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

by Tara West

  Leaning on her good arm, she pulled herself higher. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter? Of course it matters.”

  Tor heaved a groan. “Drasko was out of control. He needs to be taught restraint.”

  “I’m sure he’s learned his lesson.” Emotion threatened to choke her words. “I know he feels bad.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  “Then what is enough?” she asked, terrified of his answer.

  “He’s been banished for a year.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Are you fucking serious?”

  She ignored Raz’s clucking tongue. She had every right to be angry. What kind of chieftain would banish his son for an accident?

  “You might be favored by the Ancients,” Tor said, “but I am still your chieftain, and I will not tolerate your insolence.”

  “You banished my mate for a year!” She jerked forward, rage swirling through her brain like a whirlwind. “Your son!”

  “For injuring you and risking my grandson’s life.” His shoulders fell. “Believe me, I was as lenient as I could be. Drasko asked for a harsher punishment.”

  “But it was an accident.” Her voice faltered as realization soured her gut. Drasko wanted a harsher punishment? Why would he want a worse punishment than being separated from her for a year? Had he truly wanted to leave her?

  Tor looked at Raz. “Well?”

  The older woman patted Amara’s stomach. “She needs another week of rest.” The healer stood and hobbled out the door.

  “What I need is Drasko,” Amara huffed, sinking against the headboard, too choked up to say more.

  “You will heed the healer’s orders, and I don’t want to hear another word about Drasko.” He walked out.

  Amara wasn’t sure, but she thought she’d seen his eyes gloss over. Was he emotional over the banishment, too? If so, then why did he do it? He’d said he was lenient, but banishment for a year hardly seemed lenient to her.

  Amara blinked at the doorway, noticing for the first time that Skoll, Drasko’s birth father, was leaning against the frame. His dark glare made her feel like a shriveled up piece of meat under a heat lamp.

  “You have much to learn about the Amaroki.” The judgment in his voice made her want to crawl under the blankets. “I wish you’d stayed longer with your grandparents. They would’ve taught you a female is never to come between two protectors when they’re fighting.”

  She ignored the trembling in her limbs. “I was supposed to let them kill each other?”

  Skoll gave her a look that would have made an ordinary woman cower. “They wouldn’t have killed each other. They were letting off steam.”

  Is that what the Amaroki called ripping up trees and tipping over trucks? She looked away, unable to stand his judgment another moment. “Then this is all my fault,” she mumbled, toying with the fringe on the end of the quilt.

  Skoll didn’t answer her. He pushed off the doorframe and stomped down the hall.

  Amara covered her face, sobbing into her hand, heedless of the pain that shot through her shoulder and back. Dear Ancients, Drasko was gone, and it was all her fault.

  She didn’t hear Hakon come in. She released a shuddering breath when he took her in his arms, kissing her forehead. If anyone could help Drasko, it was Hakon. She placed a hand on his chest, looking at him through a watery gaze. “You have to convince your father to let Drasko come back.”

  Lines she hadn’t noticed before framed his mouth. “You need your rest, Amara.”

  “Are you listening to me?” she cried. What was wrong with him? Why wouldn’t he fight for his brother?

  He cupped her face, piercing her with eyes that sparkled with flecks of gold. “He can’t come back.”

  The cutting finality in Hakon’s words lodged a blade in her heart.

  “I can’t be without him for a year,” she said.

  “We have no choice.”

  She pushed him away. What was wrong with these wolves? Why was no one fighting for Drasko? “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye.”

  Hakon held up a tumbler of green liquid. “The healer wants you to drink this.”

  “What is it?” Were they trying to put her to sleep so she’d quit pestering them about Drasko? They couldn’t keep her comatose for the next year, and she would not stop fighting for him. Someone had to stand up for her mate.

  “Just drink it.” He shoved the drink in her face.

  “No. Don’t you know how stupid it is to send him away when the Stormwatchers are threatening us?”

  “My father is banishing the Stormwatchers to Romania.”

  “Seriously?” Aggravation threatened to crack her skull like an egg. “Why didn’t he tell Drasko that?” If Tor had told Drasko his intentions from the beginning, maybe they wouldn’t have fought, and then Drasko wouldn’t have been banished.

  “Drasko should’ve trusted him.”

  “Drasko’s been on edge since he returned from Romania.” Didn’t Tor see that? Amara knew her mates had not returned from the forest unchanged. They sulked around their home as if they were each followed by their own personal black clouds.

  “We all have,” he said. “It’s no excuse for his actions. Drasko’s not coming home, Amara. Arguing is pointless.” He thrust the glass under her nose again. “Now drink.”

  A litany of swear words poured from her mouth as she smacked the glass out of his hands. Hakon hollered as it flew across the room, spilling green goo all over the carpet.

  “Dammit, woman!” He stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

  Rolling over, she cried into her pillow, cursing her mates and their fathers for being so hardheaded, then cursing the Ancients for thrusting her into this strange and hostile world. Finally she cursed herself for the stupidity which had lead to Drasko’s banishment.

  The door opened, and she smelled Rone’s familiar scent. When he wrapped his arms around her, she turned into him, sending a silent thanks that she still had her gamma while she clung to his collar, soaking his flannel shirt with her tears.

  DRASKO SAID NOT A WORD as he looked out Johnson’s truck window, watching the trees pass in a blur. The government agent had been a trusted family friend for over thirty years. He remembered, growing up, the countless days his grandfather and then Tor would come home red-faced and angry over some scene another pack had made, and then Johnson showing up and putting the chieftains in good moods by cleaning up after them. In exchange, the American government had the loyalty of the Amaroki wolves, which included the service of every tracker from age eighteen to thirty-eight. Drasko had never known a tracker who’d been reluctant to serve his country. They’d all been proud to join the military, and they retired with full benefits and honors after leaving their country safer for future generations.

  Luc, the Army’s best tracker, was responsible for bringing thousands of terrorists to justice. Drasko had worked beside Hakon, earning enough money to help build their dream home. Drakso had supervised and helped with the construction, cutting down on labor costs. He’d installed the hot tub with help from Rone, and he’d also supplied the family with much of the meat in their freezer.

  After today, Drasko knew Luc would no longer admire or respect him. None of his brothers would, for he’d broken his marriage vows. He was supposed to be Amara’s protector, and instead he’d dislocated her shoulder and knocked her out.

  His father and brothers wouldn’t allow him to stay long enough to find out if Amara and the baby were okay. If he discovered he’d killed their son, he would take his own life.

  He closed his eyes and prayed to the Ancients they would survive. Then he asked them for their forgiveness, though he knew he didn’t deserve it. Forgiveness from his brothers would be harder won, if not impossible.

  Luc had driven him to Fairbanks and then handed him off to Johnson without so much as a goodbye. His only parting words had been to warn Drasko that the family was counting on him not to fuck up his job. Seeing the look of disgust
in Luc’s eyes nearly broke him. He hated himself for shaming his brothers almost as much as he despised himself for hurting Amara.

  “As soon as I get word, I’ll let you know how Amara and the baby are doing,” Johnson said, keeping his eyes on the road.

  Sometimes Drasko wondered if Johnson had a sixth sense. He seemed to know his needs. Then again, having worked with his tribe for so long, he’d become accustomed to the wolves’ way of thinking. Drasko couldn’t form the words to thank the agent, so he only nodded, closing his eyes before hot tears spilled. He also wanted to thank Johnson for arranging a place for him to stay in Anchorage and for helping him get his old job back. He knew his bosses wouldn’t be pleased to see him again, and this time he wouldn’t have Hakon at his back when he started trouble.

  But no, he couldn’t start trouble. He’d have to suck it up and take orders like the disgraced wolf he was, keeping just enough of his earnings to sustain himself while sending the rest home. A protector needed to stay with Amara, which meant Hakon had to forfeit his job as foreman. Their family would be forced to live on less, all because of Drasko’s stupid temper. He hadn’t been himself since returning from Romania, but that was no excuse.

  Fuck. Why did he have to lose his cool?

  None of his brothers had returned unchanged, and yet they’d bottled up their frustration and fears while Drasko let the demons win, unleashing a rage he’d never known.

  Worst of all was that his banishment could very well affect his pack’s status in the tribe. When it was time for his fathers to retire, would Hakon be trusted to lead as chieftain with Drasko as his main council advisor? Other packs wouldn’t trust Drasko to make calm, rational decisions. He might have sealed the fate for not only his own pack, but the fates of their unborn children. Just as the Stormwatchers had fallen from grace, so might the Thunderfoots, and it was all his fault.

  HAKON SLAMMED THE DENTED door of his father’s truck, sharing a dark look with Luc before training a glare on Aguk and Ranko Stormwatcher. The two disgruntled alphas waited for him and Luc on the front porch, clutching their beers like lifelines, smug smiles etched into their features. Hakon narrowed his eyes at the sight of two shotguns resting behind the Stormwatchers within reach. He carried one, too. Ignoring that pesky twitch above his lip, he laid his finger above the trigger.

  He hoped the Stormwatchers would give him a reason to shoot. He needed to let off steam after the incident with Drasko yesterday.

  He couldn’t wait to see the Stormwatcher’s faces when his father issued the eviction. When three other trucks, carrying the head and second alphas of each council member, pulled into the gravel drive, Hakon chuckled as the Stormwatcher’s faces fell.

  The remainder of the Stormwatcher family came outside, including Daniella and her gamma, each carrying a crying baby. Hakon felt pity for the children, though he knew they’d grow to be just like their fathers.

  As he took careful assessment of the place, Hakon realized their home hadn’t changed much since the Stormwatcher elders had died in a twin-engine plane crash eight years ago. No surprise that alcohol was suspected as the cause of the crash. Whoever purchased the Stormwatcher land would have a lot of repairs to make. Unlike them, Hakon took too much pride in his home to let it fall to ruin. Due to Drasko’s banishment, he’d have plenty of time to make needed repairs. He forced thoughts of his brother out of his mind. Thinking of Drasko only made him angry, and he needed a clear head in case the Stormwatchers caused trouble.

  Tor stepped forward and nailed an eviction notice to their porch post. “Aguk and Ranko Stormwatcher, this is your notice of eviction.” He clutched his hammer and widened his stance, leveling them with a challenging look. “The council has sentenced you to banishment from the tribe for malicious threats to your chieftain. You have three days to get your affairs in order and board a plane for Romania.”

  Just as Hakon had hoped, every Stormwatcher face fell, their eyes wide with shock.

  “You’ve got to be fucking joking,” Ranko boomed.

  Tor slapped his palm with the hammer. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  Aguk threw his beer into a barrel overflowing with empty bottles. “And when will we be allowed back?”

  Tor crossed his arms, his eyes and nose lengthening. “You won’t.”

  Daniella Stormwatcher swooned, falling on a bench, her crying infant tumbling into her gamma’s arms. He deftly juggled two wailing kids while also somehow keeping Daniella from slipping off the bench. Her alphas and tracker ignored them, their heated gazes focused on Tor.

  Aguk’s features hardened. “We’re not moving to Romania.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Tor said evenly. “No other tribe will take you.”

  “All this because of a silly prank?” Ranko paced the porch like a caged animal, the weathered floorboards squeaking with each step.

  “That was no prank. That was an act of war.”

  Aguk let out a low, sinister chuckle. “So instead of fighting us, you send us away like the cowards you are.”

  Tor laughed. “You’re fools to think you’d survive a battle with the Thunderfoots. Consider this banishment an act of mercy, for if you were to stay and fight, your mate would be forced to return to Romania as a widow with two sons.”

  Ranko said, “You’re way too sure of yourself, old man.”

  Tor threw down his hammer and shifted into his alpha form. Aguk and Ranko instantly shifted, too, their eyes bulging when Tor sprang up the steps, grabbed them by their necks, and lifted them off the ground, their bent heads flattening against the porch ceiling.

  Daniella screamed like a madwoman. “Please, please let them go!”

  Hakon and Luc aimed their weapons at the Stormwatchers, though Hakon knew he couldn’t shoot with Tor so close to them. If Tor needed him, Hakon would have to shift and fight them hand-to-hand, which was fine by him. He badly wanted to smash in their faces after all the trouble they’d caused. If it hadn’t been for them, Drasko might not have been banished, and Hakon’s heart wouldn’t be breaking with the loss of his brother.

  “Three days!” Tor bellowed. “Do I make myself clear?”

  They kicked and flailed. “Yes!”

  Hakon and Luc shared devious grins. Did those foolish drunks really think they could take on Thunderfoots?

  Tor released them and shoved them so hard the floorboards splintered. Aguk and Ranko shifted into human form, cowering on their asses with looks of shock.

  “We won’t be able to sell our land and cattle in three days.” Aguk barely choked out the words as he rubbed the red welts around his neck.

  “Then I will auction it off for you and wire you the money,” Tor said, still in protector form. “Either way, you’re getting on that plane. Any further aggression from you in the meantime will result in a harsher sentence.”

  Ranko blinked up at Tor. “What could be harsher than banishment?”

  Tor ripped a loose plank off the porch and snapped it in two. “Unless you want to leave a widow and two sons behind, you shouldn’t try and find out.”

  Daniella slipped off the bench to her knees and sobbed into her hands.

  Hakon didn’t feel an ounce of pity for her or any of the Stormwatchers. They had this coming. Besides, Hakon had his own family problems, thanks to Drasko’s temper. Even with the Stormwatchers gone, some other pack could step up to challenge the Thunderfoots. How could his brother have been so stupid, risking not only Amara and the baby’s lives, but the fate of their future generations? Hakon didn’t know if he could ever trust Drasko around Amara again. Even if he did learn to trust him, he was so angry and disappointed with his brother for the shame he’d brought to their family, he didn’t think he could ever forgive him.

  Chapter Ten

  Amara curled on the sofa with her small dogs, enjoying the fire’s warmth and a hot cup of cocoa while looking out the tall windows at the picturesque sunset. After only a few hours of daylight, the gloom was once again descending over the
ir snow-covered cabin, reminding her of the depression that had settled in her heart. Four long months had passed since Drasko was banished. To Amara, those four months had felt more like an eternity. How was she to survive eight more?

  Once she’d reached her final month of pregnancy, and she looked like an olive on a toothpick, the healer had limited her to bed rest and only a few small activities a day, making her life beyond dull. Though she’d tried to do more, Hakon had been a strict enforcer, making her lie around the house with nothing much to do but long for Drasko.

  She smiled at her swollen belly as the baby stretched, trying to poke his way out of her tummy with either an elbow or a foot. It was hard to tell, as the baby was constantly moving. Her little pup had only two more weeks to go, and then she’d finally get to hold him in her arms. After the Goddess had shown Amara her future, she already knew the baby would have her eyes. She hoped he’d inherit his father’s strength of character and even temper but not his stubbornness. Please, Ancients, not his stubbornness. She loved and admired her big, strong alpha, but his unwillingness to speak Drasko’s name was driving her mad. She’d tried to talk to Hakon about his brother numerous times, but he’d waved her away with a growl. Luc’s response was even worse. He avoided her, putting more and more distance between them.

  If only Hakon and Luc could see how sorry Drasko was, they’d have a change of heart. She knew exactly how much Drasko regretted losing his cool, for each night her baby took her to his room, where she’d bend over him and kiss his cheek. Even though she was only there in spirit form, and she couldn’t physically touch him, seeing him brought her some comfort. If only he could see her, too, she’d tell him how sorry she was for jumping between him and Tor. None of this would’ve happened if Amara had just stayed put. Why didn’t she follow Mihaela and Tatiana’s lead? Why had she risked her life and the baby’s by jumping between two beasts who were strong enough to rip trees out of the ground? If her mates never forgave their brother, Amara would carry that guilt with her forever.