Dire Wolf Wanted

by Carol Van Natta

  Beside her, Arvik made a disgusted sound. “It’s probably a message. They know I have more than one valuable item, and they want a kickback.” He frowned. “The New World Imperium is better than it used to be, but they are a fair distance from perfect.”

  Brooker toyed with the pen in his hand. “No organization is immune from politics and bad choices.” He glanced to his left for a second. “Let’s connect again in two days. I’ll have the results from the arrests, and the Imperium promises more intel from the Fort LeBlanc investigation.”

  They arranged the time and details, then ended the call.

  She powered off the laptop and the uplink on the kitchen counter while he folded the blanket. She watched him cross to look out the picture window. The man carried himself like a ballet dancer even when he was distracted. No wonder he’d worn heavy boots while in the Díaz persona.

  “Snow is still coming down. The pack is still on my porch.” He turned to face her. “If you want to leave, we have to do it now, or wait for the storm to pass. Once we get far enough from the cabin, I will port you to wherever you want to go.”

  Not the talk she’d been expecting. “Do you want me to leave?” It sounded needy, but she needed to know.

  “No.” He tightened his arms around the blanket. The gem on one of his wristbands flashed with light. “But you may not want to stay.”

  Smothering her rampant imagination and quelling her agitated wolf, she crossed her arms and leaned her hip on the counter. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why not?”

  He leaned sideways to put the blanket on the chair. “Because of what I am, and what I’m not. I am a magician, a spy, a loner, a liar, a killer. I am a monster.”

  He took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. “What I am not is a shifter.”

  14

  Arvik watched Rayne take in his words. His inner beasts stayed stalking still and silent.

  She shrugged one shoulder. “You’re an agent. Most of that is the price of admission.” Her eyes closed for a moment. Then she lifted her chin and caught his gaze. “What kind of monster?” Her fingers splayed briefly. “My inner wolf says you are a shifter, albeit one with three souls, which might make you mythical.”

  His inner beasts urged him to agree.

  Unexpectedly, she batted her eyes and coyly proffered the back of her hand. “But I haven’t seen everything this wide world has to offer.”

  It sounded like a quote from a silent-film melodrama. Her simpering smile and high-pitched, breathy tone made him smile in spite of himself.

  While she’d been out running, he’d decided to start at the beginning and work his way up to the harder parts. “Do you know anything about the legends of the human First Peoples, or any of the shifter clans up north?”

  “Sorry, no. Classrooms made me bitey. You’re lucky I know they don’t call themselves Eskimos.”

  His noisy beasts pushed him to blurt everything out at once, to kiss her, to whisk her away to the beach and show her. He compromised by inviting her to sit with him at the table.

  “In our legends, the shamans of two starving shifter clans in the Arctic used powerful, dark arts to become one people. They became more than shifters with the strengths of man and beasts, with extra free magic. They conquered all other tribes, human and shifter, in the north. They called themselves the Ulu, the sharp knives, but came to be known as the Ahklut, after the male who named himself chief of all the Ulu bands.”

  “When was this?”

  “Depends on who you ask. My grandparents said twenty thousand years ago. Others put us as far older, but that might be more fable than fact.”

  “We shifters love legends, don’t we? My favorite philosophy professor said it’s because we know less about our origins than any of the other magical species.” She smiled ruefully. “Sorry. So, the Ahklut clan was the terror of the north.”

  “Yes, for centuries. When Ahklut himself died, successors took up the spear. By the time I was born in the early 1500s, as Europeans count it, the Ahklut were in decline, down to maybe a few thousand on three hidden islands. Children were rare, and healthy children rarer still. A famine drove food animals southward. The shifter and human tribes followed, but the Ahklut could not. According to our teaching tales, one of the costs of our merge was a fatal intolerance to warmth.”

  Her finger traced the wing of the thunderbird figure he’d carved on the table. “Does your magic protect you?”

  “Yes.” The lie rolled off his tongue before he caught it. “Not anymore.” He forced himself back on track. “We had no other skills beyond ravaging and pillaging. Everyone went on raids. Male, female, old, young. Only the injured or females nursing younglings stayed home. Our native gift, the charisma magic that made Little Brother our best buddy, compelled shifters and humans alike to listen. Our nature is trouble, and fear is our weapon. We took what we wanted, when we wanted, because we could. Our magic was undetectable, unstoppable.”

  A corner of her mouth twitched. “Except by polar fairies, perhaps?”

  He snorted. “True enough, but neither they nor their age-old enemies, the Arctic elves, cared what we did as long as we left their glades and demesnes alone and didn’t reveal their existence to humans. The northern forest giants ignored us, and we ignored them. Thunderbirds killed us on sight. That’s what happened to my parents. But there weren’t enough of them to chase us all over the Arctic.”

  “So, what changed?”

  “Politics. I grew into a tall and fierce fighter. I had more free magic than most, though I didn’t know how to use it. The clan’s most powerful and ambitious shaman sought to use me as his instrument to control the chief and thereby, the clan. But I had already been shaped by my grandparents as a weapon in their secret crusade for peace.”

  Her eyes widened. “Wow.” She smiled. “Do you have any popcorn? This is getting good.”

  Amusement bubbled up out of him. “No.” He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed having someone to laugh with until he’d met Rayne. “A serious oversight on my part.”

  “I’ll start a shopping list.” She grinned. “Go on.”

  “My grandparents raised me after my parents died on a raid. They were part of an underground pacifist faction that was gaining popularity as the old raiding ways failed. They taught me compassion and helped me figure out how to use my magic to defend and heal. By the time Nu’untivut, the shaman, realized I would never be his weapon, I was too visible and well-liked to kill me outright. I’d become the face of the radical notion that the pitiless, rapacious Ahklut could embrace the way of the original three-spirited Ulu, who could trade instead of take, cooperate instead of command.”

  She rested her chin on the heel of her hand. “Ahead of your time?”

  He nodded. “Fear of change, too. I was young and idealistic, despite the countless raids I’d been on and the people I’d hurt. It took five unexpected deaths of my friends and allies for me to realize it wasn’t just bad luck.” He pushed aside the old memories of blood on the ice. “Then Nu’untivut murdered the old chief and assumed clan leadership, as no previous shaman had done. He demanded loyalty from all, but took counsel from none. Only I was left to oppose him. With few friends left, I couldn’t protect my family. I killed his strongest, most vicious fighter in a public fight, then fled south forever.”

  “That had to be hard. I was never in a pack, but I can’t imagine what it would be like to leave everyone I ever cared about behind. Even if I was forced out.”

  Her other hand had drifted closer to his on the table as she spoke. He wanted the connection and comfort of her touch, but he forced himself to ignore it. He still had so much to tell her.

  “It was hard, but the alternative was worse. I was lucky. Magic got me out of trouble and kept me cool.” He showed her one of his wristbands. “I saw my first desert and my first jungle. I learned to hide my nature from shifters and magic users, the ancient races, and even mirror mages and oracles. I studied more magic when and where I could, and
learned more mundane medicine when it advanced beyond wishful thinking and blood-letting. Spying came naturally. I’d already learned fitting-in as a survival skill. I love learning secrets. I still believe in doing what’s right. I’ve tried to atone for what the clan did. What I did.” He shook his head. “Sometimes, I make a mistake and take a job with the wrong people. That’s how I ended up on a team of greedy wizards who think I’m like them.”

  “You are an excellent spy. But they’re morons.” She waved her hand dismissively. “So what happened to your people? I think I’d have heard about a clan attacking shifter communities.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve spent the last four centuries avoiding the northern latitudes and pretending I knew nothing of the Ahklut. In the mid-1800s, I heard rumors that part of the clan split and settled in Siberia.” He made a face. “Until now, I’ve never wanted to go back. If my grandparents are still alive, Nu’untivut or his successor would kill them to hurt me.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Until now?”

  “You said it better than I did, earlier. I’ve been re-examining some fundamental assumptions about myself, because the last few days have proved them wrong. You proved them wrong.” He laced his fingers together to keep himself from reaching for her hand.

  She said nothing, but her warm expression invited him to continue. Honesty was a novel experience.

  “Ulu lore says our native gift of charisma magic is supposed to be undetectable, but you felt it, back in the auction house. I think Lerro did, too. It’s not supposed to work on animals, so I never tried until you asked. Now I have a wolf pack on my porch.”

  She quirked a teasing smile. “They scented your stew.”

  “Sure, once they slid right by the cabin’s magical defenses.” Which he’d forgotten to set, because he’d only cared that she came back from her hike.

  Her head tilted toward the door. “Should we check for more visitors?”

  “No, it’s my fault. Detection spells only work if you activate them. The spells registered the wolves as invited guests. We have no others, invited or otherwise.”

  “It’s hard to balance security by obscurity and deterrence sometimes.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “Water?”

  “Please.” He watched in case she needed a reminder, but she went straight to the correct cabinet. “When I went south, I used magic to keep cool for the first few decades after I left, but I eventually found I didn’t need it. Either I acclimated through magic, or heat intolerance is another tale of dubious origin.”

  She filled the mugs with cool water and brought them to the table. “What else?”

  He picked up his mug as she sat. “In my clinic, I was able to direct your own free magic to heal you. Ulu magic is supposed to be incompatible with real shifter magic, like oil and water.”

  “I’m glad you busted that myth, then.” She shook her head and thinned her lips. “Donovan—the guard Foster—had to help ‘kill’ me and convince the others I was dead. I had a mission to complete, and it was the only way Skyla would leave without me. My discovery sense told me heavy things were coming down at the auction house, and I didn’t want her to be a casualty.” She sighed. “I should have found a better way.”

  “Sometimes, there are only different ways, not better.” He circled the rim of the water glass with his finger. “You shouldn’t have been able to tell that I was anything but an arrogant wizard, or at most, a simple timber wolf. My shields have fooled nosy magic users and ultra-suspicious shifters for centuries, or I’d have been dead a hundred times over.”

  “Simple wolf, eh?” She chucked. “Like I’m a shy maned-wolf.” Her smile faded. “So why do you want to go back to your people now? Assuming they’re still around.”

  “Answers. Unfinished business. Family.” He blew out a loud breath. “I’ve been hiding alone in the shadows for five hundred years. I think I might like the sunlight.”

  His courage faltered. Giving up any more secrets meant he’d have no shield, no net, and a charred bridge behind him. He took a slow sip from his mug.

  Her shoulders hunched slightly. “I have a theory that might answer some of your questions, but you might not…” She trailed off. “It will change things.” Her finger pointed back and forth between them.

  He hadn’t heard vulnerability in her tone before. Admittedly, he’d only known her for ten days, and she’d been unconscious for four of them, but it caught his attention. “I’m willing to risk it if you are.”

  Her gaze caught his and held it. “I could be immune to your magic because both my wolf and shifter magic say you’re my true mate, and that I am yours.”

  A flash flood of wonder threatened to sweep him away. Both his animals surged forward at once. He clenched his jaw tight against their desire to take control of his words.

  She sat up in her chair, her face neutral, but her posture stiff. “My apologies. I won’t mention it again.”

  He shook his head, sorry that he’d hurt her, frustrated with himself. “Our origin tales all say that in becoming the Ulu, we lost the blessing of the true-mate bond. For five hundred years, I believed it. Then I met you.”

  Her expression didn’t change.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “My animals insist you are our mate, even though it’s supposed to be impossible. I feel your presence, even when you’re kilometers away. Your touch sets me on fire, and your magic makes me want to find out if you taste as different as your scent each time I kiss you. I want to blast anyone who looks at you with greed or disrespect.” He stood up and paced a small circle behind his chair. “I spent two days as a wolf, trying to get control of myself. It didn’t work. You probably wanted to push me off the first steep mountain we came to.”

  A corner of her mouth twitched. “Maybe the second mountain.”

  “I’m sorry I was a jerk. I didn’t talk because I didn’t know what to tell you.” He shook his head. “That’s a lie. I was afraid to tell you.”

  “Me, too. I feel everything a shifter mate is supposed to feel. The primal need to join with you, mentally and physically. Even your breathing is sexy. Your magic makes me want to lick you everywhere, and your scent...” She inhaled and splayed her fingers like an explosion. “Wow.”

  She stood to face him, then slid her hands into the pockets of her vest. “But bodies want what they want without worrying about the consequences. Dire wolves live for the now. Golden strands of shifter-mate magic are potential, not destiny.” Her gaze dropped, then met his again. “I planned to kill you because you were a wizard who sold shifters like cattle. Then I thought I’d have to kill you because you were a shifter who sold other shifters. Not a golden start to a successful relationship.” She shook her head. “But you freed me and all of us instead of saving yourself. You stopped a hellfrog. You offered to hold the fake auction because you wanted to protect me. You helped me save Little Brother.” Her lips curved upward. “You zapped the convenience-store clerk.”

  “Any time.” He was mesmerized by her mouth and frozen by the fear that if he moved, hope would vanish.

  She tilted her head. “I’m still not getting the monster part.”

  “My third spirit is not found in nature.” He pointed his chin toward the large and bold Northwest Coast aboriginal art piece on the back wall of the cabin. “That comes closest.”

  She turned to study it. Suddenly, she saw it for what it was. “You’re an orca? A killer whale?”

  “Maybe we were once. We’ve got the coloring and the shape, but we’re bigger. We have limbs and claws where fins should be. We use them to climb out of the water and shift to wolf or human.”

  She grinned. “I’d love to see you.” Her hands fluttered. “If you’re willing.”

  “Yes.” His new policy for honesty made him continue. “I want to hunt with you, swim with you, spend a week in bed with you. Make you laugh. Find out if you like sashimi. Learn how you do that thing with your wardrobe. Help you find your sister.” He locked his knees against
the desire to take the few steps that would put them in touching distance. “But not until I track down my people and find out the truth. You and I both need to know if I can form the bond that real shifters do.”

  After several long moments, she nodded once. “I hear you. My wolf is already shredding me for just thinking of letting you go without us to protect you.” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “But neither of us is in the right line of work for a normal courtship, and we both have unfinished business.” She snorted. “Every mating dance is unique, but I wouldn’t know normal if it wore a nametag.”

  He hissed dismissively. “Normal is for statisticians. This is just us.” He took a deep breath and let it out fast. “I have to tell you, not touching you is killing me.”

  “We could try another hug.” She opened her arms in invitation and gave him a smartass smile. “Maybe this time, we won’t land on a tree outside of Kotoyeesinay.”

  Within a heartbeat, he wrapped her in an embrace. He expected the hot, tingling desire—his constant companion for the last week—but the comfort that washed through him took him by surprise. Had he been in that much pain? His inner beasts settled and leaned into the feeling of her face resting on his chest. The feeling of home.

  He dropped his head to draw in a full breath of her scent. This time, it was lemon, dust, and wet feathers, with an undercurrent of pure feminine arousal. He took another shuddering breath.

  “See? You’re sexy just breathing.” Her arms tightened around him. “I’ve never wanted anyone like I do you. If we kiss, I’ll never want to stop.”

  Even nuzzling her hair was sensuous torture. “Sorry, no brains for words. All my blood is going here.” He ground his hips into hers, letting her feel his hard arousal.

  She groaned and met his thrust with her own. “I’m aching for you.” Her embrace loosened and she looked up. “But we’re playing with an open campfire in a drought-stricken forest.”

  He reluctantly released her and took a tiny step back. “Yes.” He took another deep breath, forcing himself to think. He couldn’t remember why they couldn’t just give in to the pleasure.