Desert Wolf (13 page)

“Oh shit, babe, is that really eating you up at the moment?” He didn’t really need to ask, since her misery made the answer pretty obvious.

“Yeah. I’m a healer, Cassius. It’s my job to take care of others, and I was
happy
to not have to help her.” The self-recrimination and disgust were so very much a healer’s response to failure.

“Well, stop. She’s fine, better than fine. She’s almost one hundred percent herself again.” Or at least he thought so. Her wounds had all faded to barely-there scars. He’d give it a couple of days, and they likely wouldn’t be noticeable at all.

“That’s not the point.” She hit him, more of a love tap than an actual blow. “I’m a healer. My job is to care for others, yet all I could think about is how easily she killed and dealt with death and how she was walking into the middle of our pack and God knows what’s going to happen with her here.”

Laughing would probably be a mistake, but he couldn’t resist a chuckle. Of all the problems he faced,
this one
he could actually fix. “Bianca, sit down.” The command rolled over her and she obeyed, dropping into a chair at the table. Helping himself to her fridge, he pulled out a couple of beers and set one in front of her before opening his own. “Have a drink.”

She frowned, but did as she was told.

“Good girl. Now, I’m only going to say this once. The Omega told you not to touch her. She said to back off and let her heal on her own for your safety and hers. Whether you were happy or not is irrelevant. She has a gift, and you were getting caught up in it.”

Her mouth formed an ‘o’ as though she might say something, and he shook his head.

“Sovvan also informed me that if a healer has any issues, especially if they are new to an Omega, their gift is going to be out of whack trying to heal her. So you did the right thing—the
best
thing—for her as a patient and for others like Maddy. We didn’t need you all kinds of screwed up and trying to heal that child.”

Taking a long pull from her beer, Bianca squinted at him as if trying to sort any deception from his words. “I find that so hard to believe, but you’re probably right.”

“And you’re so gracious to admit it.”

“Ugh, you know what I mean.” She rose from her seat, the distress in her scent dissipating. “Are you sure she is doing okay? I could try again, if she really needs a healing.”

“She’s fine, trust me. She and I had a late breakfast together.” Let her make of that statement what she wanted. Glancing over to the living room, he studied the little girl. “How’s Maddy doing?”

At the stove, Bianca set a pot on one of the burners and pulled out a bag of pasta. “She’s…” She followed his gaze, staring at Maddy for a beat. “She’s quiet. It was a lot of trauma for someone so young to witness.”

“Has she said anything about her family?” He pitched his voice low. Wolves had sharp hearing, but it was another sense they developed over time. Kids didn’t hear as acutely and rarely heard much over their favorite television shows.

“No.” Bianca paused to take a drink of her beer before adding some hamburger meat to a second pan. It was sizzling in no time. “Do you want to stay for supper?”

“I’d love to, but I already have plans. I might go sit and talk to Maddy for a moment. You okay with that?” In these areas, healers always took the lead.

“She seemed to like you, so give it a shot.”

Leaving his beer at the table, he crossed the small house and paused next to Maddy’s chair. “Hey, mind if I sit and watch cartoons with you?”

She glanced at him with wide eyes, but her expression didn’t change. The void tugged at his heart in a way little else did. No child should be so blank, so lifeless. She stood, and he took the invitation to sit. When she climbed into his lap, he lifted her so she could sit with her back to his chest and see the television.

“My name is Cassius, Maddy.”

No response, then, “I know.” Her attention remained riveted on the television.

He considered asking her about the night she met him, but decided against it. The lack of real emotion in voice and no emotion in her expression worried him. “What are we watching?”

“I don’t know.” The little girl shrugged. The action brushed her hair against his chin and he could smell the scent of citrus from her shampoo. Nothing about her base scent reminded him of anyone. Most kids tended to carry their parents’ scents, at least until puberty. Even then, family groups had a habit of similar scents. No, he didn’t know Maddy’s, but then he didn’t know every single wolf in Sutter Butte.

A cat chased a mouse around with a frying pan and kept trying to bash it. It took him a minute to place the characters. “It’s Tom and Jerry.” He vaguely recalled watching it years before, mostly because the cat’s predatory instincts sucked. Nothing the cat ever did took out the mouse, because the mouse fought smarter, not harder.

“I like it.” Maddy announced, then laughed when Tom took the frying pan to the face.

“Me, too.” Settling in, Cassius watched the cartoon with her. Maybe all she needed was some time. If they couldn’t figure out whom she belonged to, he’d keep her in Summit. He could almost feel Bianca’s stare from the kitchen, and he spared her a look. She gave him a thumbs up then returned to stirring her meat.

“Who do you like better, Tom or Jerry?” Then in case she hadn’t identified them, he said, “Jerry’s the mouse.”

It took the little girl a long time to answer. So long, Cassius wondered if she heard the question, but she waited until the cartoon ended and the next one began. “I like Jerry.” Then she turned those luminous eyes on him. “He’s little, and he still wins.”

“Yes, he does.” It was like a donkey kick to the gut, that emptiness. It might be for the best if he never found her parents, because if they were responsible for her being in the center of that trauma…he’d have to kill them.

O
f all the
enemies fears and flaws Sovvan confronted over the years, boredom remained the worst. Four days after her arrival in Summit and, save for the two long conversations with Cassius, they hadn’t taken a step closer to his plan. If anything, he seemed to be avoiding her, spending most of his time beyond the walls of his house.

At home, she had chores she could perform, hobbies she could explore and the city to shop in, if it came right down to it. The two bedroom cottage atop the mesa, locked behind walls, might as well be a cell. Pacing from one end of the living room to the other, she shivered with restlessness. Nothing settled her stomach or her nerves.

“Let’s go check out the city.”

Faust sprawled on the sofa, one ankle crossed over the other, while reading a book. He didn’t even glance away from the page before he said, “No.”

“Come on. We’ve been here for days. He’s busy, and I need to do…something.”

“Make some more gumbo.” He’d finished the last bowl. “Or go cook with Maria. You two seemed like you were getting along.”

They were. In Cassius’ absence, Sovvan had taken to spending time with the older woman. She proved a fascinating reservoir of knowledge, though she carefully never brought up Cassius and danced around any questions Sovvan asked her. The cleverness wasn’t lost on her, so she left her alone. It was rude to pry, anyway, no matter how curious she was about the elusive Alpha.

“She is busy, and I don’t want to intrude.” Truthfully, she didn’t know what Maria was doing or did, other than cook. The woman always seemed to be in the kitchen. Was she a housekeeper? A cook? A family member? The tangible affection between her and Cassius left Sovvan with more questions than answers. “And I’m bored.”

“No kidding.” Faust turned the page on his book, then reached for one of the paperbacks on the back of the sofa. He tossed it toward her, and she caught it nimbly. “Read a book.”

The front featured a dead body impaled on a knife. “What the hell are you reading?”

“Murder mysteries. This bird sets them in New Orleans. Her geography is messed up, but the stories are good.”

“Ugh.” Sovvan set the book on the table and paced the length of the windows. Her wolf rubbed against the inside of her skin, half in comfort and half in sympathy. The animal wanted out as much as she did. “I don’t want to read.”

“Fine, then pace and make yourself miserable, only…could you be a little quieter about it?” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “I’m reading.”

Growling, she didn’t reply. Faust teasing her was
normal,
and she would usually respond in kind. The emptiness of the house, the barren landscape, and the lack of activity all seemed to be conspiring to drive her absolutely mad.

“I’m going out,” she said, pivoting to stride for the door. Maybe what she needed was a good long run. It was the middle of the day in the desert, but surely they had somewhere to go. They were wolves weren’t they?

“Let me know if you decide to swim, luv. Should never swim alone.” He didn’t make a move to follow her, and why should he? They were isolated behind the privacy wall of Cassius’ home. The rest of his pack lay beyond the wall and though she could hear the murmur of their voices and occasionally scent them on the breeze—sometimes it felt like she’d woken in the middle of nowhere.

The strapless sundress she wore left her shoulders bare and the warmth of the sun felt good against her flesh. It was late in the day, so the paving stones were warm but the evening air already promised to be cooler. Another mind boggling part of the desert, it was cold at night. Not a little cooler, but actually cold.

Not being used to the drastic shifts in temperature had left her shivering more than once. Roaming the circumference of his property, she’d basically traded pacing her living room for pacing the yard. The white thorn acacias were pretty, but they were also bland. White stone, sunbaked paving stones, the salmon colored fountain…the only real color that wasn’t washed out was the pool.

Even if she didn’t mind soaking her hair and having to wash it, the icy cold water was not at all appealing. Yet Cassius swam two, sometimes three times in a day. She’d seen him out there at odd hours. Clenching her fists, she walked another circuit then another and on her third pass, she stopped at the main gate.

“I am not a damn prisoner.” The sentiment echoed within her, but she didn’t know the code for the gate. Cassius had never given it to her. Maria might know. Walking the yard hadn’t helped her restlessness one iota. If anything, it left her even more amped than before.

Retreating a pace, she studied the wall. It was smooth. Nothing for handholds and no trees or other piece of landscaping brushed up against the wall. Even the houses were set a good eight to ten feet away.

Ten feet wasn’t that far and the wall couldn’t be more than ten feet high…

Comparing the single story guesthouse to Cassius’ two story made her decision simple. His roof would be higher. Switching tracks, she jogged over to his place, then circled it. The construction made for smooth walls and rounded corners. But the patio roof was lower and she caught the lip with a jump then pulled herself up. The dress made it awkward, but she’d never been afraid of climbing anything before.

Once on the roof of the patio, she darted forward and used the wall to propel herself upward, then she was on the second story patio. She hadn’t even realized he had a balcony up here. Perched on the railing, she squinted at the mirrored glass and only saw herself staring back. A little disappointed she couldn’t see what he had hidden away upstairs, she balanced her way to the corner then hopped up onto the red tiled roof.

“Holy shit.” She swore, because the tiles were hotter than fuck. Dancing across them, she scampered as fast as she could until she found the flattened top. More adobe mud-bake than red tile, it at least didn’t threaten to roast her skin. Hissing out a breath, she crouched to take weight off her heels and curled her toes upward so they could cool some, then took in her surroundings.

Her heart thumped at her first real look at the town sprawling outside the gates. It reminded her of an old movie, if someone had mashed a spaghetti western with a flick about ancient Rome. The angle let her look out over a maze of adobe structures. Cobblestone streets wound between the buildings wide in some areas, sharper and narrower in others.

Large vehicles would have trouble lumbering through the sleepy avenues, not without doing some kind of damage. Every part of the town seemed to be layered, as though it built a little higher the closer they came to Cassius’ walls. Scooting forward, a step, she tried to see what abutted his walls directly, but she didn’t have the right angle. The buildings she could see were a little lower in the city and seemed a mishmash of tall and squat, but they were all done in the same kind of white stone. A couple had gardens or yards in the center, they did that at home, too. Her house in the Garden District had a lovely little garden with a fountain in the center of the house, perfectly private and isolated.

Homesickness swamped her. Spying movement, she stood and shielded her eyes with her hand. She could just make out a swell of people near one of the outer walls. The distant hum of conversation told her a lot of voices, but she couldn’t make out any specific one or word in the din. Maybe it was the open air market Maria mentioned. Elsewhere, a couple stood outside of a house arguing. Or maybe they were just having a passionate—no, the woman punched the male square in the face and they went down flailing. Definitely a fight.

It didn’t last long, another wolf interrupted them and took them each by an arm. If they’d been smaller, she could almost imagine the wolf chastising them. The one in the center shook them both as he spoke then he released them and pointed, as though ordering them elsewhere.

Letting her gaze roam, she searched for any movement…kids playing…there were several racing after a ball that they would in turn throw and try to tag another. War ball. Sovvan hated that game when she was a kid. Pressing a hand to her cheek, she could remember very well what it was like to have it slam into her at speed. The point of the game was to not get hit, but she’d never been quite as fast or as agile as the other wolves in the pack.

Clumsy.

Lazy.

She’d heard those words a lot in elementary school. Not from her parents, though Mama would sigh and clean up the fresh scrapes and then say,
Girl, you need to watch where you are going, so at least if you run into something it’s soft and not hard.

Her father had been more understanding, but then a human in a wolf pack would be. He wasn’t as fast as her uncles or even her mother, nor as strong.
You gotta remember what your strengths are. Not everyone can win a marathon or a sprint, truth told little one, not everyone will even try. So, you find what you’re good at and remember, you have value and that value is in here, in your heart. Not in what other people say or think
.

One of the smaller children took a hit from the ball and started to cry. Another one of the kids, a girl slightly older from the look of her, put an arm around him. Comforting without calling attention. Dust rose in little plumes here and there from beneath their feet.

Everything was so damn yellow. Tears burned in her eyes, and her feet protested the discomfort of the roof, but she ignored them all. All the tales about Sutter Butte painted a picture of rough, radical wolves with brutal behavior. Yes, they were warriors and fighters and some were as rough and tumble as the tales, but others were like those kids, the arguing couple and the men and women hustling around the market. They were wolves—trying to live their lives the best they knew how.

How did they see their town, with its walls which kept people out and them trapped inside? Did they seem them as security or a prison? Did they leave the town regularly? Were they allowed? She scanned the distant walls, the main one looking for the entrance. Of all the times to have slept on the trip, missing their whole arrival at Summit had been a bad idea. Sure enough, the main gate reminded her of a castle’s entrance. It was broad, double wide and probably large enough to admit a semi, though how they’d get one all the way up here, she had no idea.

The distance from the roof to the wall of Cassius’s compound wasn’t more than ten feet; she could make the jump. Even if the ground outside was lower than it was inside, she could survive the drop.

Chewing her lip, she straightened and looked over the walls and then beyond them. The mountains began to rise in the distance. A majestic view and, with the sun beginning its slow descent, they were purple and white against the darkening blue of the sky. “Beautiful…”

“Woman.” Cassius’ voice echoed through the silence, and she jerked her gaze toward the yard. He stood just inside the gates, which closed silently behind him. “What the hell are you doing up there?”

“Taking a walk.”

“On the roof?” Irritation pebbled his words.

“Well, your yard isn’t that big, and I’m bored.” She actually hadn’t meant to admit the last. “I need…I want out of here. I hate feeling like a prisoner.” Her hand trembled, and the shaking seemed to radiate through her. “I need to run.”

At home, when the urge took her, she could head out to Serafina’s place. Her plantation was huge, and the bayou beyond it was all Federal and private land. She could run for miles without encountering another soul.

He squinted at her. “Get down then get changed.”

“What?”

“You heard me. Jeans. Long sleeves.” His gaze raked over her. “And shoes, preferably boots if you have them. Meet me in the yard in ten minutes.”

Was he serious?

He strode across the yard, disappearing into his house, and she felt the thump of the door in the gentle vibration beneath her feet. A moment later, a window opened and his voice floated out. “Nine minutes. If you’re not there, I’ll assume you don’t want to go.”

Galvanized by the warning, she darted toward the edge she’d climbed up and ignored the burn as she slid to the edge, then jumped. She landed on the balcony and met his bemused gaze.

“Eight minutes.”

“I’m going.” She muttered, then gripped the railing and leapt it to land nimbly on the porch roof below. Another two steps and she jumped to land on the stones. The shock rippled through her joints and jarred her a little, but she hurried for the guesthouse, his offer to get the hell out of there energizing her.

A low whistle reached her ears as she grabbed the door handle, and she glanced up to find Cassius watching her with an unreadable expression. “Nice moves.”

The compliment tickled her, but she tapped her wrist. She was almost down to seven minutes. Wrenching the door open, she rushed inside to change. Faust glanced up from his book. “Where are you going?”

“To change. Go back to reading.” Then out. Hopefully far away, where she could run.

C
assius stripped
out of his work clothes and switched them for fresh jeans, a long sleeved shirt and his riding boots. His leather jacket and gloves were downstairs. After pausing long enough to secure a helmet for Sovvan and an extra pair of thick riding gloves, he descended the steps. Downstairs, he swung into the kitchen and added some water bottles and ready-made sandwiches Maria kept on hand for him to his knapsack. He’d dump it all into a saddle bag for later.

Outside, he found Sovvan waiting for him with a minute to spare. Her jeans were thick denim, and sturdy—not some fashion statement manufacturer’s brand. The long sleeved shirt she’d tucked in was a bright fuchsia. The woman really did like her colors. Sneakers covered her feet, but they looked odd for some reason.

Pausing, he studied the standard blue sneakers, which went well with her jeans. They were running shoes.

“Problem?”

“Your feet look weird.”

“You say the loveliest things.” The hint of sardonic wit drew his attention to her pursed lips and narrowed eyes.

“You’ve been barefoot every other time I saw you, and you have these soft, delicate feet, but those shoes are huge.”