Tynan’s face hardened to resemble the rocky cliffs towering over the lake. “Skills come in different levels and are never a waste of time. You can quite obviously hunt.”
“I learned from watching, although thanks to you, I’ll be better at it after tonight.” Which was so awesome. With a happy sigh, she sat back on the damp grass. Her butt would be freezing soon, but she was still toasty warm from trotting up the steep trail.
“Margery.” He stopped and shook his head. “I swear you look more like a Meggie to me.”
Meggie. The name brought grief sweeping through before it passed into nostalgic warmth. “That’s what my grandmother called me.”
He waited, patient as the hunter she’d seen him to be.
“I like Meggie.”
“Right, then. Meggie.” He stood with his back against the tree, gaze on the lake, obviously enjoying the night.
The beautiful night. The waning moon hadn’t risen yet. The stars were bright in the black sky with a hazy Milky Way along one side. As a breeze rustled the alder leaves, the lake lapped softly at the bank.
She smiled and let the peace of the night engulf her.
* * *
Not yet feeling the cold, Tynan stood quietly, breathing in the moist night air. Nothing was pushing or pulling at him. His mind hadn’t shut off, but he didn’t feel the need to be doing anything.
Peace. That’s what he felt. Simple…peace.
Resting against the tree trunk, he savored the feeling.
It couldn’t last forever, and after a few minutes, the chill broke into Tynan’s quiet. The air was too brisk to stay human for long.
He looked down at the little female at the center of the pool of calm. Sitting on the grassy bank.
So pretty. Dark hair, big eyes, and a determined jawline. Compellingly full breasts. Curves that he’d love to enjoy under a full moon. Or any time at all.
With a sigh, he turned his thoughts away from that line of thought.
Mentor, remember?
Right. Okay, then. She had healthy, sturdy legs…with scars.
Despite the dark night, wolf eyes could discern the appalling number of white lines on her skin. “Can you tell me how your ankle was injured?”
She froze like a rabbit spotting an eagle overhead, making his protective instincts roar to life.
Fecking git, why had he let his mouth ask that question? “I’m sorry, that was out of line.”
After a second, she gave him a wry smile. “Was it out of line? I haven’t quite figured out where the boundaries lie. In the compound, we weren’t allowed to speak to each other, so my knowledge of even basic manners, let alone traditions, can come up short.”
Ah, he hadn’t considered that handicap of imprisonment. Something else a good mentor should probably tackle. He rubbed his shoulder against the tree as he considered how to answer. “My question wasn’t completely out of line for a mentor. At the same time, it was…because you’re not yet comfortable with me.”
She nodded.
“As for the Daonain culture… Shifters, especially cats, are curious. Wolves stick their noses into anything having to do with pack members. In comparison, humans hide their bodies and emotions. Perhaps because of our animals, Daonain show more and worry about it less.”
“That’s…the most coherent explanation I’ve heard.”
He grinned. “When I went to live in Seattle, human behavior surprised me every day. After being there for a decade, now I can find it bumpy to be among shifters. So I do understand some of what you and the other hostages are experiencing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Did the alpha figure that into his calculations when he assigned me to you?”
Smart females were so fucking appealing. “Shay weighs things out before he acts.”
“I bet you two are a lot alike.” Her shoulders straightened—and, aye, being a healthy male, he enjoyed the wobble of her full breasts. He could almost feel the weight of them in his palms.
No, mentor.
Pulling in a determined breath, she touched her ankle. “To answer your question, my ankle was broken soon after they let us out of the basement laboratories. We were weeding one of the vegetable gardens. Barbara—my friend—had never gardened. After a guard backhanded her for pulling a broccoli seedling, she was too scared to move. I got caught whispering to her, and the guard started hitting me with his cane. When I begged for him to stop, another guard joined in.”
A decade ago. Meggie couldn’t have been much older than thirteen. Tynan’s lingering guilt over killing Scythe guards disappeared. “The second guard broke your ankle?”
“I’m not sure which of them did.” Her hand tightened on her leg. “Darcy yelled at them. Shoved them away. They beat her—horribly—and came back to me. I guess I was an example to the others. By the time they finished, I had a lot of broken bones.”
Unable to speak past the growl in his throat, he watched as she unconsciously touched the long scar on her face, her arms, her ribs, her legs.
“The uniforms locked me and Darcy up for days. Left us. I’m still surprised we survived.”
“I’m glad you did.” Uniforms? A sick taste fouled Tynan’s mouth. Was that what she thought when she looked at him when he was dressed as a deputy? That he could be the type to brutalize children and females?
Fuck him, but he wasn’t going to let her continue to think that way. Not about uniforms. Not about him.
“Come, Meggie. It’s getting late. Time to head back to town.”
A while later, Tynan watched the little female as she followed him through an unmelted patch of snow. Her gait had slowed. She held her left hind leg off the ground—obviously because it hurt.
Despite his order earlier, she hadn’t said anything about growing tired or hurting. Next time, he’d watch her more closely…and choose a shorter route.
At the clearing outside the Wild Hunt caves, he paused so she could get a good sniff and orient herself. She understood, and her tail wagged as she looked around. Next time, he’d make her prove she could find the lodge and the tavern portals again.
Once in the cave, he sniffed out their clothing. Donal had stuffed the bundles into one of the carved-out cubbies in the rock walls. Good brother.
Tynan trawsfurred and winced. Bare feet on an ice-cold cave floor.
After shifting to human, Meggie stood, keeping her weight on her good leg. Her smile was so bright she could have brought an early spring to the mountains. “That was wonderful. I learned so much. Thank you!”
He leaned against the cave wall as interest heated his blood. Not because she was a naked female—although, she really was lovely—but the way she took joy in the simplest things was incredibly appealing.
“I’m glad you enjoyed the run.” Smiling, he pointed out her clothing and started dressing. “Are you off tomorrow?”
“In the afternoon. Will that work for you?” She sat on a bench to pull on her jeans. Because her left leg probably wouldn’t hold her weight by itself.
Pity made his heart ache.
“Late afternoon will work well.” He set the rest of her clothing beside her so she wouldn’t have to stand again, then pulled on his jeans.
“Meggie, I can see you’re in pain.” He kept his voice soft. “Next time, tell me when your ankle begins to hurt. We should have stopped earlier.”
As he waited for her answer, he donned and buttoned his shirt.
“It’s not that bad. It’s that—” After looking up, she jumped to her feet and backed away. Her hands were in fists.
He turned and saw no predator in the cave. A sniff confirmed his visual check.
No, she was staring…at him. At his uniform shirt and badge. By Herne’s hooves and antlers. He’d hoped their time together would remove her fear of him.
But once again—because of his uniform—she acted like he was a Scythe guard. Perhaps he should be grateful he’d left his firearm and weapons belt locked in his vehicle.
“Meggie,” he said ge
ntly. “I wear this shirt and badge because I’ve sworn to protect people. The opposite of what the Scythe did.”
“Sure, sure. I know that.” She took another step away from him.
But her hands were fisted, her muscles tensed. She was as likely to punch him as to run.
He doubted she realized that. How much rage did she have stored inside? Oftentimes, a victim would blindly lash out, not at their abuser, but at another who’d triggered the response. If Meggie attacked someone in law enforcement, she’d get locked up—and being a shifter, might well die in a jail cell.
Even more terrifying, if she lost control and trawsfurred in front of humans, the Cosantir would have her killed for endangering the Daonain.
The world was filled with uniforms. She needed to get past this reaction and quickly.
He pointed to the bench. “Finish getting dressed, please, so we can leave.” Giving her space, he walked to the cave opening and waited with his back to her.
“I’m done.” She was standing by the bench. Still pale. “I’m…sorry.”
“We’ll talk about it another time. Let me show you how to access the doors in and out of the cave.” He climbed the stairs. The heavy door at the top opened into a closet. After showing her how to operate the locking mechanism from the other side, he took her through the sitting room. “The door from the hallway is always locked unless there’s a Gathering here.”
He demonstrated how to work the combination-lock and made sure she had the code memorized.
“Good.” Past the tiny kitchen, restrooms, and the stairs to the second floor Gathering rooms, the hallway opened into the main tavern.
It was late with only a few people remaining. Probably expecting Tynan’s report on the new pack member, Shay and Zeb were talking to Donal by the fireplace. Calum was behind the bar. Ryder was playing chess with Thorson. No humans were in the room.
Perfect. If needed, the alpha could help calm Meggie.
If Tynan pushed her too far.
His gut tensed a protest at what he was about to do.
“Donal’s here so we’ll give you a ride home.” Tynan stepped closer to Meggie.
“No.” As he’d expected, she jerked back. She stumbled on her sore ankle. “I’ll bike.”
Even knowing the origins of her antipathy, it burned after the comradery of the last few hours.
“No, ye will not bike home.” He raised his voice to ensure the tavern occupants were listening.
When Calum’s eyes narrowed, Tynan shot him a look. Stay out of this. The Cosantir didn’t speak—but his stillness was that of a cat ready to engage.
“You need to give your ankle a rest.” Tynan crossed his arms over his chest—drawing Meggie’s gaze back to his uniform. He tapped a finger on his badge. “I’m in charge here.”
Her body stiffened. The furious, fearful look in her eyes said she saw only his uniform, not him.
Come, little wolf. Lose your temper. He added a taunting edge to his voice. “You’re getting a ride, like it or not.”
“You don’t have any say over me.” Even as she snapped out the words, her body tensed against a blow.
“I’m your mentor. I have all the say over you.”
* * *
Buzzing filled Margery’s brain until she wasn’t sure what she was hearing. Could only see the badge on the guard’s chest.
She wanted to hit him, to kick him, and to run and run and escape the beating he’d give her.
“Margery.” The sharp authoritative tone made her take a step back.
Her fisted hands rose.
“You don’t like me.” The badge kept getting bigger.
She tried to find the calm that had worked on the guards before. “I’m sure you’re—”
“Don’t bullshit me, female. By the Gods, you don’t even see my face, only the uniform. You hate it, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word hissed out.
“Yes, what?” He stepped forward and pushed her shoulder.
She punched his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”
No, what was she doing? Her pulse hammered, hurting her chest. She knew better, knew what he’d—
He shoved her again. Harder. “What’s the matter, little female? You going to let a uniform take over your world?”
“Stop it.” Her brain roared with anger as her vision filled with the glittering badge. Nothing else existed…just the evilness of it.
He pushed her again, making her stumble, as if to drive home she was a cripple. “What are you going to do about it?”
The taunting voice wrapped around her, drowning out everything else except the red of fury. Badge. Uniform. The guards. Hurting her. Killing her friends.
Screaming, she hit him. Hit him over and over, slamming her fists into his chest, the horrible uniform a target for every blow.
Someone was yelling, “No, no, no,” punctuating every slam of her fists—
And the person yelling was her.
Her.
She’d lost all control. Lost…everything.
Tears filled her eyes as she stared at the wide chest, not seeing the uniform, but…a chest. Tynan. A sob stuck in her throat as dismay and guilt—and loss—filled her. She’d hit the mentor who’d been nothing but kind to her.
“What’s my name, little wolf?” His voice was calm as a summer lake, the lilt of his Irish accent like white froth on the water. Where was his anger?
“Meggie. What’s my name?”
“T-Tynan.”
“Good. Say it again.”
“Tynan.” Realization swept through her, and she choked. “You did that on purpose. Wanted me to hit you.”
“Aye.”
“Bu-but why?”
“Ye need to realize a uniform is merely a piece of cloth. To look past it and see the person wearing it. Then decide if they’re evil or not.”
A sob escaped her, and his expression turned gentle. “Ah, lass.” His arms came around her, pulling her against the chest she’d been beating on.
And he held her as her world fell apart, while she could only cry.
* * *
Tynan scooped up the soft female he’d started to think might be the one to break him…because her crying was dredging aching hollows into his heart.
Fuck, he hated what he’d done, but when she’d finally looked at him and seen past the uniform, he knew he’d been right.
Even if she hated him after this.
He’d do anything to keep her safe, even from herself.
When he carried her to the fireplace sitting area, Donal moved from the couch to a chair so Meggie could be closer to the fire’s warmth.
On the other couch, Shay was still in place, although Zeb had retreated to the bar. The dark, taciturn cahir didn’t handle a female’s tears well.
In law enforcement, Tynan had dealt with more than his fair share of crying women. He envied the way they could release their emotions like springtime thunderstorms cleared away a winter’s debris.
But Meggie had more than a season’s emotions built up. Settling her more comfortably on his lap, he cuddled her close and stroked her back. There wasn’t much else a male could do than provide a safe shelter.
And there wasn’t anything more rewarding than to be that safe shelter.
The silence from the room drew his attention.
At the bar, Calum gave Tynan a measured nod. Apparently, the Cosantir had decided not to kill him and return him to the Mother.
Shay eyed him, coldly. The alpha’s nature was akin to Tynan’s—protect the vulnerable. “Those were drastic measures.”
“Drastic is the correct word.” Tynan rubbed his cheek against Meggie’s silky soft hair. The tears had stopped, and she was in the half-drowsy aftermath of violent emotions and exhaustion. “I’d hoped you were right that spending time with me in fur would help. But the minute I dressed, my badge and uniform triggered her. And I realized she was as volatile and angry as she was fearful. If she attacked a uniformed human, well…”<
br />
Shay’s mouth tightened. “I see your point.”
“So you set her off?” Donal’s scowl was directed at Meggie. “If she’d had a knife, I’d be trying to heal you—or bring you back from the dead.”
Fuck. Donal had focused on her attack, rather than the reason behind it. That wasn’t like his soft-hearted littermate. Then again, after their time apart, Donal tended to act like a cougar defending its cub.
“I checked her for weapons. It’s not her fault, Donal.” Tynan kissed the top of her head. “It’s time to call it a night and head home.”
“Yes, it really is.” Donal’s words didn’t conceal the underlying snarl. He rose to his feet, movements stiff. One cat who wouldn’t be letting down his guard.
Shay nodded. “Can you drop by the Wildwood tomorrow?” The alpha wanted his update.
“Aye. In the morning.” Tynan rose and half-smiled when Meggie startled awake.
“Tynan?” She looked up at him. Seeing him.
“I think I won the argument that you’ll accept a ride home.” He smiled down at her, keeping her in his arms. By the Gods, she fit right there…perfectly, so soft and female. “It’s not like you’re out of the way, aye?”
“Gods, you’re stubborn,” she muttered. Sighed. And whispered, “Thank you.”
Chapter Eight
Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory - Beltane - waning crescent moon
* * *
Following the posted signs and the sounds of people, Margery walked around the side of the Wildwood Lodge to the back patio.
Bree had said that every other Sunday during the warm season, the lodge held barbecues, open to their guests and the town. Today was special since it was Beltane—or what the humans called May Day. If the fire festival day had arrived closer to full moon, the Cosantir would’ve celebrated during the Gathering, but this year, Beltane fell near the new moon.
She smiled at the bright red tulips in a bed by the side of the lodge. Farther out in a sunny patch, apple trees bloomed, casting a heady scent. Beneath them, wild strawberries showed off their white blossoms.
Healing of the Wolf Page 12
