Hawk's Revenge: Lone Pine Pride, Book 3 (15 page)

And he’d fucked her tonight. And it had been fucking amazing.
Fuck.

Something rustled in the woods, snapping Adrian out of the memory. Rachel was still muttering curses inside, but he focused his eyes and ears on the trees to his left.

If he hadn’t been a raptor, he wouldn’t have caught the movement. Dominec was that good.

The tiger blended with the shadows, the pale rusty yellow and white of his fur making him all but invisible in the snow. A hundred yards out. Watching the cabin with lazy feline focus.

Adrian had begun to wonder if he was just being paranoid about Rachel’s safety, but he didn’t feel paranoid now. He pulled the tranq gun from its holster at his hip, holding it loose at his side with his uninjured hand. Grace had handed him a freshly filled tranq gun following the riot. After the day he’d had—the riot, the nightmare, taking Rachel like a fucking animal because his defenses were down and no force on earth could have stopped him—he was primed and ready for a fight.

Just try to get past me, big guy.

For a long, interminable moment, the tiger didn’t move. Adrenaline sharpened Adrian’s focus, honing his edge. He was in a staring contest with a psycho with six-inch claws and he wasn’t going to blink first.

After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a handful of seconds, the Siberian lifted from his crouch, turning with a flick of his tale and loping back toward the pride.

Adrian leaned back against the exterior wall of the shack, but couldn’t make himself relax. The memories of what had been done to those nine unlucky prisoners today were too fresh in his mind.

He wouldn’t let that be Rachel. He didn’t love her. He couldn’t let himself. But she was his to protect. So he settled in to guard, rolling shoulders tense with strain. This was supposed to be a safe haven, but they would never be truly safe.

Chapter Twenty

Rachel stumbled through the snowdrifts hiding roots and rocks, struggling to keep up with Adrian’s quick, sure-footed pace far more than she had when she’d been making the same trip blindfolded. She glared at his back as she fought to keep her feet, certain she was on her own if she started to go down—Adrian hadn’t come within five feet of her since he’d arrived this morning to escort her down to the main compound. She couldn’t even catch his eye.

She certainly wasn’t the first woman who had ever been slept with and then ignored, but she would never understand what prompted a man to devour a woman like she was oxygen, make her feel like she would die on the spot if he couldn’t keep touching her, and then turn around and pretend she didn’t exist. He’d been ravenous for her—and in Rachel’s book, that meant something, no matter how distant and taciturn the icy Hawk wanted to play it in the morning light.

Her left foot caught on a tree root and she pitched sideways, catching herself against a tree, both palms lightly scraped by the rough bark. She’d been right before—there was no way she’d be able to find her way back to the cabin without an escort. She was a city girl. The path may be clear to a shifter like Adrian, but to her it was just woods, woods, and more woods.

It was with distinct relief that she stepped out of the forest and onto the wider, more cultivated—and thank goodness, cleared of snow—paths close to the heart of the pride.

She’d seen bits and pieces of the main pride compound—a building here, a bungalow there—as she was taken to various locations during her debriefing, but it was a different matter entirely seeing the scope of it. Not just a glimpse before Adrian blindfolded her, but the breadth of it laid out before her. She understood now what he’d meant in saying it was a full-service pride. Lone Pine was a village unto itself.

They passed a school, two dining halls, several apartment complexes and a general store—which answered the question of where Adrian had gotten all the clothing and other supplies that magically appeared in the cabin, anticipating her every need. The pride bustled with activity in spite of the snow—nothing shut down in Montana because of a little of the white stuff. Not like her Georgia home.

At various points along the path there were laminated maps pinned to posts that looked like they’d just been driven into the ground. Directories, doubtless to cope with the influx of new shifters. And above it all, the Alpha’s mansion reigned from the top of the hill, the physical and emotional heart of the pride.

Adrian led her, always without looking directly at her or speaking, through the maze of pathways to a sprawling low-slung building with a giant red cross painted on the stucco face. He held the door for her and she stepped inside, looking around her with interest. They called it the infirmary, but it was larger and better outfitted than the name implied, reminding her of a well-funded private clinic or small country hospital.

A tall man with close-cropped dark hair mixed with gray came forward, his hand stretched out to greet her. “You must be the infamous Dr. Russell,” he said, with a ready smile.

Adrian scowled, but performed the introductions. “Rachel, this is Dr. Brandt. The infirmary is his domain.”

“I am indeed the master of all you see.” Dr. Brandt waved to encompass the waiting cots and sleeping machines. “At least Moira lets me believe myself to be.”

“Moira?” Rachel inquired.

“My right hand. She’s a registered nurse, but her role here is more as healer and midwife—honoring the old ways. She’s eager to talk to you, actually. To pick your brain about shifter babies. It’s rare she meets someone whose expertise on the matter outstrips her own.”

“I thought you’d be busier today,” Adrian commented. He stood apart from them, focused on the empty beds and silent machines so he didn’t have to look at her. “After last night.”

“Processed and discharged.” The words preceded Grace into the room as she strode out of a back hallway. “Shifters make shitty patients. Always checking themselves out against medical advice, right, Adrian?”

“Grace.” The hawk’s shoulders visibly relaxed as soon as the blonde Amazon walked into the room.

Rachel felt her own shoulders tensing in direct proportion to how much Adrian’s relaxed. Did he have to be so relieved to see Grace? She still knew nothing about their relationship. For all she knew, Grace was the one he went running to every time he left her.

Jealousy burned like acid in her stomach, but she did her best to ignore it. She turned to Dr. Brandt, intent on asking for a tour of his domain, but Adrian stepped between them and caught her hand. The fact that he was actually touching her was so startling that she missed the first few words of whatever he was saying to her.

“—so stay here until I come to fetch you and don’t leave Grace’s sight for a second. Understand?”

He was leaving. A flood of conflicting emotions joined the acidic wash of jealousy in her stomach—relief that she wouldn’t have his distracting presence looming over her shoulder all day, pride that she’d earned enough of his trust—finally—to be allowed on pride land without him watching over her like a hawk—ha—and fear that she would be defenseless without him. Not that she didn’t trust Grace to protect her, but she felt on some irrational, purely instinctual level, that she was safer with him.

“Rachel,” he said sharply when she didn’t immediately respond, giving the hand he held a light shake.

“I understand.”

“Good.”

Adrian dropped her hand, nodded to Brandt and Grace, and turned to march out the door without another word. He did love his dramatic exits. Rachel glared after him for a moment before Dr. Brandt caught her attention, a slight smile touching his mouth.

“Kathy and her mate will be in later,” the pride doctor said. “This morning we thought you could start bringing us up to speed on what you’ve learned and what techniques have proven effective in your treatment of shifters.”

Her treatment of shifters. She noticed the doctor very carefully didn’t mention the Organization or the word “experiments”, but Rachel couldn’t help a flush of shame at
how
she’d acquired some of the knowledge she had to share with them. Few of her patients had been willing and she had rarely been able to protect them from the experiments of the other doctors.

Seeming to sense her discomfort beneath his gaze, Brandt turned his head back toward the hallway from which Grace had emerged. “I wonder what’s holding up Moira. Why don’t I go fetch her so we can get started?”

He didn’t wait for an answer, disappearing into the back of the building, leaving her alone with the warrior princess.

Rachel eyed the leggy blonde. “Don’t you have something better to do than babysit me all day? Lieutenant duties?”

“Actually, you’re part of my lieutenant duties. I volunteered for babysitting duty so I could corner you later and have you look at some photos of the Organization prisoners and see what you know about them.” Grace grinned, flashing bright white teeth. “I’m also our field medic. EMT. Whatever. Figure it doesn’t hurt to know more about the risks of cross-breed baby-making, because I might be the first one on the scene if we have an emergency.” Her smile grew wider. “I also assigned Adrian perimeter duty to keep him busy so he won’t hover over you all day like a mother hen. You’re welcome.”

Rachel said nothing, not sure she was grateful.

“Brandt doesn’t blame you, you know. For the experiments,” Grace said conversationally, hitching herself up onto one of the empty beds and swinging her booted feet. “None of us do. We’re the first point of contact for most of the refugee shifters, treating them for everything from dehydration to…well, you know. Don’t you?” She tilted her head studying Rachel with disturbingly direct blue eyes. “They don’t all talk about what happened to them, but those that do, speak about you like you’re the patron saint of everything good and holy in the world. You had to do some shit you aren’t proud of—we’ve all been there. Nobody’s judging you. At least no one in this building. Got it?”

Rachel nodded. She was reluctant to like Grace, but the lioness didn’t seem bothered at all by her coolness.

“Nice shiner,” she said when Rachel still didn’t speak.

Rachel lifted a hand to her cheek, her fingers hovering over the mark. She hadn’t had any makeup to cover it up—Adrian hadn’t gone that far in his provisions. It didn’t hurt unless she touched it and the swelling and discoloration were minor, barely noticeable. She’d forgotten it was there, but she should have known the shifters would notice it.

“It was an accident.”

Grace snorted. “That’s almost as good as
I fell
.”

Rachel stiffened, irritated by Grace’s insinuation. “It wasn’t anything like that. Adrian would never,” she defended, though the hawk shifter hardly deserved her loyalty after his hot-and-cold routine. But through all their tempestuous history, he’d never laid a hand on her and she knew he never would. It would violate his honor in the most intrinsic way. “He was having a nightmare and I got in the way.”

“So you are sleeping together. Damn, I just lost twenty bucks. You positively reek of his scent, but I figured that could always be from staying at his place.”

Rachel’s face grew hot with the knowledge that her sex life had been the object of speculation and betting. She shouldn’t be surprised. The shifters didn’t seem to have much in the way of boundaries. It was a wonder her blush wasn’t permanent.

Last night was too personal to be public knowledge. She protested, “We aren’t—I mean, it isn’t like that. We don’t—”

Grace’s arched brow screamed that she wasn’t helping herself with her stammering.

She was a better liar than that. Rachel cleared her throat and tried again. “He guards me. From the floor. He won’t get near me.”

Except when he did.
And the world caught on fire for a few minutes before they both remembered he hated her.

Grace nodded, unsurprised. “Either way, I’m glad he didn’t hit you. He seems like a good guy. I’d hate to have to kick his ass into next week.”

Rachel frowned. She didn’t know what to make of the woman. She and Adrian seemed so close, and then she went and implied that she would take Rachel’s side. It could be a ploy to get Rachel to trust her. But even if it was a trick, Rachel was inclined to let it work. She was so tired of being guarded all the time. If only the woman trying to befriend her wasn’t also the one she suspected of sleeping with Adrian. Though if Grace knew he was sleeping with Rachel… Grace didn’t seem the type to share.

She could make herself crazy speculating or she could ask. She’d been raised that it was rude to ask, but the last few weeks had worn away her need to be polite. “So you and he aren’t
together
?”

Grace snorted out a laugh, rocking back and forth on the bed with the force of it. “Oh honey. Me and Hawkeye? No, thank you. Not my type.”

Rachel was tempted to ask her what her type was. It seemed incomprehensible to her that Adrian’s brand of fierce, intense passion wouldn’t be every woman’s type, but before she could get the words out, voices reached them from the back hallway and Dr. Brandt emerged with a petite, curvy woman. Moira.

“You must be Rachel!” she exclaimed with undisguised enthusiasm lighting her pale brown eyes. “Adrian spoke of you so often I feel like I know you already. I’m Moira.”

Rachel took the hand Moira offered, unsure how to respond to the idea that Adrian’s version of her could have generated such a positive welcome. Luckily, Moira didn’t seem to require a reply. She pulled Rachel into a tour of the facility, gently but inexorably taking control and putting proof to Dr. Brandt’s comment that Moira only let him believe he was in charge. She was clearly the heart of the operation—though she ruled so subtly Rachel doubted most people even noticed she was there.

Her coloring was unusual, a few shades darker than most of the lions Rachel had met—shades of brown tinting her skin, eyes and hair so she looked for all the world like she’d been dipped in caramel. Moira was also much smaller than Dr. Brandt and Grace—who Rachel suspected were both lions. But what was Moira?

“What do you say, Dr. Russell?” Dr. Brandt asked as they completed the tour in the cluttered office he shared with Moira. He tossed himself into one rolling chair, waving Rachel to another as Grace perched on the desk and Moira took the other chair. “Will we do?”

“I’m very impressed with what you’ve done here,” she said sincerely. The infirmary was no back-country sawbones. They had much of the most up-to-date technology, though nowhere near the level of the Organization facilities. “I should be able to do almost everything I need to with what you already have, and if we do need more specialized equipment, we can cross that bridge when we come to it.”

“We try to do everything on site,” Dr. Brandt explained. “Too much risk in sending blood work to external clinics to be analyzed, but that does limit us. There’s only so much we can do with the resources we have—but it’s better medical care than most shifters get.”

“It’s just the three of you?”

“Up until recently there were less than a hundred shifters living here,” Grace said, swinging one leg at the knee. “There’s a lynx who comes by to run blood work for us as needed and some of our pride mates have basic first aid training to help in a pinch, but for the most part three was plenty. Especially since, as a group, we are notoriously pig-headed about seeking medical help.” Grace tipped her head in Moira’s direction. “Bears are the worst. You’d think doctors were going to declaw them all with the way they grouse about even getting a check-up.”

“Lions are no picnic,” Moira put in dryly.

Rachel’s eyes flicked to the petite woman. She seemed much too small to be a bear, but there was something very warm and maternal about her and bears were good parents. She wasn’t used to meeting shifters without seeing their files first, with their animal designation and medical history laid out before her.

“Is it rude to ask what kind of shifter a person is?”

Grace laughed and Brandt did as well, but Moira took pity on her. “It’s not rude, no. It’s just that few shifters would have to ask so they forget that not everyone can smell the differences on them. Grace and Brandt are both lions. I’m a Kodiak bear.” Rachel’s jaw dropped and Moira laughed, a soft, gentle sound completely at odds with Rachel’s image of bears. “Yes, I know, it surprises most people who can’t smell it on me. But someone has to remind the lions they aren’t the top of the food chain. And my strength comes in handy if we have a shifter mama with a difficult delivery.”