Wolf Lover: Konochur (New Scotia Pack Book 2) (8 page)

With a firm hand on her arm, he stopped her in her tracks and turned her to face him. “Is that yer way of sayin’ ye missed me?” He could tell by the way Lessie’s cheeks colored that he was on the mark. “‘Tis nothin’ to be embarrassed about if ‘tis true. I’m no’ too bashful to say that I’ve missed ye.” He glanced at Lily who was hopping in circles around them. “Both.”

She glanced up at him with a smile. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“Aye. And more.”

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s no vacancy at the alpha’s house. Seems your tribe’s population explosion has created an unhealthy demand for space. Grey said to seek shelter with you.”

Lessie’s eyes widened. “The alpha told you to stay with me?”

“Not exactly,” he said slowly. “He suggested that ye might be amenable to a guest. Under the circumstances.”

“I see.”

Conn didn’t like the fact that Lestriv looked troubled by the conversation. “I can always go to wolf and sleep on the floor.”

He noticed the tension left her face with that suggestion. “Well,” she began, “I’m sure something can be worked out.”

During dinner, Lily entertained them both with stories she’d made up. There was one about a dragon who fell in love with a butterfly and another about snakes that could wind around a wolf and smother them to death.

Lestriv didn’t know whether to be pleased with her little girl’s imagination or disturbed by the unusual turn of her thought process.

While Lessie cleaned up, she listened to the pleasant sound of Conn telling Lily a bedtime story that had been written centuries before. Lily had a lot of questions.
What’s a cobbler? What’s a piper?
Conn’s explanations made Lessie smile to herself, as did his patience with Lily. Lestriv wasn’t blind to the fact that he created a warmth and a hum of life in the household that was absent when he wasn’t around.

She knew what he wanted from her. He’d made that plain. She also knew she wasn’t ready to allow herself an attraction so soon after losing Jimmy. That and she didn’t think it would be healthy for Lily to get attached to adult males who were transient. Not that it wasn’t already too late for that.

Those were the thoughts that whirled round and round inside her head as she helped Lily get ready for bed. As if Lily could read her mother’s mind, she asked, “Will you still be here tomorrow, Conn?” The expression on her face was so innocently hopeful, it tore at the heartstrings of both adults.

He opened his mouth to respond, but Lessie answered. “Yes. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Lessie closed the door to Lily’s tiny room and made her way to the table where they’d had dinner. “How is the training going?”

“The knights seem to be pleased enough. Sometimes I think they’re surprised that werewolves are clever. I can no’ figure out why they’d be expectin’ us to be stupid.”

Lessie chuckled. “I’m sure they don’t think that.”

Conn sighed. “The weapons they brought us…” His expression grew serious as he locked her gaze to his. “It will work, Lessie. There’s no question in my mind. It will work.”

“I hope so, Conn. We all hope so. I don’t want Lily to grow up always looking overhead in fear, not being able to venture more than a few feet away from a structure with a roof. Although,” Lessie looked toward Lily’s closed door then leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper, ”I’m not sure roofs would protect us if the dragons made up their minds on utter destruction.”

That was punctuated with a shiver that raised Conn’s protective instincts, but also made him painfully hard. He attempted to surreptitiously adjust himself in the chair. He didn’t want to find out what Lestriv would think of the blooming big erection he’d sprouted just from watching one little shiver travel up her spine.

He swallowed to find voice because his mouth had gone dry. “’Twill all be over soon. We’re goin’ to rid this beautiful place of buggerin’ flyin’ reptiles. When ‘tis done, we’ll be pickin’ up little bits of dragon shifter for a long time to come.” Conn’s reassurance dropped to a soothing tone. Lestriv’s reaction began with a nod and ended with a yawn. “Too much diggin’ in the garden. Would ye like me to heat enough water for a bath?”

“That sounds like heaven, but,” she laughed softly, “I don’t think I could stay awake long enough. I’m keeping the offer though. Maybe I’ll ask tomorrow or…”

“When’er you wish.”

“So…” she began shyly, “you said you wouldn’t mind sleeping on the floor? As wolf?”

He was disappointed not to be invited into the warm bed with the curves that were only made more delectable by the swell of her belly, but hadn’t expected it.

He nodded as he walked toward the hearth. “I’ll just sit here in the chair and tend the fire until I’m ready.”

Lestriv’s cabin consisted of a main room and a small anteroom just big enough for Lily and her single cot. The double bed sat against the wall opposite the fireplace so that Lessie could see everything in the room when she was turned toward the hearth. She’d changed into a long linen nightgown in Lily’s room, said goodnight to Konochur, crawled into bed, and was asleep almost immediately.

Although there was nothing to fear in New Elk Mountain, at least there hadn’t been before the dragon shifters arrived, she recognized that she felt more relaxed and secure when Conn was there. That constant tension and unease of single parenthood abated as if on some level she felt the responsibility to keep Lily safe was shared.

Sometime later she heard a rustle and roused from her sleep. When she opened her eyes, Conn was removing his clothes. She watched in fascination as he stripped down to skin. Like many of the New Elk Mountain males, he’d taken to wearing buttery soft doeskin pants. When he turned to lay them over the chair, he glanced at Lessie and saw that she was awake and staring at his nakedness.

Konochur, like other werewolves, couldn’t really grasp the human concept of modesty, but he knew he had even less reason to be modest than most. With that thought he turned so that Lestriv could look her fill and see what he had to offer, as a male. Not a handyman or caretaker. As a lover.

Lessie thought the right thing to do was to look away, but she couldn’t find the will. When he’d made eye contact with her and realized she was watching, she’d thought she’d seen his eyes fire with heat, but it was probably her imagination or the momentary reflection of firelight when he turned.

She had no doubt that Konochur was the most desirable male on Lunark or anywhere so far as she knew. The combination of his beauty, confidence, and sexy smiles had her constantly wondering why he wanted her. After a couple of minutes, he grinned at Lessie then changed into a wolf so quickly it took her breath away.

Konochur was as beautiful as a wolf as he was as a man. The fur along his head and back was the same blue-black color as his hair in human form, while his chest and belly were silver. He stalked toward Lessie and, when he reached the bed, bumped her with his nose.

“What?” she asked. When he did it again, she couldn’t suppress a smile and moved over.

Conn placed his front paws on the bed and boosted the rest of his body up with a little rear end hop. He collapsed with a masculine huff, lay his head near hers and gave up a mighty sigh of contentment. Lessie’s fingers itched to reach out and touch the fur that was just inches from her hand. After a while her resistance gave way to her overriding desire to know what it felt like. She ran her hand along his back. The top layer of fur was a little coarse, but there was another layer just underneath, that was silky to the touch.

Konochur turned his head so that he could give her wrist a little lick of approval with a warm tongue. She grinned in the dim light and said, “Thank you.”

CHAPTER 7

The battle plan was simple. Plan A. Take the top of the mountain off, hopefully killing all the dragon shifters at once, in the nest. Plan B. If some of them survived, chase them through the air with camera-fitted drones. Plan C. If any survived Plan A
and
Plan B, assume they would take to the air. That meant wait for them to show themselves, then shoot point-blank rapid-fire rocket blasters at them until nothing remains.

It hadn’t taken the volunteer knights long to identify which werewolves had the most aptitude for technological warfare. A few simple tests rendered more than enough candidates for drone controller. The werewolves were not only highly intelligent, but had much quicker reaction times than humans.

Likewise, it wasn’t hard to separate candidates for hunting with rocket blasters. As Glendennon Catch put it, “You pick the biggest sons-of-bitches available and hope they can aim in the general direction of the target.” Liulf was put into that group. He didn’t know whether to be proud of being big and strong or insulted that the knights referred to the blaster unit as The Meatheads.

Meteorological equipment wasn’t one of the technologies they imported from Loti. So they had to rely on methods of weather prediction that were older, but just as reliable. They needed a day so perfectly clear that hiding in clouds wouldn’t be an option for dragons in flight.

The knights, who had signed on for training, decided unanimously that they would stay long enough to be sure the Lunark werewolves were rid of dragon shifters. Command Central had been set up in the dense forest of the valley beneath the mountain the dragons had defaced. In some ways the tall trees were better protection than buildings.

All the wolves who had roles to play had said goodbye to their families at dusk the night before and traveled during the night to reach the gathering point. A few had come with a clothing pack tied or strapped to their wolf form, but most hadn’t bothered. At first the bodies of naked werewolves, male and female, threw the Black Swan knights off balance, but even they were surprised by how fast they adjusted.

Conn had made light of his part because he didn’t want to upset Lestriv or have her needlessly worry, but truthfully, he’d been assigned one of the most dangerous jobs. He was part of the crew that would climb the mountain to assess the success or failure of Plan A.

Most of the dragons were killed by the first drone strike. Had they been in dragon form, some might have survived with injuries, but they made a habit of spending their nights drinking themselves into a stupor and sleeping wherever they passed out, in infinitely more fragile, human form. Between the fact that they had built themselves a mountaintop fortress and the fact that they were unquestionably the top of the food chain on Lunark, they believed themselves invulnerable to attack.

They had deliberately sought out a world without technology-driven weaponry and had further insured the safety of their nest by showing the locals how easy it was for dragons to extinguish their insignificant lives. The inhabitants of Lunark didn’t even present enough of a danger to post a lookout.

Grenhelde had been in the top of the highest tower nursing hurt feelings and a skin of blood wine. She’d been rejected by Tharenvolf for the fourth time in three centuries and each time was worse than the time before. That night the rejection had been punctuated with a backhand that sent her stumbling into a table of food. Her humiliation was made complete by a response of raucous laughter from the witnesses. She would have sought adoption by another nest if it wasn’t for the fact that her brother and two cousins, her only remaining family, were part of that nest. After seeing them join in laughing at her humiliation, she was reevaluating the value of those relationships. Alone with drink to help dull the pain.

The first explosion separated the top of the tower from the rest of the structure. Since the lower part of the fortress had been targeted, it was more or less pulverized, but oddly, the section of tower, where Grenhelde had been drinking alone, remained intact. It tumbled down the opposite side of the mountain, crumbling along the way. As soon as enough of the stones had broken away, she shifted to her dragon form which was capable of taking a lot of abuse. She was able to break up the rest of the stones in transformation and fly free of the tumbling ruin, but not without injury. Before shifting she’d sustained cuts, slashes, bruises, and a sprained elbow, which hurt enough to make her whimper with each beat of her wings.

Grenhelde’s brother had been one of those killed in the first bomb volley. There were four dragons, other than Grenhelde that survived only because they had passed out on the rock “courtyard” outside the fortress, mostly because of drunkenness, but partly because the cool night air made their reptile cores sluggish. The explosions woke them up quickly, but not fast enough to flee unscathed. Each one of the four had taken shrapnel wounds of various degrees of severity.

When Grenhelde reached the site that had been their new home, she had planned to fly high enough to get an overview of the situation, but the sounds of pops and whistles made her change course and land behind the rubble that had been a fortress. Peeking over the rocks she watched as each of the four dragons bore down on the location from which the werewolves were launching the modern equivalent of grenade rockets.