Wolf Kiss (Warrior Wolves Book 1) Read online

“I think it’s time we got those security cameras we’ve been talking about, don’t you?” Meredith pulled the blankets out of the cage, balled them up, and set them by the door.

  Reardon assumed that meant he wouldn’t be inhabiting that cage during the rest of his stay here. Though he didn’t like that Hank lad threatening Brandy, the bastard had afforded him the opportunity to both prove his loyalty and show he could be trusted to roam free.

  “I agree. Cameras make sense.” Brandy picked up the book. “But first, a name.”

  “Something very Alpha,” Meredith said. “This guy isn’t a powder puff.”

  Brandy opened the book, skimmed a few pages, and squinted at Reardon. Her brow was creased in concentration and she nibbled on her lower lip as she considered the possibilities.

  Reardon liked how focused she was, as if she wanted to get just the right name for him. He had the right name, but that didn’t stop him from appreciating her efforts.

  After about five minutes, Brandy snapped the book closed.

  “You got it?” Meredith asked.

  “Yes. This baby came to my rescue as if he were ready to go to battle with Hank. He was fearless, ignored his own pain, and didn’t stop until I was thoroughly defended.” Brandy kneeled in front of Reardon, her mane of hair sliding over her shoulder like a crimson wave of silk. “I dub thee Alator, after the Celtic god of war. You showed great courage against the enemy.”

  Alator? If Reardon could have smiled in wolf form, he would have done it. Reardon McAlator gets named Alator. Maybe he wasn’t the only one to feel a connection. Maybe Brandy felt one to him as well. Such a strong one that she’d guessed his real name.

  “Alator,” Meredith said slowly. “I like it. Very powerful and fitting for a huge guy like this.”

  “What do you say, big boy?” Brandy ran her hand along his muzzle, under his chin, along the edges of his torn left ear. “Do you like your new name?”

  Reardon pushed his nose against her palm, especially loving how her index finger had traced the outline of his imperfect ear. Slowly, he rose to all fours, holding his injured one up a little. He bowed his head then gently touched it to her forehead. He wished he could talk to her, but this was the closest he could get to saying thank you.

  “Oh, he’s kind of a sweetie, isn’t he?” Meredith laughed. “Let’s hope Hank doesn’t find that out.”

  Brandy hooked her hand around the back of Reardon’s neck and nuzzled his left ear with her nose. She sat back and traced the jagged tip of that ear with her index finger again, making Reardon let out a soft wolf sigh. “Something tells me Alator doesn’t reveal his softer side to his enemies.”

  Aye. Until today, Reardon doubted he had a softer side, but this lass made him feel things. Things a warrior werewolf had no business feeling. Things he didn’t think he could ignore.

  “Shall we see if he can get along with some of our other residents?” Meredith walked to a window and peered out. “Lug is right here as always.”

  Brandy turned back to Reardon. “Okay, buddy. Time to make friends. If you don’t make friends, you can’t stay.”

  Something in her eyes begged him to make friends. Was it possible she wanted him to stay? What would she do if she knew he was really a man? Would she be happy? Angry? Afraid?

  He didn’t want her to be afraid. He wanted her to keep nuzzling and petting and rubbing, but he also wanted those things in human form.

  The time will come. He could let her be comfortable with his wolf form for a while. He was in no rush. Originally, he’d wanted to get back to Ireland, but what was waiting there for him? His family had been his closest men. They had been banished as he had and even if they hadn’t, they were none too happy with him for what he’d done.

  No. Going home to either no one or a pack of angry wolves didn’t hold half the appeal that staying with Brandy did.

  And so, he allowed her to usher him back into the cage. “Sorry, buddy, but I can’t risk that you’ll go all Alator on poor Lug. He’s not a fighter.” She latched the cage door. “Okay, Mom, let Lug in.”

  A moment later, a medium-sized brown wolf loped over to him, and Reardon could instantly tell this wolf had never seen a day’s battle.

  Lucky bastard.

  Reardon stayed perfectly still while Lug set about sniffing every side of the cage, the wolf’s tail wagging like wild. Lug smelled like damp earth and pine and wet fur. The brown wolf gave off an energy that immediately relaxed Reardon, which was a brand new feeling. Living the warrior’s life rarely brought relaxation. He and his army were always poised for battle, ready to fight at a moment’s notice… or the first sign of a hefty payout. For the first time, Reardon wasn’t concerned with wealth or glory.

  He only wanted to stay with the fairy lass named Brandy.

  Figuring he’d better react in some way to Lug if he wanted out of that cage again, Reardon pressed his nose to the bars and let out a little whine as if calling for Lug’s attention. The brown wolf raised its head and Reardon lifted a paw, letting it rest on one of the bars separating him from Lug. He turned his head and set his green-gold gaze on Brandy, hoping like hell he wasn’t registering as a threat.

  “I think he wants out,” Meredith said.

  “What do you think, Lug?” Brandy crouched by the cage, her arm going around Lug in a way that nearly pulled a growl from Reardon. “Can we trust him?”

  Lug’s front paws slid until the wolf was on his belly beside the cage. Reardon accepted it as the submissive gesture it was, but didn’t take his eyes off Brandy.

  “No one is snarling or pissing to mark their territory,” Meredith said. “I think it’s safe, but I’m not the fancy wildlife biologist, so what do I know?”

  “Mom, you know as much as I do about wolves. You’ve lived here at the sanctuary long enough to have earned an honorary degree.”

  Meredith gave Brandy’s shoulder a little squeeze. “Thanks, honey. Nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you, Dylan, and all these beautiful wolves.”

  Brandy rested her hand atop Meredith’s then unlatched the cage’s door. “Play nice, Alator. A tranq gun is within range if necessary.”

  Slowly, Reardon stepped out of the cage. He paused to let Lug approach, but the brown wolf remained in the submissive position as if waiting for a command from Reardon.

  Hmm.

  Reardon let out a little chuffing bark in invitation and Lug rose to his feet. The two wolves sniffed each other, tails wagging. When Lug trotted off, Reardon wrestled with following, but the wolf came right back with a bag in its jaws.

  “You want to share your snacks with Alator, Lug?” Brandy asked. “What a good boy.” She gave the other wolf a vigorous rubbing, and Reardon had to clench his jaw to keep his razor-sharp teeth from doing something foolish.

  Brandy opened the bag and tossed two biscuits at each wolf. Lug devoured his in an instant, while Reardon crunched on each one as politely as an oversized black wolf could.

  “Well, I’d say he passed the test,” Meredith said.

  “Me too.” Brandy grabbed the blankets Meredith had taken out of the cage earlier and made a nest of them in a corner of the room. She collapsed the sides of the cage and hauled it out of sight much to Reardon’s delight. “He does, however, need to rest that leg before tackling the sanctuary’s woods.”

  Rest. The word was foreign to him. He hadn’t rested in ages. No one had ever insisted that he do so either.

  “C’mon.” Brandy snapped her fingers then pointed to the nest of blankets. “You want that leg to get better so you can run around, don’t you?”

  He wanted it to get better so he could follow her wherever she went.

  Chapter Six

  Two weeks passed in a blur of normal, everyday activity at Silver Moon Wolf Sanctuary. Brandy had kept busy tending to the wolves, entertaining school groups, helping Parker with his college students, and writing four articles for the various science journals and blogs she contributed to.

  But mostly s
he watched Alator.

  The big, black wolf had healed nicely, albeit faster than she’d expected. None of the other wolves she’d worked with had ever recovered from a broken limb in under two weeks, but Alator had. An X-ray Parker took of his leg showed nothing but strong bone. Odd, but Brandy let it go in favor of the notion that the wolf was just a fast healer. Some wolves were like that.

  Right?

  Regardless, in less than two weeks, Alator was checking out every corner of the sanctuary as if he was committing each sector to memory. He sniffed. He pawed at the ground. He pissed along the entire perimeter. He claimed the area as his and the other wolves didn’t seem to mind at all. She’d observed the rest of the pack using a certain kind of reverence when interacting with Alator that she couldn’t quite explain. She’d chalked it up to the fact that the black wolf exuded testosterone and the others had merely accepted him as Alpha.

  Which was beyond odd.

  Alator had been there the least amount of time. The other wolves had been together for years. Even Lug, who’d been quasi-leader of the pack, had deferred to Alator without a fight. It didn’t add up, but so far everything had been peaceful at the sanctuary and Brandy wasn’t going to complain about that.

  She also wasn’t going to complain about letting Alator into her log cabin at night. Since Hank Swift’s threatening visit, she’d been double checking locks, doing perimeter sweeps for traps, leaving outside lights on. She’d called for the security system and that was supposed to be installed this week. That had allowed her a chance to climb back from the edge she’d been on since that bastard had pinned her to the wall in the clinic.

  The nerve. Every once in a while that scenario popped into her head. Okay, okay. Maybe it was more than once in a while. Maybe it was every time she freaking closed her eyes. She could smell the beer on Hank’s breath again. Feel his forearm against her throat. See the veins bulging in his poorly shaven neck. She’d wake up in a sweat, heart racing, hands clutching the sheets.

  And then Alator was there. By the side of the bed. His head resting on the mattress. His ripped left ear twitching. His green-gold eyes visible in the darkness of her bedroom where he insisted on sleeping on the floor. Every night she offered him a comfy bed out in the living room. Every night he turned it down and followed her to her bedroom where he slid down onto the hardwood floor at the foot of her bed. He’d curl up into a tight ball, but she could tell he’d spring into action if necessary.

  Alator offered some comfort with his presence, but Brandy still ended up having nightmares. She got angry about them too. Why the hell should Hank Swift be keeping her up at night? When she drove past his property on the way to her own, goosebumps broke out on her skin. If Hank happened to be outside, he stopped whatever he was doing to narrow his eyes at her as she passed by. Just a look from him chilled her.

  Grr. It pissed her off that a stupid neighbor could screw up her normally balanced chakras.

  As if sensing her unrest now, Alator walked out of the deeper woods toward her, his gait smooth and confident. Brandy yanked several more weeds from the garden she’d been tending under the warm June sun. Every summer she filled the earth with herbs on a patch of land about twenty feet from the log cabin where she and Dylan lived. She loved cooking with the fruits of her labor. Basil, oregano, thyme, rosemary… she could just sit there and breathe it all in.

  But right now a very excited boy nearly knocked her over.

  “Umm… is someone pumped that today was the last day of school?” She pulled Dylan into her lap and covered his face with kisses, which he pretended to wipe off. She knew the day would come when he probably wouldn’t be pretending but instead be completely appalled if she kissed him. For now she’d shower him with whatever affection he would tolerate.

  Alator sat on his haunches and observed as he often did.

  “Today was the best day ever!” Dylan shouted as he wiggled out of her lap.

  “And do we have a report card, Mr. Wendon?” Brandy stood, brushed dirt off her bottom, and held her hand out to the boy with a stern look on her face.

  “It’s called a performance report, Mom.”

  “Oh, right.” What was the difference? Why did the world of education love changing the names of things so much? Brandy could hardly keep up.

  Dylan got to his feet and retrieved the backpack he’d flung to the ground. He stopped for a moment to scratch between Alator’s ears. Brandy loved how the boy and the wolf had bonded during Alator’s time at Silver Moon. When the wolf wasn’t shadowing her around the sanctuary, he was hanging out with Dylan, playing fetch games—which she’d never seen a wild wolf do—or running alongside her son through the woods. It was fun to watch them together. As if they’d been friends for lifetimes.

  “Here you go.” Dylan handed over a large manila envelope with his name on the outside.

  Brandy could tell by the smug look on the kid’s face that he’d done well, which was no surprise. He came from a long line of academic types after all.

  She made a big show of dusting dirt off her hands, adjusting her Silver Moon baseball hat, slowly opening the envelope, and sliding her hand inside.

  “OMG, Mom!” Dylan danced around her. “Hurry up! I gotta show Gram. She promised me an X-Men movie marathon if I had good grades.”

  “Did she now?”

  He nodded. “With popcorn and soda and pizza!”

  “Well, isn’t she a bucket ’o fun?”

  Dylan’s smile widened. “Gram is the best gram on planet Earth.”

  “Truer words have not been spoken.” Brandy ruffled Dylan’s hair with one hand and shook out the folded report card with her other. “Let’s see what we have here.”

  Dylan opened his mouth, but Brandy put a finger to his lips.

  “I need to concentrate,” she said.

  He giggled and went back to where Alator sat. The wolf hadn’t moved a muscle and Brandy marveled over how still he could remain. As if he had all the time in the world to just watch.

  What is he looking for?

  Because, call her crazy, Alator did seem to be looking for something.

  Shaking her head, she focused on Dylan’s report card. Ah, hell. Performance report.

  A smile bloomed on her face as she took in all the “above average” ratings Dylan had received. Oh, Diane. You’d be so proud. If only her sister could be there to enjoy this fabulous boy she had brought into the world.

  Something nudged her knee and she moved the performance report to look at Alator sitting in front of her, his head tilted as if he were about to speak to her.

  “What’s up, big boy?”

  “He’s wondering why you’re crying.” Dylan blinked up at her. “So am I. Aren’t you happy about my performance report?”

  “Oh, honey.” She bent and gathered Dylan in a tight squeeze. “I couldn’t be prouder. You’ve done a wonderful job.”

  “Then why do you look so sad?” Now he looked sad.

  Dammit.

  “I was wishing your mother were here to see what you’ve become.” Brandy held him out at arm’s length. “She’d be so impressed.”

  Dylan chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Are you impressed?”

  “Of course.” She waved the report card. Shit. Performance report. “This is amazing. You are amazing.”

  “Like my real mom? She was amazing too, right?”

  Every now and then Dylan asked questions about Diane, but for the most part, he treated Brandy as his mom. End of story.

  “Your real mom was the best sister a gal could hope for.”

  “You miss her?” Dylan’s hands found their way into the fluffier fur around Alator’s neck.

  The wolf didn’t move as the boy sought comfort from the creature. Brandy wanted to do the same, and she could have sworn Alator’s green-gold eyes were telling her to take whatever she wanted from him.

  But that was silly.

  “I miss Diane. All the time,” Brandy said. “But…” She held up a fi
nger and pointed it at Dylan. “She left a piece of her behind that I get to enjoy every single day.”

  Dylan slid his arms around her waist. “Thank you for being my mom now.”

  “Oh, honey.” Brandy locked her arms around Dylan’s shoulders and kissed the top of his blond head. “It’s my pleasure.” They hugged for a few more moments then she backed up a step to look at Dylan’s face. “Where did that come from?”

  He shrugged in that way ten-year old boys had mastered. “I don’t know. I’ve just been thinking about it lately.”

  “Okay.” She studied him a bit longer and realized he really was growing up fast. “Well, maybe I should thank you for letting me be your mom.”

  A tiny grin turned up his mouth. “Don’t mention it. And if I become President some day, I’ll give you a big room in the White House with space for all these wolves.”

  “I’ll hold you to that promise, kiddo. Here, go show Gram your report card.” She folded it back up and slid it into the envelope.

  “Performance report.” Dylan giggled as he took it and picked up his backpack.

  “Whatever.” She watched him head for the library where Meredith would be hanging out at this time of day. “Hey, Dylan?”

  He turned back toward her.

  “You want to go for breakfast tomorrow morning? You know, to celebrate your geniusness and kickoff the summer?”

  “Can I get the chocolate pancakes?” He arched a brow.

  “Sure. Don’t tell Gram though. You know how she likes us to order the healthy ones.”

  Dylan scrunched up his nose. “Those taste like Frisbees.”

  “And how do you know what Frisbees taste like?”

  “Alator told me.” He looked at the big wolf who had remained by Brandy’s side. “Right, boy?”

  Alator let out a ruff that Brandy took to mean his agreement.

  “What else has he told you?”

  Because this wolf had secrets. In the time he’d been at Silver Moon, Brandy hadn’t been able to find out where he’d come from or how he’d ended up in the woods beyond her borders. She checked all her usual avenues, and no one had any information about a missing wolf.