Wolf Claim (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 3) (8 page)

His near sub vocal growl left her panties damp. God, she adored the thick-headed male, even if he drove her crazy. Maybe because he did. Frankly, she looked forward to yelling at the Alpha for interrupting what had promised to be an interesting discussion.

Their time was up. Dalton was within earshot. She refused to present anything but a united front to the Alpha of Hudson River.

Owen dropped one shoulder and angled his body in a manner so subtle that if she hadn’t been touching him, she wouldn’t have noticed. Accepting his invitation, she took a single step to face Dalton.

“Alpha.” Her wolf rose within her and, while she’d never possessed a particularly violent wolf or had any real struggle with her temper, the animal was as curious as she was disapproving. Assessing the Alpha, she found him different, but whether he had the strength to lead or to handle their presence with grace remained to be seen.

“Miss Whitford.” Brett Dalton’s deep voice was equal parts rough and cultured. “Welcome to Hudson River.” Instead of sweeping her up into a hug the way Mason would, he held out his hand, the tacit acknowledgement of a request rather than a command.

Point to him, but she wasn’t averse to making her feelings known either. “Please forgive me, Alpha, but I’m not feeling the kind greeting. Why the ambush? We were scheduled to meet you at your home.”

For his part, Owen said nothing, but he remained a tangible force at her side. Her wolf crouched within her, watching the Hudson River Alpha with wary anticipation.
Friend or foe?
He’d invited them, but she trusted Owen. If a fight broke out, he would kill the man in front of her as swiftly as he could. That left the six in the woods.

Dalton raised his eyebrows and kept his focus on her. Her attempt to hold his attention wasn’t meant to be more than a transparent ruse, and she didn’t give a damn what he thought of it. She bought Owen time and that was all that mattered. Releasing a slow breath, Dalton withdrew his hand and placed it over his heart. “You are correct, Miss Whitford. You were to meet me at my home, but a few minutes after I received Mr. Chase’s text announcing your nearness, we had another death. The wolf who passed was neither old nor in anyway infirm.”

Concern erased her irritation. “How far?”

Dalton gestured to the woods. “About a hundred fifty yards that way. I promise you, this wasn’t an ambush. One of my scouts spotted you two settling in to eat and brought me word. That said—” He lifted his gaze from her to Owen. “My apologies Hunter of Willow Bend. It was never my intention to begin a war, but time is of the essence and you are both here.”

The two men locked gazes, and their wolves took each other’s measure. In the space of three heartbeats, they’d settled the near fatal insult. “Understood. Give me the address and I’ll drive Gillian there.”

Bless Owen, he wouldn’t make an issue of it. Knowing how close they were sent a fresh wave of anxiety skating over her.

“I’ll ride with you.” He didn’t ask, but Owen didn’t seem to mind… much. Brett glanced behind him and whistled once. A man emerged from the woods and jogged in their direction. “Leave the food. We’ll clean it up and I’ll get you more after we’re done.”

Owen cupped her elbow, and she let him guide her back to the truck. Before he could open the door, Brett said, “Wait.”

She pivoted to face the Alpha, but couldn’t see him through the wall of Owen suddenly standing between her and the other wolf. Gillian refused to smile because it wasn’t funny, not when every tense, nerve wracking moment could lead to bloody conflict.

“I have a dozen of my wolves there. You both need my scent.” Dalton didn’t seem remotely bothered by Owen’s actions. When her steadfast knight refused to move, Gillian rolled her eyes and circled him.

The Alpha smiled at her, and the warmth of him crashed down around her. No one would ever mistake him for anything other than a deadly, powerful predator, even if he did look like a sophisticated beast. Deciding the only way to avert another pissing contest lay in simply taking the issue out of their hands, she held her hands out to Dalton, palms up. “We should be quick about it,” she said, keeping her tone brisk.

Accepting her offer, Dalton closed his hands over hers and drew her to him. She went, rising on her tiptoes and accepting the gentle kiss he brushed to her lips. “Welcome to Hudson River, Gillian Whitford. You are my guest and as such you may call upon me and mine for protection. No harm will come to you and any man, woman or wolf who raises tooth or claw in your direction shall feel mine.” The stubble on his cheek rasped hers as he pulled her in for a hug.

Behind her, Owen’s violence practically darkened the air. The energy of every Alpha was different, Emma had advised her of it before she left. Since Gillian had witnessed the fall and subsequent rise of two very different Alphas in Willow Bend, she wasn’t surprised at how odd the brush of Dalton’s wolf against her felt.

Inside, her wolf’s hackles rose as she sniffed cautiously. Neither cared for a strange scent covering them, but it was merely foreign and not unpleasant. Dalton stripped off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “If you wouldn’t mind, lady healer, wear this for a few hours. I want to be sure they know you’re mine.”

Oh. Crap.
 

This time, Owen didn’t bother to disguise his growl. He snapped a hand forward and with a speed Gillian hadn’t expected, Dalton moved her and intercepted Owen. The two men slammed into each other and stopped. Frozen to the spot, she could only watch as Dalton held Owen’s fist in a steely grip. Nothing about either man suggested give.

“To blood?” Dalton asked, his tone damn near polite despite the violence perfuming them both.

“Oh yeah.” With his acceptance of the terms, the two men unloaded on each other in a flurry of blows that left Gillian wincing. She’d seen her share of fights and, while they didn’t look like they wanted to kill each other, it was very close. Neither quite landed a full blow to the other’s face, though they both went for it.

A sound behind her had Gillian whirling, and she found the wolf Dalton had called watching the fight with his arms crossed and an amused smile on his face. “Hi there. You must be Gillian.”

Grunts. Meaty thwacks of fists slamming into ribs and Gillian flinched with each one. “Hello. I must be, yes.”

“I’m Marco.” The wolf gave her a sideways look, focusing on her rather than Owen or his Alpha. Lean, dark-skinned and trying to charm based on the lopsided nature of his smile.

“It’s nice to meet you, Marco.” Another thud followed by the sound of laughter filled the air. Gillian twisted around and found the two wolves shaking hands, before they exchanged a hard, back thumping hug. Owen’s lip was split and blood leaked from his nostril. Dalton’s knuckles were raw and broken. Both looked enormously satisfied. “Are we good now?”

The undamaged corner of Owen’s mouth curved into a faint smile, and he nodded to her. His attitude mattered more than Dalton’s reply. “We’re good. Now let’s go take a look at the body.” In an instant, Dalton’s blasé mood gave way to the real force of personality and Gillian was impressed.

He’d stuffed a lot of who he was down. He’d allowed the fight with Owen and she made no mistake—it had been an allowance. All of the testosterone poisoning aside, however, she agreed with him on one point. “Yes, please. I would also like to ask you some questions about the other bodies and that of your healer.” Asking for answers, not demanding them though she had the right was one way to show she respected his authority and felt for his loss.

Owen beckoned her around the truck, and she followed. At least the wild tension between the two men had dissipated. She caught Owen’s chin with her hand, holding him still with just two fingers because he allowed her. The damage was superficial, and a spark lit his eyes that had been missing since the trip began.

Satisfied he was well, she let him usher her into the backseat and pretended not to notice when he tugged the Alpha’s jacket off of her and stuffed it down on the floor. Biting the inside of her lip, she glanced at the passenger seat and met a measured amusement underlining the graveness in Dalton’s eyes.

All at once her humor vanished. Games were all well and good and Owen’s possessiveness soothed her battered ego, but wolves had died.

“Never stop laughing, little wolf,” Dalton said. As Owen put the truck into gear, she met his gaze in the rearview mirror.

Folding her arms, she gave them each a small smile, then said, “Tell me, please, what we are going to see when we get there?”

Like a flipping a switch, the scent from both men darkened. As protective dominants, they couldn’t help it, so she left them alone. “The wolf who died was a student. He’s just finished his first year at university and liked staying some distance from his parents. We saw him a week ago. Nothing was wrong with him.”

“And today?” Dread curled in her stomach the closer they drew to their destination. Dalton gave the directions and, while they had to follow the roads and make several turns, she recognized the trees as they wound along the opposite side of the woods of the rest stop.

“Today he simply died.” Dalton’s tone grew clipped. “No warning, no pull. One moment he was there, and the next he was gone.”

Dalton experiencing the loss didn’t surprise her. Alphas were tied to their pack. Even his packmates would have experienced a feeling of loss. “What about the others?”

“The other deaths?” He cut a look at her.

“Yes, but also your packmates. Did they feel the young man’s death, too?” On some level, the pack knew when a loss happened. A wave of sadness would ripple out. Sometimes the knowledge went with it. Bit-by-bit, even the most distant would know. Little could be kept truly secret in a pack and death didn’t even come close to being a private event.

The Alpha didn’t reply immediately, but she was patient. Even without Dalton to guide them, she would have known the house where the death took place. An isolated cottage occupied a narrow stretch of dirt road right off the farm road they traveled. More wolves waited for them—some shifted, some not. They had the house surrounded and a miasma of sadness clung to them.

“No,” Dalton answered finally. “I knew. They didn’t. They were surprised.”

Which explained the black note in his voice. No illness felled a wolf that swiftly. At least none she’d ever heard of.

After parking and shutting off the truck, the pair in the front exited, Owen moved his seat forward and offered his hand. Death lingered in the air, an empty, hollow scent drenched in sadness. Dalton strode forward, but Gillian called, “Wait, please.”

Surrounded by so many strangers, and bearing the weight of their curiosity, their grief and beneath it all, a sense of resentment, she dodged Owen and reached out to Dalton. “I know you want to show me and it’s one hundred percent your call, but I want to go in there alone, without the distraction of scents I don’t know.” So many wolves were present, a dozen or more were arriving. In the distance, behind a shelter of trees, a woman cried and a man’s voice tried to comfort her.

More than one member of Hudson River had red-rimmed eyes. No sooner had she approached the Alpha than another male surged toward her. Owen blocked him before he could get close.

“I would never…” She directed her words toward Dalton, but spoke to the whole pack. “Want to make you feel that I have no heart. You are all hurting, and I am so deeply sorry for your loss. But you asked me here for a reason, and I need to know if what we are facing is disease or something else. I might miss something if too many scents are in the way.”

Expressionless, Dalton studied her. Whatever he saw must have convinced him because he swept his gaze around the circle of the house. The wolves began to withdraw, backing away. “I cannot let you go alone, little wolf, nor do I think your protector allow will you to be out of his sight, but the others will stay back.” His orders were clear. “Take a moment,” Dalton told her. “Learn my scent, then use that beautiful gift and mind of yours to help me find what is hurting my people.”

"I will." Her hands trembled, but she fisted them. Holding on to her courage and her commitment, she nodded. “I promise.”

Chapter Five

Surprisingly, Owen didn’t object to her searching the house or examining the body. When she returned to the truck to pull out her medical kit, he stood by, patient and watchful. His presence grounded her and helped soothe her frazzled nerves. “Owen?”

He swung his head to glance at her. “Yes?”

“Whatever happens in there, don’t touch anything, okay? Also, I want you and Brett to wear these.” She passed him a surgical mask. He eyed it with distaste, but accepted it.

“Scent is one of our primary hunting tools.”

“I know. If whatever is in there is airborne, chances are every wolf who has been inside could be infected. But humor me?” She was every bit as protective and possessive as him. Keeping him safe was important.

“As you wish,” he said with a long exhale. “Are you ready for this?”

“No.” She didn’t want to lie. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail, she secured it then slid surgical gloves on to her hands. Bag in hand, she headed for the house with Owen and Brett right behind her. The front door stood open and she nudged it open, pausing just inside to test the air.

Death possessed a signature scent. A hollow, lonely odor, it also carried the markers of the person who died as though an echo of their life remained imprinted on an area. This, too, would eventually pass, but the recent nature of the event meant she smelled what was left of his life as well as his death.

No distinct hints of copper discolored the air. Walking inside, she studied the room. It was a basic little house, decorated simply with an air of spartan living. Or maybe the occupant simply hadn’t been home much. No body waited for her in the living room. She caught nuances of other wolves—whether the visitors had been there earlier with the pack after his death or prior to it didn’t matter. At least four or five people had been inside.

“He’s upstairs,” Brett told her without waiting for her to ask the question. Following his directions, she climbed the stairs and followed the scent of death into the master suite bedroom. The wolf lay on the bed, sprawled on his back with only a partial sheet to cover his nudity.