Heart Of The Wolf (11 page)

“I threw up.
And then, I heard Tridents around the back of the building – they
were
still fucking here
. I ran back to my children, praying
they wouldn't notice us, and took them off the land through the
south entrance, with nothing but our clothes on our backs. I had
friends in Sussex who owed me a favour or two. They took Stephen
and Selena in for a few days. I came straight back late that night
to clear the bodies and prepare burials … and to mourn the adopted
family I'd lost.” He looked straight at Ryan. “And I found
Lawrence, gone.”

Ryan said
nothing.

“For years, I
wondered why The Trident came back for his body, and who else
would, 'cause he sure as hell didn't get up and make his way out of
there… I brought my family back here to live a year later, although
I refused to stay in the mansion. I built us this cottage instead.
Took in Pete, then Doug and others, until one day, lo and behold …
the 'king' returns, eight years older and a shell of himself, with
an appointed Alpha to lead the way. I cannot begin to explain to
you the complexity of everything I felt when I saw him emerge from
his house for the first time since that horrendous day …
walking.”

Taylor hadn't
realised he was holding his breath.
He knew?
Fuck. All this
time, and Richard, the old, quiet, grizzly wolf
knew
about
Lawrence?

“He can walk,
Richard,” said Ryan, with complete certainty. “And he can
lead.”

“He's got no
legs.”

“And you
wouldn't fucking know it. You saw the decimation; I saw the years
he spent putting himself back together.
He can lead
.”

“Everything's
falling apart.”

“He knows what
that's like – he's been at the very bottom of the rubble. And
risen. He's going to tell everyone tonight. He's coming back to
us.”

That strange
light gleamed in Richard's eye once more. Hope, Taylor realised –
that's what it was: hope. The man smiled. He didn't think he'd seen
him smile before – it didn't make him look any less hardened.

“When he was a
small lad, he used to call me uncle. I used to call him Prancelot
'cause all he did was dance.”

Ryan choked on
a laugh, and Taylor hid a smile. “And now?”

After a pause,
the older wolf made his way out of the kitchen.

Damn. Was that
it? Had he turned his back on them? He looked over at Ryan, but
Ryan shook his head. “Wait,” he mouthed.

Sure enough,
Richard returned.

In his hands,
he held a huge, long cloak made out of …
holy Christ! Wolf
pelts.

Even Ryan
seemed to still in reverence.

Taylor had
heard about the 'royal cloak'. The royal line was as such because
the blood that ran through it was pure – as genetically close as
possible to the very first werewolves that roamed the forests of
Scandinavia thousands of years ago. Passed down the royal line, the
cloak was made from the pelts of every single king and queen that
had died over the past five hundred years, a new pelt sewn on after
each death, and he who wore it would continue to rule with the
protection of his ancestors around him.

Richard's
hands shook as he stroked the cloak – a white-furred section of it.
“I gave them a proper burial I did, and I didn't forget the
tradition. That someone would ever don this again … I hadn't even
dared to dream it.” He let the cloak fall onto the middle of the
table, the air that it parted carrying the scent of an unfathomable
and layered history, coated in sweat and blood and tears… “Now, I
call him 'king'.” He looked steadily at Ryan, then Taylor. “Long
live the king.”

Chapter Six

“Did you know?”
Taylor ran to catch up with Ryan who was striding at eight miles an
hour for Christ's sake. But he'd been like that the past few days:
blunt, focused and purposeful. No one got in his way and he was
completely in leadership mode getting everything in place to
protect his pack's future, whatever that future might be. “Did you
know Richard was so close to the Gunvalds? That he knew about
Lawrence?”

“Nope.
Lawrence has always had a huge amount of respect for him, but you
need to understand, Lawrence never said a bloody word to anyone
when I brought him back twelve years ago. His house became his
prison and I took over the pack and all the duties of Alpha. He
only left the house to train and for medical appointments, and
always carefully so no one would spot him. He only started to hold
meetings and converse with the pack three years back because I
railroaded him into it. At least the respect seems to be mutual.
Richard's never said a word to anyone about what he saw and he's
loyal to the crown.”

“Is there a
crown?”

“Eh?”

“Seriously, is
there a crown?”

“Nah, the
cloak is it.”

“Do you think
Lawrence will wear it?”

Ryan halted
and Taylor crashed into him. “Whoa…” he exclaimed, retreating a few
steps.

“Sorry…” He
turned to face Taylor. “His entire family is in that cloak. What
Richard did: coming back, burying the dead, and skinning the wolves
– Lawrence's mother and father – to keep the tradition alive, to
keep
royalty
alive, was something of the highest honour.
He'll wear the damn cloak.” He paused, studying Taylor with that
odd expression, just like back at Richard's house, that held him a
beat too long… And there went his navel again, igniting in a
perplexing warmth that was a touch uncomfortable.

Ryan dropped
his gaze. “I'm taking a trip to Wiltshire straight after the police
visit. I'll be gone about five hours: one and a half to get there,
two hours talking politics, and another one and half returning.
I'll be back for the meeting, for moonrise, and for Lydia's first
change.” A rare guilt seeped into his features. “I haven't told
Lydia yet.”

And, actually,
the nervousness that Lydia would no doubt feel at Ryan's absence,
consumed Taylor, too. “You need to be here. The pack needs you here
and Lydia's—”

“I
have
to go.” He paused, staring at Taylor as if willing him to
understand. “It's my old pack I'm reaching out to … they could help
us here in so many ways if I can just … convince them.”

“You're going
back for reinforcements?”

Ryan
nodded.

“Can't it
wait?”

“Someone
inside betrayed us – someone gunning for Lawrence and Lydia's
lives. I don't know who they are, or their motives for turning on
us, but tonight, we're all vulnerable because of it. I can't wait a
second longer.

“What if
you're not back in time for her change?”

“Not an
option.”

“You're
cutting it bloody close.”

“Yeah … you'll
be there for her, right? And Lawrence – you'll be there for them
both.” His stare pierced Taylor, a silent plea written all over it.
Fuck! He was asking him to take on his role while he was gone.

“I … er …
Lawrence is the Alpha. I—”

Ryan took a
step closer to him. “This isn't a normal pack – not anymore. Lydia
came along and changed all that. The dynamics are different. We
don't know enough about storm-wielders and their … mating needs …
to know exactly what that means, but you can
feel
it, right?
This moon's different to any others.” And another step.

Taylor nodded,
strangely short of breath. That warmth in his navel spread out a
little, sort of humming in response to … he didn't know what. His
temperature was rising; he could feel beads of sweat tease his skin
where they seeped out his pores.

“Lawrence is
the king by right and by blood, but there are three Alphas in this
pack, not one.”

He understood:
three mates, three Alphas – because they were all connected to each
other through Lydia. Except… “Four.”

“Pardon?”

“There are
four Alphas. None of us would exist in this way without Lydia.
She's the one who's made it possible.”

Ryan let out a
low laugh. “And Taylor brings gender equality into the
conversation.”

He frowned,
annoyed. “Hey, I mean it. She—”

“You're
right.”

He was never
going to get used to hearing Ryan say that. “Again? Twice in an
hour?”

“Don't let it
go to your head. And for fuck's sake, don't tell Lydia she's got
any kind of Alpha status or we'll never hear the end of it, and I
don't fucking care that if you think that's misogyny or
whatever.”

Taylor
grinned. “I think deep down, she already knows.”

“Yeah, well,
deep down we know a lot of things.” The air turned slightly
electric, and Ryan's eyes grew a shade darker as he took a final
step forward, until they were a couple of inches apart, chest to
chest. “Strip.”

His mouth went
dry. “Er … what?”

“You smell of
Selena. Every-fucking-where. You're not going back to Lydia like
that. Strip.”

“Right…” Shit,
no, he didn't want to go back smelling of Selena.

He fumbled
with the buttons of his overalls, while Ryan knelt down and began
to dig into the earth. This was no big deal – they'd all seen each
other naked loads of times, what with the shifting and the lack of
garments…

So why did it
all the sudden feel like a really big deal?

He ignored the
unexpected sense of vulnerability and took off his clothes.

Ryan stood up
with his right hand full of wet soil and froze for a second as he
took in Taylor.

That heat in
his navel was doing its thing all over the place now, far too
similar, for his liking, to the mating reaction he got when he
thought about Lydia.

Ryan's jaw
clenched once, then he spat into his left hand and smacked his palm
into Taylor's chest rubbing his spittle all over him.

“Damn it!”
exclaimed Taylor through gritted teeth, and he just couldn't help
it. Thank god Ryan kept his eyes on his chest and didn't look
lower, because he had a good idea what he'd find if he did, and
this was waaaaaaaay out of his comfort zone. He couldn't think
about … no – no way… No. Fucking. Way.

The soil went
over the saliva, rubbed into his chest in the same way, Ryan's
hands, rough … warm…

“Do your legs,
then your hair, exactly how I did it,” instructed Ryan, his voice
hoarse and tight. “Use your own spit first, then the soil. When
you're done, shift, and make your way to the mansion. I'll be right
behind you.” He turned and walked away.

“Where are you
going?” He really wished that hadn't come out sounding like he was
begging for him to stay.

“I need time
to myself – you want the fucking details?”

Ah … no, no
details…
Jesus Christ.

Ryan paused by
a tree some feet away, and looked back at him, this time taking
all
of him in, his jaw clenching a mile a minute. “This
isn't a normal pack anymore … everything's different now.”

He disappeared
for 'time to himself', and Taylor collapsed against the nearest
trunk, the fire in him all-consuming, his erection, throbbing and
verging on painful… He ignored it, which was sort of like ignoring
a bullet wound and damn near impossible, but his reaction to …
fuck
, he couldn't even say it in his head. His reaction to …
whatever the hell had just happened
… was too much to think
about amid the instability of everything else – talk about coming
in from left field…

Instead, he
spit into his hand, and took over where Ryan had left off.

~*~

Selena sat in a
stony silence, as if made from stone herself. She couldn't remember
the last time she'd been so still, if ever.

She stared at
the two bottles in front of her: two steps that would tear Lydia
apart from her mates, ensuring balance to the pack once more.
Bottle number one, was a variant of some liquid that The Trident
used on both Tridents and humans for the purposes of mating – they
called it their 'mating formula'. They had started to use it
themselves, only recently, in order to keep their mutant species
alive and it was working.

Gladys had
given it to her the last time they'd met at the café following
Brendan's death. Apparently, they had found a way to make the
formula compatible with werewolves and that's what this was. The
old woman had informed her it would force the genetic union between
herself and a wolf of her choice, as long as all the other
requirements were present: the moon was full, there was a
thunderstorm and both wolves were unmated.

When Selena
had promptly pointed out that no storm was predicted in the area
any time soon, and that her 'wolf of choice' was already mated,
Gladys had smiled that eerie smile and produced bottle number
two.

Bottle number
two was airy fairy nonsense that Selena would usually scoff at. But
desperation, coupled with rage, was a potent combination. This
'potion' was to be poured over something containing the DNA of the
wolf she had chosen, while some ridiculous words were uttered, and
then given an hour to work.

“
You have
to do it at least an hour before the full moon and not a moment
later. The connection between your wolf and Lydia will be broken.
He will faint from the disconnection to his mate. Inject him with
the mating formula when he is unconscious, as soon as the storm in
upon you and on the rise of the moon, and then inject yourself. Or
inject yourself first if that's easier – it doesn't matter which
way around as long as you get half a dose each. That's all you have
to do, and your wolf will be yours – forever.”

She looked at
Gladys, dumbfounded and unbelievingly … even as the thrill of the
thought of Taylor as 'her wolf' consumed her from head to toe.

“
Don't
ridicule things you know nothing about, child,” she replied,
sharply, at her expression.

“
Fine, but
what about the storm? There's no mating without a storm.”