With Her Capture

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With Her Capture Page 10

by Lorie O'Clare

There would be no howling to his pack, or littermate, about Magda. Ayden might be liked by most. He was alpha male and there were some who wanted him as pack leader. The job didn’t appeal to him. Being with Magda appealed to him. He wasn’t fool enough to believe just because he was alpha to many litters nearby that they wouldn’t turn on him if he showed up with a Malta werewolf female and howled his love for her.

  Ayden filled the backpack with two thick blankets and a pillow. He then returned to the spacious living area where so many good memories had been created. The walls smelled permanently of happiness.

  He didn’t look toward the other closed door in the hallway. That was another door that had once hardly ever been closed. Now he and his littermate never opened it. Neither of them ever found reason to go in there. In spite of it smelling even better than the living area, Ayden and Anthony left the room alone. Their sire and mother’s bedroom wasn’t the same with both of them now dead.

  Ayden was content with his memories. His sire and mother had fought and loved together. They were the perfect mated couple. Somehow…somewhere, he’d find that life with Magda.

  There was another backpack in the pantry. Ayden retrieved it and filled it with canned goods. He also put a small frying pan that he doubted Anthony would miss—especially since his littermate seldom used the stove—into the bag along with plates, silverware and cups. The backpack was so full he barely managed to zip it when he heard movement outside.

  “Well hell,” he grumbled, having hoped Anthony was out on a run at this hour, or chasing after some tail.

  Taking both backpacks, he shoved open the kitchen window and dropped them outside to the ground. Then pushing the window closed, he strode across the living area to his room.

  The cabin door opened and shut with a harsh thud. Ayden picked up on his littermate’s putrid and spicy smell. Good thing—and maybe bad too, he thought after a moment. Anthony was disgusted and pissed, which meant his emotions were strong enough that he might not sniff out Ayden. However, it probably also meant that Anthony would want to rant, and be listened to, as he unloaded whatever it was that had him upset.

  Ayden pulled his boots off, going for the look of being relaxed and planning to turn in for the night. His littermate might question why Ayden didn’t want to run during the night. Hopefully whatever had him mad would prevent him from interrogating Ayden. Just in case he needed to close himself in the room for the night, he left his boots by his bed, which was also by his window. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d climbed out that window in the night without his litter knowing. It would, however, be the first time he snuck out on his littermate.

  Hiding from his littermate in their own den didn’t sit well. Ayden padded barefoot down the bare wooden floors into the living area. Anthony had his head in the small, old refrigerator, searching its contents. He stood with a bottle of beer in his hand.

  “I didn’t know you were here,” Anthony grumbled. He grabbed a second beer and pushed the refrigerator door shut. “If I’d known we were getting low, I would have grabbed more when I was in Banff.”

  “What were you doing in Banff?” Ayden accepted the beer. He didn’t want one but it might ease the pain of listening to Anthony when he’d rather be running back up to Magda.

  “Wasting my time.” Anthony ripped the bottle cap off with his teeth and sent it flying toward the small trash can in the corner of the kitchen. He missed but ignored it and headed into the living area. “Why aren’t you out chasing tail on this beautiful night?”

  Ayden wasn’t about to turn the howling toward him. If he said he was still planning on going out, Anthony would want to run with him. He thought of the best thing to say without lying.

  “Just got back from a run. I was in the mood for fish. Caught enough to get nice and full.” He took the couch facing the wall where treated hides from both his and Anthony’s first kills hung. “Now I’m sated and lazy.” He stretched out with a grin and twisted the cap off with his teeth just as Anthony had, but put it on the table next to the couch instead of throwing it. “Who turned you down in Banff?”

  Anthony growled, slouched in his sire’s overstuffed chair and looked at the fireplace instead of Ayden. He downed a fair bit of his beer then stood and walked over to put logs on the glowing embers.

  “No one turned me down,” he snapped. “I was doing just fine and the tail was willing.”

  Ayden knew Anthony well enough that if he remained quiet, his littermate would howl his going ons without encouragement. He sipped his beer and waited. Anthony poked at the fire until flames danced to life.

  “Sally Runner was at the bar tonight.” Anthony’s scent began relaxing when he turned and looked at Ayden. He smiled. “She’s one hot little bitch. Dani McAllister was also there. I could have had my pick of either one.” He laughed. “Or both.”

  “I’m not seeing a problem yet.” Ayden sipped more beer and relaxed on the extra long couch. There were lumps in it, and patched rips in the cushions from where he and Anthony had wrestled on it as pups. It still was incredibly comfortable.

  “No problem with either one of them. You know, there are many in the pack who see me as being as good a pack leader as you. Those two females might think a title is worth sniffing out,” he continued, standing and drinking more of his beer. “I never lie or use my litter’s name to get a female, though.”

  “I know you don’t,” Ayden agreed.

  He understood there were females who sniffed after him, and his littermate, simply because they thought there was more than a male to catch in either one of them. That was another refreshing aspect about Magda. She had no knowledge of the prestige behind his litter’s name.

  “The flirting was getting rather strong. I smelled desire on both of them. But then this asshole that I’ve never seen before saunters in and starts howling about a litter looking for a lost female. Immediately both Dani and Sally are all sympathetic to the sincerity of his scent. Fucking jerk,” Anthony grumbled. “Every female in the damn bar pranced right up to this male, growling and moaning over how sad it was that some bitch was lost.”

  Since Ayden doubted anyone would search for Magda, other than to kill her, he was fairly certain whoever the male was, he wasn’t looking for her. “That sucks, man.”

  “Damn straight.” Anthony sniffed the air then narrowed his gaze on Ayden. “Smells like one of us got lucky. Who’d you chase down?”

  “I don’t have to chase anyone down.” Ayden hurried to finish his beer, deciding it was time to end this conversation. “I’m heading to bed.”

  “You get lucky and aren’t going to howl a name?” Anthony smelled confused. “If I don’t know who it is then it might be me fucking her tomorrow.”

  Ayden laughed. “That won’t happen.”

  “You are ripe with a female’s scent. Real ripe.” Anthony followed Ayden when he walked to the kitchen and tossed the empty bottle in the trash. “Fucking tail. You aren’t serious with some bitch, are you? You damn near smell mated.”

  Ayden was acutely aware when his heart pounded out an extra beat at his littermate’s observation. “You’d be the first to know,” he promised. “Well second.”

  Anthony kept following him down the hall to their bedrooms. “You really aren’t howling about this. Why does that make me think you’re more serious than you want to let on?”

  “Drop it, okay?” Ayden demanded. “There are things I don’t tell you. That doesn’t mean you have to get your tail in a knot about it.”

  “Damn. Fine.” Anthony remained standing in the hall staring after Ayden when he entered his room.

  Ayden cringed when he smelled Anthony’s worry after closing the door.

  Chapter Ten

  Magda sat cross-legged outside her cave basking in the sun. If that were possible in the over-sized down heavy coat Ayden had left her. The temperatures were low but the sun was high and bright. Puffs of her breath appeared in front of her every time she exhaled. She sat on a folded blanket, with half
of her legs covered by the coat, and still felt the chill from the stone slab underneath her. Even the long underwear underneath her jeans didn’t prevent her from shivering. She’d have to build up the fire or return to her fur before long.

  The cold wasn’t enough to distract from her thoughts though. After returning to his den several nights in a row, Ayden had then spent the last four nights with her. She was going on almost two weeks of having stayed in this cave and it was starting to feel like her den. Which was a problem.

  Magda didn’t want a cave as a den. She didn’t want to live the rest of her life in extreme isolation, jumping at any sound and waking up every morning wondering if that would be the day she would die.

  It wasn’t her only problem. Ayden had left early that morning and although the sun hadn’t started setting yet, Magda desperately missed him. Every time the wind blew or a small animal ran across her section of the mountain beneath her, she shot her attention that way, immediately sniffing the air. She was too anxious for him to return.

  Everything she had warned herself about had now happened. She’d known if she’d fucked him it would be a mistake. She’d argued with her thoughts that the smart thing to do was to run, leave him and not look back. She hadn’t listened to herself. Now, not only were their scents probably permanently embedded in each other, both of them would be very hurt when she came to her senses and left him.

  He wanted her. She didn’t doubt that part. Every time he approached or was around her, his desire for her smelled strong and didn’t fade no matter how long they were together. Even if she weren’t able to smell his emotions, the way he looked at her, his possessive nature around her, and damn, the way he fucked her, made his feelings clear.

  Magda tugged at thread she used to repair a tear in one of the backpacks Ayden had used to bring supplies to her. Backpacks endured a lot of abuse when strapped to them while they ran in their fur. She needed the backpack sturdy if she needed to run and haul supplies.

  She needed to run now. Heaving a sigh, she picked up on Ayden’s scent embedded in her skin. It was the same with him, something that should make her proud and happy. The male she was unable to get out of her thoughts carried her scent on him whether in his flesh or fur. She’d marked him. As he had her.

  Magda loved smelling him on her when they weren’t together. He would smell her on him, too. It was a continual reminder of her when she wasn’t around. But her scent being on him put Ayden in danger. More than likely he wouldn’t agree. His cockiness and self-confidence smelled as strong as his aggressive and possessive side of him. Those traits wouldn’t allow him to lie. Ayden wouldn’t dream of smelling of any untruth. Not to mention the pride that ran straight through him made him honorable enough to never fear the truth.

  So what would he howl to his littermate, Anthony? A littermate Magda would never meet. That question plagued her as much as knowing that Ayden would never take her to his den. She’d never asked him to take her, but there was no point. She saw no reason to broach subjects when she knew the answers. Magda would never run where his pack lived.

  Her thread snagged and she tugged, making the tangled knot tighter. Growling, she flipped open the backpack to stare at the mess of thread on the underside of the fabric.

  Leisa, her littermate, was the better seamstress. Magda never had the patience for such things.

  “And the last thing you need to do is start worrying about them too,” she snarled, bringing the bag to her mouth. The change bit into her when she allowed her teeth to grow just enough to bite at the thread where she’d tangled it.

  Liesa was with the male who had sniffed them out before she and Magda were separated. He was Katrin’s mate’s littermate. Now Liesa probably ran safe with Katrin. Neither one of them would ever know this life of hiding and daily fearing for her life.

  A cold wind made Magda shiver. She ignored the pain to her human body, turned her face to the biting wind and breathed in deeply. Although she’d done this every time the weather turned her way, this time she picked up on a smell that hadn’t been there before. Instantly her heart began thumping in her chest. She wanted to throw down her project and run down the mountain.

  He was back.

  Magda pushed to her feet. She kept sniffing the air but searched with her human eyes. She focused hard on the steep incline below.

  Then she fell back to the ground. Suddenly it was too hard to catch her breath. Gripping the backpack, she scooted backward toward the cave.

  She’d smelled a werewolf—make that werewolves. But Ayden hadn’t returned. Her stomach rolled at how despicable and degrading it was cowering back into her cave. Magda prayed they hadn’t looked up the mountain and spotted her. She also hoped the wind didn’t change directions and carry her scent to them. The fact that she behaved as she did, being forced to hide, fear for her life from other werewolves, continued making her sick. She sat in the dark cave, not daring to stir the fire. While slowly freezing to death, Magda accepted that this had to end.

  “Enough!” Magda continued shaking her hands to regain circulation after confirming the werewolves were gone and hadn’t detected her scent. “You either run or risk freezing to death next time you’re hiding for your life and to scared to change.”

  This was no way to live. “And you wouldn’t be living this way if it weren’t for Ayden,” she pointed out to herself while pacing around the fire for the third time after building it back up.

  That repetitive thumping in her chest began hurting. She smelled her pain stronger than she’d ever smelled another scent. Magda didn’t question it. It made sense that a breaking heart would have such a powerful aroma. When she came around to the side of the fire where her supplies were, she collapsed on top of them.

  “You have no reason to cry,” she snapped at herself. Voicing the words was hard to do around the intense lump in her throat. “You held back tears and smelled strong for Liesa and Katrin after Sire and Mama died. You can damn well do it now.”

  There had been enough anger over the injustice done to their litter to keep her moving when the three of them lost their parents. She was angry now, too. Magda embraced it. Her legs wobbled underneath her when she began moving, doing what she had to do. More than once it was hard to breathe. Her extremities were no longer numb. Instead, every inch of her burned with pain almost too unbearable to endure. This wasn’t pain done to her human body after exposure to the cold. The source was her heart. It had just shattered.

  She wasn’t sure how much time passed before she was packed. Magda faced the cave entrance and stared at the stream of smoke trailing over the soaked logs. She’d poured water she’d planned on using to prepare her kill for Ayden. Again her eyes stung from tears that refused to let fall. She stripped out of her clothes, not caring how cold she was, and stuffed them in the backpack that wasn’t torn.

  Picking up one of the sticks from the remaining pile at the cave entrance, Magda entered the cave one last time and scratched a message onto the floor. She knew what she wanted to write. Her heart hurt even more when she dropped the stick and stared at the letters. Hopefully Ayden would understand her message and know that she was doing what was necessary for both of them.

  “If this is what love feels like, I don’t ever want to feel it again.”

  A lone tear burned its way down her cheek when she let the change take over.

  Ayden slowed after running through the tall evergreens stretching at an angle up the steep incline of the mountain. Although rocks slipped under his paws and boulders became bigger, lodged at different angles and causing him to leap over some and ease his way around others, he didn’t slow because of the difficulty of the trek. He’d run to the cave enough times since meeting Magda to know the best way to get there.

  Something smelled different on this side of the mountain. Inhaling, and taking his time looking at everything around him, he suddenly understood what had changed in the air. Other werewolves had been here recently.

  Ayden took off runnin
g, indifferent to his paw slipping when rocks spewed out from underneath him and pounded their way down the dangerous slope. He leapt around prickly undergrowth. He flew over boulders. He didn’t slow when he reached the clearing beneath her cave. Ayden ran up the incline to the ledge where branches and rocks blocked the view to the cave’s entrance. And he slid to a stop.

  So many things were wrong.

  The entrance was only partially blocked. He sniffed the air, a growl escaping him at the same time. Ayden immediately noticed that instead of a fire burning, he smelled damp wood and ash. He didn’t smell Magda.

  Barging around the blockade into the cave he came up short. There on the floor in front of his paws was a stick lying next to two words. In his culture there were certain traditions no one questioned. When approaching another litter’s den, a werewolf always waited until properly invited inside. One male always respected another male’s territory, female, and pups. His kind used certain expressions that probably had been used beyond generations into a millennium before.

  When a werewolf said good hunting he, or she, meant they wished another werewolf well and would see them soon. If a werewolf said hunt well, which Ayden saw printed in block letters before him, it meant they were leaving and wished the other werewolf a good and prosperous life.

  To the left of the two words there was a vertical line a few spaces to the side. Ayden stared at it a moment, his emotions too torn to allow him to grasp what he was seeing. Instinct always dominated in his fur, which was probably the only reason he didn’t start screaming in outrage loud enough to echo off the entire stream of mountains in this region. Instead, he stared at the one line, drawn as if it might be the letter I.

  Lowering his head, he sniffed the ground, his breath creating a puff in the ground and disturbing the one vertical line. Moving his head, he again searched for any scent on the other words. His exhale again disturbed part of the message. Magda had started writing something. Instead of scratching out what she’d started to write she’d simply moved over a bit and restarted her message.

 

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