Tribal Spirit: Forged Alliances

by Katherine McIntyre

  “You up for a run?” she asked, her gaze focusing on the fringe of trees past the parking lot situated in front of darkened woods. At the mention of a run, the cat paced inside him, begging to come out and play. Despite Sierra’s poor luck in being born a wolf, the charge between them had his curiosity piqued, and she promised to be an interesting playmate.

  Dax arched a brow. “I just met you and you’re already trying to get me naked?” Goading her while he was a guest in her territory didn’t top the Best Idea chart, but he couldn’t help the adrenaline surge every time he provoked a response. Already the predatory side of him pounded a primal beat of claim, dominate, and destroy, but he kept himself collared—most of the time.

  Sierra scowled, her claws pricking out. “You wish. Where we’re heading there are plenty of spare clothes for the pack to slip into. Try to catch up,” she said, her dark eyes flashing with a ferocity that heated his blood. She stripped down with liquid quickness, tossing her crumpled clothes in the grass. Faster than his eyes could follow, she shot forward, jogging to the woods. Fur prickled on her arms, her claws came out, and her eyes glowed amber as her body shifted with the fluidity of familiarity. Dax ditched his pants and shirt before bolting to keep up. The cat was barely collared as he got closer and closer to the looming oaks.

  The shift overtook him as it always did. Bones stretched to form the muzzle, fur pricked through his skin to coat his body, and his field of vision sharpened as he lowered to the ground. The change happened as suddenly as tipping water and as effortlessly as a coursing stream, a transition he exulted in every time. His senses sparked to life, enhanced in this form as the thick leaves on the trees turned a vibrant green, and the ground beneath his padded feet grew soft and loamy. The trills of the cicadas in the forest became sweeter and clearer, as all of night’s summertime symphony did. Breezes ruffled his fur as he surged through this tangled maze of oaks, pines, and underbrush with reckless abandon, indulging in the soaring joy of the run.

  Sierra led the way in the form of a sleek, silver-furred wolf, streaks of black as rich as her hair woven throughout. She raced through the woods with a silence and skill testament not only to her status as alpha, but also the innate familiarity she had of these wilds. He had the same familiarity with his home, the forests he’d learned inside and out during his youth, but for him, returning wasn’t an option.

  His muscles burned with exertion as he sprinted along, his padded feet pounding the soft earth beneath them. Humidity painted the summer air, threaded with the delicate fragrance of wisteria dangling from a few of the trees.

  Every time he reached a casual stride, Sierra would swerve past a massive tree or leap over a wiry shrub, snapping him to attention. If she followed her whip-smart reputation, she’d be testing him the entire way. He’d brought his pack wandering into Red Rock territory for that precise quality, the ruthless intelligence Sierra was known for. After the hellish couple of months Dax had, he could use more than a little help in that department.

  Sierra leaped over a couple of large rocks, bounding with ease. Her amber eyes glinted with the fierceness of her kind, and she ran with a balanced, lupine elegance. Too bad hers paled in comparison to a cat’s. He pushed himself to surge ahead, his breaths burning and his muscles working at machine precision until he ran neck and neck with her. Given his precarious position here, he had to establish his strength first.

  She veered a sudden right and skidded to a halt so fast his paws churned into the earth, sending stray clippings flying. Only his quicker-than-average reflexes kept him from smashing into a shoddy fence made from a pile of loose stones. The Red Rock alpha hopped over the rocks and padded down the slope to a small cabin constructed of a gorgeous heartwood set in strong lines. The scent of lumber, of pine, and of spent charcoal filtered through the air, tickling his nose.

  His claws sank deep into the ground at the distinctive stench of wet wolf marking this place, deep in the heart of Red Rock territory. Sierra loped to the front of the cabin, and, in the blink of an eye, she shifted, standing on two feet in front of the door, utterly nude.

  The sight of her punched him in the gut. Nudity was such a common occurrence among shifters that he rarely batted an eye despite the fair share of athletic, stunning women in his pack. However, despite his intimate familiarity with the female form, he couldn’t tug his gaze away from Sierra Kanoska. The woman’s Native American blood had given her the sort of raven hair that glowed with mahogany notes in the light. Her bronzed skin deepened several shades at the hollow of her throat, the curve of her ample breasts, and the slope of her sinful hips.

  She fiddled with the doorknob. Desire pounded a pulse in him as he began shifting into his human form. His fur disappeared, the bristles transformed into his sun-kissed skin, and he rose from his crouch to follow her inside the rancher. It wasn’t simply her athletic form or the pert ass he could follow for days—Sierra radiated a lethality and wildness he found intriguing, as well as a strength he couldn’t help but respect. Not like he’d clue her in on that one.

  Dax sauntered into the house past her, his bare feet pressing against the oak floors as the lazy snick-snick of an overhead fan sent a faint breeze through the room. He didn’t miss the way her gaze heated when he strolled by, how her stare trailed up and down the length of his body. Her hand rested on her hip, and if she didn’t stop eyeing him like a haunch of meat, he wouldn’t be able to restrain the blood from flowing southward.

  “See something you like?” He glanced back, baring his teeth with a wide grin.

  “Nothing worth writing home about,” she responded with a dulcet tone and a smile shades too sweet. She crossed the rancher’s open floor, heading for a massive mahogany trunk in the living room. The whole way, she swayed her hips while she walked. Goddamn tease.

  Sierra dipped to reach the trunk, her ass lifted high in the air, so firm he could take a bite out of it. His claws pricked out from his nails, his chest thumping with a punch-two-three beat he couldn’t explain for the life of him. He’d need to go hard and fast with one of the pack girls tonight to burn this adrenaline—either that or knock some teeth out with whoever would spar with him. A rolled-up ball of clothes sailed toward him faster than he could blink. He grabbed the bundle before unrolling a flannel tee and black sweats, big enough to fit him.

  Dax lifted a brow as he scanned the spare clothes that reeked of wolf. Sierra made quick work of tugging a pair of yoga pants on followed by a racerback tank top, to his dismay.

  She glanced over, her full lips pursed with her frown. “They’re clothing, genius. Us civilized folk like to wear them while we converse with one another.”

  He leaned to his right side, his heavy cock brushing against his leg. Her eyes darted his way with a flash of amber, causing his smile to widen. “Pity for you I’m not civilized,” he responded, his voice heating up.

  Sierra placed both hands on her hips with her chin thrust forward and her arched nose tilted up in defiance. “Put the damn clothes on,” she commanded.

  “Don’t know, I’m feeling a bit overheated,” he said, fanning himself. “Delicate constitution and all.” Her hands balled into fists, the annoyance fueling his enjoyment. She brimmed with unspent tension begging to be released, and he’d be the first to admit he wouldn’t mind tangling with the exquisite woman. Distractions were his specialty, and with the troubles brewing in his sector, he needed one more than ever.

  Sierra unleashed a sigh, even though those dark, glittering eyes darted his way more than a couple of times. “Fine. If you’re going to be a stubborn ass, then we can have this conversation now.”

  Damn. He’d meant to tease her, but she was obstinate enough to play his power games right back. Looked like he’d be doing this meeting naked. Dax forced a grin and dropped his clothes into a messy pile on the floor. Sierra’s nose scrunched in irritation, but she wandered over to one of the three cherrywood chairs with starched mauve fabric over the cushions and sat.

  “Care to join
me?” she asked, gesturing to one of the other chairs. The scratchy fabric would be a joy for his bare ass. Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and he debated the merits of holding on to his previous statement. Pride won out in the end.

  “I like to lean,” he responded, walking to the nearby wall and finding a perch against the plaster. “So what matter was so private we couldn’t discuss it back in the bar?” he asked, curious of her angle. He hadn’t ruled out premeditated murder—out here was a perfect place to dispose of his body after she sliced his throat open.

  She lifted a brow. “Why don’t you tell me? I’ve been hearing rumblings about the Silver Springs pack. In the Red Rocks’ past dealings with the old alpha you lot were proud as hell of your space. You wouldn’t go slinking to try to claim ours unless you had a problem.”

  Dax crossed his arms, the cool white wall pressed against his skin, still sticky from the run. He’d been right to come here—Sierra Kanoska lived up to her reputation for being whip smart and tough. Hell, he’d rehearsed this pitch a thousand times in his head on his way to Beaver Tavern, but after meeting her, he knew no used-car-salesman tactics would work. He also couldn’t charm her into acquiescence, evident due to her iron control while he participated in this meeting without a stitch on.

  He fixed his gaze on her as the gravity of the situation gripped him by the throat. No more escaping, not now. The old anger snapped through him like a struck match as he let out a harsh breath.

  “My pack and I are searching for new territory because of an internal conflict,” he said. Even admitting their position out loud sliced into his heart like a shard. “My father passed a couple of months back, which left the alpha spot vacant.”

  Sierra’s brows scrunched together as she hunched forward, giving her full attention. “Sorry about your pops.”

  Dax shrugged. The bitter thump in his chest served as a clear reminder of his convoluted relationship with his father. They’d never had the camaraderie his older brother and his father shared. If anything, his father had considered him a fuck-up his entire life. Too bad for them he refused to sit around and watch their pack continue his father’s bullying tactics, the ones that had cost Silver Springs their reputation years ago.

  “Nothing to be sorry about,” he responded, wishing the scab didn’t reopen every time someone mentioned the man. Granted, his father had placed the pack in this predicament in the first place. “Turns out my father didn’t want me as alpha, and he’d even stated as such in his last will and testament. I’m assuming that’s why the alpha challenge went the way it did. My brother and I faced off, and I’d had a clear advantage. But before I could put an end to the fight, the older folks in the pack interfered, driving me from the land.”

  “That’s underhanded,” Sierra spat. Her gaze flashed amber, her wolf surfacing. His teeth sharpened in response, the rage as fresh as it had burned mere months before. Her sympathy came as a surprise—based on the anger she’d greeted him with from the get-go, he hadn’t expected any compassion. Yet maybe more than anyone she’d understand the burden of an alpha, the pride that came along with the title, and the fierce protectiveness he felt for his packmates.

  He forced a bitter smile. “I thought so. My brother took ruthless advantage, claiming leadership over a pack he never rightfully won, which split us in two. The older folks aligned with him, but the rest of the pack broke off and followed me. We’ve just been fighting over land and leadership ever since. Those who defected with me are barred from our pack cabin, from the campgrounds belonging to Silver Springs, but they don’t have enough force to oust us from our homes yet. I honestly couldn’t tell you if my father’s wishes stand up for a second in our kind’s law—it’s not like Drew won the alpha fight the way shifters are supposed to.”

  Sierra tilted her head to the side. “My earlier question remains. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

  Dax rolled his shoulders back. His skin prickled at all this admission, the whole affair making him feel more vulnerable than a cub. He hated it. “We need help. You want to talk reputations? You’ve earned one in this region for being smarter than most, and right now brawn isn’t what’s going to win our land back. Smarts might.”

  “You’ve got a strange way of asking for help.” Her voice came out dry.

  “I don’t want this territory, but I won’t leave my pack without a home.” Fierceness pulsed under the surface, the protectiveness he felt for each individual in his pack—for the misguided, wonderful lot who placed their faith in a fuck-up like him. “This land is the closest to the region my brother now holds hostage. If I can’t find a way to undo the damage my father caused and unite our packs, we’ll have no choice but to carve out our section of this region.”

  A growl came from Sierra’s throat, as feral as her wolf.

  Chapter Three

  Control. Don’t lunge at the cocky bastard to rip his throat out.

  Sierra sucked in a deep breath to compose herself even though her wolf bucked forward, ready to tear into Dax, a man so stubborn he had done this entire exchange nude. Her pack thought she took top of the list on pride and stubbornness, but she had apparently met her match.

  “Let me get this straight,” she said, her voice coming out low and menacing. “You’re telling me I either help you, or you attack me? That’s not much of a sales pitch, sweetheart.”

  Dax shifted from where he stood, over six feet of tanned, delicious muscle that would make most women moan. Her irritation warred with a pulse of attraction she’d never admit aloud, and one that baffled her. She had her pick of the pack and plenty of strong, capable men to choose from, but despite scrapping with the boys and the occasional hookup, this magnetism hadn’t descended in a long, long time. And she avoided that territory at all costs. Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t help sneaking a glance his way.

  An obnoxious smile reached his lips again as he fixed those cerulean eyes on her. “Who said I was finished?” He ran a hand through his dark ash strands, long enough to tug. “You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to tramp down here and simply declare war, do you?”

  Sierra lifted a brow.

  A low laugh rumbled from him. “Fair enough.”

  “Then what’s your proposal?” she asked.

  “I’m coming to you and asking for an alliance,” Dax responded, the shift of his hips drawing her eyes to traceable abs and a faint trail of dark hair directing her gaze down. “If you help me reunite my pack, we’ll be a formidable force, one that will be indebted to you for life. Any threat coming into the region, any challenge to your authority, and I’ll have your back.”

  Sierra pursed her lips, mulling over the offer. She preferred alliances with other wolves over cats, but she also couldn’t handpick neighbors. Dax might be irritating as get all, but he’d been truthful with her so far and had tried to claim his leadership by honest means. Based on what she knew of Dax’s father’s history and his brother’s reputation of being an aggressive asshole, taking a risk on Dax might be worth it, if he wanted to run the pack differently.

  “How do I know your word is good?” she asked, curious as to what his answer might be. So far Dax Williams had been an enigma, a meld of confidence mixed with vulnerability, and a fighting spirit tempered by humility. After governing over a pack for as long as she had, she could navigate charged situations in her sleep. Still, she hadn’t expected a straight answer from him, not after the way he’d goaded her earlier.

  “I’ll send one of my pack to live with you,” he responded. “Even if it’s in rotation, you’ll have a Silver Springs pack member at your camp to utilize however you see fit.” Those shrewd eyes met hers. “I trust you to be honorable in your usage.” He leaned down to snag the clothes from the floor before slinking into the sweats and shirt she’d provided.

  Too bad. The man painted a pretty picture, one she didn’t mind viewing. She’d gotten an eyeful of how endowed he was, and the sight didn’t help the adrenaline pulsing through her veins or
the growing ache inside her. Maybe she would run some drills with Finn; she needed to blow some of this charged energy before it muddled her head.

  “Do you happen to have a copy of your father’s will? We’ll need that and to take a trip to scope out the area.” She rested her elbows on her knees, hunching forward. His pack’s attack on him didn’t stack up, but if they got the local shifter enforcers involve—or worse, the major power on this side of the country, the East Coast Tribe—all sorts of complications would arise. His brows furrowed in confusion, and a slow smile rose to her lips as their eyes met. Clarity descended in those too-pretty blues of his as he nodded, extending his palm to shake.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, Kanoska,” he said as she clapped her hand to his. Heat from his palm pressed against hers, and the husky tone of his voice didn’t help as electricity rolled through her in one quick sweep. Hell on earth, she needed a swig of Jack, to sling a couple of punches, or a tumble in the sheets with a packmate—and fast—if she reacted this way after a mere touch from the kitty-cat alpha.

  “Glad you saw fit to join me in civility,” she said with a smirk, giving him a once-over. His gaze glittered as he leaned over the coffee table and grabbed one of the notepads and pens splayed across the surface to scribble on the lined paper. He made his way to the exit, several strides of his powerful legs taking him across the linoleum, past the kitchen and the closed doors. Pausing by the doorframe, Dax tapped the side with his fingertips before turning to her.

  “Give me a call. We can meet up tomorrow morning,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the number he’d left. “Or sooner if you feel like getting uncivilized.” He winked as he slipped out of the cabin, disappearing before the notepad smacked against the wall.