wine glasses and an expensive looking bottle of red wine. He handed her one of the half full glasses.

  “Here, this will warm you up.”

  “Thanks,” she accepted and was mortified at the pitch of her voice. Suddenly she was all throaty and sexy, like some late night DJ? Uh oh. She cleared her throat and took a sip.

  “So, um, did you contact Rafe yet?”

  “The Manor is on lockdown, but I managed to get him a message before they shut off communications.”

  “Hm. Did he reply?”

  “No,” he watched her form under his long, dark eyelashes and she was struck again by the sheer beauty of the man in front of her. No, you are not a kid anymore. No more stupid teen crushes. But no matter how many times she repeated that in her head she couldn’t stop her heart from beating a little bit faster as he sat down on the edge of the couch just next to her.

  She took another long sip from her glass and tried her best to ignore the six-foot three-inch man next to her. The wine was a dark red, the bouquet bold and the flavor rich, just the way she liked it. She smiled with her eyes closed and tilted her head back on the couch. Nothing like a little forced vacation, she thought as she sipped again.

  Tate went stone still as he watched that sexy little smile play on Cat’s oh so tempting lips. She was just an arm’s length away, her blonde head resting on his couch as she sat sipping his wine. The Wolf in him wanted to thump his chest and howl that he was a good provider, but the twenty-first century man remained immobile.

  A trace of red liquid stained her lips and Tate had to stop himself from leaning over and licking them clean. He felt his Wolf stir within. The full moon was close. He would know that regardless of whether Cat was near. It just made it all the more difficult to control his baser instincts.

  He turned away just as she opened her ice blue eyes. The color reminded him of who she was, a Maccon. Out of his reach. Too good for the likes of you, boy, his father’s voice echoed in his brain. He ground his teeth together and she sat up.

  “What’s wrong?,” Cat was confused. She thought for sure they would be safe now, but there he was anxious and riled up. He stood and stalked back to the kitchen with long angry steps.

  “Are you hungry?,” his question was curt, but she took no offense. She understood all to well that Werewolves were cranky when they were hungry.

  “Yeah. I could eat. Want some protein bars? I have a box in my backpack.”

  “Nah. We can do better than that. Take a look around if you want, I’ll be back in a bit,” he headed outside without his coat and shoes. Cat wanted to call after him, but she knew he needed neither. Tate was an excellent hunter.

  True to his word he returned less than half an hour later with a pair of plump rabbits. He cleaned and skinned them both within minutes. The meat was fresh and smelled marvelous as he basted them in small bits of dried garlic, thyme, parsley, and a can of petite diced tomatoes.

  He added a glass of the dark red wine they were drinking and set the cast iron Dutch oven to simmer on the stove. Cat watched him as he cooked. He moved with the skill of a practiced chef. Grace and confidence in every nuance of movement.

  She grew up with Werewolves. She was one herself, but no one had ever moved with the powerful beauty of the man in front of her. She wondered what he’d say if she called him beautiful. He’d probably scoff at her, but it was the truth. Her heart beat harder in her chest.

  “Hungry? It’ll be done soon,” he set a small egg timer to twenty minutes and nodded at her glass before refilling it.

  “I didn’t know you cooked,” Cat was mortified at her blasé statement, but she needed to try and calm the beating inside her chest.

  “Well, there’s a lot about me you don’t know.”

  “Yeah, right. Like what?”

  “Like this cabin, you didn’t know I built it. I also like to cook. I read non-fiction and biographies. And I weave.”

  “Weave? Like what? Hair?,” Cat nearly choked on her wine as she pictured him in a beauty salon. LOL.

  “No, you dope, tapestries. I met a woman, a Werewolf, when I was about twenty, she was older than she looked. A hundred and five she said. She was attending a Lenape Pow-wow at the Salem County Fairgrounds, anyway she, uh, taught me some things. One of them was how to weave.”

  “I bet she did. So what did she look like?,” Cat hurt a little to hear the whimsy in his voice, but she couldn’t begrudge him the past. She had no hold on him whatsoever. She bit down her jealousy and asked her question with genuine curiosity.

  “She was short, for a Werewolf. Long black hair that she kept in braids and she had dark brown eyes like mine,” Tate didn’t see the pain his words inflicted on Cat.

  The polar opposite of me, she thought to herself. Cat wiped her face and controlled the sob that was dying to come out. After all these years.

  Oblivious to her feelings, Tate walked past the fireplace to a closed door. He opened it and motioned her inside. Cat followed.

  “Wow,” she was surprised to see he was not kidding. There was a large wooden loom in the center of the small, well lit room. On it was an almost finished rug.

  “The colors. These are the colors of the Maccon crest. Gold, blue, white, and black.”

  “Yes. The colors of the Macconwood Pack. I thought it fitting.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Cat’s voice was soft and reverent. She had never seen anything like it. And to think he made it with his bare hands.

  She reached out tentatively to touch the unfinished cloth, but she pulled her hand back at the last minute. Fool. She had no business touching his things.

  “I’m sorry,” she began.

  “No, it’s okay, go ahead. I’m glad you like it,” Tate reached for her hand and gently tugged till she was touching the soft dyed wool. She smiled up at him, her heart in her eyes.

  She looked at their joined hands and she couldn’t help, but stare. His skin was darker than hers, but smooth and beautiful. Cat liked how they looked against each other. Light complimenting dark and vice versa.

  She moved to pull away only to find herself caught in his long fingers. When she looked up it was straight into his black eyes. He held hers for a moment before turning to stare at their joined hands.

  “Your skin is pale as milk and just as soft,” his voice sounded rough, but it was hypnotizing all the same.

  “Yours is darker, like bronze, and your skin is smooth,” she moved closer to him without meaning too. Their bodies seemed to bend towards each other. Another step, just one more inch…

  At the exact moment that they would have touched, the kitchen timer went off.

  CHAPTER 7

  “That’s the food,” Tate let go of Cat’s hand as if it were on fire.

  He couldn’t believe himself! What the heck was he doing anyway? Leave it alone, Tate. You’re no damned good for her. He wanted to put his fist through the wall.

  Maybe he could if he was amped up enough. But he doubted it. These were solid pine logs. He’d probably just damage them and his hands in the process. He was a Werewolf, not a wrecking ball. Best check on the food and get your hormones in check, pal!

  Cat almost shouted after him. She didn’t care about food right then. Heck, she just wanted to touch him. All of him. But she kept her mouth shut. She let him leave the room.

  She dropped
her head forward and put her hands on her knees. Her hair hung all the way over as she felt the blood rush to her face. She took a deep breath and shook her head. When she straightened again she exhaled slowly and tried to get her head together. You have goals, remember? Wolf Guard. Maybe even sheriff some day. Get your mind out of the gutter and just do your damn job.

  After her little pep talk, she listened to the sounds of Tate moving around in the kitchen. There sure was nothing sexier than a man who could cook. Cat sighed. She was hopeless.

  Oh well, down the hatch. She chugged the rest of her wine. If she was going to make it through the night without throwing herself at him, again, then she supposed she could do with a little liquid courage.

  However brief the sensations of intoxication were for Werewolves, the burning of the alcohol in her throat kept her mind off the man in the other room. She could almost see her blonde Wolf in her mind’s eye rolling her blue eyes at that statement.

  In truth, Cat was aware that the beast inside of her had claimed Tate years ago. Maybe even before that horrible night when he had rejected her. That was then. She swore her Wolf spoke to her again. But that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t the full moon yet.

  The sound of a lid slamming onto the floor and a muffled curse turned Cat’s attention to the kitchen.

  “Do you need an extra set of hands in there?”

  “Nah, I’m good,” Yeah, I could use your hands, I’ve got a couple of choice places for them too. Crap! Knock it off, Tate! He repeated it over and over in his head. The only thing was, he didn’t want to.

  Cat looked so good, and she smelled even better. Like honey and lemon and fresh air. He wanted to bury his nose inside every inch of her and just inhale. He wondered if she tasted as good as she smelled.

  “Shit!,” he grabbed the dishrag and ran towards the sink. Did he really just set it on fire? He turned the faucet on and closed his eyes when he heard her voice. Goddammit, Tate, just cook the food!

  “Is that fire?,” Cat came into the kitchen sniffing the air and almost laughed when she saw the burnt rag.

  “What the heck happened in here, master chef?”

  “Quiet or you get no food!”

  Cat inhaled. It smelled delicious. Her stomach growled, she was hungry. For more than just the rabbit.

  “I apologize, please, feed me and I’ll be good.”

  “Promise?”

  Cat nodded at their friendly banter, though to be honest it felt more like flirting. She went to the cupboard and set the table. She approved of his plain stoneware plates and stainless steel forks and knives.

  They were no nonsense. Strong, dependable, and sturdy. She liked that in her flatware. And her men.

  The rabbit was cooked to perfection. Cat sighed as she finished every last morsel on her plate. The meat was tender and flavorful.

  The perfect balance of herbs and spices tickled her tongue. It made her savor every bite. The Wolf inside her purred at the knowledge that her chosen mate had caught her meal and prepared it for her.

  “This is really good.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you like it.”

  “I can’t cook. I mean, I can order and I can heat up, but I can’t cook.”

  “Yeah, but I’ve seen you outshoot even the best snipers we have in the Pack.”

  “I guess,” Cat tried to force down the blush that heated up her cheeks. She couldn’t help it though. She was pleased he had noticed her skill with a gun.

  “You don’t have to guess. You outshot me at the last Pack competition and you tied with Seff. And he was a Ranger.”

  “I didn’t think anyone noticed.”

  “Rafe did.”

  “Yeah, well, my brother isn’t exactly one to give out compliments.”

  “That’s not his fault, Zev was a little hard on him. On both of you. I’m sorry I forget sometimes that you lived with him too.”

  “Yeah, well I wish I could forget.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Nothing,” she stood up with her dish and reached for his.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Please, I don’t mind. You cooked, I clean, fair is fair.”

  “Okay then, if you insist. You know, I can teach you some kitchen basics,” immediately Tate realized the innuendo behind his innocent statement.

  “Can you now?” Cat’s grin widened and she raised a blonde eyebrow.

  “I just meant, you know with the food-”

  “Uh huh, what else could you have meant?,” the innocence in her wide blue eyes made Tate think that perhaps he imagined the saucy flirt he had just seen behind her grin. Hmmm.

  “Uh, I’m just going to check the perimeter. I’ll be right back.”

  “Yup., I’ll be here,” Cat took her time washing the dishes. She carefully cleaned, dried, and put away everything they had used.

  His cabin was amazing. She poked inside drawers and closets while he was out. He kept it well stocked with the essentials. Everything had its own hand carved nook or space. She loved being able to explore it without him.

  It gave her access to pieces of his life she’d never be privy to. Cat rubbed her chest at the sudden pang she felt. Tate hadn’t exactly invited her here because he wanted to. He had no choice in the matter. It was his duty. Kinda took the joy out of exploring. Cat walked back into the living room with her head bowed a little.

  Okay, so you still got a thing for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Taciturn. Whatever, girl, grow out of it.

  It didn’t matter what she thought or how she ended up being there. Her heart did little flip flops when she recognized the sound of his foot steps as he walked back inside the cabin and locked the engraved front door behind him.

  “Cat?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s all clear, but I think we should sleep in the living room tonight. Just to be sure.”

  Cat’s mouth went dry. She watched him walk into the living room in his jeans and t-shirt and wondered what she should do next. His eyes glowed a little in the firelight.

  His hair, short now, was as dark as ever. She loved the look of it. Like a moonless midnight sky. Cat wanted to get up and run her fingers through it so badly that she sat on her hands.

  “Uh, bathroom?”

  “You mean the outhouse?”

  “Oh God, no!”

  “Well, there’s a pump and a bucket outside. You could, you know and I’ll toss it outside. Then I could get you a pail of water to rinse in-”

  “Are you freaking kidding me?” Cat could deal with no shower, but a girl had to pee before she went to sleep and she was so not peeing in a bucket with him there!

  “Yeah, actually I am,” Tate’s devilish grin had her heart doing flips in her chest. Still she could kill him for teasing her like that.

  “Nah, seriously though, the first thing I did when I found this spot was I dug a well. The second thing I did was install a septic tank,” Tate laughed as he spoke at the look on Cat’s face. Priceless.

  “I love the outdoors, but it’s the twenty-first century and bathrooms are no longer considered a luxury. It’s just down the hall.”

  “Hey, I think it’s awesome. I happen to like indoor plumbing.”

  He laughed out loud as she made her way down the hall with only the light from the fire to guide her. She could see just fine, but still Cat mumbled a few not nice things just loud enough for him to hear. He laughed even harder.

  She brought her cinnamon toothpaste with her into the bathroom. It’s okay, Cat, you can do this. It’s just one night. With Tate. Alone in the woods. She gulped a little too loudly.

  Seriously, Cat, no worries. He’s certainly not going to jump your bones. He doesn’t even want you here. Not really. He probably doesn’t even notice you’re here. She closed the door to the bathroom and exhaled. It was more spacious than she would have guessed.

  It was true that Tate’s taste for interior design bordered on the simple, but Cat approved wholeheartedly. Everything was neat and
had a certain rustic charm that she rather liked.

  If only he had given them a chance. They would have been great together. But that was all in the past. She was a different person now. Career oriented. She had no time for girlhood crushes. She smiled sadly and turned to look at herself in the large oval mirror.

  It was beautiful. Like something out of a fairy tale. It took up the entire wall. The edges were rough and unfinished, but that gave it a rustic charm. She could tell that it was very old and very heavy.

  She saw her ice blue eyes looking back at her from a frame of wavy blonde hair. The colors went from honey brown to platinum silver. People always envied her her hair, but she was used to it. She had good hair. She smiled politely when people asked her where she got it done and simply shook her head. It was all her.

  She continued her perusal in the mirror. Mirror, mirror, on the wall…hmm, yeah right, she thought to herself. She touched her cheeks and pushed back her hair. Her cheekbones were high, making her face a little angular maybe. But her skin was clear and creamy. Her lips soft and wide. Not too bad, she thought to herself. But not enough.

  It had been years since she allowed herself to dwell on how she appealed to men. That man in the other room in particular. God knew he never wasted any time thinking about her. She looked down and her mouth dropped open. Maybe she was wrong about that? Or maybe he was just a considerate host.

  On the navy blue tile counter top was a new toothbrush still in its wrapper, a hair brush, and new bar of Ivory soap still in its box. A fresh powder blue towel sat next to them. For her.

  Cat reached for the bar of soap before turning around. Hmmm, shower or bath. She couldn’t resist the latter. The old-fashioned claw foot bathtub sat across from a spacious shower stall tiled with the same small navy blue squares.

  She turned the faucet on and for a minute pictured herself sharing the large bath tub with Tate. There was certainly enough room for the two of them. Whoa, down girl…

  Tate tried not to listen to what was going on in his bathroom, but it was more difficult than he would have thought. After a few minutes, the sound of running water drowned out the other sounds that he found so distracting. Like Cat’s heartbeat, or the sound of her swallowing, her soft footsteps, her breath…