Wolf Claim (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 3) (12 page)

“No. Hatcher was going to test him next year.” Grief darkened the Alpha’s voice.

Further enlightenment dawned and Owen folded his arms. He would stand here all night and into the next day if Gillian needed him to, then he would see to her care. “A healer?”

“Perhaps. He shows all the signs—the need to care for others, he’s not aggressive with the other males in his year group.”

“And they aren’t aggressive with him.”

“Exactly.” Unusual enough to spark a comment and one of the first signs of a true healing gift in the young. They slid outside the pack order, often inspiring protectiveness in all around them.

“You realize Gillian or Emma would gladly train him when the time comes.” It was speaking out of turn, but Dalton’s pack had been dealt body blow after body blow. The Alpha’s only concern had been for his people, and he’d accepted disrespect and aggression from Owen in the process.

“Perhaps. If Mason still wants anything to do with Hudson River after this.”

Maybe Dalton hadn’t gotten to know Mason all that well during the Willow Bend Alpha’s time as a Lone Wolf amongst his pack. Owen didn’t question or offer him a response. What went on between the Alphas went on between them. But Gillian was wrapping up and the boy began to wipe his face before standing.

His Gillian wouldn’t abandon a child in need, nor a healer potential. She had the damndest habit of getting what she wanted.

“I think it’s only fair that we’re clear on one subject before she rejoins us.” Brett said, reminding Owen he still stood there.

“And that would be?”

“I have every intention of claiming that beautiful wolf if you don’t.”

With a jerk, Owen faced him. “Excuse me?”

“No,” Brett said, his expression unreadable. “I don’t think I will. She’s a fine wolf, perhaps the finest I’ve ever met, and I’ve known her less than a day. Consider yourself warned.”

Gillian trotted up in that moment and rubbed against Owen’s leg. He dropped his hand to stroke her head automatically. His gaze still locked with Brett’s, Owen didn’t disguise his rising wolf.

Alpha and confident, the other wolf didn't flinch away. He'd made his desire plain and clear both wolf-to-wolf and man-to-man. He could want Gillian all he liked. 

No way in hell would Owen let him have her.

Challenge accepted.
 

Chapter Seven

The aggression between Owen and Brett had risen again, surpassing any she’d experienced over the years. Whatever had rubbed the two men the wrong way toward each other, she didn’t know and found herself hard pressed to care. Every muscle in her body ached. Shifting had helped, overcoming the last of the anesthetic effects. Her healing gift still seemed to be overdrive, heat flushing out to her extremities and she didn’t fight the energy bleed. Not when she was finally awake and freed from the nightmarish darkness holding her captive.

A shudder rippled over her and she stumbled at the steps to Brett’s house. Owen steadied her with a hand while she leaned against his leg. Leaving Hatcher’s place probably hadn’t been her best idea, but she needed to get away from the smell of death and poison. She’d nearly died and was vividly aware of the fact.

I fought death…and won.
The thought played like musical lyric through her mind and, if she’d been human, she would have giggled. As it was, she settled for a sneeze and resumed her wobbling pace up the steps and through the door Brett had braced open.

“Are you hungry, little wolf?” The Alpha’s strength had flowed into her while she’d lain on that bed. The strength of two alphas—Mason through her connection to the pack and Brett’s because he’d shared with her. His energy seemed intent on replenishing the punishing cost of her recovery and shift, leaving her bathed in his scent.

Another reason to shower. She liked Brett, she truly did, but she and her wolf didn’t want to wear his scent. No, they wanted… She paused at the base of the steps leading up and glanced at Owen. He’d halted behind her, his attention on Brett. A growl rumbled through her.

What was wrong with the man that he was so focused on Brett? The Hudson River Alpha was
not
their enemy. As soon as she could, she had to remind him of the efforts he’d taken on her behalf.

Then again, maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he hadn’t realized the full weight of the pack’s presence and how they’d all been willing energy to her. She’d sensed it in the darkness, a second tether helping her to follow the trail back to herself. Just as she’d sensed Owen, the anchor keeping her from going too far. Mason might have been a distant guiding star, because of the miles separating them, but she’d felt them all.

Willow Bend and Hudson River united in one goal—giving her the strength to return to them.

She sneezed. The men’s low-volume conversation halted and they switched their attention, facing her. The change in their posture afforded her the opportunity to really study Owen.

He looked like hell. Deep grooves lined the corners of his eyes, and a grayish cast blanched his normally tanned skin. Even his irises seemed duller, lacking their normal gleam. When she continued to stare, he took a step forward. “Need a hand getting up the stairs?”

Her initial reaction—
no, I am capable of making my way up the stairs—
didn’t match with her desire to take care of Owen and in turn have him with her. Considering she’d stumbled on the steps to the porch, they probably weren’t accurate either. One nod was all it took, her Hunter crossed to the stairs and lifted her into his arms. He cradled her perfectly without pinching her tail or twisting her legs.

Surrounded by strength, she let her eyes close to half and relaxed. Without a word Owen carried her up, directly to the guest room she’d claimed their first day in Hudson River. She didn’t wonder how he’d known which one to go to, since her bag was lying open on the untouched bed. He bypassed the bed and carried her into the bathroom, settling her onto the floor with absolute gentleness.

“I’ll start the shower warming for you,” he told her, his hand lingering on her neck. “Then leave you to it.”

The first part sounded wonderful, but when he said leave, she wanted to scowl. After he twisted the water on and it began to pour, he headed for the door. A shift took time and, by the time she finished, he’d be out the door and down the stairs, so she blocked him by cutting across his path.

He halted immediately and frowned, but when he spoke his voice was soft. “What is it?”

Don’t leave.
She didn’t want to be alone. Worse, she didn’t want to be without Owen. Torn between how to tell him and getting him to sit still long enough to listen, she trotted out of the bathroom and nudged the bedroom door shut. He followed at a more cautious pace and when she nosed the door handle.

“I can lock you in if you want, sweetheart. No one is going to bother you.”

If she’d been able to, she would have rolled her eyes. Really, what did she have to do? Twisting away from the door, she charged him and leapt. He caught her easily, and she licked his face. Owen’s stern visage gave way to a smile and he chuckled. The sound rolled over her like warm whiskey, hot and inviting. She loved the sound of his laughter.

Nuzzling him again, she demanded a second reward and this time his laughter came from a deeper place, rumbling in his chest. She wiggled in his arms, delighted with the sound. He sat down on the bed and scratched her between the ears and down her back. Tail wagging, she nuzzled him again and he sighed, some of the mirth draining out of him.

Whimpering at the change in his scent, she rubbed her head against his jaw until he scruffed her with a careful hand again. Ducking his head slightly, he met her gaze. “You don’t want to be alone, but you have no idea what you’re asking if you make me stay in here.”

Really?
Why did she have to love such a thick-headed, stubborn mule?
Because he’s mine.
Well, he wasn’t, not yet, but she wanted him to be. Had wanted him for as long as she could remember and his walking away had hurt her. She’d clung to those hurt feelings and instead of pursuing him, she’d gone home to lick her wounds.

Not this time.

At her second whimper, he released her. She hopped down and trotted to be near the door. It flew in the face of everything in Owen, she knew this. She would be in a dangerously vulnerable state right next to the door—but it would keep him from leaving.

She hoped.

“Gillian,” he encompassed her name with a whipcord of strength and she looked to him obediently. “Don’t.”

Her lips peeled back and she bared her teeth at him.
Stubborn man, why not?
 

 
“I’m not an idiot, you deserve so much more than me. Hell…” He rose from the bed and came to squat down in front of her. “If he wasn’t Alpha here, and you could take him home, I’d let Brett make good on his offer.”

Sneezing, she glared at him.

“Yeah, that was a lie.” His mouth set into a hard line, and he growled somewhere low in his throat. The sound wasn’t one of anger, but frustration. “You need to shower and rest.”

No. Just no
. He rose to his feet and took a step toward the door and she closed her eyes. The wolf released her and she rushed back to herself. The pain of the shift, a blessing and a curse, blissful and excruciating in equal measures. Rushing it cost her even more energy than she had in her depleted reserves, but she couldn’t allow him to walk away from her.

Not again.

The change took a long time, too long. By the time she made it to human, she was on her hands and knees, panting for all she was worth. Owen didn’t touch her once during the brutal time it took her to resume her humanity, but he also didn’t leave.

Still gasping for air, she wasn’t prepared for him to scoop her up. He cradled her to his chest and pressed his lips to her forehead. Clinging to him, she dug her fingers into his shoulder.

“Are you all right?”
Concern.
Yes, he was definitely concerned. Beneath all that testosterone and grim protectiveness, she scented his arousal.
Oh thank God.
If he’d truly not wanted her, well, she’d have to give in on that point. But he did. He wanted her. So if that meant she needed a fight to give in to their feelings, then a fight she’d give him.

Somehow
.

“I’m all right.”
Well, not really
. She was weaker than a cub and if he hadn’t been holding her, she might be lying on her face in the carpet. Yet… Wait, he
was
holding her. He cradled her with such utter gentleness. Raising her chin, she glanced up to find his wolf in his eyes. She loved his wolf, nearly as much as she loved Owen himself. Stoic, powerful beings who brought unflinching steadiness and shelter.

Never did she worry or feel fear when he was around. Not even lost in the dark pit of the poison had she been afraid. Owen had been there, holding fast to her, keeping her grounded.

“Gillian,” he began, but silenced when she pressed her fingers to his lips.

“I asked you once to share my bed.” Her face heated at the memory and at the soul-curdling ache of his walking away without a word. She’d nursed and clung to the hurt, but no more. She’d damn near died and maybe he hadn’t fully comprehended what she’d wanted. Maybe she hadn’t understood what she asked him for, but now she did.

Tonight she knew exactly what, and whom, she wanted.

Bracing herself for rejection, she threw caution to the wind. No more subtle word plays or vague invitations. “I don’t just want you tonight, Owen. I need you. Don’t go. Stay with me, shower—touch me. Be
with
me.” She swallowed at the scorching heat in his eyes. Stroking her finger along his lower lip, she teased herself with the silky strength. Nothing about him was soft. Not even the erection she could feel beneath her bottom. A good sign. It had to be a good sign. “Yes I want to be your lover, but that’s not all I want. I love you, Owen.”

Shock widened his eyes and his expression tensed. His scent confused the hell out of her. How could he be excited and devastated in the same moment? Had her battle with the poison screwed up her senses somehow?

He sighed, shuddering once. Closing his hand around her nape, he growled. “I can’t just be your lover, Gillian.”

Her heart sank.

“I could not be. My feelings for you aren’t casual.”

Hope buoyed her.

“I don’t want casual,” she told him, laying her hand against his cheek. His stubble rasped against her palm. “I—”

“You aren’t getting it, sweetheart.” His voice was so raw, she ached for him. “You deserve better than me. Someone younger. Someone…”

“I’m sorry, what?” Gillian blinked, her sympathy dissipating as his statements sank in.

“You deserve someone your own age. I’m too old for you.”

She slapped him right upside his head and Owen blinked, shock reappearing in his taciturn expression. “I’m three years younger than you, methuselah. How close to my age do you think you need to be?”

He growled. “That’s not the point. You still deserve someone better. Someone…who will be there.”

Mystified, she stared at him. “Be where?”

“With you.” He shook his head. “Gillian you’ve had a very long day. You’re exhausted. You need rest.”

“Maybe all of that is true, but I also need
you
.” The hell with it, she’d already thrown caution to the wind. Leaning in she nipped his lower lip and when his mouth opened, she fused hers to his. He didn’t move, but she was aware of him on every level. His hand on her neck, his free hand on her hip, the heat of his body through his clothes warmed her. The deep woods of home and pure masculine temptation in one wild package, she could drown herself in him.

With a groan, he took control of the kiss and possession of her mouth. His tongue thrust against hers and she scrambled closer, surrendering eagerly. Ages had past since anyone kissed her, really kissed her. Owen did more than kiss, he devoured her like a man so starved and she softened, desperate to give him everything.