Once Bitten_Wolves of Hemlock Hollow

by Heather McCorkle

  “Don’t think I have much choice. But if you hurt my Jeep, I’ll end you.” My weak voice made the threat sound terribly hollow.

  Ty’s chest rumbled. “Fair enough.”

  All I could concentrate on as he settled the bill and led me to the Jeep was one step after the other. Without his arm around me I wouldn’t have stayed upright. The one advantage was that my sense of smell was dulled back down to normal and I was spared the reek of the parking lot. When he reached over me to help with my seatbelt, I tried to bat his hands away and failed miserably. I wasn’t too proud to accept his help. It was his hard body leaning over mine, his scent pouring down my throat like fine whiskey, that I couldn’t handle. If I had the strength I would have risen up off the seat and nuzzled against him. Thank goodness for small favors. Warmth flooded across my skin as he laid my arm in my lap and tucked my leg over. Such simple touches had never affected me so. It had to be part of the verða, or at least a werewolf thing.

  He withdrew and the door closed a moment later. Half out of a need for fresh air, and half to follow him, I leaned toward the open window. Footsteps followed by angry voices swept away some of the fog of sleep that was trying to crawl over me. Forcing my eyes open, I tried to track the sound. At the other end of the parking lot, Ty stood beside a black Harley arguing with a leather-clad man nearly as broad as him. How Ty had gotten over there so fast, I had no idea. Voice no more than a harsh whisper, the man thrust a finger in my direction before shoving Ty back a step. I tried to reach for the door handle but my arm wouldn’t lift.

  Left with no other choice, I focused on their voices, trying to bring the sound to the forefront like Ty had mentioned. Along with their conversation, their scent rushed toward me. The stranger smelled of leather and fine linen, but beneath that lay a woodsy scent—like peeled bark and rain mixed with some kind of musk. It was similar enough to Ty’s pine scent that I knew with undoubtable clarity that the man was a werewolf. Their voices became as clear as if I stood next to them, only I couldn’t understand a thing they said. Then I caught two words, kennari and verða, and I realized they were speaking Icelandic.

  My attention wavered as the world swam out of focus. When I blinked rapidly to clear my vision, I saw the stranger bent over, a hand covering his nose, blood seeping through his fingers. Though his words were harsh and muffled, I didn’t need to know Icelandic to understand them. Somehow cursing sounded more menacing in the Norse language. Fists clenched, Ty strode back to the Jeep without even a glance over his shoulder. He had climbed in, put his seatbelt on, and started the Jeep by the time I was able to roll my head to the other side so I could look at him.

  “What… Who…” Each word carried the weight of an elephant.

  The Jeep moved, causing a wave of exhaustion to rise up and pull at me.

  “A lögreglu, or policeman, if you will, from Raul’s pack,” Ty said.

  Head lolling back against the seat, I struggled to find the strength to speak. But I had to know before I passed out. “What did he want?”

  “You.”

  “But…” I couldn’t finish the thought, let alone the sentence.

  “No need to worry. He does not have any authority. He is here against the Council’s decree to merely try and plead Raul’s case, as he put it. He will not risk challenging me.” The protective tone of his voice soothed me more than his words did. It felt good having someone looking out for me. Strange, but good.

  The Jeep picked up speed until it felt as though I was being whisked along on a roller coaster of sorts. So many more questions raged within me, but they didn’t have the strength to burn back the exhaustion. My tongue stopped working and my eyes slid closed. I had no choice but to entrust my life, and more importantly, my Jeep, into Ty’s hands and hope I didn’t end up somewhere worse than where I had started.

  Chapter Eight

  Ty

  I let my foot rest heavier on the accelerator. The change in engine noise from a steady hum to a high rev woke Sonya with a start. Eyes on the rearview mirror, I saw her gaze shoot to my white-knuckled hands on the wheel. She sat up so fast the seatbelt jerked her to a stop. The exhaustion that had been dragging her down was gone, leaving her looking alert and more than a little panicked after her eyes shot to the speedometer.

  Even out of my peripheral vision, I could appreciate the way the seatbelt pushed her breasts apart and tugged down her low-cut shirt. A fleeting glance was all I had time for. That was a good thing, for more than one reason.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as she turned to look behind us.

  A yellow Porsche and two black BMW racing motorcycles hugged the ass-end of the Jeep.

  “Why aren’t they passing?” she asked.

  “Because they do not want to go around us,” I said.

  “More of Raul’s friends?”

  “Afraid not. Can you fight?”

  I eased my foot off the gas and the speedometer started to drop, leveling out at eighty for a moment. Despite being a classic, the Jeep handled quite well at high speeds. The stiffer suspension and slightly souped-up motor suggested Sonya had done a bit more than simply restore it. Though it had been a long time since I had been behind the wheel of such a vehicle, it did not mean I could not appreciate one. It was the woman more than the vehicle I appreciated.

  “A little, and not very well. Why?” Her voice went up an octave on the last question, which I would have found cute as hell if I was not so worried.

  A glance back showed the bikes were not backing off.

  “We cannot outrun them,” I admitted.

  “Don’t you dare ram them. If you hurt my Jeep…”

  I shook my head. “I would not dare. Besides, it is not as clean or easy as the movies make it look. We could flip, and you could get hurt because you are not through the verða yet. It is best to stop and face them on our own terms.”

  “Point made. You’re sure they’re not Raul’s guys?” she demanded, eyes on the dropping speedometer.

  Seventy miles per hour now.

  “I am sure. They are from another pack. I will explain later. Get ready.”

  Her breathing quickened, making mine quicken—though not for the same reason. Heat radiated off her as she leaned back into the seat and squeezed her eyes shut. The spicy scent unique to her intensified, became musky as her wolf started to rise. Mine stirred in response to it. Shit.

  “Breathe, just breathe, Sonya,” I said in a soothing tone.

  Slowly, she relaxed back into her seat, closed her eyes, and did as I instructed. From her open mouth I saw the gleam of her fangs retract. I tried not to think of how sexy that mouth looked, lips parted, pink tongue moving with each breath. My ability to distance myself needed work.

  “Good. Feel that calm center?” I asked.

  She nodded.

  “Excellent. Hang on to that, because we are about to stop.”

  Gods, I hoped she could handle this. It was a lot to ask of a new wolf—too much. But we did not have a choice. I slammed on the brakes, took a hard left that rocked the Jeep up on two wheels, and rocketed down a dirt road. I barely got up to fifty before slamming on the brakes again, bringing the Jeep to a jarring stop inside a group of tall pine trees. In a flash, too fast for her new wolf eyes to follow, I took off both my seatbelt and hers.

  She was not going to like what I had to say, but it had to be said. “Keep that calm center, and hide, but be ready to fight if they sniff you out.”

  “What? But—”

  In the middle of her questions, I leaped from the Jeep, hoping beyond hope that she would comply. Cursing, she flung her door open and made a considerably less graceful exit that I found totally charming. I did not hear her walk away, but I could not risk looking, either. Arms crossed over my chest, I stood in the middle of the overgrown road staring at the oncoming speeding car. If I made a big enough target, maybe they would not see her. Plenty of trees that would make a good hiding place lined the road and stretched out behind us. She needed to
find her way into them, fast.

  “I told you to hide,” I said out of the side of my mouth.

  “Not happening.”

  Though I cursed inwardly, I didn’t say a thing out loud. No sense in aggravating her further and testing her control. Her bravery impressed me more than I wanted to admit.

  Dust barreled toward us as the Porsche and bikes braked to a stop so hard the ass-end of the Porsche slid out. A man poured out of the car to join the two off the bikes storming our way. Each of them stood over six feet tall and though they were not as built as I was, they were big Nordic-looking lads like most of our kind. The one in front carried a baseball bat, the one to his right a tire iron. Nothing I had not seen before, and nothing that worried me overly much.

  “Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Tyler,” the dark-haired man walking slightly in front of the others said.

  I stiffened at my full name. He wasn’t the biggest of the three, but by the way the other two men hung back, it was clear he was the one in charge. From the stench beginning to waft off him, he clearly was not happy about facing me. Good. Slowly, I unfolded my arms, slid my feet out into a fighting stance, and curled my fingers into fists.

  “It is not going to be hard, James, it is going to be impossible. You know me, and you know how this is going to go down.”

  Head tossed back, James let out a barking laugh before exchanging a grin with his two companions. His eyes shot back to me like two hazardously flung darts. “You aren’t what you used to be, kennari. Just hand her over. She won’t be harmed.”

  The way he twisted the word kennari, as if it were a bad thing, made me want to do the same to him.

  Anger flowed like a heat wave from Sonya. “Who are you and what the hell do you want from me?” she demanded.

  His eyes darted to her. “Raul really did leave you clueless, then, didn’t he?”

  The heat coming off her grew in intensity. No, no, no!

  “Ignore him, Sonya. He is trying to make you angry,” I said.

  Hands spreading out, James shrugged. “I wasn’t trying really. I’m told I have that effect on people. Now that you mention it, though, we really don’t care if she turns early and goes insane. Either way she’ll serve our purpose.”

  I heard Sonya taking slow, measured breaths and hoped they were helping. The two men behind James fanned out, flanking us. This put one of them too close to her for comfort, but at least it was the one without a weapon.

  “Now you are trying to piss me off, and that is dangerous,” I said in a voice that sounded far calmer than I felt.

  James and the man to his left moved in, weapons rising. The man with the tire iron lunged in and swung for my head. Fast as a snake, I ducked, shot a foot out, and took the man’s legs out from beneath him in a sweep. Air expelled from the man in a loud rush as he landed hard on his back. Not waiting, my right foot slammed down onto his chest and I heard a crack. I snatched the tire iron from him and brought it up to block a blow from the bat James swung at me. Twice more he struck and twice more I blocked.

  Too far away I heard a deep, grating voice that I knew was talking to Sonya. “Best worry about me, pup.”

  It was almost impossible not to get distracted from my own struggle when I heard flesh hit flesh.

  “No, asshole, you’d better worry about me,” came Sonya’s spunky reply. “Move again and I’ll see if werewolf balls detach as easily as human ones.”

  I grinned, ducked James’s latest swing, and swept his legs out from under him. Before he could hit the ground I cracked the tire iron hard against his head. Nothing broke from the sound of it—no surprise when it came to the strength of varúlfur bones, but he would be out for at least a few moments.

  A small whimper that I would not exactly call masculine, but was clearly a man, came from Sonya’s direction. I turned to find her standing over her attacker with a death grip on his balls. Damn, she was kind of amazing. Shaking my head and laughing, I approached.

  “And here I had been worried about you,” I said.

  “I’m not the kind of girl who needs fussing over,” she said, sounding out of breath and in pain.

  “I can see that. You should probably let go of his balls before you catch something.”

  Lips curling up from her teeth—I was kind of proud that they did not sport extended fangs—she let go of his balls and wiped her hand on his yellow T-shirt before stepping back. He bared his teeth in return, a low growl starting in his chest. I shot between the two of them. Grabbing him by his shirt, I lifted him up with an ease born of fury and varúlfur strength. Feet dangling above the ground, the man sagged in defeat, head dropping.

  “Drag your sorry-ass wolves back onto those bikes and get the fuck out of Missoula. Tell your Alpha if he sends anyone else into my territory I will kill them,” I said, letting the desire to do that fill my voice.

  The man nodded quickly. Grunting in disgust, I tossed him to the ground and turned to Sonya.

  “Just for the record, Isak didn’t send us,” the man said as he got to his feet with as much dignity as he could.

  Ignoring the man, I put a hand on Sonya’s back as we started to walk to the Jeep. Blood flowed from three deep gashes on her left arm. She opened her mouth but did not say anything, so I did not take my hand away because I knew what was coming. From the time of my first change as a child, I remembered the verða all too well. Her knees gave out and she collapsed. Before so much as her jeans could brush the ground, I swept her up into my arms and cradled her against my chest. Long black lashes fluttering, she let out a little moan that did things both wonderful and terrible to me. Then she slid once again into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Nine

  Sonya

  The crunch of a gravel road woke me. Blinking away the haze of sleep, I yawned. The almost sweet scents of spruce and lavender drifted through my open window. Their smell mingled with Ty’s in a way that was close to heaven. Evergreen trees rose up to the sky on both sides of a winding road. Around a bend, I could see a house peeking through the green needles.

  “You are awake just in time. I was afraid I might have to carry you in,” Ty’s deep voice came from the driver’s seat.

  Stifling another yawn, I sat up and stretched the kink out of my neck. “No such luck.” While I made it sound convincing enough that it was him who was missing out, tingles of a very naughty kind worked their way through my abdomen at the thought. His deep chuckle made the damn feelings spread lower. Glancing over, I noticed he was shirtless. Damn, if that didn’t make me instantly wet. Pressure on my left arm made me look down. A strip of his blue T-shirt was wrapped around my bicep. Dried blood darkened it. Only a twinge of pain remained.

  “Your shirt. I’m so sorry. Told you I wasn’t a very good fighter,” I said through a half smile.

  He waved the comment away. “Not to worry, it served a better purpose in halting your bleeding. And you did splendidly, considering you fought off a seasoned varúlfur.”

  Talk about being able to charm the pants off a nun. “Thanks. Where are we?” I asked.

  The Jeep rounded a bend as I spoke, revealing the little house that had been peeking through the trees. A mixture of an alpine-style A-frame and stone siding ensured that the place was well-equipped to handle harsh winters. At least ten feet off the ground, a raised deck wrapped around it, creating a dramatic entryway to the wooden door inlaid with a huge oval of stained glass. The place couldn’t be over two thousand square feet, especially not with the extreme angle of the roof, but that still made it at least a thousand square feet bigger than anywhere I had ever lived.

  “Home,” he said.

  “Wow,” I murmured as the Jeep rolled to a stop.

  Without a word, Ty stepped out of the Jeep and went around to open the back. Realizing he was getting my bags for me, I jumped out and hurried back there. The songs of at least half a dozen different types of birds serenaded me, and I thought I smelled water of the lake variety. It would have been relaxing if I
weren’t freaking out about arriving at a werewolf’s private cabin. A hot, intriguing werewolf, but a werewolf nonetheless.

  “I’ll get those.” I tried to take them from him but he tossed them over his shoulder, which was way out of my reach. Not that I didn’t want to climb up there and get them. I wanted to. Oh, did I ever.

  “That is all right. I have it.”

  The argument died on my lips as he strode off toward the house, leaving me standing alone. The view of his backside in those jeans was well worth losing the argument, and then some. Left with little other choice, I closed the Jeep’s tailgate and followed him up onto the porch. Electronic beeps broke the mountain retreat stillness, followed by the metallic sound of a deadbolt disengaging. He opened the solid wood door and strode inside. The door alone had to cost as much as all my first year med books combined. Standing on the cedar deck, I hesitated. This place was so far beyond anywhere I had ever lived that I was reluctant to cross the threshold in my off-brand hiking shoes. Not only did I feel a bit like out of place trailer trash, but entering that house felt like the point of no return. Stupid, considering the bite had been that point, but knowing that didn’t make it feel any less real. I had little choice. Even if I did, I wasn’t sure I’d choose anyone else to guide me through this. And, he had my worldly belongings slung across his back, so what else could I do?

  Marveling at the tile entryway, I stepped inside. The tile floor continued into a large open floor plan filled with far more modern furnishings than I expected to see in such a place. Beyond the foyer stretched a long marble bar that separated the kitchen from the living space, which boasted some kind of dark fur rug and a gathering of furniture around a tiled fireplace. Above it all hovered a loft with a steel cable and glass railing. The place smelled like wood, leather, stone, and a diluted pine cleaner. Not a bad mixture of scents, really.

  “Wow,” I said again, feeling completely inarticulate.