Wolver's Reward

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  ~*~

  When River stepped from the motel room, Reb's first thought was that her father was dead. The look on River's face told her so. Dark though the night was, her wolver eyes saw him clearly. His jaw was clenched and his mouth was set in an angry looking frown, but it was the set of his shoulders and the way he bowed his head that worried her the most. He looked like a man defeated and in pain, and angry that he was both.

  Lawrence and Celia were sitting side by side, backs against the wall, retaining their positions, though their guard duty had been unnecessary. No one had tried to enter and her father had made no sound loud enough to attract the attention of the motel owners. They looked up expectantly, but River ignored their presence.

  Warmth and peace washed through Reb's mind, followed by a sense of relief and happiness. The Mate's connection with the pack was open again and her mother's message was clear. Her father was alive and all was well.

  Except all wasn't well. River wasn't well.

  He stripped off his blood spattered shirt and threw it aside. His head went back as if he might howl. He started across the narrow lot toward the RV where she'd been sitting on the steps waiting and worrying about what was happening in Unit 5. Reb stood to go to him, but he wasn't coming to her.

  His feet moved from a purposeful walk, to a jog, to a full out run. He sped past the RV, across the neatly mowed lawn at the front of the property, through the flock of plastic flamingos, to the ring of white rock that surrounded the decorative fishpond. He leapt, and Reb half expected him to flash to wolf, the leap was so graceful. He sailed over the pond and the sign positioned at its center, and kept running.

  His form was man, but his movement was wolf and there were only three reasons a wolf would run like that; to hunt, to play, or to escape. River was running in fear, but from what was he trying to escape?

  Reb wanted to follow, but Darla was trotting toward her, grinning with the successful outcome of the makeshift surgery.

  "That was the nastiest piece of work I've ever seen," she said when she was close enough to be heard without raising her voice. "I couldn't have done it, but that man of yours could. He took one deep breath, turned cold as ice, and got to work. He only stopped once and that was when the Alpha passed out. He didn't even look up when poor Arnold took off to lose his supper."

  Reb was listening, but only half heard after the first few sentences. Her mind kept straying toward the direction River had run.

  "Tension release," Darla was saying.

  "Excuse me?"

  "River running," Darla said with a nod toward the road. "All that tension. He's running it off. Don't worry, he'll be back."

  Under cover of darkness, they moved her father back to the RV and Reb helped her mother settle him into the bed. He groaned with the pain, but never woke up. That worried Reb, but her mother reassured her, pointing to the white haired man in the bed.

  "Look at him, Rebecca. He's pale, but no longer gray. He's weak, but no longer dying. He can heal. I'm sure of it, but he needs time and rest to do it. Your wolver gave us that and while I may not approve of him in other ways, I'm grateful to him for this. You'll tell him that won't you? Tell him I'm grateful."

  As if the words drained the last of her strength, Margaret closed her eyes and swayed with dizziness. She reached for her daughter's shoulder, but Reb ducked beneath the shaking hand, and with her arm around her mother's waist, supported her weight.

  "I must be getting old."

  "Nonsense, Mother, you're barely forty-five."

  "Perhaps, but I have heard that age is a state of mind and my mind has aged considerably these last few weeks."

  "Nonsense. It hasn't aged. You're just worn out with worry and you need time and rest, too. You've been through a lot these last few weeks. I should have been there to help, to listen, and to share what I can, but we can talk about that tomorrow. For now, let's get your nightgown and get you ready for bed."

  "When did the tables turn?" Margaret's laugh was weak. "When did the mother become the cub?"

  "When the cub finally decided it was time she grew up."

  Margaret insisted she share the bed with her Alpha as she had every night since she was mated. Tucking the covers up under her mother's chin, Reb leaned in for a goodnight kiss. Her mother held her there with a hand to her cheek.

  "Don't tell River I'm grateful. Tell him instead that his debt is paid. Three lives for three lives. Kindness for kindness. Tell him I speak for the Mates. Tell him they taught him well."

  Reb wanted to ask what her mother meant, but Margaret's eyes were already closed.

  Darla was waiting up front, the couch already converted to the bed she'd shared with Reb up until the night before.

  "Go on. I'll keep watch over them. You go find your wolver." She winked and shimmied her shoulders. "He needs you more than they do."

  If he did, he wasn't going out of his way to show it.

  River wasn't in the room, though someone had been. Not only were all signs of her father's surgery gone, the bed was made with covers turned back like a fancy hotel, Lawrence's work, no doubt. A foil wrapped heart sat in the center of each pillow. Celia had shared her chocolate stash.

  The flowers had to be from Rosemary, though where she'd found the daisies was a mystery. She always managed to find them and would quietly sit with a dreamy look on her face, plucking the petals off.

  "He loves me. He loves me not," Reb said aloud.

  It was long past midnight, and if she was wise, she'd eat both the chocolate hearts and go to bed. But she wasn't wise, she was worried, so turning off the lights and closing the door behind her, she set off to find River.

  She didn't have to go far. About a half mile up the road, she saw him standing in the shadows of the trees, a silhouette looming in the darkness. Moonlight and starlight, along with the movement of the light breeze through the leaves, combined to distort the dark image, but there was no mistaking what it was.

  Reb started to run.

  "Shame on you, you naughty wolf," she called softly into the night, loud enough for him to hear, but not loud enough to carry far. She wanted to sound stern, but she couldn't. She was too relieved. "You're lucky I know how to keep a secret. How would it look to the others if my father's Champion disobeyed his order on his first day on the job?"

  With the wind at her back, he'd caught her scent first and his head was turned toward her. She couldn't see the shape of it, but she saw the glint of teeth in the wolf's grin. She saw the yellow eyes shining in the dark face.

  Reb stopped running.

  River's eyes were brown.

  The wolf stalked forward and now that it was moving, she could see that it didn't have River's easy grace. The shape was wrong, too. The wolf wasn't River.

  And neither was the one she caught in her peripheral vision, moving in a wide arc to her right. She turned her head to see this new threat more clearly. Her movement triggered theirs. They were found out and stealth was no longer needed. They charged.

  Reb opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out as a third wolf charged in from the left. She dove for the ground as it leapt straight at her and over her to ram the closest wolf. Scrambling the few feet to the verge of the road, she crawled into the ditch and ignoring the water at the bottom, curled into a ball with her hands on her head and her arms shielding her face.

  This position lasted for only the few moments it took for her to catch her breath and then she was up on hands and knees peeking over the edge of the ditch.

  Attacked from two sides, River whirled, leapt, and slashed with a speed and agility that amazed her. Every time she opened her mouth to call a warning, he spun to meet the attack before the sound could leave her mouth. Each attempt by the two attackers to position themselves in a coordinated attack, was immediately thwarted. It was as if he understood their intent before they did.

  Reb quickly decided that any attempt at warning could prove more a distraction than help. She bit her knuckle to keep herself
from crying out.

  River's defense wasn't perfect. How could it be when it was two against one? The three came together in a tangled ball of spinning bodies and slashing teeth. Reb's knuckle couldn't prevent her short, sharp cry when a line of blood appeared on River's flank. Her instinct was to run to River's aid and fight beside him, but she fought the urge. She would only be in his way.

  Rather than make him wary, the wound increased his fury. The three broke apart, but instead of using the momentary release to position himself for the next attack, River dove at the attacker on his right. This left no time for the wolf to defend. A slash to the hind leg, a mid-leap turn, another slash, this time to the throat, and the wolf was down.

  Opposing sides now even and thus sealing its fate, the remaining attacker turned and ran. Reb thought that would be the end of it, but she was wrong. The enraged River took off after the fleeing wolf. In seconds, he closed the distance, leapt, and brought the fleeing wolver down.

  The whole fight had taken only minutes. In the eerie silence that followed, it occurred to Reb that the snarls and growls of the battle only came from the others. River's wolf never made a sound.

  Reb leapt from the ditch and started to run toward the magnificent red wolf. Man or beast, she needed to touch him, hold him, kiss him, thank him, she wasn't sure which. She only knew she needed to be near him. She needed his presence and reassurance that it was over and done, and he was all right.

  A bright flash of light brought River home to man. He was naked and he wiped his mouth with his forearm before turning to face her. Shoulders slightly hunched, head hanging low, he stalked toward her. Some primal instinct made her wary of his stance. Reb stopped a few feet away. River kept coming.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders much tighter than before. His eyes flared with the remnant of his wolf. His voice was a low and angry snarl. "What the fuck do you think you're doing wandering out here alone in the dark?"

  And then he did the oddest thing.

  Chapter 20

  He kissed her.

  Of all the stupid, jackassed things he could do, he kissed her. Hard and deep, as if he could swallow her whole, which he gladly would have done if it would keep her safe.

  River was furious with her and he'd meant the question he'd asked and given her no time to answer. Damn it to hell, what was she thinking? When he'd seen her walking up the middle of the road without a care in the world, like she was taking a Sunday afternoon stroll, for crissake, his wolf went wild. As if that wasn't bad enough, when she saw the wolf ahead of her, she waved. Instead of turning around and running for her life, she called out and fucking waved!

  He should be up in her face, screaming instead of deep throating her with his tongue. His hands ran over her body, face, hair, back, and down to her ass. He ripped the shirt from her pants in his need to feel her skin. His hands needed to touch her everywhere. Everywhere. He wanted his scent on her. He wanted to mark her as his, inside and out. He wanted to send a message to any wolver who looked her way. Touch her and you die. Think about touching her and you die.

  Arms around her, pressing her to him, he couldn't get her close enough and she had to feel the same way. Her hands used his shoulders for leverage to pull herself up his body. Hands at her ass, he lifted her until her legs wrapped his waist. Her hands left his shoulders to weave into his hair. She gripped it by the handful, forcing his mouth to remain on hers, but that wasn't enough and she left his mouth so she could cover his eyes and cheeks and nose with kisses.

  "Oh, River, River," she whispered over and over as if his name held magic.

  He buried his face in her neck, kissing and tonguing the vulnerable spot where it met her shoulder, the spot where he would sink his teeth were they to mate.

  "Mate."

  Brought back to reality by his wolf's warning, River kept his lips against the soft spot and repeated his question. "Damn it, Babe, what the fuck did you think you were doing wandering out here alone in the dark?"

  So sure of the support she would find in his arms, Reb leaned back so she could see his face. She placed her hands on his cheeks. "Looking for you, silly. What else would I be doing. I was worried." She curled up and kissed his nose, flirty and affectionate. "And the word is fudge."

  "I'll give you fudge," he growled, but before he could start on a lecture about stupid women, Reb wrapped her legs tighter around him and wriggled against his belly.

  "I wish you would," she told him. "I like your brand of fudge."

  He laughed, but her words and the short break in their groping interlude brought back his awareness of where they were and what still needed to be done. Duty and responsibility sucked. He forced her to unlock her legs and stood her on the ground.

  "Sorry Babe, no time. There are things to be taken care of. We don't want some before-the-crack-of-dawn farmer to come tooling up the road and get an eyeful."

  Reb giggled, misunderstanding his reference, but sobered when her eyes landed on the dead wolf in the road.

  "Come on, we have to move."

  He took her hand and led her to a spot not far off the road where he'd left his clothes.

  "I've got to go back, tell them what happened, and get some help," he told her while he dressed.

  "What did happen, River? Why were the two of them here?"

  She followed him back the way they'd come. "Not two, three. The other's about a mile up the road near where they parked their truck. That's why I went over the moon. I was hunting them, not disobeying the Alpha."

  They reached the first dead wolf, River bent to grab its legs to drag it to the ditch. It wasn't perfect, but it would be enough to hide it from the less observant passerby.

  Reb bent and grabbed the other set of legs. She turned her head and wouldn't look at it, but she held on and lifted.

  "I'm not as delicate as I look. Skinny and pale doesn't mean weak. I grew up in a sheltered community, so yes, I know I'm..."

  "A Babe-in-the-woods."

  "Fine," she said with a little huff and a groan when she realized dead weight was just that. "I admit it. I am, but that's ignorance, not weakness, and that won't change if everyone keeps protecting me. So, stop avoiding my questions. Who are they and what do they want?"

  "Sniff." River nodded at the body.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Take a whiff. Tell me what you smell."

  She did, wrinkling her nose and making a face. "Dead wolver?"

  River wasn't particularly surprised. Like sight and hearing, a wolver's sense of smell was more acute than a full blooded human. Thousands of smells bombarding your nose, and therefore your brain, could be overwhelming. Wolvers learned to ignore what wasn't deemed important.

  "That's part of it. Now take it in again and this time, memorize everything beyond the dead part."

  Reb did as she was told, though he could tell she didn't like it. She liked it even less when they tossed the body into the ditch.

  "Well?"

  He led her to the next carcass. "Sniff. Separate out the odor they have in common. Other than being dead," he added.

  "Ha, ha," she said, unamused. She bent, took a deep breath through her nose, thought for a moment, and did it again.

  "Search your memory, Reb. It's in there."

  "Oh my god, River, it's Donavan. I smell Donavan." At his nod, she added. "He wants the money."

  He answered while tossing that body in the ditch. "No, Reb. Donavan wants you."

  Reb jogged along beside him, heading back to the motel. "Well he can't have me. He lost. He lost the money and he lost the Chase. It's as simple as that. He had no right to send those men. No right at all."

  "Donavan didn't lose, Reb. He killed Dennis. Martin ran. Donavan was the last Alpha standing. He won, and as far as he's concerned, he's coming to collect what's his."

  "Donavan didn't win. He didn't." That her cry was whispered made it no less desperate. "He broke the contract."

  "Monsters don't care about contracts. They don't care about promises or
about being fair. All they care about is what they want and what Donavan wants is you. He doesn't care how he gets you, or what condition you're in when he gets you, as long as he gets you. You were his before he signed that contract. That piece of paper was just a way to get in the door. The money was a bonus."

  "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  What could he say? That from the minute he saw her sitting on that bumper, he wanted to save and protect her? That he didn't need her mother to ask him to go and find her? That the minute he saw those awful orange sneakers, he had to go after her? Not wanted to, but had to.

  "Aw, Babe," he said with a sad shake of his head. "You grew up in your little ivory tower, in your safe little village, in your quiet little university town. Your world was built around Arnolds and Lawrences and Rosemarys, good things and good wolvers. I thought you'd be going back to it. I wanted you to go back without ever knowing that there were monsters like Donavan."

  It was a lie. He knew none of that when he met her, but how could he tell her that it wasn't for her. It was for himself, because being with Reb, with her innocence, allowed him to pretend, if only for a little while, that the world of monsters didn't exist and he wasn't a part of it.

  It was time to stop pretending.

  "This is my world you're in now, Reb, a world where monsters are real."

  It was going to be tough, but she was wolver and as she said, not as delicate as she looked. She was the one who wanted to learn, who needed to learn, and he was the one to teach her.

  "I thought you got it when you saw the dead at the park, but it didn't really sink in, did it? You were in the RV. You didn't see it. Donavan's wolvers went for your father. He fought them off, but he was too weak to fight for your mother. They tried to kill her too, Babe. They tried to kill her twice."

  Reb felt the blood drain from her face, but she still couldn't comprehend what he was saying. "That couldn't be. My mother is no fighter. If she was attacked..."

  His laugh lacked humor, but it was a laugh just the same. "Don't ever underestimate your mother. She fought pretty damn well, but she didn't kill them. I did. Remember the big naked guy in the RV, the one with the hard-on? Why do you think he was there?"