Wolver's Reward (19 page)

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"He's sick. He's weak, and you're putting the
make on his daughter."

"I took her out to supper. I was hungry,"
River said it in a way that dared Ben to contradict him. "And now
I'm not."

He wanted Ben to know that he was at full
strength, that any weakness they'd seen in him earlier was gone.
Ben was bigger and stronger, but River was better trained. Ryker
had seen to that.

Ben didn't take the hint. "You fucked
her."

Scar removed the cigarette from his mouth
before putting a restraining hand on River's arm. River shook him
off.

"Reb was cold, wet, and exhausted. She slept.
Only a dog would have made a move on her when she was like that,"
he said. To call a wolver a dog was the worst kind of insult and
River knew he scored a hit when Ben's face flamed with
frustration.

The blond giant would have moved on Reb, but
to challenge River's insult would be to admit it and therefore
admit he was a dog.

"So now we know neither of you wear pretty
little collars and cutesy sweaters," Scar interrupted before
someone rang the bell for round two.

Ben tried to ring it anyway. "You're no Alpha
and you never will be. You've got no business sniffing around the
daughter."

The fucking bastard couldn't even use her
name and it wasn't like he didn't know it. Ben was no different
from the three Alphas who were willing to run her to ground at that
damn Chase, St. Dennis included. They didn't want to know her. They
didn't want to make her smile. To them, Reb was nothing more than
an accessory to be worn along with the Mantle. She was a necessity
to grow their pack. Without her, the pack couldn't breed.

River felt Scar's hand on his arm once more.
"Don't let it get the best of you, son. Take a breath and let it
go."

But River couldn't let it go. As always
happened, the anger took on a life of its own. It burned inside
him, a growing, fiery ball with a searing need to be released. The
best he could do was tamp it down and keep it banked until he could
run it off.

"Then that makes two of us, Ben." His breath
came in deep inhalations as if he'd already completed the needed
run. "And Reb'll decide who she wants sniffing around. Not you, or
me, or anyone else. Not anymore." And just thinking about the
reasons she'd given for choosing him made River's anger
subside.

He was brave, handsome, and kind. She wasn't
the first one to say those words, but hers were the first to touch
him someplace deep. He wasn't brave. He was a survivor, and a
survivor did what they needed to do to stay alive. He sure as hell
wasn't handsome. In spite of his teasing, you'd never find a wolver
like him on the cover of a book. And kind? He wasn't sure what she
saw in him as kind.

Brave, handsome, and kind were things people
said when they knew about his past. They were meant to make him
feel better. They didn't, but when Reb said it, he suddenly wanted
to be those things, to give her what she expected in these few
short days. There wasn't much he could do about handsome, but the
others? Yeah, he could try.

Ben still stood with his body firmly braced,
fists clenched, and a belligerent look on his face. A trickle of
tightly controlled power leaked out and pushed against River, but
he made no move and didn't speak.

The young wolver cousins looked like they
wanted to run, too. Their bodies were poised for it, weight
balanced on their feet and ready to push off. When River glanced
their way, they froze.

"Jesus," Toby whispered.

"You all right now?"

Anger gone, River ignored the cubs and
answered Scar. "Right enough. What the hell happened to the Alpha?
Darla said he was down. What does that mean?"

"More like he went down. He was walking
across the parking lot on his way to see us, I think. He had his
hand raised like it, anyway. He said something like nail or hail
and then he went down. His leg gave out and then his eyes bugged
out like it surprised the hell out of him, and then he fell like
someone shot him in the back."

"Everybody came running, but me and Toby got
there first. We got him up and took him..."

"You mean I took him. Me and Chubs."

Toby pointed to a heavy set wolver standing
by a minivan, Arnold, by Reb's description. He was wearing a pink
polo shirt and had his nose in a book.

The cub was right. The guy's bulk was more
fat than muscle.

"I could have," Quentin argued.

"Yeah," his cousin snickered, "But he has a
booboo and the Mate didn't want him to overtax himself." He rolled
his eyes. "She called him dear."

"She was trying to be nice. I'll bet she
calls everyone that," Quentin defended himself. "And you can't say
no to a Mate. Scar says even he wouldn't say no to a Mate. She's
like a mom, ya know?" He posed the question to River.

"Yeah, I know." Not that he'd ever had a
mother.

Toby brought them back to his role in the
drama. "The Alpha had a funny..."

"I think he's dying," Ben interrupted. His
spine straightened to increase his height another half inch and his
chest expanded to pull his polo taut. He wasn't looking at any of
them. He was watching the RV and the people entering it.

"And you think this because?" River asked. He
hated to do it because it was Ben, but he needed to know.

Ben blinked, bringing his mind back from
wherever it had been wandering. "He stinks of it."

"How would you know?" Toby said, miffed
because Ben had stolen his thunder. "You were in the shower."

"Because you told me, dumbass." Another
trickle of power followed the comment, this time directed at Toby,
and the younger wolver stepped back.

To his credit, the cub defended himself in
the face of a superior power. "I didn't say he was dying. I said he
smelled funny." He looked to his cousin for support. He didn't get
it.

Quentin saw it as an opportunity to get Toby
back for the earlier dig. He shrugged and made a superior face.
"Same thing."

"No, it's not. The Alpha is sick. That
doesn't mean he's dying." Not yet, River thought, but didn't
say.

As a rule, wolvers weren't susceptible to
many of the ailments their human cousins were. Colds, flu, and
other diseases common to humans were unknown among wolvers. No
matter how deep the wound, most wolvers never saw any signs of
infection. Their bodies healed so quickly, the nasty bugs never had
a chance to take hold. That didn't mean they couldn't get sick and
when that happened, human drugs couldn't help. Wolvers metabolized
them the same way they metabolized alcohol, so rapidly as to render
them useless.

"So what if they smell different? The end
will be the same."

River didn't think Ben was talking about
wolvers in general. The blond giant was still watching the
gathering crowd with a lot more than casual interest.

"Not always," River countered, mainly because
it was Ben who made the claim. He hated to admit the wolver was
right even if it wasn't for the right reason.

Wolvers could and did fight off sickness in
the same way humans did before the advent of drugs. Only the strong
and healthy survived and it was often a wolver's strength of will
that made the difference. For an Alpha, death was more likely. If
he was sick, he was vulnerable, and if someone chose to Challenge
him for the mantle, the Challenge couldn't be refused. It could,
however, be answered by someone other than the Alpha.

"Anybody know who their Second is?"

"He's dead," Scar said. He lit the cigarette,
inhaled deeply, and then wedged the roll-your-own below the
knuckles of his first two fingers and removed it to speak. "He was
the first to go down, but he was the only one they lost. They've
got more luck than muscle, I can tell you that. Darla said they
buried him last night." He shrugged at the looks coming his way.
"Hey, it's good to make friends in high places."

"She didn't say they've got another one?"
Toby asked.

Scar's exhaled smoke swirled above their
heads. "No, but I don't doubt it. Where'd you hear it?"

Toby grinned. "See the pretty one in the
yellow dress?" He pointed to a young female in the crowd by the RV.
She was watching them and not the door. She smiled and waved.

"Way to go, Cuz," Quentin said. He gave his
cousin a poke with his elbow as a show of appreciation.

Toby's single, pointing finger turned into a
flutter of four as he waved back. "She says the Alpha put Darla in
the position just a little bit ago."

"Must have been after we talked," Scar said
with another shrug. "Can't say I'm surprised. The woman knows
what's what."

"A female?" Ben blew a derisive 'pfft'
through his lips.

"She looks like she could handle herself,"
Scar said as the female in question stepped down from the RV. "And
good Seconds are more than muscle. You ought to know that,
Ben."

Ben snarled, not liking the older wolver's
reminder.

"She's loyal," River told them. "They trust
her. And yeah, she can hold her own in a fight."

But not as her Alpha's Champion. She could
probably hold her own against a threat from within, if the few
males he'd seen were an example of Sweet Valley's strength. But
despite her size and ability, Darla wouldn't stand a chance against
the brute power of a fully capable male.

She was making her way across the lot toward
them. When she was near enough to be heard, she pointed and called
out, "Hey! Bad Boy. The Mate wants to see you."

"Who, me?" River pointed to his chest.

"Who the hell else would she be talking to,"
Scar laughed.

"You," River answered out the side of his
mouth.

"She might, except I ain't no boy, boy. My
cub years are long gone and that one knows a man when she sees
one."

Darla had her hands on her hips. "Are you
coming or not?"

"Better go on, Bad Boy, before she grabs you
by your ear and drags you over there."

River trotted over to her. Behind him, he
could hear the cousins chanting.

"Whatcha gonna do when Darla comes for you,
bad boy, bad boy."

River turned to snarl back at them and they
gave him a thumbs up. He ended up grinning and giving them his
middle finger.

Ben was snarling, too, but not at the
cubs.

Chapter 14

River got ready for a lecture on the
inappropriateness of his association with the royal daughter. He
tried to prepare an answer, but he couldn't find one. Someone like
him shouldn't be associating with someone like Reb, but she'd asked
him to and he'd said yes. He couldn't very well tell the Mate the
reasons why.

"I don't know why she's doing this now," he
muttered to Darla who, he figured, knew all about it. "Seems to me,
she's got more important things to think about."

Darla grabbed his arm and forced him to turn.
"There is nothing more important than this. I backed Reb on this. I
vouched for you. You betray her in this and I'll..."

River ripped his arm from her grasp. "Yeah,
yeah, I know. You'll put a knife in my back."

"Oh no, it won't be nearly so quick as that.
I'll make it slow and a lot more painful."

The Mate must have been watching for them
because she left the RV as soon as River and Darla started toward
it. She was immediately surrounded by members of her pack. She
spoke to and touched each one she passed. Her hand caressed arms,
patted shoulders, and stroked the cheek of one elderly woman. She
bent to kiss the top of a pup's head. Her manner was serene and she
shared that serenity with her pack.

If Reb was a princess, this woman was a
queen. She was built like her daughter, but where Reb's slender
frame showed the athletic agility of youth, her mother showed
grace. She didn't walk. She glided across the ground as if her feet
never touched it. Even though she wore a pair of tailored slacks
and a shirt similar to Reb's, it wasn't hard to picture the Mate in
a gown with that same string of pearls at her neck. Her hair was
swept up and away from her face in a pile of curls on top of her
head.

Yep, she was royalty. No doubt about it.

When she reached them, she held out her hand.
"Will you walk with me, River?"

Like he could refuse. He nodded and she took
his arm, wrapping hers around it like he was her escort to the
ball. She led him around to the back of the motel at an easy
stroll, past a work shed and garage and into the overgrown pasture
beyond.

The ground was still wet from the storms the
night before, but the Mate didn't seem to notice the mud collecting
on her shoes. The full green growth of summer was already tinged
with brown, a warning of the coming fall. The bright yellow of a
few remaining Black-eyed Susans dotted the field, but most of the
blooms had turned to seed. Close to the ground, tiny vines wove
their way between the clumps of grass and weed, waiting to trip the
unsuspecting.

The Mate didn't speak and River began to
wonder of if there was a hole dug somewhere in the middle of the
field where she was planning to push him in. Bury the problem.

He actually looked behind him to see if
Darla, my lady's personal assassin, wasn't following behind with a
shovel. She wasn't, and there was no hole where the Mate
stopped.

She tilted her head back, closed her eyes,
and took a single deep breath though her nose. When she'd released
it through her perfectly painted lips, she smiled up at him with
sad and tired eyes.

"It is sometimes difficult to maintain the
pretense of the calm and tranquil Mate." She widened those eyes in
mockery of his. "Are you surprised that it's a pretense or that I'm
admitting it." She drew in another breath and let it out. "Or are
you thinking of your own Mate?"