Wolf Mate (Wolves of New York #4)

by Bella Jacobs

  I shove Elsbeth to the right, but Bane has already clawed several holes in her thin skin. I see that she’s bleeding, have a split second to debate my options, and then she’s back on her feet, keening in agony as the virus rips through her cells like a fire through bone dry forest.

  I lunge across the room, grabbing the machete from the wall. I’m moving fast, but as I spin, slicing the weapon through the air at what I think is the general height of the old woman’s head, she’s already nearly on top of me. The blade connects with her neck, meets resistance, and slows, but then slices through to the other side.

  She collapses to the floor, her body twitching as I toss her head to the far side of the room. Zombies will keep biting for several seconds after decapitation and I don’t want her getting a mouthful of someone’s leg.

  “Were you bitten or scratched?” Liam shouts from my left.

  I look up to see his weapon trained on my forehead and freeze, my heart pounding in my ears as I hold out my arms and look down, scanning the mercifully unmarked flesh.

  My breath rushes out, “No, I’m good. I’m fine. Let’s finish this. Take him out before—”

  My words are muted by a blast of blue fairy fire from the door.

  I drop to my stomach just as the fire shoots over my head and look up in time to see it vaporize Liam. One moment he’s there. The next, he’s a silhouette made of ash. And then…

  He’s gone.

  The remains of my friend and fellow soldier hit the ground, and I jump back to my feet. I aim my body like a missile at the door behind me, knowing I only have a few seconds to act before the fairy gathers enough magic to fire again.

  I ram the top of my head into Gray’s stomach, only realizing it’s him when we tumble back through the door into the hall and I land on top of him, my fingers going around his throat. A second later, two of my wolves are beside me, ripping his hands off with their teeth.

  He lets out a single, strangled scream and then loses consciousness. Not a surprise, really, considering so much of a Fey’s lifeforce lives in their hands.

  It’s a brutal, primitive way of disabling a fairy and against the war accords, but I don’t care. Gray doesn’t deserve the protection of the law. He is a creature so heartless and depraved that he can break a man’s bones without feeling, and he likely just killed some of my people.

  Sam and the others…

  They wouldn’t have let Gray down here if they were okay.

  “You and you.” I motion to the two wolves with fairy blood still in their mouths. “Head topside and check on Sam and her team. And get medical here ASAP.” I roll off Gray and come to my feet. “Cox, use the leather straps on the walls to stem the blood from the Fey’s hands, take him to the glen, and call for prisoner transport. There should be room for the chopper to land there.”

  I turn back to the chamber and my brother raging on the other side. His free arm swings in mad circles that send the chunk of rock he pulled from the wall crashing into the stone table, sending tiny shards of granite flying into the air.

  Drawing in a bracing breath, I fetch the machete from the floor, gripping the hilt tight. “The rest of you, get ready to transport the bodies upstairs for burning. We don’t want to leave any infected flesh behind for the animals to eat.”

  And then I take two running steps and jump, the weapon clenched in both hands. I land atop the stone table in a crouch and swing my weapon at my brother’s face.

  In the second before the blade connects, his eyes lock with mine. I see hatred there—hatred and the blazing hot fire of impotent rage—and then his right eye isn’t there anymore. My second strike connects with his neck and two strong, hacking blows later, his head drops heavily to the floor.

  The rest of him continues to convulse against the wall for several, stomach-turning moments. And then…it’s over.

  It’s really, finally over.

  “Get some fresh air, Alpha,” Cox says, putting a gentle hand on my bare shoulder. “We’ve got this from here on out.”

  I nod and swallow the bile rising in my throat. “I’ll call in the second wave. Tell them to start rounding up anyone still left in the camp.”

  I turn, making my way out of the room, past the blood on the ground where the fairy lost his hands, and up the stairs.

  Outside, the medic helicopter is already landing in the glen and Sam and the rest of her team—alive, thank the stars, but badly wounded—are being loaded inside. The air still smells of smoke, but not nearly as thick as before.

  Not thirty minutes later, an update from the leader of the second wave confirms the fires are out and the surviving enemy forces have been taken into custody.

  “There’s still a lot of rubble covering the area where the portal exploded,” Steven explains, motioning toward the remains of a cave set into the mountain next to the camp. “But we can’t hear any movement inside and our instruments aren’t picking up any heat signatures. If anyone was on this side of the portal when the bomb exploded, they’re dead now.”

  “And what about the man who allegedly set them off?” I ask. “The man my sister said was named Axe. Any sign of him?”

  “One of our scouts saw a man with a swarm of birds and several bears heading north over the mountains not long after the bombs exploded,” he says. “She followed, but lost them a few miles away. She thinks the man used a cloaking spell. He was a shifter she said—cat most likely from the smell—but also seemed to have some magic of his own. Said he felled a dead tree with a twitch of his fingers to conceal his trail.”

  My jaw tightens as I watch another batch of prisoners being loaded into our largest helicopter. We’re taking them to our cargo plane in waves, the logistics of getting them all transported taking far longer than the battle.

  Thank the stars for that, too.

  “Send another scouting team north,” I say. “Tell them not to engage, but to follow the man if they can find him and gather as much information as they can. He may have cursed my sister. Or at least know how she ended up an owl and how to change her back. We need to keep Axe on our radar.”

  Steven nods and turns to relay my message to the scouts, but I stop him. “One more thing before you go,” I say. “Have we had any word from New York? Can we confirm if the portals there are operational?”

  He nods. “We got confirmation just a few minutes ago from New York, Boston, and our allies on the west coast. None of the portals are functional at this time, and no one’s been able to make contact with people Parallel side. We’re still waiting for word from Europe and Asia, but as of now it looks like this is systemic.”

  “Thank you.” I cross my arms over my chest. Steven hurries off to relay my orders as the medic staff fires up lights to triage wounded prisoners before clearing them for transport.

  Night has truly fallen but the full moon makes it fairly easy to see. I have no trouble finding my way across the glen and through the smoldering remains of the camp in the darkness.

  From there, the funeral pyre lights the way.

  I come to stand beside my team a few yards from the flames. The wind blows from behind us, sending the worst of the smoke, and the smell of charred flesh, drifting down into the valley below.

  It’s only then, as I watch the last of my brother burn that I feel safe borrowing a phone from one of my still-clothed soldiers and placing the call.

  Willow answers on the first ring, “Tell me this is you and that you’re fine.”

  “It’s me,” I say, the tension in my chest easing now that I’ve heard her voice. “And I’m fine. Bane is dead, the risk of spreading the virus has been contained, and we’re loading the prisoners now. I should be home before morning.”

  She exhales a relieved breath. “Thank goodness. Thank, thank goodness. My fingers hurt from crossing them so hard.”

  “Elsbeth is gone, too,” I say, wanting to get all the bad news out of the way before I get back to her, so we won’t have anything ugly to talk about for a while. “She tried to fre
e Bane, to take him to Kelley, and was infected.”

  Willow hums softly. “I’m actually sorry to hear that. She wasn’t all bad, I don’t think. Maybe not even half bad. Same with my sister.” She sighs. “Any word on Kelley?”

  “Just that, according to Elsbeth, they completed the ritual. But Kelley was likely trapped in the Parallel when the explosives destroyed the portal, so…” I shake my head. “We may never know what happens next for her.”

  “Oh, I have a feeling we will,” Willow says. “Someday. The portals may be gone, but we’ll find a way to communicate with the Parallel. Sooner or later.”

  “Is that a Pathfinder vision?”

  “No, just a strong feeling,” she says. “And a hope. There are good people there. They deserve better than what they’ve been getting from their leaders. And probably better than what they’ll get from Kelley if she takes power. Like I said, there’s something wrong with the spell. It isn’t going to work the way she and Elsbeth thought it would.”

  “Maybe because they used a zombie as a point in the triad instead of a living man?”

  “Maybe. Or maybe because Bane died for real not long after they completed the ritual?” She makes a soft, worried sound. “I don’t know, but what little I saw of Kelley’s future looked…bleak. Even if she’s a queen, she’s going to be a very unhappy one.”

  “You sound sad.” I tilt my head back, watching the moon break free of the tree line and float higher in the star-scattered sky.

  “I am sad,” she says. “But I’m also so grateful. Come home to me. And let’s sleep for a very, very long time. And then wake up and figure out what to do with Diana. She, strangely, doesn’t seem too upset by being an owl, but I think the less time she spends in a body that’s not her own, the better. Oh, and she was hoping…”

  Willow lowers her voice before she continues, making me think Diana might be nearby. “Have you come in contact with any cat shifters? A young man about nineteen years old with bronze skin, dark hair and eyes, and an attitude to match Diana’s, in particular? Don’t freak out about it, but he was her secret boyfriend. Hopefully still is, maybe? If he’s alive? He’s a good kid, Maxim, as far as I can tell. He just got caught up with the wrong people. But he cared about Diana so much, I could tell, and he didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

  I roll my eyes, but I can’t work up any anger about the news, not when I’m pretty sure the poor kid is either dead or trapped in the Parallel. “No, I haven’t seen many people that age at all. Everyone we’ve rounded up has been younger or older, the seniors and kids left behind while everyone else prepared to fight. There are a few younger women, but no young men. And no prisoners. The cells were empty when we arrived.”

  Willow sighs. “That’s not great news, but I won’t tell her yet. Maybe he ran away or something. Or maybe one of the prisoners will be able to shed some light on what happened to him during their interrogation. Will you be sure to add that to the list of things to ask them? I know you’re not a fan of wolves dating cats, or cats in general, but—”

  “I never said that. I’m planning on getting you a kitten for a wedding present, in fact,” I cut in. “Assuming I can find one who will let me touch it without trying to scratch my eyes out.”

  “Really?” Willow says, wonder and delight mixing in her tone.

  “Really,” I assure her. “I just don’t want it sleeping in our bed. I just want you in my bed. Every night and as many long afternoons as we can beg, borrow, or steal.”

  “Me, too. I’ll be waiting for you in bed when you get home. Wake me up if I fall asleep. I want to hug you as soon as possible.”

  “Will do,” I promise.

  Three hours later, after we’ve logged the last prisoner into our database, assured our allies that the crisis has been averted, and I’ve grabbed a quick shower in the enforcer men’s locker room so I’ll be clean when I go upstairs to my fiancée, I slip under the sheets beside my future mate and pull her close.

  “Oh, yes,” she murmurs, waking quickly and wrapping her arms tight around me. “You’re here. You’re finally here and you’re never leaving this bed again.”

  “I might have to leave now and then, just to get some fresh air.”

  “You don’t need fresh air,” she informs me, and then she rolls on top of me and proves she’s right.

  I don’t fresh air or food or water or anything else.

  I only need this woman—her kiss, her love, and her perfect, wild sweetness.

  For now, and for always.

  Epilogue One

  Willow

  Three months later…

  I said I wanted a big wedding.

  I did.

  I said those words aloud to Maxim Thorn, a man with a reputation for taking things to extremes.

  In my defense however, I knew the extreme thing applied to protecting his family, working his ass off for his pack, and bossing me around in bed. I had no clue he was going to go this over the top with our wedding day.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” My voice echoes in my headset as I lean forward, pressing my face against the chopper’s back window. My jaw drops as I blink, then blink again, keeping my lids closed for a long beat.

  But when I open them again, the royal blue tent ringed with lanterns is still set up on the snow-covered island in the middle of the peaceful lake. The large bonfire is still burning on the rise behind it and at least fifty of our nearest and dearest are milling about bundled in fluffy coats—or already furry and romping in the snow—while waiters in tuxedos move between them, delivering what looks like champagne and—

  “Hot cocoa?” I turn back to Maxim, who is looking justifiably smug and pleased with himself.

  “A certain little wolf I know has pregnancy cravings for hot chocolate,” he says. “The kind with chili powder in it specifically.”

  I slap his tuxedo clad arm. “Shut up.”

  “And for dinner our guests can choose between pork loin, filet mignon, or a sandwich composed almost entirely of cucumbers and pickled cabbage.”

  The words bring tears to my eyes. I’ve been craving that exact sandwich all freaking day. “Really? Oh my god, Maxim, that sounds so good. I can’t even…” My stomach rumbles, protesting its emptiness. But before the wedding I was too nervous to eat and after too busy packing for what I thought was a quick honeymoon trip upstate.

  But this is so much better. This is my dream after party; the one I insisted we shouldn’t have because I thought it would be wrong to celebrate when so many people have lost contact with loved ones in the Parallel with no idea if—or when—they’ll ever speak to them again.

  Looking down at them now, however, it’s clear this was the right choice.

  Everyone looks so happy and excited, even Diana is swooping around in her owl form, playing with the kids in the snow. She’s been so sad since losing Jacob—more so than about her curse, as far as I can tell—but at least for tonight she seems to have remembered that there is beauty and joy in the world.

  “I’m going to devour three of those sandwiches, you brilliant man,” I say, squeezing Maxim’s thigh. “With hot chocolate.”

  “And I’ll do my best to watch you do that and not vomit.” He slides the hand around my shoulder down to my butt and tugs me closer. “But we’ll see. I’m a man, not a superhero.”

  “You’re my hero.” I tip my head back, bringing my lips closer to his. “And I think you’re pretty super.” He kisses me, soft and sweet, and I murmur against his lips, “Thank you so much for this. I’m…blown away.”

  “I told you that night at the motel that I was going to rent a private island for our wedding party. I hope by now you know that I keep my promises.”

  “I do,” I assure him, “but I was thinking camping, grilled hot dogs, and all the puppies rolling around in the snow, not jaw-dropping swanky swank. Not that I’m complaining,” I hurry to add.

  “The puppies can still play in the snow,” he says, glancing past me to the window as the
chopper sinks down to land in a clearing near the tent. “And the adults can have a gourmet meal, dancing, and heated yurts to sleep in after. But don’t worry, our yurt is on the opposite side of the island so no one will hear you scream.”

  A wicked smile curves my lips. “I’d like to be able to promise that I won’t scream, but you’re very good at your work, Mr. Thorn. If the whole king of the shifters thing doesn’t work out, you could make a killing in the red light district.”

  His eyes dance. “Ready to share me already?”

  “Never,” I promise. “I’ve licked you and called dibs. Now you’re mine. Those are the rules.”

  “I like those rules,” he says and kisses me again.

  We’re still making out when the helicopter doors open and Hermione shouts, “Come on, you two, enough of that. We’re starving. Food first, face sucking later.”

  I pull away from Maxim with a laugh, leaving my headset on the seat as I accept the hand Hermione offers to help me out. As she does, I notice the raven-haired woman I’ve seen her with a lot lately standing not far away and arch a pointed brow.

  Hermione grins and shrugs. “I figured I should bring a date. Since it’s a wedding celebration and all.”

  “Good instincts,” I say, leaning closer to add in a confidential voice, “I’ve been watching you two. She seems very funny, very clever, and completely smitten.”

  Hermione blushes—actually blushes, something I would have sworn I’d never see—and mumbles, “Well, good. I’m pretty smitten myself.”

  “Yay!” I say, squeezing her fingers as Maxim takes my other hand in his.

  “What are we celebrating?” he asks.

  “Love,” I say, swinging both their hands with a giddy sigh. “Obviously.”

  It is obvious.

  Maxim can’t keep his hands off me during the meal—even though my kimchi sandwiches are as stinky (and delicious) as I hoped they’d be—and the toasts from our friends and family are so beautiful they make me cry at least three times.