Dark Wolf: Wolf Shifter Romance (Wild Lake Wolves Book 2)

by Kimber White

  “Don’t move,” I told him. “Just hang on.” I ran a little further up the hill to get a higher vantage point. There was nothing but barren woods around me.

  Then, I saw it. A memory flashed from when I was a little girl and he’d brought me out here looking for walnuts. A small, red brick cabin nestled almost against the side of the hill a half mile in the other direction. The place was abandoned, almost falling in on itself. My grandpa had let me pick wild strawberries from an overgrown garden nearby but warned me never to go up to the building.

  It looked the same to me at first. My eyes played tricks on me. I shielded my brow with my hand and squinted. Someone had fixed the place up. The roof no longer caved in and smoke poured out of the chimney. Thank God, someone was there!

  I ran without thinking, calling for help as I went. They’d have a landline maybe. At least another pair of hands to help me get my grandfather back down the hill.

  I’d almost made it to the front door made of thick, dark wood with an arch at the top and an old-fashioned brass knocker at the center. Then a pair of strong hands grabbed me by the shoulders and whipped me around so hard I nearly lost my balance.

  A mountain stood in front of me. My eyes came just to the center of his chest and the wall of rippled, sinewy muscle that seemed to go on forever as I craned my neck to meet his eyes. He was shirtless. Sweat beaded across his sculpted pecs and in some back corner of my brain I knew this should puzzle me. Twenty degrees with the wind howling through the trees and snow swirling all around and this man looked more like someone standing on a sun-soaked beach.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice a deep, rich baritone that sent heat through me. But his words didn’t come smoothly. He strained over them like he hadn’t spoken in days.

  I took a step back. He kept his hands on my upper arms. I felt them burn hot, even through the thick down of my jacket. I had the urge to reach up and run my fingers along the anvil-sharp lines of his jaw as he clenched it. Dark stubble covered his face and neck and his hair fell in chestnut-colored waves, scraping the top of his shoulders. God. He was beautiful. Strong. Dangerous.

  “Help me,” I said past a dry throat. “Please. My grandfather’s had a bad fall. He’s just a few yards down the hill. I can’t move him by myself and he’s going to freeze to death if he stays out here much longer.”

  I saw something stir in him. Storm clouds seem to swirl behind his bright green eyes as he stared down at me with a fierce scowl. My heart hammered behind my rib cage, and for a moment I thought maybe I was the one about to collapse. He made a sound that seemed more animal than human. A low growl that made the air vibrate somehow. Like I heard it with more than just my ears.

  He tore his eyes away from me and looked back down the hill. With a slight lift of his chin, he sniffed the air. Then, he looked back at me with those penetrating emerald eyes. Finally, he let me go. It felt as though the air had been sucked from my lungs. I stood for a moment as though my feet had grown roots. Then, he moved down the hill with the speed of an avalanche, his body a blur as I ran after him.

  Chapter Two

  He dropped to his knees and put a hand on my grandfather’s forehead. I struggled to keep my breathing even. Grandpa’s eyes had gone glassy, but I saw still saw the slight rise and fall of his chest. He was all right. He was going to be all right.

  “Do you have a phone?” The instant I said it, I knew he didn’t. There were no phone or power lines running to the cabin. I had to figure the cell reception was even worse here than it was at Grandpa’s place.

  My stranger scanned the horizon, looking toward the creek the way I’d come, then back up the hill. Somehow, I knew he was doing what I’d done, working out the distances in his head and the surest path to help. Then, without a word, he heaved my grandfather over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing and started trudging back toward his cabin. My grandfather hung limp, draped over the stranger’s back, his arms swinging wildly. Again, I felt rooted to the spot. He looked back at me with those fiery green eyes and said something. I’m not sure if it was words or just some type of noise. Either way, I knew to follow.

  Within a few minutes, he had the door kicked open to his cabin and laid my grandfather down in front of the hearth. The warm glow of a well-tended fire played across his face. I kept my eyes on my grandfather. Already, I could see his color beginning to return.

  “What’s your name?” I asked as he unbuttoned Grandpa’s coat and pressed his ear against his chest.

  He scratched his chin before finally turning to look at me. It cost him something to answer me. “Tully,” he said through clenched teeth. “Luke.”

  Tully. I tested the sound of it in my head. Luke Tully.

  “Tamryn Kane,” I said, sinking to my knees at my grandfather’s head. I offered him my hand to shake it. He regarded me for a moment but didn’t take it. Instead, he rubbed his thumb hard in a circular motion over my grandpa’s sternum. A few seconds later, Grandpa rolled sideways and started to cough.

  “He’s coming around,” Luke Tully said, rising to his full height. I shifted my weight and lifted Grandpa’s head, resting it in my lap. His eyelids fluttered again and he tried to focus on me.

  Luke crossed the room and grabbed a plaid shirt off a chair in the corner and stabbed his arms through the sleeves as he turned his back to me. He wasn’t quite fast enough though. I sucked my breath through my teeth when I saw the deep scars across his back. Four deep gashes running parallel from his left shoulder almost to his right hip. Claw marks. Freshly healed with raised pink edges. I shuddered to think about what might have made them. Something big and deadly.

  My grandfather tried to raise himself up on his elbows. “Shh,” I said, smoothing his wiry gray hair away from his face. His mouth curved into a smile.

  “Liddy,” he whispered, reaching up to cup my cheek.

  “Thought you said your name was Tamryn,” Luke said.

  “It is. He gets confused. Liddy was my mom.”

  Luke’s eyes narrowed for a moment as if the name held some meaning to him. But, he didn’t offer an explanation before he grabbed two logs from a basket near the door and crossed the room to the fireplace. He added them slowly, letting the embers settle. When they caught fire, the room exploded in bright orange light.

  Grandpa found the strength to sit up with my help. A deep cough racked his body, but his color was almost normal now. He was okay. Whatever made him collapse in the woods wasn’t life threatening.

  “Where are we, Liddy?” he leaned over and whispered to me.

  “It’s okay, Gramps. This is a . . . friend. You got a little turned around out there. Tried to walk to town in the snow. We’re just going to get you warmed up then I’ll see about getting you home.”

  My grandfather nodded. A sweet smile lit his face. His eyes still held the fog of his addled mind. He was good in the mornings. Sharp. Always a little sad. But, the evenings were the worst. Most days he’d go to sleep before the heavy confusion set in. Now, though, exposure, exhaustion, and the sunset all came together, leaving him locked in another place and time.

  He turned to Luke, letting his eyes travel up his tree trunk of a leg. Grandpa flapped his hand against mine and gripped my forearm, struggling to get to his feet. I rose with him, hooking my arm around his waist. Luke stood in front of the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantle.

  Grandpa raised a crooked finger and held it out. Then, he poked Luke in the chest. I stepped forward, trying to get between them. Grandpa’s body quaked, and I recognized it as the onset of a tirade.

  “Wendigo!” he shouted. Then he said a bunch of other things in Odawa I couldn’t hope to understand. He reached back and pulled me to him, turning sideways to put his body between mine and Luke’s.

  He turned to me, his hands digging into the small of my back, his eyes wild. “I told you to stay away from him.”

  “Grandpa,” I spoke slowly. “You fell. It’s okay. This man helped me get you to safety. His
name is Tully, Luke Tully.”

  Luke had straightened his back and pushed himself away from the mantle. He stood with his legs slightly parted, in a ready stance. “You need to get him home,” he said through tight lips. A zing of heat shot through me at the commanding tone of his voice.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered over my grandfather’s shoulder as I tried to pull him away. I needed to get him to sit down and calm down. I saw a rapid pulse beat in his temple. The last thing I needed was for him to have a blood pressure spike.

  Grandpa said a few more things in Odawa. That word again, Wendigo. It was familiar, but I couldn’t put it in context. Then he let loose a barrage of other words whose meanings I did recognize. None of them good.

  “Do you have the keys to your ATV?” Luke asked.

  I got my grandfather seated on a love seat Luke had against the wall near the front door. He didn’t take his eyes off Luke, though. My grandfather’s lips twitched and every muscle in his body went rigid. I couldn’t fathom what he saw through his eyes, but whatever it was, I was glad he didn’t have the power to murder a man with just a stare.

  I reached in my back pocket and tossed my keys to Luke. He gave me a grim nod. “I’ll bring it up the back trail to the creek’s edge. You can walk him down.”

  I nodded as Luke turned and stormed out of the cabin. I opened my mouth to call after him. For the first time, I noticed the guy hadn’t been wearing shoes either. What kind of crazy person did he have to be to run around shoeless and shirtless in the dead of winter like that? But, the minute the door shut behind him, I felt my grandfather’s posture relax.

  “What the hell?” I whispered, smoothing his hair away from his face. “You sure don’t like the guy, do you?”

  “Stay away from him, Tamryn,” he said, his eyes clear again. “You don’t belong on this side.”

  I sighed and patted his back. Okay. So maybe he was more lucid than I thought. “It’s okay, Gramps. We just needed to get you sorted out. Are you feeling okay now? How’s your head? Your chest?”

  My grandfather brushed me off and stood. He began pacing the room. “Let’s get out of here. Storm’s going to blow in before midnight.”

  Before I could protest or even answer him, Grandpa threw open the door and walked out into the blowing wind. I went after him, planning to try and coax him back inside until Luke got back. But Luke was already trudging up the hill, his back tall and straight like the cold didn’t bother him at all.

  Luke tossed my helmet toward me. I caught it against my breast and put my hand out for the keys. Grandpa walked right past Luke, puffing his chest out a little as he got near him. He climbed on the back of the four-wheeler and stared hard back at me.

  “Thank you,” I said as I slid the helmet over my ears. “I’m sorry he’s kind of out of it. Don’t take it personally.” I stuck my hand out to shake Luke’s. Again, he didn’t take it. But, Grandpa was watching and gave a deafening shout.

  “You touch her and I’ll kill you. Do you understand? Wendigo!” He pointed a shaky finger at Luke and spat on the ground. The same ground I kind of wished would open up and swallow me just then.

  “Again, so sorry.” I turned back to Luke.

  Luke stood with his head cocked to the side. His eyes were hard, and his nostrils flared. It was difficult not to stare at him. He was fierce and beautiful all at once with those green eyes glinting like jewels in the setting sun. He towered over me, by close to a foot. My eyes traveled to his hands. They were strong hands, corded with veins and calloused from hard work. And yet, I should be scared of him. Some preternatural part of my brain told me to listen to my grandfather. But, those were the foolish ramblings of an aging mind trapped in the past.

  “Maybe you should listen to him,” Luke said as he narrowed his eyes. It felt like he was inside my mind somehow. Again, the timbre of his voice sent a vibration skittering across my skin, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

  “He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s got dementia and he’s been out here a long time. I told you, half the time he doesn’t even recognize me. That word, Winnebago, windigo, it might not even mean anything.”

  Luke’s eyes grew dark and he took a step toward me, getting close enough to set my heart racing again, short circuiting my senses. He blocked out the scant light of the setting sun. The warmth of his body heat spread across my chest and his scent filled me. Woodsy, clean, and with the hint of his own male musk.

  “It means something. Demon,” Luke said, his voice dark with menace. “Beast.”

  He reached out and put a hand on my upper arm. Something arced between us like an electrical charge that heated my blood. Dark as it was, I couldn’t be sure my eyes weren’t just playing tricks on me. But Luke’s eyes seemed to flash, the bright green irises spreading, leaving only a black pinpoint for a pupil. Then I blinked, and his eyes were normal again.

  “I said, maybe you should listen to him.”

  With that, he let me go, turned his back, and disappeared into the woods.

  Chapter Three

  After a good night’s rest, safe and warm in his own bed, my grandfather seemed to have forgotten the whole affair. I wish I could say the same for me. I couldn’t get the image of Luke’s eyes and the way his touch seemed to set my skin on fire out of my mind. Or out of my dreams. Today, I sported elephant-sized bags under my eyes as I ground Grandpa’s coffee and turned on the brewer.

  “You forget the toast?” he said, his brown eyes peering at me over the top of his newspaper.

  “Uh, no. I’m pretty sure there’s a frozen loaf of it laying on the ground somewhere between here and Lloyd’s store. You remember going down there yesterday?”

  He shrugged. “Price gouging son of a bitch.”

  I smiled and poured a cup of black coffee for him and crossed the kitchen. I slid onto the wooden chair next to him set the cup at his right hand. This was my favorite time of the day with him. If he was having a very good day, I could catch of glimpse of the bright, jovial man my mother used to tell me about before her mother, my grandmother died.

  Jessica Redbird. Grandma Jesse. Grandpa kept a picture of her by his bedside. The only one he had, I think. It was a black and white taken in the late fifties or early sixties when she was maybe twenty-five years old, a few years before my mother was born. Grandma wore a checkered top tied at the midriff and high-waisted denim cutoff jeans. She was walking barefoot down a wooden dock, her hair flying around her like a halo. She looked back at the camera, shielding her eyes against the sun. She was happy. Carefree. With a glint of mischief in her eyes that held some romantic secret only she and my grandfather shared.

  I wish I could have known her. She fit in here even less than I did, for at least I had a few drops of Odawa blood running through my veins. The Oodena of half a century ago had to have been even less welcoming to my grandma. My flaming red hair came from her. She passed it on to her own daughter. Our Irish roots were strong, coloring everything about me except for my eyes. Those were coal dark, just like my grandpa’s.

  “It looks like the snow’s stopped,” I said grabbing another cup of coffee for myself. Grandpa liked it stronger than I did. He scoffed a little as he watched me pour creamer into mine. “I’ll head into town in a bit to get the bread and anything else we’re short on.”

  I sat back down next to him. Grandpa had let the paper down and stared blankly out the window. “Do you remember where you were trying to go yesterday?” I asked, blowing the steam off the top of my cup.

  He took a breath but didn’t answer. “Do you have snares or something on the east end of the property? Why don’t you let me check them on my way back into town? Do you promise you’ll stay put today? We were lucky that guy on the other side of the hill was there to help us out. Grandpa, seriously. If it hadn’t been for him I never would have been able to get you out of there as quickly as we did. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. Promise. Just, please don’t go out there by yourself again. Deal?�
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  I held out my fist. A few weeks ago, I’d taught my eighty-year-old grandfather the art of the knuckle knock. He smiled at me and raised his gnarled hand to mine. Ravaged with arthritis after years of working with them, he couldn’t quite make a solid fist, but we were getting there.

  We finished our coffee in companionable silence. Grandpa looked out the window. In profile, I could see traces of the strong, proud man he’d been in his youth. He had broad, flat cheekbones and a wide, straight nose. His full mouth turned down in a permanent scowl. His wide-set eyes slanted downward, the fierce, dark irises reflecting the sunlight, black as onyx. Wyatt Redbird. Favorite grandson of one of the original Nine Families who had settled Oodena a century ago. He’d loved his wife well until she died young. I still don’t know why. My mother always promised to tell me when I got older. But, by the time I did, she was gone too.

  “What do you see out there?” I asked, placing my hand over Grandpa’s. His eyes narrowed just a bit, but he didn’t turn to look at me. And he didn’t answer my question. He’d been quiet like this when I first came back to Oodena. Gradually though, over the past six months, he’d gotten used to my presence. Most of the time, he seemed glad I was here, though that tinge of sadness never left his eyes. Perhaps sadness wasn’t the right word for how he felt about me. Resigned, maybe. But, he was the only family either of us had left, and he couldn’t live on his own anymore.

  Finally, he turned and smiled at me, though lines of worry still creased his tanned forehead. “Stay to the trails,” he said. “The woods get dark so fast.”

  I patted his hand as I stood. “I know. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I’ll be back before three. If the satellite doesn’t go out, maybe we can watch something together.”

  He gave me a slow nod before he fixed his gaze back out the window. I grabbed my coat and wound a scarf around my neck. I gave him a mittened salute before heading back out into the cold.

  Lloyd Crow had everything waiting for me when I burst back through his doorway. Word traveled fast around here, so the whole town already knew about Grandpa’s snow adventure yesterday.