Frostbitten (25 page)

The moon had passed under cloud cover, leaving the forest as black as it had been the night before, so it seemed to take a moment before the mutt saw Clay’s pale form, stopped, nose lifted, ears up. Then, Clay’s eyes went wide and he shot forward, plowing into my side. I hit the ground, Clay atop me, as a huge dark shape swung into the spot where I’d been standing.

Clay jumped off me and spun, snarling at the beast. I scrambled up, but all I could see was that black form, clouds still blocking the moon and Clay now blocking my line of sight.

The beast was on all fours this time. It was at least twice as wide as Clay, its back humped like a bear, sloping to smaller hindquarters.

The beast snarled, a guttural not-quite-natural sound that made my fur rise. Teeth flashed and I caught a whiff of its breath, my stomach churning at the stench.

Clay stood his ground, snarling. Then, without warning, he charged. The beast reared, like a bear, one massive front paw swiping at Clay, but catching only air. Clay had checked his charge at the last second, veering around the beast instead. It tried to spin, but too late, as Clay vaulted onto its back.

The beast clawed the air, trying in vain to reach Clay. I launched myself at its stomach. My jaws clamped onto sparse, coarse hair, then into nearly bald flesh. I clamped down, fangs scraping ribs, blood spurting into my mouth.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the dark form of the mutt racing in. He leapt… and bit down on my rear leg, yanking so hard that I fell back with a flap of the beast’s skin in my teeth, blood spraying my face.

I scrabbled up and spun on the mutt, but he was gone, trying to get Clay off the beast’s back. I flew after him.

Clay kept slashing at the beast’s neck, going for its throat. It roared and bucked. Then, from deep in the woods came an answering roar.

I barked, an awkward sound for a wolf, but I did the best I could, desperate to get Clay’s attention. But he’d heard the second beast, and his brain wasn’t yet blood-fogged enough not to realize we couldn’t take on two of them. He snarled, telling me to get moving, then dropped and hit the ground running.

I headed for the open ground of the clearing, where we could get up some speed, but the mutt took the lead and steered us deeper into the woods instead. As we darted around trees, the beast tried giving chase, but the forest was too dense for him and he quickly fell behind, roaring in frustration. We kept running until we couldn’t hear him, then we headed for our clothes.

I waited while Clay Changed. Once he was done, and dressing, I walked over to where the mutt lay near the path. I growled and jerked my head, trying to tell him to Change back, that I needed to speak to him. He only looked at me, uncomprehending.

When I stepped closer, a wolf shot from the shadows. It was the small gray one I’d seen with the mutt the night before. I backed out of her way. She eyed me with a baleful glower, then snuffled him anxiously. He snorted and bumped her away, as if to say “Enough of that.”

Then his muzzle jerked up. He looked over my shoulder and I turned to see Clay coming. The mutt grunted and started walking away, as if his job was done and he was eager to be off.

I started after him. The gray wolf lunged at me, snapping. I fell back. She kept snarling, fur bristling until he circled back and prodded her flank. She started to leave with him, but couldn’t resist tossing one last glower and growl my way.

“I think she’s warning you off.” Clay walked up beside me. To the wolf, he said, “Don’t worry, she’s already taken.”

The wolf chuffed, but still glared at me before turning away.

I raced into the thicket he’d vacated, trying for a quick Change so I could go after the mutt and get him to talk. There was no rushing the process, though, and by the time I finished, he was long gone.

“I tried to call him back,” Clay said. “But I don’t think he understood, and I wasn’t going after him, leaving you alone. Anyway, I’m sure we’ll see him again. Hopefully he’ll be by himself. I don’t think his mate likes you much.”

“You really think that’s his mate?”

He shrugged. “If that’s the form a werewolf chooses, it’s no different than another taking a human mate.”

“Uh, yes it is. If you’d been a zoo employee instead of a professor, would you have chosen a wolf mate instead of me?”

“Depends on how cute she was.”

When I looked at him, he laughed. “I’m kidding, darling. The answer is no because, as much as I like being a wolf, it’s not the form I choose. It’s too limiting. You can’t speak. Can’t read. Can’t write. The communication of intellectually stimulating ideas is nearly impossible.” He grinned at me. “As for stimulation of other kinds? Serious limitations there, too. No hands.” He slid his under my shirt. “No fingers.” His tickled my sides and brushed my breasts. “No lips.” He lowered his to my neck.

“Limiting.”

“Very.”

His mouth moved to mine, kissing me hard.

“Maybe this time we should complete our escape first?” I murmured.

A low growl, not exactly disagreement, just annoyance that I’d brought it up. I glanced over his shoulder at the truck.

“A big metal box with a folding backseat should be safe enough, don’t you think?”

He peered at the truck, as if measuring the distance. Then he scooped me up and carried me to it.

* * * *

Back at the hotel, the first thing I did was call Joey’s office. He wouldn’t be in, of course, but that was the point—I could leave a complete message without him hanging up on me.

Couching it in suitably cryptic terms—in case his voice mail was monitored—I let him know that we’d figured out what was going on. The mutts had taken Noah and now they were holding him hostage, demanding something from Joey for his release. Joey was dealing with that and proceeding with extreme caution… meaning he didn’t want two Pack enforcers in town, throwing their weight around and endangering his half brother’s life.

Now that we understood the situation, I assured him we’d proceed with equally extreme caution and that we could help resolve the situation. I didn’t expect him to take us up on the offer. What I was really saying, as politely as possible was, “we know why you want us to leave town, and we aren’t going.”

Next we tended to our injuries. Neither of us had any broken bones, and that was all that mattered. Being a werewolf meant a lifetime of fighting, and like those who spend their life in the boxing ring, we’ve learned to ignore the bumps and bruises and cuts. Check for broken bones, clean the cuts, get some rest and we’d be good to go tomorrow. We had to be—unlike professional boxers, we couldn’t call off a match because we weren’t up to it. Werewolf healing helped with that. Twenty-four hours later, the only remaining signs of my encounter with the beast were a tender spot on the back of my head and one on my ribs.

We went to bed after that. I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I didn’t stay that way, though. Although Clay remained perfectly still beside me, I could sense he was awake and after a quick, dreamless nap, I looked over to see him staring at the ceiling.

I lifted up onto my side. Too deep in thought to notice me, he kept staring. I glanced over him to see his right hand clenching rhythmically at his side, arm muscles pulsing under the pitted scar tissue.

“Is it bothering you?” I asked.

“Hmm?” He followed my gaze to his arm, and made a final fist, then stopped flexing. “Nah, I don’t feel it anymore.”

“I mean is it
bothering
you?”

He was silent a minute, then he brushed my hair back over my shoulder.

“I ran away tonight,” he said after a moment. “When I first smelled that thing, I ran.”

Protests and reassurances sprang to my lips, but I knew he wasn’t looking for that.

He continued. “I remembered what it did to you the night before and all I could think about was getting you out of there.”

“Which under the circumstances was the smart thing to do.”

“Yeah. But the reason I ran instead of fighting?” He lifted his arm and flexed. “It doesn’t affect my fighting in wolf form. It’s just a slight weakness in one of my legs, easily compensated. My first instinct, though, was to second-guess myself and flee. That’s not good.”

“But—”

“Under the circumstances, it was the right choice, and that would be fine… if I could say I made an informed decision.”

“Which is tough to do when a three-hundred-pound beast is bearing down on you.” I caught his look. “Yes, I know you don’t want excuses. The point is that you don’t have the confidence you did four years ago. Personally, I don’t think that’s such a bad thing. If you’re still jumping on the back of raging beasts, you have more than enough confidence for my tastes.”

He went silent, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

“It’s not running from that beast that’s disturbing you. It’s the possibility that you might do it with a mutt. If enough of them confront us, your first instinct will be to hustle me out of there. If I’m just your mate, that’s not a problem—you’re getting me out of harm’s way. But if I’m Alpha, I shouldn’t need to be shuffled off, and if it looks like you’re doing that, then the implication is that there’s a problem.”

“Yeah.”

He went quiet again. I waited, knowing I’d prodded enough.

“With my arm… it’s ongoing,” he said. “I’m still working it through. With you in line for Alpha, though, it highlights another issue, one I’ve been avoiding.”

When he didn’t go on, I did prompt him, but he only slid his arm under me and pulled me close.

“It’s nothing. I’m tired and I’m rambling.”

“If something’s bugging you…”

“I’ll deal with it.”

I paused. “And I can’t help?”

When he said nothing, the temperature in the room seemed to plummet. I shivered. He rubbed my back, but it didn’t help.

Since when didn’t Clay share his problems with me? Sure, we were notorious for keeping minor issues from one another, trying to solve them on our own. But now clearly something
was
bothering Clay and he didn’t want to share it, and that only fanned the embers of my real worry—that this was what being Alpha would be like.

There was a lot Clay didn’t share with Jeremy. There were aspects to protecting the Alpha and the Pack that bothered Jeremy. Like me, he wished they weren’t necessary. So Clay did them without sharing the details and Jeremy never asked.

My Alphahood would not be a radical change from Jeremy’s. I believed in every reform he’d instituted and I’d continue his work. Most of his leadership style I admired and would emulate. But I wanted to be more involved. I wanted to be on the front lines, as I was now, not giving orders from the rear. I wanted to know everything that went on, even the parts that bothered me.

“If it has to do with the Pack, then I need to know what the issue is and how you think it should be resolved.”

He glanced over. “And if I disagree?”

“As my bodyguard? Or as my mate?”

“Both.”

I waited ten seconds, resisting the urge to flip over or move away.

I could say I was respecting Clay’s space and didn’t want to guilt-trip him into sharing. But the truth is that pride kept me from showing I was hurt. So I settled in as if I’d already forgotten it, which I’m sure would have completely fooled him if he hadn’t spent almost twenty years learning to read my moods.

“Remember that mutt who stalked you on our honeymoon?” he asked after a minute.

“The Cain kid? Tough to forget, as hard as I might try.”

“Do you know why he didn’t run away when I first warned him off?”

“Uh, because he’s a Cain? Big family sharing one allotment of brain cells?”

“Because he didn’t believe my reputation. He’d seen the photos. He insisted they were Photoshopped.”

“Over thirty years ago? Kinda proves my point about the brain cells, don’t you think?”

“But he’s not the only one. Things have been changing. When you and I started working together, mutts ran from us the minute they figured out who I was. Then they started sticking around a little longer, maybe throwing a punch or two, testing my reputation. These days, over half the mutts in the country are younger than those photos. I’m their dad’s bogeyman, not theirs. Kids like Cain don’t see any reason to run until I give them one. And that was fine… until this.” He lifted his arm.

“So? Even with your arm, you can take on guys like that—half your age, twice your size—and the outcome’s never in question.”

“But ten years ago, I wouldn’t have
had
to take them on. I wouldn’t have had to worry about Cain stalking you. The second he realized I was with you he’d have been on the next bus out of town. Now, with you becoming Alpha, the kids getting older… I don’t want to keep proving I still deserve my reputation. That was the point of…”

He trailed off. The point of what? I was about to ask, when I understood. That was the point of what Clay had done at seventeen, dissecting a mutt while he was still alive, then taking pictures. I knew it wasn’t as horrible as it sounded—the mutt had been anesthetized and out cold the whole time, dying before he knew what had happened. The point hadn’t been torturing this particular mutt, but convincing other mutts that Clay had tortured him and that if they trespassed on Jeremy’s property, he’d do the same to them.