Werewolves & Whiskers: Sawtooth Peaks Wolf Shifter Romance Box Set

by Keira Blackwood

  Blake squeezed Troy’s arm, forcing Troy to drop the pistol to the snow, then pulled both arms into a zip-tie behind Troy's back. Mara approached her mate, as a small gray wolf, for a final word before he was taken away.

  “I, Mara Lynch, renounce all ties and promises to you as mate for your violence and crimes against our pack and family.” She bared her teeth at him, then turned her back and padded toward me and Lance.

  I met her halfway. “You did great.”

  Gentle snowflakes drifted down from the sky. One landed on Mara’s face, and smeared gray. The scent of burning filled the air. It was ash. I looked around, concerned for the homes and people who had been through so much.

  Fleur approached, in a purple dress and tall, black boots.

  “I see that look,” she said. “Don't worry.”

  “You smell that too, right?” I asked looking between the waitress and the wolf at my side.

  “We did it together,” Fleur said, pointing back at the mansion. “No one's inside.” Curtains lit behind barred windows, and smoke drifted up from the door and out into the sky.

  “No one will be held prisoner there again,” Mara growled.

  I scanned the faces of the women I had shared a cell with: Mara, Annora, Fleur, Anika, Viveca, and Sierra. All but Mara and Fleur stood together holding hands. All watched the smoke billow and the flames grow over the prison where we had all been held, with satisfaction on their faces.

  “Let it burn,” I said, and padded back to the man I loved, my alpha, my mate.

  Epilogue

  Trixie

  “I know, I know. I promise I'll go home and put my feet up,” I said, touching my giant belly with both hands.

  “Good,” Mara said with a smile as she plated perfectly cooked fish and chips. “I've got everything handled here.”

  “I know,” I said.

  She always did. Teaching Mara the ins and outs of running the restaurant was the best decision I had made when we changed the theme and reopened.

  “He just kicked.” I placed my sister's hand on the exact spot.

  “Aww,” she said, lifting her eyebrows in the way she did every time we talked about the twins.

  “It's always three in a row,” I explained.

  “That's so nice, so you can tell Lance they’re coming, and he can feel them too.”

  “Well I like it when they kick outward okay,” I said, “but it's not so nice when they kick into my organs.”

  “Boys,” she said with a smile. “Maybe they'll be athletes. I can't wait to hold them.”

  “Yeah, I'm ready too,” I said. “Just another two months.”

  “I know, that's why you should get home and take care of yourself.”

  “I'm going, I promise,” I said. At the kitchen door, I turned back and said, “Thank you, Mara.”

  “Anything for my sister.”

  “You're the best,” I said.

  “I know. Now go,” she teased.

  I crossed the dining room toward the door, between tables full with customers, and caught Fleur's arm as she passed.

  “Hey,” she said, with smiling lips painted the same pink hue as the flower behind her ear.

  “I'm heading out,” I said. “Is all well?”

  “Of course,” she answered. “Have a good one.”

  “You too,” I said, and scanned the dining room one last time before I left. The tables and chairs Cole had made were darkly stained, and held up beautifully with time. The craftsmanship still impressed me when I took the time to really look around. The lighting was gentle, and the room was filled with casual conversation, a cozy space with a rustic feel. Families and groups of friends gathered, shifters and humans alike. All booths and tables were filled, and laughter carried through the air. There were scents of perfumes and perspiration, wood and leather. But the scent that lingered through the room above the rest was the smell of my grandmother's recipes.

  I waved to the picture of Stratton on the wall, one photograph of many. No one would be forgotten, all that had perished during darker times were remembered here. People came to share a drink in remembrance or a meal to celebrate their special occasions. It was more than I had imagined.

  Outside, I looked up at the hand-carved sign Cole had made for me. The dark wood had intricate details along the outside, and one word painted in the middle, Trixie's. I had thought we should put Lance's name on it too, but he had insisted this was better, and it really had worked out nicely.

  I climbed in the truck, carefully maneuvering my belly behind the wheel, and rolled down the windows to enjoy the warm summer air. The breeze on my face was pleasant as I started the drive home. Just a block down, a ball rolled into the street in front of me. I stopped for the tall, skinny boy who ran out to grab it.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Tenbrook!” Billy yelled as he ran out and picked up his ball.

  I smiled and waved to him, and continued down toward the center of town. Every building had been rebuilt, painted, and brought back to life. Few vacancies remained, with new residents moving to Ellistown for the small town, family friendly atmosphere.

  When I reached the courtyard where the mansion had been, I looked over the park that we had built. None of the building remained, but the trees and flowers from the gardens flourished. Bricks from the mansion were repurposed to build a pavilion for gathering, and the rest of the remains were used throughout town on buildings that needed the supplies. Children played on the playground by the pavilion. A couple shared a picnic in the grass under a tall tree. Sierra ran by in her jogging clothes.

  Ellistown was alive again, with a gathering place for the community at its heart.

  As I left town, I admired the wildflowers blooming in the fields by the road. Purples and yellows dotted along the sea of green. It was a beautiful drive home, nature's playground for the twin boys I would soon bring into the world.

  I came home to the house my mate and his brother had built on the place where our two territories had met, what was now the center of one larger territory. The two-story cabin took my breath away every time I approached. With large windows and natural wood siding, the house was similar to Cole’s, but it had a distinct feel that was our own. The shutters were light blue, the same shade of the home Lance had grown up in. I had let the men make most of the choices outside, insisting only on a state-of-the-art kitchen and enough bedrooms for our family to grow. Would I ever get used to the colorful sunset behind the forest in our backyard? I hoped not. It was so natural, with no buildings to block the view.

  Lance waited for me at the open front door, barefoot and shirtless. Sweat glimmered down his chiseled chest, and I knew his loving smile was just for me.

  “Working hard?” I asked, admiring his glistening core.

  “I finished the negotiations with Greenville for hunting rights this morning. And we just finished the last board out back,” Lance replied. “How are you feeling?”

  “I'm okay.”

  Lance bent down and touched his lips to mine, a gentle peck that made me smile. “How are my boys?” he asked, kneeling down and placing his lips on my belly.

  “Busy,” I said, with a smile. “I think they've been wrestling.”

  “Strong and active,” he said, then kissed my belly again.

  “Just like their daddy,” I said.

  “When they’re old enough, I want to take them camping. We can visit all of the borders of our territory.” Lance stood and held me. He smelled like pine and leather, perspiration and fresh wood.

  “Like your father did with you?” I asked.

  “One of my fondest memories of my father,” he said. “I’ll take them more than once.”

  “I’m sure they’d like that.”

  “I want to give them everything,” he said.

  “I know,” I replied. “I do too.”

  We stood by the front door, Lance holding me, and me content in his arms until my swollen feet started to hurt.

  “Can I see the deck?” I asked.
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  “Of course,” he said, and took my hand in his.

  Cole and Hailey stood on the back porch, Cole as sweaty as Lance, and Hailey as big as me.

  “Hi,” I said. “The deck looks great.”

  “Thanks,” Cole said.

  “Where's John?” I asked.

  Soft laughter sounded from the tall grass just past the decking.

  “Hi, Auntie Trixie,” John said, and ran to me. I bent down and held my beautiful nephew in my arms, the spitting image of his father, with raven hair and tanned skin, but with his mother's cerulean eyes. Already four years old, John was growing up so fast.

  I kissed his head, then he ran back into the grass, flying a tiny metal airplane in his upraised hand.

  “How are you handling the heat?” I asked Hailey, admiring her belly.

  “I'm not,” she answered. “You?”

  “The same.”

  “We talked about the bar,” Lance said.

  “Oh yeah?” I asked.

  “With Amy running everything, I don't see why I couldn't handle everything and buy you guys out,” Cole said.

  “Thank you,” I replied. With Lance overlooking final reconstruction duties for Ellistown, helping me with the restaurant, and building new relationships with surrounding territories, it was a strain for him to make time to manage Sawtooth Den. He was handling everything wonderfully, despite having so much to juggle. With the twins on the way, I was glad Cole was willing to lessen the burden.

  We shared a dinner with Cole and his family before they went home for the night. Lance and Cole grilled chicken, ribs, and corn on the cob while Hailey and I prepared fresh fruit and a salad in the kitchen. John clung to Hailey during dinner, and everything was delicious.

  After they left, I checked in on the empty and waiting nursery. Two wooden cribs sat side by side in the center of the green room. Hailey had helped me paint a tree on the wall behind the cribs, a huge pine with dark green needles. We had carried the theme across the room, woods and nature, like the forest my boys would play in when they were ready. Imagining two little silver-haired boys side by side, I smiled and headed to bed.

  Lance watched as I traded my work clothes for a silk nightie. He lay shirtless on his side, freshly showered and devouring me with his eyes. His thick, muscular arm flexed as it rested on his jaw and supported his head. He was effortlessly sexy, and I could never get enough. I climbed into the sheets, and my mate pulled my back in close to his chest, growling as he touched his mark on my bare neck.

  “I love you, Trixie Tenbrook,” he growled.

  “I love you too, Lance Tenbrook.”

  Lance trailed warm, gentle kisses from my shoulder down my arm. I smiled, content in the moment, excited for the future, and in love with our life together.

  Howling with the Pack

  Book Four

  Chapter One

  Amy

  Cinnamon-infused pinecones, hot chocolate with marshmallows, tall boots and cozy sweaters, that feeling of freshly fallen snow melting beneath my paws—winter was hands down my favorite season. It was the smoky warmth of a crackling hearth and the cheer of white lights clinging to rooftops and woven between the branches of tall pines. Winter meant hiding beneath the covers a little longer while icy air bit my cheeks.

  Like most mornings, I wouldn’t have minded a few more minutes in bed. But it was a get-up-and-travel day. Luckily my car’s heater worked wonders. Through the windshield, the world ahead of me was blanketed in white, the road included. There was only the two-line trail from tires traveling before me that told me my little blue Volkswagen Beetle was still on curved mountain road instead of driving off the side of a cliff. Sunlight reflected off of crystalline powder as the clouds receded from the bright blue sky. The effect was both mesmerizing and blinding.

  Winter in the mountains meant massive amounts of snowfall. That snow brought skiers and hunters to Sawtooth Peaks, to the lodge that was more of a luxury hotel than a part of the classic, Victorian town. And the lodge brought business to Sawtooth Den, which meant more money in my pocket and new people to meet. If I’d had my way, I’d have spent Christmas working, catering to my pack and the patrons who had traveled from near and far for a mug of ale.

  But as an Anderson, it was my duty to travel home for the holidays, just like I did every year. Just like my entire family did, and always had. The Anderson farm had passed down from my great-great-grandparents through generation after generation, all the way down to my parents. Just like every Christmas before it, I was required to join my mother and father, my grandmother, my uncles and aunts, my cousins, my siblings, and my nieces and nephews for a feast grown and harvested on the Anderson land.

  It was a tradition that I’d cherished as a child: picking fresh green beans and carrots from the garden in the summer, canning them with my sisters, my mother, and my grandmother, and then opening up those same cans for Christmas dinner. The farm-raised turkey tasted better than any I’d eaten anywhere else. Having everyone gathered together at the long banquet table to share the year’s work was as satisfying as tasting the creamy butter that I’d churned myself.

  I still loved winter. And spending time with my family. But Christmas? Not so much.

  Vvvrrrmmmmm. My phone vibrated against the plastic cup holder. It was hard to believe I could still get a signal this far from Sawtooth Peaks. It wouldn’t last long. I risked a glance down and checked the number. Nora. It was beginning already.

  A flash of brown fur streaked past the windshield, a mule deer, and I instinctively hit the brakes. My breath caught and my arms tensed, but I held my eyes wide against the instinct to flinch. The little car skidded and fishtailed, then jostled across uneven snow. The enormous buck stopped and stared. I gave a flick of the wheel and the tires bumped back into the single set of tracks. I took a deep breath and looked back at the tall, brown deer with long, ornamental antlers. He stood still, watching me drive away. I turned my attention back to the road. Eyes forward. There was bound to be more ice.

  Trees were clustered in patches like larger-than-life versions of cylindrical paper water cups. The road curved around a sharp rock face, with treetops and boulders visible off the ledge out my side window. Even with as tall as the pines grew, their tops didn’t reach the height of the road. Every time I rounded these bends, my fists clenched on the wheel. One wrong move and my little blue car would careen down a hundred feet into the valley.

  Vvvrrrmmmmm. The phone rattled. I debated whether or not I should answer or just pretend I’d already arrived in the cellular dead zone. I needed both hands, and I wasn’t ready to start the annual mate talk. Any other time of year I’d be happy to chat. My sister was great. Nora and I could spend hours talking about the latest episode of Werewolf Diaries or who was going to be killed off next in the Vampires USA novels. My whole family was great, really. Just not at Christmas.

  The phone vibrated again in my palm. Fine.

  “Hi, Nora,” I said.

  “Amy!” my youngest sister replied with such excitement that it seemed like she didn’t expect me, even though it was she who’d called me. “Are you almost here? Mom’s been asking if anyone had heard when you were leaving.”

  “I got held up at work last night. Again this morning,” I said. Held up may have been a slight exaggeration. In truth, I’d decided to spend the last few hours before I met my doom in the company of my second family, the one that I’d chosen to spend all of my days with. At Sawtooth Den, with Harkins, and everyone else in my pack. “I’m on the way now.”

  “Aww, shucks,” Nora said. “I’m sorry to hear you’re not farther along.”

  “Promise I’ll make it there before dinner,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on the Christmas Eve Eve feast.”

  “Good,” she said, “because I’m dying to tell you all about—”

  “Ask her who she’s bringing.” I heard my mother’s voice in the background.

  “Anyone special in your life this year that you’re bri
nging home to meet the family? Boyfriend?” Nora asked. Then after a pause, she added, “Mate?”

  The oldest of six girls, I was the only one left without a mate. I was the one everyone would ask about dating, and offer advice. At twenty-six years old, it was as if my family believed I was destined to go barren at any minute. And here I was, driving home for another Christmas, single. I felt guilty for not being excited about the trip. They were kind, loving people who’d welcome me with open arms. I’d play with my nieces and nephews, and help all of the women with the cooking. They’d share their lives with me, and I’d be reminded of what I didn’t have.

  “You know me,” I said. “Running the bar keeps me—”

  Static cut into the line.

  “What’s that?” Nora asked, a crackling sound cutting in and out over her voice. “Amy? crrkkkkcllllllll… “cubs…”

  “Looks like I’m losing you, Nora,” I said. “Catch up tonight.”

  No answer.

  “Bye,” I said.

  Cubs? I hoped she was talking about her kids, and not asking a question. Saved by the cellular dead zone. At least for a few hours.

  Most of the time, I was one-hundred-percent fine with being on my own. Running the bar kept me busy. The pack was all the company I needed. I didn’t have time to date, and it didn’t bother me. Except at Christmastime. Seeing my sisters was nice. And I liked their mates, all five of them. I adored my nieces and nephews. But when everyone was together, and talking about me missing out, it left me feeling like I was.

  I should have just done what I wanted. I should have stayed home and accepted an invitation to join someone else’s family dinner, or even better, made myself a turkey sandwich and worked. I wouldn’t have been alone. At the very least, Harkins—

  A cloud of white. A flash of brown and green. The tires squealed as I hit the brakes and the car kept moving along the icy road. I held my eyes open, tried not to flinch. It was just like it had been with the deer. I’d be fine. I could hold onto control.