“Go to hell,” Sierra snapped. “Maybe you’ll find some more original material there.” Her dark eyes blazed with her irritation, and a fine line formed between her brows while she frowned at him. Poking the bear—or the wolf in this case—wasn’t in his best interest, but since she’d proven herself to be as prideful as he was, he didn’t believe for a second she’d dive into a care-and-share on why his comment pissed her off.
Ahead, a thick grove of oaks, birches, and sugar maples swarmed the horizon, a forest he’d raced through from early on and memorized every square inch of. His mother used to scruff him as a cub, dragging him back home from these woods when he’d run off. After her sunshine-and-steel presence had faded away due to ovarian cancer, none of the males in their family had quite recovered.
Dax slowed and pulled onto an unpaved turnoff, one the pack used. Shade devoured them in a heartbeat, from the overhang of the thick, lush oaks towering above the others. Being around here set his nerves at a constant simmer, and he wasn’t the only one. Sierra’s gaze burned holes into the back of his head.
Not like he’d go slinking in with his head bowed, but he needed her help and he needed her focused. As he settled into Park, he winked at her. “Maybe your wolf pups are scared to tangle with a strong woman, but darling, I’d devour you.” Heat flooded his voice.
Even though the intensity of her gaze hadn’t lessened, he didn’t miss the way her tongue glided over those fuck-me lips and how she shifted in her seat. Her copper skin didn’t betray a blush, but he’d hazard a guess other parts heated in response.
“Nice to know you’re focused,” she shot back, the sharpness from before leaving her tone.
His grin widened. “It’s what I’m known for. Now stop wasting all this time flirting with me. We’ve got a job to do.” Before she could respond, he hopped out of his truck and closed the door. A growl came from Sierra’s side as she slunk from her seat and slammed the car door shut with extra emphasis—enough to make the frame of his truck reverberate. The woman had a formidable temper, but most shifters did—especially other alphas.
“So we’re in enemy territory now, yes?” Sierra asked, striding past him toward the woods. “Meaning anyone we might encounter around here will view us as hostile?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a lazy salute as he kept pace. “We’re here to poke around and see if we overhear anything. If there’s unrest at my brother’s camp, we may be able to push at the dissenting ones rather than needing to bring things to the Tribe.”
“And rather than bringing your own pack for this highly dangerous mission, you’re trusting me?” she asked, stopping her tread to face him. “Unless this is a trap and you’re looking to eliminate competition.”
Dax let out a slow exhale. “I understand the distrust, so I’ll be clear with you—my motives in bringing you aren’t a hundred percent pure. If my pack shows up and we’re discovered, it’ll be an instant fight, no questions asked.”
Sierra nodded with her arms crossed in front of her and her shrewd eyes always analyzing. “It’s one thing fighting against your old pack members but another fighting a war on two fronts. Enough to make anyone hesitate. And you’re bringing the alpha of an outsider pack in a very clear statement,” she murmured, her brows lifting. “Clever move.”
Praise from her sank into his bones, giving him confidence he’d been missing. She had a way about her, a blunt honesty that didn’t trifle with false flattery or wasted words. Sierra fascinated him—that much he didn’t bother denying. Even though he flirted with her to get a rise, he had to admit he relished the idea of tangling with someone as powerful and gorgeous as the wolf alpha.
“Leave your clothes here,” he said, jerking a thumb near his car. “We’ll pick them up on our way out.” With the swiftness he expected, she shucked her clothes to the ground, and he followed suit. They continued walking until they reached the end of the unpaved road leading into the woods where amber rays of escaped sunlight glowed through the tree branches.
“Follow me,” he directed, letting the shift roll through him.
His skin rippled, the fur spreading over his skin and his canines dropping as he shifted into the mountain lion. Nature sprawled out more vibrantly than before, like when the Wizard of Oz changes from black and white to vibrant Technicolor. The wild part of him purred in contentment to pad through these woods again.
Just as fast, Sierra transformed into the sleek wolf he’d run with the other day. Her amber eyes glowed as she paced back and forth, waiting for him to lead the way. Her silver fur soaked in the shadows of the forest, dappled patterns splaying on her coat. Despite the normal distance the predators would keep, his cat didn’t find her wolf repulsive. She smelled like sunshine and cinnamon, a warm blend that caused his nostrils to flare.
He traveled down trails he had scampered with his brother so many years ago. Before their mom passed away and before his father’s aggressive, competitive nature fractured their relationship into pieces that couldn’t be glued back together. When they were kids, only the give of soft earth under their paws and the amber beams of the summer sun warming their fur mattered. Drew was a big brother he’d loved and looked up to once upon a time, and despite the damage between them, those memories always tangled his conviction.
These power games, the fierce battle for leadership, all while fresh dirt covered their father’s grave, cast a darker shade to these lands. A cool chill settled over him, even as he scanned the area for any sign of his old pack. Sierra kept pace with ease, the determined gaze on her wolf the same one that furrowed her brow when she spoke in an imperious, commanding tone. For all that he’d just met the woman, she’d made quite the mark in his mind.
Her ears pricked to attention at the same time he caught a faint rattling in the distance. He slowed to a trot, each step silent as they approached a sparser section of the woods. The oak trunks thinned, the sandstone and shale grew more frequent, and large patches of grass, moss, and stray leaves claimed the area. He’d spent his teenage years tossing back the bottles of Jack he stole from his dad and getting down and dirty with the females in the pack at the Cove, an old, well-used clearing.
He tilted his head to Sierra before glancing ahead, hoping she took the cue to stay a few paces behind. He didn’t want to get her injured in a surprise attack—better she approach once he established his presence. Sierra dipped her muzzle in response and slowed to a halt. Good. Time to investigate what idiot tromped through these woods with such a thunder even a human could catch his or her trail.
His heart thudded in his chest, not from fear, but the anticipation for a fight. The choking futility of his situation crawled under his skin in a real way, and while teasing Sierra helped him blow off a little steam, he had a lot more irritation to burn. Dax padded closer, careful to keep his scent off the breeze by prowling low to the ground. Voices drifted his way, a firm baritone and a light and soft female one, both of which he recognized.
“—needs to put on a stronger front,” hissed Rylie, one of the older females who’d abandoned him in favor of his brother.
“The Tribe’s taking notice,” the baritone replied, the voice belonging to his Uncle Aiden. Dax’s chest grew tight at the sound. Out of all the betrayals, that one hurt the worst. He and his father might have had a strained relationship at best, but Uncle Aiden had been the dad his own never was, the guy who taught him how to fight, to shift, and to think like a mountain lion. Except when the elders turned on Dax, Aiden had stepped aside out of respect to the old man.
“Andrew needs to bring Dax and the others in line before the disruption brings enforcers breathing down our neck, or worse, the Tribe to town. This whole situation could leave our pack and territory up for grabs.” Rylie paced back and forth, tall, lean, and with deeper bags under her eyes than Dax remembered. Uncle Aiden cast a long shadow along the mossy ground with his arms folded and his face grim.
“If Drew isn’t strong enough to hold these lands and smart enough to bri
ng the pack together, maybe we aligned ourselves with the wrong alpha,” he said. Dax let out a light huff of breath at the statement. A trickle of relief coursed through him—his uncle hadn’t lost faith in him after all. Sierra stalked beside him, so silent her presence barely registered.
Uncle Aiden’s nose twitched, and his eyes were flashing umber as he glanced in their direction. “I smell wolf.”
Dax’s muscles coiled as he readied to run.
Until a snarl sounded behind them.
He whipped around at the sound, his hackles rising and a roar of his own ripping through the air. A golden-furred mountain lion prowled their way, the silver eyes and couple of spots a clear indicator the newcomer was his old packmate, Ben. Sierra vibrated with her returning growl, her muscles tensed with coiled violence ready to unload.
Red steamed Dax’s vision, rage that flooded through his veins like the dose of adrenaline. He lunged for Ben, distracting him from Sierra. His old packmate didn’t hesitate, meeting him for the charge. Ben swiped a claw at his face, but he wove around the attempt, balancing on his pads for fast, quick motion. Dax pivoted, slamming his skull into Ben’s side with enough force to knock him back. His head rattled against the shifter’s ribcage right as a low snarl came from behind him from the uncle he’d fought a thousand times before. He whipped around to face the impending threat.
“We made a promise to Martin,” Rylie snarled at him, her claws pricking out. “His blood son should take the mantle, and you don’t qualify.”
Dax’s heart stilled. Despite the stagnant humidity, cold leeched through him at an alarming rate. He didn’t want to think about the complicated mess the fight for alpha had turned into. He didn’t want to think about the brother he’d once known so well. Most of all, he didn’t want to think about his fucking father and the secrets he’d taken with him to the grave.
Rylie’s human form disappeared, and in her place prowled a hulking mountain lion. Rylie’s coat was colored gray like ash, while Uncle Aiden towered over them, larger than most of the Silver Springs shifters. All three focused on him, smart enough to not tangle with the wolf intruder until they sussed out where she came from. Before he could pick a target, a thud to his side sent him tumbling. Ben leaped on top of him, those jaws snapping an inch from his throat.
The weight of the other cat should’ve kept him pinned, but Dax had maneuvered his way out of worse. He struck at the back of the closest leg weighing him down, his sharp claw slicing at the tendon. Ben yowled as he moved his weight to the other side. With the imbalance, Dax’s opening emerged. He shoved forward, pushing Ben over with a thud. Once he lunged free, bursting out onto the ground, Uncle Aiden appeared.
He rammed into Dax’s side, the force of the blow sending him flying. Dax tumbled to the ground, the air whooshing from his lungs as he found his grip, his claws sinking into the dirt. Not like he’d be able to catch a breath. Rylie closed the feet between them, pure murder glowing in those eyes.
Until a silver wolf met her midway, slamming right into her.
Rylie went tumbling. Sierra let out a snarl and darted toward him. Ben swiped at her, a lazy sort meant to dismiss, not maim—poor bastard, poking the beast. The wolf’s amber eyes glowed as she regarded her prey before he’d even realized the tornado he’d unleashed.
Dax seized the distraction, circling to face Uncle Aiden. Those dark eyes glared down on him as his uncle padded around, patient as he searched for the right opening. The man had the weight and the skill to take Dax out with one blow, and worse, he had taught him all the tricks he knew. His head throbbed, adrenaline pounding through him. Rylie already wobbled to her feet, and her gaze zoned in on him, wrath glowing in her eyes.
He lunged in, directing his head to the left. Uncle Aiden rose to respond, striking out as Dax collided with him. Right before Uncle Aiden sent him tumbling, he flexed his claws, sinking them into flesh. He focused on the grip before gravity took hold, and he rolled away to slam against the ground. His right leg tugged against the hold he had, the old fishing hook routine his uncle taught him so often before. He scrambled to unhook, his uncle letting out a loud rumble as Dax pushed himself from the ground on his front paws. A furry blur sailed overhead.
Rylie had pounced.
Her claws sank deep, biting past the fur and sinking into tissue. She raked down, scoring along his ribcage. Pain rolled through him in a fierce, stinging sweep, enraging him even more. Her claws descended again, but this time he was ready. Dax bashed his head against her front leg, sending her recoiling, but he didn’t step away. Instead, he lunged, his jaw clicking as his teeth snapped for her.
Uncle Aiden rammed into him from the side again.
Dax thudded against the ground, his breaths coming out in a hiss. Blood streamed from the cut, mingling with the loose dirt. He rose to his legs regardless. Rylie raced for him again, her front claws stained with his blood and promising to tear in for more. With him out of the way, the rest of the pack might rejoin under Drew’s rule. They could go to hell. He steadied himself, ready to surge ahead.
Until Sierra whipped into view, slamming into their way.
Rylie smashed into her, sending her tumbling to the ground. But the bitch was out for blood, and she lashed out with those claws, red staining Sierra’s pristine silver fur. Dax’s blood pounded through him in a furious pulse. Not thinking, not processing, he charged.
Before he landed, Uncle Aiden threw himself in the way, shoving Rylie off Sierra. Dax skidded to a halt in front of her, avoiding his uncle by an inch. A snarl ripped from Uncle Aiden’s lips as he bumped Rylie in the direction of the woods. Ben dipped his muzzle and took off, weaving past the trees. Rylie let out a low growl before she slunk away from Sierra, and Uncle Aiden followed, the three of them disappearing as fast as they’d arrived.
Sierra staggered to her feet, red trickling through her coat. The sight made Dax rage all over again, a fierce thud in his chest scrambling his senses. She nudged his neck, directing him to the path they’d come from. He dipped his head in agreement, and they took off.
Chapter Five
Sierra reached the car first, padding around to the passenger side before shifting back into human form. The second she did, she wished she’d remained in the stronger form since pain radiated all across her side from the cat bitch’s vicious gouges. She sucked in a deep breath, blood leaking from her wounds at a pace she didn’t like. Had to get something to stop up the flow.
The car door clicked open, and a second later a towel flew her way. She wrapped it around herself, pressing her hand against the oozing cut before she slipped into the passenger seat. Even though Dax had tossed their crumpled clothes in the back, she preferred to clean bloodstains off a towel than destroy yet another pair of jeans. Dax already settled into the driver’s seat, blood staining the leather. He turned on the ignition and glanced her way, his blue eyes scorching with concern.
“My place isn’t far from here. We’ll clean your wound there, and you can borrow some clothes,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. The guilt was a new look on him, one she didn’t quite like seeing.
“I’m not the only one dripping blood all over the seats,” she mentioned, keeping her palm pressed against the wound. The bloodstain spread across the tan towel she wore. Dax hadn’t bothered to drape himself in anything or even try to stop the bleeding from his scratches as he tore down the gravel path. Not like she minded the view—the coiled muscles, the lethal frame, and his lickable, sun-kissed skin fueled the reminder she hadn’t gotten laid in far too long.
His truck soared along the highway, pine and oak trees surrounding them on either side as they headed into the next town over, another half-mile strip of shops visible in the distance.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice gruff as his gaze focused on the road ahead. His jaw tightened at the same time his grip on the steering wheel did. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt back there. I shouldn’t have dragged you into this mess.”
“What’s this? Didn’
t think you feline types had apologies in you,” she responded, forcing a smile. “I didn’t expect this to be a skip through the meadow, and I’ve gotten my share of scratches before. Quit beating yourself up and make sure when I cash in my favor you’re in a position to help.”
He snorted, pressing harder on the gas as they whizzed past a beat-down pharmacy and the sort of dive bar promising stale, watery beer and stained wallpaper. “Are you actually being nice, Kanoska?” he teased, his gaze lighting up. “All the blood loss must be messing with your head.”
She shot him daggers, but his response didn’t stir her irritation as it had a mere day ago. Witnessing his serious side gave her a glimpse into his constant needling—all a distraction to keep his distance, and probably for sanity’s sake given his current situation. The highway shifted into narrower roads, the asphalt less taken care of as he turned onto a rambling side street, one degraded to gravel. The sun winked overhead, glancing over every chrome curve of his truck.
As they both lapsed into silence, she stole another glance. Despite his distracting body, she found herself staring at the light scruff along his angular chin, the thick brows furrowed in concentration, and the nick of a scar on his cheek. He had the long, sweeping lashes to place him in the “pretty” category, highlighting eyes that glowed blue when he shifted.
He turned down another side road, this one in the thick of the woods and not even making a pretense at civilization. His earlier words and the glint of interest in his eyes slithered down her spine, causing heat to flush through her despite the pain in her side. Her wound throbbed, but she’d received worse in her day. If she fainted over a couple of scratches, she’d lose any cred as an alpha. He wasn’t the only one who had pride to uphold.
At the end of an unpaved driveway lay a small cabin composed of flat, tan panels, wide windows, and a stone chimney rising in the back. A wide porch stretched across the front, strewn with a few wooden rocking chairs over the cherry-stained wood, and a couple of steps led to the door. He sprayed gravel as he pulled in to park before switching off the ignition. She didn’t miss the way his hand swung to the leaking scratches at his side as he slid out of the driver’s seat.
Tribal Spirit: Forged Alliances Page 4
