Ice Wolf: A Shifter Romance

by Jane Godman

  “Stubborn?” Jenny was outraged. “You mean stupid. Are we going there to scrape up the bits of his flesh from the pavement?”

  “I have more faith in Wilder’s abilities than that.”

  Jenny snorted. “That wolf was fucking huge.” She cast him a sidelong glance. “Sorry. That wolf was huge.”

  Gunnar waved his good hand. “You cannot offend me, Miss Piper.”

  “It’s just Jenny. Not Miss Piper.”

  He returned her smile and they completed the rest of the short drive in silence, listening to the news channel on the radio. The creature had disappeared and a search was underway. Earlier speculation suggested a mutant wolf, but it seemed more likely it was a young bear. Grizzly and black bears were seen occasionally in the hills around Fairbanks, although this was the first recorded sighting in the town itself. The mystery hero—Gunnar quirked a brow at Jenny—had also vanished into the night. A do-you-know-this-man appeal had gone out on social media and phone lines to the radio station were already going crazy with calls.

  The roads were quiet, until they got close to Wilder’s building where it resembled a war zone. The emergency services were out in force trying to secure the scene. Groups of people wandered around. Some were aimless, clearly shocked or injured, stumbling around like extras in a zombie show. Others were trying to get away. Yet more were just arriving, scared of missing the excitement. Many of these openly carried guns. Press crews were setting up, jostling for prime position and hampering the rescue effort. Overhead, helicopters cast their searchlights over the whole area.

  “It’s total chaos,” Jenny observed. “Like something out of a bad disaster movie.”

  “Pull over.” Gunnar nodded to a space. “We won’t get closer than this.”

  They left the car and walked the two blocks to the apartment building where Wilder lived. As they approached, a young police officer attempted to bar their way.

  “My son lives here.” Gunnar had the sort of authority that was unquestionable. He carried off the lie and, mumbling an apology, the officer stepped aside.

  “How do we know he’s in there?” Jenny fretted as they stood at the entrance to the building.

  “He’s in there.” Gunnar punched in the number of Wilder’s apartment.

  Nothing.

  He tried again.

  Still nothing.

  “We could be here all night,” Jenny commented. “Let me try his phone.” She swiped her cell, finding Wilder’s number, but there was no response.

  “Obstinate bastard,” Gunnar muttered.

  Just then, a young man emerged from the building, and Jenny stepped forward, doing her best to dazzle him with her smile. Giving her a look of admiration, he held the door so she could pass through.

  “I can see I was right about you, Jenny. You are going to be an asset to us,” Gunnar commented as he followed her into the building. There wasn’t time to ask him what he meant by the cryptic statement. A few minutes later, they were ringing the bell of Wilder’s second-floor apartment.

  “Fuck off.” Even muffled by the door, Wilder’s voice was unmistakable.

  “Enfeebled as I am by old age, I can still kick this down.” Gunnar barely raised his voice.

  The door opened. “We both know you wouldn’t draw attention to us and bring the police up here.” Wilder’s eyes rested briefly on Jenny’s face, registering surprise, and—perhaps she imagined it—a brief flash of pleasure. Then the shutters came down within the golden depths of his eyes. “You’d better come in.”

  Wilder’s apartment was as enigmatic as the man himself. Functional, comfortable on a basic level, there was nothing personal about the apartment that Jenny could see. No knickknacks, pictures, photos, not even any books other than a few informational titles about the Arctic. If he left it with five minutes’ notice, no one would be able to deduce anything about its occupant by what was left behind. Jenny got the feeling the blandness was a deliberate design choice.

  The apartment was open plan and a warm, peaty smell hit Jenny’s sensitive nostrils full on as she walked in. It was explained by a half-filled glass containing an amber liquid that had been placed on an occasional table.

  “Scotch?” Gunnar raised a brow. “Self-medicating?”

  “Something like that. Join me?” Wilder tilted the glass in an invitation, before draining its contents.

  They both refused. As Wilder turned away, Jenny saw the blood soaking through his jacket. “You’re hurt!”

  “I noticed.”

  “Let me take a look at that.” She began to strip off her own coat, but Wilder shook his head.

  “We don’t have time.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t stay here.” He pointed to the gym bag by the door. “I was just about to leave when you two decided to lean on my doorbell.”

  “You think Santin will come back?” Jenny cast a quick glance over her shoulder as though the Siberian wolf might already be lurking in the shadows.

  “I know he will. Right now, it’s not Santin I’m afraid of. But how long do you think it will be before someone identifies me from the footage that was taken out there? I’m surprised the police aren’t here already.”

  “You’re right.” Gunnar jerked into activity as he grabbed up Wilder’s bag with his good hand. “You can’t risk being taken to a hospital. Your DNA won’t stand close examination. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Three

  Wilder felt a pang of sympathy for Jenny. She must be wondering how her ordinary day had ended up like this with her cozy home, obviously her sanctuary, suddenly invaded by two large Arctics. He debated whether to mention the fact that Santin had made threats against her, and decided against it. Wilder would deal with Santin. He was looking forward to it. After centuries of denying the existence of his inner wolf, letting him loose on the Siberian was going to be a pleasure.

  “Take your jacket off.” Jenny’s voice was no-nonsense. He was only surprised she didn’t have her hands on her hips.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Wilder.” Gunnar’s calm, assertive tone silenced his protest. “We can talk after Jenny has tended to your injuries.”

  “Jenny?” Even though Wilder kept his expression carefully closed, he removed his jacket. “So you two already know each other?”

  “We met exactly”—Jenny glanced at the clock on the wall—“sixty-seven minutes ago. Formality became obsolete while we were watching footage of you charging down that wolf.” Wilder winced as he reached for his shirt buttons. “Let me do that.”

  She stepped close, invading his personal space and his senses. His sensitive nostrils flared. She smelled clean, fresh, and cool. She smelled of the tundra . . . of lichens, berries, frost, and pine. Wilder’s Arctic senses leaped in response. Instantly, he was transported back to his homeland. He was running free among dark, sharp evergreens, the ground ice hard beneath his feet. In his mind, his breath plumed before his face. In reality, it caught in his chest in time with Jenny’s fingers undoing his shirt.

  “Was Santin alone?” Gunnar’s question almost drew Wilder’s attention away from Jenny. Almost, because he’d reached the conclusion that nothing would ever again completely draw his attention away from Jenny.

  “Yes, he was waiting for me in the shadows.”

  “That’s not like the Siberian. He prefers to have his pack around him.”

  “He was showing off.” Although Wilder winced as Jenny finished undoing his shirt and drew it slowly down over his shoulders, the response was not entirely one of pain. Despite the lacerations in his side, the sensation of her fingertips trailing over his naked flesh was exquisite agony. A reminder of how it would feel to have her undress him in other circumstances. She felt it, too. Her gaze caught his as she tossed his shirt aside. Gold on gold. “Santin knows he can’t kill me. Not here. He was playing. This was a little taste of what is to come.”

  “He was playing?” Jenny bit her lip as she examined the go
uges in his flesh. “My God. If you hadn’t been wearing that thick jacket, he would have flayed you to the bone.”

  Santin’s claws had left three deep grooves in his skin, curving from below Wilder’s shoulder blade to just above his hip bone.

  “It was a warning.” Wilder’s eyes met Gunnar’s over her head. “Right?”

  Gunnar nodded. “It has always been about Jotunheim.” Jenny frowned at the word, her lips parting as she prepared to state the obvious. Gunnar didn’t give her time. Instead, he stepped in with a question of his own. “How did he escape?”

  “When the police arrived, he shifted back and hot-wired a car.”

  Jenny’s eyes opened wider in surprise. “Naked?”

  Wilder grinned. “As the day he was born.”

  “The guy must have some balls.”

  “He was too far away for me to get a good look, but he should enjoy them while he can. Next time I see him, I’m going to tear them off and shove them as far down the back of his throat as I can get them.” Wilder felt his jaw go rigid with fury at the memory of Santin taunting him before going after the terrified woman holding her child.

  “Come into the bathroom. Let me clean this up.” Jenny took his hand, the gesture sending a thrill through to Wilder’s nerve endings. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d encountered physical contact . . . disregarding the earlier skirmish with Santin, of course. Jenny’s simple expression of trust got to him in a way that was outside of his experience. It did something to his chest, tightening it in a way that was both painful and pleasurable. He’d spent so long muzzling his emotions, it was a shock to find he still had any.

  Inside the tiny ground-floor bathroom Jenny had a medicine cabinet of industrial proportions. She worked quickly and efficiently, her hands on his flesh impersonal and capable as she cleaned away the blood. The whole time the atmosphere between them thrummed with more. It whispered of different touches, unspoken, longed-for clandestine caresses. Because of the bond between them, Wilder knew Jenny felt it, too. Could feel it in the heat of her body, scent the longing on her skin and in her most private recesses. It took every ounce of the iron self-control he’d built up over the years to keep his animal instincts in check and let his own hands hang loose at his sides.

  There was a unique bond between all Arctic werewolves. It was a soul-deep connection, stronger than friendship or pack loyalty. It singled them out. Unlike moon-called werewolves, theirs was an instant, symbiotic affinity. It automatically bound Wilder and Jenny together.

  But Wilder was afraid this was more. Afraid and excited at the same time. He had spent so long ignoring everything to do with his inner wolf and determinedly keeping the human world at arm’s length, he’d almost forgotten what physical attraction felt like. Almost. He hadn’t completely lost the ability to fantasize. He knew it felt a lot like this. Except what he was feeling right now was so much more. And that was what scared him. Because his inner wolf was setting the pace.

  Werewolves were creatures who believed in folklore and magic. He knew what the legends said. It was like a mantra imprinted into every werewolf’s psyche. We mate for life. There is one mate for every wolf. Before he had turned his back on his inner wolf, Wilder had heard the stories about how a werewolf would instantly know its mate. How the sudden hit of attraction would be like nothing he or she had ever encountered before. It was said to be irresistible, like an injection of pure, molten heat straight into the bloodstream.

  What happened if a werewolf who no longer wanted to be a werewolf suddenly encountered his mate? Had anyone ever asked that question? Was Wilder about to be the first? Or was this nothing to do with their wolf selves? She was gorgeous and he was attracted to her, so maybe he was letting Jenny’s nearness drive him crazy?

  When the silence had chafed his nerves into a bundle of raw wanting, Wilder decided normality was needed. He nodded at the well-stocked cabinet. “You hurt yourself a lot?”

  She glanced up from her task, her ready smile dawning. He liked the hint of a dimple that dented the corner of her mouth. He wanted to put the tip of his tongue in that tiny indentation. That was the first place he wanted to put it.

  “Like you, I avoid hospitals.” The smile disappeared, a slight frown appearing in its place. “What about rabies? If there’s the slightest chance, you need to get shots.”

  “He didn’t bite me.” Wilder’s voice was grim. “And, while he might be many other things, Santin is not rabid.”

  Jenny glanced at the antiseptic and wipes she’d placed on the side of the sink. Color bloomed in her pale cheeks. “I want to do this our way. I want to lick you.”

  A shudder ran through Wilder’s body that had nothing to do with her offer to use her tongue on his wounds. “You know nothing about me. You don’t know I’m clean.” His voice was raw emotion.

  “My Arctic knows you.” Every speck of light in the room seemed to have been drawn into her eyes. There was nothing of Jenny Piper in those golden depths. She was pure wolf.

  Slowly, she bent her head, the soft nuzzling sounds she made transporting him back to a time when he had been part of a pack. The first touch of her tongue was tentative, flicking lightly over his skin. It almost sent Wilder into orbit. Growing bolder, Jenny ran her tongue all the way along his damaged flesh, up and down. Her saliva left a cool trail in the wake of her warm tongue. It must be his imagination, Wilder decided. He could feel her healing him.

  “This.” Her fingers tugged at his belt buckle, as she tried to move the waistband of his jeans lower so that she could lick all the way down.

  Fumbling slightly, Wilder undid his belt. Then the button on his jeans. Then the zipper partway. Without interrupting the rhythm she had established, Jenny moved his waistband down, brushing her tongue low over the scratches on his hip bone. His cock responded exactly as he knew it would, swelling to a point just past pain and demanding release from the confines of his clothing. The tiniest hesitation before she resumed told him Jenny was well aware of what was going on with him.

  Stroke by stroke, lick by lick, Jenny’s tongue dragged over his flesh . . . warming, stinging, and arousing. It was the most exquisite torture Wilder had ever experienced. His breathing was coming hard and fast. His body jerked hard in time with Jenny’s movements, until her hands came up to clamp onto his hips, holding him still.

  “Jenny.” The word was a tormented moan.

  He didn’t know if she heard him, or if she was too lost in what she was doing. One hand slipped inside his jeans, her touch tantalizingly light over the taut muscles of his abdomen. Her fingers moved lower, brushing the swollen head of his cock, and he almost exploded.

  He caught hold of her hand, and Jenny looked up at him, her eyes glazed and trancelike. Her lips were wet and, as she ran her tongue across them, he longed to give in to the temptation to free his iron-hard erection from his jeans and push into that waiting warmth.

  “Oh.” Jenny’s glance took in his lowered zipper, the position of her own hand, and the bulge that had nowhere to hide. Deep pink stained her cheeks. “I guess we should go back?”

  “I need a minute to compose myself.”

  The blush deepened. “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not.” He dropped a kiss into her palm, before releasing her hand. “That was the most amazing thing that’s happened to me in a very long time.” Who was he kidding? Nothing as remotely erotic had ever happened to him. Which speaks volumes about my life.

  Restoring his decency and retrieving a clean shirt from the gym bag he’d left in the hall, Wilder followed Jenny back into the den. In daylight it must have been incredible, with wide picture windows on three sides. Gunnar had made coffee. He’d also raided Jenny’s small supply of drinks. “I hope you don’t mind?” She shook her head. “No scotch, but I found some bourbon.” He sloshed it into three glasses.

  “What happens now?” Jenny asked, taking a hefty slug of her drink. She seemed to be having difficulty looking Wilder in the eye.

  “Now
we go after him.” Wilder’s voice was grim with promise.

  Gunnar nodded, raising his glass. “To the midnight sun.”

  They both drank deep. “Who?” Wilder asked.

  “The brotherhood. Samson, Lowell, Madden, and Sebastian. Now that Hendrik has retired, we have a new member, Vigo.”

  “With me that’s six. You can’t fight. Who will be the seventh?”

  Gunnar’s eyes flickered to Jenny. Understanding hit Wilder like a punch in the gut. In response, he rose from his seat in one explosive movement. He went to the window and he gazed out into the darkness, determined to gain control of his emotions before he attempted to speak.

  What the fuck was Gunnar thinking of?

  Jenny looked from one to the other in confusion. “What’s going on? What is the brotherhood?”

  “Tell her.” Wilder managed to get the words out through gritted teeth.

  “Have you heard of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun?” Gunnar asked. When she shook her head, he continued, “It is an elite fighting force of the strongest and bravest Arctic werewolves. Seven alpha wolves—always seven and only seven—at any one time comprise the brotherhood.”

  “You are both part of this?”

  Gunnar nodded. “We were. The last time the brotherhood came together was four hundred years ago. I was the leader of an expedition to the Norwegian archipelago of Svalbard to capture Santin. He and his Siberians had encroached on Arctic territory and were systematically wiping out our packs. It was a trap and Santin captured us. His plan was to kill us when we shifted under the midnight sun.” Gunnar flexed his prosthetic hand. “Santin nearly killed me. Wilder saved my life and we defeated the Siberians. Santin has been imprisoned ever since and he should have stayed there forever. Until today, the brotherhood has not been needed.”

  “And this brotherhood is needed again now?” Jenny sounded fascinated by Gunnar’s story.