A SEAL Wolf Christmas (22 page)

“A red, a gray, and all we need is to belong to an Arctic pack.”

“None around here.”

Bjornolf didn’t say anything.

Anna looked up at him.

“I’ve heard there’s a pack of newbie Arctic wolves trying to find a home somewhere in the great Northwest.”

She chuckled. “That would be the day.”

***

Three months after Tessa’s babies were born, the Wentworths were being prosecuted. All of them were being held without bond.

Anna was on the phone with Hunter and so thrilled that she could barely contain herself when Bjornolf came up from the beach with another stack of logs for the fire. She put the speakerphone on as soon as she shut the door for Bjornolf and he dumped the wood in the bin. “Hunter, go ahead. Tell Bjornolf the news.”

“Roger Wentworth recovered enough from his injuries to give details about William’s involvement in illegal drug shipments. He also told them about William murdering Jessica’s parents when he thought they knew about a new species of plant that would make him even richer. Feeling set up by his older half brother, Roger murdered the DEA agents and tried to cover his tracks by attempting to eliminate Anna. You were next.”

“And Dottie and Helen?” Anna asked.

“Verdict’s still out on them. Dottie swears she didn’t know that the couple was murdered. Only that she had to raise the baby. Sounds like a lot of BS to me. Helen is being charged with aggravated assault. But it appears she was clueless about William and Roger’s business. Jeff’s an accessory to the whole thing. DNA on Dottie’s toddler proved William was the father, not Roger. They’re still looking for the nanny who was involved when the toddler was killed by a hit-and-run driver. That’s the end of our involvement until we get another mission.”

“Sounds good,” Bjornolf said. “We decided on a house plan for Finn’s old property, and construction starts next week. Kids have picked out the style of place they want and it’ll be built next to ours.”

“We couldn’t be happier for you,” Hunter said.

“We’ve got to go,” Anna said, all smiles, glad Roger had pulled through and would help to nail both his half brothers. “Give Tessa and the babies our love.”

Wanting to shout to the world, she hung up on him and then put her arms around Bjornolf’s neck. “Jessica’s wish over the turkey bone has come true.”

Bjornolf smiled down at her, his hands stroking up and down her back. “That we’d have the houses started by this time?”

Anna gave him a devious smile. “No.”

“Ah, yeah, that Roger made it. I told you that you weren’t at fault for shooting him where you did. You were drugged and barely able to—”

Anna shook her head, smiling even more broadly now. “We’re having triplets.”

Bjornolf looked stunned, and then he grinned. He grabbed her up and swung her around and howled for the whole Oregon coast pack of wolves to hear. He was one happy SEAL wolf.

The rest of the wolf pack would be just as thrilled. Sometimes belonging to a pack and not being a lone wolf was worth everything in the world. With babies on the way, missions would be close to home, but if Bjornolf and Anna had an assignment later, they had tons of wolves who would step in and help out.

“Triplets,” he said, looking all misty-eyed.

And Anna knew she was just where she belonged—with her sparring partner and lover, who was one sexy SEAL wolf.

Have you met them all?

Read on to discover the ultimate alphas from
Terry Spear’s sizzling paranormal romances

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Bella stopped pacing and turned to listen.

Thompson placed his hands on his hips. “Now isn’t it interesting how she listens to our conversation?”

“She seems to sometimes. She’s really gentle.”

You should see me on a bad day.

Thompson shook his head. “A wolf is a wolf, still wild at heart. Anyway, a man was interested in transferring her to another zoo. But. . . .” He looked at his feet. “I don’t know. I didn’t trust him. He seemed to have something else in mind.”

When he looked up, his blue eyes widened, and he straightened his back. He motioned with his head toward the railing. “In fact, there’s the man, right there.”

She turned to look at the railing, and her heart nearly stopped.

“See what I mean? It’s like she understands everything we say.”

Staring at Devlyn, she couldn’t unlock her gaze from him. So many lonely years, dreaming of his hard embrace, and now he stood across the moat from her in the flesh. Her heart beat so hard it was sure to bruise her ribs. Adrenaline coursed through her body at breakneck speeds, the thought that he’d come to free her giving her hope. What she wouldn’t give to nip him in the neck, to tackle him and force him to the ground. To have his heated kisses, his firm touch embracing her with wanton desire.

She took a steadying breath. She couldn’t deny he still held her heart captive.

Like before, a strap tied his shoulder-length dark brown hair back. A black leather jacket fitted over his broad shoulders, and denims stretched comfortably down his long, muscular legs to his well-worn western boots. He was every bit as handsome as she remembered him, only much taller and more imposing and real than the photos Argos had sent her.

She focused on Devlyn’s mouth. How many women had he kissed since he’d kissed her? Her veins turned to ice as an uncontrollable jealousy washed over her.

Was he already mated? Her gut tightened with the idea. She shifted her gaze back to his eyes. His dark brown eyes turned into black quartz, angry with a hint of concern.

Did he recognize her? Sure he did. If she caught him in his wolf suit, she’d know him any day. But how had he found her?

Unless . . . unless . . . somehow the fact that a red wolf was living in the Cascades, when none should, got big-time media.
Great.
That’s how he’d found her. He must realize the predicament she faced and the danger to all of them. That’s why he’d tried to move her from the zoo. If she turned into a human by the new moon, she could be used to prove legendary werewolves truly exist.

Did he have a plan? He moved his hands over the black wrought iron posts, up and down. His actions hypnotized her. What was his plan?

“What’s he doing?” Thompson asked.

“I don’t know, but he sure has her attention. You think maybe she belonged to him once?”

“Hmm, now that sounds like a distinct possibility. And he wants her back so he can release her to the wild again. I want him checked out and watched. He’s probably one of those crazy animal rights activists. Doesn’t he realize she’s safer here, with a good diet, and no one to hunt her down? Besides, where can she find a male red to mate? She’d be stuck with scrawny coyotes.”

Joe laughed. “Guess it wouldn’t matter to her, as long as the deed is done.”

She emitted a low growl.

“Don’t think she likes your suggestion,” Thompson joked.

She turned her attention back to Devlyn. He looked kissable. He’d filled out into a man-sized hunk, but his eyes remained dark and foreboding—even more so now.

Devlyn tilted his chin up as if taunting her to tell him what she thought of him, but he continued to stroke the bars. She realized then he smelled she was in heat. The urge to mate with her would be as natural to him as breathing the air or blinking an eye.

Her gaze met his, the depths of his eyes smoldering with lust. Then he scowled and turned away. He strode off, his long gait taking him away from her within seconds. She wanted to scream at him to set her free. But in the worst way she wanted him to mate with her, to fulfill the unquenchable craving that the sight of him sparked, to take her for his own, his mate forever.

Laughing and boisterous, three more men barged into the tavern, glanced to where Jake and Tom sat, then shifted their attention to Lelandi. Which meant what? That Jake and Tom normally sat with Darien at the table where she was now sitting?

Terrific!

“Howdy, boys,” the older bearded man of the group said, nodding a greeting. The other two were nearly as old, gray streaking their brown beards, their gazes pinned on her. “Bring us the usual, Sam.” He turned to Jake and pointed his head at her. “
He
know about this?”

“Still giving orders at the factory, Mason,” Tom said.

The bearded man grumbled, “Fourth of July’s coming for a second time this year.”

Figuring she’d be better off sitting next to the restrooms to lessen the chance of creating
fireworks,
Lelandi grabbed her purse.

The door banged open again. The chatter died.

As soon as she saw him, she knew it was
him
—not only because silence instantly cloaked the room and every eye in the place watched Darien Silver’s reaction. His sable hair curled at the top edge of his collar. Brooding dark eyes, grim lips, features handsomely rugged, but definitely hard, defined him. Wearing a leather jacket, western shirt, jeans, and boots, everything was as black as his somber mood. He looked so much like Tom and Jake, she figured they must be triplets, and he was the leader of the gray
lupus garou
in the area. Had to be, the way everyone watched him, waiting for the fireworks.

Something about him stirred her blood, something akin to recognition, yet she’d never seen him before in her life. It wasn’t his face, or clothes, or body that stimulated some deep memory—but the way he moved—commanding, powerful, with an effortless grace.

He glanced at the barkeep and gave a nod of greeting—sullen, silent, still in mourning for his mate? If he discovered why Lelandi was here, he’d be pissed.

A shiver trickled down her spine. She released her purse and kept her seat, for the moment. Everyone was acting so oddly, she imagined
that
was the reason he quickly surveyed the current seating arrangement. When his eyes lit on her, incredulity registered.

Crap!
He recognized her; she just knew it. Didn’t matter that she had dyed her hair this horrible color that didn’t do anything for her fair skin, or that her eyes were now blue. Didn’t matter that the heavy padded leather jacket gave her broader shoulders and made her appear heavier, or that she wore her hair straight as blades of uncut grass, compliments of a hair straightening iron, when her sister’s and hers was naturally curly. She couldn’t hide the shape of her face or eyes or mouth. All of them mirrored her sister’s looks.

Then again, his look was puzzled. The hat and glasses appeared to confuse him. Maybe the fact that she wore the faux pierced earrings that looked like the real thing did too.

She broke eye contact first, her skin sweaty, her hands trembling. God, he was more wolf than she was used to dealing with—broader-shouldered and taller. His eyes locked onto hers with sinful determination, no backing down, no compromise. No wonder Larissa had fallen for the attention-grabbing gray. Lelandi couldn’t help wondering how a romp with a virile wolf like him would feel. But damn if it hadn’t gotten Larissa killed. Stick with your own kind, that’s what her father would have said. No humans,
lupus garou
only… the red variety.

Everyone remained deathly quiet—no one lifted a mug to take a sip of a drink, no one moved a muscle. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to look at Darien, to see what he was doing now.

Still staring at her. She wanted to sink into the floor like mop water on a hot day. She gritted her teeth, lifted her glass of water, and took another swig, hoping she wouldn’t inadvertently choke on the icy drink out of nervousness. But she wasn’t leaving Silver Town until she avenged Larissa’s death.

Before Tessa reached the man lying deathly still on the beach, certain he was dead, she thought one of his fingers twitched. Her heart went into overdrive.

Not dead. Ohmigod. He’s alive. Maybe.

She rushed forward and pulled him onto his back. Big. Naked. Blue—she reminded herself. And badly battered—his face, body, limbs.

She yanked off her glove and held his wrist. No pulse that she could feel, although her blood was running so fast, she figured it overrode feeling his pulse, if he had one. Not breathing, she didn’t think, because her warm breath was turning into puffs of smoke in the chilly air and there was none escaping his parted lips, full and sensual, but purple.

“Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?” She jerked her glove on, and then fumbled to remove her parka. Covering his torso with her heavy white coat, she tried to remember her CPR training. “Fifteen pumps to the chest. Breathe two times into his mouth. Then repeat. No, clear his passageway first.”

With hands trembling, she crouched next to his head. His wet hair dragged the sandy beach, his eyelids sealed shut. She tilted his head back and made sure nothing obstructed his airway. Moving back to his torso, she pushed the coat lower to expose his chest—muscled, sculpted, dark curly hair trailing down to her parka, speckled with sand, the best shape she’d ever seen a man in close up—which meant he was too hardy to die on her. She prayed.

She pressed her gloved hands together against his hard chest and began compressions. Counting under her breath, she hoped to God he didn’t die on her. If the wind and cold weren’t bad enough, sleet began sliding down in gray sheets, crackling and covering everything in a slick icy sheen, plastering her turtleneck and jeans against her frigid skin. She worked harder, faster.

The blood pounded in her ears, blocking the sound of the wind and sleet and waves.

“Fifteen!” she shouted, and then moved closer to his head, yanked off her glove, and felt for any sign of a pulse in his neck.

No pulse, or so faint she couldn’t feel it. And no breath. He wasn’t breathing.

Her heart in her throat, she pinched his nose shut and leaned down to cover his mouth with hers. Before she could blow air into his lungs, his eyes popped open. Amber, intense, feral. Her mouth gaped.

With a titan grasp, he grabbed her wrists, flipped her onto her back and straddled her, the parka wedged between them as the weight of his body restrained her.

“No!” she screeched, right before he kissed her—pressed his frozen lips against hers, his mouth firm, wanting, pressuring with uncontrollable need—like a man used to dominating—sending her senses reeling.

Instantly, the cold left her, his body heating every inch of her to the core, her heart pounding. And in that moment, she wanted him—as insane as the notion was.

He lifted his mouth from hers and glowered at her for a second, his eyes smoky with desire. Speechless, she stared back at his chiseled face, the grim set of his lips, his dark silky hair curling down, dripping water on her cheeks. Then his fathomless, darkened eyes drifted closed and his tight grip loosened on her wrists.

“No!” she shouted, right before he collapsed on top of her in a faint, his dead weight pinning her to the beach.

“Hey!” she yelled, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. “Wake up!” She couldn’t budge the muscled hunk, but if she didn’t revive him and get him to some place warm, he would die for sure. “Hey! Wake… up!” She pushed and shoved, trying to roll him off her. But he was too heavy—solid muscle and bone.

“Get… off… me!”

He moaned and lifted his head, his glazed eyes staring at her, his beautiful white teeth clenched in a grimace, but he didn’t seem to comprehend.

“Can you move? I’ll… I’ll take you up to my house and call for help.”

For the longest time—although it probably was no more than a second or two, but with the way his heavy body pressed against hers, it seemed like an eternity—he watched her.