Snow Wolf: Wolves of Willow Bend (Book 9) (6 page)

H
er escort guided
her through a hallway decked out in fresh, green growth. The scents surprised her and—though he set a sedate pace—she almost hated to make him stop. “Is this…mint?” Touching two fingers to the plant, she spared a look at the healer.

“Yes,” he said, a smile on his face and in his voice. “We had to get creative down here for the long months. It’s taken a few years, but we have a lot of growth these days. This is the herbal route, mostly for teas and tinctures. We also have the vegetable path and the fruit orchard.”

“You grow them all underground?” Would the surprises stop coming?

“We have to. Can’t grow them above this time of year, and we have rotating lights which provide different radiances of UV as well as sunlight. The plants provide us with nutrition and medicine…”

“…and oxygen.”
Holy crap.
She would kill to see the schematics and how they’d handled the construction. Her brothers might be the builders, but she loved designing. Her phone went off, and she jerked in surprise. Did they really get signal this deep? Pulling it out of her pocket, she frowned at the alarm. She’d barely remembered setting it.

“Yes, and oxygen. Our engineers refer to it as a natural carbon dioxide scrubbing system. They remove the excess and produce oxygen for us. We have six areas in the underground compound, though we do plan on future expansion. Each area also acts as fertile ground for the crops and vegetables we need. Meat we can store all year, and do…but fresh fruits and vegetables? Herbs? Growing them gives us the best of both.”

Delighted, she tried to identify the other herbs as they resumed their path. “Do you mind if I ask you an awkward question?”

The wolf grinned. “Well, you have to ask it now, because awkward questions are usually dirty or funny or both.”

Amused by his very direct and gentle response, she couldn’t help her answering grin. “Why are you called Chowder?” What parent did that to their child?

His bark of laughter erased any possible sting. Curling his fingers, he beckoned her to follow him along the path—which turned out to be cobblestones. Frankly if she didn’t know she was underground, she’d be tempted to look upward for the sky. Curious, she glanced toward the ceiling and found it to be mostly rock, with the same kind of lights set within them alongside nozzles for what must be water pipes.

Huh. If they run the piping through all of it, they can regulate temperature using running water…
They passed another one of the shallow pools with water splashing down over the rocks. Some lichen grew along the sides, a distinct green against the grey stone. The water had to drain below, and across from it were more herbs—and the rich smell of moisture, fresh soil, and growth. It was alive and vivid, better than a greenhouse. Her thermals were too warm for their environment.

“Not all packs live by the old ways, and not all packs live by our ways,” Chowder began as they wound through what had to be private chambers, though the hallway widened into circular areas that reminded her of terraced parks then narrowed to walkways between. Everywhere she looked though, plants were in abundance, including flowers which could serve no other purpose than being beautiful. “Consider,” he continued. “When we are born, our parents name us. These names are important. They define us as our parents see us and sometimes even possess their hopes and dreams. As we age, we earn nicknames…sometimes even before we have any idea of who we are.”

Her eldest brother had been A.J. for as long as she could remember. No one except their mother used his full name. “My brother calls me Squirt sometimes.” It was an affectionate name.

Her host gave her a sidelong look. “Because you were smaller than him?”

“Yes.”

With a grin, he nodded. “It is much the same here. But, as we grow older, sometimes we change our name to represent who we’ve become. Perhaps a Sentry will seek a stronger name, something intimidating, while an engineer or a teacher may want to be remembered for their task.”

“So, you chose the name Chowder?” It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to be rude, she couldn’t keep the skepticism from her voice.

Another soft laugh rumbled from him as he paused in the last circular area— as far from the center as they could go and no pathways led farther. Unlike the other terraced sections, only a stone pool sat in the center. No plants or greenery decorated the surroundings or invited anyone to stay. Frankly the courtyard was rather boring and spartan. She’d hoped for something more elaborate for Diesel’s quarters.

Then again, she shook off the wishful thinking. The man himself didn’t seem all that much more decked out either. He was strong, gorgeous, old and tough. What else did he need to be?

“No, I didn’t choose the name.” He put his hand to a similar security plate to the one she’d seen outside then entered a code. “Go ahead and put your palm on there.”

Obeying more out of curiosity than the need to do as she was told, she raised her eyebrows when the plate turned green.

“Now you can unlock the door without an escort.” The explanation, so calmly given without an ounce of judgment, worried her more than Diesel telling him to take her to his rooms. How long did they think she was going to be there, that she would earn the right to roam without an escort?

She was a Hunter of Willow Bend, not a Yukon pack member or mate. Scowling at the idea she’d been granted far more access than she desired or deserved, she couldn’t help a fresh wave of curiosity when the door panel slid inward smoothly.

Wait…
Ranae paused to glance around then back up the tunneled path they followed. Chowder watched her, but if her behavior troubled him he didn’t say so.

Listening, she could hear nothing but the water, and even that seemed to fade to the background. Along the path, she’d heard a lot of things—the hum of the water pumps, the buzz of the lights, even the faint voices of other occupants inside their stone dwellings. Why nothing here? Because no one came here? Or maybe no one wanted to be here?

“You were saying about your name,” she prodded him, uneasy with all the reasons why this area was so different. At home, Mason’s house had very quickly become the center of the pack, much as Toman’s great house had been before it. It wasn’t uncommon to drop in on the Alpha and his mate—well, not uncommon for most. Ranae didn’t think the welcome extended to her as much anymore. She had to earn that right back, and she’d been working hard at it.

“Ah, yes,” Chowder said with a nod, as she passed him to step inside. The interior seemed to be made of the same stone, but instead of cobblestone floors, the interior had grass for carpet.

Stunned again, she simply stared at the rich, verdant grass everywhere. There was furniture, too, but it was all spread out. Like a great conversation area set up for a party, but not designed for coziness. Water flowed around the walls, the air was sweet…was that vanilla she could smell? Orchids? Really? Or something else? Her nose seemed to go into overtime trying to sort the various scents. Once more, she felt transported to a whole other world.

“As I said, we choose our names but sometimes, and as is most common in this pack, we earn them, too. I had a particular affinity for clam chowder when I was younger.” The explanation tugged her back to the present. Not orchids, but something far more tropical than she expected to find in the Yukon.

“They call you Chowder because you like clam chowder?”
Really?

“Like is too mild a word,” the healer said with a chuckle. “I loved chowder. It was all I ate it for months at a time, breakfast, lunch and dinner.”

The explanation made her stomach roll. “Seriously?” She pivoted to face him, aware of the sweat beading her brow. If she’d thought her thermals were too warm for the hallway, they were positively cooking her in the suite.

“I’m afraid so.” He wore a rueful smile and spread his hands wide. “What can I say? I really liked it. My brother started calling me Chowder and it stuck.”

“What was your name before that?”

“My parents named me Benjamin.” He didn’t seem to mind discussing himself. “Occasionally, some of my friends still call me Ben, though I think if you were to ask for me that way, most wouldn’t know.”

“Nice. Your brother is…?” What the hell had Diesel called him? “Grinder?”

“Yes, and if you want to know how he earned his name, you should ask him.” He hesitated a moment then raised a single finger. “Don’t ask Fluff.”

Somehow, she didn’t even need to ask him the why on that one. The spikey-haired woman was the least
fluffy
person she had ever met. “I won’t, but let me guess…not everyone’s nicknames have to do with what they like or what they do?”

“Of course not.”

Which meant Diesel was also a nickname. Interesting. What had his name been before? “If I were to ask you about your Alpha?”

“Again, I would advise if you want to know, you should ask him.” The man wore an almost beatific smile. “I think he’ll tell you.”

Not really what she wanted to hear. Eager to change the subject, she glanced around again. “Where should I put my bag?” Hopefully the bedroom looked like a bedroom and not a park.

“You may have your choice of the rooms, I’m sure.” Though he kept his tone light, he hadn’t ventured very far into the room. Was he worried she’d lunge for the door or something? “Or you can wait until Diesel arrives, and he can show you to his.”

The hint of probing question clung to his last sentence. “We’re not mates,” she announced, though whom she wanted to convince, she wasn’t sure. “He just said so to shut me up.” It was her story and she was sticking to it. “I’m only here to handle Willow Bend business then I’ll be leaving.”

“Interesting.” Chowder didn’t offer her an argument. “The kitchen is to your right. It’s not fully stocked, but I’m sure Montana will correct that. In addition to myself, Montana, the cleaning crew are the only other wolves with permission and access to enter this suite besides yourself and Diesel. As you are in residence, the door security will announce our arrival rather than simply admit us. Diesel and I can both override it, should you not answer. No one else.”

Her gut churned. Not a cell, but she couldn’t bolt the door against her host.
Well, that sucks
. Clearing her throat, she fought a grimace. “I’m going to find a room, and a shower. I assume you have real showers here?” The guesthouse shower had been akin to drilling a hole in the ice and jumping into Lake Michigan in January. She’d done that once on a dare.
Never
again.

Chowder smiled. “Of course. You will find it down the hall near the bedrooms. Give it a moment to warm up. The heated water must travel farther to reach this suite. My suite, by the way, is at the last junction we passed. Most of our phones don’t work here, but we do have intercoms.” He pointed to the panel by the door. “I’m the first button, Montana is the second.” He paused a beat. “I doubt you’ll need any of the others, but the red one will connect to the surface cabin, and the green one to the Sentries assigned here.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

“I’ll let you settle in and bring a tray over until Montana can stock your cupboard. Is there anything you don’t like?”

Ranae didn’t tell him it wouldn’t be necessary. “Chowder,” she admitted and he laughed, a rich, redolent masculine sound which invited her to join him. After a beat, she did and shook her head. “Sorry. Not big on most sea foods, but my mother taught me to eat what was in front of me, so whatever doesn’t put you too much trouble.”

“No worries at all. I think you and I will be good friends, Miss Buckley.”

“Oh, please, call me Ranae. If you knew anything about us Buckleys, there are far too many of us to rely on that alone.”

“As you wish. Would you prefer coffee or tea?”

Whiskey might be better for her nerves, but the last thing she needed was to get smashed. “Coffee would be fantastic.” As he turned to exit, she raised her hand. “Thank you, Chowder.”

“It is absolutely my pleasure.” He touched a hand to his chest over his heart then turned and left. The door closed behind him with a hushed sound, and she was alone.

Alone in an Alpha’s quarters that reminded her of her parents’ backyard. “Well, Ranae, we are definitely not in Willow Bend…”

Reminding herself she was a Hunter, trained and capable, she fisted her grip on the bag and padded through the grass towards the stone step path leading down a hall. The first bedroom turned out to be a small, rather spartan room with a single bed. It would more than do. She dropped her bag on the bed, then sat to strip off her boots.

After pulling out some clean clothes, she went in search of the bathroom. Located at the end of the hall, it also adjoined a much larger bedroom. The room was nearly as big as the living room and it boasted a fireplace—enormous, like one in a ski lodge—and an oversized king bed covered in what her nose told her was an actual bearskin blanket.

The dark brown on white reminded her that there were more than grizzlies to be found in Alaska. Curiosity nibbled at her… but she hesitated in the open door. What secrets did Diesel hide in his most private room? She detected only the faintest trace of scent other than the blanket and the snow on fur, but the lack of strength said he didn’t use it often.

Shutting the door on temptation, she turned away. The bathroom was spacious, and well-lit, much like the hallway and living room. Closing the second door which led into the bedroom, she turned to inspect the shower.

It was doublewide with two showerheads and a tile floor. The room also boasted a hot tub-sized bathtub which could easily accommodate two…
and all the activities two healthy adults could get up to.
Ranae stilled, then pinched the inside of her elbow hard enough to make tears spark in her eyes.

The last thing she needed to think about was sex with
anyone
while in his suite. Wolves could sort scents out like that in nothing flat. He’d already made one declaration; she didn’t want to give him any false impressions.

Continuing her mental chastisement, she stripped out of her clothes. The shower didn’t have a door or any curtain, so anyone walking into the bathroom would see her. Annoying, but she was hardly body shy. She could always lock the—she glared at the handles on the doors. No, she couldn’t lock them.