Wild Wolf

by Jennifer Ashley

  Graham fell against her as soon as he gained his feet, and Misty struggled to hold his weight. After a while, he was able to move, and Misty guided him back to the rise, Graham’s every step labored.

  Misty looked around for the hiker as they climbed up the wash, but she didn’t see him. She hoped he was all right, but the desert could be treacherous.

  It took much longer to reach the niche in the rocks again, but finally Graham and Misty came to rest on the level ground near the boulders.

  Graham stiffened as he leaned against the rocks, and he inhaled sharply. “In there? Are you crazy? I’m not going in there.”

  “It’s a giant cave,” Misty said. “It’s cool inside—it gets bigger after the entrance. What’s the matter?”

  She started through the niche. Graham gave a long growl, then sucked in a breath of pain as he pushed in behind her. She reached back and grabbed his hand, guiding him through.

  They emerged into the cave . . .

  But it was the wrong cave. The hollow in these rocks was cool, but nowhere near as big as the cave in which Misty had found the hiker. This niche was only about five feet deep, ending in a solid granite wall. There was no sign of the pool, or any water at all.

  “Damn,” Misty said. “That cave was perfect. But at least you can rest here out of the sun. I can look again for the other one. It can’t be far away.”

  Misty turned to leave, but Graham clamped his hand over her wrist. For a wounded man, he had a lot of strength.

  His eyes were clear now as he glared down at her. “Give me that water.”

  “What?” Misty fumbled with the canteen at her waistband. “You could say please.”

  “I’m not joking. Give it to me.”

  Graham was standing upright, without support, and no blood at all leaked around his wound. The tattoos on his arms were stark against his skin, almost luminous in the shadows.

  Misty handed him the canteen. Graham jerked it from her, unscrewed the lid, and took a long sniff of the water inside.

  “Shit.” His expletive filled the little cave before he upended the canteen and poured the water all over the dirt floor.

  “No!” Misty shot her hands out, catching the falling droplets in her cupped palms. She brought her hands to her face and slurped the water, not caring how dirty she was.

  Graham slapped her hands down, and the last of the water was lost.

  “What are you doing?” Misty asked in a near screech.

  “The hiker, where is he?”

  “I told you, I don’t know.” Misty licked her lips, needing every drop of the beautiful water. “He was right behind me. I didn’t see where he went.”

  “Shit,” Graham said. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  “Graham, what is wrong?”

  “Damn it.” Graham scrubbed one hand over his short hair as he paced in a circle in shallow cave. “I drank that water.”

  “So did I.”

  Graham stopped. He grabbed Misty by the shoulders and yanked her to him, not gently. He looked into her eyes, his brows coming together. “You seem okay.”

  “I’m fine. You’re the one who was shot.”

  Graham released her and stepped back. “I know. And look at me.” He put his hands on his hips, standing upright. His face was no longer drawn and gray, and the spent look was gone from his eyes. He looked hale and well, tall and strong.

  Graham ripped the tape from his side. Underneath, his skin was whole, the only thing left of the wound a patch of dried blood. He was completely and undeniably healed.

  Misty reached out and touched his side to find warm, firm flesh. “I guess Shifters do heal fast.”

  “Not that fast. There was magic in the water, and there’s only one kind of magic going around these days. At least around Shifters.”

  “Magic? What are you talking about?”

  “Bastards. They’ll do anything to get Shifters under their power again, and you went and handed me to them. Damn it.” He turned away, pacing again. “This is what I get for being nice to a human.”

  Misty took a step back. “What the hell do you mean I handed you to them? Them who? I didn’t hand you to anybody.”

  “You forced that water into me. Now I’m screwed. Shit.” Graham balled both fists and slammed them into the rock wall.

  He hit so hard Misty expected his fingers to break, but the wall chipped, and dirt pattered down like rain. Graham hit the wall again and again, the curse word sounding with each slam. He was enraged, and behind the rage on his stiff face, Misty saw fear.

  “Graham, what is wrong?”

  He swung to her. His eyes were white gray, a wolf’s eyes, and his snarl filled the cave. “You are what is wrong. Don’t you understand? You have fucked me over.”

  Misty’s lips parted, her breath hitching. He was furious, more so than she’d ever seen him, and he was mad at her.

  Emotions tumbled through her. She’d been terrorized this morning, her fear for her brother overriding her fear for herself. She’d been rescued by Graham, who’d looked pissed off to do it. Then she’d been in danger of dying of heatstroke while she watched Graham start to expire with a bullet in his side. And now Graham was standing here, yelling at her.

  Words wouldn’t come, and neither would her breath. Misty turned her back and walked outside. The sun was beating down hotter than before, afternoon well underway, but she didn’t care.

  Graham came after her. He didn’t bother to stop her; he pushed past her and started down the hill.

  A plume of dust rose in the desert about a mile away, a vehicle approaching. Graham went on down the wash, stepping through the slithering stones with agility. Misty picked her way down, the soles of her sandals split, her feet burning.

  The dark spot in front of the dust plume enlarged until it became a large black pickup. It skidded a little in the soft dirt as it turned off the track and headed for the shack and Graham.

  Even before the truck stopped, Dougal leapt out of the back door of the four-door cab, clad in a new shirt. Dougal ran at Graham, hurtling himself into Graham’s arms like a scared adolescent. Graham gathered his nephew into his embrace, holding him, rubbing his back.

  The pickup halted, the driver’s and passenger’s doors opened, and two men got out of the cab. Misty recognized them as she drew near—Diego Escobar, a human who was the mate of her friend Cassidy, and Stuart Reid, a tall man Misty had met only a few times. Reid wasn’t Shifter, but he lived in Shiftertown and didn’t talk much about his past. He used to be a cop, as had Diego. Now they both worked for Diego’s private security company, DX Security.

  Misty pressed her hand to her side and hurried the last few yards, breathing hard. The two men and Graham turned to watch her, but Dougal kept his face buried in Graham’s shoulder.

  “Please say you have water,” Misty said as she reached them.

  Diego silently held out a sports bottle. Misty upended it, pouring the liquid in a stream into her mouth. The water didn’t taste anywhere near as good as the water the hiker had given her, but it was wet, which was the point.

  “We need to get out of here,” Graham said.

  “That’s the plan,” Diego said then turned to Misty. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she said. “Now that there’s water.” She took another long drink.

  Graham ignored them and pushed his way to the truck, Dougal still hanging on him. Without a word, he continued to the truck bed, where he convinced Dougal to turn him loose so Graham could lift his ruined motorcycle into the back, then they both climbed in with it.

  Diego watched Graham, a puzzled look on his face. “I thought he got himself shot.”

  “He did,” Misty said, too weary to go into details. “Can we go home now?”

  Diego opened the pickup cab’s back door. “Your carriage awaits.”

  Misty g
ave him a weak smile and let him help her up into the cool interior. Diego had the air-conditioning going full throttle, the icy blast making her blink. Misty leaned back into the soft leather of Diego’s custom seats, thinking nothing had ever felt so good.

  Diego slid into the driver’s seat. Reid, who’d not said a word, was at the back of the truck talking to Graham. Misty couldn’t hear what they said, but Reid wore a worried expression as he scanned the desert.

  Reid then climbed into the pickup’s bed, still conversing with Graham. Diego said nothing, only put the truck into gear and pulled out.

  “Can I borrow your phone?” Misty said, her voice thin and tired. “I need to call my brother.”

  “Already taken care of,” Diego said. “Your brother is safe, in Shiftertown, in fact. My brother and a couple of my guards are at your house, making sure no bad guys show up there. Paul’s at Eric’s house, which is where we’re headed.”

  “No,” Misty said sharply. “I want to go home.”

  Diego looked at her in the rearview mirror, surprise on his face. “Your brother’s worried about you.”

  “Keep him safe, and thank you. But I need to be alone for a little bit. Tell Paul I’m fine, and I’ll see him later. If my house is safe, I want to go there.”

  Diego still looked puzzled, but he didn’t argue.

  Misty dozed off once the truck left rutted road for smooth pavement. The pickup’s deeply tinted windows kept out the sun and leather seats cradled her body.

  The sleep didn’t refresh her, though. Flashes of dreams struck her—Graham with blood all over him, Flores’s pockmarked face when he’d pushed it close to hers, the despair when she’d been locked in the hot shack. Threading through these visions was the remembered sensation of the wonderful, sweet, clear coolness of the water. Misty wanted more. She had to have more.

  The truck jerked as Diego slowed for traffic on the freeway, and Misty woke. The dreams fled, and she couldn’t remember them when she reached for them. But she was still thirsty.

  Diego pulled off the freeway and took the streets to the ordinary suburban neighborhood where Misty lived. In a short time, he was pulling into her driveway, the house a welcome sight.

  Graham was up and out of the pickup’s bed as Misty opened the cab’s door and let Diego help her out. She started for her front door but realized in dismay she didn’t have her keys. They’d be at the shop in her purse, still locked in her desk drawer.

  Didn’t matter. Diego’s brother Xavier pulled open the house’s front door from the inside, looked around, then gave a thumbs-up to Diego.

  Graham got in front of Misty as she went up the walk. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “Inside.” Misty motioned to the door where Xavier waited. “I live here.”

  Diego raised his brows, looked at Graham, and then turned and moved discreetly back to the pickup, pulling out his phone to text someone.

  “You’ll be safer in Shiftertown,” Graham said, his voice a growl.

  “But I want to stay here.” Misty shook her head. “Thank you for helping, Graham, and I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.” She paused. Xavier had retreated inside the house, as discreet as his brother, leaving her and Graham relatively alone. She drew a breath. “But don’t call me again.”

  “What?” Graham’s focus shot to her, the distraction of his fear and anger gone. His eyes burned, every part of his unnerving attention on her.

  Misty stepped into the shade of her small front porch. “I said don’t call me. I’m done.”

  “Done with what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Good-bye, Graham.” Misty made herself walk inside the house and start to shut the door.

  She thought Graham would grab the door at the last minute and charge in after her, raging all the way, but he only stood there, amazingly still, his wolf eyes going silver as she closed the door in his face.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  This is what I get for tangling with a human.

  Graham repeated this to himself all the way back to Shiftertown. He and Dougal were now riding inside the cushy cab of Diego’s truck, in the backseat, the air conditioning on too high for Graham’s taste. But Graham wanted to ride inside because Dougal still needed Graham’s reassuring hugs, and Graham didn’t want the dumb-ass human police seeing Dougal basically on Graham’s lap, and pulling them over. Dougal wouldn’t last against human police right now—he might do or say something stupid and get them all arrested.

  In fact, humans were pains in the ass all the way around. Graham would keep that fact to himself while Diego, a human, was driving them home. Plus Diego had found Graham a clean T-shirt, black with a tiny DX Security logo on it.

  But for the most part, humans weren’t worth the time. Misty was a distraction for him, and Graham didn’t need distractions right now.

  Her scent, that was most distracting of all. A scent Graham could wrap around himself until everything bad went away. Misty’s smile was pretty good too. He remembered when he’d first seen her in the bar—she’d given him that sweet smile and asked if he was Shifter.

  The smile had been completely absent this afternoon when Misty had said, I’m done, and closed the door on him. The finality of it bore into Graham’s heart.

  Like he needed a human in his life. Graham’s day had been hell since he’d woken up. First the Lupine woman had attacked him in his own house, sent to try to get Graham to mate with her. Then Misty’s scared voice on the phone. In the seconds he’d heard her, he’d known that nothing else mattered but finding Misty and making sure she was all right.

  She hadn’t been all right. He’d had to fight for her, which had led to him getting shot. Then he’d slowly baked in the sun until Misty made him drink water a Fae had given her.

  Graham knew the “hiker” Misty had stumbled upon had been Fae. Reid agreed. The cave she’d described, which had mysteriously disappeared, screamed of Fae. They must have been on a ley line out there in the desert, one of the lines of magic that crisscrossed the world. Stone circles were found on them as well as other mystical places—Fae loved ley lines.

  Graham remembered how the gang leader had smirked and said he only needed one Shifter. One Shifter for what? To give to the Fae lurking nearby? For what?

  No wonder the human had been stupid enough to give Graham directions to his location instead of setting up a dead drop. The human had planned to give him to the Fae. Why, Graham had no idea.

  Didn’t matter though, did it? Graham had drunk the effing water. It had cured his gunshot wound almost instantly, but Fae cures came with a price. Whatever else the water had done to him, he wasn’t sure yet.

  He’d planned to talk it over with Misty when they got to Shiftertown, where he’d explain everything to her. Diego, the traitor, had taken her home instead. Fucking humans.

  I need her.

  Graham banished the voice inside his head. He didn’t need Misty. He needed to take a Lupine mate, and soon. Dougal wasn’t a natural leader, and his wolves were getting restless because Graham had no other heir. He had to establish his dynasty, have strong cubs of his own who’d protect Dougal as family.

  Plus, he needed to keep the wolves he’d brought to this Shiftertown under his control. The human government, trying to consolidate and save money, had closed the Shiftertown in Elko last year and shunted all Graham’s Shifters here, expecting Graham and Eric, two powerful alphas, to decide who would lead. The humans had created a powder keg begging to explode. Some of Graham’s Shifters were near to feral, having lived close to the wild for so long.

  The few Lupines participating in the experiment to take off Collars were getting too big for their britches, like the female this morning. Collars didn’t make or unmake dominance. The idiots needed to learn that. Collars just shocked you. Graham had decided to keep his Collar to prove no one would be able to best hi
m despite the torture device around his neck.

  No, he thought, as the pickup turned onto the streets of Shiftertown, I don’t need a human woman in my life to screw me up right now.

  I’m done, Misty had said.

  Why did those words echo over and over inside his head?

  Diego pulled the truck into the driveway of Eric’s house. Eric Warden sat on a bench on his low-roofed porch, his bare feet up on the thick wooden railing. He didn’t bother to rise when the truck pulled up, only turned his head to watch them stop and get out.

  Eric was like that, acting all laid-back and too lazy to do anything. The truth was, he was the dominant Feline—the dominant Shifter—of Shiftertown, and he could switch from laid-back kitty cat to killing machine in a heartbeat.

  His mate, Iona, came out of the house with a little more animation. Iona was a sassy sweetheart, even more so now that she was pregnant and about to drop her first cub. Her wildcat was mostly panther—which, everyone had explained to Graham, was a rare, black form of leopard. Explained why she and Eric, a snow leopard, got along so well. The pair of them could be scary as hell when they wanted to be, but mostly they sat around looking pleased with themselves. Felines.

  Iona started to ask, “What exactly happened?” as Graham lifted his bike out of the back of Diego’s truck, but Graham cut over her words.

  “We need to contain those humans, Warden. They hurt Misty, and I’m not letting them get away with that.”

  Another human came out of the house—Paul, Misty’s younger brother. He had dark brown eyes, like Misty’s, and he was rawboned and lanky, like Dougal. He’d shaved off his hair during his time in prison, but he looked too young for the buzz. For a human, he was full-grown, twenty-three or something like that, but still he looked very young.

  He’d been in prison for the last five years, serving a sentence for riding in the back of a stolen car when it had gotten into a wreck that killed other humans. Paul’s lawyer had finally gotten him parole six months ago. Graham had been partly responsible for his parole—he’d growled at Eric and Diego until the two had used their influence in the law enforcement system around here to get the kid released.