A Wolf of Her Own

by Susanna Shore

  They all paused to contemplate the implications. "So how do you claim wolves killed your sheep in a country where there are none?" Gemma finally asked. They all shook their heads, knowing it couldn’t be done. "Will Tom be compensated if I don’t file this?"

  "No. And not only that, but I think there will be a fine if he’s audited and there are sheep missing," Jamie said.

  That truly upset Gemma. "What shall I tell Tom? I can’t ruin his honeymoon with this."

  Jamie looked stunned, an expression not often seen on his face. "Honeymoon? Your brother got married?"

  Gemma’s smile was forced. "Apparently. But don’t ask me any details. I have none."

  "You haven’t met her?"

  "I didn’t even know he had met someone, let alone got married. He simply called me at the last moment when it was impossible for me to refuse, to tell me he’s gone on his honeymoon so I should come here." She didn’t sound happy about it.

  "It was bound to happen sooner or later," Jamie pointed out.

  "I guess. This so isn’t what I signed for…"

  "We’ll handle this without Tom," Kieran said, her upset causing a curious need for chivalry in him. "The clan employs a shifter vet who may be persuaded to write a report that doesn’t mention the exact way the ewes died." It would be in the leopard-shifter’s best interest too. Humans had protested against shifters only last autumn. This would justify their claims that shifters were nothing but animals.

  And humans hunted animals for sport.

  They couldn’t risk humans seeing the dead sheep. They would only draw the wrong conclusions. "We’ll move the carcasses to our estate. We have means of disposing of them." She arched her brows for his choice of words, but left without a word to fetch the trailer. Kieran stared after her, wondering about the flicker of interest he felt. He didn’t date vampires, with or without mud covering them.

  His wolf tried to say something, but he didn't listen.

  Chapter Five

  It required some navigating to get the four-wheeler to the kill site, the small trees growing too close together at most places for the vehicle to get through. She made the effort though, not wanting to carry the carcasses any farther than necessary.

  Kieran was alone. "Jamie left already?" She thought the alpha would want to take greater interest in this. Also—and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it—she had hoped he would help Kieran move the carcasses so she wouldn’t have to touch them.

  "He had other business to attend to. Did you take the dogs home?"

  "No. I left them with the sheep. They’re not really watchdogs, but they can keep an eye on the flock anyway."

  He nodded. "Well, let’s get to work before these foul things get any worse."

  Silently, they loaded the trailer, the mangled bodies of the ewes lighter than they should be. They were difficult to handle nonetheless, already stiffened. The smell hadn’t eased either.

  Can you do something about the smell? She had a fair understanding of how vampires functioned in general, but they weren’t all the same. They had different skills and strengths, especially when it came to using magic. Her fear of the Rider had prevented her from studying everything she could do. It could be she had no special abilities, or she could be really good at something.

  Her mother had been able to heal with magic, a really useful skill to have, but one Gemma had been especially afraid to try. If she had her mother’s strengths, she might have her weaknesses too.

  She might turn into a killer.

  Blocking her sense of smell was within the Rider’s abilities. All olfactory input ceased—a distressing sensation in itself. She hadn’t been aware she relied so heavily on her sense of smell. Nevertheless, she would have blocked her eyesight too, if that were possible—or practical. For all she knew the Rider could make that happen. She nearly threw up when a movement caused intestines spill from one of the carcasses in a ghastly cascade. Kieran wasn’t as squeamish, and he stuffed them back into the gaping hole before hefting the poor dead animal onto the trailer with more care than it needed in its state.

  They weren’t in a hurry anymore and could have taken the lane that led from Tom’s farm to the Greenwood clan estate. It was a longer route, however, and they both wanted to get rid of their cargo as fast as possible. So they headed over the fields again.

  The urgency of their earlier ride was gone, replaced with the gloom of the task. Gemma drove more carefully, the pace sombre even, and Kieran kept his distance from her, even when the uneven terrain made the vehicle jump.

  Her smell likely worse with blood and intestines on her, she didn’t wonder he wouldn’t get closer. His mind was in turmoil, too, and like all shifters he didn’t see the need to hide it. His shifter energy churned hot and almost violent around him. It pushed against her, invading her personal space, making her uncomfortable.

  Worse, it was pushing her off balance. Upset as she was, she already had to make an extra effort to keep the Rider in check. This could make her lose control. She upped her shields, essentially a barrier of Might. The heat of his shifter energy hit them, but the sensation was still too strong. Recoiling, she pushed back with her own energy.

  He leaned backwards. She took the advantage and extended her shields towards him, needing him to cease. Instantly, her cool vampire energy began to mix with his warm Might. At first the mixture was almost uncomfortable, even affecting her ability to drive, but then it began to change, to cool. The mixture steadied gradually and the churning around him slowed down. As it did, he relaxed too. His energy ceased roiling completely and he sagged in relief.

  He wrapped his arms around her in an easy show of affection so alien to her kind. "Thanks." They remained silent until they arrived at the same side gate where she had picked him up. "I’d better drive from here. It’s easier than explaining the route."

  They switched places and it was Gemma’s turn to hold on to him. She placed her hands gingerly on his trim waist, not wanting to get too close to him. She was off-balance as it was, and didn’t need a manly body to distract her. His muscles were taut under her fingers, unyielding, rippling lightly as he used his strength to balance the vehicle. His warmth was beckoning her. After the morning she’d had, she just wanted to press against him to bask in it, to comfort herself.

  Do it.

  Of course the Rider wanted her to give in. It wanted her to feel safe and put her guards down. With great resolve, she kept her back straight and her attention on the surroundings.

  She hadn’t been to the forest within the estate wall in ages. Not since her wolf friend disappeared when she was eight. Before, she had roamed free there, but a lot had changed in 120 years and she couldn’t recognise her favourite places anymore. Huge trees stood where saplings had been and new paths had formed when fallen trees had blocked the old ones. Paths suitable for motorised vehicles hadn’t existed back then either—there hadn’t been motorised vehicles—but now a couple of them cut through the forest. These changes hadn’t altered the beauty of the place and she found the forest as magical as it had been then.

  "Is there still a huge oak tree by a pond at the south end," she had to ask. Her wolf friend had shown her the place when one of mother’s spells had made her flee home. She had visited it often, and couldn’t bear the thought that it might be gone.

  "How do you know about that?"

  "Your soldiers kept the enemy out. Not little girls."

  He laughed. "It’s still there, though I don’t go swimming as often as I did when I was a child. Did you swim there?"

  "Yes. A wolf friend of mine taught me how to swim when I was eight." It was more than her parents had ever thought to do. Life had been hard on the farm when she was a child; there hadn’t been time for frivolities. It wasn’t easy now, but at least they had machines helping them.

  "You had a wolf friend? Who?"

  "He was one of the soldiers. Not terribly old, maybe fifty or sixty, but I don’t know his name." It hadn’t mattered to her, not until she ha
d tried to look for him and no one had been able to give her an answer. "He doesn’t live here anymore."

  "He went rogue?"

  "I have no idea what happened to him." She had mourned for a time—would have needed him when her mother died—but a child was adaptable and she had put him out of her mind. She’d had to assume some of her mother’s responsibilities as a housekeeper, a heavy burden for a little girl, and had been too busy to remember him.

  They emerged from the forest on the far side of the estate where all the agricultural buildings were. New, they were in pristine condition and meticulously maintained, a glaring contrast to their farm where everything had looked the same for centuries.

  Gemma thought they would stop there, but Kieran continued towards the main house along a well-used road. A group of older farm buildings emerged from behind a bend, beautiful Queen Anne style red-bricks from the early eighteenth century, like the manor itself, too small to be practical in modern farming. They weren’t abandoned but simply put to new use.

  Kieran pulled up outside one of them. "This is our abattoir. We have a walk-in freezer where we can put the carcasses to wait for the vet. We have an incinerator for disposing of them too."

  The building was fully modernised inside. Everything was squeaky clean stainless steel and smelled of disinfectants. They carried the dead sheep into a large empty freezer Kieran said they used when animals died without a cause and needed to be preserved for inspection. "The meat we eat is put into different freezers," he added with a smile.

  Their gruesome task finished, they hosed the trailer clean of any remaining sheep particles. Nothing seemed to make it clean enough and Gemma kept running water on it long after her nose—unblocked again—told her she could finish. She put the hose away reluctantly, feeling oddly restless. She didn’t want to go home. Only an empty house waited for her.

  "Will you call me when the vet arrives?"

  "He shouldn’t take long. Why don’t you wait here? Have lunch with us."

  Relief almost made her knees give. She opened her mouth to accept the invitation when she remembered her looks. On top of all the mud and pig-smell, she now had blood and sheep parts on her.

  She sighed. "Thank you, but I’d best get home and clean myself up."

  Kieran flashed a grin. "I can’t deny you need it. But so do I. Don’t worry. This is a farm. Everyone smells and looks earthy occasionally. There’s still time before lunch. You can shower here and I’ll find you some clothes to wear."

  "In my size?" She had an image she would wear his clothes, a notion she found strangely appealing.

  "Absolutely. We’re shifters. We have emergency clothes everywhere."

  They walked the short distance to the manor, a typical Queen Anne red-brick with white trimmings around windows and in corners. From her childhood explorations, she knew there was a formal Baroque courtyard on the other side, flanked by the two wings of the manor, but they approached it from the English garden at the back. It was still bare after the winter, but she could imagine it would be beautiful when in full bloom. At the other end, the garden rose in a couple of wide terraced banks to the house where doors led inside. They didn’t choose any of them and rounded the building to a small side door instead.

  An antechamber with boot racks holding muddy rubber and hiking boots, and hangers filled with old outdoors clothes. "You’d better leave your boots and jacket here." Her once white T-shirt and muddy socks weren’t much of an improvement, but they would have to do until she got herself cleaned up.

  A hallway opened from the antechamber, leading to a kitchen by the sounds and smells of it. On the left, narrow and plain servants’ stairs led up. They took those to the second floor and an empty bedroom there.

  "This is one of the guest rooms. There are towels in the bathroom. I’ll have someone bring you clean clothes."

  He left. She rushed in the bathroom—clearly a modern addition—and peeled off her clothes. A hot shower had never felt better.

  ***

  A pair of grey jogging bottoms and a grey t-shirt waited on the bed when Gemma emerged from the shower, along with new knickers still in their package, and a pair of clean socks, but no bra. Gemma wasn’t comfortable with going without support, but her bra smelled as bad as the rest of her clothing and she couldn’t put it back on. She would have to trust that the snug t-shirt would rein in her breasts.

  Dressed, she tried to do something with her hair. She hadn’t found a dryer, and towelling had made it curl most annoyingly. Not even the weight of being long and damp made it straighten. Her hair elastic smelled of pig, however, so she had to leave her hair down. It would get worse when it dried, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Kieran’s unique scent reached through the door a moment before he knocked on it. She opened the door and he made as if to speak, but nothing came out. He stood there, a surprised look on his face.

  Then he smiled. "I had no idea what you would look like." Gemma rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been that badly covered with mud. "Come. I’ll take you to eat. Leave the clothes here and our housekeeper will take care of them."

  A row of windows on one side made the long hallway bright, illuminating the old paintings hung between bedroom doors on the other. Kieran led her down it to the wide staircase with gleaming mahogany banisters that connected the two wings of the manor. They descended to the ground floor and made their way to the back of the house to a comfortable, bright breakfast room done in yellow. A long oak table for twenty people took up most of the room. A side table by one long wall was filled with platters of food. Gemma’s stomach growled when the delicious scents hit her nose.

  The wall opposite had tall windows and a door that opened to the garden. The weather was fine and five people were having their lunch at a smaller table on the terrace, Jamie among them.

  "We don’t have formal lunches here, so grab a plateful and we’ll go join the others."

  Gemma was ravenous. Farm work was clearly more straining than her job in London as a personal assistant to a CEO, which could be hectic. She had the healthy appetite and metabolism of a vampire, although she usually had a salad for lunch at work like her colleagues to fit in better among the humans.

  She wasn’t among humans now. She filled a plate with everything that was on the offer. "Do you employ a cook?" After her mother’s death, Gemma had cooked the family meals. She had learned a trick or two in 120 years, but this food was clearly the work of a professional.

  "Yes, she’s one of our clan members, though we’ve employed outsiders from time to time too. But humans never seem to be able to grasp the amount of food needed." Kieran grinned and she smiled back, following him out.

  It was too chilly on the patio to wear only a T-shirt, but the wolves didn’t seem to care so Gemma didn’t say anything either. "You look more presentable now," Jamie noted when she took a seat. "And you don’t smell half as bad either."

  Gemma rolled her eyes. "I’ll get that horse one day."

  Introductions were made. She had seen one of the older men before, but she hadn’t tried to befriend other wolves after losing her old friend, so most of them were strangers. The conversation was kept light during the meal. The dead sheep weren’t brought up and she was grateful for it. She was having trouble as it was, starting to feel lightheaded with so many wolves around, their energy constantly brushing against her. Her shields helped only so much and she began to fear she couldn’t control the Rider.

  "Are you unwell?" Kieran leaned in, speaking softly, though everyone could hear him anyway.

  She was too strictly brought up to admit feeling poorly to her host. "No. I’ve simply never been among this many shifters at the same time." There were plenty of shifters in London, of all types, but they kept their energies to themselves.

  The energy surrounding her disappeared instantly, the loss of it almost shocking. She felt embarrassed for forcing them to act against their nature in their own home, but they told her not to worry. "It’s only polite," Jamie said
, with a smile that seemed like he meant it.

  She was grateful that the roiling energy around her was gone, but she realised she missed it too. The shifter energy had been like a soft, warm cocoon that had made her feel safe.

  Had made her feel like she was home.

  Chapter Six

  Kieran barely tasted what he ate, his attention on the woman next to him, still in awe of the beauty that had been underneath all the mud. Astonishment had rendered him almost speechless, which didn’t happen often with him around women.

  Where there had been mud and heavy shapeless clothes, there was now feminine grace. Her willowy body was downright distracting with the way her t-shirt brought out the soft mounds of her breasts. Her face was like a doll’s, porcelain skin with a delicate pink hue and deep dimples that appeared whenever she smiled, which was all too seldom. But when she did, her soft, rose-coloured lips curved enticingly, making her face captivating.

  Her eyes were light hazel brown, almost golden, and her hair seemed to constantly change its colour in sunlight from dark blonde to brass with a hint of copper. She had left it open and it fell down her back in a damp cascade of curls. His fingers itched to run through it.

  But her beauty couldn’t explain why he was hyper-aware of her like no woman before. He was immersed in her scent, delicate yet strong like her. Her impact on Might, her cool energy, felt wonderful when it met his. It was like a refreshing shower, sharp and energising, that left him feeling alive.

  He was so tuned to her that he noticed she wasn’t feeling well, even though the change in her was subtle and she tried to hide it. When she started breathing more easily after they reined in their energies, he felt relieved.

  "Vampires aren’t this overwhelmingly vibrant and pushy, are they?" he asked, and she smiled, her dimples deep. That delighted him, as if it was a personal achievement of sorts.