Bitten & Beholden (Children of Fenrir Book 2)

by Heather McCorkle

  Partially because he was the closest thing, and partially because he smelled amazing, I focused on him. Beneath the scents of soap and shampoo were those of fresh pine, river water, and a very pleasant musk. I leaned into him a bit as we walked. The urge to rub along him, against all that tattooed flesh, made me step closer. My breast brushed his arm as he reached up to open the door. Nipples standing at attention as they were, I was suddenly very glad for the layers I wore. Shaking my head to clear it, I entered the diner. Perhaps his scent wasn’t the best thing to focus on.

  The quiet din of a hundred conversations punctuated by the clashing of dishes distracted me almost as much as all the wonderful odors of different foods. To his credit, the host behind the desk showed us immediately to a booth in a far corner and hustled off with the promise to return with coffee. Moments later I had the delicious aroma of coffee to focus on so that I didn’t get drawn in by Ty’s scent. For an entirely different reason, I leaned across the table.

  “How did you come to be a kennari?”

  Creases formed at the corners of his eyes and they pinched together so tightly it almost looked painful. The stormy look passed as quickly as if a gale force wind had swept it away. “I am a professor at the University of Montana. It came naturally to me.”

  The promise of stormy skies lingering in his eyes told me there was much more to that story, but it also warned me not to press in the wrong direction. “Let me guess, English?”

  Sipping his own coffee, he relaxed a bit. “History, but I do have a strong love for languages.”

  My breath nearly caught at the mental image of his muscular frame packed into a suit and tie, pacing the podium as he lectured. He would fill out a suit oh so well. Muscles that had nothing to do with shapeshifting tightened low in my body, and suddenly I was forced to stare deep into the depths of my coffee.

  “Obviously. Your English is impeccable,” I grumbled.

  Even his eyes seemed to smile as they caught mine. “Only because it is my second language and I am a bit of a perfectionist in that aspect. Until I reached twelve years old, I only spoke Icelandic. My parents wanted to make sure our ancestors’ language was my native tongue.”

  Sexy as hell and cultured. Damn, I was in for it.

  Thankfully our waitress—who smelled like she bathed in some overly flowery perfume—arrived with our food, saving me from having to try and speak. Cute as she was, Ty didn’t spare her a glance, even when she giggled seductively at his compliment on the sight of the food. Perhaps he played for the other team. I could count on one hand the straight guys I’d met who would pass up a chance to flirt with an attractive woman. In the male species’ defense, I did have a way of meeting all the wrong kind of guys. Then it occurred to me that Ty could be involved with someone. Stomach dropping, my eyes flicked involuntarily to his ring finger. It was bare of a ring or even a tan line from one.

  Fork in one hand, knife in the other, I decided not to care. I had more important things to think about, like the mountain of food before me that my body screamed for. We ate in silence, waving away the waitress from time to time as she dropped by to flirt with Ty. I hardly noticed, let alone cared. Right.

  In truth, the mediocre food captivated me. Food had never been overly important to me. Having grown up a mixture of poor white and American Native trash, I wasn’t used to eating much and didn’t need much, until now. The omelet, ham, hash browns, and toast went so fast I scarcely tasted them. When I found myself staring at the toast left on Ty’s plate, he surprised me by ordering another side of ham and toast for me. I wanted to kiss him for it. The petite waitress gave him a sympathetic look, then glared at me like I was an embarrassment to all of womankind. She was so not getting a good tip.

  Before she had even walked far enough away to be out of hearing range, Ty waved a hand. “Ignore her. The verða takes a lot out of you. During it you have to eat and rest a lot.”

  Without so much as a comment, I inhaled the ham and toast before the waitress could even bring back our check. I reached for it but Ty got to it first.

  Shaking my head, I grabbed his hand and did my best to ignore the sparks that flew inside me at the contact. “No way. As much as I ate, I’ll pay.”

  Humor sparkled in his eyes. “This one is on Raul.”

  “What’d you do, mug him?” I asked. Imagining it brought me far more pleasure than it should have.

  Ty laughed. “In a way, I suppose. I snagged his wallet because I knew it might hold some clues.” His smile grew. “It held more than that. And the man owes you.”

  I let go of him. “I won’t argue with that,” I said through a huge grin of my own.

  The moment I stood my knees went weak. Ty was at my side in an instant, an arm around my waist, supporting me before I could fall. His hard body felt oh so good against me.

  “Whoa,” was all I could manage to say.

  “That would be the second essential part of the verða, the way it draws energy from you. I hope you are okay with me driving.”

  It took a monumental amount of effort to lift my arm high enough to go around his waist. Hooking my fingers through a belt loop on his jeans was all that kept it there. Exhaustion dragged at me as though it were an anvil tied to my soul. It was a good thing it did, considering how tempting being this close to him was.

  “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 go with 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. 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.

  We were at 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. 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 us 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 completely 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 did not 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 was not 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.”

  That did not make any sense. I must have been wrong about why they wanted her. It did not matter. They were not getting her. 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 an
d 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 him 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’d 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. How she did it, being so new and undisciplined, I had no idea. But I was intrigued. 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.