Karly's Wolf (Hollow Hills Book 1)

by Penny Alley

  She also looked really pretty. The wind was tugging at her hair. The sun had ignited all those golden strands, turning them into a soft halo of light all around her head and shoulders. The urge to go and talk to her was powerful, but right then, Gabe passed into Colton’s field of vision, with Marcus not far behind and watching closely.

  Gabe threw his arms out, an exaggerated shrug coupled with a look that said plainly, Seriously, what the hell are you doing?

  Colton didn’t know anymore. He looked back at Karly, but her attention had been diverted. Sebastian McQueen was talking to her now, his posture looming and possessive. A shot of red burned straight up his spine and embedded itself under the back of Colton’s skull. For several long seconds, it turned everything he could see a dark and throbbing shade of rage. He gripped his fists so tightly his knuckles popped, and before he knew it, he was stalking toward them.

  “Hey!” Gabe was already walking backwards to join the next line up, but his look said everything.

  And he was right, Colton had to stop this. He had to get his mind on the game. He had to—

  Karly reached out and let McQueen’s larger, more powerful hand engulf her own.

  He had to kill that motherfucker right there where he stood.

  Colton almost lost it. He nearly shifted. He nearly charged with all the force and aggression that could be packed into his powerful frame, straight for McQueen’s throat. He nearly did a lot of things, but in the end, he kept control. Colton snapped around to rejoin Gabe and Marcus in the next line-up.

  “Who’s the woman?” Marcus asked. “And is she going to be a problem?”

  “Get your nose off her before I slap it,” Colton said testily. He was angry and itching in his own skin—it felt so restricting.

  Marcus pant-laughed, but when Colton hunkered down to square off against the opposing team, both Marcus and Gabe hunkered down at his flanks.

  Colton tried to keep his burning eyes on his next opponent—a large male, shirtless, one of Jax’s lieutenants and old enough to want to play at being a man, though still too young to be any kind of threat in a real Hunt. Colton took his measure and then his attention was locked on McQueen once more.

  He meant to play the game. He truly did, but there was a fizzling sensation trickling up his spine and into the back of his head, prickling like needles to get in under the haze of red creeping in around him. He’d never felt his rising wolf quite like this before; Colton struggled to swallow it back.

  Karly’s hand was still in McQueen’s. She didn’t seem in that big of a hurry to retract it.

  “Hup!”

  The ball was spiked and two rows of aggressive wolf-shifters in full-on mate-mode surged toward one another. With his very first step, Colton felt the subdermal rip that tore him from the last vestiges of his shredded civility. The gloves came off; up until that moment, he hadn’t realized he’d been wearing any.

  Jax’s lieutenant hit him like a brick wall, but Colton was older, bigger, and pissed off. One hard right hook knocked the youth flat on his back with a dislocated jaw and at least one less tooth. What was it about twenty-something pups that made them think they were wolf enough to compete with the big boys? When Colton had done the same some ten years ago, the lesson had cost him a savage mauling and a broken leg. Jax’s lieutenant only paid with a dislocated knee, a few facial injuries, and a breath-robbing body slam to the ground. He would not be running for a Bride this year, but at least he could count himself damned lucky there was a human on the field, otherwise Colton would have let his wolf out.

  Of course, if not for Karly, Colton wouldn’t be the only wolf and this would have been a much more savage game. The shine of lupine eyes all over the field told of more than one volka on the brink of losing his restraint.

  Leaving the whelp rolling on the ground, clutching his leg and grunting cries of pain, Colton headed back to wait for the next line-up and let Jax and his pack mates help their wounded brother to the sidelines. He couldn’t help himself, he glanced back over his shoulder. Sebastian McQueen had drawn Karly away from the game and, with Mama Margo quietly chaperoning in their shadow, he was leading her deeper into the crowd. Away from Colton.

  Where anything could happen.

  The whole field flashed an even darker shade of red. Colton didn’t realize he was growling until he began to catch looks from other males nearby. The level of aggression spiked all around him. Everywhere that he could see, yellow ferocity was igniting in the depths of warrior eyes. A wave of echoing growls rippled through the field as the wolf rose perilously close to the surface of those around him.

  The next line-up began to organize. Colton hunkered into position, muscles tense—he should go after Karly, get her away from McQueen before the sonofabitch did something he’d have to kill him for. His volka rage was not yet so blinding that he failed to notice all of Jax’s remaining lieutenants lining up opposite of him. Seeking revenge for their fallen brother, their eyes were bright and some of them were snarling through bared teeth.

  The aggression inside him grew cold and sprouted fangs.

  Bring it.

  Dual growls sounded from both sides of him as Gabe and Marcus both took up defensive positions at his flanks. Marcus flexed, ready and willing to take this hit for an Alpha he barely knew. Gabe, Colton knew, would probably chew his ears about this for days to come, but in this instance, they were at his side, offering pack strength and support.

  “Hup!”

  Colton was still a bulldozer, only now there were a hell of a lot more walls. They took his ass straight to the ground, and in the fury and pain that followed as teeth fastened onto his arm, and as fists and feet began to pummel his gut, the wolf in him broke free.

  * * * * *

  “Don’t be afraid,” McQueen said, showing her the gun.

  “I’m not afraid.” But Karly was shaking so badly, she knew he had to know that was a lie.

  Her next door neighbor, a man who looked every bit as hard and rough as the surrounding mountains, remained gentle and calm. He extended his hand, as steady as stone. “It’s not going to bite you. Here, take it.”

  Karly glanced sideways, throwing a ‘save me’ look to Mama Margo, but she had been waylaid some time ago by a pack of squealing, happy children. A wilder bunch, Karly had never encountered in her life. That the morning had been spent running through the woods was obvious. They were dirty, sweaty, thrilled to be here, and the moment they’d seen Mama Margo, they had come running bearing gifts—flowers, rocks, a feather, a lizard’s discarded tail (said lizard still being imprisoned deep in the coverall pocket of the boy who’d caught it), even a spider.

  Mama Margo, bless her, studied each and every treasure brought to her with all the seriousness and pride that each child seemed to think it deserved. That left Karly feeling very much alone in this corner of the field, with Sebastian McQueen standing between her and the rest of the festival taking place through the woods behind them.

  “Take it,” he said again, and Karly waffled, both wincing and tsking as she accepted the butt of the revolver.

  She held it, pinched between two fingers. “Now what?”

  McQueen snorted. “Not like that.” His hand on hers was big and calloused, rough as sandpaper, but gentle in motion as he shifted her grip, forcing her palm to conform to the wood grip and really hold it. “Not too tight or too loose. Feel the weight.”

  It was heavier than it looked and, for some reason, his hands on hers made her nervous. She tried not to let it bother her, but her gaze kept shifting to Mama Margo, who never glanced her way long enough to notice.

  “Put your finger on the trigger, but don’t pull it. Just get comfortable with it and with the idea of pulling it.” Sliding his arm around her waist, McQueen slipped into position behind her. His chest touched her back. It felt very hot and hard, very solid. “Don’t worry,” he rumbled, his low voice tickling at the nape of her neck. “This won’t hurt a bit.”

  That made her even more nerv
ous. Everything about him made her uncomfortable. She couldn’t help looking around, but they were far enough from the main festival ground that all she could see were the distant tent tops and the snap of a few wind-blown pennants. She could hear the crowd, but it was doubtful if anyone there would hear her if she needed them to. Mama Margo and the kids were no help at all, and McQueen…he held her close, far too intimately for her liking, but there was no polite way to extract herself. When he tapped at her feet with his, she dutifully moved hers apart and took up a shooter’s stance.

  “Now, take a deep breath.” His hands slid down her arms, coming to rest under her hands, and together, they raised the gun. “Relax. Don’t lock your arms. That’s the way. Line up the site with your target.”

  Straight ahead of them, Karly focused on the first of three partially squashed beer cans that had been set along the flat edge of an old tree trunk some fifty feet away.

  “Deep breath,” McQueen said. “When you’re ready, don’t pull the trigger; squeeze it. Soft and slow. Like you mean it.”

  The heat and the strength of him scared her. She was encircled by arms that felt like bands of warm steel. All she could think about was how much it would hurt to get hit by hands like his. All she wanted to do was run, but she just couldn’t make herself move.

  “Deep breath,” he said again, and she shivered. “Don’t be afraid. Squeeze the trigger.”

  Somewhere in the distance, perhaps even on Colton’s savage football field, someone must have scored a goal because all of a sudden, she could hear shouting, cheering…and howling, of all things.

  She started to look back, but McQueen’s next rumbling murmur stopped everything.

  “You feel good in my arms,” he said.

  She stiffened. If not for his hands, she would have dropped the gun; if not for his arms, she’d have twisted away and put immediate space between them. “Let go of me, please,” she whispered, and oh how she hated herself for how badly her broken voice shook when she said it.

  “Mm,” he growled, a strangely seductive sound that rolled out of him and shivered into her. “Why else would you come to the Hunting ground, if not for this? You want to be bred.”

  “What?!” The word squeaked out of her.

  He shifted his hand, abandoning hers to drop and settle his, like a burning brand, low on her abdomen. The internal havoc that caused was instantaneous. She flinched, every inch of her in immediate revolt as she jerked around to push him away. His arms tightened, startling her budding struggles into stillness the instant his mouth captured hers.

  Karly hit him. She hadn’t known she was going to until her fist was balled and—no maidenly slap, this—she swung. Every one of her knuckles cracked against his jaw. It worked, but only in the sense that she knocked his mouth off of hers.

  McQueen laughed, licking at the hint of blood just beginning to well up at the corner of his mouth. “Spirited, too. I like that.”

  He took his gun away from her, then reached for her again, and suddenly they were both struck from the side by a massive, furry weight. Karly grabbed reflexively, catching fistfuls of black hair in both hands as all three of them went straight to the ground. She hit her knees, but it wasn’t until she heard the first ferocious snarl that she realized what had knocked her over.

  “Puppy!” she gasped. She didn’t know how he’d managed to escape the house, but that he was here in defense of her was unmistakable. Although she had taken part of the impact, she was not the focus of the dog’s attack. His hackles were up, every hair on his tense body was standing on end, and his teeth were bared in snarl after rasping snarl. He looked deadly as he crouched on top of Sebastian McQueen, every breath an exhaling growl of intense dislike.

  McQueen lay exactly as he’d fallen, sprawled on his back with his hands up, neither defensively nor offensively poised. Not yet, anyway. His eyes, which she could have sworn mere seconds ago were dark brown, were now so brightly yellow that she wondered how she could ever have mistaken them for anything other than gold. All those bad jokes about redneck country and family inbreeding must hit close to the truth; everyone here had the strangest damn eyes!

  “No! No, Puppy!” Scrambling to her knees, Karly grabbed for his scruff. He must have lost his collar when he had escaped the house because he wasn’t wearing it now. That made holding him a heck of a lot harder. “Down. Get down!”

  “You don’t impress me, boy,” McQueen told the dog. He laughed, a low, growling chuckle that somehow seemed to make his eyes shine even more yellow than before. “Puppy. How fitting.”

  The snarl that rolled out of Puppy then was unlike any sound she had ever heard an animal make before. He lunged and, if not for Karly’s arms locked around his throat and chest, would have gone right for McQueen’s throat.

  “Run!” she told him, barely keeping her grip on the impossibly strong dog. That he didn’t turn and bite at her in his fury to free himself was something she wouldn’t think about for hours yet to come. She heaved and struggled, dragging Puppy back by mere inches, but McQueen only rolled and now he too was in a position to attack.

  “I don’t think so,” he growled. “This has been a long time in coming, hasn’t it…Puppy?” His smile was all teeth, and in that tense moment when the only thought she had, centered on whether or not she might have to save her dog from her neighbor, Karly suddenly realized they weren’t alone any more. There were people standing like shadows in the field all around them. Silent as ghosts, they watched, as if the outcome of this grossly outmatched confrontation between man and beast were instead something of paramount importance. Worse yet, there were other dogs. Three huge and snarling grays—wolves, her brain tried to label them; but there was just no way that could be true—came out of the grass behind McQueen.

  “Oh my God,” Karly whispered, clinging to Puppy even tighter, scared to death that, if those dogs—wolves; no, no way—launched at her, she would let go and if she did, then all she could do was watch as her dog was torn to pieces right there in front of her.

  “Help me!” she cried, and it wasn’t until she twisted to beg those closest behind her for aid that she saw two more wolves—dogs; no, it was getting harder and harder to believe canines this huge could be anything as common as dogs—closing in directly behind them. She stiffened, panic rising like vomit in the back of her throat, but she was not their target. They drew in, a flank of support behind Puppy, hackles raised, sharp teeth bared in deadly serious intent although neither made a single sound beyond the billows-like rush of their indrawn breaths.

  “Come to me, girl.” Mama Margo came up through the tall grass directly behind them. She was the only one looking at Karly, her age-lined face a mask completely without compassion. “Let him go.”

  “No!” Karly gasped, her arms tightening protectively around Puppy’s neck and chest. His whole body felt stiff and ready. Every breath he took was still a growl and he wasn’t backing down.

  “Things like this should be settled, not left to fester.” Mama Margo held out her hand, beckoning. “Come. Let him go. The winner will be Alpha of us all.”

  Karly stared at her. Funny, how crazy often never showed on the surface. It took something like this for it to expose itself clearly.

  Shaking her head, barely resisting the urge to shout at her adoptive town that they were, all of them, lunatics, Karly heaved at Puppy, shoving and muscling him back inch after too-small inch until, at last, he shuddered and abruptly relented. When he retreated, so did the wolves at his back; McQueen and his wolves followed with their eyes, but did not pursue them when she dragged Puppy back. She didn’t want them to, but the two wolves that supported him followed her.

  “Spirited. I like that.” McQueen’s smile became a smirk. “Come back and run with us, if you want to,” he called after her. “I’ll show you how an Alpha runs his bitch to ground.”

  Puppy tried to turn back, but Karly kept him moving. People were staring as she left. Some snorted, others shook their heads; why did it su
ddenly feel as if she’d made a shameful mistake? She couldn’t understand it, but by the time she reached the parking lot, Puppy’s head was down and his tail was practically tucked. Those two other wolves following a good thirty feet behind her, even they looked chastened. She didn’t understand that either, but she kept a wary eye on them and her fingers locked in Puppy’s fur until she got him safely locked inside her car.

  Mama Margo hadn’t followed them. Well, Mama Margo was going to have to find another ride home, because there was no way Karly was going to stay after this. Watching those stray wolves—she shivered—Karly climbed in behind the steering wheel and did not stop driving until she and Puppy were once again safely back home.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “His name is Dan Whitaker, and he’s a cop out of Redemption,” Gabe said, handing Colton the paper he’d brought to this clandestine meeting in the middle of the night. A chronic smiler under most circumstances, there were lines now around Gabe’s eyes and mouth, and none of them had anything to do with amusement. “Read this. The BOLO came in while we were up on the Ridge.”

  Colton had to turn the fax sheet into the headlights of the truck. He didn’t bother reading the description, but simply stared at Karly’s black and white photo. Her last name was Whitaker, not Smith. That part wasn’t surprising. It only made sense for a woman, scared and on the run, to want to change her name. But the other part, the married part…that did surprise him. No. No, surprise wasn’t quite the right word for what he was feeling. Her husband—a cop no less—had put that bruise on her face.

  The paper crinkled as his hands tightened on the edges. He had to force himself to relax before he ripped it the way he so badly wanted to rip into her husband for every moment of brutality the chelovak had visited upon his Karly.

  His Karly?

  She wasn’t his, and the BOLO picture showed that. It was a wedding photograph. Karly looked beautiful, standing alone on the steps of a white church. She wasn’t much younger than she was now and her eyes were so carefree and shining that he couldn’t help but wonder if the day that picture was taken weren’t the last time she’d been so happy…or bruise-free.