Winter of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  “You were hurt pretty badly. The healer closed the wounds on your arm, but he didn’t like the way you passed out later. We were worried.”

  Healer. Hurt . A chil swept up her spine as she stared down at her bloody, ripped sweatshirt. Her arm—the right arm had ugly, lumpy red scars from a month ago. Her left forearm had areas of fragile pink skin, but was perfectly smooth. “That wasn’t a dream?” she whispered, her chest tightening.

  A monster. Her hands clenched. In the bushes, the smell, Jamie screaming. “A creature attacked us.” The pain as teeth tore through her clothes, her skin. Her terror for Zeb. Elvis bleeding everywhere. Calum taking the dog’s…

  She stiffened. Calum had grabbed Elvis’s neck and then Shay had appeared. “Oh my God, you’re a dog. Elvis.” Her voice squeaked. “It’s a dream, right?” He didn’t even have a beard—how could have fur?

  “No dream, a leannan.”

  Zeb walked into the bedroom, carrying a steaming cup.

  Even though he scowled at her, he made her feel awfuly female. And exposed.

  female. And exposed.

  She puled her covers higher and stuck her chin out.

  “What?”

  “You attacked a helhound,” he growled. “Are you fucking nuts?”

  “Oh, wel, next time I’l let it kil a little girl.” Jamie would have died just like Ashley had. Torn apart. The memory lodged in her chest and choked her. She turned her face toward the wal, blinking hard.

  “Breanne?” Shay’s deep voice was gentle.

  But he’d transformed, just like the thing in her apartment.

  And then, the creature-man had… She swalowed. Don’t think of that.

  Everything about last night felt warped, like when she’d read the original fairy tales—the ones that didn’t have happy endings, and little boys and girls get kiled. Or cooked by the bad witch. Eaten by the wolf.

  A chil ran down her spine as she stared at Zeb, then Shay.

  I don’t know these people at all. Shay had turned into a dog. “Out,” she said. “Both of you. Get out.”

  “But—” Shay protested.

  She pointed her finger at the door, shivering at the thought they might not leave.

  Stalking away, Shay shoved past Zeb. “Nice going, dumbass.”

  “We’l talk later, little female.” Zeb’s hard gaze was a

  “We’l talk later, little female.” Zeb’s hard gaze was a woolen blanket of attention, prickly, yet warm. “About last night. And about what happened in your city that stil upsets you so much.” He set the cup on the bedside stand with a thump and left, closing the door behind him.

  She waited, half-expecting their return. A minute passed.

  Her hand shook as she picked up the drink. She sniffed it suspiciously. Broth. Wel, if they wanted her dead, they’d had the opportunity last night. When she swalowed some, wonderful heat slid al the way to her stomach.

  After another sip, she tried to think. She’d been attacked by a monster—a hellhound—only not the same one as in Seattle. There were more. She shivered. The city one stil lived. But she had a gun now.

  Only…her bulets hadn’t worked. Her eyes squeezed shut as she remembered firing her revolver. The helhound had kept coming. I have no defense against it at all.

  As her hand shook, broth sloshed over the cup sides.

  Wait. Zeb had knifed the creature, and it died. So a monster could be kiled. It could.

  She drank more broth to fortify herself, then examined her bitten arm. She’d been bleeding badly, but now only pink lines remained. Zeb didn’t limp today. No bandages showed on Shay’s neck. That silvery-eyed man realy had done some new-age healing thing. She studied her arm and smiled.

  Actually, I’m totally okay with this kind of healing.

  Actually, I’m totally okay with this kind of healing.

  But definitely not the other stuff when Elvis had turned into Shay. She scowled. There was no way that she’d believe it.

  Uh-uh. Besides, she’d seen the dog and Shay at the same time. Hadn’t she? She bit her lip. Zeb had made a joke about neutering, and Elvis had growled. The dog had listened to her, tilting its head, as if it understood. God, she’d told Elvis al sorts of stuff about her past.

  Had she stumbled into a fairy-tale—or a nightmare? She wrapped her arms around her pilow. This world held monsters, dogs that were people, and men who could push flesh back together. This is so not my life. I want to go back to my city, my job, my apartment. My home. Her desire died as she remembered Seattle had a monster.

  She puled in a quivery breath. Okay then, fine. The only way to get through this was one step at a time. Like folowing a new recipe. She grimaced. Her first loaf of bread had been harder than the concrete blocks she broke in karate. Recipes don’t always work.

  So Shay turned into a dog. She stiffened. A dog? Or a wolf? Was he a werewolf? Her heart started to race. Was she going to turn into a creature too? No no no. Her hands fisted in the covers. But he hadn’t bitten her. Her panting slowed. She’d been alone with him on long, long hikes, and he had never hurt her.

  Last night, he’d attacked the monster. Tried to save her.

  Her hands slowly unclenched. Werewolf or not, she owed Her hands slowly unclenched. Werewolf or not, she owed the dog and Zeb her life. Her mouth tightened. And they darned wel owed her a whole lot of answers.

  As she tossed the covers back, she saw the blood on her sweatshirt. Her skin started to crawl. The monster had hurt her. “It only bit me,” she whispered, “nothing else.” Her self-reassurance didn’t help. She was unclean. Soiled, inside and out. She could smel the stench on her body. I need a shower.

  When she stood, the wals danced and spun. Her stomach twisted uneasily. She felt horrible, even worse than after the first helhound’s attack although it had done much more damage.

  What’s wrong with me?

  * * *

  In the main cabin space with Zeb, Shay waited through the sounds of the shower and the rustling noises in the bedroom.

  The door opened.

  Using the doorframe for support, Breanne paused. She’d changed into jeans and a loose dark green sweater. The way her ful breasts moved beneath it showed she hadn’t put on a bra. Shay tried not to notice. Unsuccessfuly.

  Dead pale, she stil assessed the room like a warrior. He and Zeb both started to rise, but she shook her head at them.

  and Zeb both started to rise, but she shook her head at them.

  Her gait lacked her usual grace, and he had to grit his teeth not to help. As slow as an arthritic elder, she lowered herself into the armchair.

  “I have questions for you two.” The beauty of her voice defeated her attempt at sounding firm. By the God, she was pretty.

  Zeb handed her a soda he’d fetched from the lodge. When she stared at the can as if it were a scorpion, he scowled.

  “We’re guys. We don’t do diet.”

  “Wel. Thank you.” She sipped, staring at the glass door of the woodstove. Another salamander had joined the first, and they chased each other into the stovepipe. When her gaze folowed their movements, Shay realized she actualy saw the OtherFolk. Like a Daonain, she had the Sight.

  After hauling in a slow breath, she fixed Shay with a frown.

  “Did you turn into a dog and go hiking with me?”

  “Wel, that’s blunt,” Shay muttered. Damned if she didn’t make him feel like he’d been blasted rude or something, so his answer was equaly brusque. “Yes.”

  She blinked, then her dimples appeared. “Guess I deserved that. Sorry.”

  By Herne’s hooves, her ability to laugh at herself drew him as strongly as her courage.

  She drank more of her soda. “Can you guys explain what’s going on? Please?”

  what’s going on? Please?”

  Zeb’s glance said the cowardly mutt was giving Shay that task.

  At least Calum had ordered them to tel Breanne everything, and he didn’t have to try to evade the truth.

&nbs
p; “We’re caled shifters or Daonain. We’re descended from Fae shapeshifters. And you’re one of us.” She went white.

  Zeb glared at him.

  Okay, maybe he’d gone too fast. “I do turn into—” She held up her hand to pause him, and he could see her mind working. The female was so logical, it was scary. “You said us. You’re not the only one who turns into a dog?” Shay sighed. “Enough insults. I’m a wolf, not a damned pet.”

  “A werewolf? Like you bite people?”

  “Fucking human movies.” Zeb scowled. “No. We don’t.” Her pretty blue eyes focused on Zeb like cop car spotlights. “You’re a werewolf too?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you think I’m a werewolf?”

  Damn, she was calm. Shay smiled before he saw how her hands had wrapped, white-knuckled around the can. Not calm. Controlled. He said gently, “We know you’re a shifter because our kind of healing doesn’t work on humans. So yes, you should be able to change into an animal—cat, bear, yes, you should be able to change into an animal—cat, bear, or wolf.”

  “Werecat?” She blinked. “Like a Persian or Siamese?” Zeb choked on his beer.

  “More like a mountain lion.” Shay added, “Calum, Alec, and Vicki are werecats.”

  Her eyes widened. “Vicki? No. No way. You gave me drugs.” Bree tried to rise, but failed. “That’s why I’m so weak. You gave me drugs and I dreamed—”

  Firm knocking silenced Bree. She closed her eyes, trying not to scream or go into real hysterics. Vicki? Some sort of cat? Either Bree was going crazy or they’d drugged her. I want a better set of drugs.

  Zeb answered the door. His deep voice rasped,

  “Cosantir.”

  Coatless, in a long-sleeved black shirt and black jeans, Calum stepped in. She scowled as he walked—no, prowled—across the room, like a cat or something.

  She shook her head. Last chance to hang on to reality, Bree. Next stop, a locked facility. Then again, even nuthouses needed good chefs.

  “Did you come to help explain?” she asked Calum.

  “Not exactly.” He assessed her with steel gray eyes. “I came to assign Seamus and Zebulon to act as your mentors.” He glanced at the two men. “She needs to trawsfur without He glanced at the two men. “She needs to trawsfur without delay.”

  “Why the rush?” Shay asked.

  “We restock our magic stores when we shift. Her healing depleted the scant magic she possessed. Donal thinks if she doesn’t shift soon, she won’t survive.” He frowned at Bree.

  “Actualy, he was shocked you’re alive at al.”

  “Oh.” Rather than terror, she felt relief. Was this why she’d grown weaker each month? But she could think about that later. Right now… What kind of weird stuff was Calum talking about?

  Zeb and Shay watched her, as if she were a shook-up soda ready to explode.

  “Listen, whatever a mentor does, I want a woman, like Vicki. Who are you to ‘assign’ me anything anyway?” She tried again to rise. Her legs failed. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Vicki has been a shifter less than a year, not long enough to mentor anyone. The only Daonain you’ve spent time with are Seamus and Zebulon.” Calum’s lips turned up in a faint smile. “I’m the one who wil try to push you into your first trawsfur.”

  Zeb’s head turned quickly. “She can’t shift on her own?”

  “Donal doesn’t think so or she would have by now. Once the door is opened, she should be able to return. Opening it the first time might be difficult.” Calum’s eyes darkened ominously. “Shay, explain what wil happen. Now. She’s ominously. “Shay, explain what wil happen. Now. She’s weakening as we talk.”

  “Am not—” Bree protested.

  Ignoring her objections, Shay picked her up like a dol and sat with her in his lap. Even as her mind jittered, her body relaxed. He was warm, and she was so very cold.

  “Listen.” Shay puled her closer until she heard his voice rumbling in his chest. “When a shifter hits puberty, the door to the wild—that’s the way to becoming an animal—appears in our mind. Smal door off in the back.”

  “You’re being weird.” Door in my head. Next he’ll tell me there’s this big bridge in Seattle for sale…

  “Close your eyes and imagine yourself turning in circles.

  Look for it.”

  She lifted her head to give him an incredulous look, but he simply waited. Fine. She shut her eyes, imagined spinning like a blender blade. No, Bree, they’re not joking. Take this seriously. She realy looked and felt goosebumps creep up her arms. “There’s something. I’m not sure it’s a door—it’s awfuly dark.” She opened her eyes in time to see Zeb’s mouth flatten. “What?”

  He glanced at Calum. “The Cosantir wil help you open it.” His tight voice scared her. “I don’t think I want—”

  “The alternative is death.” Shay shook her slightly to emphasize his words. “Now, once you’re through—and the first time is a hel of a shock—you turn and locate that door first time is a hel of a shock—you turn and locate that door in your head. You’ve got to come back through it to be human again. Calum can’t do that for you, right, Cosantir?”

  “I cannot. To push you into a shift is risky. If I intervene and draw you back before you’ve made a connection to the door, you might lose the way entirely. A shifter must trawsfur to stay alive.”

  “So once you’re on four legs, you find your door. Then we’l go run in the forest.” Shay squeezed her shoulder.

  “Breanne, being your animal is a wondrous thing. There’s nothing as beautiful.” His words were convincing, the look in his eyes more so.

  Zeb’s gaze met hers to say the same.

  Her breathing wasn’t under her control anymore, and her brain felt fuzzy. Worse, Calum was right. She could feel herself sagging, like a dol with the stuffing leaking out.

  Calum opened the back door and waited.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Zeb plucked her from Shay’s arms and carried her outside. When he set her on her trembling legs, his iron-hard arm around her waist kept her upright. The cold wet ground chiled her bare feet. “I need shoes. A jacket.”

  “No, you don’t. First lesson.” Shay faced her. “Take off your clothes. Animals don’t have fingers, and you’l rip your clothes trying to get them off.” He demonstrated with a shocking lack of modesty and stood before her completely shocking lack of modesty and stood before her completely naked. God, he was gorgeous. The hard planes of his chest muscles rippled when he moved.

  Then her eyes seemed to cross. To blur. He disappeared, and a fluffy dog—no, a wolf—took his place.

  “Elvis?”

  He padded over to sit at her feet.

  “That’s amazing.” Staling for time, she bent to stroke his soft fur. Terrifying.

  When she straightened, Zeb said, “Strip, little female.” Without waiting, he one-handedly tugged her sweater over her head.

  She gasped and tried to cover her naked breasts. His arm held her steady as he unzipped her jeans. Paused.

  “Everything, Bree.”

  Shay had said that, but… Me? Naked in front of Calum and Zeb.

  He waited. Calum did the same, obviously content to let her so-caled mentors handle her.

  Whining, Shay pawed at her bare feet so carefuly she barely felt the scrape of his claws.

  “Okay, fine.” Her fingers shook as she pushed her jeans off her hips and let them fal around her ankles. Zeb held her up as she stepped out of them. She tried to pretend it was nothing. But the last time she’d been naked in front of a man, the monster had… A chil ran through her.

  the monster had… A chil ran through her.

  “Bree.” Zeb lifted her chin and forced her to meet his black gaze. “Stay here. This is a shifting lesson, nothing else.” His piercing stare drew her back into the present. “Right.” She endeavored a smile and whispered, “Thanks.” A crease appeared in his cheek although his lips stayed straight. “Cosantir.
Now would be good.”

  Silently, Calum appeared at her other side. Zeb didn’t move away, and his closeness was a comfort. Calum curved his hand around her nape, gripping firmly. “Look at me.” She stared at the buttons of his shirt.

  “Now, Breanne.” The order couldn’t be refused. She lifted her gaze and was trapped as his eyes turned from gray to an unfathomable black. She trembled, frozen in place.

  “Trawsfur,” he said, his voice cold and deep. In a wide-open stream of electricity, energy poured into her, lifting every hair on her body. The dark door in her mind quaked, and pain seared her veins as it slammed open.

  She felt herself shoved through that space, tingling al over.

  Falling. She landed on her hands and knees, yeled in outrage, and heard a yelp. She was—her fingers were gone.

  She stared down at thin fur-covered legs and paws. Her paws. In the dirt. Oh. My. God.

  A glowing warmth rose through her, brushing away the uncomfortable tingling, and filing her with soft energy. The feeling was like Thanksgiving when she’d cooked for friends.

  feeling was like Thanksgiving when she’d cooked for friends.

  Rain poured down outside, but her home was filed with fragrant scents and laughter. Here on the edge of the wilderness forest, she felt that again. Love. Belonging.

  As it faded, she shook her head and felt her ears flap. Like a dog.

  “A werewolf, then,” Calum said.

  Panting with nervousness, she looked up. Zeb towered over her, and she tried to back up. Her way-too-many legs tangled, and she staggered sideways.

  “Easy, little female.” Zeb squatted and rubbed his hand along her cheek. As everything inside her hummed with pleasure, she edged closer, sniffing. He smeled realy, realy good.

  “Bree,” he said.

  At the base of her spine, something quivered. Moved. A tail. She had a tail. Amazing. If she concentrated, it actualy

  —

  “Bree.”

  She looked at him, and wow, her tail moved back and forth al on its own.

  “Find the fucking door.” Zeb’s dark eyes crackled with intensity.

  With an effort, she blocked out everything and looked into her own mind. Wel, hey. The door was al big and shiny and even glowed a little.