Wild Instinct (8 page)

She strained against his hand, trying to keep Megan in her sight. He could feel her desperate belief that, if she just didn’t look away, nothing would change.

In reality, everything had changed, but that was a big truth to swallow all at once.

“Megan will be accepted as she is.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because they accepted Daire.”

And him. Gentling his touch on Sarah Anne’s shoulders, Garrett soothed her with a physical connection while he stretched the mental connection carefully. It was a touchy business trying to surround most of her anxiety without revealing his ability to do so to anyone else in the room. Among werewolves, some things were best kept private. Like his ability to manipulate minds.

Garrett continued to massage Sarah Anne’s shoulders, probing backward along the torrent of emotion for the source. Garrett was a strong telepath. He didn’t know if his talent came from his father or his mother, but psychic skills were not valued by most packs because a psychic with the skills of a fighter could win most battles. There weren’t many pack leaders comfortable with a pack member who could wrest leadership from them at any time by right of challenge. Especially a half blood. He had no reason to believe Haven was any different. “You need to calm down.”

She twisted in his grip, her gaze searching his. “Where will we go if they don’t accept her?”

“With me.”

Garrett turned her around and held her still. Though her muscles were as rigid as steel, it took minimal effort on his part to keep her there.

“Haven will accept your daughter,” Donovan interjected. His gaze lingered for a fraction on Garrett. “Haven will accept all of you.”

Shit. Did the Protector suspect?

Sarah Anne sighed, drawing his attention away from the Protector. Her hand turned into Garrett’s, the act of trust striking deep. “I hope so.”

No more than he did.

“Give us a chance,” Donovan said. “You’ll see.”

Garrett answered for them both. Haven was a last chance for them both. “Don’t see where we have any choice.”

Donovan’s response was a grunt that could have meant anything. Sarah Anne didn’t say anything at all. Her glance slid to Teri and Megan, to where Kelon was attempting to clean up the blood. She took a shuddering breath. “God, I hope so.”

Garrett took advantage of the relaxation to pull her against him. He needed to hold her to soothe the rage that surged at her distress.

“Why don’t you relax and try to rest? You’re going to need your strength later.”

“I couldn’t.”

He tipped her face up. The underside of her chin was very soft against the calluses on his fingers. “Humor me.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I don’t want to force you.” But he did want to persuade her.

A brush of his thumb across her temple released the scent of wildflowers into the air. It was a manufactured scent, but pleasing nonetheless. The floral tones complemented her natural allure. He wasn’t surprised. Sarah Anne’s heightened sense of smell would ensure such compatibility. The ridge of her collarbone pressed against his fingers. Fine bones, under fine muscles, under finer skin. He liked the way she felt in his arms and in his mind. Soft, yet possessing an impressive inner strength. The only thing he didn’t like was her hair. It was too short. “Did your human husband allow you to cut your hair?”

Leaning back, she met his gaze. “Why? Are you planning on yelling at me for it?”

He smiled at the weak attempt to provoke him. “Nah. Just curious.”

Little Megan turned and looked at him from under her brows in a fair imitation of her mother’s autocratic way. “No yelling.”

She was a pretty child with rounded cheeks and a sturdy little body, but she was so very tiny. Too tiny to be holding the hand of a dying woman, a look of such purpose on her face.

Garrett nodded. “No yelling.”

Sarah Anne snorted. “Maybe I should get her to tell you to let me go.”

He stroked his fingers up over her neck, smiling at her involuntary shiver. She could deny him all she wanted, but she was aware of him.

Teri moaned. Sarah Anne straightened. Garrett took the opportunity to hook his arm across her chest and his hand over her stomach and pull her back. He’d never tried to influence someone as he was trying to influence Sarah Anne, but the more contact there was, the clearer the path felt. He probed the unstructured energy surrounding her, finding a glimmer in the back. An opening?

Sleep.
He sent the command into her mind, accompanying it with a subtle press of his hands. Her body settled slightly against his. Had he gotten through? He tried again. Daire glanced over. As usual, his expression gave away nothing of his thoughts. Garrett hoped to hell the ancient didn’t have psychic abilities and didn’t feel the ripple of his energy in the field around them. There was no way to tell. Daire could very well be a master psychic and was just better at masking them than Garrett was at detecting them. That was the trouble with ancients. They accumulated so much in their lifetimes they became almost unknowns.

“What’s the plan?” Donovan asked with complete calm, coming to their side, bringing in the scent of the forest but nothing else. The McGowans could hide all emotion and scent in a way Garrett and Cur had yet to master. One of the benefits of being raised to their birthright. Garrett set his teeth as the old resentment welled. Both Donovan and Kelon looked over. He cursed under his breath. He would learn that trick.

“Tomorrow, before first light, when Teri gets a little stronger, even if we have to carry her, we’ll head back to Haven.”

Sarah Anne jerked upright. “Josiah.”

Garrett pressed her back against his body, murmuring in her ear, “Cur knows the way to Haven.”

The mental soothe bounced back on a wave of anxiety. “It’s not safe for them to be out there alone. They—”

Daire cut her off. “Teri needs more help than I can give her here. If we leave at first light, we’ll get back to Haven before the rogues realize these”—he waved toward the entrance, where Donovan had dragged the bodies—“aren’t coming back. We’ll need that head start to get Teri to safety.”

It all made sense, but Garrett knew Sarah Anne was weighing the pluses and minuses with a mother’s heart and wasn’t surprised when she reiterated, “I’ll wait here for Josiah.”

It about killed him when she gave him that look that was half defiance and half plea. His instinct was to give her anything. Logic said he couldn’t. Kelon and Donovan remained silent, letting him be the bearer of the bad news. He sighed. There were downsides to this mate business. “The place where you’re planning on meeting Rachel and Josiah is in the opposite direction from where we’re heading. Cur is laying a false trail and will be doubling back, but once we leave here with Teri, we’ll be fair game.”

Sarah Anne chewed her lip, her eyes on Megan, who sat holding her friend’s hand. “Because the scent of blood carries almost as well as the scent of fear.”

“Yes. We may need to split up if we’re discovered. We can’t afford to leave anyone here with you.”

“You could stay.”

“As much as I would like to make you happy . . .” Her brown eyes widened as if that fact surprised her. He shrugged. “Your way would put four lives in danger, including yours and Megan’s. I can’t support it.”

Sarah Anne blinked rapidly. Oh, hell, she was going to cry. Nothing had ever prepared him for the effect of a mate’s tearful gaze. The way her panic and fear would hit him in the gut like a Protector’s fist. How inadequate he’d feel in the wake of the first tear’s slide down her cheek. He cupped her face in his palm. “I promised you that your son would be safe. Wyatt promised you a home within his pack. Donovan and Kelon have promised to get you there safely. All you have to do is remember your place and follow orders and believe.”

“Oh, God . . .” He felt her control break like a rubber band stretched too far. He turned her face into his chest. She didn’t fight, just went with his direction. He could smell the salt of her tears as they gathered, and what it did to his insides wasn’t comfortable. He braced himself for the onslaught of sadness that had to come.

It wasn’t the gentle build he expected. Instead, she just ruptured into huge, rib-wrenching sobs. Her right hand doubled up into a small fist and she struck him, once, twice, a sob punctuating each blow to his shoulder. “I want my son. Go get him.”

He’d never held a crying woman. He didn’t know what to do with the emotion battering him any more than he knew what to do with the way her crying made him feel. All he knew was that he had to make it stop. Putting his hand over Sarah’s head, covering her ears to block outside stimuli, he shot an order deep into the morass of emotion.
Sleep!

She fought for three gut-wrenching sobs and then she went limp, her hands sliding off his shoulder, down to his wrists. Her pretty pink nails were a delicate contrast to the hard muscle and sprinkling of dark hair covering his forearms. Standing, he held on to the fragile link he’d forged, blocking out the distraction of her beauty, her scent, for the simple reason that losing it meant she’d wake, and if she woke, she’d cry again. He couldn’t stand that.

Donovan didn’t say anything as he passed. Neither did Kelon.

“Mommy?”

The one person Garrett couldn’t ignore. Finding his voice was harder than it should have been. Megan watched him with too-old eyes that made him feel irrationally guilty. “She’s tired.”

“She’s going to take a nap?”

He took the excuse offered. “Yes.”

Megan kept stroking Teri’s hand with that faraway look in her eyes. Teri moaned. Megan smiled. “I like you.”

He didn’t know what to do with that any more than he knew what to do with Sarah Anne’s tears. He settled for a “Thank you.”

As soon as Megan turned back to Teri, Teri visibly relaxed. There was no mistake—the child was connecting to the woman. While he struggled to connect to his mate, which theoretically should be easier than connecting with anyone else, this toddler was connected telepathically with a critically injured woman. The implications of that blew his mind.

Sarah Anne had to know her daughter had powers. That being the case, she had to be as worried as he was about the implications of her new pack finding out. No matter how progressive, every pack had limits to their tolerance. Nothing was more important to pack than balance, and a child who could mess with their minds while in a tantrum would definitely be seen as a threat.

“Megan . . .” Sarah Anne protested as he walked away. Shit. He was so deep in Sarah’s mind, his thoughts were bleeding over. He quickly masked any thoughts of Megan and replaced them with the sensations of how good she felt in his arms, how satisfied he was to have found her, how sexy she looked with the buttons of her shirt straining open across her breasts. Desire whispered from him to her as he settled down behind the rocks in the corner. Partially shielded, he whispered his magic word once again. She fought, rising above the seduction he offered, pushing back, adding her energy to his. He put more force behind the suggestion. As his back hit the stone, he felt the give in her brain, and then there was nothing impeding the flow of energy.

Sleep. The need washed over him as strongly as it washed over her, followed quickly by a sense of warmth, and unexpectedly . . . belonging. He couldn’t help smiling as his eyes closed. Belonging felt as good as he’d always imagined.

Nine

HE was on fire, burning from the inside out. Every nerve ending straining toward the source of the scent filling his nostrils. Warm, willing woman. Garrett inhaled again as the woman shifted on his lap. And not just any woman. There was something special about her scent. Something intoxicating, the way whiskey only dreamed of being—spicy, earthy, right. He growled in his throat, turning her more fully into his embrace, not opening his eyes, just enjoying the flood of lush feminine delight into his senses as her ass slid over his groin.

She did, with a little sigh that went straight to his cock. Her arms wove around his neck. Had she heard his thought or was she just responding to the pressure of his hands? Was she real or was he dreaming? He wasn’t sure, but either way, he didn’t want to wake up. There was a depth to the connection he’d never experienced before. A seamless transition from his consciousness to hers. As he recognized that, he recognized something else. He could not only scent her desire; he could also hear it. The soft little sighs as her breasts melted into his chest, the need for his touch, the mental wish.

The request whispered into his mind. She didn’t have to beg. There was nothing he wanted more than to take those soft mounds into his hands, his mouth. He cupped her gently, not wanting to startle her and break the magic. She fit his palm perfectly. The resilient flesh conformed to the hard surface.

“Perfect.”

The hard nub of her nipple slipped into the crease between his fingers in an erotic invitation. He squeezed, catching her gasp in his mouth, her surprise in his mind.

“So good. It’s going to be so good between us.”

“Yes.”

It was a breathless sigh of surrender. Everything that was wolf in him snapped to attention. Everything that was male in him surged to the fore. His cock ached and his mind screamed.
Mine.

She stirred. In protest? It was too late for protest. She’d already given herself to him in the most elemental way that went far beyond the physical. She’d given him access to her thoughts. Physically joining their bodies would complete the tradition, but the victory was already his.

A growl rumbled in his throat as he lowered his head, catching her lips with his, tasting her for . . . the first time? As sweet as honey, with a hint of pepper, her flavor spread though his mouth, enhancing the song of his senses. His. Only his. Her arm came around his neck, her breast pushed farther into his hand and her tight little rear slid across his cock in a sensual prelude. He had a vague sense of others around. A growl rumbled in his chest. The need to claim rose right along with his desire. He broke the kiss, trailing his lips along her cheek, nipping the line of her jaw.