CHAPTER TWO
Adam woke up when the early morning sunshine invaded his cabin. As a teacher, he’d been pretty much forced into being a morning person, and the habit had stuck. Fueling up on oatmeal, he poured a mug of coffee. His wolf didn’t like the caffeine, but he should have enough time for it to dissipate before the chore of meeting with the local werewolves. He’d been surprised to hear back from them so quickly, and was slightly concerned they might be trying to pull something on him. The alphas had clearly not been pleased to learn he was in their territory.
They could be setting a trap, but they’d made a point of choosing a location that was remote enough to get to by wolf, yet near enough to town that it was unlikely they’d be willing to make a commotion. Was he giving them too much credit for having thought of that?
He didn’t think so. Michael and Linda hadn’t been pleased to meet him, but they’d seemed reasonable and intelligent enough, and everything he’d seen of their pack indicated they were too sane to decide to attack him for no reason other than his very presence.
He finished off his coffee, cleaned the dishes and moved to his computer. His life had gradually improved once he’d been able to turn his cell phone into a Wi-Fi hotspot. Computers had once been his life, but years in the woods with limited access had dampened his obsession. He’d never given the online world up completely, taking advantage of libraries and internet cafés when needed, but now he could work from the comfort of his home, and he’d begun to take advantage more and more.
Navigating his way through a new world—that of trying to track down small airplanes in rural Montana—challenged him in a way he hadn’t been since he’d first discovered the online world of werewolves, spending hours gleaning all the info he could on them. The security he was running into now was of course much higher and he enjoyed the buzz of the challenge. One path led to another and another until he finally pulled back, rubbed at his neck with one hand while closing the laptop lid with another.
Interesting stuff. He needed to think about how he wanted to share what he’d discovered with the pack, see what they’d make of it. Of course, it was a little awkward since most of what he’d accessed, he’d done so illegally. Ah well, he’d give it some thought while on his way to meet them.
He stood, stretched, and shed his clothes, stepped out onto the front porch. It had taken him a few years to become comfortable with the change, the abandoning of his human skin into that of the wolf. He’d hated and feared the wolf, what he could do in that form, what he thought it might make him do in either form. Eventually he’d come to an uneasy acceptance that he seemed to be mostly himself no matter what form he was in, and while he was more aggressive and territorial than he’d been as a high school teacher, he’d never had the urge to attack someone for no reason, let alone rape and kill them.
His senses burst with new input, as they always did when he changed. Taking it all in, he found nothing out of the ordinary, no cause for concern. Picking up a tightly rolled pair of sweatpants in his mouth—he had no interest in chatting with them in the nude—he headed into the woods.
About twenty minutes later, he came across a smell that caught his attention. It was faint, but the hint of death drew him in. Approaching the area cautiously, he found no sign of humans, werewolves, or any creature that didn’t belong. What he did find was a dead wolf. Natural, not like him, and she’d been dead only a few minutes, as far as he could tell. Except, he couldn’t tell what had killed her. Did wolves have heart attacks? Just lay down and die? She hadn’t been old, but maybe she’d been sick. There was a hint of something…something off, sickly, but he had no idea what it was.
Making a slow circle around her, ever widening, he looked for some explanation. The forest felt wrong, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was his human nerves and how much was anything actually being different. He shook his furry head. Wrong, just wrong.
He sneezed, dropping his bundle. He rubbed his snout against his foreleg. It was hotter than he’d realized and he considered going toward the stream. But he’d been following the wolf’s trail to see if there were any clues as to why she’d died. He needed to get back to that. Putting his nose up, he scented the air and continued following her back trail.
Another sneeze and he shook his head in annoyance. A rabbit broke free of the brush to his right, racing right in front of his path, and he was off. He was almost on it when he remembered that he’d been doing something. And his pants. Where had he left them? He looked around his back trail. He didn’t feel well—hot.
That’s right, he’d been going to the stream.
He veered off, coming to a halt at the site of a snarling wolf. The small gray was leaping at him before he had a chance to scare it off. It only took a minute to have the natural wolf on its back, belly bared. But it didn’t stop. Didn’t stop trying to bite Adam, growling and snapping, foam flying free of his muzzle. Sick.
Hating it but having no choice, he bit deep into the throat between his jaws, jerking until the snap sounded and the body beneath him went still.
Backing away from the dead animal, he turned, looking for a new threat. Bad, something bad was in his forest. He heard a sound, far off, and paused. A slight scent on the breeze from the direction of the noise had him off and running. Werewolves. On his land.
Their fault?
Red-hot anger fueled his race toward the danger. These were his woods, his wolves, and he would protect them or die.
He didn’t try to mask his approach. Bursting through the underbrush, he came to a stop and watched the intruders. He sneezed, irritated that they smelled wary but not afraid. They should be afraid. A vague sense of memory nagged him, but he pushed it aside as he assessed the threat. A mix of strength and power. He growled, long and low, warning them off. One chance was all he was willing to give.
Myra had dreamed of her husband last night. Not the nightmare she’d had many times over the years, that moment when her soul had shattered and she’d dropped to her knees while making breakfast, certain in the knowledge that her mate was dead. No, she’d dreamed about the first time they’d met. Eric had been on vacation, passing through St. Louis on a long road trip with a couple of his buddies after they’d graduated college. The trio had stopped in to pay their respects to the alpha, her father. Myra had still had a year left in school herself, so he’d moved to her pack, insisting he could be a police officer in any major city but it would be silly for her to transfer colleges when she was so close to being done.
Of course, there hadn’t been any question that they would be together. They were werewolves, and they’d known within minutes of meeting each other that they belonged together. Well, maybe she’d had a little nervous doubt, a wondering if it was just wishful thinking that the handsome young man wanted her. But he’d been just as excited, and just as eager to be sure. He’d gotten them a room at a fancy hotel and made long, sweet love to her. They’d bonded, and she thought she’d never be happier in her life. Then he’d fucked her senseless and she’d realized she didn’t know from happy yet. And she’d been right. Every day they were together was just better and better.
She looked out the car window, suppressing a sigh, thankful that Michael was respecting her need for quiet. It was rare for her to think so much about Eric anymore. Which almost felt like a betrayal. For the first hours, she’d been nearly catatonic. For the first days, completely inconsolable. For the first months, she’d been withdrawn, trying to convince her heart that it was important to keep on beating, to keep making it through, day by day. The first years she’d not gone a day, an hour, without thinking about him.
Finally, after four years, she’d seen the sadness she felt every day mirrored in an older wolf, a widower. They’d had sex with the full knowledge that each was thinking of another, each was wishing they were with someone else. She’d cried afterward and the man had held her until they’d both fallen asleep. He’d been gone by the time she’d woken.
There’d been others through the years, each time less painful than the last.
Shaking off the memories, she concentrated on the here and now. Adam deserved her full attention. Focusing, she actually looked out the window she’d been staring through for half an hour, since their conversation had stilled and she’d had the opportunity to remember her dream. She’d been to many forests in the United States, all beautiful. She never tired of their differences, just as she always enjoyed their similarities. Michael pulled the truck into a narrow turnoff and glanced at her. When she smiled, he offered one in return and they got out, walked into the woods, their pace brisk but nearly silent.
It was different, walking in the woods in her human form. And not something she did very often. This was the wolf’s territory, her realm. But it was important to appear as nonthreatening as possible to Adam. Not that she couldn’t hold her own in this form or change with a speed that only the most powerful werewolves could accomplish. He might know that, but would still understand that she was intentionally being non-aggressive.
An uneasy silence descended and she came to a stop, Michael at her side. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, listening, scenting. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and the loam blanketing the forest. Something had disturbed the wildlife, and she didn’t think it was them. One look at Michael confirmed that he shared her uneasiness. He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and made sure his sneakers were loose.
Michael pointed north. “The meeting point is about half a mile that way.”
She nodded, but in silent agreement they headed east, where their senses were pointing them.
It wasn’t long before the unmistakable sounds of an approaching predator, who didn’t care if he was detected, brought them to a halt. Myra stood still and waited while Michael kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned his pants. He’d just pulled his shirt off when the huge black wolf skidded into view and sneezed. Somehow the action in no way diminished the danger the wolf presented. He watched them warily, waiting for their response.
Myra sent out a wave of power, along with some calm, toward him. He responded with raised hackles and crouched for attack.
She gave Michael a nod, knowing he was waiting for her signal before turning. The power of the change prickled over her skin, but her attention was on the wolf in front of her. He made a tiny movement that signaled attack, so she pushed a stronger wave of power at him, and a single word, “Stop.”
His growls increased and she could feel the rage slashing through the air between them, but he didn’t move. His body fairly vibrated in his attempt to push through her command. She backed it up with more power, more strength as she held a hand out to her side, signaling for Michael to keep his position. He huffed in agitation but held firm.
Adam—she was sure it was Adam, there couldn’t possibly be another alpha werewolf around without their knowledge—was struggling against her hold. “Stand down.” Her most dominating voice, along with another swell of power, had an effect, but not as strong as it should have. She reached out with her senses, trying to understand what was happening.
Sick. There was a slight smell, but more it was the psychic feel of him that was off. Just like Michael had described, only this time, instead of an average member of the pack, the infected wolf was a strong alpha. His eyes were wild, his breathing harsh and she didn’t think he even recognized Michael. Not good. She needed to end this, and she needed to do so quickly.
Myra reached inside herself, finding the connections she had with the strongest pack alphas she knew. Tapping into the bonds, she pulled, letting their combined powers wash through her. It wasn’t something she’d ever tried to do, but she had no choice. The longer she challenged the wolf, the more he resisted submitting to her, the more dangerous the situation.
She pushed out, taking a step forward, Michael at her side giving a low whine as he felt the periphery of the power she sent forth. The black wolf gave one long, continuous growl, but was unable to move against them. His fury beat at her but it was the spark of fear that nearly rattled her. He wasn’t afraid of her. He wasn’t afraid of dying or being hurt. He was afraid of being dominated, compelled to do something that he didn’t want to do. And she had no choice but to force his submission.
Her heart ached but her power remained steady. She took another step forward. He tried to retreat, but couldn’t even do that. The closer she got, the stronger his growls, until he was shaking with them. She tried to connect with him, tried to find the man within, might have been able to if he were a wolf she had a bond with. Meeting his gaze full on, she pulled on the power again, held it tightly around herself as she lowered to her knees at his side.
His growls turned to whines and he didn’t move a muscle. She reached a hand out and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, pulling sharply to emphasize her domination. His entire body went slack and his eyes closed. His breathing was still harsh but she felt his fear receding in the face of his capitulation. It had been a long time since she’d felt that herself, the utter relief of finally giving in to someone of greater power. He tilted his head slightly, careful not to dislodge her hand but offering his neck.
She used the power she was holding, refocusing it. “Turn, now.”
A massive shudder racked his strong body. She stroked down his back as the hair began to recede and the man came forth. He cried out, and she used the connection she was slowly building to ease some of the pain that the sickness must be causing. A forced change would never be comfortable, but it shouldn’t be hurting him.
Fully changed, he was on his knees in front of her, his braced arms shaking. He watched her from light brown eyes that were dull with pain and confusion. She moved her hand up his muscled back and gave a gentle tug toward her.
He collapsed into her and passed out.
She pushed the sweaty hair back from his forehead as Michael changed next to her. The other man moved slowly back to his clothes and returned while tugging on his shirt, clearly tired from the back-and-forth shifting.
“He has a fever,” she said. “I’m having a hard time connecting with him.”
Michael knelt down beside them and reached a hand out to the sleeping man’s side. Touch was important to werewolves, and an alpha was compelled to take care of the weaker, the sick, even if they weren’t his pack. Adam shifted restlessly under the other man’s touch, though, and Michael pulled back.
“That’s what my wolves felt like, hot and impossible to connect with.” He nodded back the way they’d come. “I have some extra sweatpants in my truck.”
“You said the pack doctor wasn’t able to do anything other than treat the fever, right? You have any Tylenol in your first-aid kit?”
“Yeah, I’ll grab that, too.”
“Thanks.”
While Michael loped back to the vehicle, Myra considered her options. She needed to decide what would be best for a wolf she’d never spoken to. Stay out here until he woke up, probably still weak and sick, based on what Michael had told her about his wolves; send Michael out to see if he could track Adam’s scent to his cabin, thereby invading his privacy; or take him to a pack location where he might feel captured and surrounded.
In the end, there wasn’t really a choice. She wouldn’t do anything more than she’d already done to force the man’s compliance. She might as well get comfortable.
She focused her senses on him, letting the hand on his forehead slide into his dark brown hair, analyzing what she could sense of him. His sleep wasn’t deep. She fed him a slow but steady stream of power, not trying to heal him since she didn’t know what was wrong, but giving him strength.
His muscles were hard and defined, though not bulky. He was lean, and probably about her age.
Her sharp ears picked up a sound indicating Michael was on his way back. The man lying across her lap stirred, a nearly soundless growl vibrating through her.
“Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe.”
The only response was a huff of breath, but Adam relaxed again.
Michael jogged into the clearing and set the pants down next to her, hunkering down to be at her level. “We wait?”
She considered. “I think you should head back. Make sure there were no other outbreaks of this…whatever this is.”
He shook his head. “I have my cell, I would have heard by now.”
“Good point. I have mine, as well. Head back, and I’ll call when I need a ride. I’m going to try and talk him into letting me help him back to his place, and he’s probably feeling too vulnerable right now to invite two alphas home.”
“I can leave you the truck. I’ll head back toward the house, call for a ride in a couple of miles, so he doesn’t get upset by more arrivals.”
“That works, thank you.” She lifted up slightly to pull her cell phone from her back pocket, made sure she had reception. Only two bars, but it would do. “I’ll update you in an hour, no matter what.”
He hesitated. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I’m sure. I’ll call you.”
Adam stirred twenty minutes later. Left to his own devices, he probably would have rolled over and gone back to sleep, but Myra had other plans. She moved her hand to his neck, resting it there lightly.
“Adam.” She didn’t say it loudly, but strongly.
His eyes opened a slit and focused immediately on her. Tension rang through his body but he didn’t move. She tightened her hold on him and he relaxed some.
“I need you to get up now, Adam, so we can get you home.” He blinked at her and rolled his eyes to the side, realizing they were out in the woods. His gaze glanced down to his naked self, lying on the ground, curled around a strange but dominant wolf’s fully clothed body. She was watching for it, so the tiny spark of fear that he carefully shook off was plain to her. Her thumb brushed over his neck and she leaned down close to his face, her eyes steady on his.
“I’ve got some pants for you. We can either hang out here in the woods a while, or we can walk about fifty yards to Michael’s truck, and you can give me directions to drive you home. Your choice.”
His breathing was a bit faster than it should be but he moved slowly, cautiously rolling up off her lap, his eyes going to the pants at her side. She scooped them up, held them out to him. He took the offering, stood, stumbled, righted himself quickly, and pulled on the pants. Myra rose slowly.
“Truck.” The word seemed to stick in his throat a bit and he coughed, but he was already looking stronger than he had just moments before. Pleased, Myra didn’t give him a chance to stagger through the woods on his own. She stepped forward, wrapped an arm around his waist and motioned in the direction they needed to go.
He stiffened, blinked at her, gave his head a tiny shake. Together they walked, his body still warm with fever, his steps uneven, his hold on her firm. He was about three inches taller than her five-foot-five frame and probably had twenty pounds on her, but they managed well enough.
She got him to the passenger door and he sagged against the truck while she opened it. “Are you well enough to direct me to your cabin?”
The affronted look he gave her was pure male and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. He hauled himself into the truck and leaned his head back, his face slick with sweat. He pointed up the road and closed his eyes. She worried he’d fall asleep and she’d just keep driving, but then again, that wasn’t really a bad thing. But he grunted out the occasional directions and before too long, she was pulling up to a small but well-maintained log cabin. Clothes strung along a line swayed slightly in the breeze. What looked to her untutored eyes like a vegetable garden spanned the length of one wall.
He got out of the truck before she made it around to him, but didn’t resist when she tucked herself to his side. She supported most of his weight up the stairs and was relieved to find the door unlocked. Inside, there was a neatly made bed along the back wall and she headed straight for it, ignoring the rest of the surroundings.
Adam fell onto the bed, face first, and didn’t move. She shoved him over to the far side, pulled the covers down on her side, then dragged him back over to free the rest. Pulling just the sheet up, she draped it up to his hipbones, then checked his forehead. Burning up.
Turning, she surveyed the one room cabin.
There was a small kitchenette, an open door that showed the bathroom, a closed door that was probably a closet, a fireplace with a small couch and chair situated in front of it, and books. Lots and lots of books.
She glanced back at the bed and saw that he hadn’t moved an inch and his eyes were still closed. Filling a glass with water, she shook two tablets from the bottle Michael had given her and set them on a table near the bed. A quick trip to the bathroom procured a washcloth and towel. The water from the tap didn’t warm up and it took her a minute to realize it wasn’t going to. As much of her life as she’d spent in the woods, it hadn’t been at places that didn’t have gas, electricity and phone lines.
She squeezed as much of the cold water out of the cloth as she could before bringing it to his body. He jerked at the first contact, but soothed easily as she ran the cloth around his sweaty chest, arms and face. She tried to think like a nurse, rather than a woman who hadn’t had sex in nearly a year. Yeah, right. Deciding he didn’t need to be wiped down below the waist, she left the sheet where it was, nipping temptation in the bud.
Easing a hand under his head, she picked up the pills.
“Adam, you need to take some Tylenol.”
He grunted.
She lifted his head and his eyes opened to slits again, an adorable glare on his face.
She smiled sweetly and shoved the pills against his lips, then followed quickly with the water glass when he opened his mouth. He swallowed, managed another grunt, and turned his head away when she lowered it back to the pillow.
She watched him for a time, wiped him down again with the cloth.
When she moved away, he shifted restlessly but settled down quickly. She walked outside, leaving the door open so she could still see him. Michael answered on the first ring and she assured him that she was fine, Adam was sleeping, and the cabin was more than adequate. She spoke to the pack doctor for a few minutes, but learned nothing new.
Back inside, she surveyed her options. There were no window coverings, so no way to keep the bright afternoon light from bathing her patient. She went into the kitchen and found a couple of cans of chicken noodle soup, setting them aside for later. A quick search produced a can opener, bowls and pan. She made a mental note to be sure to fix the soup before she lost the light coming in through the windows, rather than deal with cooking by the light of a lantern.
She dragged the reading chair to the side of the bed, set another glass of water on the bedside table, and picked out a book. Curling up on the chair, she opened the book but found her gaze on the sleeping man, rather than the pages. His rest seemed healthier now, though she wasn’t sure how much of that was reality and how much her fancy. He breathed deep and evenly and he was no longer flushed.
He had the muscles of someone who worked his body hard on a daily basis. What did he do out here all day? Obviously, he’d chopped the logs by the fire, and she guessed there was an even larger stack of them somewhere outside. He worked his garden, certainly. And he read. But what else? She couldn’t even begin to imagine. Certainly, she enjoyed her solitude on occasion. It was the thing she looked forward to the most as her busy year as National President came to a close. But she also knew that after her return to normalcy, to life without the additional demands of her term, she’d be eager to surround herself with pack. With family and friends.
Adam stirred, his hand coming up to scratch lightly at his chest before settling back down. His long fingers rested in the light dusting of hair surrounding one nipple and she stared at it a bit hungrily before blinking.
What the hell was wrong with her? The poor man was sick and she was lusting after his body. To be fair, it was a mighty fine body, but still.
That was another reason he shouldn’t be holing himself away in the lonely cabin. He needed to find his mate. A stab of jealousy at that idea surprised her, and had Myra tearing her gaze away from the sleeping man and forcing her concentration to the book.