Windham Werewolves

by Shawntelle Madison

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author.

  Chapter 1

  The black werewolf in front of Kaden growled and bared his teeth. His back arched and his wild eyes flared from dark yellow to sun yellow. Kaden sensed the lunge coming.

  His nephew, Micah, was too far gone. After following him for three days in wolf-form, Kaden suspected that, each day, the wolf within the boy took his nephew farther away from him.

  Shifting should’ve been a gift, but the process had been too much for Micah.

  The muscles in Micah’s front legs tensed. Kaden froze, but alarm cut through his insides. If Micah struck him, he’d have to strike back to bring the boy under control.

  So far, patience had been the key here, but every single hour that passed plagued him to no end. They were far to the north now. At least over the next mountain.

  You’ve left your woman alone for too long, he told himself.

  Micah snapped at him, but didn’t budge from his perch on a lower outcropping. There wasn’t any place for him to go. Either he went over the cliff to a sure death or he fought Kaden.

  Every single day, Kaden had to make the same choice, either continue to follow Micah and drive him back or return to protect Cynthia. Tracking Micah had been arduous, but now that he was at this point, he knew, for a fact, that Rhys wouldn’t have had the strength to bring his son back. Only an alpha was capable.

  Kaden slowly crept forward, his tail high. If this was the place where he needed to make his final stand, so be it. Prepare yourself.

  Countless times in the past, he’d protected his pack. He tried to remind himself that everyone was valuable. Returning without his younger brother’s son wasn’t acceptable.

  The moment he surged forward, Micah reared back, his mouth open wide. The younger wolf tried to bite his flank, but Kaden came down hard on his back. With a twist of his neck, Kaden managed to bite down on the back of Micah’s neck.

  The boy yelped and jerked to free himself, but Kaden wouldn’t let go. Micah managed to squirm free to back up, but, with nowhere to go, he veered closer to the edge.

  Kaden nipped at him to get him away from the cliff.

  Submit, damn it.

  When Micah snapped at him again, he growled and pinned him again.

  The process continued until, by the third time, the boy finally stilled.

  The end of the day had snuck up on them with the sunset looming to the west. He peered at the boy and finally saw recognition in Micah’s eyes. The wolf within him had retreated. For now.

  Hopefully, it wasn’t too late for him to return home to Cyn.

  Chapter 2

  Even cold-hearted hunters enjoyed a warm bowl of oatmeal before they searched for their prey.

  Cynthia McGinnis never thought of Sinister as an oatmeal person, but, as she sat down to eat breakfast with the only other human who lived in the werewolf camp, she had to admit the dish looked and smelled damn good.

  “You even have walnuts, strawberries, and cinnamon sprinkled on top,” she murmured. She took one quick glance at the black man across from her, who, just fifteen minutes ago, declared that they needed to eat breakfast before they went on patrol around the camp.

  “If you’re gonna help me, you’ll need strength,” he’d said. His expression was dead serious. Like always.

  As Sinister shoveled his first bite into his mouth, Cyn slid her fingers across the worn table to grab the scratched-up spoon. The utensil and table weren’t the only worn things in the room. When she first approached the fellow hunter’s cabin, she expected a simple room and nothing else. Most hunters, such as the man across from her, had foul-smelling clothes and weapons strewn all over the place, but Sinister had a tidy bed, an end table, a table, a small kitchenette with a mini-fridge, and not much else. No nudie posters or pictures, not even a book. She didn’t ask where the two doors in the back went.

  The whole place smelled like aftershave. A bachelor pad.

  Something bumped her calf under the table. She leaned back to glance at her feet.

  “That’s Captain Crunch,” he said.

  Captain Crunch? She spotted a hazel-eyed cat peering up at her with his one good eye. The light from the window behind her shone on the cat’s glossy coat.

  Yep, Sinister even had a tabby cat.

  “I’m not giving you any of my bacon,” Sinister grumbled to the cat. His pet meowed in response. “So wasteful.” He glanced at the full bowl of cat giblets in the corner.

  “How did you get him up here?” she asked. They were deep in the Canadian mountains far north of Vancouver.

  “During the last supply run to Prince George, I found him roaming the streets.”

  “Ahh.” She blew on her steamy spoonful of oatmeal and took a small bite. The food had just the right thickness and flavor. The good stuff. However, the undercooked bacon, which she usually loved charred to a crisp, didn’t look as appealing. She picked up a piece. With a deft twist of her wrist, the flabby meat slipped to the side, and she strategically let the portion fall to the floor. The scamper of claws told her Captain Crunch had pounced on his target. Atta boy.

  “You done?”

  She glanced up to see Sinister had finished his food. Every last morsel.

  “Not yet.” She was far too distracted today. She scooped up another bite and froze when the curtain behind her slid shut. The only light left came from a tiny lamp on the end table next to the bed.

  “You never told me we had a guest, Sly.” The voice was a mere whisper behind her back, but Cyn recognized the smooth timbre from her first dinner with the werewolves. An itch along the back of her neck urged her to turn around and face the werewolf, but she didn’t move. “Sorry about the curtains, but my albinism gives me a bit of a skin condition. I avoid direct sunlight.”

  A pale hand with long fingers reached around Cyn to grab one of the slices of toast from a plate. Next, the man took two pieces of barely cooked bacon and placed them on the bread.

  “Damien,” was all Cyn said. Was he a werewolf or a vampire?

  There were only two seats at the tiny table, so the albino werewolf stood at the side without a seat.

  “You can call me Uncle Damien, if you like.” Damien wasn’t as tall as Sinister. Matter of fact, unlike most of the werewolves Cyn had hunted in the past, Damien had a thinner, more compact body. Compared to Sinister’s simple flannel shirt and jeans, Damien was dressed in business casual with dark slacks and a sweater. Almost as if he planned to entertain company with cocktails.

  “You’ll be family soon, after all,” Damien added.

  “Of course.” Right after she patrols their territory due to a slain hunter.

  His head tilted a bit. “You don’t sound sure.”

  Lying to werewolves was next to impossible. “Not all the Windhams want me here.”

  “I’ve learned over the many years I’ve walked the earth that what might seem insurmountable is a mere whisper of a challenge to face.”

  A mere whisper? Fighting Kaden’s younger sister Naomi had been one thing, but facing someone like Eva, a high-ranking werewolf who wanted to protect her family, that was something entirely different.

  “So you’re giving up without trying?” Damien asked.

  Bitter words swirled around her tongue, but she didn’t say them. She didn’t want to try as much anymore. Kaden had lied to her about the dead body. Betrayal settled like a weight in her stomach and made her feel queasy.

  Maybe Kaden had a reason to lie to her? She sighed. He’d withheld information before and the reason was always clear: if she had found out, she would have left. Which meant he didn’t trust her judgment.

  The one person who should’ve trusted her didn’t. So why was she staying here?

  It most certainly wasn’t the breakf
ast options.

  “You don’t seem like the type to give up without a fight, Cynthia McGinnis.” At the sound of her name, Cyn glanced up at Damien. The prominent scar along his cheek drew her eye. You couldn’t miss it. It was if someone had taken a blade and tried to slice his face open inch-by-inch.

  Cyn slowly rose. “I’m not a quitter, but I do know when I’m in too deep. Especially when it comes to people like Kaden Windham.”

  Sinister wiped his mouth off with a simple purple napkin. “We got work to do. Whatever shit you got going on with Windham can wait.” He leveled her with his gaze. “We clear?”

  Did he have an idea what went down? “Crystal.”

  Sinister jerked his head toward the far wall with the two doors. One of them was open a crack. Was that the door Damien had come out of?

  Her host gathered the plates while she made her way toward the open door. By the time she touched the cold doorknob and peered inside, she was surprised to see the tiny cabin hid even more secrets. Beyond the tiny room, lay a far bigger one.

  Not a single light illuminated the room except the dim light from the other room. Were there any windows? Sinister’s room was darker now that Damien had removed the sunlight.

  She took a single step inside. Then another. To keep herself from running into something, she reached her hands out. A few steps inside and her hand hit a pull chain, only to have another warm hand slide across hers.

  “Whoa!” She jumped left.

  “Need help?” Uncle Damien’s smooth voice asked.

  With a strong jerk, light filled the room and Cyn gasped.

  A hunter’s fantasyland unfolded before her very eyes.

  Shelving along the walls held ammunition and weapons. Oh, the guns! She stifled a giggle. One shelf had a full row of professional grade Glock 17s and Korth pistols. High durability weapons. A box of Barrett 50 caliber mounted sniper rifles lay in one corner next to a lovely stack of Bouncing Betties.

  It was like friggin’ Christmas at the McGinnis household.

  “Oh, look; it’s an M-16. I got a rifle like this for my fifteenth birthday,” Cyn said with pride. The year before that her parents got her make-up. That nonsense gathered dust on her dresser and they ended up gifting her a 9mm Beretta. A much more suitable present to blow your enemies away with.

  Just thinking about the money necessary to buy all this was mind-boggling for such a small camp. Her werewolf-hunting group, the Red clan, with hundreds of members, had this kind of arsenal. A camp of less than twenty people had some crazy firepower.

  In the middle of all of this was a single twin-sized bed. Perfectly made with a navy blue wool bedspread. Was this where Damien slept? Why wasn’t he surrounded by family in one of the other cabins? Older hunters weren’t treated like this.

  “Why are all the weapons in here?” Cyn asked. Over the last couple of days, Sinister had given her everything she needed. She hadn’t seen this room before.

  “I didn’t want the kids getting into trouble,” Sinister replied.

  She nodded. Good point.

  “I sleep here to keep the curious away,” Damien said. While she looked around, the elder werewolf sat down on his bed, crossed his right leg over his left and began to read a hardback book: How to Tell if Your Cat Is Plotting to Kill You.

  Umm-kay. Captain Crunch is totally plotting their demise.

  She shifted her attention elsewhere. On one shelf, she spotted an older weapon.

  “A Thompson machine gun? It’s barely usable.” She eyed the machine gun. “This is pretty old. Who do you plan to kill with this thing?”

  “It’s from World War II, but she still fires.” Seeing Sinister smile for once was a bit disarming, Cyn had to admit. He frowned far too often. Up close, she caught the faint reddish-brown stubble on his light brown skin and she hid a grin. Was this what Kaden’s sister Naomi saw that no one else glimpsed? Sinister the human?

  “Want to hold it?” Sinister asked with a bit of reluctance in his voice.

  She wiped her hands on her jeans as if she were preparing to hold a newborn babe. “Come to mama.”

  After she had checked out the weapon for a while, Sinister gave her a full tour until she was comfortable with what was available and could fetch what she needed if the time came. Captain Crunch leaped onto one of the boxes and watched their progress. His tail flicked back and forth.

  “Our time is running out. You gonna be ready for what’s coming?” Sinister asked.

  Now she definitely was.

  Doubts still plagued her, but if hell was coming for them, hell better bring some backup. “I’m more than ready. I was born with a silver blade in my hand.”

  Chapter 3

  The sky to the west darkened from gathering murky gray clouds. The thickening cloud line stretched as far as Cyn could see. By the time Cynthia and Sinister returned from a perimeter walk, what should have been a bitterly cold mid-day in January turned into what could’ve been early evening.

  As much as Cyn welcomed hitting the sack, the idea of going to bed without Kaden bothered her. Even if she still wanted to kick his ass for lying to her.

  As they approached the camp, Rhys waited for them. Even though the lighting dimmed as time passed, Cyn could easily make out his narrowed green eyes and severe expression. Rhys, a werewolf with a tall thinner build, was often hard to read. He had a reserved nature.

  “Did you see any problems?” he asked Sinister.

  “Nope.” He didn’t look at Rhys as he headed up the path. Cyn found it amusing how Sinister walked about as if none of the werewolves concerned him.

  “There’s a meeting going on right now. I came out to fetch you,” he said to Cynthia.

  Cyn paused, but Sinister kept going.

  “Keep your eyes on the path, Cynthia,” Sinister grunted.

  “It’s pack business, Sinister. She has to be there.” Rhys grabbed her arm, but Sinister advanced on them to pull her away.

  “Windham wants me to keep her out of trouble. Trouble is always waiting during your,” he rolled his eyes, “so-called meetings.”

  “I can take care of myself.” After speaking her peace, Cyn tried to ignore the growing pain along her back from helping Sinister do patrol. A hint of fatigue hit her, too. She told herself that it wasn’t her cancer coming back. Three days ago, she’d helped Sinister bury the body. Even though the snow cab had cleared out a hole for the snow, the body still had to be hauled into the hole and covered. Backbreaking labor, but Sinister made her help.

  “Gotta keep you frosty, McGinnis,” he’d said with what she thought was a grin.

  Now that there was a pack meeting, Sinister was far chattier than usual.

  “The game pieces have shifted position.” Sinister stared at her for a moment, and within those few seconds, she caught an expression her father often used to give her: You’re strolling toward a deep pile of shit, Cyn. Watch your step.

  She wasn’t going into a trap, but, without Kaden, the odds weren’t in her favor. One false move, and she’d have problems.

  “If you’re that concerned, then come to the meeting and say hi to your girlfriend,” she smiled and twisted out of Sinister’s grip. Over the past couple of days, she teased the fellow hunter about Naomi. She turned her back on the men and headed up the path toward Rhys’s cabin. “I’m ready for once.”

  Ready, as in she was walking into the meeting with her good friend, Glock 37. She’d be glad to introduce it to her cohorts if they had a problem with her.

  Cyn didn’t bother knocking. The door was open and she strode inside. Naturally, conversation ended when she took a free seat in the back. Everyone was there, all the werewolves in the camp.

  Naomi smirked when she saw Cyn. Her smirk froze when Sinister marched through the door with Rhys bringing up the rear. Instead of taking one of the folding chairs, Sinister took a spot near the door. He didn’t bother to put away the rifle slung over his shoulder.

  Cyn sighed. His firearm was a bit of an overkill, but
this was Sinister overall.

  Rhys took a seat next to his wife, Eva. “What did I miss?” he asked her.

  “We were talking about emergency procedures and how to stretch out camp supplies due to the weather. We waited like you asked us.” Her two boys, Phil and Peter, sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor playing cards.

  “What is it that you had to wait for me to arrive?” Cyn asked. She might as well get to the point.

  “As Kaden’s intended mate, we need to discuss a plan of action since he has been missing for the past few days.” Rhys stretched out the word intended, as if any intentions Kaden had to be her mate were for amusement. How nice.

  “Isn’t he out hunting for Micah?” Cyn asked.

  “Yes.” Eva said this with disappointment in her voice. As Micah’s mother, Cyn couldn’t imagine how worried she was.

  “Why don’t we have more wolves out there tracking him?” Cyn asked.

  “I went out briefly this morning, but I couldn’t find anything. Kaden is the best tracker in the pack. If we send out too many wolves, we weaken the group and leave ourselves vulnerable for attack.”

  Even though the camp was hidden away, the Windhams continued to be vigilant for attacks from the werewolf hunters. After doing something foolish like killing a werewolf hunter from the Cerulean clan, Cyn thought that decision was wise.

  “Right now, the pack is weakened.” Eva glanced at Cyn with a vicious turn of her lips. “Especially now that my brother-in-law Bastian is gone.”

  Oh, no she didn’t. Cyn hid a smile. Eva seriously flashed her the evil eye. As if it were her fault that Bastian was a power-hungry jerkoff who tried to take over the pack. A few days ago, Bastian had cornered Cyn and used another pack member to attack her. If Kaden hadn’t intervened, there’d be one less smart-ass hunter in British Columbia.

  “Don’t start, sweetheart,” Rhys bit out. “We need to focus on what we need to do.”

  “We don’t need Cynthia to figure that out,” Naomi snapped. “We should do what I suggested, every twenty-four hours, we send out two pack members to search during the day. They return during the night to secure the camp.”