Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(76)

Obviously knowing males, she handed him a handful of tiny muffins that smelled of sausage and cheese.

“You’re a fine female, Breanne.” He popped one muffin in his mouth and heard himself start to purr. Two more disappeared. Then all.

“Here. Go play butler.” Grinning, she handed him a beer and waved him out of her domain.

Sipping his drink, Gawain settled into a chair near the front door. As he thought of his day and the evening to come with Owen, Darcy, and new friends, contentment was a warm glow in his belly. Cold Creek was a fine town, much more to his taste than Pine Knoll.

Maybe because the ratio of shifters to humans was nicely balanced. The humans kept the shifters aware…at least somewhat…of the outside, modern world. In turn, the Daonain reminded humans there was more to life than money and power.

In another few days, he and Owen would move into their house. Gawain stroked his beard and smiled. Being around his littermate had brought him more satisfaction and…rightness…than he’d felt since they’d parted so long ago. Although the breaking of the bond when Edwyn died had hurt, Owen’s departure had been far more painful. Thank the Gods, they were together again.

Then there was Darcy. Gawain wrinkled his brow. The little minx had been avoiding them. At a guess, she was worried about her villagers. She might feel her life was too unsettled to start a new relationship.

Of course, being as she was female and he was male, his guesses as to her reasoning could be completely off the path. The catling needed to share her worries rather than him and Owen trying to guess.

But…she concealed her fears from them. Maybe because the Scythe had isolated the captives, and she’d never learned to share? Or because she was an independent little tinker and a strong female?

Owen wasn’t any better about sharing. Gawain grinned. People teased the cahir about being quiet, grumpy if annoyed, and blunt as any dwarf—yet he had a lot of good friends. As he should. He was strong, brave, honest, and—even if he tried to hide it—incredibly kind.

Darcy had seen through all of Owen’s bluster to the good male beneath. She liked Gawain, too. Gawain nodded. Truly, she cared for them both.

They needed to discuss those worries of hers. It was time to take the next step to starting a relationship, because, once the villagers were rescued, she was liable to up and leave. He was damned if he’d let that happen. She needed to see they wanted her. He’d have to make sure Owen was ready to run that trail at a fast pace.

The three notes of the doorbell interrupted his planning. Time to be the lodge butler.

Gawain crossed the reception area and opened the door.

An older female stood there. She had the palest of blonde hair and brown eyes.

Gawain’s gut muscles flinched as if he’d been stabbed. “Mother.”

“I found you.” Shoving the door farther open, she stalked past him, every inch the annoyed cat. “Why are you here in this scatty town?”

Automatically, Gawain checked the room for breakables that he might need to protect; the lodge was well cubling-proofed—or in this case, angry-Mother-proofed. He could tell from the shrill edge in her voice, she was gearing up for an ugly fight.

The bottom of his stomach slid greasily downward. “I live here,” he said shortly.

“No, you don’t. You live in Pine Knoll.”

“Not any longer. I moved here.”

“But…” Her pale white hands clasped together over her heavy breasts. Over the last decade or so, she’d begun to visibly age. Harsh lines of discontent were graven beside her mouth and eyes. Although she’d once been an attractive female, a mean spirit would eventually blight even the most beautiful surface.

She took a step toward him. “But, Gawain, you’re my cub. I need you. I need your help.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a healthy adult. Other adult shifters live on their own.” Only…she was getting older. He hesitated.

She could spot her prey’s weaknesses faster than a pack of wolves, and she never hesitated to take advantage. “Oh, Gawain, I’m out of money, and I don’t know what to do.” Tears brimmed in her brown eyes. “Edwyn would have looked after me, but he’s gone. You’re all I have left.”

Out of four cubs? Not hardly.

But he certainly wouldn’t mention Bonnie, not after the eternity he’d spent in Pine Knoll to ensure his sister was free.

And Mother still hated Owen.

What would she do without Gawain at her beck and call? Whenever she was without one of the numerous males she picked up and discarded, she’d use him for chores, repairs, money, and even emotional support. And if he tried to set boundaries on her use of his time, she’d descend into hysterics in the most public places possible.

The twenty-five years of being her “cub” had taken their toll. Now Bonnie was safe, and he needed to escape before his spirit turned bitter and sour. He probably should have traveled to the far end of the continent to get out of her reach, but the lure of his littermates had caught him.

And now she’d found him.

As she started sobbing louder, Gawain looked at her and felt…nothing. Not hatred, not warmth. Not even a sense of duty remained.

Instead, his first thought was for his littermate. He needed to get her out of here before she saw Owen. Don’t return to the lodge yet, Owen. Stay away.