Hunting Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #3 (7 page)

Under our protection,
he snarled silently, raging against the edict.
Can't kill him. He is a threat, but cannot kill him.

Luke Rawlins was still under the very strict protection of the Black Mesa Alpha. Caleb was honor-bound to not hurt the rogue. His pack bond to his father as Alpha was too strong and woven with far too much respect. No alpha could ever directly be disobeyed without the worst consequences: either being cast out of the pack or put to death.

Even so, it was perfectly okay to fantasize about a little bit of jugular ripping.

“What is it?” He skidded to a stop near Tate, who still had his nose close to the earth. Ten miles north of the den, they were deep into the summer wilds of the San Juan Mountains. Normally, Caleb would be eager to hunt, to leap and play in the high green meadows covered with Colorado's stunning wildflowers and abundant, tasty wildlife.

Today, all he wanted was the blood of rogue wolves.

Another body pressed in close to his other side. Rafe, large and golden, deliberately placing himself between Caleb and the rogue bastard. No matter what big brother might think in private, in public he would both follow Alpha's orders as well as ensure every other pack member did, too.

Tate inclined his dark head at the ground and stepped back a pace. Invitation for Caleb to get his own nose down there. He surged forward and sniffed long and deep, taking in the history of the place with every single one of his wolf senses. A bobcat, yesterday. Deer and elk a few times this morning. His mouth watered at that. And—yes. A wolf. One he didn't know. It had been running hard through here, far away from the typical scouting route that would be followed by Black Mesa patrols.

Another scent found its way to his nose: one more wolf. Then another.

“Three rogues.” Fury dripped from him. “Three. Against one who was little more than a cub.” With a sudden mock lunge, he feinted toward Luke. The rogue bastard calmly stood his ground. A faintly derisive expression framed his half-snarling lip.

“Caleb,” Rafe barked.

Caleb shuddered his body into stillness, although tension still bracketed his every inch.

“Who were they, rogue?” he growled. “You know them. You tell us so we can hunt them down and kill them.” His voice ended on snarling howl that was less forcefully but still genuinely echoed by Tate, who added in a mournful sadness. He'd been friends with the young wolf who'd been killed. “Tell us so we can avenge him and his pack.”

That last part was also an order. The earlier restriction against going after any rogues had been lifted after this deliberate bloodshed of an innocent. The ones who had taken the life of the Silver Mountain wolf were to be captured and taken to the alpha of either pack for swift justice, meaning they would face a tribunal as required by ancient Pack law. Any tribunal would, however, result in verdicts of guilt and their quick deaths. The rogues had no more protections afforded them by any wolf in the area.

This was about to be a full-fledged war.

Caleb longed to be the one to find them. The thought of rogues slinking around, killing legitimate pack members, made him half crazy with rage and protective instincts. He wasn't sure he'd be able to escort one of the filthy beasts back to his Alpha unharmed. If they so much as looked at any of his packmates...such as Rielle. That thought filled him with such blind anger and fear he didn't know what else to do with it except kill everything in sight. She was so small and untrained. Easy prey for rogues. Although she might politely yet pointedly sass them to death. He huffed out the tiniest bit of air at that thought. It was as close to something resembling the shadow of a laugh he'd been able to find for days.

Rielle was not happy about being stuck at the den. She could go to work, although two other wolves accompanied her, one always a Guardian. And of course she'd been allowed back to her house to gather the personal items she'd need while staying in one of the sprawling den's many rooms. However, no wolf in the entire pack was allowed to go anywhere off the property except in groups of three, with one of the three being a Guardian, and not unless they first obtained permission from Alpha or his mate.

He knew Ree was chafing at her den confinement from the amount of irritated words he'd put up with from her. Somehow, he'd managed to find her and hang out with her every day. The more time he spent with the pretty, smart little wolf, the more he—well, he wasn't sure exactly what. Whatever it was, he liked it. By now it had to be obvious to her how dangerous everything was now. Rogues were insane animals and had to be eliminated. End of story. And the need to protect her from them seemed to be driving a big part of his violent thoughts at the moment.

Luke sat on his haunches. Despite his curled lip, he presented the air of a wolf unafraid and not on guard. It was a slap in the face of Caleb's aggression. His temper ratcheted up even higher, despite knowing that was exactly what the other wolf wanted.

“Who are they!” he roared.

“Caleb.” Rafe snarled, slamming a shoulder against his brother. “Simmer down.”

Caleb managed to hold still. Barely.

To his surprise, Rafe then turned to Luke with a curious air. “Luke? What do you know about them?”

The rogue stiffened for a bare instant, almost seeming afraid, before the superior look was back on his face. Caleb kept his hackles raised, alert and watchful. Wolves had an extremely difficult time lying when in wolf form. Some would say it was completely impossible to lie when a wolf. This would be interesting.

There was a long pause while the rogue sat in his nonchalant pose. Despite that, Caleb caught a whiff of unhappiness. The bastard did know something, he thought grimly.

“I recognize the scents.” The words came grudgingly, tainted also with something that smelled faintly like shame. “They are from my old pack.”

Pure, blinding instinct took over. Caleb launched, hard and fast, snarling from somewhere so deep inside he hardly knew what he was doing. Calculation lasered in from his human, while he relied on solid wolf muscle and swiftness to cover the ground and leap at the bastard wolf who'd led killers to his pack.

~

Rielle sighed for about the thousandth time that morning as she paced.

“You're wearing a hole in the rug,” came an unruffled observation from behind her.

“Sorry.” The Alpha's mate was perhaps the nicest, most serene wolf Rielle had ever met. She felt immediately guilty for treading in her heels over the gorgeous maroon and dark gold Persian rug. She'd been about to leave the den for High Couture earlier—accompanied by two other Pack members, which felt so much like being babysat—when Otsana Bardou had asked if there was any way possible she could call in sick today and help her out instead. Naturally, Rielle could hardly say no to the Alpha's mate. But she did stay dressed up. Today, she needed armor against a world abruptly gone crazy. Clothes were armor.

Clothes are for hiding.
The thought drifted from her wolf in immediate rebuttal. Rielle stopped abruptly.

What did
that
mean?

Wolves do not hide behind clothes.
This time, the thought was not only clear, it seemed a strange combination of sad yet also firm. Almost frustrated.
Yes,
her wolf whispered. The thought sank lower, drifting away, but it had one more whammy.
Frustrated.

Rielle felt flames in her cheeks. Her wolf was frustrated with her. Maybe even hated her. Which was ridiculous, because she was her wolf. And she didn't hate herself. Did she? She'd been pushing her wolf down for months. Staying in town. Mingling almost solely with humans. Biting the inside of her cheek, she had to admit that seemed to show dislike, if not actual hatred.

Frustration with herself, though? That was probably spot on.

An image of Caleb popped into her mind. Tall, built, those eyes filled with strength and passion and the confidence that he had the ability to do anything he wanted. Such as, kiss her. Which might be interesting. Not that she'd been thinking about him kissing her. Because kissing would lead to other things. Things that she might not have, um, much experience with. And beside, this was Caleb she was thinking about! Caleb the caveman. She had no interested in kissing a caveman. Right?

“Rielle?” The voice came from directly behind her. Despite herself, Rielle squeaked and jumped, heart pounding. Spinning around, she found the soft green eyes of the Alpha's mate regarding her with some apology, but mostly a keen observation.

“Oh, I didn't mean to frighten you.” Otsana reached out a hand to quickly soothe along Rielle's arm, in that unconscious way all wolves had of tactile reassurance. “You were so deep in thought you didn't hear me asking you a question.”

“I—what were you asking me?” Rielle felt another blush start to wash over her face. This was Caleb's
mother.
Caleb, about whom she'd just been imagining what it might be like to kiss.

Thank god wolves couldn't read thoughts.

“Actually, I wondered what had you so preoccupied.” Otsana's gaze sharpened even more. Maybe the Alpha's mate could read minds after all. No, that was silly. Rielle had never read of such a thing.

“Uh....” Her mind felt blank. “I, um....”

To her utter surprise, Otsana began to chuckle. Her calm, lovely face became open and expansive as she let the chuckle burgeon into a full laugh. Clearly, she wasn't laughing at Rielle—Otsana Bardou was kind and compassionate, the one all the Pack members went to when they had problems or fears—but it still made Rielle feel uncomfortably pinned to the spot. She didn't like being the center of anyone's attention.

“Oh, come sit with me for a minute.” Otsana gestured toward a plush leather couch under a large window, then tugged at Rielle's arm. “You've been distracted all morning. I'm sorry I asked you to give up a day of freedom from here, but it was important for more reasons than you know.”

As they settled into the couch's soft umber cushions, Rielle awarded the savvy older wolf a speculative look. “I have a feeling there's an abundance of situations and concepts I know nothing about when it comes to the running of this Pack,” she said. “Trust me, I don't really want to know.” She gave a small shake of her head. “After everything I've ever read about our Pack history, I don't want any more information about current issues until at least a few decades after the fact. Sometimes I think I know too much as it is.”

“There's a reason you were chosen to be the Pack's historian,” Otsana said with a balletic shrug. “You are trustworthy, loyal, highly intelligent, and genuinely interested in both history as well as how that history plays into contemporary times.” She smiled at Rielle. “We know only as much as we are capable of understanding at any given moment. Don't fret so much, child. You are doing quite well in that regard.”

Otsana tilted her head to the side as she contemplated the younger wolf, and Rielle was struck by how much Lily Bardou, Caleb's sister, resembled their mother. Otsana's hair was more chestnut-brown than Lily's remarkable red-gold locks, but their faces were similar enough to look like sisters. Rielle didn't know Lily very well, but she'd always liked the strong-willed Guardian. She liked Otsana, as well. The Alpha's mate had listened to Rielle's complaints about her overly protective parents more than once while she'd been growing up and straining against their worry-driven confines.

What exactly they'd always worried about had been beyond her, back then. Now she understood it had been because she was their only cub, and they'd lost several before her mother had been able to carry her to term. They fretted so much about her safety they sometimes threatened to smother her with their style of love, especially her mother. She loved her mom, of course...but she'd always sort of wished Otsana had been able to impart some of her trust in children to Rielle's mother.

Otsana glanced down at Rielle's foot, which tapped nervously on the carpet. She hadn't even realized she was doing it.

“Tell me what's worrying you,” the Alpha's mate said. “You will probably feel much better if you speak about it.” The genuinely caring tone of her voice encouraged sharing. This was a safe place, and Rielle knew it.

The words tumbled out of Rielle's mouth fast and furious before she could stop them. “I—I'm not sure what there is to tell. But—it's driving me crazy, I know that much! Actually, what I need is to run!” She forcibly stopped herself, shocked at her own outburst. “Oh!”

Should enjoy running.
Her wolf rumbled deep within, pacing just like Rielle had been.
Need to run.

Otsana smiled as Rielle looked at her, one hand now clapped over her errant mouth.

Speak more,
her wolf urged.
She knows.

“Oh, my god,” Rielle whispered from behind her fingers. She took her hand away as her eyes widened. “I think my wolf is talking through me.”

Otsana picked up Rielle's hand and rubbed it gently with her own. Rielle could feel a ripple of calmness wash over her. She knew the older wolf was sending energy to her through the Pack bond.

“Yes,” Otsana said simply. All traces of laughter had left her face, but kindness still played over her pretty features. “Your wolf is talking through you because you've been repressing her. Haven't you?”

Utterly no judgment came with that statement. Just pure understanding. Maybe, too, a bit of rueful acknowledgement? No, Rielle had to be making that part up. Otsana Bardou didn't repress her own wolf, that much was certain.

Her throat tightened, the sure sign of her nervousness. Wordless, she tipped her head in a tiny nod.

Yes. She held her own wolf captive inside her, like the coward she was.

Never a coward,
her wolf instantly thought.
Only afraid of what is unknown. There is a difference.

To her absolute horror, Rielle felt a prickling behind her eyes. She refused to cry.

One tear slipped down her face. Then another.

Dammit.

~

Maybe a half foot short of his taunting target, Caleb ate dirt. Hard. Growling and snapping, he tried to take a chunk out of Rafe's hide from where his brother had body checked him onto the ground.