So she stood there, chin raised, dignity her only shield as she waited for him to shoot her down like a dog right here in front of the Indian’s house—
Before she could finish that thought, a ripping sound rent the air. In the next moment, a wolf dressed in the torn remnants of Joseph’s clothes leaped through the twilight, straight at Massa.
A gunshot sounded, and she felt the heat of the bullet as it whizzed past her ear. But it was already too late. By the time she looked back from the passing bullet, Massa was on his back. His shotgun still up in the air. But he was past the point of shooting it again because the demon wolf was tearing at his throat.
Without the Massa there to tell them what next, the overseer and the cracker hightailed it toward the woods. But the wolf launched himself into the air so fast that the cracker only got about two steps before he, too, was down on the ground getting his throat torn out.
Afterward, the wolf swung its large head toward her. She took a step back, afeared that the thing would pounce on her next. But it only regarded her for a tick, its eyes glowing in the dim light of the setting sun, then it set off toward the woods. In the direction the overseer had fled.
Screams came floating back to her ears soon after. High-pitched and cut short by the sound of a vicious growl. The overseer must have had a gun someplace on him because a shot cut across the darkness before everything fell quiet.
Her heart sank. The demon wolf. Joseph. They were one and the same. Had he been shot by the overseer’s gun? Heart pounding wild in her chest, she started in the direction they’d gone off. She was not certain what she would do once she found the demon wolf and the overseer, but she was compelled all the same.
She took a step forward…only to stop when she heard the crunch of dead leaves as someone approached from the woods.
Or something.
She took several steps back, remembering the last full moon night. Prepared to run into the house if necessary.
But then she saw him. The Indian. Clothes torn. Covered in blood. Truth told she had never in all her years seen such a horrific sight.
And truth told she did not care.
She ran to him. Launching herself into his arms without fear of whether he would or could catch her.
He did not catch her. But his lips received hers, even as they tumbled backward into the grass beside the magnolia tree in a frenzied heap of kissing and touching topped off by a strange musk she could not identify.
Regardless, the smell filled her nose. And despite her lack of experience and his bloody state, she soon became certain she would expire if she did not have the blood-covered Indian inside her immediately.
He seemed to have the same notion because without setting any questions to her, he rolled her under him and pushed up her skirts. His body covered hers, and then…good Lord, he was inside her. The demon wolf turned back into an angel was inside her, sinking straight down into the damp crevice between her legs.
Over his shoulder, she could see the moon rising, the one he had been so intent on beating when they first came out of the house. But he seemed to care nothing of that now as his lean hips circled into hers.
There was a difference in her. Her senses had heightened, and something animalistic had erupted inside her. Something that wouldn’t allow fear, even though she’d never lain with a man—especially one covered in the blood of men he’d just killed. Despite his recent violence, she ached for him, called out for more, pulling on his lean hips with a wanton nature she didn’t know she possessed.
The Indian didn’t protest. Didn’t question her actions. Just took her quietly…until on a strange instinct, she opened her mouth wide and bit down on his shoulder.
It took only a tick more for her to glean he’d been holding back until then. For soon after her teeth found his shoulder, his hips began moving between her legs in mighty, ferocious circles, low snarls emanating from his throat, until—
She cried out when a river of unexpected pleasure undammed inside her. And she clawed at his shoulders, trying to hold onto something solid as the pleasure all but took her under. She was a slave who couldn’t swim, and he was a dock in an otherwise turbulent river.
But if she hurt him, he gave her no sign. There were only his hips moving faster and faster until his seed flooded into her. His own river undammed.
A new sensation for someone who had never lain with a man before now. But then a much stranger sensation occurred. A hard pressure appeared inside her as if his rod were swelling where their sexes joined.
“Joseph…” she started to say on a fearful breath.
“It is the way of the wolf, Maggie,” he answered before she could fully reckon what she was asking him. “I have knotted within you and so are we joined as mates,”
“Maggie…” she whispered.
This was not her name.
But he kissed the confusion right out of her heart as he explained, “This is the name I call you in my head. After the magnolia tree that gave you to me as a gift.”
A gift. She’d been sold and traded. But she’d never been anyone’s gift before, and as if giving its approval, her crevice began to tighten and untighten around the knot between its lips. Squeezing it in the same way she used to squeeze the udders of the cows at Briarleaf.
The sensation was strange, but in no way unbearable. Truth told, it soon became too bearable as the strange river of pleasure overtook her again, flooding her sensibilities anew.
“Sleep,” the Indian said. “We are fully mated in heat now, so we no longer have reason to fear the moon.”
“Mated?” she repeated. “What does that mean?”
“That you are mine and I yours.”
“The same as husband and wife?” she asked, pulling back from his kiss.
“Deeper than that,” he answered. “Sleep, Maggie, and when we wake, we will move this mating into the house.”
Maggie, she thought to herself. She liked that name. Much more than Lucy, the name her first Massa had given her.
More kissing from the Indian as his manhood throbbed deep inside her clenching crevice. As if it had a heartbeat. “I like this name better than Lucy, too. Now sleep.”
Only as her eyes closed on the sight of the magnolia tree Joseph had named her for did she remember she had not spoken the thought out loud. Or noticed that the Indian hadn’t moved his lips for the entirety of the conversation.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Two centuries later
Halle had always loved the story of the runaway slave and the Indian who’d started their family line.
But when she found herself beneath the magnolia tree after a blind run through the woods, the story instantly turned into a tragedy.
Because where her ancestors met, the place where they mated, would soon become the place where she died.
As if to emphasize how close she was to the end of her story, an arrow whizzed past her head. Sinking into the tree she and all the ancestors who’d come from that original magnolia pairing held so dear.
Everyone, including her, had been wrong about Eric. Oh God, had they ever been wrong. He might be polite, but he was no gentleman. Or a nice guy.
He’d made that much clear when he brought out the crossbow.
She’d run, barely making it to the kitchen door before she heard the metallic swish and hard plant of the first arrow hitting the wall right beside the door.
She’d made it out of the house, cutting across to the woods. But now Eric was stalking her like a big game hunter intent on the kill.
Halle hadn’t even planned to return to the cabin. Had just arrived here after running in a panic through the trees.
But the devil had followed her into her old refuge…
Another arrow whizzed by. This one so close, she could feel a thin slice of air displace near her shoulder as it landed in the beloved tree’s trunk.
Halle started forward again, only to hear her pursuer say, “I’ve got my sight trained on you, dear. Take one more
step, and I’ll put an arrow in your head without further discussion.”
She froze. Believing him, but clinging to the word “discussion.”
“So you want to talk about this?”
“Not particularly, but I do want to see the look on your face when I kill you.”
She shuddered. But she sensed he wanted her fear. Craved it.
Refusing to give it to him, she asked, “Why are you doing this? It’s not like you’re going to get the kingdom if I’m dead.”
“Well, it’s exactly like that,” he answered, voice sing-songing with glee. “After I do this, I’ll go back and kill your father in an old-fashioned challenge fight. Luckily our overly-progressive North American government still hasn’t outlawed Alpha title fights.”
“No, they haven’t,” she agreed bitterly. “But you can’t simply waltz in here and kill a defenseless man with a crossbow.”
“Oh, I challenged him all right,” Eric insisted. “And for some reason, instead of calling his beta, he decided to take me on himself. Maybe it was because of all his debt. Makes sense he’d want to go out fighting. Most kings would.”
Not her father. Everyone around here knew the Mississippi King was an inheritor through and through. He’d never fought a title fight in his life. And he certainly would at the very least call his Beta to fight on his behalf. In fact, the Mississippi beta was her last hope—if her father even had the presence of mind to call him. She had to keep Eric talking.
“No one will believe you,” she pointed out.
But Eric’s proud and petulant tone remained intact as he sneered, “Oh, I think they will, dear. Especially after that long-suffering beta of his supports my side of the story. I’ve already made it worth his while.”
She mentally cursed. Eric had gotten to Bill.
“The thing is, dear, my becoming King of Mississippi was always a matter of business. Big business. My father has plans for this prime piece of waterfront real estate you’ve been squandering all these years, and quite a few handshake deals are already in place. Also, this is the only way I’ll ever make any real money as a sixth prince. But unfortunately, I’m afraid this means you’ll need to be sacrificed. For the greater good. My greater good, to be exact.”
He’d been planning this. For how long? Probably since Nago tranqued him and threw him out of his own mating ritual. Which put the information he “wanted her to have” in a new light. He hadn’t just been bitter…
In Mississippi, couples usually waited two or three months after mating to wed. But there were a few states where couples married the very next day. Alaska was one of those states. If she’d married Nago yesterday morning, they’d be the official Mississippi King and Queen and Eric would have to face Nago in a challenge fight.
But because of the information he’d given her, she hadn’t married Nago. Thereby giving Eric the time he needed to put his plan in motion.
Halle fought the urge to turn around and curse him out. Not because she was afraid of angering him more, but because she realized he needed her to turn around. If she attacked him, he could claim self-defense. But if he shot her in the back, not even their disloyal Mississippi beta could talk him out of that.
So instead of launching herself at him, she cast her eyes around for a weapon. Trying to see if there was any way to fix this. She could find nothing but a single rock. Half-buried, and hardly as big as the heel of her palm.
“You’re probably pretty pissed I cut and run before you could shoot me in the kitchen,” she said, trying to buy more time. “Me coming all the way out here put a big ol’ crimp in all of your commercial real estate plans, didn’t it?”
A beat of silence. Then: “Turn around.”
She could hear and smell him scooting closer behind her.
“Nanh, I think I’ll stand right here. Always loved this tree. Did you know the woman who started my mother’s family line was a runaway slave who got herself bit and scratched by a Native American werewolf? Hell of a story.”
She could feel him getting closer... “Turn around.”
Halle suddenly dipped down and grabbed the sharp gray rock and then spun to face him. But not because he commanded her to. She whipped the rock as hard as she could at his face.
Hell, if she was going to be accused of attacking him, she might as well make it look good.
“Ow! You FUCKING BITCH!!!”
Direct hit. Yes! But there was no time for her to rejoice. Because though he was hunched over in pain, he hadn’t dropped the bow.
Her eyes cast about for more rocks, a stick, anything. But all that surrounded her were wide, soft magnolia petals. Their fragrance put her in mind of her mother. The mother she’d never see again.
Halle cursed and decided to run. But before she could, a hand grabbed her by the braids and yanked so hard she fell backward, landing on the ground at Eric’s feet.
Eric’s triumphant face appeared above her, blocking out her ancestor’s beautiful magnolia tree.
“This will do,” he said, pointing his bow at her with a cocky grin.
He’d won. She was going to die, Halle realized.
She thought of Nago. Of the baby they’d made. Of him never knowing how much she loved him. Or that the moment he finally let her go, she’d decided to forgive him for everything he’d done.
But she did not cry. If she was going to die here, she wouldn’t go out sniveling. She’d stand in front of Eric’s crossbow like her grandmother had stood in front of her Massa’s gun. Refusing to back down. Better to face death than beg for her life from someone who had no right to it.
“Did you think I’d let you get away with this? Humiliating me? In front of everyone? In front of my father? Did you think I’d let you get away with living happily ever after with that maniac you chose over me?”
Her mother raised her to be polite. A gentle southern lady at all times. But in this case, it didn’t feel it at all inappropriate to answer him plainly. “Eric, to tell you the truth, from the moment Nago beat you and threw you out of the cabin, I didn’t think about you. At all.”
Eric’s eyes flared with rage. “Oh, I am going to enjoy killing you, dear—”
One moment he was threatening her and the next, a black wolf took him out of her sightline with no more warning than a low growl.
It was Nago! she realized on a gasp.
Eric was not so cocky now. In fact, she was sure his screams could be heard throughout the little kingdom town. But only for a moment. Because soon after, the wolf tore at his throat, sending his voice box flying across the green grass.
Eric was gone in under a minute. He never had a chance against a wolf that large.
Halle got to her feet with a relieved sigh. Until the wolf turned its glowing brown gaze on her.
“Oh crap!” she breathed out.
Her legs found new strength and perhaps powered by the spirit of that long-ago ancestor, she scrambled up into the magnolia tree. Climbing and climbing until she was out of reach.
She waited in that tree like her many greats grandmother. Wondering what would come next and how long it would take for Nago to snap out of it.
Or if he ever would. She eeped with fright when the wolf suddenly slammed its large paws against the tree trunk, shaking the tree with the force of its hit.
All she could do was hold on to the branch and hope she didn’t fall out. It seemed the tree wasn’t as strong as legend would have it, because a few more knocks like that, and she’d definitely go down.
The wolf growled and hit the tree again with its massive front paws.
In a fit of desperation, Halle screamed into his head, “Nago, please stop! I’ll fall out, and if you hurt me, you’ll hurt the baby!”
The low, menacing growl abruptly cut off with a sharp yelp. And then…
Right before her eyes, the wolf transformed into a large man.
“Nago?” she said, pushing the name tentatively across their mental link.
“Halle?” he said out loud, his hu
ge chest pumping in and out like he’d just run a marathon. “He gave me back the controls. He didn’t want to hurt you, so he gave them back to me.”
Later, she would find out this was a massive breakthrough for Nago and his wolf. Nago had spent the last 12 years trying to keep his wolf under control and never once had it let Nago take it back over without having to be tranqued.
But now, two hundred years later, Nago seemed to be channeling her forefather when he looked up into the tree and said, “You can come down.”
So she did.
And without thinking about it, she threw herself into his arms. And for the first time in years, Halle had complete faith. That he loved her. That she loved him. And that he would always catch her.
Chapter Thirty
Nago didn’t just catch her, he picked her up and carried her. Through the woods as if walking nearly two miles with a heavy woman cradled in his arms was nothing.
On the way, he told her about the mission that had gone terribly wrong in Alarus. How he’d gotten caught by the leader of a terrorist sect while installing surveillance under the guise of putting in a long overdue BiFi line. Not only caught but tortured. How it had taken every bit of his Marine and Viking training to stay in control and not shift.
But he’d broken after three days of torture—not because his training failed him, but because of a baby. A baby had been squalling in the next room nearly from the time they brought Nago in. Nago had concentrated on the baby to stay sane. But on the third day, the baby stopped crying. And when he asked his torturer what happened, the man proudly told him that they had killed the baby’s mother three days ago, and now the baby was dead, too.
That was the last thing Nago remembered, he confessed. Then he woke up naked in the apartment living room, surrounded by bodies and blood. Fourteen men and two women. Not only had Nago broken the first rule of Wolf Force, but he’d also killed every single person in that apartment.
“Knud and Rafes were part of the unit that found me,” he told her, his voice barely above a husky whisper. “At first they thought I killed the baby because it was covered in blood from the dead bodies. I’ll never forget the way they looked at me. Like I was a monster. I never wanted you to look at me like that. I clung to the memory of you when they were beating me, trying to get information. And I had this idea in my head that if I could just see you, what happened wouldn’t have happened. That this thing inside of me would stop trying to take over and maybe leave me in peace.”
The Brothers Nightwolf Trilogy Page 15