Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(55)

Not long ago, she’d caught the faintest trace of a shifter. A werewolf had urinated on a bush in a cool, moist grotto sometime in the past. No other scent markers remained. Perhaps he’d only been on a training hike. Still, maybe the shifter-soldiers had been here less than a month ago.

Maybe their camp was somewhere near here, perhaps closer to the main highway. Tomorrow she’d work her way south toward Highway 20.

Lifting her nose in the air, she sniffed. Again. The chill air off the mountain glacier held a tang of conifers and a green fragrance from the moss on the bank. And then the compelling wild fragrance of shifters drifted to her.

She’d found them. As her heart set up a jubilant tattoo against her ribs, her nose lifted higher.

Oh, no, no, no.

Not her brothers, but the Cold Creek males on search. The scent was Owen’s. And Gawain’s. Was that Donal? Another male was there—the one from Seattle. Four males—none of them would be happy to see her.

For one second, she considered fleeing. Then her ears caught the sounds moving quickly toward her. They’d already caught her scent and were tracking her.

With an unhappy sigh, she sank back down. As the human hostages would have said, she was so screwed.

First into the clearing was a huge, darkly golden cougar. Owen. Tynan—the wolf—was behind him followed by a sleek, tawny cougar. Donal? Loping easily, Gawain brought up the rear.

All of them shifted at the same time. Four males stared down at her.

“Weren’t you told not to leave the Cosantir’s territory?” Gawain asked, brows together.

Answering questions meant she’d have to trawsfur to human form. She hesitated. After her years among humans, she was beginning to doubt that she’d ever be completely comfortable when naked.

Donal didn’t appear upset, but Tynan and Gawain were annoyed. And Owen…even the air around him was trying to escape his irritation.

There was no escape. She trawsfurred to human and remained on the ground, arranging her legs to shelter her private parts and crossing her arms over her breasts. “No one said I couldn’t leave. I mean, I know it would be bad to be around humans before my control improves. But I only lose control when I’m in human form. So I stayed in cougar form all the way here and avoided any human areas, and even if there were humans around, they’d simply spot an animal that belongs here.”

Owen made a growling sound.

“Darcy, what would happen if you got hurt?” Donal asked quietly. “Branches fall. Cliffs give out. Poachers shoot. There are reasons why Daonain leaving the territories try to travel in pairs.”

Well…he had a point. She opened her mouth to apologize.

Owen studied her and then shook his head.

She flinched at the disappointment in his gaze.

Gawain’s face was grim; Donal’s usual smile was absent. Tynan looked pissed. She’d obviously screwed up really, really badly.

Everything in her cringed, wanting to hide and… She felt the magic and a second later, saw her furry forelegs. Paws. Her tail twitched. She’d trawsfurred. By accident.

Oh, Mother of All. Shamed completely, she shifted to human, wrapped her arms around her waist, and tried to find the words to apologize.

Owen glanced at his brother. “I’ll guard the camp.” And without looking at her again, he walked away, shifting to cougar as he slipped into the underbrush.

Darcy blinked back tears. He couldn’t even stand the sight of her.

Once again, she’d messed up. Bad. Nonetheless, she wasn’t a cub to break down and bawl. “I—” She steadied her voice. “I’m sorry. You’re right—I didn’t allow for the possibility things might go wrong. I didn’t mean to cause trouble or endanger anyone.”

“I know, sweetling.” With a sympathetic nod, Gawain moved away and started picking up firewood.

Donal leaned against a tree, face unreadable.

Tynan, though, still stood over her. Like many shifters of Gaelic heritage, he was tall, big-boned, and broad-shouldered. His long face was clean-shaven with a square chin. His light brown hair was cut military short, reminding her of the Scythe guards. “Right, do you remember me from Seattle? Tynan, Donal’s littermate.”

“I remember. I hoped to see you in Cold Creek so I could thank you again for the rescue.” Darcy frowned. If Donal was his brother, why didn’t the healer’s house hold this male’s scent?

“I don’t live in the North Cascades Territory.” His voice was beautiful with a lilting Irish accent. “The God sent me to work in the human city.” Shadows flitted across his face, darkening his eyes. The city wasn’t where he wanted to be.

“But…why?” Why would any shifter want to live among humans?

“Why doesn’t matter here.” His expression hardened. “Do you realize what—”

“Brawd,” Donal said. “Pad lightly. Moonrise is in a few minutes.”

Tynan glanced eastward, and his face changed. Through the forest, the foothills could be dimly seen, lit from behind by the rising moon. “Aye and so it is. This was not the Gathering I had planned.”


Gathering? Absently, Darcy combed the tangles from her hair. That was some sort of moon celebration, wasn’t it? “It’s a full moon tonight?” When she was a cub, her mother had always left the house on full moon night to go to a “grown-up party”. Did Cold Creek have similar celebrations?