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

by Tara West

  She vehemently shook her head, refusing to believe it. “Drasko won’t hurt me.”

  Ignoring Bunica’s command to keep the door closed, Tatiana threw it open and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Father, wait!”

  Chest heaving, Amara did her best to ignore the pain rolling through her as she clutched the doorframe. Her knees nearly buckled when she saw Skoll hovering over Drasko, his axe raised above his head. “Skoll!” she screamed. “Let me heal him.”

  Skoll stopped midair, just as he was about to cleave Drasko’s chest in two. He dropped the axe and dragged Drasko toward the house.

  Drasko protested, kicking and screaming. “Kill me, Father! Don’t let me near her!”

  Anton jumped in front of them, the fur on his neck rising as he snarled and snapped at Skoll.

  Amara moved onto the porch, grabbing onto Tatiana when she nearly slid off the slick steps. “Anton, let them pass!” she pleaded. “Drasko won’t hurt me.” But her bunic refused to move.

  She stumbled down the stairs, not caring that the snow stung her bare feet. All that mattered was saving Drasko. “Anton,” she said again. “Move aside. The longer we wait, the less chance I have of healing him. Please!”

  Anton retreated, his ears flattening against his skull.

  Amara did not look at the demonic corpses that surrounded them, her vision tunneled on Drasko. She fell on her knees beside him, grunting as pain lanced through her back and abdomen.

  “Get away from me, Amara,” he growled, his voice deeper than before, the erratic rise and fall of his chest punctuating each choppy breath.

  Amara gasped when she saw a flash of red in Drasko’s eyes, but she refused to let him frighten her. He would not harm her. She could still feel his love for her, could feel his soul pining for her.

  “It’s his arm,” Skoll said while tears streamed over his wide snout and down his furry face.

  “Don’t touch me!” Drasko tried to roll away from her, but Skoll stopped him with his big foot.

  “Let her try, son,” Skoll said. “Please.”

  She leaned over Drasko and grabbed his arm, which was unusually heavy, even for a giant protector, and stiff like a corpse, smelling like rotting firewood. She sucked in a hiss when the poison from his wound burned her hand. The fiery pain was intense, like demon burn. Ignoring the agony and fighting her instinct to pull away, she closed her eyes, letting healing magic flow through her and into Drasko.

  Ancient Goddess, she prayed, her heart thudding wildly in her ears, please give me the strength to heal him.

  The strength is already inside you, the wind whispered.

  Drasko hissed and growled, and she gritted her teeth, chest heaving as she summoned magic from a well deep in her heart.

  I can’t let you die, Drasko. I need you. I love you. If you love me, you will fight, she pleaded. Please come back to me.

  I will always be with you, he said weakly.

  Not enough! she hollered in his mind. Fight for us, Drasko. Fight!

  He tensed beneath her, his petrified skin yielding and opening to her magic. Her magic expanded, then exploded, flowing into him like a river bursting through a dam. Healing energy pulsed through her and into him, then pulsed back, easing the pain in her fingers. She held his arm for a long while, ignoring the burning pain in her frozen feet and the contractions that moved through her regularly.

  Time passed, how much she didn’t know.

  Exhausted and spent, her magic used up, she looked into her mate’s golden eyes. She released him, marveling at the sealed wound. Her hand bore no trace of demon burn.

  Drasko blinked, giving her a fanged smile as he traced her jaw with a thick finger. “My amazing, beautiful mate, how I’ve missed you.” His voice, though deep, no longer had the demonic tone.

  She burst into tears of joy and relief. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  Another contraction gripped her so fiercely, she fell onto him with a groan.

  He got up and carried her to the porch steps.

  They were greeted by Bunica, wielding an axe. She pointed it at him. “Are you still a demon?”

  “No. Amara saved me.” He let out a hearty chuckle, one so rich and deep, her heart soared. The sweet sound of his laughter was a balm to her soul.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, her stress and fear melting away. The demons were dead, and Drasko was healed and holding her in his arms.

  Then she stilled, shocked when water burst from between her legs and soaked Drasko’s furry chest. “Oh, Drasko!” Her hand flew to her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

  He laughed harder.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Amara rested in Drasko’s strong embrace, cradling her sweet little babe to her breast. She dabbed a drop of milk from his lips and kissed his forehead, her heart so full of love, it felt near to bursting.

  They tensed when they heard truck engines. She sighed when he slipped out from behind her, instantly missing his warmth as he looked out the window beside Tatiana.

  “Our families are here,” he said.

  She stayed where she was, too sore to stand just yet. “Hakon, Luc, and Rone?”

  Tatiana grinned at her. “All here, and so are my mates!” She quickly combed her fingers through her hair and pinched her cheeks.

  Amara had to laugh. She couldn’t imagine what she looked like after her ordeal. Actually, everyone was a mess. Skoll and Drasko were covered in bruises and cuts. They wore borrowed Stormwatcher clothes, and Tatiana had on some ugly blue robe dotted with ducks.

  “Do you see my mates?” Daniella asked as she sat up, rubbing her eyes.

  She and her babies had finally cried themselves to sleep on a mattress Anton had dragged into the living room. Her heart hurt for Daniella, even though she knew the woman didn’t deserve any pity.

  Tatiana frowned. “No, I don’t see them.”

  Daniella’s hopeful expression turned sad.

  Drasko threw open the front door and waved the men inside. She heard them swearing and realized they must’ve found what was left of the werewolves.

  Daniella’s alpha father, Atan, was the first one inside. When he spotted her and the children in a corner of the room, he stumbled to his knees beside them. “Oh, thank the Ancients!” He held her.

  She heaved a blubbery sob. “Ranko!”

  “I know, fiică.” He stroked her hair. “I saw him.”

  She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “Where are the rest of my mates?”

  “They were chased by hunters.”

  “Did they survive?”

  “I’m not sure.” He glanced at his brothers. They shared a look of understanding and walked out the door. “I’m sending a search party out now.” He stroked her hair, kissing the tip of her nose. “Your safety was our number one priority.”

  She nodded, a visible knot working down her throat.

  Hakon stormed into the room next, looking ten shades of pissed off. He marched up to Drasko, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why are our women here?”

  “It’s my fault.” Tatiana said. “After Amara had a vision of the Devoras returning to their home and killing the children, I snuck out to warn Daniella and her mate. Everyone followed me.”

  Skoll paced the small room like a caged animal. ”We had no choice. It was too dangerous for Drasko and me to separate, and we couldn’t leave the women alone.”

  Hakon refused to look at Skoll, his eyes focused on Drasko like twin lasers. The twitch above his lip had returned. “Did you kill the werewolves outside?”

  Drasko pulled his shoulders back. “Father helped me. So did Anton.”

  “Drasko brought three of them down,” Skoll said grimly. “If it hadn’t been for him, we’d be dead.”

  Amara held her breath, a blade twisting in her chest as she watched her two alphas, the tension between them as thick as butter. Didn’t Hakon care that Drasko had saved them?

  Hakon looked from Amara and the baby
to Drasko, his gaze narrowing on the scar on Drasko’s arm. “You have a bite mark.”

  Drasko didn’t flinch as he continued to look into Hakon’s eyes. “I was bit, and Amara healed me.”

  “He’s not a threat, Hakon.” She fought to keep the anger out of her voice. After everything Drasko had been through, he deserved praise, not blame. She didn’t know if she could forgive Hakon if he was too stubborn to see that. “He’s healed. He tried to stop me from saving him. He begged Skoll to kill him.”

  Drasko stiffened, the thick veins in his neck going taut when Hakon continued to stare at him. “I didn’t want to take the chance.”

  Hakon’s silence as he stared Drasko down like a bull preparing to charge a red flag was unnerving. Her heart plummeted. Why was he acting this way?

  “You were going to give your life for me,” she said to Drasko.

  “And you risked your life for mine,” he mumbled in return. “Against my wishes.”

  Amara might’ve thought Drasko was angry at her but for the softness in his eyes. “I knew you wouldn’t hurt me.”

  Hakon said nothing as he stared down Drasko, his chest heaving and his upper lip twitching.

  “Would you like to hold your son?” Amara asked Hakon, hoping to shatter the wall of ice between them.

  After giving Drasko one last long look, he knelt beside Amara. “Give him to me,” he said gruffly.

  She set her sleeping son in his father’s arms.

  Hakon cradled the tiny babe as if he held a fragile flower in danger of losing its petals to the slightest breeze. A solitary tear slipped down his cheek. He tenderly kissed the baby’s forehead. “He should be named after Great-grandfather Hrod, who was born during a deadly storm.”

  Amara smiled. “I like that name.”

  “A fitting name,” Drasko agreed. “Hrod means ‘spirit walker’ in the ancient tongue. You have a fine son,” Drasko said to Hakon.

  Hakon looked at Drasko. “He’s our son, brother.” He stood and handed the baby to Drasko. “And he’s alive thanks to you.” Hakon clasped Drasko’s neck, leaning into him. “Thank you for saving our family,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

  Amara burst into tears, overwhelmed with relief and joy. Hakon knelt beside her, taking her in his arms. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.” He tenderly kissed her temple. “Our family is safe and whole once again.”

  AMARA ROLLED OVER IN bed and stretched. Rone rocked Hrod in his bassinet. She could hardly believe that only a day had passed since she and her family had almost been killed by werewolves. After everything that had transpired since then, it felt like a lifetime ago.

  Hakon had called Tor as soon as they’d returned to her bunics’ house, relaying the Devora attack to him and emphasizing Drasko’s bravery and willingness to die for his family. After he’d hung up, Hakon clasped Drasko in a firm hug, laughing. “You’ve received a full pardon.”

  They celebrated that night with a feast in Drasko’s honor, and then Amara slept like the dead, waking only to nurse. One of her mates was always with her, holding her and chasing away the nightmares. The images of those hideous creatures with demonic eyes replayed in her mind. She couldn’t help but think how different things would’ve turned out if it hadn’t been for Drasko’s bravery.

  Hakon wrapped his arm around her waist, pressing his hard angles into her. “Did you get a good sleep?”

  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, feeling groggy. “Somewhat.” She still ached from childbirth. It had seemed once Hrod knew danger had passed, he was anxious to get out. Bunica said wolves had fast deliveries, and she hadn’t been joking. Amara only wished Bunica had warned her about the pain.

  Hakon jumped out of bed at the sound of a loud honk below. He looked out the window, his upper lip pulling back in a feral snarl. “The Albescus are here.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What the hell do they want?”

  “A swift kick in the ass,” he said as he left the room.

  She hoped they weren’t here to start more trouble. She didn’t think her heart could withstand another tribal war.

  Determined to go downstairs and stop them, she placed a hand on her pelvis, summoning her healing strength.

  HAKON STOOD BESIDE Boris and Drasko, ready to fight should Bunic Klaus need him. Amara’s brothers, fathers, and grandfathers were there, too, though he didn’t think Chieftain Obren had come to do battle.

  Obren and his alpha son, Atan, stood beside an old station wagon that reminded Hakon of a hearse. If Obren had wanted a fight, he would’ve brought his entire family. Daniella Stormwatcher was inside the wagon, her swollen eyes turned down as she dabbed them with a tissue.

  “Obren,” Klaus asked, “what are you doing here?”

  Obren held out his hands, palms up, his stony features a mask of sorrow. “I’ve come to make a truce.”

  Klaus crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”

  Pain appeared in Obren’s features. “You’ve called my leadership into question more than once.”

  Klaus’s jaw hardened. “I have.”

  “You warned me to keep a longer watch on the veil,” Obren continued.

  “I did.”

  Sucking in a breath with an audible hiss, he said, “You were right, and because I was too foolish to listen, my granddaughter’s mates are dead.”

  The last Hakon heard was that the Albescus had found the Stormwatchers in a field with severe injuries. They’d been in wolf form when they were shot by angry villagers who’d mistaken them for the werewolves who’d slaughtered the human farmer and his family.

  “Were they all killed?” Klaus asked.

  “All but her gamma. He clings to life.”

  Klaus rubbed his bearded chin. “My condolences to your family.”

  “I’m not sorry,” Boris mumbled. “They tried to murder my sons.”

  I’m not sorry, either, Drasko projected to Hakon. But I do feel pity for their children.

  Me, too, Hakon answered, thinking of Hrod growing up without him or any of Hakon’s brothers, for that matter. A shudder coursed through him when he realized they’d almost lost Drasko. Hakon’s life had been depressing and empty during his brother’s banishment. He couldn’t imagine a lifetime without Drasko by his side. It took almost losing him for Hakon to realize how much he needed his best friend. He cursed himself for turning his back on his brave and loyal brother when Drasko had needed his support the most. He vowed never to doubt Drasko again.

  “Thank you.” Obren paused to compose himself, then grimaced. “Though we don’t deserve it. I’m thankful more lives weren’t lost.”

  “Agreed.” Klaus cleared his throat. “About this truce.”

  Obren let out another long breath, exchanging sullen looks with his son. “I’m willing to turn over the chiefdom to you and let your grandsons have their house back. I only ask one thing in return.”

  Collective murmurs rose throughout the crowd. Obren was willing to call a truce? But on what terms?

  Klaus gave him an assessing look. “What do you ask of us?”

  “That Amara heal my granddaughter’s last surviving mate.” Obren wiped his eyes. “If she loses him, I’m afraid we’ll lose her, too.” His voice cracked like fractured glass, before he turned his gaze down toward his feet.

  Drasko stiffened. Amara is still healing, Hakon.

  Hakon shook his head. “I’m sorry, no. Amara is still recovering from childbirth.”

  “I beg you to let her lay her hands on him.” Obren struck a prayer pose, falling to one knee. “We have brought him with us.”

  To see a chieftain brought so low was unsettling. Though Hakon tried to distance his emotions, he couldn’t help but feel a thread of pity coil around his heart. Hakon could only imagine the desperation and loathing Obren was feeling. Still, he wouldn’t risk Amara’s health for the Stormwatcher gamma.

  “I’ll heal him.”

  He turned at the sound of Amara’s lilting voice behind him. She was standing on the porch, wearing nothi
ng but a robe and slippers against the cold.

  “Amara,” Drasko protested, vaulting up the steps. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  She backed away from Drasko. “Bring him inside.”

  “Thank you, thank you!” Obren jumped up and ran to the back of his station wagon, helping Atan pull out a stretcher carrying the moaning Stormwatcher.

  Daniella trailed after them, repeatedly dabbing her leaky eyes.

  Drasko let out a low growl when Atan and Obren hurried past him. “Touch her and you’re dead.”

  Obren and Atan gave him wide-eyed looks and nodded.

  Hakon wrapped an arm around Drasko’s shoulders as they went inside. “I’m glad you’re back, brother.”

  “Me, too,” Drasko whispered back.

  THE WEEK FLEW BY QUICKLY. Amara knew her mates were anxious to get home, especially as it was getting harder to keep Tatiana and Amara’s brothers apart. She was grateful her mates had given her time to heal her fathers after guarding the veil for six long months. She couldn’t believe the heavy emotional burden they’d carried for so long. Lesser wolves would’ve gone insane. Luckily, they were strong, just like her mates. She’d even found time to work on her mates, and that twitch above Hakon’s lip had finally stopped.

  After a few of the local packs heard she’d healed the gamma Stormwatcher, they started coming to the door, bearing gifts and asking for her healing touch. She didn’t mind too much. After driving the werewolf demon out of Drasko, she seemed to have an infinite well of healing power.

  Amara was saddened to be leaving her family, and they were sad to see her and Hrod leave. Hakon had extended them an open invitation to visit them in Alaska, and they were already planning to come in the spring. Amara hoped they’d leave Katarina behind. She hadn’t bothered them since the night her sons had almost died. Hopefully, she’d learned her lesson.

  She looked over her shoulder when she heard Hrod’s cry from inside the house, her wolf senses restored after delivering him. Bunica and Anton had spoiled him rotten, refusing to set him down. He’d just been fed, so she assumed they were changing his diaper. He hated that more than bath time.