Awakened by the Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  “Who were you with tonight, Sunshine?” He kept his tone light despite the tightness in his throat.

  “You.” The softness in her shoulders hardened. “Two beers. You said you could handle two beers. Apparently you can’t if you don’t remember eating dinner and dancing with me.”

  “I can recall every minute we spent together. What I don’t understand is why I smell another man’s scent in your hair.”

  “What?” She looked at him, guileless and innocent. Then her mouth dropped in a disgusted grimace. “Oh, that’s gross. I’m washing my hair as soon as we get home.”

  “Was it Shane?” Brice had seen the Black Mountain pack member near the bar when Cassie headed to the restroom.

  “Shane? No. I ran into—” Cassie hesitated.

  “Who?”

  “Some jerk who wanted a dance.”

  A possessive growl vibrated in Brice’s chest.

  “Take it easy, Benji.” Cassie laid her hand on his thigh. “I handled him.”

  “What?” Brice’s snarl silenced the forest’s nocturnal sounds.

  “Jeez.” Cassie jumped. “I don’t know why you’re all pissy about a guy wanting a dance. I caught you and your fiancée tongue-wrestling.”

  “Cassie.” Brice’s blood pressure skyrocketed along with his voice. “For the last fucking time, Victoria is not my fiancée, and she will never be my mate. Now tell me, who the hell did you dance with tonight?”

  “You! You big dope. I only danced with you.” Cassie scrubbed her fists down her arms. “That other guy was a creep.”

  Just as Brice’s blood pressure leveled she added, “He got the message when I gave him the knee. I doubt he’ll grope me again.”

  Black spots mottled Brice’s vision. His head pounded until he felt the force might crack his skull. Primitive instinct demanded that he track down the man and render him a bloody pulp.

  “Are you playing me against Victoria?” Cassie’s expression held no anger, only a disappointed resignation.

  “No,” Brice said, reeling in his emotions. “I know how it feels to be manipulated. I won’t do that to you.”

  Brice lifted her hand to his face and brushed his cheek along the delicate side of her wrist, allowing her scent to soothe him. “But there is something you should know. In Atlanta, Victoria and I were coworkers who had sex.”

  Cassie pulled away from his touch and hugged her knees beneath her chin.

  “She and I were never a couple, Cas. Wahyas need sex, especially during full moons, to regulate the wolfan hormones. A lack of sex can cause us to regress into our primitive state, a bipedal wolf hybrid that has no human conscience.”

  Cassie scrunched her nose. “Are you saying that if you don’t have sex, you could become a—” she lowered her voice—“a werewolf?”

  Brice nodded. “Victoria and I had an understanding. Until she drugged me and I ended our affair.”

  “She’s planning a wedding.”

  “Not mine,” Brice said. “The truth is, my dad does want me to settle down before Christmas.”

  “Oh.” Cassie’s voice followed her gaze to some nebulous spot in the distance.

  “Cas, I don’t love Victoria. Never have, never will.”

  “She is quite attached to you.”

  “Only because of what she can gain. Victoria wants a mate who can elevate her status. If I become an Alpha, my mate will be an Alphena.”

  “I’m sure Miss Phalen will be a great help to you.” Cassie traced her finger over a smooth stone near her foot.

  “I don’t want her help. I need yours.”

  Cassie cast him a sidelong glance. “We should go home so you can sleep off those beers.”

  “We share a bond, Cas. A mate-bond.” Scooting behind Cassie, he cloaked her with his arms. God, he loved how her heat soaked through his muscles and down into his bones.

  Cassie bristled. “The only thing between us is a series of unusual circumstances.”

  “That’s not true. When I was in the hospital, the bond drew you back to me. But once I woke up, you stopped coming, so I didn’t consciously know a bond had formed. For the last five years, I’ve been nearly out of my mind, needing something that I couldn’t quite define. Until I came home and found you.”

  “You’re out of your mind, all right. Drunk out of your mind.”

  “The only thing I’m drunk on, Sunshine, is you.” Brice nuzzled her hair to re-mark her with his scent. “The night we met, right before you kneed me, you triggered my mating urge.”

  “Well, Benji. Point that nose of yours at someone else.” She edged away from him. “I can’t be your mate. I’m not like you.”

  “So? Wahyas can take human mates. Our children won’t be human, though. Wahyan genes are dominant.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you being wolfy.” Cassie’s delicate brow dipped over worried eyes. “You have everything, Brice. I have nothing.”

  “I don’t care.” Social standing and financial status had never been important to him.

  “I do.” An unsettling fierceness resonated in Cassie’s voice. “All my life, I’ve worked hard, sacrificed everything, and I still have a long way to go before I get what I want.”

  “Your own business?”

  “Stability.” She gave an aggravated sigh.

  “Let me be your stability,” Brice insisted.

  “No.” Cassie’s curls bounced as she shook her head. “I need to make it on my own.”

  Brice let the matter drop. Cassie hadn’t outright rejected him. Just sent a warning that now wasn’t the right time for her. He could handle a delay. After all, in spite of his father’s edict, Brice had obligations to attend to before he claimed a mate.

  Besides, they needed time to learn each other. Time to fall in love.

  “Victoria is a better match. She’s beautiful, sophisticated. You run in the same social circles.” Cassie hiccupped a humorless laugh. “In and out of the woods.”

  “She isn’t the one who gave me this.” Brice showed Cassie the bite mark.

  “I got carried away.” She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and shrugged. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m proud of your mark. Wahyas claim their mates with a bite.” A primal need surged through his body, tempered only by his desire to live as a man, not an animal.

  “That wasn’t my intention.” Cassie’s flat voice wasn’t encouraging.

  “Doesn’t matter. A bite is a bite, and Wahyas mate for life,” he answered playfully to offset her seriousness.

  “This isn’t funny.” Cassie gazed over the valley.

  Brice stretched out beside her, cushioning his head in his hands.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Cassie said, “what is this mate stuff all about?”

  Brice pressed his lips between his teeth to hide his smile. Curiosity was good. Very good. Except in cats.

  “Human marriages are legal contracts that can be dissolved by annulment or divorce. A Wahyan mate-claim is an unbreakable union under wolfan law.”

  Cassie wrinkled her cute little nose. “What if someone’s mate turns out to be a jackass?”

  “We can’t mate with equines.” He tried to sound serious, but amusement cracked his voice.

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She tossed a blade of grass at him.

  “Mate-claims are sacred, Cas. Wahyas aren’t rash about commitment. If a couple makes a poor choice, the claim can’t be reversed.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s an evolutionary instinct. A Wahya male can’t father children until he’s bitten a female during sex. Marking her with his scent hormone triggers a physiologic change that allows the male to secrete viable sperm as opposed to—”

  “Duds,” Cassie interrupted. “I
don’t need a biology lesson.”

  “I want you to understand how important a bite is to Wahyas. A male becomes intuitively possessive and protective of the female he bites.”

  “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not a Wahyan male, and we weren’t having sex when I bit you.”

  “A human bite can be just as binding if a mate-bond exists.”

  “Nothing is between us, okay?” Cassie’s irritation flooded into Brice, as did a thread of hope. Proving to him how wrong she was.

  He allowed what he knew to be true to flow back to her in a calm, steady stream. “There’s another dynamic called a mate-bond. It sparks between true mates the moment they meet. Each subsequent encounter allows their life forces to weave together. It binds them heart and mind, body and soul. This allows the couple to feel what the other feels and hear one another’s thoughts.”

  “They become telepathic?”

  “With each other, yes.” Brice lifted on his elbows and shook out the cramp in his calf. “Unfortunately, not all Wahyas develop this type of bond with their mates. Many think it’s a myth.”

  “Do you believe it exists?” Cassie flicked her loose curls over her shoulder, then pulled his sore leg onto her lap. She pushed up his pant leg and began a slow, gentle massage.

  “I’ve seen how the bond works between my parents. Rafe and Lexi were bonded, too.”

  “He’s so lost without her.” Cassie’s voice squeaked. “I can’t imagine someone loving me that much.”

  “I can, if you’ll let me.”

  Cassie’s back stiffened. “I’d prefer if you kept me out of your wolfy courtship rituals.”

  In the early stages, a mate-bond could be rejected by either party. If that happened, Cassie would never find another man who would love her as completely as Brice when fully bonded. And he would spend the rest of his life mourning her loss.

  Fighting against utter desperation, Brice peered into the black expanse of the night sky and, with all his being, wished on the twinkling stars that he and Cassie wouldn’t suffer that fate.

  Chapter 24

  Surrounded by bloody feathers and mutilated chickens wasn’t how Brice had planned to spend the morning after last night’s confessions to Cassie.

  At breakfast, he couldn’t have been happier with the aroma of bacon and pancakes, butter and syrup. He even detected the fragrance of Cassie’s hot tea and the milk he guided her to pour into his coffee.

  As much as he loved those smells, he was most grateful for the scent of Cassie’s desire when they’d kissed. Leaving her had been damn near painful.

  This morning, she opened herself to him. Brice saw it in the way she looked at him, felt it in the way she touched him. He wouldn’t have taken things as far as he did if he hadn’t sensed her readiness.

  Now, instead of making love to Cassie, Brice stood in the midst of a massacre inside Mary-Jane McAllister’s farmyard, suffocated by the stench of death. Sickened by the brutal carnage, Brice’s stomach churned mercilessly. Maybe wolfing down those pancakes before he’d left wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Why would someone do this?” He studied his father, who seemed to stomach the slaughter much better than Brice.

  “Maybe some wolflings came for Cybil and decided to have a go with the chickens instead.” Gavin swiped the back of his hand across his nose. “This is why I always told you and Rafe to be mindful of your pranks.”

  Brice refused to believe that any of the Walker’s Run wolflings were responsible. “Where is Cybil?” he asked, alarmed by her empty pen.

  “In the house,” his father replied. “Mary-Jane spent last night with her cousin in Blairsville. She locked Cybil inside so she wouldn’t get loose and roam the woods.”

  Mary-Jane loved that pig like a child. Brice couldn’t imagine how heartbroken she would’ve been if something had happened to Cybil.

  “When Mary-Jane came home to this mess, she called Cooter. He’s with her now,” Gavin said.

  Noting the gouges in the dirt made during the frenzied attack, Brice limped to the coop that until last night had been a haven for Mary-Jane’s chickens. Half of her stock never made it out of their pen.

  Inside, the stink was twice as concentrated as the smell in the yard. Turning to leave, Brice caught wind of a faint, sour odor.

  He stood in the middle of the coop, hoping to isolate the scent.

  After a few seconds, beads of sweat broke out across his skin. The uncomfortable prickle in the pit of his stomach rushed into his throat. He made it outside and around the corner of the coop before his hands and knees hit the ground, followed by his partially digested breakfast. Even after his stomach emptied, he continued to heave.

  “Easy, son.” Adam gripped Brice’s shoulder.

  “Don’t touch me,” Brice snarled. “And I’m not your son.”

  Adam removed his hand.

  “What are you doing here?” Brice spat out remnants of bile.

  “Abby told me what happened. I knew Gavin would drag you here.”

  Brice rolled from his hands-and-knees posture to a seated position and leaned against the chicken coop.

  “Go back to the resort, Adam.” Gavin knelt beside Brice. “You aren’t needed here.”

  “He isn’t ready for this, Gavin. You push too hard, too fast. Let me take Brice with me.”

  “Never again, Adam.” Gavin’s tone held a definite finality that Brice appreciated.

  Adam hesitated, his eyes fixed on Brice.

  “I don’t need you, Adam. Tell Mom I’m okay.”

  Adam nodded. His shoulders sagged, and for the first time, Brice thought his uncle looked old and haggard. He trudged toward his car, the driver’s door wide open, the engine still running.

  Irrational, bordering on idiocy, a little piece of Brice’s heart hurt for Adam. His uncle loved him to a fault but his betrayal, no matter how well-intended, was too new to forgive.

  Gavin clenched the scruff of Brice’s neck and Brice tensed. A grown wolfan upchucking at the sight of a feeding frenzy signaled a weak stomach and a lack of self-control.

  “Easy, son.” Gavin’s thumb slipped beneath Brice’s hair to the secret patch of blond. He applied a gentle pressure, massaging slow circles into Brice’s scalp.

  The gentle gesture soothed and confused Brice. His father had never coddled or comforted him. He’d never had the time.

  The contractions in Brice’s stomach eased.

  Gavin offered him a frazzled cotton handkerchief with threadbare embroidery that once declared Best Dad Ever.

  A different kind nausea rocked Brice.

  Mason had taught him how to draw those letters. Afterward, Granny helped Brice stitch the words so the sentiment wouldn’t wash off in the laundry. He had been so excited to give the handmade present to his dad on Father’s Day.

  And utterly devastated when Gavin tossed the unopened box into a drawer and rushed off without so much as a thank-you.

  “No, thanks.” Brice used his shirtsleeve to swipe the sweat from his face.

  “I’ve carried this in my pocket for almost twenty-five years.” Gavin fingered the frayed letters. “It’s the best gift I ever received.”

  Those words would’ve put a four-year-old on the moon. A lifetime of shuns and slights kept Brice grounded. Since he hadn’t signed his name to the present, Brice assumed his father had forgotten which son had given him the gift.

  A forest-green SUV flashing the emergency lights embedded in the grill pulled to stop behind his father’s black truck. Tristan stepped out and walked the maze of dead fowl. “What a damn shame.”

  “Find who did this,” Gavin said to Tristan, then offered Brice a hand up, which he grudgingly accepted.

  “Dad believes our wolflings are involved.” Brice dusted the dirt from his jeans
.

  Tristan scratched his head just above his ear. “We have a few pranksters in the pack. None with a vicious streak, though.”

  “What about Vincent Hadler?” A worry knot tightened in Brice’s gut. “Considering his reputation, it isn’t hard to imagine him doing this.”

  “Never had problems with him before.” Tristan squatted next to a patch of mud in front of the chicken coop and inspected a small depression. “But, I broke up an argument between him and Shane last night at Taylor’s.”

  Hadler was at Taylor’s last night?

  Brice’s gut began gnawing at him. When Hadler had harassed Cassie at the resort, Brice had detected a sour odor. Later, he’d tracked a similar scent around the cabin. Last night, he smelled it again in Cassie’s hair.

  Doc had warned of the likelihood that Brice would experience a confusion of scents for a while. Each time he’d encountered the odor, his emotions were running high. He hope it was a coincidence because if he discovered Hadler was stalking Cassie, Brice wouldn’t hesitate to put an end to it, permanently.

  Chapter 25

  “It’s a shame to call these Georgia peaches,” Cassie muttered to no one in particular. Disgusted, she walked past the arrogantly labeled fruit. Bland in color and lacking the trademark fuzz, the state fruit looked no better than the last batch, which was why Cassie had baked Rafe a cherry pie rather than his favorite, peach cobbler.

  This morning, she’d hoped he would change the clunker’s oil while she picked up a few items from the market and helped Brice pick out his grandmother’s memorial flowers at the florist across the street. However, Rafe had greeted her at the R&L with bloodshot eyes, a rough beard and uncombed hair. In no shape to work today, he said if she stopped by after class tomorrow he would complete the oil change before she had to be at work.

  Cassie wouldn’t have minded postponing the service another week, but Rafe insisted it had been too long since the last automotive checkup. Because of the car’s age, he didn’t want to delay service longer than necessary.