25. The Black Wolf’s Name

25

The Black Wolf's Name

FLOR

" C areful, little one. I don't want you to fall." The voice in my ear was a whisper, and hard to place. A foreign accent, like the general.

My heart raced, but I knew immediately it was not Ivan. This man smelled like ancient spices, rich and exotic, but slightly familiar.

"Who are you?" I couldn't see him, couldn't move my neck. He shifted slightly, and the magic holding me to the tree fell away.

It had to be the wolf with glowing eyes, shifted into his human form. I tried to turn to be sure, careful to keep my claws in the bark. I couldn't move on my own, but he helped me.

It was the shifter from the fight at Southern. The one who'd brought me the water and sang outside the storm drain.I knew his name, but my mind was buzzing as if the magic that had held me had numbed my thoughts, and I couldn't remember it. I remembered his voice, though. "It's you."

"Yes, little one," he murmured. "It is I." He ducked his head in a sort of bow.

Before I could think about it, I had returned the gesture. It felt like some sort of formal recognition. But of what? "Did you... follow me here? From Southern?"

He nodded. "May I carry you down?"

"Yes." I wrapped my arms around him, piggyback-style. Against all common sense, I trusted him, although a cold breeze came up when we touched, and I shivered all the way down the trunk. It was odd. The wind wasn't blowing now, but the sensation of a breeze moving around me, and an icy, sharp pleasure raced along all my limbs, bring every part that had been numbed back to life.

Curious, I shifted against his skin, then became aware of his length hardening as it bumped against my calves. He gave an odd grunt once we reached the bottom, mumbled a word I didn't recognize, and shifted me higher on his back. An odd, twisting need started up in my core, making me clench.

Down, hussy, I chastised my wolf, who had gone quiet except for some very questionable muffled pants. I needed to put some space between my slutty wolf nature and this far-too-powerful, naked stranger. "You can put me down."

"In a moment." He stepped us away from the gory scene; the ground near the tree was saturated with blood.

"Is Ivan dead, the wizard?"

He scoffed. "Wizard, pah. He's nothing. A tool in the hands of far greater evil. He is gone, I'm afraid. But your friend is safe. I had to choose whether to track the magic thief, or return so your friend could breathe again." He set me down at last, and gestured to a dark form, crumpled on the ground. "I can always hunt the thief another night. Anyway, I thought you'd prefer this one to live."

Glen. I raced to his body, rolling him over. "He's not waking up!"

"A healing sleep," the man explained. "Leave him a moment. I'm sending energy into him through the earth."

"Healing him?" I turned away from Glen to see if he was saying some sort of spell, and froze. Holy shit. The black wolf looked like some sort of old-fashioned prince, his bearing unquestioningly regal, even though he was naked. Power practically radiated from him in an invisible haze that teased my senses.

He was shorter than Finnick and Glen, but still a few inches taller than me. His muscles were chiseled and perfect, like a sculpture from Ancient Greece. My eyes dropped below his waist. I was pretty sure he'd need more than a few fig leaves to cover that up.

I gulped and focused on his face.

His eyes were dancing, aware I'd been checking him out. "Thank you, little one. It is nice to know you are attracted to an old man like me. You have so many young ones."

"Old?" I had no idea what he meant about me having so many young ones. My eyes moved to his dark hair. There were a few silvered strands here and there. "You can't be much older than... forty?"

He laughed, and the sound was as musical as his singing had been. "Oh, my little flame, I am much too old for you." But his eyes told me he didn't believe that or didn't care. "Come, let me heal those scratches now. Then we will wait together for the rest of your suitors."

"Suitors?"

Silent, he held out a hand and led me toward the lake. Though it meant leaving Glen to sleep there, I was glad. I didn't really want to stand around barefoot near the remains of the slaughtered rogue pack. I trusted his promise that Glen would be fine, and I could see this stranger better in the moonlight. Though he didn't feel like a stranger at all.

"So, um, you killed all those wolves?" He shot me a questioning look. "I mean, of course you did. I just, I closed my eyes so I didn't see the, um, battle. I was worried you were going to die."

He grinned, placing his hands on the bleeding gashes where the general had scratched me. They were mostly healed, but he sent a small pulse of magic into me. I tried not to react, since it didn't just go to my tiny wounds, but everywhere .

I squeezed my thighs together slightly, and his grin grew wider. "I am glad you were concerned. But you should not fear, those wolves were no match for someone like me."

The strange thought I'd had earlier popped back up. He definitely had that dark prince vibe. "Are you... I mean, you are a shifter, right? Not like, a vampire or something?"

His eyes flew wide. "What an imagination you have." He grabbed my hand and kissed it. My body broke out in shivers as that sudden cold wind feeling started back up. He frowned when an actual wind blew around us. "I cannot stay long. Others are coming soon. Not your suitors."

"I can't hear anyone." It was more of an accusation than a statement. "You sure you're not a vampire?"

"I can feel them. Can't you?" His dark eyebrows rose, as if I'd surprised him.

"No," I said. Wait. I felt something shiver inside. Or was it on the outside, where his hand touched me? "Maybe." I grabbed his hands again. "Don't go. I need... I need something."

As I held onto his hands, the cold wind died down and a vibration under my feet began, making me lean into him. I grabbed hold of his arms as it grew stronger, my chest pressing up against his, that bronzed skin softer than satin, the muscles underneath hard as iron.

Without meaning to, I uttered a soft moan. His hands wrapped around me as he let out a soft word in some odd language, and everything around us started shaking in earnest. Was it an earthquake? I'd never felt one before, but I imagined it would be like this. Pinecones began falling from the trees around us, and a pleasurable rumble began deep inside my core.

"What's going on?" I gasped. He pulled his hands away, mumbling more words in that foreign tongue. Suddenly, the tremors stopped. "Was that an earthquake? Did... Did we do that?"

"Oh, little behrserk , when we come together, the earth will indeed move."

My cheeks flamed at that. "What did you call me? What does that mean?"

He smiled mischievously, but didn't answer. "I'll tell you someday."

My heart lurched. "Wait, what's your name?"

He brushed a strand of hair away from my face, his thumb moving along my hairline, leaving a trail of icy heat. "Your other mates know me as Joaquin."

Other mates? I glared. I was just wrapping my head around the idea of having one mate… even though I knew Luke and Glen were probably somehow connected to me as well. But this guy, too? "You'd better not be saying what I think you are."

He laughed. "My name is Grigor Dimitrivich, and I will see you soon. At Southern, yes?"

"Southern?" I was confused. "Why?" I was never going back there.

"The mate called Luke, the useless, broken one you left there?" He spat to the side, saying without words what he thought—of Luke or of Southern, I wasn't sure.

"I know Luke Callaway, but he's not my mate."

He blinked slowly. Both of us could hear the tinny ring of untruth in my words. "I can understand your hesitance. He is diminishing. You can choose to leave him to it, but I fear your kind heart would not rest easily with that decision. And your wolf may mourn."

My heart constricted. Mourn. Diminishing. What was Grigor talking about? "Have you seen him?"

He shrugged, walking to the shoreline. "I had some work to do at your old pack."

"Work?" He stepped into the water, wading up to his waist. What was he doing? Washing off the blood? "What kind of work? Were you helping Luke?"

"No," he said, his eyes glittering. Deep in his pupils were sparks, both red and blue, like shining stones at the bottom of a dark lake. "I left you a courting gift at Southern, little one. And a mating gift at Northern, for you and your Mountain mate. I hope you enjoy them both." He hummed a few bars of a tune that was instantly familiar.

"Wait—" I called out.

He didn't wait. Before I could ask anything else, he dove under the surface and vanished, not even leaving a ripple. I watched the lake to see where he would come up for a breath, to track him somehow... but he never reappeared.

I knew he hadn't drowned. He was too magical. And like he'd said, I could feel him. In my heart. His name felt like a secret for me alone.

Grigor. His name is Grigor Dimitrivich.

It wasn't until much later that I realized he hadn't answered my question about what he was. He'd used magic like a witch or wizard, but shifted into wolf form. He'd comforted me, but was a ruthless, slightly unhinged killer.

It really wasn't fair for one guy to have all the goods.

Other mates, he'd said. Hmmmm.

Curiosity burning through me, I sat by Glen's side as he slept and healed, waiting for our rescuers.

It didn't take long. Thirty minutes later, when the pink sunrise had covered the lake, four wolves emerged from the nearby trees. When I didn't recognize them, I jumped to my feet, ready to protect Glen with my claws if I had to—if I could get them to come out again. My wolf was exhausted, and I wasn't sure she could help us now.

But one of the wolves transformed quickly into a man. "Patrick," I gasped.

He scanned me quickly, but kneeled beside his brother, checking his pulse and breathing. The other wolves stayed in fur, padding around the lake with their hackles up and their noses busy sniffing. I knew they smelled Grigor.

"There's no one here," I said, then gasped as I remembered. "But there's going to be an attack on Northern. A bomb—they've got a key from Vanessa, and they're going to bomb the Lodge!"

"Understood. Erik, tell Mom to call Sergeant." Patrick sent two of the wolves to run back, then picked Glen up. "We need to hurry, and scoop up Brand and Finn on the way."

"Are they?—"

"Unconscious, but healing. Mom's with them. Flor, can you run? Steven can shift if you need to be carried."

I was already shaking my head when Glen whispered, "Don't… touch her." Patrick raised an eyebrow. I sneered, then followed them, running as fast as I could, grateful that the callouses I'd developed at Southern hadn't entirely faded.

Brand and Finnick had already been loaded into a dark gray van. Patrick handed me some black sweats from a pile in the back of the van, then threw some on as well. The Enforcer who had loaded the guys up explained that Margarette and Erik had taken her car back to the Lodge.

"Did they stop the rogues?" I asked as I followed Patrick into the back of the van, wedging myself in between the furry wolf form of my mate, and the naked one of Finnick. They both had marks all over them, wounds from what Patrick explained was some kind of magical net.

The other Enforcer started the van, driving fast, and Patrick leaned against the side of the empty cargo bay, obviously exhausted. He still mustered a smile. "If you touch Brand, it should help him heal faster."

I didn't need to be told twice. I wrapped an arm around my mate's neck, and when the van bounced over a pothole a few minutes later, I grabbed Finnick's bare arm as well. Patrick didn't say anything about it, but his eyebrows rose as Finnick's wounds started to heal fast enough to see.

I didn't have time to think about what that might mean, since the driver took a call a few seconds later. It was Margarette.

"We've secured the Lodge, but they bombed the compound."

My heart raced. How many of the shifters I'd trained with, how many of the unranked wolves who I'd only begun to get to know, had been hurt or killed?

Patrick shouted over the seat, "Mom, is it safe for us to come back? Should I take Glen and the others to the city instead?"

Her voice was raw. "No, get them home. They'll be needed here."

We rode in silence. Brand woke just before we reached the Lodge, and tried to change, but it was obviously agonizingly painful.

"Please, don't. I can hug you just as well like this." He laid his massive head in my lap and whined as we bounced down the long drive. I couldn't see a thing as we pulled up to the Lodge, but I could smell smoke and hear shouting.

Northern's safety had been shattered.