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  “Is that common?” She slapped him back, her palm hitting the pad of his front right paw.

  “At Wolfsden, yes. Especially when the pack is here. Those wolves rarely plan their morphing. Clothes get strewn everywhere, including out here in the gardens and it ticks off Callen greatly. Though not so much his father. Bane only takes issue with his grandsons marking their territories. So, fair warning—don’t leave anything in a corner or on the floor if you don’t want it peed on. Bane scolds his sons constantly for not raising their sons with stricter rules. They run wild at Wolfsden.”

  “Callen is close to his father and brothers, isn’t he?”

  “Verra. They are an incredibly close bunch. Bane adopted me years ago and never once has he made me feel anything less than his blood son. The brothers are no different.”

  “Then why are you their butler?”

  “It is just how I feel. My way of repaying Bane. But I am an equal among the family.”

  She hoped they would all accept her and not give Cal a hard time about taking a mate associated with Jarle. If he ever told them how she’d come to be his mate, with her stealing his sword, the males of Wolfsden would probably hate her.

  “I should get back,” Rhys said.

  “So should I. By now Vidar and Callen should be finished talking and I want to get more items catalogued. She rose and turned toward the castle’s back door, but paused. “Since I’m keeping a secret for you from Callen, I expect you to do the same for me. If you don’t mind.”

  Rhys bobbed his wolf head. “I won’t say a word to Callen that we’ve deceived Jarle. If he ever found out, he’d put me out in the kennel with the real dogs.”

  “He has dogs?”

  “A few strays he took in last year. They were abused and don’t like being around the pack much. Callen built a super luxury kennel for them on the far end of the estate. They seem to be content there.”

  Her hot Scot had a soft side. She liked that about Callen. Maybe he’d let her open an animal hospital at Wolfsden, if she survived this mess with Jarle. It was something to think about.

  Chapter Ten

  Miranda’s little deception against her wicked master seemed to work perfect as Jarle hadn’t checked up on her in four days. Of course to pay back Rhys for coming up with the ploy, she had to agree to keep Callen occupied while he ran around the grounds in wolf form, every other day. Not that it took much to distract Cal, nor did she mind.

  The days and nights she’d had with Callen were spent learning more about her mate and about the MacHendrie wolves in general. She even spoke with Cal’s father—who had decided to extend his stay in New Orleans—via the computer, and Callen was right, he and his dad did look the same age.

  But the best of these last few days came the moment she shifted, which was magnificent, though not nearly as glorious as was the love making she and Callen had engaged in. The man was made for sex. In bed. Out of bed. Under the stars. She doubted it could get any better.

  She only prayed Cal could find a way to free her from Jarle before tomorrow. Once the witch realized she wasn’t bringing the hexed sword, the locket, or a crate full of Viking objects, he was going to make her pay. And that scared the hell out of her. But she’d do anything to save Callen and his beautiful Wolfsden Keep.

  Stepping away from the three trays of food—eggs, English muffins, and bacon—all lined in a single row down the center the table, Miranda popped the last bit of egg and muffin into her mouth and headed out of the dining room. Mornings at Jarle’s rarely included a good meal. She was going to miss the food at Wolfsden if she couldn’t stay.

  Entering the storage room, she grabbed her notebook from the counter and walked over to the stack of crates on the far wall. The scent of bergamot drifted to her side of the room.

  Turning around, she watched Callen stride into the chamber. “You’re up early.”

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  “You should have said something. Is there anything I can do?”

  She was sure he could do a lot of things to tire her out, but using up all her energy making love, wasn’t going to help her fight Jarle. “No, but thanks. I think I’m just concerned about possibly having to go back to Inverness.”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  “I know you don’t want it to happen, but I can’t have you risk Wolfsden to try to save me from Jarle. I will find a way to fight him on my own.”

  A slight vibration rattled the room, loosened a few pebbles from between the stones that made up the castle’s outer walls. “I like you, too, Wolfsden. If that is what you are saying. But please stop or there won’t be anything left to you.”

  The shaking ceased.

  “He doesn’t usually listen that quick.”

  “I’m honored,” she said. “And that is precisely why I can’t have you putting your castle, or your pack, or even yourself or Rhys, in danger. I will stand up to Jarle myself.”

  Callen frowned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that bastard is beyond powerful. Until you can master your skills, I don’t think you can fend him off.”

  She let out a huff. “Let’s not talk about it right now. I’d rather focus on the artifacts. What are we looking for today?”

  “My mother’s locket.”

  Her heartbeat revved. “What?”

  “My mother had a locket and it was lost when Jarle’s ally destroyed my uncle Mortimer’s keep. That’s where all these items are from, the dig at Castle Dundaire, my uncle’s ancestral home.”

  “I see.” She couldn’t tell him that Jarle wanted the same locket, Cal didn’t even know she’d spoken to the Viking the first night she’d arrived at Wolfsden. And what if Callen’s mother had lived a secret life? Did he even know she was once engaged to Jarle? He never mentioned it. And she certainly wasn’t going to bring it up.

  “The locket has a ruby clasp,” Callen said. “And has my mother’s name—Aine—inscribed on the inside.” His back was to her as he bent over a crate, searching through unsorted artifacts. Pieces of straw fell from his hands as he removed items from the large bin.

  Thoughts of her mating with Callen weighed heavy on her mind. And for that she was glad to be working from crates and not at the table. Every time she looked at that piece of furniture she couldn’t help but think of what they had done on it—several times.

  “That’s not a bad thing.”

  “You can do that in human form, too?”

  He looked up from the crate. “Yes. But I try not to.”

  She glanced at the table. Then frowned.

  “I’ll have it put in storage, if you’d like.”

  “You might have to because I just can’t look at it and not think about doing the nasty. And it’s getting in the way of my work, which means it will take forever to catalogue everything from the dig.”

  He grinned. “We have other tables. I’m sure you’ll find one to your liking and we can swap it out. And I promise, from here on out we’ll only make love in our bed.”

  Our bed. The words made her go all tingly inside. Two years of being under Jarle’s command, belonging to no family, having no friends, had been lonely. Being with Callen, even though they had only met a few days ago, felt right. The wolf in her soul could not be denied. “So much has happened since I first came here. My world has changed drastically.”

  “Life can take sudden changes for MacHendrie wolves. It’s been our way for as far back as we’ve existed.”

  “Did all your brothers take mates quickly?”

  He gave a pensive stare as if thinking the matter over. “All but Phelan. His mate is a human who does not descend from wolf blood.”

  “Is that permitted?”

  “She is his mate, his destiny. It’s just the way it turned out. But it hasn’t been easy on them and they’re still dealing with the finer points of the situation. I hope they make it or it will be horrible for both of them.”

  There was a lot she was going to have to learn about the wolves of Wol
fsden Keep.

  Rhys knocked on the doorjamb.

  Callen turned to face his brother. “What’s up?”

  “Vidar’s men have arrived and I don’t know where to put them.”

  Callen huffed. “I’ll go find the Viking. We can house his troops in the old barracks. They’ll probably prefer it out there anyway as I’m sure they will want to explore the grounds and stake out the place.” He turned back to Miranda. “Do you mind if I leave for a bit? I hate to have you go through this stuff on your own, but Vidar’s men are not the sort to leave unattended. They can get into a lot of trouble if left without any guidance.”

  She gave up a slight laugh and waved her hand. “Go. I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Callen grabbed his cane from the back of a nearby chair and then motioned for Rhys to follow him into the entrance hall.

  Miranda returned to searching through the box of silver jewelry and looking for Aine’s locket.

  A cold breath blew at her ear. She cupped her lobe.

  Wisps of gray energy swirled around her body, starting at her feet and traveling up to her shoulders. A single tether of the gossamer mist licked her cheek.

  “I come in the name of Jarle,” the mist whispered. “Our master wants his locket or the wolf will die.”

  “You have no right being here.” She scolded in a low voice. “This is protected territory. How did you even get in?”

  The mist circled her. “I came with the Viking warriors. They have many witches among them and their energy was permitted, which cleared the way for me since I piggy-backed it.”

  “You’re not welcome at Wolfsden.”

  “Jarle wants his locket, the MacHendrie’s blade, and the crate of Viking artifacts you promised him.”

  Her heartbeat picked up speed. “Tell him he’ll get the damn things when I find them. Now leave.”

  “Don’t betray our master, Miranda. Or the wolf will die.”

  The gray mist dissipated.

  Miranda took a deep breath and prayed to God Vidar’s men could stop Jarle. The thought of that bastard destroying the MacHendrie stronghold sickened her. She had to do something. She had to keep Callen and his family safe.

  A plastic bag slipped from a stack on top of a half-open crate in the corner. The slight noise jarred her thoughts.

  She brought her hands to her chest and tried to calm her nerves.

  Her heartrate slowed.

  A red glint caught her attention.

  Miranda walked over to the bag and plucked it from the floor. It hadn’t been labeled. No name, no number, no description.

  She undid the slide and reached her fingers inside.

  Cool silver caressed her skin as her hand touched a ruby cabochon topping the item’s side clasp.

  Aine’s locket.

  Lifting the item out of the clear pouch, Miranda scrutinized it. She turned it on its side and popped it open. A piece of red velvet lined the interior cavity but the space contained no vibrant pulse or spell binding herbs. Not that she had expected something this old to have its original content intact, but she didn’t sense that it had ever been used in the same manner as had her own locket or any that she’d bound with herbs or spells.

  Her fingers glided over the soft fabric lining. The piece snagged her nail and lifted.

  Miranda peeled it back.

  Decorative scroll work adorned the smooth interior surface. Looking closer, she detected two names etched in a fancy script—Aine and Jarle.

  The witch had been telling the truth, at least about the two names having been inscribed inside the locket. Yet she still didn’t believe the bastard. Maybe there was more to the story than what Jarle had told her.

  She turned toward the window and watched as Callen appeared to be explaining something about the property to Vidar’s men. He looked regal out there, pointing to different parts of the estate, exuding command over his territory. He would one day make a fine Alpha. Of that she had no doubt. But he was also a stubborn wolf and she’d have to work on that if he was going to lead a pack who would remain loyal to him.

  Miranda frowned as she noticed Callen leaning on his cane. If only the man had let her use one of her salves on him before this whole Jarle mess was taken care of, he could have already been free of his leg pain. But he insisted she wait to heal his wound until after he’d freed her from her witch master. Not being able to help him made her feel useless. She was his mate and she was supposed to do everything she could to stand by him, make him the great leader she knew he could be. She loved him to bits.

  Stubborn man.

  Miranda turned away from the window.

  As she headed back to the crates of artifacts, her hand warmed. Glancing at her palm, she noticed the locket had started to glow. Miranda slipped the silver item into her left jeans pocket, not wanting it to come anywhere near Jarle’s hair beads in her right pocket, and went back to searching through the items from the dig.

  Her thoughts drifted to Callen. She hated having to tell him since he had so much on his plate at the moment and learning his mother might not have been the woman he thought her to be, could prove devastating. But keeping the locket’s discovery a secret, would be no different than lying to him.

  A knot twisted in her stomach. She wished that damn plastic bag had never fallen out of the crate. Then she wouldn’t have to make this decision. But Callen came first. No way could she burden him with another possible problem.

  She prayed she was doing the right thing, but guilt still settled in her soul. Despite not wanting to do it this way, for now, the locket’s discovery had to remain her little secret.

  ~~o0o~~

  Callen stood on the side lawn of Wolfsden Keep and marveled at the proficiency of Vidar’s men. These were not the same troops he remembered from childhood. His acquaintances had grown up since he’d last worked with them directly and he was glad of it.

  “I had no idea this horde of Vikings could be as good as our pack,” Rhys said.

  Callen looked out across the field of grass. “They are an incredible force.”

  “Who will protect your land.” Vidar came to stand at his side. “Jarle will not harm your woman.”

  “The witch has great forces,” Callen said. “If he does attempt to breech our barricades, I fear for your clan.”

  “Please. They are men. Immortal Viking wolves, witches, and vampires. They live for war and for dying. If any of them passes from this life with a battleax in his hand, then he has fulfilled his destiny.”

  That might be true, but he still didn’t wish them to die under his watch. All lives were precious.

  A warrior came running up the hill. “A wolf has been injured, Vidar. A pup.”

  His nephews were all in New Orleans. “It can’t be one of mine.”

  “Do you have any strays in the area?” Vidar’s blue eyes turned cold.

  “I’ve only come across one, once.”

  The Viking huffed. “This is not good, friend. I fear we have trouble among us, the pup might be a ploy.”

  Callen glanced back at the castle. “If Jarle means to engage us in battle, I should be with Miranda to keep her safe.”

  “I’ll go to Miss Kendrick,” Rhys said.

  “Send her upstairs and tell her to arm herself.”

  Rhys nodded, then vanished.

  “I don’t like leaving my mate to another man’s care.”

  “Your brother can be trusted.” Vidar’s gaze lingered on the lawn.

  “I’m not questioning Rhy’s loyalty. Miranda is mine and I don’t feel right being away from her with Jarle’s men in the vicinity. I’m going back to the castle.”

  A whirling sound echoed through the air. An arrow sped past Callen’s head.

  Vidar pushed him to the ground. “There is no time to go back. We must fight. You must leave your woman to Rhys’s care.” He pulled a dagger from the inside of his boot and handed it to Callen. “I’m joining my men.
Do what you must, but remember if we can’t stop Jarle before he steps foot on your land, then we will not be able to stop him at all.”

  He agreed with the Viking. Miranda was safer in the castle, with Rhys to guard her, while he fought out here to keep the enemy from coming near his home.

  Callen took a deep breath and pushed himself up.

  A fiery pulse throbbed his leg.

  Bloody hell. Fine time for another periodic flair-up to return. It had been only days since the episode in New Orleans attacked his leg and they didn’t usually come this close together.

  Another arrow flew through the air.

  He glanced ahead.

  Vidar was halfway down the hill already and he hadn’t even taken a single step.

  The ache grew worse.

  Damn his leg. No amount of agony was going to stop him from defending Wolfsden. Or his mate.

  With a limp, he charged forward, screaming orders at Vidar’s men.

  Chapter Eleven

  The sound of Callen’s booming voice echoed into the castle, the keep’s leaded windows doing little to muffle the outside noise.

  Miranda’s heart pounded. Goosebumps popped up on her flesh as her ears filled with a high-pitched screech.

  Something was wrong. Very wrong.

  She dropped the artifacts in her hands and raced back to the room’s stone-cased windows, stepping up the one in the middle.

  “What the hell is he doing?” She eyed Callen limping down the hill, his leg seeming to bother him more now than it had moments ago.

  Rhys appeared at her left, his hand gripped to the window sill. “I believe he is going to fight alongside the Vikings.”

  “The man is insane.”

  “Jarle’s army must be approaching. I’ll get my silver bullets.”

  She turned and watched Rhys flash from the room, only to come back a second later, bullets strapped to his chest, gun in hand.

  “I had no idea a wolf could move so fast,” she said.

  “We can do a lot of things, when necessary.”