Hunting Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #3 (6 page)

Oddly enough, Caleb's eyes widened when she began sucking on the straw. He looked away hastily. A silence held them for a long moment until her throat eased up enough she thought she could safely get out words again.

She focused on what seemed to be the safer topic than questioning the possibility Caleb was getting as flustered by her presence as she was by his. “Look,” she said, forcing herself to fall into the teaching cadence she always adopted when discussing any pack history. “Rogues don't like rules, per se. They don't want to be restricted or constricted by any fully-fledged pack. Any wolf that has rogue tendencies is not cut out for traditional pack life. They're just too independent, in a way.”

“Too independent to want real leadership. To understand that our way of life is the
only
way of life for us.” Caleb's tone snapped out again, but his voice still managed to wrap itself around Rielle's senses. Why did he have to sound so darned male? How come she'd never really paid attention to him before?

He is all male wolf,
her own wolf thought strongly into her head, jolting Rielle with its clarity and intensity. Her wolf had said so little for months.

Because I haven't let her,
she thought guiltily. Suddenly even more unsettled, she hurried on. “Independent, yes. But pack life doesn't have to be the only way of life for us.”

“What the—Rielle.” Now his tone was definitely perturbed. “That's crazy talk. Maybe you read too much history.” His gaze caught hers in challenge.

That managed to cool her right back down. Right back down into righteous indignation, that is. Straightening in her seat and unfolding her fingers from around the deliciously cold glass, Rielle cocked her head at that big bully of a wolf sitting across from her.

“You did not just say I read too much.” She let outrage lace her every word. “Did you?”

Caleb shifted in his seat and leaned back from her a little, although his still regarded her with that funny challenge in his expression. “Um...”

“Because if you did, that's the same thing as saying I should just shut my pretty mouth and listen to you, instead.” Her dander was good and up now. Who'd thought this was a good idea? Why had she said yes? Caleb Bardou was nothing but an uncultured oaf, a guy who just wanted to be strong and old-fashioned, who wanted—

“Yes, you should,” he said.

The short, sharp words busted right into her swirling thoughts and stopped them cold. She stared at him.

“You should listen to me, because when it comes to rogues, I do know what I'm talking about. But I have to say, I really don't want you to shut your pretty little mouth. I like hearing what you think. And your mouth definitely is pretty. So keep talking. It's interesting.”

Wha...? This time there was no mistaking her reaction. Rielle's wolf pushed up into her mind, alert and entirely focused on the big male wolf seated across from her. Her blood suddenly felt heated, which of course was ridiculous. Her pulse skittered in her neck.

Caleb lounged back against his seat. A grin pulled at his lips, and she could only describe it as wolfish. He was playing with her. Flirting, maybe?

Even more strange, she was enjoying it.

~

Caleb forced his body to relax, despite every instinct telling him to leap over the table and do – something. Something stupid, like claim the little wolf sitting there bristling at him with a combo of pure irritation and clear interest. Pretty Rielle was attracted to him. His wolf knew that for sure. But man, was he messing with her right now.

As she'd launched into her points about rogues, an idea had fallen into his head with that light bulb thing happening. He knew she thought he was just a bulldozer of a guy. Maybe he could play with that, goad her into speaking without guarding her words.

The thing that had bugged him finally fell into place: Rielle was careful not to let her guard down. Just like a fighter, except she fought with her head rather than her fists. Every time she did lower those shields she seemed to have up around her, though, something really fascinating started to happen: Her wolf edged out. Caleb's wolf kept hinting that Rielle's wolf was missing. He thought he might have it figured out. Rielle was pushing her wolf down, for some crazy reason. She didn't seem to realize how alive and passionate she got when her wolf came closer to the surface. Caleb sure liked it, though. A lot.

“Well?” he said casually. “Aren't you going to tell me more?”

Rielle sat there, all soft skin and dark hair and slightly suspicious eyes. She smelled sweet, a bit spicy, and crazy interesting. If she didn't open that pretty mouth again, he might jump out of his hide with impatience. He liked seeing how her lips formed words.

She sat silent for another long moment. He could tell she was puzzling out the situation in her head. Sure, he seemed to have a habit of saying exactly the wrong thing around her. Even so, he knew enough about how to play the ladies. Not that he was playing Rielle, no way—something about her deserved way more respect—but he wasn't above putting those skills to work, as long as they kept her talking and sitting with him. If she stomped away from him one more time, it would be a pretty epic fail on the male/female wolf relations front. He was an expert in that area, after all.

Caleb settled back into his chair even more and thumped one foot up to rest on his opposite knee. The picture of being casually relaxed. No pressure, no insisting she keep going after he'd complimented her lips. Which totally deserved complimenting. The lush things begged for some attention. Nope, he was simply leaving the door open. He was telling her, through his body language, that she was welcome to say whatever she wanted to. Even if it was kind of crazy talk, he still found her voice more than intriguing.

Finally, she went on, although she sounded a bit more wary.

“Well, I do like to read.” She looked up at him, as though assessing his response to that. He nodded and let his fingers play with the paper menu. Her gaze landed on his fingers, then immediately bounced away. Tiny licks of color appeared in her cheeks again. “I, ah, that is, there's a lot of information on Pack history. We have all those books in the library, you know.”

Caleb nodded again. The massive library at the den was his mother's pride and joy.

“And for the past few decades, of course, there's been a lot more put online.” Rielle seemed to be warming up to the subject again, just a bit. She took a sip of her drink. Caleb's eyes widened again at the sight of those pink lips around the straw, cheeks hollowing as she drew in a long swallow. Swallowing as well, he forced his gaze away. He snarled at his keenly attentive wolf to back off a bit or she'd run scared.

“Of course, all packs have highly secure intranets where this info is kept. Some of it is so sensitive it's never put online.” She seemed utterly oblivious to his once again typical caveman reaction to the simple sight of her sucking a straw. His sister probably was right. He wasn't fit company for a real, classy date. “Did you know about the first rogue insurrections?”

“No?” He tapped his foot against his knee and tried hard to keep that casually interested tone in his voice.

“Oh, it was kind of fascinating, actually.”

Sure was, especially with her telling it. He slowly nursed his Jack and ginger ale and listened.

“The first recorded instances of rogue wolves actually forming their own 'misfit packs,' as they were called millennia ago, detail all sorts of bloody battles and sometimes full on massacres.” Rielle took another sip of her froufy pink drink, letting her tongue lick the rim in the process, nearly causing him to drop his own glass. “Rogues had simply been cast out of packs, or run away, before they began to find one another and plan how to start their own packs, with their own rules. It was community in the making!” Her eyes were beginning to sparkle a bit. Seemed like bloody history turned her on.

Caleb found himself leaning slightly more forward so he wouldn't miss a single wave of her graceful hands, which punctuated her words, or a moment of her lively radiance. The background noise faded as all he took in was the sight and sound of this small wolf, who was coming more to life before his eyes.

“I mean, we have the written record of how these rogues began to formulate their own packs. Written record of the strife it caused in the established packs, and the thought processes of everyone involved, because of each pack historian. Even some of the rogue packs had a historian. They couldn't completely escape their upbringing and instinct, of course. And they wanted our world to know what they went through, and why they did what they did. It was the natural desire to be heard, to be noted, to have one's very existence matter and count and be remembered. What I wouldn't give—”

She broke off so abruptly his wolf bristled in alarm. Caleb sat upright and even took a quick glance around. But the threat was in Rielle's own head. The faintest blush colored her cheeks again, and one hand stirred the straw in her glass.

“What you wouldn't give to what?” He was totally confused.

“Nothing. Forget it. You'll think I read too much again.”

Right. She wasn't the type to quickly forget the idiot things he said. Even when the idiot things were sort of planned for his half-assed agenda, it surprised him how much it mattered that he was the one responsible for her suddenly quiet, deflated voice.

“Aw, just say it. No judging allowed here.” He spread his hands palm up on the little table. “Okay?”

She gave him another long, searching look. His wolf whined a bit, edgy with the tension of wanting her closer. Caleb almost held his breath as he waited for her response. He wasn't sure why it seemed so important for her to know how sincere he was. He wasn't even sure why he felt so sincere about it. Something about her, though, made him want to share every little stupid thing he'd ever done and know she wouldn't laugh at him, or mock him, or be disappointed in him.

Slowly, Rielle reached out her own slender hands. Letting them hover above his, just a finger's width away, she pinned him with her eyes.

“No judging. Ever. From me or from you.” Her words were so solemn Caleb could almost feel the pressure of them. Shit, this was serious. She meant it. Very gently, she pressed her hands onto his. The soft touch lit a fiery shiver that zipped from his palms up his arms to the top of his head. From her sudden twitch, she felt it, too.

But she didn't yank away. Very carefully, he curled his thumbs over the backs of her hands and lightly squeezed. “Deal,” he said. His wolf, pacing right beneath the surface, made his voice come out as a low rumble, half human and half wolf. Rielle's cinnamon-brown eyes got darker at that. There was no mistaking the way her pulse sped up.

“Deal,” she agreed in a very soft murmur.

After another long moment during which Caleb thought it was possible he didn't breathe, he gently slipped his hands out from under hers.

“Um, I want to hear more about rogue history, Ree. It's really interesting when you talk about it. To be really honest with you?” He looked at her carefully. She'd leaned back in her chair but hadn't taken her gaze away from his. “I think I might even learn something from it all. Maybe,” he quickly added. Couldn't sound like he was giving in too soon.

A tiny smile began to play at her lips. Wow. Those lips were just—wow.

“I'd love—” she began, when his hopes were dashed by the buzzing of his cell in his pocket. Without even looking, he knew who it would be. He muttered a swear word in his head, being very careful to keep it away from his expression. He didn't want Rielle even
thinking
he swore. Not right now, when he'd just begun to make some headway with her maybe not believing he was a total Neanderthal.

“Sorry.” He fished in his pocket. “I'm on call. Has to be Rafe.”

She nodded. Pack Guardians were always on call. Especially these days with the rogue threat so nearby.

When he saw the text on the screen, his blood iced. He flicked his glance back up to Rielle, who immediately reacted to his suddenly enraged energy by sitting up straight. Her entire body broadcast his own tension back to him.

“We have to go.” His voice was flat with the power of the tremendous fury gripping him. Her expression became apprehensive but she didn't flinch away from him. Beneath the fury, he found a bit of satisfaction that she wasn't scared of his wild side being unleashed. “It's Alpha. There's been another rogue incident.” Struggling to control the savagery in his voice, he forced out the rest of the message. “And Alpha says you're coming with me back to the den to stay for now.”

He raised his voice to be heard over her sudden flurry of protests.

“Sorry, Ree. All the pack members are on house arrest for their safety. The rogues killed a wolf from the Silver Mountain Pack.”

Chapter 4

“Over here!”

Caleb instantly left his position on the outer flank of the patrol and bounded over to his brother as the other wolf barked out his sharp call. Tate crouched down low to the ground, his dark tail lashing almost like a cat's. The only black wolf in the pack, Tate generally was the most easygoing of the Bardous. Right now, a slow-rolling but sure storm of anger pulsed from his every hair.

It matched Caleb's. Three days ago, a young member of the Silver Mountain Wolf Pack had been found dead just outside Black Mesa territory. His body had been torn to shreds by wolves. The stench of unknown rogues hung heavy over the entire grim scene. The Silver Mountain wolves had a long-time allegiance with Black Mesa, which was only strengthened by the fact it was the home pack of Lily's mate, Kieran. Both packs were now on high alert. Grief and deadly rage skipped from wolf to wolf in both packs.

Caleb knew his father struggled to hold the pack together in rational calm, as did the alpha of the Silver Mountain Pack. Emotions ran high. High enough that Caleb could very cheerfully kill one of the very wolves patrolling with them right now.

He cast what must have been the thousandth deadly snarl at that bastard rogue wolf who was supposedly on their side, who supposedly knew nothing about the attacks, the plotting, and now this death. An image of himself leaping and tearing out Luke's throat in a bloody gush of triumphant satisfaction pounded through his head.