The Alpha's Mail Order Bride- The Complete Series

by Jasmine White

  All she could do was try to stay alive, she told herself. Nashoba was a strong fighter, and there had to be other Choctaws still alive to fight alongside him. He would come for her, she told herself. He had to come for her, because the awful truth was that no one else knew she’d even been taken....

  BOOK 2

  THE ALPHA'S MAIL ORDER BRIDE 2

  JASMINE WHITE

  ONE

  Nashoba raced through his village after making quick work of the wolf that had ambushed him just after he left Akala safe in the truck. He hated running off with her there, but it was the safest place for her to be, and he didn’t have time to do any better for her. His people were in danger, and he had to do what he could to ensure that the elders were not harmed. Now, panting with the effort of having fought his way past another wolf to get into the relative safety of the longhouse at the center of the village, he shifted into his human form and stalked through the small crowd of cowering women and children. He couldn’t blame them for being afraid. These sort of things weren’t supposed to be happening in their lifetime. The violent raids on other packs hadn’t been a regular part of werewolf life in over a hundred years, but now certain tribes were reverting to the ways of their angry and aggressive ancestors.

  “The elders,” he grunted, as he marched to the back of the room. “Where are they? Are they safe?”

  “It’s not us they’re after,” explained Cressima, emerging from the shadows where she’d been tending to a young male with claw marks clearly visible across his chest. “They’ve come for the girls.”

  “No. It can’t be possible.” Nashoba shook his head in disbelief. “Not even the Kintawep tribe have such hatred and malice in their hearts as to come for our women. This can’t be allowed to stand.”

  “Look around you, Nashoba. They have come, and they have already taken several of our females.” Cressima’s fingers clenched into fists at her side “They came on us so quickly that we were ill prepared and unable to fight back. They’ve been training their warriors for combat while we’ve been schooling our prime fighters in the ways of diplomacy and human life in the hopes of integrating them into the wider world. We have brave men among us, but they weren’t trained to fight like the Kintawep has clearly trained their warriors.”

  “They’re still out there, and I won’t let them get away with this.”

  Nashoba turned and stalked through the cluster of his people to get to the exit. He couldn’t help but see the fear in their eyes, and he could smell their anxiety on their very skin. They were more afraid than they had ever been before, and it was his fault for not preparing them. It was his fault for not seeing this coming. He should have known that the Kintawep were planning something. He chastised himself for being too soft of a leader and for ignoring any signs of this imminent danger, but was soon distracted from his thoughts by a scream that he hoped he was mistaken in hearing.

  Shifting back to wolf, Nashoba raced through the village to get back to the truck where he Akala. He was a fool for leaving her so exposed, but he hadn’t known at the time that the attack had anything to do with stealing girls. If that’s what they were after, then they wouldn’t hesitate to grab her, out on her own as she was. There was a shotgun tucked away behind the seat, and he hoped that she’d been able to find it and figure out how to use it to defend herself. The scream had indicated otherwise, but as he ran, he prayed that he’d been wrong about what he heard.

  A Kintawep wolf stepped out of a cabin, yanking a frightened Choctaw girl behind him. She cried out against the pressure of his fingers where they dug into the soft flesh of her upper arm, but still he pulled harder, forcing her to come with him. Nashoba recognized her as Nuna, the daughter of his close friend, Machk who was away hunting. Without another thought, Nashoba shifted his weight to push hard off his back legs so he could pounce on the Kintawep man as he stepped down off the porch and transferred his weight to his front feet. Caught off balance and off guard like that, he fell sideways, releasing his grip on the girl and cracking his head on the railing. Nashoba’s brain registered the fear in the girl’s eyes, and something inside him broke at the thought of this fourteen-year-old girl being stolen to be handed out as a potential mate for a Kintawep warrior.

  These thoughts took only a fraction of a second before Nashoba’s jaws clamped shut on the Kintawep man’s throat, tearing it open and sending bright red blood squirting out into the air. Nashoba looked over his shoulder at Nuna, barked at her to send her running back inside, and hurled himself back down the steps and further along the path to where he’d heard Akala scream.

  No sooner had he rounded the corner when he saw Akala being held by one Kintawep warrior while another pointed Nashoba’s shotgun at her face. He couldn’t make out what they were saying, and as he was about to close the distance to where he could leap and attack the man with the gun, he realized he was not alone. Wolves crept out of the spaces between buildings, and two of them jumped out towards him, intercepting him and forcing him to deal with them before he could get any closer to Akala.

  Rage coursed through Nashoba’s veins, giving him a heightened sense of speed and awareness, but draining him by the second. He’d already had to fight two Kintawep wolves, and twice today he’d killed in order to protect his village, but four wolves were too many for him to survive. He grappled with the wolves in succession, his only saving grace being they couldn’t all pounce on him at once for getting in each other’s way, and as he fought, snapping his powerful jaws down on any bit of fur or flesh he could find, he saw Akala being forced into the trees.

  A fresh blast of adrenaline shot through Nashoba’s body, and he redoubled his efforts to break through the line of wolves that kept him from saving the woman he brought to this dangerous place. He knew it was entirely his mistake that she was here, and that it would be his fault if he let them take her back to their village for whatever foul purpose they had in mind. Rolling onto his back in a dangerously exposed position as one of the wolves battered into him, he tucked his head down low and clamped his teeth down on the wolf’s leg, feeling and hearing the crunching of bone and sinew that caused his attacker to howl in agony instead of taking advantage of Nashoba’s exposed underbelly.

  Nashoba rolled quickly to his feet again, preparing himself for another onslaught, when he realized that the Kintawep wolves were all withdrawing. The wolf he maimed ran awkwardly on three legs, but his pack mates protected him as they retreated into the trees in the same direction that the other men had disappeared with Akala. Nashoba panted heavily and surged forth on weary legs, straining to keep his muscles from seizing after such prolonged use. His body was a ball of fiery pain, heat lancing through his shoulders and back from a dozen bloody cuts and scratches. The beginnings of deep bruises ached with every loping step, but still he ran forward, following the scent of the Kintawep to where he left his truck, and then further down the road.

  The smell of diesel fuel lingered in the air, and fresh heavy tire tracks left a clear trail of where Akala and the other girls had been taken. Nashoba relaxed from a full-on sprint to a fast run, thinking he needed to save some strength for the long journey ahead of him. He knew where the Kintawep land was, and he couldn’t think of where else the girls would be taken, but he knew he couldn’t delay if he had any chance of getting to them before it was too late.

  Nashoba’s fast dash became a slow run, and then a light trot, before finally devolving into a walking pace that he struggled to maintain. Sparks of light flashed at the edges of his vision, and he could smell the blood that dripped out of him and drained him of all energy. He could think of nothing but Akala and the other girls who were taken from his tribe, and still he forced himself to put one paw in front of the other. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he arrived at the Kintawep village, but he couldn’t turn his back on his people and the woman he invited into this world. Soft voices swirled around his brain, telling him he should go back and get his truck, or that he should rally his own wa
rriors before going any further, but he was deep in the blood trance of having fought and killed, and he could think only of his duty to his tribe and his people.

  When the car caught up with him and slowed to a stop next to where he stumbled along the road, he barely recognized Haley when she got out to intercept and physically restrain him. He yipped at her and snapped his teeth at her face, but there was no real strength behind it, and she ignored his protestations altogether as she wrapped her arms around his neck and forced him to sit.

  Nashoba laid his head on his cousin’s lap. His tongue lolled out, and he breathed slowly, every rise and fall of his chest causing waves of pain to surge through his body. He whimpered and whined in frustration, but he was too tired to even shift back to his human form, let alone getting up to go after the Kintawep.

  “Ssshhh,” said Haley. “You’ve done all you can for now. I know she’s gone, but don’t you worry, cousin. We’ll get her back. This is not the way, though. What good will you do her if you run in there only to have your throat ripped out because you’re too weak and blind with rage to see that you’re in no shape to be fighting anyone right now?”

  He didn’t want to accept it as the truth, but Nashoba knew that Haley was right. If he somehow made it to the Kintawep village, they would tear him apart before he had a chance to save anyone. His tribe needed him to be smarter than he was being in that moment, and he needed to push past the anger that fought for control of his brain. His people had put him up for the position of leadership because they trusted in his intellect and his ability to work through problems with his brain instead of his fists or his teeth. His people needed that leader now, not some hotheaded wolf running off alone to do nothing more than get himself killed.

  Nashoba struggled to his feet and followed Haley to her car. He climbed up into the passenger seat and shifted back to his human form. Slumped there on the seat, his mouth dry as cotton, and his body bleeding all over the place, he looked at his cousin and exchanged a wordless moment of understanding that he’d done all he could do under the circumstances. Her smile put him at whatever ease he could find, and when she reached into the back to pull out a coarse wool blanket that she draped over him, he laid his head on the door and closed his eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking him.

  TWO

  Nashoba knew pain before anything else. Eyes closed and lying on his back, he transitioned from dark empty unconsciousness into an awareness of how every muscle in his body ached from the strain he’d put on it. Memories of the attack and his fighting flooded back on him, and he fought to open his eyes, wincing at the soft daylight that shone in through an opening in the ceiling. He smelled smoke and cedar, and he knew without turning his head that he was inside the longhouse at the center of his village. The usual sounds of work and play were absent, however, and he was aware of the presence of other bodies lying in the shadows nearby. He hadn’t been the only one wounded or felled by exhaustion after the Kintawep had retreated, and he understood that the place his people used for socializing and working in the heat of the day had been converted into a makeshift recovery area.

  “Haley?” he croaked, his voice little more than a whisper.

  “I’m here, Nashoba.”

  He felt a hand under his head lift him up so he could drink from the cool tin cup at his lips. Water trickled into his mouth, and he drank greedily, spluttering and coughing before being able to swallow much of anything at all.

  “Gently,” said his cousin. “You’ve been asleep for a long time. Your body is extremely dehydrated, so you have to sip it slowly.”

  Nashoba closed his eyes and fought the urge to grab the cup and pour its contents down his throat. He wet his lips with the cool liquid and took small sips that caused his throat to ache with the effort of swallowing. With more than a little effort, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, twisting sideways and leaning against the rough wooden wall to keep from falling over.

  “How long?” he asked.

  “A little more than ten hours,” replied Haley. “I did what I could about the cuts, but the bruising will have to heal over time. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for you.”

  Nashoba looked down the parts of his body that weren’t covered with the blanket that had been draped over him. A purple and green mass of bruising covered the area from his hip to his chest, spreading halfway across his torso and making it incredibly painful for him to move his left arm. He felt the sting of several cuts across his back, and he ground his teeth against each other as he relived the fighting that had been so punishing on his body.

  “You’re lucky to be alive,” said Haley. “They’re saying you killed two Kintawep and then tried to take on four of them on your own.”

  “They surrounded me when I went after Akala.” He breathed deeply, doing his best to ignore the pain that most likely meant a broken rib or two. “I couldn’t get through them, Haley. I couldn’t save her.”

  Haley just nodded and set her bag down next to him. From it, she removed a large glass jar and uncapped it, sending a sharp medicinal smell into the room. The goopy white substance she scooped out of it was cool and soothing on Nashoba’s damaged skin, but the sharp tangy odor of it made him turn his head away and grunt while she slathered it on his wounds.

  “It’s for your own good,” she said, scooping out another dollop to apply to his neck and shoulder. “I’ve been experimenting with the mixture. Don’t you find the mint helps take the edge off the smell a little bit?”

  “Haley, I love you to death, and I value your skills as a healer, but I don’t want to talk about your salves right now. It’s my fault that Akala has been taken, and it’s my fault that we couldn’t protect our village from the raid. How many girls were taken in total?”

  “It’s not your fault, Nashoba. You did what you could to fight and protect your people. No one blames you for wh—”

  Nashoba grabbed his cousin’s wrist to stop her from applying another layer of the healing balm to his bruises. “How many girls?”

  “Six girls including Akala. Sinopa was the youngest.”

  Relaxing his grip on Haley’s hand, Nashoba let his own hand fall limply beside him. Sinopa was only sixteen, and the fact that the Kintawep had specifically come for the women meant that they wanted them for only one thing.

  “Nuna. Is she okay?”

  Haley nodded. “She ran to safety and told the elders what she’d seen. That’s when they called me. It took me a while to find you, but once I’d found out about the truck and that they’d taken the girls, I knew where you’d be heading.”

  “I’m glad you found me.” Nashoba’s voice dropped to an almost whisper. “I don’t know what I’d have done had I made it to Kintawep lands. The state I was in, I wanted nothing but blood.”

  “You’re not the only one who felt that way.” Haley wiped her hands on a cloth and closed the lid on her jar of healing salve. “The elders and several of the men are outside arguing about what we should do next. A lot of people want to go and fight, Nashoba. They’re angry and afraid at what might happen to the girls that were taken.”

  “We can’t fight this way.” Nashoba sighed. “It only puts the girls in more danger.”

  “I was hoping you’d understand that on your own,” replied Haley. “I didn’t know if I could convince you otherwise had you been set on fighting.”

  Haley put the jar of salve back in her bag and then took out a set of clothes for her cousin. She sat and waited for him to dress himself, calmly ignoring his wincing and grunting as the simple motions of pulling a shirt over his head caused him immense amounts of pain. Nashoba had always been a stubborn man when it came to asking for help, and he was happy his cousin knew him well enough to not offer to help. Nashoba was too tired and too emotionally raw to keep from snapping at her, and he knew he’d need to save his strength for what was to come. His tribe was angry and wanted to lash back at those who attacked them, and as much as he sympathized with that, he knew that a violent confrontati
on on Kintawep lands would get them nowhere.

  “Where are they?” he asked when he managed to get himself into a pair of pants. And a shirt. He didn’t bother with shoes, his feet having been toughened from years of running around barefoot as a child and even as an adult.

  “The circle. Cressima is pushing for them to hold off on doing anything rash, but the younger men are eager to prove themselves. Especially those who weren’t here when it happened. Machk returned with his hunting party an hour or so ago, and all of them are furious.”

  The circle was a ring of stones and log benches that served as the central gathering place for the Choctaw tribe. A large fire ring sat in center of the circle, and lazy smoke trails drifted up from the remains of the fire that had most likely burned through the night. The circle was most often used as a place for celebration and ceremony, but it was also where the tribe gathered to discuss serious matters like the one before them now.

  “You look like you punched death in the face and he slapped you around a while before sending you back to the living as punishment,” said Machk as Nashoba approached him. The hunter was lean and strong, every muscle in his body honed for stalking, running, and fighting. Hot rage flared in his brown eyes, and it was easy for Nashoba to sympathize with him.

  “Would that I felt half so well,” replied Nashoba with an expression that was not so positive as a smile, but still a grudging gratitude that he’d lived through the attack. “And Nuna? She’s unharmed?”

  “Thanks to you, brother.” Machk clasped hands with Nashoba and pulled him into a light embrace, careful not to squeeze him too hard. “Now help me convince our people to go and fight while we might still gain some element of surprise.”