Wolver's Reward

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Watching for signs of Donavan or his wolvers wasn't as easy as they thought it would be. Long stretches of highway, with exits few and far between, meant other travelers stayed with them for hours at a time. Each of those vehicles needed to be checked out and here the bikes came in handy. It was easy for a motorcycle to maneuver through traffic. Several times, at the signal from one of the scouts, River led the four wheeled herd off the highway while one of his cowboys hung back to make note of who got off with them. Another would stay with the few who always missed the message to exit.

  These were usually newbies who had no mental connection with the Sweet Valley pack. They had no communication with each other, either. That ability was lost with Dennis' death. It was inconvenient, but expected.

  The newcomers themselves were a surprise to River. There were no other motorcycle riders. In attitude and appearance, most of them fell somewhere between Scar and Ben. Had he not known their story in advance, River would have had a hard time recognizing many of them as rogue.

  "They're wolvers," Reb said simply when he brought the subject up. "What did you expect them to be like?"

  They were lying in bed, River stretched out on his back with his hands locked behind his head, Reb curled against him with her head on his chest. This time together had become River's favorite time of the day.

  After a late supper, the pack would be exhausted from running miles every afternoon and the vigorous training River put them through. Ryker would be proud of that, too. They were getting into shape with the added bonus of being too exhausted to stay up late. That meant River would be free to join Reb.

  The sex was good, better than good. It was great. They'd quickly become so attuned to each other that it was easy to discern their partner's moods and needs. Sometimes the sex was fast and hard, sometimes slow and easy. Sometimes they were so anxious for each other, they never made it out of the shower. That was fine by River.

  Reb seemed happy with it, too. River wondered, but never asked, how she felt about it. She had nothing to compare it to anyway. For him, a good fuck had always been enjoyable, but strictly physical. He never expected it to be anything more. With Reb, sex was different. Maybe because they did it so often, he felt more exposed. Reb knew more about his body and desires than any female ever had.

  It was something else he was going to miss, not just the sex, but the after sex part, too, where spent and relaxed, they lay together and talked. Together, like they were now. He'd never had that before, never wanted it.

  What did he expect from the new rogues?

  "I guess I expected them to be more like Scar and less like Saint Dennis." River was thinking of Ben, not Dennis, but he refused to say the wolver's name while they were in bed. It was bad enough he had to put up with the bastard outside of it.

  "I wish you'd quit calling him that," Reb scolded. "Dennis wasn't a saint. He was a very normal wolver."

  River didn't want to think about that. In his mind, saints didn't have sex. Normal wolvers did. All of which led to thoughts of Dennis, sex, and Reb, and that only pissed River off.

  "Everyone talks about him like a saint. Even you."

  "Now who's pouting?"

  "This isn't pouting."

  Reb giggled. "Would you like me to roll over so you can get out of bed and stamp your foot?" She didn't roll over, but snuggled closer. "Everyone always speaks well of the dead."

  He brought his hands down from his head so he could encircle the girl in his arms. "I know."

  It wasn't really Dennis's sainthood that bothered him, either. It was that the deceased Alpha would have been the perfect mate for Reb. Just the thought of Saint Dennis made River's wolf snarl.

  "Just one more day. I can't believe we'll be there tomorrow."

  River accepted her change in subject, but continued to grumble. "Yeah, one more day and we'll have a whole new set of problems to contend with."

  "Oh, come on, we haven't had that many problems," she argued.

  "Easy for you to say. You didn't have to ride around for two hours in the rain looking for that Barney guy that took a wrong turn. How the hell do you take a wrong turn with all those other cars in front of you taking the right one?"

  "It's Bernie, not Barney, and it wasn't his fault. He got behind those two semis and that slowed him down. By the time he got to the turn, everyone was gone."

  "Yeah, and big Ben should have been watching the rear of the caravan instead of watching yours."

  On one of their stops, River had dug into his savings and outfitted Reb for a ride. He'd taken her out a few times, but never for long. They'd seen neither hide nor hair of Donavan and his men, but it still made him nervous. He couldn't shake the feeling that they'd be back.

  "It isn't Bernie or Ben that's upsetting you, is it? It's Gordon and what happened with Jen. You're worried it will happen again."

  It was the only time during the trip so far, that River had to demonstrate who was boss and he'd done it wrong.

  Gordon was one of those newbies that leaned more toward Scar than toward Ben. Unlike Scar, however, Gordon carried a constant sneer on his face. His lip was always curled. He was tall, all bone and sinew, and strong. You could see it in the way he carried himself, the way he moved. He seemed to be the leader of a small group of wolvers, men who looked much like him. They sat apart at meals and their eyes roamed over the others in the group as if they were marking prey.

  While some of the others grumbled about the paces River put them through each evening, for the most part they tried their best and in a few short days, he'd already seen some improvement. Not so with Gordon and his merry little band. They were slackers. River knew it, but didn't press the issue. He wanted the trip to go as smoothly as possible. His mistake.

  On the first night out they stayed in another middle-of-nowhere motel. Gordon and his gang cut out early from conditioning, but River said nothing. He did, however, ask Scar to keep an eye on them. Later, the wolver reported that they went to a bar, threw back a few beers, and came home. What the hell, River wasn't a babysitter and there were no rules against a few beers.

  On the second night, they stayed in a hotel that offered a workout room to its patrons. River assigned the pairs that would work together; old and new, weak and strong. Making it clear they liked the equipment more than the partners they were assigned, the other wolvers in the band reluctantly cooperated. Gordon flatly refused, and River ignored him, thinking that for the others, at least, it was a step in the right direction.

  Each time he talked to the Alpha about the problem, Roland urged tolerance.

  "It will take time, my boy, for some of these wolvers to adjust. They aren't accustomed to more enlightened behavior. We must set for them an example of tolerance and good manners. Ignore the bad and compliment the good and they will seek the compliment. Over time their behavior will change. Try it and you'll see."

  All River saw was bad behavior getting worse and on the third night it came to a head.

  Giving him the credit that was his due, River had to admit that Roland had planned this trip well. The motel they stayed in was cheap and clean, the hotel was a little better. By the third night they'd reached a place where accommodations for so large a group couldn't be found, and so they camped in an open field with the permission of the owner. River didn't mind. Anything outdoors was fine with him, but he expected some of the others to complain, particularly the Sweet Valley pack. He'd never met a group of wolves so uncomfortable in the great outdoors.

  As it turned out, they were thrilled to finally be getting a taste of their back to nature adventure. Some slept in their cars and some in small tents. Reb was offered her former bed in the RV, but chose, to Rivers great relief, to share the bed of his truck. After sitting around a small fire for a while, everyone called it a night. Peace settled over the camp until a little after midnight when the woman screamed. She'd stepped out to relieve herself and been accosted by Gordon.

  Instantly awake, River had sped across the camp and wa
s first on the scene. He heard others running and shouting behind him.

  The female was fighting back, though her attempts did little to stop the attack.

  He shouted for Gordon to stop, but the tall wolver ignored him, just as he'd ignored all of River's other orders. River grabbed Gordon's shirt collar to pull him off the crying female. Partially unbuttoned, the shirt came away, but Gordon didn't. It was the restriction of his arms by the sliding sleeves that caught his attention.

  He turned, head and shoulders toward River. "Stay out of this," he snarled.

  When Gordon turned, the woman pinned beneath him struggled, pushing with her feet. Knees rising, she must have clipped him between the legs, not hard enough to make him stop, but hard enough to make him angrier.

  "Stay still, bitch." Gordon raised his fist.

  This all happened in a matter of seconds, all clearly imprinted on River's mind, but suddenly all surrounding sight and sound was gone. Through the red haze of his anger, all he saw was the raised fist. All he heard were the words, echoing from his past.

  "Stay still, bitch."

  Inside him, the blind rage that lived in the space between him and his wolf exploded. River felt his control falling apart and could do nothing to stop it.

  He remembered that moment, the red haze, the anger, and then nothing more until he was struggling against the hands that held him.

  "Stop!" someone shouted and a wave of an Alpha's power struck him.

  It was like waking from a nightmare to find it was real. He fought against that, too.

  "River, stop. It's over. It's done." Reb's worried voice cut through the remains of the red haze.

  He was surrounded by staring wolvers, the Alpha Roland among them. It wasn't Forest standing among the other women and holding her dress together where it had been torn. It was Jennifer, a member of the Sweet Valley pack. It wasn't an Alpha with a bleeding nose and mouth, held between two strong wolvers. It was Gordon.

  "I'm fine. I'm fine." River pushed himself up from the ground with a helping hand from Scar.

  "I thought you were going to kill the fucker," Scar muttered next to River's ear.

  "You should have let me," River snarled.

  "Couldn't. That would make you like me." The black clad wolver gave a single, slow nod in response to River's searching look. Scar was a killer.

  "Maybe I already am," River told him.

  "Nah, you're nowhere near as far along that road as me and you've got a chance to turn back. My advice is to take it."

  Right before sunrise the Alpha held Court, where he carefully explained his decision before the entire assembly.

  "Because he is not a sworn member of the Sweet Valley pack, I cannot declare this wolver Outcast and Rogue, nor do I feel comfortable with the taking of his life only because he has not been rightfully informed of the rules of this pack. In this, it is I who have been remiss. I can, however and by the Law, banish him from my territory without recourse. All his worldly goods shall be forfeit and divided equally between his victim and the pack. Should he attain redemption elsewhere and return to seek our forgiveness, he will find none here. If he is found within our domain at any time in the future, whether by purpose or by accident, he will face a penalty both swift and permanent and that penalty is death."

  The Alpha followed his declaration with an impressive flow of power that touched everyone in the small crowd, proving he was still a force to be reckoned with.

  Gordon was dropped off a hundred miles away. Two of his friends left with him. The Alpha's verdict was enforced, but the Alpha wasn't finished. He called River into his 'office', the table in the RV's kitchenette.

  Roland was still pale and weak. River could see how much his show of power cost him. To walk the short distance without halting his step was painful. Margaret swore the wound was healing as it should. It probably was, but the process was slow and he would never regain the muscle tissue that had to be cut away.

  "You think my decision is wrong," he said when both of them were seated.

  "I think he'll do it again." It wasn't an outright yes. Roland was the Alpha, after all. But it also made River's position clear.

  "Had you not tried to kill him, I would have." Roland nodded at his Champion's surprised look. "I believe in the law, River. An Alpha should not rule his pack solely through the use of his power. He should use his power only to enforce the law and not to satisfy some current whim. One leads to stability, the other to chaos.

  "Our newcomers have little experience with stability, but a great deal of experience in chaos. They need to know that my emotions and by extension, yours, do not rule here. You cannot kill someone simply because you believe they deserve it, even if they do," he conceded. "If I were to allow that, what would stop me from killing you for spilling coffee on my good trousers? You'd certainly deserve it. I love those trousers."

  River opened his mouth to speak, but shut it before the words came out. The Alpha laughed.

  "You think my example foolish and perhaps you're right, but my point is this: one act opens the door for another and then another until we kill each other over things every bit as foolish as spilled coffee."

  River thought of Charles Goodman in a way that he never had before. The Alpha of Wolf's Head didn't flex his power often, but when he did, no one was afraid except the wrongdoer. River had felt that power once or twice when he was definitely in the wrong. He'd also seen power work the other way, grew up with it, in fact.

  "It isn't foolish," he confessed, head bowed. "I saw a pup killed for less."

  He heard the Alpha draw his breath and slowly release it. "Then you, more so than many others, understand that of which I speak. You must learn to control your emotions, River, lest you become the thing you hate."

  "I don't know if I can." Another confession.

  "Of course you can," the Alpha declared in that highhanded way he had. "You have the power to do it. There is a strength in you, River Goodman, not just of muscle, but of will. Whatever your ghosts, whatever darkness haunts you, you must expose it to the light. Share these things, if not with me, then with someone you trust.

  There was no one he trusted more than his Reb.

  "It isn't what happened with Gordon, Babe. It's what happened with me," he told her later.

  He didn't think she could get any closer, but she tried. Reb slid her thigh over his hips and her hand all the way over to his opposite shoulder. She pressed her lips to his chest.

  "I know," she whispered. "I was so frightened when I saw your face."

  She'd never showed it.

  "I never want you to be frightened of me." She was the last person he ever wanted to hurt.

  "I wasn't frightened of you, River. I was frightened for you. You looked terrified."

  "No. No, I was angry."

  He wasn't afraid. He wasn't. He knew he wasn't because that was the day he stopped being afraid. A little insulted by Reb's accusation, he felt the need to correct her impression.

  "It was after the third Mate died, not Forest's mother, she was the one before. Forest was about the same age as Christina. You know, the little dark haired one with the ponytail."

  "The one that hides her face in her hands and giggles every time you walk by," Reb verified.

  "Yeah, that's the one. Forest didn't giggle, though. Like you, she knew what she was, and she knew what fate had in store. Two days after the Mate died, the Alpha came for Forest."

  "Stay still, bitch" the monster said.

  Those words lit the match that ignited River's anger.

  "Stay still, bitch."

  That was what they were all expected to do, the Mates, Forest, River, all of them. Stay still and let them do what they wanted. Stay still until you died.

  That was the first time River saw the red mist. That was the first time he forgot to be afraid.

  "I tried to stop him and I paid for it. I thought I was going to die, but the good news was that he wore himself out beating me and left Forest alone. It was
a couple of days before I could move again, but the whole time I laid there, I knew what had to be done and how I was going to do it."

  Fire and ice. The burning fire inside him made his thinking cold as ice.

  "I killed him, Reb. I went to the kitchen, told Cookie the Alpha wanted cake. He liked cake. I took it to the Alpha and told him Cookie sent me with it. He didn't even look at me. Why would he? I was nothing but a dog, a dog that drove a knife through his back, a knife I stole from the kitchen while Cookie cut the damned cake. I stood there looking at him, blood rolling down his back and soaking into the seat of the chair, and I didn't feel a thing. I half expected the mantle to fall and smother me, or some big spirit wolf to come and rip my throat out, but nothing happened.

  "I closed the door behind me and went to get Forest who was supposed to be ready to run. She wouldn't go without Meadow. Dakota and Ranger and another pup they called Crow, all woke up and started whining about going, too. That woke up Skeeter and next thing I know, all of us are sneaking out through the cellar and running toward town. We're almost there when I finally figure that's just where they'll look." River laughed, though it wasn't funny. "I'd planned a murder, but didn't plan what happened next."

  "What did happen next, River?"

  "They ate the cake. I'd stuffed it in my pocket."

  "And after that?"

  River shrugged. "They lived, or most of them anyway. You know about Skeeter. Crow died later. Drowned. Hmph. I guess a River took him twice. They lived in the hills for a little over two years in abandoned houses, shacks, a cave, and once an old school bus."

  "You keep saying they. What did you do for those years?"

  His shoulders rose again. "Everything the monsters taught me. I lied, I cheated, I stole."

  "You kept them warm. You kept them fed. You kept them safe. You didn't sleep."

  "I killed a man, a human, in a gas station bathroom. He thought I was prey, but by that time I was done being prey. I tried to kill another wolver. I tried to bash his brains in with a rock, but I only knocked him out. That's how Rabbit Creek pack caught us. They sent us to Wolf's Head. The pups became theirs and a load off my back."