by RJ Blain
Snorting, Desmond shook his head. “That drove me nuts for years. I actually thought you were the one behind it for a while, Sanders.”
My mate’s eyes widened. “Me?”
I breathed in my mate’s scent, and my wolf’s amusement surged at the satisfaction she detected.
Narrowing his eyes, Desmond glared at Sanders. “Why do you smell so smug?”
“I’m just wondering why you thought I was involved.”
“Oh, I don’t know—maybe because you run a landscaping business? That may have had something to do with it.”
My mate sniffed. “I work on ponds and overhauls for overly rich snobs like you, Desmond. I do not specialize in shrubberies.”
I poked my mate in the side. “You’re a gardener?”
When Wendy and Desmond burst into helpless fits of laughter and my mate sighed, I wondered what I had said that was so offensive and funny.
“Landscaper,” Sanders replied in a pained voice. When he smiled, the scent of his satisfaction strengthened. “Richard was the mastermind. I was the one who cut the video feeds to your alarm system. While I took pity on him and assisted in his efforts, I only did it to make certain he was long gone before you returned home. He even took commercial flights so you couldn’t sniff him out—or have one of your neighbors report a Porsche in the area. They’re so used to seeing me around they didn’t think twice about me bringing my truck over. They probably thought I was working on your pond or babysitting your house while you were out of town.”
“You sly dog,” Desmond growled.
“I might have more roses in my nursery waiting for spring to be transplanted.”
“What did he do now?”
My mate frowned, and his scent was marred by his worry. “I hope they’re okay,” he muttered, and I wasn’t sure if he had heard Desmond’s question.
Sighing, Desmond reached over and clapped my mate’s shoulder. “You just can’t go an hour without worrying about something, can you? Of course I called someone to take care of your greenhouse, Sanders. I’m well aware you need those plants for the spring. I may have a black thumb, but I know someone has to take care of your flowers.”
“Gardener,” I teased, nudging my mate with my elbow.
“He found a Damask variant. It reminded him of Nicolina, so he had to have them for his garden and decided yours needed them as well,” he mumbled, staring at the roses with a faraway look in his eyes.
“And he’s off in work land,” Desmond said, sighing. “Don’t worry, Sara. He’s probably inventorying every single plant in his greenhouse, doubting I was competent enough to hire the appropriate person to care for them. Sanders, relax. Yes, you were gone a month, but I wouldn’t risk your livelihood like that. If the person I hired screwed up any of your plants, I’ll replace them.”
“The fish,” he said, fidgeting. Before I could secure a hold on him, he headed towards the side of the house.
Desmond slapped his forehead. “Sanders, my koi are fine. All of them. I even fed them yesterday. Will you stop?”
Ignoring our Alpha, my mate disappeared around the corner of Desmond’s large home. Spitting curses, Desmond followed. Baffled by Sanders’s behavior, I stared at Wendy. “What’s going on?”
Wendy sighed. “Not long after Sanders started his landscaping business, Charles decided to help out a bit by hiring him to redo our property. I love Charles, but he can be excessive at times. He decided he wanted a koi pond. But he didn’t just want koi, he wanted hand-raised koi. Thanks to Charles, Sanders ended up with a side business in water gardens to go with his regular landscaping. If you want great koi, you go to him. I think it has something to do him with being an Alpha; he’s simply incapable of neglecting baby anything, even fish.”
“I like fish.”
“You can’t eat his koi, Sara.”
“In aquariums. I like watching them in aquariums,” I corrected, faking a dainty sniffle. “Unless he keeps pet salmon, that is. If he does, we will have a problem.”
“He does not keep pet salmon. By the way, if you still feel like you need to throw up, I’ll show you the bathroom while they are busy talking about the fish. They’ll probably be out there until one of us goes and fetches them. It’s probably for the better.”
Whether the distraction had helped or the worse was over, my stomach was mostly behaving itself. “You knew?”
“You should have seen me with the twins. I puked before I even got around to eating anything. It drove Charles to the brink of insanity, which had a certain amusement value. Sanders still isn’t thinking all too clearly, otherwise he would have noticed. He probably hasn’t gotten beyond the idea of having a puppy of his own yet. I’m sure it’ll click soon enough.”
“It’s not really that big of a deal, is it?”
“It’s really that big of a deal. I have no idea how you being an Omega will affect things. You’ll find out next month how difficult and unpleasant it is to try to resist transforming with the full moon. It gets worse with each month, too. Most bitches don’t make it through two months of resisting, and that’s with their Alpha helping. Too many Alphas simply aren’t dominant enough to stop the transformations. Unless I’m mistaken, the other Omegas are all male. Omegas are damned useful for helping bitches through the full moons, but packs with them don’t let them leave to help other packs. They won’t risk their Omegas for any reason—even to help puppies survive. I’ll have to ask Charles, he’d know. Come on inside. I’ll make you some tea. It should help a little.”
The outside of the Desmond home was gorgeous, but the inside was far better. Instead of the opulent wealth of the Plaza, they picked their luxuries for comfort, and the leather couch was worn in places. Fur clung to the carpet, and one arm had seen use by a cat. I stared at the claw marks, pointing at it in astonishment. “A cat? You have a cat? Cats get along with our kind?”
“We had a cat. She belongs to our younger daughter, and she now lives in Yellowknife, terrorizing any Fenerec who fail to worship her,” Wendy replied, grinning. “Nicolina hates cats. I’m convinced half the reason she tries to kill Charles every visit is because she’s still angry Lisa got to keep Cindy. Try not to get on Nicolina’s bad side. She doesn’t understand how to let grudges go. To answer your question: no, typically cats don’t like us. We raised Cindy from when she was an abandoned newborn, so she probably thinks she’s a Fenerec.”
The kitchen was smaller than I expected in such a large house. It was separated from the dining room by an island surrounded by stools. At Wendy’s invitation, I sat. “You have a really nice house.”
“Thank you. Charles wanted something larger, but I liked the yard. We have a hundred acres of forest in the back, which is wonderful for hunting.”
“How long have you been here?”
“Ah, some sixty years now.”
I sucked in a breath. “Sixty years.”
Wendy didn’t look a day over twenty-five.
Setting a kettle on the stove, Wendy snagged a stool and sat across from me. “I keep forgetting how much you have to learn. Fenerec can live a long time. A lot of the puppies don’t live more than ten or twenty years, but those who do survive tend to live hundreds of years. There’s a bitch out east who is almost two hundred years old now. Charles and I are both older, but very few people know that. Sanders is getting up there, too—part of the reason why he’s such a strong Alpha. He’s been in Seattle for at least forty or fifty years. A couple of Fenerec in both the Seattle and Yellowknife packs are over a hundred, but not many. We just don’t live as long as we used to.”
“Why not?”
“There just aren’t as many wild places left in the world, Sara. We’re human, but we’re wolves, too. There just isn’t enough room for all of us, and when the survival of the fittest comes into play, it’s not just the strongest wolf who lives. People notice when we don’t age. We often have to move around, change identities, and take steps to make certain we aren’t noticed. Most Fenerec screw that up.
The Inquisition helps, but it can be hard.”
“But you’ve been here for sixty years.”
“We keep to ourselves and drive long distances to go to the grocery store. We try not to go to the same place too often, and keep a low profile around Normals—or a high-profile and schedule our own inheritances and change identities. The local witches help out, too. It’s not uncommon for them to open stores for Fenerec, since it makes it easier for us to integrate. Charles can teach you a lot. Since you’re interested in business, Richard and Charles will be great resources for you—Nicolina as well. Sanders prefers working with his hands rather than his head most of the time.”
“How does he manage landscaping? Won’t people notice he looks so young?”
“Large jobs for wealthy clients. He’ll design and implement the grounds. While he’ll sometimes maintain them for Inquisitors, he usually subcontracts to Normals. The Normals he hires he trains well, and when they start noticing his longevity, he encourages them to make their own way—or makes arrangements for them to get a job offer they can’t refuse. He’s careful, which is why he’s still alive. You’ll get used to it.”
I doubted I would, but I nodded and smiled because it was expected of me.
Although there was a basement in the house, it only contained a generator and several huge freezers. I gawked at the wasted space and marveled at the vast quantity of frozen food the Desmonds kept in their home. I helped Wendy carry several large packages of meat up the stairs.
“This should be enough to feed your mate and have a little left for the rest of us,” Wendy said, narrowing her eyes as she considered the piles of paper-wrapped food littering the kitchen island. “Maybe. Are you hungry?”
Shaking my head, I sorted through the packages to discover they were all labeled deer. “Deer?”
“Charles and I sometimes come across a herd in our woods. If we bring down extra, we dress and clean them, and into the freezer they go,” she explained, filling the sink with cold water. One by one, she submerged the packages to thaw. “You’ll probably be hungry again by the time this is done. Do you like stew?”
“I guess I’ll find out,” I replied, wondering if deer would taste anywhere near as good while I was a human as it had when I had been a wolf. “Can I help?”
“Won’t be a lot to do until the meat thaws, but of course. Do you enjoy cooking?”
“I don’t mind. None of my recipes are going to impress Sanders, though.”
“I’ll be impressed no matter what you do,” my mate murmured in my ear.
I squealed, whirling around with my heart in my throat. Smirking at me, he kissed my cheek.
“Don’t do that,” I begged.
“Pay more attention,” he scolded, nipping my chin in rebuke. “Unacceptable, allowing me to sneak up on you like that.”
Chuckling, Desmond hopped up on a stool, looking over the mound of submerged packages. “I think you’ve pulled out enough for Richard’s appetite at his worst plus all of us, Wendy.”
“I saw how much Sanders ate yesterday. I’m not taking any chances. I will not be defeated by these two puppies,” she swore.
“I made the mistake of underestimating a pregnant woman’s appetite once,” Desmond informed me, propping his elbows on the counter. “It took a week for her bites to heal. We should try for another puppy, Wendy. You could keep Sara company.”
“Keep dreaming, Charles. It would be rude to impose on Sanders when he has Sara to worry about. If you’re really nice, I’ll let you ask him next year.”
“Don’t be stupid. Of course I’ll help if you want to add to your never-ending stream of puppy troubles,” my mate replied, grabbing a stool of his own and sitting as close to me as he could. “If you really want to try for a puppy this rut, by all means do. Between Desmond and I, I’m sure we can handle it.”
Wendy made a thoughtful noise. “Two Alphas with pregnant bitches is not wise for anyone.”
Desmond smiled at his mate. “It’d be the greatest Christmas surprise we could spring on our daughters. Imagine it. We’re at Christmas dinner. We’re pretending to exchange gifts. Instead, we inform Nicolina and Lisa they must fight to determine who loses their room to the new puppy on the way. We’ll arm Sanders with a camera.”
“You better take their guns away first,” my mate muttered. “I’ve handled multiple pregnant bitches at the same time. It won’t be a problem. Anyway, you could ask Richard for help, too. I don’t know if he has any bitches making a serious effort this year. You’ll make him really happy if you get him involved.”
“And give him ideas,” Desmond muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I like it. I suppose asking that daughter-stealing mutt for a little extra security is not a bad idea. Maybe a baby brother or sister will make our girls want puppies of their own.”
Wendy drummed her fingers against the counter. “Charles.”
“Yes, dear?”
“Maybe I already took advantage of you for a puppy. I guess you’ll find out in a few weeks,” she taunted.
Desmond’s nostrils flared as he breathed in. “You wouldn’t.”
“You stay there and keep your nose to yourself. Sanders, you come here and have a sniff,” Wendy ordered.
My mate hesitated. At Desmond’s growl, Sanders slinked off his stool. “Why am I being dragged into this?”
“Sara doesn’t know what scent to smell for. It’s far more fun if I drag you into the middle of it and leave my mate to wonder while he sleeps on the couch tonight as punishment for being pushy.” Smirking, Wendy beckoned my mate over with a wave of her hand. “I haven’t had my hug from you yet, either.”
Wendy cajoled a smile out of my mate. Pausing to kiss my cheek, he went into the kitchen, caught Desmond’s mate up in a hug and held her close, bending down to press his nose against her throat. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“Not jealous?” Desmond asked me, nudging me with his elbow.
I frowned at him. “Why would I be jealous?”
“She’s gorgeous and touching your male.”
“Are you jealous such a gorgeous male is touching your female?” I retorted, arching a brow.
“I will be if he doesn’t confirm my mate is taunting me.”
“Sanders won’t be saying a word. You won’t, will you?”
“Not a single one, I promise,” my mate replied. “I’ll enjoy watching Desmond squirm all night, wondering if he has been ignoring his nose. Don’t worry, I’ll stand guard upstairs tonight—just in case.”
“Sanders,” Desmond growled.
Releasing Wendy, my mate held his hands up in surrender. “I promised.”
Desmond sighed. “Fine.”
“Go back outside and play with your fish, boys. Better yet, go find something useful to do with yourselves until dinner is ready.”
Helping Wendy cook dinner involved a knife, a cutting board, and an endless stream of things to cut into chunks. I liked the way the sharp blade thunked against the wood.
“If you want to control a male Fenerec, a puppy is guaranteed to keep him close to home where he can’t cause any trouble,” Wendy informed me, pausing in her chopping to toss another package of thawed meat onto the counter beside me. “First, he’ll hover during the entire pregnancy, keeping any threats and competition away. Once the puppy is born, the male’s entire life revolves around caring for the newborn. For the first week or two he’s the primary caretaker while the female recovers as a wolf. Most Fenerec-born are formula fed through the first few weeks unless another bitch had her puppy earlier and offers to nurse. The pack will often share baby-tending duties to let the male get rest, too—especially in the case of an Alpha.”
“Why is it hard on the Alpha?”
Wendy sighed, set her knife aside, and turned around to face me. “I’ve seen Richard and Sanders both collapse for as long as a week after the last puppy of the year was born. Charles makes runs to packs whenever the Alpha is down for more than a couple of days to help stand guard over
the puppies. When Seattle’s pack went on a puppy spree a few years back, Sanders was out of action for almost two weeks; he didn’t dare shift the entire time because he had so many females relying on him to control their wolves. If he shifted, he worried they would sync with him and shift as well. So, he went through the same hell they did.”
“Does avoiding shifting hurt?” I asked.
“Like hell. Avoid it long enough and changing can become lethal—or make the Fenerec run wild. It’s always a risk. Sanders always makes certain he’s present for the bitch’s first transformation to make certain she won’t run wild. I believe Richard does the same. You’ll be invaluable for Fenerec wanting puppies once you learn what to do.”
“Why?”
“For the same reason Sanders didn’t run wild after a month of being a wolf, Sara. You were there keeping him human—at least a little human.”
“What would have happened if he had run wild?” I whispered.
“We probably would have been forced to kill him. There are few witches capable of restraining a wolf as old and dominant as Sanders. We were hopeful when we found you at the Mississippi. Wild wolves tend to attack anything that moves. The only thing a wild wolf knows how to do is fight. We should have known you had shed out. We probably would have been able to catch you both then and there if either Charles or I had been with the contact team.”
“I thought you said Sanders had broken Desmond’s ribs hitting him like he did.”
“Well, yes. You were frightened, and at that point, your mate wasn’t in the mood for talk. He had one job to do, and that was to protect you, which he did very well. He didn’t run wild completely, but he was wild enough! That’s why you’re so special, Sara. Without you, your mate probably would have died.”