Anchor

by Jorrie Spencer

  Rory turned, but all he saw was a dead man, and he pulled a face of disgust at the sight. “The world’s better off without him.” He opened the door to Angus’s cage. “Dad, you’ve got to shift. I can guard you. I’m healthy and I’m armed.”

  Rory patted the rifle for good measure. Despite everything that had gone on, or because of it, it was time to shift to human. Angus wanted to walk out of the godawful cage first, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move.

  There were signals, long established, and Angus used them. Though it was difficult, he lifted his right paw, to Rory’s consternation, and gave it a slight seesaw motion, asking Rory to tell him where they were.

  “Jesus, Dad, quit hurting yourself. I don’t know exactly, it doesn’t really matter, but we’re on Red Hawk Lake. I think that asshole was planning to drown you or something.” Rory brought his hand to Angus’s head, making contact, encouraging Angus’s body to move to its human form. “I’ll guard you. Now, shift.”

  There was no way Angus could communicate to Rory that Mala had been here, had gone over to Davies to complete the werewolf’s death. Angus glanced over at the dead body one more time and, as if from a great distance, he heard her words, her thoughts.

  “Shift, Angus, shift.”

  Then: “I promise I will see you soon.”

  And Angus took her word for it, relaxed as far as he was able, and called to his human.

  He first became aware of cold metal under his cheek. Odd. His shoulder, too, lay on metal. His torso hurt like hell, but he could move. He blinked rapidly—always an indication he was human, in case the bare skin wasn’t indicator enough—and became deeply confused. What the fuck was he doing naked in a cage in the fucking winter?

  “Next time you come up with a plan, you don’t protect me.” Rory’s voice was rough with anger.

  Angus turned his head to meet Rory’s hard gaze and tried to remember what they were doing and why his son was furious. He went to pull himself forward.

  And failed, pain and weakness overwhelming him. “What the hell?”

  “Don’t move,” Rory commanded. “Those bones of yours have been shattered for more than an hour. They’re barely knitting themselves together despite the shift.”

  “Ah, fuck.” It all came back then. Pamela, they’d gone to rescue her and it had been a futile endeavor, a trap. She was dead; it hurt to remember that.

  Angus was supposed to be dead too, but his clever son had prevented this and Davies… Angus remembered the man had been trying to shift. He glanced into the corner of the upended van and the body was gone.

  “I threw him in the lake,” said Rory.

  “Was he dead?”

  Rory stared back at him in disbelief. But he, like any werewolf, understood the fear of wolves resurrecting themselves. Their bodies were more resourceful than most people could ever predict. “He sure as hell was. But if he survived my bullet, he won’t survive in freezing water.”

  “The other body?” Angus recalled there’d been a driver.

  “I’ll leave him for someone to find, on the chance he has family who’d be worried about him.”

  “We have to scrub ourselves off this van. I can’t be explaining our blood to the provincial government.”

  “I know. I called home. A team is coming to get us and clean up.”

  “Mala.” He hoped to hell she hadn’t gone into the freezing water with Davies. He hoped she was awake.

  Rory cocked his head. “Mala? She’s safe.”

  “She was here. She killed Davies.” Had she ever killed anyone before?

  His son looked dubious then started glowering again, and Angus braced himself for a lecture.

  “Don’t you ever come up with such a shitty plan that puts you in all the danger and keeps me safe.”

  “You’re the one who took a bullet to the shoulder and almost died.”

  “Bull. Shit. I was nowhere near death. And Davies could have just as likely killed you as not.”

  “Well, he didn’t, did he?” Unfortunately those last words came out through chattering teeth. Between the cold temperatures and his injuries, his shift’s heat production had flared and died more quickly than usual.

  “Don’t move.” Rory pointed a finger at him. He jumped out of the van and returned with a blanket from their car. He gently wrapped it around Angus, protecting him from the worst of the cold.

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s go home.”

  “We’re waiting for Teo who’s…” Rory checked his watch, “…twenty minutes out. He’s coming with a stretcher and an ambulance. If I carry you to the car, I’m going to break your pelvis again. And then I’ll have to answer to Teo, which I have no desire to do.”

  Angus considered protesting—they were leaving themselves vulnerable if a stranger came upon them. Except this was an out-of-the-way spot and he couldn’t face a second broken pelvis in one day.

  Rory’s expression softened. “Yeah, you’ll listen to me for once and we’ll wait.”

  “Is Mala coming?”

  For the first time that day, something like amusement crossed Rory’s face. “As a matter of fact, she is. Apparently Teo and Aileen could not convince her to stay back. They would have had to peel her off the side of the ambulance.”

  Angus smiled at the image.

  Rory raised one eyebrow. “Is there something you want to tell me about you two, Dad?”

  But Angus was too exhausted for explanations so he just said, “Not right now.”

  Epilogue

  Angus sat down to help Caleb with algebra. “You have some aptitude when it comes to math.”

  Caleb snorted and hunched over his work but he smelled…pleased. “I don’t hate it anymore.”

  “That’s progress.”

  The boy had filled out in the last two months. He was growing taller and broader, now that the shadow of his father had disappeared. Angus had wondered if Caleb would have mixed feelings about his father’s death—and who had caused it—but there were none. There had been no bond between father and son, only fear and hate.

  His mother, Shanna, was back in Caleb’s life though. They’d agreed to keep her son here, but she’d visited, and Caleb would be going to Chicago for the major holidays and part of the summer vacation. With Davies gone, Caleb and Shanna could build back up their relationship.

  Sally was another matter. She remained thin and withdrawn, close to friendless despite her being polite to everyone except Mala. The fact Sally didn’t want to leave Wolf Town had to be the extent of her progress for the moment. Though he’d arranged for Veronica to visit because the two had struck up an email friendship.

  And then there was Mala. The one non-wolf, not even wolf-related if the blood test was a true indication. There was a lot to learn about her, she had a lot to learn about herself, and yet, it was as if she’d always belonged here in Wolf Town. With Angus. Accepted by others. If nothing else, taking part in killing Davies had won Mala points with a lot of people.

  “Angus?”

  He pushed out all thoughts but those focused on Caleb and pointed out an arithmetic mistake.

  Then he went stock-still. Caleb glanced at him, concerned at the change in his demeanor. “You okay?”

  It had taken a few weeks for Angus to recover from Davies’s assault and ever since then, any twinge got Caleb worried.

  “It’s not that,” Angus assured Caleb. “It’s…”

  “Hi, Angus.” She sounded shy. This was the second time Mala had succeeded in finding him in her dreams when life was normal and he was down the hall. In her dreamworld it was apparently difficult to locate people who weren’t distressed. But he was distinct to her and she was learning to identify his marker.

  Whatever that was. She hadn’t been able to describe what she experienced in any but the most abstract of ways. Describing the process as akin to playing hide the thimble didn’t do much to increase Angus’s understanding.

  “It’s what?” Caleb asked.

  It felt o
dd, too private, to admit Mala was inside him. But they’d gone for transparency when it came to her abilities, in order to reassure the denizens of Wolf Town that she wouldn’t be entering them willy-nilly and without permission.

  “Mala.”

  Caleb’s eyes widened. Although given his past experience and how she’d saved him, he was one of those least disturbed by what Mala could accomplish.

  “Excuse me, okay?”

  Caleb nodded and Angus ruffled his hair before walking down the hall to the bedroom.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “Yes, but I can’t last long. You’re too happy, too calm, too well-adjusted.”

  He grinned. “I sound fantastic.”

  That shyness returned. “You are to me.”

  Angus softly opened the door to see Mala sleeping in their bed, one hand tucked under her cheek. “Do you see what I see?”

  Just like that she was gone from him, leaving an empty space inside. Her eyes flew open and, clearly disoriented, she stared at him standing in the doorway.

  “Shhh,” he said, going to her while she pushed up to sitting. She still seemed confused, so he gathered her up against him, nuzzling her neck.

  “Why do you do that?” she demanded, voice thick with sleep. “I’m practicing, like I’m supposed to, and you push me out.”

  “I didn’t push you out.”

  “I freaked out when I saw myself. I told you that would happen.”

  Angus felt a little sheepish. He’d have to do better next time, have more faith in her. “I worry if you’re okay when you’re not wholly in yourself.”

  She sat up straighter, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, opening herself to him so they could leisurely explore each other’s mouths. He sank one hand into her hair and curled another around her soft, warm hip.

  Then she pulled away. “You worry.” She shook her head. “You’re one to talk. I haven’t recovered from finding you in such pain in that upturned van. I brace myself every single time I find you. It’s one of the hardest things I do.”

  At her shiver, he ran a hand up and down her back. She’d been more traumatized by that event than him. She’d been with hurt, even dying, wolves before. But no one she’d known in real life and certainly not her lover. Only later had Teo described how frantic Mala had been that day.

  In truth, Angus feared for what the future would bring Mala, when the nightmares returned to her one day. She took it hard, understanding the truth about her dreams—that they were real.

  As if reading his mind, she declared, “I can handle it. Knowing I can truly help, it makes a difference.”

  At least with Davies dead and no known sociopathic wolves on the loose, it might be a while. She deserved that respite. “You’re right, you can. I believe in you.” He sighed, breathing in her scent. “Even if I’d like to be able to do it for you.”

  She mouthed his neck. “You like to do too much for too many people. For better or worse, this is my gift.” Then she added more softly, “And I’m grateful you let me practice on you.”

  He slipped a hand under her shirt. He’d been alone, sexually, for so long that he treasured every moment they could touch. And though she was human, she welcomed him fully.

  She went up on her knees so she was above him, and looked him straight in the eye. “Angus?”

  He traced a finger up her spine. “Yes?”

  “You’re the first one who is glad to have me…visit. Ever.”

  He simply smiled.

  “It’s kind of wonderful for me.”

  He rested both palms at her waist. “Don’t doubt how much I want you, Mala.” He could tell how much she wanted him, he didn’t have reason to entertain any doubts. But she managed to fill herself with insecurities and fears. Her years on her own had done damage to her self-confidence.

  “But that’s what I’m saying. When I was with you just now, you were happy to see me.” Her eyes got shiny. His Mala didn’t really cry, he’d learned that in their two months together, but she allowed herself this small sheen of tears.

  “Of course I was,” he said quietly before cradling her face and kissing both her eyes. “I love you and I’ll always be happy to see you.”

  She bit her lip, taking in his statement, and broke out in a smile. He could only describe her as radiant as she reached for him and buried her face in his neck, right where she belonged.

  About the Author

  Jorrie Spencer has written for more years than she can remember. Her latest writing passion is romance and shapeshifters. She lives with her husband and two children in Canada.

  To learn more about Jorrie Spencer please visit www.jorriespencer.com or send an email to Jorrie Spencer at jorriespencer@gmail.com.

  She also writes as Joely Skye (www.joelyskye.com).

  Look for these titles by Jorrie Spencer

  Now Available:

  Haven

  The Strength of the Pack

  The Strength of the Wolf

  Puma

  Selkie Island

  Gone without a trace…now danger tracks them to their one safe harbor.

  Selkie Island

  © 2009 Jorrie Spencer

  A hundred years ago, her mother’s plea gave Morag a second chance at life—but not as she knew it. Now she lives a mostly solitary life as a selkie, seal in winter, human in summer, barely aging while her family and friends pass away. As the lonely years become almost too heavy to bear, she clings to the memory of one intense summer affair with a young man who left her, as humans always do.

  Nine years have passed since Clay hitchhiked to the Maritimes, where he embarked on a memorable if short-lived affair with a mysterious woman. Their enchanted time together called him back a few months later—but she had disappeared. Now, wounded and desperate, Selkie Island is the only safe harbor he can dredge from his feverish haze of pain.

  When a strange boat plows onto the beach, Morag is curious—and shocked to discover her long-lost lover, unconscious and hurt. Nursing him back to health is the first thing on her mind…right after she convinces him she’s real.

  As real as the danger following in his wake…

  Warning: This title contains explicit, intoxicating sex on an island!

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Selkie Island:

  She turned in his embrace, wrapped her arms around his neck and spoke into his throat. “I’m not lonely now.”

  “Strangely enough, neither am I.”

  He cradled her face in his warm hands, kissed her eyelids, her nose, and she lost all patience and surged up against him to kiss him full on the mouth. Like he’d been waiting, he received her, pulling her closer, taking control of the kiss, welcoming her. There was a patience there in his touch that she didn’t remember and it made her feel treasured. It also made her feel crazy with need. Suddenly it was too much and she broke off the kiss, grabbed at her pants to pull them down.

  “I want you inside me.” She wanted everything he’d ever given her before and she wanted it immediately. Her heart was about to beat out of her chest and she needed him now after being deprived for so long.

  He helped her with her pants, more slowly than she liked, then allowed her to help with his. They kept their shirts on because it was cold and besides, she just wanted him there.

  He slid his hands down her thighs. “I’m not going anywhere, Morag. No need to rush.”

  Didn’t matter that he wasn’t going anywhere. There was need riding her. She rose on her knees, found him with her center and sank down on to him. As he entered, she felt like he opened her up, opened up everything, and her chest flushed with something old and new and powerful. She bowed her head and he curved his hand around the back of her head to steady her.

  She expected him to move but realized with his wound he might not be able to so she began to rise. His arm came around her ribs, immobilizing her against him.

  Lifting her head, she asked, “What?” Not the most coherent question and he answered by
nibbling at the side of her neck. Goose bumps ran over her skin.

  “Clay.” The demand in her voice, it didn’t seem to belong to her but she needed him to move now, otherwise she might scream, or burst into tears. A tremor ran through her.

  “Okay,” he said, whether in agreement or reassurance, she didn’t know, but he rose on his knees, lifting her and laying her on her back. “Look at me.” His demand now and she answered it by staring into his dark, almost-midnight gaze. His face was mostly in shadow but his eyes shone. “Won’t be long,” he warned, but she didn’t want it to be long, just now, and he moved.

  She moved with him and the years fell away, they were back to when they knew just how to please each other’s bodies, the rhythm their own and exactly what they needed as they rose and fell together. The tempo increased as something within her built, a pressure, a wave of intensity that crashed through her and she did scream. Upon her shore he fell, coming inside her, her longing sated by him, by Clay.

  She clung and he didn’t let go.

  He was careful not to let all his weight rest on her, though it took more effort than normal. But he didn’t want to move, to let go. Making love with Morag had been a homecoming of sorts when he hadn’t known he’d needed to come home to her. Not until she’d found him again.

  “You’re mine,” she whispered and he smiled into her hair. “For a little while,” she amended.

  “Longer than a little while.” Sleep was claiming him and his words were in danger of being slurred. “Let’s make this last longer than our first summer together, okay?” He slid to the side, maintaining full-body contact without smothering her with his weight.

  “Don’t go,” she said and he didn’t know if she meant he shouldn’t slide out of her or if he shouldn’t leave the island in the future.

  “I don’t want to go,” he managed before sleep took him.

  He woke hours later. The darkness was just beginning to lighten to gray so sunrise was approaching but still a ways off. Morag lay in his arms. A relief because he’d dreamed that she’d swum away, turning to light as he held her, the ocean rising to claim her. But here, now, her back was pressed to his chest, and he was hard against her beautiful ass. He palmed one cheek.