Desert Wolf (9 page)

“Who do you need me to protect?”

“Claire.” Tyler’s growl reverberated over the line.

“It’s a question, Ty.” Her tone softened with affection and love no one had ever directed at Cassius. “I need to know. I know you don’t trust Cassius, but I do. He wouldn’t call me or say any of this if he wasn’t serious. He doesn’t play manipulative games; it’s not in him. He’d rather snap a neck than negotiate.”

All true, and yet her words stung at the same time. “If negotiation got me anywhere, I’d attempt it, but most wolves are too damn hardheaded.”

“Yourself included,” she replied, her tone tart and sharp. “Answer the question. Who do you need me to protect?”

“Sovvan Stark, the Delta Crescent Omega.”

“Okay. I didn’t see that coming.” Shock echoed over the line. Either Mason hadn’t believed him or they were testing his honesty. “Doesn’t she have a Guardian?”

“Sure.” Cassius knew Faust well enough, and had fought him before. He’d left the wolf unconscious on his way to take on Serafina. “She will still need you.”

A soft exhale of sound, before Claire asked, “Why? Who am I protecting her from?”

“Me.” Not giving her a chance to respond, he said, “Think about it. I need an answer by tonight, so I know how to proceed.” Ending the call, he drained his coffee then crushed the paper cup. Of all his wolves, he trusted Claire to understand what he asked of her. In the worst case scenario, he believed she possessed the right skills and the ability to end him.

Her earlier win of the Reaping also positioned her perfectly to become Alpha if he fell. Claire would finish his work. It was a brutal request, but she was one tough woman and backed by a powerful mate. She could do it.

Sutter Butte would survive and become a better place, even if Cassius had to die to make it happen.

“Good morning!” A woman called, she had an entire cart of tomatoes, squash and other greens heading in his direction.

“Morning.” He grunted at her trusting smile. A child skipped along behind her tugging a red wagon with green peppers on it. The kid shot him a shy smile and a wave. The boy couldn’t be more than five.

More carts appeared, trailing into the open area followed by more mothers and children. Men came as well, some old, some young, but all in search of something. More than one nodded to him and waved, while others lost their smiles and grew guarded at his presence.

From the very young to the very old, from the trusting to the worried, they were the reason he made every move. He’d been Alpha for a long time, long enough to understand his place. When a three year old raced over to him and grabbed his leg, he glanced at the little blonde toddler and raised an eyebrow.

“Play,” she demanded.

“Carmen,” her mother called, an apology shining in her eyes as she glanced at Cassius. “Come away and stop bothering the Alpha.”

Bothering him.

Sliding his phone into his pocket, Cassius bent down and scooped the child up. Children were never a bother. They were open in their demands and easy to make happy. “Good morning, Carmen. What do you want to play?”

The flustered mother hurried over to him. “Alpha, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh,” he pressed a finger to his lips, relying on magnified actions to get his point across. “Carmen wants to play, and I think her mother needs to shop.”

“I do.” She glanced around, utterly uncertain, but Carmen wrapped her arms around Cassius’ neck. “I don’t want to impose upon you.”

“It’s no imposition. I need to shop as well. I’m supposed to bring peppers and onions. If you could select some for me…the best ones, I’ll play with Carmen.”

“Of course.” The woman dipped her head and, for the life of him, Cassius couldn’t recall her name. “I would be honored, Alpha.” She flicked a look at her daughter. “Behave.”

“Yes, Mama.” The little one grinned, a perfect cherub despite the spot of dirt on her cheek. Even after she hurried away to shop, the mother kept stealing looks at Carmen and Cassius. She wasn’t the only one. A handful of the other children had begun to migrate in his direction.

“Carmen,” Cassius said, keeping his voice pitched low. “What is your mother’s name?”

“Mama,” the little girl told him in all seriousness, and he chuckled.

“Fair enough. What did you want to play?”

She pointed up. “Toss.”

Toss.
Frowning, Cassius studied her little face. Had she been the same toddler he’d played with earlier in the spring? If so, she’d grown a lot. “Have we played toss before?”

“Uh huh. I want to fly.”

Six months and the little one had grown so much that he barely recognized her. Kids changed too swiftly, but they also adapted better. Obeying her request, he tossed her into the air, and she squealed with laughter as he caught her.

“Again!” she ordered.

So up she went, and then down. He repeated it for her as many times as she wanted. Her laughter rippled through the now bustling square and, when he switched her to sitting on his shoulders and scooped up another demanding kid for toss, he caught more than a few parents openly staring at him.

Their children weren’t so reticent. They wanted to play. They accepted change. They liked it.

With tiny hands gripping his hair, and giggles bursting like bubbles around him, Cassius allowed himself a smile. Someday, the Alpha of Sutter Butte would play with the children of the pack and no one would give it a second thought. It would be natural.

It would be part of being in the pack.

It would be the Alpha’s privilege and their right.

Dammit.
He would make it happen.

S
ovvan hadn’t slept
much since her conversation with Cassius. Retiring to the guesthouse, she’d also avoided conversation with Faust. Another perk of their longtime partnership—he didn’t ask her questions. Instead, he let her go and do what needed to be done. Around two in the morning, she surrendered the pretense of sleep and made her way into the little kitchenette area. Normally, cooking would keep her busy and let her relax. Without much, other than the supplies they brought, her options were limited.

Fortunately, she’d packed a crockpot. Setting it out, she began heating it then sorting through the supplies. She was halfway done chopping celery when Faust exited his bedroom. His askew hair and red-rimmed eyes told her he had been asleep. He made no comment on her activities, just washed his hands and began the French pot’s brew of chicory.

By the time the coffee was ready, she’d moved on to chopping onions, then garlic and finally the bell pepper. When they were all in the pot, she added water and some bouillon cubes before unpacking the meat from the cold boxes. Sausage, chicken halves, and a few shrimp. Of course Faust packed the shrimp.

Getting the gumbo set to cook kept her hands busy, but let her mind sort through the information Cassius shared. His need to trust her rose to the top of the list. Trust, in his world, had to be one of absolute loyalty. He didn’t want to compete with her Alpha or worry that everything he said to her would be shared with Serafina.

For the most part, she wouldn’t say a word to her Alpha about the internal matters of Sutter Butte, because they were that—internal. Yet if she learned any information or facts important to Delta Crescent, how could she not tell her?

In essence, she was a wolf being asked to follow two masters. An intolerable situation in the best of times—but whatever Cassius had planned could not be the best of times. Not based on the attack she’d already been involved in or his attitude.

Then there was the history of Sutter Butte. She knew part of it, but not all. Cassius’ history with Serafina was another piece of the puzzle. Then there was the acrimony between him and Faust. Though neither truly commented on their past, she couldn’t shake the troubling assertion of Faust’s perfect position to kill her if he chose against her.

The notion was ridiculous. What kind of world did Cassius live in that his first thought of an ally was their position near his throat? Or did his question actually serve as a warning? She added the
filé
to the slow simmering contents and stirred. Was that the root of Cassius’ question? He planned to put her in a position to do him great harm? Trusting her with his life?

No different, she supposed, than trusting him with her life. He’d already admitted to understanding what he asked her for could kill her. The dissension in his pack, the darkness, and the blood-soaked habits? The flaws and the weaknesses inherent in overt violence could rend her apart.

It wasn’t only his pack, if she were completely honest.
And I have to be. It’s not the pack I have to worry about. What happens when I reflect Cassius? What happens when I open myself to his weaknesses and fears?

The moment she looked into the abyss of the Alpha, she would mirror him and he would see himself. Most people thought they were prepared for the ugliness dwelling within, or better, most didn’t understand the darkness housed in their souls. Little lies were excusable. Little judgments accepted. Fervent belief in a cause allowed amnesty for all manner of poor choices.

Faith and religion attributed for some of the ugliest events in history. Wolves were not immune to such doctrines of
truth
. An Alpha established their power base by surrounding themselves with wolves they could trust. Most often that meant the ousting of the old guard, especially in the case of a hostile takeover. Not every pack passed hands the way Delta Crescent did. Not all Alphas were Poppa. Not even Serafina possessed the unutterable dedication and loyalty her father had. She’d faced several challenges, handily winning each won. Other Hounds had left, rather than challenge her. The inability to follow a person did not make them weak, but it did make them a danger.

Cassius had none of those issues, as far as she could tell. Where Serafina’s home always had wolves coming and going and houseguests who overnighted regularly—Cassius seemed to have literally walled himself away from his pack. His home lay inside a fortress, with only a human servant to share his life.

The emptiness clawed at her and, for the first time since she’d arrived, her wolf stirred. Curiosity coupled with a wary respect drove her. Whatever Cassius planned, the goal was about his pack. He’d not once mentioned personal power. He didn’t seem interested in a land grab. To her knowledge, he’d made no move against Three Rivers or Delta Crescent.

“Faust?” She glanced at her Hound, and his eyes opened. Dammit, he’d been napping and the night had given way to day while she wrestled with herself and fussed over her gumbo. “What is your personal opinion of Cassius?”

“He’s an asshole.” Succinct, she supposed, but not exactly what she meant.

“I know you don’t like him…”

“Never said I didn’t like him.” True, he hadn’t used those words. “Trust? That’s another issue. You asked me for my opinion. My opinion is he’s an asshole. A difficult wolf who will tackle the most difficult of decisions and choices. He won’t shy away from the killing if it’s required, but I don’t believe he enjoys it. It’s a fundamental necessity in the world he exists within. He must be hard, so he is.”

Refilling her chicory, she eyed Faust’s mug, but he shook his head. Weariness settled over him like a curtain. “You said trust is another issue, so do you trust his word when it comes to our protection?”

“In as much as it benefits him to have you here, he will do everything he said to protect you. Should the need arrive to sacrifice you, I believe he would do that as well, without hesitation or remorse.”

Honesty might be the best policy, but it did have some unsettling drawbacks. Settling onto the opposite sofa, she curled her legs beneath her and studied her Guardian. “When the run for Ascension began, why did you not step up to take on the challenge for Alpha?”

“An odd question. What did Cassius say to you that makes you ask?” He made no pretense of his irritation.

“It doesn’t matter what he said, I am curious about the answer.”

“Fine.” Stretching, he sat forward and gazed at her. “There are three kinds of Hounds. There’s the kind which want to serve the pack, the kind which have no other skills, and the kind which want to lead. Hounds in Delta Crescent are relatively independent. First Poppa, and now Serafina, trust us to use our judgment and involve them only in issues which have the chance of impacting the pack. The kind which want to serve, they are only interested in helping. The kind which have no other skills are good at tracking, at fighting, and at discovering the truth—not really assets in other careers or parts of the pack, so they do it because it’s something to do. They are neither dedicated nor are they motivated by avarice. Then there are those that want to lead.”

“You think those who want to lead are motivated by avarice?” Truly, had she been living in a bubble? None of the Hounds she knew seemed to match those qualifications.

“Yes and no. The need to lead is as vital to some wolves as oxygen is to breathe. They don’t want to follow, they want to be charge. They want to matter. They want to make things better or have some say in the outcome. Needing to lead doesn’t translate into wanting to challenge the Alpha, but they are rewarded by the Alpha’s gratitude, and trust—by the trust of the pack and by the care the pack gives them in return for their service.”

“Which one are you?”

“Which one do you think?” The question had really irked him, even more than his manner betrayed. A note of hostility crept into his tone which hadn’t been present earlier.

“I think you are one who uses the skills you have, because you don’t believe you have anything else to offer.”

A flash of a grin, and an incline of his head. “Exactly so. I’m good at what I do. Doesn’t mean I love it or have a need to do it every day. I am good at it. To lead a pack, one has to
want
it above all else. Or even better,
need
to lead it because to lead is to sacrifice a sense of self, to give everything to the wolves who depend upon you and to recognize that someone will always
want
what you have. So, if you don’t want it enough or need it enough, you will never hold onto it.”

The description resonated within her. Cassius had said he needed her. He needed her to help his pack—to help him. He was willing to die for them, and kill. Pitted by circumstance against his own pack, he’d eliminated the threats to preserve his end game goal.

“What are you thinking, luv? You’re wearing a grim expression.”

“I’m thinking I need to help him.” Saying the words aloud solidified the single thought burning in her brain since she’d arrived. “I’ve thought about it for months, since he first made the request. Thought about it on the way here, and I admit, I thought about running away when I realized how deep the violence and darkness run in this pack.”

“You’re not a flight risk.” Yes, Faust knew her so well.

“No.” She took a long drink of the chicory and studied the painted sky beyond their windows. The sunrises were so damn pretty, even if everything else was harsh. “Helping him could pit us against Delta Crescent. I won’t act against Serafina or our pack.”

“I know that, luv.”

“But I have to help him.”

“I know that, too.”

“You’re not really helping.” The remark earned her another reluctant grin.

“It’s not my job to lead, remember?” He raised his brows. “Where you go I follow. If that means into this pit of despair, well, then let’s have a pint and toast to it then be moving along. I trust you, Sovvan. I trust your wolf.”

Good. She wasn’t so sure she did. Her anxiety and anticipation seemed at war with each other. “Then I’ll tell him yes, today, which means we are committed to the course. Will you do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“Tell me before you report anything I do to Serafina, so I know what you are telling her.” It wasn’t a question. His devotion and their partnership aside, he was still Serafina’s Hound, too.

“I can, luv. For what it’s worth, she trusts you, too, or she wouldn’t have let us go on this errand.”

True. Would she be so accepting if Sovvan had to accept a blood oath to Cassius? Because to help him, she’d need more than just his word. They’d need a bond.

“I think I can sleep now.”

“Hallelujah.” The simple joy in the statement made her smile. “Let the stubborn bastard wait a few more hours. It will do him good. Off to bed with you. I’ll make sure everything is taken care of.”

Yes, a few more hours to pretend it would all be okay, then she’d face the grim reality of Cassius’ request.

T
he scent
of gumbo filled the guesthouse with the taste of home when she woke the second time. She took the time to do her hair and dressed once more in a colorful blouse and a skirt rather than shorts for the day. A glance at her jewelry box made her sigh. Normally, she’d add some bangles to her wrists and a couple of hoops to her ears, but jewelry could get in the way in a fight. Or worse, be used against her if the earrings were ripped out. The scar above her eye required fresh cosmetics to disguise it. She added a touch of color to her eyelids and some bronze to her lips.

Recognizing the delaying tactic as much as it was to arm herself, she brushed her hair smooth and used the flattening iron to tame the rumpled bits which wanted to curl. She didn’t need to wash it for another day or so. The effect, she had to admit, flattered her bone structure. Though, if his task took her out of Summit, she might have to live with going natural for a while.

Making a face, she stuck her tongue out at her reflection. Why did childish behavior make her feel better? Probably because she was used to a certain level of playfulness from the wolves around her. Who did Cassius play with?

Her wolf rubbed against the inside of her skin. Play was vital to wolves, as vital as hunting, pack, and more sexual activities. They all craved touch, varying levels of it. Being a Lone Wolf happened, but it was more an aberration than a natural state. They all needed the connections of being around others of their kind. Checking her arms, she added some lotion to her routine. A shift might help with the last of the scars, but not more than all the food she’d consumed.

Food.

Her stomach growled and the scent of the gumbo had her mouth watering. It would be several hours before it was really ready to eat. On her way out of the bedroom, she paused and grabbed a toe ring. She needed some kind of bling, even something as simple as the yellow gold against her dark skin. The contrast was perfect. She slid it onto the middle toe of her left foot. It went well with her scarlet painted toenails. Satisfied, she left the bedroom and listened. Faust’s light snores echoed from his room.

Her Hound
really
needed more sleep than he’d been getting. If he didn’t wake before she made it to the door, she hoped he slept through her whole absence. Not willing to risk his rancor or upset him, she paused long enough to write a note saying she headed over to the main house for food.

Outside, the heat warmed her face instantly. The air was still relatively cool, but the sun stroked over her. She tilted her face toward the sky and closed her eyes. Her wolf stretched and she made a quiet promise to nap in a sunbeam the next chance they got. It sounded positively hedonistic. The stones were as warm as the day before, and the water in the fountain continued to trickle.

An odd sense of déjà vu swept over her, yet unlike the day before, she experienced a sense of purpose. Making her decision freed her from some of her wariness. Pausing at the fountain, she studied the rocks at the bottom of the pool. They were salmon colored, unlike the terracotta inside or the flagstones out. The softer shade made her wish he had some fish in the little pool.