Before my vision clears, I spring up again, snarling, fully expecting attack from the wolves closing in from all directions. A blur of white fur flashes in front of me. I lunge on instinct, then whine and twist away so fast I skid out on the blood pooling on the marble.
Sedona.
Somehow, my white wolf is here, fangs bared, feet planted in front of me.
No, it can’t be. This is some hallucination. Did I die from the gunshot wounds?
I scramble back to my feet, vision swimming. A tight circle of fur and legs closes around us only-can it be?-the wolves are facing out, away from us. They’re protecting their alpha and his mate.
His pregnant mate.
I snarl with a furious need to protect her when I realize the change in Sedona’s scent. I spin in a circle, checking all around for danger, but we’re completely protected. She growls at my side, fucking magnificent. Bigger, healthier than any wolf here.
The ferocious sounds of wolves fighting to the death reaches my ears but I can’t see over the wall of wolves guarding us. It goes against my nature to let others fight for me. I nip at the flanks of my guards to get through and they reluctantly fall back, dropping to their bellies as I pass to show deference.
The terrace teams with wolves and those in human form, who cannot shift. Every pack member must be here, the mines and fields empty. Dead bodies strew the terrace. One, two, three… nine. All the councilmembers, minus Don Santiago, who hasn’t returned from Europe. Some of their closest lackeys and guards. Others are being chased away by small packs, the whine and yip of the hunt carrying away from us now.
My body is weak, but I’m careful not to show it. I sit on my haunches and howl. Voices lift all around me, mating with mine, answering my call. Gratitude pours from my being as the sense of oneness, of pack, of family joins us all.
I wheel around and limp back to Sedona, who’s still trying to nip her way out of the protective ring of wolves. When they see me coming, they once more go down on their bellies and she rushes out, meets me halfway. We whine and lick and circle each other and every wolf there drops down, honoring us.
Their alphas.
If I can convince Sedona to stay.
Sedona
Juanito takes away the bloody towels and spreads a blanket over Carlos. I curl up on the bed with him because it’s the only way I can get him to stay lying down. He refuses to be parted from me, won’t take his eyes off me for a second.
I twitch the blanket higher over his mostly naked form. He did put on boxer briefs in deference to his mother, who insisted on sponging the blood from him. She appeared lucid to me, although she did babble a lot about a wolf fight that I think must’ve been in the past.
Carlos reaches for me, and I nestle closer so he doesn’t have to move. “Just lie still and let your body take care of the bullet wounds,” I chide.
Shifters have incredible healing capabilities, but in such a serious case like Carlos’, with major blood loss, it takes a few days of rest. Or at the very least, a night.
We’re nose to nose and he strokes my hair back from my face, leaning his forehead against mine. “Mi corazon, I feared I’d never be this close to you again.”
“What does corazon mean?”
“My heart. You are my heart. What made you come here?” He strokes a hand over my hip. “Did you come to tell me about our pup?”
I shake my head, experiencing a pang of guilt at keeping that from him the whole time we were in Europe. “Carlos-” I stop, unsure how to tell him what I learned.
He stiffens, like he thinks I’m breaking up with him-again.
“I met a shifter from your pack. She told me the council killed your father.” I blurt it out quickly, so he won’t have to suffer any suspense.
He nods gravely.
“You knew?”
“No, I discovered last night that my mother believed so. I now think the council drugged her to keep her quiet. I planned to take her to the city today to see a human psychiatrist. I don’t know how much permanent damage has been done, but I’m hoping there’s a chance her mental faculties can be restored.”
“Were all the councilmembers killed today?”
“All but one-Don Santiago, who we saw in Barcelona. He’s still away, but I’ll deal with him when he returns. He’s the one who’s been stealing from the pack.”
I rub the place my arm had been pricked again. “I think he drew blood from me there.”
“What?” Carlos surges upright and I have to tug him back down to the mattress.
“When you were talking to him, these humans jostled up against me and something poked my arm. I think he was testing to see if I’m pregnant.”
Carlos’ grim face pales. “Santiago… playing doctor with my mother. With you. Interested in gene mapping. Healthy young wolves disappearing from this pack-like Juanito’s brother and father. Huge amounts of money disappearing… Could he be the so-called Harvester?”
I shiver involuntarily. “There were lots of cages in the warehouse where I was held. Many wolves had been prisoner there. And they took my brother and his pack mates prisoner rather than killing them. You think he’s… experimenting on shifters?”
“I do.” Carlos surges off the bed and onto his feet.
Fates, he’s pushing himself too hard. “Carlos, wait. He’s not here now-it can wait. Or do what you need to do in bed. With me.” I add the last part on and waggle my eyebrows and his expression softens into a smile. He sinks back down onto the bed. “Well if you put it that way…” His palm lands right on my ass and he squeezes a handful.