Werewolves in Love 2: Yours, Mine and Howls (26 page)

“Of course. Sarah Jane says the same thing.”

“Okay. Then I’ll keep quiet.”

“Thank you,” he said, giving her a brief, tight hug. “Thank you. I swear I’ll tell him soon.”

“You’d better.”

Dec ambled off while she returned to the kitchen and Seth.

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?”

He hunched his shoulders and stared at the table.

“Seth? What’s wrong?”

He looked up at her with a worried expression. “Are we okay?”

They hadn’t talked since Cade got shot, but she immediately understood what was bothering him. “Sweetie, we’re always okay.”

“I just mean, the way I—”

“I know what you mean. And you didn’t do anything. That whole
my wolf
bullshit? That was Cade’s fault, not yours.”

“It’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“All…this, you know?” He held up both hands and looked around. “You’re his
mate
, and he’s my Alpha, and it’s like we’re different people all of a sudden.”

“
No.
” She said it so fiercely it came out almost like a snarl. He started in surprise. She reached across the table to grab his hand, giving herself of a huge rush of déjà vu as she recalled sitting in this exact position at the big dining table their first night on the ranch, a lifetime ago. “No. We are
not
different people, not to each other, understand? You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be part of a pack, and you don’t need to be worrying about me.”

“I want you to be happy too, though,” he replied softly. “You are, aren’t you?”

She nodded. If it were anyone but Seth sitting across the table, she might not have found it so easy to admit. “Yeah. Yeah, I really think I am. Everything’s happening so fast, and I haven’t had a chance stop and process it, but yeah. I’ve never been so happy.” Saying it out loud somehow made it more real.

Seth was nodding, less worried now though still somber. “Good. Me too. But still. It’ll never be the same again. It’ll never be just you, me and Dylan. We can’t up and run if we want to.”

“No, but I don’t think we’re gonna want to.”

As last he smiled. “No. Probably not.”

It felt so good walking outside into bright sunshine and a cool breeze, she had to restrain herself from skipping.

The weather was perfect. So was her hair—she didn’t miss the Houston humidity. Dylan and Seth were happy, and here she was, embarking on a relationship with a gorgeous, intelligent, sweet—deep down, at least—powerful werewolf who owned a ranch full of horses and was now biochemically programmed to adore her, and he had a precious little girl who adored her as well, and all the werewolves smiled and waved and acted like she was the shiniest thing they’d ever seen. She suspected that if she walked into the woods, birds and bunnies and assorted forest creatures would surround her and take food from her hands, and she would sing to them, and they would help her get dressed or clean the living room or something.

A sudden thought made her pause. Should it bother her that the mate bond was a lot of the reason for Cade’s attraction to her? She couldn’t bear to think it might be the only reason. There was no way to know how he’d feel about her without it. Did that make it less real, less meaningful?

Was it wrong to be happy a guy wanted to be with you, and no one but you, forever, because his body told him he had to?

No, damn it. She wasn’t going to think like that, wasn’t going to take the happiest time of her life and ruin it with fear and self-doubt. She deserved to be happy. All this happiness had been on backorder for years. She was going to sign for it, accept delivery, and get the fuck on with it.

She breathed deep when she walked into B-Barn, savoring the multiple layers of scents. Some women liked to smell flowers, some food. She enjoyed the smell of horses, hay and tack. The open doors at the other end of the breezeway framed the riding ring and, behind it, acres of green grass and dense trees beneath the kind of blue sky and blazing sun that made you want to adjust the brightness controls on the world.

One groom was mucking out a stall, another one cooling down a Hunter in its stall. They turned as she walked down the breezeway.

“Good morning.”

They stared.

“Hi. I’m Ally. I don’t think we’ve met?”

One suddenly found something to stare at on the ground. The other clutched his shovel and blinked at her.

“Do y’all know where—?”

“Hi, pretty girl.”

She smelled his wild, tangy scent before she turned to see him strolling up the other end of the breezeway, carrying a fully rigged saddle and followed by a groom leading a lovely piebald Hunter. The front of Cade’s gray T-shirt was damp. Perspiration shone on his face and in the hollow of his throat. Twelve hours earlier he’d been unable to move his left side. Now he was riding and lugging tack.

The sight of him sauntering toward her with loose-limbed grace in his threadbare jeans left her dizzy with desire as the voice in her head whispered,
That’s yours. You can have that
. Cade’s lazy, sultry smile seemed to say he’d heard the voice himself
.

How long before she could look at that smile without going hot on the outside and gooey on the inside? It took her a moment to remember she was annoyed with him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He stopped a couple of feet away from her and raised an eyebrow. “Coming to look for—”

“Have you eaten anything? How long did you ride?”

“I’m gonna go somewhere else…” mumbled the groom with the Hunter, leading the horse off to a distant stall. She ignored them.

“I had breakfast with Becca, and—”

“Why didn’t you let the groom take the saddle? Do you want to rip something open?”

He shoved the saddle at her without a word. She took it without thinking. One of the grooms whispered, “
Dude
!”

She cursed silently as she realized she’d forgotten to react to a forty-pound load dropping into her hands. She held the saddle as if it weighed no more than a pillow. Cade just smiled wider.

Then he stripped off his shirt.

“See? No stitches. All healed.”

The knife wound had shrunk to a thin, pale ribbon running down his left ribcage. The bullet hole was barely visible to Ally’s wolf-keen eyes.

Reluctantly she tore her gaze away from the lean, sculptured torso and back up to his beautiful face. He didn’t bother hiding the smirk.

“Would one of you please take this thing?” A groom shot forward to take the saddle from her hands.

“Fine. You’re healing on the outside. That doesn’t mean you’re ready to run around—”

“I haven’t run.”

“Or carry loads of weight—”

“One saddle.”

“Or go riding yet! Damn it, Cade, you still need rest!” She balled her fists on her hips as she glared up at him, furious at his silent laughter.

“Sweetheart,” he drawled, “if you want to go back to bed, all you have to do is ask.”

She closed her eyes and waited for the hot waves of embarrassment to recede.

“Are you going to stamp your foot?” His low, teasing growl was fuel for the fire licking at her insides. “Because that would be so goddamned cute, I swear I’d throw you in a stall and do you right there with the horses watching.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Or maybe the hayloft. Yeah. You’d look hot in a hayloft.”

She couldn’t understand how he managed to arouse and mortify her all at once. “I’ll show you how I stamp my feet all over you, asshole.”

“Uh-oh.” His voice was suddenly soft and low. “All right, pups. Out. Now. You’re embarrassing my mate.”

Eyes still closed, she heard tools dropping, feet pounding. Then there was silence. They were alone. She opened her eyes to see him regarding her solemnly.

“I was teasing, sweetheart. Don’t be mad.”

She nodded and crossed her arms across her chest, feeling bitchy and humorless now. It was easier to stare at his muscular pecs than up at his face. “I’m not mad, I just— I was worried about you.”

“I’m a very tough wolf.”

“I know. For a while there, I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Bothered you, did it?” If she looked up, she’d see that cocky half grin. She could always hear it in his voice.

“Scared the hell out of me.” She scuffed at the dirt with her tennis shoe. He was bare inches away. Why didn’t he touch her?

“I thought you were dead too, you know,” he continued quietly. “I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you break Courtlandt’s neck. I was sure he’d killed you.”

That made her look up. He wasn’t smiling now.

She crossed her arms tighter. “Courtlandt? So Seattle ID’d him?”

“Yeah, from the photos Michael sent them. They don’t know where Stapkis is.”

“But they realize Stapkis was behind the attack?”

“Oh, definitely. They’re already choosing a replacement. Rufus has been formally denounced and expelled from the Pack.”

“What does that mean?”

“Means whoever finds him, kills him.”

“But aren’t you worried he’ll come after you himself?”

He shrugged, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. His knuckles grazed her cheek before he dropped his hand. “Not worried. Hoping. I need to be the one who kills him.”

She gaped at him, and he smiled grimly.

“What did you think I’d do? Stapkis sent someone to
ambush
me with a goddamned
gun
. His wolf nearly killed my mate.”

He put his shirt back on and hooked his arm around her neck, pulling her to him. With her cheek against his damp shirt, she breathed deep, finally relaxing, and wrapped her arms around his waist. They held each other in silence until he put a hand under her chin and tilted her face up.

“So. The day’s wasting and I have to go to Colorado Springs tonight.”

“To see Aaron?”

“Yes. I haven’t checked on him since I got back. Now, what—?”

“Can I go with you?”

“Of course. You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ve been thinking about him. I just saw him that once, when he held the door for me, and then— Seeing him in the woods, I just…” She couldn’t explain.

“You’re a wonder.” He smoothed her hair back from her face, gathering it in his hands behind her head. His eyes ate her up, his expression both hot and tender. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered up to her throat.

In a soft, slow voice he murmured, “I was going to ask you, before you sank your teeth in my ass, if you wanted to go for a ride.”

She whooped with glee and jumped up to kiss his cheek. “Yes! Let’s go!”

“Well, now, wait a minute. If you think I need more rest, maybe we should—”

“You’re fine. You’re tough, you’re healed, let’s go.” She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers and began tugging him down a row of stalls.

“You want an Icelandic or a—?”

“I’ve ridden the ponies, now I want to ride a Hunter.”

“Really?” He stopped dead and yanked her to him. “Okay. Then we’re going this way.”

She shrieked when he bent down and scooped her up in a fireman’s carry, wriggling and yelping as he nibbled on her hip. Cade halted abruptly and set her on her feet outside a large stall at the end of the row.

A dark brown head with a white strip appeared over the stall door. The horse nickered to Cade.

“Ally, this is Sleipnir. Sleipnir, my mate, Allison.”

“Oh, Cade. He’s wonderful.”

The swaggering Pack Alpha disappeared for a moment. She gulped at the proud, almost shy, little boy smile he gave her, and she swore to herself she’d make him tell her about his nightmare soon.

He opened the stall door and led Sleipnir out, stroking and whispering while the horse rubbed his head against Cade's shoulder. Someone had already groomed him for a ride.

The handsome bay gelding was a deep brown from ears to buttocks, with a black mane, tail and legs. He had the powerful hindquarters that gave the breed its jumping ability, as well as the beautiful head and arched, muscular neck of the typical Irish Hunter. Enduring her inspection with good-natured calm, he lowered his head to her shoulder.

“Wow, he’s tall. Seventeen hands?”

“Seventeen-two.” Five feet eight inches at the withers, a few inches taller than normal for the breed and four inches taller than Ally herself.

She rubbed her cheek against his muzzle. “He’s bombproof, isn’t he?”

Cade laughed ruefully, rubbing the Hunter’s nose as he nuzzled Cade’s chest. “I thought he was, but the gunshot spooked him. He hasn’t thrown me in years. You’re getting old, boy,” he murmured affectionately against Sleipnir’s neck.

“Well, someone was shooting at him. Just ’cause he’s named after a war god’s steed doesn’t mean he is one.” She paused. “I wonder if Odin rode a gelding.”

“I don’t know about gods, but werewolves and stallions sure as hell don’t mix. We breed ’em, but we can’t ride ’em.”

Something made her look up at Cade, standing on the other side of Sleipnir’s head. He watched her intently, his dark brows furrowed, a half smile on his face and naked hunger in his eyes. The air got thick and heavy. Her stomach clenched. She licked her lips and waited for him to say something. He just stood there with a hip cocked out and an arm slung over Sleipnir’s neck, eyeing her as if she were lunch but making no move.

“So,” he said abruptly, “let’s tack him up and get out of here.”

“Um, okay.” She frowned, confused and disappointed. She’d expected a kiss. “Who will I ride?”

“You’re riding Sleipnir.” He spoke over his shoulder as he moved to get the tack.

“You let other people ride your horse?”

He grinned as he threw the blanket and saddle across the Hunter’s back.

“No. I let my mate ride my horse. Y’all need to get acquainted.” He tightened and double-checked the saddle, then slipped the bit into Sleipnir’s mouth. “Come on, give me your little foot. You’re short, you know that?”

She punched his biceps, feeling perversely proud of the flinch he couldn’t quite hide, then put her foot in his laced hands and bounded onto the big horse’s back with glee.

“Who will you—? What are you doing?” she exclaimed as he grasped the saddle horn and swung up behind her.

“Push up, baby.” He thrust his pelvis against her backside and chuckled when she scooted forward with an irritable “humph!”