Scattered Siblings 3: To Mate a Werewolf Page 4

  The way she’d not so much as glanced over her shoulder was new to him. In his experience, women turned clingy once they’d opened their legs. But not Ellie. She was too strong-willed for that.

  Joel hated that he’d stood there like a donkey as she descended the Church Stairs. He’d stared at her swaying hips until she was out of sight. Damn it, I meant to bring her home, not drive her away.

  At least he didn’t need to murder the cook. The platoon had already closed ranks to make the newcomer’s life a misery. The new catering officer, military speak for jumped-up cook, deserved a hard time. The dumbass soldier would pay with bruises and pain. If he’d just kept his fool mouth shut, Ellie wouldn’t have run.

  Joel stalked through the camp. His thoughts centered on Ellie and how he’d driven her away with hot sex and cold words. He’d looked out for her for the last two years and deliberately kept his hands off her tempting body. Whatever simmered between them, they’d tried to convince himself they were more brother and little sister than lovers. Until today.

  When he kissed her, she tasted of sea breezes and spring flowers. When he tasted her pussy, his wolves had gone wild to claim her. Stupid beasts. They think she’s mine. She’d been eager and willing, but he still shouldn’t have screwed her on the cliff top.

  His natural wolf growled inside him. Okay. Fucking her was fantastic, but I still shouldn’t have done it. He’d insulted her twice over, once when he said she wasn’t welcome in his home, and again when he offered her money. Afterward of course, he realized his mistake, and he’d do anything to take back the words that made her feel like his whore.

  He forced a smile and put on a cheery manner as he said farewell to his troops. Inside, he felt sick. How could he have hurt Ellie that way?

  From nowhere, Pamela—a she-wolf from the Tundra Toughs pack—raced into the camp. She shot past him and into the empty mess, then shifted into a long-haired, slender blonde. Five wolves chased after her, ears flattened, eyes alert, and…in good humor. By the time they made it to the mess, she lolled against the door jamb in human form.

  She waved in their direction. “What kept you? See, boys, brain beats bulk any day. Especially since I scouted out that narrow pass yesterday. I knew you lot would never fit through it. I believe that’s a week’s worth of free drinks you owe me.”

  The other Lykae transformed, groused good-naturedly, and headed for the showers. When Joel stepped toward them, they stood to attention and saluted.

  Joel returned the salute. “At ease. Good ploy, Pamela. I’m impressed. Before you head off to the showers, was anyone here close to Ellie?”

  Pamela nodded. “We hung out sometimes, sir. Have you found her? Have you brought her back?”

  Joel blushed. “She’s not coming. Walk with me, Pam. There’s something I need to discuss with you. Dismissed, gentlemen.”

  Pamela retied the turquoise ribbon in her hair. “I thought you were going to sponsor her into the Tundra Toughs. She might not be a shifter, but once the unattached males taste her cooking, she certainly won’t lack for suitors.”

  Joel growled, angry at the thought of his pack mates pawing Ellie. His guilt hit him like a battering ram. He didn’t want her, but he hated the idea of other males—and most of them were all-right guys—courting her either.

  Brotherly protectiveness, he supposed. Yeah, right. Who am I kidding?

  Breathe. Smile. Get Pamela on my side. She’d make him a good lieutenant when she’d served her two-year stint in the forces. He shook his head. “She going to open a cake shop in the mundane world instead. She bribed a recruit with an apple pie, on condition he took her back to Whitby. I need someone to keep an eye on her, and it looks as though you’re it. Of course, I’ll pay you for your time.”

  “Do I detect a guilty conscience, sir? I’ve been tight with Ellie. She’s got guts, and I certainly don’t need paying to be her friend.”

  “Report to me as soon as you hear anything. Dismissed.” He saluted and returned to his quarters.

  Pamela grinned and flashed away. Whitby was a hotbed of otherworld connections, but without magic Ellie couldn’t use them. Again Joel thought Pamela would make a great asset when he took over as pack alpha. Much as he hated the new cook for pushing Ellie away, he hated himself more. If it wasn’t almost the new moon, and Ellie hadn’t run, he’d have kept his cock to himself…maybe. They’d both enjoyed their steaming-hot sex, but he couldn’t sponsor one of his cast-off lovers into this pack. His unknown fiancée would be justifiably pissed if he did.

  Joel needed to finish his final report. Words blurred on the paper, and he kept seeing the hurt in Ellie’s eyes. Had there been tears on her lashes? He hoped not, but he felt certain a dewdrop had shimmered on her cheek. Gods, he’d deserved that slap, but she’d hit him so hard she’d shocked him. He’d hurt her, and it was too late to do anything about it.

  If he could only think straight and get Ellie out of his head, he’d finish this damn report in no time. He gathered up his paperwork and returned to his quarters. Tonight was supposed to be his farewell dinner, but without Ellie to serve it, it would taste like ash.

  Once he’d done his duty to his men, he’d try to sleep, but he knew he’d dream of Ellie. Tomorrow, he was heading home for good. He’d miss all things military, especially his close working relationship with King Caleb. They’d stay friends, formal in public, relaxed in private, but it was time to move on.

  His inner wolves howled at how he’d mistreated Ellie. Furious with himself, he slammed his fist into the wardrobe door. Wood splintered, and his knuckles dripped blood. Crimson spots dotted the floor, but he ignored them and stared out at the camp.

  He had a fiancée to meet and a pack to run. Then why did thoughts of Ellie, with her luminous green eyes and sweet fuck-me smile, turn him inside out?

  “Sod it,” Joel cursed, then balled up his report and started over.

  He’d give anything to go after Ellie and kiss away any tears she cried. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful and that making love to her made his life complete. Engaged man, remember? Dad jumped at a chance to ally with the Desert Marauder pack. Condemned to marry a woman I’ve never met. And it’s my own stupid fault. If he pulled out of the arrangement, it might spark a blood feud between packs.

  He’d driven Ellie away, and that haunted him. There was no way he could he introduce a woman he’d bedded to Olivia Deerstalker, the fiancée his father had found him. Elves’ blood, I’ve never been so trapped or uncertain. He wished there had been another way. Yeah, the way he’d behaved after screwing Ellie definitely hadn’t been his finest hour.

  Pamela should have found her by now. Perhaps Ellie wouldn’t tell her friend the way Joel’s sex drive had overpowered his common sense. Perhaps she’s ashamed she fucked me?

  Damn it, I never meant to hurt her. She deserved a good man, not a halfwit who’d offered to marry someone he’d never set eyes on. Even if he wanted to claim Ellie, and the jury was still out on that, he’d asked his father to find him a fiancée. It had seemed such a good idea back then. Not so much now.

  A pack alpha and an Elf? Not a politically good pairing, but their sex had been a revelation. Besides, there’d never been an Elf like Ellie. Her resilience amazed him, and he hardly noticed her scars. For all he admired her, and surely that’s all it was, he’d made her feel second best. He’d never forgive himself for that.

  Back on the cliff top, his inner beasts had ganged up on him and turned him more wolf than man. Hunting Ellie down and screwing her had calmed them. Much as his human side rued the consequences, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.

  Chapter Five

  Ellie’s kidnappers grinned, and not in a kind way.

  The tall one with the sparse hair taunted. “Don’t worry, the basement locks up tight. How do you feel about spiders and cockroaches?”

  “Spiders don’t bother me,” Ellie shot back, “and the biggest cockroaches aren’t in the cellar.”

  The chu
bby guy frowned as he puzzled out her insult. ”Shut yer mouth, or I’ll make you.”

  She needed to get on their good side, so maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to call this pair cockroaches. Time for another Oscar-winning performance. She bit her lower lip and blinked as if trying not to cry. The men curled their lips in contempt.

  Damn, I knew I should have been an actress. Move over, Jennifer Lawrence. Ellie Paget’s in town. No! I need to stop daydreaming and start leaving. Okay, time to butter up her captors. Eyes downcast, she thought of how Joel had used her, and this time she let a few tears fall. She kept her breathing shallow and stared into the distance. She acted as though she truly feared them, and honestly part of her did.

  There’d be no Lykae rescue this time. Not after the terrible things Joel had said to her. She was on her own here, but Laurel and Hardy were going down.

  She deliberately added a tremor to her voice. “Please, can we call a temporary truce? I’ll clean the kitchen and cook dinner. I’ll even promise not to escape until we’ve eaten.”

  Her captors exchanged glances.

  The thin one nodded. “Break your word; we’ll break your bones.”

  She kept her gaze on the ground. “I won’t give you any trouble.”

  Two hours later, the kitchen surfaces gleamed and a full rack of clean crockery stood beside the sink. When she mopped the floor, she discovered it was gray slate not black. Even the old-fashioned range shone with a fresh coat of polish. The fridge came next on her list, followed by the larder.

  All that manual labor had given her time to think about Joel. Apart from the way he’d dissed her afterward, sex with a man she cared about was amazing.

  She’d give anything to fuck him again. Damn, her panties grew damp just thinking about his fingers caressing her pussy. He’d wanted to screw her, and she’d needed to know how sex felt when she was willing. Astounding. Mind-blowing. Devastating. There just weren’t enough adjectives to describe it.

  Consensual sex—the drug-free sort that touched her soul and warmed her heart—was the sort of ecstasy she’d only dreamed of. At least it had been until he offered to pay her off as if she was his whore. Weep over a user like Joel Blackheart? At a time like this? No way. She blinked hard and sniffed, but once she was holed up somewhere safe and preferably distant, she’d weep a torrent.

  She hoped one day Joel would find the happiness he’d briefly shown her. She didn’t begrudge him it. She just didn’t want to stick around and see it.

  The fridge was cleaner inside than out and surprisingly well stocked. Four steaks, all vacuum packed, sat alongside onions, mushrooms, and tomatoes. Gods, she hated mushrooms, especially when they came in brown bags not supermarket wrappers. Tonight, she’d eat them with a smile on her face and concentrated on getting out of there.

  When she dug deeper into the fridge, she spotted a hunk of blue cheese moldering at the back. Perfect. She even found a bag of potatoes under the sink. She really couldn’t have asked for anything better.

  When Laurel and Hardy trooped back in the kitchen, she forced a smile. “Right, gentlemen, steak and fries coming up. Do you have any garlic? My cheese sauce melts in the mouth, and while it oozes delicious creaminess, it’s nothing without garlic.”

  She swore the sidekick salivated. Even the gunman drooled. You’re in the palm of my hand, guys, and you don’t even know it. Okay, here comes the hard part.

  Still projecting her fear into her voice, she said, “Actually, I spied some wild garlic beneath the hedgerow alongside the drive. Maybe one of you could pop out and pick me some?”

  “Wouldn’t know it if it bit me,” the gunman said.

  “Me neither.” His sidekick frowned and shook his head.

  Ha, she had them. I’m a master manipulator. Maybe I should have been a Bond villain and taken over the world. Or maybe I should concentrate on getting out of here.

  Ellie peered out the window. “That’s a shame. My blue cheese sauce won the catering college’s blue ribbon, but the magic is in the cooking as well as the ingredients. Told you I was a trained chef. Still, I’m sure dinner will be okay without it.”

  She was a trained forager too, but her captors didn’t need to know that…yet.

  The gunman followed her gaze as she stared out the window. “Along the drive, you said? Okay, lady, go collect what you need, but remember I’m right behind you. Do anything stupid, and you’re dead.”

  Ellie grabbed a bowl, table knife, and some scissors as the sidekick unlocked the kitchen door. She hesitated when she put her hand on the door. “Are we good?”

  “Just pick the damn stuff and be quick about it,” the gunman snarled.

  Ellie gathered wild garlic, trimmed a few leaves off a wild sage, and grabbed a few wild mushrooms. She hid them beneath the rest of her harvest. “I’m done, if you’re ready to go back inside.”

  Laurel—or was it Hardy?—motioned toward the door with the gun. He thought he was some sort of mafia hit man. Actually, he seemed so dumb she was surprised the People’s Defense League wanted him.

  Dumb, but dangerous. Never forget he’s the one holding the gun. Ellie picked up her basin and headed back to the kitchen.

  The sidekick locked the back door and pocketed the key, “Try to leave, and we’ll break your legs.”

  The broken-bone stuff was getting boring, but is still scared her shitless. If things went right, she’d be out of here. If she screwed up, they’d hurt her. Been there, done that, guys. I’ve even got the scars to prove it.

  As her captors headed off to the lounge, the gunman stared over his shoulder. “Before you start cooking, you can make us some coffee.”

  Obediently Ellie reached for the kettle. Inwardly she fumed. The Elves had drudges to wait on them. This pair thought they had…her. Well, not for long. Before she grabbed the mugs, the sidekick sprinted into the kitchen and shoved her into the pantry. The one she hadn’t had time to clean yet. It was full of spider webs and probably mice. When she’d pulled out the mop earlier, she’d disturbed a nest of woodlice. This was not where she wanted to be.

  As he shut the door, the sidekick dropped his voice. He sounded furtive and scared. “We’ve got a visitor. Make a sound, and we’re all dead, but I guarantee you won’t die easy.”

  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 espe
cially 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.”