Wolf Claim (Wolves of Willow Bend Book 3) (5 page)

Gillian’s expression crumpled, and Owen wanted to curse. Mason hadn’t even gotten to asking her yet, but Owen knew what she would say.

“Brett asked me if I could spare a healer to examine him and look into his notes.”

It didn’t take her longer than a moment to glance at Emma, then back to Mason. “When do you need me to leave?”

“Soon, perhaps. I will let you know when I have decided, but I would not ask unless you are willing.”

“Mason.” Gillian reached out and took his hand, her ease with their Alpha apparent. “If they have illness in Hudson River, it could jump packs and we would have it here. But, beyond all that, the death of a healer is brutal on a pack…”

“I know.” Mason covered her hand with his other one. “Emma agrees that you can handle this, but I can’t promise it won’t be difficult.”

At the tacit warning, Gillian lifted her chin. “I have no problems with difficult. If I can help, I should go. Emma can take care of Willow Bend without me, and I know the pack would be safe.”

Her ready agreement threatened to carve out a piece of his soul. Owen pulled his gaze off of her and looked toward Dylan. The other Hunter stood behind Gillian, his expression dark, thoughtful and worried. He didn’t like the idea of her going either.

Well, that’s something.
The next hour passed in a haze of silent fury, Owen said nothing while Mason discussed the possibilities with Gillian and Emma. He promised to give them an answer by the next day, only after he’d spoken to the Hudson River Alpha again. He had questions he wanted answered, or so he said.

“Very well, I will await your word. Now, if you will forgive me,” Gillian said, and stood. Her weariness echoed in every motion. “I very much would like to find my bed and sleep until tomorrow afternoon.”

Laughter rippled and Emma caught her hand. “You go ahead. I’ll take care of things and check on the babies in the morning. I’m sure they will be perfect.”

“Thank you.” She gave the other healer a hug, before turning to Mason. A.J. stole one, and Ryan gave her a one armed hug and finally Felicia gave her one. Before Dylan could take another step, however, Owen pushed away from the wall he’d been holding up for the entire discussion.

“You have patrol,” he told the other Hunter. “I’ll see Gillian home.” Dylan glared, but Owen met his gaze steadily. A powerful, skilled Hunter in his own right, Dylan was still no match for him and they both knew it. He waited. The other wolf grimaced and nodded once.

Surprise filled Gillian’s face, “You don’t have to…”

“I insist,” he told her, not glancing at Mason. If their Alpha ordered his ass to work the way he had Dylan, he was screwed, but whatever was going on in Mason’s head he kept to himself. Five minutes later, Owen ushered Gillian into his truck.

“I can walk,” she said, offering another objection.

“I have the truck, you’re tired. I’ll drive.”
End of discussion.
 

“Okay,” she said and folded her arms. When she leaned her head back against the seat and faced the window, he half-thought she’d fallen asleep. He drove with extreme care, taking a side street to follow the loop to the street where she lived.

The drive took the longest three minutes of his life. He pulled up to the front of her house and, before he could put the truck in park, she had the door open and was out. “Thank you for the lift.”

After shutting the door, she headed up the walk to her porch. Owen shut the engine off and hurtled out to follow her. “Gillian, wait.”

She already had her front door open. Despite her claim to tiredness, she moved like lightning. With a huff of a sigh, she glanced at him then turned with reluctance. “Yes, Owen?”

The darling, little wolf refused to meet his gaze and agitation churned the sweetness of her scent.
Fuck.
He’d scared her.

Again.

Control had never been his problem, so he took Mason’s earlier advice to rein himself in and put a lid on it. Voice low, he said, “Tomorrow, when Mason calls, you’ll tell him you thought about it and decided you can’t go. Willow Bend needs you here.”

After a long pause, Gillian gaped at him. This time she did meet his gaze. The soft topaz of her eyes was the perfect shade. “What?”

“You heard me. You’ll tell Mason no.” He couldn’t order the Alpha on anything, but Mason said it himself—he wouldn’t send her if she weren’t willing. Locking gazes with her, he closed the distance. This close to her, he could feel her warmth like a candle, the heat flickering over his skin and teasing him. He wanted to draw his hands around her and cup the fragile flame, keep it protected from everything.

One part of dominance was the ability to order others, to impose his will. It prevented fights and allowed him to keep fools in line. Never had he imagined doing so with her, but in this? To keep her safe?

Yeah, better she be upset with him than tell Mason yes.

She snapped her mouth closed and her lips compressed into a thin line. Eyes narrowed, she raised her chin and glared at him. The defiance in her stance surprised him, but without warning she stabbed a finger at his chest, striking dead center. “Owen Jeremiah Chase. How
dare
you give me an order like that? You have
no
right and
no
authority. What the hell kind of thing is that to do?”

She punctuated every word with another stab to his chest. From sweet to spitfire in the blink of an eye, and he could almost feel the electric crackle of her ire skating over his skin.

“Someone who wants to keep you safe.”

“Uh huh.” Disgust wound through the two syllables. Color darkened her cheeks. Like so many in Willow Bend, her mixed heritage had left her gifted with skin the color of dark honey that combined with her heart shaped face and reddish blonde curls turned her into a pure beauty.

She’s gorgeous when she’s angry.
He’d never seen her like this, not once. It was a revelation. Would her skin be as hot as it was silky? His cock ached and his fingers itched to test his theory.

“What
are
you staring at?” The question jerked him out of his reverie.

“You’re tired,” he said, and his voice came out rough. Clamping down on the inappropriate desire proved even more difficult than taming his temper. She’d dressed in a light chambray shirt and regular jeans. Both emphasized her slender figure and curves. Denim had never looked so attractive to him. He found himself particularly fond of the loops where she wore no belt. It would take nothing to curl a finger through one and tug her…

“Tired, not deaf. How dare you order me to tell Mason no? What are you thinking?”

Cutting his gaze back to her face, he sighed. “Gillian…”

“No, you don’t get to Gillian me in that tone. You’re a Hunter, Owen. You hunt, you protect, and you walk away.
A lot.
None of those give you the privilege to tell me what to do.” The words slapped him.

Scowling, he let his wolf surge upward within him. His animal was as agitated as he by this whole idea. They could haul her out to his cabin and stash her there. The more he thought about it the better he liked the idea, except—the pack needed her.

And he didn’t deserve her.

As if realizing she still had a finger poking him in the chest, she withdrew her touch and he felt the loss. It was a strange kind of ache. Folding her arms, she blew out a breath and glanced up at the sky. “I’m going to go inside and I’m going to sleep. You’re going to leave now, and we’re both going to forget this part of the conversation.”

“No, we’re not. You’re not going.”

“Good night, Owen.” She withdrew a step into her house and he took a step forward, then stopped. She hadn’t invited him in. The urge to pursue tightened every muscle, but Gillian braced a hand on the door. “Say good night.”

Clearing his throat, he growled, “Good night.”

“Good boy.” Finally, she smiled and all the air backed up in his lungs. Before he could respond, she’d closed the door and Owen stared at it in consternation.

What the fuck just happened?
 

Two days later…
 

Arms folded and eyes closed, Gillian tried to imagine how long the ride from Willow Bend to Hudson River would be, trapped in Owen’s truck with the Hunter and his quiet, seething fury. The morning after she’d shut the door on him and his presumptuous order, she’d found him sitting watch in the same truck he drove now. Apparently, he’d never left. Tired and rumpled, the damn wolf had never looked sexier. Feeling bad, she’d made him coffee and delivered the travel mug and a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich to him. A peace offering, she’d told herself, one to smooth over the rough edges of their disagreement.

Then he had the balls to tell me again to tell Mason no.
Shaking her head, she turned to study the landscape racing past. She’d never left their territory and had only left their community a couple of times. Most pack members would seek out her or Emma if they needed a healer. On the rare occasions a member on the fringe needed them, it had been Emma who went with her mate.

Maybe I can do that when I come home. Make a circuit.
The roaming could give her some measure of independence and she could see all of their pack, really get to know them. Recluses like Owen didn’t venture into town as often, or spend much more than tacit socializing time. Willow Bend territory was vast and included huge cities. Most wolves didn’t want to live in the urban areas, preferring small towns where they dominated the population.

But not all.

Owen’s anger continued to push at her, like ants crawling over her skin. Wiggling, she adjusted her seat and glanced at him. They were about to spend weeks together—not to mention the long drive—and she didn’t want to spend it like this. Her stomach had bottomed out when Mason told her Owen would be going with her. He’d cupped her chin, locked gazes and ordered her in no uncertain terms to trust Owen’s judgment. If danger presented itself, Owen would shield her and defend her.

“Your job, little one, is to survive. I want you to come home in one piece, understood?” The command had come from a well of deep affection and concern. Despite her reservations, she’d agreed. Fighting wasn’t her forte, and hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

When the Hunter arrived at Mason’s, he’d taken the order he would be accompanying her with a stoicism bordering on total coldness. Though she hadn’t seen him since, he’d arrived at her home just before dawn and loaded her bags. Afterward, he’d held the door for her. All without saying a word.

One hour into the drive and her nerves were screaming. “Have you ever been to Hudson River?”

The silence lengthened. When she thought he wouldn’t answer her, he said, “No.”

Well, that was a short conversation. She sighed. “I’ve never left Willow Bend before.”
At all
. Her stomach cramped. When Mason explained to her why the Hudson River Alpha wanted to
borrow
a healer, she’d been torn between eagerness to explore and the deep need to see if something were truly wrong.

So why was she anxious all of the sudden? They’d long since passed the furthest she’d ever been from her home. While technically they were still within Willow Bend territory, the scenery was all alien to her.

A warm hand covered her clasped ones. The heat of his skin revealed how icy hers had become, and she gripped the offered hand like a lifeline.

“You’re safe,” he told her in that gruff, no nonsense voice of his. Despite his rough tone—or maybe because of it—she believed him and relaxed.

“I don’t know why I’m nervous. We’re coming back, and we’re going to help.” And she was babbling, but she couldn’t help it. “I think it just hit me we’re not only leaving Willow Bend, we’re
really
leaving it, and we’ll be somewhere else that isn’t here, with wolves that aren’t ours, and do I sound completely insane?”

“No.” The single syllable echoed with an almost quiet amusement. Hey, maybe she’d broken through his taciturn reserve. He kept his hand on hers, and she savored the feel of his flesh. He surprised her by continuing. “Leaving our territory is always hard. Wolves want to be home.”

She supposed that was true, for some at least. “Not all wolves.” Some liked to roam. They preferred freedom to being tied to one location, or maybe they simply wanted their own company. “You don’t.” Dammit, why had she added the last bit? He’d talked to her instead of ignoring her existence.

“No, I guess I don’t.” The self-reflective shrug in the words surprised her. “But not staying in town isn’t the same as leaving our territory.”

“True.” She hadn’t thought of it that way. “Have you ever been to any other territory?” While she didn’t recall any trips he’d taken, that didn’t mean he hadn’t. Weeks passed when she didn’t see him at all.

“A few times, actually.” So many words in such a little time, it was almost like winning the Owen Jackpot. Without her asking, he continued. “Once to Sutter Butte to deliver a rogue, a couple of times to the Yukon to deliver a warning and to Delta Crescent with my father.”

“You went to the Yukon pack?” Shock rippled through her and she shifted in the seat to face him. His jaw tightened and he cut her a quick look, eyebrows raised.

“Yes. They aren’t boogeymen, just wolves like us with surlier dispositions.”

Surlier than Owen?
She snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

A smile quirked the corner of his mouth and she forgot how to breathe. Mirth transformed him from handsome to startlingly good-looking. “It’s really cold up north. They don’t play like we do.” The emphasis on the word play stroked over her senses.

Intrigued, she traced her thumb along the side of his hand. He was a big man, and his larger hand seemed to engulf hers. Gillian knew she was tiny, it was how she’d been built. Fortunately, being petite didn’t mean she was weak. “How do they play?”

“Spirited runs through a frosty wilderness.” He interlaced his fingers with hers. Settling into the seat, she leaned her head against the headrest and studied him. “In the winter, they spend more time as wolves than as humans and, trust me when I say, winter lasts a long time up there. Come spring, during the thaw, they migrate to their villages, towns and their lives and seem to have little to do with each other until the weather turns again.”