by Piper Fox
Owen fought the urge to shift, to go rip out the Bellemare Alpha’s throat for harming this perfect woman.
It was the first time in years he intentionally stayed human, rather than wolf.
“He used me as leverage to make her do the spell that did such damage to Ironhaven. And when she was done, he ran his claws over my throat.” She lifted her chin, and Owen focused with his wolf eyes to see the four lighter, pink-tinged lines that ran almost from ear to ear. “I still don’t know if he meant to kill me, or just to make Mom think he did.”
Owen let out a growl, a sound that started with his wolf but ended with him. Neither option was acceptable, even if Cyn was just a human. She didn’t deserve to have her throat ripped out.
“The spell work Mom used to heal me almost killed her. Zain couldn’t stand the idea of losing his witch, even if it meant that I’d have to be protected, kept safe. He locked me away. I don’t even know what other spells he’s forced Mom to do, or if she’s even still alive. Although, I doubt he’d keep me around if she wasn’t.”
She shook her head and leaned into him. “That’s my sad story. I’ve been a captive in Bellemare since I was seventeen. And if I don’t go back to Zain, my own mother’s spells will kill me before he can.”
Owen snarled, but when she met his eyes again, the anger pooled in his belly, melting back from the surface again. “The bastard deserves worse than death.”
Cyn sighed. “No one in his pack will give it to him. I doubt there are many wolves who would challenge Zain and live to tell the tale, let alone win.”
Owen hated the sadness in her eyes. The defeat. He wanted to chase it away, and make those full, pouty lips smile again.
“He’s taken too much from too many to not get what’s coming to him.” He snuggled her closer and stroked her hair again. “How’s your head?”
“Tolerable.” She let her eyes close again before asking, “What happened to you? Why do you live out here, alone, without your pack?”
Owen shook his head. “That’s a story for another time. Not one that you need now.” He couldn’t stomach the idea of telling her that the curse killed Fiona. Cyn didn’t need that burden on her shoulders.
It was his weight, and his alone.
“Then tell me something else. Just talk to me.”
Owen held her throughout the night, keeping her close, telling her any story he could think of, anything that wasn’t related to the curse or the damage done to his pack. And to his heart.
It had been so long since he’d thought of anything other than the curse.
Owen wasn’t sure if Cyn slept, even though her eyes stayed closed. Something told him that she was awake, hanging onto every word as if it was a lifeline, keeping her anchored here with him, not lost to the pain.
If he were a better wolf, he would’ve carried her to Bellemare, made sure she got safely over the border, long before any real risk of damage happened. But it seemed Owen was a selfish wolf, because all he wanted to do was keep her in his arms. Keep her close. It had been so long since he’d had company, since he’d had someone to share his cave with.
Cyn reminded him of what it was like to belong, to fit in with someone else. She made him want that connection again. A feeling he hadn’t really felt since Fiona died. Even Merrick’s visits in the woods, trying to draw him out, or Garrett’s constant attempts at contact were all laced with pain and angst, but with her it was natural and untainted by his own history.
She felt like an oasis in the desert of despair his mind couldn’t seem to break free from.
Cyn almost felt like a mate, even though Owen knew wolves weren’t given more than one perfect mate. He’d found that with Fiona, and he’d lost her.
Even if for some reason the Gods had seen fit to grant him another mate, Owen couldn’t fathom the idea of claiming her, not even one as perfect, as soft and supple as Cyn.
He was going to have to let her go.
Left to Live
Cynthia couldn’t explain it.
She knew her mother’s spells almost as well as her mother did. There was no reason for her to feel better in Owen’s arms, no reason for the pain to be almost nonexistent when he was near.
It certainly didn’t hurt that his rumbling, growly voice soothed her more than the biggest bottle of aspirin ever could have. Or that the simple, soft way he held her, touched her, felt like he’d always been part of her life, a trusted companion.
As he talked to her all night, she could tell he was holding something back, though. Like he desperately didn’t want her to find out why he was out in the woods all alone.
Cynthia wasn’t dense, though. There was only one reason she could see for a man, a wolf, to walk away from everything he knew, all those fantastic, fun stories of brotherhood, of the pack, of his place in it.
He had to have been touched by her mother’s curse.
Was that why he wanted to keep her close? Did he think that she could somehow be used as leverage against the Bellemares now? Or worse, that she could be used to somehow bring back the wolf or wolves he’d lost?
Cynthia hated to think like that. Especially when he’d been nothing but gentle, nothing but kind to her, from the moment she woke up in his cave. Owen didn’t feel like the same kind of guy as Zain, or the wolves who guarded her twenty-four seven.
At some point, Owen’s voice drifted off into sleepy territory, filled with yawns, and shortly thereafter his stories were replaced with soft, rumbling snores that were somehow just as soothing as his voice was. Like a car engine lulling a baby to sleep.
She didn’t dare try to slip from his arms though. Not because she was afraid he’d try to stop her, but because she was afraid the pain would come back. Instead, she just stayed cuddled up next to him, tracing his tattoos with her gaze.
They told as much of a story about the wolf as his words had, like hieroglyphs of his life permanently marking his body.
It took her a long time of staring at that hard, muscled chest, before she found it.
A single name and a date tattooed to his ribs. Whoever Fiona was, she was important enough to this wolf to commemorate on his body. And the date, a few weeks after the initial curse took hold of the Ironhaven pack, told Cynthia more than just numbers.
Fiona must’ve been the woman he lost.
But the question remained—who was she? A mother? Sister? Aunt? Or was she his mate?
Something inside her practically whimpered at the thought that this man in her arms had a mate.
She didn’t even want to think about mating a wolf, not after the way she’d seen so many mates in Bellemare be treated. And she certainly wasn’t looking for anyone to love. But the idea that someone else had a claim on Owen nearly made her heart break in two.
As the sun started to creep into the cave, across the dirt and stone floor toward them, Owen stirred, stretching long as he pressed against her.
As every part of him pressed against her.
Goddess, she’d thought he was huge before, but somehow, in the early morning light, his cock seemed even bigger. Morning wood or not, it was hard for Cynthia not to be in awe.
“Good morning.” He smiled softly at her, his warm brown eyes still heavy with sleep. “Did you sleep at all?”
Cynthia shook her head and shifted her hips back slightly, just to try to put a little space between them. “I was afraid the pain would come back.”
Owen sat up and gently pulled her back against him again.
It was hard to deny that she liked how intent he was on keeping her close, even if it was just to help keep her from the pain. Cynthia wondered idly if it had anything to do with the force she felt drawing her toward him. If he felt it too.
“How’s the pain now?” He stroked her hair gently, almost as if the motion was innate, as uncontrollable as breathing.
“It’s not so bad when you’re close. But I should get back to Bellemare. I don’t know when it’ll flair up again.” She hated that she was finally free of her
captors, finally free of the prison she’d been locked in for almost eight years, only to have to go back.
“I’ll take you.” His voice almost sounded sad, as if he were as opposed to the idea as she was.
“Maybe…” Cynthia shook her head and buried her face into his chest, embarrassed.
Owen gently pulled back and cupped her chin, forcing her to look back up at him. “Maybe what?”
“It’s silly.” She sighed. “It’s just… you feel like the first real friend I’ve made in years. And even though you kind of kidnapped me, I was just thinking, maybe we could meet at the border sometimes? Just to talk? If I can lose my guards, I mean.” Cynthia bit her lip, feeling foolish. It was too much to ask, too much to think that a wolf like Owen would want anything more to do with her once she was back across traitorous territory lines.
“I will wait for you every week.” He skimmed his thumb across her lower lip, and for a second, she was almost certain he was going to kiss her.
Not that she had a lot of basis for believing it. Just what she’d read in romance novels. The Bellemare wolves weren’t exactly lining up to kiss the human captive, and Zain hardly let her interact with anyone else. She hadn’t even gotten any new books since the mayor’s assistant suddenly disappeared from town.
If she were a heroine in one of her books, though, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She would’ve straddled Owen and kissed him hard and rough. She would’ve tangled her fingers in his long hair.
And in return, Owen would’ve rocked her world with that giant, hard cock between his thighs.
But this wasn’t a romance novel, and she wasn’t as brave as the heroines in her books.
Instead, she pulled away slightly and gingerly stood up.
“We should get going.”
Owen nodded, but he couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes.
Cynthia wondered if that sadness was because she was going back to Bellemare. Or if maybe, he’d wanted to kiss her too.
Almost as soon as she stepped over the territory lines into Bellemare, the last dregs of pain lifted, as if none of it had been there at all.
She couldn’t help but turn and look at Owen once more though.
Any other time, she would’ve probably found the scene hilarious—a giant, almost seven foot tall man, completely naked, standing on one side of an invisible border, and a five-foot, two inch tall curvy girl with more boobs and hips than she knew what to do with, staring up at him from the other side of the imaginary line.
But with Owen, it almost seemed fitting that he looked so savage, so wild.
“How’s the pain?”
Cynthia hated that it was the only thing he asked about. She almost wanted him to grab her and throw her over his shoulder, like a caveman would, and carry her back to his den. “Gone now.”
With a deep breath, she crooked her finger toward him, gesturing for him to come closer.
As he leaned in, his feet still firmly planted on the Ironhaven side, Cynthia threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her, and took the chance she’d fought against in the cave. She pressed her lips to his.
At first, Owen was rigid, stiff.
Then, his arms looped around her waist, lifting her clean off her feet as he pulled her in tight against him. His lips softened, and then parted slightly, just enough to mold to hers.
Cynthia wrapped her legs around his waist, tangling her fingers in his hair as his tongue slicked across her lower lip. Her whole body felt like fireworks were exploding inside her as she darted her tongue out to meet his.
Owen groaned against her mouth. His kiss became more forceful, more needy, more hungry, as his hands gripped her wide ass, holding her tight against him.
Too soon, he set her back on her feet, on her side of the border. His eyes burned red-gold, and that massive cock was rock hard again.
Only this time, Cynthia was sure it wasn’t just morning wood.
“You should go.” He growled it—not just that low, rumbling voice, but an almost animalistic growl as he took two steps back from her. “Get back to Bellemare. Be safe from your curse.”
In a blink, he shifted back into a big black wolf and took off into the forest, leaving Cynthia dazed and a little awestruck. She could hardly breathe after that kiss, let alone move from the spot.
But he had no trouble running away from her.
Cynthia didn’t have time to wonder what it all meant though, as a couple of young Bellemare wolves ran up and shifted.
“Where have you been? The Alpha’s got the whole pack out here looking for you.” One of the boys, a teenager named Luka, if she remembered right, looked concerned.
She had no doubt she was a hot mess. Her clothes were rumpled, for sure, and even without a mirror, she was certain her hair was bigger than normal. And without sleeping, racked with pain, there were bound to be dark circles under her eyes.
“I’m here now, so you might as well take me back to my basement. I’m sure the Alpha will have a nice reward for such good, obedient wolves.” Cynthia didn’t dare look back toward the Ironhaven border.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. Owen was gone.
Whatever feelings she had for the man, whatever draw had tugged at her, was out of her control now.
She didn’t even have a way to contact him, to find him again, even if she could get back across the border.
He’d just dropped her back in Bellemare’s hands and walked away.
A Pack of One No More
Owen’s wolf was more surly than usual as he made his way back toward his cave.
Not that Owen could blame the beast. He hardly wanted to leave Cyn either.
Kiss or not, it felt wrong to leave her to the Bellemare wolves.
That kiss though, woke something in Owen he was sure had died right along with Fiona. Now he knew why he couldn’t get her out of his head, why he’d been so intent on getting her away from the Bellemare pack and their hold on her.
But it was also why he knew he had to let her go. He couldn’t go through losing another woman to another curse. He couldn’t watch Cynthia wither and die, in constant pain until the curse finally claimed her, unable to do anything to ease her suffering.
Snarling, gnashing his teeth, he knew there was only one surefire way to save Cyn, and maybe get a little vengeance at the same time.
Someone had to take down Zain.
Owen wasn’t strong enough. Not alone. Not without a pack supporting him.
He couldn’t count on the Bellemares to mutiny their leader, not when so many seemed to align with his nefarious way of thinking.
Most wolves would’ve gone straight to their Alpha. Hell, Owen considered it. If he was going to rejoin the pack, even just to take down another Alpha, he wanted to do it not just as a wolf, but as a man.
He headed to Garrett and Lexi’s farm, creeping along the back nine until he was certain who was on the property. He didn’t need a bunch of teenaged wolves running straight to Merrick the second they sniffed out another wolf on the land.
Lexi was out in the garden, but he couldn’t find any fresh signs of wolves other than Garrett. With a deep breath, he forced himself into his human shape and stepped out of the trees.
“You’re Lexi, right?”
She gasped but didn’t seem too alarmed by his presence—more surprised. Standing, she propped her gardening glove-covered hands on her hips and looked him up and down. “Yeah. And my fiancé’s a wolf, so if you have anything bad in mind, know that he’ll rip your head off. Or I will.”
Owen chuckled, a hoarse, rough, bark of a laugh, and held up his hands. “He could try. My little brother has never gotten the drop on me, in wolf or human form. Where is he?”
“He ran into town for supplies. You’re Owen, then?”
He nodded. “I need his help. I need the pack’s help.”
“Come on inside. I just pulled a fresh batch of banana bread out of the oven. You’re a few inches taller than Garrett, but I’d guess some of hi
s pants would fit you just fine.”
Owen chewed his lip for a second before asking, “Is there any chance I could take a shower? And maybe clean up my beard? If I’m going into town, I think it’d be best if I don’t look like I just lived seven years as a wolf.”
Lexi smirked and gestured to the back door. “I’ll show you to the bathroom.”
The old farmhouse had a comfortable, lived in feel, but Owen felt awkward as he strode through it. A nice house to live in felt like such a foreign concept to him now. It had been so long since he’d called anywhere a real home, other than the cave where he’d held Cyn in his arms.
And the bathroom—everything clean, spotless.
He didn’t belong in a place like this.
But he wanted to try. For Cyn.
Lexi got him set up with towels and all the toiletries he might need, including a fresh toothbrush and a beard kit she’d pulled out from the back of the cabinet under the sink.
“If you need anything, just holler. I’m going to let Garrett know you’re here, so if you need him to pick anything up from town, I’ll make sure he adds it to his Honey-Do list before he comes back home. I imagine you two will have a lot to talk about.”
When Lexi left him alone, he stared at the huge walk-in shower in awe for a few moments. He’d expected something more simple, like the rest of the house—just a shower head over a bathtub. This shower looked more like it was meant to share. Dual shower heads, a bench with plenty of fruity scented bath products clustered in the corner.
He stepped into the cavernous space, almost as big as the cave he lived in, and turned on the water, electing to run it as hot as he could stand to wash off the layers of dirt that swimming in the lake couldn’t quite clean off.
It took more than half an hour to get the tangles out of his hair, and by the time he was done with the shower and trimming his beard, the bathroom looked like a dirt-and-hair tornado had torn through it. Owen hardly looked like himself.