Longing for Her Wolves: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Hungry for Her Wolves Book 2)

by Tara West

  “I’m sure you can arrange transportation,” Skoll said with a smirk. “You have many neighbors who work in the oil fields and drive to town.”

  Drasko knew finding help would be difficult, as the Stormwatchers had made enemies of just about every pack in their tribe. Between their drunken outbursts, and endless bickering over property lines and hunting rights, the Stormwatchers had few allies. Served them right. Maybe this sentence would humble them, though Drasko doubted it.

  “This is an outrage!” Ranko jerked free of his mate and stumbled to his feet, nearly falling flat on his face.

  Drasko’s nostrils flared as he smelled whiskey and stale breath wafting from the Stormwatchers. They were drunk at a tribal meeting? He and his brothers shared disgusted looks.

  And they think they are entitled to the chiefdom? Luc’s chuckle reverberated in Drasko’s skull.

  Hakon clucked his tongue, shaking his head. They are disgraces.

  And their mate is a first-rate bitchzilla, Amara added.

  Drasko and his brothers burst out laughing but were quickly silenced by a dark look from Skoll.

  “I agree.” Tor glared at the group like he was scolding a group of wayward toddlers. “I am outraged that you would run your chieftain and his pregnant daughter-in-law off the road.”

  “I told you it was an accident,” Aguk said, unable to maintain eye contact with Tor.

  Tor left the platform like a wolf tracking his prey, stopping in front of Aguk. “Look me in the eye and tell me it was an accident.”

  Aguk puffed up his chest. “It was an accident.”

  “You lie.” Tor jutted a finger in Aguk’s chest. “Two years no driving, and if you are caught behind the wheel, your vehicles will be confiscated. Next, I will take your land.”

  Daniella let out a strangled cry. “Don’t you have enough Stormwatcher land?”

  Daniella looked like a flower melting underneath the desert sun when Tor turned his scowl on her and then the rest of her pack. “One more word from any of you, and I’ll extend your sentence.” He held out his hand, waggling his fingers. “Your keys.”

  Aguk let out a low rumble as he backed away from his chieftain. “We’re supposed to leave our truck here?”

  Tor advanced on Aguk, backing him up against his chair. “We will have someone drive it home for you. You could use the walk. Maybe it will help sober you up.”

  Aguk shared scowls with his brothers. “We’re not drunk!”

  “Like hell you aren’t!” Tor bellowed. “Your keys.”

  Aguk fished them out of his pocket, grunting and groaning before tossing them on the floor.

  With a face screwed up tight, Tor pointed to the back of the hall. “Leave this meeting. You’re no longer welcome here.”

  “As you say, chieftain.” Aguk gave a tight smile, one that didn’t mask the coldness in his eyes. He bowed low, as if he was paying homage to a god.

  What kind of game was he playing?

  Drasko kept his eyes on the Stormwatchers as they made their way to the exit, some staggering more than others. Daniella swore at her mates in Romanian as she chased after them, clutching the baby tightly in her arms while a crying toddler trotted behind her.

  Rone snatched up the keys and handed them to their father. Tor pocketed them. “Thank you, son.”

  Drasko swore and the crowd jumped when the heavy double doors slammed with a bang. One of the Stormwatcher alphas had shifted into protector form to make a point, no doubt.

  An uneasy feeling snaked around Drasko’s spine. The trouble with the Stormwatchers was only just beginning.

  RONE STOOD CLOSE TO Amara, watching her eat and keeping an eye on the gathering hall exits. Normally, Rone would be gorging on food beside her, but he had more important matters on his mind. There was no telling if the Stormwatchers would return to cause trouble, and if they did, Rone and his brothers had to be ready. Luc had warned them the Stormwatchers wouldn’t fight fairly. If they returned tonight, they would be wielding guns, and angry drunk shifters with firearms were a lethal combination. Rone’s job was to shield Amara from the possibility of stray bullets while his brothers took them down.

  Amara happily chatted with other parents, receiving all kinds of new mother advice from young and old, blissfully unaware of the threat from the Stormwatchers, and Rone wanted to keep it that way. No use worrying their expectant mate. That kind of stress wasn’t good for the baby, and they’d put her through enough with their trip to Romania.

  Hoia Baciu had taken a toll on Rone and his brothers, too. Ever since they had returned, they’d been on edge, easily agitated and quick to temper. It didn’t help that their beautiful mate wouldn’t let them have sex with her. Rone had spent most of last night alternating between listening to Amara’s breathing while she slept and ignoring his massive boner. Over four more months of abstinence. Fuck, he would go insane. Correction: he’d go even more insane.

  How was life supposed to return to normal? How was he going to be a good mate to her when every time he closed his eyes, he heard the sibilant cries of demons taunting him? He could no longer be in the bathroom with her when she showered, admiring her beautiful silhouette through the glass, for fear her fingers would lengthen into claws and horns would sprout from her head and back.

  That demonic forest had robbed him of reason. He hadn’t left Hoia Baciu behind when he’d left Romania; the memories haunted his dreams. Even worse was the guilt he felt at leaving his mate’s fathers and the other wolves the task of guarding the forest day and night. And for what? The rare chance that the Devoras returned from the veil? They weren’t coming back. Though Rone no longer feared an attack from the Devoras, he was terrified about his future. What if this dark cloak of fear and depression wouldn’t go away? What if he could never look at his mate through a shower door again? What if the Haunted Forest had robbed him of all hope for a normal life?

  Chapter Nine

  Amara slumped in the padded leather seat, the forest passing by in a blur while Hakon drove them home. The mood of the cab was tense. Though her mates hadn’t spoken of the Stormwatchers since they’d gotten in the truck, she knew they were thinking about them, especially about the potential trouble they could cause. She was grateful Tor had kicked them out of the meeting and that she didn’t have to deal with them at the tribal potluck.

  She rested her head on Rone’s shoulder. She’d gorged on all kinds of food, including brisket, baked halibut, pickled vegetables, and delicious berry pies. She’d enjoyed meeting the rest of the tribe and feeling a sense of community and belonging she’d never felt before. Though most of the men were Alaska Natives, like her mates, many of the women came from all over the world. She’d had no idea there were so many shifter tribes.

  She entwined her fingers through Rone’s, hating how his limbs shook. Ever since he’d come back from Romania, he’d had bouts of tremors. What had that place done to him?

  Are you okay?

  Fine, he answered. Just tired.

  She knew it was a lie, but she didn’t want to press him. She feared it was too soon to force him to confront his demons. She took his hand and rested it on the slight swell of her belly, relieved when he broke into a wide grin.

  “I can feel the buzzing,” he said aloud.

  Luc rested a hand on the other side of her stomach. “It’s getting stronger each day.”

  “Yep,” she said, smiling to herself. She couldn’t wait to hold them all. Ironic, considering it was only a few months ago she’d refused to be her mates’ wolf-breeding machine.

  Luc brushed his lips across her ear. “Are you tired?”

  She moved closer to him, wishing he’d kiss her ear again, though she hated the torture of leaving her desire unfulfilled. “Exhausted. This baby drains me.”

  “Do you want a foot rub when we get home?” Rone asked her.

  She looked at her sweet, smiling gamma, whose hand still rested on her belly. He’d stopped shaking. Good. All she needed were distractions to
get his mind off the Haunted Forest. Too bad she couldn’t use sex, the most perfect distraction of all. This week had been nearly unbearable, being so close to four virile men and not able to find sexual release. “That would be wonderful,” she said, “but we’re not having sex.”

  “I know.” He patted her belly with a wink. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a jar of petroleum jelly.”

  Lucky him. She covered her mouth when a yawn overpowered her, going boneless as she slumped farther down the seat. Maybe she could take a power nap the rest of the ride home. She sure needed it. Unable to stay awake, she finally gave into her overwhelming fatigue and let her eyes fall shut.

  She was in her in-laws’ home, looking through what had once been the tall windows in their vaulted living room. Broken glass crunched under her feet as she turned a slow circle. A muddy boulder about twice as big as a basketball rested on an overturned recliner. Had someone thrown the boulder through the windows?

  As she approached the destruction, a putrid stench hit her like a brick to the head. Realization soured her gut. Matted clumps of blood and dirt clung to the bottom of a decomposing calf head, and maggots poured out of the severed cavity. Its bulging eyes stared at the ceiling.

  Her hands flew to her mouth as the contents of her stomach raced up her throat. With a scream, she flung herself forward and threw up on the floor of Hakon’s truck.

  Holy fuck!

  Hakon pulled over and then Rone opened the door and led her outside. He helped her kneel and held her hair while she vomited on the grass beside their house. She was vaguely aware of her dogs inside, barking wildly. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Go check the house,” she said to Luc.

  The tracker knelt beside her, a hand on her back. “I’m not leaving you like this, Amara.”

  She backed away the vomit, fighting the urge to throw up again. “The Stormwatchers,” she said. “They broke into your parents’ house. Make sure our place is okay.”

  Hakon and Luc left to check on the house.

  While they waited for them to return, Drasko paced in front of the truck and Rone sat beside Amara, rubbing her back. She leaned against him, her dizzy head in her hands, trying not to think of the stench of decomposing calf head. That poor animal, to have died in such a painful way and then to have his remains desecrated. Did the Stormwatchers have no compassion?

  “All clear,” Luc said as he returned, Hakon by his side.

  Hakon knelt beside Amara and put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure this wasn’t just a dream?”

  She vehemently shook her head, then regretted the movement as a new wave of dizziness overcame her. “I saw it. I smelled it. They threw a rotten calf head through the window.”

  Luc jumped to his feet. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  Everyone turned at the sound of a truck engine racing toward them.

  Luc’s nostrils flared. “It’s our fathers.”

  Tor’s truck barreled into the drive, flinging dust and gravel before coming to a screeching halt.

  “What is it?” Hakon asked as he jumped out.

  Amara held her hands up to Rone, who helped her stand. She leaned against him, and he draped an arm around her waist. Oh, how she wished the earth would stop spinning.

  Tor’s tanned cheeks were red with anger. “I need you boys to keep your mother and sister safe tonight,” he said through clenched teeth. “It’s the Stormwatchers,” Tor said as he helped a wan-faced Mihaela out of the truck. “We’re calling an emergency council meeting.”

  “Did they throw the calf head through your window?” Drasko asked.

  Tor’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  Drasko nodded at Amara. “She saw it.” Amara pressed into Rone.

  Tor gave her a long, dark look. “Yes they did.”

  Mihaela fanned her face, leaning against the side of the truck. “The stench was horrible!”

  “They’ve declared war,” Drasko said angrily. “We need to strike back now.”

  Amara’s heart thudded against her ribcage. She didn’t want them fighting. Though the Stormwatchers were just a bunch of drunks, what if they ambushed her mates with guns?

  “No.” Tor’s eyes turned as hard as steel. “I will not have a bloody battle on my hands. We will go through the council.”

  Drasko gawped at Tor. “They have dishonored our family.”

  Tor widened his stance, his face hardening. “And so they will be punished.”

  “With more sanctions?” Drasko snorted. “We will go after them.”

  “No!” Tor bellowed, his tanned face turning bright crimson. “You will stay here and look after the women. Your fathers will handle this.”

  Drasko paced like a caged animal, his feral golden eyes revealing the protector screaming to break free. “They will not heed your sanctions.”

  “Do not question my leadership.” Tor stormed over to Drasko, jutting a finger in his chest. “I know what’s best for this tribe.”

  “I’m not waiting for them to attack our house next.” Drasko stared Tor down with a look so fierce, Amara’s knees weakened. “They’ve almost killed Amara already. She’s not safe as long as they live.”

  “She will be safe. Back down!”

  “No!” Drasko shifted into his protector form with a roar.

  Tor shifted, too. They stared each other down while beating their chests like apes. Drasko shoved Tor, and he fell on the ground with an earth-shaking thud. Tor rose and barreled toward Drasko like an enraged bull. Drasko sidestepped Tor, and the giant ran into his truck, denting the door and tipping it on its side.

  Tatiana and Mihaela screamed, begging them to stop. The men swore at them, but nobody intervened. When Tor ripped a tree out of the ground, swinging it above his head, Amara knew she had to do something. She ran in front of Drasko as he was about to charge his father. Drasko’s meaty arm swung toward her, and the next thing she knew, she was flying through the air. She landed against Tor’s solid chest, she heard a snap, and then she slumped to the ground, pain shooting through her shoulder.

  Fuck!

  Screams echoed around her as she blinked up at two hairy faces with glowing yellow eyes.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered to no one in particular, clutching her elbow. “I’m okay.”

  “No you’re not.” Luc was beside her in an instant, cradling her head in his lap. “Your shoulder is dislocated.”

  Her right arm hung limply by her side. “Oh, that looks bad.”

  “Ancients, forgive me.” Drasko knelt in front of her as a naked human and stroked her face.

  “It’s not your fault,” she murmured. Why had she thought it was a good idea to jump between two fighting protectors?

  “Help me hold her while I reset it,” Luc said behind her to someone.

  “Let me help,” Drasko said, his eyes softening to a deep brown and misting with tears.

  “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she tried to reassure him, then cried out when Luc grabbed her arm, sending a jolt of pain through her.

  “Back the fuck away from her, Drasko,” Hakon rumbled, pushing his brother out of the way.

  “Hakon, it’s fine. He didn’t mean to hurt me.” She blinked back tears as shock was replaced by piercing pain.

  Panic seized her when Hakon held her down and Luc moved her arm. She screamed. “Let me go!”

  And then Luc lifted her arm, grinding the bones together. The pain was so intense, she didn’t know if she was going to vomit or pass out.

  “One, two, three,” Luc counted.

  An excruciating pop set her head spinning. She thought she heard Tatiana screaming. It took her a moment to register those screams were her own. She gaped up at Luc, in too much pain to speak, and then her world darkened.

  AMARA WOKE IN A DARK room, her head in a fog. She struggled to sit up with only one arm, as her other was bound to her chest. She winced at the pain shooting through her shoulder.

  She squinted in the low light and recognized the hand-carve
d pine nightstand by her bed and the door that led to the bathroom. She was in her private bedroom. Where were her mates? Then her memories slowly came back like the winding reel of an old movie: the dream about the calf head, Tor and Drasko fighting, Amara jumping between them and getting thrown by Drasko, and then Hakon telling Drasko to get away from her while Luc set her shoulder.

  She touched her stomach. She was relieved when she felt the familiar buzzing, protecting the baby in his magical barrier. She remembered Drasko asking the Ancients to forgive him, but Amara knew he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Why had she jumped between two angry protectors? That was stupid. Oh, well. Lesson learned. She hoped Drasko hadn’t been too hard on himself. She needed to let him know right away she didn’t blame him. She struggled to sit up once more and managed to slouch against the headboard, ignoring the pain as the hard knobs of wood dug into her shoulder.

  “Rone!” She called, knowing her gamma would come help her.

  She blinked and shielded her eyes when the lights switched on. Tor’s familiar broad-shouldered shadow filled the doorframe. “Where’s Drasko?”

  “Gone.”

  She flinched at the harshness of his reply. “Gone where?” she asked, frowning when he stood silent in the corner. A stooped shadow entered. “Raz?”

  The old woman grunted and laid a hand on her stomach.

  “The baby’s fine,” Amara told her. She winced when Raz pressed a tender spot on her head. Was that the source of the dizziness? While Raz felt her stomach, Amara touched the back of her head, surprised to find a knot the size of a golf ball.

  Raz’s eyes crinkled as she turned to Tor with a nod. “Mother is a little banged up, but baby is unharmed.”

  Amara felt like she’d been hit by a truck. No wonder Drasko had felt bad. “Where’s Drasko?” Amara asked Tor again.

  His thick brows lowered. “When a protector injures his mate, there must be consequences, especially if his mate is pregnant.”

  Consequences? “He didn’t mean to hurt me.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”