Wild Wolf

by Jennifer Ashley

  And look what he’d done to her.

  Misty should have run from him that night and never come back. But she had come back. She’d met him the second time by chance on top of a parking garage at the county courthouse, and then she’d sought Graham out in Shiftertown to tell him a bad man had asked her to spy on Shifters. That night, Graham had kissed her for the first time.

  He’d never been able to forget the taste of her. Graham had drunk her last night as well, finding an even sweeter taste between her legs.

  If she died, Graham would force his way into Faerie, hunt down Oison, and chop him into a million tiny pieces.

  Misty’s wound wasn’t very deep, so Neal had said when he’d cleaned her up and bandaged her. But with Fae wounds, it didn’t matter how deep they were. A scratch could be deadly.

  “Stay with me, love.” Graham took her hot hand in his and caressed her limp fingers. “I can’t let you go.”

  Graham had lost everyone in his life. His father and mother, his sister—Dougal’s mother—all dead in the wild. Graham and Dougal were the only ones left of the pack. And Rita had died, Graham’s one cub with her.

  Alone, always alone. Graham had found more Shifters in his clan, then they’d been rounded up into Shiftertowns, practically living on top of one another, but it made no difference. A wolf without a pack was nothing.

  But a wolf could start a pack. He needed a mate, and cubs. When Dougal mated as well, there would be many little ones running around.

  The idea of being alone forever terrified the hell out of Graham. He’d never told anyone that.

  “Stay with me, Misty.”

  He leaned down and kissed her hair, squeezing her hand. Misty never opened her eyes, never acknowledged him. She was here next to him, but Graham was still alone.

  No, not quite. Kyle and Matt pushed the door open, concern in their wolf-pup eyes. They preferred staying wolf these days, Graham noted, unless they wanted to chatter to Misty.

  Now they put their paws on the bed, looking up at Graham’s high mattress. Graham lifted them both. After wagging tails and pushing noses into his palm, the two cubs lay down at Misty’s feet, one on either corner of the bed.

  Guarding her, Graham thought. Guards who closed their eyes almost immediately, and started to snore.

  • • •

  Misty swam toward consciousness, but that way lay pain. She thought she heard her brother’s voice . . . Paul, I need to take care of him.

  She was twelve again, and sick in bed with the flu, fever making her delirious. Her father was off pursuing one of his wild schemes, her mother was in Newport Beach in her new house with her new life. Only Misty was there to take care of Paul. I have to get up. I have to look after him.

  But Graham was there too. She heard him rumbling something and relaxed. If anyone could take care of Paul, it was Graham.

  She heard other voices, ones she didn’t know. A woman with low, almost velvety tones, a man with an Irish accent. What were they all doing here?

  Present reality caught up to her. She’d been stabbed, with a wound that seared, and Graham had been hurt. Where was she? Was Graham all right? Were the cubs?

  She started up to find a heavy hand pressing her back down. “Stay still,” Graham said.

  Misty subsided. Graham sounded as strong as ever, though she heard the weakness in his voice. Faint, but there.

  The pain returned. Pain had seeped through the darkness of her dreams, but it had been muffled, like sounds through a thick blanket. Now it raced over her, spreading through her body from one hot core.

  “The cut isn’t too deep,” the woman’s voice said. “But deep enough. I can try.”

  “What is that?” Graham’s voice held great suspicion.

  “Something my father gave me. He thinks it will help.”

  “Your Fae father.”

  The Irishman spoke. “You knew that when you called us.”

  Graham growled something wordless. “You’re a Guardian,” he said. “Why do you have to be in here? You make me nervous.”

  “The sword helps,” the woman answered in soothing tones. “Sean and I do this together. If you want her to get better, you have to stand over there and be quiet.”

  Misty wanted to laugh, but it hurt too much. Graham hated being told what to do, especially by a female.

  The Irishman, who must be Sean, gave a low chuckle. “I’ll let no harm come to her. Andrea knows what she’s doing. Now I’m going to draw the sword, but I promise, I’m not stabbing anyone with it.”

  A faint ting as metal touched metal. Then a touch on Misty’s side. She cried out, cringing away, as pain intensified.

  “What are you doing?” Graham said immediately.

  “Calm down.” Andrea’s voice again. “I can see the spells. They’re complex, a mesh. It will take a bit for me to untangle them.”

  “Just do it,” Graham rumbled.

  “She will,” the Irishman said. “Stop interrupting.”

  Graham made another noise of impatience, but he subsided. He must be truly worried if he actually shut up.

  Misty felt the cold of animal noses touching her arm. Little noses. Two of them. She wanted to smile, but couldn’t move.

  And then more pain. Misty started to scream. She heard the sounds come out of her throat, hoarse and cracked. Another touch, this one Graham’s big, rough-skinned hand holding hers.

  “Easy,” Graham said, so gently Misty was surprised it was he who spoke. “Easy, now.”

  Misty tried to lie still, but the pain pulled her. She writhed, only to find Graham’s warm strength holding her down.

  “Poor lady,” Sean said.

  Andrea drew a breath. “Ready.”

  “Aye, love.”

  Did that mean they hadn’t started? Dear God, how much more could Misty take?

  She forced her eyes open a crack. Sitting beside her bed was a dark-haired woman with gray eyes and a lovely face. She had one hand on Misty’s side, the other wrapped around the blade of a sword that looked much like Oison’s. Misty saw the runes on the silver metal, which began to glow.

  The sword’s hilt was held by a man with black hair and very blue eyes. He had his arm around Andrea, his free hand resting over hers on Misty.

  Andrea closed her eyes and tilted her head back, drawing in another breath. Sean kept his hand steady on Andrea’s.

  Graham lay half on top of Misty, his short hair tickling her chin. His hard hands held her arms in place. The wolf cubs were beside Misty’s head, peering worriedly into her face.

  It’s all right, Misty wanted to reassure them. But she wasn’t certain it would be.

  Another wave of pain, white-hot. She thought she was being sliced in half. The screams came again. Graham tightened his grip on her, and one of the cubs whimpered and licked her cheek.

  Andrea’s head went farther back, her eyes moving as though she watched something behind her lids. “Now, Sean,” she whispered.

  Sean removed his hand from Andrea’s. He reached for something out of Misty’s line of sight, then clamped what felt like a poultice to Misty’s side, Andrea at the last minute moving her hand to rest it now on top of Sean’s.

  Misty thought she was dying. The agony reached a peak, beyond which there was no feeling. After a very long time, she heard Graham again, his voice harsh. “It’s not working.”

  “Patience,” Sean said, but Andrea drew a breath.

  “He’s right,” she said.

  I don’t want to hear that, Misty thought frantically. I want everyone surprised but happy I’m alive.

  “Move.” Graham again, his weight rocking Misty. “Let me.”

  “No, you don’t know—” Sean began, but Graham cut him off.

  “Tell me what to do. What is this stuff?”

  Andrea answered. “Fae . . . medicin
e.”

  “Yeah, don’t reassure me. Why is it hurting her so much?”

  “The Fae magic in her is fighting it,” Andrea answered. “It’s strong.”

  “I’m stronger.” Graham’s voice was rough, breathy. “Misty, love.” He wrapped his hard fingers around hers. “Hold on to me. Tight as you can. And fight. Fight it for me, sweetheart.”

  Misty had no strength to fight. Nothing. She didn’t want to die, but right now living was so, so tiring.

  Graham’s large hand went to her side, and he pressed a cloth filled with something over the sword cut. Misty half sat up, trying to scream again, but her voice had gone. Her vision was blurred, but she saw Andrea and Sean collapsed onto a couch pulled to the bed, holding each other. Matt and Kyle sat up next to Misty, anxious, two pairs of wolf cub eyes fixed on her.

  Graham was merciless. His eyes were the light gray of his wolf’s, determined, angry. He pressed her side, holding Misty down while she tried to wrench herself away from the pain.

  “Hang on, baby,” Graham said. “I know it hurts. You can kick my ass later. But hang on.”

  Misty clamped down on his hand, clinging to it as though it was a lifeline. Graham forced whatever it was into her wound, the pain searing, something hot rushing to her heart. She couldn’t hold it in—her heart would burst, and Misty would die.

  Through the pain, a small dart of warmth touched her chest. The tiniest piece, and yet it was something outside the pain, something to focus on.

  She heard Graham draw a sharp breath, saw his gaze go to the middle of her chest, as though he knew what she felt. He looked down at his own chest, and his look turned startled.

  Misty had no idea why. Was he feeling what she felt? Was that possible? But strange things had been happening all day. Night. Whatever time it was.

  The piece of warmth suddenly flooded her chest, spreading, widening, burning through her to engulf the pain from the wound. Her body seared hot, hotter . . . hotter than she could stand.

  And then everything stopped. Misty dragged in a long breath that seemed to come from the ends of the atmosphere, and she realized she hadn’t been breathing for the last . . . however long it had been.

  As soon as Misty exhaled and blinked, the cubs went into paroxysms of joy, dancing in circles, yipping, tails moving rapidly.

  Misty found herself drenched but realized it was with sweat. The sheet was soaked with it, and so was the big T-shirt she was wearing. Not hers.

  The runes on Sean’s sword, still in his hand, flashed out once, then went dark. Andrea was up, her hand on Misty’s forehead, her face relaxing. “It’s gone,” Andrea said. “I don’t see the spell anymore.”

  Graham unfolded himself like a huge bear coming to life, his eyes silver white and wild. He wrapped his arms around Misty, picking her up away from Andrea, gathered her against him, and buried his face in her neck.

  Misty held his shaking body, both of them rocking a little. “It’s all right,” Misty said softly, stroking him. “I’m here.”

  Graham lifted his head. The relief in his eyes went a long way down, along with pain and stark terror. He drew a breath.

  “What the hell were you thinking?” he roared in his loudest voice. “Going for the sword like that?”

  Misty closed her eyes, sinking into exhaustion. “Love you too, Graham,” she murmured, and hugged him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The next morning, Sean made everyone pancakes, which he’d assured Graham were famous. Graham never thought he’d see the day he’d let a Feline into his kitchen to cook for him, but times were strange.

  But nothing mattered anymore. Misty was alive. That was all he needed. Graham’s heart lightened when she came into the kitchen, looking tired but rested. Bandages bulked up her side under her tank top, but other than that, she moved with a sure step.

  The cubs, in little boy form again, were happy to see her too—that is, when they could lift their faces from their plates of pancakes.

  Andrea had been explaining that while Misty was healed once again, and she’d closed up Graham’s wound, he was still under Oison’s thrall.

  “But you took the magic out of me, right?” Misty said, sliding into the empty place at the table. “Can’t you take it out of him?”

  Andrea shook her head as she wrapped her hands around her cup of coffee. Andrea was a Lupine, a gray-eyed wolf who had agreed to mate with Sean, a Feline, in exchange for a safe move to a new Shiftertown. Somewhere along the way, the two had found the mate bond.

  “The magic dust my father gave me counteracted whatever Fae magic touched you from the sword,” Andrea said to Misty. “Graham’s a different case. He’s under a complete Fae spell that seeks to control every aspect of him. I knit up his wound, but I couldn’t break the spell. I don’t have that kind of power, and my father doesn’t either. The magic that entered you, Misty, was incidental. The Fae is not after you.”

  “Just Graham,” Misty said. She looked across the table at Graham, unhappy.

  “Not just me.” Graham rejoiced that Misty was here to look at him at all, even with sadness and worry. Her brown eyes were free of pain, her face pink with health. “All Shifters.”

  Sean said from the stove, “Liam told me about the connection between Oison’s sword and your Collar. I agree, we need to get the Collars off if the Fae have a big ‘enslave the Shifters’ plan. But, unfortunately, it's going slowly. The element we need to remove the Collars safely is rare. That’s why the research.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Graham growled. “Why do anything when you can think about it for years, have meetings about it, talk about it?” He pinned Misty with a stare. “Too much damned talking.”

  “Get over it,” Sean said. “Here you go, Misty.”

  Sean flipped a stack of wonderful-smelling pancakes onto a plate and carried it the few steps to the table.

  Sean and Andrea’s cub, Kenny, ten months old, sat at the table in a high chair borrowed from the Lupines next door. The cub, who would maintain his human form until about age three or four, had dark hair like Sean, and gray eyes like Andrea.

  Matt and Kyle eyed Kenny speculatively. They didn’t like the little Shifter in their territory, even though Graham had explained the concept of guests to them. Kenny watched them, unworried, nonchalant, even. An alpha in the making.

  Misty’s eyes lit when she saw the pancakes Sean set before her. She poured a stream of syrup over them and then dug in.

  Graham would love it if Misty would look at him in the same eager way she regarded the pancakes. And then reach for syrup and pour it all over Graham’s body.

  He tightened. His cock started rising, and Graham cleared his throat, moving in his seat, willing the thing to go down. Not that it mattered; Sean and Andrea would scent the change in his hormones right away. They already did, from the smirk Sean sent Andrea.

  Misty didn’t notice, intent on her pancakes, stopping to dribble more syrup onto the stack. A sticky droplet clung to her lips, and it took all Graham’s self-control to keep from going over the table and licking it from her. Graham felt better since Andrea had patched him up—except for the continuing thirst—and his relentless need for Misty had returned, full force. Plus he’d mate-claimed Misty last night, which fanned the spark of his mating frenzy into a raging blaze.

  “Want any more, Graham?” Sean asked, returning to the stove.

  “No. Thanks.” Graham had conceded to eat a little, knowing he had to keep up his strength, but filling his stomach had seemed to make made the magical thirst worse. “Can you go now? I need to talk to Misty alone.”

  Misty licked syrup from her fork. “Don’t be rude. They’ve traveled a long way, and they helped us.”

  “And I’m grateful. Now I need to talk to you.”

  Misty gave him the eye-rolling look, which warmed Graham’s heart, because she was alive to do it.
>
  Sean clattered his cooking accoutrements into the sink. “Eric and Liam will want you with us when we question the Fae.”

  Liam had found the Fae-blood human he’d promised to round up at the Shifter meeting, Sean had told him last night. Eric and Liam had stashed him in Eric’s hideaway out in the desert, ready for interrogation.

  “I’ll come out later,” Graham said.

  “And Graham really needs to talk to Misty alone,” Andrea said. She rose and lifted her son out of the chair. “We’ll take the cubs out too.”

  “We will, will we?” Sean asked. But he didn’t look annoyed, he looked amused. “If you say so, love.” He dried his hands and came to bend over the cubs. “Want to go walkies?”

  Matt and Kyle growled, Lupine for Who is this fool?

  Andrea laughed. “Come with me, little loves. We’ll go play. Don’t worry about Sean. Though I know he smells like a cat.”

  Matt and Kyle started eagerly out after Andrea, bumping into each other as they went. Sean shook his head, took up the high chair, and followed. “You want to watch yourself with this mate thing,” Sean said to Graham as he went. “The females, they take over.” He glanced from Graham to Misty, grinned, and strolled out of the house.

  Graham left the table and locked the back door. He went out and locked the front door as well. Dougal had gone out early and had his key, but Graham didn’t need his guests deciding to charge back in while Graham was having a heart-to-heart with Misty.

  When he returned to the kitchen, Misty was washing the dishes again.

  Graham paused, remembering what had happened when he’d come up behind her doing dishes the last time. He pictured how he’d wet her with the spray then licked her skin, how he’d drunk her, how she’d made him feel incandescent joy.

  He was rock hard again—not that he was ever very flaccid around her.

  “Leave it,” he said.

  Graham knew she wouldn’t stop, and Misty didn’t. “It’s not a lot,” she said. “Sean’s much neater than you are.”

  “He must be a joy to live with,” Graham said. “Neat and clean, Irish accent, bloody Feline grin.”