Hunting Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #3

by Harper, J. K.

  “Yes, you should,” he said.

  The short, sharp words busted right into her swirling thoughts and stopped them cold. She stared at him.

  “You should listen to me, because when it comes to rogues, I do know what I'm talking about. But I have to say, I really don't want you to shut your pretty little mouth. I like hearing what you think. And your mouth definitely is pretty. So keep talking. It's interesting.”

  Wha...? This time there was no mistaking her reaction. Rielle's wolf pushed up into her mind, alert and entirely focused on the big male wolf seated across from her. Her blood suddenly felt heated, which of course was ridiculous. Her pulse skittered in her neck.

  Caleb lounged back against his seat. A grin pulled at his lips, and she could only describe it as wolfish. He was playing with her. Flirting, maybe?

  Even more strange, she was enjoying it.

  ~

  Caleb forced his body to relax, despite every instinct telling him to leap over the table and do – something. Something stupid, like claim the little wolf sitting there bristling at him with a combo of pure irritation and clear interest. Pretty Rielle was attracted to him. His wolf knew that for sure. But man, was he messing with her right now.

  As she'd launched into her points about rogues, an idea had fallen into his head with that light bulb thing happening. He knew she thought he was just a bulldozer of a guy. Maybe he could play with that, goad her into speaking without guarding her words.

  The thing that had bugged him finally fell into place: Rielle was careful not to let her guard down. Just like a fighter, except she fought with her head rather than her fists. Every time she did lower those shields she seemed to have up around her, though, something really fascinating started to happen: Her wolf edged out. Caleb's wolf kept hinting that Rielle's wolf was missing. He thought he might have it figured out. Rielle was pushing her wolf down, for some crazy reason. She didn't seem to realize how alive and passionate she got when her wolf came closer to the surface. Caleb sure liked it, though. A lot.

  “Well?” he said casually. “Aren't you going to tell me more?”

  Rielle sat there, all soft skin and dark hair and slightly suspicious eyes. She smelled sweet, a bit spicy, and crazy interesting. If she didn't open that pretty mouth again, he might jump out of his hide with impatience. He liked seeing how her lips formed words.

  She sat silent for another long moment. He could tell she was puzzling out the situation in her head. Sure, he seemed to have a habit of saying exactly the wrong thing around her. Even so, he knew enough about how to play the ladies. Not that he was playing Rielle, no way—something about her deserved way more respect—but he wasn't above putting those skills to work, as long as they kept her talking and sitting with him. If she stomped away from him one more time, it would be a pretty epic fail on the male/female wolf relations front. He was an expert in that area, after all.

  Caleb settled back into his chair even more and thumped one foot up to rest on his opposite knee. The picture of being casually relaxed. No pressure, no insisting she keep going after he'd complimented her lips. Which totally deserved complimenting. The lush things begged for some attention. Nope, he was simply leaving the door open. He was telling her, through his body language, that she was welcome to say whatever she wanted to. Even if it was kind of crazy talk, he still found her voice more than intriguing.

  Finally, she went on, although she sounded a bit more wary.

  “Well, I do like to read.” She looked up at him, as though assessing his response to that. He nodded and let his fingers play with the paper menu. Her gaze landed on his fingers, then immediately bounced away. Tiny licks of color appeared in her cheeks again. “I, ah, that is, there's a lot of information on Pack history. We have all those books in the library, you know.”

  Caleb nodded again. The massive library at the den was his mother's pride and joy.

  “And for the past few decades, of course, there's been a lot more put online.” Rielle seemed to be warming up to the subject again, just a bit. She took a sip of her drink. Caleb's eyes widened again at the sight of those pink lips around the straw, cheeks hollowing as she drew in a long swallow. Swallowing as well, he forced his gaze away. He snarled at his keenly attentive wolf to back off a bit or she'd run scared.

  “Of course, all packs have highly secure intranets where this info is kept. Some of it is so sensitive it's never put online.” She seemed utterly oblivious to his once again typical caveman reaction to the simple sight of her sucking a straw. His sister probably was right. He wasn't fit company for a real, classy date. “Did you know about the first rogue insurrections?”

  “No?” He tapped his foot against his knee and tried hard to keep that casually interested tone in his voice.

  “Oh, it was kind of fascinating, actually.”

  Sure was, especially with her telling it. He slowly nursed his Jack and ginger ale and listened.

  “The first recorded instances of rogue wolves actually forming their own 'misfit packs,' as they were called millennia ago, detail all sorts of bloody battles and sometimes full on massacres.” Rielle took another sip of her froufy pink drink, letting her tongue lick the rim in the process, nearly causing him to drop his own glass. “Rogues had simply been cast out of packs, or run away, before they began to find one another and plan how to start their own packs, with their own rules. It was community in the making!” Her eyes were beginning to sparkle a bit. Seemed like bloody history turned her on.

  Caleb found himself leaning slightly more forward so he wouldn't miss a single wave of her graceful hands, which punctuated her words, or a moment of her lively radiance. The background noise faded as all he took in was the sight and sound of this small wolf, who was coming more to life before his eyes.

  “I mean, we have the written record of how these rogues began to formulate their own packs. Written record of the strife it caused in the established packs, and the thought processes of everyone involved, because of each pack historian. Even some of the rogue packs had a historian. They couldn't completely escape their upbringing and instinct, of course. And they wanted our world to know what they went through, and why they did what they did. It was the natural desire to be heard, to be noted, to have one's very existence matter and count and be remembered. What I wouldn't give—”

  She broke off so abruptly his wolf bristled in alarm. Caleb sat upright and even took a quick glance around. But the threat was in Rielle's own head. The faintest blush colored her cheeks again, and one hand stirred the straw in her glass.

  “What you wouldn't give to what?” He was totally confused.

  “Nothing. Forget it. You'll think I read too much again.”

  Right. She wasn't the type to quickly forget the idiot things he said. Even when the idiot things were sort of planned for his half-assed agenda, it surprised him how much it mattered that he was the one responsible for her suddenly quiet, deflated voice.

  “Aw, just say it. No judging allowed here.” He spread his hands palm up on the little table. “Okay?”

  She gave him another long, searching look. His wolf whined a bit, edgy with the tension of wanting her closer. Caleb almost held his breath as he waited for her response. He wasn't sure why it seemed so important for her to know how sincere he was. He wasn't even sure why he felt so sincere about it. Something about her, though, made him want to share every little stupid thing he'd ever done and know she wouldn't laugh at him, or mock him, or be disappointed in him.

  Slowly, Rielle reached out her own slender hands. Letting them hover above his, just a finger's width away, she pinned him with her eyes.

  “No judging. Ever. From me or from you.” Her words were so solemn Caleb could almost feel the pressure of them. Shit, this was serious. She meant it. Very gently, she pressed her hands onto his. The soft touch lit a fiery shiver that zipped from his palms up his arms to the top of his head. From her sudden twitch, she felt it, too.

  But she didn't yank away. Very carefully, he
curled his thumbs over the backs of her hands and lightly squeezed. “Deal,” he said. His wolf, pacing right beneath the surface, made his voice come out as a low rumble, half human and half wolf. Rielle's cinnamon-brown eyes got darker at that. There was no mistaking the way her pulse sped up.

  “Deal,” she agreed in a very soft murmur.

  After another long moment during which Caleb thought it was possible he didn't breathe, he gently slipped his hands out from under hers.

  “Um, I want to hear more about rogue history, Ree. It's really interesting when you talk about it. To be really honest with you?” He looked at her carefully. She'd leaned back in her chair but hadn't taken her gaze away from his. “I think I might even learn something from it all. Maybe,” he quickly added. Couldn't sound like he was giving in too soon.

  A tiny smile began to play at her lips. Wow. Those lips were just—wow.

  “I'd love—” she began, when his hopes were dashed by the buzzing of his cell in his pocket. Without even looking, he knew who it would be. He muttered a swear word in his head, being very careful to keep it away from his expression. He didn't want Rielle even thinking he swore. Not right now, when he'd just begun to make some headway with her maybe not believing he was a total Neanderthal.

  “Sorry.” He fished in his pocket. “I'm on call. Has to be Rafe.”

  She nodded. Pack Guardians were always on call. Especially these days with the rogue threat so nearby.

  When he saw the text on the screen, his blood iced. He flicked his glance back up to Rielle, who immediately reacted to his suddenly enraged energy by sitting up straight. Her entire body broadcast his own tension back to him.

  “We have to go.” His voice was flat with the power of the tremendous fury gripping him. Her expression became apprehensive but she didn't flinch away from him. Beneath the fury, he found a bit of satisfaction that she wasn't scared of his wild side being unleashed. “It's Alpha. There's been another rogue incident.” Struggling to control the savagery in his voice, he forced out the rest of the message. “And Alpha says you're coming with me back to the den to stay for now.”

  He raised his voice to be heard over her sudden flurry of protests.

  “Sorry, Ree. All the pack members are on house arrest for their safety. The rogues killed a wolf from the Silver Mountain Pack.”

  Chapter 4

  “Over here!”

  Caleb instantly left his position on the outer flank of the patrol and bounded over to his brother as the other wolf barked out his sharp call. Tate crouched down low to the ground, his dark tail lashing almost like a cat's. The only black wolf in the pack, Tate generally was the most easygoing of the Bardous. Right now, a slow-rolling but sure storm of anger pulsed from his every hair.

  It matched Caleb's. Three days ago, a young member of the Silver Mountain Wolf Pack had been found dead just outside Black Mesa territory. His body had been torn to shreds by wolves. The stench of unknown rogues hung heavy over the entire grim scene. The Silver Mountain wolves had a long-time allegiance with Black Mesa, which was only strengthened by the fact it was the home pack of Lily's mate, Kieran. Both packs were now on high alert. Grief and deadly rage skipped from wolf to wolf in both packs.

  Caleb knew his father struggled to hold the pack together in rational calm, as did the alpha of the Silver Mountain Pack. Emotions ran high. High enough that Caleb could very cheerfully kill one of the very wolves patrolling with them right now.

  He cast what must have been the thousandth deadly snarl at that bastard rogue wolf who was supposedly on their side, who supposedly knew nothing about the attacks, the plotting, and now this death. An image of himself leaping and tearing out Luke's throat in a bloody gush of triumphant satisfaction pounded through his head.

  Under our protection, he snarled silently, raging against the edict. Can't kill him. He is a threat, but cannot kill him.

  Luke Rawlins was still under the very strict protection of the Black Mesa Alpha. Caleb was honor-bound to not hurt the rogue. His pack bond to his father as Alpha was too strong and woven with far too much respect. No alpha could ever directly be disobeyed without the worst consequences: either being cast out of the pack or put to death.

  Even so, it was perfectly okay to fantasize about a little bit of jugular ripping.

  “What is it?” He skidded to a stop near Tate, who still had his nose close to the earth. Ten miles north of the den, they were deep into the summer wilds of the San Juan Mountains. Normally, Caleb would be eager to hunt, to leap and play in the high green meadows covered with Colorado's stunning wildflowers and abundant, tasty wildlife.

  Today, all he wanted was the blood of rogue wolves.

  Another body pressed in close to his other side. Rafe, large and golden, deliberately placing himself between Caleb and the rogue bastard. No matter what big brother might think in private, in public he would both follow Alpha's orders as well as ensure every other pack member did, too.

  Tate inclined his dark head at the ground and stepped back a pace. Invitation for Caleb to get his own nose down there. He surged forward and sniffed long and deep, taking in the history of the place with every single one of his wolf senses. A bobcat, yesterday. Deer and elk a few times this morning. His mouth watered at that. And—yes. A wolf. One he didn't know. It had been running hard through here, far away from the typical scouting route that would be followed by Black Mesa patrols.

  Another scent found its way to his nose: one more wolf. Then another.

  “Three rogues.” Fury dripped from him. “Three. Against one who was little more than a cub.” With a sudden mock lunge, he feinted toward Luke. The rogue bastard calmly stood his ground. A faintly derisive expression framed his half-snarling lip.

  “Caleb,” Rafe barked.

  Caleb shuddered his body into stillness, although tension still bracketed his every inch.

  “Who were they, rogue?” he growled. “You know them. You tell us so we can hunt them down and kill them.” His voice ended on snarling howl that was less forcefully but still genuinely echoed by Tate, who added in a mournful sadness. He'd been friends with the young wolf who'd been killed. “Tell us so we can avenge him and his pack.”

  That last part was also an order. The earlier restriction against going after any rogues had been lifted after this deliberate bloodshed of an innocent. The ones who had taken the life of the Silver Mountain wolf were to be captured and taken to the alpha of either pack for swift justice, meaning they would face a tribunal as required by ancient Pack law. Any tribunal would, however, result in verdicts of guilt and their quick deaths. The rogues had no more protections afforded them by any wolf in the area.

  This was about to be a full-fledged war.

  Caleb longed to be the one to find them. The thought of rogues slinking around, killing legitimate pack members, made him half crazy with rage and protective instincts. He wasn't sure he'd be able to escort one of the filthy beasts back to his Alpha unharmed. If they so much as looked at any of his packmates...such as Rielle. That thought filled him with such blind anger and fear he didn't know what else to do with it except kill everything in sight. She was so small and untrained. Easy prey for rogues. Although she might politely yet pointedly sass them to death. He huffed out the tiniest bit of air at that thought. It was as close to something resembling the shadow of a laugh he'd been able to find for days.

  Rielle was not happy about being stuck at the den. She could go to work, although two other wolves accompanied her, one always a Guardian. And of course she'd been allowed back to her house to gather the personal items she'd need while staying in one of the sprawling den's many rooms. However, no wolf in the entire pack was allowed to go anywhere off the property except in groups of three, with one of the three being a Guardian, and not unless they first obtained permission from Alpha or his mate.

  He knew Ree was chafing at her den confinement from the amount of irritated words he'd put up with from her. Somehow, he'd managed to find her and hang out with her e
very day. The more time he spent with the pretty, smart little wolf, the more he—well, he wasn't sure exactly what. Whatever it was, he liked it. By now it had to be obvious to her how dangerous everything was now. Rogues were insane animals and had to be eliminated. End of story. And the need to protect her from them seemed to be driving a big part of his violent thoughts at the moment.

  Luke sat on his haunches. Despite his curled lip, he presented the air of a wolf unafraid and not on guard. It was a slap in the face of Caleb's aggression. His temper ratcheted up even higher, despite knowing that was exactly what the other wolf wanted.

  “Who are they!” he roared.

  “Caleb.” Rafe snarled, slamming a shoulder against his brother. “Simmer down.”

  Caleb managed to hold still. Barely.

  To his surprise, Rafe then turned to Luke with a curious air. “Luke? What do you know about them?”

  The rogue stiffened for a bare instant, almost seeming afraid, before the superior look was back on his face. Caleb kept his hackles raised, alert and watchful. Wolves had an extremely difficult time lying when in wolf form. Some would say it was completely impossible to lie when a wolf. This would be interesting.

  There was a long pause while the rogue sat in his nonchalant pose. Despite that, Caleb caught a whiff of unhappiness. The bastard did know something, he thought grimly.

  “I recognize the scents.” The words came grudgingly, tainted also with something that smelled faintly like shame. “They are from my old pack.”

  Pure, blinding instinct took over. Caleb launched, hard and fast, snarling from somewhere so deep inside he hardly knew what he was doing. Calculation lasered in from his human, while he relied on solid wolf muscle and swiftness to cover the ground and leap at the bastard wolf who'd led killers to his pack.

  ~