And I'm going to make it up to Buck.
I'm going to leave her alone.
Do you hear that, Wolf? No female.
Shit. I strode up behind her and stopped two steps shy of that incredible tail sporting one long black braid that a man could grab onto to secure his little filly...
Gods. What a joke that I'd come along too late. What happened to useful irony? There's nothing useful in this situation that could teach valuable lessons to children in the future. Not a damned thing. But I'm not a fucking beast. "Ma'am?"
Her elbows paused jutting out from her sides.
Oh. Gods. Did I call her ma'am? She's surely ten years younger than I am.
She straightened her spine.
Here it comes. Another attack. I could use a swift kick in the teeth after sending Buck away.
She slowly turned.
Revealing her small pointed nose, two curved lips that begged for a whole lot of sucking, those big blue eyes. All laced with long black lashes. The kind of eyes a man could crawl into and wrap himself around.
"My name is Raven. I'd rather not be called ma'am." She studied me dead on, facing me, slipping slowly back into that upward chin tilt with her lips barely parted.
In awe? If I dared, I'd pull Wolf into my ears and listen to her heart. See if it thrashed. Hear her blood racing through her veins. Count the breaths she took while she gazed at me.
Oh, shit. I'm doing it again. "Raven." I nodded. "Buck has gone for reinforcements. I'm going to find Stag." To get the hell away from her. I tore my gaze from hers and scanned the barn, the tattered roof on the ruins of the old brick home from before the alien invasion that the tinker had turned into his moonshine still, the lush garden consuming the grounds between the still and the main house before creeping off to swallow two utility buildings.
Swallow. Now that's a thought with the way my groin ached like there wasn't a hair of room left in the Gods-be-damned crotch of my pants. It's best to think of something other than mouths and swallowing. Like the plan. "I'm sending Stag back to our outpost. But afterward, I can help you if you need my assistance." Assistance. Yes. I could use some of my own. I chanced looking back at her attentive stance.
Rather, waiting. She seemed to be waiting.
Some mysterious expression danced across her face.
A breeze kicked up and dislodged a long black strand of hair across her face from where it was curled behind her ear.
She nodded as if the obvious tickle awakened her from some spell she'd been under, swiped the hair behind her ear with a brush of long slender fingers, and turned back to her cart.
Hiding those delicate fingers from my view. Fingers she could use to…
Play, Wolf whined and started bouncing.
My cock lurched.
Wolf and his one-track mind. Hell, I'd better stay busy.
Chapter 2
The Shifter was like something out of one of those novels Thomas hoarded in his secret library. A hero. As tall as his brothers. No. A bit taller. But something about the way he carried himself just begged to be watched. Made me watch like a moth drawn to flame. Wasting time. Without a functioning gate and windmill, Bounders could swarm our homestead after nightfall and the garden would burn beneath the baking sun. Time isn't something I can waste. Time to make repairs.
But he's so gorgeous.
I had to force myself not to turn away from the cart when his shadow slipped away across the hard-packed earth. Force myself not to look and ponder the way his chest had to fill that loosely-fitting camouflage shirt covering his iron-hard muscle.
Digitized military-grade camouflage from before AEI. People traded most for it. Anything to blend in and disappear. Some Shifters wore the kind that had been originally designed for hunting with grassy blade-like or bark-type patches of muted earth tones. Not Colt. He must have worked with a doctor East of the Mississippi where Shifter clans are more militant and more likely to be drawn into service of Normal warlords. Where they wear uniforms.
Colt. Now, that's a name that makes me think of Buck. Buck, the younger, livelier brother, kicking up his heels every time our gate opened. Buck isn't menacing though. Doesn't make me stand in wonder like his brother who eases along, step-by-step, the force to contend with just in drawing breath while passing. How can anyone not stop and marvel at the way Colt's eyes glowed a werewolf gold in the shade of his bush hat?
Glowed like embers.
Ma'am!
I'm not a ma'am. He's older than I am! I stared down at the black smears of grease on my dirty knuckles, at my fingers curled around the cart's shiny silver handle.
Maybe I am a boring ma'am.
Why am I standing here? Just standing here in the baking sun? Thinking about him. Gods. Back to work before someone notices…Like Thomas. My uncle will never let me hear the end of my gaping at a man. Talk about a no-good waste of time. Or that I'd shown interest in one of the Shifters he tried to con into taking me back East.
Thomas and his brilliant ideas that will never happen!
Well, Colt is gorgeous.
A chill skittered down my spine.
Surely caused by my sense of logic trying to slap some sense into my foolhardy cells at the moment. Staring at enormous Shifters can't be good. How do you fight off a Wolf? And staring doesn't look intelligent by any means. I shook off the chill, stretched out my arm clutching the cart's long handle, leaned toward the gate's torn bent sheet metal, and heaved.
A twinge of pain knifed through my shoulder, down my upper arm.
Probably from the gun fight. No time for pain with Bounders and Parkers on the loose. I kept pulling.
The heavy cart creaked with reluctance like the pain spearing my arm.
Thankfully something helped me reach the gate. But the hardest task laid ahead. I'd have to cut a log away to reach the bolts anchoring the remnants of the sheet of metal in place, align the secondary gate Thomas kept ready inside the wall for emergencies like this, and weld a lock onto the new gate. Luckily, Thomas owned everything I needed to do the job. A chainsaw. Bio-fuel. Welding equipment. Except maybe time because nightfall is when the alien monsters come to call. The Bounders that eat human flesh.
Nobody can buy time.
****
Where is Stag? Using Wolf's eyes, I scanned the tall Indian corn stalks that thrust up higher than the compound's exterior log wall, searching for my little brother who's too large to hide. Yes. He's here. Somewhere. Lost in one of the most domesticated over-grown patches of civilization in The Wilderness. Everywhere I turned, something edible grew. High and low. Three rows of Indian corn encircled most of the homestead's inner length of fence. The vegetation from the stalks isn't deep enough to conceal a Shifter's heat though. Where is Stag?
A small motor ripped to life.
Loudly. Snarling. Like a chainsaw. And since Thomas is one-handed, Raven has to be behind the racket. That little female. With a chainsaw.
Protect, Wolf kicked into life.
But the motor's snarl abruptly died, for a second. Then ripped back to life.
And stopped again.
Something's wrong. Although Thomas said to leave her alone, I can't just stand here when she's obviously having trouble. By the time I cleared the brown corner of the barn, she was reaching for the chainsaw where she'd placed it near the base of the log surround next to the gate's twisted scraps. I stretched my stride.
She yanked the motor's starter though. The same annoying noise gurgled into a tirade. And she bent over, pointing the blade's chain at the base of the last log on the wall.
Why is she cutting the log?
She suddenly pulled back, killed the motor again, placed the black chainsaw on the ground, descended to sit cross-legged, and rubbed her shoulder.
Foolish little woman who won't ask for help. She must have hurt herself pulling that cart. Why didn't she accept Buck's assistance? After all, he's her mate. I knelt beside her so quietly she didn't notice until I touched her shoulder.
&n
bsp; Her small pointed nose snapped my direction. She locked those baby blues on me.
Big blue eyes that could lure a man off a cliff. I would have pushed her fingers out of the way but had enough sense to wait for her to move the enticing flesh of her hand so I could feel her shoulder to determine without the distraction of warm intoxicating female flesh. Just in case she'd done something to the joint that would require putting her arm in a sling. I don't need to be distracted…
Oh, hell. Like a man can lie to himself. I like touching her.
She just stared at me with that look she'd anchored on me before.
One of awe. Or maybe she couldn't believe I touched her? "Let me check your shoulder." I waited, my fingers on her black shirt.
She blinked and slipped her hand from the questionable spot, never diverting her steady gaze.
Play, Wolf whined.
Quiet. One growl, Wolf, and you'll wish you had a different owner. I slid my fingertips across the warm cotton of her t-shirt and over the firm resistance of her body.
Body is bad. Very bad. Good thing I'm only touching her shirt. I used my other set of fingers to gain a better grip around the shoulder of her small female frame.
A delicate grip. One with just enough pressure to knead the soft tissue over the round ball joint and feel for something out of place. The whole time, her gaze never wavered. Always watched me with that look. The one that set my pulse pounding and my teeth aching for flesh. We won't even talk about what's happening in my crotch.
Her body flinched beneath my fingers, her gaze flicking to my hold on her.
Soft tissue. I froze. "This is the shoulder the tranquilizer hit you in, right?"
Her body stiffened back in its original position, and she rolled that mesmerizing gaze of hers back to mine.
But something else was there now. A little crease between her straightened black eyebrows. A little furrow. An accusatory twinge in her eyes. I'd hurt her. I carefully opened my fingers and released that handful of dangerous female.
She reached a consolatory hand up to massage the spot I'd surrendered.
Like I was an ass. Hell. "I'm sorry, Raven. I didn't mean to hurt you." Well, that was a given. I couldn't ascertain her injuries without investigating them. "I don't feel any damage to the joint." But that doesn't matter. The ass will make it up to her. I grabbed the chainsaw's warm black plastic handle.
"It's alright. I can manage," she blurted.
One of her hands touched me this time. Pressed my sleeve against my upper arm with enough force to demand I stop and match her stare. But I'm not retreating like Buck. I'm the alpha. I gave her the look that asked really? The look Buck couldn't manage because he was too busy trying to talk his way out of things.
That funny little something in her eyes vanished where she sat, leaning toward me on both knees, leaving her with that same look of awe.
Good. Because I'll have to kick myself if she gets angry. Buck's the idiot. Not me.
Her hand slipped away from my arm.
Okay. We're in business. I just need to cut the log. She'll be back to working off her frustration. And hopefully, she won't look at me like I'm from outer space. Or whatever she's thinking. And right now, what she's thinking is the worst subject because Buck's got it in his head that she's his. And I'm going to stop thinking about that. Yes. "The log?" I nodded toward the log.
She nodded quickly.
"Just one?" Or the whole fence?
"Yes." Her lips moved in one sweet motion.
Matching my Gods-be-damned loin's acknowledging throb.
I'm so fucking screwed. A wise man would shift and howl for his brother's return. Oh yes. But knowing Buck, the Shifter had raced halfway home in his Wolfskin by now with every intention of returning as soon as possible. Who wouldn't with Raven sitting there, sunlight reflecting off the jet-black strands of her hair?
"It's anchored at the top and bottom," she almost whispered.
Seductively noting the log wouldn't fall if I severed its base. Maybe I should cut my own log though. Because Buck would be back to tend to his territory. Erecting his own palisade. Returning to ensure I'm good on my promise. Shit. I turned to the log and let the pull of the chainsaw gnawing on wood close to where the log met the hard-packed ground demand my attention.
Sawdust flew like a spray of clean-smelling powder.
Not nice enough, in retrospect, to stop the sun from baking sweat out of my lousy hide.
A few beads of tickling sweat managed to trail together and roll along the length of my spine while I hunched forward with the chainsaw rattling the bones in my arms. But the toothy chain finally busted clean of the log's backside.
The severed log didn't budge.
Attached to the top as noted. Fine. She can do whatever she wants. I'll just stay close and help with the heavy stuff.
****
Colt didn't shove me aside and take over like Buck tried to do every time he came to visit. And Buck came often. So often, Thomas would whine if Buck didn't come for supper twice a month and play chess with him. That's when I'd leave a roast on to cook and go about my business, hiding from Thomas' guest. Grant it, Buck is kind and tries to be helpful. But there's nothing worse than a man who won't let a woman do something because she might hurt herself. Or one that says something is man's work. I'd be confined to the lodge if Thomas had treated me that way. Oddly enough, after Colt played doctor and dealt with the chainsaw, he stepped back and nodded me forward.
Both times.
Stunned. I am beyond stunned but didn't give the towering man a moment to rethink his decision. I leapt to the cart, grabbed a wrench, and began removing the bolts locking the tattered metal sheeting of gate into place on the frame Thomas hid inside the double-sided wall he'd created to conceal the structure from all the people who ventured here to trade.
The double-sided wall ran down to two small privy-sized structures we used for storing tools on each side of the gateway. The exterior section of wall curled around those sheds, hiding the fact we also tucked a spare gate inside the double wall. The forethought led to easy replacement of the only thing that kept out almost everything. Walls kept people alive. I couldn't count the number of sunsets I sat perched upon the sheds' flat rooftops, watching alien Bounders lope from the surrounding forest while following human scent trails to our secured gate. I turned the uppermost bolt until it fell from the hole into my hand and thrust it into the front pocket of my blue jeans.
No pain in my shoulder. Oddly enough. But Thomas had to be miserable with his raw wound. And I don't want to have to worry about the Bounders tonight with all the Normal bodies piled across the meadow where the Shifters had dumped them while I was knocked out by the tranquilizer. The carcass' blood scent would certainly attract a horde of the alien scavengers. To Thomas and his bloody stump as well. Must fix the gate now. I slipped the second loosened bolt from the gate's upper end and knelt to work the two lower bolts free.
Still Colt waited quietly steps away, watching every crank I made of the wrench until I leaned into what was left of the frayed sheet's flat hard metal and tried to curl my fingers beneath the straight edge that had been hidden minutes before.
The muted tones of his camouflage pants blocked any view of the courtyard's broad hard-packed surface and the homestead's buildings before his fingers stabbed toward mine.
Pushing mine out of the way. Thrusting under the sheet metal.
Crazy. It's strange how the small amount of alien DNA makes his body more like the superheroes from the books in our library than like my untainted human DNA. But he is all human in appearance. Right down to the muscled abdomen inches from my profile. That's one glorious set of ribs stretching out what certainly is the most supple flesh on the planet. Tanned. Golden and alluring. I'm not looking. I won't look.
Metal screeched.
His fingers pried the metal off the gate's frame. "Step back out of the way," he rumbled.
Like delicious thunder not so far away. Promising rain when
the garden waited, parched. But we have a windmill and donkeys to keep the water pumping up from the aquifer. No need for thunder. No. I hopped away.
Unwise with the perfect view I had of his belted slim waist and the way his loose pants trailed on forever in a feeble attempt to disguise his thick muscled legs.
His muscled upper back and arms shimmied with finesse.
Beautifully. Painlessly. Lifting the tattered remnants of the gate off the hidden frame.
He pivoted ninety degrees and tossed the metal away from us, then swung back to lock a concerned gaze upon me, planting his knuckles on his hips.
Okay. I need to act instead of stare at his magnificence. Rather, think of things other than magnificence. "Thank you." I veered straight for the spare gate, slid it across the empty gateway, and studied the mangled mess on the other side of the opening.
Colt must not have cared. He leaned a shoulder against the log palisade and appeared to not find my focus interesting. All the better for me to do my job. And within minutes, I'd removed the other end of the gate from where it clung upright to the lock, moved the lock from the old frame back to the one for the spare gate, and engaged the new lock.
Now to check the heat on the fence around the berry patch. Then it's up to the windmill. I hurried to the cart, grabbed the fully-charged voltmeter Thomas kept attached to the generator, shoved the squeaking gate open two feet, and walked the ten feet to the cattle guard.
Past the blackberry patch along the hard-packed dirt entrance to our homestead. Both sides were flanked by barbwire covered thick five-foot log posts that encircled the entire palisade, holding up an equally menacing tangle of barbed wire that kept out nibbling wildlife and annoying Normals as well as Bounders. I suppose they're all wildlife.
Either way Thomas and I look at unwanted visitors, we always came to the same conclusion. A little electricity goes a long way. Keeping our donkeys walking the exercise wheel certainly was worth the grain to electrify the fence and make blackberry wine. Talk about a harvest. A harvest for a future…For my sanity. I'd lose my mind without a daily libation of wine. I touched the voltmeter to a strip of barbed wire.
Blackberry Wine Page 3
