As he staggered back with a shout, she twisted. Her foot connected with Roger’s knee. Not hard enough.
“Fucking shrew.” His fingers ground against her bone as he jerked her closer and his right hand lifted.
Before he could slap her, a baton struck his forearm. He yelped and jumped back. His grip loosened.
She yanked free.
Her rescuer stepped in front of her, facing the Rainier wolves. He glanced over his shoulder. “Are you all right, lass?”
The frozen steel of the male’s voice held a hint of Ireland. She knew that voice. It was the male from the Scythe garage. Tynan.
Her mouth went dry.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Teeth bared, Roger rubbed his arm. “Do you know who I am?”
“I don’t care who you are.” Tynan’s grip tightened on the baton. “I’m Deputy O’Connor with the Azure County Sheriff’s Department, and right now, you’re looking at an assault charge.”
Taking a hurried step back, Roger lifted his nose, his nostrils flaring as he checked the air. Undoubtedly, he caught the scent that Tynan was a shifter. A mean smile grew on his face. As an alpha, Roger had power almost equal to a Cosantir’s. “I’m alpha of the Rainier Territory and she”—he pointed to her—“is one of my pack.”
“Is she now?” Tynan moved sideways to look at her and still keep the two Rainier males in his field of vision. “Are you in his pack?”
Could Roger force her to return? Heather hadn’t mentioned pack rights. “I was.” Margery smoothed damp hands down her jeans. She took care with her words, “I live here now. I won’t return to Rainier Territory or be in his pack.”
“Right. That’s clear enough.” Tynan narrowed his eyes at the males. “You heard her. Be off with you.”
“I’m not leaving without her.” Roger’s voice rose. “She’s our banfasa.”
No. I’m. Not. She was done with being anyone’s banfasa. Her jaw set tightly. If Roger managed to take her back, she’d escape again, and go much, much farther next time.
Shaking his head, Tynan said mildly, “Apparently not any longer.”
Roger’s face darkened, and his fists came up. Brett, who was almost as big as the alpha, moved forward.
Tynan’s muscles tightened with a rippling motion beneath his shirt.
Oh Goddess, two to one—he’d get hurt.
Should I give up and go with Roger? No, she couldn’t. Wouldn’t. But she could fight beside this male. Her rescuer.
She lifted the bike’s heavy security chain from the handlebars. The thick, rough metal links were icy cold in her hands. If she swung the chain hard enough, it would slow—maybe stop—one of them.
Fear made her heart pound painfully in her chest, but her grip was solid. She’d do what she needed to do to protect Tynan.
He glanced at her, saw how she held the chain, and his eyes crinkled slightly before he told Roger, “Just so you know, if she damages a person, she won’t bandage them up afterward—and neither will our healer.”
“Well said, brawd.”
At the deep resonant voice, Margery jumped. Turned slightly.
Donal stood in the doorway of BOOKS. His perfect lips curved in a cold smile. “Want some help? Been a while since I performed abdominal surgery using my claws.”
An older shifter stood behind him—the one named Joe Thorson from the Scythe garage. He looked like he’d had more fights than all the younger males combined. “Shifters who bother females don’t live long. Not in our territory.”
Outnumbered, Roger backed a step and bumped into Brett. “Fine. We’re leaving. But”—he pointed at Margery—“she’s Rainier Territory’s banfasa. Pete isn’t going to let her walk away.”
As the two retreated with the stiff-legged gait of pissed-off wolves, Margery realized she wasn’t breathing. Her knees threatened to buckle. Dropping the chain on the bike, she grabbed the streetlight pole for support.
How could this happen? Once free of the Scythe, she’d been sure she’d be safe and happy. But…then there had been Rainier Territory. Pete. Roger.
I got away.
Out of Rainier Territory, she’d thought she’d be safe and happy in Cold Creek.
Wrong again.
Nowhere was safe.
Don’t I get to be happy?
Black spots danced in front of her eyes.
Tynan shoved his baton into his belt. “Don’t pass out on me, little female.” He wrapped a muscular arm around her waist and tugged her away from the streetlight.
Too dizzy to protest, she let him lead her to the center island where he sat her on an iron bench. “Donal.” He motioned toward the healer. “Maybe a quick check?”
Joining them, Donal took her hand for a second. His fingers were warm. She could almost feel the simmering healer energy as he assessed her.
Straightening, he spoke to Tynan—not to her, “No damage, just the shaky aftermath of an altercation.”
“An altercation that shouldn’t have happened.” Tynan’s hard voice made her flinch. “Some gobshite, he was.”
Rule number two of captivity: Avoid annoying the ones in charge.
She sat quiet and still, braced for whatever actions his anger would take. When nothing happened, she checked him from the corner of her eyes, keeping in mind Rule Number Four: Don’t look an irritated male straight in the face.
“She’ll be fine.” Donal turned his silvery gaze to her and smiled slightly. Coolly.
How pitiful was she to crave a warm smile like he’d given the cublings at the tavern?
Tynan was watching her as well, and his gaze held…a very male look.
The healer looked at her, then Tynan, then her, and without another word, he walked away. Back to the bookstore.
Leaving her with the deputy who turned to scowl after the healer.
Uh-oh. He was definitely angry. She edged away from him on the bench.
His anger disappeared as if it had never been, and he went down onto his haunches in front of her. “Lass, I have never hit a female in all my life. I’m not going to start now.”
Oh. She’d…hurt his feelings? That was the last thing she wanted. He’d been willing to fight for her.
She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I was…I learned to be…careful…when I lived in Seattle. In the compound. I’ve mostly gotten past it.”
Tynan was as motionless as a cat stalking a field mouse. “Your head knows you escaped the bad guys, but you were imprisoned long enough for your body to get set in its ways. It’ll take time.”
His clear blue eyes were like the Seattle sky when the wind from the Sound swept away any trace of clouds. Eyes a person could fall into.
Looking down, she saw his police badge, and her chest went tight, squeezing the air from her lungs. Quickly, she averted her gaze. “Thank you, Deputy O’Connor.”
“It’s Tynan, and you’re quite welcome.” His gaze went past her, looking at something across the street. “Are you ready for the next challenge of the day?”
What does he have planned for me now?
She’d thought he was a good person, a rescuer, but Gods, what if she was wrong? How had she let her guard down even a whisker? Her muscles tightened. “Like…what?”
He started to put his hand over hers. And stopped. “Nothing scary, merely something to take care of before there are problems.”
“Take care of?”
Rising, he motioned for her to stand. “You need to be seen and accepted by the pack alpha here so Roger has no claim on you.” He shook his head before she could protest. “There is gender inequality in the Daonain; I’m the first to admit it. But with so few females, our instincts demand that you be protected.”
“Protected would be nice. Imprisoned is what I…” Her voice trailed off as she realized she was going to irritate a male. Not just any male, but one with weapons hanging all over his belt. She took a careful step away.
His mouth tightened slightly, but he simply waved for her to walk with him acro
ss the island. “Our alpha, Shay, and his mate are having lunch in the diner. Let me introduce you.”
The diner. Very public. Relief ran through her. “Okay.”
“See? Nothing to worry about. Angie’s there, and she’ll protect her new waitress, even against the alpha.”
Margery stopped dead before she stepped down into the street. “No. She mustn’t. Never. She’d end up getting hurt and—”
“By the Gods.” He impatiently ran his hand through his short brown hair. “Margery, no one will get hurt. No one will yell, either, for that matter. Admittedly, the previous alpha here was a bad egg, but this one—Shay—is one of the finest I’ve ever met, and I’ve run with some of the best.”
She stared at him. He was so blunt—which probably caused him problems—but it was nice. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine him lying.
Aaand… It seemed as if she’d be joining a pack after all. So much for well laid plans.
As they reached the sidewalk, a uniformed male approached, one even bigger than Tynan.
Margery stepped back and slightly behind Tynan.
Ignoring her wariness, the male smiled at her before shifting his focus to Tynan. “Problems?”
“Problems are handled, but we need to talk later,” Tynan said. “Margery... Margery.”
Realizing Tynan was speaking to her, she yanked her gaze from the new male and looked up.
Brows drawn, Tynan studied her. His voice turned even softer, the Irish accent deeper. “Sweetheart, Alec McGregor is the county sheriff—and a cahir. Alec, this is Margery Lavelle, a Dogwood villager, who was living in Rainier Territory.”
Alec. She blinked and looked up, past the uniform, to his face. Shaggy, golden-brown hair. Dark green eyes. The blue blade-shaped cahir scar over his left cheekbone.
She knew him—he was the cahir who’d been at the Scythe compound. One of the two who’d led the female captives into the garage. How could she not have recognized him right away?
“Ah, Calum mentioned we have a new shifter. Welcome, Margery.” The sheriff had a nice smile, a faint Southern accent…and his hand rested on his weapons belt.
How she hated those belts that screamed of cruelty.
No, that was then.
I’m here now.
She reached deep for peace. “Thank you, sir.”
“Just Alec.” When the radio on his belt chirped, he nodded and moved away.
“Come, lass. Let’s find Shay.” Tynan guided her down the sidewalk toward the diner, nodding in response to greetings from two shifter females.
“Good afternoon, Margery. It’s a fine day, isn’t it?” The white-haired, rotund woman nodded her thanks to Tynan as he held the door open for her and her pudgy poodle.
“It really is.” Margery smiled at Mrs. Neilson—and her pet. Two of her favorite customers.
As Tynan kept holding the door, Margery stepped into the diner.
Joining her, he stopped just inside and waved his hand toward a table at the front window. Two big males sat on each side of a curvy female with long hair the colors of sunlight.
“Which one is the alpha?” she whispered.
Tynan raised an eyebrow. “Use your instincts, little wolf.”
Instincts. Something she was still learning about. The Daonain usually experienced their first trawsfur at puberty. However, being on birth control and held in a human city, she and the other Dogwood females hadn’t shifted until a month after they’d been freed.
Her animal’s primal senses still needed honing. Here in Cold Creek—away from Roger—she might be able to spend more time as a wolf. Which she craved more than anything.
The shifters at the table took note of Tynan, then her.
Dear Goddess, but those males are huge.
After another calming breath, she could focus and take in the blade-shaped blue scar on each male’s cheekbone. They were both cahirs like Alec. The warriors of the God; the enforcers of the Cosantir. Scary, but scary in the defense of the Daonain.
Unlike Tynan, they had no uniforms to send her into a silly rabbit-freeze.
So, which one is the alpha?
She lifted her chin and met the dark, mean-looking one’s eyes. Then she considered the one with disheveled brown hair.
Like Tynan, he had the appearance of a Celtic warrior with thick, heavy muscles and a strong face. As she met his gaze, the power of pack hit her. Her eyes lowered in an instinctive—almost comforting—surrender to the alpha.
“Him,” she told Tynan.
“There you go. Good instincts.” He motioned her forward.
Both males stood, the female remaining seated.
Tynan kept his voice quiet so only those at the table could hear. “Shay, I’d like to introduce a new wolf to the territory. Margery is one of the Dogwood villagers.”
“Margery.” Shay held out his big hand, and she reluctantly set her fingers in his. “Are you planning to live here?”
“Yes. If it’s possible that I can?” Her answer came out sounding almost like a question.
“She works for me, Shay.” Angie walked up and put an arm around her shoulders for an affectionate squeeze. “Margery is amazing. Meant for better things, but I’ll keep her as long as she’s willing to stay.”
Margery’s throat clogged. “Thank you.”
“S’truth.” Angie squeezed again before bustling away.
Shay motioned to the other two at the table. “Margery, meet Brianne, our mate and the alpha female of the pack. Zeb, my beta and brother.”
Zeb nodded.
Brianne held out her hand to shake. “I’m so glad to meet you. Don’t be worried—I’m a nice alpha fem.”
Shay smiled. “You two will probably understand each other better than most. Bree was raised from birth among humans.”
Margery’s mouth dropped open. “Oh Gods, and I thought I had a learning curve.”
“I know, right?” Bree grinned.
Margery studied the pack males. Over the years, she’d gotten better at picking out which males were cruel in nature. These two seemed extremely dangerous yet without seeming vicious. And they weren’t in uniform or carrying badges or weapons.
She returned her focus to the alpha female. “Is there anything I need to know?”
“You bet. How about you come up to the Wildwood Lodge tomorrow after your breakfast shift?” Bree said. “I can give you the deets on meetings and pack runs and all that.”
She could totally do that. Bree seemed really nice. “Sure.”
“In addition, I’ll assign you a mentor,” Shay said.
Margery went stiff. Her mentor in the Rainier pack had been…not so nice. “The wolves in the Rainier pack said I was doing okay and didn’t need a teacher any—”
Zeb snorted. “Like they’d know anything.”
“Really?” Tynan cut in. “Have you had some run-ins with the Rainier pack?”
Shay smiled slightly. “We fought hellhounds in Rainier for several years. The pack’s cohesiveness and morale were already sliding then. Older, skilled wolves were withdrawing. If that trend hasn’t changed, the wolves overseeing the new members would be—”
“Worthless. The alpha and betas are as energetic as slugs in winter.” Zeb eyed Margery. “You don’t look lazy.”
“The opposite if what Angie said is true.” Bree leaned forward. “I’d love to mentor you, but I’m still learning myself. I do know that the North Cascades—and different seasons—might have dangers you haven’t encountered yet.”
“Oh. I hadn’t thought about that.” Different seasons. Different location. And having a weak leg already put her at a disadvantage—although that was part of why the last mentor had disliked her. Ridiculed her. She sighed.
Shay eyed her. He had a jaw as stubborn as Tynan’s. “I’ll find you a good mentor.”
No choice. What the alpha said was what would happen. She bowed her head slightly to Shay and tried not to sound as if she was lying. “I’m pleased for your care, Alpha.”
* * *
A minute later, the little female left to take her groceries home—and Tynan stayed. As Shay and Zeb resumed their seats, he looked at Shay. “Alpha, a minute of your time?”
“Of course. Get comfortable, Deputy.” Shay pointed to a chair.
Tynan hesitated. “I can’t stay; I have duties.”
“Duties to the pack, as well,” Shay said evenly. “I’d like to talk about that now.”
Fuck. Good thing the sheriff was also a shifter. Alec knew about multiple obligations.
As Tynan took a chair, Angie dropped off a full cup of coffee without even slowing down.
Tynan took a sip and frowned at Shay. “Were you after needing me for something?”
“Aye, but first, what can I help you with?”
That question right there was one of the reasons Tynan respected the alpha so highly. He took his responsibilities very seriously.
“Right.” It helped that Shay and Zeb knew—and disliked—the Rainier alpha, Roger. “You know the Dogwood females had it rough.”
As Zeb’s face darkened, Shay said in a tight voice, “We know.”
“I get the impression the little wolf didn’t have an easy time in Ailill Ridge either.” Tynan shook his head. “Roger, the alpha, was just here. He was about to drag her back there when I intervened.”
“He what?” When Zeb growled and started to stand, every customer in the diner tensed.
“I sent him and his beta home,” Tynan said quickly. “Still, today might not be the end of it. Roger seemed to think that since Rainier doesn’t have a healer, they could keep Margery.”
Shay frowned. “Why would they consider a waitress as a substitute for a healer?”
“He said she was their banfasa,” Tynan answered.
“What’s a banfasa?” Bree asked.
“One of the wise women.” Shay stopped at her look of confusion “That’s not a human occupation, is it?”
“For humans,” Tynan told her, “a banfasa would fit somewhere between a medic and a nurse practitioner. Not God-called like a healer, but with the talent and training to care for the wounded and sick. And with an emphasis on health.”
Shay half smiled at his mate. “Daonain don’t get as many diseases as humans, but we excel at being injured and getting old.”
Healing of the Wolf Page 9