by West, Tara
Richter didn’t move when Uncle Joe slumped against her, his eyes rolling back.
“Uncle!” she screamed. She struggled to hold up his weight by herself. “Help!”
The paramedics raced over and helped lower Uncle Joe to the ground. She grabbed a kit from one of them and began taking vitals. She’d had no idea he was in such bad health; his blood pressure barely registered. She didn’t have time to focus on Richter, who hung around in the background, complaining about his ruined suit. When the paramedics finally loaded her uncle on the stretcher, she wiped her forehead with a shaky hand. She’d gotten Uncle Joe’s keys from his pocket and told the paramedics she’d follow them to the hospital. Passing Richter, she noticed someone had given him a bottle of club soda, and he was furiously cleaning his tie, acting as if Eilea’s world hadn’t just fallen apart.
She leaned on the horn when she saw him standing behind Uncle Joe’s truck, totally oblivious to the chaos around him. He looked up, smiled, and moved out of the way. Eilea’s heart caught in her throat, for there was no mistaking the triumphant gleam in the agent’s smile, a gleam that reached all the way to his cold, snake eyes. And then it hit her—with her uncle out of the way, Richter was now the leading liaison to the Amaroki, and the fate of their race was in his hands.
Chapter Five
Roy woke up with a throbbing head and tried to piece together scenes from the night before. A few groans and then a loud fart cut the stagnant air. Wrinkling his nose, he turned away from the grumbling red-bearded giant they called Skunk. The man had lived up to his name. He sat up, throwing his legs over the bed, and shrugged off the giggling stripper named Lacy as she reached for him. He vaguely remembered that he and Skunk and Skunk’s friends had taken turns with the girl. None of them had worn condoms either. Fuck. What the hell had he been thinking?
He staggered to the bathroom, stepping over pizza boxes, , empty beer bottles, and a pile of rotten clothes. As he pissed in a rusty toilet, he noted that the shower was full of fishing rods and shotguns, and the moldy bathroom had neither towels nor soap. Roy had had dogs with better hygiene than Skunk, yet he’d slept in his apartment and shared a girl with him. At this point, Roy didn’t wonder if he’d gotten any venereal diseases. It was a matter of which ones and how many.
He made his way to the kitchen. Unwashed pots and pans overflowed from the sink and were scattered across every countertop. He looked through the stained and worn cabinets and found the coffeepot, which was filled with moldy gray water and something that looked like a science experiment gone wrong.
He let out a curse. He had a hard time functioning in the morning without coffee, but he’d have to pick up a cup at a convenience store. The problem was, he didn’t remember how he’d gotten to Skunk’s apartment or how to get back to his rental.
When he heard laughter coming from beyond the kitchen, he stumbled into the other room, darkened with heavy curtains and smelling like mold and stale smoke. A familiar-looking Native man was sitting on a ripped sofa, eating cereal out of a Frisbee and watching cartoons. It took Roy a moment to connect the dots. It was Henry, who’d left the bar early after Skunk pressured him to talk about Hakon Thunderfoot. The guy had a few long scars on his shaved head, plus one across his neck, as if someone had slit his throat. He was so skinny, Roy could make out his ribs under a tight T-shirt.
“Hey,” Roy said to him.
“Hey,” Henry answered, then slurped milk out of his Frisbee.
Roy scratched the back of his head, looking at the collection of bongs lining the back wall. “So is this like a community house?”
“Something like that,” Henry said, dropping the Frisbee and picking up a bong. Henry lit it and took a deep drag before setting it down and slumping against the sofa. He breathed out a stream of smoke, looking satisfied. “Did you party with Skunk last night?”
He fanned the smoke. “Something like that.” Didn’t Henry know they drug-tested at work, or didn’t he care?
“Did you get laid?” Henry asked.
Roy scratched his itchy balls, hoping he hadn’t caught crabs. “I think so.” He vaguely remembered Lacy moaning when he grabbed her large, fake tits. They were hard and bumpy, like they were filled with marbles.
After taking another hit from his bong, Henry held out a hand. “Name’s Henry.”
Roy shook, hoping the sticky crud was from the sugary cereal. “I remember your name,” he said. “I’m Roy.” Henry took yet another hit. “Isn’t it a little early to be smoking?”
“Depends.” Henry blew out a plume of smoke through his mouth and nose, like he was a dragon.
“On what?”
Henry stared at the TV, face blank. “On if you’re trying to kill enough brain cells to chase away the memories.”
Roy swallowed hard. He got the feeling Hakon Thunderfoot was involved. “What memories?”
Henry looked at Roy briefly, confused, features scrunched as if he was trying to remember the conversation. Then he looked back at the TV. “I swore secrecy.”
Roy kicked a blow-up doll out of the way and sat beside Henry, trying to stay calm and collected. “You can tell me.”
Henry looked him over. “This is a small town. You tell one person, you tell everyone.”
Roy clenched his hands and inwardly swore. “I don’t think Anchorage is small.”
Henry picked up the Frisbee and tossed it, splattering the remaining milk all over the room. “They still think like small-town people.”
Roy refused to back down. He leaned into Henry, snatched the bong from his hands, and held it behind him, as if taking Henry’s pot hostage. “What memories, Henry?”
Henry reached around him, trying to swat the bong from his hands. “Why do you care?”
“Because Hakon Thunderfoot has my cousin.” Roy stood, holding the bong out of Henry’s reach. “I believe he and his brothers are keeping her against her will.”
Henry snorted. “Even if I told you what Hakon is, there’s no way you’re going up against him.”
Roy paused to process his words. “What he is?” Was it his imagination, or was Henry trying to make Hakon out to be some sort of alien or monster?
“Never mind.” Henry waved Roy away, pretending to feign disinterest in the bong. “I’ve said too much.”
He wasn’t a fool. He knew Henry wanted his bong back. Since his current line of reasoning wasn’t working, he decided to try something new. He sat back down beside Henry, handing him the bong. “Is he part of a cult?”
Henry gave him a look that could melt led. “Hakon Thunderfoot got third-degree burns saving my life. Whatever he is, he’s a good man.”
Whatever he is? Third-degree burns? Hakon Thunderfoot was at a bar late last night, eating and drinking with his brothers and Amara. “I saw him yesterday, and I didn’t notice any burns.”
Henry shrugged, his eyes darting suspiciously back and forth. “They say his kind heals fast.”
Roy blinked hard. Again Henry was making Hakon out to be something inhuman. “His kind?”
“You’ve got to stop asking me questions.” Grousing, Henry pushed off the sofa. “I’ve said too much.” He put on a jacket and walked out the door, slamming it behind him without so much as a goodbye.
“You haven’t said enough,” Roy mumbled. Then again, maybe all Roy had to do was piece together the puzzle. He had to start by finding out where Hakon lived. Though he didn’t believe Hakon was some weird supernatural being, he was different, possibly dangerous. Maybe he was into devil worship or hard drugs. That would explain why Amara didn’t want Roy around. In any case, she wasn’t safe, and he refused to sit by while his cousin’s life was in danger.
AMARA FOLLOWED HAKON and Tor into the house on numb legs, falling on the sofa and staring out the window in shocked silence. That poor lone wolf. What if Luc didn’t find her in time? What if she was killed for defending herself? The thought made her sick to her stomach. If Luc hadn’t found her a year ago, she could’ve been in the same p
osition. Tor called Drasko and Rone in from fishing and broke the news of the lone wolf, commanding them to stay inside. Amara expected protests, but they obediently agreed with their father, promising to keep a watchful eye for any unusual activity around the house. After Tor took Mihaela home, Amara sat with her mates in the living room while Hakon called tribe members on the roster, giving them their chieftain’s orders.
She cringed each time he spoke to a new alpha, issuing a code 1911. That was all he said, and apparently that was all that was needed. Everyone understood a code 1911 meant the tribe’s safety had been compromised, and that humans might possibly learn their secret.
They ate dinner in silence. Though the summer sun was out in full force, a dark gloom settled in their hearts. Everyone was thinking of that lone wolf. If she was killed, the repercussions would be felt through all the Amaroki, and there would be a pack somewhere who’d never know their mate. The thought made the gloom shrouding her heart as thick as tar.
The night was chilly for mid-summer, so Hakon lit a fire and Amara, cuddling with Drasko and Rone, gazed into the glowing embers. The dogs played on a bearskin rug beside the fire. They’d been at it all day, tails wagging nonstop as they welcomed Max into the fold, oblivious to the tension in the room. She didn’t begrudge them their bliss since their antics made Hrod happy. The baby sat up in his saucer and giggled uncontrollably, watching the dogs play. Several times he reached out to them with a frustrated squeal. He wanted to play, too, but she didn’t want him getting hurt. Too bad Hrod didn’t have a brother or sister to play with.
She winced at an ache in her womb and then she swore, feeling a blooming deep inside. Of all the inopportune times!
“Omigod.”
Drasko jerked upright, taking her hand. “What is it?”
She thought about not telling him. Getting pregnant when snipers could be circling their reservation and a lone wolf was on the loose would be crazy, but she wasn’t sure they’d have another opportunity. Her bunica had not explained that part when she’d told Amara about breeding.
She placed a hand on her womb as the bloom inside her expanded. She could almost imagine a dripping flower stretching toward Drasko, begging for his seed to fill it. A frisson swept up her spine, and her limbs turned to jelly, her sweet spot throbbing with need.
“Are you blooming, Amara?” Drasko asked, his eyes alight with a hopeful gleam.
She slowly nodded.
He howled with joy and scooped her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs as her other mates hooted and hollered. And here Amara had been wondering how she’d pass the time, forced to stay inside the house all day. If this mating went like the last time, Drasko would fuck her raw for two days (and she’d enjoy every minute of it) and then she’d be too exhausted for the next few weeks to go anywhere. She prayed this pregnancy wouldn’t threaten her safety. Pregnant Amaroki women couldn’t shift, which meant if angry civilians did come after them with pitchforks and shotguns, she’d have no way to defend herself.
PISSED OFF, TIRED, and hungry, Roy banged on the apartment door. “Skunk! Open up.” Laughter and music came from inside. No doubt they were partying on his dime. How could he have been so fucking stupid?
Skunk threw open the door, his red beard peppered with crumbs, and there was a big pizza sauce bulls-eye in the center of his T-shirt. He held out his arms like they were lost brothers. “Roy, bro! Where you been?”
Before Roy could stop him, Skunk pulled him inside, mussing his hair with a beefy hand while holding Roy in a headlock. Roy nearly passed out from the noxious stench coming from Skunk’s armpit. He was convinced the guy never showered.
He jerked free, brushing crumbs off his clothes. “I tried to buy groceries, but my credit card is maxed out.”
Skunk tossed back his head with a hearty laugh and thumbed at the bleached-blonde stripper clad in skimpy G-string bikini bottoms, doing lines on the coffee table behind him. “Lacy probably took it. She does that.”
“Christ.” Why had he gotten mixed up with these people?
Skunk slapped him on the back so hard, he lurched forward. “Pussy ain’t cheap, bro.”
“You need to get your bank to up your limit,” Lacy said, jumping to her feet. Her huge, fake tits bounced as she rubbed powder into her nose. She held her phone out, showing him a photo of a diamond ring priced at over $2000. “I had to settle for smaller stones.” She flicked his card at his feet.
Anger made Roy see red. “I’m filing a police report.”
Lacy looked at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you took my card without permission!”
She jutted fists on her hips, oblivious to the white powder stuck to her nostril. “That was payment for my services.”
“Two thousand fucking dollars,” Roy hollered.
“Ease up, bro.” Skunk came between them and pushed Roy toward a reclining chair with stains on the fabric. “You’re tense. You need a hit.” He shoved a bong into Roy’s hands.
He looked at the bong and then back at Skunk. He shouldn’t have considered it. He should’ve just walked out the door and gone straight to the police. Fuck, he’d so like a hit after what he’d been through these past few days. Scratch that. These past few years. His life hasn’t been easy. Would it kill him to take the edge off?
“What about drug testing at work?” he asked.
Skunk took the bong back and lit it, sucking in a huge breath. “I been there three years,” he said on an exhale of smoke. “They ain’t never tested me. They don’t care now that it’s legal.”
Fuck it. Roy took the bong from Skunk and sucked in three deep breaths.
Skunk flashed a shit-eating grin. “Better?”
He slouched in the chair, the barbed noose that had tightened around his spine slowly unwinding. “A little.”
“You can’t report Lacy.” Skunk took the bong and handed him a beer. “She’ll quit partying with us.”
“That’s right.” Lacy jiggled her tits in Skunk’s face. “There’s plenty of dick in the sea.”
He watched with disgust as Skunk drooled over Lacy’s implants. “I can’t afford to pay off that credit card.”
“We’ll think of something.” Skunk sat on a bench beside him and rubbed his dirty beard. “Your cousin is with the Thunderfoots, right? Why not ask Hakon for the money?”
“I wouldn’t bug Hakon if I were you,” Henry squeaked.
He glared at Henry, who was sitting on the edge of the sofa with a chubby, topless Native girl with a dragon tattoo across her left breast. Henry whispered to the girl, casting furtive looks at Roy.
Roy turned back to Skunk. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t know where they live.”
“They live on a reservation about an hour out of Fairbanks,” Dragon Tattoo answered.
Roy regarded the girl suspiciously. “How do you know this?”
“I work in Payroll.” She tossed back a lock of black hair tipped with hot pink. “I have access to everyone’s address.”
“Can you get it for us, Moose?” Skunk asked.
Moose. That was her name? He preferred Dragon Tattoo to Moose. What kind of name was that for a girl?
Moose picked grime from under her fingernails. “It’s unlisted. I could lose my job.”
Roy let out a slow breath. He knew where this was going. “How much?”
She gave him a pointed stare. “A thousand dollars.”
“Christ.” That barbed noose around his spine tightened again.
“Lacy, he’s still too tense.” Skunk waved the bong at Roy’s crotch. “Why don’t you relax him a bit?”
“No. I can’t afford to pay her again.” He scooted back in his chair, his groin muscles tightening.
“Come on, Lacy,” Skunk begged.
“Fine.” She dropped to her knees in front of Roy, prying the beer from his stiff fingers. She chugged the drink before tossing the empty bottle to the floor and letting out an impressive belch. Sh
e jabbed a finger in his stomach. “You’d better make it quick. My favorite soap opera comes on in ten.”
When she unzipped his pants, his instinct told him to run, but he was in too deep with these people. He thought of the emergency stash he had back home, which was enough to pay off Dragon Tattoo. He needed to find his cousin and save her from the strange Thunderfoots. He only prayed his new friends wouldn’t get him in more trouble.
Chapter Six
Why in Ancients’ name had her body chosen now to get pregnant? Sure, she’d been wanting Hrod to have a friend to play with, and she knew Drasko longed for a son of his own, but it wasn’t a good time. Her fathers were coming in a few days. She’d so been looking forward to shifting and running with them in the forest. If this pregnancy went like the last one, she’d be stuck in bed or clinging to the toilet during their visit.
“Amara, where are you?”
She looked at Drasko, suddenly aware they were naked in her private bedroom. He’d even stripped off his clothes and crawled in bed beside her. How could she have been so pulled out of the moment that she hadn’t noticed this beautiful, virile man beside her?
“I’m sorry.” She traced the dark line of a tribal tattoo on his chest. “I’m just worried because of everything going on. I don’t think it’s a good time for me to have a baby.”
He feathered a kiss across her lips. “Can’t be any worse than going into labor with werewolves chasing us,” he murmured against her mouth.
She ran her fingers through his long, thick hair. “You have a point.”
“I’ll admit, I sometimes do question the wisdom of the Ancients,” he said, pressing into her, his thick manhood leaving a glistening trail across her hips. “But they are giving us this chance now, and I’m not sure if there will be another.”
She sank into him, her libido springing to life when he pinched her taut nipple. “Then we must take it.”