Wolf Kiss (Warrior Wolves Book 1)

by Christine DePetrillo

  Meredith snickered. “Everybody gets crushes. Love is what makes this planet spin, boy.”

  Dylan’s brows furrowed over his blue eyes as he chewed on that for a few moments. He always considered new information carefully before accepting it. Brandy was sure he’d be an amazing scientist when he grew up, and while she was eager to see him become one, she also didn’t want this time—this little boy who still needed her time—to pass too quickly.

  “Maybe Lug can get her to eat then.” Dylan got to his feet and opened Nymph’s cage.

  As usual, she moved to the back, her wide eyes never leaving Dylan as he went to the bin and lifted out a large piece of meat. With a click of his tongue, he called Lug to come to him. The wolf lumbered over, his nose working overtime and his long, pink tongue licking his mouth in anticipation of an additional meal.

  “Sit, boy.” Dylan held the meat out of reach as Lug dropped his back end in a sloppy sit. He wasn’t a dog after all, but for some reason, Dylan had managed to teach the wolf a few commands. “Good boy.”

  After a solid head rubbing, Dylan put the meat on the floor between Lug and Nymph’s open cage. Lug eyed the meat, but didn’t budge because Dylan hadn’t told him to.

  Brandy was overjoyed that Dylan had such a scientific approach to solving problems at the sanctuary. She loved watching him interact with the wolves and couldn’t wait to see what contributions he’d make to the world of wildlife biology.

  “Look at how much Lug wants that meat, Nymph,” Dylan said in a soft, soothing voice. “He knows it’s so tasty.” He glanced back at Meredith and Brandy with a little smirk. “Even without barbecue sauce.”

  Brandy nudged him with the tip of her boot. “Funny man.”

  He turned his attention back to the wolves. “C’mon, Nymph. If you eat this, you’ll feel better and can run around outside with Lug and me.” He threw an arm around Lug who licked his cheek. “Wouldn’t that be fun, girl?”

  Dylan nudged the meat a little closer to Nymph’s cage, and Brandy gasped softly when the wolf’s front paw crept forward. Meredith clamped a hand on Brandy’s forearm and the two of them shared a look of disbelief.

  “That’s it, Nymph,” Dylan continued. “Come check it out. I’ll bet you’re hungry.” Again, he slid the meat closer.

  Again, Nymph edged toward it.

  Lug offered a quiet snuffle of encouragement and right before Brandy’s eyes, Nymph stuck her head out of the cage and sniffed the meat.

  No one moved.

  No one talked.

  No one breathed.

  In four quick bites, Nymph literally wolfed down the meat. When she was done, she tilted her head as a large German shepherd might do and gave Lug a good once-over. Apparently deeming him not dangerous, she came out of the cage, sat beside him, and pushed her nose into his ear in a greeting.

  Like a perfect gentleman, Lug stayed completely still as Nymph sniffed and inspected, judged and assessed. When she eased into a lie down position, Lug did the same and the two wolves looked at Dylan as if to say, “Okay, now what?”

  Dylan whispered while barely moving, “Do you have any treats on you, Mom?”

  Brandy dug in the pocket of her cargo shorts where treats could always be found and slowly handed him a few.

  “What nice wolves,” he crooned as he held out both his hands, one to each wolf, with treats in his palm.

  Lug snatched his treats and crunched noisily, while Nymph took a more gentle, polite approach.

  “Amazing,” Meredith whispered. “The kid’s got a gift.”

  “What he’s got is superior DNA.” Brandy elbowed Meredith.

  “Nothing but truth in those words, honey.”

  “I think this answers my question about wolf crushes,” Dylan said. “They fell in love like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  Brandy sighed. If only it were that easy for the rest of us.

  ****

  “Everything sounds great in there now.” Parker draped his stethoscope around his neck and felt around Midir’s abdomen. The brown female wolf had come to Silver Moon about three months ago with a punctured lung from an arrow that another veterinarian had tended to. The wound had appeared to heal nicely, but Midir had continued to wheeze and had very low energy. Parker soon figured out a piece of arrow was still in her lung. He’d performed surgery and Midir’s breathing had improved along with her liveliness. She’d even raced with Saita, the sanctuary’s fastest gray wolf.

  “Your amazing veterinary skills continue to dazzle, Dr. Daniels.” Brandy applauded.

  “Thank you, thank you.” Parker held up his hands, his gaze dropping humbly to his feet. “Please, if you’ll all form a line, I’ll be happy to autograph your breasts. Who has a Sharpie?”

  Brandy shoved him. “Why is it that I continue to hang out with delusional people?”

  “Because we’re fun.” He ran his hands over Midir and rubbed her until a low, purring noise rumbled in her throat. “Yes, you like that, don’t you, pretty girl? Yes, you do.”

  Midir licked Parker’s fingers when he stopped, earning her a few more pats before he guided her off the exam table. He shed his gloves, washed his hands, and turned to Brandy, his mouth opened to say something, but his phone rang in his pocket. Holding up a finger, he dug around for the phone.

  “It’s Chella.”

  Of course it is. Brandy clenched her teeth then released her jaw, reminding herself that she didn’t care if Parker chose to date a self-absorbed, money-hungry fashionista who didn’t think saving wolves was important. Not her concern. Her buddy seemed truly happy and that was all that mattered. Still, she had to tell herself this often because it never stuck. What did he see in her?

  “Hey, baby,” he said after tapping the screen.

  Brandy wandered to the other end of the clinic to give him some privacy and spare herself from witnessing the inevitable mushiness. Parker was a hopeless romantic and had no shame when it came to professing his feelings. It could be adorable. It could also make Brandy dry heave.

  She busied herself with inventorying supplies, but bits of conversation drifted her way.

  No, I love you more.

  Yes, I do.

  What’s better than wonderful? Because you’re more than wonderful.

  I can’t stop thinking about that thing you did last night.

  Brandy started humming “The Star-Spangled Banner.” She did not want to overhear anything about what Parker and Chella did last night. Especially when all she’d done was bake a chocolate cake with Dylan and devour a good portion of it until Meredith had walked in the kitchen, gasped, and shook her head disapprovingly at the two of them. The cake had been great. Spending time joking around with Dylan had been awesome. Even trying to convince her mother to have some cake had been entertaining.

  It was after the cake had been put away, the kitchen cleaned, and the son tucked in that her Friday night had taken a turn for the worse. At thirty-five years old, Brandy should not have been in her pajamas and neck deep in research by eight o’clock. Research on clinical lycanthropy no less. A completely absurd, barely medical condition in which a person believes himself or herself to be an animal. Brandy couldn’t help herself though. Something about the crazy topic fascinated her. She had inhaled every bit of information on clinical lycanthropy she could find over the years. All in secret of course. If Parker ever discovered this little obsession, he’d think she’d gone mad. She could probably kiss goodbye the association the sanctuary had with the university he taught at, too, if anyone there found out. She’d be better off admitting she bought supermarket tabloids and read them cover to cover.

  No. Some things were meant to go to the grave with her. This was one of those things.

  “Hey, B?” Parker’s voice stirred her out of reviewing her pathetic Friday night.

  “Yeah?” She turned to face him.

  He still had the phone to his ear. “Chella’s cousin, Marshall, just moved to Canville, and she thinks he might be a good match f
or you.”

  Ugh.

  “Oh, Park, I don’t—” She stopped when he held up his hand.

  “C’mon. We’ll double. It won’t be awkward. I promise.”

  “Liar.” And why did Chella want to set her up? The two of them weren’t exactly besties. What was wrong with this Marshall guy?

  Parker laughed. “When have you known me to lie, B?”

  Like never. Damn.

  Meredith came into the clinic, and Brandy panicked. If her mother knew what was being proposed, she’d be all over it. She wanted Brandy to find a man more than Brandy did.

  “Mom, I think Dylan was looking for you back at the house.” She grabbed Meredith by the shoulders and spun her around back toward the door.

  “I was just with him. He’s in the library helping me plan next week’s story hours.” Meredith’s brows lowered as she looked at Brandy then at Parker and back to Brandy.

  Parker marched over and Brandy stepped into his path.

  “Don’t. I beg you.” She met his kind, brown gaze and knew he was only trying to help. He was good like that.

  But seriously. Meredith did not need to know about this offer.

  “Are you trying to set her up, Parker?” Her mother nudged her out of the way.

  “How did you…” Brandy was always amazed by her mother’s intuitive powers.

  “Why, yes, Meredith, I am.” Parker shot her a grin. “Don’t you think it would be a great idea for Brandy to come out with me, Chella, and Marshall?”

  “That depends on who Marshall is.”

  Good old Mom. Always carefully protecting her brood even if she was nosey about their love lives.

  Or lack thereof.

  “Marshall is Chella’s cousin,” Parker said.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Meredith put her hands on her hips in a move Brandy had seen her use successfully on those less than cooperative field trip visitors.

  “Wrong with him?” Parker listened for a minute as Chella no doubt gave him a list of all the ways this Marshall dude was perfect.

  Yeah, so perfect he needed to be set up on a blind date.

  Brandy smacked a hand to her forehead when she realized Parker—and Chella—thought she needed to be set up on a blind date.

  “Chella says there’s nothing wrong with him. He’s just new here and doesn’t know anyone,” Parker said.

  “What does he do for work?” Meredith had shifted into interview mode.

  Parker relayed the question then said, “Computer programmer.”

  “Hmm.” Meredith puckered her lips. “Maybe he’d be a better fit for Sheyanne over at the town hall? You know, the cute data assistant with the long blonde hair.”

  Parker shook his head. “No, Chella says Marshall likes redheads.” He winked at Brandy who suddenly wished she’d chosen to dye her hair black this morning.

  “Well, that settles it then.” Meredith turned to Brandy. “What have you got to lose, sweetie? I’ll watch Dylan tonight. Have fun.”

  With that, she gave Parker a wave and left the clinic.

  “What do you say, B?” He gave her hopeful eyes.

  And because she didn’t have a good answer to the what-have-you-got-to-lose question, she nodded.

  Barely.

  Smiling, Parker grabbed her shoulder and shook her as he told Chella it was on. He walked away to iron out the where and when details while Brandy kneeled before Midir who had been nosing around the clinic.

  “If ever there was a time you wolves wanted to revolt, drag me deep into the woods, and leave me for dead, this would be the day to do it.” She nuzzled Midir’s neck, knowing full well being torn apart by wolves would be better than a blind date.

  She’d attempt to be optimistic. Maybe Marshall would turn out to be her soul mate.

  If such a thing existed.

  Chapter Three

  With another snap of lightning, a raven-haired woman appeared, a foggy mist surrounding her as she approached Reardon and his men. The mist dissipated by the time she stood in front of them. Leafy garland was woven into her black tresses, and her dress was made of layered ferns. Her skin was luminescent, shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow, but her eyes were a fiery violet, all too ready to cut into Reardon.

  She was as beautiful as she was frightening.

  One by one, Reardon’s men shifted into complete wolf form. Sometimes fear and other extreme emotions could bring on the change. Reardon could barely swallow as he fought to remain in human form.

  “You do not consider the ability I’ve bestowed upon you a gift, Seventh Son?” Her voice was musical, but it made Reardon’s skin prickle all the same.

  He bowed before her. “My apologies, fair goddess.”

  An invisible force ripped Reardon out of his bow. His body was not under his control as his head was wrenched up to look at her.

  “Your apologies are not enough, wolf. You have shared your gift in a manner it was not meant to be shared. You have used your gift to kill. You have insulted me.”

  “I didn’t intend—”

  “To kill?” Flidae’s eyes flared brighter, her beautiful face transforming into something Reardon was certain he’d have nightmares about for the rest of his life… however long that might be. She rose to a height that towered over all of them. At a height that towered over most men and a body full of muscle, Reardon never felt small.

  He did right now.

  Thick, black clouds formed overhead. When another flash of lightning lit up the shores, rain fell, beating against Reardon and his men.

  “You most certainly did intend to kill, McAlator. You forget I can see into the souls of all wild things. As part wolf, you are part wild thing.” Flidae hovered above them, her hair swirling around her like thick, black rope—rope ready to hang Reardon and his men who were still in wolf form, their noses to the ground in submission.“Your intentions are as clear to me as they are to you. You purposely turned your comrades, not only without my consent, but without theirs as well. You let your thirst for fame and riches take control. You feared losing in battle and took a coward’s course of action.”

  Reardon wanted to disagree, to yell back in defense, to deny all Flidae had said, but he couldn’t. She spoke the truth, and he hated himself as soft whines emanated from his four closest men.

  Flidae floated above him and he wondered what she was doing to his wolves.

  “Your wolves?” She let out an echoing laugh that hurt Reardon’s head. He hated how easily she could read his thoughts. “Do not make yourself out to be more important than you are, wolf. You are mine, and as such, any wolves you make are also mine. Do you know what this means?”

  Reardon shook his head, trying too hard not to shift under the pressure of her power to answer with actual words. The rain was like spear tips against his skin, and he couldn’t stop the shiver the cold wetness caused.

  “It means I decide how to punish you for your transgressions.”

  In the blink of an eye, Flidae shrank to a petite woman’s size. Unaffected by the rain, she slinked up to Reardon, and he had to look down to meet her simmering gaze. Her form was harmless, but he was not fool enough to believe she couldn’t strike him down where he stood. Part of him believed she meant to do just that.

  “It is my job to protect wild things, Reardon McAlator. Whether you know it or not, I’ve protected you since the day you came into this world. As a Seventh Son born on a December full moon, you were bestowed with a gift I do not give out carelessly. My decision was carefully made, matching your soul to this body and this gift.” She gestured to him then to the wolves writhing on the muddy ground at their feet. “And you chose not to honor my decision.”

  “Then why give me the power to transform others if it was not your will for me to do so?” He knew he was pressing his luck by questioning her again, but his moments left to live were probably few anyway. What did it matter now?

  Flidae narrowed her eyes at him. “That power was to be used for one purpose and one purpos
e only.”

  “What purpose is that?”

  “To change your soul mate should she want to be like you.”

  Reardon nearly laughed in her face. Soul mate? As if he’d even considered finding one with the life he lived. No lass would accept a man like him who killed for money and roamed the lands in search of battle. He didn’t plan to settle down and churn out heirs, especially if he could potentially father a Seventh Son like himself and put the child in a situation even remotely like the one he found himself in now.

  Besides, he wasn’t worthy of a lass’s love. Not with the blood he had on his hands.

  “Not true, wolf. Not true at all.” Flidae smiled. “You might think you are not worthy, but the right lass can see the things you don’t know about yourself, the things you don’t allow yourself to see, the things that might redeem you.”

  She threw her hands over her head, and Reardon cursed himself for flinching as if she were about to strike him a blow. With a wave of her arms, the four wolves around them changed back into men. Naked men, their torn clothes littering the ground, mud splattering their flesh.

  “As punishment for what you’ve done as men and as wolves,” Flidae said, “you shall no longer be under my protection nor shall you remain a pack together. I banish you five from this time and place. Ireland has no room for those who disrespect the gods and goddesses. I am, however, fair and choose to believe you will repent during your time away. Therefore, I will allow you back under my protection when you do something worthy, something so selfless that I can feel your heart growing. Do not disappoint me, wolves.”

  A final crackle of light lit up the area, blinding Reardon and making him cover his head. When he opened his eyes, the beautiful shores of his beloved Ireland were gone. Instead, he was naked in a forest, damp leaves beneath his bare ass and a horrible hollow feeling filling his chest.

  Where was he? Where were his men? What was he supposed to do now? Being naked in the woods did not leave him a great many options.

  Think. He’d led a powerful army. He’d enjoyed victory in battle after battle. He’d managed to come before a goddess and keep his life. He could figure out what should happen next.