Wolf Whisperer

Mac moaned, drawing Kelly’s weary gaze. Now that their attackers had vanished, her first responsibility was to make him as comfortable as she could. She needed to get him in out of the damp, chilly mist. Despite his being the enemy, her impulsive binding of them together meant she couldn’t abandon him now.

Her house was in ruins. The other explosion had taken out several of her dog runs, though it hadn’t damaged the main kennel building or—she hoped—hurt any of the dogs.

Luckily, she’d kept a small office inside the kennels where she frequently did paperwork on a battered computer. There, she had a futon that could double as a bed, a shower she used to bathe the dogs, a toilet and a fridge. Nothing fancy, but until her home was rebuilt, this would be where she’d have to live.

And where she’d take the Pack Protector while he recovered. It wouldn’t be easy, the first time recovering from a silver-bullet shot. She remembered her first time, back when she’d been a wee girl of twelve. No, this man would suffer greatly on his road to recovery. By the end of it, he’d probably wish he was dead.

Again she eyed him. Luckily for him, he’d passed out from the pain. Now, how to get him inside the kennel. While the adrenaline rush earlier had enabled Kelly to get him outside, she doubted she could replicate that feat again.

Yet she couldn’t simply leave him here in the rain.

“Hey, Tearlach.”

To her shock, Mac had raised his head and called for her, his voice weak but steady.

“Don’t call me that,” she chided. “Now more than ever, it’s important that you forget you ever heard that word.”

He didn’t ask why. She thought maybe now he understood. Then, to her amazement, he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Help me up,” he said, his voice gaining strength.

“Do you think you can stand?” His resilience amazed her. Still, she’d be surprised if he managed to stand, never mind walk. “If you can, I’ll help you walk to the kennel. It’s warm and dry and there’s a place you can rest. And it should be safe. The dogs will alert us to any danger long before it reaches us.”

Jerking his head in a nod, he pushed up to his feet. Though she rushed over to offer her shoulder for support, he waved her away, staggering a few steps forward before halting. Though he was breathing hard and swaying slightly, he looked a far cry better than he had just five minutes before, which meant he was healing fast. Almost as quickly as her.

Honoring his strength, she kept back, though close enough to offer aid if he needed it. “Let me know if you need my help,” she said.

Squinting at her, he didn’t respond. Instead, he lurched another three or four steps toward the kennel, then rested. Though he held his shoulders up, he kept one hand pressed against the bandaged wound in his leg. From what she could tell, the makeshift tourniquet had been effective. Only a little blood seeped from under his hand to run down his wet and muscular leg.

He healed like a full-blooded shifter rather than a Halfling. Or, she reflected, maybe that was because she’d taken him under her protection.

As they made their way slowly toward the kennel, her dogs, still stunned from the explosion and gunshots, swirled around them, agitated and nervous. Though she was far from calm herself, she spoke soothingly to them, working at projecting a serene attitude, knowing it would help relax them.

Once inside, she dried him off as best she could, taking care to touch the still-healing wound gently. Though he must have hurt, his stony expression gave nothing away. As he watched her, his blue eyes were hooded.

Waiting for him to ask why she’d saved him—a question she didn’t know the answer to herself—she had to fight to keep from being all thumbs, which was not normal for her. She’d tended lots of wounded creatures in her time, though none of them had been so blatantly masculine, nor as beautiful.

When she’d finished her ministrations, he lay back on the futon and went to sleep. Kelly wrapped him in a soft blanket, attempting to make him as comfortable as she could.

Once Mac was taken care of, she rounded up the other dogs that still roamed outside, wanting to bring them in before full darkness fell. As soon as she had them all accounted for, blessedly unharmed, she returned with them to the kennel apartment where Mac still slept.

Peeking at the wound, she was pleased to see it had healed even more. As if it had been sutured, the jagged tear in his skin was beginning to close. His body had already brought itself back from the brink of death and was well on the road to healing, much faster and less painfully than she’d expected.

Suddenly exhausted, Kelly dropped into her office chair. Eyeing the handsome shifter, she knew she had one more task ahead of her. Once Mac recovered, she would have to explain that the gift she’d given him came with strings. By telling him that they were one, and by his acceptance, they were now bound together for life. Kelly was pretty darn sure he wouldn’t be happy about that. Hounds, she wasn’t entirely thrilled herself.

But what had she been supposed to do? Let him die in front of her? She who had trouble killing an in sect? So in an impulsive moment, she’d said the sacred words—only to protect him—and the thing was done.

Would she have regrets? Only time would tell.

And, she couldn’t help but wonder if he already knew. He’d been married to a Tearlach. Surely he and Maggie had undergone the ritual. Or had they? After all, Maggie had died and he had lived. Still, she’d never heard of a Tearlach marrying without performing the necessary binding. But could a shifter be bound to two women, even if one died? She didn’t know.

Again she eyed Mac. At the rate he was going, it shouldn’t take him more than a good night’s sleep to heal. For his sake, she hoped he’d spend most of that time unconscious. Less painful that way.

Chapter 3

As the afternoon drifted into evening, Kelly remained in her chair, watching him. She found herself tracing the lines of his rugged face with her gaze, pondering the strength of his profile and the breadth of his shoulders.

He’d been married to her cousin Maggie. Though Maggie was dead, that made him family. She’d sworn the oath with him, bound him to her, and he was hers now.

This feeling—it had to be desire. She’d read about it, heard songs about it, but until now, she hadn’t been touched by it. It felt like a small flame building inside her; she felt a longing to touch him, to press her lips to his bronze skin, for an unspeakable, unthinkable more.

Shaking herself back to her senses, she pushed to her feet. Perhaps her lonely exile was finally getting to her. She’d never met a man who affected her the way this one did. Of course, living out here in the wilds of Wyoming, she met few men, other than her neighboring ranchers. And they certainly didn’t make her want what she couldn’t have.

She reminded herself that he’d mentioned trading her sister for his children. Though she doubted he actually had her sister, he might know where she’d been taken. His kids were a different story.

Even if he brought Bonnie back, Kelly couldn’t guarantee the return of his twins. While she hadn’t heard anything about his kids being taken, it sort of made sense. Any child born of a Tearlach must be protected, and with their mother dead, her mate should have died also. That was the way of things. Once Maggie had died, the children had to be protected. Their gifts were too highly valued, too much of a temptation for someone merely after the prize a Tearlach’s gift could bring.

If they’d been allowed to remain with Mac, their lives would have been in danger from the moment they hit puberty.

That night, she made a pallet on the floor and slept, drawing her dogs around her like a shield. The kennel had a functioning alarm, which, though not monitored, would at least alert her to any intrusion. If the attackers came back, at least she’d have some kind of warning.

But the night passed uneventfully, and she woke in the morning feeling rested and completely healed. The man—Mac—still slept, though his color had improved and she judged that he was very close to being one hundred percent improved.

While waiting, she purified the area, drawing the ritual from instinct and memories. She set up an altar, a small replica of the one she’d had in her home, using some candles she’d dug out of a drawer and a half-burnt stick of incense.

Then, she bowed her head and offered up a prayer, though to what god, she couldn’t say. In the end, she supposed it didn’t matter to who or what she prayed. She—and her family, as well as this man who was now bound to her—would need all the help they could get.

First, she had to take care of her dogs. In the closest town, she had one person she trusted. Ben was human, without any knowledge of shifters or vampires or, most important, Tearlachs. He’d come forward two years ago, wanting to volunteer for the dog rescue group she’d founded. He often helped her save a doomed dog, both fostering and helping to transport them, often from across the country. He’d even stayed with Kelly’s personal dogs once or twice when she’d felt the urge to travel. She often called him her big brother, only half-jokingly. She knew if she ever really needed him, he’d have her back, just like a real brother.

Ben answered on the third ring. “Kelly! It’s been a while, way too long. What’s up?”

She could picture him, the eternal hippy with his too-long gray hair pulled back in a thick braid and his uncombed beard going in every direction. Ben was retired career military and she supposed his wild appearance was his way of rebelling at years of being told what to wear and do. He was also a former sniper and a crack shot.

“I need your help.” Briefly, without giving too many details, she outlined the situation. Years ago, she’d hinted vaguely to Ben that she’d done a stint of undercover work, highly classified, and she called on this cover story now.

“Call the police,” Ben advised. “See if they can send a few state troopers out. Sounds like you need some firepower.”

Kelly didn’t even bother to respond. She just let Ben think about what he’d just said.

“You can’t involve the authorities, can you?” Ben finally asked. “That’s why you called me.”

“Exactly.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Watch my dogs. I know this is asking a lot—”

“Nah. It’s okay. You know I love your pups. How many are you up to these days?”

“Seven house dogs. Plus more in the kennel. If it’s okay with you, I’ll bring my seven out to your place. The others will need transporting to a temporary foster home.”

“In other words, me.” Ben’s dry tone contained a hint of amusement.

“I couldn’t ask you to take them. My seven are enough.”

“How about I pop out there daily and feed them? Would that work?”

Kelly thought for a moment, then reluctantly answered. “No. Too dangerous.”

“For me? I thought it was you they’re after.”

He had a point. “True, but I can’t say for sure they won’t be back. I don’t want you anywhere in the vicinity if they do. They’re more deadly than I can say.”

Ben snorted, but he gave in. “Fine. I’ll take your word for it. Let me make a few phone calls about the kennel dogs and I’ll let you know. When do you want to bring yours over?”

“The sooner the better. Today? Tomorrow?”

He whistled. “You are in a hurry, aren’t you?”

His tone made her want to smile. Immediately, she quashed it. “I’ve got to get on the road.”

“Hunting or fleeing?”

This time Kelly had to fight to keep from laughing. “What do you think?”

“I think I wouldn’t want to be whoever you’re after when you catch up to them. You sure you don’t want me to round up my buddies? We could help you out.”

Ben and his friends referred to themselves as the Redneck Posse. Kelly suspected they’d all once been part of the same Special Ops unit, but she didn’t know for sure. She’d never asked and Ben had never volunteered the information.

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary.” She could imagine his reaction if she told him her attackers had been vampires and shape-shifters. “I need you here more.”

“All right, then. Just thought I’d offer.” Rather than disappointed, Ben actually sounded a bit relieved.

“And I do appreciate that,” she said.

“How long should I expect you to be gone?” Ben asked, probably more out of curiosity than anything else. He lived alone, with one dog and an ancient parrot.

“As long as it takes,” Kelly answered. “I have no idea. That’s the best I can do.”

“See you tomorrow, then.”

Hanging up the phone, she turned again to study Mac. One of her rescue dogs, a pit bull mix named Brandi, who’d only recently been given house privileges, had gone to sit by the man’s side. The large animal’s posture was alert and watchful, as if she was guarding one of her pack mates or her best friend.

This stunned Kelly. Brandi generally avoided people. Kelly had been working with the former dog-fighting casualty for three months now and the animal barely allowed her to touch her coat. Now the burly dog sat by the side of the ill man as though compassion was her middle name.

Interesting. If she had time, she’d study this in more detail. Brandi’s behavior could mean a breakthrough for other dogs that had suffered at the hands of dog-fighters.

But with time running short, Kelly could focus only on Mac, doing what she could to ease his suffering while he rid his system of the poison. For the next several hours, she sat vigilant by his side along with the dog, keeping him clean and trying to get the occasional bit of liquid into his parched mouth, wiping it up as it ran down his chin.

It shouldn’t be much longer now. The wound continued to heal at an amazing rate. As the fever shook his muscular body and he thrashed about in the covers, Brandi would whimper. When she laid her square-shaped head on Mac, the man quieted instantly. Though the smell of poison tainted the air, the animal didn’t seem to notice or care.

Beside Mac on the table, his cell phone vibrated. Snatching it up before it could disturb him, Kelly debated answering. Someone as beautiful as this one must have a significant other, not to mention family and friends. Most likely they were worried that he wasn’t returning their calls.

“Hello?” she answered.

“Who is this?” A masculine voice, full of suspicion.

“My name is Kelly McKenzie. I—”

“The Tearlach?” He sounded skeptical, which was good.

“You people keep calling me this,” Kelly snarled, only half acting as she forced rage into her voice, building up so she could sound convincing as she spoke the first lie. “I don’t even know what the word means.”

“Right. Whatever. Look, this is Donald, of the Society of Protectors. Put Mac Lamonda on. I need to talk to him.”

Glancing at the man still unconscious on her futon, Kelly sucked in her breath and prepared to tell the second lie. “He’s gone,” she said. “He left.”

Then, before Donald had a chance to question her, she closed the phone, hanging up on him. Immediately, she turned the cell off, in case he called again.

There. That was done. The subterfuge necessary to protect her sister had begun. Regardless of which scenario was true, them believing he was gone couldn’t be anything but good. If Mac Lamonda was working with the Protectors to capture her, with him gone, they’d waste precious time trying to contact him before they’d send others. By then, she’d have vanished. If he was working alone and, as a renegade, had captured Bonnie in order to trade her for his children, he’d have no backup.

Win-win. Though she wouldn’t consider it as such until Bonnie was free and safe.

With a sigh, she dropped the cell to the ground and stomped on it hard, crushing it beneath the heel of her shoe until it no longer resembled anything phonelike. Then she picked up the pieces and carried them to the trash bin.

Turning, she began heating up a frozen dinner in the small microwave. Luckily, she kept a well-stocked freezer in the basement of her home and the fire hadn’t damaged much down there, except for leaving an abundance of sooty smoke and ash. She had no electricity, but living on a remote ranch, all she’d had to do was fire up the generator.

Soon, the soothing scent of macaroni and cheese filled the room.

Turning, she found Mac sitting up in bed, watching her. A moment of surprise stunned her—his eyes were so unbelievably blue, after all—and then she felt a pang of recognition so immediate, so deep, she couldn’t catch her breath.

Recognition? That made no sense. She’d never met this man before, anywhere. If she had, she knew she’d never have forgotten.

Mac’s ever-present watchdog Brandi raised her head, eyeing Kelly with a watchful gaze that looked eerily similar to the man’s. To her surprise, despite the tantalizing aroma of food, the animal didn’t move from her position at the edge of his bed.

“Hey.” Mac gave her a weak smile. His raspy voice made him sound as if he’d just woken from a long, luxurious nap instead of a near-death fever. She found it sexy as hell. Unfortunately.

“Hey, yourself,” she said briskly. “I was just making some supper. Are you hungry?”

Searching her face, he frowned. “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.” Glancing at the nightstand where his phone had been, his frown deepened. “Were you talking on my cell phone a minute ago?”

Ah, the moment of truth, time to tell him she’d lied to his employers as to his whereabouts, even insinuating that he may have died. Though reluctant to begin, Kelly knew it was necessary. She didn’t have a choice. That didn’t mean she’d enjoy it. “Yes,” she answered. “I was.”

He nodded, as if her intrusion into his personal business was perfectly normal. “I see. Who were you talking to?”

Changing the subject, Kelly asked a question instead of answering. “Do you realize what happened? You were shot with a silver bullet. You almost died. But you didn’t.”

Inane chatter, but sometimes a simple pointing out of the facts was necessary before hitting him with the big one.

Mac’s frown deepened. She saw the exact moment he remembered. Everything.

“Silver bullets. Hell hounds.” For a moment he glanced down at his leg, wincing. “I remember. You’re right—I shouldn’t even be alive. How’d I get in here?”

“I helped you. Mostly, you walked.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded. “You lived because you’re under my protection. You won’t die. We are one.”

Gaze locked on hers, he swallowed hard. “So it is true. You really can do this? When you said we were one, that’s what you meant?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “You were married to my cousin. Didn’t Maggie ever discuss this with you?”

“No. She thought all of this was a big joke.”

Now he’d succeeded in shocking her. “Being a Tearlach was amusing to her?”

“You’d have to understand her sense of humor. But yes, she thought the rest of her family took it all too seriously.”

Careful now, she tried to figure out how to phrase her next question. “Besides what you learned in the Protector’s file, how much do you actually know about us?”

“How much did Maggie tell me, you mean?”

She nodded.

“Very little.” He sounded bitter. “I didn’t even know about the protection thing until I read the file. We were together three years and she never said those words to me.”

Careful not to show her shock, Kelly nodded. Luckily, Mac didn’t understand enough to realize the ramifications of this. She did. Maggie had not considered Mac, her husband and the man whose children she’d borne, her true mate.

Which meant there might have been another. Enough to make her wonder if Mac indeed was the children’s real father.

She said none of this, aware he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it. Yet the only other option was that Maggie had wanted to ensure that if anything happened to her, their children would still have a father.

“Tell me what you know,” she urged.

“Are you immortal?” he asked, his expression serious.

“No. And neither are you, now that you’re under my protection.” She avoided using the more honest phrase bound to me. “Tearlachs eventually do die, of course, usually of old age, but nothing else can kill us. Except fire. That never changes.”

Eyes narrowed, he swore. “So the only advantage over being a regular shifter is that you can withstand silver bullets.”

At a loss for words, because there was more, so much more than that, she swallowed. “I—”

“Damn. I don’t see what the big deal is. No wonder Maggie joked about it. Tearlachs aren’t really all that different than regular shifters. So you can withstand a silver-bullet wound. So what?”

“You’d be dead if it weren’t for that,” she pointed out. “And you forgot to mention our ability to confer this gift on another person.”

“True, and thanks for that. But I still don’t understand why everyone is so eager to form an alliance with the Tearlachs.”

“The ability to withstand a silver bullet could come in handy in the event of a multispecies war.”

To his credit, he caught on immediately. “In other words, if the humans came against us like they did back in the Middle Ages.”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t appear convinced. “How likely is that? It’s—”

“Far-fetched.” She dropped into the chair at the side of the futon, aware she had to tread carefully. Though she’d never had to have this conversation with someone, she’d heard stories of others who had. What she bestowed was a gift, a treasure beyond price. Yet the recipients didn’t always view it that way.

“Why me?” he asked, as she’d known he would.

Keeping her expression neutral, she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Because you happened to be there when I was attacked. I didn’t want to have your death on my hands.”

“I see.” His bemused look told her he didn’t. “If this is such a good thing, then why didn’t my wife …”

She felt a knife twist in her heart. “I don’t know,” she answered. She wanted to ask him if Maggie had loved him, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It was too personal and, ultimately, none of her business.

Odd. Completely and utterly strange. She’d never been one to shirk things and had always believed in straight-on honesty right from the start, but she didn’t think she could handle any more of this.

Trying to think, she looked away. Was she required to inform him how deep the bond she made between them went? Or would it be better to let him find out for himself?

Choosing the latter, she rubbed her hands together.

“Now,” she said briskly. “You’ve asked your questions. I want to ask a few of my own.”

“Go ahead.”

Her turn. Kelly stared at the man, wondering what questions she should ask to get the most knowledge in such a short span of time. She’d chosen him, like it or not, by an impulsive act of mercy. Now, she needed to find out what sort of man she’d picked.

She’d always trusted her dogs’ judgment of people. They all loved Ben, which was part of the reason she trusted him.

Brandi, the golden-eyed pit bull with the battered ear, never strayed from Mac’s side. She adored him. Kelly suspected that it might be a case of one damaged individual drawn to another, as if the dog recognized a kindred spirit.

Maybe that rationale would explain why she’d given something so sacred to a complete stranger. Sometimes, she felt like one with the damaged dogs. Something she’d never admitted, not even to herself, until now.

Putting such thoughts from her head, she forced herself to focus on what she needed to know.

“Have you remarried?” Though he didn’t wear a ring, she needed to get this out in the open.

One brow went up. “Maggie’s only been gone eighteen months.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No. What about you?”

“This isn’t about me,” she said, her tone impersonal. “I don’t have the benefit of a folder with all your personal info inside like you did.”