Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1) (5 page)

Kirra eyed the “bed” he’d set up. The top layer was a silver emergency blanket, folded back to show a strip of the cream wool blanket underneath. A second emergency blanket acted as the groundsheet. It looked wonderful. She put her palm flat on the ground to push herself to her feet, but Marcus scooped her up in his arms before she could move.

“Bare feet,” he reminded her.

“Oh. Thanks.” In his arms, she felt delicate and light as a feather. But not insubstantial. Not worthless. Valued. It was crazy. She barely knew him. 

He set her on the bed, and Kirra burrowed under the covers. “Where are you going to sleep?” she asked. “Am I using up all the blankets?”

“Don’t worry about us. That’s why we have fur—natural insulation. Jackson has probably already shifted. Don’t freak out when you see two Wolves walking around in the morning.”

“Wolves. Morning. Don’t freak out. Got it.” She was fading fast. “Night, Marcus. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“S
he’s a problem,” Jackson said, scowling across the clearing. All he could see of the human was her silky hair sticking out of the bundle of blankets she huddled under. It was enough to annoy him.

Marcus lounged against the skinny trunk of a birch and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem like much of a problem to me. Hasn’t whined or complained once.”

“No. Instead she demands things.”

“Would you rather she complain?”

Jackson opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. It was a trick question. He’d been partnered with Marcus long enough to recognize when he was about to walk into a verbal trap. The man had a way with words. A tricky way. Some days he really missed his old partner, Ash. They could go for days without speaking. Never argued once. Why the alpha had decided to split them up was beyond him. Something about balancing out personalities. What a load of crap.

“I would rather she tell us why the soldiers were after her and why she wants to see the alpha,” he finally said, neatly dodging the trap. Marcus didn’t even seem to notice.

“She almost died, Jackson. She needs to rest and recover. We’ll be home soon enough, and the alpha will get all that information out of her.”

It was true, but for some reason it didn’t sit right in his gut. He imagined the alpha questioning her, grilling her, and had to bite back a growl of protest. He should be the one asking her questions and deciding what should be done, not the alpha. Not Marcus. Him.

Marcus was still talking, but Jackson tuned him out. He needed to wipe his head of the crazy thoughts invading. “I’m going back out,” he said, stripping off his clothes. “I’ll wake you in two hours.”

His shift was fast and brutal, the pain of transformation ripping through him in one short, sharp burst. In his Wolf form, he took a deep breath of the crisp night air, hoping to clear his senses. Instead, he was hit with Kirra’s clean, naturally seductive scent. It filled his nose and invaded his body like a drug.

He wanted to roll over and have his belly rubbed. A growl of protest built in his throat, and he sprinted into the woods before Marcus sensed his distraction. If the man laughed, he’d have to kill him.

The hours passed slowly. There was no sign that the Cats had followed—he hadn’t truly thought they would break the treaty over a human, but he had to be sure. If Marcus would break it to save a human, the Cats might if they wanted to kill her badly enough.

The thought of Kirra at the mercy of the Cats set his pulse pounding in his ears and his vision blackened at the edges. What if they’d snuck around while he was checking their back trail? They could have taken Marcus by surprise.

He ran through the woods, leaping rocks and rotten tree trunks and dodging through narrow gaps, ignoring the branches that scraped his sides, trying to hold him back. By the time he reached the camp site, his lungs burned and his sides heaved.

Marcus, curled up by the fire in his Wolf form, sprang to his feet, cocking his head in question. Still huddled under the blankets, Kirra didn’t stir.

She was fine. They were fine. His breath steadied, and he padded forward, nudging Marcus away from the fire. He could take his turn in the woods, worrying about what he’d left behind.

Marcus hitched his shoulders in the canine equivalent of a shrug and left.

Jackson settled on his haunches, studying the human. Kirra. She was a puzzle. He’d met and dealt with humans. As a senior enforcer, he’d been present at many council meetings when the alphas dealt with human representatives, negotiating trade deals and laws.

He’d had to go into human lands twice on business, and the way he was treated like a second-class citizen had left a bad taste in his mouth. People—men and women—had looked at him with a mixture of fear, disgust, and curiosity. Two women had actually approached him and indicated they’d mate with him because they wanted to be with an animal. They’d had masks of interest on their faces, but they’d stunk of fear and greed, not arousal. It had turned his stomach. Between the people and the constant pounding headache he’d had, he had no desire to go back to such a place.

Kirra didn’t show fear, and she didn’t smell of it either. She wasn’t afraid of him. When he’d held her in his hands, he’d been afraid he’d bruise her; she was so delicate compared to him. And her skin was so soft.

A strange sound came from the blankets, and he went over to investigate. The light from the fire was enough to see that Kirra’s eyes were still closed. Her teeth, however, weren’t. They were chattering nonstop, and her body was vibrating. He pressed his nose against her cheek. Cold. Ice-cold.

He glanced at the fire, but it was too far to drag her there. If he wanted to move her, he’d have to wake her up or shift. Neither seemed practical. But if he didn’t, she’d end up with hypothermia, and maybe die. Humans were fragile that way.

The alpha would be upset if she died before she told him whatever her news was. And he’d blame Jackson.

He grasped the edge of the top two blankets with his teeth, ignoring the awful feel and metallic taste of the emergency blanket, and pulled them down. Kirra rolled onto her side, mumbling a protest when the cool air hit her exposed body. Jackson settled in at her back and pulled the blankets back up as best he could from that awkward position. He gave up when Kirra turned toward his heat and burrowed close, digging her hands into his fur and pressing her face into the curve of his neck. Jackson held himself still, not daring to move an inch for fear she’d move away.

She needed to stay warm. The alpha would be upset if she died.

B
right light was shining in her eyes. Eyes clamped shut, Kirra rolled over, tugging the blanket over her head. Just a few more minutes of sleep and she’d get up. Something—a rock?—poked her in the side, and her blanket was strangely crunchy in her hand. Reluctantly, she cracked one eye open.

A massive wolf sat on his haunches not ten feet away, staring at her.

She sat up with a start, biting back a scream. Marcus’s words rushed back to her. Wolves. Morning. Don’t freak out. It was only Marcus. Or Jackson. She hoped it was Marcus. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t bite her head off. Jackson, she wasn’t as sure about. Other than to accuse her of being a murderer and a spy, and to growl at her about attracting predators, he’d barely spoken a word. And every time he looked her way, his brow burrowed and a vein in his temple throbbed. A nervous tic couldn’t be far behind.

“Good morning,” she said. Did they understand English in their Wolf forms? She had no idea. Why didn’t she know something so basic? He got to his feet and cocked an ear in her direction, and she braced her hands against the ground, ready to lunge up and run at the slightest hint of threat. 

When he didn’t make a move beyond standing, she took the chance to study him. Huge was the word that sprang to mind. Way bigger than a regular, “real” wolf would be. He stood around three feet tall at the shoulders and was at least five feet long, not including the tail that looked sturdy enough to knock her off her feet. Deep walnut-brown fur shined in the sunlight, making her want to dig her fingers in to see if it was as soft as it looked.

“Hello, Jackson,” she said. Somehow, she just knew it was him. “Where’s Marcus?”

The Wolf’s head jerked to the left, and a full minute later, she heard light footsteps approach. She’d always thought her hearing was decent, but the Wolf’s—Jackson’s—put hers to shame.

Marcus stepped into the clearing in human form, dressed in his jeans and a snug white tee. He even had boots on his feet. His hair was brown, but not the walnut-brown that Jackson’s was. His was more of a mahogany shade. Would his fur be the same rich color? Kirra shook her head at her frivolous thoughts. She’d never compared shades of brown in her life before, and now she was when she was supposed to be focused on saving her sister? She needed to get her priorities straight.

“You’re awake,” he said. “Great. We should probably get going soon. It’s almost noon.”

Almost noon? Kirra scrambled to her feet. “You shouldn’t have let me sleep in so late. What about the alpha? We’ve missed the morning meeting.” She gathered up the blankets, wadded them into a ball and tried to cram them in her pack. They wouldn’t fit.

“Slow down. Take a breath. The alpha will still be there, and you needed your sleep. There’s water by the fire if you want to clean up.” Marcus retrieved her boots and socks and handed them to her, taking the blankets in exchange. Thankfully, she’d packed synthetic sports socks, and they were dry as a bone. Cotton ones would have still been soggy. The blister on her foot stung when she slipped her boots on, but it was a dull pain, easy to ignore. 

A small pot full of water and a washcloth waited on the flat stone she’d used as a seat. Jackson disappeared, whether to scout ahead or to shift, she had no idea. Kirra took a deep breath and relaxed her jaw. Yelling at Marcus wasn’t going to turn back the clock, and he was right, she’d needed rest to repair and recharge. Francesca liked to say that being in top shape physically and emotionally was the first step to success. A delay of a few hours wasn’t the end of the world. She hoped.

As she scrubbed her face and hands with the cold water, bits and pieces of the night before came back in flashes. “Thanks for keeping me warm last night,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

“Hmm?” Marcus was busy folding up the blankets—something she should have done—and didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“I said thanks for sleeping beside me in your Wolf form last night. I remember freezing and then I was toasty warm. You project heat like a furnace.”

He shook his head. “I’ve been on guard duty for the last few hours.”

“Oh.” Had it been her imagination? She was sure she’d felt fur under her fingers and hot breath on her neck. If it hadn’t been Marcus, it must have been...

No. She must have imagined it.

***

“S
o, what do you do when you’re not being shot at and chased through the woods?” Marcus asked out of the blue. They’d been hiking for at least two hours, the sun was high overhead, and the footpath they’d followed the day before had ended, leaving them in the midst of dense trees, detouring around boulders and clambering over deadfalls every few minutes.

“I’m a content writer for the internet. I write articles for blogs and to generate traffic to websites,” she expanded at his blank look.

“What do you write about?” he asked.

“Oh, all sorts of things. Everything from the best way to store apples to how to save money buying a house.”

His eyes had already glazed over, but he was polite enough to try to continue the conversation. “Interesting. Do you enjoy it?”

Not really. Sitting in front of a computer and writing boring articles on boring subjects she couldn’t care less about drove her up the wall on a regular basis. It paid the bills, though, and more importantly, it was a job she could do from home and stay under the radar. At least she’d thought so. Blackstone had tracked them down somehow...

Kirra ducked under a branch Marcus pushed up out of her way. “It’s a job,” she finally answered. “Do you like your job? Being an enforcer?”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted to do,” he said. “I can’t imagine being anything else. I get to be out in the woods, protecting the pack and my family.”

Family. Her heart tripped at hearing the word, and not just because of Francesca. “What’s your family like?” she asked, when what she really wanted to ask was “Are you married?” There was no wedding ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean anything. Did shifters even wear rings? She searched her memory of any mention of it, but came up empty. Her appalling lack of knowledge about shifters was becoming more obvious with each passing hour.

His face lit up. “My family’s great. I haven’t seen my parents in a few years—they’re off somewhere in Europe, visiting where our ancestors came from, but my gran and older sister live here. And my brother-in-law and nephew, of course.”

They’d slowed while they talked, and Jackson, who’d been hanging back, caught up. Wearing jeans, heavy boots, and a plaid button-down shirt, he made her think of a stereotypical lumberjack. A really hot lumberjack. Kirra unzipped her jacket and flapped one side, trying to create a breeze. She was suddenly really warm. “Does your family live here too?” she asked.

His face, always serious, went stone cold. “I don’t have a family,” he said shortly.

“I’m so sorry,” Kirra said. His rigid manner told her not to pursue the subject, but the silence that fell was beyond awkward, and she felt she had to say something to fill the void. “I never knew my dad, and my mom died ten years ago,” she blurted out, then winced. Had that sounded whiney?

There was no change in his expression, but his gaze sharpened.

“I have a sister, though,” she said. “We’re always been close.”

“Is she like you?” Marcus asked.

“Not really. We don’t look anything alike. Francesca is beautiful—tall, blonde, fashionable—and insanely smart. She’s studying to be a biologist.” And she’d be one someday, if they ever had the chance to settle down long enough.