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

by C. D. Gorri

  Think about something else. He sat down on the rug in front of the crackling wood fire. Cat was here. In his cabin. He could hardly wrap his head around the fact.

  It was difficult for Tate to open up to others. That probably had a lot to do with his parents. His mother’s suicide and then his father’s abandoning him with the Macconwood Pack when he was just a kid did nothing for his self-esteem.

  Rafe was probably his best friend but nowadays, before that friendship, he was Tate’s Alpha. He had sworn loyalty and obedience to Rafe under the light of the full moon when he first took his position in the Wolf Guard.

  It was an honor to be chosen. Back in the day the Wolf Guard was an extension of the Alpha’s power. Not like traditional bodyguards, they did not protect the Alpha from physical harm though each of them would die for him if necessary.

  The Wolf Guard’s job was to protect the Pack with the same ferocity as their Alpha. They were his right hand, his advisors, his eyes and ears on the ground. Tate couldn’t believe that after all Rafe had done for him he was even considering the possibility of betraying him.

  How could he think of being with Cat? She was Rafe’s baby sister for God’s sake! She was totally off limits to him. But why did he get so crazy with jealousy that he wanted to scream when she had thought he was Liam back in her bathroom at the Manor?

  And why did the hair on the back of his neck stand up every time she walked into a room? Dammit, there was no denying it. He wanted her. Always. Focus on something else, man. The sound of the faucet turning off got his attention. She’d be finished soon and he had been dong what exactly the entire time she was in there?

  Great, dude. You’re just standing here with your dick in your hand. Blankets! I should get some blankets. Finally, a good idea. At least that way it would look like he was doing something with his time.

  He moved to the wooden chest that sat in front of the sofa and pulled out two throw blankets. They were thin, but soft. He knew they would suffice for them both. Their kind were naturally warm.

  He added a few logs to the fire and refilled their wine glasses. He didn’t worry that they would get drunk. That was near impossible for Werewolves. He wondered for a moment if he should douse the fire then shook it off.

  When he built the cabin he set the chimney very high so as to camouflage the smoke and not frighten the wildlife. He also set up several ancient Native American animal traps and alarms. If anything or anyone got too close, Tate would know.

  It seemed safe enough to leave the fire lit for now. The ones hunting Cat were not as skilled at tracking as he was. Even if he wasn’t a Werewolf, he would be able to tell by the simple fact that they didn’t follow the SUV back to where he had left it. If they had found it, an alarm would have sounded and he would have been notified via email or text.

  Still, he had to take this threat to Cat’s safety seriously. He couldn’t let anything happen to her. Not ever. She was Rafe’s sister. She was Pack. It was his duty.

  But that’s not why he felt as nervous as a high school kid. Or why he was having trouble sitting still. Was it too hot in there?

  Beads of perspiration formed on his brow. This was ridiculous. He was acting like a damned pup! He shook his head in disgust and ran his hand over his face.

  Forget this. Tate stripped off his t-shirt, yanking it over his head and sighing with relief when it was off. He looked at the crumbled up pile of cotton in his hand dumbly. With another disgusted grunt he tossed the damp garment across the floor.

  Alright, dude, chill out. He rubbed his hands through his short black hair making it stand on end. There was a time when it reached all the way down his back. But he cut it off years ago. He still missed the length of it though. Especially now.

  His heart was thumping steadily inside of his chest. His ears perked up. His sense of smell seemed heightened. He was ready. On edge. His Wolf closer to him than ever before on a night before the full moon. But why?

  He stood up and stretched his arms first, then his neck. He felt like a caged animal. Pacing the room was making it worse, but he simply could not sit still. What was talking her so long?

  His question was answered when she emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later in a cloud of steam. The combination of soap, shampoo, and Cat’s own fragrance made its way to his nostrils. And he breathed it in deep. Heat shot straight through his body. Tate stifled a growl. She smelled good.

  She walked down the hall toweling her hair dry as she went. Her gait was slow and questioning. Uncharacteristic for Cat. She usually knew exactly where she wanted to go. Never mind who or what was there first.

  When she entered a room, she took it over. She had this amazing power to make everyone go exactly where she wanted them. She wasn’t forceful or nasty, just determined and maybe a little arrogant. But in a good way. Just like a cat. When she entered a place, she owned it.

  Tate recalled times back at the Manor when the guys were all in the game room playing Xbox and hootin’ and hollerin’ over something or other and Cat would get home. She’d strut right in and regardless of who was sitting on her favorite side of the couch, she’d give them a look and bam. It was hers. Her whole attitude was like “thanks for keeping this warm for me.” It drove Rafe nuts, but not Tate. He thought she was awesome.

  So why was she taking her time in his tiny hallway? Duh me. Tate realized then that the way the way he was standing there was threatening. Not to a human maybe, but Cat was a Werewolf. And he was acting territorial.

  Crap! He sat down immediately. He was the more dominant out of the two of them, but still, he didn’t want her to be uneasy. His Wolf seemed to growl at his thoughtlessness. Chiding him for his bad manners.

  Cat nodded her thanks. And if that didn’t make Tate feel even more like a heel! It wasn’t her fault he was acting like a pup looking for a brawl.

  He knew he couldn’t find the right words to put her at ease, so he bit his tongue and waited for her to relax. Still and silent. Until she felt safe enough to sit down.

  He tried not to stare at her, but it was difficult. He watched from lowered eyelids as she moved with the quiet grace that was all Cat.

  Her golden hair was damp. Water droplets clung to the ends like diamonds in the firelight. Her eyes captivated him. They were a sharp pale blue that reminded him of the ice covered mountains he had seen once when Rafe sent him to Alaska on Pack business. They reflected the dancing flames coming from the fireplace and Tate felt his heartrate speed up.

  She smelled fresh and clean. Ivory soap and his shampoo. Some organic rosemary and lavender concoction he had gotten from Seff’s Witch. He liked the redheaded Sherry. When she gave him the soap she told him in what he was sure was only a half-joking voice that it kept the fleas off.

  At any rate, it smelled much, much better on Cat then it did on him. He took another whiff. Grrr. That time he couldn’t quiet the growl. She seemed to smell better with every breath he took.

  His gaze wandered lower. He stopped suddenly and his jeans felt a little too tight. She was wearing one of his white t-shirts from the pile of clean clothing he kept in the bathroom cabinet. And from what he could gather, nothing else. Tate’s mouth went dry.

  “I hope you don’t mind,” her voice was husky and deep. The sound of it interrupted the internal war he was having with self-control, but he gave her his attention. Allowing himself to look his fill as she spoke.

  “I, uh, borrowed your shirt,” Cat touched the collar and smiled. It was a shy smile. Maybe a little unsure. He’s have to fix that.

  “S’okay. It looks good on you, Cat,” he nodded to her glass questioning. She smiled her assent. Her teeth straight and white. Her ice blue eyes shining in the otherwise dimly lit room.

  Dazzling. She was dazzling, just like that. No make up, no fancy clothes, just her in his old cotton t-shirt. Real and clean and fresh and beautiful. Tate had never wanted anything so damn much in his entire life.

  “Thanks, Tate, you know, for everything, not
just the wine,” she moved to stand.

  “Forget it, really. Sit,” Tate wanted to smack himself on the forehead. She wasn’t a dog! Smooth, real smooth, dude.

  Still, she sat back down. He sincerely hoped it was not out of submission, but because she felt safe. He wondered if he should ask her if she’d be more comfortable in the other room, but just then she sat on the side of the rug opposite him and curled her long legs under her body.

  The hem of his t-shirt fell high on her thighs. When she sat like that it barely covered her at all. Any thoughts that she should go inside left his head. He grabbed the bottle and filled her wine.

  Her scent drifted into his nostrils with each movement she made. It was like breathing in a hearth. Warm and comforting, fresh like spring grass, tempting like the summer sun, and mysterious like the moon. He wanted to roll around in it until it touched every single inch of him.

  His Wolf seemed to stand at attention. Tate didn’t question the new closeness he was experiencing with his Wolf half, if anything it made him feel quicker, stronger, and more at peace. He knew it had something to do with the battle the Pack had fought in just before Christmas. Rafe had made an alliance with the young Wolf who was destined to free them all. Tate was glad to be on her side.

  He knew the fight wasn’t over yet to break the ancient curse that kept Werewolves torn apart until each full moon, but he could feel the effects of their winning even now. Clearly he heard his Wolf growl to him, I want her.

  The voice inside his mind was strong and absolutely certain. Tate was finding it more and more difficult to come up with excuses why he shouldn’t do what his Wolf wanted him to.

  “Is the Manor still on lock down?,” Cat managed to squeak out the question through tight lips. She seemed to have caught him off guard. His black eyes stared at her blankly. As if he needed a moment to remember the meaning of the words she had spoken aloud.

  “Um, yes. The Manor will be completely shut down from all outside access for at least forty-eight hours.”

  “Oh, soooo, what do we do? Just wait it out here?”

  “Yeah. About that, I am sorry, Cat, I know it’s not something more, you know-”

  “More what? You really don’t know me at all, do you, Tate? I guess Rafe’s annoying kid sister didn’t garner much attention from a brooding bad boy like you, huh?”

  “Bad boy? Brooding? Me?”

  “Yeah you! You were always so quiet and mysterious. I was loud and obnoxious. And always tagging along after you guys.”

  “It was no big deal. I mean you’re Rafe’s sister.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m me, you know. Not just Rafe’s sister. Anyway, I love this. The cabin, the woods-” You.

  “Really? You like log cabins?,” she didn’t know whether to sigh or punch him in that annoying, yet devastatingly sexy grin that he wore.

  One perfect eyebrow arched over eyes black as wet asphalt. His teeth were white and sharp as he grinned and ducked just out of reach of her fist.

  “Yes, you dope! Why is that so hard to believe? This place is great. In college I spent every spring break out camping, well, as long as it wasn’t a full moon,” Cat shifted on the rug. It was difficult keeping her bare bottom covered, but she had washed and rinsed out her panties during her bath and they were too wet to put on. She ran a hand through her hair.

  She knew she rambled when she felt anxious. She just couldn’t believe her ears. Did he really think she was such a priss? She was a Werewolf! Of course she loved the outdoors! And his cabin was absolutely beautiful!

  Besides, she had grown up in pretty stark conditions. Maybe Tate wasn’t as familiar with her home life as she had once thought. Her father’s position as Pack Alpha led many to believe that she grew up a spoiled princess.

  If only they knew the truth! Tate was around so much when she was a kid, that she took for granted that he knew all about Zev and his attitude towards his kids. Less is more. Never buy new what you can fix. Excess is evil. Idle hands, Catriona, are the Devil’s playthings!

  “Yeah, what did you do about that anyway? You never came home for a full moon run with the rest of us,” Tate’s voice replaced the sound of her father’s in her head. The last part wasn’t a question exactly. Cat wondered for a moment if that meant he had noticed her absence a bit more than he let on.

  CHAPTER 8

  It was true, Tate often wondered why Cat had shunned her home. Could it have been for a school girl crush? That seemed excessive and a bit conceited even to his ears.

  “Don’t you know why?” her voice held a bittersweet sadness that was almost painful to hear. He had to stop himself from interrupting her. He needed to hear what she had to say.

  He guessed that he was the initial cause for her hasty departure. She must have felt embarrassed. But after a month or two she had surely moved on. So why not come home?

  God, how he waited for a chance to explain himself! He wanted her to understand why he had stopped that night on the beach. But before he could, she was gone. Off to that all-girl college in North Jersey.

  He would have felt awkward visiting a place like that. Back then he was just a half-Lenape kid with no education, no money, no nothing. Her father would never have approved of him as a mate for his only daughter.

  Zev Maccon had been very strict with her. Heck, Tate would be too if he was her father. Cat was stunning, even as a child. And back then he was a nobody. By the time she left for college she was a damn knockout.

  Of course her father would want to protect her. Keep her innocent and coddled. He could see how that could get annoying. But why would she stay away from her home?

  “I was never really invited to come back home after I left for school,” she continued in that same melancholy tone of voice.

  “But why would you need an invitation?”

  “Zev made it pretty clear to me that I would not be welcome. You know how he was with women, Tate.”

  “How do you mean?,” confusion warred with anger as he listened to her. She sounded as if it was so obvious that her own father had not welcomed her into her own home. How could he have not seen that?

  “Do you remember seeing any women around the old place? How about on a run? Please, my father hated women. Especially females within the Pack. He never allowed them to run with the males. He never allowed them to do much besides get married and have pups,” her voice grew angry.

  Tate vaguely recalled the way it had been. He supposed Zev had been a throwback, but a lot of the older Wolves were. Rafe was working to change all that, make the Pack more progressive. But Tate knew that a lot of the Pack was still decades behind in women’s lib. Having the Alpha’s own sister work as a cop in town hadn’t gone over very well at first, but Rafe along with Tate and the other guard made sure that it was accepted and even applauded in some circles.

  Tate had to bite down on the surge of protective anger that welled up inside of him. He wanted to hurt Zev and anyone else who had caused her to feel that way, but before he could respond she continued.

  “Anyway, then Seff started dating Sherry in the middle of my first semester and she helped me find a small group of Wolves to run with. One was a sophomore and lived on campus with me. We set up sort of a college aged mini-Pack. We ran together, supported each other, I still keep in touch with some of them.”

  “Wow, I had no idea,” he really didn’t. Especially not about Zev. Heck, Tate had admired the old Wolf. He had after all taken him in and given him a home.

  “Yeah, well, I sorta missed home, but you knew my father. He was never one for messy emotions or public or private displays of affection,” in truth Cat had only missed Rafe and his friends. Tate especially.

  “I mean, my father was never really that doting wonderful TV sitcom kind of father, you know, and I mean to either of his children. But I missed being near my family and the ocean and the pine barrens around the Manor. That’s why I’m home now.”

  “I’ll admit, Cat, I was shocked that you disappeared like th
at and then you stayed away so long. I hoped for awhile that I would get a chance to explain.”

  “Really? I mean, come on, Tate, you of all people know why I left the way I did.”

  “I didn’t mean to run you out of your home, Catriona. I am so sorry if that’s how it seemed. I was only trying to protect you.”

  Cat’s blue eyes narrowed. Protect her? From what? She felt the sting of his rejection as sharply in her mind as if it had happened only moments ago.

  She had always pictured him making fun of that night. Of the silly little girl she used to be and how she threw herself at him. And yet right then he sounded almost remorseful.

  His expression was sincere, her wolf recognized the truth behind it. He seemed almost earnest. Cat found herself softening, but just at the last second she turned her eyes and stared at the firelight. She didn’t want to believe the tiny glimmer of hope that planted itself in her heart.

  “Look, you don’t have to do this, okay? We don’t have to talk about this. It’s ancient history. I’m over it,” she brushed a whisper of blonde hair off of her shoulders and continued her study of the fire. She watched as wood burned to cinder and ash.

  Was love like that? Like fire. It burned hot and bright for a while. Then it destroyed. It left nothing, but dust. Pitiful evidence that something had once raged so strongly in that place that nothing else could survive there.

  Was that what she was now? Had her young heart wasted itself on someone who didn’t love her back? Would she ever love again?

  Tate sat up a little straighter. His Wolf recognized the command in her voice and he wanted to challenge it. The man couldn’t help himself, he leaned in closer.

  She was too busy talking to recognize the change in his posture. He wasn’t really concerned with the subject matter, as long as she kept ignoring him. It was something about being over it? What she really meant was over him.

  He knew how to read between the lines, and yet, he got the impression she wasn’t telling the entire truth. She wasn’t lying exactly, but her scent and the rapid beating of her heart were not indicative of someone over anything.