Healing of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  The other two Cosantirs were frowning.

  “A slave.” Pete’s face turned an angry dark red. “That’s no way to talk about free room and board.”

  “You kept me penniless. Without transportation. With no choices in food or lodging. You told me I had to be a banfasa, wasn’t allowed to do anything else. My clothes were rags, with no way to replace them since I wasn’t allowed to earn any money.” She drew herself straight. “That’s a slave.”

  When his hands fisted, she forced herself not to retreat. If he hit her, well, she’d find out what happened when a shifter fought a Cosantir.

  Because she’d found her fangs.

  Someone crowded Margery on the side, and she almost swung at them. But—it was Vicki beside her.

  The petite brunette radiated anger, and her stance said she was ready to take on Pete all by herself.

  Mother’s breath. The unbelievable sensation of not being alone shook Margery, and she looked down at her feet, fighting against tears.

  Vicki bumped her shoulder against Margery’s to get her attention, then nodded at the Cosantirs.

  Focus. Right. Margery lifted her chin. “When I escaped to the North Cascades, your shifters spread lies about my skills to try to keep me from being able to survive.”

  “Lying? I’m appalled.” Pete shook his head. “Or perhaps they knew something we don’t?”

  Even as he spoke, Margery realized she didn’t need revenge. His past manipulation didn’t matter. Being able to tell him how she felt, to confront him, this was enough.

  As long as he couldn’t drag her back against her will. The thought made her fingers clench into fists.

  “Her talent isn’t in question in my territory.” A deep laugh came from behind her, and the words had a slight British accent. “Margery is extremely skilled, and my clan is delighted to have her. Donal has already put her to work.”

  Coming up behind her, Calum squeezed her shoulder and moved past. He motioned to the other Cosantirs. “Since Pete introduced the subject, perhaps we can discuss how to encourage skilled Daonain to settle in a territory.”

  The other Cosantirs followed Calum like wolves after their alpha.

  Pete’s hands opened and closed as he stared at her.

  She stared back, unmoving. Her own hands were still in fists.

  Huffing, he scowled. “Fine, stay here, then. You’re not worth my time or effort.” Turning on his heel, he stomped after the other Cosantirs.

  Oh, my Goddess. She’d…she’d won. Shivers were lodged in her bones, and she had to force her fingers to open. But it was over. She’d stood up to him.

  Pulling in a hard breath, she turned to Vicki. “Thank you. I felt really alone for a minute.”

  “Not even close.” Vicki grinned. “Next time, scope out your surroundings.” The ex-military female pointed to the left.

  Hands on hips, staring after the Cosantirs, Angie stood in the door of the cook tent with Breanne and Darcy beside her. Darcy held a pot like she planned to wallop someone.

  Vicki pointed to the right.

  Tynan stood beside Joe Thorson and the North Cascades cahirs, including her pack leaders, Shay and Zeb.

  Margery stared. Mother’s breasts, but they’d all been standing by. Ready to help if she needed it. The knowledge took her breath away.

  After a second, she managed to blink back tears and find a smile instead. “Thank you. Thank you all.”

  Tynan gave her an approving nod.

  Angie brushed off her hands. “Good job of standing your ground, girl.”

  Darcy winked.

  And everyone returned to what they were doing. Because they hadn’t thought they’d done anything special.

  She knew better.

  “I have to admit, I’m surprised Tynan didn’t jump in,” Margery said.

  “Actually, when the cahirs moved to intervene, he told them to wait. That it would be good for you to bare your fangs and confront the asshole.”

  “I…” Margery blew out a breath. “He was right. It felt good.”

  “Even better, the way you stated your case to all the Cosantirs means Pete can’t claim we stole you. You’re safer this way.”

  “Huh. That’s…smart.”

  “That would be Calum. He was beside Tynan when you started raising hell with Pete.”

  A good, protective Cosantir. Friends on her side. Tynan and Donal. “I’m really glad Heather brought me to Cold Creek.”

  “So are we. Now, come on, we have somewhere we need to be.” Vicki motioned toward the other side of the grounds.

  As they headed that way, Breanne and Darcy fell in behind them.

  Halfway across the meadow, Margery heard someone say, loudly, “Oh, cat-scat, it’s the scarred-up gimp. Honestly, why does she bother to attend Gatherings? Does she really think any male would want her?”

  The words made Margery flinch. Made her remember the scar on her face. Her limp. Made her feel…less.

  Vicki hissed under her breath and turned.

  So did Margery.

  The female talking was Sarah, the brunette who been with Donal at Margery’s first Cold Creek gathering. Beautiful, petite, curvy. With a tongue sharper than a razor.

  Deal with it now. No hiding in caves, remember?

  Margery made her voice strong—and spoke to Sarah and her companion. “In case you forget, Daonain Law says all single shifters must attend Gatherings. That’s why I attend.” Then she remembered what Oliver had said about beauty hiding an empty heart. “As for being wanted, I’ve noticed many males prefer inner strength and compassion to outer beauty.”

  A low masculine laugh from the side startled Margery. Two males had stopped to listen.

  One had dark hair and even darker eyes. “I far prefer compassion, aye.”

  The other, cahir-sized with long flaxen hair, gave Margery a slow perusal, taking in the scar on her face and those on her bare arms and hands. His lips turned up for a second. Then he turned to Sarah and said, “Any male who has fought recognizes battle scars like those, and any male worth the name honors courage far above shallow attractiveness.”

  Both males tilted their heads at Margery, and the dark one murmured in a French-accented voice, “We will hope to win your favor at the Gathering tomorrow night.”

  Without another glance at Sarah, the two strolled on.

  Speechless, Margery stared after them, but Breanne and Darcy were snickering.

  Red-faced, Sarah stomped away in the other direction, trailed by her friend.

  Grinning, Vicki started walking again, pulling Margery along. “We’re running late, crew. Let’s go.”

  “Late for what?” Margery’s question was answered when Vicki stopped at a rock-enclosed firepit. Big logs around the pit created benches to sit on.

  “Here you are. Finally.” Emma, the bard, was comfortably seated on one log, and Breanne dropped down beside her.

  Heather was on another log. “I was beginning to think you got lost.”

  Darcy tossed a blanket on an empty log and sat down. She extended her legs to toast her boots. “Boy, don’t go wading in the creek. The water’s freezing.”

  Laughing, Heather motioned with the mug she was holding. “How about a warmer-upper to get rid of the chill?”

  “But—aren’t we supposed to be setting up?” Margery glanced back at the camp.

  “Everything’s finished,” Heather said. “We’ve been waiting for Vicki and team to find you.”

  They’d been looking for her. Wanting her.

  How many times could they reduce her to tears in a few minutes? Blinking hard—again—Margery joined Heather on the log and accepted a mug from the batch near the fire.

  Vicki sat on her other side and picked up a mug.

  Catching the fragrance, Margery smiled. “Hot chocolate’s a great idea.”

  After a sip, Darcy widened her eyes. “This is hot chocolate with a major kick. Really nice, Heather.”

  “We’ve corrupted Darcy,” Breann
e said. “She’s learned the wonders of Baileys, Kahlua, and Amaretto.”

  “I don’t even know what those are,” Margery admitted.

  “Oh, you will.” Emma laughed. “Be aware, though, that your hot chocolate has a lot of alcohol in it.”

  “Fuck yes. I love drunken sex in the moonlight.” Vicki took a hefty gulp as everyone snickered.

  Drunken sex with Tynan sounded like a lot of fun. It was a shame Donal had stayed in Cold Creek. Margery took a tentative sip. “Oh, my Gods, this is really good!”

  Laughter rippled around the fire.

  As if the sound had drawn it, a salamander appeared in the flames, rising to do a swirly dance.

  “There’s a pretty guy,” Emma said in approval. “And, look, he brought a friend.”

  Well above the flames, where smoke rose into the air, a sylph mirrored the salamander’s dance.

  Margery breathed in the cool, clean night air, holding the scents of wood smoke, of deep forest, of chocolate and shifters.

  The air of freedom.

  For a moment, the past crept closer: The loneliness of the tiny cell. The pain of bruises and welts. The slow exhaustion of impending death. The hard cell floor where she’d sit beneath the narrow window so the moonlight could wash over her.

  But she was here now.

  Overhead, the stars were appearing in the darkening sky as a silvery glow lit the rim of the mountains. Tonight, the moon would cast her light over the entire world.

  Tears prickled her eyes at the beauty.

  “I love this. All of this,” she whispered.

  Hearing her, Darcy looked around. At the forest, the tents, the females gathered around the fire. She nodded. “Home. Back with our people. Friends.”

  Then, being the irrepressible Darcy, she snickered. “And the males aren’t bad either.”

  Cheers greeted her statement.

  Darcy waggled her brows. “Have you noticed that Margery agrees with me—at least about two of them?”

  That got even more hooting. It seemed everyone had noticed.

  “Well, honestly. I barely get a newbie broken in, and they go off and get mated.” Heather huffed. “It’s very annoying.”

  Her light tone couldn’t conceal the unhappiness beneath it.

  Margery took her hand. “I’m sorry.” Because she’d felt the same way in Ailill Ridge when it seemed everyone else had friends and mates and family.

  “No, don’t be, sweetie.” Heather leaned against her. “I’m just crabby that I can’t find anyone for myself.”

  Vicki frowned. “Considering that you’re strikingly attractive, intelligent, fun…and nice, I always figured your lack of mates was your choice. It’s not?”

  Did the human military teach bluntness as a weapon?

  Emma frowned at Vicki, then sighed. “All right, I have to admit, I thought the same thing.”

  Although the redhead didn’t upset easily, Margery patted Heather’s shoulder in wolfy support.

  “Okay, yes, I’m fussy. Potential mates get rejected…for lots of reasons.” Heather stayed, shoulder to shoulder with Margery, obviously needing the contact. She turned to Vicki. “For example, I adore your Alec and Calum, but I grew up with them. They’re like littermates.”

  “That makes sense.” Breanne frowned. “My Shay and Zeb were in Rainier with you for a long time. How did you manage to resist them?”

  “Girl.” Heather waved her hand dismissively. “In Rainier, Zeb’s idea of conversing was to growl. You and Shay have been good for him but still...”

  “I love this!” Emma pointed her mug at Heather. “Now mine!”

  With a roll of her eyes, Heather said, “Ryder wasn’t here. Now, Ben is appealing. I love his size and easy-going personality, but my two littermates are bears. When Ben goes bearish, he feels like another brother.”

  “You are fussy,” Darcy said in disbelief and offered up her males. “Owen and Gawain?”

  “I didn’t know Gawain. But Owen? The only time he said more than two words to a female was at Gatherings.”

  Margery grinned. Breanne said Owen used to act like females were a scourge of mosquitoes. Wasn’t it cool that Darcy had snuck in under all his defenses?

  The other females were looking at her, waiting for her to ask.

  “Um, Donal and Tynan?” Margery tensed. It would be horribly awkward if Heather had wanted them.

  “Tynan lived in Seattle, so I hardly knew him. As for Donal, we’d kill each other within a week—and not in a sexy way.” Heather snorted. “If he ranted at me, I’d smack his nose and then he’d probably rip my intestines right out.”

  “But it’s fun when he goes on one of his spiels,” Margery protested.

  “Not.” Heather lifted her hand and her smack-a-snout motion sent Margery into giggles.

  “Speaking of the cop and the healer”—Emma strummed some introductory chords on her guitar—“what’s going on there?”

  All eyes turned to Margery.

  “Wow, you’re all so snoopy.”

  “Yep.” Vicki pointed to herself and Darcy. “Curious cats.” She motioned to Heather and Breanne. “Nosy pack members.”

  Emma raised her hand. “Story-loving bard.”

  “Fine.” Margery took a sip of chocolate, stalling for time. Then another sip because it was so very good, like a creamy dessert. “We’re, ummm, together at night.”

  “That long ummm means sexy times, right?” Heather waggled her eyebrows.

  “Every clever man knows what ummm means.” Vicki nodded.

  Laughing, Emma smiled up at an imaginary male. “Hey, Ben, you want to…ummm?”

  The rest of them broke up.

  “Morning ummms are sure a nice way to start the day,” Darcy murmured.

  “There are times, though. Two cahirs after they’ve been in a battle?” Breanne shook her head, saying to her imaginary males, “No, guys. If we ummm again, I won’t be able to walk.”

  “I have to admit, I’ve never had such excellent ummming as I get now,” Vicki said. “Calum and Alec are infinitely creative.”

  “By the Gods,” Margery muttered. “I’m never going to be able to use that word again.”

  “Ummm, what?” Heather asked with a smirk, then turned serious. “Be aware, new wolf, ummming outside of Gatherings can lead to expectations.”

  “Expectations?”

  “Like getting serious.” Vicki ran her fingertips over her lifemating bracelets—the Daonain equivalent of a wedding ring.

  Margery frowned as she sipped her drink. Were Donal and Tynan…serious? They said they loved her, but did they want more than what they had right now? Would they want to mate for life?

  She imagined the feel of two lifemating bracelets on her wrist, one from each male.

  What would it be like to know she’d be with them forever?

  She’d live with them…although she almost was now. They were together every evening, especially when Oliver was out.

  They’d make supper together.

  Tynan popping a strawberry in her mouth and following with a kiss. Donal sliding past, rubbing against her—such a cat—and purring in her ear as he sneaked in a quick feel. They’d talk about their days, about patients, about criminals, and discuss ways to help the people in town.

  The days since they’d said they loved her had been more than joyful.

  She put her arms around herself as if to hold the dream in, then went a step further and imagined the future. Imagined cubs crawling on the floor. One would look like Tynan, one like Donal. Maybe even one like her. Would their personalities hold true, too? A stack of blocks falling, and one pup babbling in a toddler-Donal rant. The other with a Tynan-frown before he determinedly started over and was joined by his littermate. Working together.

  Until she swooped in to give them mommy hugs.

  The dream seemed to snap into place, as if she’d had it forever without realizing it. Because…she loved Donal and Tynan, and they loved her back.

  She kn
ew it now. Accepted it. Delighted in it. But where were they going with their lives?

  Because…with all her heart, she wanted to be with them forever.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory - waxing gibbous moon

  * * *

  Answering dispatch’s call, Donal drove through the dark night up into the mountains. Although it was past midnight, he hadn’t retired for the night. The empty bed hadn’t appealed—not without Margery and his littermate. He’d agreed the two should go early to help set up the festival grounds, but by the Gods, he hadn’t realized how lonely the house would be.

  Especially without Margery. It felt as if she’d always been in their lives, sleeping in their bed, working with him, but really, it’d been less than a complete month.

  He’d fallen fast, hadn’t he?

  One of these days, they needed to discuss what came next. Somehow.

  Ahead, the incline steepened. As he rounded a curve, ominous red flares on the road flagged the accident. His stomach tightened. There must be shifters hurt, or the dispatcher wouldn’t have called him.

  By the Gods, shifters shouldn’t be permitted to use cars. Or trucks. Or anything with wheels.

  Spotting Alec’s white-faced deputy, Donal pulled over and joined him. “How bad?”

  “Nobody’s dead, yet, but it’s ugly. The cars went over the side.” Jenkins swallowed hard. The stink of vomit came from the shoulder where the younger male had been sick. “Alec is down there. Sent me up here to wait for you. The Murphy brothers are on the way.”

  “Good.” The brothers volunteered at the firefighting station.

  If it was this bad, he’d need added power, and it’d take a while for the females to arrive. Donal pulled out his phone. No signal. Of course not. “Contact dispatch and have them send me”—who were the two females he’d mated last Gathering?—“Nia and Francesca. Or Farrah as third choice.” He’d mated with Farrah two moons ago. She lived close and had a fair amount of power.

  “Got it.” Jenkins pointed to where skid marks went off the road. Farther down the bluff, destroyed brush showed the appalling fall the cars had taken. “Watch your step. It’s steep.”