Saved by Wolves (Shifters Meet Their Mate Book 1) (3 page)

She was human.

Although he’d told Jackson he was going, Marcus still paused, weighing the pros and cons. Pros: He wouldn’t have her death on his conscience. Cons: If he rescued her, the Cats would be ticked off that he’d entered their land and that he’d taken a human away from them. His alpha would be upset if he brought her to the pack, and Jackson probably wouldn’t speak to him for a week.

Then again, the last part might be a pro, not a con.

Her hand twitched, and she moaned, a low, pain-filled sound.

He was halfway to her before he realized he’d made his decision.

“Hello,” he called, pitching his voice over the rush of the river. “Are you okay?”

She didn’t respond. Marcus knelt at her side, ignoring the rocks digging into his bare knees, and felt her neck for a pulse. It was there—faint but steady. Relief that he hadn’t delayed too long made him smile, and he gently turned her head to get a better look at her.

A sharp nose and high cheekbones dominated her face, or at least he thought so until her eyes fluttered open. Large unfocused brown eyes shot through with flecks of gold widened a touch as they met his, then closed. Her crisp, sweet scent filled his nose, and it felt like a light hand ran over his body, leaving his nerves standing on end.

A warning howl came from behind him. A quick scan of the riverbanks didn’t reveal a threat, but he trusted Jackson’s instincts. He tossed the woman over his shoulder, clamped an arm over her legs to stabilize her, and worked his way back to Wolf Territory. Icy water dripped off her and ran down his back and chest.

South and across the river, a bobcat screeched.

“Hurry your ass up,” Jackson called. “The Cats will be here any second, and if they kill you, I’ll be the one who has to explain to the alpha why we’re at war.”

“Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you with my death,” Marcus grunted as he approached the top of the rocks. “Want to help me here?”

Jackson crossed his arms over his massive chest and raised a dark brow. “Break the treaty for a human? No.”

“Of course not. What was I thinking?” Marcus crossed the border, moved to a patch of grass clear of sharp stones, and set the woman down. As he did, three Cats—a black panther and two brown bobcats—streaked out of the trees, skidding to a stop on their side of the divide.

Marcus stepped between the woman and the Cats. Although he heaved a put-upon sigh, Jackson did as well.

The Cats hissed and screeched, prowling up and down the border line.

“If you have something to say to us, then shift. If you can. Otherwise, go somewhere else,” Marcus said. It took a lot of energy and concentration to shift, and many of the weaker shifters wouldn’t do it in public. It maybe wasn’t the best time to challenge the Cats, but he just wanted them to leave.

The woman at his feet was shaking in the cool morning breeze, and he could hear her teeth chattering. Humans were so fragile compared to shifters. He really didn’t want her to die in the middle of his rescue.

The panther’s body contorted, muscle and bone reforming into the shape of a man who rivaled Jackson in size. In fact, other than his hair being black instead of brown, he and Jackson could have passed for brothers. Right down to the identical scowls they sported. He straightened to his full height and pointed at the woman.

“She was on our land. Hand her over,” he demanded.

Marcus raised a brow. “Nice to see you too, Lash. I think you have your facts mixed up, though. She’s on our land.”

“Because you trespassed. Give her to us, or we’ll go to the council and tell them you broke the treaty.”

“It’d be your word against ours.” He held up a hand to cut off Lash’s retort. “What do you want with a human anyway?”

“She’s a murderer. Or a spy.”

A murderer? Marcus almost snorted in disbelief. It was pure instinct, true, but he’d never believe she was a murderer. Well, at least not one without a good reason.

“Which is it? A murderer or a spy?”

Lash’s heavy brow furrowed. “We found four human males trespassing this morning. Said they were military out of Weston. They killed Huxley, and we dealt with them. Before that, though, one of the humans said they were tracking her because she’s wanted for murder.”

“And you believed him?”

“Why would he lie? Even if she’s not a murderer, she’s still trespassing. Probably a government agent sent to spy on us. Either way, we’re taking her to our alpha.” 

“So he can kill her on sight? Don’t deny it. I know your father. Vincent hates humans more than you and Jackson combined. She stays here. Under my protection.” The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of it, but they felt right. Beside him, Jackson stiffened, but didn’t protest. Marcus leaned forward a touch, ready to shift if necessary.

“You’re claiming her?” Lash said.

“She’s under the protection of the Wolf Pack,” he said. “Unless you want to issue a formal challenge, she’s not going anywhere.”

A slight smirk playing around his lips, Lash backed up a step. The Cats behind him hissed, and he silenced them with a sharp gesture. “A human protected by the Wolf Pack. If your alpha doesn’t kill you for this stunt, the council will.”

“My alpha will support my decision.” Marcus injected belief he didn’t feel into the words.

Just as Lash opened his mouth to respond, Jackson made a show of yawning. “This bores me,” he said. “Either challenge us or leave. Now.”

Lash’s face tightened and his fists clenched. Even one man up, he’d know that he didn’t really have an advantage. That wouldn’t normally stop a challenge, but facing his alpha’s wrath if he broke the treaty might. Vincent was a slash first, ask questions later kind of alpha, even with his own son.

“She’s all yours,” Lash said. “Probably going to die anyway.” He grinned. “I can’t wait until the next council meeting. They’re going to have your hides.”

He shifted to his panther form, and the three Cats stalked off, leaving a deep silence in their wake.

Marcus cleared his throat. “I guess I’d better check on her,” he said, kneeling beside the woman.

“Reckless and stupid,” Jackson pronounced.

“What is?” Her pulse beat steadily under his fingers, but her skin was chilled. Without her deep tan, she’d have been bone-white. He picked up her hand, and sure enough, the nail beds were bluish.

“Not what. Who. And the answer is you. You can’t offer her protection.”

“Why not? It’s done all the time.”

“Yes. For orphans and mates. Not humans.”

Marcus tilted his head. “So we’ll be the first. Could you hold her up? I need to take off her pack. She might have clothes in it.”

“There’s no ‘we’ here,” Jackson protested, even as he grabbed her under the armpits and picked her up. Her feet dangled a foot off the ground.

Marcus eased the pack off her back and rummaged through food and emergency supplies until he came across a change of clothes in a waterproof bag—stretchy black pants, a tee, and underwear. Whoever she was, she’d come prepared.

“Hurry up,” Jackson said. “Am I supposed to hold her all day?”

“What, is she too heavy for you?”

Jackson slanted him a disbelieving look, but stopped complaining. Marcus worked around him, stripping off her leather jacket to reveal a snug black tee that clung to her curves. He reached for the hem, swallowing hard as his palm brushed over the soft skin of her stomach.

Jackson shifted his grip as Marcus lifted the shirt up and over her head. He ended with one hand on her back and the other cupping a heavy, lace-covered breast.

“Hurry up,” Jackson grunted again, quickly moving his hand to a more neutral position. His nostrils flared, and from the sharp awareness in his eyes, Marcus knew he’d caught the same scent that was seducing him more every minute. Even though she was clearly human, his inner Wolf howled that she was a female in her prime, and the pheromones filling the air told him she was fertile. Unclaimed, fertile female shifters were rare—the birth rate for shifters was low, and three times as many males were born as females. It was probably a good thing she was human—if she’d been a shifter, the Cats wouldn’t have been deterred by the threat of a fight. 

Her bra was a front-clasp one, and Marcus unsnapped it, trying not to stare as her breasts sprang free. Deciding that putting a new bra on her would be too much effort, he tugged the dry tee over her head.

As he did, his hand brushed against her side and she stiffened in protest.

“Damn it,” Marcus said, looking at the streaks of blood on his hand. He’d been so obsessed with her true scent, he’d ignored the reason they’d tracked her in the first place. “She’s injured.”

A quick look showed a long, shallow cut on her left side, two inches above her hipbone. It looked like a bullet wound. A minor injury for a shifter, who could speed up healing by shifting, but he had a feeling it wasn’t minor for a human in shock.

“I’d say this proves she wasn’t with the other humans,” he said as he used the first aid kit from her bag to clean and bandage the wound. 

Getting her boots and socks off was easy. The wet jeans were plastered onto her, however, and didn’t want to cooperate. Marcus averted his eyes as he worked them down her legs, flushing as his fingers slipped along the length of her thighs. As he hooked his fingers in her black panties to pull them down, she moaned. He froze.

Confused eyes moved from Jackson to him.

“You’re all right. We’re helping you. You need dry clothes, so we’re taking off the wet ones.” Marcus might have continued to ramble and defend his actions, but her eyes slipped closed again.

He finished dressing her, doing his best not to look as he did. It didn’t prevent him from feeling, though. Every inch of her was soft against the calluses on his hands.

“Done?” Jackson asked. His breathing was uneven, and he held her at arm’s-length, as if the distance would protect him from sensing or feeling anything.

“Done. Let’s go.” Marcus moved to shrug on her pack, but Jackson shook his head and thrust the girl at him, taking the pack in exchange.

P
ain woke her. Not a sharp, stabbing pain, but a dull, pulsing one, like a throbbing toothache. Kirra forced her eyes open and blinked a few times, willing them to focus and make sense of what she saw.

Blinking didn’t help. She was still staring down at a man’s tight buttocks flexing and releasing as he walked. Her hands still rested on his warm, naked back. The dull pain in her gut made sense, though. Draped over his shoulder as she was, every step he took jostled her. Her stomach was likely black and blue already. A different, constant ache came from her left side, and when she focused on it, the fog clouding her brain cleared a bit more.

Something—maybe a bullet?—had knocked her into the river. Through the pain, she’d forced her body to go limp in the water and to move with the current, hoping to put distance between her and pursuit.

When the current had finally slowed, she’d mustered enough energy to work her way to the shore, dragging herself onto the riverbank. After that, everything was hazy. The flashes she had of deep green eyes staring down at her in concern, naked men, and raised voices might have been real, or part of a surreal dream.

Other than the impressive backside, her limited field of vision revealed that they were following a trail—more of an overgrown footpath, really—hemmed in by old-growth trees and dense underbrush. Heat beat down on her head, and it was bright, so it was probably mid-afternoon. Birds trilled in the distance, and the gurgle of water came from her left. The path had to be parallel to the river.

Slowly, careful not to move quickly and give away she was awake, Kirra raised her head to assess how much trouble she was in.

A man, a huge, naked man with the ripped muscles of an action hero or a gym rat, was staring right at her. The need to defend herself from the judgment and faint accusation in his dark eyes warred with her need to gawk. Despite his bulk, he moved with the light step of an athlete. A mat of walnut-brown curls matching his close-cropped hair covered his chest, narrowing down to his groin, where his massive—

“You’re awake?” A smooth voice interrupted her ogling, and she reared up in surprise, turning her head to face the man carrying her.

Familiar green eyes met hers, and the laugh lines bracketing his mouth deepened as a grin creased his face. “You’re awake,” he said. The grin disappeared, and his eyebrows drew together. “How do you feel? The bullet only grazed you, but I bet it still hurts.”

Her hand automatically went to her side, feeling the bulk of a bandage under her shirt. It stung, but she’d survived worse. The troubling part was that it didn’t make sense. She was no good to Blackstone dead. Unless... Maybe they’d figured out her plan and in the heat of the moment decided to cut their losses.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I assume you’re the one I have to thank for this.” She braced herself with one arm around his neck and gestured to her bandage and dry clothes, trying not to blush at the thought of how she’d ended up in the dry clothes. Without a bra.

“Glad to help. I’m Marcus, and our silent shadow over there is Jackson. Don’t mind him. He scowls at everyone, even me.”

Jackson’s scowl deepened, and Marcus grinned. Kirra fought to keep her gaze from slipping below their waists. It had been a long time since she’d been pressed up against a naked man, and she was uncomfortably aware that her body was responding to them. Her nipples tightened and stabbed against the soft material of her tee shirt. Thank goodness it was black. Maybe they wouldn’t notice.

Regrouping, she focused on Marcus, as he seemed the friendlier of the two. “I’m Kirra Malone.” At least that’s what her new ID said.

“Hey, Kirra. Care to tell us why the Cats want you so badly?”

“The Cats? The Cats don’t want me, unless they’re ticked off that I was on their land.”

“The soldiers, then. Why were they after you?”

“They think I have something they want,” she said. “How do you know about them?”

“Oh, we had a run-in with the Cats after we fished you out of the water, and they told us about the soldiers.”