Winter of the Wolf (Hunt 2)

by Cherise Sinclair

  As the women formed a circle, Thyra sauntered into the center. “Are you ready, rude rabbit?”

  Bitterness ran through Bree’s veins. Once again, she’d blundered into an idiotic shifter custom. “I’m sorry, but I have no clue what’s going on. Would someone explain?”

  “The humans must have raised you on stupid pills.” Thyra sighed loudly, getting a laugh from the two younger women. Anger sparked to life in Bree’s gut.

  “It’s like this, rabbit,” Thyra said. “I’m the alpha female, which means I’m in charge of the pack females, including you. You do what I say, when I say, and you do it respectfully—or I tear you into pieces. Clear enough for you?”

  Where did they get these leaders—Assholes ‘r’ Us? “That’s clear. I’m sorry I didn’t know who you were.” The apology stuck like dry bread in her throat

  “I’ll make sure you remember for next time.”

  Criminy. Resigning herself to a fight, Bree dropped into a defensive stance. From the way the woman moved, she should be easy enough to take down. But a person like this would only get nastier if she lost.

  Thyra’s lips curved coldly. “Trawsfur.”

  “What?”

  “We fight as wolves, stupid. We’re pack.” Thyra was stripping as she spoke, and her cold brown eyes raked over Bree. “Shift or I’ll take you on in that form.”

  Fight a full-grown wolf as a human? The memory of the hellhound’s teeth ripping into her arm made her stomach clench. Blinking back tears of frustrated anger, Bree yanked off her clothes. At least, her fur would protect her some.

  As she shifted into wolf, she felt that wonderful sense of belonging from the earth, but it didn’t last.

  She looked at Thyra. A heavy-boned wolf with dark fur. A lot bigger than Bree. As her yellow eyes focused on Bree, her lips lifted to show long fangs.

  Bree felt the fur on her neck and back rise. Nervously, she moved sideways. Her front legs got mixed up, and a chill slid through her. I don’t know how to fight in this form.

  Thyra charged, snapping at her muzzle. Bree tried to dodge, and the wolf smashed into her shoulder. Bree went down hard.

  Scrambling up, Bree tried to defend herself, but the wolf was all over her, biting at her ears, face, and body.

  Bree reared onto her hind legs to grapple, but the other’s size and weight over-balanced her.

  Bree landed on her side. Jaws closed over her throat, the teeth bearing down.

  “Kill her, Thyra,” Klaus yelled, his ugly voice thick with anticipation.

  Bree struggled, paws scrambling futilely. I can’t breathe.

  “What in the Mother’s name is going on here?” Angie’s firm voice.

  The jaws tightened. Darkness edged Bree’s vision.

  “Thyra, you won. You kill her, and the Cosantir will banish you. Just sayin’.”

  Thyra growled. After a long second, she let go.

  Air. Tongue hanging out, Bree sucked in air. Half conscious, she tried to regain her feet. Tried again. Finally, she stood, wide-legged and panting.

  Thyra had already shifted and pulled on her clothes. She glanced scornfully at Bree. “Remember your lesson, rabbit.” As she walked out of the park beside Klaus, the other women trailed behind. Only Angie lingered.

  Thyra turned. “Leave, Angie. Now.”

  Angie’s jaw tightened, but she obeyed.

  Tail drooping, head hanging, Bree stood alone.

  After a minute, she shifted to human. An icy wind whipped around her, and she shivered uncontrollably, her insides as cold as her skin. Clumsily, she pulled on her clothes, the fabric painfully scraping bites and bloody spots. A warm trickle ran down her face—her cheek had a long gash. Thyra had been a thorough wolfy, hadn’t she?

  As the first drops of cold rain fell, Bree walked out of the park on unsteady legs. I hate this place.

  * * *

  Shay jogged up the porch steps and entered the lodge. Despite the pouring rain, satisfaction curled like a satisfied puppy inside him.

  Sprawled on the big leather couch in the main sitting area, Zeb looked up from his current mystery. “You been in a farmer’s chicken-coop?”

  Grinning, Shay dropped into the adjacent chair. “I rented out cabins five through seven for two weeks.”

  “This early in the season?”

  “Some state office in Olympia closed for remodeling, giving their people unexpected time off. A bunch of accountants wanted to get away from the city.”

  “Good for us.” Zeb frowned. “What’s booked?”

  Shay stared at the ceiling, doing a mental count. “Cabins three and four have two couples here for a long weekend. They leave Tuesday. Ten has the old guy. The fly-tier.”

  “Scrawny. Beard to his belt?”

  “That’s him. Like an underfed dwarf.” Shay smiled. “You know, the season hasn’t even begun. We’re going to do okay, a bhràthair.” He rose and yanked Zeb to his feet. “Let’s get a beer and celebrate. Where’s Breanne? I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

  “Sounds like someone’s in the kitchen.”

  “Well, we don’t have brownies. Must be her. Cooking.” Shay’s stomach rumbled with anticipation.

  “Speaking of brownies, you think we could lure some here?”

  The thought was appealing. The small OtherFolk would keep a kitchen spotless in exchange for cream and sweets. Shay shook his head. “They only move in once a family is stable. We’re not.”

  “Oh. Right.” The flash of disappointment on Zeb’s face was quickly covered.

  His brother wanted to stay in Cold Creek. Guilt settled on Shay’s shoulders.

  Zeb stopped in the kitchen doorway and glanced back. “Since it’s your fault we don’t get brownies, you should do all the cleanup.”

  His heart lightened. “Don’t even put a paw on that trail.” With a thump, Shay knocked Zeb sideways and stepped in first. The kitchen smelled like rich roasting meat, and Shay’s saliva glands jumped into action. “What are you cooking, a leannan? Are you going to share?”

  “Roast beef.” Breanne was bent over, peering into the oven, and her ass in the tight jeans made a shape like a plump heart. Shay hardened as other appetites wakened. His fingers curled, wanting to grip her hips, to hold her for his thrusts. He forced out a slow breath.

  Zeb gave him a wry look of understanding and adjusted himself inside his jeans.

  Giving a melodic and so-very-female laugh, Breanne poured something on the meat. “Of course, I’m sharing.”

  I want to share. You. With my brother. Shay closed his eyes. Bad wolf.

  “Herne help us.” Zeb’s mutter sounded as splintered as raw-cut wood. “One cold drink coming up.”

  As Zeb rummaged in the fridge, Shay took himself and his very visible erection over to the oak table. A large salad bowl filled with greens occupied the center. Shay set out the stacked plates and silverware.

  She closed the oven door and turned.

  Though he knew her face was flushed from heat and not from arousal, the knowledge didn’t convince his dick to ease up. And then he saw the long gash on her cheek, mottling her fair skin. “By Herne’s antlers, what happened?”

  Startled at his loud voice, she startled back and bumped into the oven.

  Zeb turned, looked, and snarled. As he stepped toward her, the scent of his anger filled the room. “Who hit you?”

  She held her hands up as if to push them away.

  They both took a step back, but by Herne, it was difficult, and even harder when Shay noticed bite marks on her wrists and arms where she’d pushed up the sleeves of her sweater. The tip of her ear was ripped. Shay’s eyes narrowed. There was a lumpy area—bandages—under one jeans’ leg. “Your leg, too.”

  “And side,” Zeb said. “You fought someone.”

  “We’re not angry at you, lass.” Shay gentled his tone. “Just tell us what happened.”

  The unhappiness that filled her eyes wrenched his heart. His instincts couldn’t be denied. He took a
step forward and folded her in his arms.

  After a second of resistance, she melted against him, all soft curves and sweet female.

  He closed his eyes as the satisfaction of being needed filled empty places inside him. Unable to let go, he looked over at Zeb and got a wry smile in return.

  Want to keep her; can’t keep her. Their pack of two must run alone. With a sigh, Shay pulled back and took a firm grip on Breanne’s upper arms. She’d stay put until he had answers to his questions. “Talk to us.”

  Tears sheened her eyes, but she blinked them away. Such a tough female wolf. Such a battered one.

  Zeb sat down at the table.

  The silence forced her into speech faster than yelling would have. “I met Thyra.” A spark of anger showed. “Apparently a pack has an alpha female as well as a guy.”

  “A female did that?” Zeb asked in disbelief.

  “Oh.” Breanne sighed. “She certainly did.”

  Stunned, Shay released her. She took a seat at the table across from Zeb.

  “We should have checked out the females for you,” Shay said. “I’m sorry, Breanne.”

  Zeb’s jaw was tight as he echoed, “We’re sorry.”

  “Oh, guys.” She reached across the table to pat Zeb’s hand, and surprise blanked the cahir’s face. Shay almost smiled. The male wasn’t used to forgiveness.

  “Actually, I doubt a warning would have helped,” she said. “If somebody shoves me, I’ll push back. That’s all it took. She decided I needed to be disciplined.”

  “She did that much damage? In my pa”—by the God, what was he saying?— “I’ve never seen an alpha female do more than nip.”

  “This fucking pack is as warped as a board left in the rain.” Zeb’s face softened. “How bad are you hurt?”

  Breanne shrugged. “You guessed it all. I’m okay.”

  Her voice sounded hoarse, Shay realized. He grasped her shoulder and tugged her turtleneck sweater away from her neck. Red-purple bruises ran down the sides of her throat.

  From across the table came a low growl.

  “Didn’t you stop fighting when she got your neck?” Shay strove to keep his tone level. Even in male challenges, the victor rarely went that far.

  She pulled her sweater out of his grip. “I went limp the minute I felt her teeth on my throat, and after she cut off my air, it wasn’t as if I could fight very well.”

  “Your air?” Another growl from Zeb. “Was she trying to kill you?”

  Breanne frowned. “I think she got carried away. She let go when Angie arrived and said something about the Cosantir.”

  Anger burned in Shay’s guts, hotter than the oven behind him. He was powerless. What he wanted to do… “Males can’t interfere in female business.”

  “Fuck that. I’ll kill her,” Zeb rumbled.

  Shay gave him a half-amused look, despite his agreement. “You might try. I don’t think you could.” A male’s instinct was to protect the female, no matter how angry he got. Did Gerhard know his alpha female was doing this?

  With a sigh, Shay cupped Breanne’s face, wincing at the gash. “At least, you’ll heal more quickly now than you would as a human.”

  “That’s—Oh, the food!” She pulled away and ran to the oven. “Just in time.” She started pulling pans out, and the scents filling the room made Shay moan. “You guys finish setting the table and get drinks while I make gravy.”

  Gravy? Shay stared as she dished up roast beef, potatoes, and carrots. She pulled something else from the oven, and he recognized a scent from his childhood. “Rolls? You made rolls?” Hell, he’d bare his throat for home-cooked rolls.

  He and Zeb barely managed to restrain themselves until she sat down. Then it was war.

  Finished long before, Breanne propped her chin in her hand and watched the two of them. “I guess all those muscles burn a lot of calories.”

  A female noticing a male’s body was a good sign. The next step was to get her delicate hands sliding over all those muscles. He cursed under his breath. If he didn’t stop thinking like this, he’d be in misery before the full moon.

  Breanne would be at the Gathering this time.

  The thought of how she’d rub against him, growl her need as he took her, as he’d bury himself so deep inside her slick flesh that—he shook his head—it was going to be a long, uncomfortable week.

  Criminy, the guys ate as if they’d been starving for a month. Bree loved watching them.

  She saw Zeb’s surprise when he started to use knife and fork on the roast and realized he only needed the fork. His eyes had half-closed in pleasure with the first bite of potatoes.

  Shay had wolfed down five rolls, and his blissful smile was as evident with the last as the first. He finally leaned back with a groan and patted his stomach. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a finer meal. Ever. Your humans in Seattle must be missing you mightily.”

  Her smile faded as she remembered the regulars who had visited her restaurant. She hauled in a breath. That’s my home. I need to go home. “I miss them too.”

  Shay took her hand and kissed her fingers. “Sorry, a leannan. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

  “Bree.” Zeb’s black gaze had softened as if he could feel her pain. “Do you want to cook for a crowd?”

  “Here?” She glanced at Shay who looked confused.

  Zeb leaned his elbows on the table. “Thorson, the bookstore owner, said the Wildwood held a barbeque every other Sunday during the season. All you can eat for a set price. Open to lodge guests and townspeople alike.”

  “Really.” Shay’s eyes narrowed. “That sounds like a lot of work for—”

  “A barbeque wouldn’t be that hard,” Bree interrupted. “That must be why that grill out back is so big. If one of you does that part, I can manage the rest of the food.”

  “I’m good at barbequing.” Zeb noted her surprise and added, “The Elder I stayed with…” A flash of grief darkened his eyes and tightened the muscles in his jaw. “Elder Lain only knew how to barbecue.”

  “Then Shay can handle the people and money.” Bree grinned, delight rising in her. A challenge. “It’s what he’s good at, after all.”

  “Hey, my fried chicken is fantastic.”

  “When it’s not burned,” Zeb said, earning a glare. “The shed’s full of redwood tables and chairs. They’ll need cleaning and refinishing.”

  “The grill needs work as well.” Shay tapped his fingers on the table in calculation. “It’ll take time to get the word out. Let’s plan on the last Sunday of the month.”

  Not quite two weeks. She could figure out a menu, get familiar with this kitchen’s quirks, and pick up any equipment she needed, although the kitchen was surprisingly well equipped. Someone here had liked to cook. “That’s a workable time.”

  “Keep your receipts for the supplies. We’ll have this business separate from the lodging one, so you can get a percentage of the profit,” Shay said. “I have a feeling it’ll do well. There aren’t many social diversions in town.”

  “A percentage?” She’d never worked for anything but a salary. Now she had a deal with the diner, and she’d have money coming from the lodge. A business of her own. A thrill like the finest champagne bubbled up. “That will be acceptable,” she managed, trying for a blasé tone.

  When both men laughed, all she could do was grin.

  * * *

  Two nights later, Bree dropped onto the shaggy rug in front of the living area fireplace and groaned. Heat radiated from the crackling fire with soothing warmth as she rolled onto her stomach and stretched. God, everything ached.

  She heard a thump and a low voice. “What’s wrong?”

  She opened her eyes.

  Zeb knelt beside her, worry on his scarred face. “Are you hurt?”

  “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” His book lay on the floor, the cover showing a blood-drenched body. Why did someone who fought hellhounds want to read gory mysteries? “You are so strange.”

  His lips
quirked. “You’re not injured.”

  “Oh yes I am, you sadist.” She tried to sit and groaned, flopping back down. Her eyes closed. “Do you know how many tables I sanded clean?”

  A low chuckle. “Sore?”

  “You have no idea.”

  She heard him move, then felt him over her, straddling her, knees on each side of her hips.

  Panic blasted through her. She pushed up.

  He swatted her butt lightly and growled, “Stay put, little female.” As his scent swept over her, reminding her of a shadowy glade she’d found near a stream, she relaxed.

  His weight shifted, and his oversized hands closed on her aching shoulders, squeezing and releasing as his thumbs dug into the knots beside her spine.

  “Oooooh, yes.”

  His rare laugh rumbled out. He eased up, running his palms up and down, the warmth loosening more tension. “Did Calum have any news for you from the other territories?”

  She felt a twinge of grief and let it go. “Not much. My parents might have lived in Gray Cliff in Rainier Territory, but hellhounds wiped out the town a while back.” She sighed. “Did you know there’s a shifter on the Seattle police force?”

  “Heard that.”

  Bree smiled at the obvious disgust in Zeb’s voice. “He said the summer I was found, the area was full of flooding and car accidents, as well as a few murders and a hellhound. There’s no telling what happened to them.”

  “That bother you?”

  “A little. You know, I always thought I’d been abandoned, but Calum said shifters are fanatical about children. That makes me feel better.” He pushed on her low back muscles, and she sighed. “What were your parents like?”

  The hands hesitated, then continued with long strokes. “No fathers—my littermates and I were full moon bred. My mother died a few years after we were born, and my uncle got stuck with us.” His voice was flat.

  “Not a good father figure?” Bree asked lightly.

  “He hated people. Hated cubs. Didn’t talk. Much like me.”

  “Hardly. You like people. You just don’t want anyone to know.”