the panels to cover about three quarters of the pool. As she did, the light dimmed.
After draping what looked like a black tarp over the boards covering the pool, Cleo settled beside her. She drew the blankets back enough to check on the sleeping baby, gave January a thumbs-up sign, and sat back, unblinking gaze focused on the narrow opening that served as a door to their small grotto.
Time slipped by. January watched the entrance for a while but eventually shifted her gaze to the sliver of water still visible. With a start, she realized what it was.
A Moon gate.
The Moon gate, which anchored these wolves to the Peace River Falls.
She gave Cleo a nervous glance but the other woman wasn’t looking at her. She was rising to a crouch, her fingertips touching the stone floor. Movement in the shadows of the entrance drew January’s gaze and Cleo stood as two wolves staggered into view.
She instinctively knew neither shifter belonged to her. Their curious sniffs, followed by the dismissive looks they gave her, confirmed the feeling.
A third wolf followed them in and January knew him almost before she saw him. Anders circled the pool and came straight to her, ears lying against the sides of his head as he sniffed around her shoulders. He touched his nose to her neck before using it to brush aside the blanket and bare her breast.
She swallowed, tense, unsure whether to hide the child or pass it to Cleo, but Anders made the decision for her. He licked the inner curve of her breast, then grasped the blanket with his teeth and moved it back into place.
Instead of joining Cleo and the other two wolves, Anders pressed up against her side and settled his head on her legs. His eyes remained open, alert, and eventually hers fluttered shut.
6
The forest stank of blood.
Death.
The foul odor oozed into the soil, stained the last snow of winter, and clung to the men stealing through the trees.
Beck turned his face away from the broken, savaged remains draped over his shoulder. A bag of meat and bone, not fit to eat and too dangerous to bury.
“We’ll put them in their own vehicles,” he said to Smoke, who carried two bodies over his own massive shoulders.
Smoke nodded, his head lowered, gaze trained on the ground as they made their way down from the mountainside they’d desecrated with the three hunters’ blood. “I’ll get you hooked up with someone who can put them on a freighter, dump them where they won’t be recognizable by the time they’re found.”
Beck accepted that plan with a grunt.
An ocean dump didn’t sit well with him, but eighteen bodies and five SUVs were too many to worry about the environmental repercussions. He couldn’t leave any evidence that would lead human investigators back to the river.
Bad enough they wouldn’t be rid of hunters now. The Headless Wolves weren’t a tight-knit league of brothers on a global scale but they were organized enough to keep coming once they started. Especially if the first wave didn’t return.
If the Guardians were any other pack settled down anywhere else, they could pull up the few stakes they’d planted and move on. The Moon gate anchored them, though, and retreat wasn’t an option.
Smoke stopped walking and raised his head, his features fiercely attentive as he scanned the forest. Taking Smoke’s cue, Beck stilled as well. He looked to his right and saw it.
The misshapen animal had fallen across a downed tree. Or brought the tree down with it. Beck lowered the body he carried to the ground and approached the unconscious beast that could only be Prince.
Shallow, gurgling breaths lifted its chest. Blood matted thick black fur. Beck signaled Smoke, who dumped his burdens and circled around until he and Beck stood with Prince’s unconscious form between them.
“I can’t believe he’s still alive.” Beck crouched well out of range of Prince’s head and examined him.
Blood stained the patchy snow that hadn’t melted from his body heat
After draping what looked like a black tarp over the boards covering the pool, Cleo settled beside her. She drew the blankets back enough to check on the sleeping baby, gave January a thumbs-up sign, and sat back, unblinking gaze focused on the narrow opening that served as a door to their small grotto.
Time slipped by. January watched the entrance for a while but eventually shifted her gaze to the sliver of water still visible. With a start, she realized what it was.
A Moon gate.
The Moon gate, which anchored these wolves to the Peace River Falls.
She gave Cleo a nervous glance but the other woman wasn’t looking at her. She was rising to a crouch, her fingertips touching the stone floor. Movement in the shadows of the entrance drew January’s gaze and Cleo stood as two wolves staggered into view.
She instinctively knew neither shifter belonged to her. Their curious sniffs, followed by the dismissive looks they gave her, confirmed the feeling.
A third wolf followed them in and January knew him almost before she saw him. Anders circled the pool and came straight to her, ears lying against the sides of his head as he sniffed around her shoulders. He touched his nose to her neck before using it to brush aside the blanket and bare her breast.
She swallowed, tense, unsure whether to hide the child or pass it to Cleo, but Anders made the decision for her. He licked the inner curve of her breast, then grasped the blanket with his teeth and moved it back into place.
Instead of joining Cleo and the other two wolves, Anders pressed up against her side and settled his head on her legs. His eyes remained open, alert, and eventually hers fluttered shut.
6
The forest stank of blood.
Death.
The foul odor oozed into the soil, stained the last snow of winter, and clung to the men stealing through the trees.
Beck turned his face away from the broken, savaged remains draped over his shoulder. A bag of meat and bone, not fit to eat and too dangerous to bury.
“We’ll put them in their own vehicles,” he said to Smoke, who carried two bodies over his own massive shoulders.
Smoke nodded, his head lowered, gaze trained on the ground as they made their way down from the mountainside they’d desecrated with the three hunters’ blood. “I’ll get you hooked up with someone who can put them on a freighter, dump them where they won’t be recognizable by the time they’re found.”
Beck accepted that plan with a grunt.
An ocean dump didn’t sit well with him, but eighteen bodies and five SUVs were too many to worry about the environmental repercussions. He couldn’t leave any evidence that would lead human investigators back to the river.
Bad enough they wouldn’t be rid of hunters now. The Headless Wolves weren’t a tight-knit league of brothers on a global scale but they were organized enough to keep coming once they started. Especially if the first wave didn’t return.
If the Guardians were any other pack settled down anywhere else, they could pull up the few stakes they’d planted and move on. The Moon gate anchored them, though, and retreat wasn’t an option.
Smoke stopped walking and raised his head, his features fiercely attentive as he scanned the forest. Taking Smoke’s cue, Beck stilled as well. He looked to his right and saw it.
The misshapen animal had fallen across a downed tree. Or brought the tree down with it. Beck lowered the body he carried to the ground and approached the unconscious beast that could only be Prince.
Shallow, gurgling breaths lifted its chest. Blood matted thick black fur. Beck signaled Smoke, who dumped his burdens and circled around until he and Beck stood with Prince’s unconscious form between them.
“I can’t believe he’s still alive.” Beck crouched well out of range of Prince’s head and examined him.
Blood stained the patchy snow that hadn’t melted from his body heat
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