Terry Spear’s Wolf Bundle (20 page)

He’d never imagined how good life could be with Bella at the center of it. The pack was important, but Bella was everything.

When he penetrated her deepest chasm, the music heightened the rhythm. Her pelvic muscles tightened. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the way she squeezed him tight, grasping him, as he pulled back, regaining her hold, when he thrust forward. The sensation heated his sweaty body and, with a final plunge, he released his seed. But his fingers still fondled her nub until her inner muscles shuddered, convulsing around him in orgasmic delight.

Turning her over, he lay down on top of her to feel her warm, soft body beneath him. Her eyes had darkened, and her body was glossy and lightly flushed. She was the most beautiful creature in the whole world, and all his. She felt so right to him, fitting perfectly against his body, moving in sync, every part of her exciting him beyond belief. But it wasn’t just the lovemaking that hooked him. It was everything about her…the way she acted so agreeable and yet so aggravating at the same time. The way she’d wanted him but denied her love for him, fearing for his safety. The way she’d lived in silent terror under Volan’s threat but never once told Devlyn, in an effort to keep him safe.

He’d wished he’d been stronger then, more able to protect her, more of a hero to her, but he couldn’t continue to regret the past. The future stretched out before them. Taking it one day at a time had to suffice for now. Although he wanted to take her away from here, safe from all the evils of the world, he couldn’t ruin the special moments they shared. Sleeping with her was as much a pleasure as any other moment he spent with her. Wrapping his arms around her for a few hours in blissful rest was the only plan he had for now.

Later, after they were well rested, he’d insist that she go to his cousin’s place.

She raked her fingers through his hair, no doubt tangled and a mess. Her lips turned up. Seductive minx.

“Let’s go to bed for a while, Bella.” His voice was still husky, but tired, too. He climbed off her, but before she could rise, he slipped his arms under her and lifted her from the couch.

“I could have walked, Devlyn. You must be worn out.”

He growled. “You’re talking to a gray, Bella.” She didn’t mean any insult, but the idea still gnawed at him that he hadn’t been able to best Volan yet. Any comment about his stamina remained a sore spot with him for now. He’d tried to remark with a lighthearted air, but Volan—damn him—angered him even more as the news of Bella’s past was revealed. He kissed her cheek and carried her into the bedroom. Before long, he was folded around her under the covers.

Bella snuggled with Devlyn, her head on his chest, listening to his steady breathing and heartbeat that lulled her toward sleep. One hand lightly stroked her back and the other touched her hair. She couldn’t have been any happier now that she rested with the
lupus garou
she’d always loved. Wild and single-minded when it came to pleasing her. On the other hand, she couldn’t deal with the cold truth that she’d killed Volan, and Devlyn would probably never forgive her. Or maybe knowing that Volan had tried to rape her as a juvenile would change his mind. She kissed his chest and then cuddled her cheek against it.

Living among the humans, she’d become only a shell of what she was. She gripped Devlyn tighter, not wanting to lose him again, ever, but feeling the ugly truth would come out sometime or another. He was bound to hear that someone had shot Volan outside the dance club. Oh, man, and Thompson would place Devlyn and her at the club. They had the biggest gripe against Volan.

The situation couldn’t get any worse. The police would consider Devlyn the most likely suspect.
Hell, he said he’d kill Volan himself, right in front of Thompson.

She could leave a note, explaining to the police and Devlyn that she was the one who killed Volan for his attempting to rape her. The best scenario would be if she left Devlyn, ran somewhere else, lived the miserable life of a loner—anything to keep the police from arresting her mate.

“What are you thinking about, Bella?” Devlyn whispered, dreamily, half asleep.

“About how much I miss the pack, of being with them, of running wild as the wolf with them. Being on my own hasn’t been the same. Running as a loner is…lonely, to say the least.”

“You felt you had no choice.” His fingers stroked her shoulder.

She nodded against his chest. “But…”

“What, Bella?” Already his voice sounded darker, more awake, wary.

“I think we need to make a stand, don’t you?”

She meant against the reds—then she would be history—but she realized at once she should have said it differently. She wasn’t used to playing alpha male games—let the male think he’s making up all of the important plays, agree sweetly like the good mate she should be, and then ensure somehow that she got her own way.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the explosion.

“After we’ve had a good rest, my cousin will come for you and take you to California for safekeeping.”

She clenched her teeth against speaking her mind and
saying something hurtful. She reminded herself they both were exhausted, and she kept her lips sealed.

One thing he’d learn about her, he might be the alpha male, or at least was attempting to take on that role, but she was a lone wolf…a rogue, and had been for years. She played by her own rules, and until now—well, until she got thrown in the zoo—she’d done well enough on her own.

“Bella?” He waited for her agreement, but she couldn’t give it.

“Sleep, Devlyn. I’m exhausted.”

He continued to stroke her hair and back. “I’m calling my cousin when it’s light out. I want you to stay with him while I take care of the reds.”

No way was he going to tell her what to do. Yet, from his definitive tone, he expected to do just that, and she’d obey.

She glanced at her alarm clock. Dawn would break in another three hours or so. He
thought
she’d go along with him, just like that.

Wait until she woke up later. Once she had some sleep…she’d…

She yawned. She’d do something about it.

When Devlyn began to snore, she lay awake for another half hour, aggravated that she couldn’t quiet her mind and sleep. Finally, she slipped out of his arms and left the room.

In her office, she turned on the computer and checked her email. Argos was asking for an update. She clicked on his message but hesitated to answer. She wanted to ask his advice, but she couldn’t. Despite being like a father to
her, he had been a pack leader. He was sure to think she’d done the wrong thing in killing Volan the way she had.

Not bothering to send a reply, she checked the rest of her email. Alfred, Nicol, and Ross had all sent her messages.

She ignored them and stared at the subject of the last one.

Wicked Bella.

Her heart raced. The reds knew her real name now. Was it the murdering red who had learned her name from the others? The sender used her own email address, so no clue there. The other reds always used their real names so she’d know it was them.

She poised her finger on the mouse, took a deep breath, and clicked. The message opened up and the breath caught in her throat.

I’m invincible, don’t you know, sweet Bella? Invincible. Volan

A photo finished loading, a picture of the devil wolf himself, his unkempt black hair straddling his shoulders, his eyes and lips smiling without humor, his skin pale, not ruddy like it had been when she first spied him at the club.

How…how could he have survived?

“Bella?” Devlyn called out from the bedroom.

She turned off the computer, her heart racing. When had Volan sent the email? Before or after she killed him? How could he be alive? No, no, he wasn’t alive. He’d sent the email to her before she met him at the club, angered that Devlyn wasn’t bringing her home to him right away. That’s why he called her wicked Bella. But the invincible part threw her.

Invincible because he could survive silver bullets?

“Bella!”

“Coming.” She strode back to the bedroom, her skin prickling with fear.

Volan couldn’t be alive. According to the legend, silver bullets that penetrated the brain or heart or were left elsewhere in the body and not removed right away could cause death. But what if the legend were just that—a made-up legend and not really true? Think, think—had she ever known of a case where a silver bullet killed a
lupus garou?

No, death because of fire, a cousin broke his neck when he was in his human form and jumped into a shallow river bed, but no one she actually knew had ever been killed by a silver bullet.

Reluctantly, she climbed back into bed, and Devlyn wrapped his arms around her, tightening his grip. His touch should have warmed her, but she was chilled to the center of her being. She was so stiff, Devlyn whispered into her ear, “Sleep, Bella honey.”

But she couldn’t. She tried to relax, tried to let Devlyn think everything was all right. But her mind wouldn’t shut down.

Volan had to be dead. Otherwise, she’d made love to Devlyn thinking Volan was dead. She’d given herself freely to the man she’d wanted forever, only to get him killed. She didn’t have to worry about Devlyn being arrested for Volan’s murder, but now she fretted over her original fear—Volan was indomitable, as she’d always known, and he would terminate Devlyn.

Unless, Volan was really dead. He had to be.

She thought back to the dance club and the events
that led up to her killing him and afterward. He went down like a felled redwood. And he didn’t move again. For several minutes, he didn’t move. But she hadn’t checked his pulse, either. Did he have a pulse? She groaned inwardly.

But…but what if he’d been wearing a bulletproof vest?

No. Why in the world would he have done that? He was an alpha male pack leader. He could control her, he’d think. And she was certain he’d never believe she’d shoot him with silver bullets.

So what in the hell had gone wrong?

Devlyn took a heavy breath, and she sensed he’d fallen asleep again.

Then another distressing thought hit her. What if silver bullets did work as the legend stated, but the old-time blacksmith who’d made them for her had taken her silver and kept it? What if he’d used some other compound and the bullets weren’t really silver at all?

She considered what had happened that day so long ago when she’d thought Volan was close on her trail and she’d found a smithy working at his anvil, his large, sinewy hands pumping the bellows to heat the fire. The sign hanging above the blacksmith’s shop in the Arizona town proudly advertised his skills: wrought iron work, horse shoeing, wagon fixing, wagon wheels, pulling teeth.

But all she’d cared about was whether or not he could make bullets.
Silver
bullets.

She could still envision the way the big man stared back at her, his muscular arms bulging under his linen
shirt, his bushy black brows raised, his mouth embedded in black whiskers and partially opened.

“Silver bullets,” he’d repeated, like a parrot.

Bella had offered her most winsome smile. “My brother collects old bullets from the American Revolution, Civil War period, various types. A collector. Anyway, he was saying how he had about every size, shape, and kind of bullet known to man except for one.”

“Silver bullets.”

“Yes, sir. He’s turning twenty-five and I wanted to give him a real keepsake. Will these be enough silver spoons for the job?”

The smithy wiped his sweaty hands on his apron and considered the silverware. Looking back up at her with eyes as black as the coal in his fire, he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Come back in three hours. I have several other jobs before yours, miss.”

“Yes, yes, thank you.”

And then she’d left to spend time in the mercantile, purchasing some dried meat and other items for the trip she’d have to make. The widow MacNeil that she’d lived with had died the month before. Bella had stayed there long enough and needed to move on, especially if Volan had learned she was there. After buying her stagecoach passage for Idaho, she returned to the smithy’s shop. He had already gone, but a note was left on a table with six silver bullets:
for Bella MacNeil
.

Then she’d left with her treasure, her protection against Volan. For the first time ever, she wasn’t afraid.

Which made her wonder again, did the smithy keep the silver for himself and give her regular bullets?

If so, she had one more chance to protect herself. The gun at her cabin. Different smithy, this one at Donley’s Wild West Town a few years ago in Chicago, when Bella thought it might be prudent to have two guns, one at each residence, both filled with silver bullets. Or at least she hoped.

Devlyn’s arm twitched, and she breathed in his masculine scent.

God, how she loved her big gray, and how she hated having to leave him. But if Volan was truly alive, the nightmare would never end. As soon as they found out who the red killer was, she would run again.

An hour into her slumber, Bella woke. What was the sound she’d heard? A grinding of metal against metal? A key slipping into the front door lock?

B
ELLA LISTENED BUT DIDN
’
T HEAR ANY FURTHER
sounds. Slipping out of Devlyn’s arms, she was surprised he didn’t wake. Her heart beating hard sent the blood rushing into her ears.

Maybe she’d dreamed she heard something. Maybe a branch scratched at the window out back. So why had it sounded like a key in the front door?

She pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt and then seized the 9 mm from her bedside table drawer where she’d hidden it again, minus two bullets. Silver or regular? She growled low under her breath but reminded herself that Volan
could
be dead.

Taking a step out of the bedroom, she listened with her fine-tuned hearing and sniffed the air for any sign of an intruder. Nothing. She turned in the direction of the kitchen. The house remained dark, although she could see like a wolf in the middle of the blackest night.

Her heart thundering, she crept closer to the kitchen. She sensed something, a hushed word, a faint rustling, something out of the ordinary. Then the smell…

She tilted her chin up, readying her weapon. It wasn’t Volan’s smell.
His
remained imprinted on her memory forever. She sniffed again. A red? But the scent confused her. More than one? Damn, the three of them?

Alfred entered the living room from the kitchen. Ross and Nicol came from the dining room. All three paused when they spied her gun.

“Silver bullets,” she said, loudly, hoping to wake Devlyn. She didn’t want him to know she had a gun loaded with silver bullets, or at least what she thought had been silver bullets. Wolf to wolf combat was the way they settled things. However, she had no choice at the moment. “They were meant for Volan if he ever found me. But I have enough to use on the three of you also.”

But in truth, she didn’t want to waste the bullets on these three—silver or otherwise. She knew Devlyn could make them leave.

She listened behind her for sounds of Devlyn stirring. Poor old gray. She’d worn him out.
Wake up, Devlyn!

Alfred inched toward her.

“You don’t believe me?” She continued to speak loudly.
Devlyn!

“I believe you, Bella, because you’re scared of the gray, Volan. But I don’t believe you’d use the bullets on one of us. We’re your kind, no matter how much you choose to deny it.”

He could see through her better than she’d hoped, and she didn’t feel he would listen to reason. She tried another tactic. “One of you might be the killer of all those women,” she lied, knowing none of their scents had been in the murdered girl’s apartment. Then again, any one of them, or all three, could be covering for the bastard who killed her, which was just as bad. “I’d be doing the rest of our kind a big service if I ended his life.”

“But which one, Bella? Which one of us would you choose? Surely you wouldn’t want to kill two innocent
lupus garou. Two of your own kind.
” He repeated the last words, attempting to sway her. “Of course, that’s saying that one of us
is
the killer. It could be any of my pack, or even a lone, rogue wolf. No doubt some are living here. Why, look at you, sweet thing.” Alfred’s lips curved up. “Who would have ever thought we had a female right under our noses, living as a rogue for all of this time?”

“But we found evidence of her in the woods when we…” Ross said, but Alfred waved his hand to silence him.

He continued to cross the floor at an easy pace, his step shortened, trying not to force her into a corner where she might use the weapon on him. The others waited.
He
was the alpha male. It was his business to take her, to make her obey him. To force her to tuck her tail, whimper, and bow her head.

Having no intention of giving in to the red’s words or actions, she lifted her chin and drew herself up as tall as she could. Then, remembering the gold necklace she found in the woods, she pulled it out of her pocket. “Recognize this?”

Alfred stared at it but didn’t say a word. Nicol looked a little green.

“Never saw it before in my life,” Alfred said. “What of it?”

“The killer dropped it after murdering one of the women. Sure you don’t recognize it? Nicol seems to.”

“That’s a lie,” Nicol snarled.

Something wasn’t right. Did he know the killer? The girl the red had murdered?

She shoved the necklace back in her pocket. “Well, it’s evidence that will put the killer away. As for the three of you, I want you to leave my home this instant.”

Alfred sneered. “We can’t, Bella. You belong to our pack now. Most important—you belong to me. I thought I’d made that abundantly clear.”

The thought that she’d be Alfred’s soured her stomach. “I thought we had a date later today, to bring you the fur sample.” She took a step back toward the hall, hoping to keep him talking until she could wake Sleeping Beauty.

Alfred cast her a sinister smile. “I’ll have the sample now. And you along with it.” His darkened brown eyes suddenly focused on the hall behind her.

She thought she heard it, too. The sound like the shifting of a body on a mattress from the direction of the bedroom.

For a second, Alfred hesitated. Then he directed a deadly glower at Ross. Under his breath, he growled, “I thought you said he wasn’t here.”

“Listen, Alfred, Nicol, and Ross,” she said, hoping that, if Devlyn heard her conversation with the reds, he’d realize they had three to handle. “I’ve already told you. I’m Devlyn’s mate.”

Then, as if worried the big gray would soon be more of a threat than Bella with her silver bullets, Alfred lunged at her.

Slowly aware something wasn’t right, Devlyn had sensed he no longer wrapped Bella securely in his arms. His eyes shot open. As groggy as he was, her harsh words, spoken loudly in the living room, forced a surge of adrenaline to spike his blood, readying him instantly to face the threat.

All that raced through his mind was saving Bella. He heard her say the reds’ names, warning Devlyn that the three had broken into the house.

Naked, he rushed out of the room and down the hall. Before he reached his mate, Alfred lunged at her, shoving her hand up.

Devlyn’s gaze pivoted to the gun she held. What the hell?

Alfred forced her to drop the weapon, and in the ensuing struggle, kicked it underneath the sofa. Instantly, Devlyn dove into Alfred. Knocking him aside, Devlyn broke the red’s grip on Bella’s arm.

Alfred jumped back. In a flash, he yanked a knife out of a sheath attached to his belt. Taunting Devlyn, he waved the weapon in front of him. He struck and then retreated.

With agility, Devlyn withdrew from him, away from Bella’s direction, allowing her to escape. Facing the others, he ensured that they couldn’t strike at his back in case they had the cowardly notion to do so.

Neither advanced for the moment, waiting for their leader to take care of the gray, as any pack
should
do.

“You can’t do this,” Bella screamed at Alfred. “You have to fight each other in your wolf form. It’s our way!”

“He’s too much of a coward,” Devlyn goaded the red on. “He can’t get you any other way.”

Alfred’s face reddened and his eyes narrowed to angry slits. His lips formed a thin, grim line as he growled. Without warning, he slashed at Devlyn.

Devlyn jumped out of the path of the ten-inch blade. Bella gasped. Even now, Devlyn could smell the red’s putrid fear. The red hunched over, like a
lupus garou
who knew he couldn’t win. Yet, Alfred couldn’t show his pack that he was unable to triumph over the female he had chosen for his own.

In an attempt to rile Alfred, to rattle him so that he’d make a fatal mistake, Devlyn provoked him further. “What’s the matter, Alfred? Can’t convince a human girl to agree to be your wolfmate?”

“You can’t pin those murders on me.”

Nicol advanced on Bella in two bounds. She dashed toward the kitchen. Both Nicol and Ross tore after her, forcing a splinter of ice down Devlyn’s spine. They wouldn’t endanger her, just take her for their own.
That
thought sent another charge of adrenaline through his system, urging him on to eliminate the threat.

Alfred sliced the air with the knife, aimed at Devlyn’s chest. Devlyn dove out of his reach, the blade whooshing past his ear.

A drawer drew open in the kitchen and then slammed shut.

Alfred stabbed at Devlyn’s throat. He dodged the blade. But Bella’s situation distracted Devlyn. Not liking that he couldn’t see what was happening to her, he backed toward the kitchen.

She growled. Nicol yelped. After what sounded like a chair crashing, Bella reappeared in the living room,
brandishing a bloodied carving knife. Nicol and Ross followed some distance behind her while she backed away from them, her weapon readied.

Blood dripped from Nicol’s arm, but he and Ross approached her anyway, one on either side. Checking on Bella, Alfred turned for an instant.

Devlyn grappled for his knife. Alfred swung at him again. Leaping out of the way, Devlyn narrowly missed the blade cutting his torso.

Bella waved her knife between Nicol and Ross. “Give it up,” she snarled. “I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“Volan will never let you have her,” Devlyn said, hoping to talk some sense into them.
He
would never let them have her, but he hoped maybe the threat of two grays wanting her would make the reds cease and desist.

When Alfred continued to attack at him, Devlyn real-ized he had only two choices. Either he took Bella home to his territory where he assumed the reds would leave well enough alone, not wanting to fight a pack of larger grays, or he had to kill the reds at the first glimpse of the moon, when they all could appear in wolf form, here in their own territory.

Ross grabbed for Bella’s arm. Nicol hesitated on her other side, favoring his bloodied arm. As soon as Ross seized her wrist, she struck at him with the knife, slicing across his arm. He screamed in pain, released her, and jumped back.

Devlyn couldn’t help the swell of pride that filled him. In the same instant, he pounced on Alfred, knocking the red to the floor.

Alfred’s head hit hard against the carpeted concrete. An “oof” from deep within his chest escaped his lips from the jolt. A string of curses followed.

Devlyn pinned him to the floor with his bigger frame. He grappled with Alfred’s arm, trying to free the knife from his hand, but it slipped and cut the red across the abdomen. Alfred squawked.

“Don’t make a move toward them,” Bella warned Ross and Nicol.

Managing to bend the red’s wrist back, Devlyn pressured so hard that Alfred’s thumb could no longer grasp the handle. Devlyn yanked the knife out of Alfred’s hand.

Bella waved her weapon at Nicol and Ross. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Any of you. But if you don’t leave now—”

“He can’t have you,” Nicol said, backing off. Ross followed him. “The gray can’t have you.”

Devlyn let Alfred up. He would have killed them all for trying to take his mate, but only if they’d been in wolf form. As humans, they were bound to obey human law. As wolves, the law of the jungle prevailed. The strongest and most cunning won. Survival of the fittest.

“You can’t have her,” Alfred said, standing, his face flushed and his eyes haunted. “She’s a red and in our territory.” His words were dark and menacing, but he bowed his head like a beta wolf in front of the alpha male, defeated and not willing to be whipped any further, submitting to the gray, no matter how much it hurt his male wolf pride.

“We fight like wolves the next time,” Devlyn said, his gaze intense, forcing the reds to agree.

Even if Alfred and his followers didn’t like the idea of dealing with him wolf to wolf, their failed attempt at taking Bella had wounded the red pack leader’s pride too deeply to try again. Plus, their injuries would need time to heal. Then the moon’s appearance would tell all.

They would make their stand in the wilderness, Devlyn against Alfred at first and then facing the others. Whoever desired the female red would make his move.

“By the next moon,” Alfred said, clutching his stomach, the blood soaking his shirt, his eyes hostile but his face turning pale. He glanced at Bella, who was still holding the kitchen knife at the ready. “You’ll be mine, sweet thing. Be ready.” He staggered toward the front door with the others trailing behind, clutching their bloodied arms.

“They must have followed us here,” Bella said when Devlyn locked the door behind the reds’ hasty flight. “They must have had lock picks like you carry.”

Nothing mattered to him for the moment except the gun she’d wielded and the secrets she’d withheld from him. “Where did you get the gun, Bella?”

She headed for the bedroom, her hips swaying suggestively with her walk, her buttocks covered in the tight jeans, tantalizing him. But she refused to answer him.

He hastened after her, wearied from sleepless exhaustion and fighting with the red. The hyped-up adrenaline that readied him for danger started to drain as the threat vanished. Yet a new energy stirred, a deeper, more primal urge.

He chastised himself. They needed sleep more than anything else.

His gut clenched with irritation. He would kill Volan, proving to Bella and to the pack that
he
served as the alpha male, no other. In the ancient way they had to end this. Not with a manmade invention. Besides, only fictional tales stated that a silver bullet in the heart or brain could kill a
lupus garou.
Nothing in ancient
lupus garou
folklore made reference to such a thing, although many of his kind believed there might be a thread of truth in the fictional stories.