Past My Defenses (Taming the Pack series) (Entangled Ignite)

by Wendy Sparrow

  “Unless I kill him…yes.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Give me one reason.”

  “Because that’d make him a better man than you.”

  He sighed. “Go leash your human and make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

  Chapter Six

  Tracking wasn’t his specialty, and he was more concerned with making sure nothing happened to Sammy, so he kept her within sight as he followed one set of tracks.

  “No drag marks or signs of blood. And the footprints I’m seeing are all large and probably from the police.”

  “They had a local tracker here the night I found the car.”

  “You found the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was the tracker?”

  Dane shrugged. “No idea. He never got out of his SUV while I was here. Travis could tell you.”

  Sammy crouched again. “It looks like they were searching for something. The wolves, I mean. Their tracks fan out and return to this path.”

  That’s what he was seeing too, but he wasn’t planning on speculating until he knew what Vanessa’s place in all this was. It’d be useful if he’d gotten her phone number. Then again, she didn’t even carry a change of clothing around with her most of the times they’d run across each other, so a cell phone number might be worthless.

  His phone rang, the sound loud in the quiet forest. He answered it quickly.

  “Hey, Christa, when do you think you’ll be by for the cat?”

  “Oh, I already stopped by.” He didn’t trust the amusement he heard in her voice.

  “You did?”

  “Uh-huh. I can see why you were so anxious to get rid of him.”

  “Oh?” Hopefully, that didn’t mean what he thought it meant. He wasn’t sure how he felt about Christa meeting…whatever Vanessa was. Not anymore. Two hours ago, he’d known he wanted her for a good long time. Now he wasn’t sure if she was dangerous. For all he knew, her fellow wolves had hunted and killed that woman. Even if Vanessa wasn’t involved…well…still…

  “She’s really pretty.”

  Gorgeous. Even as a wolf, she’d retained that sleek elegance. In her skin, she was irresistible.

  Just like the previous night, he felt her eyes, and he turned to see a silver wolf watching him from nearby. “Yeah, I guess,” he said.

  “You don’t seem sure.”

  Dane shook his head. “Uhh, Christa, I’m tracking some…wildlife, and I’m a bit distracted. Can I call you later?”

  “Okay, but you’ll have to spill everything…how you met…everything.”

  He snorted a laugh. That would be a riot. No one was hearing that story. “We’ll see. Bye.”

  He hung up and stared down his she-wolf. “So, you met my sister, huh?” His jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching it. It was insulting she was playing him for a fool by pretending she wasn’t a wolf, especially in light of people disappearing in his jurisdiction. Things became drastically less funny when people were dragged from their car by a pack of werewolves. “How was that? Was it good? Thanks for leaving her alive.”

  The silver wolf twitched, and her eyes looked reproachful. Well, she had no right to that.

  “Did you say something?” Sammy called.

  Dane kept eye contact with his wolf, so he saw her take a step back in retreat when he yelled back, “Yeah.” The silver wolf pulled back into the shadows. “Oh, nice, you don’t trust me?” he whispered. “I’m going to follow a set of tracks west for a bit—see where it takes me!” he yelled to the other ranger.

  “Radio me if you find anything.”

  “Yep.” He stalked off away from Sammy’s listening ears, knowing he had a silver shadow. When he’d put a good amount of distance between them, he said, without looking to see if she was there, “So, what? Did I just get off easy because I was armed and you jumped in?” He jerked his head back in the direction of the road. “Is this how your pack handles things? Killing humans who find out about you?”

  “That’s not how it is,” she said quietly, her voice coming from the other side of a nearby tree. “Cheri has always known about us.”

  He set down his shotgun and leaned against the same tree. “So, is she dead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know if they killed her?”

  “Who?”

  He exhaled in a huff and considered walking away. Did she think he was obtuse? “Your…pack.”

  “No!” She was so vehement that it startled him. “You do think that! You weren’t just trying to provoke me. You actually think…”

  “What am I supposed to think?”

  “Something that doesn’t make me a murderer.”

  “I don’t think you killed her.”

  “Oh, but someone else in the pack did?”

  Dane rolled his eyes. “Yesterday. In my yard. Are you saying your friend there was just the welcoming committee? That he wasn’t going to try to kill me?”

  Silence. Then, softly, she said, “That was different.”

  “And why’s that?”

  She groaned. “I really don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Then give me my damn key back.”

  “What?” The hurt in her voice stabbed at him, but he was too far-gone to stop. And he was right, dammit. He was right.

  “You don’t think I deserve to know why someone…no, something…wanted to kill me?”

  He heard the tears in her voice as she said, “I scent-matched on you.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” He kicked a clod of dirt at his feet. Only Vanessa could throw out more inexplicable words to explain what was between them. And she had no right to be crying. And it shouldn’t twist in his gut like this that she was or make him ashamed because it was his fault she was crying.

  But he was right. He deserved a lot more information than she was sharing.

  “When we meet our mates, it’s different…it’s…”

  He went still.

  “It’s just different. We know. By their scent. Only…the Alpha had planned on taking me as the next alpha female, and he didn’t think I was…serious about you, but the match isn’t something you can just switch off.”

  “He can just take you if he wants you?” This time he said it gently—the polar opposite of the last thing he said. All the anger had deflated and left this sick assurance that in a moment, he was going to hate himself for yelling at her. It was couched in language he was still untangling but it sounded like she’d called him her mate.

  “It would be an honor to be alpha female, but it was too late—I wasn’t…available.”

  “So he decided to kill me to end this…scent-match?” This was making a little more sense.

  “And I stopped him.”

  “I would’ve stopped him. You nearly got yourself killed.”

  She was quiet, but he suspected she was still crying. And he repeated what he’d just said in his head. Ah, hell, he was being an arrogant fool. She’d thrown herself between him and some traditional master of their group, and it hadn’t been a game or some weird power play. She could’ve been killed, and she’d known it.

  “I mean…thank you,” he said.

  “What?” Her voice was so watery with tears that he clenched his fists at his sides.

  “Thank you for coming to stop him.”

  “I had to… I—” There was a fast rustle like he’d startled an animal in the underbrush, and he turned to hear the approach of boots.

  Pushing to his feet, he saw Sammy coming their way. Leaning over, he grabbed his gun.

  “I’m thinking of maybe seeing if we can get some dogs in. I mean, that’s what we’d normally do. That’s what we’ve done when people go missing out here. Just because it’s wolves this time…” She gave him a long look. “I hate dogs, and they hate me, so you’ll need to be point for that.”

  He shrugged. They’d worked with dogs in the past. He was going to be looking at all wildlife a little differently t
hese days, but sure. “You hate them like you’re scared of them?” He could always have her head back, and he’d deal with this. That might be better anyway.

  Shaking her head, she said, “I was bitten by a dog when I was twelve—and ever since, we’ve hated each other.”

  “You can head home.” If she was freaked out by dogs, it probably wouldn’t help that she was twenty feet from a wolf. Hell, she might be surrounded by wolves. He had no idea how many werewolves were around.

  “Nah, I’ll just stay in my Jeep.”

  She picked up her radio again and glanced at the bushes where Vanessa had been a moment ago with a frown. “Hey, Ross, what are our odds of getting some police dogs into these woods?”

  “You want dogs to go after a pack of wolves?”

  The other ranger shot Dane a look and rolled her eyes at their dispatch’s inability to process the situation. “No, Ross, I want dogs to find a body.”

  “Don’t you think the wolves would have already done that?”

  Sammy sighed.

  He had a sneaking suspicion he was finally getting what was up with their dispatch. It was impossible. He’d met Ross. Then again, his sister had met Vanessa and had no idea. And his predecessor, Frank, had probably seen more wolves than he realized.

  Also, Ross had provided a good explanation for all the tracks all over this place. They were searching for that missing driver too—which most likely meant they hadn’t killed her.

  She said slowly into the radio, “I want the dogs to find the trail of what the wolves have done.” She looked at Dane, shaking her head.

  Dane unhooked his radio. “Just so you know, Ross, I don’t think wolves killed her.” He heard a rustle from the bushes beside him. “They’re not like that.”

  Sammy groaned, and he suspected she was about to throw the radio at his head.

  …

  She could outrun a lot of things. Last time she was in heat, she’d been chased by an amorous wolf—a fully-fur-lined wolf. She could even outrun a storm coming in. But there were some things—vile, vile, horrible things—that she couldn’t outrun, couldn’t hide from, couldn’t even get ahead of in a car. Things that brought her to her knees. Beyond cats, of course. Because she could outrun cats…if they didn’t jump out of the darkness onto her face.

  Pollens—those nasty little buggers. Oh, how she despised them. And they were everywhere. And running through bushes and dislodging pollen all over her was the dumbest thing she could have done. Also, her wolf metabolism and shifting from wolf to human sometimes played games with her allergy med dosage, especially if she was bolting through the woods trying to get to Dane before he did something that violated Jordan’s trust and put his head on the block. Then, she got there and shifted out again to explain.

  Staying around after that talk had been her real mistake—the mistake she’d pay for in spades. At first, she’d stayed around to see what he’d say, what he’d do. Then she’d stayed to make sure his relationship with the other ranger wouldn’t get either of them killed by the pack. She wasn’t jealous of Sammy. Just because the woman was single and around Dane all the time didn’t make it a good reason for her to be jealous. That would be ridiculous. She wasn’t turning into that woman.

  Okay, so she had spooked Sammy a few times by rushing through the bushes and then hiding, but that was just good survivalist training.

  It hadn’t helped that she seemed allergic to the other woman’s perfume. See! That was cause for concern—who wore perfume around a coworker they weren’t interested in? Okay, maybe it was body wash. Still, it was worth checking out.

  As she nearly dragged herself across the porch, she cursed herself as a fool.

  When her allergy pills had worn off, it’d hit her like a wall of “oh hell” and she’d bolted back for her car and driven far above what was safe for someone trying to drive between sneezes with blurry eyes. At least she’d driven partway before undressing and shifting. If she’d had to run the entire ten miles back to her house, she couldn’t have—not in either form. Also, in human form that would have involved a clothing-optional choice that would probably end up on the internet with her luck.

  So, here she was. Literally on her knees, moaning, groaning, dying…and trying to sort her keys for the right one. Through the watery haze of pooling tears, she located her door’s lock and shoved in a key. Of course it was the wrong one.

  Finally! Dammit, no more locking any doors. But of course, she locked the door behind her because that just made sense. Dropping to her tile floor, she felt around for her purse and the bottle of emergency pills. Her hands were clumsy, and she spilled them all around her as she grabbed a few of them—two, three, or so, or whatever…who cared about doses when she was dying?—and chewed them.

  And when she recovered, she’d restock her car with all her pills—loads of pills. She’d be an antihistamine pharmacy on wheels.

  Dropping her cheek onto the floor, she breathed noisily through her mouth.

  Pollen really was a bastard.

  She’d nearly gone to Dane’s house, even though he didn’t have her meds there—it’d been a weird instinct. She had the key on her key ring. That might’ve even been the one she tried in her own door. But no, he’d already seen her like this once—and besides, how pathetic was that? She kept throwing herself at him, and he was iffy as to whether she hung out with a bunch of killers.

  She’d gone to his house last night.

  No, she was done throwing herself at him. For today. Until her hormones forced the issue. Pride. All the cool kids had it these days. Being in heat might drown her pride in her hormones and lust, but it was still somewhere down there, buried deep.

  In fact, she’d all but told him that they were mates—that she considered him her “forever” and that she’d give her life for him, and he’d said what?

  He’d said, “I would’ve stopped him” and then “thank you.” So, okay, the thank you had been nice, but who said “thank you” when you said they were your mate?

  Hey, Dane, I’m bound to you forever. I could have had a Lycan mate…an Alpha even, but my body chose yours…forever. And I like it enough that I’m bawling my eyes out in front of you, and I offered to die for you. I’m weak and pathetic for you. Isn’t that special? By the way, I’m hoping to have your babies someday too.

  Hey, Vanessa, there was no way I’d have let you give your life for me—so that was out, but thank you. No, really, the deepest of thanks.

  See, it didn’t work.

  No, it was just as well she didn’t go to his house…right away. Later, maybe, she’d go there, but she wasn’t throwing herself at him ever again. Right away.

  Vanessa rolled onto her back. She should drag herself to someplace better than the tile floor. She should. She couldn’t. This was a good enough place to spend quality time communing with dust bunnies. Wolves liked bunnies. And that was her last conscious thought.

  …

  He’d expected to find her at his place when he got home, ready to argue and fight and then make out until he dragged her into the shower again—at least this time maybe he’d go for lukewarm or maybe he’d take the shower by himself. He’d even planned out what they might be able to have for dinner. He’d have to look over her long list of allergies again, but there were meals that skipped around all that she was allergic to.

  She hadn’t been there.

  He shrugged it off.

  They hadn’t found any sign of the missing woman, including signs that a wolf had harmed her, so he was feeling more goodwill toward Vanessa’s pack. For now. The sheriff had nixed bringing in dogs, so after combing the woods for hours, they’d quit for the day. It’d left him with hours to fill. Hours he filled with a few more Google searches on wolves.

  He should probably delete all these searches on wolves’ mating habits. For so many reasons.

  Where was Vanessa?

  She did have a job. Maybe she’d get to his place later. So he made something she could eat. And waited. A
nd waited. Which was ridiculous, and he felt more like an idiot as the hours ticked by, and she never came, never called. He shouldn’t be rearranging his schedule to fit someone he’d just met.

  Still, he stayed up, watching TV without even noticing what was on it. Finally, when the late shows started coming on, he went to the internet to look up her phone number and address. She should’ve given both to him. He shouldn’t have to look them up.

  Was this even a relationship?

  Did he care either way?

  They’d known each other days. Hell, maybe he should be counting it in hours instead of days even. He shouldn’t care if she didn’t bother checking in with him. That whole thing in the woods apparently hadn’t meant much of anything to her.

  Sure, he could have called her. Well, not now, it was too late, but she’d only given him information about her life when she was forced to. Without this whole scent-match thing, she probably would have bolted out the door and never come back.

  He went to take a shower—to wash whatever it was she liked off him, as well as the dirt of tromping through the woods all day trying to prove or disprove that a pack of wolves had killed their missing person. Being in the shower reminded him of the last time he’d been there…with her…kissing her…biting her lower lip…his shirt plastered across her outlining every gorgeous inch of her. He twisted the dial to arctic. Again.

  His sheets smelled like her. She smelled like honeysuckle, not a shampoo or something—he’d swear she smelled sweet like honeysuckle.

  At 1:00 a.m., he yanked the sheets off and remade his bed.

  At 2:00 a.m., he yanked the new sheets off because they smelled wrong, and remade them with the old sheets.

  At 3:00 a.m., he woke after a vivid nightmare of her cut into pieces and actually tried calling her, hoping she was awake. She didn’t answer her home phone, and he had no idea what her cell phone number was. Hopefully, she didn’t have caller I.D. If she found out he was calling her in the middle of the night…

  He was so whipped. After just… He looked at his bedside clock. After knowing her around fifty-six hours, he couldn’t sleep without her beside him. She had him on a chain, leashed—which was ironic.