Winter of the Wolf

by Cherise Sinclair

  He grunted, hunching over.

  Yes! She swung at his temple, but he slapped her fist aside and backhanded her to the floor. Her jaw felt broken. She struggled to sit up. Blood dripped onto her shirt.

  As he stood over her, a monster, her head reverberated with shril screams—hers, Ashley’s. The wals turned red as if drenched in gore. Whimpering, she fought her terror, trying to regain her feet. The brutal stench of his anger and pleasure filed the room.

  Over the shrieking in her head, she heard his gloating laugh. He kicked her in the stomach.

  laugh. He kicked her in the stomach.

  Pain. Oh God. Nausea filed her world and she dry-heaved. Yet it broke her free of the panic attack. Her body took over, responding to years of karate drils. She roled to her feet. Stil unsteady, she staggered back. She glanced at the door. Too far.

  He stalked toward her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Zeb trotted up the stairs, ignoring curious looks at his unaccompanied state.

  With obvious concern, Evan had reported to him and Shay what had happened with Bree. Zeb scowled. If a short shifter didn’t work for her, who would? Maybe he or Shay should try, leaving the other for backup in case she panicked. The thought of mating with Bree filed him with warmth. He’d never wanted to be with a female so much.

  And yet, if he scared her… her…it would gut him completely.

  At the top of the stairs, Zeb slowed. First room to the right, Evan had said, and by the God’s bals, Zeb didn’t want to open the wrong door. Hand on the knob, he sniffed and caught Bree’s scent as wel as Evan’s…and another male’s?

  caught Bree’s scent as wel as Evan’s…and another male’s?

  Even as he smeled aggression and fear, Zeb heard the smack of a blow—so different from the sound of sex. A muffled cry of pain.

  His shoulder rammed against the wood. The door crashed against the wal.

  Trapped in a corner like prey, Bree faced the alpha’s brother. His jaw bore a red mark the size of a smal fist, and Zeb’s pride flared. The little female was terrified but on her feet and fighting.

  Zeb took a step into the room. “What is going—” She turned and he saw her bloody face. More red was spattered down her shirt. As rage whipped into an uncontrolable storm, he roared and charged.

  Klaus jumped back. “It’s not what—”

  Zeb hit him so hard that at least three ribs cracked, and the male’s body dented the wal. Grabbing the scat-head by the neck, Zeb threw him out of the room.

  Threw him down the stairs.

  Trying to scramble away on hands and knees, the gibbering coward wet himself when Zeb leaped to the bottom of the staircase. With a grip on his colar, Zeb dragged him into the center of the tavern.

  A female screamed, shril and annoying. Shouts. Males closed in. Warily.

  “Zeb!” Shay shoved two people aside.

  “Zeb!” Shay shoved two people aside.

  “Bree’s upstairs. She needs you. Now.”

  Shay ran for the stairs.

  Zeb fought his instincts, his need to rip apart the male who’d hurt Bree— my Bree. His fists opened and closed.

  Where’s the fucking Cosantir?

  Klaus managed to regain his feet, blabbering at the growing crowd of shifters. “She deserved it. She—” The memory of Bree’s terrified face splintered Zeb’s control like an axe against rotten wood. His fist lashed out.

  The crunch and breaking of bone was satisfying, Klaus’s gut-wrenching scream of agony less so. The asshole sprawled on the floor. He’d never hurt another woman with that arm again.

  Anger pulsed in Zeb’s head; each beat providing a picture of Bree’s face. Blood so red against her whitened face.

  Terror and courage. Zeb moved forward. Hit him, over and over. Be sure the male could never—

  “Zebulon.” Calum’s voice was a winter mist, damping the fire. “Step back. Now.”

  Zeb hauled in a breath. Finding a space of calm and momentary quiet, he moved back an inch. One more. The red streaking his vision faded, and he received horror-struck stares from the people surrounding him. When he looked at the broken man at his feet, he knew he was doomed.

  Gerhard shoved forward, belowing more like a bul than a Gerhard shoved forward, belowing more like a bul than a wolf. Standing over Klaus, he saw the damage. “He maimed my brother. During a Gathering!” His hand shook as he pointed at Klaus’s shattered arm where bones poked whitely out of the skin. “I demand Cosantir’s Judgment. I demand

  —”

  “Silence.” The Cosantir’s command stiled the room, leaving only the clink of a glass and Klaus’s sobbing breaths.

  Calum’s gray eyes slowly darkened to the black of the God.

  “Zebulon. I require an explanation.”

  Zeb gritted his teeth, fighting the compulsion to answer.

  He’d broken the Law of the Fight, and he’d be cast out, no matter what he said. Any explanation he gave would reveal why Bree was so terrified—that she’d been abused as no female shifter ever had. She’d shown how shamed it made her. Others, like Thyra, would use it to hurt her.

  With no other explanation, the crowd would simply think a mating fight had gotten out of hand. Leave it at that. Klaus couldn’t harm her anymore. Zeb shook his head. “Just banish me and have this done.”

  His refusal brought a murmur of shock from the shifters surrounding them.

  The Cosantir’s unreadable gaze rested on him, then shifted to Klaus. “Explain.”

  “She wanted me, and she puled me into the room,” Klaus rushed out in gasping breaths. “I was interested, but she started yeling curses against Gerhard. And she hit me. I only slapped her to settle her down; to get her away from me so I could leave.”

  Zeb shut his eyes, unable to look at the lying scat-head. If only he could block his ears as wel. He was the stranger here, always the outsider. No one would believe him over the alpha’s brother.

  A scent drifted to him, sweet female and vanila and cinnamon. Bree’s hands closed around his arm. Her fingers trembled and yet, she stood beside him. Beside him against everyone. The shock stole his breath, as if he’d falen from a cliff and landed hard.

  Shay stepped up on his other side, his shoulder rubbing Zeb’s. Brother to brother. “Cosantir, there’s more to this.” Power seethed in Calum, more than could be contained in his body, enough to create waves in the air around him. He didn’t speak, merely tilted his head toward the little female.

  She took an audible breath. “I… I—”

  “No.” Zeb put his palm over against her soft lips. “It won’t help. The Judgment won’t change. Don’t do this to yourself.” A huff of almost human exasperation came from Calum, and the black gaze pinned Zeb with the bite of a panther’s claws. “Kneel.”

  Zeb’s knees gave way, dropping him to the floor.

  Bree gasped and gripped his shoulder with tiny cold fingers.

  fingers.

  The Cosantir studied her. “He has bought you the right to remain silent.”

  “I don’t want it. Darn it, Zeb, I won’t hide behind you like some—some mouse.” She sounded defiant, but her hand trembled without cease. “He…” She pointed at Klaus. “I was in that upstairs room alone, and he came in and shut the door and said h-he wouldn’t f-fuck me.”

  Zeb needed to hold her—protect her—only his legs wouldn’t move. Damn the fucking Cosantir anyway. He looked up at Shay and jerked his head toward Bree.

  Shay slapped his shoulder and stepped over to wrap an arm around her. “Go on, lass. I’ve got your back,” Shay murmured.

  Zeb could only watch, helpless. Of no use to her.

  She took in a shuddering breath. “He said we had something to finish. He meant from the pack meeting when he’d knocked me off the trail, and I’d hit him to get him away from me.”

  Fury raged up in Zeb. Shay growled. She hadn’t falen—

  Klaus had hit her.

  She touched her face and a purpling jaw. “Upst
airs, h-he punched me. Kicked me. I fought back—I did!—only I was so shaky and—and that’s when Zeb came in. He saved me.” The soft astonishment in her words was there for everyone to hear.

  hear.

  The Cosantir’s gaze didn’t waver. “Why was a female in a mating room alone?”

  “By the God, you—” Zeb started.

  “Silence.” As Zeb’s throat closed, Calum turned his attention back to Bree.

  She swalowed audibly. “I—I’d gone upstairs with E-Evan and I tried to, only I got scared.” Her voice faded to a whisper. “I panicked and he was nice and left, but I wanted to—to get it together before I went back downstairs.” Calum nodded and spoke without turning his head.

  “Owen, please check the room upstairs.”

  “Aye, Cosantir.” The cahir trotted away. Footsteps thudded up the stairs.

  “She panicked?” Stil beside his brother, Gerhard sneered.

  “Like anyone’d believe a bitch in heat would panic. She’s lying, Cosantir.”

  Bree gripped Zeb’s shoulder as if she needed him to hold her up. “I’m not lying. I was r-raped just before I came here and s-sex… I haven’t…” When her fingernails dug into his skin, Zeb risked wrapping an arm around her hip where it pressed against him. Her whole body was shaking.

  “Thank you, Breanne,” Calum said softly. “As your Cosantir, I cherish the bravery you have shown by speaking when you might have remained silent.”

  Owen trotted over and stopped on Zeb’s other side in Owen trotted over and stopped on Zeb’s other side in open alignment. The anger scent coming from him was so strong it overwhelmed any other. “Cosantir.”

  “Tel me, cahir.”

  “The room is scented with the female’s blood. And fear.” Owen jerked his chin toward Klaus. “No scent of arousal from that one. Just aggression.”

  Gerhard turned white.

  As Klaus cringed, the Cosantir stared at him and finaly spoke. “You enjoy causing pain to others. Especialy females.

  During our sacred Gathering night, you attacked a terrified female.”

  Klaus whimpered.

  Calum touched white scars on Klaus’s cheek. “You were banished before and forgiven. This time, your banish—” The air around the Cosantir pulsed…thickened. His voice deepened into the avalanche of sound that heralded the God of the Hunt. “No banishment. This Daonain is twisted inside. He will not change in this lifetime. Females must be protected.”

  Zeb’s harsh inhale echoed Shay’s. It was a God’s sentence. Dread curled in Zeb’s stomach.

  The black gaze of the Cosantir turned to Gerhard. “Move away.”

  Gerhard opened his mouth, but no sound came forth.

  Tears filed his eyes as he rose and stepped back.

  Tears filed his eyes as he rose and stepped back.

  Klaus had his arms over his head as if to fend off a blow.

  The Cosantir’s voice was his own when he said gently,

  “Return to the Mother, Klaus.” As he gripped Klaus’s shoulder, power flowed.

  Life drained from the shifter’s eyes. With a long exhale, his body went limp. He fel sideways, and the thud of his body hitting the floor was a blow to the heart. His eyes stayed open, staring at nothing.

  The stench of fear filed the room, but silence reigned as if time had stopped. Even if Zeb could have moved, his bones, even his spirit had turned to ice. He would wilingly have kiled Klaus for what he’d done but this was cold. Fuck, he’d never thought…

  Shoulders slumping, the Cosantir sighed, then straightened his spine as slowly as an old man on a winter morning.

  “Owen, Ben, please help Gerhard with Klaus’s body.”

  “Aye, Cosantir,” Owen murmured. Ben nodded. As the two men picked up the dead shifter, people began to stir and voices rose.

  The Cosantir pinned Zeb with a long stare. “Rise, cahir.” Zeb blinked at him, unable to comprehend. “But…” The room went silent again.

  “Shut up, stupid,” Shay hissed. “Get your ass up and say thanks.” He released Bree and jerked Zeb to his feet.

  “I—” I’m not going to be cast out? “I—”

  “Your

  response

  was

  overly

  aggressive,

  but

  understandable. A cahir’s instinct is to protect—and to protect females above al else.” Calum’s eyes were a reassuring gray. He gave Zeb a tired smile. “Perhaps in the future, you wil not be so hasty to render judgment upon yourself. It is why they pay me the big bucks, is it not?” Finaly, Zeb found the words. “Thank you, Cosantir.”

  “Truth requires no gratitude, cahir.”

  Zeb shook his head—he was so wrong—and, at last, turned to Breanne. Wide-eyed as a fleeing horse, shaking like an aspen leaf, tears in her eyes, and totaly white-faced. “By the God, little female, you’re a mess.” The shifters had dispersed, excitement changing to noisy chatter as they rehashed what had happened. The scent of females in heat was filing the room again.

  Bree stared at him, pupils dilating, and took a step closer.

  She jerked back. “No. No no no.” Her nipples tightened even as her shaking increased. “I won’t.” Her face twisted in horror, her voice broke. “I don’t want this.”

  “Fuck.” He puled her into his arms. “Calum, she can’t take more.”

  Calum studied her, then looked around. “Donal, could you join us?”

  The healer trotted over. “What can—” He scowled at the bruised and bleeding female. “Dammit, again?”

  “Again,” Shay muttered, stroking her hair.

  “Again,” Shay muttered, stroking her hair.

  Calum sighed. “Donal, please knock her out for the night.” The healer nodded. He tilted Breanne’s chin up. “Breanne, look at me.”

  Zeb felt her shudder as her gaze was caught.

  “Sleep, little one,” the healer whispered. “Sleep until the sun rises again.”

  As she crumpled, Zeb scooped her up into his arms.

  Where she belonged.

  * * *

  Bree awoke the next morning in her bedroom in the lodge.

  The sun’s rays slanted through a gap in the curtains. Music drifted up from downstairs. Country-western, which meant Shay was home. A sense of safety filed her, warmer than the fuzzy blanket someone had tucked around her.

  She stretched and winced at the pain in her ribs, then gritted her teeth and swung her legs out of bed. Her jaw ached, and she touched it gently. She must look like she’d been in a bar fight. But the other guy…

  Her stomach wrenched. The other guy is dead. Surely, they could have just arrested him. But Calum had said he was twisted inside—no, it hadn’t been Calum who spoke. She shivered. Their god had passed judgment, not Calum.

  After staggering to the bathroom, she checked her bruises After staggering to the bathroom, she checked her bruises in the mirror. No biggie. She’d earned worse in karate matches. What burned was how badly she’d done against the guy. Note to self: stop having panic attacks. Or, at least, don’t have one on top of the other. Or stay out of little rooms designed for sex.

  She watched the mirror as a flush rose into her face. If Evan hadn’t scared her… If he hadn’t stood over her like that monster-man, she’d probably have screwed his brains out. Her skin started to crawl as if she’d roled in a sewer.

  Desperate to get clean, she yanked off clothes that stank of fear and blood and turned the shower on. Scrubbing helped the memories, but not the facts. She was a neurotic, psychotic mess. Maybe in a kazilion years, she’d be ready to have sex again.

  But the men said this heat would happen every ful moon.

  She slapped the tile wal so hard her palm stung. Darn this shifter stuff!

  Wel, if she had to lose control of her body, she’d do it on her own terms. She remembered when she and Ashley had tried tequila. Ash had spent the night throwing up, but Bree didn’t remember. She’d passed out.

  Before the n
ext ful moon, she’d have at least one bottle in her room. And I’ll chug it down until I pass out completely.

  * * *

  The upstairs shower turned off. At the kitchen table, Shay sighed in relief. When he’d heard the water come on, he’d barely kept from rushing up to make sure she was okay.

  At the stove, Zeb tilted his head. “Tough, isn’t she?”

  “Amazing. I’d be hiding under the bed if I’d been her.”

  “You wouldn’t fit.” Zeb poured the eggs into the frying pan.

  Shay watched him, trying to forget the blinding fear when he’d thought Zeb would be banished. Shay sucked in a breath. By the God, he’d already lost two littermates, damned if he’d lose this brother.

  Light footsteps sounded, and Breanne walked into the kitchen.

  Shay rose. “C’mere, and let me check your face. Donal was afraid to fix it—said it would wake you back up and you’d probably rather have the bruise.”

  “He was so right. It’s not that bad. Realy.” Shay put a finger under her delicate chin and tipped her face up to the light. Over her jaw, her fair skin was swolen.

  An ugly scab was surrounded by purple-red bruising. Shay clamped his mouth tight against the foul words boiling up.

  Klaus had paid the price, the ultimate penalty, but seeing Breanne’s marred face stil sent biting fury into Shay’s gut.

  Breanne’s marred face stil sent biting fury into Shay’s gut.

  “You’l live,” he said lightly. “Want some ice?”

  “Nah.” She went up on tiptoes, and her lips brushed over his jaw. “Thank you for the rescue,” she whispered.

  Surprise held him immobile as she moved away. His skin tingled from her soft lips, and he had to smile. She’d kissed a male without being pushed into it.

  By the God, she was so brave. So gentle. She drew him with every breath, and every day, he wanted her more. He wanted to share her with his brother. To see her bloom and fatten with their pups. To hear her laugh, see her big blue eyes in the mornings, hold her in his lap in the evenings. He craved it more than food, than water.

  Shay watched as she tugged on Zeb’s sleeve. When Zeb glanced down, he got a kiss and thank you also. He muttered something and concentrated on his cooking, undoubtedly to hide the same impossible wish. In this room were the most deadly cahirs in the Northwest, and the little female turned them into fluffy bunnies with a touch. Hel.