by Penny Alley
The bruise was larger than the lens on her sunglasses so Karly knew that was a lie. But for all that she wanted to keep arguing, in the end, she dug her glasses out of her purse and reluctantly put them on. She also dug out her keys and, bracing herself to endure a long afternoon of being stared at and whispered about, she patted her leg. “Come on, Puppy.”
“Leave him,” Margo said gruffly. “He can’t do his job and shadow you too.” Having just reached the passenger side of Karly’s car, the old woman turned and pointed back, not at Karly, but at the rather-chastened massive black dog who had followed only as far as the front door. “Whatever he has to, that’s what Alphas do—they get the job done regardless of personal feelings! You stepped into that job, my boy. No one forced you. So shape up!”
Mama Margo either wasn’t in her right mind or she wasn’t a dog person, Karly couldn’t tell which. But those concerns must have shown on her face because, glancing up from Puppy to her, Mama Margo rolled her eyes. She rolled her hand too, gesturing in the general direction of the cabin. “And, of course, they…protect the house…or something.”
Karly shut Puppy inside the cabin. She eyed the old woman cautiously, following her out to her car despite the scratch and whine she heard at the door. Glimpsing movement at the window curtains, she glanced back just as Puppy jumped onto the back of the couch, nosing the curtains apart to watch her go. He put one paw on the glass, as if in farewell.
She waved back, wishing she could bring him along. She would have felt safer with him along (how silly, she thought, it’s not like you’re going into a war zone), but neither did she want to agitate Mama Margo further.
“Day’s wasting,” Margo called.
Folks won’t cotton to someone they don’t see.
Karly didn’t think she needed the people of Hollow Hills to “cotton” to her, but neither did she want to be ostracized by an entire town. Not even a small one, especially since she didn’t know how long she was going to have to hide here. Still, she wasn’t looking forward to spending the afternoon as the focus of a lot of whispering and gossip. Just the idea of it made her stomach twist so hard she thought she might be sick.
“Don’t you let him win, girl,” Mama Margo growled, her weathered face as hard as time and hard-scrabble living could make a woman. The old woman looked pointedly at her eye. “Don’t you dare. He might have taken a woman and turned her into a rabbit, but you’ve still got a choice: Hide here in your warren, or grow your gumption back and fight on.”
Her keys were cutting into her palm, Karly squeezed them so hard. “I don’t think I have any gumption anymore.”
A touch of sympathy flittered through Mama Margo’s dark eyes and then was gone again. She came back to Karly. “Of course you do. I’ll bet you can even feel it if you try. It’s right here—” She lay her hand over Karly’s stomach and held it there, as if waiting for the moth-fluttering movement of an unborn child. “—burning and churning inside you, eager to get out again. And it’s here, too.” She tapped two wrinkled, arthritic fingers to Karly’s chest, and then again, higher up at her temple. “And here. I’ve eaten enough rabbit in my life to know it when I see one.” Backing up a step, the old woman shook both her head and her finger. “You…you’re no rabbit, in spite of what he’s done. And call me Mama Margo. Everybody does.”
Karly stood captured in her unblinking stare until, wisdom imparted, Mama Margo gave a satisfied nod and returned to stand by the car. With one hand on the handle, she stared out over the roof and waited to be let in.
The keys trembling in her hand, wondering why Mama Margo’s odd assurance should leave her feeling so…relieved, Karly unlocked the passenger door first before heading around to the other side of the car.
“Don’t worry,” Mama Margo said with a sniff. “I’ve already told everyone to expect you. Even the out-of-towners will behave themselves.”
Karly glanced longingly back at the cabin, but she couldn’t see Puppy in the window any more. Her shoulders drooped. She really wished he were coming with her. Biting back a sigh, she unlocked the car and got in behind the wheel.
* * * * *
The minute Karly’s car left the driveway, disappearing down the road behind a curtain of old oaks and towering evergreens, Colton had the back door open and was running just as fast as he could for North Ridge. He pushed hard, leaping over runnels and rocks, ascending the steep hills toward the Hunt grounds. The wolf in him reveled in the run, in the wind that whipped his fur and the heavy forest smells that assaulted his senses. The exertion felt good, though he pushed—faster and faster—until it became a punishing hurt. The shadow-cooled dirt under his paws felt good. Doing what he knew he had to, even that felt good in an odd way, though he knew this could very well end up being the worst mistake of his own, personal life.
Alphas didn’t have personal lives. Alphas lived for the good of the pack, the good of his people and his town. Mama Margo was right. He had responsibilities that could not be pushed aside, not for anyone. Not even for Karly. He wished he knew what it was about her that pulled at him so strongly. All he did know, was that he felt something…a connection, maybe…between them. It gnawed at him every time he looked at that bruise on her face, every time a strange sound made her jump, every time she clutched at him for strength while she trembled from a lack of it.
Who had been on the other end of that phone call? He’d taken her phone wanting to find out, but he hadn’t anticipated how quickly she’d notice it missing or how frantic she’d become trying to find it again. Fortunately, the call that had distressed her had been the last received. He’d had to memorize the number, but as soon as he could, he was going to run it. Then he’d know exactly who, where and what she was so afraid of.
Colton ran harder, faster, hoping Mama Margo had the sense to let Karly drive her up the scenic route. He had to get to the North Ridge first. Again, he didn’t know why. It was instinctive, a driving need to disassociate himself from “Puppy” and see her with his human eyes, to speak and interact with her on two legs instead of four.
What would she do, he wondered, when there was no door for her to hold between them?
He burst from the woods into a clearing filled with cars and trucks of every imaginable make, model and color. They were parked in tight and close in order to accommodate as many as possible, but a long line of cars still extended down the winding road that led from the interstate to the North Ridge parking lot. Glinting metal and windshields shone in the sunlight, lining the blacktop as far as he could see before the trees swallowed them from sight.
The smell of excitement was everywhere. Brightly colored pennants snapped in the breeze, signaling which roped off areas were for what game. Men were grunting and shouting, women were calling and laughing, pups were squealing in play, some were crying—the mated females and elderly would be tending them and he knew they had a long list of activities planned to keep the little ones both entertained and safe.
Colton stopped in the midst of that ocean of vehicles, tail and ears both up, listening, quivering, letting the excitement wash over him before he began to wind his way through the parking lot. He found his truck parked under the partial shade of a flowering dogwood. Gabe was there, sitting in the back of the truck, checking his watch and sipping on a Coke. He straightened when he noticed Colton wending through the densely parked cars, and set his drink aside. Hopping down to fish the truck keys out of his pocket, he did a startled double-take just as Colton began to change—arching as he shifted, the sting of metamorphosis heightening the near sensual sensation of lupine lines growing, rippling and stretching into the bigger, heavier form of a man.
It wasn’t until he felt the sudden constriction that he remembered Karly’s collar.
Crap.
He jerked up from four legs onto two and just as the final part of the shift rippled out through his paws, stretching them into useful hands once more, he grabbed for the collar and quickly took it off. Too late. Gabe was already laughing.<
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“Does she take you for your evening walk, too?” he asked as he opened the driver’s door and then stepped out of the way. “Down to the corner oak until you do your business and then back home again?”
Colton gave him a dirty look and threw the collar in the truck. Thank God for bachelors. His clothes were still wadded up behind the seat. He grabbed his pants. “I want you to run a trace on a phone number.”
Snorting, still amused, Gabe half-shrugged. “Sure.”
“How’s the wind blowing?”
“Pretty quiet, really.” He glanced back across the parking lot to watch three young women, talking and laughing as they made their way toward the snapping pennants. Pacing down the length of the truck, Gabe scented after them, but stopped at the tailgate. “Nice,” he commented, before giving himself a slight shake and coming back to Colton. “There’ve been a few fights, but nothing unexpected. Jax is here. Brought a whole posse of his boys down to get their Brides—eleven. Ha! Eleven! All in one year? Yeah, they’re definitely looking to break out from under Daddy Deacon’s restraining arm and expand into a territory of their own. Nobody likes the way they keep saying how ‘peaceful’ it is here.”
“Jax is barely weaned,” Colton grunted, jerking his pants up over his lean hips. “If he starts sniffing out of line, I’ll take him to the woodshed and he’s just smart enough to know it. I’m not worried about Jax.” His father, the Alpha Deacon, was something else entirely though. “What else?”
“Nothing much. Ben Fortimer threatened to plant a load of buckshot in little Jimmy Bingham’s tail if he comes sniffing around his daughter one more time. She entered herself in the Hunt, but I don’t think daddy’s quite ready to see his baby girl tackled to the forest floor. Pain in the ass stuff; nothing we can’t handle. Now, since I’m not going to be distracted from this, let’s talk about you some more.”
Buttoning and zipping up, Colton gave him a hard glare.
“Tell me,” Gabe said, cheerfully ignoring it. “What sort of fool collars a wolf?”
Off the top of his head, Colton was inclined to think one who didn’t know any better. He draped his shirt over his shoulder, but didn’t bother putting it on. Few of this year’s bachelor males had. When one only had four days to impress a wolf-shifting female into letting herself be caught without getting one’s face bitten off, one started by showing off his physique and it helped if it was exceptional. Colton was fortunate to be blessed in that regard.
“People are starting to say things,” Gabe offered, seeming so casual and yet definitely not.
Putting on his socks and boots, Colton frowned. “Like what?” He was pretty sure he already knew.
“Like who is that beat-up blonde and is the Hollow Hills’ Alpha really mating her or just being protective?”
Colton glared at him for almost a full minute before yanking his laces tight, grabbing the truck door and slamming it somewhat harder than was required. “Let’s go find our Brides,” he growled, and headed for the gaming ground.
CHAPTER SIX
There were potential Brides everywhere and they were, all of them, in his nose, and yet Colton knew it almost from the second that Karly stepped from her car onto Hollow Hills’ traditional Hunting grounds. Not only did every sentry chuff and rumble an under-breath alert to let everyone else know they’d been invaded, but the wind picked just that moment to kick up and shift and suddenly, her scent was all that he could smell. It stiffened him. In more ways than one, damn it. There were too many females here and every nerve in him was primed to take one—which only made Karly’s pleasing scent that much harder to resist. It was the impending Hunt. The wolf in him was right beneath the surface of his skin, begging to be loosed. Even knowing he shouldn’t, he still turned to follow that whisper-soft breath of Karly, his predator eyes hunting the crowd until he saw her walking with Mama Margo, there among the tents and vendors.
In the next instant, a football smacked into his chest and bounced right off him. The next thing Colton knew, fifteen shirtless males, all of them as driven to impress as he was, pile-slammed him to the ground.
Young Jax Deacon landed directly on top of him, pant-laughing at him. He was a kid, barely twenty and still with that wiry, puppy-lean physique that hadn’t yet filled out into manhood. Any other year, Colton would have let his wolf out. Any other year, it would have been expected. But then, any other year there wouldn’t have been a human wandering among the mating games.
Growling, Colton waited for the pile to gradually untangle itself and, when Jax seemed content to take his own, sweet time getting up, Colton “helped” the whelp. His shove almost threw the boy, but Jax landed with awkward grace on his feet and, as they stalked away from one another, grinned back at Colton.
The wolf in him—teased by scents of so many tantalizing females, the proximity of a good mating run, and the instinctive agitation amplified by so many trespassing males—leapt to answer that grin like the challenge it was surely meant to be. Colton barely kept his temper
“Hey!” Colton turned to see Gabe waiting for him near another shirtless male, an Omega named Marcus. Scarred and tattooed, he’d come to the Ridge dressed in biker leathers, on the back of a Harley and looking for a pack to join. Colton had no idea why he hadn’t approached a stronger Alpha like Deacon.
“Can you give me loyalty?” Colton had asked the first time he’d met him.
“Can you earn it?” had been Marcus’s reply.
Yeah, Colton had pretty much liked him right from the start. He didn’t trust him yet, but he liked him.
Shaking his head, Gabe spread his arms as if to say, ‘I tossed you the ball, man. What the hell?’
Snorting to clear Karly’s distracting scent out of his nose, Colton stalked through the grass to join them. He had to pay better attention than this or he wasn’t going to impress anyone, and he knew it. Dropping into a tackling position, he glared straight across fifteen or so feet of open grass and dirt to where his immediate opponent crouched in anticipation of meeting his charge.
To any outsider, this might look like a ragtag game of touch football, skins versus skins with no clear-cut team lines drawn, but it wasn’t. There were nine packs in the Hunt this year. Nine. If that wasn’t a record, Colton couldn’t remember any year that beat it. They might square off as if there were two opposing sides, but in this game, it was every male for himself, with pack brothers loosely joined together in an effort to monopolize the ball. It was all about proving oneself the fittest, the strongest, the most aggressive, dangerous. And virile. Females lined the ropes, watching, sometimes cheering, mostly just picking out who they might like to run for later on. As the hosting Alpha, Colton knew more than a few were looking at him, but as he settled into the next line-up and hunkered down into position behind the quarterback, his eyes searched for only one person: Karly. She hadn’t even noticed he was here yet.
“Hup!”
The ball shunted right. Only half the players chased it; the other half went straight for targeted competitors. Colton went straight for Jax. One of his pack brothers tried to run interference, but too late, Jax realized his intent and he took the young boy down. It was a hard landing, one made infinitely harder when Colton rolled to slam him facedown into the dirt and pin him there.
“Be careful,” he growled into the young whelp’s ear. He didn’t need to say anything more. Shoving back to his feet, he let the boy go.
Jax rose to his knees slowly, a scrape on his chin and blood pouring from his nose. Raw fury lit his eyes; they were so yellow, Colton barely suppressed his own inner wolf’s answering surge.
“Be very careful,” Colton warned again, and then he turned to walk away.
Gabe’s shout a half second later sounded tinny, like the echo of a cry at the very end of a long tunnel, and Colton didn’t need it to know he was being attacked. He felt it, that electrified prickle of all the tiny hairs rising on the back of his neck a half second before the hard pound of Jax’s feet charged the groun
d directly behind him. His instinctive response was all savage—a hard duck right, pivot and grab. Hands locked on Jax’s throat and then his groin. Colton heaved, flinging the reckless youth up into the air before slamming him down again, flat on his back in the grass and dirt, faster than the boy’s expression could even register the failure and then the subsequent pain.
Colton pinned him by his throat this time, pressing the force of his defeat and the pain into every inch of Jax’s wiry frame, looming so close over him that all Colton could see was his own reflection and the flicker of fear that flitted through the younger man’s eyes.
“When you find your balls,” he growled, “come and challenge me again. But next time, do it right. Come at my back again and, Deacon’s pup or not, I’ll kill you.”
In a move so slight, Colton doubted anyone else might even see it, Jax lifted his chin. A symbolic flash of throat, an act of placating submission that was neither honest nor reached as far as the younger volka’s eyes.
Colton stood up slowly, giving Jax plenty of time to decide if he wanted to lash out now or later. Jax didn’t move. He waited until Colton was far enough away before sitting up, then wiped his bloody nose on his arm.
Later it was.
Turning away, Colton stopped when he saw Karly and Mama Margo, standing side-by-side at the pennant-dotted rope that walled off the field. They were staring straight at him. Karly’s eyes were huge and she’d covered her mouth. Why couldn’t she have spotted him while he was strutting his stuff, running the ball down the field, naked from the waist up, a strong male in his absolute prime…no. She had to wait until he was beating up a stupid kid—that she saw.
Crap.
Mama Margo nodded once, approval shining in the depths of those calculating eyes; Karly, on the other hand, looked appalled.