And then I scent a male on the wind. Close. A little more than a yard away.
Yes. He’s dead.
My claws snick through my fingertips, and I relish the pain. It clears the garbage from my mind, the sourness in my gut. It mutes the pain flowing through the bond.
“Come out and fight,” I roar at the shadows.
“Can’t. Hands are full.” Darragh Ryan steps out of the tree line with an armload of venison steaks wrapped in butcher paper.
Fuck.
My adrenaline crashes, and I’m left drained. What have I done?
My shoulders slump. I force down a deep breath. A few of my brain cells start firing again, and I pull myself together.
“Now? This late?” Darragh shows up at strange times, but this is odd even for him.
“I get done when I get done.”
“Kitchen’s closed.” Old Noreen’s definitely passed out.
“That’s why I’m here.”
I grunt, scratch my ribs, and trudge out back for my wheelbarrow. There’s too much meat for my freezer. I’ll have to haul it down to the lodge myself. Which means bringing Una. If she’ll come with me. I doubt she will. She hates me. I can’t blame her. My wolf was out of line.
I was out of line.
We both know it.
And I’m sorry.
And not sorry.
Fate, it’s hard being even this far from her. What do I do if she says she wants to leave?
Of course she’s going to want to leave. She didn’t want to be here in the first place.
Is she hurt? She ripped herself off the knot. I didn’t see a tear or smell blood, but what if the damage is internal? I seek out the bond, feel for pain, but it’s all a kind of—shrieking.
I have never fucked up anything this badly before.
I roll the wheelbarrow to Darragh—who’s wisely staying just outside my property line—and he dumps his contribution with a loud thud. Then he carefully places a thick, double-wrapped package on top. It’s labeled “Mari” in thick black grease pencil.
“You’ll make sure she gets it?” he asks.
His white T-shirt is covered in blood. He peels it off and drops it in the path. His sweatpants follow. He’s become so uncivilized, I’m surprised he can still write.
“You know she throws it in with the rest,” I tell him with maybe more sympathy than I have in the past. It’s not the first time I’ve told him Mari wants nothing to do with his gifts.
Darragh and I go back a long way; I’m real with him. He backed me during my alpha challenges, and more importantly, he didn’t step up to challenge me himself. I would’ve won, but it would’ve been close.
“That’s her prerogative.” He sighs, scrubbing his furry chest. Dude spends so much time as a wolf, a lot of hair stays when he shifts.
“That doesn’t piss you off?”
“She’s well-fed. That’s all I care about.”
“You don’t care what she’s doing when you’re not around?”
A glowing bronze ring appears around his pupils. “You tryin’ to tell me something?”
“No, man, no.” This is my own shit. I don’t need to fuck with his head.
“Does she need anything?” he asks.
“No. She’s got everything she could want.” I snort, remembering the stash of contraband at the lone females’ cabin. “She’s got herself a cell phone and a video game system.”
“Who?” The syllable is a deadly promise, and I recognize the tone.
“Not what you’re thinking. Seems Mari and her roommates have been running an underground honey and mushroom ring. Una’s the ringleader.”
“What the hell?” He’s not as amused as I am. I’ve had time to get over the initial freak out. “They’ve been selling shit? Where?”
“Chapel Bell.”
Darragh groans and rubs his gut. I’ve become familiar with the gesture. Let the acid indigestion begin.
“And you’re letting them?” he asks.
“We’re working it out.”
He raises a thick eyebrow.
“You want to take away Mari’s spending money?” I ask him. “Confiscate her phone?”
“Hell, no.”
“We’re working it out,” I say again. “They’ll be protected.” The statement’s more hopeful than true, but I’ve calmed now. I’m not in the fever of a looming rut. It’s ebbed for the moment, leaving me room to think. To feel.
I threatened her. Dominated her. Scared her.