Her Wanted Wolf Page 8

  The smell of Chick-Fil-A wafted over to her. To her embarrassment, her stomach gurgled like a drain. The grim line of Micah’s lips softened into a gentle smile.

  “I hope you remembered the ketchup. Fries aren’t fries without a good dollop of Heinz.” Aimee peered down into the sack Micah held open for her. The familiar white bag with its red logo and the bottle of vitamin water were there as he’d promised. To her delight, he’d added a treat, a cellophane-wrapped package of peanut brittle. She was tempted to eat dessert first. The short container of coffee took her by surprise. Espresso worked like high-octane fuel to weres. Since she was caged, there was no need for a boost.

  “I live to please. There’s enough in there to dilute the grease soaking the potatoes. There’s an additional treat in there for you.” He reached through the bars and his knuckles brushed across her cheek. His green eyes skimmed over her clouded worry. “Eat and drink as much of this as you can. You need to rebuild your strength.”

  “The grease will go a long way in padding my hips. Maybe you’ll stop trying to fatten me up.”

  His eyes dropped down to her pelvis. “I like full hips on a woman.”

  Aimee caught his hand. “What happened?”

  “Just a small difference of opinion between me and one of Rifkin’s boot lickers. Nothing to worry about.” His gruff reply dismissed her concern.

  Nothing, her left foot. Something had happened, and it was bad. She glanced over at the weres Micah led with a silent unspoken command. The grimness on their faces told a story. They were ready for a no-holding-anything-back fight.

  She looked up at Micah’s face and sighed. Slashing black brows highlighted his green eyes with a ring of black ring around his iris, revealing his were blood. His stubborn jaw had a slight dusting of stubble, making him look even more like a disreputable pirate.

  Aimee inspected him hungrily, love and concern taking in every new nick and bruise. He was in as much danger as she. Fate was a contrary bitch. Aimee, daughter of the Lunedare pack, was head over heels in love with a Redmaven, their sworn enemies.

  Micah reached into the bag she held and tapped on the coffee cup lid. “Save that until I say when.” He stroked her fingers, and she looked up to meet his gaze. Aimee drew reassurance from the slight contact, but frowned up at him in confusion at the silent insistence in his stare. She stifled the questions on the tip of her tongue and nodded to signal she’d do as he asked.

  “What the hell took you so long, Micah?” Rifkin’s raspy voice intruded into their preoccupation with each other.

  Micah didn’t turn around to acknowledge Rifkin. Keeping his back to him was an insult. No were would turn his back on another if he considered him a threat. “I went to get supplies. What’s your problem?”

  “Don’t have one. I just wanted you back in time for you to take up your post here so I can patrol the outer perimeter.” The hair rose on Aimee’s arms as Rifkin’s thin lips spread in a smug smirk.

  “I know what needs to be done, and I sure as hell don’t need you breathing down my neck.” Micah took hold of her hand to calm the tremors.

  “Bardo left me in charge. You need to remember that.”

  “No, he left you to see to the safety of this compound, like a rent-a-cop.”

  Micah delivered the insult with a twist of his lips.

  Aimee’s mouth dropped open. Micah never, ever went out of his way to piss Rifkin off. He ignored him most of the time. What was he up to?

  Rifkin let out a throaty growl. “He trusts me to keep you all in line.”

  “Trust you? Shit, man, he doesn’t trust any of us. If he did, he’d have told us what he’s hunting back at the caves. Have you wondered what he has Milo mixing with his little chemistry set?”

  “Milo? He’s not fore-fighter material, so he’s no threat.”

  Mica turned around. “You’re oblivious, aren’t you? Something is cooking and he’s keeping us out of the loop. This tells me Bardo’s not sure of either one of us.”

  The people nearby began to surreptitiously backing away, creating a clearing space between Micah and Rifkin.The animosity between the sparring wolves rose with each word exchanged.

  “Do you ever wonder what will happen to you when he realizes you’re positioning yourself to challenge him?” Micah asked Rifkin casually.

  Rifkin’s sly smile gave nothing away. “Who says I am? It’s all conjecture. However, if I ever become alpha of this pack, you’d make a passable primo.”

  “Kiss my ass.”

  “I’d rather kiss hers.” Rifkin puckered his lips in Aimee’s direction and made a loud smacking sound.

  Micah turned to slant his head up at the shrinking hides on the wall. “I’m sure you would, but you won’t get the chance.”

  Rifkin’s eyes shimmered with malice. “It’ll be interesting to see what Bardo will think of how attached you and the she-wolf he’s marked as his breeder have become. Maybe your pelt and hers will join my collection on the wall. I’ll offer my services to scrape hers clean. It keeps the stench down, you know.” Rifkin’s taunt elicited a reaction from Micah.

  The muscles in his back bunched. Aimee pressed her palm against Micah’s back. His transformation into a were began with the emergence of his fur, but just as quickly, it receded.

  “Cause her any harm, Rifkin, and it’ll be you and me.” Micah’s baritone dropped into his chest and his words rolled out like a thunderous threat.

  Rifkin widened his stance and puffed out the upper part of his body aggressively. “If you weren’t Bardo’s bitch, we’d have gotten into it already.”

  “I’m nobody’s bitch,” Micah replied, his tone bland. “But if you think you can take me, come on, bring it. Right here, right now.” Micah stepped forward and the crowd shifted again with a clear line of demarcation. The bulk of the pack still stood behind Micah.

  Rifkin’s small eyes narrowed into small, piggy slits. All Aimee saw were his glittering black irises, burning with fury. “You won’t always have the pack at your back.”

  “Hell, Rifkin. I thought we’d be doing this mano a mano. No one would interfere. But then again, you haven’t caught me alone, have you?”

  “What are you implying?”

  “What I’m saying is that I know what you are, how you operate. You come at a were from the back. Like that stunt you tried to pull tonight, ordering Willis to cut the brake fluid lines. The damnedest thing happened when we flipped over. He broke both his legs—or was that when we beat the truth out of him? I’m not sure. We left him where we crashed. He won’t be able to do your dirty work for a couple of hours.”

  “You think you have all the answers, don’t you?”

  “I know one thing. When we finally go at each other, I’m putting you down because you’re rabid. I think we’ve flirted long enough, don’t you think?” Micah’s statement cut off the background chatter, and a strained silence settled over the room. Rifkin’s labored breathing broke the stillness.

  Oh crap. Why was Micah goading him? With the gauntlet thrown down publicly by Micah, Rifkin would take him up on his challenge as soon as Bardo returned. Fore-fighters couldn’t take each other on without their alpha’s blessing and remain within the pack.

  “I never thought you’d grow a pair big enough to challenge me. I’ve been dying to get rid of you and you’ve handed me your neck.” Rifkin’s eyes shifted to Aimee. “My stint to patrol the outer perimeter ends in a couple of nights, doesn’t it? It’ll be good to sleep in for a change.” He shot Aimee a glance, nodded to his cronies, and lumbered from the room.

  The atmosphere lightened the moment the door slammed shut behind him and Aimee sagged against the bars of her jail.

  Aimee grabbed Micah’s arm and pulled him close. “Are you mad? He’s going to do his level best to kill you.” She wanted to shake him until his fangs rattled.

  “No, I’ve finally come to my senses. Remember, don’t drink the coffee until I say so.” He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the
palm, then ambled off to help distribute the food.

  Aimee knew Micah was up to something. She knew him well enough to recognize the watchfulness in his demeanor. What, she hadn’t a clue. He’d better not get himself killed.

  Her fate was inextricably linked to his. If he died, she’d soon follow. They wouldn’t be getting the opportunity to use her as a breeder. They’d have to put her down, because she’d try to kill whichever bastard killed the were she’d come to love.

  Chapter Nine

  Early the next morning, Sabine found herself perched uncomfortably on a narrow precipice with Drew and Ishbel. The warm masculine bulk of Drew’s body pressed against hers made her uncharacteristically fidgety.

  Usually, mornings were her favorite time of day. Drew’s distracting presence prevented her from fully appreciating the phenomenon of the droplets of moisture caught in the mist glistening under the rays of the rising sun.

  The situation called for perfect stillness. If she started a rockslide, the pebbles would roll down the hill and give away their position. Unable to help herself, Sabine crept to the edge of the cliff. One more inch and she’d take a tumble down the hill. She caught Ishbel’s barely suppressed snicker.

  Eyes closed, she reflected on the sensation of his mouth on her neck when he’d held her captive. She remembered the smell of him and the look in his eyes the night before when he suggested she leave him. Another flood of sexual awareness filtered through her body. Her core tightened and bloomed, making her even more skittish. Crap, was she coming into heat?

  Drew overwhelmed her senses. Everything about him was too much. He was too masculine. Too alpha. Too muscular. Sabine sent up a silent prayer that the scent of her emerging desires wouldn’t infuse the air around them.

  Ishbel bumped into Drew, causing his body to press harder against Sabine. Their fur intertwined and clung. The combination, a heady mix of male and female were spoor, was uniquely them. The arousing scent intensified her discomfort, and her inner were demanded she give in to the visceral urge to mate. Her skin felt like a hot and achy burden.

  She and her sister were going to have a little chat later. Fur might fly, but she’d get her point across.

  Forcing herself to focus, Sabine fixed her gaze at the mouth of the gully. From their vantage point, they had a clear view of the entire valley basin. With Drew nestled between them, no hint of his spoor would travel down the hillside on the soft breeze to give away their location.

  Finally, wolves emerged in single file at a full run from the gorge below, led by a were with a distinctive russet pelt.

  Drew bristled beside her. At his low growl and the show of fangs, both she and Ishbel sank down onto their haunches, heads lowered. Instinct had them falling into a submissive position.

  The pack neared the spot where Sabine had taken down her attacker the night before. They spread out on either side of their leader to cover a wide area. Noses to the ground, they began to track until they disappeared into the trees.

  A frisson of fear ran through Sabine, lifting the fur on the back of her neck. She’d never seen a pack of wolves hunt in such a formation.

  Sabine took a quick peek up at Drew. His eyes glowed golden brown, hot with fury.

  Drew nudged her side and made his way silently up the hill. Sabine took one last look at the valley below and spun around to follow. The multitude of questions she wanted to ask whirled in her head. One in particular: who was the wolf that put a crack in Drew’s controlled demeanor?

  Sabine and Ishbel caught up with Drew shedding his base form. He turned to stare back down into the valley, his face a grim, forbidding mask.

  Sabine shifted and stared up into Drew’s stony face. “What are they doing? Wolves don’t hunt in such a manner.”

  “They’re doing what is known as a grid search, a human’s way to look for a missing child or a body.” Drew’s stony answer offered little reassurance. “I hope that you are capable of concealing us a little longer. If they pinpoint the location of your den, we won’t be able to hold them at bay. He’ll have picked up my scent on his dead kin. He knows I am here. Bardo Redmaven will be out for blood now.”

  Sabine tasted true dread for the first time. She plopped down on a grassy knoll. The size of such a force would overwhelm her family. She’d never openly acknowledged that their defenses were an illusion, a mere blanketing of odors to conceal themselves. They didn’t have the numbers to stave off an attack.

  “You know him?” Sabine tilting her head in the direction of the encroaching wolves’ pack leader.

  Still focused on the action below them, Drew let out a disgusted grunt. “Yeah, I do. Bardo is the Redmaven pack’s alpha.” He spat out the name like a curse. “He ordered the taking of my sister. We’ll have to leave tonight.”

  Sabine grabbed Drew’s tense arm to gain his attention. “What are you talking about? My father can’t be moved.”

  He spared her a brief glance before he turned back to monitor the weres’ actions. “He isn’t wounded. I’ve figured out a way to move him. My fore-fighters are on their way, and they’ll escort the bulk of your pack to safety. I’ll personally take care of your father. You do all you can to expedite this evacuation in the short time we have to pull this off.”

  Sabine jutted out her chin. “You can’t order me around. You’re not our alpha. We’re staying until my father takes his last breath. Balthazar lived here. He should die here, and be given back to nature in the place he loved so much.”

  Drew’s head whipped around and pinned her with an implacable glare. “Let’s not get into a pissing contest here, Sabine,” he snapped impatiently. “I might not be your mate, but I am the dominant male here and you will obey me. Don’t force me to bend you into submission. I will if I have to.”

  The tart scent of impatience coming off Drew filled her nostrils.

  “The older women won’t follow you until we’ve acknowledge each other as our mates, and I won’t say the words until I have certain assurances. And I sure as hell don’t want your mate’s mark on me.”

  In a flash, he was on her. She found herself flat on her back, spread-eagled under him. Drew’s palms crushed her wrists, his knees pressed into her thighs, pinning her to the ground. Frantic, she wiggled. The fact she couldn’t defend herself in this position only made her fight harder.

  He added pressure to hold her still.

  Unable to move, she glared up at him, furious. She was in a blatantly subservient position, vulnerable. He could take her without any effort.

  In the pure light of morning, flecks of amber smoldered in the dense brown of Drew’s irises. Caught by his gaze, she was riveted by the forcefulness she saw there. Sabine glimpsed the raw, roiling pain he carried, the power of the alpha were in him, a hint of what he had the capacity to do.

  Drew’s breath brushed over her lips. Her mouth quivered under the wispy caress.

  He buried his nose into the curve of her neck and raked his teeth over the delicate flesh. His incisors ran down the sensitive nerves hidden there with skillful precision. It was a testament to his control that he didn’t break the skin under his fangs. Drew hung over her and the tip of his male member brushed over the sparse hair covering her mons.

  Sabine shivered with dread and anticipation. Her nipples tightened at the thought of him taking her.

  However, he went no further, to her chagrin and relief.

  “Say the words, Sabine, or I’ll take you here and now. I’ll claim you and put my mate’s mark on you without your consent.”

  Who did he think he was? Riled, she bucked under him, but he proved to be too heavy.

  A snarling hiss from Ishbel pulled Drew’s attention away from her.

  “Don’t interfere or I’ll have to discipline you too. This is between me and my future mate.” The barked order froze Ishbel in her tracks.

  “You wouldn’t dare.” Sabine scowled up at him. “Why the sudden change of heart? You hadn’t made up your mind last night?”

  “Th
e deal was sealed for me the moment I saw Bardo Redmaven. He’s not taking another she-wolf under my protection. Your time has run out. If necessary, I’ll put Balthazar out of his misery to cement my position.” The stony declaration galvanized her into action. Sabine bucked and strained to get her limbs free, but he didn’t budge.

  Spent by her struggles, she glared at him. “You’re no better than they are.” Her insult earned her a smile, one without a glimmer of humor. It was a threat, and his fangs descended, a sharp reminder of his dominance.

  “I used to be a better man, but now, if need be, I can be just as brutal as they are. I need you to help me find Aimee. They’ve had her for too long. You can’t focus until your family is safe. I’m clearing the way to get what I need.” The intransigence in his tone splintered her resolve to ignore his demand.

  The safety of her family was all that really mattered, and now that he’d demanded her acquiescence, as a she-wolf, she was expected to cede to his wishes. Sabine was more than willing to pay the price, but not before she had his promise.

  “I’ll say the words if you make a sacred vow that, if I give birth to a were with the Silverwolf coloring and gifts, you’ll allow him to carry my birth clan’s name.” Sabine stared at him, the thumping of her heart extraordinarily loud to her ears.

  Drew’s head reared back as if she’d slapped him.

  “No.” The single word fell between them like an impregnable wall.

  “No?” Sabine gaped up at him.

  He nodded for emphasis. “No cub of mine will bear the name of another pack. He’ll be a Lunedare. Say the words, Sabine.”

  “Not until you agree to my demand. I promised my father, and I intend to keep my word.” Desperation made her breathing come out in short, harsh pants. She should have brought up the subject the night before, when he was more amenable. His flinty expression had no give in it. “Can’t we discuss this?” Surely he understood her position.

  “There is nothing to discuss. We don’t give away our cubs like puppies. You have to make a decision. Save the family you have now or you won’t have any in the future. Now say the damn words.” His hands tightened on her wrists.