Scattered Siblings 3: To Mate a Werewolf (6 page)

The larder was dark, dirty, and cold. Ellie heard the key turn in the lock, then someone removed it. Maybe the sidekick pocketed it again, but she couldn’t see. A glimmer of light came through the keyhole. Furious that this creep had locked her in here, she almost swung the mop bucket at the door, then remembered the fear she’d seen in his eyes.

Either she sat in the dark and mooned over Joel, which would only lead to tears, or she stared through the keyhole and figured out what was going on. The keyhole won, so she maneuvered the mop and broom to one side.
Great. Woodlice scampering over my legs. Just what I need. And what the hell just touched my face?

She rubbed her forehead, then brushed the insects off her legs. She needed a bath, or at the very least a damn good scratch. Then she knelt by the door and peered through the keyhole. She couldn’t see much, but she could hear every sound.

A clipped female voice cut through the air. “As if I’d let my minions prepare a drink for me. Still, you keep the kitchen in better order than the rest of the house. Now, gentlemen. Sit down and listen.”

Like well-trained dogs, Laurel and Hardy perched on the kitchen chairs.

Something unseen scrambled over Ellie’s leg, and she almost screamed.
Not rats. Please
. Nerves jangling, she took deep breaths and listened to the conversation in the kitchen. She’d once heard some soldiers talking about the People’s Defense League. They were coldhearted killers who’d tortured the Lykae’s hereditary king. They’d have murdered him but for Queen Sylvie’s courage.

Unable to see much, Ellie caught a flash of red hair. The redhead’s voice could freeze boiling water, and it carried like diamonds scratching glass. “While I’m interested in anything unusual that goes on in Whitby, I’m especially interested in Lykae.”

Ellie stifled a gasp. After her rescue, Lykae soldiers helped her rebuild her self-respect. Thanks to Queen Sylvie, the People’s Defense League had failed to vivisect the Lykae king. What if they turned their attention to Joel instead? She hated the thought of these bigots hurting him.

She wanted to batter down the pantry door. That woman was as small and slender as here, and Ellie wanted to punch the redhead’s lights out. Thanks to the training Pammy and the other Lykae soldiers had given her, Ellie knew how. Apparently she had some mad knife skills going on too, or so her weapons instructor had told her.
Right. Like I really could stick a knife in human flesh. I’m a cook, not a killer.

The redhead with the badass attitude moved across to the window. From her post at the keyhole, Ellie saw a petite woman in a navy-blue trench coat, but she had her back to the larder.
Come on. Turn around. Let me see your face.

Rather than turn toward Ellie, Red stared out the window. “The Tundra Toughs are vulnerable. I will bring down their next alpha, and if my agents get lucky, they’ll knock off their hereditary king too. If they can’t do that, they might get his pregnant wife. Anyway, keep me informed. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you your lives depend on it.”

Tundra Toughs? Joel’s pack?
He was supposed to take over from his father as their alpha. Whatever this redhead intended, it wasn’t good. Desperate to warn him, Ellie needed out of here—then she’d have to find a way back to the otherworld.

Once the redhead flashed out of the kitchen, Laurel and Hardy relaxed. Ellie hastily rose to her feet and brushed the dirt from her knees. When her captors let her out of the larder, she pretended she’d seen nothing. “What the hell are you playing at? Why did you lock me in there?”

The gunman glared at her. “The woman who was just here would nail your tongue to the floor for talking that way. Respect, girl. Learn it now. Be glad we decided to keep you, but step out of line, and I’ll carve a few more scars on your face.”

If she’d had a knife in her hand, she’d have shown him who carved up whom. Instead she blinked hard, sniffed, and pulled the steaks out of the fridge. Revenge was a dish best served cold, but hers would be so hot it burned.

The sidekick stared at her. “That sauce better be as good as you say—or else.”

“It will be,” Ellie promised, but she’d cook quickly, feed them enough toxins to keep them glued to the toilet, and hightail it out of here. She dug in her basin of foraged produce and pulled out the wild fungi—the poisonous ones she’d gathered under the gunman’s nose.

See, suckers? I love it when a plan comes together. I’ve got to stop pretending I’m the freaking A Team, and figure out how to return to the otherworld.

The foraged fungi would be identical to the ones in the fridge once she’d cooked them, except that they caused diarrhea and stomach cramps of course. Back when she’d been a half-starved schoolgirl, she’d mistakenly foraged some magic mushrooms for her tea. They’d assuaged her hunger, and there’d been no ill effects until the next day. Of course the ones she’d picked earlier acted almost instantaneously.

Even though she’d only been fourteen, she remembered her magic mushroom-induced dream clearly. She’d finished her afterschool paper delivery route, and already weary, she’d trudged home to clean up after her mother and cook dinner. That one time had seemed different. Someone had cleaned the windows, and the house had smelled of furniture polish. Delicious odors, chicken casserole and freshly baked bread, had wafted from the kitchen to greet her. Her mother hummed softly as she stood by the sink and prepared enough vegetables to feed the street.

Best of all was the man with twinkling eyes and warm smile. Somehow she’d known he was her father—the man who’d walked away before she was born. His jaw had dropped when he saw Ellie.

“You never told me my daughter was so beautiful.” He stood up and opened his arms. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get back sooner, but I’m proud of how you’ve looked out for your mother.”

She’d never made anyone proud before. The lump in her throat almost choked her, and when she ran to him, he’d swung her into his arms. He’d swung her and swung her until the world turned so fast she felt sick.

She woke in a hospital bed. The spotless house, a father who loved her, and a mother who actually cared, had all been a dream. Apparently she’d collapsed in the street, and the doctors blamed the mushrooms, although no one could explain why the onset was more than twenty-four hours after she’d eaten them. With hindsight, she blamed her Elf metabolism.

She’d mourned that dream. Every part of her had wished it was real, but her life didn’t ever get that good. Everything from the scent of furniture polish and home cooking to the way her mother had seemed so happy, had seemed supersharp and focused. Ellie had believed it with all her heart. She’d loathed mushrooms ever since.

Tonight, she’d dine on the ones wrapped in brown paper while her secret weapon—poisonous fungi—set her captors’ guts on fire. While they groaned and puked, she’d escape.

Ellie kept her head down as she served the steak dinner. Her captors dug in with gusto. She sat quietly at the foot of the table and ate her own. A quick glance around the room showed her the car keys and gun tossed casually on the sideboard. Any minute now, Laurel and Hardy would get their comeuppance.

As she cleared the dishes, she heard them curse and start retching in the dining room. Two sets of footsteps thundered up the stairs. Someone threw up as they ran. Ellie raced into the dining room, grabbed the keys and the gun. Two minutes later, she dumped her bag in their car and roared off down the drive. She’d find a cheap hotel and hole up for the night.

See, guys? Never fuck with the cook.

Chapter Six

Joel hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, but he roamed the camp, all faux good humor and smiles. His primal beast prowled inside him, clawing for its freedom and demanding he set things straight with Ellie. He’d watched over her and even tried to treat her as though she were his little sister. Then he screwed her until she could barely walk. The sway of her hips as she descended the Church Stairs had made his cock so stiff he’d needed to jerk off the instant he set foot in his quarters.

He owed his men an appearance, but he couldn’t face food. Instead he’d cradle a mug of coffee, and joke with the soldiers in the mess hall. These soldiers were pack, so he’d hide his bad temper and do right by them. When he spotted Pamela eating overcooked eggs and greasy bacon, he glared at the new cook. Ellie’s breakfasts had been Lykae feasts, not greasy-spoon grub.

He strode to her side. “Did you find her?”

She shook her head. “No. Her trail vanished once she left Pannet Park. She’s probably hooked up with some old friends, and they’d gone off in their car. Honestly, sir, she could be anywhere by now.”

Joel gave his last order as camp commander. “Then you’re excused all other duties until you find her. Sorry to dump on you, but the Tundra Toughs are my main priority. I’m leaving for home soon, but I’ll write up your orders before I go.”

Pamela nodded. “Thank you, for my friend’s sake, but it doesn’t mean I’ll miss your inauguration as my new alpha. Most of the squad had leave booked for that, me included.”

The way his pack closed ranks around him warmed him. He cared about every one of them, even if he hadn’t been home much lately. The situation changed today, but his wolves growled and insisted he should be taking Ellie back with him.

Joel said his final farewells, dispatched one of the troopers with his last report, and flashed to the head of a broad valley in the heart of Tundra Toughs’ land. He shifted to his natural wolf ready to enjoy a run and clear his head. Each of his paw prints was bigger than a human male’s hand. His wolf stood well over five feet from shoulder to paw. When the pack gathered, he stood head and shoulders above them.

Much as Joel loved to run, he needed to slow his pace so he could interact with the pack. Tongue lolling, he breathed in the scents of home—alpine meadows and wild flowers. The Tundra Toughs’ territory stretched from frozen wastelands to Scandinavian meadows. This wide, pine-filled valley had thermal springs and balmy breezes. Unusually wide and deep, Rackutta Valley offered plenty of cover, prey, and shelter for the pack.

One of Joel’s distant ancestors had fled the hereditary king’s court, along with the king’s youngest daughter. In a Romeo-and-Juliet romance that had ended happily, the pair had fled to a region of arctic wastes and glaciers. They’d stumbled on Rackutta Valley instead. The valley was vast with limestone cliffs, caves, and an unexpectedly mild microclimate. The king had forgiven the lovers when they had their first litter, and good relations had been restored. Joel’s ancestors had stayed in their valley, and some of their friends joined them. They called their new pack the Tundra Toughs, and they’d thrived there ever since.

Joel had wanted to show Ellie his home. Part of him wondered which she’d prefer—a hidden den or a rustic cabin with a wood-burning stove and panoramic windows. Not that he’d ever get to show her his territories. His overactive cock had ensured that. And did he regret the great sex they’d shared? Hell no. That woman was one hot lay, but he did regret that his actions left her homeless and alone. Pack was everything to a wolf.

He’d roamed these forests as a pup, and he knew every crevasse and stream. His ears pricked up at the distant roar of a waterfall. The spring melt already swelled the river. The waters pounded through a narrow gorge, then cascaded over a twenty-foot-high limestone cliff. He still remembered the adrenaline rush the first time he’d plunged through the torrent to explore the cave hidden behind the cascade.

He turned human, and the kiss of cool air on his skin was another thing he’d missed. He’d definitely stayed away too long. Fleetingly, Joel wondered what Ellie would think of his home. Would she hate the long snowy winters? He growled at the thought.

That girl lived to bake, and if the pack’s civilian males ever tasted her pies and pastries, they’d besiege her. It wouldn’t take her long to find a mate. The thought of her snowed in and snuggling up with another male made him want to turn primal. Joel had blown everything back on the cliff top.

When Ellie chose a mate, that man had better treat her right. If he stepped out of line Joel would rip out his throat, but right now, Joel had a pack to run, and his new fiancée to meet. Hopefully, his wife would be so hot she’d make his blood burn, exactly as Ellie had yesterday. Olivia Deerstalker should be friendly enough to connect with his pack but sensible enough not to paw him in public. Most of all, she shouldn’t want to soul bond with him. He doubted he had the capacity to make an emotional attachment, not that he wanted one.

He’d always pictured his wife with sparkling blue eyes and perfectly coifed blonde hair. Now, all he saw was Ellie’s emerald eyes and bobbed black locks.
Damn it! One sexual escapade, and she’s taken up residence in my head
. He half whimpered, half whined and hurried off down the valley.

The Great Hall was all rough-hewn beams, oak cross frames, and a thatched roof. It stood about eight miles ahead. It housed the pack’s communal gatherings and doubled as a school for the pups. Joel’s parents’ log cabin stood three miles to the east. His mother filled it with homemade quilts and tapestries. He hoped his fiancée could make their home as cozy.

Suddenly eager to see his family, he increased his pace. Normally, other wolves howled out a greeting or raced alongside him. Today they kept their distance. No one spoke, and rather than slap him on the back, the few wolves he passed turned away. Something was wrong. He just couldn’t work out what.

Joel’s beast clawed harder, demanding out. His hackles rose. This embarrassed silence wasn’t natural. The pack was hiding something, and he felt like a stranger in his homeland. As the next Alpha, he needed to right whatever troubled the Tundra Toughs pack. Finally he let loose his primal form, and his eight and a half feet of dark blond ferocity and fur veered off to his parent’s dwelling. His father spotted his approach, took artic wolf form, and loped toward him. Joel was shocked to see the dark gray hairs around his father’s muzzle.

Both wolves turned human, and Alexander Blackheart pulled Joel into a hug.