Cry Wolf (Alpha & Omega #1)(92)

"Crep, strep, venefica est mortua," she told him.

"What is dead?" he asked her, then he thought about the tune and smiled.

"Ding, dong, the witch is dead," she clarified, taking the seat next to him. "And so is a good man. Do we celebrate or mourn?"

"That's always the question," he told her.

She stretched her fingers out on the table. "He was a good man, you know? He deserved a happy ending."

He covered her fingers with his own, searching for the right words, but they didn't come.

After a moment, she leaned her forehead against his shoulder. "You could have died."

"Yes."

"Me, too."

"Yes."

"I think I'll take the happy ending he gave us and make it matter." She wrapped both arms around him fiercely. "I love you."

He turned and pulled her onto his lap. His arms were shaking, and he was very careful not to hold her so hard he might hurt her. "I love you, too."

After a long while she looked up. "Are you hungry, too?"

* * * *

Bran felt the monster stir uneasily as he left his son's house. He'd thought he'd had it caged at last-unpleasant to discover that the cage he'd devised was flawed. Very nearly more than unpleasant.

The last time he'd felt that way was when Blue Jay Woman died. He'd held on to the Beast by the finest of threads-and it had scared him. He couldn't afford to love someone like that ever again.

It was still dark when he parked in the garage. They'd slept the clock around at Charles's house, and it was a couple of hours still before dawn came. He entered his house quietly and eased up the stairs.

Leah wasn't in her room.

He knew, before he got to his door, that she was sleeping in his bed. Silently, he let himself in and shut the door behind him.

Curled up on his side of the bed, she hugged a pillow. Tenderness welled up in him; asleep she looked soft and vulnerable.

He pushed the tenderness away in that there was too much danger. He knew his sons had never understood his marriage, his mating. It had taken him a few years after Blue Jay Woman's death to find Leah, a woman so selfish and stupid he was certain he could never really love her. But love wasn't necessary for the mating bond-acceptance was, trust was-and love was a bonus he couldn't afford.

With Blue Jay Woman he'd found that the mating bond was the answer to the Beast-spreading out the cost of control. He needed the mating bond to hold the monster he could become at bay. But he could not afford to lose anyone else he loved the way he had loved Blue Jay Woman. So he'd found an acceptable compromise in Leah.

He stripped off his clothes, making noise now. Leah woke when the sweatshirt hit the floor.

She sat up and rubbed the sleep from her face, but when his pants followed the shirt, she pouted at him, and said, "If you think that you're-"

He closed her mouth with his, and fed the Beast with her skin, her scent, and the noises she made as he pleasured her. She stopped resisting after the first kiss. When he finished with her, she cuddled close, trembling a little with aftershocks.

And the Beast slept.

* * * *

The pack ran through the cold-silenced forest like the Wild Hunt of the old stories, fatal to any creature unfortunate enough to cross its path.

Anna was just as glad that nothing did. She didn't mind a good hunt, at least the wolf in her didn't, but she could still taste Bran's flesh and blood, given to her to cement her place in his pack. The flavor was sweet and rich-and that bothered Anna a lot more than it did her wolf-and she would rather decide how she felt about it before she replaced it with the flesh and blood of something else.

Charles had been dropping steadily back, and she stayed with him, following when he broke free of the pack. In front of the other wolves, he'd behaved with solemn dignity. When they were alone, he dodged suddenly sideways, knocking her off her feet before she could brace herself-and the game was on. She and Charles played until she noticed he was favoring his bad leg, and then they rested.

They'd been married that afternoon in the little church in town. Sage had whisked her away for an emergency trip to Missoula the day before, so she'd even had a proper gown. Asil had supplied the bouquet and decorated the chapel with his roses.

She hadn't known that Charles had contacted her family until she'd stepped into the chapel and her father had been waiting in the aisle to escort her in instead of Bran. Her brother had been standing with the groomsmen, next to Samuel.

So she'd been married with tears streaming down her face. The minister had stopped the ceremony and handed her a tissue to wipe her nose, which had made her laugh.

Her favorite moment, though, was after the ceremony, when her father, thin and tall and stooped, had shook his finger at Charles and threatened him with death and dismemberment if he didn't take care of her. All the wolves who'd heard-which meant all the wolves in the room-had watched with amused awe as Charles had meekly bowed his head as if her father had been the Marrok.

Anna settled against Charles as they rested in the woods, his fur soft and thick against her own. He'd taken them in a circle, she saw, because they were above Bran's house and she could see the lights inside, where her father and brother were still up-probably talking about her. She hoped they were happy for her. Judging from the past few days, this new life of hers wasn't going to be easy, but, she thought, she would like it just fine.