Rogue Huntress (Wolf Legacy Book 3)

by Aimee Easterling

  Up until this point, I’d been unable to hear anything over the roar of the wind. But then air currents shifted just as Sebastien stepped out of the shadows and took center stage. His hair blew out in a halo around his head even as the sound of feet shuffling against pavement promised I’d be privy to all ensuing words.

  My mate didn’t say anything at first, though. Merely walked unarmed into the space between the two armies, taking his life into his hands by attempting to instigate a truce. Ignoring all danger, his motions were fluid as he pulled each of my adopted parents into the hug I yearned to be part of. “Sir, ma’am,” he greeted Wolfie and Terra in turn, each easy welcome lowering the threat quotient on the plaza by a fraction of an inch. “Ember will be back in a minute. In the meantime....”

  “...You’ll all obviously have to spend the night here,” Eddie interjected. Unlike Sebastien, the older male didn’t know what he was getting into, but he must have guessed at the danger from his wife’s clench-toothed snarl. Perhaps that’s why he slipped one arm around Sarah’s waist even as his eyes misted over with joy at the possibility of filling each of his thirty-three bedrooms with warm human bodies. “I’m afraid some of you might have to share a room....”

  “Not a problem,” Wolfie answered, the growl I’d expected absent from his voice. My adopted father liked my stepfather, I realized. Approved of this human Sarah had ended up with decades after tricking our pack into helping her leave Wolfie’s brother behind. And, in response to Wolfie’s tone, Sarah’s shoulders finally lowered even as her lips spread into a polite smile.

  Now it was my adopted mother’s turn to make nice. Terra, who’d exploded into lupine form at the mere mention of the woman now standing a mere foot away from her precious pack mates. I held my breath, hoping Mom would find a way to see beyond the past....

  And, sure enough, the parent who had soothed my childhood tears accepted my other mother with far more grace than I’d expected. “Thank you for having us,” Terra offered, the tendons on either side of her neck raised with tension as she stepped forward to accept Sarah’s proffered hand. Mom wasn’t quite ready to let down her guard, but her voice rang with honesty as she added: “You look well. I appreciate you taking care of our little girl.”

  Then I was finally close enough to speak over the elements. Only my voice wasn’t needed, because my parents—both by adoption and by birth—were intermingling as easily as humans at a cocktail party.

  So I left them to it. Turned to hunt down the one person with whom I desperately needed to speak.

  Only he’d already disappeared into the mansion’s interior. My not-quite mate had brokered this truce then fled. And now Sebastien was lost within the cavernous greatness of Eddie’s sheltering house.

  Chapter 39

  Under other circumstances, I would have been unwilling to leave two sets of opposing forces behind to duke out differences on their own. But Wolfie was already infiltrating the ranks of Sarah’s crew with the ease born from decades of managing wild werewolves. I had a feeling that within a couple of hours these former strangers would be expecting my father to stand in as alpha whenever Sarah was out of sight.

  Terra, on the other hand, was my mother first and foremost. Before I could step into the open doorway, she’d draped one arm over my shoulder to protect me from the biting breeze while quite ably preventing my escape. And as her familiar scent enfolded me, I noticed for the first time that my nose was on the level of Terra’s eyebrows, her arm bent at an odd angle as it attempted to encircle my taller body. Had I grown so much during the short week I’d spent away from home, or had I been outpacing my mother for months prior to my departure with neither of us the wiser about our change in relative heights?

  “Thanks for being good with this,” I told her rather than commenting upon our physical disparity. Terra had become more of a homebody in recent years and it meant a lot that she’d traveled clear across the country to meet up with me. Not that I ever doubted her commitment, of course. In every way that mattered, she was my one and only mom.

  “Wild wolves wouldn’t have kept me away,” responded my usually mild-mannered mother. And when she smiled, I caught a flash of inner animal glinting off her abnormally shiny teeth. “But I have a feeling something bigger is going to keep you from coming home with us tomorrow,” she finished, her tone turning melancholy as she acknowledged a maturation process I’d been hiding even from myself.

  Terra knew me so well. We didn’t share a single ounce of DNA, but we both craved chocolate on a regular basis. In the rare instances we watched television instead of curling up with novels, we were drawn to the exact same family-focused dramas. We often completed each others’ sentences. And we both would do anything for the sake of our packs.

  So why was I suddenly confused about who was included within that distinction?

  Not wanting to voice such a hurtful statement aloud, I twisted slightly so our embrace became more appropriately oriented to our differing heights. And Mom reciprocated without the need for either words or pack bond, squeezing me so tightly that my ribs creaked. Only then did she push me out at arm’s length and tuck a wisp of wind-blown hair behind my left ear.

  “Your father pulled strings with a vengeance,” Terra informed me, “to make sure that nothing about this week would go on your permanent record. But when the time came to solidify those favors, everyone said you were 100% in the clear, that Wolfie didn’t owe their pack anything. So he transferred the requests over to freeing Becca, and as you can see that particular request quickly paid off.”

  For a moment, we both gazed at my younger cousin. She was playing with the big wolves, barely clinging to humanity as she and her friends roughhoused on Eddie’s front lawn. So much normalcy in such a strange setting. And a rush of gratitude filled my chest as I confirmed that Becca was already bouncing back from her recent travails.

  My own fault in the matter, however, couldn’t be so easily brushed aside. If I hadn’t left home on a wild-goose chase, Becca would have spent that tumultuous period surrounding her first shift safe within the loving embrace of family. If I hadn’t gotten myself into such a pickle that my pack needed to ride to my rescue, then Uncle Chase wouldn’t be rubbing an angry red welt encircling his otherwise unharmed throat.

  I’d led my family into danger. And, given the data I’d possessed at the time...I’d do it all again.

  Meanwhile, there were even more problems on the horizon that I knew I’d feel obliged to stick my nose into. Problems like Dakota’s little white pill and its implications for turning pack-bound werewolves into psychopaths. Like SHRITA’s continued obsession with Derek and shifter-kind. And like my only brother’s survival when he faced the Tribunal at long last.

  Which meant I needed to protect my pack just as they’d protected me. I couldn’t drag defenseless relatives like Becca into my enemy’s crosshairs a second time. To ensure their safety, I’d need to strike off on my own more thoroughly than I’d ever done before.

  Mom had guessed as much before I had, I realized. She’d known the moment she saw me that I wouldn’t leave with the rest of the family when they finally wriggled out from under Eddie’s overwhelming hospitality—an event that I suspected wouldn’t occur until at least the middle of next week.

  I swallowed hard, trying to speak around the lump in my throat that had arisen as I considered willingly breaking ties with my beloved pack. My only saving grace was the suspicion that I wouldn’t have to make a go of it entirely alone. Instead, I was hoping that one smart, strong human might be tempted join me in my upcoming quest....

  My gazed flitted toward the building that currently housed my not-quite mate. And Terra didn’t force me to explain that yearning either. “Go,” she told me. “Track down your young man. You and I can talk more later.”

  I WOUND THROUGH THE maze of corridors hunting Sebastien by scent, a tricky endeavor when he’d already walked through most of these hallways at least once during the previous day. Which might explain w
hy I stumbled across Sarah before Sebastien—literally tripped over her, in fact, as I rounded a blind corner at a quick trot and slammed into the other female’s unmoving form.

  “I can make myself scarce for a while if you think that will help matters,” my biological mother said by way of greeting as we disentangled ourselves from the unintentional embrace. Despite our close proximity, she somehow managed to keep a cautious emotional distance between us. And I accepted that aloofness, taking a step backwards and following her gaze out the window instead of continuing to meet her eyes.

  As I did so, I realized that even though Sarah had fled the gathering, she’d settled in the one spot with a perfect vantage point of the area we’d both recently left behind. Only, the scene had changed dramatically in those elapsed moments, transitioning from a standoff to a festive picnic. A few of Sarah’s pack mates still hung back on the edges, but everyone else was engrossed in making new friends and consuming the feast that had materialized out of nowhere to solidify newfound bonds. Dad had worked his usual magic in short order.

  But while my adopted parents were clearly willing to let bygones be bygones, Sarah instead lingered within her fancy mansion, exuding the scents of melancholy and lemon peels. She’d thrust herself out of Wolfie’s welcoming clan twenty-five years earlier. And now regrets prevented her from walking back through a door that she’d adamantly slammed shut in her youth.

  It was the lemon peel that did me in...that plus the knowledge that we all make stupid decisions from time to time that we end up regretting for a lifetime. So rather than engaging in the snark I might have fallen back upon a day earlier, I emulated the only father I’d never known. “Are you kidding?” I answered, building bridges rather than burning them. “Dad’s dying to introduce you to the cousins. They’ve always wanted to meet their long-lost aunt.”

  Then, before I could be forced to decide what name I wanted to put on this relationship with my own biological mother, I barreled onwards, diving into a topic I’d planned to broach this evening when current events became a bit less incendiary. “Oh, and I meant to tell you about the favor Dakota wanted me to use up as well,” I offered. “That’s why she tracked me down a few minutes ago. To balance the scales so she wouldn’t have to spend another moment in my debt.”

  Sarah smiled, the gesture never quite reaching her eyes. The older woman clearly thought I was engaging in small talk in an effort to change the subject...which I very much was not. Still, she’d spent over a decade conforming to human codes of conduct, so she toed the social line with agility now. “What sort of favor did you end up asking for?” my not-quite mother responded idly.

  “It was for you, actually,” I answered. Then, before the clouds gathering behind Sarah’s face could erupt into a storm of thunderous recriminations, I explained. “And for Eddie. He’s been granted the status of honorary werewolf and the two of you have also been given free rein over any territory you wish to pass through. So you can stop looking over your shoulder, worried that the neighbors will hunt you both down.” I hesitated, then added: “Plus, if you want, it’s now safe to choose your husband as your mate.”

  Chapter 40

  I hadn’t expected Sarah to make a decision that very instant. So I wasn’t disappointed when she murmured polite evasions and drifted off down the hallway in the opposite direction from the one in which I was headed. The whiteness of my mother’s face, however, suggested she was giving the subject serious thought. And that, I decided, was a definite step in the right direction.

  For my part, I made a beeline for the servants’ quarters, aiming for the work areas that flanked the numerous staff bedrooms making up a full quarter of Eddie’s home. Because it had occurred to me that Sebastien might be hunting me just as I was hunting him. Better to settle upon a single, predictable location and stay there rather than having our respective peregrinations carry us both further and further apart.

  This time, my entrance to the kitchen was very different from my initial approach sneaking in the back. The ovens were quiescent with no food preparation currently underway, which made it easier to smell Sarah’s aroma lingering atop every surface. And at the center of what must have been her usual domain, scent drew me toward a small, tattered cookbook with handwritten recipes lining every page.

  I couldn’t resist opening the cover and flipping through the much-thumbed interior, even though I felt as I did so that I was peering directly into my biological mother’s heart. Unlike me, Sarah didn’t stick to sweets when it came time to nurture her husband and crew. Instead, most of the book was full of succulent salads and savory stews, although there were a few dessert recipes carefully penciled into the back. A fancy marzipan that didn’t look particularly appealing, a homey apple strudel, and then just the type of recipe I currently craved.

  “Molten chocolate cupcakes,” I read aloud, wondering how many times Sarah had used this exact same pastry to ease the growling in her gut that had little to do with hunger of the physical sort. Sure enough, the kitchen’s shelves were stocked with every necessary ingredient, and the mere act of frothing eggs into sugar brought a smile to my lips.

  Five minutes later, I licked the spoon while watching cupcakes rise within the big, silver oven. Their exterior would be light and fluffy, the interiors luscious and rich. The combination reminded me of Sebastien’s gentle kindness, his human chivalry that hid both strength and fortitude inside a sensual and magnetic core.

  “There you are.”

  Turning, air currents whirled around me in a medley of chocolate, sugar, and Sebastien’s unique and constantly changing aroma. Today, he smelled like a forest at midnight, when the heat of the day begins to dissipate into the clear, starry sky above. And when my eyes caught up to my nose and I found Sebastien standing in the gap between the two broad doors, I was pretty sure the stars were actually present right there in front of my eyes.

  My mate had found me. Sebastien had tracked me down at last.

  I WANTED TO FLING MYSELF into Sebastien’s arms and encircle him with both relief and welcome. But I took only a single step forward before encountering a hard space in the air that hadn’t been present an hour before. My mate had built an invisible yet very tangible wall between us, the separation enough to tighten my throat and prickle incipient tears into being at the backs of my eyes.

  There were so many possible reasons for the professor’s withdrawal. Perhaps he’d found another family member to offer additional information about our halfway formed mate bond while I was hunting him through Eddie’s mansion. Or maybe he’d just had time to analyze the data he already possessed, determining in the process that our mate bond wasn’t worth the hassle. Either way, the knowledge of what was to come deflated me as quickly as a half-baked cake sunk in on itself when exposed to cold kitchen air, and I pressed myself deeper into my seat while pulling protective knees up to shield my chin.

  Only, Sebastien acted like nothing was the matter. He lifted another chair over to join mine as easily as if the furniture was made of styrofoam. Then he settled down beside me, eyes trained on the pastries that were gradually changing from molten chocolate to a duller baked hue.

  “Are those for me?” my mate asked with a smile imbuing his tone.

  I couldn’t help myself. The deep rumble of humor vibrating through the air opened my body like a blossoming flower. Feet dropped to the ground and I found myself leaning forward before I could remember that Sebastien had come to tell me something I didn’t want to hear.

  “They are for you,” I confirmed. Then, realizing that I had a way to fix the problems I’d recently created in our relationship, I added, “And we’ve got just enough time before the cupcakes come out for me to answer your questions. Any questions. I now have official permission to share all information you care to request.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to fit into the time it takes to bake some cupcakes,” my mate answered dryly. “Because I wrote down notes every time I got curious.” He curled onto his left hipb
one in order to disinter a paper from his right rear pocket, adding as he did so: “The list of questions is currently as long as my arm.”

  His statement was only a slight exaggeration. Because even though the paper that emerged after some fumbling was just a page torn out of an ordinary notebook, Sebastien had written queries in such small print up and down both sides that the combined length probably did match the appendage in question.

  Yesterday, I would have cringed at such a tremendous upwelling of curiosity that I was legally unable to assuage. But now I leaned in closer, basking in Sebastien’s proximity as we attempted to decipher his scrawling handwriting together.

  The questions ranged from the scientific—did my wolf possess the same mass as my human form?—to the more profound. One note, in particular, made my toes curl even as it prompted a chuckle from my inner wolf. “What,” Sebastien had written, “does it feel like to make love to a woman, half of whose consciousness is shared by a wolf?”

  The oven timer prevented me from offering an answer to that particular question. And as I pulled myself away from Sebastien’s list with an effort, desire for chocolate suddenly paled in comparison with the pleasure of breathing in my mate’s air. Still, I dutifully placed the steaming cupcakes on a rack to cool, then watched as Sebastien slid two of the prettiest specimens out of their metal wells with firm, sure fingertips that seemed entirely unaffected by the heat.

  And, okay, so the implications of that action were sufficient to break through my haze of breathless longing at last. Opening my mouth, I prepared to warn my companion against peeling back the paper prematurely. After all, I knew from hard-won experience that rushing a dessert straight out of the oven and into one’s mouth frequently turns into a recipe for disaster. A cupcake is never quite as good when great gobs of warm pastry cling to the paper, and the heat of the oven dulls a diner’s taste buds while ruining a pastry’s complex bouquet.