Wolves of Haven: Lone (20 page)

When she giggled under her breath,
as the realization that the one thing she had been desperately
trying to hide from Damian was the exact same thing he was trying
to hide from her registered, he pulled back to look at her
curiously.

“I’ve smelled you before,” Akia
whispered, looking over his wolf; tall, broad shoulders, thick,
muscular thighs, wide paws, long maw with a solid black nose, and
long tail that swept from side to side, waiting for her to finish
her appraisal. “I thought I was going mad,” she said with a smile.
“I couldn’t make the link in my head without seeing it
firsthand.”

Over the past year, Akia had picked
up the scent of a wolf around their home, in their home, but she
could never pinpoint the origin of it. It made her paranoid for
months, but Damian assured her that it was nothing, possibly she
was imagining things.

She wasn’t.

Damian nodded his understanding;
the connection between wolves was only there if they allowed it to
be there. When in human form, werewolves smelled like everyone
else, but once in wolf form, a connection is made in the
animalistic side that links the human scent to the wolf scent, and
that solidifies the two in the mind. Now, Akia could track Damian
for miles if needed, just as she could for each member of her
pack.

Damian wanted her to figure it out,
he needed her to, but her more than apparent apprehension of their
species confused him as much as it intrigued him. It wasn’t until
two years into their relationship that he discovered what she was.
At first he was terrified; a lone female was beyond disbelief. He
started working later and later, sometimes staying on the couch in
his office, and even spent a week at his pack’s compound in upstate
New York going through the extensive library there, looking for
answers.

He didn’t find any.

In a rare show of backbone, his
mother, frail and aged beyond her years, not knowing what he was
looking for, but could see that the weight of the world was on his
shoulders, told him the answers were in his heart, and only his
heart knew what he needed to do. His heart belonged to Akia de
Wolfe, regardless of her returning the sentiment, and he promised
his mother that he would do right by his heart.

And he did, as much as Akia would
allow him.

Now there was nothing between them,
other than her clothing and apparent amusement, and Damian was
strangely okay with that.

“You’re a very handsome wolf,” Akia
teased, and he rolled his eyes before softly nuzzling against the
side of her neck. “Yes, I know,” she huffed, “stating the obvious.
Why didn’t you tell me?”

He cocked an eyebrow.

“I asked first,” she argued with a
sheepish smile that quickly fell, and she tried to push Damian off
of her, but it was too late.

A large, sandy blond wolf slammed
into Damian’s side, and they rolled across the grass in a tangle of
snapping maws and fur.

“Goddamn it, Adam!” Akia yelled,
scrambling to her feet. “Get off of him!”

The two wolves circled each other,
growling and snarling, trying to size the other up. The sandy
colored wolf was taller, broader, and thicker, but the black wolf
wasn’t scared of him in the least.

“This is almost entirely your
fault,” she hissed looking down at the dark brown and black wolf
sitting next to her.

Connell shook his head.

“Yes, it is,” she hissed, smacking
him upside the head, and he growled at her then got to his feet and
ran after the smaller, blue haired wolf racing towards the other
two. “Goddamn it,” she groaned.

Connell caught Ulrik and tackled
him to the ground before he got stuck in the middle of the dog
fight, and Rafe took his time joining them, the golden blond and
white wolf plopping down on top of the thrashing blue wolf, pinning
him to the grass.

“I hate men,” Akia grumbled under
her breath before pulling her side arm and shot into the air,
effectively stealing the attention of everyone at the estate.
“Adam, crawl back into that dark hole Varg calls a head or else the
next shot won’t be in the air,” she warned, leveling her gun at
him.

Damian barked in amusement and
slowly backed towards her, purposely acting as a block between the
snarling sandy-colored wolf and Akia.

Adam wasn’t amused and
followed.

Akia cocked the hammer back. “Not
another step, Adam,” she warned.

The sandy wolf snarled, his dark
amber eyes narrowing as they focused on his target.

“Wrong answer,” she said when he
jumped, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet grazed Adam’s shoulder
and his front legs buckled when he landed on the ground, shy of his
target.

“I strongly suggest you stay down,”
she venomously warned.

“Well that escalated quickly,”
Faelan said, joining them. “Ooh, is the pure black one your man?”
he mused, eying the unfamiliar wolf protectively standing between
Akia and the bleeding, snarling wolf.

“If you touch my mate again,” Akia
hissed, glaring at the bleeding wolf, “the next one won’t be a
flesh wound. He is mine!” she snarled the latter with a menacing
growl that stole the attention of all those at the
estate.

Faelan chuckled, but it was forced.
“So you know he’s one of us now? Good to know. Put the gun away
before Seff has a bitch-fit. Dad isn’t going to be happy that you
shot Varg, even if he did deserve it.”

“He’ll live,” she said in a cold,
detached tone.

Faelan sniffed wildly then groaned.
“Oh no,” he gasped.

Akia looked from the gun in her
hand to Adam and smirked when their eyes met. “Hmm,” she purred.
“It’s been a long time, Adam. We should play before the black
moon,” she sinuously suggested. “Go for a run and bathe in
blood.”

Damian’s head tilted to the side
confused before he growled at her.

“Forgive me,” Faelan said before
his fist slammed into the side of Akia’s head. He caught her body
before it hit the ground then pulled her into his arms.

Damian snarled, his hackle rising
as he stalked towards them.

Faelan sighed. “Trust me, this is
for the best,” he tried to explain. “Varg and his annoying wolf,
Adam, tend to bring Eve out in Akia. Sis would never forgive
herself if Eve got out, ran around unchecked, or hurt you. This is
for the best.”

The snarling, black wolf’s
shoulders popped and cracked before his hips did the same and the
black hair fell away, leaving smooth, muscular olive toned flesh
behind. Paws narrowed and lengthened, the claws retracting to
short, rounded tip fingernails. Maw cracked and popped as it
retracted, the saliva glistening fangs shortened and returned to
their square shape and size. Once the transformation was complete,
Damian choked, struggling to shake the lingering sensations of his
wolf and the heat that accompanied his presence before he erected
himself.

Faelan eyed him then smirked.
“Very nice,” he said. “Who would have thought my baby sister had
such good taste in men. I mean… Very nice,” he repeated, his
attention remaining on Damian’s virile masculinity. “Damn, it truly
must be magnificent to behold when love’s sweet arrow is fully hard
and standing at attention, ready to
thrust
into…a hot lad rocking a kilt
with nothing on under it but a bow and an auburn coat that glistens
like threads of metallic cashmere in the sun. Care to help me test
my theory?” he purred before curling his tongue at
him.

Damian gave him a look. “Stop
checking me out,” he snapped at him. “In case you didn’t hear, I
am
hers
,” he said,
standing directly in front of them. “Why did you do that?” he
demanded, caressing the hair back from Akia’s face, assessing her
for damage. When he pulled her eyelid back, to check to see if her
pupils were responsive or sluggish, he jumped back, a deep growl
rolling from the base of his throat.

Faelan sighed. “They’re amber, not
ocean-blue, huh?” he surmised.

Absently, Damian shook his head;
never had he seen anything like it before, and it honestly
terrified him more than the thought of his father finding out that
his youngest son had been hiding the lone female werewolf in
existence.

“Walk with me,” Faelan said,
“clothing optional of course.”

Damian nodded then walked with him,
his attention on Akia’s face.

Connell, Rafe, and Ulrik followed,
in wolf form, just in case Adam attacked since he was currently
preoccupied with healing himself so he could return to his human
state.

They headed back towards the manor
where Louvel, Seff and Beowulf were waiting, watching from the
distance and trying to hide their concerns. In silence they went
through the manor, down two sets of stairs, and into the cellar
where three large, iron cells were. It was freezing, smelled
heavily of stale, moist air, the granite floors were like ice under
Damian’s bare feet, and he could see his breath every time he
exhaled. They weren’t the first dungeon-like conditions he’d been
in, or the least inviting, but at that moment he felt as if he had
voluntarily ventured into the depths of Hell, but it was only going
to get worse.

Faelan ducked into the center cell
with Akia, laying her down on the blanket that was on the floor.
Tenderly he kissed her head, brushing her hair back from her face.
“I only did this because I love you, and he loves you, so he
deserves to know. One day you’ll forgive me,” he whispered before
kissing her forehead again then exited the cell.

Once the heavy iron door was
secured, Faelan nodded then walked out of the cellar, taking the
stairs two at a time, leaving Beowulf and Damian with the
unconscious woman.

“You have questions,” Beowulf said,
offering Damian a blanket.

“That would be putting it mildly,”
he retorted, taking the blanket. “She…changed, that is the only way
I can describe it. Her smell even changed as she stood there. She
was no longer the woman I love, but…”

“Evil,” Beowulf offered, taking a
seat on the floor.

Damian gave him a look. “I wouldn’t
call it evil… How is she possible? How is any of this
possible?”

Beowulf shrugged. “Sex, I would
imagine,” he said with a chuckle. “How long have you known what she
is?”

“Years,” Damian admitted, his
attention on the face of the unconscious woman on the other side of
the bars separating them. “Her cycle is something I actually look
forward to,” he admitted with a small smile. “The sex is amazing,
animalistic of course, but there’s this moment when she’s right at
the peak of release that our souls entwine, and I can feel, hear,
and sense everything within her that she is much too reserved to
share with me. One night, she nearly went over the edge, and it was
a struggle to bring her back. I didn’t know what edge she was
nearly going over or what would happen, but I clearly sensed that
she was conflicted about it because she was suddenly flooded with
fear. I stopped, made her stop, and tried to console her. She tried
to open up to me, but as quickly as the words were there, she was
swallowing them again, and they were replaced by tears.”

Beowulf shook his head; he was
unaware of any of that since she left home right after her first
cycle.

“One time when Akia was upset,”
Damian continued, “and really emotional, she lashed out and
accidentally scratched me. Once she apologized, and cried some
more, we were once again in a passionate embrace. When I showered,
the water stung at my back and chest where she had scratched me.
They weren’t healing. And that was the moment I knew that something
was very wrong.

“Slightly scared… Okay, I will
admit that I was terrified, so I ran from her, tried to keep myself
from her by working late and spending time with my family. But it
was of no use. Everything reminded me of her; my dreams were
plagued by the memories of our time together; her scent haunted me;
and her taste I couldn’t wash from my tongue. My mother told me
that the answers lay in my heart, and that I needed to listen to my
heart for once. So I did.”

Beowulf nodded. “Do you regret
it?”