Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)

by T. S. Joyce

  “Motherfucker,” he murmured, studying her rental car window. Roman’s handprints had dented it enough that the window pane was now stuck inside the damn door. Laugh and joke all he wanted, Roman still had the same temper.

  Asher, he barely recognized anymore. Not only was he bigger with a slew of new ink, he felt different, too. Even more dominant. Even quieter. Darker. More dangerous, and Gentry couldn’t get a read on his thoughts at any given moment. Asher had one hell of a poker face now. Maybe he would show up to the Four Horsemen tonight, but probably not, as was evident from him currently shoving his duffle bag into the bed of his black-on-black Tundra.

  Gentry shoved a piece of cardboard over Blaire’s window and bit off a long piece of duct tape, then began to secure it. The snow was falling steadily, and the last thing she needed was a pile of the white stuff to sit in when they took it to the auto-body shop in the morning. He could fix a lot of things, but this was out of his wheel house. No, not just this. Rangeley was out of his wheel house. What the fuck was he doing here? He could rent this place or, hell, even sell it to some small business guru who would hopefully get it up and running again. And then he could follow Blaire to her hometown and give it a go at making her happy. Or if he couldn’t manage that—and there were no guarantees because he’d never paired up before—at the very least, he could keep her safe. He could watch over her. He would be good at that. He’d trained his body for war all these years when he’d hunted the wild packs. Sure, the goal had always been to let as many survive as possible, and he’d saved a lot of wolves by taking out the problem animals instead of giving the ranchers free rein to annihilate entire packs, but he’d bled for that job. And in turn, he’d become more of a monster than his brothers or the Bone-Rippers realized.

  But the Bone-Rippers were too uncertain right now for him to feel any comfort about Blaire being on the same continent with them.

  Just like when he’d hunted the wild packs, it was easy to sense the problem animals. Rhett was top of that list, but who were his allies? Who had backed his play to take the pack? Gentry by no means had all the answers yet, and it would be a slow stalk until he had a better understanding of the new pack dynamics, but culling the bad wolf could potentially save the rest of the pack. Then he could leave Rangeley and hope for a life with Blaire without those pestering loose ends tripping him up.

  He couldn’t have a future with Blaire until he took care of his past.

  And if she wanted to see the good, the bad, and the ugly, as she’d put it, maybe he should let her stay. Blaire had told him everything Odine had said while they were in the shower, so he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Blaire was on the Bone-Rippers’ radar. Nothing happened in this town without the pack knowing about it.

  They wouldn’t try anything in a public bar, and Blaire was so damn charming maybe she could sway a few of the pack members into liking her. Cause some dissention in the ranks. “Stir up the hive” as Odine had put it. That witch had her reasons for causing trouble with the Bone-Rippers, and Gentry would keep an eye on that, but his reasons for creating a buzz were different. He wanted to watch reactions, watch loyalty lines, see who could be saved, see who needed to be protected, just like when he hunted the wild wolves that were preying on ranchers’ livestock. Now he was going to hunt Rhett and unearth all the shit he’d done to steal the throne of the Bone-Rippers, formerly the Striker Pack. Formerly his father’s pack. Formerly a good, town-protecting pack.

  The door to Blaire’s cabin banged closed, and she jogged down the stairs looking like a million bucks. Her dark jeans clung to her curves like a second skin, and she was zipping up her jacket over a sky-blue sweater that made her eyes look jungle green. She’d smoked up her eyes with dark make-up and wore her red-gold hair in sexy waves that were long enough to reach the bottom of those perfect tits of hers. God, he would never get tired of looking at her, but he had to play it cool. If a woman like her found out just how obsessed he was, she would run for the hills.

  Blaire was tough as nails, and had a mouth to match, but her divorce had hurt her deeply and made her a little skittish at times, which is why her declaration that she wasn’t leaving him meant so damn much. She’d buckled her legs against any forward motion the second he’d suggested her going back to her hometown early. Down to his soul, he respected the hell out of this woman.

  She flashed him a bright white smile and ran the last steps, flung her arms around him, and jumped. His clumsy girl nearly took them to the ground, but Gentry was quick at recovering.

  “God, you weigh a ton,” he joked, pretending to drop her.

  “Stop!” she exclaimed. “You’ll give me a complex.”

  “About what?” he asked, gripping her ass with both hands and jiggling it. This was making him want a round two at taking her from behind. “I think your ass is my favorite part to grab. Your boobs are fucking tens too, but this ass, Trouble. I want to bite it.”

  “Okay, never mind on the complex, I’m good, butt-man, and no biting because I want to survive.”

  “Not a break-the-skin nip, but a little…love bite.”

  “Let’s make-out,” she said with a naughty grin.

  Gentry laughed and kissed the mango gloss off her lips. No one had ever amused him like she did. She was playful in a way he’d never sensed in anyone else. He could’ve stayed here all night, pressing her against the rental car, lost in exploring her mouth and body, but after a few minutes, Blaire began to shiver.

  Gentry eased back and frowned. “Are you cold?”

  “Well, yeah! It’s freezing out here, and I’m not a werewolf.”

  “Oh.” Being a human probably sucked. “Okay, we need to have a serious discussion about saying that word in town. Werewolves aren’t out to the public, obviously, and hinting that they exist will get you—”

  “Let me guess,” she said sarcastically. “It’ll get me killed.” She lowered to her feet, pitched to the side, righted herself as he chuckled at her lack of grace, and then she pretended to zip her lips. “Don’t worry, Chaos. Your million secrets are safe with me. Although I did tell my best friend you are an animal in the sack,” she murmured, making her way toward his truck, which was already turned on and warming up for her. “I think it was the filthiest thing I’ve ever said to someone. Ashlyn said she was proud of me for getting laid, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her how much more it is that we’re doing. Is it weird that I want to keep what we’re building to myself for a while?” she asked, turning her pretty gaze on him at the passenger’s side door.

  “No, not weird. I like the thought of having you all to myself for a bit, too. Well…I guess it’s different because you’ve met all my family now.”

  “And they don’t approve.”

  “Does that bother you?” he asked, helping her into his truck.

  “Heck yeah, it bothers me! My mom is going to love you, and Ashlyn will, too, but your brothers will probably never accept me on account of my human-ness and all. Which, by the way, is ridiculous and super judgmental.”

  “So you’re judging their judgmental-ness.”

  “Precisely,” she said with a megawatt grin that left his heart stuttering in his chest.

  The most beautiful woman in the entire world was sitting in the front seat of his beater truck, smiling at him like he wasn’t a monster, even though she’d seen both sides of him.

  “When you’re thirty, I’ll be thirty-four,” she said out of the blue as he pulled out of the parking lot between the cabins.

  He tossed her a grin because she had to be joking, but she looked back at him with wide, worried eyes.

  Gentry asked, “Does the age difference bother you?”

  “I’m afraid it will eventually bother you. You’re young and all muscled up and have tattoos and scars and zero face-wrinkles, and you can have any woman you want, Gentry. Literally, anyone you want. I’m practically a mummy,” she muttered.

  That was ridiculous and made him laugh out loud. “Woman, I’m
a damn werewolf, and you accepted that in about three seconds. I’ve given zero thoughts to you being older than me. You fit me fine the way you are. You aren’t a mummy. You’re perfect.”

  “Swear it doesn’t bother you?”

  Gentry shook his head, pulled her hand into his lap, and pressed her palm against the bulge in his pants, still raging thanks to their little make-out session a minute ago. “I swear. Besides, if anyone saw us out together, they would assume I’m older than you.”

  “Liar and flatterer. You are just trying to secure yourself a blow job.”

  “I’m serious. I’m a foot taller than you and quieter. That could pass as more mature in some circles, Trouble. No one is going to care that you’re robbing the cradle.”

  She swatted him, and he winced like it hurt so she wouldn’t feel weak.

  “Oh, this is my favorite song,” she said, turning up the radio.

  He arched his eyebrow and tried not to laugh. “It’s a condom commercial. See? I’m more mature.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she murmured, her cute little chin lifted in the air as she pulled a pair of pink mittens onto her hands. The color matched her rosy cheeks. She belted out the entire jingle to the condom commercial. He loved everything about her.

  “Are you happy?” he asked suddenly. Her answer mattered to him a terrifying amount.

  Blaire slid her hand into his and rested it on his thigh. “I’m happy with you. I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to be moving on with my life, with my friends and family, and with my job. I’m not happy that you’re taking on this crazy town by yourself. When we left, Roman and Asher didn’t look like they were coming. Asher was packing his car up to leave, and Roman was sitting on the porch in his underwear drinking what I’m pretty sure was my last bottle of red wine. He wasn’t even using a cup. And he didn’t smile at me when I waved. He looked angry.”

  So, she had seen that bit. Apparently, Asher had convinced his youngest brother not to get involved. Fucking annoying how they always banded together, and Gentry was always the odd-brother out, but what could he do about it?

  “I don’t want you to do this alone,” Blaire finished quietly. “Maybe we should call Odine.”

  “Not until I know her intentions. I don’t like her interest in you, or whatever fate she thinks is in store for me, and I don’t like that she is manipulating us into place for some agenda she doesn’t feel like sharing. I’m out on Odine. It’s a bad idea to trust a witch, Trouble. Always remember it. That’s a sure-fire way to breathe your last breath sooner. And her burning your hair? I don’t want her anywhere near you.”

  “Why is it so dark out here?” Blaire asked, right as his instincts were wondering the same thing.

  Gentry was halfway to town, dark woods on either side of the road, but there were usually bright streetlights leading the way toward Main Street. Gentry leaned forward, looked up at the dark light on the left, and narrowed his eyes at the shattered glass and bulb. “What the fuck is going on?” he murmured. “Those were fine yesterday.”

  A howl lifted on the breeze, and Gentry slammed on the brakes as a shadowy figure appeared out of the woods and threw something across the road. The strip of nails glistened in the moonlight right before the truck skidded sideways over them.

  The popping of the tires was loud, and he reached across to Blaire, held her in place as the truck went up on two wheels. Her scream filled his head and did something awful to Wolf.

  The truck went up on two wheels and rolled. “Hold on!” he yelled as they crashed and landed upside down. Everything slowed. Maybe it was shock or denial that caused time to drag, but Gentry was thrown forward against his seatbelt, and there was such terror in Blaire’s eyes as the windows shattered inward. He watched her lips as she screamed, and everywhere tiny fragments of glass rained. And then time resumed as the truck rocked upside down and settled.

  Another howl filled the air, and another. These weren’t his brothers’ voices that called him to war this time. This was Tim, Nelda, and even Mila. This was the Bone-Rippers promising pain. Fury blasted through his veins as he cradled Blaire’s head from where it was resting on the roof of the car, right on top of glass. Blood was streaming from a cut on her forehead, and her wide, frightened eyes were locked on him. She was panting so fast she would pass out soon if he didn’t settle her. Out of the broken front windshield, Gentry could see Rhett stride from the woods in nothing but a pair of jeans, a ripped-up T-shirt, and unlaced combat boots, like he was ready for the Change. He stalked toward the truck, a feral smile stretching his face as he stepped over a lane of snow.

  Fuck. Gentry strained his hand against the roof of the car to give himself room to unbuckle. He had to get Blaire out of here. She was a sitting duck strapped to his truck like this, and there was smoke coming from the engine. The buckle clicked, and he hit the ground hard. There wasn’t enough room to move easily, but he had desperation pushing him.

  “It’s okay, baby,” he murmured. “I’m gonna get you out of here.”

  Blaire was crying, and her whole body was shaking. She’d probably never been in a wreck like this. She smelled like fear, and inside of him Wolf howled to be released. He was going to rip Rhett’s throat out, but first, he had to take care of his mate.

  Her seatbelt was jammed. Too much pressure on it maybe, but he didn’t have time for this. No more hiding his strength from her. Blaire was about to see the darkness he was capable of anyway. Gentry ripped through her seatbelt with little effort and cradled her fall so she wouldn’t cut herself on the shattered glass more than she already had. She had a dozen cuts on her face. Every drop of her blood that spilled, Gentry would take a hundred more from Rhett.

  Blaire’s window was crushed into an odd shape they would never escape from, so Gentry pulled her as carefully as he could toward his side. Gritting his teeth, he kicked his mangled door open and pulled her from the wreckage. The scent of smoke, gasoline, blood, and fur filled the air.

  The wolves were still howling, getting closer, closing in, and Gentry was out of time. He rushed Blaire to the middle of the road and settled her on her feet. “Nothing’s broken?” he asked frantically, gripping her shoulders, her arms, her ribs.

  “N-no. Gentry, what’s happening?”

  A hunt was happening, but he didn’t want to scare her even more. Blaire was the prey, but the pack would have to go through him to get to her. “I’m gonna Change.” He cast a quick glance at Rhett, who was too fucking close to his mate now. “I’m gonna Change, and you’re gonna run. Run back to Hunter Cove. I’ll cover you.”

  Blaire’s chest was heaving, and she looked around at the moonlit woods, now teaming with the Bone-Ripper Pack. “I’m scared.”

  “Shhhh,” Gentry murmured, cupping her cheeks to drag her attention back to him. “Look at me. Listen to me. No matter what happens, Wolf will take care of you.” He leaned in and kissed her hard and then ripped away. “Run, Blaire.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gentry was bleeding, cut up bad from the glass. He hadn’t protected himself during the crash, but had thrown his arm over her lap instead and kept Blaire pinned against the seat. She hadn’t even stretched the seatbelt, and then he’d ripped right through it like he was pulling apart two paper towels.

  Gentry was a lot stronger than she’d realized, but she could see the wolves, and there were many. Contrasting with the blue moon wilderness backdrop, most of the predators were differing shades of gray, but two were black. All had their teeth bared. All had their attention trained on her and Gentry.

  How could Wolf protect her from all of these monsters and survive?

  Trust me.

  His blazing green eyes were begging her trust, and behind him, a dark-haired man in unlaced boots was striding toward them faster and faster.

  “Run, Blaire,” Gentry demanded, his voice gone dead. The look on his face was terrifying in the moment before he turned away from her and peeled off his shirt.

  �
��Oh, my gosh,” she said in a shaking voice as she bolted in the direction of Hunter Cove.

  Nothing hurt yet. Warmth was streaming down her jawline, and she smelled like pennies, but the adrenaline was covering up the pain right now. The limp, though…the limp she couldn’t help. It was slowing her down. Gritting her teeth, Blaire pushed herself harder and faster.

  Gentry had promised he would get her out of here, but she hadn’t missed it. He hadn’t promised he would make it out. If she did just as he said and was really fast, perhaps he could be okay, too.

  Gunfire filled the air, and she ducked with a scream. But when she turned around, she realized it wasn’t guns at all but Gentry’s bones breaking and reshaping in an instant. His charcoal gray wolf shook his head hard as he charged a big gray wolf with light points. They were a match in size, both huge.

  Blaire kept running as she watched them over her shoulder in horror. They clashed so hard she felt the powerful vibrations in the air. The wolves in the woods were following her though, closing in, angling toward her, and now the leader, a black wolf, was right on the edge of the road.

  One bite and she was dead. They were so fast.

  “Gentry!”

  And he was there beside her for just a moment before he charged the black wolf. A gray wolf attacked his back end, and then another joined the pile. She wanted to scream. She wanted to find a log in the woods and take it to them all like a baseball bat, but Gentry was the bone-ripper here. He shredded them, and not one at a time. She’d never seen such violence in all her life, hadn’t realized what the man she loved was capable of.

  His green eyes flashed at her as he slammed the black wolf against a tree in the woods. Run, Blaire.

  She pushed her legs even faster, but she was still trailing three wolves, who were taking their time to attack. It was as if they were playing with her, or letting her tire herself out. The big gray one Gentry had fought first was loping along the road beside her, his eyes a dead and icy blue. His neck was streaming blood, making a trail of red in the snow, but he didn’t seem bothered the injury. Blaire was slipping where the ice was thick, and it was slowing her down. Her leg was throbbing, her heartbeat was pounding against her chest, her lungs hurt from chugging the cold air, and every muscle in her body was twitching with exhaustion. Behind her, there was a resounding boom, and she ducked as heat blasted against her skin. A quick glance behind showed Gentry’s truck in flames, lighting up the night.