by Tamar Sloan
The northern pack?
Hunter glares at his sister. “We’re not talking about the northern pack at the moment.” He turns to KJ. “So looks like Furious may have run its course?”
KJ picks up a piece of paper from his desk, nodding. “I think Josh’s theory has some merit. It burned too hot, too fast. The infected animals never got a chance to infect others.”
I wince, thinking of Achak’s mate and Resolve’s alpha male. The virus didn’t spread because they were killed.
My chest tightens for a moment. I’ve spoken to my parents every day, and there’s been no sighting of Achak. I choose to believe that’s because he’s taken himself to the depths of the wild somewhere, far away from human contact.
KJ places the paper down. “It’s still early days, but with the vaccinating, it’s certainly looking promising.”
Riley claps her hands. “That’s definitely good news!”
Hunter is looking at KJ closely. “Except that’s not it.”
I look to KJ, impressed that Hunter noticed the twinkle in his eye. Apart from that, you wouldn’t know that KJ is sitting on a giant surprise. Excitement tingles along my spine—this is just the news these guys need.
KJ points at his friend. “Remind me not to play poker with you.”
Hunter snorts. “You’d probably card count.”
“Hey, need to keep the neurons firing.” He taps his temple.
“KJ.” Riley’s voice is heavy with warning. “If you don’t get to the point…”
Josh’s eyes widen, making me giggle. The irony that Josh has connected with someone that reminds me of his younger sisters isn’t lost on me. “I’d get to the point.”
KJ nods slowly. “You’re a wise man, Josh. Well, I ran some tests today.” He looks around at everyone in the room. “And Sakari is pregnant.”
Riley’s squeal is ear-splitting as she leaps from her chair. “You legend, KJ!”
KJ laughs, the sound loud and light. “Well, it wasn’t me working the magic exactly.”
Riley bursts into her own peals of joy, and when she finds Josh standing beside her, grinning like he’s the father, she throws her arms around him. She’s quick though, because she’s already released him and turned to KJ before he can hug her back. She gives KJ the same whirlwind hug before running to her brother.
I’m so caught up in this overflowing happiness that it takes me a few seconds to register Hunter’s face. He’s wrapped his arms around Riley, obviously quicker than the other two, but there seems to be far more shock than anything on his face.
She moves away, chattering about whether there may be four in the litter this time, oblivious to what seems to be morphing across her brother’s face. KJ and Josh are already pointing out that smaller litter sizes are far more common in arctic wolves, but Riley is shushing them, saying they should take a leaf out of my book of optimism.
I’m the optimist?
I suppose if an optimist believes in the power of hope, then I guess that label is appropriate. I remember Hunter’s words, ‘Are you always this positive?’
I turn back from the gaggle of happy friends who are now laying bets on the size of the litter—Riley stating Sakari is a Pisces, which means she’s highly fertile, whilst Josh and KJ decide to look up the average litter size of all births from the wolves—to find Hunter gone.
I look around, maybe he’s just moved to a computer and sitting at a desk or something, but Hunter is definitely not in the room. The others are too excited to have noticed, so I use the moment to slip out the door after him. Why isn’t he celebrating with the others?
In the hallway, I pause, tapping into the threads that are far more mystical than physical, sensing that he’s headed towards the enclosures. Without giving myself time to think, I turn left.
I find him standing at Sakari’s pen, fingers threaded through the wires as he watches her. She’s just stepping out of the artificial den that’s been built from rocks. This will probably be where she gives birth to the litter she’s carrying.
I know Hunter has sensed my presence because there’s a tell-tale tightening between his shoulders. He straightens, releasing the fence and gives me his usual greeting—a frown.
I smile right back. I doubt Hunter would want to know that I can just about follow him anywhere. “Congratulations.”
Hunter half-snorts, half-huffs as he turns back to watch Sakari. I have no idea what that means. “You aren’t happy?”
He glares at me, but for some reason I don’t take offense. Maybe I’m becoming immune to his glares, or maybe I can sense it’s not me he’s angry at. “Why are you here, Ava?”
Now it’s my turn to blink. Talk about a confronting question. Is it because Hunter’s hurting and I can’t stand anyone hurting? Is it because I can sense so much turmoil? Yes and yes.
But it’s more than that.
I’ve been nothing but honest with Hunter, and I’m not going to stop now. “For some reason, it’s hard to stay away.”
Hunter’s head snaps to look back at the wolves, except his eyes are shut. It looks like breathing is taking a whole lot of concentration. The fact that this is so hard for him makes me smile inside. There’s no disputing Hunter feels something.
And finding out what that is has become very, very important.
Sakari’s head perks up when she sees me and I sense her welcome. At least she’s happy to see me.
I step forward, the awareness of his body increasing as the space between us shrinks. “She’s lucky to have you all looking after her.” I hear the three pups, almost adults now, playing in the adjacent pen. “They all are.”
“There are some good people fighting for them.”
Why do I get the sense Hunter hasn’t included himself in that? I watch him, hoping he’ll turn that copper gaze my way, but he continues to watch Sakari. I decide to say it anyway. “Yes. There are.”
“They’ve all made some big sacrifices.”
“You’ve worked really hard for these wolves, Hunter. They owe you their lives. All those hours out alone on the tundra was your sacrifice.”
His jaw works, and when he finally turns to me, there’s anguish in his eyes, but also challenge. “I wasn’t always alone. I thought there was someone with me.”
Oh. I hadn’t expected that, nor for it to hurt so much. Except I hear the catch. “But there wasn’t?”
“Apparently not.”
Then why all the stay away vibes? I frown. “I don’t understand.”
“Because by losing her, I had proof of exactly who I am.”
He lost her? No wonder there’s such a sadness in his soul. “Hunter—”
“No, Ava. I’m not the person you seem to think I am. There are things I’ve done—”
“Hard choices have to be made.” Hunter had to adult far younger than most people, even Weres who tend to mature young.
“Stop, Ava.” He looks tortured. “Don’t you see I’m trying to make this as painless as possible? I’m not the one who’s part of your legacy.”
The legacy. The one I’ve never fulfilled anyway. That’s why I don’t get to explore something I’ve never felt is more right? That felt like maybe I could be someone who could fulfill whatever it is I’m supposed to do?
Sakari must sense something, because instead of hanging back and watching whatever tug-of-war seems to be happening, she trots over. Hunter goes to step back but I grasp his hand. “She’s coming to say hello.”
His muscled body freezes and I wonder if he can feel the heat and electricity between our palms.
“Sakari hasn’t come near me.” He swallows. “Not since I killed her mate.”
My chest aches at the pain in Hunter’s words and I’m at a loss of how to heal it. But just like Achak taught me the power of patience and connection, Sakari shows me that I don’t need to do anything.
She slows as she approaches us, but never falters. Stepping up to the fence she looks Hunter in the eye. Like that one look just leveled him, H
unter drops to his knees. Eye to eye, they take measure of each other. Hunter is so still I’m pretty sure he isn’t breathing.
This is so beautiful it hurts. “It looks like your bond is stronger than that.”
He shakes his head ever so slightly. “It’s because you’re here,” he says softly.
But I can see their thread, alive and invigorated, growing strong again. “It’s not me she’s saying hello to.”
As if to prove me right, Sakari takes the final step forward. She presses her nose to the fence, eyes bright and focused. Hunter raises his hand slowly, as if worried he’ll break the moment and she’ll move away. But he doesn’t realize how strong their connection is. Sakari sits, like she’s happy for this to take as long as it needs.
Hunter’s breath whooshes out as his finger slips past the wire and brushes her nose. Sakari closes her eyes as he strokes her muzzle and I can’t help my smile.
When Hunter finally breaks the moment to look up at me, I’ve already retreated several steps. I would love to stay and watch this reconnection, a part of me wishes I was part of it. But I instinctively know that Sakari is telling Hunter something.
He opens his mouth but I shake my head. Sakari needs this just as much as he does.
And although it hurts to walk away, I know I can’t make this about me.
I turn and make sure I don’t glance over my shoulder as I leave. Hopefully Sakari has shown Hunter that he’s more than he realizes.
Ava
When Hunter comes to a halt the next afternoon, his long-legged pace stopping like he just hit a brick wall, I almost laugh. Even in the gloom of the shed, I can see his surprise morph into a frown.
Instead, I bedazzle him with a smile as I push away from the quad bike. “Figured this was the time we’d go out.” I amp it up a lumen or two. “Even if you forgot to tell me.”
He recovers quickly, straightening. “We’ve got some territory to cover, which means it’s going to be a long night.
“Thought so.” I pat the bag on the back of the quad. “Which is why I packed sandwiches.”
“And the further we go north, the colder it gets.”
I tap it again. “And hot chocolate.”
He opens his mouth but I hold my hand up. “And coffee.”
You only need to spend about fifteen minutes with Hunter to know it’s his first food group.
Hunter narrows his eyes. “You remind me of my dad.”
I flick my hair back over my shoulder. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
When Hunter shakes his head, those lips of his tipping up ever so slightly, I suck in a breath. He walks over to the quad, checking the gas. “Well, we might as well get going then.”
The breath races back out. I never expected it to be that easy. I’d had images of climbing on the quad and not getting off as we argued that I was most certainly coming. It seems Hunter has learned how single-minded I can be.
Or he wants me to come…
I push that thought away. There’s optimistic and then there’s just delusional.
Hunter climbs on and I feel my heart rate pick up as I swing a leg over behind him. The sensation of our bodies touching is about to be experienced.
As I sink down, I don’t bother fighting gravity as I slide toward him. My legs touch his as my hands find his waist.
Oh my…
There’s a rapid pulse but I don’t know whose it is. It seems to start where our skin touches and finish deep in my center.
“Ready?” Hunter’s voice is husky and low, a sexy vibration that has me thinking things I’ve never considered before. Images that include skin and heat and lips. I’m glad he didn’t turn around to ask me that question because my face feels like it’s on fire.
If I were thinking straight, I’d give an answer with words longer than a syllable, but right now, my mind is mush. “Ah, yeah.”
Clearing his throat, Hunter starts the engine.
We power out over the landscape, Hunter accelerating steadily. Within a minute we’ve hit enough speed that I can feel my hair whipping back behind me and the cool air nip at any exposed skin. And even though it’s cold and I know brushing the knots out is going to be painful, I revel in the sense of exhilaration.
“How far?” I call into Hunter’s ear.
He flashes me a look over his shoulder. “Get comfortable.”
Which is exactly what I do. I settle in, hunker down a little behind the powerful, warm body in front of me, and take it all in.
Hunter avoids the puddles and bogs as we zoom over the landscape. It means the odd yank to the left or right, but I don’t mind. It’s only normal that I’d need to tighten my arms around his waist in those moments. The feeling of muscles moving, often tightening, beneath my hands, soars my heart-rate far more than the delight of traveling at speed.
It feels almost natural to chew through the miles with Hunter. We head deeper and deeper into tundra territory, the landscape becoming harsher and wilder, every inch sculpted by Mother Nature’s extremes. The cold tries to make itself more and more known, but it’s like there’s a cocoon around me. I relax into the ride, outwardly enjoying the view, secretly loving the feelings that are slowly evolving within me.
It’s about an hour later when Hunter glances back at me. “We’ve just crossed into their territory.” He accelerates again. “Now we need to get a sense of where they’ve been hanging out to set the traps.”
I start to look around a little more closely, trying to catch a glimpse of flashing white fur.
The terrain is even wilder this much further north, the air colder. We power up and down rocky hills, the ground rough and jagged. I hold on tight, but my focus is on trying to spot the wolves. But there’s nothing. No movement, no wolves.
I start to sense Hunter’s worry when we haven’t come across them a while later. He slows down, head scanning left to right. I find myself doing the same, eyes squinting, trying to find a glimpse of movement.
When I see a flash of white, I gasp and straighten. Hunter stops immediately, but I deflate when I realize it was an arctic fox. It darts away through the low shrubs and I exhale in disappointment.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
Hunter shrugs, the movement shifting beneath my palms. “Good spotting.”
I know I shouldn’t blush at that off-hand compliment, but I do. Hunter is already focused on scanning again, so I tell myself to get my head back in the game. These wolves need to be vaccinated.
As we keep going, I start to get a sense of how big this island is—these wolves could be anywhere. What’s more, I’m struck by how alone we are. The odd flash of wildlife has been the only living beings we’ve seen for hours.
And yet Hunter has spent most nights out here, alone.
No wonder his social skills leave something to be desired.
As we reach the flattened top of a hill, Hunter slows and comes to a stop. He climbs off and I realize he’s using our vantage point as a lookout. I do the same, wishing I had the same eyesight he does. The landscape reaches out for miles around us, stretching to the horizon.
Still, there’s no movement, no wolves.
I’m wondering where we’ll head next when Hunter closes his eyes, breathing in as he turns slowly in a circle. I freeze where I am. The thread that connects him to the earth looks like a fire that has just had oxygen drawn into it. It flares and brightens, gaining life and strength.
At home, seeing this web between every living being is overwhelming. It’s something I struggle to take in, to understand what I’m supposed to do with it. But out here, everything is simpler, purer, more primal. I take a deep breath too. This is what people need to see. To know.
Hunter stops, and my heady moment is fractured by the frown that blooms across his brow.
“What’s wrong?”
Hunter is facing east, the buffeting wind hitting him straight on as the frown deepens. “I’m not sure.”
I step forward. “You’ve smelled something.�
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His eyes narrow as he zeroes in on the terrain before us. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Probably.” I shrug. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Hunter finally looks at me, his copper eyes still and serious. “I think you should stay here.”
My hands shoot to my hips. “We’re not starting that again.”
“I’m serious, Ava. We don’t know what we’re going to find.”
I may not have shifted or inherited any Were traits, but I’ve grown up with them. Hunter has sensed something I can’t. “What did you smell, Hunter?”
His gaze slides away. “Blood.”
Bloody hell. Why did it have to be the one thing that curdles my gut?
Hunter walks back to the quad bike. “Wait here, I’ll check it out and come back. A wolf or a fox has probably caught themselves dinner.”
Why would it feel like a step backward if I were to stay here? I don’t know, but I don’t give myself time to analyze it. I’m striding over and climbing on in the space of a breath.
Hunter lets out a long breath before turning back to me. “You know there’s a point where stubbornness becomes stupidity, don’t you?”
Like I always do, I smile in the face of his frown. “How many times has Riley said that to you?”
This time there’s a half-chuckle as Hunter turns back and twists the key. The engine rumbles to life beneath us.
My smile is still on my face several seconds later when we hit level ground. Hunter drives due east, the quad steadily picking its way through the mosaic of puddles. We’ve only reached the next rise when Hunter stops again.
My smile fades. It’s closer than I realized.
Hunter climbs off and looks down at the foot of the hill. “It’s not far.”
I nod, his seriousness deeper than I’ve ever seen it.
“Wait here.” His glare is full of warning. I consider rolling my eyes. What’s he going to do? Frown at me? Be rude and antisocial?
Instead, I nod. Now isn’t the time to argue.
Hunter walks away, stopping three times to check that I haven’t moved from where I’m standing. Each time, I simply stand there, brushing away the stray hairs that keep flitting across my face.