by Vin Stephens
“He’ll kill you.”
“Mm… Maybe I’ll keep you alive for a while longer. Just so I can watch you swallow those words when I dig his out heart.” His gaze lowered to her midsection. “He works fast. No matter. I’ll take of this one, too.”
“What?” Her hand flew to her tummy before she lost control and railed at him, “You! You killed my baby. What did you do with her?”
Anthony evaded and moved so fast, Willow was left swiping air. She hadn’t even seen him move. Altair was right. He was strong. But was he stronger then the Cameron alpha and his pack? Altair would find her—somehow. She had to stall. “Where is she?”
He laughed. “In an unmarked grave. You thought I—” He laughed even harder.
“Yes, damn you.”
“I’m the ultimate predator, not a fucking scavenger.” He sneered. “Besides, the taste of mixed blood is as good as rotted flesh.”
In her peripheral vision she caught slight movement on the ground. She had to keep Anthony distracted. He was crazy and arrogant. She’d use that against him. “So many years. You covered your tracks well.”
He preened. “I’m undefeatable, the highest in the hierarchical food chain. I made all you fools dance like puppets to my tune.” His face grew savage. “But you had to go and spoil it all by coming here. I always knew that man was trouble. Now you’ve put everyone’s lives in danger. Starting with this yellow-bellied coward.”
Too late, she realized he’d already noticed her father’s ungainly ascent. He grabbed Lucien by the throat. “All this time I watched over you and kept you safe. This is how you repay me?”
Lucien wheezed. “I didn’t believe the accusations Altair made.”
“Liar. I watched you. So boss, how does it feel knowing I killed your wife?”
“You sick son of a—”
“Father no.” Willow rushed forward. Once again Anthony moved at the speed of light. She tried to keep her father balanced, but his weight was too much for her. They collapsed. “What did he mean? Mother? Tell me.”
Her father spat at Anthony. “I’ll kill you for that. Why? Why did you take her from me? She was my world?”
Anthony smirked. “The woman was like a bitch with a bone. I knew she was sniveling about me. In time you would have listened.” He shrugged. “I crept into her room while you were flaunting your new baby around the house. I made sure she saw it was me as I suffocated her with the same bloody towels she’d labored on.”
Willow sensed her father trying to shape-shift. She held on. “No. You’re weak. He’ll kill you, too. Please don’t.”
“Damn genius of me, killing two birds with one stone. After you discovered your wife had died on the birthing bed, you resented her.” He scowled. “I should have killed you, too.”
“You really are insane,” shouted Willow.
“Thank you.” He bowed. “On second thought you should be thanking me.”
“For what?”
“Saving you from your maniac husband.”
Willow inhaled sharply. “It was you. But why? You two were in cahoots.”
“Until he thought he could blackmail me. Of all the fools I was surrounded by, he was the only one who figured everything out. One murderer trying to extort money from another. Imagine that. I reminded him who was the more dangerous of us two.”
“You mean mad, you monster. My mother, my baby, my husband. Why? What did you get out of this?”
“A life. What else was there to do with nothing by time on my hands? Work?” He shook his head. “You family entertained me for close to half a century. Now, thanks to your blabbing, playtime is over. Time to move on—after I tie up all the loose ends.”
He moved. Willow barely had time to breathe before he yanked her up. His grasp tightened around her throat. Claws extended slowly, slicing into her skin. Fresh air was shut out, stale trapped within, becoming more useless with each heartbeat. Her feet kicked desperately trying to find earth. Tears leaked. Futile fingers grappled with his iron hold. Darkness closed in.
The attack came fast. A furious growl, a blur of gray and she fell. Coughing and gasping, she was dragged away. “No. Let go. Altair—”
“—willnae concentrate with ye in harm’s way.” Jhor laid her down while Garret checked her wounds.
“Stop it.” She batted their hands away. “Go. Help him. God, he’s too strong.”
She pushed them away, scrambled upright just as the gray wolf’s pained whinny pierced the air. “No!” She bolted. The enemy changed form. A horrendous beast with matted fur, frothing jaws and body bunched for attack. She didn’t stop. It launched. “Altair!” She never reached the broken mass of gore and dirt. The creature’s claws dug into her back as she crossed its path. Instinct made her duck her neck. Missing its mark, fangs ripped at her ear. She went down, taking the brunt of its stone weight.
* * * *
Willow’s scream echoed. So far, like it came to him through a dam of water. He howled and pawed his way up. Sharp pain in his gorged side made his knees buckle. His rib cage felt shattered, his lung punctured. Willow. He had to get to her.
She was crushed beneath the beast. He sprang. His teeth barely nipped the protective black fur at its throat. It vanished. His sniffed at the bleeding tracks running down her slender back. He nuzzled deeper. There, the feint flutters of her precious heart, soft breath exhaled with a whimper. She was alive, but she was hurt. He howled, a resonating sound filled with rage.
The filth had dared to touch what was his. Snarling, murder on his mind, he spun around. His pack joined him—black to his right, white on his left. They faced the enemy as one. Hot bodies shook with fury. His brothers’ anger was good, but blind rage would get them killed. How did they kill something that moved like lightning, struck like thunder? Leash lightning with lightning, corral thunder with thunder and bend the beast to his will—that was it. “The pack rules. Jhor, I’m yer mark. Garret, herd him.”
He assessed the foe. Its lips curled back in a feral grin. Strings of drool dripped. Pupils were dilated, a bright, mad glow against a demon face. Its massive head lowered.
At his back he felt Willow stir. He tuned everything out but the monster, and its defeat. Garret’s wolf twitched, Jhor’s nape spiked. The beast pounced. “Steady.” Altair’s control was uncompromising. One heartbeat, and then another. “Now.”
They moved as one. A blur of white shot forward, meeting the threat head on. He caught the attacker midair. Wrestling, the white wolf used claws and fangs to drive the surprised animal aside. A deadly strike sent it sprawling. The aggressor now, the white wasted no time. He gave chase.
Caught unaware, the huge wolf fled. The black stepped in, driving the fiend from the opposite direction. With both wolves hot on his tail, he bolted recklessly, straight to where Altair crouched in wait. The split second it took for the wolf to realize this was an ambush, was enough for Altair to pounce. He went straight for the jugular, his aim unerring.
With a high-pitched squeal, it dashed into the bush. The pack threw back their heads and howled their victory. The pack always wins.
* * * *
Willow wept with relief. She stared at Altair in awe and admiration. “You defeated him. But why did you let him leave?”
“Bloodthirsty wench.” Jhor stroked her hair. “Doonae worry. Death is on his heels. He cannae outrun it.”
Garret touched her earlobe tenderly. “Ah, baby. Ye’re so wee. Ye cannae afford tae lose what little ye have.”
She didn’t care about a piece of missing cartilage. All she wanted was the precious men in her life safe and sound. But why didn’t Altair approach. He lingered on the outskirt, tersely guarding her with inscrutable eyes. Her father staggered to her. He caressed her gingerly, “I’m sorry Willow. All your life I made you pay for something that was never your fault.”
At one time, this declaration was all she wanted in the world. Now it simply eased a small piece of her heart. She smiled distractedly, “You were grieving the woma
n you loved. We’re lucky to have this time to be a family again.”
“Thank you Willow.” He softened beneath her hug. “But by the looks of things, now isn’t the time.” He gave her a knowing smile and whispered, “Altair cares for you.”
Claire stood at her side uncertainly. “I didnae ken what that monster had planned. I swear I wouldnae helped if I did.”
Gaze still locked on Altair, Willow nodded. “I understand.”
“He caught me at the castle. I vow I came only tae fetch mae things. He said I shouldnae run but fight. Said he’d help me. Can ye ever fergive—”
“Right, right girlie. My daughter will forgive you but not if you hang around any longer. Come now.” He led her to the clearance edge, nodded to Altair who ignored him and left.
“Altair?”
Her voice was like a rock being hurled at a glass pane. He exploded. His fingers dug painfully into her arms as he shook her. “Are ye mad, wench? What the hell were ye thinking jumping in front of me like that?”
“Eh.”
“Never. Ever. Never ever will ye do such a stupid, stupid thing. Do ye understand me?”
Willow shook her head in wonder. She wept at the realization. “You love me? Oh God. You really do love me. You all do.” Garret groaned at her side.
Jhor smacked his own forehead. “Now ye’re done it.”
“What?” She blinked in bewilderment.
Altair pushed her back none too gently. He stomped away, stopped and spun around. His fists clenched his sides. “Damn ye. Cannae ye ever let a mon be a mon.” Willow bit her lip and struggled to keep from grinning. He raked his hair back in frustration. “A mon cannae propose. Nay. Ye have tae demand his hand in marriage.”
“But you didn’t want to marry me.”
“What kind of mon lets a lass do the proposing?” He thumped his chest. “I’m a mon and tis the mon’s job.”
“I see.”
He shook his fist at the heavens. “I asked ye father fer ye hand when ye first came here. But tis my brother he wanted, tis my brother Anthony rooted fer, tis my damn brother my father offered. So tis Murdock ye wed.”
“I—” She shook her head in disbelief. “It was you. Outside the window, watching. You were so angry. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
His slashed his hand. “Sorry? Fer which deed exactly? After ye belittle me with ye marriage offer ye proposition me. Me. Tis the mon who does the wooing, nae a wench.”
“I—”
Garret shushed her so Altair could continue ranting, “Then ye command me tae plant a bairn in ye belly. Tis a mon who wield the cock. What sort of mon doesnae ken where and when and in whom he would sow his seeds?”
“You said I would die.”
“Struth wench. Ye drive me tae murder. I ken Raelyn Stark. The horses’s arse isnae sweet, gentle mon. He’s a wild, cunning silver wolf-shifter. If it werenae fer Murdock and Anthony, ye woulda had a healthy bairn. The remedy Nonna gave ye worked fer ye. Tis because ye share yer mother’s blood. The blood of a predator. Ye would bear a mon ten shifter sons and ye wouldnae say ‘Ow.’”
“But—”
“Nay. Ye left me no choice. Ye would choose death fer yer father over life with me. I had tae threaten ye, coerce ye. Tis the only way I could wed ye like a mon.” He nodded in satisfaction. “Aye. Tis a mon ye married, nae some puppy ye would train.”
Tongue in cheek, she mimicked his nod solemnly. Altair stabbed a finger at her. “Then ye do this. Ye throw yerself in front of me. What mon has his wife protect him? Tis my right.” His thumb poked at his chest. “Mine. The mon protects his wife, nay the other way around.”
Willow looked at her hands, the sky, everywhere but at him. The giggle tickled her throat.
“Now every time I see that nibble out ye ear, I willnae feel like a mon. I see those scrapes on ye back, I’ll check if tis balls I have hanging between mae thighs.”
It was too much. Willow pressed her fingers to her lips.
“Ye laugh at me.”
She shook her head. “Um-hum.”
“The mon cannae even tell ye he loves ye. Nay, ye must say it fer him. A mon will take only so much. Tis enough. Ye will take ye place as my wife and let me keep my bollocks as a mon.”
It trickled out as squeal, then a giggle. Before she could control herself she was laughing until her side hurt and tears rolled down her cheeks. He knelt before her and frowned. “Aye ye laugh at me. But ye weep as weel. Tis a grand joke tae ye.”
Willow hugged him tightly. “Must I wait for your brethren to tell me they love also or—”
“Hush, wench.” Jhor looked horrified. “Ye willnae speak for this mon. Aye, Red. I do love ye. Altair chose weel when he chose ye fer his wife. Ye’re a rare, brave lass and I’m proud tae serve ye as our pack queen.”
“Nay doonae look so,” Garret warned. “Ye ken ye had me from that very first night. Since then, my love and respect fer ye has only grown. But doonae ever risk ye life fer any of us again. Ye have three mons. Tis a lot of balls between us.”
“Aye if ye ever do such a foolish thing again, twill mean we arenae enough fer ye.”
“Will you bring another man, my Laird? Raelyn Stark perhaps.”
“Aye his dead body, if he isnae firmly shackled soon.”
Willow laughed and hugged them to her. Finally she was home. “I’ll never need anyone else.” She drew back and frowned. “I heard that. You’re hurt?”
Garret answered proudly, “I have a concussion and mayhap a sprained ankle fer I leapt from the turret tae get tae ye. Jhor, whiplash and a slipped disk.”
“But Anthony didn’t attack him.”
“Ah, but my Laird did. Introduced him tae a hardy trunk fer nae guarding ye proper.” Her chastising poke to Altair’s chest was stopped by Garret’s warning. “I wouldnae do that. Altair has three cracked ribs and a wee leak in his lung.”
Willow jumped up. “Of all the idiotic, insipid things.” She bustled them homeward. “Dolts, all three of you. Can you three walk? Of course, you can. You are men. I’ll call the doctor. You will not leave your beds until you’re fully recovered. No hunting. No fighting. No sex until I say you’re well enough.”
Altair slapped his forehead. “The wench willnae stop with her demands. Tis our fate tae have a mate who willnae let a mon’s balls hang proud.” He pinched her arse. “One condition. Our cocks arenae damaged. Ye will work tae keep us abed.”
“Humph.” Three randy men, trussed up and under her care. She could live with that. She smiled slyly. “Deal.”
THE END
WWW.SITES.GOOGLE.COM/site/vinstephensauthor
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dear Reader,
Vin Stephens is a life-long resident of Newcastle, happily married with two rambunctious sons. Extended family includes two furry felines and too many fish to mention by name.
An avid reader, die-hard movie and music lover, who enjoys cycling, kite surfing, and tennis, Vin finds time to converse with imaginary hot-bodied heroes and spunky, hard-headed heroines with emotional vulnerabilities and flaws—that is—until reality intrudes.
Vin’s motto in life is “Amor et amor”—“Live and let live.”
For all titles by Vin Stephens, please visit
www.bookstrand.com/vin-stephens
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com