Fortunately, his wolf had more sense. They'd wasted enough time with human thoughts and frailties. Its nose was up and its mouth was open, pulling in the scent and taste of the air. River barely had time to loop the tied sleeves of his shirt around his neck before they were running at breakneck speed over the rough and uneven terrain of the surrounding forest.
The wolf didn't hesitate when a wood and wire fence appeared before them. Without breaking stride, it leapt, and sailed on a wave of grace and muscle over to the other side and kept running. They sped through the sea of grass beyond. The dozen munching cows barely had time to flick their tails in startlement before the wolf was in the air again, leaving the field behind.
Tall trees, narrowing roads, and weedy grasses flew by. Small animals scattered. Hungry as he was, the wolf took no notice of the prey. It was on the hunt for larger game.
The wolf didn't slow until the collective smell of dozens of wolvers began to separate into individual scents. River's hiss of warning wasn't needed. His wolf stopped well beyond the line of sight. Belly to the ground, it crept around the assembly through the underbrush, lifting its head only far enough to confirm the wind blew toward it to keep its own scent secret. No lone wolver worth the name would enter this large a gathering without judging its strength and getting the lay of the land.
They were gathered in a small, cleared area of woodland bordered by a parking lot that showed more weeds than gravel. Several wooden picnic tables were strategically placed to one side of the clearing. On the other side, eight rustic benches were permanently placed in two orderly rows facing a low, wooden platform; an outdoor classroom. The wood of the table and benches were gray with age and spotted with moss and fungi. A folding lawn chair sat on the only sturdy place left on the rotting platform.
The gathering was a strange mix of four distinct packs, each party containing six to eight wolvers. They were predominantly male, and none of them looked like they were here for a good time. So much for the meet and greet. They were still in human form, but their movements were pure wolf.
One pack milled about, always staying close to one of their own. Their shoulders were relaxed, but not so much that they appeared cowed in any way. They looked like any normal pack of wolvers, but they weren't. Their heads hung low to avoid direct eye contact, but their eyes were always watching, always judging. They were doing exactly what River was doing. They were sizing up the power and force of the competition. Neither River nor his wolf liked this bunch. There was something about them that raised his hackles, though they showed no sign of open aggression.
The second batch reminded him of Wolf's Head. They wore designer jeans and shirts that looked too new to be comfortable. They belonged in khakis and polo shirts. Their faces and hands were soft, though their bodies looked strong and toned. River's snort of derision was echoed by his wolf. Those bodies were probably the result of workouts in the gym. That didn't mean they couldn't fight. Wolf's Head certainly could. They were wolvers after all, and a beast with sharp teeth and claws resided in each one of them. But these looked like wolvers better suited to fight financial battles than real ones, and they weren't much older than River.
The third group was mostly young, too, and River felt immediately drawn to them. Okay, maybe it was the beat up leather vests most of them were wearing along with their worn jeans, or maybe the half dozen motorcycles he'd seen parked off to one side, but River didn't think so. He knew better than to fall for surface shit. No, when it came to shit, these wolvers had theirs together. There was a wary tension in each one of them, like they expected shit to follow them wherever they went, and this place was no exception.
And fuck-all if he didn't recognize them! They were the wolvers from the bar. This was the mating chase they were talking about. It crossed his mind that he could slink back into the trees, get dressed, and come out and join them, but he decided against it. There was trouble brewing here, and he wanted no part of it.
He wondered if this strange collection saw each other as he did. River felt as if he'd entered a war zone where someone had called a temporary truce that was about to break wide open. He wondered why they weren't already fighting as men.
Primal Law forbade man to fight wolf, or wolf to kill man. The ancestral memory of the Law was so strongly imbedded in their genetics that the most hardened rogue would be hesitant to break it. The Law however, said nothing about wolvers tearing each other to pieces as long as they were all in the same form. So, why weren't these wolvers going at it?
River didn't care. If they were waiting for the moon to do battle, more power to them. It wasn't his fight. As far as he was concerned, the more they fucked up each other, the fewer there'd be to fuck with him when he took back what was his.
He circled around, slinking like the thief he wasn't, and spotted his truck. His tarp covered motorcycle was still in place. It was just as he left it. He wanted to edge closer, but the wolf refused his urging. The animal had interests elsewhere. It raised its snout and sniffed the air. A deep thrum of pleasure sounded in its throat.
A group of females hovered around an old recreational vehicle. They were all fully adult and ranged in age from young to middle aged. The long-legged bitch was not among them, but her scent wafted on the gentle breeze, though he couldn't find those of her thieving companions.
As his nose had noted before, the odor of worry and fear tainted the normally pleasant scent of unmated female. They were of different shapes and sizes, but all well-built, healthy looking, and strong. Like the men, their anxiety was exhibited in wolf behavior. Their postures were submissive. Their heads were turned to the side and down as if they expected chastisement. If they'd been in wolf form, they would have belly crawled with their tails between their legs, yet there was something about their deference that didn't ring true.
Another scent caught River's attention. It was wolver, it was male, and it was fouled by the faint but putrid odor of rotting flesh. There was something familiar about the scent. He couldn't place it, but it was there in his memory.
The bearer of that scent emerged from the RV; tall, gray headed and broad shouldered. He'd once been powerfully built, but now his body sagged as if his weight was too heavy for his bones to carry. Still, there was power in the air of magic that surrounded him and distinctly marked him as the Alpha of his pack. He slowly walked to an awaiting chair where he sat as if taking his place on a throne. This Alpha was sick, and every wolver in attendance knew it.
A third and markedly interesting scent wafted through this fourth pack, but she was not among those females milling about. Curious, River's wolf wanted to find her, but River wasn't interested.
"She isn't worth getting our throat torn out," He whispered mind to mind. "Curiosity doesn't just kill cats, you know."
His wolf snarled in reply, but didn't move. Something was happening.
The milling wolvers began to step aside to allow three others to approach the seated Alpha. They too, were Alphas, and River could easily match the Alpha with his pack. The blond Adonis was one of them. Their body language told River they spoke as equals, but their voices were so low, he couldn't hear the words and his wolf wouldn't share. The animal only growled low in his throat.
It was interesting business, but none of his. Once more, he nudged his four-legged half to move. He needed to be near the truck when the shit hit the fan. He didn't need to hang around and be splattered by it.
The door to the RV opened again and a woman emerged, not any woman, but the seated Alpha's Mate. There was no doubt about it. Kat was a mother hen, all ruffled feathers and chicks tucked under her wings. This woman bore her small share of the Alpha's mantle like a queen, a queen whose crown was growing too heavy to bear.
She was tall and thin, too thin, and her skin was drawn tight over the fine bones of her face. Her hands were clenched in tight fists as she made her way to her mate's chair where she stood behind him. Only when her hands settled on her mate's broad shoulders did the fingers relax as if tou
ching him brought her strength and calmness.
The seated Alpha spoke loud enough for all to hear. "The bargain is struck. Pay what is due and let the Chase begin."
All three of the waiting Alphas motioned behind them with a flick of the hand and their Seconds stepped forward. Each held a fat manila envelope and it didn't take a genius to figure out what those packets held. After checking the contents, the seated Alpha handed the packets to his own Second, who passed them to one of the women standing outside the RV.
"Two minutes to moonrise," the seated Alpha called out, "And the girl has three more after that."
Holy shit! What kind of Chase was this? Normally, a Chase was a mating ritual practiced by his kind where the male chased down his intended mate. Usually, the Chase was just for show. It was part of the celebration when two wolvers chose to bind themselves together as mates. That was how it was at Wolf's Head, no matter who the mating couples were, or what their standing was in the pack. At Wolf's Head, it was an excuse to party, but this wasn't Wolf's Head, and River knew from experience that it wasn't always just for fun, particularly when it came to Alpha's Mates.
Only certain females, wolver or human, could hold the position of Alpha's Mate. In his old pack, the intended Mate had no choice. The ritual began with a kidnapping and ended with a rape. He'd never heard of three Alphas vying for the same Mate, but he instinctively knew that the end result would be the same. The Alpha's would fight each other and the winner would mount her and mark her, whether she liked it or not.
River had never witnessed one of these brutal matings. He'd been too young to go over the moon with the pack, but he'd heard the stories and the laughter of those who had participated and watched. He'd seen Forest's terror at what her future held, and he'd seen what that terror had done to the once smiling little girl.
His wolf watched all this, not understanding the transaction, but clearly understanding that something big and bad was going to happen. Sharing his human's feelings, he began to whine with impatience.
"I know, damn it. I can fucking see it, too, can't I? But what the hell would you like me to do about it?" River silently hissed.
"No cub. Wolver. Fight."
The wolf's curling lips and bared fangs should have felt weird to the human River, particularly since the snarl was directed to the human within, but River had felt this show of angry disgust from his wolf since he was a pup. Man and wolf were one just as boy and pup had been. The anger was like a third entity that filled the space between them.
"We're here to get the bike back. That's it," River argued. "This isn't our business. It isn't our fight. Why should I fucking care?" But even as he said the words, the image of Forest's face formed in his mind.
The moon rose. Light flashed as men shifted to wolves. A wolf screamed out its cry of death, and the tension that was bubbling beneath the surface erupted in a volcano of violence.
Chapter 6
Designer pack's Second was down and Leather's was fighting for his life. The seated Alpha shouted something and, with a wave of his hand, the females of his pack were sent over the moon. In the midst of her shifting, the Mate was knocked to the ground by a snarling wolf. Having spent energy he couldn't afford on the females' shifts, the sickened Alpha was slower to shift himself. It was obvious his strength was ebbing fast. He had all he could do to fight off the attack directed at him by two other wolvers.
River pawed the bundle of clothes from his neck and raced for the Mate, enraged by the wolf that attacked her. Ruthlessly, his sharp teeth tore into the assailant in a relentless release of pent up anger. A Mate was sacred. She was the heart of every pack and he would not see another die a brutal death. His wolf was right. He was no longer a helpless cub. He gave the attacker no chance to fight back.
Muzzle muddied with the blood of his victim, River turned to the Mate, but she was already on her feet and defending her Alpha. She was vicious in her defense, but obviously untrained in the rules of this kind of battle. She slashed, but when her opponent was temporarily blinded by blood from the swipe of her claw, she turned away to scan the area around the RV.
River finished off the blinded wolf before it had a chance to regain its sight. He did it without thought or mercy. The wolf had threatened the Mate. It deserved no mercy.
The small clearing had turned into a riot of battling wolves. The sharp, coppery smell of blood filled the air along with the snarls and growls of the battling wolves and the cries of the wounded. Flashes of light began to flicker in the area where the vehicles were parked as some wolvers, probably Designers, fled the scene.
Her Alpha raised his head and gave a sharp bark, before returning to his defense. Assured that he was holding his own with the help of his Second and one of the females, the Mate ran for the RV.
River followed her and pushed her aside when she would have joined the battle that was raging at the vehicle's door. She snarled and snapped at his efforts to protect her. River blocked her path, baring his teeth and daring her to defy him. She snarled and snapped again. This was followed by a whine that combined both fear and anger as she pointed with her snout toward the RV. Someone was in that RV, someone the Mate wanted protected at all costs. She wouldn't rest until she knew that someone was safe.
Members of a pack could communicate with each other through the power of their Alpha. It was a kind of wolver shorthand combining thought, projected images, and body language. River was an outsider and therefore forced to rely solely on the language of wolves, a much more primitive method.
"She-wolf," his wolf translated and then added as a clarification. "She-cub. Mate."
Of course. The Chase. The Mate's daughter was in that RV. That's what this whole shit storm was about. River felt like a fool for not seeing it sooner.
He chuffed at the Mate and took a step toward her, tossing his head as he did so, telling her as best he could to step back. He would take care of it.
She hesitated, then slowly nodded her regal head, and took a step back. Permission granted.
River didn't hesitate. He turned and raced to the RV where two female wolvers fought to keep a single intruder from the door. Bloodied and torn, they were losing the battle. It was only a matter of time. River dove at the attacker, aiming for the vulnerable hamstring of its hind leg, but the animal turned on some sixth sense of survival and met River head on. It was like getting hit by his old security chief, a freight train with teeth, and it was the chief's training that saved him.
He didn't fight the impact, but rolled with it, bringing his hind legs up to protect his belly. He could almost hear his mentor shouting in his head.
"Offer him your throat. Let him think he has you. Now turn and give him a mouthful of ruff. Sure it hurts, you whiny assed pup, and it'll hurt a lot more if you don't get out from under him. He's too heavy to throw. Roll. Roll. Use your head, damn it, or die."
With the gray wolf tearing at the thick ruff of fur at his neck, River twisted his head, knowing that his body would follow. His attacker came with him and when they were side by side like two lovers entwined, River struck out with his forepaw and caught the larger wolf's underjaw. The snarling mouth snapped shut with a clatter of teeth. The move bought River the moment of time he needed to roll again in the opposite direction. He scrambled away, lungs gasping to capture needed air and had barely gained his feet before the larger wolf was charging again.
"Retreat! Retreat!" he heard Ryker's lessons screaming in his head, but River was no longer listening.
All the anger and hatred and helplessness of the cub he once was boiled up inside of him and he stood his ground. Sides heaving, he let the older, heavier wolf come. Let the battle scarred creature think his power and prowess would win. River played the role of beaten and defenseless just as he'd played it for most of his life. He lowered his head in defeat.
The attacker snarled in triumph and leapt. River drew back as if he would fall in an impact absorbing roll as he had before, but the move was a feint. He dove forward instea
d, turned on his back as he did so, and skid beneath his enemy.
Too late, the gray wolf understood what was happening and he clamped his jaws on River's tail. The pain only added to the force of the younger wolf's upward rake of his hind claws along the old one's belly. Flesh tore. The wolf screamed. River kicked out again, then turned and crawled from beneath the collapsing body. He howled his victory to the moon, but his triumph was cut off by a scream from the RV.
The Mate, still alive but bloodied, was crawling toward the steps of the open door where another kind of battle was raging within. A furious storm of pots, pans, shoes, and things moving too fast to recognize flew by the door. A male voice shouted curses as he batted the bombardment away.
The Mate whined and looked at him with fear filled eyes.
The battle behind them was winding down and in spite of his sympathy for the Mate, River had to fight down the urge to join it. He sighed and in a burst of light, brought himself home to human.
"I got it," he whispered to her before he leapt up the steps and through the open door.
The girl had run out of ammunition and was now in the narrow hallway, grappling with a man twice her size. River couldn't see much of her beyond the broad expanse of naked back, but he recognized her scent. It looked like she was putting up one hell of a fight and he almost felt sorry for the guy. Almost.
"She-cub. Mate."
"I got it," River said, this time to his wolf. Their sexy thief was the bait in this Chase. Her scent and the white dress kind of gave it away.
With another exhausted sigh, he leapt to the man's back and crossed his arms afore and behind the guy's neck in a move he'd used on one of the guys at the bar, but this guy was wolver, not human. He didn't pass out. He thrashed and fought against the hold. River was thrown from side to side. His body was hammered against door knobs and drawer pulls. A mirror broke. The battering worked. River's grip slipped and he fell back.
Wolver's Reward Page 6