by Carol Davis
You never should have kissed her.
But, dammit, she’d come barging into his house, a quivering bundle of outrage, determined to have whatever part of his hide her son hadn’t already claimed. And something about that unleashed fury had convinced him that the time to hold back—for both of them—was over.
Dammit, it was time.
“Do you love her?” Jameson asked.
The question took Jed by surprise, although it shouldn’t have. He and Jameson had been as close as brothers during their younger days, and to Jed’s near-constant dismay, there was little about him that Jameson couldn’t figure out. He’d picked up Deborah’s scent on Jed’s skin from a good twenty yards away, and had known right away what had happened and who had instigated it.
It was impossible to keep a secret from Jameson, and had been for nearly forty years.
“How could I not?” Jed said with a sigh.
“I’m not talking about her general attractiveness,” Jameson argued. “Yes, she’s one of the most beautiful of the older females. Of all the females, for that matter. She’s a fine healer, a good friend, and I’ve never heard anyone suggest that she was anything less than a perfect mate to Victor.”
He paused and looked around, then said in a low tone, “They had their quarrels. My house is near enough to theirs that I could hear everything. But it never lasted long. If you know what I mean.”
“I imagine I do,” Jed said dryly.
“I’m asking, do you love her. You could have your pick of the females. I see the way they follow you around. If the healer would rather remain loyal to the memory of her mate, would it be complete anathema to you to choose someone else?” Jameson took another huge bite of his fruit, with the same results as before. “Anya seems very willing to welcome you into her bed. And I understand that she’s an excellent cook. Mason tells me her stew is second to none.”
There seemed to be another level to that statement, a trick Jameson always enjoyed playing. “Stew, eh?” Jed said.
“Very tasty. As I understand it.”
“Why don’t you sample it, then? You’re an elder. She wouldn’t turn down the chance to become the mate of an elder.”
Jameson made a sound deep in his chest and tipped his head back so that he was facing the sky. It was easy to tell that he was struggling with his wolf; when he had finally wrestled the beast back into submission, he shuddered.
“All this talk of mates,” he said. “The wolf gets restless.”
“Find it one, then. A nice ripe one.” Jed smirked a little. “Juicy.”
Shaking his head, Jameson tossed what was left of the piece of fruit off into the woods, where the scavengers would find it and make short work of it. “You still haven’t answered my question. You and the healer. Do you love her? Do you want her badly enough to go on aggravating that boy?”
“I do,” Jed said softly. “But I’ll never get her to accept me.”
They’d set the time of the challenge for sundown—or rather, the boy had. Maybe he’d gathered from some story that sundown was an appropriate time, or maybe his wolf seemed stronger then.
It didn’t make much difference to Jed.
He went through the afternoon wondering if the healer would show up to watch her son battle someone who was older, bigger, stronger, more experienced, or if she’d find some urgent thing that needed doing. Maybe she’d walk into the circle and haul the boy away by his ear.
Hell, maybe she’d haul Jed away by his ear.
But all of that was secondary to the question Jameson had brought up: whether Jed cared for Deborah enough to continue trying to court her despite what she claimed was disinterest, loyalty to her mate, a life that was already too busy to allow for the presence of a new mate…
She had a million and one excuses.
At least, she said she did.
The way she’d coupled with him told him otherwise.
The moment he thought of their lovemaking, the wolf surged inside him, begging to be set free. The animal wanted Jed to take her again—fiercely, passionately, until both of them were completely spent. Then, as if it were capable of speaking on its own behalf, his cock twitched inside his pants, swelling enough to prompt a couple of knowing grins from the neighbors he passed on his way through the settlement.
Gods, yes, he wanted her in his bed again. Or her bed. Any bed.
Or the floor. Or the meadow.
No, he told himself sternly. It wouldn’t do to show up for the challenge aroused this way. Wolves often were; it wasn’t at all unusual for the excitement of battle to make them painfully hard. But if he shucked his clothes in front of the boy with his cock stiff and proud, the boy might well be driven to bite it off.
And wouldn’t that be just perfect.
Shaking his head, he looked around at the houses he was passing. His was among the smallest in the settlement, just a single room like the cabin Aaron and Abby had taken over. They were ready to enlarge their home, but Jed had never seen a need to add anything on to his own dwelling. One room was plenty for a solitary wolf, and it was easy to keep clean.
But the houses surrounding his each had several rooms, some as many as five or six. When he walked past them late in the evening, he could hear the sounds of family life: laughter, quarreling, children playing. On cool evenings he could see warm fires burning, and lamps lit nearby.
His own house always seemed cold and empty when he went back there.
Maybe Jameson was giving him good advice. If the healer was determined to remain loyal to Victor—as she had every right to—then didn’t it make sense to give up all these years of sporting around and choose someone?
If not Anya, then maybe Natalie.
Or Lucy.
Or…
No.
He was meant to be with the healer. No matter how much she disagreed, no matter how much she ran in the other direction, they were meant to be together.
He could feel it in his bones.
Nine
There were no spectators. Not a single one.
That certainly couldn’t be what the boy had had in mind. Without a doubt, in his imagination dozens of wolves were gathered around, watching him show Jed who was the senior male in this equation. They’d cheer and whoop as Gregory’s wolf quickly overpowered the older male—who certainly suffered from aching joints and stiff muscles.
Who was well past the days of his prime.
But there wasn’t a soul around, and that made Jed curious. Everyone in the pack knew about the challenge. They’d all decided to be elsewhere at sundown? Every last one of them?
Even the boy’s friends weren’t here.
It had obviously taken a lot of the wind out of Gregory’s sails. He was pacing around at the edge of the clearing, fists tightly clenched and held up in front of his chest as if he intended to box someone. Each one of his steps was a stomp that raised some dust from the ground, and he was growling softly under his breath. Psyching himself up for battle, Jed supposed.
“We can delay this,” he offered.
The boy turned a vicious expression on him. Maybe, Jed thought with some amusement, he’d heard some of those human stories about creatures from other worlds who could shoot beams of heat from their eyes—beams that could cut an enemy in half, or reduce him to ashes.
This might go on for a while.
But it didn’t. Jed was a little startled when the boy suddenly ripped off his shirt and hurled it away, then shoved down his pants and stepped out of them. Naked, he looked very pale and fragile—but Jed didn’t have much chance to contemplate that. The boy dropped to his hands and knees, and at the end of a couple of minutes that were clearly excruciating, his wolf had thrust its way out.
The wolf bared its teeth and snarled.
Here we go, Jed thought.
He had no time to remove his own clothes; the young wolf was on him in an instant, slavering and snapping its jaws. Rage came off it in waves, an anger so pure that it created a heat of its own
, hot enough that Jed thought it might actually singe his skin. It was all he could do to hold the animal away from his throat while he tried to find a way to shift.
He no longer needed minutes to transform, but even a few seconds of inattention would give Gregory’s wolf the chance to maim or kill him.
For what seemed like an age, they rolled around in the dirt, the wolf straining and flailing, dipping its head left and right, up and down, desperate for a chance to bite deep into Jed’s flesh. Its teeth clacked together over and over, and with each defeat the animal seemed to grow stronger and more determined.
Finally, when Jed had found just enough leverage, he hurled the animal away from him.
GO! he told his own wolf.
The animal surged out of him at a speed that made Jed’s senses swim. For a moment he thought he might actually die; his heart was pounding frantically, and he could barely breathe. He had almost fully blacked out when he felt himself slide into that place of observation that meant the wolf was in control and he was more or less only a passenger.
Gregory’s wolf had recovered from its hard landing and had climbed back to its feet. It was still enraged, still more than ready to continue the fight—but then Jed saw a glimmer of doubt in its eyes.
Jed’s wolf was more than twice its size.
The smaller wolf pawed the ground a couple of times. Planning, Jed knew. Figuring out the right strategy. When it came to matters like this, it was smarter than its human partner, and certainly more cunning. Natural, full-blood wolves had survived for thousands of years by knowing how to defeat a larger, stronger opponent. How to deliver a wound in just the right place.
If Jed’s wolf gave it the chance, it would go for the throat.
Or maybe a limb.
Or his balls.
Something moved, out there among the trees. Jed couldn’t spare it any attention, so he couldn’t identify it any further than: they were being watched. One of their packmates had indeed come over to watch this small spectacle, and he truly hoped it wasn’t the healer, that she didn’t intend to barge in here and insist that Gregory stop this and go home.
Being shamed by his mother would make the boy’s outrage worse, not better.
Gregory’s wolf was impressive, Jed noted. Observant, quick to respond, very agile. He was a fine addition to the pack, and would be even more so when he was fully grown and had been trained.
It would be good to let him take a bite or two. Let him win a little. Build up his self-confidence. The bites would be painful, but they’d heal. That would be a far better situation than Gregory’s being humiliated by his mother.
“What’s this, now?”
The voice cut through the evening air like the blade of a razor. It carried with it every morsel of the authority that had been granted to its owner by unanimous vote of the pack.
Caleb.
The alpha.
Fuck, Jed thought.
Caleb strode into the light at the center of the clearing. He was wearing his best clothing, so he’d either come from or was headed toward a meeting of the elders—a serious one, with important matters to decide. He was aged enough that when he was tired, his shoulders slumped a little, but they weren’t slumped now.
Gregory’s wolf was trying mightily to hold its ground. Then Caleb turned to stare at it, and it shrank back toward the trees.
“This is done,” Caleb announced.
He stood there waiting while Gregory and Jed shifted back into human form. Gregory took a fumbling step toward his clothes, but Jed’s were in ruins. No matter; the alpha wasn’t at all interested in whether or not they were dressed, so they stood in front of him naked, Gregory twitching and shuffling and staring shamefacedly at the dusty ground.
“I don’t recall giving permission for this,” said Caleb.
Gregory’s gaze shot up, caught Caleb’s eyes for an instant, then returned to the ground. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking: normally, no permission was required. But was this different somehow? And if so, why? Gregory’s age? Was this why no one had come to watch?
“No, sir,” the boy muttered.
“Am I wrong in thinking you have chores? And that you haven’t attended lessons all day?”
“Sir…”
“Randall is your teacher. Is that right?”
“Sir.”
“Go find him. Be profuse in your apologies, and beg him to sit with you and review what you missed.”
Gregory didn’t move.
“Was I unclear?” Caleb asked.
The boy ran off into the trees, leaving his clothes behind.
He’d been gone for ten or twelve seconds when Caleb turned slowly to Jed. There was something in his expression that Jed couldn’t pin down. Amusement didn’t seem right; Caleb was renowned for having nothing close to a sense of humor. Curiosity, then. Maybe.
Maybe he was just hungry.
“The healer’s raising an idiot,” he said finally, his voice full of exasperation.
Jed lifted a shoulder in something that wasn’t quite a shrug. “I was going to let him burn off some steam.”
“Then you’re as much an idiot as he is.”
Jed raised an eyebrow. Caleb, shaking his head, flapped a hand at what was left of Jed’s clothing.
“I could have executed this a bit better,” Jed admitted.
The alpha picked up the largest scrap of Jed’s shirt and pondered it for a moment. “I didn’t become alpha by letting things slip past me,” he said, more to the piece of fabric than to Jed. “I’m well aware of all the details of this situation. I’m also well aware”—he turned to Jed, still holding the cloth—“that you and the healer have coupled. I find that an interesting development.”
“Would you like ‘all the details’?” Jed asked dryly.
“My imagination will serve.”
Somewhere off in the trees, a crow began to caw at something. It almost seemed to be directing its distress at Jed—and he supposed he had that coming. Even a bird seemed to have more sense than he did, because he’d let this go awry almost from the first step. He’d ruined a perfectly good shirt and pair of pants, he’d gotten no further with the boy, and now the alpha thought he was a simpleton.
Yes, this evening was going beautifully.
“He’s been fine, until recently,” he said with a sigh. “A little ill-tempered now and then, but he didn’t avoid his lessons, and by all accounts he’s been good to his mother. He’s very devoted to her.”
“Hormones,” Caleb said.
“I wouldn’t mind a suggestion. You being the alpha.”
Caleb snorted at that. “What if he took out an eye? Did you consider that? To my knowledge, no one’s ever managed to regenerate an eye. Or—” His gaze shifted south for a moment. “I seldom suggest it, but I think it’s time for the two of you to give over to your wolves and ask the gods for guidance.”
“Me and the boy?”
“You and the healer.”
Jed shook his head. “She doesn’t—”
“She wants to. That’s as plain as the nose on her face. She wants you, you want her, but there’s the ghost of a long-dead wolf standing in the way. It’s time to talk to the gods. Let them decide, since the two of you don’t seem to be able to. Stop creating problems for the pack. Am I clear?”
Caleb seemed more than ready to continue on his way.
“Yes, Alpha,” Jed said quietly. “Very clear.”
“Good,” Caleb said. “I bid you good night, then.”
Ten
Deborah had been watching from the deep shadows among the trees. She’d been careful to pick a spot where the wind would carry her scent away from the clearing, not toward it, hoping that both Gregory and Jed were distracted enough—focused on each other enough—that they wouldn’t pick up some sign of her presence anyway.
Idiot.
That was what Caleb had called her son.
She couldn’t disagree, exactly; it certainly was no sign of wisdom that Gregory
had shifted and planned to attack a male in his prime, one large and skilled enough to take him down within seconds. But it wasn’t intelligence or lack of it that had made her son challenge her…
What was Jed, exactly?
Her friend?
She couldn’t take her eyes away from him now, standing there naked in the fading light.
He was beautiful. Strong. Capable.
“I know you’re there,” he said quietly.
The wind hadn’t changed direction, but she wasn’t far away. Maybe he’d known she was there all along. She was grateful that Gregory hadn’t picked up her scent—he’d run away without even glancing in her direction—but part of her was pleased that Jed had noticed her presence.
Even more pleased that he seemed happy about it.
She stepped out into the clearing a little less than enthusiastically, because nothing had been solved. It could be that Gregory had given up the idea of battling Jed, but she doubted that his anger had faded. Which meant that she’d go home to find him scowling and complaining as usual.
Then there was the matter of what the alpha had said.
“Are you all right?” Jed asked.
Deborah lifted her head. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
He snorted a little. “The healer can never admit to a problem. Is that it? You take care of us. We aren’t allowed to take care of you.”
Without even looking around, he strode toward her and wrapped his arms around her. As he held her, part of his strength seemed to bleed into her, which made her wolf take note. Though she tried to push the animal back, it stretched itself, making her a little taller, more Jed’s match.
Worthy of him, she thought distantly.
“Will you do what the alpha said?” he asked. “Go into seclusion, and let the wolf ask the gods what they intend?”
“I have responsibilities,” she whispered.
“You have helpers.”
“Young ones. They’re not fully trained.”
“I’m sure they can manage. If some catastrophe happens, they can come and get you.”
“Gregory—”
Jed tipped her head up so he could look into her eyes. “Your son might be glad to be rid of you for a while. Let him be king of the hill. He won’t get into any trouble with the rest of the pack keeping an eye on him.”
