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Zeb tipped his beer in a salute. “We’re on the same trail, brawd.”
“You ready for another problem?”
Fuck no. “What?”
“Her reaction to being touched. She’s afraid of men. Been raped. How’s she going to deal with a Gathering? She didn’t grow up a shifter, and she hasn’t a clue what’s going to happen.”
“Oh, fuck. Like Calum’s mate.” This was past bad, going into nightmare time. “Last fall was her first Gather. It overwhelmed her, and she’s a tough female.” He ran his fingers through his hair, remembering how he’d stepped back, let her settle.
“So’s our little wolf.” A slow smile grew on Shay’s face. “She did a great job on reshaping Klaus’s nose.”
Zeb felt a glow at the memory. Bree had a wicked punch. “Yeah.”
“Guts or not, she’s liable to panic at the Gathering. We need to do something.”
“Us?” Zeb felt his own panic rise.
“She trusts us. We can touch her. Maybe we can get her past some of that fear.”
“I’ve been trying to keep my distance.” Except for this morning. Her breasts had rubbed against his chest; her mouth had been soft, sweet. Giving.
Even as Zeb’s cock hardened, his gut clenched. He wasn’t sure he’d survive if she returned to being afraid of him.
“We have, what?” Shay paused, calculating. “Only a week to get her past this.”
“Fuck.”
Chapter Sixteen
A knock on the door woke Bree, and with a groan, she sat up in bed and stared around. Not my room. As the memory of the previous evening returned, she chilled. Klaus hitting her, pain, falling down the hill, the men around her…
But Zeb had held her and carried her. Shay had stroked her hair, talked her out of the panic. Funny how his gaze and firm voice had held her as securely as Zeb’s arms had.
Another louder knock made her jump.
“Come in.”
Shay opened the door. “Breanne, Calum has…” His eyes warmed.
What? “I—jeez.” She yanked the covers up to her chin and glared at him.
“A leannan, I’ve seen you without clothes before.” The sun lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “But it’s always enjoyable.”
Heat crept up her face. “You knocked for a reason?”
“’Fraid so. Calum ordered our presence. All three of us. Preferably soon.”
Would she have time for a shower? Wait. Just why was she jumping out of bed because Calum said to anyway? “Shay?”
He came in and sat on her bed, crowding into her space, which wasn’t like him at all. The blankets stymied her attempt to edge away.
The laughter in his eyes showed he knew exactly how nervous he made her. “Did you have a question?”
“Um.” Question? Oh, right. “Who is Calum? Everybody jumps when he says anything, and you guys call him a Cosan-something. Why did he have to be the one to make me shift instead of you or Zeb?”
“I forget sometimes how little you know. Zeb and I aren’t very good teachers.”
She shrugged. “I keep forgetting to ask.” Because she’d been so entranced with turning into a wolfy.
“The mountain ranges are divided into territories. Each one has a guardian over it. A Cosantir.”
Cosantir.“So Calum is kinda in charge. But—”
Shay put his hand on her knee to stop her. Even through the blanket, she felt the heat of his palm. Why did her skin seem to beg for more? More touch, more heat.
“Not kinda.” His thumb stroked back and forth. “A Cosantir is appointed by Herne—the God—and he gets powers to go with the job.”
Her mouth twisted. “Like Gerhard?”
“More. Gerhard’s power comes from the pack. A Cosantir’s powers come from Herne.” His eyes narrowed as he thought. “A Cosantir always knows what shifters are in his territory and where they are. He’s the only one who can force a trawsfur.”
Her skepticism took a step back. She’d definitely experienced that I’ll-make-you-shift talent.
“In his territory, he’s…what did my grandsir call it? High, low, and middle justice? He can banish a shifter or kill one with a touch.
“Get real.” The Cosantir was starting to sound like a TV evangelist. Miracles performed every night at seven o’clock. Riiight. “And God’s-gift to the earth spends his days tending bar?”
Shay grinned. “Actually, he was a lawyer before Herne made him Cosantir, and from what Alec says, Calum was pretty pissed-off about being drafted.”
A lawyer? “I don’t think I’ll ever understand this place.”
“You will, Breanne, you will.” He ran a finger over her bare shoulder, sending a shiver through her. “Go easy today. Healers don’t fix minor damages. You’ll be sore for a couple of days.”
No kidding. She felt like she’d fallen off a mountain and hit every stone on the way down. Oh wait. She had. “I’ll take it easy.”
“Good answer, little wolf. I enjoy being obeyed.” Shay leaned over and teasingly kissed her. Before she could pull away, he nibbled her lower lip and sent heat rushing through her. His firm lips demanded more, and hers softened under the swift assault.
He pulled back and was off the bed before she could punch him. And she might have if her brain hadn’t turned to mush. “Shay,” she warned, tasting peppermint on her lips.
“Breanne.” His blue-gray eyes were as level as his voice. “I enjoyed that—” He inhaled through his nose and gave her a wicked grin. “And so did you, lass.”
She stared as the door closed behind him. A week ago, she’d been exhilarated because she’d felt like a woman, because she’d responded to him and Zeb. But I don’t want any more changes. Not now.
This heat and the need streaming through her body was definitely a change.
After a minute, she shook her head. Meeting. Must move. Lacking clothes, she wrapped a quilt around herself and headed for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
In front of the mirror, she dropped the blanket and got a glimpse of the cuts and bruises covering her body. Nausea churned her stomach, and she hastily stepped into the shower. As hot water poured over her, she washed, trying to erase the memory of being naked. Being touched. Klaus’s grip had felt like that of the monster. I’m dirty. Ugly. She could smell the hellhound’s stench on her, and she scrubbed harder.
When the water turned pink, she realized what she was doing. Blood trickled from her cuts and scratches. Stop, Bree. Stop. Tears burned her eyes as despair filled her. She’d thought she was getting better. Despite the heat of the shower, she felt cold inside.
After forcing herself to shut off the water, she got out. The mirror displayed how many scrapes she’d reopened. What a mess. A colorful mess too. Although the healed cuts were a tender pink-red, dark red and purple bruises had blossomed over her arms and shoulders, ribs, back, and legs. She fingered her puffy cheek and winced at the soreness.
I don’t like this place. Or any place with people like Klaus in it. He’d made a pleased sound when he’d hit her. Sick jerk.
When the pack had been running and singing, she’d felt as if she belonged. But not any more. How soon could she leave?
She gingerly patted herself dry. Gerhard had said the Cosantir decided that. So today, she’d make Calum understand she’d be here another week at the most. She’d learn whatever she needed and avoid Klaus.
A week. That meant her time with Shay and Zeb was limited as well. The empty feeling that swept through her was disconcerting. When had she grown so attached to them?
With a sigh, she wrapped the towel around herself. After pushing her wet hair back, she opened the bathroom door and ran right into Zeb. She squeaked.
His chuckle sounded like rocks grating together. He held out jeans, a sweater, and underwear. “From your cabin.”
“Thank you.” She smiled up at him, and her breathing stopped.
His eyes were molten darkness as his gaze slowly dropped from her face to her b
are shoulders to where the towel barely covered her breasts. “You’re all pink, little female,” he murmured, handing her the clothing.
When her hands were full, he stroked his callused fingers down her neck and across one shoulder. He turned his hand over to brush his knuckles over the tops of her breasts. His skin was so warm, and an answering heat pooled in her lower half.
“Do you need help getting dressed?” he asked. His index finger curved under the edge of the towel between her breasts.
Her mouth dropped open, then she fled back into the bathroom, slamming the door in his face. Her hands shook as she dressed in the jeans and cashmere sweater he’d brought. She couldn’t get past how he’d looked at her. Touched her. He didn’t make her feel dirty, but he’d woken a funny…anxious…feeling deep in her stomach. Not scary though. Not quite.
A thump on the door made her jump. “Let’s go, female.”
On the walk to the tavern, Bree listened to the men idly discuss which cabins needed more repairs, what the weather would be, who was patrolling for hellhounds.
Hellhounds. Plural. She ignored the coldness in the pit of her stomach and firmed her voice. “Zeb, when I shot at the hellhound, my bullets bounced off. What are those creatures made of anyway?”
“A kind of bony plating.”
Shay added, “A paleontologist said some dinosaurs had plating as good as body armor. Hellhounds do too.” He patted his stomach. “A strip down their belly is the only place not armored.”
No wonder her blade had broken. She frowned at Zeb. “When you were under it, you stabbed it with a knife. Why not use your pistol?”
“Good way to die,” Zeb said.
Now there was an informative answer. She gave him a dirty look.
“Two reasons. First: the angle’s wrong to hit the heart,” Shay explained, taking pity on her. “Ripping downward with a knife will slice through a big artery, but bullets can miss it, and you don’t have time to keep trying. If a hellhound doesn’t die fast, it kills the cahir.”
She swallowed hard. Zeb could so easily have died. “The other reason?”
“Bullets usually embed in the armor, but sometimes will bounce off,” Shay said, a hint of humor in his eyes. “If you’re underneath and miss the strip, the belly plating means you’re liable to eat your own bullet.”
Jeez. “You two looked like an acrobat team. How many have you killed?”
“With Shay? Around a dozen,” Zeb said absently.
The lack of air made her clutch his arm. “So many?”
“Some before we got together.” Shay tugged her hair. “Zeb and I hunt them, remember? And looks like there’s still one around Cold Creek.”
The blood drained from her head.
“Easy, little female.” Zeb put his arm over her shoulder and the heat of his body melted some of the chill. She concentrated on inhaling slowly, on feeling the warmth of Zeb against her, the hardness of his body, on watching Shay move ahead of them, all power and skill.
“Hey, have you seen the gnome under cabin seven?” Shay asked lightly.
She tried to smile at him, knowing he’d changed the subject for her. And Zeb, antisocial Zeb, kept her snuggled against his side the rest of the way.
At the tavern, Shay opened the door and motioned her inside. She stopped for a second to let her eyes adjust, after the brightness of the outside. The jukebox was turned down low, and the place was almost empty except for a couple of truckers at the bar.
Calum spotted them and nodded at a table near the front window. After she and the men had sat down, he arrived with a tray of drinks and handed them out.
Bree studied him over the rim of her diet cola. So, he was like the king in the area? Admittedly, the man seemed quite authoritative. But still…
He met her look with a slight smile before turning to Shay and Zeb. “I heard about last night. I’m pleased Breanne will stay with you.”
Shay nodded.
Calum looked at her. “I wanted to speak to you about your future.”
“Excellent idea.” She set her glass down. Gerhard had said the Cosantir wouldn’t let her leave. She’d just see about that.
Before she could speak, he continued, “New shifters, no matter their age, are taught by the old ones. Like you, Victoria became a shifter as an adult and lacked the knowledge we normally gain in childhood. She’s at Elder Village now, getting lessons in Daonain history and customs.”
“Oh. I was wondering where she’d gone. I miss her.”
“As do I. Normally, I’d send you to the village to get formally recognized, if nothing else. But I cannot spare Shay or Zeb, and you’re not ready to be parted from your mentors. I’ll get you there in a month or two.”
“A month or two?” She stared at him. Gerhard had been right? How long did they think she’d be here?
He nodded at Shay and Zeb. “I’d like the Elders to recognize you two as well. Once the other cahirs are trained, one of you can travel up with Breanne, meet them, and return. Later, the other can go and bring her back. Then I can do a proper introduction to the clan here.”
Bree pursed her lips. He was certainly free with planning her life. Too bad. She didn’t want to go to some village and meet new people. The ones here were bad enough. “Listen, Calum, I don’t want to go—”
“Breanne,” he interrupted. “This is a tradition and requirement for new shifters. Unfortunately, our Elders are just that—elderly—and they cannot travel to meet you. It would be a courtesy if you would accommodate them.”
Heck, saying no would make her sound inconsiderate to old people. “You’re sneakier than I thought.”
His eyes glinted with amusement. “Thank you. Meantime, you have lessons to learn here.”
He was notgoing to run right over her, the big jerk. “You act as if I’m staying here, and I’m not. I need to get back to Seattle.” The restaurant wouldn’t hold her job forever.
“Your life is here for the foreseeable future. After your lessons are complete and you’ve achieved control, you may go wherever you wish.”
Her mouth tightened. He wasn’t giving an inch, was he?
“Breanne, we have hidden for thousands of years. I’m sure you can understand why.”
Actually, she did understand. Every other science fiction movie showed what happened when aliens—or anything different—came up against the military or scientists. She nodded.
“Because being revealed would be disastrous to us all, our law states that if a shifter reveals the existence of the Daonain to humans, he is killed.” His uncanny eyes darkened to black, the color of death.
“Oh.” That wasn’t an idle threat.
“Since we usually trawsfur at least monthly to stay healthy, most live in wilderness or mountain towns.” He leaned back in his chair. “Shifters do not fare well in cities, surrounded by humans and metal.”
But that’s my home.Her stomach tightened.
Shay shook his head. “I can’t imagine how the noise and smells didn’t bother you.”
“She wasn’t a shifter then.” Zeb frowned. “But—you ever hear of a Daonain not shifting?”
“Donal wondered the same,” Calum said. “Being surrounded by metal might delay the magic a year or two, but not another decade. You should have died, Breanne.”
“I’ve heard nasty things about city people. Drugs, maybe?” Shay’s gunmetal-blue eyes narrowed. “Did you do drugs, little wolf? It’s all right—we don’t care.”
He said drugs as if it were a foreign word, and Bree rolled her eyes. “No, big wolf. I tried some as a teen, but nothing even provided me a buzz. Probably the shifter blood.” She gave them a wry look. “The only drug I ever took was birth control pills. I’ve been on those since I was fifteen.”
They stared at her like she was naked or something, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “What?”
“Are you still taking them?” Calum asked slowly.
“No. I screwed up, and my refills went to Seattle.”
&
nbsp; “You think that was it, Cosantir?” Shay asked.
“Very likely. Between the suppression of magic in the city and a medicine that warps hormones, she might have gone into a type of suspended state.” He studied her for a minute. “Did you ever experience an overwhelming need to mate?”
“No.” Jeez. From the heat in her face, she’d turned the color of a tomato. He was still waiting, so she added, “I’ve never been interested in sex at all.”
Shay’s warm hand closed over her cold one. “It’s good you didn’t stop the pills before you found us.”
“Shifting is that important?”
Calum nodded. “Being descended from the Fae means we’re partly magical, if that’s what you want to call it. The animal form connects us with the source—Mother Earth—and replenishes us. You were dying slowly in the city. And once off your pills, you were well on your way to death.”
Shay’s hand tightened painfully. His jaw was tight. Zeb looked the same.
“Well, I didn’t die,” she said lightly.
“No.” Calum leaned back. “But I wonder if we have more lost ones in the cities.”
“That’s not a good thought,” Shay said.
“One for another time.”
“So how long must I stay here?” Bree asked, returning to her main concern.
“Until your mentors judge you capable of being on your own.” Calum tapped his fingers on the table. “Most shifters master everything by five or six months.”
Months? “But that’s my home.” Not here. Seattle was home. Friends. Routines. “I have a-a job. How will I live?”
“Ah. Seamus, let us give her free lodging at the Wildwood.”
Her jaw dropped. “You can’t force Zeb and Shay to put me up. They’re running a business, not a charity.”
“Quite fierce on your behalf, isn’t she?” Calum murmured.
A crease appeared in Zeb’s cheek as if he tried not to smile.
Shay grinned. “Thank you, Breanne, but no worries. The Cosantir owns the Wildwood, so the charity will be his.”