"And Nafarius?" Dimitri carefully turned the page, gently smoothing his hand across the book.
"He and his mate appear to be getting ready for winter." Craig said. Nothing like adding a little gasoline to the fire. The mention of the male and his mate was sure to aggravate the old alpha.
Dimitri's pencil snapped. Carefully, he set it aside and reached for a new one.
"They prepare to hunt?" After nearly eight hundred years as alpha, Dimitri could predict the other male's moves with ease.
Craig nodded, though Dimitri had yet to look up from his book. What exactly was he reading? Tilting his head slightly, Craig tried to get a look at the book. The margins were riddled with notes, illegible scribbles too cryptic for him to make sense of.
"Most of the males will be spread out across the territory," Craig pointed out.
"Hmmm..." Dimitri stared down at the page.
Lost my place
. The words tilted, bunching closer together and overlapping each other as they slowly slid off the paper.
Can't read when they're on the floo
r.
Craig watched as Dimitri bent down to look at his feet. No, the alpha was staring at the floor.
Patiently, he waited. Craig had learned to give it time. Eventually, Dimitri would snap back, his thoughts clear once again. For the moment.
It took considerably longer this time for Dimitri to gather his thoughts, his focus once again on the book on the table.
"Do we attack?" Craig asked. "With the males gone, the den will be lightly guarded, we can - "
"No." Dimitri cut his beta off. Incessant chatter, so many words...so little to say. "I have something else in mind."
****
Roland found Natasha waiting for him outside, her red hair floating on the breeze like a beacon. As he watched, she lifted a hand, catching a wayward strand and tucking it behind her ear. No sooner had she let go then the same strand sprung free.
Enchanted, Roland watched as every so often she went through the same motions, the act subconscious as she watched the going-ons around her. Eventually, she gave up, leaving her hair floating around her face. Roland decided he liked it better that way, wild and free.
Leaving her for the moment, Roland crossed the clearing. Marcus and some of the other males were sparring with a few of the young, the exercise more roughhousing than actual practice. Nearby, amused females shouted words of encouragement between bouts of laughter.
Seeing his beta approach, Marcus untangled himself from a set of gangly limbs and jogged over to meet Roland.
"Everything all good?" Marcus asked, his eyes darting to where Natasha stood separate and alone.
"There's not much good about that situation," Roland said. Sam's words of warning rang in his ears, a reminder that Roland didn't really do gentle. "But we'll get it sorted out. How are things out here?"
Marcus smiled, his usual humor lighting his eyes. "These young pups have sharp teeth!"
Roland laughed. "I suspect you're up to the task of teaching them some manners."
"Let's hope so," Marcus said. "Otherwise, you'll never let me live it down."
"It's not me you should be worried about," Roland said. Looking past Marcus, he noted more than one female shooting his friend not-so-subtle glances.
Embarrassed, Marcus shrugged and avoided looking at any of the females. At thirty-five, Marcus was young for a werewolf, having recently come into his maturity and not looking for a mate. But that didn't stop the females, many of who just wanted a run and a romp.
Roland threw back his head and laughed. Slapping his friend on the shoulder, he walked them back towards the others. "Don't let these young pups see you blushing," Roland advised. "It's worse than letting them see you sweat."
Natasha watched as Roland left Marcus with the others. Circling back around, he made his way through the pack, stopping to touch or talk to those he passed.
He's checking on them, she realized, watching as Roland separated himself from the pack and started towards her. Clad in jeans and a t-shirt, Natasha found herself unable to look away, her attention caught by his long legs and the loose way he moved. He moved like the predator he was, his body was power in motion, and all of it bearing down on her.
Roland reached Natasha, stopping a few feet in front of her. "Sorry that took so long."
"It's okay," Natasha said, staring up at him. She felt the press of him, his big body towering over her. Such strength could easily be used to destroy. Her eyes flickered to the pack spread out over Roland's shoulder.
He uses it to protect
. Searching his face, seeing the way he watched her, Natasha realized that - for now - he considered her one of his to protect. For a being as strong as she was, feeling protected was a novel sensation.
"Nafarius is organizing the last hunt of the season, I wanted to get Marcus started before we left." He had no idea why he was explaining himself to her.
"Which one is Marcus?" Natasha asked, curious. She'd only met a few of the other pack members on her previous visits, Craig insisting they were there on business, not pleasure.
Roland glanced back at his friend. "The one currently getting his ass handed to him by a ten-year old."
Natasha smiled, watching the males.
Roland felt his hackles rise and his wolf stir.
I want her to smile at us like that
.
As if reading his thoughts, Natasha looked up at Roland, sharing that smile with him. "Marcus must be a fine male, letting the little one win."
Roland grunted. "Michael is likely winning fair and square."
Natasha laughed, her eyes sparkling with humor.
Roland liked her laugh, and wondered how to go about hearing it more often.
"Sam said there's a stream nearby?" Natasha held up the bundle, shaking it slightly.
Roland ignored the reminder, his eyes passing over her face. He noted the paleness of her skin, the dark circles beneath her eyes and the lines of strain surrounding her mouth. More than just tired, Natasha looked like she was walking a fine line between holding it together and coming apart.
How much had it cost her to try taking down her father? She'd obviously paid with blood, but how much of her soul had she lost?
"Give me that," Roland ordered, taking the bundle from Natasha and tossing it aside.
"What - ?" Natasha started. Like the dress, the toiletries had been a thoughtful gesture. She wouldn't have Sam thinking them unappreciated.
"I want to show you something," he said, tugging her towards the forest.
****
Sam stepped out of the den in time to see Roland disappear with Natasha into the forest. The bundle she had prepared lay on the ground as they headed away from the stream.
Well, shit
.
Sensing her concern, Nafarius slid his arms around his mate and pulled her back against his chest. "He'll take good care of her."
"It's not Natasha I'm worried about." Sam hadn't known Roland long. Out of everyone, Nafarius' beta had been the most resistant to Sam's presence among the pack. She thought she'd understood, his hostility stemming from the fact that she had been human.
"Roland?" Nafarius asked, not surprised when his mate picked up on their beta's distress. He'd known Roland for so long that he'd come to accept the subtle disturbance that existed along the pack bond. "He'll be fine."
Sam leaned her head back against her mate's shoulder. "I'm not so sure."
Nafarius frowned after his beta. "He's been with me for thirty years, there isn't anyone I trust more."
"I know," Sam said. "That's not what I'm worried about."
"Then what?"
"When I called his wolf..." Sam trailed off, the memory still fresh.
"What did you see?" Nafarius was still trying to understand what Sam experienced with her ability.
"He's feral," Sam said quietly. "At the heart, his wolf is wounded and wild and in so much pain."
Nafarius looked towards the place where his beta had disappeared. He knew what he would find if he reached out to the male through the pack bond, Roland's pain was something they had both learned to live with. Nafarius had hoped that time would heal most of the wounds, covering over the emotional scars even while the physical ones remained.
"He needs more time," Nafarius said, wondering how much time would have to pass before Roland would heal from the betrayal he had suffered.
"I wish there was something more I could do." Sam's role as alpha drove her to take care of her pack, but the need went beyond duty. Nafarius and the pack were family and family was to be protected.
Nafarius pressed his lips to the top of Sam's head, offering what comfort he could as they stood together watching the pack. Everyone was busy getting ready for the winter, fall was already here and the snow wasn't far behind.
"Run with me?" Sam asked. The idea of shifting had her rolling her shoulders but running with her mate was worth the pain.
"I can't," Nafarius said, reluctantly releasing his mate. "I need to get the men ready to hunt."
Sam nodded, understanding. A pack their size took a lot of food to feed. Wild game and vegetables grown in the garden were plentiful in the summer but winter was a different matter. Nafarius would organize one last, large hunt to bring in as much meat as possible, and when that was gone, the pack would turn to non-perishable staples that had been brought in from town. They would still hunt for fresh meat but the pickings were likely to get slim.
"I'll see if Maddie wants to go," Sam said. "I'm feeling restless."
"You haven't had much chance to shift," Nafarius said, running his hand down Sam's back and feeling her wolf brushing up against the mate bond. "Just stay close."
Sam turned to her mate, rising up on her toes she took the time to brush a soft kiss across his lips.
"I'll catch you later," she said, her smile nearly changing his mind.
"I look forward to it," Nafarius said, knowing that the brief contact wouldn't hold him for long.
****
Natasha let herself be pulled through the pack, many of them watching her with open curiosity, their eyes darting back and forth between her and Roland. None appeared hostile, their gaze more inquisitive than disapproving.
Roland was oblivious to everything but Natasha, her small hand warm and rough in his much larger one. She held his hand lightly, not trying to take back her fingers even after they entered the trees.
The path leading from the den was wide and well-worn, the brush kept back by constant use. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees, playing a game of light and shadow as they made their way east, quickly moving deeper into Nafarius' territory.
Walking ahead of Natasha, Roland kept up a steady pace, his long legs eating up the distance. She had to admit that she was enjoying the view. The man had a seriously spectacular ass. Natasha wondered what it would be like to unwrap that denim-encased package. She would want to take it slow, she decided, peeling back the wrapping to expose the surprise inside.
Distracted, Natasha failed to notice the path growing narrow and tripped over an exposed root. She reached out to stop her fall, her hand landing on the small of Roland's back.
Roland tensed at the touch, the heat of her hand branding him through his shirt.
"Are you alright?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder without stopping.
"Yep," Natasha answered quickly, her face flushing as she snatched her hand back. "Just a little sore."
Roland swore. "Sorry, I didn't stop and think." The path led them east with a subtle vertical gain, one that a healthy werewolf would barely notice. But Natasha was healing, her body straining to repair damage that would have laid a human up for months.
"I'm okay," Natasha said, and she was. The walk was doing her good. The last thing she wanted was to be cooped up inside somewhere, left alone with her thoughts.
Roland looked back over his shoulder. Natasha had withdrawn her hand and stood watching him. Her face was flushed an attractive pink from exertion but she didn't appear to be struggling with the climb.
Satisfied with what he saw, Roland nodded and turned back to the path. "We're almost there."
Natasha followed Roland for another few minutes in comfortable silence. He didn't seem inclined to talk or ask questions, which she appreciated. But she liked the sound of his voice, the slight lilt at the end hinting at his origins.
"Where are you from?" Natasha asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
Roland pulled up so fast Natasha slammed into his back, bouncing off and scrambling to keep her feet.
"Why do you want to know?" Roland didn't reach to steady her, his fists clenched at his sides as he scowled down at her.
Natasha stared up at Roland and wanted to take back her words. His voice had gone hard, and any evidence of his earlier concern was gone.
"I...you..." Natasha stuttered. "You have an accent, it made me wonder."
Roland was quiet for so long Natasha feared he would call an end to their outing, turning them around and taking her back to the pack's den.
"My original pack settled on the East Coast," Roland said softly, breaking the awkward silence and starting forward once more. Damn, but he didn't want to think about that lot. There wasn't one memory among the many he cared to recall.
"How did you end up here?" The question came automatically, Natasha's desire to know Roland overriding that internal filter in her brain that really should be telling her to keep her mouth shut.
Roland ignored the sudden chill in his bones. She had no way of knowing the images evoked by her innocent question. But telling himself that did little to make Roland feel better. Glancing back over his shoulder, he pointedly looked at the bruises covering Natasha's face and neck. "I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours."