Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set

by Keira Blackwood

  “Oh,” Dwayne straightened. “I’d have to ask your brother first.”

  “Of course,” I said, like it made total sense for her to be kept without the right to see whomever she pleased. “I’d like to talk to him too. If you send for him, I’d be happy to ask myself.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, then turned away from me and touched a button on his earpiece. “Mrs. Walker is here.” A moment of silence, then, “Yes, sir.”

  Dwayne turned back toward me.

  “So, what’s the verdict?” I asked.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, “but you’re not to enter at this time.”

  I believed him; he did look sorry. Coward or coldblooded, I had wondered, but now I knew. Dwayne Cullen wasn’t a killer, turned against his pack and his alpha. He was a coward that flocked to whoever had power and offered the best chance of survival. That had likely been Dashiell, and now it seemed my brother held that power. The bears wouldn’t have looked for those who were submissive that night, assuming they were victims. Most who served Dashiell had been vicious and went down full of fight.

  “My friend brought that food to help the town, Dwayne. Now the people have nothing to eat. What kind of alpha steals from the mouths of his people?” I considered punching him in his stupid face, forcing my way in to reach Mara and the food my brother had stolen. Chances were good I would accomplish neither. Troy had a fortress and enforcers, and all I had to reach my goal was anger.

  “I don’t…” His voice trailed.

  “This isn’t over,” I said, and turned away.

  Did Troy somehow think that stealing our food would give him power? That deciding who received what and when would secure his place? The bears would bring more food. Lance would bring more food. All that Troy’s selfishness had assured was the same thing I already knew—my brother did not deserve to hold the status of alpha.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Lance

  After only one ring she answered.

  “Hello?” A whole night without hearing her sultry voice was far too long.

  “Trixie,” I growled, a guttural reaction to her sound. Then my voice softened. “Tell me if I’m presuming too much.”

  “Okay…” Trixie replied.

  “I’m at the store,” I said.

  “And?” Something in her voice seemed off, like she was holding something back.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  Maybe I was just imagining it. “I was thinking of buying a turkey.”

  “I thought your brother would provide the turkey,” she said, voice more like I expected.

  “He will for Thursday, but I meant for today. What do you think about having an early Thanksgiving dinner at the inn? We could cook together at your place. Well, I could help,” I said.

  With the stiffness Trixie had showed over the idea of Thanksgiving at Cole and Hailey’s, I thought she could use one of her own, with the people she cared about.

  I went on, “I was thinking that if anyone deserved a celebration of thanks, friends, and family, it’s the people of Ellistown. What do you think?”

  She was quiet, and without being able to see her reaction, I had no way to tell what she was thinking.

  “Trixie?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she answered.

  “As the chef in charge of the feast, please tell me what to buy.”

  She giggled, then gave me a list. I bought everything from turkey to sweet potatoes, green beans to cheesecake. When it was all packed in the back of the pickup, I drove straight to Trixie’s house. My mind wandered as I drove, lingering on the words of Matteus Patterson. The thought that the Tribunal was looking for a prior connection between me and Trixie was concerning. It all seemed a bit more than routine. There was no good reason to consider me in connection with Stratton’s death, which made me worry for Trixie. Were they looking for motive for her to have caused all of this? I couldn’t believe she would have her mate murdered and herself imprisoned, or that the thought could cross anyone’s mind. If anyone at the Tribunal had a brain, they would see the same. Between the ridiculous questioning, the digging through my house, and the avoidance of discussing Dashiell and his brother, I was left with the assumption that we were being framed. To protect the Tribunal from investigations into their own involvement, one or both of us was going to be the focus of their blame. Maybe I should call back, ask Trixie if she had been confronted by the bear brothers. She was in Ellistown for all of the events, so it was possible that they were hoping to find some evidence of conspiracy at my place to incriminate Trixie. The thought made me sick, and I hated to worry her unnecessarily. There was no proof that the Tribunal was after either of us. I decided to wait, not to call, and drove the rest of the way silently hoping the Tribunal was after me and not her.

  The front door opened as I pulled into the short driveway beside Trixie’s wooden rancher. Trixie stepped out wearing her usual dark jeans and black boots, and my leather jacket. But instead of a dark t-shirt beneath the jacket, she wore a cream blouse and a simple green apron that matched her sparkling, emerald eyes. Her bright, crimson hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, away from her face and neck. This was the first time she hadn’t hidden her neck, and I appreciated the trust she showed. She looked ready to start cooking, and greeted me with a wide smile.

  “Hey, you,” I said, with a step out of the truck. I slammed the door behind me and caught Trixie as she jumped at me and threw her arms around my neck.

  She planted a kiss on my chin, and everything felt better. I relaxed my shoulders and kissed her, tasting the natural sweetness that was only her.

  “Hi,” she said. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “So where’s the turkey?” she asked, eyeing the bed of the truck. “It’ll take hours to cook.”

  “We better get started then,” I replied.

  Trixie released me and we carried in all of the groceries. She dug through the food in search of the giant bird as soon as we set the last bag on the kitchen floor.

  Trixie stopped on the paper bag filled with only one item. “Big turkey,” she said with a smile. “I don’t know how you got it in here.”

  “It was all the clerk,” I replied. “She used some kind of grocery-packing kung fu. Let me help you.” We paused only to remove our coats and roll up our sleeves, then I let myself be swept up in her momentum.

  Grabbing from beneath, I lifted the turkey, bag attached, onto the counter. We ripped the paper and peeled it off together, discarding the moist, brown strips. Trixie dug in right away, buttering and seasoning the bird with dried herbs from her cabinets. Within a short time, the turkey was in the preheated oven, cooking on the pan Trixie had prepared before my arrival.

  “What’s next?” I asked.

  “Vegetables. We need to clean and cut everything, get it ready to cook.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, then dug through the groceries and pulled out every vegetable I could find. We worked side by side throughout the day, with me washing and cutting, her seasoning and putting everything together. Watching her smile as she moved through the kitchen made me almost forget about the bears and their questions. I knew I needed to talk to her about the Tribunal and my concerns, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment. It could wait until after our early Thanksgiving.

  When everything had finished cooking, we packed the truck. Trixie took care in arranging each dish in the pickup’s bed by temperature, and in such a way that nothing would tip over on the trip to the inn. I took the short drive even slower than my usual turtle’s pace in town, with the icy streets and carefully prepared and packaged food in the back. If I could help it, everything would be perfect for this meal.

  When we arrived, Trixie let her hair down; it fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and covered the scars on her neck. Her smile lessened when we parked, though her happiness still showed in her eyes. Her fiery hair was as beautiful up as it was dow
n, and I knew I was lucky that she let her scars show around me.

  “Ready?” I asked.

  “Ready,” she answered, and we climbed out.

  Trixie’s shoulders tensed as we carried in the first set of serving dishes, and I wondered what had put her on edge. Was it the social gathering in general? She had seemed pleased with the idea. Taking careful, steady steps, I carried the twenty-four-pound turkey as I followed Trixie, who carried a large dish of almond green beans. Thankfully, Trixie was able to open and hold the door for me, because I was afraid to drop the town’s only main course.

  She headed straight down the hall without acknowledging the bear behind the counter. Blake gave us a curt nod, a gesture I returned. All eyes were on Trixie, me, and the turkey as we entered a small, crowded dining hall. We set the dishes on a long table, and Trixie scowled as she scanned the room. Her shoulders relaxed, and the smile she had worn before we arrived returned. I wondered if there was someone in particular she was concerned could be here. Either way, all seemed to be well.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” a brown-haired girl said as she hugged Trixie. I recognized the dahlia behind her ear, slightly wilted but still bright, and knew that she was someone special to Trixie.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” Trixie said, and hugged her back just as hard.

  “Lance, this is Fleur. Fleur, Lance,” Trixie said.

  I shook her hand.

  “You were the one from the mansion, right?” Fleur asked.

  “Yes,” I replied, remembering her face from that night. She’d been one of the she-wolves in the pastel dresses.

  “Glad to meet you officially under different circumstances,” she said.

  “Likewise.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving, or close enough, to everyone,” Trixie said, loud enough for all to hear.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” the crowd yelled back, from smiling faces all around the room.

  “I know life has been difficult,” Trixie said. “But we are survivors, and I am thankful for every one of you.”

  Voices filled the room. One shouted above the rest, “We love you, Trixie.”

  When it was quiet enough for her to speak again, Trixie said, “My friend Lance Tenbrook has been kind enough to bring us this food. He is of course the same man that brought us food and supplies before. And I am thankful for him.” Trixie took my hand and a soft pink blush covered her freckled cheeks. If we had been alone, I would have kissed her, but I wasn’t sure how ready she was to share our bond with others, so I settled on smiling down at her and gently squeezing her small hand in mine.

  “Is there anyone who wouldn’t mind helping us carry in the food?” she asked, turning to the crowd.

  Most of the people watching us raised a hand or stepped forward. As every other time I had seen Trixie amongst her pack, I was reminded of their loyalty and love for her.

  “Thanks,” she laughed. “I only need a few.”

  Trixie started toward the door. Fleur and another brown-haired woman followed, slipping on their jackets on the way out.

  We carried in the food and everyone filled their plates. Trixie sat between me and Fleur as we ate, and every face I looked at wore a smile. The food was delicious, everything perfectly prepared by Trixie. I watched as she interacted with her people, a natural leader. I spoke when I was required to, but held my focus on the woman I loved, content that I could give her the holiday she deserved.

  We went back to her house after everyone else had left, each person taking some of the feast’s leftovers with them. I held Trixie through the night, through a pleasantly warm and dreamless sleep, and hoped that Thanksgiving Day with Cole and Hailey would be a fraction of as perfect as this day had been.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Trixie

  Harsh sunlight poured through the crack between the curtains, warm and bright against my face. Unwilling to submit to the morning and open my eyes, I rolled to my side and felt the warmth of the man beside me.

  Straightening my elbow, I slid my fingers across the bare skin of his chiseled chest. Earthy tones mingled with hints of pine and leather—I breathed him in, savoring the scent of the man I loved. How had I been so fortunate to have Lance Tenbrook in my life? Waking to him in my bed was the perfect way to celebrate what I was thankful for. He’d rescued the girls that night in the mansion, and repaired my roof and house to a point where it was truly a home again. Lance provided building supplies and food, and gave me strength to reclaim my life. Everything I had to be thankful for was due to him.

  Inching closer, I pulled my body against Lance’s side.

  “I love you, Lance Tenbrook,” I whispered, and peeked at his rugged yet beautiful, restful face.

  Eyes closed, he rolled toward me and enveloped me in his strong arms. His embrace was warm and comforting, the perfect way to start the morning. I sank further into him as his chest expanded with a deep breath.

  He nuzzled his face into my hair. “I love you, Trixie Walker.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” I said.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” he replied, gradually opening his eyes. “Was yesterday everything you had hoped for?”

  “It was,” I said, remembering the wonderful meal we’d cooked together and the company we had shared it with. The only thing missing had been Mara. Part of me wished Troy had been there as well, and Stratton. I wished that we could have all shared a meal: my best friend, my brother, my sister-in-law, and the man I loved. But Stratton was dead, and Troy probably would have taken everything for himself instead of sharing with our people. Poor Mara was out of sight; I would have to find a way to see her soon. But yesterday was about sharing a meal with my pack and today was about sharing a meal with Lance’s. After the holiday festivities ended, I would find a way to visit my sister-in-law.

  “Are you nervous about today?” he asked, trailing kisses down the side of my face.

  “A bit. I’m fond of both Hailey and Cole, but I feel a bit out of place in Sawtooth Peaks,” I admitted.

  “Want to cancel and spend the day hiding in bed together instead?” A smile crossed Lance’s face, just before he nibbled my chin.

  I squeaked in surprise.

  “No, we should go,” I replied, though it was a tempting offer.

  When he looked at me like that, it was difficult not to tear off my clothes and submit to his will. All sense was lost with a look at that playful smile.

  I said, “If we’re going to continue this relationship, we have to make an effort to be a part of each other’s lives.”

  He nodded then said, “Okay, we’ll go, but tonight I want you all to myself.”

  “Deal.” I pecked his moist, soft lips, then popped out of bed before he could tempt me to change my mind and spend the entire day with him between the sheets.

  “Trixie,” he called after me as I raced to the kitchen.

  “Time for breakfast,” I called back, then pulled out the fresh eggs that he’d brought the day before.

  Fast, gentle hands slid across my belly from behind, pulling me in close. The contact startled me, as I hadn’t heard his quick approach. A lump formed in my throat, and my stomach dropped. Dashiell.

  “Trixie,” he growled.

  I pushed down frantically at his arms, dropping the egg carton. Yolks leaked from the package onto the floor.

  “Trixie, are you okay?” All physical contact stopped and I struggled to think.

  I turned around and found Lance behind me. Of course it was Lance. Panic faded to regret.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, staring into his concerned, deep, blue eyes. I knew it was crazy, it made no sense. Dashiell was dead and only Lance was here with me.

  “No,” he said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you really okay?” His forehead was wrinkled as he left two feet of space between us.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “I didn’t hear you. It was just a gut reaction.”

  “I never want you to fear me,” he said, taking me into his arms slowly,
tenderly pulling me in to his chest.

  “I don’t.” I meant it. Lance made me feel safe, it was just me that needed to adjust to being surprised.

  “If I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable, please tell me. And I’ll be sure not to sneak up on you again,” he said.

  “I’m really okay,” I said.

  “Good.” He kissed my forehead and reached down to clean up the yolky mess at our feet. Lifting each white oval and inspecting it, Lance separated four undamaged eggs from the package. I grabbed some soapy paper towels and wiped the floor.

  The mood had changed, though I couldn’t think of any words that would make it right. Lance felt more distant as I cooked the eggs and we ate. We dressed and got ready for the drive and early dinner at Hailey and Cole’s house, but Lance didn’t touch me again. After we were ready, we rode silently in the truck to Sawtooth Peaks. Had I broken something between us that couldn’t be fixed? I didn’t want him to fear touching me; I loved when he touched me. I lingered on my concern until the truck stopped at Lance’s house.

  “I forgot to bring a gift,” he said. “This will just take a moment.”

  “Okay,” I replied.

  He ran into the house, and I was left sitting alone in the truck wondering if I should follow. The German Shepherd in the yard next door ran circles around his fenced space, watching me as I watched him bound through the snow-covered lawn. Everything had been so easy with Lance, we had played in the snow together, made love, and everything had felt so right. Now I sat alone wondering if I had screwed all of that up.

  Lance jogged out of the house, climbed back into the cab of the truck, and handed me an expensive-looking bottle of wine. I stared down at the bottle as he started the truck back out of the driveway.

  “Are we okay?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “I don’t want you to be afraid to touch me,” I said.

  “Trixie,” he said, gently, and put the truck into park. Reaching over and placing his hand on mine, he met my concern with reassuring warmth. “I love you, and I will always want to touch you. I just want to make sure you have the space you need.”