Snow Wolf: Wolves of Willow Bend (Book 9) (7 page)

Stop it.
She told her reflection as she finally freed herself from the thermals. Flushed from the heat,
and only the heat
, she reached in to switch on the water. As Chowder advised, she waited because the first streams were most assuredly cold. When it reached tepid, she stepped under it and let the water cool down her overheated system.

By the time it warmed, she was ready to sigh. Hot water pounded her muscles, and she braced her hands against the wall and turned her face down so it would roll down her arms and back. The water offered her respite and a chance to catch her breath.

She’d learned so much about the Yukon in such a short time.

Too much.
Why show her all of this? Why let her into their secrets? Secrets the other Hunters couldn’t possibly have known. No way they would have kept it from her when sending her on the mission. Dylan had even warned her about the icy showers.

Her gut tightened. The only reason to let her see everything had to be Diesel wasn’t concerned with her sharing it with her pack. Would he ask her to keep the secret for him? Or would he let her leave at all?

Anger surged beneath the rising tide of fear. Holding her hostage would only piss off her Alpha. As far as she knew—and as far as the histories told—none of the southern packs had ever warred with the Yukon. No, Diesel wouldn’t invite an invasion to his inhospitable climes.

Of course, Mason may not go to war for me.
Unease coiled at the base of her spine. She’d infuriated her Alpha, and he’d sent her away—banished from the town of Willow Bend for months while she underwent training and what he liked to call attitude adjustment. She’d barely been allowed to return to see her brother off after his mating before she’d been sent out again.

What if Mason had solved his problem totally by sending her to the Yukon? If Diesel decided to keep her, maybe her Alpha wouldn’t care.

Hurt exploded in her chest, and she couldn’t contain her gasp at the sharpness of it. Had A.J known? Or had Mason simply put her out of reach of everyone and everything?

If she were lost to this pack, would anyone know?

A
nya was still
in his outer office devouring cookies, so he swooped her up and cuddled her on the way to return her to her year group. The little girl clapped her hands when he found her year mates running a play obstacle course. The difficulty was low, more to let them burn off energy than to provide a real challenge. As soon as they were in sight of them, she wiggled to be put down. Releasing her, he stood watchful until she skidded to a halt at Bridge.

Even at her young age, she already understood the rule of checking in with those in charge. Ranging alone, even underground, was strictly forbidden until a youngling had graduated—for some that meant sixteen, for others it could mean twenty. The maternals decided who had graduated. Even those with the potential to be Sentries couldn’t come to him or his until the maternals approved it.

The system worked. Bridge lifted a hand to wave at him and he gave her a nod before leaving them as quietly as he arrived. Having already disrupted their day once, he didn’t want to upset the delicate balance created between maternal and her year group.

His route to his rooms took him through some of the more densely populated areas. A choice, really, though he and his wolf both wished to go check on their mate. Ranae was in good hands with Chowder. The healer was the least threatening of the single males present belowground.

Ranae was Diesel’s mate, of that he was certain.
She has the potential, it’s in her scent.
So strongly he’d noticed it in Willow Bend. Pausing at a group of chattering seniors, he allowed the elders to include him in their group. Not a single wolf among them was less than a century old, and most were half again plus that. His pack boasted over a dozen in that age range, still more between a hundred and a hundred and fifty.

It would shock some of his brothers down south to realize how few he lost to age and time.
Then again, there are those who should be here.
His first mate, for instance, who’d drifted until she never returned to her human form. A pang ached in his soul as he gripped the hand of the wolf who had given her life. The maternal had never blamed him for her loss, nor had she ever said a negative word.

Deidre, once known as Salt, had taken her birth name in her waning years. In part, she told him to honor her own mother and in part because her own mate had passed. How could she be Salt without her Pepper? It had only been happenstance that put him in range of her when her mate went in his sleep. Diesel had gripped her hand and held her to him. If she had asked to be released, he would have done so. As it was, he could no sooner abandon the mother of his first mate than he could the tiniest of their children.

As they reminisced of a previous winter, Diesel’s mind wandered. He’d left the Yukon to attend the conference of Alphas in Willow Bend to test Fluff and Grinder more than to be a part of the Three Rivers council. Somehow, during his visit, he’d caught Ranae’s scent and it had woken him, at least partially from the gray shadowing his days.

The fight with Mason and the disappointment that Serafina wasn’t his mate aside, he’d still felt more alive than he had in years.

“All family groups smell alike,” Cinder announced, her voice raspy. The announcement drew Diesel’s attention back to his Elders.

“Forgive me, matron,” he said, zeroing in on her. “What did you say?”

“Family groups, Maxim,” she used a name he hadn’t gone by in many, many years. It mattered little what he had chosen, and he wouldn’t deign to correct her. With age and survival came privilege. “They smell alike. Absinthe said you smelled like Irina, and that boy who came in with you did as well.”

Irina. His mother. The boy, Diesel refrained from smiling, had to refer to Julian. His mother had been Irina’s sister. Both born to the Yukon pack, Inga chose to wander and found her mate beyond their borders, though she and her get had returned periodically to visit.

“So Julian and I smell alike, do we?” He’d never have pinpointed that. Julian always smelled of the different places he traveled, and as often of fuel and oil as wildness and man. Perhaps a deliberate attempt on his part to mask his smell? Filing that information away, he considered Cinder once more.

“Aye, and it’s because you come from the same family group. With Chowder and Grinder it is the same.” She waved her hand then leaned into Deidre. “I think our Maxim is getting old—see the funny expression he wears?” Then she laughed, a deep bark of sound that was both faintly mocking and deeply amused. “You are slipping, boyo. We can’t usually read you so well.”

A lie, but one he allowed. “Forgive me, matron. I am distracted.”

“He brought a woman in with him,” Deidre said, and her comment sobered him. He would never wish her ill or harm from his actions. “Perhaps he has finally found the one he has searched for all these years.”

Meeting her gentle gaze, he released a slow breath. No judgment or question harbored in her eyes. “She is a Hunter from Willow Bend.”

“Ah, Chowder said you got into a scuffle there, but he didn’t mention it was over a woman.” Cinder seemed positively gleeful. “Do tell us, so that we have fresh news before tomorrow’s tea with the orchard keepers.”

“I could, but that would give you an unfair advantage as I haven’t been to the orchards today. Perhaps tomorrow, after I pay them a visit.” Diplomacy was not a skill he cared for, but where his seniors were concerned? He thanked his mother for her careful tutelage.

They waved him off with mock sighs, but Deidre touched his arm before he had taken two steps. Understanding her desire, he walked with her toward one of the pools. The running water helped them all in so many ways, from heating to cooling to cleaning and cooking, but also to protect them from too much noise echoing belowground. Even Diesel, with his too-sensitive hearing, could relax near the pools.

“You have a question, matron?” He murmured to Deidre, a woman he had once called mother at her request, though his own had long since passed from the world.

“Only to tell you that I hold no objection to you taking a mate, Diesel.” Unlike Cinder, she used the name he’d taken upon his mate’s passing. With kindness, she reached up to touch his cheek, and he lowered his head so she did not have to stretch. Delicate of frame, like her daughter, Deidre also possessed a steely will. If only… No, he refused to go there. “If this Hunter you have brought into our sanctuary is the one for you, then chase her and claim her. Do not let what others may say stand in your way. You have stood for us for so long, even when it was difficult for you.”

“As have you,” he told her, meaning it.

“Pfft,” Deidre dismissed his charge. “I lived for you, boyo. You came when Pepper passed. You took my hand and you held to me so tightly, I knew you needed me a bit longer. With them all gone, time will come for me soon enough to pass as well and find them hunting on the other side. Until then, I am with you.”

Very little surprised Diesel, yet he found Deidre’s declaration a strange sort of shock. “You did not have to live for me…”

She silenced him with a finger against his lips. “I did what she we loved so much could not do. You are as much my son as if I had birthed you, so in this you will obey me.”

The demand flowed through her tone. A submissive by nature, Deidre rarely issued such decrees.
That she should do so now…
He bowed his head, then brushed a kiss to her forehead. “Yes, matron.”

“Better.” She patted his chest. “Tell me, is she beautiful?”

“I believe so, but she is tall and lanky. Broad shoulders and more like the Amazons you used to read stories of when I was little.” As different from his first mate as night was to day.

“What is beauty? It’s a moment which stops you in your tracks and steals your breath.” Deidre tilted her head. “Does she steal your breath?”

“Yes,” he could say so without hesitation.

“Good. Now go find her and win her, then bring her to me so I may welcome her to the Yukon as well.” Understanding a dismissal when he heard it, he gave her another kiss and a careful hug, both of which she accepted. He waited until she’d rejoined her friends before striding away.

Perhaps he’d been away from the pack too long—not physically, but emotionally. Chowder had come the closest to suspecting, or so he thought. Yet Deidre’s words gave him pause. She’d known. Without a doubt, she’d known he’d been fading.

Resolved to make sure he visited them all before he took Ranae up to show her the wildness of his tundra, he took the longer route through the herb halls. Since he rarely used his rooms, he’d agreed to make sure his space was nearest their healer’s. Should he require it, Chowder could retreat into Diesel’s space for sanctuary.

He hadn’t ever needed to do so, in Diesel’s knowledge, but it was there nonetheless. It took him nearly an hour to reach his rooms. Time well spent, but he was eager to see his mate and gauge her reaction to his rooms. Chowder stood in his path though, and the healer wore a tense expression.

Not scowling or growling, Diesel halted and raised his eyebrows. “Trouble?”

“Perhaps,” the healer said. “Do you have a minute or are you rushing to make sure she is still there?”

Damn healer saw too much.
If he weren’t so good at what he did, Diesel might consider thrashing him. “I always have time for you, healer.” A gentle reminder of his place and privilege didn’t seem amiss.

“We can chat here.” He indicated the stone garden. Like Diesel, Chowder preferred his privacy when not tending to his patients. More often than not, he would go to them and no farther than the homestead above when the Sentries were ranged out so far. Otherwise, the circle he’d chosen to live in, with its potted plants and rows of herbs and a water garden, he kept to himself. Quarters across from his were detailed to his brother, but Grinder used his even less than Diesel used his own.

Accepting the choice, Diesel followed his healer to where he’d already set out drinks—tea for himself and a hard iced cider for Diesel. Approving the choice, he tested the scent. “You’ve been working on your fermentation.”

“And my cultivation. Those trees you had brought in? They are bearing near-perfect fruit and, with the winter months here, it’s perfect for me to use the vats I stored in Grinder’s quarters.” Pride filled his eyes as he poured himself a cup of tea. The man rarely drank, not when he might be called on at a moment’s notice. Though they had two healers, Chowder was by the far the stronger of the pair. The second tended to act as field medic and currently ran with the pack.

Swirling a mouthful around his tongue, he nodded slowly. It held a crispness, like a freshly chilled apple just at the edge of its ripeness. Sharp. Clean. He took a second, longer drink. Refreshing, with enough heat to warm him—unlike the whiskey, it offered a gentler warmth. “Well done.” The cider was truly exceptional. “I think this is your best batch to date.”

“I thought so. I’ll be bottling this round of vats and keeping it chilled for all of you. I thought we’d save them for the spring festival.”

A good thought. It would be a welcome treat to the returning wolves and for those who’d be rejoining the land above, a good way to celebrate.

“Tell Montana I approve and requisition whatever you need.”

“I already did.” Chowder didn’t miss a beat, his grin one of a man who knew he had his Alpha’s number. “Your guest hasn’t left your quarters.”

“I didn’t expect her to.” Nor did he plan on her leaving anytime soon without him. “But you have more to say on the subject, so spit it out.”

“She’s the one you scented in Willow Bend.” He’d only told Chowder as much when the healer confronted him about the fight with Mason. The call of an Alpha could have a profound effect on the wolves around him, and he’d damn near disrupted the peace in the other wolf’s pack.

Even in the midst of their fight, Diesel had held onto his sense…more so when Mason’s mate intervened on his behalf. The foolishness of the young, turned wolf aside, he would never harm a mate. It had been his gift to Mason and a peace offering to release her unharmed. “She is.” The line of thinking returned him to family groups. “Serafina is mated to one of the Buckley family, isn’t she?”