Heart of the wolf, p.37
Heart of the Wolf, page 37
Still, she welcomed the work. To create order out of chaos, to make numbers jump up and do her bidding—this was her crack. At least, here, she was in control.
Unfortunately, when it came to her emotions about Madoc, Niall, and André? Talk about a chaotic mess.
“How’s it going, Heather?” the booming voice of Nikolaou, the owner of Bullwhacker, made her jump.
She smiled at the stocky human with his extravagant gray-white mustache. “Your bookkeeper kept good records.” Nik had used the same accountant as the clan. Old Harold had been very competent. “Once I have everything gathered, we’ll look for ways to cut costs and find more deductions.”
“Exactly what I’m hoping for.” His gravelly laugh reminded her of Madoc. With a sweeping gesture, he set a glass of soda beside her.
“Thanks, Nik.” The gruff bar owner was a sweetheart.
She worked another hour before calling it quits. After putting everything away in her laptop bag, she stepped out of the office.
Still cool, the barroom held the lingering scent of stale beer. The Bullwhacker wouldn’t open for another hour or two.
In the back, Nik was talking to a couple of delivery men. “Yeah, someone tried to bash the poor guy’s head in last night.”
Are they talking about Ailill Ridge? Heather paused, eavesdropping like some snoopy feline.
One of the delivery men asked something, and Nik answered, “Local banker. Good guy. I don’t know who’d want to try to kill him.”
A banker. “Friedrich?” she called, crossing the room. “You mean Friedrich Schumacher?”
“Yeah, him.” Nik held up his hand. “No, he’s all right, missy. Ended up with a headache, but he dodged quick enough the shovel didn’t crack his skull open.”
“A shovel?” one of the humans repeated.
“He’d been planting daffodils and hadn’t put it away.” Nik tugged on his mustache. “We don’t usually have trouble around here. But last month, some bastard burned your cabin, Heather. Then after the police chief’s position goes empty, we hear a horrendous fight in the square. And last night, Murtagh’s grocery gets the window busted out, and Friedrich is attacked. Don’t know what the town is coming to.”
Heather frowned. The horrendous fight would be the hellhound attack. But the rest… Pete was behind her cabin fire. Was he also attacking the Elders—Murtagh and Friedrich?
She shivered at the thought of any shifter losing his way so badly as to try to kill other Daonain.
I need to call Ina and warn her. And André too. “I guess we better get a new police chief hired quickly.” No matter how annoying, it was good Bron was here.
“The sooner the better,” Nik agreed.
“Well, I should get going.” Reaching the door, Heather turned. “See you Monday, Nik.”
His loud voice, “See you then,” followed her out onto the street.
Frowning, she hitched her bag onto her shoulder. It would feel good to keep the Bullwhacker going. Maybe she should talk with Calum and get some small town bar ideas.
“Heather.” Talam’s high voice cracked to a lower one. Someone was reaching puberty.
He and Sky jogged toward her, leaving—Gods help her— Bron in the middle of the square. The cahir must have picked up the kids after school.
Smiling, Heather opened her arms and gave each cubling a good hug. Once the hellhound attack was further in the past, they’d undoubtedly return to being independent young teens. But for now, if they needed hugs, she had plenty to give.
“Look at that female. Always got the males around her.” The easy-going voice with a southern drawl came from a big tanned cahir with disheveled golden-brown hair and sharp green eyes.
Delighted, she laughed. “Alec!”
He caught her up in a hard hug before giving her a long assessing stare. “I heard about your cabin. Are you all right?”
“I’m okay, yes. Merely considering my options.”
“Of course you are.” The big cahir chuckled. Growing up, he’d teased her and his brother, Calum, about their insistence on being organized.
“What are you doing out of the North Cascades?”
“I came to see y’all’s trap. Ben and Ryder came with me in case you need help with construction and hellhound-proofing your buildings.”
“Ben and Ryder?”
The two strolled over, grinning at her. Ben was a massive grizzly cahir. His littermate, Ryder, was a shade darker and a couple inches shorter with shoulder-length black hair.
“Whoa.” She beamed up at the two and teased, “Are we stealing all the Cold Creek cahirs?”
“Gretchen was right.” Bron’s tone was as harsh as last night. “You’ll make a play for any of the Gods-called. Why don’t you get a damn job rather than sponging off my nephews?”
Heather let out an exasperated breath and turned.
Anger steamed off the female cahir. If Bron had been in fur, Heather might well have her throat torn out. Bron glanced at the Bullwhacker Bar, and her lip curled up. “Isn’t it a little early to be drinking? You’re a fine example to the cubs here. Or was there a cahir in there you were sniffing at too?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Heather considered ripping the female a new asshole. Then her gaze landed on Talam and Sky.
The cublings had gone pale. They sure didn’t need more violence to add to their stress. And they’d have to live with Bron until the female moved out.
Besides, having a spat in the middle of town was just plain stupid, as was using terms like cubs and cahir. What was the female thinking, anyway?
“Bron.” Heather’s carefully moderated tone wouldn’t carry to non-Daonain ears, “I hope you’re quite finished. Please do recall this is a mixed human and shifter town.”
Bron glanced at Alec, then Heather. “Let’s hope you keep your mating off the street, then.”
I have had enough. Heather’s simmering temper boiled over, and it was an effort to keep her voice low. “Cahir, you’re insulting not only me but your fellow Gods-called. You’re indiscreet and a disgrace to your calling.”
Bron’s color rose to dangerous levels. “You—”
“Pffft.” Heather turned away as dismay…and grief…filled her. Because her words had eliminated any chance of a friendly relationship with her loves’ aunt.
She paused only to squeeze the younglings’ shoulders and then walked away.
Now what was she going to do?
* * *
“No, Heather.” Talam started to run after her, but Bron grabbed his arm, then got Sky too.
Spinning, Talam kicked her leg hard, making her curse. Sky bit her at the same time. But she didn’t let them go—and by then Heather had disappeared.
Gone. Talam realized he had tears on his cheek—and he kicked the stupid female cahir even harder.
“Whoa, cub.” The big male Heather had hugged—the one called Alec—pulled Talam away from Bron. “I think the cahir received your message that you didn’t like what she said.” His voice went cold. “I didn’t either.”
Talam blinked.
A rumbling growl sounded kinda like Madoc’s, only it was from the really, really huge cahir. He’d taken Sky away from Bron.
All three of the males were pissed-off, not at Talam and Sky, but at Bron. Well, good.
“Heather was right. This isn’t the place for a discussion.” Alec’s green eyes seemed sharp enough to cut. “Walk with us, cahir.”
Bron’s jaw was hard, like she was going to keep spitting out nasty shit, but then she nodded. “Name’s Bron.”
“Alec.” The cahir motioned to the bigger male, then the shorter darker one. “Ben. Ryder. From the North Cascades. How about you, cub?”
Talam looked up.
Alec still had a hand on his shoulder. When he grinned, he kinda looked like he’d be a cool male to know. “Would you happen to have a name to share with me?”
Name? Oh. “I’m Talam—and he’s my brother, Sky.”
“Solid names.” The darker male who wasn’t a cahir gave them an approving nod. “Good to meet you.”
Alec’s hand stayed warm on Talam’s shoulder as they walked to the park. In a spot where there wasn’t anyone close, they all stopped.
“Now can you explain to me what just happened?” Alec frowned at Bron. “I do believe my mate might call it a royal goatfuck.”
Sky made a choked sound at the swear, and if he hadn’t still been so mad, Talam might’ve laughed.
Bron crossed her arms over her chest. “I came to help my nephews and discovered they have that…female…living in their house. Sponging off them. She’s another of the leeches who suck the life out of the Gods-called.”
“Rather harsh.” Ryder ran his hand over his jaw where he already had a beard shadow. Talam might have one like his someday.
“Just the facts,” Bron snapped.
“No, I’m afraid your facts are all messed up.” Alec had a different sorta voice. Soft and slow, but it reminded Talam of petting André when he was a werecat—all soft fur, but his muscles were like steel underneath.
Alec cocked his head. “You accused her of sniffing around cahirs—because she hugged me?”
Bron nodded.
Alec snorted. “Growing up, Calum and I ran around with her and her littermates. Now she’s best friends with our mate and caomhnor to our daughter.” He held up his arm, showing the lifemating bracelet.
Sky had inched away from the giant cahir—Ben—until he was beside Talam. He leaned over and whispered, “Isn’t Calum the Cosantir in the other territory?”
A flicker of Bron’s eyes showed she heard. Oops.
“Besties with our mate too.” Ben showed his wrist.
Bron’s mouth got all pinched like Sky’s did when he was gonna be a butthead. “She’s still sponging off my nephews.”
“Now, cahir, I’m doubting there’s any sponging going on.” Alec scratched his cheek. “Heather isn’t hurting for money.”
Ryder chuckled. “Hardly. She’s the one who taught me how to manage our investments. Since she recently sold her company for a whack ton of money, she could live the rest of her life without working at all.”
Bron stared. “She’s…rich?”
“Not billionaire rich, but yeah.” Ryder shook his head. “She’s one of the few shifters who had the control and big enough balls to get a college degree. She’s a CPA.”
“She’s doing the”—Talam searched for the word—“the books for the clan. An’ for Madoc’s restaurant.”
“The bar owner hired her to help him figure out how to save money,” Sky added. “She says she’s missed helping little businesses pros—prosper.”
“Small businesses,” Talam corrected.
“Yeah, that.”
“If she’s so well off, why is she staying with my nephews?”
“Ah, I heard why.” Ben’s laugh was almost a booming sound. “Margery, the banfasa, told our Emma the story. When Heather’s house burned and she was hurt, all her friends in Cold Creek were fighting to get her to stay with them, but one of your nephews won the battle. He told her, ‘We have your cat.’ ”
“Gotta appreciate a sneak attack like that,” Alec said.
“She had to stay with us.” Talam scowled at Bron. “Her arm was busted and in a sling, and she needed us to help her. It was our job.”
“Cuz we burned her house,” Sky whispered, looking at the grass.
“And you’re picking on her, and she doesn’t even have a house go to. Because of us.” When a sob sneaked out, Talam turned around, trying to rub the tears from his eyes.
“By the Gods.” Alec put an arm around him.
Talam shoved his wet face against the male. Would Heather really leave? The thought was an aching hole under his ribs.
“Cat-scat and wolf-piss.” Bron turned and stood staring at the creek.
Why didn’t anybody say anything?
After a minute, Talam straightened, trying to wipe his eyes. The Alec male let him move back a bit but kept an arm around Talam’s shoulders. It was almost like André was there.
When Bron turned back around, she looked like someone had kicked her in her belly.
Talam knew how that felt.
She went down on a knee in front of him and Sky. “Cubs, I’m sorry. It appears I was misled. Gretchen told me—”
Sky scowled. “Gretchen hates other females. Everybody knows she lies.”
“Gods-dammit.” Bron said under her breath. “I was wrong—way wrong. Your Heather didn’t deserve my words or the way I’ve been behaving.”
Talam turned his face away.
But his brother was nicer—he’d always been nicer. “Why? Why were you so mean?”
When Bron didn’t answer, Talam turned to look at her.
Hands on her knee, she stared at the ground and seemed almost old. And sad. “Most of my friends are cahirs. Even though the younger ones enjoy all the attention from the females, the older they get, the less they like it. Or they’ve been burned…”
“Burned?” Sky asked.
“Hurt,” Bron explained. “It’s what happens when a shifter falls in love, then learns his female only wanted his status and easy meals.”
“Heather’s not like that.” Sky didn’t yell the words the way Talam would’ve.
“No, it seems she’s not.” Bron rubbed the back of her neck like how André did when he was unhappy. “One of my sons is a cahir. He and his brother fell in love, whiskers over paws, for a female. And she dumped them when a new cahir came to town. She boasted she owned the heart of every cahir in the territory. My sons were so hurt…”
Sky reached over and took her hand.
She had tears on her cheeks. “My cahir son nearly died during a fight with a feral. Because he didn’t care if he lived or not.”
Talam stared in horror, and suddenly, he understood. If Niall had almost died cuz of a female, Talam would hate her forever. “Is he okay? Your son?”
“He is. Finally.” She swiped at her face, rough, like Talam did when he didn’t want anyone to see he’d been bawling. “It took a few years. He and his brother mated a healer last year.”
“They chose a Gods-called,” Ryder said.
“Yes.” Bron shook her head. “They’d grown too bitter to trust their love to a female who wasn’t.”
Talam scowled. “Heather isn’t Gods-called, but she’s just as good as one.”
“Yeah.” Sky put his hands on his hips. “She is.”
“I’ll apologize to her.” Bron looked Sky then Talam right in the eyes. “And, if she’ll let me, see if we can be friends. It sounds as if she’d be a very good friend.”
“I guess. Okay.” Sky nudged Talam with his shoulder.
Talam was still thinking. It was good Bron realized Heather was amazing, but he and Sky had hopes for more. Would Bron be a problem? He crossed his arms over his chest. “The Cosantir and Niall and Madoc—they really like Heather. A lot.”
At a sound, he looked over his shoulder. Alec had his hand over his mouth and made a coughing sound.
Bron’s smile was kinda twisted, but it was still a smile. “Go on, lad. Does Heather like them back?”
“Uh-huh. A lot. But I don’t think she’s…” He ran out of words and glanced at Sky.
His brother bit his lip, then offered, “She’s maybe like your sons who got hurt.”
“Ah.” Bron frowned. “She needs time to learn to trust them with her love?”
Talam nodded, unable to talk through the clog in his throat. He and Sky wanted to live with Heather and the brothers. But they weren’t family, not real family, and soon enough, he and Sky would get dumped in the communal house.
But at least, Heather would be happy. The males would take good care of her, and she’d love them.
Cuz she was good at love.
At her guest room desk, Heather started writing a note to the males. The first few words had taken forever to write. Because her eyes kept blurring. She sniffled, thinking of Niall’s note to her, left on her table so many weeks ago, back when he thought he was leaving. The one she’d tucked away in her purse.
Was a piece of paper all she’d have of him in the future?
No, don’t be crazy. She was simply going to spend the weekend in Cold Creek…after she cleared her stuff out of their house.
With a sigh, she pulled out her cell phone and called Ina, only to find the Elders and the Cosantir had already been informed of Friedrich’s attack.
Good. This is good. No need to call André, then. Or hear his dark smoky voice—or have him pick up on how upset she was. Because he would.
As she shoved her phone in her pocket, it rang. Now what?
The display showed: GRETCHEN.
Gods, I do not need this. The female was undoubtedly calling to nag some more about taking over the housewarming party. Heather’s jaw tightened.
The female had lied to Bron about Heather and made everything worse. You mangy cur. Growling, Heather threw the phone toward her tote bag and…anger messed with her throw. The cell hit the bed’s iron headboard with a loud crack.
Oh cat-spit. Picking it up, she saw the shattered black screen. It wouldn’t power-up. Broken.
Like her.
No, not like me. Absolutely not. Snarling under her breath, she dumped her phone in the wastebasket and finished writing her note.
Then headed out with suitcase and tote bag.
Greystoke was already in his special oversized travel condo, which took up most of the back seat. Since she always kept it in the Jeep, it hadn’t burned with her cabin. She tossed her suitcase in the cargo area. “Ready to leave, baby?”
When he let out a plaintive meow, she felt her breathing hitch. He didn’t like traveling.
She didn’t much either. “Me too,” she whispered. “Me too.”
An hour passed, then two.
She’d planned to use the long drive to think over her options. But making plans didn’t happen at all. Every time she thought about what had happened, her eyes would get teary.
They felt so far away.
