Snow Wolf: Wolves of Willow Bend (Book 9) (16 page)

“Then she is ours to protect,” Grinder said, rising. The Sentries in the room followed suit, every single wolf fisting a hand above their hearts.

“She is also not to be coddled,” Diesel stated, command in every word. “She’s a capable fighter in her own right and a Hunter of Willow Bend. We will respect her strengths, support them, and if she is willing, she may very well need to apprentice to the Sentries.” The last, he said directly to Grinder.

“It would be my privilege to train her.” His wolf didn’t disappoint, though a hint of mischief rested in his expression. “To be clear, if we’re battle training, how many hits do I have before you rip my head off?”

More amused than concerned, Diesel spread his hands wide. “Why don’t I surprise you?”

Laughter adjourned the meeting and the Sentries filed out, each pausing only long enough to clap him on the shoulder or shake his hand. Their easy acceptance spoke volumes for the respect Dove earned during her time looking after Chowder and the injured. Once the last stepped out, Montana dropped into the chair opposite his desk, and he leaned against the wood.

The smile faded from her expression, and she studied him.

“Spit it out,” he told his second. What made the she-wolf so incredibly good at her position was the way she looked at the angles, more domestic than martial, but also with an awareness of all the wolves in play.

“What will you do if she doesn’t accept you as her mate?”

Diesel scrubbed a hand over his face, then shook his head. Montana never pulled a punch, attacking her points with surgical precision. “Whether it takes one day, one month or one year…she will.”

“Your confidence has never been an issue,” Montana began, raising her hand in a request for him to allow her to finish the thought. “But, prior to your journey to Willow Bend, you’d begun the fade.”

So, Chowder wasn’t the only wolf who’d noticed.

“If she declines, rejects your proposition, will you once again begin the journey away from us?” No condemnation reflected in the straightforward question, but her scent altered, subtly detailing her worries.
Fear.
Montana was one of the most capable wolves in his service. If she was afraid, he needed to fix it.

“No,” Diesel reached for her hand, then tugged her from the chair. Pulling her into his arms, he hugged her. Though stiff at first, a hint of embarrassment discoloring the worry and fear underscoring her scent, she gripped him tight in return. “I am a patient man, Montana. No may mean no, and I will accept Dove’s repudiation should it come, but no doesn’t mean always and forever. I waited decades for this opportunity, what are a few years more?”

She squeezed him her relief palpable, then sighed. “I will keep you both in my thoughts that she does not reject you.” With a sniff, she pulled away and eyed him. “Though from the smell of you, you’ve already made some headway.”

Another grin stretched his cheeks. “She’s a good woman, but like most of us, very set and determined. It’s a privilege to chase her.”

“Poor thing,” Montana said, shaking her head as she withdrew and collected herself. “She won’t know what hit her.”

“That’s the idea.” He winked, and his assistant’s shock added another layer of enjoyment for him. “Life goes on. But, tell me, what arrangements have you made for our fallen?”

She poured herself a mug of hot cocoa from the sideboard. Most of the Sentries had cleared whatever food had been waiting, though he scented coffee in another of the urns. “Normally we would wait till spring, so we could honor all who left us during the long dark.”

The Yukon pack held two great gatherings each year. One at the start of the long dark, when they came together and celebrated their summer, shared news, and oftentimes celebrated any matings or births which occurred during the year. The second came after they returned from their roam, a reaffirmation of life and a time to remember those who had moved on—whether from life or the pack.

“These deaths are a cost to us, and they should see our efforts to prevent further disaster as well as celebrate the lives we lost.” Montana cradled her mug in her hands. “To that end, there will be a gathering in the circle tonight, nothing formal—but we will have music, food, and a place for memories to be shared.”

“A good plan,” he approved, then helped himself to a mug of coffee. “What else has transpired that I need to know of?”

Montana settled into a chair as he circled the desk to take his own. It took the better part of an hour, but she gave him a solid sketch of life in sanctuary, of the mate potential discovered by two of the youths and the guidance the matrons had taken to let the two explore. It was good to know his wolves still lived and loved, found joy in the simpler things.

When the conversation turned to Amaruq, the well of sadness in her voice didn’t surprise him. Montana had been fond of the tribe members who called the base camp their home.

“One small ounce of good fortune for the whole mess—Ambrose reached out.” The head of one of their most loyal Intuit tribes lived more often Ketchikan. He and his family had many deep ties to the Yukon pack, including mating into their bloodline. “Demon is his cousin twice removed. Since Demon’s parents were among the lost…Ambrose is sending his son and several other members who want to stretch their wings to take over Amaruq.”

Good news, indeed.
Ambrose was a good man. “His son—Jasper?”

“Yes, the second son. The oldest is still away living in Chicago and practicing law.” The oldest had been one of their communication points via Willow Bend’s attorney when necessary, though Diesel rarely called on the younger man to do the task. “Jasper’s been working as a bush pilot, ferrying tourists around. He’s actually a good selection for the post. He’s old enough to be experienced, young enough to be adventurous, and he has a crush on Fluff.”

The last was a surprise, which made Diesel laugh. “Fluff? Has he met her?” The tough as nails Sentry didn’t take crap from anyone, and acted so contrary to her nickname, it had burrowed in and she couldn’t shake it no matter how she acted.

“Several times,” Montana’s amusement grew. “According to Ambrose, Jasper volunteered as soon as they received the gruesome news. He also asked me to keep an eye on him, since he believes his son is desperate for heartbreak.”

“If he pursues Fluff, he’ll need more than us watching out for him.” The boy would need balls that clanked. Leaning back in his chair, he toyed with the idea even as his thoughts drifted to Dove. Hopefully she was resting. He didn’t plan on much sleep for them that night. Sleeping next to her while in his wolf form had settled him, easing the fist of loneliness and despair which had been his constant companions for too long to count. Tasting her, however, had only left him hungry for more. “When they arrive, send Fluff to protect the base camp. I’ll want her to winter quarter there for the time being.”

“So your idea of looking after the boy is to put him in the wolf’s sights?”

Diesel shrugged. “If they are meant for each other, it won’t hurt to give them a nudge.”

“And if they aren’t?”

“Then better to wash the potential wound clean before it gets infected.” If Fluff wanted nothing to do with Jasper, better he find out early on. “Then, if it is the boy’s only reason for coming, we can make different arrangements.”

“Very well.” Montana didn’t approve, but she also didn’t argue. Sometimes his second possessed too soft a heart, then again, he hadn’t had one for so long he’d not really noticed. “Do you want to go over the financial projections?”

“Not really,” he said with a grimace. “But it needs to be done.”

The next two hours dragged on as Montana went over all the information she’d maintained from their financial reports to their stores as well as any issues with discipline—only one case. All told, the pack remained in solid shape.

When she finished, he waved her out, then settled in to consider his next move. The packages to the various packs were on their way. The organs would be delivered, in all likelihood, Alexandrovich would deal with the problem for him.

Yet he didn’t dare leave anything to chance. What he needed was information.

Alphas didn’t travel from their packs, that was the accepted rule. They had representatives they sent out to handle interpack relations. The council they’d convened in Willow Bend had been an exception. Packs needed the comfort of having their Alpha close by, they had to know the Alpha secured them and that they could secure their Alpha.

The problem was whether the incursions were being directed by a pack or acts of desperation on the part of displaced wolves. Rising, he left his office and began to roam the sanctuary. His wolves needed to see him. All he really wanted to do was see his Dove, but like those who followed him, he needed the chance to reaffirm their connection.

Death was a normal part of life, but that was cold comfort for the affected—for those who’d lost a friend, a mate, a child or a lover. Diesel knew his pack understood why connections were important. More, he knew they would come together to care for each other.

It didn’t surprise him to find Deidre with the family of one of his fallen Sentries nor to see Grinder with another. Diesel took his time with each family, listening more than speaking. They wanted to tell their tales, and he absorbed them. Knowing his wolves meant Diesel had an awareness of them all, but hearing the personal stories? It detailed for him what they had lost.

So he made his circuit, passing through each area and sitting for a time with any who needed him. The echo of surprise in their responses proved Montana’s concerns. Drifting through life with only the most tenuous of connections had created a vulnerability in his wolves. One they likely hadn’t been able to name, as he couldn’t. Seeing him, talking to him, and even simply having him pause to shake a hand or give a hug—it reminded them he was still there.

For Diesel, it reaffirmed his own commitment to the pack. The drive to return to his Dove followed him, but even his wolf understood the need so they took their time. When he reached the section leading to his rooms, he checked on the injured and stilled as he caught his mate’s scent as he paused to study the room. Most of the injuries had been grave or Chowder wouldn’t have kept them close at hand.

The healer sat with one of the gored wolves, his attention and focus on addressing the last of the man’s injuries. Chowder’s resources had been stretched thin and he’d not leaned on Diesel while he’d been hunting their enemies. Taking a moment, he put a hand on the healer’s shoulder in an offer of support. He let his strength flow into the healer’s body.

“She’s with Demon,” his healer said in lieu of a thank you. “The youth has taken quite a shine to your mate, and he’s grieving.”

Of course the boy was. Barely old enough to join them on the roam, it had been his first winter dark to spend with the pack, and he’d lost both of his parents. Diesel spotted her sitting on the edge of Demon’s bed. The young wolf leaned against the pillows, his pallor and stricken expression a testament to his sadness.

“How is his arm?” Bandages stretched from the boy’s biceps to his wrist.

“It will take time. They damn near severed his wrist and ruptured a kidney.” Chowder placed two fingers on the wolf he tended’s forehead. “Most have an infection. Wherever those bastards came from, they were sick.”

Diesel frowned, swinging his attention to the healer. “How sick?”

“I’ve got the fevers under control, but it’s taking me time to leech the illness from their blood.”

“Contagious?” His mate sat with one of the affected. Her compassion and strength being a balm to the boy aside, they couldn’t afford an illness to invade the pack.

“I don’t believe so.” Chowder’s answer didn’t improve his mood. The healer didn’t hedge his bets or play with cagey answers. Rising, he faced his Alpha. “In most cases, the injuries would have been made better when they shifted. Even grave ones repair with regular shifts.”

“And these aren’t?” They kept their voices low, near sub-vocal. When Chowder moved away from his patient, Diesel followed.

“Not entirely, no. The natural healing has been slowed, almost to human levels.” Which didn’t bode well. “I’ve got the fevers controlled, and I’m purging them, but for now…isolation is best.”

Then why was Dove there? He didn’t have to verbalize the question.

“Demon doesn’t sleep well. He’s been plagued by nightmares and the fever seems to affect him more than the others.”

“His age.” Not a question.

“Probably, but the night they were brought in, your Dove kept him settled. She could chase away his bad dreams and he likes her—enough so that I think he’s imprinting.”

Given the loss he’d sustained; Demon would have reached out to someone stronger to give him strength. Ranae Buckley possessed those attributes in spades. Her dominance wasn’t a question, nor was her compassion. “You haven’t told Montana yet.” If he had, his second would have alerted him.

“Nothing to tell yet,” Chowder rubbed the back of his neck. “When I have more, you’ll know it.”

“Make sure you rest,” he said, eyeing his healer. “You’re exhausted. Lean on me if you need to.”

“I will.” Chowder grinned. “Course, you sound like Dove.” Somehow, Diesel suspected Demon wasn’t the only one taking to his Dove. “She was all over me to rest, and she kept making me food to eat.”

“Well, maybe you’ll listen to her if not to me.”

Chuckling, Chowder shook his head. “Doubtful. But go see them. It might do Demon some good, and she’s checked where you were twenty times since you walked in.”

Pleased, Diesel pivoted to go see his mate and her charge. If Demon had imprinted, he would be
their
wolf and not just his. Despite the sad circumstances, it boded well for the future.

Dove glanced over and their gazes collided. His wolf surged within him, and her smile welcomed them.

Yes, the chase continued, but in that moment, the gap between them narrowed.

“
D
iesel is coming
,” Demon warned her in a whisper so quiet she barely heard him. The youth had been tense, drawn and angry when she’d first come to see him. During her visit with Chowder, the healer mentioned going to visit the patients and she’d played tag-along. After getting a good look at Demon, she was deeply grateful she had. The boy had dark circles beneath his eyes and his skin felt hot to the touch.

Chowder mixed him a tea and given him some healing, but the boy hadn’t really risen to either. For her, though, he’d at least made an effort, and she’d almost gotten a laugh from him before Diesel entered. She was aware of him. It was as though every hair on her body stood up when he came into the room. If she closed her eyes, she could still find him. That thought gave her a jolt. Demon’s total awareness of his Alpha was natural.

The animosity, however, had no place. Covering his uninjured hand, she gave him a squeeze. “Good, he wants to check on your well-being.”

The youth shrugged, and closed his eyes. Curiosity sharpened within her, but she glanced at Diesel as he bumped her with his hip ever so lightly. His hand brushed her cheek and she smiled. Strength rolled off the man, it was as though he changed the temperature of every room he entered. Tempers cooled, comfort warmed. His eyes held a much brighter smile than the gentle one he wore.

Ranae moistened her lips, waiting patiently until he swooped a little lower and brushed her lips with a light kiss. Excitement flowered in her chest, and she cradled the sensation close. For the first time in her life, she might understand the need to fan girl someone. Not that she intended to tell him.

At least not now.

“Hi,” she murmured.

“Hi.” He hooked a chair from near the wall and pulled it over. Sitting, his thigh rested against hers and the contact left her wanting to sigh.

One good, hard tumble and she’d turned into a sighing moron. Shaking off the reaction, she bumped his leg and nodded to Demon. “He’s having a difficult morning.”

Diesel covered her hand on Demon’s, his expression sober. “I know. I am very sorry for the loss of your parents.” Though he directed the words at Demon, Ranae’s heart fisted and grief flirted through her.

Why hadn’t Demon told her?

“It’s done,” Demon said, not opening his eyes. Defiance, though, not sadness marked the gesture.

“It is, and they will be honored.” Diesel agreed.

Scowling, Ranae glared at him and the Alpha raised his eyebrows in question. Focusing on Demon, she said, “I am sorry as well, I should have realized you would have been with them.” They weren’t among the injured and she hadn’t seen them.
I guess a part of me hoped they were Sentries and working somewhere else.
Her parents had always been there for her, even when they didn’t always understand her or drove her crazy. The knife to the gut it would be to lose them even to natural causes at her age couldn’t compare to the violence ripping them away from someone as young as Demon.

“You didn’t know them,” Demon said, only he opened his eyes to look at her.

“That doesn’t matter. I know you.” The reminder earned a reluctant smile from him. To be so young and so full of anger. “It’s okay to be mad,” she told him. “It’s also okay to be sad and to want to cry.”

“Warriors don’t cry.” Blind, youthful faith in his sentiment aside, his voice cracked.

“Bullshit,” Ranae replied. Diesel echoed the statement in the same breath. Demon’s eyes widened, and he jerked a look at his Alpha before returning his attention to Ranae.

“They don’t…real men don’t.”

“If that’s true, none of my brothers are real men.” She smirked, filing that little jab away for later. Her brothers were wonderful, vibrant, overbearing Alpha males and occasionally needed to have the wind knocked out of them. As their younger and only sister, that duty fell to her.

“You know what I mean,” Demon protested.

“Yes, she does,” Diesel thrust himself back into the conversation. “She’s also wise.”

The challenge from his Alpha arrested his attention and Demon finally looked at him, though he couldn’t bring his gaze higher than Diesel’s chin. “She’s not a man.”

“Thank all that’s holy for that.” Leaning forward, Diesel pressed his leg into hers and she remained silent. “She is wise, however, and she has experience. Do you truly believe I have never cried?”

“Um…” Demon grimaced. “That’s a trick question.”

“No, it’s a direct one. Do you think I’ve never cried?” Patient, Diesel studied him. Though confusion rippled through the aggression roiling in Demon’s scent, Diesel’s remained calm, cool and rich. She really could drown in the scent of him. Like her, he hadn’t showered, so she scented herself on him and butterflies batted around her belly.

A strange sense of possessiveness invaded her, and she had to wrench her mind back to the present. Demon needed her attention, not her lustful meanderings toward Diesel.

“I can’t really see you crying, sir.” Demon sounded almost apologetic.

“Fair enough, and I don’t do it often, but our tears are not a sign of weakness. They show we cared. They admit we are honoring those who lost, not because they are gone so much as because we will never see them again.” The quiet solemnity in his words struck Ranae, and she blinked hard to keep her own tears in check. “Sometimes we mourn when a wolf moves to another pack. Parents will cry when their pup grows and is successful. They are not saddened by the child’s success, but by the transformation of child to adult. Their child will never need them again, not as they once did. When our parents leave this world, we miss them.”

Demon sniffed hard, his voice thick. “I do miss them…and I feel like I failed them. I’m young and I’m strong, but they tore into my mom and I couldn’t get them off her.”

“You did your best and those that took her from us have been executed,” Diesel said. “I cannot give your parents back to you, nor can I give you direct revenge on the ones who did you injury. I can promise you though—
everyone
involved in their loss will pay that loss in blood.” Pure steel infused every syllable.

Sitting up, the boy reached for Diesel and the Alpha gripped him close. When Demon began to cry, Ranae had to wipe the tears from her eyes. Demon stretched out a hand blindly, and she caught it. At the requesting tug, she closed against his back to hug him, and her arm brushed Diesel’s.

Wolves needed contact. They needed connection. They needed to know they weren’t alone. Demon needed love, understanding, and comfort. Ranae could give him all three, and so could his Alpha. Demon cried himself out, the sobs becoming low and punctuated by hiccups. Only when they ceased altogether did Diesel loosen his hold.

Ranae followed his lead, leaning away as Diesel studied the red, blotchy-faced kid. “Better?”

“A little,” Demon admitted, though some embarrassment crept into his scent. “I’m guessing I shouldn’t have made your shirt so wet.”

His Alpha chuckled then gave the boy a light chuck under his chin. “Shirts dry. Eventually, so do tears. If you ever need to cry, you can find me. I have no problem with being there for you.”

“Thank you.” Demon sighed, then looked at her. “Can you come back to see me? Chowder won’t let me leave the infirmary until my arm finishes closing.”

“Every chance I get. Maybe I can tell you stories about what I got up to when I was your age, and you can tell me about the best pranks you’ve ever pulled.” It was an easy answer, but she meant it. The kid had gotten under her skin. If she’d had a younger brother, he’d probably be a lot like Demon. Then again, he’d also have the triplets for siblings too, so he’d turn into a pain in her ass.

“We don’t pull a lot of pranks. The matrons don’t approve.” Demon rubbed at his face with his good hand.

“Pfft,” Ranae waved off the concern. “That’s half the fun.”

“Hmm,” Diesel said with a hint of a smile. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you encourage bad behavior.”

“No letting about it.” She grinned. “I always encourage bad behavior, but…” She returned her attention to Demon. “
You
need to eat your food now, and get some rest or I’ll get in trouble with Chowder for inciting a riot.” Because Diesel was right there and it was fun to tweak him, she leaned in closer to the youth and said
sotto voce
, “I’d be more afraid of the healer than your Alpha, if I were you.”

Across the room, Chowder snorted loud enough for the sound to carry, and one of the adults on the other bed actually chuckled. Soon, broken laughter echoed from around the room and Ranae straightened. Accomplishment filled her and she let Diesel grasp her hand as they walked through the ward. He paused at the different beds, checking on his wolves.

In that, he was like Mason. She’d seen how concerned Mason was with all of his wolves. Even Felicia, the mate of their former Alpha—he’d worked hard to keep Felicia Carlyle with them. The disparity between his rule and Toman’s had an effect on the pack.

Outside the infirmary, Diesel slanted a look at her. “Did Chowder tell you about the infection?”

“He did,” she admitted, and though he’d expressed mild concern, she hadn’t let it deter her from visiting. “If there was a danger, I’ve already been exposed. I’m sorry I exposed you, though.”

“I’m not.” They followed the winding path through the stone gardens, the trickling water accompanying them as they headed toward his rooms. “Even if I’d known, I wouldn’t have tried to stop what happened between us.”

Her toes curled, and he glanced at her feet.

“Chowder’s?”

They were powder blue with acid green touches to them. Obnoxious and over bright, but they made her smile. “What was your first clue?”

Diesel chuckled, and pressed his hand to the panel. The scanner released the locks on the door and it swung inward. “I don’t smell blood, so I am assuming you did as I asked and had him look at it?”

“I did,” she admitted. “He cleaned it, treated it and put a Band-Aid on it. I think if I’d let him, he’d have kissed it, too.”

Inside the grass-carpeted room, he scooped her up into his arms and she gave him a baleful look. “I can walk.”

“I know.” He carried her across the grass and toward the hall. “I can carry you, too.”

Looping an arm around his shoulders, she canted her head. “So now that we’ve both proven ourselves capable, do I get to ask where we’re going?”

“The shower,” he told her as he carried her into the bathroom. “Then to bed.”

When he set her down, she pressed her hands to his chest. Diesel playful was fun. “I still need to check in with Mason.”

“He can wait.” Diesel opened the shower door and turned on the water.

“And he has been.” She wasn’t looking for a fight, but this was important. “I spent the last few hours with Chowder and the patients.”

A rumble expanded in his chest as he stripped off his shirt. Her bite on his right shoulder stared at her like an accusation. That fluttery feeling of possession ramped through her again.

“Of course, I suppose another hour or two won’t matter.” She tried to do the time change in her head, but she had no idea what time it was.

“Not at all.” Diesel said, desire thickening his voice. He’d already stripped off his pants, and her gaze dipped to the length of his cock jutting upward toward his belly. “In fact, he can wait until tomorrow and the news will be the same.”

A flash of guilt stabbed her as Diesel spread his fingers beneath the hem of her shirt. The light touch against her skin sent an entirely different kind of flutter through her system. “Well, we did already take care of the problem.”

“Yes,” he said, urging her shirt up and gliding his hands along her sides. She raised her arms so he could peel the fabric off her.

“And I cut my foot on the ice, not in combat.” So, it wasn’t really something she needed to report.

“Absolutely,” he dipped his head and nuzzled a kiss to her the corner of her mouth before working his way toward her throat. She rose on her tiptoes as he unclipped her bra. “And if it was truly serious, you would have already told me.”

Her nipples beaded as he sucked on the skin just above her pulse point. The slow, lazy heat inside of her began to roar to great flames. “It’s probably too late there…”

“Agreed,” Diesel said, nudging her yoga pants down as he dropped to one knee and kissed the tip of one beaded nipple. Thoughts scattered as he laved his tongue over it.

“Okay,” she shuddered when he added a scrape of his teeth to the lazy strokes of his tongue. “I’ll call Mason tomorrow.”

Her panties vanished, then Diesel held her hips as he kissed a path down her belly. Anticipation swept through her when he eased her thighs apart. “Then we are done discussing him?”

“Yes,” she exhaled the word. He closed his mouth on her clit, and she had to grip his shoulders to keep from falling.

All done.

B
y the time
they made it to his bed, Diesel had to carry his mate again. He didn’t mind the slightest. Boneless and spent, Dove let him towel her hair and curled right up to him when he sprawled next to her. She fit him perfectly, the weight of her against him glorious.

One arm behind his head, he studied the ceiling. The loving had relaxed his body and for a time, his mind, but the problem with the Russians began a slow replay as he lay there. Dove curled her fingers against his pec, then traced the bite she’d left there.

“Shh,” he told her, stroking her shoulder. “You can sleep.”

“I’m not really that tired,” she admitted, her voice low and husky. The sound caressed his senses. “And something is bothering you.”

Tangled with her was not a place he wanted to bring a discussion of bloodshed and pain. Yet, he had already done it by letting it take over his thoughts. “I am considering my options.”

“About the Russians?” Smart and aware, she zeroed in on his issue.

“Yes,” he said, giving her a light squeeze before resuming the petting of her arm. Just having her pressed to him gave him a much-needed clarity, but it also sharpened the blade, which could now be held to his throat.

After several long moments of silence, she rose flattened her hand to his abs. “You can talk to me about it if you want, and as long as it doesn’t directly affect my pack, I’ll give you my word that whatever is said in this bed is not free for discussion with my Alpha.”