chapter twenty-two
Early the next morning, Kallie woke up nauseated—her stomach practically churning her over in place. Experiencing morning sickness so soon after the full moon wasn’t common. Only a handful of females had experienced symptoms so early and had ended up birthing large babies—big and strong.
As another wave of nausea rolled over her, Kallie barely had time to take in Wolfrik’s absence before crawling out of her shelter to stumble into the woods where she threw up in a bush.
After she finished being sick, she walked to the Sakhir River to rinse her mouth, body, and hair. She took her time walking back to the den and gave her thick hair several squeezes along the way to get the water out. She continued to drip-dry over the earthen path.
It was still early when she returned, and the den group remained curled up in furry balls sleeping before the sound of the morning gong.
Kallie pulled her yellow dress out of her shelter and put it on. Eventually, she’d have to replace the snug dress with something looser—like her garden dress. She would have chosen the bright, sexy one to wear while speaking to Wolfrik, but she’d have to leave it behind near the glade to shift and catch up to her wayward male.
It was time he knew about the baby.
She knew exactly where he’d gone—the same place he kept taking off to—the caves. To the human. But just to be certain, she found Maureen in the glade and asked if he’d come through earlier and mentioned anything.
Maureen nodded. “I heard him telling Sasha he was going to watch the human for a couple days and make Aden take a break. Sasha told him to send Aden out to check in with the lookout teams.”
“Okay, thanks,” Kallie said, striding toward the southern forest.
“Don’t you want something to eat first?” Maureen called behind her.
Kallie’s stomach roiled. She placed a calming hand over it. “Not this morning, but definitely tonight.”
After she entered the woods, she pulled her dress over her head, folded it in half, and set it with other dresses piled over a boulder.
The morning air was already warm. Kallie ran for a bit, taking advantage of the temperature before it climbed to a sweltering height. A couple hours into her run, she slowed to a steady gait, taking her time for the last leg of the journey south.
When she was about five minutes from the caves, she shifted and straightened out on two legs. Instinctively, her hands went to her belly as though she could hug the new life growing there.
This was her last chance to gather her thoughts and think on how best to break the news to Wolfrik. She didn’t expect him to howl with happiness—he was more likely to take off and process the information alone. Kallie could wait, but eventually Wolfrik needed to accept responsibility and do the right thing—claim her.
She lifted her shoulders and chin as she limped the last steps to the campsite outside the caves. Very quickly she saw that there was no one around, and a glance toward the river showed the same. The fire had burned out hours ago.
Kallie heard sounds coming from within the cave and turned to face the low shadowed opening. As she moved closer, her bad foot caught on a pair of pants, and she stumbled forward. Her eyes widened on the pants. They were Wolfrik’s, flung aside near the cave’s entrance.
A sickening grip twisted at her heart. She didn’t want to go any closer, even though she knew she had to confirm the nature of the noise.
But she was frozen in place—frozen for all eternity.
She didn’t have to move any closer. The sounds amplified on their own, blasting her in the face like a blistering inferno. A woman moaned her pleasure, gasping with delight. Her cries became frantic and frenzied as a male grunt joined her.
If Kallie hadn’t emptied her stomach earlier, she would have done so now. She put her hands over her ears, wanting to scream.
Rotten bastard! How long had Wolfrik been screwing his human? Did he spend the night humping Kallie then rush off to the caves to fuck the woman during the day? Or had he sent Aden away then taken advantage of his absence to have his way with the prisoner?
She glared down at Wolfrik’s crumpled jeans. She wanted to fling them into the fire—if only it were burning. She kicked them and spun around, her arms swinging to move her faster, and keep her balance, as she stormed away as best she could without tripping over her own foot.
Burning rage spiked up her neck, clouding her vision. She had to force herself to watch her steps as she backtracked into the woods.
The woman’s moans echoed inside her head long after she’d left the cave behind.
Bitch! I ought to rip her heart out of her chest with my teeth.
No. The human’s not to blame. She doesn’t know about me. Wolfrik is the scoundrel. The moon-cursed devil.
After how abysmally he’d betrayed her; she wouldn’t claim him even if he begged.
Kallie stormed along the south border, heading eastward. She wasn’t ready to return to the glade. She didn’t want to see anyone for weeks. But she knew she’d need to return in time for supper. After she ate, she’d find a new place to sleep—clustered with packmates. She wouldn’t go back to the den and give Wolfrik an opportunity to crawl into bed with her.
She rubbed her belly tenderly. “We’ll be fine, little one,” she said aloud, making a promise, a vow, before the sun in the sky. “I’ll look out for you. I’ll give you so much love.”
“Now isn’t that sweet,” a male voice drawled.
Kallie’s head snapped around. She didn’t see anyone—only trees and brush—as though the forest had spoken. But the voice hadn’t sounded like any benevolent nature spirit.
For the second time that afternoon, she froze in place. Fear replaced fury. Cold dread chilled her to the bone.
She dropped to the ground to shift. That’s when the humans jumped out of their hiding places and ran at her. Two men grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. More men appeared from the trees and formed a circle around her, malicious grins on their faces. They were clothed in pants and shirts splotched in shades of brown and green—blending into the wooded surrounding. The men kept their places, leering at Kallie with eager anticipation but made no move toward her as though held back by invisible leashes.
As she struggled to free herself from the rough hands pinning her arms back, she heard a low growl. That’s when she noticed the black wolf pacing outside the circle. She squinted and tried to get a better glimpse through the wall of legs blocking the creature, but she thought she recognized the wolf from the pair that had appeared on the cliff near the den.
A young man strolled up to her and stopped when he was mere inches away.
Sunglasses covered his eyes. When Kallie looked at him, she saw herself and the panic mirrored back in her expression.
His smile drifted slowly up his cheeks like a storm blowing in. “The full moon has been fruitful. It sounds like congratulations are in order.” His chin lowered slightly and aimed his sunglasses at her abdomen.
Panic squeezed the air from Kallie’s windpipes. The human must have seen her stroking her belly and, though it was flat, known that her loving words were intended for the new life growing inside of her.
The man lifted his head again, smile fading. “Where is my sister?”
Kallie’s silence stemmed more from fear than bravery. Her throat tightened and tongue dried. She stared at the human, transfixed in her terror.
He slowly lifted the dark covers from his eyes, his steely brown gaze latching on to her. She tried to back up, but the humans holding her only squeezed her arms tighter.
The man reached for his hip and lifted a gun.
Kallie’s eyes widened. She knew what it was, and the harm it could do—the death it could cause.
He pointed it at her belly and smiled. “Will you protect a stranger over your unborn child?”
Wolfrik raised his head and howled before running up the mountain. Two separate howls answered him back. The lookout teams were aware of his approach. When he reached the summit, he shifted, stood, and ran a hand through his hair. The barest smirk cut into his cheeks as he recalled what he’d heard when he arrived at the caves.
From the sounds of it, Aden and Sparrow were going at it like rabbits.
That dirty dog. Even the chaste werewolf had his limits. Wolfrik still couldn’t understand how Sparrow had managed to wear the big guy down. She had a sharp tongue and terrible survival instincts. She was too lanky and flat-chested. She had thin hair. Wolfrik preferred a female with thick locks to run his fingers through—one with meat on her bones. A female like Kallie. The wild-haired, sweet-natured, and sensual shifter had all the qualities he could ever want in a mate. He’d be a fool not to claim her. He already was a fool for waiting so long.
After I take care of Hawk’s army, he told himself.
He chided himself a second later. There was always an excuse, always a reason to wait.
Man up and claim your female, you moron!
Two wolves ran over to Wolfrik: Garrick and Justin. Once they were close enough, they shifted. Garrick stretched then cracked his knuckles. “Everything good in the hollow?” the elder asked.
“All sunshine and butterflies,” Wolfrik said sarcastically. “Nothing new out there?” He nodded toward the wasteland.
“Nothing,” Garrick answered.
“No wolves?” Wolfrik raised a brow.
“No.” Garrick’s jaw tightened.
“No creatures of any kind?” Wolfrik prodded.
“Nothing to be concerned about,” Garrick said, glaring at him.
Justin pursed his lips, standing beside Garrick like a good little sidekick.
“What about Zackary and Dylan?” Wolfrik felt a tickle in his nose and rubbed it with his fist.
“They haven’t seen anything either.”
“Hawk is taking his damn time sending reinforcements,” Wolfrik grumbled. He was impatient to kill the bastards and try living a normal life in the hollow with the female his wolf would have claimed weeks ago under different circumstances.
He sniffed the air and frowned. “I smell—”
The three shifters turned away from the wasteland to face the forest, where they saw smoke billowing above the trees.
Wolfrik’s heart plummeted to his heels.
“Fire—in the hollow!” Justin yelled, clasping his hands against his cheeks.
Wolfrik dropped to his hands and knees. His bones groaned as he raced down the mountain before he’d fully shifted. By the time he reached the bottom, he was full wolf, growling and clawing the earth as he ran.
Howls rose behind him—Garrick and Justin warning their packmates of the fire danger on the border.
The smell of smoke intensified, raising the hairs along the ridge of his back. Gray clouds billowed between the trees. His eyes stung, and he sneezed but kept going, slowing his pace and picking his way carefully through the woods to investigate the source of the fire.
The smoke clouds became denser as he closed in on the river caves.
Panic rushed through him—from the tip of his tail to his snout, pushing out through his nostrils. He shifted and jumped to his feet. He needed to put out the fire, but with what? A jar?
As Wolfrik ran the rest of the way to the river caves on two legs, anger clouded his vision as much as the smoke.
Had a spark from the campfire landed in the brush and started a fire while Aden and Sparrow were humping in the cave? He clenched his jaw, seething at the werewolf’s lapse in judgment. But there’d been no fire burning when he arrived at the cave and overheard them.
When he reached the campsite, he knew it was deserted before ever sticking his head inside the cave. The fire had not originated here; it burned not far to the east, raging in the treetops within the hollow’s territory, smoke billowing into the sky.
Wolfrik squeezed his fingers into fists and surveyed his surroundings with trepidation. Where was Aden, and why hadn’t he answered when Garrick howled?
He had to be in human form. Maybe he and Sparrow were trying to put the fire out. There was only one way to find out.
Wolfrik crouched to the ground to shift, but before one hair on his body had time to turn to fur, a booted foot kicked him in the face. Pain exploded through his nose as he crashed onto his back. He leaped up immediately, his hatred glaring out of his eyeballs at the men dressed in camouflage. There were ten of them facing him, jaws set tight, and guns all aimed at his chest.
Not this again.
Blood dripped from his nostrils.
“Sorry about the nose, but I didn’t want you to shift before we had a chance to talk,” a voice drawled.
Wolfrik’s body jerked. It was as though the world had stopped turning, and he no longer knew how to keep his balance in the frozen stillness.
Hawk was exactly as he remembered him—a long, gangly body that reminded him of a skeletal tree in winter, full of abrasive, poking limbs with none of the soft greenery. His sunglasses were propped on top of his head. He wore the shades as though they were a crown, and he was king of the crumbling city, the ruins, and the wasteland.
Wolfrik snarled.
“Surprised to see me?” Hawk’s eyebrows quirked as he smiled. “You didn’t think I’d miss my own party, did you? Perhaps you’re wondering how my men and I snuck in. I’ll tell you, old boy.”
“You made a big mistake coming here,” Wolfrik growled.
Hawk didn’t even blink—merely smiled smugly. “Is that any way to welcome guests? A good host listens to the travelers’ journey. First, I sent out Clifford and Rover.” As he said this, the black wolf who had gotten away from Aden during the battle sauntered in on four legs from the forest and walked up to Hawk, who patted his head before continuing. “Eventually, the boys were able to pick up Sparrow’s scent, which led them to her discarded backpack and then here.” Hawk spread his arms wide, looking around the campsite. He lowered his arms slowly. “They also took note of your guard dogs in the mountains. So, I organized my men into two groups—the first led by Jackson, may he rest in peace; and the second by yours truly. We knew once your dogs spotted Jackson and his men, they’d run off and warn the rest of your pack. While you were raising the battle cry on the other side of the mountains, we slipped in. We were going to join Jackson and his team, but after you and your packmates slaughtered them, we held back and waited to make our move. Today is that day. You saw our smoke signal.” Hawk looked into the sky. His smile grew bigger. Jubilant. “I knew it was only a matter of time before we caught up to Sparrow, but you, Cujo, I never expected to see you again. Fate has smiled upon me yet again.”
Wolfrik’s stomach twisted and recoiled. He already knew he wouldn’t go back. He’d rather die than return to that cage.
“Where is my sister?” Hawk’s cool voice wavered slightly as he looked from the campfire to the cave. “If you don’t tell me, Rover will find her.”
Wolfrik sniffed dismissively. “Then he better get going.” The sooner the black wolf isolated himself in the woods, the sooner Aden could finish the job and kill the traitorous shifter. The werewolf had to be somewhere nearby. He’d probably heard or smelled Hawk and his men and moved Sparrow to a new location before they got to them.
Rover remained at Hawk’s side, waiting for the command. The sight of the wolf shifter’s blind obedience made Wolfrik want to retch.
Hawk’s eyes drilled into Wolfrik’s and narrowed. “Were you her lover, too? Is that why she freed you? I thought she did it out of spite, but now that I find she ran straight to you, it makes a brother wonder.” He stroked his chin.
Wolfrik threw his head back and laughed. He bent forward, clutched his stomach, and wheezed with hilarity. When he straightened up, there were mirthful tears in his eyes.
Seeing Hawk with his teeth clenched tighter than a mouse’s ass, he nearly began laughing anew.
Wolfrik puffed his chest out and grinned. “Yeah, I fucked her. Got your sister on her hands and knees and took her from behind—the way she likes it. She said only a dog can make her come.”
A metal click resounded inside his right ear. One of Hawk’s men aimed his gun at Wolfrik’s temple.
“Want me to shoot him?”
Wolfrik folded his arms across his chest as a smug smile settled over his lips. He locked his gaze on Hawk’s, ready for death and gratified by his last words, knowing the way they’d eat at Hawk long after he was gone. All he’d ever wanted was to return to the hollow, and he had. If he had to die, he wanted to do so here in his home where his body could be buried in the Forest of the Ancestors.
Kallie, a voice wailed inside his head.
She was his one regret. But she’d be better off without him. Hawk wouldn’t stick around after he killed Wolfrik. Why else had he started the fire, if not to distract the rest of the pack? He knew he couldn’t take them all down.
Still smiling, Wolfrik took a step toward the man holding the gun. Four more guns were lifted and aimed at his face. They would leave one ugly mess, but none of that would matter once he entered the spirit world. The men’s fingers curled around their triggers.
“Wait,” Hawk commanded. “He’s toying with us.”
His men had scarcely drawn back when growls erupted from the trees. Garrick and Justin came charging at the group, their snarls booming as they neared. They circled around the group, keeping to the cover of the trees and brush. Rover snarled back but stuck beside his master.
Hawk’s men formed a circle, facing the forest, their guns now pointed into the woods. As Wolfrik crept up behind one of them, he heard a click by his ear and looked sideways to see one of Hawk’s men shake his head.
“Stay. Put.”
Wolfrik’s upper lip curled in frustration and hatred.
The growling swirled around them like a cyclone.
A shot was fired, followed by another, followed by a yelp and a cry that ended abruptly. Wolfrik was all too familiar with the sound of death. It hollowed out his stomach, leaving behind an empty pit inside his gut like the one back at the compound.
He threw his head back and bellowed, a wolf’s instinct. But the sound was all wrong—too human. Too short. All too soon his wail died off—swallowed, rather than spread, by the sky.
The ensuing silence felt all wrong. Usually never one to get sick, Wolfrik felt his last meal rising up his throat. He swallowed it down. It burned like acid along his throat and festered like rot inside his stomach.
He closed his eyes, wishing in that moment never to open them again. He’d failed to protect members of his pack. What would his parents say if they could see him now? He clenched his jaw. They couldn’t see him. They couldn’t speak. They were dead. Wolfrik’s heart sank. His parents had died alongside forty-one of their packmates—all elders. Life was full of ugly predators intent on wiping out all the good still left in the world.
A howl nearby broke the silence. It bloomed like a cloud over their heads and echoed through the forest, into sky and space.
A chorus of howls farther off answered the cry. The temperature seemed to drop and send shivers down Wolfrik’s spine. He opened his eyes and saw Hawk’s men shift uneasily.
“We need to go,” one said.
“Not without Sparrow,” Hawk answered. “We still have time.” He looked at Rover, who shifted just long enough to predict that the rest of the pack was an hour out at most. “But first things first.”
Hawk cleared his throat, and his men reluctantly holstered their weapons. When Hawk nodded, they closed in on Wolfrik.
Hawk stood just outside the circle, strolling along its edges until he reached a fallen log. He leaped onto it and grinned over the heads of his men, looking down at Wolfrik.
“This isn’t the fighting pit, Cujo, and I’m not your opponent . . . I’m your master.”
Red, blinding rage streaked across Wolfrik’s vision. He charged the fucker, bellowing as he did, but Hawk’s men were on him like flies on a corpse. They tackled him to the forest floor—their fists raining down over his naked body. A booted foot kicked him in the ribs, and pain exploded in his side.
“You are not fully to blame,” Hawk’s voice drawled between blows. “A master must teach his dogs to obey. In the beginning I was diligent, but then I became lenient. I played favorites with you, Cujo. I instructed my men not to lay one finger, unless absolutely necessary, on my prizefighter.” He sighed. “I will not make the same mistake twice. No permanent damage, boys.”
The next kick to Wolfrik’s ribs brought a howl of rage to his lips. It rose above him to the treetops and shook the branches overhead as though his pain and rage had caused an earthquake.
The men pulled their arms away from Wolfrik as though he were a leper, and their eyes widened. But they were no longer looking at him. Their heads craned upward, staring into the treetops.
Rover was on all fours, growling viciously at the sky. His ears went flat against his head, and his fur rose along the ridge of his back.
“What is it? What’s up there?” Hawk demanded, his voice becoming shrill.
“It can’t be a wolf,” one of the men said right before Aden came crashing down from the foliage—all two hundred and twenty-five pounds of werewolf. He took down three men as he landed. The others dove aside, kissing the dirt as Aden’s snarl reverberated through the clearing.
During the momentary confusion, Wolfrik shifted. As his wolf form finished taking shape, the throbbing pain subsided. His wolf wasn’t hurt, but he was pissed off as hell. He snarled and went for the closest man, conveniently lying on the ground on his stomach, his weapon digging into the dirt where he’d thrown out his hand to catch himself. With a snarl, Wolfrik tore through the tendons on the man’s wrist before his trigger finger could so much as twitch. The man screamed.
Yes, this was better. Much better.
Wolfrik leaped on his back and tore through the back of his neck.
A gunshot exploded beside him. He twisted around, snarling, expecting someone to be shooting at him, but one of Hawk’s men had gotten to his feet and taken aim at Aden—and missed.
Aden bellowed in outrage. He got onto two legs and stormed toward the gunman, with his big, furry shoulders hunched as he closed in on his attacker. The gunman’s eyes widened in terror when Aden reached him and knocked his gun out of his hand with one swipe of his hairy arm.
“What the fuck is that thing?” Hawk shrieked. “Don’t just stand there, shoot it.”
A shot rang out, followed by another and another. But the blasts of the gunshots were drowned out by human screams—one after another. Rover snarled and growled but stayed with his master, guarding him as though he were a fresh deer kill.
As Aden knocked the guns out of humans’ hands and threw Hawk’s men to the ground, Wolfrik leaped atop each one as though they were mice popping up from underground. He ended their miserable lives quickly, tearing through throats as fast as he could to keep up with the falling bodies.
He would have kept going if it hadn’t been for the female scream that hit him directly in the heart. Wolfrik’s head snapped up, bloody drool dripping in great globs from his lips to the blood-soaked ground.
Two additional men had emerged from the forest and clustered around Hawk. They held Kallie, who struggled to pull away. One had a knife clutched in his hand.
No. Not Kallie. She should be safe in the glade or the den. Instead she stood, wide-eyed and naked, in the hands of Hawk’s men.