Beneath a Blood Moon (81 page)

Desmond’s eyes blazed, and all of the wolves stared at me.

If my mate thought I was betraying him, he seemed happy enough with my backstabbing; pleasure warmed his scent, and all I could feel through our bond was his affection.

Wendy snickered. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”

“Shut up and give me another cookie,” I demanded, holding out my hand. Laughing, she obeyed. “Catch him before we eat all of these, you pitiable excuses for predators. If you don’t, he’s all mine, and you can’t have him.”

While there were at least thirty cookies on the baking sheets cooling on the stovetop, I had a feeling Wendy and I would devour them in short order—and face hours of misery fighting the urge to throw up. While my growing puppy was a little more merciful than Wendy’s, the first signs of queasiness cramped my stomach.

At least I wasn’t craving pickles and ice cream like I had earlier. I shuddered, grateful Wendy’s fridge had been devoid of pickles. The ice cream, at least, was normal—and went well with the cookies she baked to fill the time while we waited for her mate and puppies to cease their playing.

The cookies didn’t change the fact I really, really wanted a pickle.

Sanders warbled another invitation before tearing off. Even Nicolina got to her paws, and after a glare in my direction, she joined her father and the others in hunting my mate.

“Hopefully they catch him this time, or they really will be out of luck,” I muttered.

Wendy chuckled. “The gauntlet has been tossed down. If they can’t catch him, all of their prides will be stung—and Sanders will be able to gloat for a long time over his victory. I give it less than five minutes before we hear his dismayed howls.”

A phone rang, and sorting through the collection of cells littering the counter, I found the culprit. The display informed me the caller was Joseph, and biting back a sigh, I answered, “Good evening.”

“Hello, Sara. Is Sanders around?”

I relaxed at Joseph’s friendly tone. “Sorry, Joseph—can I call you Joe? Anyway, he’s playing with Desmond right now, and the stakes are fatherhood, so he’s currently running for his life.”

“He’s
what
?” Joseph cleared his throat. “And yes, Joe is fine. What do you mean the stakes are fatherhood?”

Laughter bubbled out of me. “Desmond is collecting puppies, I think, and he has his eye on Matthew. I told him if he could catch my mate, he could have him. It’s currently five against one, and in a show of complete incompetence, they have been unable to capture him. They’ve been at it for hours. They’ve destroyed half of the house.”

“Huh. And he’s okay with that? I’m surprised.”

Sanders skidded into the dining room, crashed into one of the few chairs still standing and scrambled for purchase to head for the living room. Richard reached him first, and twisting to the side, the huge silver wolf slammed into my mate with his shoulder. Wincing at the thud of the impact, which resulted in my mate colliding with the wall, I watched all five wolves pounce.

Howling at the simultaneous attack, Sanders somehow squeezed out from under Richard, found purchase on the slick floor, and lunged for the living room. Desmond struck like a snake, sinking his teeth into my mate’s scruff and braced his paws to hinder my mate’s escape.

Grunting from the effort, my mate managed to drag Desmond all the way to the kitchen before Richard joined in by grabbing his tail. My mate didn’t stand a chance; he disappeared in the pile of wolf bodies crowding around him.

“I think they’re almost done playing,” I said, smiling at the panting wolves. “What do you need?”

“I just wanted to check in and make certain everything was okay over there. Does Sanders need me?”

“Right now, he has five wolves vying for his attention. As soon as they stop romping, I bet they’ll pass out. If they don’t, I’ll be really surprised. Do you think you can come by in the morning? I think he’d appreciate you being there when he wakes up—maybe that submissive woman, too? Ah, I think her name’s Chrissy. Do you think there’s anyone else he’d like to see?”

Wendy jerked towards me, her eyes widening.

“I can think of a few.”

“Bring them,” I ordered. “Come over whenever you feel is best.” I hesitated a moment, staring down at the wolves. All of them, my mate included, had their eyes closed. Their sides rose and fell in a steady, even rhythm. “I suppose if you wanted to come over and shift to wolves and sleep over here, you could join them. They’re now asleep. Do you think it’ll help?”

Joseph sighed. “It would.”

“Do you mind, Wendy?”

She shook her head. “Not at all. We’ve plenty of space if they’re all wolves.”

My stomach gurgled its demand and a rebuke at being thwarted of its desire for pickles. I sighed. “Wendy doesn’t mind. Just don’t steal my cookies, and do me a favor.”

“What do you need, Sara?”

“Pickles. The biggest jar of fucking pickles you can find.”

He laughed and hung up on me.

While my dread and apprehension grew, my wolf’s excitement surged. She never spoke in words, but if she could, I knew what she would howl in my head: pack.

The—
her
—pack was coming, and I no longer stood in the way of her desire. At my invitation, the wolves were coming, and at my invitation, my mate would be surrounded by those who could soothe away the sharp edge of his grief.

Wendy straightened the surviving furniture, and laughing at the destruction the wolves had caused, she busied herself tossing ruined bits of furniture out the front door. I helped her, taking a savage delight in breaking what I could.

The pack was coming, and once I let them in, I wouldn’t be able to escape them again.

I remembered their loathing of me.

My wolf had forgiven them, and she made no effort to mask her disgust at my wariness. Those who had acted against us were gone.

“Do you think there are any left?” I asked, snapping a broken chair leg in half just so I could feel the way it cracked in my hands.

Pausing in her similar destruction, Wendy regarded me with wolf-yellow eyes. “It’s possible.”

Muttering curses, I stalked into the kitchen. My Glock was on the counter, and I systematically checked the weapon, counted rounds, and wiggled into my holster, wearing it openly so all of my mate’s wolves could see it.

If they tried to hurt us again, blood would flow. Sanders was
mine
.

Anyone who tried to take him from me would learn how willing I was to pull the trigger. If they expected fear, all I would show them was my determination to protect him.

“That’s an interesting message,” Wendy murmured, considering my gun. A faint smile curved her lips. “I like it.”

She vanished while I plundered the cookie stash. When she returned, she wore a bone-gripped pistol at her side. “Can never be too careful.”

I agreed.

As the Alpha female, Wendy greeted the arriving pack. I sat on the kitchen counter, far enough from my mate if any of the pack wanted to come near me, they had to do so intentionally. They came in groups of five or six with one human escorting them.

When Joseph arrived, his face was ashen. He set a jar on the counter beside me, and while the rest of the pack watched, he kissed my cheek. “You look tired.”

“Pot,” I muttered, making a grab for the pickles. Despite my wolf’s strength, the lid wouldn’t budge. Laughing, Joseph took it, popped it open, and offered it back.

“How many are coming?”

“Eighty, give or take a few,” he replied.

I regarded my Glock mournfully, wondering if calling Amber and Frank to ask for extra magazines classified as rude. If I put it in semi-automatic mode, I could protect my mate from a quarter of the potential risks, assuming I didn’t miss my mark.

Taking my worries out on a pickle, I chomped, narrowing my eyes as I considered the growing pile of wolves surrounding my mate. All I could see of him was his nose, which was pillowed on Desmond’s flank. “He’ll like that.”

“How has he been? What happened?”

“No one told you?” I blurted, staring at him in shock.

“Oops,” Wendy murmured, hopping on the counter beside me. She reached around me and grabbed a pickle. “Whoever throws up first loses.”

“Whoever throws up loses. We’ve been over this before.”

“Morning sickness?” Joseph asked, grimacing.

“All of the time sickness,” we chorused. I took one look at Wendy, bursting into laughter. I added, “She’s got it worse than me.”

“She’s also showing more than you are.” Joseph frowned. “You’re further along.”

My wolf was pleased with his worry. “The puppy is fine, Joe.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched the head of every awake wolf turn in our direction. Taking a deep breath, Joseph held it, smiled at me, and exhaled long and slow. “Good. You’re still scrawny. You need to eat more. You are, too, Wendy. Are you drinking raspberry tea?” The scolding tone of his voice made me laugh.

“Does that actually work?” I demanded.

“A little,” Wendy admitted with a grimace. “I just don’t like it. It’s boring.”

“Make yourself some so you don’t puke pickles everywhere. If you want relish, you should ask for relish.”

I shuddered. “That is absolutely disgusting.”

“So drink your tea like the good bitches you are. Unless you ladies need anything, I’m going to go change.” Joseph yawned, turning his attention to the other wolves in our pack. “Stop staring. It’s rude. You whined and begged to come cuddle with Sanders, not stare at his bitch like she’s a critter in the zoo.”

“Oh, let them stare.” Wendy smirked, picked up a cookie, and offered it to me. “Although if you want to make Sanders really happy, you’ll drool and lament over how pretty she is tomorrow morning when he’s awake to enjoy it. I’ll be nice and warn you, puppies. Charles has claimed her as one of his little girls, so if you make her cry, you have him to face.”

Every last one of the wolves found something else to look at in a hurry, and I laughed at them. “You’re so mean, Wendy. Be nice.”

“I am being nice. I let them in my house, didn’t I?”

Despite the presence of so many wolves, the house was quiet. Somehow, Wendy had managed to worm her way to the center of the mass of furry bodies so she could be near her mate. My wolf fretted, and while I was tired, sleep eluded me.

I was the only one awake to watch over the pack, and unwilling to disturb the tired wolves wanting to be near their Alphas, I paced the first floor. By the time the sun rose, I yawned with every other breath, cursing my stupidity.

It was one thing to attack a handful of Fenerec while in human form. It was another to take on an entire pack camped out as oversized canines.

Only a fool would try.

No matter how many times I told myself that, I worried. Unable to sit still, I tiptoed around the wolves, slipped into the bathroom, and cleaned it from top to bottom. Once it sparkled, I attacked the kitchen. When the counters gleamed, I made the mistake of cleaning the grout between the tiles near the sink, which forced me to crawl around on my hands and knees so there wasn’t only one clean section of floor.

My wolf observed my antics, and her amusement warmed me from within. The click of claws on the hardwood warned me at least one of the wolves was awake. A pale head peeked around the island and took in my sponge, bowl of sudsy water, and sparkling floor. Blinking at me with bright yellow eyes, the Fenerec cocked an ear back, stared at the floor, once again stared at me, and then focused on my holstered Glock.