Healing of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  Bree, the sweetest of females, looked worried. “Did someone else get hurt?”

  Donal sat beside her—the only nice one of the bunch. “I was the one who wanted to die.” He leaned back, letting the peace of the lodge ease his irritation. “The cub with a broken bone wasn’t a problem. Brave lad. But the next one… Idiot wolf pup. Lacking real claws, he slid all the way down the trunk and got scraped from chin to crotch. And he didn’t stop yelling, even after I’d healed every scratch. By Herne’s hairy balls, my ears are still ringing.”

  The heartless females in the room gave him no sympathy. Even Breanne had her hand over her mouth and was chortling like a drunken pixie.

  “Poor Donal.” Darcy grinned before asking, “Doesn’t Margery live next door to you? Next time you have a screamer, get her.”

  Donal had no intention of opening that can of worms, but Tynan tilted his head. “Why’s that, Darcy?”

  “She can calm nearly anyone down, especially cubs.” Darcy gestured toward a mass of blankets and pillows by the hearth.

  After a second, Donal realized Margery was nestled deep in the pile, curled around Vicki’s cubs, all of them sound asleep. Artair had his tiny hand wrapped around one of her fingers; Toren had gripped a strand of her wavy brown hair.

  “There’s a pretty sight,” Tynan said softly.

  Aye, it is.

  Donal frowned. The slashed-up younglings at the tavern had clung to her in the same way. Interesting. If she was as heartless and self-centered as Gretchen and Caleb had said, why were the young so drawn to her?

  “She’d try to calm the Scythe guards that way. Sometimes, it worked.” Darcy’s expression turned bleak. “If they were hitting one of the younger children, she’d always try.”

  Tynan’s voice had an edge. “And if she didn’t succeed?”

  “Then she got bruises and welts right along with the original victim.”

  Yet she hadn’t stopped intervening after the first time she failed?

  Intrigued, Donal studied the banfasa. Hair the brown of warm pecan, light golden skin. Sturdy bones. Scars on the backs of her hands and arms.

  So many scars. He frowned. The long scar on her face bothered him every time he saw it. If he’d been there, he could have prevented that.

  She was sleeping as soundly as the cubs. “She looks exhausted.”

  “She had an evening shift at the diner last night, then worked the morning and lunch hours for a waitress who had a problem.” Breanne pointed at Donal. “The waitress’s child broke an arm climbing a tree, and some bossy healer told her to stay home to keep the child quiet.”

  Everyone broke into laughter.

  “Margery is cuddling all three babies.” Tynan turned a dark gaze on Vicki. “I had to charm you for weeks before you let me hold even one of your cubs.”

  “Margery can have them anytime she wants. They’re alive because of her.”

  “What?” Donal frowned.

  The hardened ex-military female’s voice was shaky. “At the Scythe compound, we tried to sneak to the garage. I was in panther form, so the other females carried the babies. Margery had Artair, but Sorcha started crying. Margery took her to quiet—”

  Darcy grinned and raised her eyebrows. “See?”

  “You’re right. Sorcha calmed down the second Margery had her.”

  Donal’s gut was tight. There was more to the story. “But there was trouble?”

  “A guard heard.” Vicki’s hands fisted. “He grabbed for Sorcha, and Margery kicked him away. The fucking asshole swung a cane at Artair, but Margery twisted. Took the blows instead.”

  “Damn.” Tynan’s soft curse echoed what Donal felt.

  Damn, indeed. That night still troubled Donal’s dreams. How could anyone, human or shifter, harm a cubling?

  Bree eyed Vicki. “How long did that guard live?”

  Vicki smiled, but her eyes were cold. She’d been in the human military and was now a werecat. Undoubtedly, the guard had died messily under her claws.

  Well fucking done.

  The door of the lodge swung open with a thud, and Shay walked in. “You’re having a party without me?”

  The noise roused Margery, and she sat up, yawning. Blinked sleepily at Shay and Donal. Saw Tynan and froze. Face pale, she moved to put her body between him and the pups.

  By the Gods, what is she doing?

  Tynan noticed—of course he did. The cop never missed anything. His jaw went tight.

  And his eyes soft.

  Too soft. Donal stiffened. Sure, it was obvious that Margery was brave. Good with cubs. That didn’t make her trustworthy. The Rainier Territory shifters had painted a picture of an irresponsible, incompetent banfasa.

  If Tynan was interested, the situation could get ugly. Bloody hell.

  Even worse, Donal couldn’t blame his brother. The female was incredibly appealing.

  Jostled by Margery’s movement, a cub roused and squeaked. Unable to resist, Donal went over, planning to scoop up a baby.

  Margery blocked him with an outstretched arm. Pale, smelling of anxiety and fear, she didn’t move her hand until she had a nod from Vicki.

  He liked the way she protected the cubs and would have said so, but she looked away. Dismissing him from her notice. Well, fair was fair. After all, he’d told Calum that he didn’t want her help.

  He picked up Sorcha—his favorite. Moving away, he rubbed his cheek over her golden hair and grinned as she gurgled at him. Without a mate, he’d never have the joy of raising cubs, of sharing in the thrill of the first word, first step, first trawsfur.

  The knowledge hurt a little more each year.

  At least as a healer, he got to hold as many kitlings as he wanted. Inhaling Sorcha’s milky scent, Donal shook his hair to make it dance. She chortled and waved her tiny hands in delight. This one was much like Alec—she loved to laugh.

  Tynan had a soft spot for babies and had already nabbed Artair. Donal watched him with eyes and healer senses. Being back in the Gods’ domain had restored Tynan’s health, and the deeply carved lines had almost disappeared from his face.

  Daonain didn’t do well in human cities. Wolves didn’t do well alone.

  And brothers were meant to be together. The return of his littermate was like receiving rain after a long ugly drought.

  Donal touched Sorcha’s fuzzy hair. Like Vicki, he’d bring out his claws if anything or anyone tried to separate him from his family.

  His mood lightened as Shay coaxed Toren away from Margery.

  When Breanne saw her mate cuddling the tiny boy, her face turned soft.

  Donal eyed her with professional interest. Lifemating upped the odds of a pregnancy, and Breanne would make a fine mother.

  Now unencumbered, Margery pushed her hair out of her face and gave Bree an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Bree. I didn’t intend to fall asleep.”

  “You needed the rest.” Bree pushed the platter of cookies toward her. “Here, sugar-up before Tynan takes you on your run.”

  Margery’s hand stopped halfway to the plate. “Tynan?”

  “Yes, he’s your mentor.” Shay reached over Bree’s shoulder to snag himself a couple of cookies.

  “No,” Margery snapped. “Absolutely not.”

  Donal frowned. Why in the Hunter’s forest would the female not want his littermate? There could be no better wolf, no better mentor for her. For anyone.

  Curious, he leaned forward. “What do you have against Tynan?”

  * * *

  Margery ignored the healer. Why should she speak to someone who openly disliked her? Even if he was God-called. Even if he made her hormones pick up each time she saw him.

  He could still go take a long leap into an icy pond.

  Instead, she told Shay, “Pick a different mentor. Please.”

  “’Fraid not. Tynan is well experienced.” The alpha’s gaze held more amusement than sympathy. “Try not to kill him. The Cosantir frowns on that sort of behavior.”

  Her ange
r and fear rose until her hands were starting to shake…and the alpha was making jokes?

  When she turned to Tynan, she couldn’t see anything except his uniform shirt. His badge.

  She tried to talk reason to the cold terror flooding her veins. The male had been nice. Polite. He’d rescued her from Roger. He wasn’t a Scythe.

  Maybe he’d protest and tell the alpha that it was impossible to teach a cripple? That’s what her mentor in Rainier had done.

  One more try. She forced a smile. “Tynan, I’m sure I’ll be fine with a less experienced mentor. I know you’re busy and—”

  “Not that busy.” He brushed his fingertips over Artair’s round cheek. How could such big hands be so gentle? His clear blue gaze turned to her. “Training is something I enjoy, whether it’s inexperienced police officers or newly shifted cubs. And I haven’t had the joy of teaching cubs in a long time.”

  “I’m not a cub,” she huffed.

  “No, you’re not,” he murmured. The masculine appreciation in his eyes made her blink.

  After handing Artair to Vicki, he turned back to Margery. “Let’s be off, lass. I’ll show you the portal here at the lodge. Donal, if you’d take our clothing to the Wild Hunt when you leave, I’ll show her that portal on our return. Take her bike, too.”

  Donal hissed under his breath. “Sssst, do I look like a dwarf to be hauling your loads around?”

  “Aye, now, and you have the right of it.” Tynan tilted his head. “I never noticed the resemblance before. Perhaps it’s a beard you should grow.”

  The healer scowled…yet his lips quirked up. “Go on then. I’ll be here eating cookies while you’re out getting your fur soaked.”

  “Then, my dear brother, don’t be whining to me when your arse grows fat.” As everyone burst into laughter, Tynan motioned for Margery to rise.

  Damn, there was no way out. An alpha’s orders had to be obeyed.

  As she rose to her feet, anger rose inside her as well. Toward the obstinate alpha.

  Toward herself because her ankle was so tired she couldn’t conceal the hitch in her gait.

  Toward stubborn mentors who wore a uniform—and made jokes that forced her to remember he wasn’t a Scythe guard.

  Tynan led the way to the back of the lodge, turned left down a short hallway, past a laundry room, and finally to a small room at the end. “This is where you’ll strip, trawsfur, and take to the forest during pack runs.”

  “Oh, joy. Pack runs,” she said under her breath. In the far corner, she started to remove her clothing.

  He chuckled. “Yes, little wolf, pack runs.”

  Oh Gods, how had she forgotten the keenness of shifter hearing? Holding her shirt and bra in one hand, she couldn’t seem to move. “I-I’m sorry.”

  “Lass, you’re allowed to have feelings.” Tynan waited until she sat to pull off her socks before continuing, “Wolves usually look forward to the pack runs. The sense of being part of something is fulfilling. It’s rough when we don’t have our brothers and sisters nearby.”

  His voice held a note that spoke of loneliness.

  Surprised, she looked up. And kept looking. Dear Goddess…

  He’d removed his uniform shirt. One foot on the bench, he was unlacing his boot. His body was made for strength and power, from his corded neck to thick pectoral muscles to a ridged abdomen. His chest held a light brown scattering of hair, and his fair skin was lightly tanned—all over.

  She… How could she possibly want to touch someone so much even when he scared her?

  When he stripped off his jeans, his shaft lay, long and thick, in front of heavy testicles. And it was impossible not to look.

  Ignoring her gaze, he pointed to the wall shelves. “Normally, you’d leave your clothing there, but today, we’ll pile everything on the bench so Donal knows what to take.”

  Shifters weren’t body-conscious, she told herself, even as she felt her breasts jiggle as if to draw attention to how big they were. Too big.

  Did males like big breasts? He had big hands. What would they— Why was she even thinking like this? Her cheeks blazed with heat. Hurriedly, she finished stripping. Moving to the bench to stack her clothing tidily, she felt his gaze on her bare bottom.

  How could a female walk normally when a male—a commanding male like this one—was looking at her?

  “Come over here and memorize this.” Standing to one side of the door so she could see, he slowly punched in a lock code and waited for her nod. The door unlocked, and he opened it, waiting for her to walk through.

  She stepped outside, the ground cold beneath her bare feet. The rain clouds had moved on, leaving patchy blue sky above. The setting sun slanted redly through the trees.

  Turning in a circle, she saw only tall, thick underbrush and conifers. No one would be able to glimpse a shifter changing forms. “This is nice.”

  “Aye. Thick brush.” His blue eyes lit with laughter. “Any curious human would have to go on hands and knees to get through.”

  A snort of amusement escaped her as she imagined Scythe guards crawling head-to-butt in a long line along the tiny animal track. “What now?”

  “We’ll go catch some dinner and stay out long enough to let you get a feel for the landmarks.”

  He’d undoubtedly watch to see how badly she did. Well, if he was like her first mentor, the lesson wouldn’t last long.

  His gaze held hers as if he could see her doubts. “Shift, please.”

  As Margery trawsfurred into her wolf, the Mother’s love swept from her paws straight to her heart in the welcoming every Daonain received when changing to animal form. Skin tingling, she gave her fur a shake.

  Oh, she did love being a wolf. She pranced a few steps on her paws, reminding herself she had four legs, before looking around.

  Still in human form, Tynan was watching. Going down on his haunches, he reached for her hind leg. The bad one.

  When she started to sidle away, he simply looked at her. “Let me look, lass.”

  And she stilled.

  He picked up her leg. His hands were warm and careful as he palpated the injured joint, undoubtedly feeling the scar tissue, the misalignment, the swelling.

  With a grunt, he set her paw down carefully. “You have some heat and swelling there.”

  Waitressing wasn’t the best career for messed-up ankles.

  She looked away.

  Firmly, he cupped her muzzle and forced her to meet his eyes. “We’ll take it easy, and you let me know if it starts to hurt. You can hide your limp if you wish, but as your mentor, I need to know when an injury becomes more than a bother. Or when you get tired. Is this understood?”

  His stern eyes were direct. Level.

  And her gaze dropped immediately. He was an alpha even without having a pack.

  Realizing he waited for her answer, she looked up and flickered her ears forward in agreement.

  “Good.” His lips curved slightly, then he ruffled the fur on her nape, making every bone in her body go limp with unexpected pleasure. Strong fingers scratched behind her ears, along her spine. “Having been injured a time or two, I know a few tricks on how to manage with a hurt leg. I’ll tell you if I see something that’ll help.”

  Rising, he shifted into a heavily muscled wolf. Fur the silvery gray of exposed mountain granite shimmered in the setting sun. He was even bigger than Roger. Wow.

  He circled her, sniffing. His shoulder brushed down her side, sharing his scent in the wolf manner of getting acquainted. Unlike Roger and his betas, Tynan didn’t “stalk”; his wolf simply exuded strength. He had an alpha personality without the need to assert his power.

  She’d never met anyone quite like him.

  He nuzzled her ear, sending tingles from her ruff to her tail, and then trotted off down an almost concealed trail. Expecting her to follow.

  And she did.

  She used her nose to read the trail news. The scent of other shifters gave information about their general health, gender, and age.<
br />
  A rodent cowered in the underbrush.

  A non-Daonain bear had crossed the path to reach a nearby stream. The bear had caught a fish and dined on the riverbank, leaving the wet stink behind.

  Slowly, Tynan increased their pace to an easy trot, one she could maintain for a long time. Eventually, they hit rougher terrain—downed trees, pools of water—that slowed her. He watched her navigate the obstacles with calm yellow-brown eyes that spurred her on to do her best.

  In an area of loose rocks, he shifted to human to instruct on moving her weight forward to provide better balance. He didn’t insult her even once.

  Over the course of the evening, she relaxed. She caught two rodents for her supper, and he gave her some hints on tracking and pouncing. He had her practice a neck-snap technique to kill small prey. It was more efficient—and cleaner—than the crunch method she’d used.

  She’d never met anyone so patient.

  At a small mountain lake, Tynan shifted to human…and took her breath away again. When he went down on one knee at the lake, she couldn’t keep from staring. From his broad back to flat butt to heavy thighs, he was all muscle.

  Bending, he washed off the blood from his own kills and drank some water. He caught her watching, and his quick grin transformed his stern face. Changed everything about him. “Deep in wolf-brain, I don’t notice the blood, but if I think about being human, then I feel like I rubbed my face in blood.”

  She ran her tongue over her bloody muzzle. Ick. Trawsfurring, she joined him on the bank. When she knelt beside him, she noticed—again—how very big he was. Yet he’d been nothing but nice to her. Kind.

  A vigorous face scrub was wonderful. Honestly, even her teeth felt icky, and she drank a ton of the snow-cold lake water before sitting back with a sigh. “Thank you for teaching me the neck-snap thing.”

  “You’re very welcome.” Rising, he leaned a shoulder against a young sapling. “The basics of hunting are usually taught in the first few outings.” His voice was gentle, very carefully nonjudgmental.

  She bit her lip. Exposing how the others felt about her problems was embarrassing. “My previous mentor felt that teaching me hunting skills—or most skills—was a waste of her time. Since I’m handicapped.”