Her Wanted Wolf (31 page)

“Don’t get too comfortable with that thought. Remember, we agreed this
was a temporary mating. It’d make no sense for me to become entrenched in the
Lunedare clan.” She shrugged off his arm and started to stalk away from him. He
caught up with one long lope.

“We can amend our agreement.” He tugged at her arm and she stumbled
against his chest. “Especially since our parts fit together so well.”

A thought occurred to her. She knew so little about him. “Just how old
are you?”

“Ninety human years. I have a couple of centuries to chase you through
the woods yet. I’m not going to die and leave you a frisky widow.”

Well, for Heaven’s sake, she’d mated with a cub. “I have ten on you. You
should show more respect for your elders.”

“That’d make you a cougar.” The devilish gleam was back in his eyes.

“A what?” Pursing her lips, she tiled his head to the side. Sabine was
beginning to wonder if he baited her deliberately with terms she didn’t
understand.

He let out a snorting laugh at her. “A woman who takes a younger lover. I
can be your boy toy.”

Rolling her eyes, she pushed at his chest. “I need to check on my father,
I have neglected him.” Sabine stopped in her tracks and lifted her head to read
an amalgam of spoors that caught her attention.

Drew turned his head to the thicket of trees as Rafe broke through them,
followed closely by Ishbel. Sabine scented other weres waiting a short distance
away.

“What’s up, Rafe?” Drew inquired.

“Just wanted to fine tune the orders you gave me last night.” His
aggrieved gaze shifted to Ishbel who leaned against a tree with a disdainful
expression on her face. Sabine swung her gaze between the two weres. Ishbel was
trying to do her best to appear nonchalant under the fore-fighter’s
disapproving glare, but the peppery odor of her irritation was hard to ignore.
The undercurrents between Rafe and Ishbel crackled like lightning before a bad
storm.

“The Silverwolves are having a little difficulty adjusting to the new
order of things. Your mate’s sister insists on consulting with her,” Rafe spat
out, his lips tight with his own anger.

Drew nodded heavily. “Been there, man. Leave it alone for now. I want each
of the Silverwolves paired with a fore-fighter, as a fighting duo.”

“I hope to hell you aren’t thinking of pairing a Silverwolf with Adrian.
You might have thrown a hitch in his stride, but he’s still dangerous.”

“You shouldn’t. He doesn’t smell right.” Sabine interjected.

“What do you mean,” Drew asked, eyes narrowing with hard probing
suspicion.

She shrugged. “He carries Redmaven spoor, but he didn’t get it from
direct contact.”

Drew and Rafe exchanged a glance. “Shit, I don’t have the time to deal
with him now. I guess we’ll keep him too busy to cause any mischief. I’m going
to tap Enzi and Salvator to handle the training of the new fore-fighters. We’ll
be doing mock exercises with the Silverwolf women.”

Rafe’s mouth dropped open for a second. Then he threw back his head and
laughed. When he finally got control of himself, he looked a Drew with
appreciation. “You are a mean, devious son-of-a-bitch. Adrian might prefer it
if you’d just put him down and be done with it. Those two Neanderthals will run
him into the ground.”

Curiosity got the better of Sabine. “Care to share the joke?”

“Those old weres are what you might call old school. They think along the
same lines as your father, without the intellectualization. Were before man, is
their motto.” Drew informed her. “They think we’ve gone soft.”

“You’re hardly what I’d call soft,” she said in his defense.

“Yeah well, I’m a pussycat compared to those two. When you meet them,
stay downwind. The use of soap and water is a cardinal sin in their opinion.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Sabine murmured. “Your cousin reeks of
treachery, he will come at you.”

“That’s why I’m tucking him away for now.” Drew grinned, his smile almost
Machiavellian. “If you were the alpha of your pack, who would you consider the
primo of your fore-fighters?”

“Ishbel of course,” she replied without hesitation. Sabine looked up at
her with pride. Her sister could hold her own in a skirmish.

Drew fixed his attention on the silent Ishbel “What are her strengths?”

“It’d be better if you asked me what her weaknesses were, though I can’t
think of any. She has the full complement of Silverwolf gifts, she’s a skilled
fighter and the best tracker in my family.”

“You never mentioned it before.”

She shrugged. “It didn’t come up.”

“Then she’ll be paired with my primo, Rafe. He takes point on
reconnaissance. Ishbel’s skills will complement his.” Drew ignored the harsh
indrawn breaths by the pair. Sabine looked at her sister to gauge her reaction.

Ishbel’s eyes flashed cold fire in Rafe’s direction. “Sabine, we have a
slight complication with Drew’s plan.” Ishbel motioned with her head, an
indication she wanted a private word with her.

“Let me guess, Ala’s lover could have a problem with her being paired
with a male were.” Drew interjected, before Sabine could respond.

Ishbel looked to her, and she gave her a small nod. “Yes.”

Drew shook his head. “What’s Tija like in a fight?”

“Vicious.” Sabine and Ishbel said at the same time. They shared a grimace
of commiseration, having come away aching more than once from practicing with
Tija.

Sabine added. “We usually hunt in triads. Ishbel tracks, Tija is muscle,
and I mask scent. She’s ferocious and unrelenting, great to have at your back,
but she has a bit of a temper.”

“Will Ala fight? There is a gentleness about her that could handicap us
in a blood battle.” Drew’s intuitive understanding of her younger sister came
as a relief.

“I wouldn’t put her on the front lines, but if you want to camouflage a good
number of weres she’d manage that beautifully. They are a good team, Tija for
claw and fang if needed, Ala for concealment.”

“I have to ask,” Rafe interrupted. “How does that work exactly? I know
the Redmavens won’t smell our approach, but will we be able to smell them
coming? I like to know the position of my opponents. And how long will you be
able to conceal our presence?”

Sabine contemplated him for a moment. She’d never had to put into words
something that came so naturally to her. “We can mask scent in several ways. We
can blanket an area to throw off the wolf or wolves chasing us so they can’t
find our scent trail. Or we can form a protective cone around a place or a
group of people you want to protect or hide. If you are within the circle, your
senses aren’t affected. Those beyond its perimeter will pass you by and never
pick up a whiff of your spoor. It can backfire because the loss of their sense
of smell alerts a were something is not quite right. How long the effects
linger, that depends on wind velocity. Rain can also diffuse the pheromones we
emit, but we can reinforce the barrier as needed. We can send message through
our scent that only a Silverwolf can read.”

“Amazing,” Rafe murmured. “Your plan will work if everybody acknowledges
the chain of command.” His eyes shifted to Ishbel who opened her mouth.

Drew interjected quickly. “Pair Ala with Dex. Tija shouldn’t feel
threatened by him. Put Jordan with Tija, he has a cool head. They’ll be
sensitive to Tija’s qualms because they are a couple too. Work them as a
quartet for now until you smooth out the kinks. The last four women should be
easy to match up. We’ll go on several forays into the forest during the day to
get accustomed to each other’s run patterns.” Drew instructed. “At night we’ll practice
with the rest of the pack. Divide our forces into two groups. Half the pack
will act as hunters. Sabine and her pack sisters will do their thing, and the
rest of us will practice evading the other half of our fighting force with
them. We’ll switch off until we get used to working with the Silverwolves.”
Drew’s eyes met hers seeking her agreement.

It was a good plan, and Sabine appreciated him including her in the
decision-making. She nodded her acquiescence. “I’ll go confer with my pack
sisters, check on Balthazar, and work out the details with the women about
their new freedoms.”

“I’m going to take a run up to the cave Enzo and Salvator have marked as
their personal den. I should be back in a couple of hours.” He brushed her
cheek with his knuckles, picked a twig out of her hair, and twirled it in his
fingers.

Their eyes met and his warmed, as her cheeks did remembering how she got
those twigs in her hair. “Try not to start a revolution while I’m gone, will
you.”

“No revolutions, but maybe I can manage a small rebellion or two,” she
shot back and moved to join her sister.

“I’m serious, Sabine,” he called after her.

Let him wonder. He deserved it for threatening her with the women of his
pack.

She didn’t look back and pulled a simmering Ishbel with her. There was a
story here and curiosity was killing her.

* *
* *

Drew watched the women take off at a trot. They gathered speed. Their
bodies blurred and shimmied into silver streaks, morphing into wolves.

The coming weeks were going to be tough as the dangers compounded. Word
of the Silverwolves’ reemergence from obscurity was bound to spread through the
packs. He didn’t fool himself that the news wouldn’t reach Bardo’s ears.

His wolf’s protective instincts roared to the forefront of his psyche. He
had to protect Sabine at all costs, and the idea of asking Rafe to be his
sec
flitted through his mind. Asking a strong were to form a ménage à trois for
your mate’s protection if you died in battle was a declining custom. He’d done
the same for Justice when Saffa was in jeopardy. His were railed at the idea of
another alpha wolf in their bed. A savage possessiveness flooded him. Now he
had an inkling of what Justice went though.

Drew didn’t have a problem with Sabine experimenting sexually, but to
give another were the right to put his hands on her before he had a full claim
on her was another matter. The idea died as swiftly as it formed. Besides, Rafe
wanted Sabine’s sister and that was a little too kinky.

Drew sized up his primo, who, to judge by the bunched muscles in his jaw
and the banked fury in his eyes, was more than a little pissed. “Want to tell
me what the hell is going on with you and Ishbel?”

“Not a damned thing, unfortunately,” Rafe growled out. “Crap, she has my
balls in a bind.”

Drew slapped his back in sympathy. “Turned you down flat, did she?”

“As a pancake. Can’t say I like the feeling.” Rafe frowned darkly.
“What’s with these Silverwolf women? Ever since I got a whiff of her, I’ve had
a hard-on.”

“Addictive isn’t it, but it didn’t stop you from drilling a pair of
she-wolves last night.” Drew’s left brow rose.

Rafe grinned, not in the least bit ashamed. “Saw that, did you? Figured
I’d show her she wasn’t going to lead me around by the nose.” Rafe shook his
head. “Besides, it was either that or cause a ruckus with the pair she slept with
last night to figuratively give me the finger. I’ll bide my time.”

“Well, let’s go run off your frustration.”

Drew shifted. He was home and he’d savor every second of it until he was
forced to leave again. He put his face into the wind, breathed in the familiar
scents marking his territory, and took off in a muscle-stretching lope with
Rafe hot on his heels. One by one, he heard his fore-fighters fall in behind
them, and he set a pace that would satisfy the were who always tugged at his
human to let it run free.

* *
* *

Aimee sat on the rolling deck and watched the shoreline. The buildings
clustered together in the small inlet, miniaturized by distance, were a
picturesque example of a fishing village. The docks were busy with people going
about their business. Eyes gritty from the strain, she studied each man, hoping
to catch the familiar contours of her mate’s body.

Micah was late. She tried not to worry, but she was as fidgety as a
turkey on the third Wednesday in November.

A continuous flume of water approaching from further up the coast drew
her attention. Aimee held her breath, willing it to be Micah. She squinted
against the glare of the too bright sunlight bouncing off the water. It didn’t
take her long to recognize Micah, and she sagged with relief.

The raft skipped over the waves in a jerky race toward the trawler.
Whipped by the wind, Micah’s jet-black hair glistened in the sun. His unsmiling
mouth hinted he wasn’t bringing good news. The outboard motor’s hum pulled the
Redmavens, who waited with the same anxiety as she did, to the rail. The motor
cut off and the small craft sidled to the side of the boat where it bumped and
wavered on the choppy water.

Agile as monkeys, the men scrambled up the rope ladder and boarded the
boat. Micah’s nostrils flared as his eyes zeroed in on her. He waded through
the curious family crowding around for news and wrapped his arms around her.

“Did you get a hold of your brother?”

She shook her head. “No service out here.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” she looked at him, dreading his reply.

Micah turned to face his family milling about. “The men who were supposed
to meet us didn’t show. I figure they were caught…” His voice trailed off
leaving the fact that in all likelihood that they were dead, unsaid. Shoulders
hunched, Micah dropped his eyes to the sun-bleached deck.

“We knew the risks we were taking when we chose to break away from Bardo,
Micah.” One of the men spoke up over the fraught silence. “What is our next
move?”

“I’ll be making a couple of forays into Savannah. I need to take out
Rifkin and locate Milo before Bardo hits town with his fore-fighters. I’ll be
going alone.”

An icy fist clutched at Aimee’s heart. “Alone? You can’t go alone.”