Winter of the Wolf (7 page)

Maybe I can pet it
. She held her hand out. “Look at you.

Aren’t you pretty?”

The thick silver-gray fur down its back shaded to tawny on the sides and… Oh, it was holding one leg up. “Are you hurt, baby?” She knelt in the road. “Can I see?” He—and he was definitely a he, she noticed—whined slightly and padded over to her. Criminy, he was realy big.

Big and shaggy, but anyone could see he was giving her a distinctive doggy smile.

She petted him, ruffled his fur, and scratched under his chin until silvery dog hair covered her dark blue sweatshirt.

Gradualy, she eased him around until she could assess his leg. The fur there was etched with puckered red lines, but nothing was open. “Bet that hurt, but I guess it’s too late to haul you to a vet to get looked at, huh, buddy.” He shoved his nose under her arm, demanding more petting. She laughed and complied. “You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog, al right. And a sweetie. None of my foster homes had dogs.” After that, living on the streets and then an apartment meant no furbabies for her. “So, Elvis.” She apartment meant no furbabies for her. “So, Elvis.” She grinned at him, pleased with giving him a name. “Come by my cabin tonight, and I’l share some steak with you.” To her startled delight, his tail whipped back and forth, and he barked once before trotting into the forest.

A few minutes later, she stood in the parking lot for the Wild Hunt. She puled the old photo from her pocket and held it up. The two-story log-style building hadn’t changed a bit in twenty-some years. A thril ran through her. Her mom and dad stood right there, holding her. For a moment, they seemed very real.

She pushed the feeling aside. Over the years, their importance had diminished. More than anything, she just wanted to fit in somewhere. Have a home. Not be a weird person who saw invisible creatures.

The door of the tavern was heavy and took an effort to open. As she stepped inside, her shoulder and arm ached in time with her leg, and al of her was exhausted. Only twenty-six years old, and she was already over the hil.

Taking a moment, she glanced around. The round oak tables were spotlessly clean; the sconces gleamed, as did the long mirror on the far wal. Popcorn and roasted peanuts provided a comforting fragrance, and the country twang wafting from the jukebox completed the picture. Two thumbs up for the perfect tavern ambiance.

Even better, the people matched the decor. T-shirts, Even better, the people matched the decor. T-shirts, flannel shirts, jeans, down vests. Definitely more casual than the city, but not in a bad way, and far more pleasant than a Seattle meat market. So, where to start asking questions?

Maybe the bartender? She crossed the room and slid onto a barstool.

When the bartender walked over, she frowned. Were al the men around here over six feet? Wasn’t the average height supposed to be five-ten? His white shirt showed off a dark complexion and a lean musculature. He wasn’t as huge as her two landlords, but stil… Maybe they al chopped wood in their spare time.

“What may I get you to drink?” His faint English accent and chiseled features didn’t quite match the country decor, and neither did the shoulder-length black hair tied back with a band.

“A diet cola, please.”

A minute later, he set a ful glass in front of her.

“If you could…” She held out her battered photo. “I think the picture was taken in front of your tavern.” He took the photo, glanced at it, and a black eyebrow quirked up. “This is quite old.”

“At least twenty-three years, I think.” That had been her best guess, considering her social worker said she was around three when found. “Any chance you recognize the people in it?”

“I regret not.” He turned the photo over and smiled faintly

“I regret not.” He turned the photo over and smiled faintly at the purple scribbles on the back. “The child would be you?”

“Mmmhmm. I’m hoping someone in Cold Creek knows who the adults are.”

By his sympathetic expression, he understood and was tactful enough not to ask more. “Some people have lived here for forty or fifty years. You might try Joe Thorson at the bookstore or Albert Baty at the grocery.”

“Thank you. I’l do that.” She took the picture back, feeling deflated. Had she realy thought she could wave it in the air, and someone would rush up saying,
my long lost
daughter has returned to me
. Her parents had probably just stopped for a drink on the way to somewhere else. Stil, it was a starting point. Tomorrow she’d go into Cold Creek.

“I don’t remember seeing you in here before.” The bartender studied her as he wiped away a spot on the gleaming bartop. “Are you staying in town?”

“She rented a cabin.” Zeb slid onto a stool beside her.

She spun around so fast, she almost tipped her cola over.

With her heart doing a dance inside her ribcage, she edged off her barstool, putting distance between them. And then she planted her feet. “Next time make some noise or something, would you?”

But she was angrier with herself than him. She had to get over these make-like-a-mouse responses.

over these make-like-a-mouse responses.

“Sorry.” Eyes the color of darkest chocolate studied her.

“You want me to sit over there?” He jerked his chin at the end of the bar.

Yes
. “No. You’re fine.” She inhaled and started to relax.

The monster in Seattle had smeled like rotting meat but Zeb had a clean, intriguing scent like the forest behind her cabin.

She forced herself back onto the stool, carefuly ignoring how wide his shoulders were.

“Is there a problem?” the bartender asked Zeb, his tone icy. When Zeb didn’t answer, he glanced at her. “Miss?”

“Why are al the men in this place so darned tal? And big?” she asked without thinking.

Zeb snorted.

“I believe there is something in the water,” the bartender said without a trace of a smile. He drew a beer for Zeb, then returned his attention to Bree. “I’m Calum. Please cal me if there is anything I can get you.” He tilted his head toward Zeb and added, “However, I fear I cannot make him shorter.”

She had to grin. “Thanks.” And wasn’t that a pity? If Zeb was smaler—say about five feet seven—she might find the nerve to request pistol lessons.

As Calum headed away, a short, brunette walked up to the barmaid station and slapped the bar. “Hey, bartender-person, four darks and a light.”

person, four darks and a light.”

Calum turned, his brows drawing together into a daunting expression. “Victoria? What are you doing here? Where’s Rosie?”

The barmaid didn’t appear intimidated in the least. “Her daughter went into labor. She won’t be in tonight.”

“You already put in a ful shift as deputy.” She glanced around the room. “No problem. There aren’t many people—” Her gaze lit on Zeb, and she flushed from her low neckline to her forehead.

* * *

Zeb’s smile of recognition froze as the little female he’d almost mated at the fal Gathering turned bright red. From behind the bar, a furious snarl came from the Cosantir.

Oh, fuck. Zeb eased off the stool and backed away. He turned his head. Not good—the Cosantir’s eyes had turned the color of night.

Zeb spoke carefuly. “Vicki, the Cosantir is upset.” She glanced at the bartender, and her jaw dropped.

“Fuck! Um, Calum? It… I just wasn’t expecting…” She looked at Zeb helplessly.

“Calum,” Zeb said softly. “Our only meeting was at a Gathering. She doesn’t want me.” He held his hand out to Vicki. “Give me your hand. Slowly.”

Vicki. “Give me your hand. Slowly.”

Her smal fingers were the size of Breanne’s, he noticed.

When he raised her arm, he saw two
lifemating
bracelets.

She was bonded to two males, and apparently, one was Calum.

Her wrists had been bare last fal. New ties meant unstable mates. Hoping he wouldn’t get his throat ripped out, he pressed a kiss to her wrist, heard another low snarl.

Not even bothering to check the scent, he held her arm out to her mate. “No attraction. Just a Gathering.” Leaning over the bar, Calum took the woman’s wrist in his hand, bent, and inhaled. Stiled. Cradling her hand, he closed his eyes, taking deep, slow breaths. Seconds passed. When he opened his eyes, his irises had returned to dark gray.

Zeb puled in a relieved breath and tried to unknot his muscles.

“Forgive me, cahir,” Calum said. He kissed his mate’s fingers before releasing her. “I overreacted.”

“New mates.” Zeb shrugged. “If I didn’t like being a step from death, I wouldn’t be a cahir.”

Calum winced, then turned his gaze to his lifemate.

“Victoria, if I might speak to you in the kitchen for a moment?” He headed that way without waiting.

“Fucking A, that was freaky.” Vicki pushed her long brown hair back and smiled at Zeb. “Sorry. I heard about new cahirs coming, but I didn’t realize one was you. Last fal new cahirs coming, but I didn’t realize one was you. Last fal was my first and only Gathering, so I’m stil…” She flushed again. “Hel. Welcome to Cold Creek?”

“Thanks.” Zeb jerked his head toward the kitchen. “Go, before he comes out after you.”

“No shit. The bastard would, too.”

Zeb watched as she was snagged by her mate before she barely got through the kitchen door. Little as she was, she almost disappeared within Calum’s embrace.

Chuckling inside, Zeb lifted his beer and sucked down a hefty swalow. A shame Vicki had already bonded to Calum and Alec when he met her; she’d have been a delight to mate.

Come to think of it, the moon was ful tomorrow. There would be a Gathering.

A noise recaled him to the present. He glanced down at the female next to him.

Her eyes were so big and blue that looking in them was like faling into a mountain lake. “Was he going to attack you?”

Oh, fuck, they’d done this show in front of a
human
. Talk about indiscreet. How to fix this? Talking fast was Shay’s job. “Ah, his…wife and I had a previous”—
almost
mating
—“encounter.

“She

and

Calum

haven’t

been”—
lifebound
—“married long, and he stil gets jealous quickly.” The type of jealous where he’d gut a man and leave his intestines strewn across the floor.

his intestines strewn across the floor.

“No kidding.” She sipped her drink, and then those blue eyes fixed on him like spotlights on a police car. “What does kaheer and ko-san-something mean?”

“Local slang.” When the bar door opened, Zeb turned, hoping for a diversion. Alec. That would work.

Stil in uniform, the sheriff crossed the room with a wave for the females playing pool. Just a friendly cop with the stalking stride of a werecat. The two women watched with open appreciation.

Alec stopped beside Zeb. “Ca—” With a glance at Breanne, he smoothly revised to, “Shal we sit at a table?”

“Good plan.” Go where they could talk without censoring their language for a human.

“Let me get a drink.” Alec frowned at the lack of a bartender, looked toward the kitchen, and his eyebrows rose. “I have to say, the service in this place has gone sadly downhil in the last few months.”

Zeb folowed his gaze. Calum had one arm around his mate’s waist, the other on her ass, and was kissing her as if it was Gathering night and she was in heat. He snorted.

When Breanne laughed, Alec gave her an easy smile. “Are you new to town?”

Zeb frowned and moved closer to the little female.

“There’s
definitely
something in the water,” she murmured, her gaze going from Alec to Zeb. “Breanne murmured, her gaze going from Alec to Zeb. “Breanne Galagher, and I’m renting a cabin at the Wildwood.” After a slight hesitation, she held out her hand.

She hadn’t volunteered to shake hands with Zeb yesterday.

“Alec McGregor. Welcome to Cold Creek. If there’s anything I can do to help you settle in, let me know.”

“Thank you.”

Alec grinned at Zeb and went behind the bar to fetch his own drink.

When Zeb started to move away, Breanne reached out.

After a moment, she actualy touched his arm. “I—ah, I actualy wanted to talk to you. About learning how to shoot a gun.”

“You? Why would a
female
want a weapon?” She roled her eyes. “And here I thought dinosaurs went extinct. Target shooting is my new hobby, and I need lessons.”

“No.”

“Men.” Hair tangled and lips swolen, Vicki walked over and grinned at Breanne. “Can’t live with ‘em, but if you have a weapon, at least you can shoot them.”

“My thought exactly.” Breanne gave Zeb an annoyed look, then bit her lower lip between white, even teeth.

Soft-looking lips. Pink and—

“If I don’t get lessons,” she said, “I’l probably shoot

“If I don’t get lessons,” she said, “I’l probably shoot myself in the foot.”

“I’ve heard Zeb is damned accurate,” Vicki offered.

“Couldn’t ask for a better instructor.”

What the fuck was the Cosantir’s mate doing? Didn’t someone say she was hel on wheels in a fight and with weapons? Why was she tossing him to this—this blue-eyed human?

Breanne gave him an appealing look, stil biting her lip.

Those lips just begged for a man’s mouth.
But she’s
human
. He scowled.

She flinched and took a step back, the scent of fear in the air. “Never mind. I’l find someone else.” He should be used to being disliked, and fuck, he didn’t care if he scared males. But it hurt to know he terrified little females. “You get your pistol,” Zeb growled, even more pissed off when she took another step away from him. “I wil, at least, show you how to miss your foot.” Her scent stil held a hint of fear, but when she smiled at him, he had to close his eyes against her appeal. Fuck. Vicki might have given him a push, but he was the one offering up his own throat. To a human.

Chapter Six

Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory ~ Full moon
Bree had woken a couple of hours before dawn, unable to sleep any longer. Grumbling, she puled on her clothes.