River Wolf (22 page)

His wolf’s satisfaction echoed through him, dislodging his shock. As they released him and stepped back, they spread back out into a loose circle and revealed his challenger. The wolf waiting for him matched him in height though he didn’t seem to carry much bulk.

Striding forward, Brett carried the image of Colby’s stern face ordering him not to die. He’d refused to lie to her. Anyone could lose. Only fools went into a potential fight to the death believing they were invincible. Buoyed by his pack surrounding him and the love pouring into the pack bonds, he didn’t plan to share his caution with his opponent.

“Landon Templeton?”

The other man inclined his head. “Brett Dalton. Alpha of Hudson River. I claim Alpha Challenge.”

“Why?” Though not allowed to interfere, his pack murmured amongst themselves. They, like his opponent, was surprised by the question. Folding his arms, he awaited the answer.

“I don’t understand.” Landon took a step toward him. He’d stripped down only to jeans. Bare chested and footed, he looked like a wolf ready to shift for battle. Most wolves handled an Alpha Challenge in wolf form, Brett had fought four. Twice as a wolf, twice as a man.

“You claim Alpha Challenge. Why?” Relaxing his posture, he schooled his features into one of curiosity. “You’re from Sutter Butte, which makes you one of Cassius’ wolves. Did you win the right to challenge him and run before you pissed yourself in battle?”

The other wolf gaped and his features took on a sickly cast. Damn. He got it in one. Cassius did not suffer fools. To win the right to challenge him meant take the challenge or be ready to fend off all comers over the next cycle.

He laughed. “No, I’m close but not quite.”

Despite his rise through the ranks of a pack where dominance battles were waged every day, Landon hadn’t mastered his expression. Of course, Brett seriously doubted anyone in Cassius’ pack had a conversation before they ripped into each other.

“No, you’re here because you won the right to challenge Cassius and he told you to come for my pack instead. Didn’t he?”
Fucker.
Cassius liked to stir shit up and he’d paid very close attention to Brett during the summit in Willow Bend. Though he’d never approached Brett directly, he’d watched, supposed, and now he’d made his move. Of the five packs, he’d deemed Brett’s weakest. Or at least Brett. Otherwise Landon Templeton would be in Three Rivers.

Clearing his throat, Landon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter why I challenged you. I claim Alpha Challenge. You have to fight…or do you yield?”

Silence blanketed the wolves around him. Did he yield? Did this dumbass have any idea how much shit he’d gone through for his pack? How much he would continue to go through? Laughter, he’d learned, proved a freeing emotion. His chuckle sent a wave of nervous energy through the wolves ringing them. Landon’s confusion turned to irritation, then when Brett continued to laugh, he stomped forward another two steps.

“Laughter isn’t an answer.” Emotion churned beneath the words and he twisted them into a snarl. “Answer the challenge or do you
yield
?” He thumped his chest.

The posturing took the challenge to a whole new level. “Or did I get it wrong for a third time and Cassius sent you here because he couldn’t kill you with a straight face?”

The foreign wolf roared and lunged for him. Too easy to provoke. Far too easy. A distant part of his mind acknowledged the last reason as the most likely culprit. Cassius sent him to die. The wolf charging him had no regard for his own safety and Brett caught him, slipping his arms beneath his and twisting as he lifted. The crunch of ribs breaking echoed and Landon’s roar became a hissed whimper.

Flinging the man down, he stared at him. All humor drained away and his mask grew impassive. “Yield and you may live to return to Sutter Butte.”

A harsh whistle of air escaped the man’s lungs as he clutched his chest. Having half-crushed rib cage would impede breathing. “Finish it. I can’t go back. Cassius would execute me.”

Not an unlikely scenario. “Then yield and stay.” He’d seen enough death and nothing about Landon Templeton was a real challenge.

Surprise flickered in his eyes. “I challenged you.”

“And you’ve lost. Yield. I won’t offer it again.” His mate was waiting for him, a mate he hadn’t claimed and a second challenger, a real challenger was on…on the way when Landon arrived. Could they be working with Cassius? Had he sent them to Three Rivers so they could come at him from the side? A cunning plan, one he wouldn’t associate with Cassius. The Alpha was a brutal asshole, but he’d always been a direct one.

When no answer seemed forthcoming, he walked toward the prone wolf. “I yield,” the man wheezed. “I yield.”

A roar went through the gathered and Pierce appeared at his elbow. “Luc is on the phone.” He pressed the phone into his hand before approaching the downed wolf.

“Set his ribs, take him into custody and let him heal on his own.” Brett’s orders would be followed. Putting the phone to his ear, he said, “What?”

“She shifted and she’s out.” Luc’s voice carried a note of panting. “I’m following her, but she isn’t listening.”

“Where?” Brett swung his head around and scanned the area.

“Straight for you.”
Of course she was.

Tossing the phone and his keys to Pierce, he said. “Send the car back to my place.” Then he ran, breaking from the pack. The most direct route was overland. If her wolf tracked him, then he could track her. His wolf, already agitated from the aborted fight, lunged to the surface. They both wanted to find Colby. He’d pulled her into the pack. Even without the mating bond he could and would find her.

The faster he ran, the more unerring his sense of her grew. She was coming for him. He had to intercept her before she reached the gathering. Too feral by half and if she’d gotten around Luc…pride burst through him. Her dominance had never been a question. Halfway to his house, he found her loping across a field. Coming to a halt, he waited. Colby’s wolf didn’t slow, if anything, she increased her speed.

His heart relaxed and then she slammed into him and he caught her. Her whole body vibrated and she snapped at the air, but not him. A keen difference. Relieved she was safe, he set her down, gripped her muzzle and held her gaze.

“You should have stayed at the house.” Luc appeared in his periphery. His best friend had maintained his pursuit. Usually he was faster, but his injuries were too recently healed. “Look at Luc,” he turned her so she could see. “You made him chase you.”

Reproach filled the wolf’s eyes and Brett didn’t bend. Colby hated that he’d left, he’d scented it on her, but he trusted she wouldn’t have followed. So no, it wasn’t Colby but her wolf who’d panicked.

Or perhaps both.

“You could have hurt him. Yes,” he said when she bared her teeth. “I know you healed him. But the newly healed still need time to recover. What if he reinjured himself? What if he took a fresh injury because he did as I told him to do? He was to protect you. He’d never harm you which means he avoided physical restraint and you acted foolishly. Any injury he took would be your fault.”

The wolf ducked her head, but Brett tugged her gaze to him again. He’d promised Colby he would control her wolf, it was time the wolf understood him. “When I leave Colby somewhere, when I tell her she must stay, you
will
obey. You will not endanger either of you.”

Her whine wrenched his heart, but he allowed none of it to show. Finally, she sank to her belly and her gaze slid away from his, misery rolled off her in waves. His wolf had enough of the stern lecture. Gathering her to him, he hugged her and murmured, “We have a conversation to finish. You promised me a response.”

Another whine and this time he caught her ear in his teeth and held for a moment, exerting enough pressure for her to feel the bite but not enough to wound. Never to wound. She ducked her head again, then rubbed her muzzle to his chest. An apology.

Feral or not, the wolf would learn.

Releasing her, he tapped his leg and she rose to stand next to him. “Thank you,” he said. “Stay with me and no running off.” His wolf snarled at him and raked claws along his skin. Yes, he wanted to chase her, too. But he had other problems and a winded second to look after.

Luc pushed away from a tree at their approach and scowled at her. “Glad to see that went well.”

“Better for me than for you.” He clapped a hand on his shoulder, but stopped Colby before she could press against him. “No,” he told her. “I know you want to fix it, but no.” The pull against him diminished and she shook her head. Healing Luc the night before had been a spontaneous act, one that knocked her on her ass. Too much too quickly could hurt her and they didn’t understand enough of her ability. “Gillian will take care of him.”

Her lips peeled away from her teeth.

“And when a female sounds that jealous, I’m out.” Luc backed away from him.

Brett chuckled. “Gillian has a mate.”

The snarl ceased and she gave him a dour look. He missed Colby’s sense of humor.

“Let’s go.” He told her and glanced at Luc. “You up for the walk?”

“I’m fine.” His best friend lied and Colby sneezed. Luc didn’t even try to pretend he hadn’t lied. “As long as we’re walking.”

“What set off her shift?” He asked as they headed back. Colby ranged around them, but she never went far and if she got ahead of them, she paused to check where he was. His wolf pushed him to keep up, and he held him back.

“You leaving I think. She was upset. I went in when I heard her shifting.”

That would be a problem when the Russians got there unless…his wolf hated the idea before it even formed. They could order her to sleep. Knock her out so she wouldn’t know he was gone. Like the animal inside him, he hated the idea of taking her choice.

The thought of losing her though? His wolf’s upset abated. They would not lose her.
No, we will not.

“
W
hat should I expect
?” Owen stood next to him on the front porch. Beyond the trees, the sun set over the river.

“The worst.” After returning to the house, Colby’s wolf paced every floor, but she refused to settle. Even now she stood next to them, staring at the descending sun. “Trent’s family is at the house?”

“Yes, Gillian is with them along with the two Hunters you assigned to Trent.” Another half dozen roamed Story Pointe with three others specifically assigned to the trio of houses on his property. The Russians were in the state and on their way toward Story Pointe. Duncan texted thirty minutes before. They’d make it to the spot Brett would meet them within the hour.

He had to go. “Colby will listen to you, won’t you Colby?”

The wolf didn’t look at him, but he knew he had her attention. Her ears flicked toward him, then she leaned into his leg. Power welled through him at every contact. Electricity danced along his nerves and his wolf rubbed against the inside of his skin. What he wouldn’t give to simply change and take her for a run. Let her really stretch her legs and explore.

Soon
. He promised them both.

“You should claim her,” Owen said in a low voice. “Before someone else does it for you.” The hint of teasing beneath the dead serious tone made him grin. He’d threatened Owen similarly when he’d first met Gillian. The submissive healer had been absolutely crazy for Owen, but the stubborn Hunter had been intent on resisting her for whatever reason.

“I will,” he scratched the fur at her nape. He would, but to claim her before he went into battle? The Russian wolves were dangerous, period. He’d survived his first encounter because it had been a desperate battle waged between two wolves on one. Tonight, he would fight the challenger alone. Colby’s wolf was too feral, too new. If he mated her, claimed her truly, then died on her?

No. Better she survived.

“If the worst happens, take them all to Mason. Luc will come for them when it’s safe.”

Not arguing, Owen nodded. When Brett stepped off the porch, Colby’s wolf tried to follow him but he stopped her with a raised palm. She whined, but backed up one step then another.

Facing his mate, he said, “If you try to follow, Owen will not be as nice as Luc. He cannot be taken from his mate.” Then because Colby responded better to suggestions than orders, he added, “
Help
him protect them.”

Her ears canted forward, then flattened against her skull. She saw through the ruse, but as with Trent before and Luc himself, the need of others reached her where protecting herself wouldn’t.

Dammit
. Kneeling, he opened his arms and she came straight to him. Owen gave him a brief glance then withdrew and walked to the other end of the porch. Holding Colby close, he whispered and willed her to remember his words. “I
need
you to be safe, my love. I need you to be with people I know can protect you.” He needed to claim her, to know she would be there for him and him for her. “I need you to remember these words…” If they were the last he ever spoke to her? His wolf clawed him. No, the animal was right. They wouldn’t think that way. “I love you, Colby. I love your willfulness and independence. I love your mind, but most of all, I love your compassionate heart.”

She nuzzled his cheek, then leaned into him and energy surged through him again. Molten heat caressing his muscles, and too late he realized what the little…his fatigue vanished, his stress eased and the tautness in his shoulders was gone. She sagged, exhausted and Brett growled then kissed her furred forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart.” He knew without looking, the scars on his arm would be less. She’d given him everything, and he would give it all back.

“Go on now…” He waited until she was on the porch before announcing to every wolf listening to them. “I will be back. I’m coming for you, Colby. I promise.”

She ducked her head, then threw it back and howled. Her cry echoed, and one wolf after another answered. Their song defiant and filled with joy.

Luc waited for him at the car, and he said nothing as Brett backed them down the driveway and then headed onto the road. “So,” he said drumming his fingers against the open window. “You’ll be back?”

“Damn straight.” The arrogance in the statement wasn’t lost on him. Only fools went into battle with false bravado. “Life doesn’t come with a candy-coated promise of fair, but I have a mate waiting for me. A mate I’ve waited for my whole life. I’m not about to let some damn challenger end my mating before it begins. I don’t know what he came here for or what he expected and more, I don’t care.
I
am what he is getting.”

“That’s my boy,” Luc said, approval ringing through the sentence. “So what’s our plan?”

“Meet them. Kill them. Then I’m going home to mate my girl and have a party with my pack.”

“I like that plan, I can do that.”

“No, you can’t.” Brett kept his gaze on the road and the speedometer pegged at five miles over the speed limit. The fight with the Russians would happen well away from his pack. If it went wrong, he wanted to give them all time to respond. Every Hunter had their orders and Owen was ready to go. An hour before, he’d called Mason and given him the head’s up. Mason Clayborne, Alpha of Willow Bend had been ticked. He promised to check with Luciana and Julian.

Brett left it to him. Mason wanted to give the Three Rivers Alpha the benefit of the doubt, but it wasn’t the first time she’d proven she was out of her depth. He didn’t give a damn about Luciana’s reasons. She’d made an enemy of Hudson River. If it came to a vote again, he’d end her. Pure and simple.

“Why can’t I party?” Luc dragged him to the present. He’d changed at the house, and added a gun to his ensemble. Brett scented the metal the moment he walked to the car. Not that he blamed him, their last encounter created too much havoc.

“Party yes. Mate my girl, no.”

His best friend laughed. “I’m not mate material. I’m more of a good time guy.”

“Don’t tell your mother you said that.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Sure I wouldn’t, right up until the next time you piss me off.” Old habits died hard, and Luc belonged at his side and in his pack. It was damn good to have him home.

“Damn, you got mean while I was gone.”

“Sucks to be you, doesn’t it?”

The banter helped, but even Luc grew quiet when Brett pulled his car into the middle of the road and parked it horizontal along a deserted strip which would stay deserted thanks to their wolves. They’d shut down a minor section of the state highway for repairs. Overnight repairs weren’t uncommon, so no innocents would be in the way.

After killing the engine, he and Luc stepped out to lean against the vehicle. His phone buzzed. The Russians were three miles away.

“You ready for this?” Luc’s quiet question filled the night silence.

“To coin a cliché,” he was finally ready to admit it, “I was born for this.”

The groan mingled with a chuckle his best friend released helped to lighten some of the tension grinding in Brett’s bones, but he meant the sentiment nonetheless. His blood hummed and an ease he hadn’t experienced since before Hatcher passed stretched inside of him. The hollow points, the dark places—they were all still present but no longer a soul sucking void he needed to guard his pack from.

A burn of anxiety layered Luc’s scent at the headlights shining ahead of them. The vehicle slowed, but didn’t stop. Duncan’s orders were to fall back a good mile from the point where Brett would engage. Mischa brought only one wolf with him so Brett would do the same.

The memory of his pack’s embrace, their support washing over him and the way they embraced him before the not-fight with Landon. The hum of their faith seemed to ripple over his skin. Next to him, Luc grew tenser by the moment. The vehicle stopped twenty yards away.

“Stay here,” he told him. “Do what you have to, if necessary.”

Not waiting for a response, he strode forward. The Russians exited their vehicle with the male walking to meet him. Like Luc, the female waited by leaning against the vehicle.

Ten feet separating them, Brett stopped. “Mischa Markov.”

“Da.” The man pressed a fist to his sternum and bowed slightly. He stood a shade over six feet, but he was solid, brawny muscle with a ruddy complexion, which shone on his bald pate. A hint of a tilt to his eyes suggested a mixed ancestry, but he had an almost bullish expression and a jaw so square, he could cut paper with it. “Brett Dalton, Alpha of Hudson River.”

“All day.” But the humor didn’t even graze the other man. Unlike Landon, his posture didn’t change nor did his stony expression. “What is the name of your pack?”

“Krasivyye Lyudi.” His heavy accent made the words nearly unintelligible, but the name meant nothing to him. It wasn’t the same pack as the brutal wolf he’d fought before.

“You have claimed Alpha Challenge?” Not relaxing his guard at the lack of motion or posturing on the part of the other wolf. Power, contained and deadly, surrounded Mischa. Brett’s wolf had gone predator still at his approach. The battle they faced would not be as simply provoked or ended.

“Da.” One word of acknowledgement. No offers or counter offers. The discussion was over. With one motion, he stripped away his shirt, revealing a body littered with scars and battle marks. His neck seemed as thick as his biceps. Nothing spare lived on that body.

Shedding his own shirt, Brett’s attention never wavered as the Russian removed his shoes and stripped away his belt. He spread his arms and turned in a slow circle before removing his pants and standing only in a pair of form fitting briefs. Pure, unadulterated muscle. He would hit like a freight train.

To his credit, Luc said nothing as Brett stripped down to his briefs, then shed them. Nothing would impede him or his wolf. As Mischa had done, Brett held his arms wide, but he didn’t give the bastard his back nor did he look away from him for a moment. They honored an old tradition of showing no weapons. They were the weapons.

Holding a pack required power of personality and personal sacrifice. Taking one was a savage art, borne of blood and fire. Brett had walked through the fire, and waded through blood. This wolf would not remove them.

His wolf’s calm assurance spilled into his veins, and Brett lifted his chin. “I will give you a single chance to yield.” Once the fight started, he wouldn’t be so merciful. The wolf challenging him wanted no mercy and Brett found he had none left to give. Landon’s distracting attempt, the rebellion in his pack, and the restlessness in his soul had drained him of the last dregs. If the Russians wanted fire and blood, then they would have it.

“Krasivyye Lyudi expect no mercy. We fight to death,
Ubiytsa Volk
.”

The conversation was over. Mischa didn’t lunge immediately, he went for the shift. To interrupt a shift was considered taboo among all wolves and, even without witnesses, Brett wouldn’t have interfered. He simply reached for his wolf, and the animal was ready for him. It had sat back for far too long, soaked in the losses to their people and been denied the right to claim its mate. The wolf shifting before them was another obstacle.

Obstacles needed to be removed.

Before the Russian completed his change, Brett stood on four legs. The wolf dismissed the woman watching and left Luc to guard their back. They trusted Luc, his wolf was loyal and true. He would never say what he did not mean and he would never not fight for him. That was the gift of
pack
.

Hudson River is mine.
His to shelter. His to protect. His to defend. His. When the Russian wolf completed his change, his size no longer matter nor did his deep silver, almost white coloring. Lips peeling away from his teeth in a warning snarl, he stared at the other wolf daring him to complete the challenge.

Brett didn’t have to go to him. If he wanted Hudson River, he would have to come for it. An invisible line in the sand had been drawn and his wolf glared until the other dipped its eyes. Foolish wolf would be better to surrender the field, but he’d given him his one and only chance.

The other animal released a vibrating growl, stalking in a circular fashion. Tail low, and hackles raised, it searched for the best position. Tracking his motion, Brett studied his physicality. Mischa possessed a slight limp. His right foreleg didn’t quite complete the full step and he had a longer stride with his front left. The left side of his hindquarters hung a fraction lower than the right.

Cataloguing potential weaknesses, he turned unerringly, following the other wolf’s path. He held his ground though, if Mischa wanted him, he had to come and get him. The other wolf snarled, a fierce growl rumbling from the other’s middle rose to a roar.

Brett yawned at the wild sound. Posturing. The wolf wanted to intimidate. But growls and snaps were only sounds, and they couldn’t injure.

Mischa switched paths and reversed his circling path to pace in the opposite direction, edging closer with each step. The tactic was an old one and held a certain allure. The pacing let him get closer, without a direct charge. It was also designed to relax the vigilance of the target. On his third circuit, Brett wanted to grin. The Russian’s patient stalking would aggravate another wolf.

He wanted to see what made Brett flinch or draw out his ire and get him to lunge into a fight unprepared. While he’d rather not be standing on a deserted stretch of road all night, he refused to hurry. Haste made for openings other wolves could take advantage of—like the ill-advised charge Landon made earlier. Patiently tracking his path, Brett kept his ears forward and his mind on the upcoming battle.

Whatever injury had lamed Mischa’s right foreleg extended over his back. The tightness stretched from the right shoulder to the back left hip. His back was a vulnerable target. Some wolves could survive a broken back and even heal from it, but without a skilled healer to guide the finer work, the body didn’t always realign correctly.

Third or fourth vertebrae if Brett had to guess. He’d want to protect his neck. A common technique was to seize the scruff, twisted and fling the wolf. Or use it as an anchor point while slamming them into the ground, then claws could be used to tear into the skin. When they tried to twist or roll away, the attacking wolf could go for the soft underbelly.