Her sharp inhalation at his loss made him smile. After stroking her hair, Tynan whispered, “You’re beautiful, a leannán. Thank you for this gift,” before disappearing into the bathroom.
At his words, her lips quivered slightly, and Donal’s heart ached. Tynan was right. The wolflet needed all their tenderness.
“Come here, cariad.” Gently, Donal eased her down on top of him so he could run his hands up and down her back. So he could kiss her.
Her lips were sweet, and her curvy body was the sweetest weight. Had he ever known anyone so giving?
By the Gods, it shook him how close he’d come to losing her, to losing Tynan. This time together had been more than a mating; it was a celebration of joy that they’d survived.
And with a sigh, he admitted the truth simmering in his heart.
He loved his brother…and he loved Margery.
* * *
After cleaning up, Tynan crawled into the bed and grinned. Looking boneless, Meggie was draped over Donal like a blanket.
Tynan grinned at his brother. “Share, greedy cat.” He pulled her off Donal onto the mattress so they could tuck her between the two of them.
Snuggling down with her head on Donal’s shoulder, she pulled Tynan’s arm over her waist and cuddled his hand between her breasts. Her fingers twined between his.
Within seconds, her breathing slowed, and she went limp again.
“I think we wore her out.” Donal stroked her hair, his expression soft.
“I’d say the entire evening did that.” By the Gods, it had been a terrifying night.
He’d been one second from death.
Silas had died.
Meggie and Donal had been out there with the hellhound. The thought of losing them…
Unable to help himself, he rolled Meggie onto her back, gripping her hand as if he could hold her back from her reckless courage.
He looked over at his littermate. “I understand why you went out there, mo deartháir.” His voice came out a low rasp. “But by the Gods…”
Donal’s gaze met his. “How do you think I felt, seeing you jump in front of a hellhound? And then realizing Margery followed me?”
Without opening her eyes, Meggie stirred and bent her head to kiss Tynan’s fingers, her lips soft on his callused hand. “’Course I did. You needed help.”
Braced on an elbow, Tynan kissed her cheek, then her lips. The words weren’t easy to say, but he offered them like a wolf bringing a breakfast bunny to his mate. “It’s not easy to see someone I love risking her life, mo chridhe.”
Her eyes flew open. The way her body went still told him she hadn’t considered that he might actually care for her.
That was his failing…not sharing his emotions. He nuzzled her hair and tried again. “I love you, Meggie mine.”
His littermate grunted as if he’d been punched.
After a second, Donal went up on an elbow, mirroring Tynan’s pose, and kissed Meggie. “I love you, too, you know.”
When she made a sound like a startled mouse, he shot Tynan an amused look—because nothing kept the cat down for long.
Donal pushed a strand of hair out of her face. “As it happens, I know you love us back. Don’t you?” The light way he said the words couldn’t conceal the longing beneath.
Aye, we’re both lost, aren’t we?
Tynan ran a finger over her cheek. “Give us the words, little wolf.”
She was incapable of holding back when someone needed her…and there was no way she could miss how much they needed to hear how she felt.
Tynan’s heart swelled painfully as she whispered. “I love you, Tynan.”
She turned to Donal, “I love you, Donal. Both of you.” Reaching out, she pulled them down to her, hugging them tightly.
Tynan put his arm over her and his brother. The satisfaction of holding the ones he loved—his family—filled him to overflowing.
This…this is right.
Chapter Twenty-One
Unclaimed territory, Washington - waxing gibbous moon
* * *
Nerves had Margery tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove south on Highway 9. The last month, since the first night she’d spent with Tynan and Donal to now, had been like an amazing dream. Work, friends, and a home. Tynan and Donal.
They loved her. She pulled in a breath, hearing their words again. Seeing Tynan’s clear blue eyes so filled with emotion, hearing the catch in Donal’s voice.
They love me. Me!
She’d never dreamed life could hold so much happiness.
A growl broke into her thoughts.
She frowned at Tynan in the passenger seat. “Am I doing something wrong?”
“Not you, lass.” He pointed to the car in front of them on the highway. “They’re moving slower than a pixie after a hard freeze. If you stay behind them, it’ll take us all day to get to the festival grounds.”
“Oh.” That sounded fine to her. Because she had a feeling this weekend was liable to turn a dream into a nightmare. The Rainier clan would be at the summer solstice festival.
Grumbling came from Oliver in the back seat, and her mood lightened. It was good to have him here.
After disappearing for a week after Silas’s death at the lodge, he’d returned and apologized for his behavior that night. They’d talked and then talked some more. He’d shared what he’d experienced as a shifter-soldier. That he was having trouble coping. That he’d been drunk that night and a few other nights.
For the last week, things between them had gotten better.
Which was good. Neither of them liked conflict—one of the few traits they had in common. Over the years, she’d forgotten how different she was from her littermates. She was the even-tempered, practical, and affectionate one. Being a banfasa suited her.
If he’d lived, tough Orson would have probably been a warrior—a cahir, even. Her last memory of him still hurt: him charging the Scythe, the soldier’s gun firing, the life draining from his eyes.
The Mother guard you, Orson.
Oliver was the sensitive, creative one. Grandmama had once said that a vivid imagination made it difficult to be brave…and Oliver had been awfully cautious as a cub. Being forced to become a Scythe soldier must have been such a nightmare. And during their talks, he’d said the Scythe considered killing him for being a “waste of time and effort”. His self-esteem had been shredded. He had nightmares from what he’d witnessed. What he’d been forced to do.
She understood, oh, she totally did. And she’d help him all she could.
Although if he kept grumping in the backseat, she might turn around and smack him one.
“I hate the fucking human vehicles,” he muttered. “Go faster, sis.”
The sound of him scratching set off her own itches. She rubbed her arm vigorously before frowning at Tynan. “Why aren’t you itching?”
He shrugged. “I’m more immune than most to metal. It’s why I could survive in the city.”
“Oh.” She sure wasn’t immune and didn’t want to be in the car. At all. She studied the slow vehicle in front. “I need to go around—pass him. Right?”
“Aye. Turn on your signal, check the left lane with the back mirror and side mirror, then turn your head and look, as well.”
She followed instructions. “All clear.”
“Move out as you speed up and go around.”
Learning to drive a car was tricky. Everyone she’d watched made it look so easy. At least Tynan was incredibly patient. Donal…well, Donal wasn’t. Perhaps it was just as well that Donal was staying in Cold Creek until tomorrow. He’d said he didn’t want to leave the town without a healer for too long…but that was after Tynan mentioned she would be the driver on the way down.
As she completed the maneuver and returned safely to the right lane, she chuckled.
“What’s so funny about passing?” Oliver asked.
“It reminded me of my first drive down Main Street.” She’d practiced in th
e Wild Hunt parking lot and the tiny Wildwood Lodge lanes. Main Street had been her first experience with other cars, pedestrians, and stop signs. “The trouble is…Donal hates cars. He said Karl Benz and Henry Ford were hellhounds in human form.”
“Wait, wait, wait…” Behind her, Oliver was laughing his ass off. “You asked the healer to teach you? Are you suicidal?”
“He volunteered.” She sniffed. “Really, he was fine…until Irma Neilson and her dog stepped right in front of the car.” Thank the Mother someone had invented seatbelts.
“Mmmph. If you’d run over her fat poodle, you’d have had two people upset,” Tynan said in an odd voice. His hand was over his mouth, his shoulders shaking.
“You’re laughing.” She gave him a disgusted look.
“I’ll bite—what happened then?” Oliver choked out.
Margery rolled her eyes. “That Donal. He threw his hands in the air and said I was as unaware as a drunken dwarf during mead season. Thank the Gods the windows were up so Irma didn’t hear what he called her.”
Tynan was carefully looking out the window. “Mmmph.”
“Mmmph my tail. Our illustrious healer sounded like one of Emma’s preschoolers having a tantrum.”
Weird snorting sounds came from the back seat, and Margery almost grinned. Oliver hadn’t laughed like this since they were younglings. He sputtered out, “I’m going to tell Donal you said that. Oh yeah.”
“Don’t you dare, bear.” But she giggled. Her littermate sounded…normal. So normal. Carefully, she passed another slowpoke.
Tynan’s murmured, “Very well done,” made her beam.
Driving. I got this. No matter what Donal said.
Highway 9 gave way to smaller Highway 2, and then even narrower roads. The curves grew sharp as the land rose from foothills to mountains. Few vehicles traveled this road.
Probably other shifters.
“Slow down.” Tynan pointed to a tiny path through the grass. “Pull onto the shoulder there.”
When the car stopped, Tynan turned. “Oliver, can you take our packs to the clearing, please? The festival location is a short walk down that path. We’ll take the car and park it farther away.”
“Sure.” Oliver got out, sniffing the crisp mountain air. “It’ll be fun to explore around here.”
“Good enough.” Tynan opened the back and pulled out the soft packs. “We’ll see you later then…or will you be in the shifter-soldier meeting with Wells?”
“Nah, that’s tomorrow.” Oliver’s face tightened. The shifter-soldiers had been summoned by Arthur Wells, the human spymaster who was hunting the Scythe.
Margery was hoping he’d called them together to report that the entire Scythe organization had been eliminated.
I can hope, right?
As Oliver hefted the packs and headed down the trail, she looked around. No cars were parked in sight, although there was room for perhaps two vehicles on the shoulder. “No one else is here?”
“To avoid attention, everyone’s parking elsewhere on the road and hiking in through the forest.” He smiled at her. “Once we find a spot, we’ll shift and go furry. Maybe even find a sunny patch of grass to…enjoy.” His masculine voice held a suggestive growl, and her whole body went soft and needy.
“We’re here to work,” she made a token protest, but from the light in his eyes, he could scent her desire.
“No problem, Meggie mine.” He ran a finger over her lips. “I’ll make you work for each and every orgasm.”
A couple of hours later, Tynan slowed as the trees opened into a meadow. He could scent other shifters, hear the sounds of conversations, of a guitar, of a fire.
They were arriving somewhat late. Having found that sunny patch of grass, he’d…had fun. Meggie had come so many times that she’d wobbled when she stood. It was good they were in wolf form—she’d needed all four legs.
And she’d nipped him when he laughed.
After a quick glance at the festival grounds, Tynan skirted the tree line and entered a big tent. The back flap opened to the forest so those in animal form could slip in and shift to human.
Meggie followed him in.
Around the sides of the tent, personal backpacks and duffels were meticulously organized by territory. He found the North Cascades section and, after a few sniffs, located where Oliver had left their bags. Dropping the small pack of their clothing he’d carried, he shifted to human.
As they dressed, he watched Meggie. Her nipples were still swollen and red, her cheeks beard burned.
She caught him looking and flushed.
So loveable. Drawing her into his arms, all silky skin and soft flesh, he nibbled on her shoulder.
She leaned against him. “I just realized we forgot to pack sleeping bags.”
“We didn’t forget. For non-human events, most of us spend the night in animal shape. Our pack will make a big furry pile.”
Her eyes lit.
Poor little wolf that something so commonplace hadn’t been part of her experience. Being Daonain, she’d been targeted by the worst of humanity.
Now, he and Donal would have the joy of showing her the best of being a shifter.
And in that light, he needed to talk with his snail-slow littermate. Sure and his brother was thicker than a stump when it came to relationships. Nonetheless, it was time—past time—to take the next step. After all, Meggie was practically living with them.
Of course, many shifters never took it further, content to love each other, yet still participate in Gatherings every full moon. Tynan shook his head. He wanted more than that for them.
He wanted to see their lifemating bracelets on her wrist. Wanted a lifetime of waking with her snuggled between him and Donal, breathing in her scent, giving her everything that was in his heart.
Yes, it was time to have that talk with Donal.
Under the biggest trees at the edge of the meadow, Margery pushed to her feet. Stretching her arms over her head, she groaned. Driving a car could sure knot a person’s muscles.
Driving, then lots and lots of sex, then helping set up the dining tent, and now, tending wounds. Her lips quirked as she watched the two troublesome cubs dash toward the dining tent as if they’d never gotten all scraped up falling out of a tree.
When Donal arrived tomorrow, he’d have a fit when he learned the Cold Creek teens had shared their favorite hobby with the other territories’ cubs.
Treeways were being created in the forest all around the festival grounds.
Grinning, she boosted herself up into one of the trees to look. Yes, there it was. The tops of the larger branches had been smoothed to make secure landing spots and were marked on top with a dab of light paint. One easy to use tree path that was invisible from below.
The tree next to hers shook as a cub jumped to it.
Athol shifted to human, balancing easily on the branch. “You like our treeway?” After his rough first shift when he’d panicked and slashed the cublings, he’d worked exceedingly hard to gain control over his forms.
“It’s very cool,” she said honestly. “Makes me wish I were a cat.”
Athol puffed up at the compliment before heading back to join his friends without bothering to shift.
Margery winced. All that bare skin. But the teens played up here in both forms.
Donal would be displeased that she hadn’t scolded them. “You’re encouraging that Gods-benighted, pixie-brained behavior?”
Hypocritical feline. Last week, she’d spotted him and Alec playing tag high up in the Cold Creek treeway. They’d moved far faster than the youngsters—and had a wonderful time.
Smiling, she dropped out of the tree and picked up her first-aid bag. A small healing tent was being erected near the center of the meadow. Supplies were already there. Since Donal wasn’t coming until tomorrow, he’d asked her to get everything organized.
He trusted her to do that and simply assumed she’d be working in the tent with him. The compliment was…everything.
<
br /> “Hey, Margery.” Jody, accompanied by her three mates, was loaded down with firewood and heading for one of the firepits set up around the meadow. “Let’s practice some takedowns tomorrow before breakfast.”
“Sounds good.” Margery smiled back as the males all nodded to her. And okay, she was just a little grateful that Tynan and Donal didn’t have another littermate. Although Daonain triplets weren’t uncommon, most times the third littermate was female.
Three males as mates? Margery grinned. You go, Jody.
As she walked, Margery saw shifters loaded down with blankets emerge from the path to the road. By tomorrow morning—when the festival officially started—everything would be in place. She’d been pleased when Vicki and Angie asked her to come and help set up. Being part of the community…she loved it.
“By the Gods, I hoped to find you here, banfasa.” The ugly note in a male’s voice brought her to a halt a second before she recognized who was speaking.
Pete, the Cosantir from Rainier Territory.
Two older males stood beside him, a slight aura of power around each. They were all Cosantirs.
Angie had mentioned that the attending Cosantirs hoped to have a meeting. But, cat-scat, why did Pete have to be one of them?
Stomach tightening, she nodded politely to Pete. One was never rude to a Cosantir. “Cosantir.”
“Margery.” The werebear was big-boned, slightly pudgy, and his yellow-gray hair was receding. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “How is North Cascades Territory treating you?”
“Everyone has been wonderful.” She took a sideways step. “I need to go and—”
“You need to return to my territory. North Cascades already has a healer, a powerful one. Skilled shifters should be spread out, especially banfasas and healers. Otherwise shifters die from lack of care. Some of our wounded can’t go to human hospitals, after all.”
She stiffened. “I won’t return to Rainier Territory. Ever.”
“You don’t have a choice. Calum can’t keep you if—”
“You treated me like a slave. After a decade as a captive, I won’t willingly enter another cage.”
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