Desperate for Her Wolves

by West, Tara

  Her nipples perked, then leaked, at the sound of Hrod’s cry. She looked at the baby monitor on the coffee table. An angry little fist shot into the air before he rolled onto his tummy and let out an enraged wail.

  She scooted off Hakon’s lap, instantly missing his warmth. “Our baby is hungry.”

  “I don’t blame him.” Hakon cupped her breasts in large hands, kissing one nipple, then the other, looking at her with a devastating grin that made her pussy clench and weep in response. “I could suck on your breasts all day, too. Stay here.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll go get him.”

  She crossed her legs, wishing he could’ve finished what he’d started, but the baby came first. Her stomach let out a rumble, and she looked over at the platter of sandwiches and pickled vegetables Rone had left her. Needing energy to keep up with her hungry child, she ate. She managed to eat her lunch and get into pajama pants and a sweatshirt while watching Hakon on the monitor, trying her hardest not to laugh when he gagged and groaned, changing a dirty diaper.

  Hakon brought a smiling, giggling baby downstairs. Hrod must’ve thought Daddy’s diaper disaster was funny, too.

  When Hakon handed Hrod to her, she laughed at him, pretending she was laughing with him, but really she was laughing at his diaper, which had been put on backward.

  “He made a stinker.” Hakon puffed up, looking proud for handling the toxic doo-doo by himself. “All cleaned up and ready for mama.”

  “Thank you, sweetheart.” She kissed his cheek, then peeked under Hrod’s diaper. His chubby butt cheeks were smothered in diaper cream.

  She stood at a honk sounding outside.

  Hakon’s nostrils flared. “My parents are here with your stolen dog.”

  The small pups followed him to the front door, tails wildly wagging. Too bad Buster, her Lab, had gone fishing with Rone and Drasko. He’d miss welcoming Max into the pack.

  She followed Hakon out onto the porch, whistling to Max, who jumped out of the back of Tor’s truck. As Max and the little dogs shared excited greetings, she handed Hrod to Hakon and knelt on the porch. “Come here, Max!”

  He turned to her, but then a deep, loud bark resounded from the side of the house. Buster barreled into Max with surprising alacrity for an old dog. Max yelped, and the two big dogs tumbled into each other with such cries of delight, Amara couldn’t help tearing up. As they rolled around in the gravel, tails slapping each other, she noticed Buster was soaking wet. He must’ve jumped from the pontoon boat when he heard Max’s bark. Talk about devotion. A pang of guilt sliced through her. A year apart, and they were still loyal best friends. Why hadn’t she gone for Max sooner? The two big dogs chased each other back behind the house, the smaller dogs trailing in their wake with happy squeals. What a perfect pack they made.

  For some reason, she thought of Roy and how excited he’d been to find her. Unlike Max, she hadn’t returned his affection when he reached out to her. How she wished things had been different. Roy had been twelve when she’d first come to live with her uncle’s family. Her uncle had been paralyzed three years earlier, and Roy and eleven-year-old Annie had been all but forgotten by their parents. Though Amara wasn’t much older than them, living in foster care had forced her to grow up fast, making it easy for her to assume the role of their mother. They thrived under her care, but then she’d left them, sneaking out in the dead of night after one of the many fights with their mother. Amara hadn’t wanted to leave that way, but she’d had no choice. Her aunt had said she was putting Amara back in foster care.

  “What’s the matter?” Hakon gave her a worried look.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t say nothing. You’re still upset over Roy?”

  She looked away, refusing to answer. She focused on Hakon’s mother Mihaela and his alpha father, Tor, as they walked up the porch steps.

  “Who’s Roy?” Tor asked, looking accusingly from Hakon to Amara.

  “Amara’s human cousin,” Hakon handed the baby to his mother. “We ran into him at a bar when we stopped to eat.”

  Tor gaped at Amara as if he’d seen a ghost. “Did he recognize you?”

  Amara stood, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Yes.”

  Tor shared a knowing look with Hakon and cursed under his breath. “That’s not good. What did you say to him?”

  “I told him I didn’t have time for him, and we drove off.” Amara felt like a rabbit caught in a snare under the heavy weight of Tor’s assessing gaze.

  “How did he react?” Tor asked, the words clipped and harsh.

  She tensed, remembering how her poor cousin had followed them out of the bar, and how she’d so cruelly turned her back on him. “He followed us to our truck.” She blinked back tears. “He wasn’t happy.”

  “Did he see your tags?” Tor snapped, seemingly unaffected by her warring emotions. “We don’t want him tracing you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. He recognized Hakon. He works at the refinery.”

  “Curse the Ancients,” Tor bellowed, throwing his hands into the air. “We don’t want another 1911.”

  Mihaela gasped, and Hrod started to cry. Bouncing him on her hip, she took him into the house, looking over her shoulder at Tor as if she was staring at a ghost.

  Amara swallowed hard as an icy chill swept up her spine. “What’s 1911?” Though she feared their response, if her family was in danger, she had to know.

  Hakon laid a hand on her shoulder, his brow creased with lines of worry. “It was a bad year for our kind. The first time we were discovered.”

  “My cousin lives in Anchorage.” She wrapped her arms around herself, doing her best to quell her trembling. “I’m sure he won’t find me here.” At least she sure as hell hoped not.

  “He can never know about us, Amara.” Tor said sternly, as if he was scolding a wayward child.

  She tensed. “I know that.”

  He wagged a finger as if she was Buster and had just crapped on the carpet. “Which means you are not to interact with him.”

  She backed away, pressing against Hakon. “I know.”

  She was slightly relieved when Hakon wrapped a possessive arm around her shoulders. Don’t worry, Amara, he projected. He’s not mad at you.

  “I feared this would happen when the Ancients decided to introduce mixed breeds to our race.” There was no mistaking the venom in Tor’s words. Amara hadn’t realized her father-in-law thought of her birth with such derision.

  She bit her tongue, refusing to let Tor see how much his words hurt her.

  Hakon must have sensed she was upset, because he kissed her knuckles and gave her a tender smile. Don’t let his words upset you. You’re perfect, and I know my brothers feel the same way.

  Thank you, she answered back, squeezing his hand. I needed that.

  “What about the lone wolf we scented in Anchorage?” Hakon asked his father, changing the subject.

  “I sent Van and two other trackers to find her. I’m expecting a report back at any time.” Tor fished a phone out of his shirt pocket when it started to buzz. He looked at the screen with a scowl. “That’s him. Hang on.” He turned and walked down the steps, mumbling into the phone.

  Amara wanted to go inside with Mihaela and Hrod and put Tor’s hurtful words out of her mind, but instead she clung to Hakon, waiting to hear the news. She felt a little sick when Tor paced beside his truck, alternating between swearing and kicking the tires. After he hung up, he turned to them with a look so severe, her heart felt as if it was pounding in her throat.

  “What is it, Father?” Hakon asked.

  Tor stalked up to them, eyes glowing a blinding yellow. His protector was angry. This was so not good.

  “They didn’t find the wolf.” Tor’s voice was gruff, as if his throat was lined with sandpaper. “But they found her boss, the owner of some hole-in-the wall bar, where the lone wolf worked as a waitress.”

  “And?”

  “Agent Johnson is on the scene.” Tor dragged a hand down his face. “T
he human’s throat was ripped out. There were wolf tracks in the blood.”

  “Fuck.” Hakon went as rigid as a bloodless corpse. “And the girl?”

  “She’s gone.” Tor scowled. “Johnson said the girl’s name is Takaani Lonepaw.”

  Amara felt uneasy. Why did she get the feeling she’d known her?

  “Takaani?” she asked, hoping if she said the name aloud, it would strike a chord of recognition in her memory.

  “It means ‘wolf’ in Inuit,” Tor said. “It’s a fake identity.”

  “Do they know why she killed him?” Hakon asked.

  “They found him with his pants down.”

  “He was probably trying to rape her,” Amara blurted. In fact, she’d bet her life on it. “We don’t know that, but it is a possibility.” Tor glowered at her. “Until we know for sure, we must take precautions. This lone wolf could be a killer.”

  “I refuse to believe it.” Amara’s pulse jumped when Tor’s scowl deepened. She wouldn’t let him intimidate her. She turned to Hakon. “We have to find her.”

  The lines framing Tor’s mouth deepened. “Johnson is recalling Luc.”

  She practically jumped out of her skin. “Luc’s coming home?” About damn time! His latest mission had gone on too long, and she missed him terribly.

  Tor crossed his arms, giving her a stern look. “He will be heading up the hunt.”

  “The hunt?” She gaped at her father-in-law. “We hunt our own kind?”

  “We do when they threaten to expose us all,” Tor answered. “Believe me, she’d rather Luc found her than the snipers tracking her.”

  She stumbled back, grateful when Hakon steadied her with an arm around her waist. She looked from Hakon to Tor. “There are snipers tracking her?”

  “Johnson says they were instructed to injure and will only kill as a last resort.” Tor let out a low growl. “This means we’re on lockdown. All tribe members must remain on the reservation, and no shifting outside your home. All Amaroki must stay within twenty yards of their homes until she’s caught.”

  “I can’t leave the house?” Indignation flushed Amara’s chest and face. Why were all Amaroki being treated like criminals because of one lone wolf? “Isn’t that extreme?”

  “Do you want the snipers mistaking you for her?” Tor snapped.

  She shuddered. “No.” Snipers would come to the reservation? The thought was too terrifying to process. “But what of my fathers?” she asked. “They will be here in a few days.”

  “I will send Ranko to get them from the airport,” Tor said. “He and I are the only ones allowed off the reservation.”

  “How will my fathers return home if we’re on lockdown?” she asked, worried that they may not be allowed to visit, and she’d missed them so much.

  “It should be over by the time they’re ready to leave,” Tor answered. “Luc will find her before then.”

  “And if Luc doesn’t find her in time?” Hakon asked.

  Tor gave his son a long look before turning to the woods beyond their house. “We must pray to the Ancients he does.”

  EILEA JOHNSON WAITED outside the bar, sipping a bottled green tea. She sat on the tailgate of Uncle Joe’s truck. He stood beside her, alternating between murmuring into his phone and barking commands to his agents. When the paramedics finally carried out the guy with the nearly-severed head, she turned away after a bloody hand fell off the litter. She’d worked on corpses before, but this one was different. This guy reeked of every body odor imaginable, plus stale whiskey. His mauled neck reminded her of the frightening power of wolf-shifters. Even though Uncle Joe had reminded her several times that a lone wolf had done this, and the rest of the Amaroki were peaceful, she was still anxious about working with them. She didn’t think she’d ever get the sight of that man’s neck out of her head.

  She took several steadying breaths, remembering working with Amara Thunderfoot. Amara had been kind and had shown no signs of aggression. Then there was Amara’s mate, who’d been badly injured saving humans. Not all shifters were dangerous. It was just this lone wolf. Besides, Uncle Joe had told her the dead man had probably tried to rape the shifter. If Eilea had the power to shift, she’d probably maul her attacker under those circumstances, too.

  Uncle Joe broke into another fit of coughing, muffling the sound with a white rag he’d pulled from his pocket. She’d grown tired of listening to him hack, and even more tired of him refusing to let her examine him. She suspected it had something to do with him finally quitting smoking a few months ago. His body was most likely detoxing, but she still wanted to examine him to be sure.

  He finally stopped coughing long enough to take a long drink of his bottled soda, then paused, looking at a nondescript car that pulled into the parking lot. A white, bald man of medium build and a little on the short side, with beady, black snake eyes, got out.

  “Agent Johnson?” the man said as he crossed to Eilea’s uncle.

  “Yeah.” Uncle Joe turned to the man with a frown. “Who are you?”

  He held out a hand. “Agent Richter.”

  Uncle Joe stared at Richter’s hand for a long while before pocketing his rag and taking it. “You O’Brien’s replacement?”

  “I am.”

  Richter gave Eilea a long head to toe look that made her skin crawl. “And who are you?” he asked in a sleazy drawl.

  She clutched the bottle to her chest, angling away from him. “Dr. Eilea Johnson.” She emphasized the “Dr.” part, hoping he’d treat her with more respect, rather than acting like a dog drooling over a choice cut of beef.

  “Dr. Johnson is my niece.”

  Eilea was grateful for the warning look her uncle gave Richter.

  “She’s setting up a clinic on the Amaroki reservation,” Uncle Joe added with a smile that nearly stretched ear to ear.

  Wow. Was that pride in his expression? Eilea didn’t want to admit it, but she’d craved his approval. For too many of her childhood years, she’d longed for her deceased father’s twin to take his place, but he’d never showed her much interest. He barely had time to visit her grandmother’s house, claiming work kept him away.

  Richter gave her another long, creepy look. “By yourself?”

  “Yes.” She turned up her chin, surreptitiously clutching the tailgate, refusing to let this beady-eyed creep intimidate her. “You look surprised.”

  Richter turned away, speaking to Uncle Joe as if she didn’t exist. “Do you think a den full of wolves is the safest place for a woman by herself?”

  Uncle Joe laughed and shook his head. “With that kind of attitude, I don’t think you’ll last long here.”

  Wow. So the new guy was a chauvinist. Eilea sure as hell hoped Uncle Joe would send him back to whatever hole he’d slithered out of, because this douche wouldn’t work well with the Amaroki. Eilea could imagine him giving a she-wolf the same looks he’d been giving her and that she-wolf’s mates ripping off his limbs.

  Richter splayed a hand across his chest, looking offended. “I was only showing concern for your niece’s safety. I suppose you know best, since you are used to working with that species.” The way he emphasized the two words made it sound like they left a bitter taste in his mouth. Yeah, he wouldn’t last long here.

  “I’ve met members of that species.” Anger and offense for the Amaroki punctured her words. “The chieftain’s son risked his life and suffered third-degree burns to save oil workers from an inferno.”

  “Huh.” Richter gave her a look that told her he wasn’t impressed. “Looks like I got here in time.” Again he spoke only to her uncle. He gestured at the trail of blood that had dripped from the bar to the ambulance. “What a clusterfuck.”

  Despite the relatively cool summer air, a bead of sweat trickled down Uncle Joe’s forehead. “You think I haven’t dealt with clusterfucks before?”

  Richter shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

  Grumbling, he pulled the rag back out of his pocket and mopped the sweat off his bro
w. “I take it you’ve been briefed on the Amaroki.”

  “I have.” Richter ran a hand over the top of his smooth head. “But I still can’t believe it.”

  “Well, believe it,” Uncle Joe snapped, then coughed into his fist.

  Seemingly oblivious to his souring mood, Richter waved toward the ambulance. “Why’d they kill this man?”

  “A lone wolf killed him,” Uncle Joe answered tersely. “My guess is he tried to rape her.” More sweat gleamed on his forehead.

  The coughing was starting to alarm Eilea. As soon as they wrapped up this investigation, she’d insist he sit for an exam.

  “Or she tried to make it look like a rape.”

  “What the actual fuck?” she blurted. Heat flamed her cheeks when Uncle Joe shot her a sideways glance.

  “Why would she do that?” Uncle Joe asked the agent.

  Richter rubbed his hands together, a crazed gleam in his eyes. “To quench her thirst for blood.”

  Oh, hell no! Was this guy for real? Had he actually listened to his read-in? Because Eilea remembered how much they’d stressed that the Amaroki were an honorable race. The lone wolf attack had put Eilea on edge, but she refused to judge an entire race over that one incident. She thought Richter would change his mind if he met a few Amaroki, but maybe not. She considered herself a fairly good judge of character, and this man was a racist, sexist pig.

  “Now you listen here, the Amaroki are a peaceful race.” Uncle Joe advanced on Richter, jabbing his chest and coughing all over him. “This lone wolf isn’t part of their tribe, but my guess is she was acting in self-defense.”

  Richter backed up, but not before Uncle Joe hacked a spray of blood all over him. “Gross!” The agent scowled at the splatter, not even bothering to ask if her uncle was okay.

  Eilea jumped down from the tailgate and was beside him in an instant. She latched on to his elbow. “Come on, Uncle. You’re going with me to the hospital.”

  “There’s no time for that.” He jerked away. “The Amaroki need me.” Sweat ran into his eyes, and he swayed on his feet.

  “Don’t just stand there!” she snapped at Richter. “Help me get him to the truck.”