Terry Spear’s Wolf Bundle

by Terry Spear

  His uncle avoided looking at him.

  Hell, as if Hunter didn’t have enough troubles to contend with. “All right. I’ll take care of it. Are you going to have supper with us before you leave?”

  “I already ate. Got a ticket on the next flight. I left a couple of salmon steaks out for you. Place is stocked with food so you won’t have to shop for a while.” Uncle Basil stretched his six-foot-two frame. “Looking forward to sunshine warming these old bones. Hips are bothering me something fierce. Figure the cold dampness might have something to do with it.”

  Then he leaned forward. “Your mother and father would have been proud the way you’ve managed to keep the pack safe all these years. Your people will return. Give them time. Just be sure and take care of the woman. Her brother most likely is going to prison for murder, but the woman’s still a threat, unless she decides to move. Tessa Anderson’s the name. Take care of it. And soon.”

  He stood and gave Hunter a fatherly embrace, then said his good-byes to Meara. Hunter waved as his uncle left in his old pickup, wondering why he hated to buy new vehicles as much as Meara hated to change where she lived.

  Hunter walked to the picture window overlooking the Pacific Ocean and stared out at the gray day, the cold, fog, moisture—in stark contrast to the dry, burning heat and smoke of their abandoned home. Regret and relief warred with his emotions.

  Meara slipped up next to him. “I don’t like being here.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  Knowing full well she wouldn’t appreciate any attempt to console her, he headed into the kitchen and tossed the salmon steaks into a frying pan. He was determined to enjoy their newly acquired cabins, even if his sister didn’t like it. Not that they’d had much choice. Settling with the insurance company would take forever and most of their savings were tied up in mutual funds.

  “It reeks of fish here. How Uncle Basil could have ever stood it…I didn’t remember why I hated this place whenever we visited. But that was it. The strong odor of fish and rotting seaweed.” She opened a kitchen cabinet door, peered in, and then slammed it closed, rattling a couple of others.

  “Eventually, you won’t even notice it.”

  She opened another cabinet door and pulled out a can of spinach. “I want a mate! How am I going to find one way out here? You’ve made sure there are no other lupus garous in a four-hundred mile stretch of land.”

  So that was some of the trouble. Not that he’d had much luck finding her a mate in California either because she’d been so choosy.

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration. Besides, when we rent the cabins, the grays will come from all over the country and you can find a mate.”

  He hoped. Never having discussed Uncle Basil’s clientele with him, he assumed his uncle advertised on the Internet and in magazines that would help draw a crowd from all over. All Hunter had to do was tweak the ad to let alpha male leaders who were without a mate know his sister needed one.

  Hunter flipped the steaks, seared them for a minute, and then tossed them on the rose china that had been passed down two generations. “What did you want us to do? The arsonists destroyed the forests and moving north to Oregon was the best thing we could manage.”

  She didn’t reply and he sighed. “So, five members of our pack moved into the vineyards in southern California. What kind of a life would that be? We’re used to hunting in woods during our nighttime excursions. No other lupus garous live in the area, so no worry about encroaching on another pack’s territorial rights. Besides, Uncle Basil decided it was time to retire and was glad to gift us the land and cabins. It couldn’t be more perfect.”

  “So what’s this really about? Uncle Basil never once mentioned he wanted to quit the business,” Meara said.

  “We were happy in California. He knew unless something like this happened we wouldn’t have moved a foot out of there.”

  She peered out the window. Her spine straightened and her mouth dropped. “I’ll be right back.” She flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulders and headed outside.

  He strode to the window and looked out.

  “Hell.”

  It was the woman. Had to be. Tessa Anderson, the photographer. Petite, swallowed up in a white parka, she trudged toward their house with a camera strap slung around her neck. The camera bounced between her full breasts, which were accentuated by the snug fit of her pale blue turtleneck. Her jeans outlined curvy legs, and suddenly he had the most lascivious thought, wondering what was wrong with him at a moment like this, to be envisioning this woman naked with her long legs wrapped tightly around him.

  A pink ski cap hid her hair, but her brows were red, her green eyes sparkled with fire, and her cheeks and pert nose were rosy from the cold. Full, sensual lips shimmered with pink gloss that begged for a man’s caress. Her eyes garnered his attention again. Expressive, vibrant, full of life, yet a subtle sadness marred them.

  Why was she wandering the woods alone when the night would soon cast her into darkness? Why here? Unless she had made friends with Uncle Basil and had come to see him.

  Hell. No wonder he couldn’t get rid of her himself.

  Meara quickly confronted her, and Hunter raised the window to overhear the conversation. Even though he planned on talking to Miss Anderson, it didn’t hurt for Meara to tell the woman the error of her ways. At the very least, giving Meara some control over their lands would make her feel more at home here.

  Meara raised her hand to the woman in her path. “You’re trespassing.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed and her brows knit together in a tight little frown. “Uncle Basil said I could take pictures out this way during the winter because he didn’t have any B&B guests this time of year.”

  She had Uncle Basil’s permission? What was the crafty old wolf up to?

  “Uncle Basil?” Meara asked, her voice rising.

  “That’s what he told me to call him.”

  So, Uncle Basil had a relationship with the human female after all. Which wasn’t like him.

  “Well, his real niece and nephew have taken up residence, and Uncle Basil has moved to Florida. The rules are different now. Find somewhere else to take your pictures. Don’t come here again.”

  The woman glanced at the house. Looking to rescue Uncle Basil? Or maybe she hoped he’d come out and save her from Hunter’s sister?

  Facing Meara, she offered her gloved hand. “I’m Tessa Anderson, a professional photographer. I live down the coast.”

  Meara folded her arms. “Then you must have plenty of photo ops on your own land.”

  Tessa stiffened and Hunter could see now the woman wasn’t going to be easily persuaded. Her jaw tightened and her eyes flickered with inflexible resolve.

  “Every area along the seacoast is different. And it changes as the tides pummel the coastline. It varies with the seasons also.” Tessa tilted her head to the side. “Uncle Basil never said anything about moving. He isn’t ill, is he?”

  Hunter shook his head. He admired tenacious lupus garou women, but a human female like that could cause real problems. So why was he checking out her package again—the way her turtleneck caressed her breasts, the camera strap pressing between the sensuous mounds, outlining them further, and lower to the jeans accentuating her long, curvy legs.

  Lifting his nose, he took a deep breath. Because of the shifting breeze, despite the smell of pines and the sea air overwhelming all else, he caught a whiff of the woman’s scent—of peaches and…tequila and margarita mix?

  His eyes widened a bit as he smelled something else, something that generated an age-old need—a desire so strong that it could only mean her pheromones were triggering his craving. What the hell? She wasn’t a lupus garou—didn’t have their distinctive scent, yet sexually, she served every bit as much a magnet for a male lupus garou.

  His gaze fastened on her eyes, now narrowed a little, sharp and full of mistrust.

  “Did he always keep you posted on his plans?” Meara asked Tes
sa, being her usual snarky self.

  “I was supposed to have dinner with him.” Standing taller, Tessa considered the house again. “Do you have a number where I can reach him? Or an address?”

  Dinner? Had Uncle Basil forgotten? Or conveniently avoided it, which would explain his warning—although cryptic—about Tessa before he left. Hunter let out his breath in exasperation.

  Meara snorted. “Leave, now, or I’ll call the sheriff. Don’t come back here.”

  “It was nice to meet you, too.” Tessa glanced once more at the house as if to say she wouldn’t be thwarted from seeing Uncle Basil. Her breath mixed with the cold air in a puff of smoke, she lifted her chin a little, and then whipped around, and headed back into the woods.

  The urge to hunt the minx filled Hunter with a craving so strong, he had to remind himself she was a threat to their existence. If she’d been a lupus garou, that would be a different story. He would have shown just how interested he was and worn her down until she felt the same for him, if she didn’t automatically. But a human like her was nothing more than tempting forbidden fruit—one taste would never be enough. Best to buy her out and remove the menace from the area.

  Meara stalked into the house, saw Hunter at the open window, and gave a half smile. Then she frowned. “Don’t you go getting friendly with that woman, too. Jeesh. I heard you and Uncle Basil talking about her. You know, the lower your voices go, the more I listen in.” She shook her head. “No wonder Uncle Basil couldn’t get rid of her. Sweet and innocent. Miss Red Riding Hood in a white parka.” She raised a brow. “And by the way, as petite as she is, her boobs are silicone—have to be."

  No way was the woman anything but the real thing, every bit of her, and he wanted to prove to himself they were in the worst way. Hunter shut the window. “You made Tessa Anderson suspicious. She thinks we’ve buried Uncle Basil in the backyard. So now I’ll have to take care of it.” And he would, starting tonight.

  “Hmpf. What about the rest of our pack?” Her spine stiff, Meara stirred the spinach heating on the stove and refused to look at him.

  “The seven who took off for Portland will return when they get tired of city life.”

  “So they moved to greener pastures, and we’re stuck in Timbuktu?” Meara’s amber eyes flashed with irritation, her lips turned down.

  “We’ll rent only to lupus garous, like Uncle Basil did. We’ll entice eligible alpha males to visit, and you’ll put them under your spell.” He failed to understand how she couldn’t see the beauty of the area. If she would just take a run with him in the woods, work out some of her frustration, she would feel better. “We’re not a city pack. The rest will tire of it before long.”

  “And then?” She yanked out her chair and dropped into it, fixing him with another chilling look.

  “They can join us here. Plenty of game for hunting on moonlit nights. Oregon has laws to protect wolves. We won’t have any problems.”

  “I want to go to the city.” She looked up from her salmon and although she kept her expression stern, her eyes glistened with tears.

  Ah, hell. What really was the matter?

  “A red pack already resides in Portland.”

  Her mouth parted.

  Hunter clarified, “Leidolf is the pack leader. I met him last spring when you wouldn’t come with me to see Uncle Basil. He seemed a nice enough lupus garou for a red. As nice as one can be when he’s dealing with a gray pack leader, but he won’t like it that some of our pack are encroaching on his city.”

  She folded her arms. “Fine. You’re bigger than the reds. Push them out and we can start over there.”

  Leaning back in his chair, he studied his sister’s stubborn expression. She’d always been so predictable, so agreeable. What was wrong with her now?

  “Quit looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. I’m in my first wolf’s heat and I…want…a…mate! Damn it. Don’t you ever feel the pull? No, of course not. You have one-night stands with human women who want the same thing and then you’re satiated, for a time.”

  But he suspected her first wolf’s heat wasn’t the only thing making her so unreasonable. Damned if he could figure it out.

  “Of course I want a mate. Nevertheless, you know as well as I do the males outnumber the females in any given pack. If I can’t find one of our kind…” He shrugged. “I’ll have to find my pleasure elsewhere.”

  Not that he had been with a woman in a very long time, or was often with one. Running a pack took priority and searching for an eligible lupus garou female was impractical since he didn’t have a sub-leader who could watch over his people in his absence. He couldn’t even trust Meara for now.

  “I miss Genevieve and the others,” she said softly, avoiding looking at him.

  So that was the problem. “They’ll come back, Meara. Trust me in this.”

  “And I miss our home.” She poked at her food, then she looked up at him. “You’re right about one thing, dear brother. I should fetch a pretty important alpha male, don’t you think?”

  Important? Try more headstrong than his sister, or her mate would never have any say in their relationship.

  Hunter gave her a small smile. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

  “So find me one.” Her gaze sharpened along with her voice. “Or else I’m joining the others.”

  Hunter’s twin sister was his to protect until he could find a suitable mate for her. Meara was not going anywhere without him. The pack would return. Damn it. And he wasn’t about to chase after them.

  Already past midnight by the time his sister fell asleep, Hunter threw open the front door and took a whiff of the breeze. Winter, pine, the smell of the sea. Fish. And sea kelp. Time to mark his territory, indicating he was taking the area over from his uncle, and check out Tessa Anderson’s place. Not only that, but running through the woods—seeing them alive and green after the flames had devoured the California forests, leaving ashes in their wake—he hoped it would settle his troubled thoughts. At a wolf’s pace, he would reach Tessa’s home in a couple of hours, less if he ran. Although he needed to leave his scent along the way.

  Painlessly, he allowed the change to come over him, stretching his limbs, feeling the power fill his legs and body. His face elongated into a snout, his curved canines extending until they were deadly weapons that could crush bone, if he’d felt in the mood for a hunt. A double coat of banded gray fur covered his skin, keeping out the bitter cold as he loped outside in his wolf form and headed into the forest, his black nails digging into the pine needle covered floor.

  At once, he enjoyed the oneness he felt with the wild out-of-doors, instead of being an intruder on the land the way he felt when he was in his human form. Now, he was a predator, more in tune with the feral side of his nature.

  Yet, he felt a trifle unsettled as he headed south on their property.

  Maybe Meara was right. Moving was harder than he’d expected. Part of him enjoyed the newness of being here at his uncle’s place a couple times a year, but part of him longed for his familiar hunting grounds.

  Time to put aside regrets and concentrate on business.

  While he was traversing the area for a few miles, the chilly, crisp air ruffled his fur, and the sound of the ocean crashed down below the rocky cliffs. The sweet fragrance of fir trees looming overhead mingled with the fishy odor of the ocean and the seaweed rotting on the beach, nearly masking the scent of a rabbit nearby. But then another smell came to his attention—not a welcome odor, either.

  He twisted his head to the south. Male gray lupus garous—three of them—their smell wafting in the air. And not any of his pack either. These three shouldn’t be here.

  Listening for any sounds of them, he paused. Nothing. Yet the adrenaline surged through his veins, preparing him for the confrontation.

  He had marked his territory well, brushing his tail and face against tree trunks and branches. Even his toes pressed against the earth left his unique scent, showing beyond a doubt he had clai
med it, as his Uncle Basil had before him. What gray would be fool enough to trespass on another’s lands without permission in the dark of night?

  Meara! In her wolf’s heat, she must have caught their attention.

  Hunter sprinted back toward the cabin. The closer he drew to his quiet home, the more his chest tightened. The grays had been here and could still be here. The transformation swift and painless, he quickly changed from wolf to human form and stood naked on the front porch where the door was still wide open. His blood burned so hot, the cold didn’t touch him. “Meara!”

  The door to her bedroom was open. The smell of the three males lingered heavy in the air. A deathly silence pervaded the place.

  Hunter stormed into Meara’s bedroom. She was gone. His heart racing, he roared, “Meara!”

  Her bedcovers were tossed aside, but it didn’t look as though there had been a struggle. Bile rose in Hunter’s throat. Had the grays forced her to leave with them, or had she gone willingly? He couldn’t be sure, the way the wolf heat—particularly the first one she’d had to experience—was making her so crazy.

  Either way, they were dead men. Nothing less than a gray alpha male of his choosing would do for his sister. And no one would steal her away in the middle of the night without facing the devil over it.

  His face extending into a wolf’s snout and his torso and limbs changing as fur covered his body, he became a wolf once again and raced out of the cabin. He smelled the intruders’ scent on the turbulent sea breeze and followed them as they headed south.

  Once he found them, he would deal with them wolf to wolf, teaching them to take care when stealing a leader’s sister.

  Hunter’s breath mixed with the air, an ice storm threatening.

  Mile after mile he tracked the three of them and his sister. They were either so arrogant they didn’t worry about him, or just too stupid to care. They left a trail a brand-new Cub Scout could follow—broken branches and clumps of fur rubbed against trees; two even urinated a few times as if taunting him—or maybe they had weak bladders.