She could hear little furry animals scurrying around in the grass as well as the traffic on the distant roads. She could smell her vehicle’s engine, the sheep, the dogs, and the far-away forest: wet earth, old leaves, and new sprouts.
Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes. Everything was as clear as on daylight. She had thought her normal eyesight was excellent, but this was infinitely better. Not even in daylight would she have noticed the field mice hiding in the holes of the stone fence.
This is not good. There’s too much information. Her head was beginning to ache.
You need to filter it.
How?
Concentrate.
Gemma growled. That is not helpful. I can’t concentrate.
Pick a smell, block out everything else. The Rider sounded smug, but Gemma’s growing annoyance and distress made it continue. Remember how the strange wolves smelled? Concentrate on that.
Gemma closed her eyes and put hands over her ears to lessen the impact of other senses. Then she concentrated on the memory of the wolves’ smell and began to search for it. It was slow work sorting through the millions of different smells around her. She didn’t detect the strange wolves, but she wasn’t sure if it was because the men weren’t there or because she was unable to discern the difference.
Her Rider wasn’t worried. Scan the area for abnormalities in Might.
What is considered an abnormality? Gemma asked, frustrated. She should have practiced this a century ago, but she had been unable to imagine a scenario where she might actually need her vampire senses. She knew she would always be the biggest threat anywhere she went.
Anything that isn’t natural.
As annoying as the Rider’s answer was, Gemma understood what it meant. All living beings made an impact on Might according to their ability to interact with it and absorb it. Animals barely registered in Might and humans weren’t much different. Any fluctuation she sensed would therefore be caused by a two-natured.
Scanning was another alien practice to her. She could sense how Might flowed around her and the kind of impact people made on it. But Might was abundant everywhere; it would be all but impossible to sense the smaller differences of those trying to hide themselves. How was it even done? Should she open herself to Might, let it stream through her like when she was filling her reserves, or do something more active? Reach into it? She sensed the smugness of her companion, but it wouldn’t offer any insight.
I thought scanning is something Riders do without any input on the host’s side anyway, she exclaimed, irritated, after a while.
How did you recognise Jamie’s strength today?
Because he made such a strong impact on Might. Duh.
Was it something he caused you to sense or was it what you were able to sense from him?
Gemma growled again, aloud this time. Might was there, like the air. She could feel it constantly around her, comfortable like old gloves that fit perfectly. And like air, she never noticed it until it felt different.
So was there anything nearby that felt different?
Concentrating, she made a conscious note of how Might felt closest to her, studying it, touching it with her mind, actively sensing it. Once she was sure she knew what it felt like, she reached out, in small steps, pausing in short intervals to contemplate the differences. Little by little she stretched farther, towards the sheep and the dogs, then beyond the meadows, as far as she could reach.
It was far from an easy exercise. Her breathing grew laboured and her back began to sweat before she was halfway finished. But she wouldn’t give up until she had scanned the span of the pasture and made sure nothing surfaced as out of the ordinary.
Utterly exhausted, she ended the scan and let her vampire senses drop. The world was instantly much darker and quieter with only her regular abilities to rely on. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. Slowly, her heart rate slowed to normal and she ceased panting. She opened her eyes and they had adjusted to the dark again. The world felt poor and lonely.
And she was alone.
She was about to start the engine of her four-wheeler and head home when she detected movement out of the corner of her eye. She froze. Was it only a larger animal, a fox or a badger? Or was it a wolf?
It was impossible to tell and she couldn’t risk not knowing. She reached for her vampire sense again and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t come to life. She was too exhausted, the Might reserves the Rider needed for operating drained. She would have to feed, and even then it wouldn’t be until the full moon when Might was at its most potent that she would be able to fill the reserves properly again.
There was nothing else to do, she would have to determine the possible threat with her eyes. And she needed to do it without alerting the object of her interest to it.
Slowly, she lifted her arms above her head and stretched, to all appearances casually. Her back protested, so the ruse became an impromptu exercise. She turned her head and torso from side to side, trying to work out the kinks in her muscles. Every time she rotated her upper body to face the direction where she had noticed the movement, she strained her eyes to see into the shadows, but she detected nothing. Satisfied, she shook her shoulders one more time. No one was hiding in the bushes.
"Funny place you’ve chosen for exercising."
Kieran laughed when Gemma jumped with a shriek. "Sorry. I thought you knew I was here. You definitely scanned the place thoroughly enough."
She placed a shaking hand on her chest. "I detected nothing."
"Good," he said smugly.
"Good? You could’ve been the killers and I just let you lay in the darkness, none the wiser."
Kieran grinned. "Okay, bad for you. Good for me. I tried my best not to be noticed."
She glowered at him. "Well, don’t do it again." She was sitting on the four-wheeler and their faces were almost level. Kieran sensed her anger was more because of the fright he had caused and remorse filled him. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close. She didn’t try to pull away this time, but relaxed against him. He held her for a long time, until he was sure she wasn’t frightened anymore.
"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I was laying low, acclimatising to my surroundings. My purpose was to be as invisible as possible." It was slow work, so he had arrived early to make sure he was ready in case the killers returned.
She had shown up instead. He had observed her from his hiding place, admiring her resolve to make sure the sheep were safe, even though he had sensed her unease from afar. But he had been sure she had detected him with her scan.
"Why?"
"I’m keeping an eye on the sheep tonight." So that she wouldn’t have to. He gave her a small kiss on her temple and pulled back. He was finding her too tempting all of a sudden, the idea of holding her more alluring than spending the night in the bushes, alone.
"Here? But it gets cold overnight."
He shrugged. "I’m a wolf. I can take it."
She looked baffled and concerned. "Well … do you at least have something warm with you, tea and a blanket?"
A nice warm woman…
"Worried for me, are you?" He made his tone light to hide the surge of emotion the image of sharing the night’s watch with her caused. He was a loner when he was tracking, but for her he was willing to contemplate changing.
She huffed. "They’re my sheep and it would be bad if you got a cold because of me."
His smile felt forced. "I promise I’ll be fine. I can’t have anything with me that I’m not wearing, the wolves might smell it. Tea especially would give me away immediately."
"Oh. Will the dogs be a problem then?"
"Not if they stay in the meadow. Anyone would leave dogs to guard their herd after what happened. But if they stay with me they’ll give my location away."
Gemma nodded, hesitant, and he found himself wishing she wouldn’t want to let him stay there alone. A night at the meadow alone felt suddenly lonely when he thought he could share it with her i
nstead. He almost asked her to stay, but it wouldn’t be safe for her there so he held his tongue.
"I guess I’ll leave you to it then."
A sharp, frantic barking sounded from the direction of the farm, his wolf ears easily picking it up despite the distance. Gemma heard it too. "Rissa!"
She started the engine and began to manoeuvre her vehicle around on the narrow path. It was too slow for him. In a few swift tugs he had taken off his clothes, thrown them in the trailer, and shifted. The wolf took off towards the farm over the fields as fast as they could.
Chapter Eleven
The wolf found the trace of the intruders at the corner of the yard. There were two of them, both male, and they were heading south, over the fields, in wolf form. They took after them at full speed. They had a clear view for long stretches, all the way to the railroad at the south end of the farmland, but they couldn’t see the wolves; their head-start was too long.
But they could smell their trace. And the blood. They ran faster.
Human dwellings across the railroad. The wolves hadn’t cared and had made their way through backyards, over a road and through the hedges onto a golf course. The strange wolves were advancing fast again, but they could see them now. They pushed harder and drew closer to their prey with every long leap.
The wolves paused at the edge of the parking lot and glanced back, as if only now realising they were being chased. They hesitated briefly, deciding whether to flee or attack, and it was all the wolf needed. They closed in and attacked the closest.
In a second, the three of them were an angry blur of fur and teeth, growling and yelping when the teeth found their mark. Two against one wasn’t an ideal situation, but they weren’t about to give in. They got a good hold of a rump and bit, determined to make sure their prey wouldn’t flee. Not even when they felt sharp teeth burrow into their side, drawing blood. They only bit harder.
Floodlights shot on, hurting their eyes. They all let go and retreated outside the light’s reach. A brief moment for adjustment. When they could see again, their prey was gone. Car doors slammed closed and the vehicle sped on.
They shifted. "Fuck!" If only he hadn’t let go he would have caught at least one of them. Instead, he was the one getting caught.
A security guard approached him cautiously. "Hold it right there!"
He couldn’t stay here for this. He was still bleeding from all the wounds his prey had inflicted on him despite having changed form. He shifted again. It was too slow and felt almost painful this time round. He had shifted far too many times today, and healing took its toll too. They made their way to the shadows of the shrubbery, disappearing from the security guard’s sight. Behind them, they could hear the man calling the police. Good luck with that.
The journey back was slow. They had utterly exhausted themselves today. When they reached the farm they were ready to shift back and collapse for the rest of the night, the sheep be damned. They wouldn’t be able to protect them anyway, not in their condition.
They followed their nose to Gemma and found her at the closure for the dogs. She was sitting on the ground, holding something on her lap, crying. Sorrow, almost tangible in its intensity was wafting from her, making them want to howl in grief with her. The cause of her sorrow was evident to their nose. A dog, dead and bloodied.
Shit. Rissa. I have to shift back.
They tried to shift, but it was a struggle to initiate it. No matter how hard they tried, they were unable to change form again. Their Might reserves were empty; they had nothing left to shift with. They whined and pressed themselves low before her. She wouldn’t look up, so they crawled closer and pressed their nose against her thigh.
"Kieran? Why are you in this form?"
I have to speak with her. But they weren’t able to reach her mind to mind. They didn’t have enough Might for that either. So they whined again.
"Can’t you shift back? Fudge. You’ve shifted too many times today already, haven’t you?" She made as if to get up and remembered the dead dog on her lap. She sobbed again. "I have to take care of Rissa first."
She moved the dog carefully and placed her on the ground. She got up, but when they would have followed her, she shook her head. "I’ll just get a shovel. You watch over her." And they complied.
She soon returned and picked up the dog. They followed her to the back corner of the garden behind the house. "We always bury our dogs here."
The ground was hard and difficult to dig into after the winter. They tried desperately to shift again so that they could take care of the task for her, but all they managed was to make themselves even more tired. They couldn’t even help her by digging with their front paws. They could barely stay on their feet.
Gemma cried the whole time she was digging the grave. Unable to bear it, they began to howl. A wolf, a clan mate, answered from a distance. They wanted to press against her to console her, but they would only be in her way so they stayed put and guarded the body of the dog.
Once the body was covered with earth, Gemma wiped her tears resolutely, the act putting an end to her crying but not to her sorrow. They followed her to the shed, where she returned the shovel. Then she headed to her vehicle and they thought she planned to head to the meadows again. They rushed to her, spending their last vestige of energy, put themselves between the vehicle and her, and growled.
"Relax. I’m not that stupid. I’ll just take your clothes." She picked them from the trailer and headed indoors. "I’m going to have a cup of tea and watch TV until I’m too tired to stay awake. Will you join me?"
As if they’d leave her alone.
They went in through the back porch and she made them wait in there while she fetched a towel and wiped their paws, legs and underbelly with it. They tried not to whine when her hands met a sore spot, clean of blood and mostly healed after his shifts. They were being treated like a dog, but they didn’t mind. She was taking care of them like a mate.
Why are you thinking of her as a mate?
Ours.
She led them into the house. "I need a shower and a change." She avoided looking at her clothes that were bloodied again. "Will you wait down here?" They didn’t have a choice. They were too exhausted to make it up the stairs. So they went to the front door and settled down in front of it, guarding.
When she returned they followed her to kitchen. "I don’t know what to offer to you. Dog food? Raw meat? Water?" She was attempting humour to lighten her mood, but it didn’t seem to work. They went to her and pushed against her leg, consoling. She rubbed their ears and they liked it.
She prepared a pot of tea and set a tray with some biscuits on it too. She carried it to the morning room where the TV was and settled down to watch it. They climbed on the sofa with her and pressed close against her, their head resting on her lap. She fed them biscuits. They needed the closeness as much as she did. They were low on Might and tired. Sharing body warmth and their combined Might would help them both heal.
Thus they spent the better part of the night, she sipping tea long after it had gone cold, pretending to watch the TV, feeding them all the biscuits, and absently rubbing their ears. It felt soothing, relaxing, and even though they knew they should stay alert they couldn’t fight the exhaustion. Their eyes pressed closed and they were asleep.
Kieran startled awake. It was early dawn, the morning fog hanging heavy outside the window. He was lying on the sofa, naked. He had shifted at some point, though he couldn’t tell if that was what had woken him up.
It definitely wasn’t feeling cold that had roused him. He was perfectly warm despite his lack of clothing. Gemma was wrapped around him. He was lying on his side, curled up like a wolf, his legs underneath him—and her. Her head was resting on his side, her arms holding him tight, as if seeking comfort even in her sleep. She must have wrapped herself around the wolf at some point and she hadn’t let go even when he shifted.
He liked how she felt against him, her form following his, her breathing brushing at his bar
e skin, her enticing scent surrounding him. Her soft breasts pressed against his back…
His body stirred with an onset of arousal. It was immediately followed by another emotion, however, even stronger than the first. Tenderness.
That she felt safe enough to sleep next to him when he was in his wolf form warmed his heart. He pushed the arousal away, giving the warmth room to grow.
Other sensations began to take precedence. He desperately needed to stretch his legs, but Gemma was lying on them, and waking her up was out of the question. She needed to recover. Even in her sleep she exuded sadness. He cursed his weakness and inability to help her when she had needed him. She shouldn’t have had to bury her dog alone.
Ours.
Kieran tried to ignore his wolf’s possessiveness. He was a modern man and couldn’t view any woman, let alone one that could be his mate, in proprietary terms. His wolf was more primal and reacted with emotions Kieran didn’t always feel. Reacted to Might. But his second side hadn’t called anyone their mate before. That he did now made Kieran’s heart jump. Was she the one?
He liked Gemma. He admired her strength and beauty. He was mature enough, too, for the commitment of being bound by Might. It didn’t even matter that she was a vampire. Lying still, he let the notion take root that he would spend the rest of his long life with her. It made him feel good. It felt natural. But it was happening a little too soon.
She is ours.
Kieran sighed at the stubbornness of his wolf. Then he groaned, as silently as possible. He really needed to stretch his legs. Carefully, he began to ease them out from underneath Gemma. She didn’t weigh much, but his legs had been in the uncomfortable position for too long and had gone to sleep.
She sighed and shifted a little, allowing him to free his legs. He stretched them and bit his lip when the blood rushed back, causing pins and needles to prickle them. Once they were back to relatively normal he placed them back on the sofa, along her legs. She shifted again, snuggling closer.
His breathing caught. He could get used to this. But if her hand dropped any lower, he wouldn’t be able to halt the arousal again.
A Wolf of Her Own Page 8