Unleashed By her Bear by Felicity Heaton

Chapter 8

Rune marched the wolf up the steps to the raised deck of his cabin and opened the door for her. He pushed her inside and closed the door behind him, released her and bent to remove his boots as she wandered deeper into his home. Bringing her into his cabin was a mistake, he knew it, but the alternative had been keeping her outside where Maverick could see her.

And for some godsdamned reason, he had needed to get her away from that male.

Her amber eyes darted over everything, which was to say it darted over his worn green couch, the unlit log burner that stood against the left wall near it, and what amounted to a sink and two cabinets by the window that overlooked the deck.

He had never gotten around to furnishing his cabin, that part of him that still expected Saint to wise up and change his mind about Rune being a member of the pride telling him not to bother getting too comfortable.

His loft bedroom was a shining example of how deeply he expected Saint to kick him out of the pride.

He didn’t even have a bed frame up there. His bed was a double mattress placed directly on the floorboards.

Still, it was leagues better than his previous accommodation, which had resembled the prison cell it was—white concrete walls, a trough in the corner that passed as a toilet, and a thin mattress tossed directly on the floor, because even bolting down a metal frame wouldn’t stop a shifter from ripping it right up and using it on the mortals holding them.

Gods, the number of times he had fantasised about killing them.

An impenetrable layer of toughened glass had been the door of his cell, controlled by electronics, and anyone who had gotten too frisky had been hit with a dose of gas to knock them out and teach them that trying to rise up against their captors was a bad idea.

The humans had taken every precaution when handling them too. Rune still had nightmares about his collar. He rubbed his throat, trying to suppress the memories that crowded his mind. He had hated the collar more than the fights. The hunters had been ingenious, embracing technology as mankind had discovered it, adding things to what had started out as a plain, two-inch-thick steel collar. At the press of a button, his captors had been able to take him down.

He had lost count of the number of times they had used it to keep him in line.

The sharp stab of a needle in his neck to drug him if he disobeyed. A few thousand volts blasted through him if he really misbehaved. The size of the collar alone had stopped him from being able to shift while wearing it.

The only time they had removed it was in the cage.

Another press of a button had released it and given him a taste of freedom and he had been quick to make good use of it against whoever had been in the cage with him.

Partly because he had needed an outlet for his pent-up aggression, and partly because the more non-humans he maimed or killed in the ring, the more lenient the hunters had been on him. A good victory that had left the customers satisfied had often been enough to score him several days of being allowed to wander the halls and use the gym and visit the canteen as often as he had wanted.

When Maverick had been captured, Rune had taken him under his wing and taught him how to get as much freedom as he could while still being held in a compound. Maverick had taken to killing a little too well, was a naturally aggressive male who hadn’t baulked at the bloodshed or sobbed himself to sleep like so many of the other captives. Together, they had risen in status, had gained the respect of most of the shifters in their area of the compound.

And by the time Saint had rescued them, the hunters had given them free run of the place, never bothering to keep them in their cells outside of a few hours a day, letting them go about their business.

Mostly because Maverick had developed a tendency to keep every male in line. The slightest scuffle broke out and he would be there, in the thick of the fight, whether it was between two immortals or an immortal and a human guard. The shifters had learned not to fight when he was around.

“Are you even listening to me, Rune?” A high and haughty female voice dragged him back to the present, and he glared at the wolf as he straightened.

“No.” He kicked his boots aside. “And I don’t appreciate you using my name.”

She glared right back at him for that.

He was going to have words with Maverick later about the fact he had revealed his name to the wolf. He hadn’t wanted her to know it, hadn’t wanted that level of familiarity between them. She had no need to know his name and he had no need to know hers.

“Callie.” She tossed that at him on a black look. “There. Now you know mine and we’re even. Is that better?”

He grunted at her, was close to growling as he cursed her in his mind. “No.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Look. I’m guessing Saint is your alpha and he’s not here, so just let me go. I just need to get to the White Wolf pack. I know their lodge is near here.”

“White Wolf?” Rune scowled at her now. “What business do you have with them? Is that your pack?”

“No. I’m…” Her gaze drifted to the log burner as she rubbed her arm through the black fleece. “I don’t have a pack right now.”

Rune moved to the log burner and Callie shuffled back a few steps, keeping the distance between them steady. She placed the end of the green couch between them and gripped the back of it with one hand as he crouched and built a fire to take the morning chill out of the air inside the cabin.

“Why don’t you have a pack?” He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to get her to answer more questions. He told himself the reason he needed to know that wasn’t because he wanted to know more about her but because it might reveal who was after her and why she was on his pride’s land.

She gave a little shrug. “I’m just between packs.”

She was a terrible liar.

“Why do you want to go to White Wolf then?” He lit the kindling and waited for the flames to catch before closing the door.

When he rose to his feet and looked at her, he thought she might shrug that question off too, but then she sighed and stared beyond him, out of the window near the door.

“I need to get to Rourke. Rourke can protect me.”

Rourke?

Rune wanted to growl at just the name, really wanted to growl when he tried to imagine what kind of male would go with it.

“Protect you from what?” he bit out, a little harder than intended, and she tensed and her gaze darted to him.

The look in her eyes said she wasn’t going to answer that question. “I just need to get to Rourke.”

Rune turned to face her and folded his arms across her chest, mirroring her posture. “You think this Rourke can protect you from whatever you’re running from?”

“I don’t think. I know he can.” She held his gaze, unflinching even when he growled at her.

“So who is after you?” Rune wanted to know the answer to that question most of all, pretended the sudden spark of anger that lit his blood on fire was all about that rather than how Callie kept talking about this Rourke male as if he was some kind of white knight for her. “I want to know who the hell is in this valley, liable to be crossing into my territory.”

“Your territory?” She canted her head, her dark eyebrows knitting hard. “I thought it was Saint’s territory?”

“It’s Black Ridge territory,” he snarled, losing patience. “Extends from here to the glacier… and I have a right to know who is in it when they’re a threat to my pride. Like you.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth flapped open and then snapped closed. The fire in her eyes that had dulled as he had tossed that accusation at her flared back up again, burning brighter than ever.

“I’m not a threat to your pride.” She looked close to stomping her foot or clawing his eyes out.

“I’ll decide that. You crossed into these lands uninvited and bringing trouble on your tail. Had enough of that happening in recent months, so I want to know… who the hell is out there!” His mood faltered, took a swift dark turn as the thought of his pride in trouble again had him spiralling, roused a fierce need to protect his friends. “I’m still not convinced I’m not about to hear a chopper circling overhead and have Archangel soldiers rappelling into the fucking clearing.”

Her eyes shot wide again, and she growled this time as she narrowed them on him, her anger hitting him hard as it rolled off her, pushed his bear side and agitated it, flooding him with a need to fight.

“I told you I’m not with Archangel and it isn’t Archangel who are after me. But fine… don’t believe me. When no hunters show up, you’ll have to believe that.” She hobbled towards the back of the couch, keeping it between them.

When she didn’t stop, kept on limping towards the front of the cabin, Rune barked, “Where do you think you’re going?”

She tossed him daggers. “I’m leaving. Honestly, I should have known better. I’ll find the White Wolf pack myself. At least now I know it isn’t in this valley.”

She had thought the wolves lived in this place? Not a chance. He wanted to laugh at her for her mistake, but a flash of her desperately trying to chew her way out of a snare and how afraid she had been at times hit him hard, silencing him. She was running scared, had probably taken a wrong turn somewhere, and now she was paying for it by having to deal with him.

Rune stepped into her path. “You’re not going anywhere, Wolf.”

“Callie. My name is Callie.” Fire blazed hotter in her eyes, making them glow like an inferno, and rather than backing away from him, she squared up to him.

Brave little wolf, but foolish too. It was dangerous to incite him, even more dangerous to challenge him. His bear side had a hard time differentiating between an enemy and someone who was just pissed at him when it felt challenged, usually ended up viewing everyone as a threat and someone to fight.

He backed off a step as he wrestled with himself and bared his fangs when a light filled her eyes, one that said she thought she had scored a victory, had been the one to make him back off.

“Believe me, Wolf, the only reason I’m backing off is because you’re dangerously close to getting yourself hurt. I’m one bear you don’t provoke.” He flexed his fingers and stared her down, his fangs flashing between his lips as he ground out each word, as he battled the urge to shift and put her in her place.

Never.

He wouldn’t hurt a female.

Couldn’t.

It was a line he wouldn’t cross.

Her throat worked on a hard swallow and she moved back a step. Her gaze darted to the window and then back to him, and she stroked her left arm with her right hand, lightly rubbing it.

Her brow furrowed. “Look. I just want to get to Rourke.”

“Enough with this Rourke guy!” Rune snapped.

The door behind him opened and the earthy scent of Saint hit him, together with the feel of his alpha’s eyes on the back of his head. Rune could feel the silent command in that look, the order to back down and explain what was happening.

Rune curled his fingers into fists and stared at Callie, seething with a need to lash out at her, to make her talk and make her forget the wolf she kept mentioning.

Her amber eyes shifted from him to Saint. “Are you the alpha here?”

“I am.” Saint’s deep voice rolled over Rune, calm and commanding, the sound of it easing some of the tension from him. Saint moved to stand beside him and placed his left hand on Rune’s right shoulder.

That touch was enough to have him backing down because it told him that his alpha was here now and he would deal with things.

Rune released the breath he had been holding and twisted away from Callie and Saint, breaking free of his hold. He paced to the far end of the small cabin, needing some space and some air.

“I need to get to the White Wolf pack. I need to get to Rourke.” Her softly spoken words curled around Rune and worked strange magic on him to calm him further, until she mentioned the wolf again.

“Again with Rourke,” he muttered and felt Saint glance at him.

“Rourke is the alpha at the White Wolf Lodge. The white wolf himself. I know him.” Saint’s dark gaze landed on him again and lingered this time, and when Rune looked at him, he didn’t like how closely the male was watching him, as if he was trying to figure out what was wrong with him. Saint scrubbed a hand over his dark beard in a thoughtful way as his eyebrows lowered. “I think you might have met him once. Tall, good-looking male with white hair.”

Rune grunted, his mood souring further at that, as the picture he had in his head, one he was mentally pummelling, turned into a male with Hollywood looks that made even Lowe and Knox look average.

“They live in the valley next door.” Saint lifted his right arm, his black-and-blue checked fleece shirt stretching tight over his biceps and across his broad shoulders, and pointed towards the mountains east of the Ridge, where Rune had found Callie.

She didn’t look happy when she glanced over her shoulder and then at Saint.

“I was close to reaching them?” Her gaze leaped to Rune and darkened. “I could have reached them by now. I could have been safe.”

“Safe? From what?” Saint frowned at her.

“She won’t tell me. She’s running from something but she won’t tell me what. Keeps insisting it’s not Archangel though.” Rune strode back towards Saint, his eyes locked on her as he ran a hand over his head, just the feel of how closely shorn his hair was hurling him back to his time in captivity.

The bastards had always loved shaving the heads of those they held in the compounds, and while Maverick had managed to shake off the habit of having his hair barely two or three millimetres in length, Rune had gotten too used to it.

Anything longer than that irritated him.

Another change in his personality he couldn’t shake, no matter how hard he tried.

Callie scowled at him. “It’s not Archangel. It’s other wolves. Is there a way to the valley from this one?”

Rune looked at her bruised and bloodied ankle. She wasn’t trekking anywhere with that injury. He lifted his eyes to meet hers again. They shone with determination, with courage he had seen in too many eyes in his time. It never lasted. As soon as things got tough, as soon as it started to hurt too much, that courage would crumble and she would give up.

“Rune can drive you to the White Wolf pack.” Saint refused to look at him when Rune’s gaze darted to him.

“Hell, no,” Rune snapped. “I’m done with her. She can make her own way there.”

Saint slid him a look that said he hadn’t been giving Rune a choice. Rune wanted to fight his alpha on it, didn’t want to be near Callie now that he had done his duty and had brought her to Saint, but in the end he huffed and stomped away from him.

Muttered, “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Callie’s soft voice lured his focus to her. He looked over his shoulder at her and found her looking at him rather than Saint. Her gaze shifted back to the big brunet male. “You don’t know how much this means to me. Rourke can protect me from Carrigan.”

Rune stiffened, every muscle clamping down on his bones, as that name hit his ears.

Carrigan.

That was the manufactured perfume he had scented on her trail—on her. That was why he had been so agitated around her at first, driven to lash out at her and hurt her.

Because she had smelled like that traitor.

Saint scratched his dark beard as his expression shifted towards pensive and Rune knew he was trying to think of where he knew that name from. He also knew the moment the big brunet bear remembered it, because Saint slid him a worried look.

Rune curled his fingers into fists and clenched them so hard that his bones ached and burned, trying to tamp down the urge to lash out at everything in the vicinity as he thought about that wretched male being in the same valley as he was.

“What’s wrong?” Callie looked from him to Saint and back again.

“Nothing.” Saint smiled, an easy one that disarmed the wolf. He stepped towards her and looked her over, concern creasing his brow. “We should be able to get you some clothes. The females here might have something that will fit you. I’ll ask around. In the meantime, you should rest that ankle.”

She nodded and relaxed a little, but then her expression grew awkward and she fidgeted with the sleeve of the black fleece she wore.

“Spit it out,” Rune grunted, aware she wanted to ask for something and was nervous about doing it.

Saint wasn’t liable to turn her down. Besides, Rune wanted to know what she was lacking now. Saint was offering her clothes and an escort, everything she could possibly need.

She scowled at him and then her features softened as she looked back at Saint. “I don’t suppose breakfast is out of the question?”

Breakfast. Just the thought of the bacon he had smelled when coming into the clearing had him salivating and his stomach close to rumbling again. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she might be as starving as he was.

“I’ll get Lowe to bring some over for you.” Saint offered her another easy smile.

Rune resisted the temptation to growl at his alpha as a need surged through him, one he instantly kicked to the curb, because he didn’t want to be the one to bring her breakfast. He didn’t want to be on the receiving end of a smile from her or a look that told him she was grateful to him.

He didn’t want to please her.

When Saint turned to leave, Rune followed him and closed the door behind them as they stepped out onto the deck. He caught Saint’s arm before he could move off the bottom step and the male looked back at him.

Rune warred with himself as he looked into Saint’s deep brown eyes and saw in them that his alpha was waiting, aware of what he was going to suggest. The fact that Saint knew him so well made him feel like a callous bastard, something close to the same brand of wretched as Carrigan was, because he was also about to betray someone to get something he wanted.

No.

This wasn’t a betrayal. Not really. Not in the way Carrigan had operated. The wolf had been a cage fighter too, but had quickly learned to suck up to the humans who had been running the arena, gaining favour with them by snitching on the activities of the other immortals.

Rune had paid a terrible price because of Carrigan, and he owed the male for what he had done to him.

And to Grace.

“She’s done nothing wrong, Rune.” Saint’s deep voice swept around him and Rune almost buckled, almost decided against doing what he felt he needed to do.

Almost.

He owed Carrigan though, and if he could hurt the male by taking something he loved from him, he would do it.

Only he didn’t just intend to hurt Carrigan by taking Callie to the White Wolf pack and Rourke, placing her under the protection of a powerful pack. He intended to lure the male into a trap and kill the bastard.

“I need closure, Saint. You know what Carrigan did to me. You know what he did to Grace. I can’t… I’ll never be able to move on with my life until I bury that part of my past.” Rune ran a hand over his close-cropped hair again and huffed. “I won’t hurt her, but I also won’t drive her to the wolves. I want to lure Carrigan out. I need to deal with him.”

Saint’s dark eyes searched his for the longest time, so long that Rune felt sure the male was going to put his foot down and order him to drive Callie to the White Wolf pack and to forget about getting revenge on Carrigan.

But then the big bear heaved a sigh.

Held Rune’s gaze, the look in his eyes warning Rune not to lose his head in the heat of the moment.

And turned away from him, breaking free of his hold.

“Just make sure she isn’t caught in the crossfire. I don’t need Rourke and a pack of angry wolves coming to bite my ass.”