Rebecca's Wolves (Wolf Masters Book 6)

by Becca Jameson

  “Give the spirits a chance.” Melinda patted Rebecca’s knee. “Go for your run around here today. Try to stay positive.”

  Rebecca met her eyes. “Is your mother a shaman too?”

  Melinda flinched, much like her brother had at lunch.

  “She was.”

  “I’m so sorry. Miles hasn’t mentioned her. I didn’t know she had passed.”

  “I don’t know that, either. But she’s gone either way. Left when we were three. I have no memory of her.”

  “Oh, Melinda. That’s horrible.”

  Melinda shrugged. “It is what it is. Mimi is a fantastic grandmother. She raised us as if we were her own. And we both love her to pieces. We owe her our lives.”

  “And your father?” As long as Melinda was being open, it seemed as good a time as any to ask one more question.

  “No idea who he is. And Grandma hasn’t offered a word.”

  “Do you think she knows?”

  “I’m not sure. We used to ask questions when we were younger. She always remained tight-lipped about the subject, ignoring our requests for information. Eventually we stopped nagging her.”

  “Jeez. That’s rough.” Rebecca felt terrible for these twins who never knew their parents.

  Melinda shrugged again. “We never knew any different. This is the life we’ve always lived. It’s not as though we lost something since we can’t remember either of them.”

  She stood and started to walk away, and then she turned back. “Don’t be too hard on Griffen and Miles. I know it’s difficult for you to fully understand the bond between you three, but trust me when I say you’re the light in their darkness. Everything they do will be with the best of intentions to ensure you’re safe and happy. In time, you’ll see what I mean.”

  And then she was gone, silently slipping back into the house a second before Miles and Griffen emerged.

  •●•

  Miles eyed his woman speculatively, unsure what sort of mood he might expect. When his sister insisted on speaking with Rebecca alone for a few minutes, he’d been leery, but Rebecca didn’t appear any worse for wear. She smiled up at him and Griffen as they stepped onto the porch.

  “Let’s go home, love.” He leaned over her huddled form and kissed the top of her head, his hand curling around her neck.

  She looked so small wadded up like that, vulnerable.

  When he stroked his other hand down her arm and threaded his fingers with the back of hers, she lifted her gaze. “Okay.”

  She noticeably didn’t flinch at the way he’d said “home.” His place was hers now. His home wasn’t large, however. In fact it was rather small for three people. And way too small to add children, but it would do for now. It might take a while for her to fully grasp that reality, and perhaps he was being cocky assuming his mates would move into his space, but deep down he knew that’s how the cards would fall in the end.

  Call it intuition or a premonition. He just knew.

  They were quiet as they climbed into the cab of his truck. Miles felt like he was walking on eggshells.

  Rebecca looked calmer, but how was she feeling inside? He didn’t want to witness an explosion of nerves if he could avoid it. His grandmother said to give her time, so that seemed the best policy.

  Moments after they started driving, her phone rang, and she fished it out of her pocket, her shoulder leaning into Miles, making him long for more of her touch.

  “It’s Sharon,” she muttered. “Hey, Sharon,” she answered.

  There was a long pause. Miles could hear the faint voice of the woman on the other end of the line—Griffen’s sister.

  Rebecca stiffened beside him. Her hand flew out to grab the dash as though she were bracing herself.

  A glance in her direction told him she was white as a sheet.

  “What? Wait. Slow down… Sharon, start over… No… Stop… I can’t understand what you’re saying…”

  Something was terribly wrong.

  Miles pulled the truck over to the side of the road to give her his full attention.

  Griffen had his hand on her back. He turned sideways, his brow furrowed. “Baby?”

  Rebecca continued to stammer. “Are you sure it was my unit?” Her eyes were wide as she stared out the front windshield. She started shaking her head. She was pale by nature, but as the seconds passed, she grew whiter.

  “Right… No… Okay… I see… Yes… Call me if you find out anything else. Thanks, Sharon.” She ended the call, and the phone dropped into her lap. Her face remained forward, unseeing.

  “Rebecca? Love?” Miles eased his hand down her back below Griffen’s.

  “Talk to us, baby,” Griffen encouraged.

  “There was a fire.” Her voice was so low, he could barely hear her.

  “Where?” Griffen asked.

  “At my apartment.” She slumped back, covering her face with both hands, her chest heaving, her entire body shaking. Miles’ hand was trapped behind her, as was Griffen’s.

  “A fire?”

  “Transformer exploded, apparently.” She heaved for a breath, a sob escaping under the weight of the news.

  “Ah, baby…” Griffen pulled her into his embrace.

  She let him, her body going slack as she leaned into him. Her hands still covered her face as she cried.

  Miles rubbed her shoulder and then slipped his hand into her hair under her braid, cupping her head. “I’m so sorry, love.”

  She cried, soft tears of frustration and exhaustion. “This…is…so…insane…” Her words trickled out. It was hard to catch them all.

  “How bad is it?” Griffen tipped her head back and gently lifted one hand from her face.

  “Not sure yet,” she whispered. “Sharon will call back later. She’s heading over there now.”

  “How did Sharon know?” Griffen asked.

  Miles was wondering the same thing.

  “Smoke everywhere. I don’t live far from her. She saw it on the news.”

  Her phone rang again in her lap, and she jumped, her fingers fumbling to pick it up. She stared at the incoming number, shaking.

  Miles took it from her hand and answered it. “Miles Bartel speaking.”

  “Oh. I was looking for a Rebecca Larson.”

  “This is her phone.”

  “Ah. This is Detective Krantz with the Cambridge PD.”

  “Yes. Are you calling about the fire?”

  “Yes.” The man let out a breath, probably glad Miles was already informed. “I’m calling to ensure Ms. Larson wasn’t in the apartment, and that she’s safe.”

  “She’s with me now. Shook up.”

  “Understandable. So she wasn’t at the complex when the accident occurred?”

  “Correct. She’s on the reservation with me.”

  “Good. We’ll need to speak with her at some point, but that’s all I need for now. I have a list of residents to check on. Can I reach her at this number later?”

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “No problem. Please give her my condolences.”

  “I will. Do you know how extensive the damage is?”

  “Not yet. Her unit may have some salvageable items. It’s hard to say. There were others that got hit worse.”

  “Okay. Thank you. I’ll let her know.”

  The line went dead.

  “Is it bad?” she asked, her small frame shaking in Griffen’s arms.

  “Not sure yet, love.” Miles stroked her face. His heart hammered in his chest.

  If she’d been there…

  If she’d gone home this morning…

  If the tires hadn’t been flat…

  If that tree hadn’t been blocking the road…

  He swallowed the enormous lump in his throat as he pondered the implications.

  Tears streamed down her face as she turned her cheek into his touch. “Do you think this was it?”

  “What, baby?” Griffen asked.

  “The warning. The reason for all the signs.” She cr
ied harder, curling into Griffen.

  Miles popped her seatbelt so she wouldn’t be tangled in the straps.

  She turned onto her side, her head in Griffen’s lap, and sobbed. “I’m so sorry…” she mumbled.

  Sorry? What was she sorry for?

  She repeated it over and over, burrowing into the man who held her tighter.

  Griffen struggled to pull her up higher and snuggle her into his chest.

  She buried her face in his T-shirt and fisted the material on either side.

  Pent up stress from days of aggravation let loose while she cried harder.

  He met Miles’ gaze over her head. The man was also pale. He had no more idea how to handle a crying desperate woman than Miles, but he did the only thing either of them knew to do. Hold her. Let her ride it out.

  When she finally sucked in deep cleansing breaths, Miles leaned over her and kissed the side of her head. “So sorry, love.” There wasn’t anything else to say. He understood what she was thinking, and he had no way of knowing if she was right.

  Was it possible all the events of the last few days had led to this? A pile of pressure from the spirits placed in their paths to keep her out of harm’s way?

  He shivered at the idea. He had been raised on this reservation, mostly by his grandmother. He knew better than most how important it was to heed the signs. He’d lived with not only two women most of his childhood, but both with the ability to see things. Precognitive. Not just shaman, but they had sensitivities even he couldn’t explain.

  They didn’t talk about it much, but it was always there under the surface. Sometimes in his face. Other times subtle.

  This was monumental. If he was reading things right, it was becoming increasingly obvious the spirits had aligned to ensure he met his two mates at the perfect moment in time to keep his woman safe from danger.

  “Do you think…?” Griffen asked the question silently, letting it hang in the air between them.

  Miles didn’t know how to respond. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows.

  Finally, Rebecca straightened. She wiped her eyes on her tank top and pasted on a fake smile. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I can be emotional.”

  Miles pulled her into his side. He stroked a hand over her head and down her braid. “Understandable. You’re entitled.”

  She still shook, her body trembling as though she was cold.

  No one said a word. The world was silent. Not even the animals, the birds, or the breeze blowing through the trees chose to interrupt their introspection as they all sat staring out at the landscape.

  Rebecca spoke first. “We should go back to your place. I’m exhausted.”

  Griffen took her back from Miles and held her against his side, fastening her seatbelt while Miles started the truck.

  They rode in silence the ten minutes back to the house.

  When Miles pulled up to the front of his home, the hairs on the back of his neck prickled his skin. He turned off the truck, but reached out a hand to keep Griffen from opening the door.

  “What is it?” Griffen asked.

  “I don’t know. Something isn’t right,” he muttered. “Stay here.” Miles opened his door and climbed down from the cab. He strode across the lawn to the front door. It stood ajar. He gave it a kick and peered inside. “Fuck,” he mouthed. And then, “Son of a bitch.” The small window next to the door had been broken with a rock that lay just inside the door.

  He glanced around. There were no other cars or any signs of life. But someone had been there trashing the place while they’d been gone.

  “Hello?” he called, but he knew there was no one inside. Whoever it was had left their scent lingering. It wasn’t a smell he recognized. And whoever had been there was long gone.

  Still, he entered cautiously and surveyed the damage. The front room wasn’t bad. Not as bad as he’d originally thought. Things were turned over, cushions on the floor, chairs tipped on their side, but no severe damage.

  As he made his way deeper into the house, he found much of the same. No serious damage, just a mess. What the hell?

  The master bedroom where he’d spent the last twenty-four hours claiming his mate was tossed more than the rest of the house. And then something on the bed caught his eye.

  He took two strides to reach the side of his bed and lifted the shreds of pink cotton material. “Fuck.” He turned to ensure neither of his mates had followed him and then gathered up all the scraps and wadded them into a ball. He opened a drawer to his dresser and buried the evidence under his T-shirts.

  The last thing he needed was for his mate to see anything that upsetting in her precarious state of mind.

  Finally, he glanced around again and stepped back through the house and out to the truck. “Coast is clear. Whoever did this is gone now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rebecca felt sick to her stomach. After an enormous breakfast and an equally huge lunch, she felt the bile rising in her throat at the emotional turmoil assaulting her from every direction.

  “Who would do this?” she muttered under her breath as she stepped into Miles’ house. The place was trashed, but nothing was destroyed. It looked more like a twister had come through. As Miles and Griffen started putting things to rights, she realized nothing was broken, just flipped over, as though someone had been looking for something. Or maybe even set the scene to mask their true intentions.

  Miles put the cushions on the couch and then physically escorted her to sit. “Love, sit down.” He gave her a stern look.

  “Shouldn’t we call the cops?”

  “And tell them what?” Griffen asked. “Some angry spirit is pissed off with us and wants to ensure we do exactly as the specter wants?” He gave a sharp chuckle that didn’t have an ounce of humor.

  Miles stiffened where he was bent sweeping up glass. “I’ll call the local authorities in Sojourn. They’re all shifters. We do need to report this.”

  “Can spirits throw rocks through windows?” she asked.

  Miles pursed his lips and didn’t meet her gaze.

  The answer was no. And her Native American mate was concerned.

  She decided not to press the issue for the time being.

  Griffen leaned over her from behind the couch, tossed a throw pillow at the end, nudged her to lie down, and covered her with an intricately sewn blanket, covered in beautifully patterned geometric designs in browns, yellows, oranges, and reds.

  She smoothed her hand over the hand-sewn work and closed her eyes.

  It seemed like minutes passed before she opened her eyes again. But as she blinked into the room, she realized the sun was low in the sky, and the living room was cast in shadows.

  There were also several men on the porch in a heated discussion. She could hear their voices traveling through the broken window now covered with plastic but not thick enough to keep their voices from traveling.

  Griffen and Miles were there, but two others whose voices she didn’t know as well.

  She pulled herself to sitting, feeling the groggy, hung-over sensation one gets from taking a nap way too long in the middle of the day. She’d been asleep for hours. There was no doubt she needed the rest, but now she felt a bone-weary tired that kept her from dragging herself to standing.

  And she’d never gone for her run. Dammit.

  She leaned her head back on the couch and dragged her knees to her chest. And then she listened.

  “No. It’s not an option. I told you twice already. We aren’t leaving this house. And I’m not sending away either of my mates, either.” This was Miles. He sounded firm.

  And then Griffen. “He’s right. We can’t split up. Not gonna happen.”

  And then the voice of someone she didn’t know. “Listen to reason. What if it’s not safe here? Don’t you think you’ve had enough evidence to support that idea?”

  Safe? Rebecca glanced around. The man had a point. The house had been vandalized.

  “This is my property, and I’ll protect it,
” Miles insisted.

  She could picture him standing on the porch, stance wide, arms crossed at his chest, head held high. She smiled.

  Another unknown voice. “Miles, it’s been years since one of our own has mated outside the pack.”

  “So? Your point?”

  “Just sayin’, man. Maybe that’s what the spirits are inflamed about. Did you ever think of that?”

  “You’re fucking kidding me, right?” Miles’ voice was louder now, and then it dipped again. She imagined he realized he might wake her.

  Too late.

  “Listen. I know you two mean well. I get that entirely. And it’s your duty to protect the rez. But you aren’t mated. Until you are, don’t fucking talk to me about leaving my mate, whom I’ve barely claimed thirty hours ago, and separating my family. Griffen, Rebecca, and I are not separable. It’s done. Fuck, it was always done. Even before it was done, it was done.

  “So, unless you have some suggestion that doesn’t involve me leaving my home or separating from my mates, we don’t have anything else to discuss.”

  Her heart pounded at his vehemence. She squeezed her legs together to stave the irrational pull she had toward him just listening to his words. Her pussy tightened with need. She crossed her arms over her chest to squeeze her swollen breasts tight.

  That didn’t help.

  The words Miles used were harsh, but he was firm about his intentions toward her. And Griffen. And he knew the number of hours since they’d first had sex. That made her smile.

  Then Griffen spoke. “We’ll take turns patrolling the property. No one is going to be able to approach without us scenting them from quite a distance.”

  The first man who’d spoken sighed so loudly even Rebecca heard him. Feet shuffled on the porch. “No,” he nearly moaned, “I’ll get some officers over here to patrol. You two go back inside and take care of your human mate. She must be freaked the fuck out by now.”

  The man had no idea. Was he also a shifter? She assumed so by the way he referred to the pack. And what did he mean by the spirits being angry about this mating? Was it possible the unbelievable apparition was actually trying to keep the three of them apart instead of bring them together?