With Her Capture (25 page)

“I’d say he’s dead,” the other male said.

“Georgie, you know she acted in self-defense.
What werewolf wouldn’t attack if cornered in a cage?”

“Most attack with claws and teeth,” Georgie
said. His laugh was half-sincere when he walked back to Magda
alongside Ayden. “You don’t look like you’re only half Malta
werewolf.”

“My mother was a Cariboo
lunewulf
just
like you,” she said, and smelled the male’s nervousness.

“Was?” Georgie asked.

“My sire and mother were burnt out by humans
three months ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you.” She dared look up at Ayden.

He was sniffing the air around them and
looking toward the trees. When she glanced in the direction he did,
Ayden’s attention returned to her.

“They told me you were dead.” With a quick
movement, Ayden yanked her into his arms again. He kissed the top
of her head. “You and Anthony are both alive. I think I can handle
anything now.”

This getting light-headed anytime she smelled
good news really needed to stop. She tried hiding her dizziness by
leaning into Ayden. She was scared to think that she might have the
opportunity to get real used to being right where she was now.

“I was right next to you the other day when
he said she was dead,” Georgie said. “A male who doesn’t smell of a
lie when he is doing just that shouldn’t be mourned.”

“If I hadn’t demanded to see her body, who
knows what might have happened. I’ll tell his litter,” Ayden
announced, but his words didn’t smell of remorse.

“The pack is still going to be scared. You
know that. Shit, Ayden, what were you thinking?”

Magda had her cheek against Ayden’s chest.
His heart beat solid next to her ear. She studied the male who now
focused on her. He didn’t smell of animosity and his nervousness
seemed to be gone.

“I was thinking that since I love her I
should make her my mate.”

Ayden’s den was a nice looking cabin, well
cared for, with the ground around it cleared and maintained.
Although Magda didn’t see any other dens around them, the smell of
fear and anger still lingered on the mountain. Georgie had left
them when they reached the first road, one probably used more for
tractors than vehicles. Although some litters would own trucks in
order to haul supplies up the mountain to the pack. One of those
trucks was parked alongside Ayden’s den when they reached it.

He opened the door and a flood of warmth
coming from a glowing fire in a large fireplace burned Magda’s cold
cheeks. She stepped inside and stared at a male sprawled over a
couch. He looked a lot like Ayden.

“What the fuck?” the male growled. He pushed
himself to a sitting position but then groaned and reached for his
ribs.

Looking up, he snarled at Magda and his eyes
turned silver. His teeth extended, which he showed off when he
curled his lip, his snarl growing louder.

“Get…her…out of here.” His words were garbled
and he hesitated before using her gender, as if he’d given a
moment’s thought to calling her something else.

Magda didn’t move. The smell of hatred and
animosity was stronger than she’d ever smelled it before. She swore
she almost saw the waves of his negative emotions coming toward her
like an angry ocean.

“She’s not going to hurt you,” Ayden said,
closing the door behind them. He put his hand on Magda’s back and
forced her a step closer to the injured, and outraged male.

She knew better than to approach the werewolf
in this state. No matter if this was Ayden’s littermate and she now
a member of this den. The male looked like he wasn’t trying that
hard to fight off his urge to lunge and attack.

“Because she did such a good job of not
hurting me the first time.”

“You took her off guard,” Ayden stated. The
noticeable exasperation in his voice made it sound as if it wasn’t
the first time he’d howled this.

“Startle the bitch and you might lose a
limb,” the male growled. “Why the hell did you bring her here?”

“She’s my mate, Anthony!” Ayden roared. He
stomped over to a counter that separated a kitchen from the larger
room. Ayden grabbed his saddle bag, which still bulged from the
items he’d put in it when they ran from Banff. “And this is my
den,” he added a bit quieter. “You’re my littermate and you two
will officially meet.”

Magda didn’t like the way Anthony’s gaze
slowly traveled over her. She knew she looked like shit. There’d
been no way to clean herself in that shed, and her hair fell down
her back in a tangled mess. When Anthony returned his attention to
her face, his eyes were no longer silver. His teeth had returned to
their human size. But his expression was twisted in strong
disapproval.

“This is the female I kept smelling on you,”
Anthony said, his tone flat.

“Yes.” Ayden returned to her side. He’d
pulled some of her clothes out and also had a folded towel tucked
under his arm. “Let’s get you showered and cleaned up,” he said,
his tone soft and gentle.

“I see why you refused to tell me who she
was. Proof of your humiliation. No one in the pack would have
sniffed you out as less honorable if you’d refused to mate with
her,” Anthony called out when Ayden guided her down a dark
hallway.

“He’ll come around,” Ayden whispered after
closing the door behind them and flipping on a light in a small
bathroom.

“You so sure about that?” Because Magda
wasn’t. Very few werewolves, other than Ayden and those on her
mountain that her sire had known, came around. She hated that Ayden
would now have to learn how to get accustomed to always smelling
mistrust and hatred.

“Anthony is more open-minded than he smells
right now.” Ayden reached for the sweatshirt she wore and pulled it
off her head. He did the same with her other layers underneath.
“Right now, he’s in pain and his pride is hurt. You’ll see.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ayden undressed Magda, taking his time to
inspect and make sure there were no bruises or injuries. Puck’s
litter would all die if there were any sign she’d been abused. Not
that locking her in a fucking cage buried high up in the woods
behind Puck’s den wasn’t abuse.

“They told me you were dead,” he whispered,
pain resurfacing just as sharp as it had hit when Puck had first
told him. “I can’t believe I didn’t smell a lie.”

“I thought I would die. And I was so scared
that I’d killed your littermate and you wanted me dead.”

He heard the weight in her words. Magda was
dirty, even under the layer of clothes she had on. He guessed she’d
slept in her fur. But even during the day, buried up in those trees
with little light hitting that steep part of the mountain, she
probably half-froze.

“Anthony was pretty beat up.” Ayden hadn’t
known the level of fear and pain before that he’d experienced when
he’d slid into Anthony’s motionless body on that terrible night.
He’d sniffed over every inch of him, made pretty good guesses as to
what bones were probably broken. “I ripped off the saddle bag.
We’ll have to get another one when we leave for your littermate’s
den. I was able to carry him on my back to our pack. And trust me,
I was more than a little pissed that the rest of those fucking
males who had agreed to run with Anthony when he sniffed out the
howlings that I was with a Malta werewolf, herded you up the
mountain and left me alone to tend to Anthony.”

He sensed that Magda chose her words
carefully when she spoke again. “There were three, maybe four—I
don’t remember—Cariboo males who forced me up that mountain. I knew
we were climbing but there was so much white fur around me, and all
I smelled was incredible anger. I didn’t know where I had been
taken. Then I was shoved in that shed and left there.”

Ayden guessed that as asinine as Puck was,
and in spite of being the meanest damned werewolf Ayden had ever
known, the male still hadn’t the balls to kill Ayden’s mate. Which
was a damned good thing.

He ran his hands down her naked body,
stroking her underneath her arms down to her hips. She was
noticeably thinner. He spotted fading bruises on her shoulders.
Magda didn’t want to howl about what his pack had done to her. It
cut deeply. He’d been so positive that if he loved her, those he
cared about would smell the good in her and accept her. No one in
his pack had bothered trying to sniff her out. She was a Malta
werewolf and that was enough for them to condemn her. If he hadn’t
demanded that Magda’s body be brought to him, would they have let
her die there?

Magda had been right. Ayden had been wrong.
She understood, and accepted, that she lived in a world where
everyone she met would hate her on sight. Ayden lived in a world
completely opposite. Anyone who had ever caught wind of his scent
immediately straightened. They respected and honored him no matter
how well they knew him. He had been whelped and raised with howling
of him being pack leader. Ayden had proven his level of ignorance
and short-sightedness to his brand new mate, which had resulted in
her being caged and humiliated with the deepest level of
dishonor.

“My
beaute noire,
” he grumbled,
straightening and staring into her soft, dark eyes. There was dirt
on her face and her long, black hair was tangled and stringy. She
was still the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on. “I
beg you to forgive me.”

She blinked and her lips, which he noticed
were chapped and cracked, parted slightly when she looked up at
him. “Forgive you?” Magda instantly smelled confused. “I almost
killed your littermate.”

It was true. She had. Her actions were
justified and held honor. He’d been a stupid werewolf too damn
proud and convinced he knew the world he ran in to hear Magda when
she’d continually howled the truth to him. Ayden shook his head,
wondering how he would ever make this up to her. Lowering his mouth
to hers, he tasted her, and fought his urge to take more.

“I do believe you possess more honor than my
entire pack combined,” he whispered, brushing his lips over hers.
Then turning her, he reached and turned the water on, stopping the
tub as he did. “You humble me, Magdaline.”

He shouldn’t let her continue to smell
confused. It had been a terrible few days for both of them, all of
which he fully accepted the blame. It tore even deeper into his
pride when he smelled the truth about himself. All his life he’d
run believing he knew how right and wrong smelled. He had always
known honor. Accepting how wrong he’d been brought on enough pain.
But knowing he wasn’t werewolf enough to howl the truth of his poor
judgment damn near brought him shame. Was sharing his thoughts with
Magda even enough? And if not, how would he show her?

Ayden knelt outside the tub once Magda sat in
the rising water. He held her back when she sunk down until her
hair was wet. When he lathered it with shampoo, he watched some of
the strain from her face disappear. Silently, he vowed to somehow
give her a life of peace. He would make sure she hunted without
fear and relaxed in their den at night completely content. It was
the least that he owed her.

“You looked so dead inside when I first saw
you outside that cage.” Magda’s eyes were closed. Her thick, black
lashes draped toward her cheekbones, droplets of water holding them
together.

Ayden lifted the bottle of conditioner that
he’d brought to the bathroom with them and poured an ample amount
into his palm. He cradled her head at her nape while massaging it
into her scalp. Then helping her straighten, he began lifting her
long, heavy black strands and scrubbed the conditioner into her
hair until it piled on top of her head.

“I never left Anthony’s side that first day.
Our pack doctor had assured me he’d live but he was in a lot of
pain. It was hard hiding the smell of my own pain, though. I had
been told my pack members had killed my mate. By then I had also
heard the howling of how Anthony had rounded up those other males
and was on a hard run to hunt me down and free me of the Malta
werewolf bitch I was running with. My pack believed I had strayed.
As furious as I was with Anthony, I was equally pissed at my pack
for thinking so little of me to not trust my judgment in who I ran
with.”

Magda lifted her hand from the water and
rubbed soap from her eyes. She blinked and looked at him. “Did they
smell disappointed in you?”

It hadn’t been disappointment as much as
anger. The truth of that terrible night had spread across his
mountain faster than wild fires. His pack was scared. Howling began
all over the place and by the second day most were convinced they
needed to go on a group hunt to sniff out any other Malta
werewolves.

“I didn’t have to smell most of them. A few
came by. The older mated bitches brought us portions of their
kill.” He wanted to spare her any more anguish. For the rest of
their lives he would make sure she never smelled the way she did
right now. Betrayal and scared acceptance mixed up to make a bile
stench that was terrible to breathe in. Knowing what she’d been
through over the past few days was all his fault made it all the
harder to stomach. “Of course, then they left and hurried to gossip
and growl what they believed the truth was.”

“When did you find out I was alive?”

“Last night. And I’m sorry I didn’t run up
the mountain right away. It smelled smarter to come in the daylight
with my cousin running with me.”

She smiled at that. “You want your pack to
believe I’m dead.”

It was the first smile he’d seen on her since
finding her in that fucking cage. In spite of there being no smell
of happiness, Ayden took what she offered at the moment.

They’d discussed enough of the past few days.
Right now, it mattered more that he took care of his mate. Forcing
his worry and negative thoughts to retreat, Ayden worked to make it
not obvious that he was intentionally creating relaxed and peaceful
thoughts for her. He didn’t exhale out the bad, didn’t suck in a
deep breath to force his mood. It mattered a lot, he believed, that
Magda know she was safe. And now that he knew who the enemy was,
Ayden wouldn’t let his guard down again.