Scattered Siblings 3: To Mate a Werewolf (18 page)

No way would Joel make it back in time. He glanced back and saw Lysander waving Marcellus’s flag. Every step he took sent pain jarring through him. Then Lysander jumped down, sprinted for the finish line. Joel gritted his teeth and kept going, determined to finish in the allotted time.

When he heard Marcellus drop over the barricade, Joel turned and bared his fangs, ready to fight. Marcellus limped toward him, his ankle swollen to the size of a football. “Bloody Lysander dug pits and hid them with branches. I caught my foot in one and twisted my ankle. Worse, Lysander’s taken my standard.”

Joel’s eyes narrowed. “He waved the bloody thing from the top of his barrier. It’s bad enough that I’m injured, but letting him take your standard was plain dumb. You’ve probably just handed him
my
pack.”

The two of them edged toward the bridge. Joel thought they’d make it back within the time limit as long as they kept moving. Up ahead, the spectators booed when Lysander reached the bridge. He panicked, picked up a branch the size of a cudgel, and swung it to widen the path. The front rows pressed backward, squashing those behind them like sardines against the bridge’s waist-high stone walls.

From his vantage point on the road, Joel saw the crowd part. The back row scrambled up on to the parapet—Sammy’s big brother among them. Sammy and his two friends from kindergarten tried to make room. Someone knocked Sammy’s legs from under him. The youngster’s arms windmilled. He grabbed the pups on either side of him, but they weren’t strong enough to support him. The three of them staggered backward, arms linked. The noise of the crowd swallowed their screams as the three of them plummeted into the flooded river.

Intent on the race, the crowd didn’t notice at first, but Joel watched the youngsters plummet into the flooded river. He might make the finish line in time and claim his birthright, but Sammy and his friends needed him now. The race was nothing compared to the lives of three pups.

He shifted into natural wolf form. His wound healed instantly, but changing forms meant he took himself out of the contest. Inwardly, he mourned the loss of his home, his pack, and his family, but he needed to concentrate on rescuing the pups.

He shot down the banking and along the river. As he neared the bank, he shifted again. Primal wolves didn’t thrive in water, so Joel switched to his human form. He battled his way through the fierce currents and swirling eddies.

A collective groan rippled through the crowd as they realized their preferred alpha had thrown away any chance of victory.

Joel heard Marcellus behind him. The other man had turned human, healing his ankle as he dived after the terrified pups. Titus stood to one side of the bridge. When he saw Sammy fall, he raced to the riverbank and waded in.

Sammy’s big brother howled. The sound carried over the water. Joel glanced over his shoulder. The teen’s friends hauled him down onto the bridge rather than let him jump in after his brother. “Joel’s got this. You’ll only make things worse if you jump in.”

Joel reached the first youngster easily, caught hold of his collar, and shoved him at Marcellus. The river fought to keep its prey, but as Marcellus battled to reach the bank, Titus waded deeper and dragged him ashore.

Three more strokes, and Joel caught the second youngster. The river tossed Sammy farther out of reach, so Joel trod water and hurled the second pup to Titus as he waded back through the shallows. Weary from blood loss and a thirty-six mile run, Joel’s throw fell short. Titus waded deeper and grabbed the terrified youngster.

Joel swam a professional front crawl, his strong legs and muscular arms propelling him speedboat-fast downriver despite his exertions. Powerful eddies swirled around him, tossing him back and forth, or trying to toss him onto the bank. He kicked hard, but the current sucked him under.

Ahead, the boy bobbed about like a cork shoved too far into a wine bottle. The river’s roar drowned his fearful wails. The next time he vanished under the river, he didn’t resurface.

Joel felt as though he swam through half-melted ice cubes. The cold seeped into his muscles, making them heavy. Hypothermia beckoned, but Joel dodged a chunk of ice and dived beneath the water.

Ahead, Sammy hung, totally exhausted and half drowned. Joel’s legs pumped like pistons, powering him onward. His lungs felt ready to burst. Another kick, a final stretch of his arm, and he grasped Sammy’s wrist.

Joel kicked for the surface, and the boy coughed up torrents of water before he drew in a fast, shallow breath. Joel let the current carry him to the bank. Marcellus had run down the riverside path. He waded in and pulled the weary pair ashore.

Both men paled when they heard the waterfall pound over the cliff up ahead.

“Just in time.” Marcellus grinned.

An anguished howl drew their attention back to the water. Not a strong swimmer, Titus had stayed in the shallows, ready to anchor the others when they came close. When he’d gone deeper to grab the second pup, the currents seized him. He’d still managed to throw the youngster onto the bank. Titus floundered in the river’s fast-flowing depths. And the waterfall roared up ahead.

Joel dived back into the water. Seven powerful kicks, and he grabbed Titus’s arm. The other man tried to climb his body like a ladder. His panic-stricken struggles shoved Joel under.

When he resurfaced, Joel panted in some quick breaths. Titus clung on harder, unintentionally pushing Joel back beneath the water. Joel punched Titus’s stomach, and his strangling grip faltered. In a heartbeat, Joel was behind him. He forced Titus onto his back and swam for the bank.

Hard as Joel kicked, they stayed in the same place, unable to make headway though the flooded river. Gradually as Joel’s strength failed, the current propelled them ever closer to the waterfall.

Marcellus and a couple of ex-military Lykae turned primal and grabbed a tree trunk from Lysander’s barricade. They shouted a martial chant as they chased after Joel and Titus. Lykae swift, they raced ahead and shoved the trunk across the water like one half of a swing bridge. As the three of them anchored one end, Joel and Titus clung to the other. They panted hard, too exhausted to move as the primals on the bank hauled them ashore.

Joel’s strength had saved the pups, but his heroism lost him his pack and his home. More than that, he’d failed Ellie. He’d promised her a safe haven, a pack, and belonging. Saving Sammy cost them the future they’d both desired.

* * * *

Ellie fidgeted from foot to foot, anxious for the race to finish. Finally she told Pamela, “I’m going to bake and make a start on the sandwiches. Anything beats standing here and worrying.”

Pamela followed her into the kitchen and lit the stove while Ellie mixed her cakes. Once she put them in the oven, she carved a roast pig left over from last night’s feast. Pamela went to find the bread.

Olivia slipped into the kitchen and leaned against the wall. “Hey, Scarface, that pretty boy of yours has lost the race. My Lysander just came home in first place. There’s no sign of the others, and if they don’t make it soon, they’ll time out.”

Ellie paled, and bile soured her throat. She didn’t want to believe her, but Olivia’s words rang with truth. She put down the knife and absently ran her hand over her scars. Joel must be devastated. He loved the Tundra Toughs, and he’d have rather have lost a limb than lose his pack.

Olivia’s smile turned cruel and gloating. “Now, chica, since I’m the next alpha’s mate, you and I have some unfinished business.”

Ellie shot the other woman a what-the-hell look.

Olivia let her nails extend into claws and fur grow on her arms. “You should have kept your hands off Joel Blackheart until the tournament was over. If he won, he’d have been mine. I think you deserve a matching set of scars on your right cheek, just to remind you of your manners.”

Ellie’s spine stiffened, and her chin lifted. She’d faced down enough bullies to know the drill. This woman threatened exactly the way Broken Nose had when he'd carved up her cheek. She’d never let anyone hurt her that way again. Acting on instinct, she seized a couple of knives from the block and hurled them in Olivia’s direction.

Olivia howled as the knives pierced her foot and speared it to the floor. The handles wobbled back and forth as shaky as Ellie’s legs.
What do you know? The instructors were right. I really do have mad knife skills going on.

Back when she’d been military, her self-defense trainers knew she’d never overpower a Lykae, but the way a qualified chef chopped vegetables amazed them. They’d trained her to throw anything sharp that came to hand. Hours spent tossing blades at targets paid off, but she’d only wanted to stop Olivia. After the way she’d suffered at Broken Nose’s hands, she would never willingly stick a knife into anyone unless it was in self-defense.

Pamela returned with a tray of bread rolls. “You won’t believe the hoops I had to jump through to ge— What the hell’s going on here? And why are those carving knives spearing Olivia to the floor?”

Ellie’s gaze swept between the she-wolf’s face and the knives pinning her to the floor. Her hands shook as she wrapped her arms around her body. “She threatened me, and I kind of overreacted. But I’m not letting her loose until she tells me what she knows about Lysander. If he’s taking over Joel’s pack, I want to know my friends are safe.”

Pamela growled at Olivia, then grinned over her shoulder at Ellie. “You go, girl. Grab another knife, and if she doesn't answer our questions, slit her throat. She thinks she can queen it over my pack, but that’s never going to happen. I won’t let her. Better still, once we’ve finished, can I tear out her throat? Please? I’ve been a good friend, so you shouldn’t deny me the chance to close my jaws around her larynx.”

Back when Broken Nose’s men had pinned her to the floor, Ellie had thrashed and screamed. Broken Nose’s total lack of concern as he’d held the dagger over her cheek had sent spikes of terror running through her. At least it had until he’d sunk the dagger point into her face. She’d never know that much pain existed, let alone that she could endure it.

Ellie stood tall, shoulders back, her spine straight. She wouldn’t let Pamela hurt Olivia, but she kept her tone uncaring, almost conversational. “Where shall I pin her next? It won’t be much different to scoring a pork roast to make crackling.”

Outnumbered, stunned that an Elf defeated her so easily, Olivia shrieked, “You’re crazy, the pair of you! Lysander will banish you both once he takes charge.”

“Empty threats.” Ellie sneered. “I’m going with Joel, and Pamela’s welcome to join us.”

“I certainly won’t be subservient to that bitch.” Pamela let her hand turn wolf and flicked out her claws, one by one, in Olivia’s direction.

Olivia blanched, and words bubbled out of her like a spring bursting through rock. “Lysander’s my true mate, but he took off without claiming me. I waited over one hundred years for him to return, then your beloved Joel had his father write to mine. He wanted a woman who’d given up on finding her mate. That was definitely me. When Lysander turned up here and challenged for the pack it was as if it was meant to be.”

Ellie would fall apart if anything happened to Joel. She felt a fleeting sympathy for the woman she’d speared.

Olivia closed her eyes, clearly more pained by her memories than the knives piercing her flesh. “I lost Lysander once, but I won’t let him walk out on me again. Besides, he’s pack alpha now. If he’d lost, I’d have married Joel. The poor sap wouldn’t have lasted a year, I’d have seen to that. Once I was widowed, Lysander would have come back and claimed me. The Tundra Toughs pack will be ours, whatever the circumstances.”

Ellie’s blood pounded through her veins. She felt heat suffuse her cheeks, and her fists clenched. This bitch spoke so calmly about killing Joel. Furious, Ellie closed her hand around another knife handle, but she knew if she threw it, she’d be as bad as Olivia. Instead she ran her thumb down the side of the blade. “Get out of my kitchen before I do something you’ll regret.”

Pamela growled. “Come on, Ellie. Let me take the bitch’s throat. Please.”

Olivia pulled at the knives in her foot. Finally, she worked them loose and backed toward the door. She tripped over her own feet and scrabbled over the threshold. A second later, she regained her balance and ran.

Pamela stripped the belt off her waist, the one with two sheathed daggers attached. “Here. You’re far better with these than me. Wear them every day, then you can always defend yourself. I’m surprised your drill instructors didn’t tell you that.”

Ellie picked up the bread knife, washed it thoroughly, and started to slice the rolls. “They did, but I’m a cook not a fighter. I have a set of daggers in my kit bag, but they’re not very hygienic in my kitchen. Besides, I feel kind of foolish wearing them.”

Pammy slathered butter on the rolls. “Good aim there. You did your trainers proud. At least promise you’ll wear them until Olivia and her admirer have left town. Hey, who knew you were as fierce as a Lykae when your back was to the wall?”

“I acted on impulse.” Ellie’s voice broke. “That’s all. Pammy, do you think she was telling the truth? It’ll break Joel if he’s really lost the tournament.”

Ellie closed her eyes and imagined every detail of Joel’s face. His clear turquoise eyes filled her thoughts, and she felt the sadness in his soul. A vortex opened inside her, and she concentrated on Joel.

Chapter Nineteen

When Ellie’s vision cleared, she stood on the riverbank. Her stomach churned from flashing, but her concern was all for Joel rather than herself.

Joel, Marcellus, and Titus sat on a fallen pine. Two unknown primal beasts stood between her and the man she loved. Desperate to reach Joel’s side, she shoved her way through, and stunned that this tiny woman pushed them aside, they let her pass.

For once, Joel didn’t greet her with a grin. He just sat with his head in his hands, dejected and confused. “Ellie, I’ve failed you, along with everyone else.”

She settled beside him, so close her hip brushed against his. The fact he’d shifted told its own story. Things must have gone badly for him to disqualify himself from the tournament. Even Marcellus had shifted into human form. Since this challenge counted for double points, that gave Lysander control of the Tundra Toughs pack.