Heart of the wolf, p.40
Heart of the Wolf, page 40
“Go on out. I need a diet Coke first.”
“Those are so bad for you.” Holding up a hand in farewell, Moya walked out onto the patio. And the two strangers were there.
They didn’t even see her—naturally not. No one noticed cute, round females, and even if the mating stuff was still scary, it burned a bit to be ignored.
To her disgust, they were watching Miss Perfection strutting across the patio. Gretchen was trailed by four males who obviously couldn’t see past their dicks.
As the obnoxious blonde walked past the two strangers and disappeared into the house, the black-haired one murmured to his icy-eyed buddy, “Now, there’s a beauty.”
If Moya’d been a cat, she’d have hacked up a hairball.
* * *
On the way to the kitchen, Heather checked the rooms. No Crichton crew, no Talam or Sky, although she spoke to their cubling friends, Kathan and Hamlin, in the great room. They’d come with the people from the communal house. Mateo and Alvaro hadn’t shown, though. Apparently their new foster mother didn’t enjoy socializing.
Heather shook her head as she entered the kitchen. Her nerves were jangling, and her stomach all twisted. She opened the fridge to grab a diet Coke, both for her stomach and to give her hands something to do.
“Gods, I might have known you had no manners.” The shrill voice was all too familiar.
Straightening, Heather closed the fridge door, diet Coke in hand.
At the island, Gretchen pointed accusingly at Heather. “How could you steal from the Cosantir in his own house? You’re a thief.”
Face unreadable, Bron stood behind the blonde B&B manager. Everyone in the wide-open ground floor turned to watch.
A noisy face-off. How very Gretchen.
With a sigh, Heather opened the can and lifted it in a silent toast to Murphy. Of course, she’d run into Ms. Perfection rather than the males she wanted to see so badly. “Gretchen, I bought the sodas last week. If you think André, Niall, or Madoc would ever touch a diet Coke, you don’t know them at all.”
Several shifters snorted.
Bron chuckled. “She’s right. A very serious youngling instructed me how the pop is Heather’s and must not be touched.”
As the shifters in the room grinned and returned to their conversations, Gretchen gave Bron a betrayed scowl and stomped off.
The cahir had called Gretchen on her accusation? How unexpected.
Bron turned to Heather and studied her for a long moment.
Bracing to endure more insults, Heather gave Bron a level look. “I’m not here to move back in—or even stay. I simply plan to talk to the Crichton brothers and my cubs and then leave.”
At Bron’s flinch, Heather realized she shouldn’t have called Talam and Sky her cubs. Oops.
“I’m sorry.”
Heather blinked. “What?”
“I was wrong about you, and even if I wasn’t, it isn’t my place to tell my nephews who they can be with. Or live with. Or love. My past blinded me—and I acted like a troll. I’m sorry.”
By the Hunter and the Mother, what had happened here? Heather realized her mouth was open. She closed it. Cleared her throat. “Right. Of course.” No, do better. “You were rude because you care about them. There’s nothing to forgive.”
“You’re very kind. Thank you.” Bron actually looked relieved. Then, with a flickering smile, the female glanced at the patio door. “They’re all outside.”
Whoa, doggies. The cahir was being helpful? And here she’d been dreading running into Bron here. What a waste of all her worrying.
“Thank you, cahir.” Only now…now she’d have to face André, Niall, and Madoc. Oh Gods. Trying to find her courage, Heather took a hefty swig of her drink.
And amusement lit Bron’s eyes. “Good luck.” She strolled out through the double doors. People on the patio greeted her, and the cahir smiled and chatted…just like a normal person.
Heather could see why the brothers loved her.
Well. Okay. Time to deal. With a sigh, Heather checked her diet Coke and mentally added the caffeine content to her daily total. Two hundred milligrams max which was basically, only one coffee and one caffeinated soda.
Pregnancy sucked.
And wasn’t it going to be…fun…to tell the males she was with child. Not.
And not today. Today, she’d simply say she cared for them. Maybe give them a moment or two where they could, if they wanted, say something in return. Let her know how they felt. But even if they didn’t, she’d tell them she hoped to see them. Or…somehow convey, I’m here and open to having a relationship.
Pulling her courage around her, she walked out onto the wide stone patio. A built-in grill sat near the edge with smaller charcoal kettle grills set up near it. The mouthwatering aroma of hamburgers and hot dogs hit her with a wave of nostalgia. Her grandparents had loved hosting big barbecues overflowing with guests.
She smiled at greetings, accepted hugs, and didn’t let herself get bogged down in conversations. Instead, she moved to the less crowded edge of the patio and continued her search.
High shouts came from the lawn stretching between the patio and thick forest. A myriad of younglings kicked soccer balls for several small wolves and two bears to chase. Farther away, some young cougars were playing king of the mountain on a wide, chest-high tree stump. But none of her males were out with the younglings.
She turned to check the crowded part of the patio—and caught sight of a huge, white-blond cahir. Niall. Everything inside her froze as her heart spun in circles like a happy puppy.
He was politely talking to several shifters on the other side of the patio, although his lack of expression seemed like he wasn’t fully engaged.
And there was Madoc.
She pressed her hands against her sternum. Crazy heart, stop pounding. Closer to the food tables, Madoc was speaking with a group of business people. He, too, seemed as if he wasn’t completely involved in the conversation.
Her feet took her a few steps that way.
No, wolf. The males were occupied—and this party was for them. Really, what were you thinking? She should have waited. Come when they weren’t busy.
Why in the world had she come today?
She huffed under her breath. Be honest, girl. It had nothing to do with logic, and everything to do with wanting to see them so badly she hurt.
Continuing around the edge of the patio, she searched for a glimpse of André.
Where was he?
* * *
André chatted with the five shifters around him, trying for more than simple politeness. They’d gone to a lot of trouble to welcome him and his littermates, and it truly did warm his heart. Two of the females had come over to talk about the gift shop. Unfortunately, the three younger females reminded him of the ones who fawned over cahirs.
Gods, as if he wanted any females. Just one. His heart had throbbed painfully all night as if to remind him Heather wasn’t within his reach. He needed her here, in his arms, in their bed. Needed to know she was safe and happy.
But today was for his clan, and he’d give them his best. They were honorable people, he’d discovered, but under Wendell’s neglect, they’d grown lazy. Like muscles, character needed exercise to stay strong. With time, the clan would remember who they really were.
As the two craft-loving females headed off to eat, Murtagh came forward with a male beside him. “Cosantir, have you met Roger Wendell, alpha of the wolf pack?”
The burly male gave a perfunctory bow of his head. “Cosantir.”
“It’s good to meet you,” André said. Roger appeared to be a more muscular version of his brother Pete. Equally arrogant, it appeared.
After exchanging a couple of inanities, André frowned. “You aren’t looking particularly well. Have you been ill?” Shifters were sturdy, but illness did happen.
The alpha hesitated, then pressed a hand to his chest. “I think it’s my brother. The bond between us is…wrong.”
“Have you seen him recently?” Murtagh asked.
“We fought the last time I saw him.” Roger’s shoulders sagged. “Brett says Pete went into the forest a few days ago.”
Was the littermate bond between Pete and Roger thinning? Losing bonds could be dangerous.
Before André could ask, Murtagh did. “You have another littermate, a female over in…Idaho?”
“Wyoming, aye.” Roger rubbed his chest. “Our bond is still there. Strong.”
André relaxed slightly, then frowned as one of the females moved closer to him.
* * *
Now what should she do? At the edge of the patio, Heather stood by a portable charcoal grill close enough the heat from the glowing coals almost scorched her side. Stainless-steel tools lay on the side table beside a plate of hot dogs ready to cook.
Considering how hard the cubs were playing, they’d be hungry soon. But her? She had no appetite at all.
She should probably leave and return once the party was over.
Before she could take a step, the tilt of a dark head caught her attention.
Across the patio, André was surrounded by shifters with a couple of the inevitable groupies.
A wave of joy welled inside her at the sight of him. His head was tilted slightly as he gave all his attention to the male who was speaking. Having been on the receiving end of André’s concentrated focus, she knew how compelling it was.
Unable to help herself, she let her gaze linger on the sharp planes of his tanned face, on the way his wavy hair curled over his shirt collar, on how his shirt sleeves were rolled up the way he liked.
When a female moved closer and ran a hand over André’s bare arm to capture his attention, possessive jealousy dug fangs deep into Heather’s self-control.
As if he felt her watching, his gaze went past the female straight to Heather. As his eyes met hers, everything inside her shook with longing.
I love you.
She hadn’t spoken aloud, but the flare of warmth in his dark gaze suggested he’d heard her anyway.
With the tact he had in abundance, he excused himself from the group and headed for her. His shrill whistle caught his brothers’ attention. Following his gaze, they spotted her.
Oh Gods, what have I done?
Niall shoved his drink into someone’s hands, Madoc shouted in glee, and they abandoned their groups. Moving toward her, they were slowed by the press of people covering the patio.
Then two more voices made a whooping sound.
“Heather!” came Sky’s high voice.
Talam’s shout cracked on the second syllable. “Hea-ther!”
Gods. She braced for the onslaught, and her heart rejoiced. They hadn’t given up on her.
The cubs reached her first and slammed into her like small freight trains.
Trying not to cry, she hugged them both. “I missed you two. Even for just a night, I missed you.”
Talam looked up, eyes reddened, and—
“Fucking brats!” a male shouted, and the cubs squeaked in fear.
That voice. It was Pete.
She turned in a circle, trying to locate him.
Behind André, the alpha, Roger, pressed his hands to his chest and moaned.
The next bellow of rage was almost deafening. “Traitorous cunt!” It came from the forest. Where…?
With a sob of fear, Talam pulled out of Heather’s arms and stepped in front of her.
There. Mud-spattered and naked, Pete ran across the lawn. His eyes were crazed, his expression enraged.
Halfway across, he trawsfurred into an enormous black bear. Fangs exposed, he roared until froth and spittle flew from his muzzle. He charged straight for her and the younglings.
As terror battered her senses, Heather froze.
The bear knocked two males out of his way without slowing, and terror-filled screams filled the air. His small, maddened eyes fixed on Heather and the boys.
“Out of my way!” Niall shouted from back in the crowd somewhere. Like a knife, his frantic voice cut through Heather’s paralysis.
The bear was too close.
No one would reach them in time.
Gripping Talam’s and Sky’s collars, she yanked them behind her. Snatching up a long barbecue fork, she used it to hook the red-hot grill from over the coals. With all her strength, she flung the grill in the bear’s face.
The overheated metal hit the big nose with a sizzle, and Pete shrieked in pain. He stumbled, shaking its head.
“Run.” Still gripping the fork, Heather tried to push the boys away. Instead, Talam picked up the BBQ spatula as if it would delay the monster for even a second.
“Cahirs, the bear is feral,” André called, voice deep with the God’s power. “Protect our people.”
Screaming came from the crowd. Ferals were mindless, driven to savagely kill other shifters.
“Your will, Cosantir,” Bron called, acknowledging the order. She trawsfurred to a large, dark gold cougar.
Arms extended in front of the cubs, Heather took step after step, backing them all away from the bear. Her fingers were still clamped around the eighteen-inch steel fork.
Foam dripped from the bear’s gaping jaw as Pete fixed his gaze on them. He rose to his hind legs, at least seven feet tall.
Her heart stuttered.
Bellowing, he swung at them with huge, clawed paws.
She jumped, shoving the cubs back. Claws ripped her shirt, and she slashed his muzzle with the steel fork.
Roaring, he—
A huge furry body slammed into Pete from the side, knocking him away from them. It was Madoc—even bigger than Pete.
Heather’s breathing froze in fear for him.
Both bears rolled to their paws, jaws wide, fangs exposed.
A cougar—Bron—landed on top of Pete, biting and clawing, then springing away. Two wolves attacked the bear from behind, snapping at its hind legs.
Retreating with the cubs, Heather glanced over her shoulder.
Behind her, André had trawsfurred to cougar and guarded a group of younglings. More shifted adults lined up in front of the cubs and older shifters.
After snapping at the wolves, Pete rose onto his hind legs again, focusing on Heather and the younglings.
Madoc plowed into him once more, knocking him back on all fours.
With a loud snarl, a huge gold cougar—Niall—leaped onto Pete’s back. As the two wolves and Bron trapped the bear, Niall’s powerful jaws closed on the bear’s neck to bite through the spinal cord.
The bear dropped. A moment later, with a shimmer of magic, the body turned into Pete’s human form.
Heather sucked in a breath and just stood, shaking. So close. Too close. For her, for the cubs. For the cahirs, too. If the God hadn’t made cahirs so big, the bear would have won.
Stomach twisting, she swallowed hard, not wanting to look but afraid not to. Half expecting the body to turn back to a bear and attack again.
But two cubs were clinging to her, shaking as hard as she was. Putting her arms around them, she turned so they wouldn’t see Pete’s body. “It’s over, my babies, it’s over,” she whispered.
Face hard, Bron stepped in front of her, dressed once again, although her T-shirt was torn. “Heather. Excellent defense with the grill. You think on your feet and have an abundance of courage.” Bron’s quick smile reminded her of Madoc’s. “I approve.”
Heather stared. Huh.
The two wolves who’d harried Pete were shifting—and Heather recognized Patrin and Fell.
Bron nodded to them. “Nice job, shifters. Thank you.”
The two grinned.
Turning, Bron snapped at a couple of younger males. “You two. Get a tarp and carry the feral down to my car.”
“Yes, cahir,” one of them stammered.
“She’ll make a most effective police chief, won’t she?” Heather said under her breath. Still hugging the cubs, she started to head for the house. They needed a calm place.
In the center of the patio, André had pulled on his jeans and turned to face the defending line of shifters. “You put yourselves in harm’s way to protect the defenseless.” His eyes darkened, his voice holding a reverberation like thunder. “You are a credit to our clan. You should be proud.”
And suddenly she could feel it—his pride and approval of them all.
She pulled her shoulders back and saw everyone else doing the same, holding themselves straighter.
In her arms, the two cubs stood tall.
Smiling, she kissed the top of Talam’s head, then Sky’s. “You two were very brave.”
“Yes, you were.” Wearing only a pair of jeans, Niall joined her, stealing the younglings for his own hug. “You did good. I’m grateful you were there to defend Heather.”
Despite being pale, the cubs both grinned, looking more like themselves.
Niall ruffled their hair. “Can you two give us a few minutes with Heather? I—we—want to talk with our missing female.”
Talam grinned, Sky snickered, and they sped off quickly.
“Missing?” Heather sniffed. “I knew where I was the entire time.”
And then she flung herself into his arms.
“Gods, yes, this is what I needed.” His arms closed around her so tightly her bones creaked—and she wouldn’t complain for the world.
Here was comfort.
“I fought hard.” Madoc stood behind her. “Do I get a reward too?”
Her laugh was shaky as Niall handed her to his brother.
Like Niall, Madoc wore only jeans, and as she hugged him, she pressed her face against his wonderfully furry chest, breathing in his light citrus scent with a hint of chocolate. Someone had been in the kitchen.
“I missed you.” His deep voice was a rumble against her ear.
“I missed you back.”
“I didn’t fight.” André spoke in a worried voice although his lips curved up. “Does that mean I won’t get a hug?”
“Nope, no hugs for you, brawd,” Madoc said sternly, even as he handed her over.
“Mon amour, we’ve been worried.” His arms were like steel, but as he buried his face in her hair, she could feel the tension ease. “Your note was most inadequate.”
