“How are the folks?” asked Bren, changing the subject.
I grinned. “I think Mom would wrap me up in wool if she could.”
We went on chatting until the sun began to lower in the sky and then wandered down the slope home. Every time I watched that sun set, it made me wonder; how many more sunsets till I had to say goodbye to the most important men in my life?
Where they went, I could not follow, but how could I go on with my life without them?
Alone, was one answer to that. I knew already that there were no other men for me in the world.
It was the following morning that I went to see the guys in the house on the outskirts that the village had given them.
“You’re up,” I exclaimed as I entered and found Luca sitting at the table with the others eating breakfast. He looked his old self again and though I was delighted to see it, I also knew that this heralded their departure.
“And fighting fit,” said Luca with a smile.
I smiled back, but inside my heart was breaking. “So, you’ll be off to Lord Krius’s territory?”
“There’s a lot of money waiting for us,” said Taka, evenly.
“And work,” added Rex.
“You think he’s held the job for you?” I asked, half-hoping the answer might be ‘no’. “You’re a lot later than he expected.”
“But we’re also the best,” Kai pointed out. “Why would you go with someone else when you could have us?”
That was a question I had been asking myself a lot, of late. “Well, he’s very lucky to have you.”
“Who said he’d have us?” asked Taka.
“What?” I frowned. “You just…”
“I said there was a lot of money waiting for us. I didn’t say we were going to collect it.”
There seemed to be a roaring sound in my ears as blood rushed to my head. I’d had this dream before but it always ended.
“You’re not… You’re not?”
Taka shrugged. “Money isn’t everything.”
“And there are jobs to do here, as well,” said Rex.
“Not very well paid ones,” I replied.
“Depends what you count as ‘well paid’,” shrugged Kai. “A place to call home? I don’t know if you can put a price on that.”
“The chance to hang up our weapons,” added Rex.
“Find a little peace,” suggested Taka.
“A life,” said Luca, looking straight at me. It had been a long time since life had meant anything to him, now it did again. He would never forget Joss, but he could finally see a life after her.
“Besides,” said Taka, standing, “do you really think that any of us could bear to leave you? Lord Krius could give us his whole fortune and hand over the keys to his kingdom; it wouldn’t mean a damn thing without you there.”
There isn’t a word to describe what it feels like when your dreams come true.
I rushed and hugged them, one at a time, and then all together. Once upon a time, I had hoped that rather than me going out to see the world that the world would come to me; it looked as if it had.
When my tears of happiness were shed, when I had kissed them all at least five times each, and when we were all settled and happy in the start of a curious domestic bliss between the five of us, I grinned, wicked thoughts already entering my head.
“Now Luca is better, I think there’s something that can’t be put off any longer.”
“What?” asked Taka.
“You told me not to come back to Stenheim – that day in the cave – I disobeyed you. Luca, after you rescued me, you told me not to try and help; I disobeyed you. Rex, you told me to run and hide in a house; I didn’t. I disobeyed you. Kai, in the tower, you told me to stay put and I ran out. I disobeyed you. I disobeyed all of you.” The guys stared at me, unsure where this was going. “I won’t feel right about it until I’ve been properly punished.”
The guys exchanged looks as realization dawned.
“Well then, we’d better get started.”
I headed for the bedroom. Four sharp spankings and then four beautiful men making love to me for the rest of the day…For the rest of my life.
Sometimes, it paid to be a disobedient girl.
Want more Savannah Skye? Check out Her Werewolf Harem, free in Kindle Unlimited now!
Part wolf-shifter and part human, private investigator Lana Malone struggles to fit into either world, so she spends her time on the outside looking in. But when she's hired by formidable wolf-pack leader Kenai King to find out who made an attempt on his life, her investigation leads her to his three captivating sons.
Tanner, the eldest, tough and stern, with a wild side that won't be tamed. Gray, somber and intense as he tries to come to grips with the death of his mate. Hudson, quick-witted with a silver tongue and bedroom eyes that hide something far deeper.
Chapter One
The window of my office didn't exactly afford the most picturesque view in the city. There was the liquor store - a cliché, perhaps, but there it was - a few houses with boarded up windows that looked like they'd been squeezed in, jostling for space; and the steps leading down to the subway. It might not have been pretty, but it was pretty typical of the district. It could have been any corner in the city, nothing about it to indicate anything special. But if I tipped my chair back so my eye-line shifted a little higher, to the rooftops, then there, silhouetted against the slate-grey sky, I would see the sentinel.
To the casual observer, the figure would have just looked like a man standing on the top of the building, perhaps enjoying the view, bird watching, or contemplating suicide - all popular pursuits in this area of town. But to those who knew the importance of the street, the man's presence took on new meaning. I knew that he had been there now for four hours, barely moving, his gaze relentlessly scanning the scene beneath. I knew that when he did finally leave, he would be replaced by someone else. That building would always have a sentinel on it because the street marked the edge of Kenai territory, beyond that, it was No Man's Land for about a block and a half, then you were in Arctic territory.
Humans crossed these invisible boundaries every day, back and forth between territories without even thinking, without even knowing there was anything there, but to a werewolf, such boundaries were as uncrossable as the Berlin Wall - back in the day - and those who crossed without permission did so at risk of their lives.
I was not a werewolf. Nor, strictly speaking, was I human. Courtesy of my grandmother, I was one-quarter werewolf. I remembered my gran as a kindly old lady, smelling faintly of lavender, who had an apparently inexhaustible supply of hard candy secreted in the various pockets of her cardigan, and who occasionally turned into a wolf. As a child, I found these changes hilarious, as a teen, I found them embarrassing, as an adult, I just missed my gran, regardless of her shape. At no point did I find it weird. I, myself, didn't turn, even at full moon - though it could make me a little angsty and I lost more boyfriends that night than any other - but my heritage gave me a certain affinity with the creatures without being one of them or having to pledge allegiance to one of the four packs that shared the city. I could smell where the boundaries between the pack territories were, but I didn't have to stick to them, and could cross with impunity.
Best of both worlds.
Or a failure to fit into either.
Certainly, humans looked at me differently when they found out about my ancestry, wondering if I might tear their throat out for fun, while werewolves could smell the mix of wolf and human on me and didn't like or trust it.
Perhaps that feeling of not belonging in either world was what led me to becoming a private investigator, a job that attracted the loners of the world. People rank private eyes and part-wolves about on a par on the scale of general mistrust, and as long as I was already being mistrusted by both factions of society, I figured I might as well make some money out of it. Besides, I liked puzzles and got off on solving them. As far as I knew, I was the only part-wolf invest
igator in the city, a position of distinction that made people avoid me like the plague until the wires got crossed in the simple, segregated circuits of their lives. Humans and werewolves didn't mix much socially, but shit happens, and when it did, I was there to pick up the pieces.
All of that, I guess, was why Kenai King came to me.
I heard the door open in my outer office and went to see who was there - recent financial complications had left me without a secretary. I opened the door and stood, wide-eyed like an idiot, staring at my three visitors. Two of them would have made anybody stare; they were massive slabs of muscle, their bald heads almost reaching the ceiling, their low brows advertising equally low intelligence, their over-sized bodies stuffed into ill-fitting suits. But it was the third, less immediately arresting man, who had stopped me in my tracks.
"Miss Malone?" The silver-haired man smiled, showing his sharp canine teeth.
The last person I expected to find in my office, first thing on a Monday morning, was the most powerful werewolf in the city, perhaps in the country.
"Pack Leader," I replied, showing my knowledge by using his proper title. "What can I do for you?"
Pack Leader Kenai King's unsettling grin remained on his face as he answered. "Someone is trying to kill me. I'd like you to find out who."
Four werewolf packs made their territories in the city, and while you could not put all of them in order of supremacy, the Kenai were undoubtedly top of the pile. Since the time of King's grandfather, the Kenai Pack had held the center of the city, all the best areas and most expensive real estate. The boundaries might fluctuate through skirmishes and minor wars but, for now, at least, the Kenai seemed immovable and invincible, and Kenai King was known as a ruthless leader.
King turned to his vast bodyguards. "Stay here."
He then strode past me, leading me back into my own office with the confident air of one who has been the most important person in every room he walks into his entire life. I followed, closing the door behind me.
"With respect, Pack Leader, aren't people trying to kill you part of your job description?"
King nodded. "That is true. But this is different. Closer to home."
"Perhaps you'd better tell me the whole story."
King sat down with athletic elegance. He moved with the animal grace that so many werewolves strived for and achieved with varying degrees of success. He was in his sixties now, but still in good condition and still a very handsome man for his age - if you liked that kind of thing; I got over my daddy issues some years ago.
"Last week was the Lunar Hunt."
Every full moon, werewolves gather for a state-sanctioned hunt. One of the agreements reached in the General Amnesty - which had first allowed werewolves to live among humans as equal citizens - was that hunting was a cultural tradition and could not be completely outlawed. That said, hunting a human at any time, as wolves had pre-1917, was obviously not compatible with being a worthwhile part of society. So a compromise had been reached. The werewolves would be given one night a month - the night of the full moon - when they could hunt, as a pack, with impunity. More than that, packs would be given the names and details of certain people that the state could well do without for them to hunt. These people were usually rapists, child-molesters and the like, whom the police had either been unable to catch or whom they knew to be guilty but lacked the evidence to convict.
Evading the nose of a wolf was not so easy. There had initially been some opposition and some protests that, as punishments went, this one was probably cruel and definitely unusual, but the voices of defense for such people were never very loud, and when the number of such crimes began to drop as criminals responded to the new and terrible penalty for their actions, even those few voices were silenced. By now, the Lunar Hunt was viewed as an essential part of a civilized society and people wondered how we ever managed without it.
"It is one of the few times," King continued, "when I can get away from my bodyguards - in the heat of the hunt, anything goes. People forget themselves. We were chasing the prey through the alleys not far from our heartland."
Though they hold large territories, most packs have one particular area that they identify as 'home'.
"I was leading the chase - naturally - and we caught up to him on one of the side streets. As the pack was descending on him, I felt someone grab my collar and pull me back. Now, when the hunt ends, it's a bit of free for all, everyone jostling to get their pound of flesh, and a young wolf might not look too hard at who he's got hold of. I just assumed that some over-eager pup had grabbed me by the scruff without looking - not knowing who I was. So, I turned around to put him in his place."
Kenai King paused in his story. He untucked his shirt from the waistband of his pants to lift it, twisting his body slightly to show me a bandage stuck across his side.
"If I hadn't been so quick to turn, the knife would have gone into my back and I might not be here talking to you."
"Did you get a look at the guy?" I asked.
King snorted. "If I got a look at him, we'd have taken care of this ourselves. He turned as I moved, keeping out of sight as he stuck the knife in. A knife!” he spat contemptuously. "What sort of weapon is that for a wolf? I lashed back at him - claws out, but I just caught the palm of his hand. Drew blood, though."
"He ran?" I guessed.
"By that point, he knew he'd fucked the whole thing up so he took to his paws. I yelled for the rest of the pack..."
"What had they been doing up to now?" I wondered.
"Feeding," said King, bluntly. "At the end of a hunt, a bomb going off wouldn't distract a wolf from the kill. It was the perfect time for an assassination attempt."
All this was interesting, but not unusual. To attain their lofty position in the city, the Kenai had made enemies in all the other packs, and while King had inherited a large territory, he had not been shy about enlarging it over the years whenever an opportunity presented itself - a street here, a warehouse there; anything ill-defended fell prey to the ruthless expansionist outlook of the Kenai Pack Leader. That sort of attitude did not make you friends, it also meant that the Kenai territory was a rich treasure for any Pack Leader with the balls to try and take it. And the first step to that would be killing King.
But that sort of intrigue was the everyday life of werewolves. If King had held the Arctic, Hokkai or MacKenzie packs responsible, then he would have responded with border raids, taking revenge in blood. He certainly wouldn't be consulting a down-at-heel private investigator, who was only a part-wolf, a week after the event. Something more was going on here.
"The pack gave chase," King went on, his voice changing slightly as he spoke, subtly hardening. "I was regrettably incapacitated by my wound but my personal guard and my court went after the assassin. He was bleeding from the wound I gave him, so following him was no problem for any werewolf. He left a trail even you could probably have followed."
I ignored the subtle insult. "Where did it lead?"
King's ice blue eyes flicked away from me for a moment, as if he was wondering if coming here and sharing this with an outsider had been such a good idea. "You must be wondering why I came to you."
"I'm thinking you're about to tell me."
"Those guards out in your office; they are far from the best of my protectors. They are the most stupid. They dumbly do as they are told without any question. Dumb loyalty is sometimes the best kind. They don't have the intelligence for self-interest."
I leaned back in my chair, feeling for the first time as if the balance of power had shifted in my favor, even if I wasn't quite sure why. "Pack Leader, if you have something to say then perhaps you had better just say it."
King's eyes found me again. "The trail led to Heir's House. There it ended. The trail led to my sons."
That explained it. If King were to die, then by natural werewolf law, one of his sons - usually, though not always, the eldest - would take his place as Pack Leader. There had been cases of sons ge
tting a bit impatient and hastening that day, and there had been cases of sons effecting a coup when a Pack Leader seemed weak. But if any of his sons had been planning to oust King, then they could not do it alone, they would need the support of members of the Pack Court. If King suspected his sons, then he also had to suspect his own closest allies.
He could trust no one in his own pack.
So he had come to me. And based on the fact that it had taken him a week to do it, he was not happy about the necessity. Either that, or I just hadn't been his first choice.
"The relationship between myself and my sons," King continued, "is not a close one."
"I had heard." It was common knowledge in the werewolf community, and I tried to keep up with all the gossip.
"Perhaps you have not heard to what extent matters have deteriorated," King went on. "Two weeks ago, I threatened to disinherit all three of them." He pulled a smile that was closer to a snarl. "Perhaps I should have gone through with it. Then, they would have had no cause to kill me."
"More likely, if you had actually disinherited them, they would have come after you by more direct means," I suggested.
King nodded. "Perhaps. But I would have preferred that. To see one of those wastes of space actually winning support for himself, raising an army to take me down. Better yet; challenging me to single combat. To see that would have been worth dying for. At least I would die knowing I had sons who were worth a shit. But a paid assassin sticking a knife in my back?" He shook his head. "I suppose it's all I would have expected of them, but for a Kenai to stoop to such depths is a sad sight indeed."
Her Mercenary Harem Page 16