Protecting the Wolf's Mate (Blood Moon Brotherhood)

by Sasha Summers

  Hollis was bent over his files, his tousled curls falling onto his forehead. How had this man become so important to her?

  Some questions didn’t have answers, they just were.

  The longer Hollis pored over his papers and numbers, the harder it was to ignore the hum in the air. The vault. Whatever was inside called to her. There were answers there, if she was brave enough to confront them.

  She was no coward. “Hollis,” she murmured. Her wolf paced, curious. His wolf reacted—instantly gaining Hollis’s attention.

  He stood, spinning to see her. “What? What’s wrong?”

  Knowing their wolves were already working together made her smile. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him. “Let me in,” she said against his lips.

  He pulled back, a furrow forming between his brows. “There’s no reason to put yourself through it—”

  “There is. I feel it.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I can’t ignore it.” Her brows rose. “Mate or no, don’t try to shelter me from something that needs to be done.”

  “It needs to be done?”

  She nodded.

  “I can bring things out. It might be easier?” he asked, still concerned.

  It was an option. One her wolf quickly dismissed. She refused to be intimidated, she was, after all, a fearsome beast. “What harm can come from a room full of things?” She headed to the door, waited for him to open it, and tried to shake off the sharp tingles brushing her skin.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his fingers on the keypad.

  No, she had doubts. But her wolf would not be deterred. She nodded.

  He unlocked the metal door and pushed it wide.

  This time she was prepared. Leaning heavily against the concrete walls helped her stay upright. The roar of noise and voices greeted her. Loud, yes. But not hostile. There was no threat here. She pushed off the wall and into the room, taking the hand Hollis offered just in case.

  “Low lights,” he explained, letting her set the pace. “Some of the documents are photosensitive due to age.”

  She nodded, her eyes adjusting to the dim room. Her equilibrium was off, so she stopped, thankful for the strength of his arms around her. She waited, her gaze wandering around the room. A long, low table and several chairs were the only furniture. The rest of the room housed display units, drawers, and cabinets.

  One drawer drew all her attention—all her focus. It called to her, knew her. The pressure on her chest increased as she moved toward it. She gripped the drawer handle and pulled it wide.

  On a background of black velvet lay the necklace. Her necklace. Her hand shook as she reached for it, caressing the fine, leather cord between her fingers. Her wolf longed to howl, to roar with pleasure—and despair. The voices of her pack crashed into her, the floor tipped, and she fell.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hollis caught her, kneeling on the floor with her in his arms. He couldn’t protect her from this, couldn’t defend her—even though his wolf was pushing to do so. He hurt for her, torn and frustrated. But he could hold her close and rock her. Maybe his touch eased her the way hers did him. It was all he could give her. “It’s yours?” he whispered. He knew, deep down, he already knew.

  She nodded, cradling the necklace to her chest with both hands.

  He leaned back against the cabinet and waited. Whatever time she needed, he would give her. As hard as it was to accept special powers and magic existed in the real world, it made sense that Ellen would possess them. She would never abuse her gifts, she would respect them—take pride in them. As she did in being a wolf.

  How it felt or understanding the toll it took on her was something else. After having her life taken so violently from her, having her past destroyed so completely, reminders would be…bittersweet in a way he could never comprehend.

  “Where did you get it?” she managed.

  “An antique shop in San Francisco.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “The steamer trunk was scavenged after the quake. The lock was broken, sealed shut. But the shopkeeper had some story about the items belonging to witches, so he was too scared to force it open.”

  “Witches?” She looked up at him, the expressions flying across her face before he could identify what she was thinking or feeling. “No. We…we were called that sometimes. We were healers.”

  “You remember?” he asked, hesitant. Whatever was happening to her was intense. Now wasn’t the time to drill her for answers—no matter how many questions he had.

  She shook her heard. “No. Yes. Some.” Her hands tightened around the beads. “It’s been locked away so long.” Her gaze met his. “Some feared us, drove us away.”

  “People fear what they don’t understand.”

  Fear had influenced him far too much. He’d been so determined to cure Finn and the pack that he hadn’t stopped to consider all of the options this new life could offer. Instead of researching how to adapt and explore their new strengths and talents, he’d focused all his energy on trying to reverse their plight.

  But being wolves hadn’t changed who they were. If he was being objective, he would acknowledge that they’d been given an opportunity to be something more—something special. The only thing capable to taking on Cyrus and the Others. For the first time, he questioned whether finding a cure was the answer. And, if it was, how could he cure something that made the woman he loved who she was. What would a cure do to her? And Finn’s children? His stomach clenched hard. If it came down to a choice between curing the pack and losing Ellen, the answer was clear. He buried his nose in her hair and drew in her scent. His wolf approved, wanting to be closer to their mate.

  Ellen slid the necklace on and tucked it inside her shirt, pressing her hand over it. “I’m fine now,” she whispered, pushing out of his arms and moving toward the cabinet.

  “You can sit.” His hand covered hers. “Let me bring the next drawer to you.”

  He watched the way she pressed her hand against the wall, staying anchored, as she moved to the table. Unsteady or not, he saw the determined gleam in her gaze as she waited for him to bring her the next drawer.

  “Oh…” Her voice wavered as she stared inside. She seemed to wilt before his eyes, her skin draining of color and her eyes filling with tears. Pinned to the lining of the drawer was an intricately embroidered blanket. Her fingers hovered, her hand shook, but she refused to touch the items inside. “I can’t.”

  The name “Isabel” was stitched into the intricate ribbon and flower border.

  “Ellen,” he ground out, reaching for her. “You don’t have to do this now.” He pulled her up, against him. “We can come back tomorrow. Take it piece by piece. There’s no rush.”

  “Mal wants to go home,” she reminded him.

  Which was true. Mal was chomping at the bit to get back to the refuge. The longer he went without shifting, the bigger an asshole he became. As far as Hollis was concerned, there was no reason to have Mal and Olivia here. Especially now that Ellen was his mate. Knowing that eased some of the tension from his neck and shoulders. His wolf snorted in irritation—he knew Ellen would never leave them. Making Hollis feel like an ass for still having doubts. He ran a hand over her hair. “I’ll talk to Finn.”

  “We should talk to him in person.” She rested her head against his chest. “I know he has questions. Now that he is my Alpha, I owe him answers.” She would respect the pack hierarchy even when she was barely capable of standing on her own two feet.

  “Do you want to go back to the refuge?” he asked, anticipating her answer.

  “No, not yet.” Her hand pressed against the shirt. “Please. I’d rather not leave yet.”

  He nodded. “We can arrange a teleconference—that’s easy.”

  “I can’t leave them, not yet,” she whispered.

  Her words sliced through his heart. “There’s no rush on this, Ellen. When you’re ready, we’ll contact him.” He held her until her heartbeat slowed and her breathing steadied.

  She pushed a
way from him. “There is one thing. The chest?” She clutched the necklace tightly.

  He nodded, watching her struggle.

  “There’s a book… A book hidden in the base.” Her fingers worried the brown, green, and earth-toned beads as she stared blindly around the vault. “A false bottom inside.”

  He’d gotten caught up in the trunk’s contents and researching each item before he could dismantle it to find any hidden treasures. “I’ll get it.” He waited for her to sit before unlocking one of the larger storage closets. The chest was old but still sound. He pulled it from a storage case and set it on the table, his curiosity kicking into overdrive.

  She stood beside him, leaned in, and pulled what looked like a loose wooden dowel in the far corner. The bottom popped up to reveal a thick, leather-bound book.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “The voices,” she said. “This is the story of my pack.” Her voice broke and she looked at him. “You must believe in magic now. How else would you have known?”

  He nodded, too moved to speak. His wolf pushed, wanting to be close—needing her touch to ease him. Hollis touched her cheek.

  “Thank you.”

  He shook his head. He should be thanking her. Through her eyes, the world was changing into a place he wanted to be.

  …

  The last four days had been exhausting. She and Hollis spent every waking hour cataloging the vault and making notes. Pressure still built inside her chest until she felt light-headed, but she could stand on her own two feet now. It was progress. I’ll come back. It was a promise she made every day—to her ancestors and herself. She had so much to learn, so much to remember. Things to share with Finn and his pack.

  When Hollis wasn’t helping her in the vault, he was driving her to distraction in their bed. She wasn’t sure what her favorite part of the day was—waking up in his arms or falling apart in them.

  She finished packing away the drawer they’d been working on and turned to find him watching her. Those green eyes searched hers for a long time, as they did every time they left the vault.

  She loved the concern on his face—and hated how he sensed her weakness. His hand brushed her cheek, his smile taking the lingering edge off her nerves. Oh, how she loved this man and his timid wolf. He was so worried about her—about their pack. And it bound them even closer together.

  He led her from the vault, closed and locked the door behind them, then pulled out a chair by his desk. “Sit.” He stooped, opening the small refrigerator beneath his desk. “I think I have… Yes, one soda. The sugar and caffeine will do you some good.”

  She shrugged. “I’m good.”

  “Drink it for me?” he asked, the concern in his tone was too much for her wolf to resist.

  She nodded, taking the cold soda and sitting back with a sigh. The hiss and pop of the can made her nerves jump, but she took deep calming breaths. Her wolf calmed down instantly. It enjoyed touching the artifacts, remembering those from their past and tracing their travels across the globe. The book was a genealogy of sorts. A log of the various packs. It connected dots, filled in holes in her memories, and brought new questions to the front.

  Pain was part of the process. Faces she’d never known returned to her, wrapped with such love and joy, it was impossible for her not to react. Healing was only part of what her pack did, hunting those who went against the wolves’ way was another. Her pack had been dedicated and unwavering, even when it cost them dearly. Sometimes it was too hard. But reaching for Hollis, a single stroke of his skin or brush of his fingers against her, calmed both her and her wolf, and allowed her to keep going.

  Cyrus had taught her to control her emotions—bottling them up so he couldn’t use them against her. And even though Hollis would never do such a thing, being free with her feelings—being vulnerable—was still a challenge.

  She took slow sips of the soda and stared right back at Hollis as he continued to study her. “I’m good, Hollis. No hovering. I know you have work to do. I’m sitting, drinking, behaving.” She grinned.

  “And I’m assessing my patient,” he argued.

  “You’re testing my patience.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “Stop.”

  One copper brow arched, but he nodded. “Fine, I do have some work to do,” he agreed. His lips brushed her forehead before he crossed the lab, picked up a tablet, and returned to the desk.

  Watching Hollis work was interesting. His mind was a veritable playground of detailed analysis and creative solutions. He could study a problem, chemical or biological, find its working mechanism, and break down how to disable or tweak it. With one exception. The lupine infection. It was a puzzle he couldn’t solve—one that directly impacted those he loved. And his frustration showed.

  “The vaccine?” she asked, noting the furrow on his brow. “Not going well?”

  “I thought things were progressing. But I was wrong.” Hollis pointed at several petri dishes lined up on the counter along the far wall. “The tissue samples turned necrotic this morning. That was the most promising strain so far.”

  Ellen eyed the dead mice. “What happened?”

  “The first two hours, nothing. Then the cells began collapsing. Oxygen deprivation. Cell wall collapse. Turning the blood septic.” He shook his head. “In a live specimen, this would lead to full organ failure in a matter of minutes. Or worse. Some of the cells actually ruptured.”

  “Whose blood did you use?” she asked. “To infect the tissue.”

  “Mine.” He studied her. “Why?”

  “Have you studied Oscar’s blood? There is a slight difference in the cellular composition of those turned versus those bitten, is there not?”

  Hollis nod was slow.

  “Use mine,” she said. “I don’t believe your pack can be cured, but maybe, possibly, it could save those most recently turned by Cyrus.” She sighed. “As my mate, the need to make you happy can be quite…confusing.”

  Hollis smiled.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You.” His smile grew. “Calling me your mate. I like it.”

  She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop her own smile.

  His green gaze remained fixed on her. “Are you sure?”

  She held her arm out. “Under the circumstances I mentioned, I’m sure,” she added. “Maybe it will make a difference.”

  Hollis tied a rubber tourniquet around her arm, collected a needle and three empty tubes for her blood. He’d just slid the catheter into her vein when Kim walked in, pausing inside the door to stare at them. Ellen saw the fear in the woman’s eyes, the way Kim seemed to recoil into herself. Her heart picked up, her breath hitching at the sight of Ellen’s blood.

  Something was off. Wrong. Very wrong. It was more than being territorial over Hollis, even her wolf saw that. The coffee cup clasped in her hand was trembling so that liquid dripped onto the immaculate white floor.

  “Come in,” Hollis called out, too focused on what he was doing to look up.

  Kim jumped, then realized Ellen was watching her. Her face paled chalk white as she crossed the room, holding her manila files like a body shield. The coffee cup was outstretched—still shaking—still leaving a trail. She set the cup of coffee on the desk and stepped back.

  “You spilled,” Ellen murmured, softly, studying her.

  Kim glanced at the floor. From white to red, she stammered, “I-I’ll get a…a mop.” She sucked in an unsteady breath. “Would you like one?” she asked Ellen. “Coffee, I mean?”

  “No, thank you.” Ellen attempted a smile. Why was she scared of her? No, not scared. Kim was terrified. Maybe she could sense how badly her wolf didn’t like her. Still, Kim’s reaction puzzled Ellen’s wolf, too.

  Kim nodded and crossed to the door, cast another glance over her shoulder, and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Something in Kim’s eyes had the hair on the back of her neck pricking up, sending a shudder along her back. Did Kim know what Ellen was? Her wolf dismissed it. Hum
ans didn’t believe in monsters—they couldn’t wrap their brains around the truth unless they were given no choice. Why Ellen was reacting to the woman so strongly was a mystery, it was more than jealousy—it had to be. But her wolf wasn’t so sure. As simple, base, and primitive as the emotion was, Hollis brought out her territorial side. “She doesn’t like me,” she murmured, puzzled.

  “I’ll fire her,” he said, never pausing in his work.

  “You didn’t see that?” Ellen asked, frustrated.

  “See what?” he asked, glancing at her after he’d pulled the catheter from her arm and released the tourniquet.

  “The way she looked at us—at me.” Whether or not he could shift, his ability to shut out his wolf was beyond irritating at times. “Your wolf? Did he sense nothing? You must listen to him. Let him speak. He will have something to say.”

  Hollis was distracted now, leaning in to run his nose along her temple. “Maybe she could tell how much sex we’d had?” He grinned at her, his green eyes sparking with passion. “Or how much more was in our future.” He eyed the desk. “Here works.”

  Talk of Kim could wait. She laughed, shaking her head. “I thought you were worried about me.”

  “I was. I am. Always.” His eyes were blazing now. “But I know how to make you feel better.”

  Her heart thumped, making him smile broadly.

  “I heard that,” he murmured, low and thick and so husky, her body tightened with want. His hand pressed against her chest. “My wolf is far too in tune with you and the way you and your body react. You can’t hide your reaction to me.”

  “I’ve never tried,” she countered, loving the hunger in his gaze as it traveled along her neck. She grew more off-kilter and breathless with each passing second. “Hollis.”

  He kissed her, softly at first, but somehow, she ended up in his lap. His lips clung to hers until he had her full attention. His hand slid along her thigh as his teeth nipped her collarbone. “You should wear skirts more often.” He growled, tugging at her cargo pants. “I can’t touch you the way I want to.”