Awakened By The Wolf
- -
- 100%
- +
“I don’t know.” The tightness in Brice’s gut reached into his chest. His father was planning something, and whatever it was, Brice would certainly suffer the consequences.
He stared at the black sky, devoid of stars due to the glow of civilization. The woods around his grandmother’s cabin protected the small homestead from the incandescence of modernization. Stretched on the grass on the slope of the backyard, he could watch the twinkling skyline for hours. He’d missed that peace and comfort in Atlanta, where he’d found only a few places a wolf could run and even fewer to stargaze.
Brice rubbed his palm along the denim covering his sore calf. The aspirin hadn’t worked as well as he’d expected. He needed to do something or go home before the pain flared to unbearable again.
He eased to the window and tried to push up the pane. “The lock is jammed. I can’t pop it.”
“Nice to know breaking and entering isn’t your thing.” Cassie brushed past with a follow-me wave. The innocent contact triggered a rush of moony feelings that Brice vigorously shook off.
Sneaking through the hedges, she led him within a few yards of an emergency exit. The door stood ajar, and a hospital employee lingered on the stoop. The orange glow from a cigarette sharpened his blocky facial features. He took a long drag and exhaled a plume of white smoke.
Brice didn’t understand the human fascination with smoking. Wahyas avoided it like the mange because it skunked their sense of smell.
Cassie’s shoulder rustled the bushes. She froze. Brice did the same. The orderly leaned against the rail and squinted in their direction without any apparent concern.
Since the hospital worker seemed in no hurry to rush back to his duties, Brice crouched in a position that relieved the pressure on his bad leg. Beneath his jeans, his calf grew itchy and tight. If the inflammation moved into his foot and up to his hip, the pain would cripple him.
Hoping Cassie’s scent would relax him, Brice closed his eyes and inhaled slowly. Although she crouched less than two yards away, her magic failed, or at least malfunctioned, because his nose caught wind of a faint, nasty odor.
He blew quick puffs of air through his nostrils to clear the smell. Instead of this ridding him of the stink, a putrid pungency assaulted his senses. The sensation of scurrying spiders rose in Brice’s chest, and he slapped both hands over his mouth to keep from chucking up cherry pie.
“Stop making that noise,” Cassie hissed. “He’ll hear you.”
If the severe nausea that plagued him after the attack returned, he’d go stark, raving rabid. Nothing—not Dramamine or Compazine or Phenergan or Antivert or a whole slew of other drugs—had controlled the queasiness.
“He’s going inside.” Cassie rose to her feet.
Brice grabbed her around the middle, and they toppled into the mulch.
“What the heck are you doing?” She elbowed his chest.
Dizzy and sweaty, Brice buried his face in her hair. “I need to smell you before I puke.”
The argument he expected never came. She allowed him to smell at will.
“That’s the weirdest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Does that line work on wolfy women?” Cassie wiggled beneath his weight.
“I don’t know. I’ve never said it to a she-wolf.” Brice relaxed in the comfort of Cassie’s scent.
“Jeez, aren’t I special.”
“Yeah, you are. Before I met you, I couldn’t smell a damn thing. Now I smell you and that Dumpster over there.” He eased away from Cassie before her essence lulled him into believing the mating urge wasn’t a fluke after all.
“How flattering.” Her soft-looking lips curling into an unpleasant frown, Cassie dusted wood chips from her clothes.
“Cas, your scent reminds me of a beautiful meadow of wildflowers.” And he loved her scent as much as he loved the rich, buttery flora that bloomed midspring beneath the full sun at a hollow within the wolf sanctuary.
After a few tense moments, Cassie’s mouth softened into a timid smile. “Thank you.”
Oh, no. She gave him the look. The one that hooked him with her modesty and reeled him in with her sincerity. His insides went all gooey, and that had never happened. If they’d met before his life had spiraled into chaos, maybe...just maybe.
Brice cleared the frustration from his craw. He had only one path now. A path a mate couldn’t follow.
Cassie raced up the steps and jerked the emergency door handle. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night.”
“Is the alarm busted?” Brice slipped past her.
“I think someone disabled it a long time ago.”
“You think?”
Ignoring what he believed must be his most incredulous look, Cassie shoved him into the laundry room, where ample uniforms stocked the shelves.
Owned and operated by the Walker’s Run Cooperative, Maico General not only provided state-of-the-art medical services to the town’s human residents but also maintained a private ward for sick or injured pack members. If uniforms or linens stained with wolfan DNA ended up in the wrong hands, well, the fallout would be disastrous.
The Woelfesenat, the international wolf council governing the Wahya populace, had made significant political strides in recent years. Although some governments had acknowledged the wolfan population in secret negotiations, Brice knew revelations to the public-at-large would be a long time coming.
“Put that on.” Cassie pointed at a white lab coat.
“Something tells me that you’ve done this before.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves.
“When my mom got sick, I had to work after school to help pay the bills. Visiting hours were over before I could get here, so I’d sneak in.” Cassie yanked a pair of yellow scrubs over her clothes.
“Did she get better?”
“Nope.” Cassie handed him a green surgical cap.
“I’m sorry, Cas.” Brice wanted to pause a moment to let her know his sympathies were sincere, and it tweaked him that Cassie seemed indifferent to them.
“Act normal and don’t make eye contact.” She cracked open the door. “Most people will only see the uniform unless you give them a reason to notice. Count to thirty before you follow me.”
Brice’s stomach lunged. “Wait!” Pinning Cassie against the industrial dryer, he nuzzled her with abandon. His entire body sparked from her tantalizing scent and the soft suppleness of her skin.
“Hey, what happened outside was sweet, if not a little awkward,” she said. “But this is getting creepy.”
“You’ll get used to it.” Brice couldn’t stop his grin.
“Holster your nose, Benji, before someone catches us.” The fire in Cassie’s cinnamon eyes counteracted her unamused frown.
“Oh, that hurts, Cas. Calling me a scruffy little dog when you’ve seen how big my wolf is.”
She flicked him a whatever wave and left. Brice counted to eight before the impulse to follow her won out. He stayed far enough behind so it didn’t appear they were together.
Cassie confidently navigated the corridors. The determination in her steps, the no-nonsense sway of her hips, the steel in her spine—all of it was a pretense to conceal her tender heart. Beneath the bravado, this woman was far more delicate than she looked, and she looked fragile enough that a gust of wind might blow her to smithereens.
The human ward clerk looked up from her computer. Brice slowed his pace, lowered his head and sharpened his senses.
The woman squinted her eyes and lips at Cassie. “Are you the loaner from Chatuge Regional filling in for Rita?”
Cassie veered toward the station. “Is she the ER nurse who broke her ankle?”
The ward clerk’s broad, snaggletoothed grin plumped her cheeks. “Yeah, the old biddy should’ve had more sense than to skateboard at her age.”
Brice shook his head. One of the blessings and pains of small-town living was that everyone knew everybody’s business to some degree. Miracles or pure luck had helped the Wahyas of Walker’s Run avoid discovery.
Then again, Brice suspected some of the pack’s longtime neighbors knew of their duality and kept their secret out of loyalty and respect. Such as Cybil’s owner, Mary-Jane McAllister.
She lived on the fringe of the co-op’s wolf sanctuary, a large area of protected forest where the pack roamed. High electric fences ensured human interlopers with cameras and shotguns stayed out, while sentinels patrolled the territory to ward off rogues.
Unfortunately, even the best security measures sometimes failed.
Chapter 7
Brice hurried down the hall and slipped inside his grandmother’s room. A woman lay motionless on the bed. Wires peeked out from the neckline of her gown, and IV tubes sprouted from her arms. The faint line of an oxygen tube rested beneath her nose. The old lady appeared so feeble that she couldn’t possibly be his grandmother. He backed up, hoping not to disturb her.
“Is someone there?” The woman’s weak voice stopped him.
Brice’s mouth went dry, and his body felt as if it had been packed with sand. “It’s me, Granny.” He scratched his throat, though the itch seemed to spring from his voice rather than his skin.
“Oh, my boy.” She lifted her tethered arms. “Come give me a hug.”
Obediently Brice trudged to her bedside, bowed over her and offered a timid embrace.
“You call that a hug?” Granny squeezed his neck, then rubbed and patted his back. When he eased away, her celestial-blue eyes scrutinized his hospital garb. “Changed professions, did you?”
Brice snatched the flimsy green cap from his head and sifted his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want Dad to know I’m home. I came to see you, not him.”
Granny tsked. “You have to face him sometime.”
Brice doubted that he did.
“End the quarrel, Brice. If not for your sake, do it for mine.” Granny’s plea tightened around his heart until he struggled to breathe.
“Dad has to make an effort, too.” Brice limped to the window. “I’m not a priority for him.”
Never had been.
All Gavin Walker’s love and attention had gone to his firstborn, the Alpha-in-Waiting. Brice learned at a young age that his father held little regard for him, treating his second son as if he was lower than a pack Omega. Ironic, considering the Walker’s Run pack didn’t subscribe to the ancient social order for its members. Everyone had their place and purpose, but no hierarchy existed aside from the succession of the Alpha family, which the pack continued to endorse.
“Talk to him,” Granny urged. “You’ll be surprised at what he has to say.”
Nothing Gavin Walker said interested Brice. Too many hurts had hardened Brice’s heart and mind to listen.
He wiggled the locking mechanism on the window until it loosened. After hoisting the pane up and down several times, Brice returned to Granny’s bedside.
Ignoring her one raised eyebrow and one-sided frown, he pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat down. The heat of her silent chastisement forced him out of the lab coat. Guilt ate at him for not giving her what she wanted. Still, Brice wouldn’t agree to something that he had no intention of doing. “Tell me what happened last night.”
“The pain started after supper. I told Cassie that I had indigestion.” A mischievous sparkle lit Granny’s tired eyes. “She’s such a sweet girl. I think you’ll like her.”
Oh, he liked her, all right.
“About last night?” Brice fidgeted to find a comfortable position for his leg.
“Cassie dialed 911, gave me an aspirin and then called Gavin. If she hadn’t been there, I probably would’ve gone to bed.”
Brice’s heart registered another tally in Cassie’s favor. Casually he rubbed his shirtsleeve across his face. A hint of her scent lingered in the fabric. Anticipation tickled his nose and spread to his groin. He couldn’t wait to snuffle her sweet spot again.
“I worried that Adam wouldn’t tell you.” Granny held out her knobby hand, and Brice gently sandwiched her fingers between his palms.
“He didn’t have a chance. I left Atlanta on Thursday as a wolf. He has no idea where I am. No one knows.”
One of the monitors beeped louder, faster. “Brice Walker! What if something had happened to you?”
“Easy, Granny.” He stroked her arm. “I can take care of myself.”
“Doesn’t give you the right to be reckless. For goodness sakes, you are the Alpha-in-Waiting.”
“No, I’m the fucking screwup who got the real one killed.”
Granny’s dry lips puckered. “I’m not too sick to scrub your tongue with soap, young man, so watch your language.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Brice dropped his gaze and bowed his head.
“You must let go of the past. Grief is eating your soul. Death is a part of life. Whether peaceful or violent, how we die is less important than how we live.” Granny’s fingers scrunched the hair at the back of his neck. “You aren’t the only one who suffered loss, my boy. Neither is your sorrow any greater than ours. You lost your brother, but the rest of us lost you both.” She lifted his chin until their eyes met. “Mason can’t come back, but you can.”
“Dad won’t allow it.” Brice said the words as if he didn’t care.
“Is that what you believe?” Granny’s penetrating stare splintered his thin veil of indifference. Shame, humiliation and a deep-seated hurt forced Brice to turn away.
“Good heavens, it is,” Granny gasped. “What has Adam done to you?”
“He gave me a place to belong.” Brice squeezed the bridge of his nose to curtail the migraine building behind his eyes. He didn’t want to waste their time arguing.
“Where you belong is in Walker’s Run.” Granny’s words held the conviction of a red-faced minister preaching hellfire and brimstone at a camp meeting revival. Brice wanted to believe. He truly did. Walker’s Run was his home.
Had been his home, a lifetime ago. Soon the path he chose would ensure he never called Walker’s Run home again.
The door swooshed open and closed. “The nurses are starting rounds.”
“Who’s that?” Granny turned her head toward the woman in the shadows.
“Cassie.” Brice noticed how her presence de-escalated his tension.
“So you’ve met.” A curious smile lifted Granny’s voice.
“I found her asleep in my bed.” The possessive thump in his chest wanted to erase the drop-dead smirk on Cassie’s face. Resisting her would be quite a challenge.
He couldn’t wait.
“Oh, dear.” Granny’s grin ruined any worry her tone might have carried.
“We had a rough introduction, but I think she likes me.” Brice winked at Cassie. “Especially naked.”
“Don’t bet on that, Benji,” she countered, though her eyes held an unmistakable spark.
Brice chuckled, and the mirthful sound surprised him.
“Oh, this does my heart good.” Granny rubbed her chest. “Cassie, my girl, come give Granny a hug.”
Cassie’s stone face said that she didn’t want a hug. So did her ramrod-straight back.
“Come, come. Don’t be shy. I don’t bite.” Granny smiled. Without her dentures, she looked as harmless as a toothless infant.
“Don’t worry, Cas.” Brice walked her to his grandmother’s bedside. “Granny is human.”
* * *
Careful to avoid the IV lines and monitor wires, Cassie leaned in for one of Margaret Walker’s famous hugs. A hard tremble rocked Cassie’s body.
“It’s all right.” Margaret rubbed Cassie’s back. “Granny’s just a plain old granny. No need to be frightened.”
Cassie had no fear of Margaret, though learning the woman didn’t sprout fur and bay at the moon came as a relief.
Pure and simple, Cassie hated hospitals. They were cold and impersonal and rank. No amount of disinfectant or deodorizers could expunge the smell of suffering.
Her mother had spent years in and out of hospital rooms. It had been horrible. The false hope. The rally, the decline. The numbing acceptance that while miracles did happen, they didn’t happen for everyone.
“How are you feeling, Mrs. Walker?” Cassie crossed her arms to hold on to the warmth of Margaret’s hug.
“Fit as a Hardanger fiddle now that my two favorite people are here.” Margaret poked Cassie’s elbow with an arthritic finger. “And I’ve told you to call me Granny.”
The simple term of endearment struck a raw nerve. Cassie wanted to say it, but she couldn’t push the word from her lips. She couldn’t risk bonding with Margaret, or anyone else, if she expected to leave Maico with no regrets.
“Yes, ma’am” was the most Cassie could offer.
Margaret rested her eyes. A sweet sigh quivered her lips, and her features no longer held the harried look Cassie had seen so often in recent years. Now the old woman looked peaceful, content. Not what Cassie expected from someone who’d suffered a heart attack.
Brice palmed Cassie’s back, and she leaned into him for support. Yes, it was a moment of weakness. The stress of the past few days had left her bone-tired. What harm could come from siphoning a little of Brice’s strength?
“Granny, what did Doc say about your condition?” Brice’s somber voice clashed with Margaret’s serene expression.
“Oh, there’s nothing to worry about,” Margaret said. “I’ll be good as new in no time.”
A brittle smile formed on Cassie’s lips. Imogene had said that, too.
Chapter 8
“I am not sleeping with you.” Pillow and comforter in hand, Cassie attempted to navigate the formidable obstacle blocking the door.
Although they were both adults, as Brice readily pointed out, sharing the bed was an unreasonable demand. Hadn’t she done enough for him already?
“This isn’t a negotiation.” From the strong set of Brice’s jaw, she could tell he meant it.
“Glad you agree. Now move.”
Brice waved toward the mattress. “This is a perfectly good bed.”
“And you’re the one sleeping in it, unless you changed your mind about your grandmother’s room.” Cassie hugged her bedding to her chest.
“A Wahya male doesn’t sleep in a female relative’s bed. It’s just wrong.”
“Well, I’m not sleeping in Margaret’s room, either.” Heaven forbid if something went missing. People would blame Cassie even if Margaret didn’t.
“Then it’s settled.” Brice’s hard expression softened.
Cassie stood tall. Well, as tall as her five-foot-two figure could against a mountain. “I’ll take the couch.”
“You aren’t sleeping anywhere except next to me.” Brice snatched the pillow and comforter from her clutches. “Got it?”
“If I had known that you were so bossy, I would’ve run faster.” She grabbed the bedding he’d confiscated. “I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Cassidy Albright, get your ass in that bed before I pick you up and drop you in it.” Brice delivered a growl so low and menacing that chills bungeed down Cassie’s spine.
She jumped into bed. “You’ve had your shots, right? Distemper, parvo.” She paused to fluff her pillow and straighten the comforter over the sheet. “Rabies?”
Brice snickered. He probably thought she was kidding.
The lights went out. Followed by a rustle of clothes. A second later, the mattress moved beneath his weight.
“Stay on your side of the bed.” Turning her back to him, Cassie scooted toward the edge of the mattress. She tucked her hand beneath her pillow and tried to ignore the jitters of sleeping next to a man—a naked man, at that—for the first time. “And don’t hog the covers. I hate waking up cold.”
Brice shoved his side of the comforter at her.
She tensed, waiting for him to move closer to sniff her. He lay so still, so quiet, Cassie decided he’d fallen asleep until she heard the soft catch in his breathing.
“What’s wrong?”
“My leg hurts,” he snapped, and then groaned. “It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”
She reached to turn on the nightstand lamp and remembered that she had smashed it on the floor.
“Where are you going?” The brush of Brice’s fingers down her back caused an electric current to course through her body. Cassie wished she wouldn’t react to him the way she did. She prided herself on keeping her emotions in check, particularly around men.
Then again, Brice was a different breed altogether.
“Don’t worry. I’m not running away.” She flipped on the overhead light.
Brice’s right leg stuck out from beneath the sheet. The calf had swollen to almost twice the normal size, the skin a reddish-purple, the scar almost black. He crooked an arm over his eyes.
“How did it get this bad?” she shrieked.
“Well, let’s see.” He ticked the count on his fingers as he recapped the night’s adventures. “Now that I think about it, the last half hour standing and debating you is what did me in.” The acerbic bite in his voice bounced off Cassie’s thick skin.
“Don’t blame me for your pigheadedness. If you had let me sleep in the living room, you’d be fast asleep by now.”
“I doubt it.” He moved his arm away from his face. Pain, sadness and a certain wistfulness that Cassie recognized as loneliness churned in his gaze.
Alienated from his family and his pack, and worried about his grandmother, Brice sought companionship. That’s why he’d forced her to go to the hospital. Why he insisted they share a bed. He didn’t want to be alone.
Cassie empathized, though sleeping together was going a bit overboard.
“Come back to bed.” Brice started to get up. “I’ll watch TV in the living room.”
“Stay put.” She used a pillow to elevate his leg. “I’ll get some aspirin.”
“I took some before we went to the hospital. They didn’t help.”
“I’ll fix you something,” she said, leaving the room.
“Nothing ever works,” he moaned.
Cassie grabbed three clean bath towels and headed to the kitchen. Heating a large stockpot of water until it boiled, she added a healthy dose of dried rosemary, then turned off the burner. Next she swirled a towel in the hot water, placed a lid on the pot and left it to steep.
Brice opened one eye when she lifted his leg to place one of the two remaining clean towels over the pillow. She poured a little olive oil into her hands and drizzled some over his leg.
“Closet cannibal or kinky fetishist?” The lackluster gleam in his eyes muted his cocky grin.
“This might hurt at first, but you’ll feel better when I’m done.” At least, she hoped he would. She could almost feel his agony throbbing in her own body as she kneaded the muscles above his knee.
“Ooh, S and M.” Brice’s fingers touched his lips. “Miss Albright, I’m shocked.”
Cassie was, too, as heat flooded her body. Ignoring his tease would’ve been easier if Brice wasn’t flat on his back with a thin sheet accentuating every angle and line of his naked body. Her attention gravitated to the tent over his groin, and just that quickly, her common sense evaporated, leaving her defenseless and vulnerable.
She need to proceed carefully. Brice Walker had the power to turn her stupid. To make her want things she couldn’t have. Things that would wreck her life if she stopped to pursue them.
His keen, smoldering gaze caressed her face and feathered down her chest to cup her breasts. If she hadn’t seen his hands—one stashed behind his head, the other draped across his stomach—she would’ve sworn on her mother’s urn that his fingers pinched her nipples. Exquisitely sensitive, the tight buds stung from straining against her shirt.
His charged gaze continued its downward journey and settled at the juncture between her legs. Cassie wore a T-shirt and jersey shorts, so he couldn’t see anything. Still, a wicked smile shaped his mouth, and she knew he was picturing her naked.
He’d be disappointed. She wasn’t generously endowed or overly curvy. Her breasts were small and slightly flared hips gave her a feminine silhouette, but she’d never be the willowy ingenue men seemed to crave. She was simply too short, too pale, and her tangled mop of red hair had earned her the nickname Raggedy Cassie in kindergarten. She doubted grown men thought any differently. After all, didn’t they all prefer blondes?
Brice’s eyes lifted to the spiral curls that had fallen over her shoulder. His gaze slid leisurely along the strands and landed back on her crotch. His brow lowered a little in a contemplative stare.