Hunting Wolf: Black Mesa Wolves #3 (15 page)

Argh. Sure, that might be true, but hearing his own mother say it was making him twitch.

Caleb began to sidle toward the kitchen door and freedom from brain-twisting conversations.

“She settles you,” Otsana said, eyeing her son carefully. “And intrigues you. Yes?”

Caleb heaved a nervous sigh at his mother's insistence on discussing squicky things like feelings, but he nodded. The more he got to know the bewitching little dark wolf, the more he wanted to know her. In fact, he kind of wanted to understand every single little thing about her. And he wanted her to understand everything about him.

He wasn't even sure that last part was possible, given he didn't know what the hell he was thinking or meaning half the time himself. But somehow, he sensed Rielle just—
got
him. She sure as hell could soothe him just by her presence. Well, except sometimes with that tongue of hers, which seemed to lash at him when he acted like an idiot.

Thinking of her tongue made him shuffle his feet again. Man, he needed to end this, and quick. His mother already had a knowing little grin on her face, along with all that maternal pride and worry and whatever else jumbled up into one expression.

“Um, yeah.”

“Remember you intrigue her, too. And she needs you. Her wolf needs you,” Otsana said. Uneasiness roughened her voice again. Caleb frowned, despite still heading for the door.

“Okay.”

Otsana smiled, the worry fading from her face. “Enough from your mother, then. I just want you to understand how important you are to her.”

Despite the weirdly naked vulnerability he felt at listening to his own mother discuss his love life with him, Caleb also felt suddenly warmed inside as he thought about the sweet little wolf in question. He wanted to go see her right now as much as he wanted to escape this conversation. “Got it. Thanks. Um, I'll go see how Kurt's flowers are doing. Make sure he isn't putting Rielle to sleep by going on about them too much. Be right back.”

He made real break for the door and fled outside toward the garden. He thought he might have heard a tiny chuckle from his mother, but decided it best not to look back.

~

Rielle extended all her senses, using her wolf to amplify them. The old man looking at her with a compassionate expression was human. Utterly human. Not a whiff of wolf about him. Rielle would have sensed that as soon as she met him, at any rate. Not to mention Otsana and Caleb would have told her. Silent, she stared at him. Despite his suggestion, her wolf hadn't backed down one iota. Rielle could feel her still staring out her eyes, which were likely bright and fixed on the man like the suddenly alarmed predator she was.

Kurt smiled at her. “Oh, I know, my dear. As the Pack's historian, you should have known about me, is what you're thinking, correct? The previous historian did.”

If it were possible, Rielle's eyes widened even more at this revelation.

“He knew from the beginning. However, he had known me as a Pack member. He had been there through it all. And, under orders from the Alpha, he did not record any of it. Nor did he ever mention it to anyone. It is one of the best-kept secrets in the Black Mesa Pack. In all of the shifter world, actually.”

The old historian had died three years ago. Rielle had always spent time learning from him, since history was such a passion of hers, but information like this had never come up. She still wasn't even sure exactly what the information was. What on earth was this man telling her? He had been a Pack member? That was impossible. This man was human.

Kurt's eyes were slightly cast away from hers as he spoke, despite the care evident on his face. He was not looking directly at her, not challenging her wolf. How could a human possibly know to do that?

She finally allowed a short, “Please explain.”

He sighed. “You shouldn't have had to know for years yet, my dear. But things being the way they are right now, and with Caleb's fortuitous idea to bring you here, it seemed best to share the knowledge with the Pack's current historian.”

“He didn't mention anything about you,” she said, a little sharply. She wasn't sure if the edge to her voice came from the situation or the thought Caleb would keep something like this from her. With a prickle that might almost have been tears, she realized she'd allowed herself to hope they were getting a little closer.

“Oh, my dear.” His voice held deep kindness. “That is because he does not know. The only shifters alive who know about my existence are Channing and Otsana Bardou. And now, Rielle Amoux is included in that very short list.”

Still unmoving, Rielle realized her wolf was as still and nearly breathless as she, keeping a wary eye on this human with his fantastic tale. She felt more like what she was than she ever had before: a wolf, a predator very carefully judging a potentially dangerous situation and possible foe. The thrill of the adrenaline pulsing through her made her feel more alert and alive than ever as well. Maybe except for when Caleb had kissed her. That still topped the charts.

“I don't understand.” The scents of the pretty flowers around them in the charming but utterly normal gardens heightened the incongruity of the moment.

Kurt steepled his fingers in front of his mouth, appearing to collect his thoughts. She recognized the organizational process of a deep thinker, so similar to her own. Despite this familiarity, her wolf would not relinquish her suspicious observation of the man in front of her. There would be no backing down until Rielle fully understood the situation.

Finally, he sighed. “I don't have time for the entire story right now. One day we shall have tea and scones again, and I will share every single detail with you, as befits the keeper of records for a pack. For the moment, though, this shall have to suffice.

“Not too long after we settled in these mountains and created our territory, I had a mate and cubs.”

Rielle's eyebrows rose at this crazy statement, but she silently let him continue.

“Four fine children, the kindest, smartest mate a wolf could ever have, and a place in the so-called New World our pack could call our own. It was a fine time in my life.” Old sadness tinged his words, but clearly the passage of time had assuaged the worst of some sort of grief he'd experienced.

Rielle absorbed the words as they came, trying to concentrate on the essence of what he said while she kept attuned to whether or not his body language told her he was lying.

“About fifty years after we settled here, a neighboring pack moved in, with the welcome of our Alpha. A few more packs came to the outlying areas, such as the Silver Mountain pack.”

Lily's mate Kieran's home pack, whose territory was north of the Black Mesa Pack's. Rielle gave one sharp nod but kept her eyes trained on Kurt's wrinkled old face.

“Things were mostly peaceful, with the usual exceptions here and there. I kept myself out of it, as I was a historian, not a Guardian. I always did prefer reading and good conversation over claws and bloodshed. Most shifters, of course, focus more on the animal instincts.” Kurt shrugged, an elegant and thoroughly human gesture. “I'd always loved our human side quite a bit, what with its fascinating history and drama and cultural differences. And I never much liked hunting. Venison always tasted too gamey to me.” He winked at Rielle, his naturally flirtatious side surfacing despite the steadiness of his voice and the casualness of his stance while he told his story. “At any rate, we did have skirmishes and problems with rogues, as every pack in the history of shifters has.”

Suspending at least some of her disbelief at his words, Rielle nodded again. Her mind quickly skimmed the history of rogue wolves in the shifter world. Like humans, wolf shifters had individual personalities and desires that sometimes deviated from the generally accepted. It was more rare in the shifter world, what with the deeply instinctual focus on safety in numbers and the hierarchy of pack life, but it happened historically and it certainly happened now.

Yes,
her wolf murmured at her, projecting a sense of loss and lonesomeness all the times Rielle had been focusing so strongly on the human world. Biting back her gasp at the sudden melancholy that filled her, Rielle managed to keep her face neutral as she listened.

“About two hundred years ago, there was a particularly bad incursion by a small but deadly rogue wolf pack.” His voice held neither scorn nor rancor; he merely recited facts with the attitude of a dispassionate observer. “They were determined, they were desperate, they were driven. There was still little human presence in our area—mostly Indians at the time. It was a prime area for wolves, most of whom enjoyed living as a wolf more of the time than as a human. I was the exception, of course. My mate spent more time as a human to be with me, but our cubs were wolf shifters to the soul.” A wistful tone overlay his words. “They loved tussling together, seeing who was the strongest, hunting, and living simply by our Pack's rules. They were fine boys—all boys—and I was quite proud of them, even if they sometimes cast me odd looks for spending so much time with my books and in human form, often traveling to the large cities where I could find more books and enjoy the human culture. But the Alpha by then was Channing, who had grown up with me. He did not treat me differently than anyone else in the Pack, so neither did any other wolf.”

Rielle finally spoke. “Alpha grew up in France. Not Norway.” Her eyes narrowed at him a bit. Even so, she couldn't pick up on a hint of lying from him. So far, his scent had exhibited the calm of truth.

Kurt chuckled, seeming delighted with her. He was relaxing a bit as he spoke. “You are indeed an excellent choice for historian, young Rielle. You pay attention to the details. Yes, Channing was from France. However, he and his family often summered in Norway with us, for they were blood relatives. Your esteemed Alpha is actually my second cousin, once removed. During our youth, he spent a great deal of time helping me perfect my French.”

“Oh,” was all Rielle could come up with. Despite her focus, her head was starting to spin again slightly from the glut of information and details. Slowly, she was beginning to believe his crazy tale.

“They fled to the colonies with us. Those were very dark times for all wolves across Europe.” Kurt's lively face became solemn as he continued. “At any rate, a few hundred years ago there appeared a small band of rogues here who began to harass us and abscond with some of the female wolves. Things got quite tense. This was before Channing had met Otsana, so she wasn't around to be the calming influence she is on him today. He was a little more—brash back then.” A shake of his head and a quick smile indicated Kurt's fond memories. “He was all for smiting the rogues clear out of existence just to be done with it, not to mention set an example for any other rogues foolish enough to bother us. He whipped the pack into a frenzy, and everyone was out for blood.”

Rielle tried to picture the level-headed, thoughtful Alpha who led her pack rushing around in a fiery temper as he ripped out the throats of upstart rogues. She couldn't remotely see it. However, the image of an enraged wolf on the hunt, jaws dripping with blood, that popped alarmingly into her mind instead looked very much like Caleb.

Kurt shrugged again, and finally looked Rielle directly in her eyes. “To get to the point, eventually there was a battle. My two oldest sons were new Guardians, and they were in it. They were killed almost at the start.”

Startled, Rielle inhaled quickly in sympathy. She felt herself relaxing more into the story, interested despite her skepticism.

Kurt went on as if she hadn't made a sound. “The battle became quite out of hand after that. The rogues were few, but they were so driven by their combined desperation as well as a sense of superiority from having been able to steal some of our female wolves that they were exceedingly good as fighters. They'd all come from other packs originally, and all had long experience and good training at fighting. It was much more common in those days, you see. Today's Guardians are still necessary, of course, but not nearly as much as in times past. Most of the Black Mesa Wolves back then would have been more than capable of being a Guardian today.”

Becoming even more caught up in his story, Rielle nodded somewhat anxiously. Even her wolf was engrossed, watching Kurt with somewhat less suspicion now.

“Being so desperate had also made those rogues quite clever in their drive to succeed and mate. Unbeknownst to us, they'd actually recruited more rogues over the past several months, so their numbers were greater than we'd thought. We certainly had no idea they'd sent a number of those rogues to our den while the fight was happening miles away.”

“Oh!” Rielle exclaimed involuntarily. Her wolf paced, agitated at Rielle's worry about long-ago events. “What happened?”

A small, sad smile lifted Kurt's lips, although it didn't reach his eyes. “They attacked us in the den, of course. There were women, children, a few of the younger wolves who weren't yet allowed to engage in full battle—and me. I was not a Guardian, I'd never enjoyed fighting, I wasn't trained. We tried. So hard. It was futile. They killed my two youngest boys before my eyes, and ripped out my mate's throat as she crouched over her sons, trying to defend them. They wanted younger females; she was deemed expendable.” His voice stayed even despite the horror of his words. “I'd been backed into a corner by a few of the rogues, where they rather easily held me, the fairly weak and untrained historian, even in my wolf form, while my family was slaughtered.”

Horrified tears sprang into Rielle's eyes, although Kurt's remained dry. His voice flattened as he continued, although it still held the cadence of an old story rather than a freshly recalled wound.

“They sliced me up, badly, and left me as the only living witness. They took the remaining females, who of course fought like mad but were no match. Not quite as many women were Guardians back then—we tend to be as affected by the prevailing mores of the world as any human.”

Rielle was barely aware of the sweet smells of the garden, the sunset light beginning to slip across the beautiful mountain valley and lend the surrounding peaks a golden glow. Her entire being was focused on the gentle old man before her, relating a personal tale filled with bloodthirst and carnage and anguish.