Desert Wolf (2 page)

“Why would anyone live out here?” They’d bypassed the metropolitan areas where the land twined green and lush with skyscrapers some areas. In others, the landscape turned yellow and gold—scorched by the relentless sun and drought-starved for water.

Every once in a while they drove through hollow little towns, if one could call them such. One group of buildings clustered together on the side of the highway possessed a sign calling for everyone to repent, the apocalypse was nigh, while the next celebrated the arrival of fast food chain.
Because really, bad for you burgers and over-caloried, cheap food is something to celebrate.

A snack bar appeared in her periphery, and she glanced at Faust.

“Eat.”

Command rolled through the syllable. She took the bar. It was one of her favorites—granola with raisins and almonds pounded together with protein and a hint of sugar. Next he reached behind his seat, flipped open a cooler, then extracted a tall can of Starbuck’s espresso power drink—also packed with protein. Mocha was one of her weaknesses, dammit, and Faust knew it.

“Drink.”

“I know what to do with it.” He didn’t deserve the churlishness in her tone, but why… “Why are you being so grumpy?”

Amusement softened his bland expression. Sometimes she forgot he was older than her. His scattering of freckles, deep red hair and pale skin reminded her of kids she went to high school with—if he’d had braces, she’d never have believe his age. “You’re after me because you’re scatter-braining, luv. You’re worried and starting to reflect.”

Dammit.
The aggravation chewing on her spinal cord coiled in her belly. “I’m nervous.”

“I noticed,” he said with a nod. “So eat. Drink. Maybe take a nap. I can pull over and put the backseat down.” He’d packed an air mattress in with all their supplies.

Not answering immediately, she took a bite of her protein bar and inspected her toes. One set red. One set purple. She couldn’t decide which she liked better.

“Leave them both. You’ll feel better, especially if it annoys someone.” Sage advice from the wolf who knew her so well.

Laughing, she wiggled her toes. “True. I like having something colorful to rest on when things get tough.” She didn’t have to add that Sutter Butte would be tough. Faust understood the threat even more than she did. “I didn’t say thank you the other day.”

“You never thank me enough.” He drove with his wrist resting on the top of the steering wheel as though he didn’t have a care in the world. Then again, Faust did everything that way. His lackadaisical manner fooled many and irritated so many more. Probably why they got along so well.

“True, but in this case I meant about backing me up with Sera.” The Alpha’s disapproval carried weight with all of them. More so when her concerns illustrated her very deep reservations about the journey in front of them.

Her companion shrugged. “I’m your Guardian. My blood oath is to you. I would never betray my Alpha, but I cannot betray you either.”

Warmth buoyed her flagging mood, helping to dissipate her distraction. “It’s my beignets.”

“Nah, luv. Your beignets are fine, but I prefer a good scone. Truth be told, it’s the gumbo.” He flashed her a teasing smile, and she laughed.

“Lucky for you I packed filé in my supplies.” The powder was hard to find outside of a few of her favorite shops. Or at least so she’d heard. She rarely traveled far from New Orleans.

She loved cooking. It soothed her soul and gave her a purpose beyond providing a repository for her pack’s ills. Of course, it helped that her father had been one of the most popular chefs in the Quarter for several decades.

“See, all I need to do is find you a kitchen, and I can take a break while you cook for me.” Amusement colored every word, but she nibbled her way through the protein bar at speed and washed it down with the protein energy drink.

Her shakes quieted as the nutrients hit her system. She really did know better, and spent an entire afternoon explaining to Chrystal the links between eating properly and being able to control their gifts. The balance between wolf and human danced a far finer line in an Omega than in any other breed of their kind. “Are we still in Texas?”

“Woman.” His Irish brogue collided with southern boy. “Yes, we’re still in Texas. In fifteen minutes when you ask me again…we’ll still be in Texas. It’s a great big bloody state.”

“True.” Leaning her head against the glass, she studied the landscape. So gritty, dusty and hot…even the air seemed fragmented. If a gust of wind struck it right, the very land looked like it would blow off in a cloud of dust. “Why would anyone want to live here?”

“Isolation? Freedom from living in the city. Crazy.” Faust shrugged. “Why does anyone live anywhere?”

“New Orleans is awesome.” The music. The food. The people. She loved the city. It lived, thrived and renewed itself repeatedly. From the crazy tourists to the locals of all descents…New Orleans was an international city with a rich, sometimes bloody, but utterly vibrant, history. French, Spanish, English and more, she loved them all. “Why live anywhere else?”

“Well you got me there, luv. I adore living in New Orleans. You say the word, and I’ll turn us around and head back.”

“Soon—well, probably not soon.” Rubbing a finger against her lower lip, she sighed. “Sutter Butte has to be a wreck if they are asking for an Omega.” No packs
wanted
them. More often, packs were inflicted with them, if they didn’t exterminate the individual wolf before realizing what was different about them.

“You don’t have to help them, you know.” It was the first time he’d directly addressed her plans since she’d announced her intentions.

“No, I don’t
have
to. On the other hand, I can’t not help them. Not if the Alpha is asking.”

“Cassius is a right bastard.”

“I forgot you’d met him.” She’d spent her time sequestered during the battle for ascension. Faust oversaw her security, but every Hound not engaged in the brutal fights, those Hounds assisted him. For nearly one full moon, Sovvan had, by default, handled all day-to-day business for the pack until a new Alpha ascended. The chaos could have been epic, yet they’d all worked together. The Hounds kept her alive, even from potential assassins within their own ranks.

“You don’t have to remember every wolf I’ve met.” Faust grinned, yet no real humor touched his smile. “Cassius is a cagey one. Dark, dangerous, and not for you.”

“I’m not going to marry him.” But she would have to work with him and get to know him well. Did he know that in asking her to come, he’d have to blood her? They’d have to share at least a tacit bond for her to work with his pack. Delta Crescent was her home, and Serafina her Alpha, but the Alpha of Sutter Butte offered her safe haven and passage. She’d need far more from him to accomplish his goals.

If I even understand his goals correctly.

“Well maybe marrying him would be easier. ‘Course if you
were
thinking of it, at least I would have an excuse to beat the shit out of him.” The utter deadpan sentiment worried her more than anger.

“Is there anything about you and Cassius that I should know?” If Faust had a history with the Alpha, it could create all manner of issues for them.

“He’s a bastard who thrives on violence and bloodshed, and you can’t trust him. His word isn’t worth much.” Anyone who didn’t know Faust might have accepted his answer without asking for more.

Tilting her head, she rested her cheek against her fist and studied her partner. Being Guardian to an Omega was a closer bond than being a lover or a brother. The closest relationship she’d be able to liken it to would be having a mate. Faust wasn’t hers, nor she his, but he occupied the place of one. He put her before everyone else in the pack, including their Alpha. They shared a house together, and he made a great roommate. Occasionally, he took out another wolf to work off some steam, but only when his handpicked Hounds were on duty.

She knew him very well, and was far more interested in what he wasn’t saying than what he’d said. “So what did he lie to you about?”

“You should get some sleep. We’ll be in New Mexico in a few hours and, as much as I want to be out of Texas, we’ll both need to be on our guard until we reach Summit.”

“Nice evasion.”

He didn’t bother to respond. Faust either didn’t want to or had been ordered to not answer her question. He put Sovvan above all, but Serafina was still their Alpha. “Sera wouldn’t send me in blind,” she murmured. “So I doubt very much she would tell you to keep information from me.”

“Sera has no reason to ask me to keep things from you. If she knew, she would have used the information to persuade you against this choice.”

Oh, she was onto something. Wiggling in her seat, she twisted sideways to face him. “Maybe. Our Alpha only agreed to send me if I were willing to go. He asked months ago, and I had to think about the proposal. Taking on his pack—as dangerous as all the stories say, that’s a lot of negativity and flaw to face. Well, potential anyway. Who knows? They might all be very nice.” The last, calculated statement earned her a snort.

“I know you haven’t gone daft on me, Sovvan. Sutter Butte is populated by the worst of our kind, the very dregs of the packs. You know their history.”

“Yes and no.” She knew the tales they told of all the packs, about where they came from and who founded them. Each pack claimed to be the oldest in some respects. Arguably, Hudson River was the most civilized, while the Yukon pack probably qualified as the most rustic. Willow Bend fell somewhere in the middle. Delta Crescent hosted the most blended population of foreign and domestic wolves—transplants from overseas who settled in the port city and spread inland to mate and marry natives. “I know the generalities of Sutter Butte’s history. They were the youngest of the five packs.”

No one really counted Three Rivers, the unheralded sixth pack. Though the Alphas had agreed to wait and see, they could still decide to end them or absorb the pack into one of their own at any time. Sovvan rather suspected Willow Bend would be the ones most likely to take them, if it came to that.

Sutter Butte would simply eradicate the upstarts. War with Cassius’ pack never ended well for anyone, though the last open war between the packs occurred in the 1930s. World War II and the attack on Pearl Harbor effectively put a pin in the tensions between the domestic packs—all before her time.

“They formed sometime in the late 1800s. I think 1876, but I could be making the date up. One wolf organized them, took a plateau in Arizona and defended it against the Enforcers sent to hunt them down. They killed everyone who tried to take them back East again.” Probably not a proud moment for the Enforcers, to be defeated by the dregs of the other packs—the social rejects and criminals all banished for one reason or another. The history of the culling which sent them away seemed as murky as the pack itself. “It was four years before another set were sent to bring them in again, but by then they’d established themselves.”

“They killed every Enforcer sent in that wave. Nearly wiped out the Enforcers in a bloody battle.” Faust shook his head. “Three Enforcers were left for the whole of the country, and they told the packs they would have to deal with the
upstarts
themselves, since they’d chosen an Alpha and formed a pack.”

“It’s why they do the Reaping, though, right? Every year, to commemorate their bloody victories?” Sovvan loathed the entire concept of the Reaping. A gathering of the pack’s most prominent and powerful wolves to battle for position and power—and the right to challenge the Alpha. Unlike every other pack, the Alpha of Sutter Butte did not recognize any Alpha Challenge not made during the Reaping. To her knowledge—limited though it was—no wolf had ever taken Sutter Butte outside of the Reaping.

“So they say.”

“But you know more.” Which was possible. Although Faust had been born in Ireland and immigrated, he made a point of knowing the land and the packs. He’d told her once, during a long evening of Hurricanes after Fat Tuesday, that he’d chosen Delta Crescent based on his research.

“I know plenty…like you should take a nap. Night will be along soon enough, then New Mexico.” At the border, they’d cross into Sutter Butte’s territory. While Sera held a small portion of Texas, Sutter Butte kept well outside the state’s boundaries. Some wolves—pack wolves attending college and Lone Wolves—lived in the state, but they moved regularly and didn’t dig in roots.

Sometimes Lone Wolves disappeared here, too, or maybe it was another urban legend used to scare the young. Chewing on her nail, she stole another look at Faust. His expression never changed. Whatever it was he knew, he didn’t seem to be in a sharing mood.

“Fine, I’ll take a nap.” The restlessness she’d experienced leading up to their departure hadn’t allowed for a lot of sleep. “But don’t think I’ve given up. I’ll figure out what your problem with Cassius is.”

“I’m sure you’ll try.” Faust flipped the air conditioning on high, then pressed a button on the dash to play the jazz CD—one of her favorites and guaranteed to lull her.

“You’re too good to me.” She grinned, shifting to put her feet up and the seat back down. Smothering a yawn, she closed her eyes. Inside, her wolf began to pace. They drove farther and farther from pack, rushing into an unknown. Yawning, she stretched and concentrated on her breathing, calmed her heart and soothed her wolf. The music wrapped around her and then Faust took her hand.

Pack
.

The warmth and weight of it settled the unease coiling through her muscles. Faust’s greatest flaw was also his greatest strength. Hyper vigilance didn’t make for a comfortable companion, yet it also let her mind rest, because as long as Faust watched over her, nothing would ever harm her.

Not Sutter Butte.

Not Cassius.

Especially if Faust doesn’t like him…

H
e’d ridden
through the night, stopping only to get wolves moving, discipline those who hadn’t as well as for fuel then finally his passenger. Bianca had been waiting for him in Albuquerque, exactly as he’d ordered. Of course, the healer, unlike the other wolves, didn’t seem as keen to rebel about his orders. Hands on his hips, she rode the bitch seat as though she’d been born to it. Tingles radiated over his skin from the contact, her power easing bone bruises and aches from a night of fighting. The scabs on his knuckles vanished.

If he hadn’t been on the bike, he’d have snarled at her for presuming. Then again, the ride shouldn’t have taken him more than five hours, but the accrued stops cost him time. In Santa Rosa, four wolves awaited him—representatives of the four most powerful families in Sutter Butte. Bianca slid off the seat behind him after he parked the bike in front of the Johnson family diner. His guest would reach the town of Tucumcari within two hours. He had no time for another sortie, but if the bastards wanted a fight, he would send the families their heads in response.

Removing her helmet, Bianca didn’t even look at their visitors. “I’m going to excuse myself for the restroom and a drink, Cassius. Would you like a bottle of water? Or some tea?”

What he wanted was a boilermaker, but it would keep. “Go.” He sent her away, because she didn’t care for violence, having had to patch up far too many wolves. If the wolves facing him had allies inside the diner, they wouldn’t dare touch a healer. Sutter Butte had been blessed with over a dozen of her kind. Protected and cherished, they restored the pack to order following the Reaping. Even the families who kept their own healers within their ranks didn’t block access to them for fear of retribution.

When Jose Garcia took a step forward, Cassius set Bianca’s helmet on the back of the bike then eyed them. “Forgive us for intercepting you here.”

“We’ll see if I’m forgiving you or not. What do they want?” The families provided a staunch source of income with their varied business interests, twenty percent of which they paid to the Alpha as their tithes to pack. Cassius, in turn, used the funds to care for the rest of the pack. He allowed the families their say in their own towns—to a point—as long as they obeyed him. The system had worked for over a century, and he’d never seen a need to disrupt it.

Well, not until Justin played a very dangerous game. The pack once had five families with the same privilege. The fifth family had been eliminated; their young and innocent dispersed into the general population, and the heads of rebellion removed.

Garcia, a stocky man with thick shoulders and even thicker thighs, stood nearly half a foot shorter than Cassius. Built more like a bear than a wolf, he made a living rebuilding motorcycles and had, from time to time, worked on Cassius’ bike—probably why they elected him speaker for their little group.

“We received word of the movement to eliminate the Omega on her way from Delta Crescent.”

“Yes.” Cassius slapped his gloves against his open palm. “So have I.”

“We are here to present our offer of security, hostages, if you like—or assistance, if you prefer. The families will not intervene on behalf of the rogues.”

Well, weren’t they a cherry-flavored kind of special? “So you came all the way here to tell me you’re not here to cause trouble?”

“Si, Senor.” Garcia didn’t look at the other three, but then, what he didn’t say could be as telling as what he did. “They did not want there to be misunderstanding. Some of our young…have proven impulsive and intractable.”

“You’re here to try and intercept them so they don’t die.” Cassius chuckled, though he didn’t find anything about the situation remotely humorous. While he fueled up, he let the four men stew. Garcia knew him well enough to wait; however, his three associates weren’t so guarded in their annoyance.

The Haake, Lahti, and Quintero families hadn’t achieved their strength without knowing when to risk their lives and when to shut up. Haake fidgeted in his place, but he lacked the daring to confront anyone directly. Despite the gas fumes, fear edged Lahti’s sour body odor, and Quintero couldn’t hide his amusement. Sparing Garcia a glance, Cassius raised his brows.

“I swear, Alpha, the Garcias are loyal. We may not like the order, but we are committed to obedience.” The statement offered a few more clues. Jose was loyal, but his family? Not so much. For now, they would do as they were told, but rumblings might change their mind later, especially if they discovered some advantage to be had.
Story of the whole damn pack.

“Kiss ass,” Lahti murmured, meeting Garcia’s glare with one of his own. Haake scowled, but Quintero laughed.

Cassius liked Cyril Quintero. He was a genuine pain in the ass. “Haake and Lahti, inform your families that I expect to see their representatives at Summit within the week. Now, go away. Quintero, you and Garcia may remain. What are you driving?”

Jose pointed to his Hummer, the oversized monster of a vehicle more appropriate for a warzone than a Sunday drive. Parked next to it, an acid green Dodge Challenger Hellcat screamed
pay attention to me
. Cyril never did learn the beauty of being subtle. Of course, Cassius had no time for subtle.

Lahti and Haake hadn’t moved by the time Cassius finished fueling the bike. While he screwed the cap on, he eyed the pair, and they raised their hands. He didn’t care what they drove, but watched until they climbed into their vehicles and peeled out with a scream of burning rubber.

The guilty didn’t run. Poor babies. He’d deal with them later. Cyril Quintero folded his arms, his smirk betraying his constant amusement.

“So, this is how it will work for you two.” He didn’t glance around for Bianca. The healer wouldn’t return until he signaled her. “What happens to one of you, will happen to the other—and your families.” If he had to wipe out Sutter Butte and start over from scratch, he could do it. It would cripple the pack, but sometimes curing a cancer required eradicating even the healthy cells. Neither man flinched. Either they’d already come to some accord, or they had reason to trust each other.

Good
.

“You’ll follow. Stay at least ten miles behind me. Once I have the Omega, you’ll provide escort.”

“As our Alpha wishes.” Jose Garcia inclined his head and Quintero nodded. “You know there is a trap awaiting them?”

“I expected it.” His phone had yet to buzz with the news they’d crossed the Texas border. Serafina’s Hound would alert him the moment they drove into the danger zone. “Are your families involved?”

“My son was,” Garcia answered him honestly. “We sent him home along with three Quinteros before meeting you.”

Interesting
. “And the others?”

“Young bucks looking to make their mark. For some, it will be their first Reaping and they fear you are taking it away, so they will never make their bones.” Quintero shrugged. “A little chlorine in the gene pool never hurt anyone.”

Their young were impetuous, but most lacked the courage of their convictions. “Too bad they didn’t use more when you were young.” The dig scored a mark because, under the previous Alpha, the Quintero family had taken the largest hits. The wolf scowled at him, and Cassius smiled. Despite the ferocious glare, his scent didn’t grow aggressive. The other wolf wasn’t very good at hiding his scent markers.

“Might have saved me more than one headache,” Quintero admitted with a grunt, then he sighed. “May I ask you a question?”

“You may.” Didn’t mean he’d answer it. Leaning against the bike, he waited. The door to the mart opened, and Bianca returned. The steady tattoo of her boots on the concrete alerted him to her exact location. Garcia smiled and even Quintero’s expression lightened. Healers had that effect on even the sourest of dispositions.

“Boys,” Bianca greeted them and handed a water bottle to Cassius, the cold a welcome sensation on his palm. “Are we behaving?”

“Never,” Cassius answered before taking a long drink. Her hip brushing his, she settled in next to him against the bike. “Go on, Quintero. You had a question.”

The other man exhaled. Unlike Garcia, Quintero was tall and a mixed-blood like Cassius. His swarthy skin could come from his Latino heritage or his Native American, while his bone structure was one hundred percent from his Slavic grandfather. “Bringing in an Omega to our pack, reaching out to Delta Crescent—others see it as a sign of weakness.”

Finished with the water bottle, Cassius crushed it before tossing the trash into the receptacle. “Not a question.”

“No, sir.” The sir seemed an afterthought, but since he, Jose and Cyril ran their first Reaping together, he could forgive him. In many ways, their relationship with him benefitted their families, so they had no reason to betray it.

Yet.

“Why are you bringing in an Omega?” Bold. Blunt. Straightforward. Good for him.

Cassius allowed his lips to curl into a hint of a smile. “Because I want to.” Not the answer either man wanted to hear, yet the only one he planned to give them. “Phones on. Wait for my signal. Ten miles, not an inch closer, until I call you.”

Straddling the bike, he handed Bianca her helmet. The healer tossed her trash into the can then slid the helmet over her head. The pair retreated, their unhappy grimaces reflecting their inner conflict. As long as they’d represented their families, one would think they would have learned to moderate their responses. Or maybe they didn’t feel the need to disguise their thoughts from him?

Soon enough he’d know the truth for all of them, and then they could really get to work. Bianca settled behind him, then hooked two fingers through the belt loops on his jeans. The engine roared to life, and they were off. His phone buzzed in his pocket, a hint of a horn underscoring the vibration. The signal he’d given to the Hound.

“Hold on,” he told Bianca. If the Omega was at the border, she was crossing into his territory, and he wanted to get to her welcome wagon before she did. Accelerating, he pushed his baby past the hundred mark as soon as they were on the highway.

“
S
ovvan
.” Faust’s curt tone followed by his grip on her thigh pulled her from sleep. Snapping her eyes open, she stared out at the darkness surrounding the vehicle. At some point, the sun had set and Faust pulled off the highway. “We’ve got company.”

The plan called for meeting their escort outside of a town called Tucumcari, a set of GPS coordinates to a rest area off the main highway. Adrenaline flooded her drowsy system, and she rubbed her face as she got the seat upward. “Friend or foe?” She suspected the answer, otherwise Faust would have let her sleep and made them wait.

“Not sure, but don’t like the look of how many there are.” He hadn’t dimmed his lights or come to a complete stop, instead he rolled forward at a slow pace. Ahead, she could see six—no, seven—men standing in a row, blocking the single lane where it looped toward the back of the rest area. No illumination came from the street lamps, so either they’d disabled or shattered them. Either way, they weren’t useful. Wolves might not need the light, but it didn’t bode well for a
friendly
meeting.

Beyond the grouping, movement flowed through the shadows—actual wolves, not in human form. “How many?”

“Too many.” Voice tightening, Faust glanced behind them, before tapping the brakes once. “Stay or go?”

If she said
go
, he’d accelerate through the wolves and likely take out anyone who didn’t get out of their way. If she said
stay
, he would prepare himself to take on all the challengers. Her Hound was tough as hell, but a dozen or more wolves tough?

“Sovvan?”

It could simply be an intimidation ploy. The Sutter Butte Alpha might very well be putting on a show. “Stay.” The intellectual versus the instinctual—her gut said run like hell, because she didn’t want Faust facing those wolves. On the other hand, they would have to face far worse if Cassius were serious about his desire to utilize her abilities.

Faust blew out a breath then stopped the vehicle fifteen feet from the men. Most of them appeared to be no older than thirty. Though age could be deceptive in wolves, their posture said a lot, as did their style of dress. Of course, maybe tank tops, leather jackets and jeans were commonplace in the desert.
Dear God, why?
It made her sweat to look at the heavy coats.

“Stay in the car,” her Guardian ordered, but Sovvan shook her head.

“No, we do this together. Besides,” she placated his ego, “I’m a sitting duck in the car.”

“It’s bulletproof glass and reinforced metal. It might hold up.” The retort carried no heat, as his attention focused on the wolves approaching them. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“No,” she admitted, sliding her feet into a pair of flats. The closer the wolves came, the less friendly their expressions grew. They seemed almost at war with themselves, as though they wanted to appear welcoming.
Keyword: appear.
“Do you see Cassius out there?” She’d seen a photograph of him, but it was dark and she was tired.

“No sign of his high and mighty.” Tension roiled in his voice, but Faust kept his expression placid as he reached past her and flipped open the glove box to reveal a gun. “Well, if we’re getting out, we’re taking my friend Colt with us.”

“I thought you said only cowards took guns to a wolf fight?” Not that she was complaining.

“Actually, luv, what I said was only an idiot took a gun to a wolf fight. This is a slaughterhouse, not a fight. Get in the driver’s seat when I get out.” He was no longer asking. Command reverberated through his every word.

Sovvan lifted her hand and pressed her palm to Faust’s cheek. His eyes went wolf and a growl rumbled in his chest. Her limited choices left her with the option of reflecting their Alpha or Faust. If she reached for Serafina, she would suspect foul play and the Hounds she’d set on their trail would floor it into the action. The possibility of igniting a war versus the need to protect her Guardian from the
potential,
yet undefined, harm prompted her to reach for Faust’s flaws—his vicious temper and brutal pugilist tendencies.