Desert Wolf (6 page)

During one of his visits to Phoenix, a Hunter had taken him to his place for dinner with his mate and their family. They lived in a gated community. A laughable concept considering their access point consisted of a swing arm “barrier” which actually snapped open more often than not if a car bumped it.

Not his gates. His gates didn’t open unless he wanted them that way. The FBI investigated him before, during and after the construction. They worried about the isolated little town of extremists, so Cassius invited their agents to spend a week in Summit. Between the nudists running around, and the lack of any violence or religious rituals, the agents fled as soon as their assignment was up.

The memory coupled with the gates awaiting him amused him enough to bring his bike to a full halt. Glancing behind, he checked the caravan. The SUV was closer than the Hummer and all six of the other bikes were accounted for and no one else. Tugging his cell phone from his pocket, he dialed the access code.

Answering on the first ring, the wolf in charge of observation for the day greeted him by name. “Welcome home, Cassius.”

“Good to be home. Open the gates.” They were alerted to his approach by cameras placed at the first switchback. The cameras above would have catalogued the entire convoy, but protocol demanded they wait for a call requesting—or, in his case, ordering—entry. A hiss of the hydraulics sounded, and the gates rolled open.

Yes, it looked exactly like the fortress it was meant to be. Inside the walls, a small town thrived. Every single one of the people in the town were under his protection and one law remained in force at all times—absolutely no fighting. Summit was neutral territory, so no dominance battles were allowed.

As soon as the gates opened, he accelerated through, pausing only long enough to direct Trask and his men toward the clinic. Maddy would need looking after, and Bianca and the other healers had updated the facility. Jose, he sent to a holding area, one of the cabins near the wall where he would be watched until Cassius had time to deal with him.

With two fingers curled into a beckoning motion, he ordered Faust to follow him. The gates closed, and life in the town continued. They grew most of their own vegetables in hydroponic-supported greenhouses. Raised cattle, pigs, sheep and chickens both in Summit and below along the mountain in pastures. They even had horses trained to accept wolves on their backs for long days spent tending the herds. In nearly all ways, Summit was self-sufficient. Hands lifted to wave at him as he rode past, children played, women laughed and men worked. It was about as peaceful a day as possible for his pack. If not for a pack which numbered nearly eight thousand at the last Reaping, he would be inclined to barricade the gates and lock the outside world out.

N
ot really an option
, however, not when the whole of his pack could not live in Summit—which really only had room for a little over two thousand souls and, at current population, hosted only about twelve hundred regularly.

Faust’s vehicle crawled along the cobblestone streets behind him as they climbed through the gentle rise to the adobe compound Cassius called home. Another set of gates and a wall secured his personal property, but he tapped a button on his keychain, and the gate opened before they arrived. The wall couldn’t really keep out a determined wolf, but it did afford him a measure of privacy.

White thorn acacias interspersed with cactus lined the dirt of his drive. In heavy rain, he couldn’t take the bike out—though rarely did they see heavy rains. The house itself was a sprawling uncluttered structure, with a terrace and open second floor. The adobe reflected the sun and kept the terracotta floors cool. A fountain bubbled in the center of the circular drive as they pulled around it.

Cassius parked his bike under the carport where his jeep also sat. Leaving the bike, he strode toward the SUV as Faust lowered the window. “Do you think you could get more remote, mate?”

The southern Irish combination in the other wolf’s accent grated on his nerves. “Yes. We could. Guesthouse.” He pointed to an adobe structure set apart from the main house but connected by a breezeway. “There’s a swimming pool on the other side. You may both use it. Have her shower, then…”

“She needs rest.” Faust said. “She’s still exhausted.”

Biting back his temper, Cassius stared at the other wolf until Faust lowered his eyes.
Damn straight.
“Then when her highness has had time to rest, have her come to the main house so we may talk—and remember, while you are here for her, you don’t have to stay. I am more than capable of protecting her. Mind the insolence.” His tolerance for disrespect from his own wolves was nearly non-existent. The only thing keeping the Hound alive at the moment was Sovvan.

“As you wish.” It wasn’t respect, but it would do. Since neither the Hound nor Sovvan made a move while he stood there, he pointed to the car port. “Park the SUV there. If we get a sandstorm, we can secure it to protect the vehicles. Supplies will be stocked, but the guesthouse doesn’t have much in the way of a kitchen. You can both take your meals with me.”

Actually, Sovvan could take her meals with him. As soon as she was settled, he’d find something else for the Hound to do. Leaving them to unpack their vehicle, he strode for his own house. He needed a drink, a shower and his own bed for a few hours—not necessarily in that order.

The courtyard had been tended, swept clean of any sand and the water burbled merrily in the three-tiered fountain—it had been in a horrible state of disrepair when he’d taken the pack in an Alpha Challenge. Back then, no water ran, and the base had a tremendous crack in it. For three years he’d worked on it—reset the stone, pulled out the cobblestones and reset the pipes—until one day he got it working.

It had flowed ever since, a hedonistic luxury in the desert—water meant for nothing more than decoration and ambience. Letting himself in, he made it two steps onto the terracotta tiles when a sharp
“No
,” greeted him.

Maria Fuentes marched toward him from the rear kitchens. Her deep black hair, shot through with gray, had been pulled back into a severe bun and her dark eyes narrowed with disapproval. “Out! You do not walk on the freshly swept tile in those…boots.”

Disgust curled through her every word. Arms akimbo and hands on her hips, she met him glare for glare. Growling, he pivoted and stomped back to the porch and tugged off his boots then the rest of his road dust filthy clothes and left them in a stack. Naked, he re-entered and spread his arms. “Better?”

“No. You stink like three day dead drunk. Go shower. I will fix you breakfast.” She shuffled around him, not remotely fazed by his state of undress, but why would she be? Though she acted as his housekeeper, Maria had grown up with Cassius in her life. He’d looked after her, saw to her schooling and even attended her wedding. When her children were grown and her husband passed away, he’d welcomed her home.

She always said she needed to be needed.

“We have guests in the bungalow. You should make enough for them.”

“I will worry about what they eat. You, go. Look, you got dirt on the tile. Now I shall have to sweep again.”

“You live to sweep.” He grinned, the first real smile he’d felt like in days. Despite the bloodshed and the loss, Sovvan was in Summit. She was safe and alive. If she needed a day or two to heal, he could spare her that much.

“Hmm.” It was Maria’s turn to growl. “Go. Shower, before I must bring in the incense to chase out your stench.”

Cassius laughed and strode up the stairs. Only at home could he relax a fraction. Yes, he could give Sovvan a short time to acclimate. Then they needed to get to work. Every passing hour brought them closer to the Reaping. If his plan had a chance in hell of working, they had to be ready before then.

In his bedroom, he glanced out the tinted windows overlooking the bungalow. Faust moved back and forth from the SUV to the house, offloading bags and boxes. The little Omega packed for a long visit.

Scratching his chest, he looked for any sign of her wolf. Perhaps she’d been the first thing Faust took inside. Had her injuries been severe enough to require such care?

Heading for the bathroom, he debated his options. Respect the Hound’s assertion she was fine or find out for himself? “I’ll give you ‘til this afternoon, she-wolf. Then I will see you for myself.”

W
aking to the dry
, yet cool breeze surprised Sovvan. The vehicle didn’t rumble beneath her, but then…she wasn’t in a car. No, she’d been sleeping in a bedroom. Rising on all four legs, she tested the air for familiar scents. Faust and a human woman she didn’t know—and no one else. Shaking her head, she hopped off the bed and padded around the room. It was a simple room, the door to the hallway was mostly closed and a second door to the bathroom stood wide. Another set of doors overlooked a patio, but a crossbar blocked them.

Groggy and more than a little shaky, she pressed the door to the hallway closed until she heard a click. Halfway to the bathroom, she caught the sound of movement in the hall.

“I’ll start the chicory dripping if you’re up, and I’ve made some sandwiches.”

Her stomach growled at the thought of food. When was the last time she ate? She vaguely recalled some steaks while in the SUV. Hangovers sucked, especially when she nursed injuries. She barked once to let Faust know her agreement, then limped into the bathroom. Bracing herself, she bowed her head and reached for her human half. As tired and worn out as she was after sleeping, the shift would hurt but damn if she didn’t want a shower and a good look at her injuries.

Ten agonizing minutes later, she dragged herself to her feet and peered at her reflection. The cut above her eye had closed to a bruised seam as had the claw marks on her arms. With gentle fingers, she probed her scalp. One thing she hadn’t admitted to either her Guardian or the Alpha—one of those blows she’d taken included a fist to the head and, if she wasn’t wrong, at some point she’d hit the ground or maybe they’d hit her with something.

She winced when she located a lump on her scalp. Tender to the touch, she probed for any open wound around it and, thankfully, her head didn’t pound in time with it. So the shifting and sleeping had done that much for her. Another joy of being an Omega—she didn’t heal as other wolves did. Where other wolves gained significant strength, she experienced trembling. She was by no means as weak as a human, but against other wolves? She relied on her martial training in straight out conflicts, because brute strength wasn’t one of her gifts.

Thankfully, she’d done rather well in both kickboxing and other self-defense classes. The Hounds training her had never been gentle, either. Stretching, she tested every limb. She was one long damn bruise. Fortunately, Faust had already delivered her cosmetics case, toiletries, hair dryer and flattening iron.

God bless the man. She really didn’t do enough to thank him. Fifteen minutes of hot water later, she felt almost human. After another ten to fifteen minutes spent on blow drying and pressing her hair, she looked human, too.

Combing her fingers through it, she sighed. Something about the soft, smoothness of a good press always improved her mood. Before they’d left New Orleans, she’d considered cutting her hair. The tales of Sutter Butte didn’t lend themselves to time for personal grooming or hygiene. If she didn’t press her hair, the thick, springy curls could become downright unmanageable.

A poodle, with a paw stuck in a light socket.
No thank you
. Using a touch of foundation and powder, she disguised her still-healing injuries. Her hair would cover most of the cuts, and cosmetics would do the rest. Returning to the bedroom, she considered the items in her suitcase.

At home, she would have pulled on a caftan or sundress. It would be gentle on her already abused body, but she didn’t know what to expect. So she settled for a loose blouse over a tank top and a pair of shorts. Her legs were bruised, but one benefit of her darker skin—they were harder to detect. The red and purple on her toenails provided a cheerful contrast to an otherwise dismal few hours.
Heh, Faust was right. They do make me feel better.

Leaving her shoes for now, she padded from the bedroom into the open living room. Faust stood in front of a picture window overlooking the saddest garden she’d ever seen. The scent of chicory drew her like a beacon. Their dwelling didn’t have much of a kitchen, more a kitchenette attached to the living area. Instead of carpet, the floor was tiled and the furniture consisted of two large sofas, matching chairs, a coffee table and an end table as well as sixty-inch television.

Some things weren’t so different. Pouring a mug of chicory from the French drip pot, she frowned. The room’s colors were all desert-toned neutral hues with shots of bright yellow, dusty orange and turquoise in the fabric of the pillows on the sofa.

Everything seemed soft…not at all how she pictured them. Cradling the hot coffee, she studied her Guardian. He hadn’t said a word since she’d come out. “Have you slept?”

The baleful look he shot her answered with a decided no. “Serafina is waiting for you to call.”

Of course she was and of course he’d called their Alpha. If Sovvan had been more coherent when they arrived, she would have called her. “On a scale of one to ten, how pissed is she?”

“One hundred and eleven. Expect to hear orders to go home.” No smile softened the words.

Maybe. Sera would growl, then she might even yell. But the Alpha’s temper was nowhere near as dangerous as her intellect. “You should go take a shower, and get some rest.”

“I’ll sleep when you sleep.”

She refused to dignify his assertion with anything more than a snort. “I just slept most of the night and into today. It could be hours before I sleep again and you haven’t slept in more than a day. Go rest, Faust. I assume we’re secure wherever it is we’re staying?”

“Cassius brought us into the heart of his pack—that outside is the Summit.”

She didn’t know the name. “Is that what they call their hometown?”

Curling his fingers, Faust beckoned her to join him. He pointed to the window. Outside lay the sad little garden bordered by an adobe wall she couldn’t see over, and beyond that nothing but endless blue sky.

“Are we in the desert?”

“We’re above it. We’re literally atop one of the mesas. I expect you could see some of the mountains from the other direction, but this place is tucked behind more than one wall, and we’re right next to Cassius’ home.”

Interesting.
So he’d meant what he said about wanting her there. Touching Faust’s arm lightly, she smiled. “Thank you. Now go sleep. I’m sure when Cassius wakes, we’ll have work to do.”

His disgruntled expression eased. He touched two fingers to her cheek, his gaze traveling to where she’d disguised the cut. Damn wolf knew her too well. “It looks better, but you need to eat more. He left a message for you to come see him once you were awake.”

“Two Alphas want my attention. Aren’t I the lucky girl?” The lack of any green outside or any cooler colors—so much washed-out yellow and adobe—hurt her eyes, so she wandered back to the counter where Faust had left her sandwiches.

“Better you than me.” The ease in his quip relaxed some of the tension in her muscles. He was okay. Like her, he had bruises and scrapes, but his metabolism would heal him to nearly good as new in a day or more.

“True enough. Have you eaten?”

“Yes, ma’am. Those sandwiches are all for you, but it’s the last of the chicken salad you brought for the po boys.”

“My, my. I could kiss you.”

He chuckled. “Not till I brush my teeth.”

“Well, why don’t you, after you take a shower?” She settled onto one of the stools and served herself a sandwich. Once she fortified herself, she’d call Sera and then gird herself to face the beast. She could have wished for better circumstances to meet Cassius. What little she’d seen of him hadn’t been altogether pleasant—not that she’d been at her best. “Before you argue with me, I would like some privacy to talk to Sera.”

Her last statement had more of an impact than the first. “Promise me you won’t leave until I can go with you.”

Twisting, she glanced at Faust. “Are you really so worried for my safety where Cassius is concerned?”

“Him?” Her Guardian shrugged. “No. I believed him when he swore to protect you. It’s the other few thousand lunatics in the asylum I worry about, unless you hit your head and forgot the welcoming party last night.”

“No, I didn’t…Faust, an Omega is hard on any pack.”

“There’s boo-hoo, I have a hangnail, and then there’s torches and pitchforks while chanting let’s hang the monster. Since they went for the latter, luv, you’ll forgive me if I’m not the trusting sort with the rest. So, you’ll be here when I get out of the shower, and you won’t open the door either.” He folded his arms, his expression utterly implacable.

“Aye, aye, Master Faust. I shall await your return while I have my chicory and eat my sandwich then chat with Sera. I promise, I won’t go outside, and I won’t open the door. Satisfied?”

“I will be when we get home, but it will do for now.” He made a round of the doors and windows, checking the locks before he headed to the second bedroom. The rush of water through the pipes seemed louder than when she took her shower, but she’d still been groggy.

Taking a couple of bites from her sandwich and washing it down with more coffee, she fortified herself for the call. Sera answered on the first ring. “Are you all right?”

Bless her Alpha, she really did have a huge heart. “Bruised and battered, but I gave as good as I got, and I’m in one piece. Turns out, I’m pretty damn good in a fight.”

“Cher, you should never have been in a fight.” Cold fury echoed in her tone, though Sera kept a lid on her temper.

“There is no should have or would haves. We’re in uncharted territory, but come on, Sera. It wasn’t all that many years ago when it happened in Delta Crescent, too. Poppa was a good man, and he understood what was happening, but I remember a certain Hound coming to protect me, and how she had to throw her brother out a window when he blew up.” The story dated them all. Poppa—Sera’s father—had been a great Alpha, but his advanced years made the arrival of an Omega in his pack problematic.

“Etienne always had a hard head.” A hint of laughter seemed to ease some of her tension. “Those were not fun times, Sovvan, and the last twenty years have been so much better. I hate that you’re in the middle of this.”

“I know, and I know you want to protect me. I love you for it. I’m not a child, and I’m far from helpless.” After draining her cup, she reached for the pot to refill it before continuing. “I knew the trip would likely be littered with landmines, but Cassius was true to his word. He did meet us, and he killed his own to defend us. That has to count for something.” Whether she wanted to reassure Sera or herself, she wasn’t entirely certain.

“You are unflappable.”

“Pfft. I’m pretty damn flappable, but I’ve learned to understand my effect on others and not to take it so personally. You’re a tough nut, Sera, but you’re very well aware of your flaws and you own them. Our pack is very healthy, and I’ve been allowed to be complacent the last few years.”

“If you say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, I may have to hurt you the next time I see you.” The lighter notes released the last bits of tension. Serafina still didn’t care for the idea of having her so far away, but she no longer protested it.

“Honey, you forget what doesn’t kill me actually makes me weaker sometimes.” The chicory had been brewed to perfection—strong, robust and rich. It chased away her fatigue and grogginess. If only it could erase the soreness…but food and rest would take care of those eventually.

Her Alpha’s low growl echoed over the cellular connection. “I want regular check-ins.”

“You’ll get them as best as we can manage, but my attention needs to be on the task at hand, not on giving status updates.” The push-pull with Sera was familiar territory. She couldn’t commit to anything until she had a firm idea of what Cassius’ plans were, anyway. “As I recall, I had all of what? One phone call while you were off in Willow Bend and you found a mate, defeated an Alpha challenge and faced down four other Alphas? Oh wait, five because you met the
peeshwank
in charge of Three Rivers.” When Sera didn’t respond immediately, Sovvan took a bite of her sandwich. Poking the bear kept them both on their toes, but what made Sera a great Alpha was her ability to hear and see her people…all of them. Sovvan made her a promise after the battles for ascension that she would never let her forget her roots.

Truthfully, she couldn’t. Sera’s flaws were grounded in her stubbornness, determination to do everything on her own, and her unflagging ability to give and give and give. To have her strengths and flaws so deeply intertwined meant reflecting her left both women with a headache.

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re a few hundred miles away. I might have to test these new combat skills of yours.” No heat touched the threat.

“I love you, too. Be good to Johan and, I promise, I will call if I need to, and I won’t complain when Faust sends you regular updates.” Silence greeted the statement, then low laughter.

“You do know me too well.”

“Umm-hmm.”

With nothing more to add, they disconnected the call, and Sovvan settled into eating her sandwich. Faust took his time in the shower. She’d not only finished her call, but she’d eaten most of her sandwich by the time the water shut off. Of course, he might have just been being polite. She and Sera did have a tendency to chatter when the occasion presented itself.

The shower, the chicory, the conversation and the food all combined to clean the slate for her. Tired she could deal with far better than exhaustion. Food gave her energy. Chicory gave her mental stamina, and the conversation? Well, Sera always did her soul good. The door in the backroom opened, then an electric razor began.

“I’m going to eat the last sandwich,” she said, trusting Faust’s ears even over his grooming. It was only fair to warn him, since he’d fixed the food after all.

The razor turned off abruptly. “That’s why I made them, luv. We’ll get the crock pot started in a bit for some of that gumbo you promised me.”
Gumbo. In the desert.
The thought amused her.

“Okay, you find the shrimp.” He was a Hound and could find anything. They’d brought sausage with them in one of the frozen coolers and the
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