Christmas Wolf Read online

  Robbie stood up, his tail wagging.

  Rhys smiled. That dog was often more in sync with his wolf than was he. A quick run around the place would do them both some good.

  He sniffed the air, searched for any sign of mortals in the vicinity, even the slightest scent of human blood, but found none. Bane would have his ass if he crossed paths with an unsuspecting human while he was traipsing about as wolf. And God knows he was already on his father’s black list for the time he scared off that sweet little grad-student who traveled all the way up from Edinburgh to help Callen. The poor woman was beyond frightened by him. Repeating that incident would be disastrous. Bane might have adopted him and loved him as a blood son, but the pack’s safety came first.

  He glanced at his watch. Another few minutes and the sun would set, leaving the peak of Mount Dundaire blanketed in moonlight, the perfect time for him to go roaming. And he’d much rather get in a decent run before searching for the new tree topper as he probably had at least a good portion of tomorrow morning to go through the stored decorations, since he doubted he’d be going anywhere before noon with all the snow.

  Tossing his bag over one shoulder, he headed up to the cabin.

  Robbie’s tail now wagged in a frantic manner.

  The start of a second howl rose in Rhys’s core. His wolf wanted out and he knew better than to ignore the beast when it was this agitated.

  He opened the front door and dropped the duffle bag inside. A hint of fresh pine from the bowl of water and scented oil on top of the wood stove reached the porch.

  Taking a deep breath, he thought of Christmas and all the joy the holiday brought. Maybe coming up to Mount Dundaire was a good thing. He’d get to relax and just enjoy the solitude of being alone with no one save for his favorite dog. In fact, now that he thought about it, Vidar had done him a favor. He was actually looking forward to the quiet night ahead.

  Stepping inside, Rhys removed his jacket and hooked it on the brass rack just to the right of the front window. He then undressed and placed his clothes into the duffle, leaving his boots on the shoe mat. There was nothing worse than destroying a good kilt as his body morphed into wolf. Ready to shift, he returned to the porch.

  From the front yard, a gust of wind plowed across the lawn.

  Robbie swiped at Rhys’s bare leg, and whimpered.

  “Yes, buddy, I know it’s your favorite weather for a run. We’ll get going in just a bit.” He pulled the cabin door shut. “I need to shift first.” Reaching down, he scratched under the malamute’s chin, earning a bit of drool from one very happy canine.

  The thumping of Robbie’s tail against the weathered porch floor sent a dusting of snow scattering.

  Rhys laughed, then straightened and concentrated on his inner wolf.

  Okay, boy. Let’s play this your way.

  A tingling pricked his arms starting from the top of his shoulders down to the tips of his fingers. The pulsing sensation fanned out through his veins.

  His legs ached.

  A popping sound came from his knees.

  Beneath his skin, his bones shifted, converted from human to lycan.

  His flesh transformed to hide as fur sprouted across his body.

  Falling on all fours, Rhys lifted his snout to the sky and howled.

  He bolted from the front yard and took off toward the woods.

  Robbie bounded after him.

  For more than a mile he ran along the edge of the road. Snow squalled in every direction, its marvelous white flakes melting against his gray fur.

  Energy shot through his body.

  As did elation.

  It felt damn good getting out in wolf form. Bane needed to try it more often, though he doubted he’d ever be able to convince the man. His alpha had way too many regulations about when and where the pack could roam. If he’d had his own family, and owned as much land as Bane owned, he’d give his wolves freedom to run around au naturel twenty-four-seven.

  At the edge of the cabin’s lot of land, tension eased from Rhys’s muscles.

  This was the way to live, the way to share his human world with the wolf inside.

  Turning back, Rhys slowed.

  Frozen ground cooled his paws.

  Robbie came up next to him and butted him in the shoulder, then pointed his snout toward Bane’s cabin.

  “Yes, buddy, you can go back now. Go on. I’ll be home in a few minutes.”

  Robbie trotted away, puffs of warm breath emitting from his mouth.

  The sound of a car engine teased Rhys’s ears.

  He spun around.

  A ball of black fur sat in the middle of the road.

  Rhys’s nose twitched.

  He sniffed the air for identifying scents.

  Cat.

  The feline appeared frozen in place, it’s long black fur standing on end as if it had just stuck its wet nose in an electrical outlet.

  In the distance barreled a blue Audi, it’s shape becoming clearer as it approached.

  Confusion rattled his brain.

  The car picked up speed.

  The cat didn’t budge. Its green eyes seemed fixed on him as if unable to look away.

  Headlights flashed.

  “Move. Dumb ass.”

  The cat remained in place.

  The car’s engine revved.

  The stupid feline was going to get itself killed.

  Rhys leapt through the air.

  At the middle of the road, he lowered his head, his teeth sinking into the cat’s neck.

  Female. Unspayed. The darn thing was a queen. What was she doing out here all alone? And why the hell hadn’t she moved out of the way?

  He pulled her to the snowbank off the pavement just as the car swerved and sped by.

  Frickin’ idiot. How could someone be so heartless as to purposely want to run down a wee ball of fur? No member of Bane’s pack would do such a thing. It had to be a damn tourist up for the holidays.

  He tumbled in the snow, cat in tow, the tinny taste of blood coating his tongue.

  Coming to a rolling stop, he glanced at the ground. Streaks of crimson marred the white terrain. The cat remained limp in his mouth, it’s heart barely beating.

  Bloody hell. He hadn’t realized just how hard his teeth had gripped the fragile feline.

  Dropping her, he nuzzled his snout against the cat’s body, inspected her from paw to head and back again. She still lived.

  Thanks be to God.

  He lowered his ear to the cat’s chest.

  A slight purr resonated.

  Little fighter. If the paws were opposite, he’d be panting like a frantic beast right about now. And yet, this frail little thing was using all her might to purr.

  His heart swelled.

  Who wuda thought he could come to admire a cat?

  He had better get it back to the cabin and see about that wound. The gaping hole in its neck was horrendous. And he was the cause of it.

  Gently lifting the feline, taking extra care his teeth did not break her hide a second time, Rhys gathered the animal in his mouth, and trekked back across the road.

  At the cabin door, he flung his body against the wood panel and jarred the latch enough so that it clicked open.

  Robbie skirted passed him, barking and jumping.

  “I know it’s a cat, buddy. But it’s hurt and needs our help.”

  He crossed the threshold, teetered all four paws on the great room’s welcome mat.

  A cold touch chilled his lips.

  Bullocks.

  The last thing he needed was a dead feline on his paws. Bane would really have his ass then.

  Don’t die on me now, kitten.

  Gently shaking his head, he hoped to stir the cat.

  The wee thing sighed.

  Robbie barked a second time. He elevated one paw and gently tapped the injured animal.

  “I know she’s not in great shape.” Sometimes, that dog was too human for his own good.

  He needed to act quick
or he was going to lose the wee cat.

  Stepping off the mat, Rhys kicked the duffle he’d dropped there earlier and pushed it over to Robbie. “Take this to the bedroom.”

  Without hesitation, Robbie snatched the bag between his teeth and trotted away.

  The feline weighed heavy on Rhys’s mind. What in hell was the sweet little fur ball doing out in a blizzard? And why didna she see that damn car heading right for her?

  Visions of the cat’s frightened look hammered his brain.

  Oh, fuck. He was the reason the feline froze.

  Idiot. Of course, a large wolf would scare the bejesus out of something as small as a house cat.

  He should have ignored his howling beast and went looking for the tree topper instead. Bane was right. Roaming in wolf was indeed dangerous. Even without mortals lurking on the grounds. Maybe it was better he didn’t have a pack of his own. He’d lead them astray, as did his blood father.

  Cold nudged his lips.

  If the cat died, he’d never forgive himself. Or that damn Viking for putting him in this position.

  Blood splattered his right front paw.

  The feline needed a warm bed and fast.

  Pushing his hind leg against the cabin door, he slammed it, then traipsed across the house zigzagging around the furniture and assorted alabaster statues.

  Frickin’ works of art. What shifter chooses to live in a museum rather than an animal friendly environment? His tail alone was going to cause him to go into serious debt before Christmas Eve, the darn thing smacking every knickknack his alpha owned.

  A crash sounded behind him.

  The scent of rich tobacco assaulted his nose.

  The eighteenth-century snuff box on the end table.

  That ugly thing was probably priceless, knowing Bane.

  Between the broken trinkets and the blood dripping to the floor from the cat still in his mouth, he was going to owe the MacHendrie alpha for years.

  Driving to town for one of those cardboard-skirted angels was sounding real good at the moment. Foolish idiot. He should never have let that Viking get the best of him.

  He padded into his bedroom and noted Robbie sitting in front of the armoire, duffle at his paws. The dog eyed him with a curious stare.

  The cat whimpered.

  “I know kitten. Just bear with me a wee bit more and I’ll have you all patched up.”

  Scurrying over to the bed, he gently released the feline, then pushed it between two pillows for warmth.

  A pink collar with a silver tag showed through her long, black fur.

  She wasn’t a stray. Which meant she belonged to someone and he wasn’t so sure that made him happy because a well-cared for pet should not have been out in a blizzard. Whoever owned his little ball of fur, didn’t deserve her.

  His ball of fur? He was starting to sound delusional. Felines and wolves didn’t get along, at least not when it came to his pack. No way could he keep this cat.

  A glint of moonlight, coming in from the room’s window, bounced off the feline’s tag. His wolf eyes homed in, searched for an engraved name or address, but found only a crest showing three claw-like scratch marks, the one on the right removed from the other two.

  The design struck a chord in his mind, but where he’d seen it before, he cudna remember.

  He turned around, morphed back to human form, flicked on the bedside lamp, and sauntered over to the duffle in front of the armoire. He grabbed his kilt from the bag.

  As he dressed, a moan rose at his back.

  He pivoted.

  Shock stirred his soul.

  The naked woman on his bed was no wee feline, but a shifter.

  The wolf in him must be slipping as that beast can normally detect one of its own a thousand miles away. And yet it didn’t today. Or maybe it did and he was just a thick as Vidar and didn’t pick up on it. His wolf was itching to come out. Maybe he had better start listening to the animal with more care from now on.

  He inched toward the bed, his gaze locked on the sleeping woman.

  She definitely wasn’t your average girl-next-door. At least not by his standards and definitely not like anyone he’d ever dated. For starters, she had the most luscious, long black hair he’d ever seen. Even in the low bedroom lighting, her hair shimmered with an enticing shine that made his fingers crave to touch it.

  And he didn’t even want to think about what he’d like to do to that curvy body of hers. Her ample breasts alone had his eyes bulging. Never mind what the sight of her full hips and long legs were doing to other parts of him.

  Damn it. Why did his wolf have to go and find a feline shifter and not just some pesky old house cat?

  She moaned.

  Oh, God, his woman moaned, parted her soft-looking lips. Lips that were slightly plump and oh so pink, he just knew they were made for kissing.

  And for doing other things.

  Dirty bastard. The wolf in him really needed a bit of taming. Maybe even more than just a bit, like a few nights out in the kennels with those damn mutts.

  Robbie barked.

  “Oh, please. You know damn well locking me up a couple of days with your mangy pals might teach me a lesson or two. Besides, you don’t even like half of them, so don’t give me flack about calling them mutts.”

  Robbie sighed and put his head down.

  If only his wolf would rest as well, and not have him practically panting after the naked woman in his bed.

  A howl rose in Rhys’s throat.

  A wee bit late to get assertive, don’t you think?

  He let out a deep breath, but gave into his wolf any way.

  Okay, boy. So maybe you’re not to blame for those wicked thoughts I’m having about this woman. But still, you cuda given me fair warning. And I’m not talking just a howl or two. We’re both dirty bastards. Is that better?

  A grunt sounded from his core.

  Bloody hell, but the wolf in him was right. It was his human side that was attracted to the woman. But did the beast really blame him? She was naked. And perfect.

  The feline shifter rolled over.

  His heart raced.

  Just get a damn blanket, man. Right. That is what he needed to do.

  Grabbing for the cotton throw draped over the footboard, Rhys unfolded the white cover and glided it over the woman.

  Slowly.

  His hand skimmed her skin.

  His mouth watered.

  As he moved the blanket up her body, he detected the subtle hint of lilac topped with a drop of neroli.

  A shock zapped his core. It snaked through his soul, then feathered out to every last nerve ending, until his entire body warmed with a contentment he’d never experienced with another soul.

  Sweet Mother of God. He’d found his mate.

  Confusion jarred his brain. Only MacHendrie wolves detected their mates by scent and on instant. And he was a MacHendrie only by adoption. Hell, he never even took the clan’s name. He was a MacGregor and proud of it.

  And yet here he was, gawking at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and knew she would be his for all eternity.

  What sort of sick joke were the gods playing on him? He’d given up the right to be his blood father’s heir to save his newborn brother. The half-brother he’d never met. And yes, he knew full-well the gods were pissed at him over that little selfless act. But giving up the right to be alpha, to lead a pack of his own, meant he did not have the right to be mated. What could he offer this woman? The reality of never having a home? Of having children that bore a disgraced last name?

  No. He couldn’t take the feline shifter as his mate. At least not in the traditional way. Which meant he’d mark her as his, then give her her freedom, never expecting love from her.

  It was the only way to save her life. And for that he was sorry because doing so would mean she’d never have the mate she deserved.

  But at least she’d be alive and he supposed that was the better outcome.

  The woman moaned once
more.

  His gaze flew to the pillow at her neck, to the red stain that grew by the second.

  Crap. The bite. He needed to get that wound covered. Maybe even stitched up.

  Spinning around, he ran to the bathroom, grabbed the first-aid kit marked with a red-circled paw from the medicine cabinet, then returned.

  Gazing at the bed, he dropped the white plastic box from his hand.

  His woman was nowhere to be found, her collar, frayed from his razor-sharp teeth, the only thing of hers left on the bed.

  Even the blood stains on the pillow case had vanished.

  Save for the collar, it was like his mate had never existed.

  Damn him to hell.

  He turned and eyed Robbie.

  The darn animal just sat there, staring at him as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  “Fine time for you to turn back to being just a dog.”

  He cudna have his mate roaming around in a blizzard, naked and injured. Plus, that bite was no longer just a bite. As his mate, the feline shifter since she was not wolf, would die if he didn’t complete his marking of her.

  Without a second thought, Rhys dashed out of the room.

  He didn’t need to go very far.

  At the front door, he spotted the woman.

  He was on her in a flash, his body pressed against her warm back, his nose taking in the scent of lilac with its hint of neroli. He was never going tire of that perfume.

  “Let me go,” she said.

  The sound of her slightly raspy voice kissed his soul. “Can’t.”

  “I live up the road, in the cottage. You holding me here is criminal.”

  “Maybe. But local authorities don’t govern Mount Dundaire. As a shifter, you should know that.”

  “Bane would agree with me. He owns this mountain, holds the lease on the cottage where I live.”

  “I don’t keep tabs on everything the man does. But regardless, I am not letting you go.”

  She reached for the doorknob.

  He covered her hand, entwined his fingers with hers and then nipped at her neck.

  She wriggled against him.

  “You’re making this verra difficult.”

  “Not on me, I’m not.”

  How could an innocent little cat be so hard to handle? “You need to stop moving.”

  “And you need to stop being a Neanderthal and get off me.”