“But now I do,” she said simply, slipping out of her boots and looking up at him. “It would mean a lot to me to help build our den by offering all the assistance that I know I can offer. I can do a lot more than I’m doing right now.”
“My sweet bitch,” he grumbled, and stifled his frustration, not wanting her to smell it. “You are already helping so much.”
“Jarvis, you need to smell the truth. I want you to accept me as Malta werewolf and Cariboo. That is who I am. Jarvis, I just want to be me. And now that I know the extent of my gift, I want to use it.”
“You want to use it? You want to make trees fall with your thoughts? You want to look at the wood and watch as the timber becomes smooth without you barely touching it? Is that what you’re saying?”
She simply watched him. The answer was on her face. That was exactly what she wanted to do. Jarvis combed through his hair with his fingers and looked away from her. Katrin wasn’t thinking clearly. It was the only answer he could come up with. She was smart. She knew what she suggested was impossible.
But what scared him more than he wanted to admit was that Katrin didn’t see her Malta werewolf half of her as a curse. Regardless of her admitting she hadn’t forgotten the reason they’d run from Prince George, he saw now that somehow she’d justified embracing the half of her that would get her killed on site.
“Katrin,” he began, struggling for the right words without howling at her. If this blew into a full-blown fight, her anger would make it impossible for her to smell reason. “We aren’t as alone on this mountain as you think. I know it seems that way when we haven’t smelled other werewolves. But trust me, my sweet bitch, others live around us. You’ll see when we run down the mountain how many dens there actually are. How do you think they would react if they sniffed out the truth about you?”
“I don’t care what any other werewolf thinks of me,” she said stubbornly. “All that matters is what you think of me.”
“I love you. You’re my mate and nothing will change this. I know you’re anxious for our den to be done. I am too. Trust me, once it is done we’ll have the rest of our lives to make it a den filled with love.” And cubs, he almost added, but thought that might be pushing it at the moment.
“You only love half of me,” Katrin insisted, her incisors longer than they’d been a moment before. She shoved her jeans down her legs and yanked her coat off then stripped out of the rest of her clothes. “I don’t want to use my gift because it will have our den done faster. Yes, I want it finished as much as you do. But I want to use my gift because it is part of who I am.”
“It is a dangerous part of you,” he snarled. “Katrin, where is this coming from? The part of you that comes from your sire’s blood would be your death sentence if we aren’t careful. I won’t lose you.”
“I’m proud of the blood running through my veins. Every drop of it. And I won’t be with a werewolf who doesn’t love all of me!” she yelled.
One moment she stood naked before him. The next, the change engulfed her system. Jarvis was too busy trying not to howl back at her to move when Katrin dropped to all fours. There wasn’t time to strip out of his clothes and drop to all fours before she ran away from him.
Jarvis was left standing next to the fire all alone. Suddenly it was unbearably cold.
Chapter Seventeen
Katrin raced down the mountain. She didn’t have a particular direction. Anger fueled her flight. She’d been a fool to believe no matter how happy the two of them smelled together that Jarvis would understand. Katrin needed to be who she was, half Cariboo and half Malta werewolf. It was impossible for her to embrace one half and suppress the smell of the other.
Did you know how blessed your life was, sire? She paused when she reached a ledge then leapt six feet to smooth boulders below and continued her flight.
She ran through thick groves of trees, leaped over fallen branches and rushed around mounds of undergrowth. Katrin ignored all smells around her. She didn’t pay attention to the star-filled black sky overhead. She barely noticed if she ran down, alongside or up the mountain. All she did was run. But no matter how fast she tore at the earth with her claws, stretching her body to gain speed, there was no escaping her thoughts.
Her world had just turned upside down. Jarvis had fought to stifle his anger but Katrin had picked up on its scent. He believed her blood was tarnished. As long as he smelled only the Cariboo half of her, Jarvis was able to love her. But the moment he sniffed out all of who she was, his disgust shown through. He had been living in denial this entire time.
If she were able to cry, Katrin was sure there would be buckets of tears by now. Her insides were torn wide open. As much as she wished she had never brought it up and she and Jarvis had continued with their blissful happiness, Katrin knew the truth would have slowly eaten her alive. She had to howl her thoughts to him. And when she did, he had fought not to release his anger.
It wasn’t fair. She was who she was. Katrin knew the world wouldn’t accept her. But was it too much to ask of her mate?
No, it is not.
When she slowed at the edge of a steep cliff, Katrin wasn’t sure exactly where she was. Small rocks tumbled over the side of the cliff in front of her paws. She wasn’t an expert on distance, but it was quite a ways down to the next ledge. Katrin was high up on the mountain.
Taking time to slow her breathing, she also sniffed out her surroundings for the first time. Maybe at the moment she wasn’t sure of her location but she wasn’t worried about finding her way back to their den.
If there was a reason to go back there, she growled, walking in a slow circle and focusing on the flattened grass around her.
That’s when she noticed the scent. Katrin lifted her head and searched the darkness. In her fur, the black of night was more a mixture of different shades of gray. Shadows weren’t opaque. Her immediate surroundings weren’t shrouded in dark too hard to see through.
As well, she breathed in all the smells around her. The ripe smell of pine. The fresh pungent odor of the earth. A mixture of aromas from small rodents who had darted to safety once she’d appeared in their corner of the mountain. So many scents bombarded her senses.
Katrin wasn’t a pup. She’d run hard with her littermates when their den had burned to the ground. It wasn’t rocket science deciphering all the many smells in her immediate surroundings.
There was no reason to dwell on any of them. All were the familiar aromas that clouded a typical mountain night. But one scent came to her and she stiffened. It was the smell of a werewolf.
Had Jarvis chased after her this whole time and she hadn’t noticed?
Katrin didn’t like her location. Whoever was out in the trees might or might not have picked up on her scent. Either way, she didn’t see them and the smell wasn’t strong enough to tell if it were Jarvis. On the safe side, she darted away from the edge of the cliff and once again got lost in the trees.
She was on a steep slope. Katrin dug her claws deep into the earth and climbed, moving sideways across the side of the mountain. The smell of the werewolf didn’t fade. But nor did it gain in strength. She was being tailed.
There were two choices—belly-up or run. However, Katrin had never been particularly fond of either of those options. In spite of how good little female werewolves should behave, she’d always opted to stand her ground and fight.
When she reached a small plateau where it wasn’t quite as steep as it had been, Katrin took advantage of being the first to arrive. Her sire had taught her and her littermates to always make the best use out of all that was around them.
You never know when a rock might become your best friend.
At the time, Katrin and her littermates had laughed at their sire. Who would want to be friends with a rock? Now Katrin understood why her sire had howled at the three of them. Even when they were cubs, their sire had known a time would come when they ran with only their life to protect.
Was that where she was now?
Earlier that evening Katrin had been so proud to hold cans of vegetables to add with their kill. Her thoughts were focused on a new kitchen—her kitchen, in her den.
Enough! She lowered her head as the smell of the werewolf grew stronger. Turning around and searching through the thick trees, she sniffed the air. Her hackles went up.
Whoever was out there, it wasn’t Jarvis. Had he even run after her? Granted, he’d still been dressed when she’d finally stripped out of her clothes. But in their fur, Jarvis was a much larger creature than she was. No matter that she’d torn across the mountain as if her tail had been on fire, Jarvis would have been able to follow her scent.
The longer she pondered what his actions might have been, or on the den she might never have now, the further she put her life in danger. It was kill or be killed. Katrin let out a low warning growl, letting whoever was closing in on her know that she would fight to the death.
Her life might be pure hell at the moment but Katrin didn’t plan on dying.
She sniffed the air again. Someone was very close to her. Their scent was ripe with excitement. She also smelled defiance, possibly anger.
That’s when it hit her. She was picking up on the smell of more than one werewolf.
Crap! Oh crap!
Katrin forced a calming breath into her system. She’d been in this position before. Not in such a small space, where running from them would be a tough option, but Katrin knew how to hold her own.
Three Cariboo males entered her small clearing. Two were wagging their thick white tails. The third moved stiffly, his adrenaline smelling strong as he stared at her with almond-shaped silver eyes. In spite of the height of the many trees around them, enough moonlight came down to glisten off their coats.
She stared at their open mouths, three tongues dangling to the side, and all of those long deadly teeth bared into snarling smiles. The largest of the three, who was at least twice her size, was the one who smelled of so much aggression. Katrin knew this type of Cariboo. Her sire had sometimes dealt with them in the flesh. This male was a mountain man through and through. He lived by his own code and despised anyone in his world who believed he should run their way.
Katrin had her own code. Maybe it wasn’t in her nature to run. However, even if there had been open space, at this close range there would be no outrunning the three of them anyway. But she would fight. Matching their stance, she offered her own toothy grin.
Looks like I need to teach a few males some manners, she growled, shifting her attention to each of them. Katrin didn’t wag her tail though. She had no intention of letting any of them believe they were going to get a good time. You three need to learn that a female running on her own doesn’t mean you get to fuck.
Katrin barely had her message out when the werewolf to her far side lunged toward her. He went low and fast, rushing at her with his scent turning wild with lust.
Obviously simply telling them how it was wouldn’t work. Katrin’s instincts took over. There wasn’t time to be scared, or to hesitate over what her move might be. She’d just told herself it was kill or be killed. There was no arguing that logic or she would be the one dead.
Katrin leaped out of the way but grabbed flesh with her teeth before letting the male fly by her. He howled in pain. The metallic smell of blood was almost as strong as thick, spicy outrage.
The other two males moved in closer, standing shoulder to shoulder when the third limped up alongside them. None of them were smiling now. Katrin didn’t want to play their game. These males had no use for a female who wouldn’t lift her tail with a welcoming grin.
Which was fine with her. Katrin had no use for males who believed females were for fucking and leaving belly-up as they pranced away and sniffed out the next easy lay. She didn’t smell anything on them that indicated they would be any nicer in their flesh.
If they knew who they had sniffed out, who Katrin really was, they might not have wanted to fuck her. Better watch out, werewolves. Didn’t your mama ever tell you the Malta breed was insane?
They moved closer, ignoring her low, rumbling warning. There was alcohol on their breath. These three were quite likely drunk when they’d decided to change and go for a run on the mountain. That might, or might not, be to her advantage.
Depending on how sloshed they were, none of them possibly detected the colors in her fur. If they had, it might not have meant anything to them. All they sniffed out was a female. All any of them appeared to care about was gaining her willingness. Katrin already knew she didn’t have to be too willing. They would rape her as easily as they would take her if she bellied-up.
She took a step backward, snarling. Katrin trembled. It was from the surge of energy building inside her, not from fear. As long as she believed that, she would keep her head clear and keep herself alive, and their filthy paws off her.
Glancing up, she did her best to make sure all males were lined up. The tree falling would distract enough for Katrin to run and not be caught by any of them. She wouldn’t risk them being able to track her scent though. It would take a while to run back to her den. She didn’t need to look over her shoulder every couple of minutes and continually sniff out different odors of the night. Nor did she want assholes knowing where her den was.
This was a first. Making a tree fall was an incredible accomplishment. Katrin had never thought it necessary to fine-tune her gift so that the tree landed exactly where she needed it to be. Back on Toubec’s ranch she’d been lucky, and reeking of outrage. That tree had taken out three wasted excuses for Cariboo werewolves. She needed that luck on her side again. The tree had to distract and block their path so they weren’t able to follow her.
Knowing she had less than a second to save her own tail didn’t help her move any faster. Nor did it smell right relying on luck to save her life. Katrin stared at the tree she’d taken less than a second to choose. There was so much about her gift she still didn’t understand. One thing was clear, though. Not once had using her gift smelled wrong. She had to rely on instinct.
Reaching into the depths of her mind, she ripped the thick trunk out of the ground, uprooting what looked like giant claws and talons. They tore up the earth and sent saplings, surrounding undergrowth, and rocks flying in different directions. Showing off for Jarvis by making a branch fly with super speed through the air had been fun. She needed more than orneriness and defiance to make a giant tree fly. It took all of her energy to hurl it toward the males.
She didn’t know how much a tree weighed, but it seemed heavy enough suddenly to crush her mind. Katrin stumbled, wondering if her aim was terribly off. She swore it came down on her entire body. Then she panicked, and thought the males had leapt on top of her.
As instantly as the giant weight had damn near suffocated her, it lifted. Katrin stood on all fours. The incredibly ripe smell of fresh dirt pulled deep from the ground was as strong as her scent. I did it. It worked—I think. There wasn’t time to check.
She flew backward, leaping off the ground and hurling herself. A tree trunk stopped her just as the earth shook and sound exploded in her ears.
The large tree crashed to the ground, landing directly on top of all three males. It wasn’t panic but sheer survival instinct that made her run—run like hell. Run before she was tracked—tracked as a Malta werewolf who had just killed three Cariboo werewolves.
* * * * *
Katrin remained where she was. She didn’t smell any water nearby. In her desperation to flee the scene of her crime, she hadn’t noticed until much later that blood from the three dead male Cariboo stained her coat. She didn’t have the energy to keep cleaning herself. It wasn’t all coming off. The males would return to their human form once they were dead. The stench would easily be sniffed out by any werewolf passing by.
Katrin stared out the entrance of the cave she’d found in the darkest hour of the previous night. Dawn was setting in. Light shown through hanging brush that hid the entrance from obvious sight. For now, she was safe.
There had been no choice last night. Once she had ripped open the flesh of the male who had lunged at her, the bloodlust in all of those werewolves’ eyes had been as strong as the smell of their sexual deviancies. They would have torn her apart.
Katrin laid her head on her paws. She wasn’t sure how far from the dead males she had run before finding the cave, which she’d done purely by accident. Yanking that tree out of the ground and throwing it with her mind had done something to her. Afterward she seemed unable to keep her balance. Running was a chore. She would have looked like a drunk werewolf if anyone had spotted her. Katrin fell more than once and finally had toppled and landed sideways at the entrance of the cave.
Her eyes burned as she looked at her limited view inside her rocky hiding place. The cave walls were cold. They’d chilled her straight to her bone marrow. And her body was stiff. She ached to stretch, to loosen her cramped muscles and find water. Her stomach growled, reminding her she needed to eat too.
But that wasn’t the sound that grabbed her attention.
Katrin’s ears perked up. Someone was walking toward the cave, and they weren’t in their fur. She heard two sets of footsteps, not four. In spite of how stiff she was, Katrin tensed, ready to attack if need be. She sniffed the air and found in spite of exhaustion and pain she was suddenly very alert. Survival meant honing in on every skill she possessed. She needed to protect herself from anything or anyone who might bring her harm.
The footsteps grew closer, crunching over dead twigs and brush that littered the ground. Then she heard voices.
“Over here,” a man yelled, sounding excited. “It’s right over here. I never saw anything like it.”
“We’re coming,” another man, who was closer than his footsteps made him sound, sounded calmer, if not a bit exasperated. “I told you we’d check this out. But I can’t believe it’s like you said.”
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