Wolf Next Door (7 page)

Too long a moment later, he padded up to her and bumped her shoulder. She snapped at him, and his lips peeled back from his teeth. Amusement flooded her. So, he wouldn’t let her push him around?

Good.

With another snap, she streaked out of the house and heard him hit the porch scant seconds after her. She was fast.

Was he?

H
e’d come
to ask if she wanted to stay in Willow Bend. He’d wanted to hear her say the words, to taste the truth of them, and to
know
that being home was where she truly wanted to be. Not all wolves could handle going Lone Wolf, sometimes any pack was better than none. He’d heard others discuss similar statements in the past and never understood it until she pulled off her shirt.

The scars inflamed him. His wolf roared, and he’d wanted to kill every single wolf who’d ever touched her. More, his wolf’s heart grew with pride. Every savage, infuriating mark was a testament to her survival. The scars across her breasts didn’t compare to the damage on her back. To leave welted imprints like those, she’d had no real time to shift and heal.

And no healer to help ease the wounds.

He hated Sutter Butte. If he ever met their fucking alpha, he’d take his head off. What the hell kind of pack did he run? All the moisture fled his mouth when she’d stripped off the shorts. He hadn’t been wrong about the muscles. Every inch of her was a work of art.
Taut. Compact. Delicious.

One of the scar’s extended over her buttocks. The only reason for a wound there was someone had gotten ahold of her tail. His wolf bucked inside of him. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, pull her close and tell her it would be all right. They’d find a way to get past the bullshit. She was home where he could protect her again—one moment she was on two legs, then four. He’d never seen anyone shift that fast outside of the alphas and even they took time.

Her wolf was exquisite with a coat the same soft sable brown as her hair, and she was whole. The scars on her human form weren’t in evidence on the wolf, though her tail was slightly crooked. He hadn’t intended to do more than run, but seeing her wolf filled him with the crushing reminder of how long it had been.

“Hey,” he extended his hand. He just wanted to touch her fur, to remind himself she was there and to reintroduce himself. “It’s been a long time, beauty. May I?”

She arched the line of her neck, strength and grace coupled in one perfect wolf. When she dipped her head to meet his palm, he luxuriated in the feel of her soft fur. Stroking her cheek, he let her scent mark him. He’d gladly wear her scent and to hell with what anyone else thought of it. Her ears flicked toward him, and he traced the soft, tender skin with great care. He just wanted to hug her, and he slipped an arm around her to do just that.

Without preamble, she jerked free and snapped at him. The aggression so unfamiliar and jarring, but his wolf recognized it, and he blew out a breath. He’d tried to collar her, and she’d been through hell. That she’d let him touch her in the first place was a gift and not one to be taken lightly. “You’re right,” he said, packing away his disappointment. He’d already pushed for a lot tonight, and she’d given it to him. “I should shift.”

Stripping off his jeans, he ignored his nudity. Instead of watching him, she positioned herself between him and the door. The action caught him and his wolf off guard. Her tail stilled and her ears focused forward. Every nuance of her body language cried out waiting and prepared.

Protecting us.

He wasn’t sure who was more stunned, him or his wolf. Claire guarded him so he could shift. He shifted regularly indoors and out and, yes, a wolf mid-shift was at their most vulnerable. Harsh reality snapped through him. She’d spent years fighting and surviving in a brutal pack. No one in Willow Bend would attack another wolf mid-shift, everyone else would tear the interloper apart. One simply didn’t do it.

But they also didn’t hold blood matches or engage in brutal dominance fights to resolve issues, not as a matter of course. They fought, but they fought to first blood or until another wolf yielded. Anger warred with horrific reality. His beautiful mate wanted to protect him from a threat that didn’t exist here.

Who the fuck had protected her?

Done with his thoughts, the wolf strained inside of him. They could find their answers later. What mattered was his mate was there, waiting for him, guarding him—willing to run with him. The rush of fur rippling over his body elevated his mood. On four legs, he gave himself a good shake before filling his lungs with the rich, wonderful scent of his mate. Sweet grass, lake winds, and mossy forest with the bite of desert sands and…the undercurrent to her scent he didn’t recognize.

Padding over to her, he bumped his guardian angel with a shoulder and she snapped at him. Letting his lips peel back, he showed her his teeth. Yes, he got it, she didn’t want to be pushed around. He also didn’t want to keep his damn distance. They’d had years of distance. A little less attitude wouldn’t allow him to dominate her.

With a sideways dance, she bobbed her head and released a huffing noise. Was she laughing at him? The arch of her tail curved then she wagged it before spinning and streaking out of the house at speed. Ignoring the open door, he raced after her. No one would bother the house, though someone might shut the door if they noticed it hanging open.

Forgetting any concerns about the house or security, he focused on catching his mate. Hell, she was fast. Heart soaring, he stopped playing and poured on the speed. Rarely did he allow himself to cut loose with anyone who wasn’t his brothers. Her sleek form was lower to the ground, but he had a longer stride. He caught her at the edge of the woods, but she cut the corner around a tree like she turned on a dime.

Skidding past her by several steps, he had to backtrack before he could resume his pace. One moment she was in front of him, and the next she’d vanished. Pausing, he lifted his nose and tested the air.

Locating her scent took seconds, but it went in two different directions. Puzzling through it, he padded left where the scent was denser—it was already fading on the right. Ears flicking, he listened for any tell-tale hints on her direction.

Letting instinct guide him, he went right and followed the dissipating trail scent. Leaping off the trail, he hit some rocks and scrabbled onto higher ground. The breeze shifted and suddenly he was downwind of her. Following the provocative allure, he found her in a copse of trees.

The sight below brought him to a halt. She rolled in the leaves, crushing them with her coat. The rampant freedom of wiggling on her back, tail lashing, and then bounding to her feet made him smile.
This
…he realized on the heels of his wolf was what they’d missed. Seeing her play and romp, being with her while she did so.

Would she get upset if he pounced her? No sooner did the thought occur to him than a rustling in the woods caught his attention. He spun and saw the pair of wolves streaking through the trees. Too far away to scent them properly, he scrambled down from his perch. Claire already faced the interlopers’ direction when the wolves burst out of the underbrush. So entangled in wrestling with each other, they failed to stop before they slammed into her.

Mason ordered them away from the other areas because younger wolves were out camping or playing. These woods shouldn’t have been populated, especially not on a school night. Leaping, he thrust into the fray but Claire disentangled herself and knocked one of the exuberant youths off his feet with a swing of her ass then leapt sideways before the second could land on her.

She didn’t hurt either of them—more, they didn’t hurt her. The two dropped low, tails up in a clear invitation to play. After her reaction at the house, he held his breath. She mock lunged, then sprinted around them before they recovered. They tried to catch her, but she disappeared into the woods then ambushed them when they weren’t looking.

Three times she took them down. Each. Never did she hurt them. It fascinated him to watch how easily she wrestled with the younger wolves. There was no doubt she held back. Every action was perfectly controlled. True beauty—it took skill to take younglings down. To teach them how to fight without truly hurting them and yet at the same time, drum home the lessons of how easily they could be hurt.

Velvet gloved strength. He’d worked with kids enough to know even the youngest pup needed these lessons, particularly when they thought themselves invulnerable. Claire pressed the two back, fending off their singular attacks with such aplomb she made it look easy.

When the pair finally started working together, they came close to getting her legs out from under her. One wolf went low and the other high. Concern slashed through him and Tyler went from his haunches to standing. Every muscle quivered with the urge to rush in and order the brats home. This was
his
run with her, dammit, and he didn’t want her to—the first wolf slammed into the second with a little help from Claire. He’d never seen any wolf use another wolf as a weapon, but she did it so swiftly, neither saw it coming.

If he’d been human, he would have burst out laughing. The two youths landed in a pile of legs and fur, and she stood over them, teeth bared in a chastising snarl. By the time they extricated themselves, they both hit their bellies and gazed up at her with open-mouthed panting.

Surrender.

Nuzzling one then the other, she rewarded them for their play and then nipped them on their butts to send them home as he would have. The pair dashed away, and Tyler yipped at her. Pride threaded through his veins. Pride and gratitude that he didn’t interfere as had been his instinct.

Protecting her was second nature, had been from the moment he’d locked gazes with her across the playground. Something in him clicked. She was the one he was meant to care for, to treasure, and to guard always. He took the responsibility seriously. All he’d ever wanted to do was keep her safe, but had he really constructed a cage around her instead?

A yip jerked his attention back to her and she faced him. Tail wagging, she darted to him and then away. Twice more, and he forgot about his worries. His mate wanted to play. He’d watched her with the youths, knew she was fast. The speed was her gift, and it would make her hard to pin. She dodged and darted. On her second pass, he lunged the opposite direction. She let out a playful howl and pursued.

When they collided, he kept his claws retracted, but she caught his ruff and gave him a toss. He landed, rolled to his feet and shook. Two could play that game. On their next collision, he repeated her move and she managed to evade—the first time, but not the second.

Soon, he stopped worrying about hurting her and concentrated on catching her. The faster she moved, the more cunning it took to get ahead of her and to anticipate her move. Exhilarated, it thrilled him. They’d tumble together, wrestling, and mock biting. The nips didn’t hurt, but she planted her back feet against his belly and he reacted.

One moment he almost had her pinned, and the next she was off like a streak. They raced through the woods and it occurred to him she no longer tried to get away. No, they were just running, racing, and playing. Twice he found fresh water, so they could have a drink and cool down then they were off again.

He lost all track of time, happily romping with her in the woods. When they finally found their way back to her house, they walked side by side, shoulders bumping. On the porch, she dropped to sit on her haunches, and he nuzzled her face.

With a sigh, she slid to lay down and he licked her muzzle once. Her teeth bared, but she didn’t lift her head. Even her eyes were half-closed. The night air was cool and the interior was still warm and dusty. Pacing around her, he curled up along one side then settled his head atop hers.

She made a huffing noise, then sighed. Her even breathing told him she’d gone to sleep. Tyler yawned and let his eyes close, but he didn’t quite sleep. They were on the porch and his mate was clearly exhausted. He’d let her sleep a bit before he herded her upstairs to her room.

With the rich scent of her fur filling his nostrils, he watched the night sky. During their run in the woods, he’d found hope. The question was, could he hold on to her this time?

Still puzzling that one, he let himself doze and trusted his senses to warn him if anyone came nearby.

T
he day after their run
, she expected Tyler to push. He’d always pushed. It was in his nature to ask for more, but he didn’t. When she woke on the porch, surrounded by his warmth and the sun heating her fur, she’d been stunned. Not only could she barely remember falling asleep, she didn’t remember the last time she’d slept so soundly.

He roused when she did, nuzzled her cheek, and waited until she was on her feet then fully stretched before leaping off the porch. No pushing. No demands. Nothing but affection, then he left.

Upstairs, behind closed doors, she shifted to human then took a shower. The run had felt good. Who was she kidding? It had been
great
. The run, the play with the errant youths. The wolves had been young, whoever they were—cocky, full of piss and vinegar. She’d taken the wind out of their sails, but done her best not to damage their fragile egos.

Like most teens, however, they believed there was strength in numbers. While that was true, sometimes strength had to be found within. Survival dictated relying on oneself.

Once she was dressed, she found the blackberry muffins were still fresh enough to eat. Though, to be honest, she and Tyler should have spent more time hunting than playing. She was starved, and she still had little to no food in her house.

Ransacking the last of the basket Mrs. Buckley sent over netted her some food, but she definitely needed more. Pursing her lips, she debated her options. She could wait till Tyler came back—he was coming back, right?—or she could call Mason and ask permission.

The whole concept left a sour taste in her mouth. Dylan Royce was out there, somewhere. He’d been there since her first morning, keeping an eye on her. There were other Hunters, too. At least three, if she’d caught the right scents. They’d closed in when the youths showed up, but like Ty, they’d backed off and let her handle it. Chances were they’d already reported back to Mason.

No matter how irked by the treatment and conditions she might be, she had to accept them. Mason Clayborne offered her an opportunity. If she didn’t obey, if she didn’t prove she could be trusted, she wouldn’t have a pack.

Closing her eyes, she counted to ten. Trusting that he wouldn’t want her to starve, she also had to believe he would see to it she had food even if he didn’t allow her to go shopping for herself. It flew in the face of everything she’d learned in eight years.
You have unlearn what you have learned…

Great. She was thinking in
Star Wars
quotes. Gripping the phone, she dialed Mason’s number from memory. It rang twice, then he came on the line. “Yes, Claire?”

“I’m sorry for bothering you in the middle of the morning.” The apology tasted like ash on her tongue. “I’m about out of food, and I’d like to go shopping. Since you told me to stay at the house, do you mind if I go to the store?” Damn, she even managed to sound reasonable.

“Is Ty still there?” Okay, so he didn’t give cookies for rational requests. She hadn’t really expected one anyway.

“No, he left this morning.” She grimaced. Oversharing was not usually her issue. “Thank you for letting me run last night.”

“It’s really killing you to ask for permission, isn’t it?” Was he laughing at her?

Irked, she bit down on the inside of her lip until she tasted blood. The pain grounded her some. “Yes,” she admitted, finding no flaw with honesty. “It sucks, but I meant it when I said I was willing to do what it took to come home.”

If not for the faint sound of his breathing, she might have thought he’d disconnected the call. Finally, he said, “I’m not quite ready to let you have free run. Stay put, I’ll send someone to take you shopping.”

Gritting her teeth, Claire forced herself to take three calming breaths and managed to say, “Thank you.”

When he chuckled this time, he made no attempt to disguise the sound. “Keep fighting the urge to strike. I know very well about how easy it is to fall back on survival habits. Survival within a pack is about trusting your packmates, believing they will help you, and relying on them when you cannot do for yourself.”

Since he couldn’t see her, she flipped up her middle finger. “In some packs, that is absolutely true.” In others, it was a cold, cruel lie.

“In Willow Bend, it
is
true. Prove to me I can trust you, and I will.” He ended the call and she stared at the handset.

“Asshole.”

He’d said he would send someone, but not how long they would take, so she trudged into the kitchen and made do with her meager meal. After cleaning, she resumed her cataloguing and clearing of the upstairs rooms. An hour into her mother’s closet, she sat on the floor flipping through photo albums. Hundreds of snapshots, most of them of her parents and other members of the pack, but whole books devoted to her.

They’d catalogued every single moment of her childhood. Birth. First steps. First shift. First day at school. First missing tooth. So many firsts, her life detailed in one colorful photo after another. Tyler lingered in the background of some shots.

In nearly every photo, his gaze landed on her or the photographer. Watching. It had driven her crazy when she was younger, but the fierce look on his face—the possessiveness and wariness in his eyes. Her adult-self saw it differently.

Protective. Leaning over the photos, she began to study them more intently. From elementary school to junior high, Tyler appeared in more shots than not. She’d tried out for one of the sports teams—failing spectacularly—all while he and his brothers sat on the sidelines. Tapping a nail against the photo, she tried to remember that day. Why hadn’t she realized he was there?

In another, he sat on the far right of the stage while she’d been in the center, singing with Nyssa, one of her best friends. Alexis was there, too, but she’d hated singing in public, so she offered moral support from about five miles back.

By the time she reached her junior year, she’d dreaded the photos. The book ended with a shot of her in a party dress.
The night before I left, the last straw.
No had asked her to the dance, and she’d half-considered skipping it. Justin was in town on business for his alpha, and he’d been making waves. They’d struck up a conversation at the coffee shop once. . Every day after school, he’d found her for more.

Good looking. Tall. Athletic.
The wolf had known exactly how to charm an ego, especially one made more fragile by the knowledge no one wanted to take her to the dance. He offered to take her out dancing anywhere she’d wanted to go. Her parents wouldn’t have approved, so she’d dressed up and told them she was going to the school dance—without Ty, since he’d gone camping with his brothers.

Justin secreted her away three towns over, just across the line of Willow Bend territory. They’d danced until she’d been dizzy. For the first time in years, she’d been able to breathe and just have fun.

Why?
Knowing what she knew of Justin in retrospect, she couldn’t figure out why he’d been so attractive to her then.
Or, can’t I?
Ty had been all about what she couldn’t do or what he wouldn’t allow her to do.

With Justin? He’d been a yes man. Empowered her. Told her everything her fragile young heart wanted to hear, stroked her ego, and encouraged her to break free of the expectations game. She could be so much more, and he was prepared to help her accomplish it.

Three days later, she’d left Willow Bend with stars in her eyes, chasing butterflies. Slapping the book closed on her stupid, innocent face, she scrubbed away the tears.
What an idiot.
All the way to Sutter Butte territory, he’d regaled her with tales of what real freedom felt like, how she could be anything, do what she wanted…

“Well, he didn’t lie.” She stacked the photo albums. These she would keep. A lesson on believing in fool’s gold and getting something for nothing.
Pretty faces tell pretty lies. Ty may have been a jerk at times, but he never set me up to fail.

A footstep on the porch alerted her to a new arrival, so she left the closet and took a position at the railing overlooking the stairs. She could leap on any potential intruders, but a knock sounded on the door.

Testing the scent, she frowned.
Not Ty.

Opening the front door, she stared at A.J. and blew out a breath. Since his order to go and not come back, she didn’t give him much thought. He had a right to send her away from his parents’ home, especially after the fight between Ty and Linc.

Prison had left its mark on A.J. Despite being an identical triplet to Ty and Linc, his face had more grooves and showed a greater weariness. The time in a cell had whittled away some of the youthful vigor his brothers still held and made him stronger.

“Hello.”

“Afternoon.” A.J. nodded to his car. “Mason said you needed to shop.”

Disbelief flooded her. “He sent you?” Of all the people he could send, he’d sent Ty’s brother? The second of the pack? Her wolf crouched, braced for possible attack. Why else send the pack’s second in command?

“I volunteered,” he said with a hint of a sardonic smile. “I have no axe to grind with you.”

Swallowing a growl, she couldn’t quite bury her irritation. “You don’t want to protect your brother?”

“I didn’t say that,” A.J. said, his grin startling her. “But I’m glad you seem to want to. Shall we? I promised
my
mate I wouldn’t be late for dinner.”

Not quite sure what to make of him, she retrieved her purse and wallet then followed him to his car. He drove with a casual kind of patience and offered her very little. The town hadn’t changed much. In truth, it hadn’t changed at all. From the sprawling suburbs full of houses with their families of wolves and humans to the small town charm of main street. They didn’t have a lot of big box stores or national chains. If they wanted those, they could leave Willow Bend proper. Here, the mom and pop stores thrived because they were owned by pack, employed members of the pack, and stayed funded by pack shopping.

Inside Sexton’s Grocery, she stopped and took a deep breath. God, it even smelled the same as when she was a child—baking bread, sweet treats, fresh meats, and aging cheeses. She caught the hint of sawdust and hay along with a wild variety of spicy scents—and pack. It smelled of all the wolves who came and went.

A.J. said nothing at her hesitation, but when she reached for the cart, he took control of it. “Go ahead and shop,” he told her. “I have to pick up a few things for Vivian, too.”

Vivian, his mate. “Do you mind if I ask about her?”

“No,” he smiled. “She’s a good woman. You’d like her. Ty and Linc adore her.” The casual ease of the words belied any hidden agenda or dig. “She writes video games, creates them. They love to be her guinea pigs. They love her cookies, too.”

Reminded of an old habit, she diverted to the fresh fruits section first—always get the vegetables before the meats. Because frankly, nearly every meat tasted good, but vegetables were an acquired taste. Other shoppers made no pretense of not staring at her, but they’d made it to the canned aisle when Sarah Sexton huffed toward her and gave her a huge hug.

The sudden affection caught her off-guard and she froze. The woman’s wide arms and vivacious smile did little to ease the need to disengage from her touch. She was too close and could seriously wound Claire. “It is so good to see you, baby girl. Your mother would have been beside herself.” The owner of the grocery store, the woman used to slip her sweets whenever she came in to shop with her parents.

Claire fought down the initial urge to reject the hug and endured it for as long as she could manage. Mrs. Sexton glanced at her cart and added, “Go back by the bakery. We have some wonderful cakes in, and I want you to have one. Get your favorite cookies, too, on the house. So glad you finally came home. We’ve missed you.”

Clearing her throat, Claire could only manage a nod. “Thank you. It is good to be here.” The huskiness of the words earned her a sharp glance from Mrs. Sexton.

“Well, I won’t make a fuss, but I am happy to see you. Come in later, and we’ll have some tea. I’d love to hear all about you.”

No way would that ever happen. Mrs. Sexton smelled like baked goods, tea and vanilla. Sugar and gentleness. She wouldn’t have lasted five minutes without some kind of protection in Sutter Butte. Her kind and generous heart would have been bloody attractive to the hunters.

All Claire said, however, was, “I’ll try.”

“You do that, dear.” Another pat on the cheek, and Claire dug her fingers into her palms, cutting them bloody to keep from blocking the action. She couldn’t strike her or defend herself, not under A.J.’s watchful authority.

“Take a minute,” A.J. said quietly after Mrs. Sexton hustled away. Until he said something, she wasn’t even aware of the harshness of her own breathing.

Claire unclenched her hands. The wounds she’d given herself would heal. She blew out a breath between her teeth. “I’m done. I don’t want anything more.”

“We’ll get you meat.” Quiet authority rang in his tone. “I’ll do the talking this time. Can you handle the aggravation?” Nothing snide lived in the question, and Claire chanced a look at him.

Quiet sympathy echoed in his manner, but she found only understanding in his eyes. “I can.” The urge to shift, to defend herself, rode her hard. Her wolf paced back and forth, agitated at the personal liberties Mrs. Sexton took in touching her so easily.

“Good. Keep breathing. It takes time to remember that pack doesn’t use touch to punish or harm, but to reaffirm their connection.” More than understanding lived in those words, they bespoke kinship.

Latching onto the unspoken offer, she asked, “How long did it take you?” He’d been in a human prison, spent years isolated from the pack. Maybe he really did understand how damn hard all of this was.

“I’m still getting used to it. It takes time.” He paused then faced her. The intensity in his gaze demanded her attention. “You’re
safe
here. You may not be pack yet, but you have our protection. If someone does attack you,
we
will deal with it.”

Someone like Linc? She didn’t ask the question because that one had already been answered. Guilt pricked her. She didn’t want to be the cause of dissension between the brothers. “I’m sorry about the fight.”