Page 17 of Forged Alliances
“Drew ordered this attack on the very people he once wished to govern, but that is the furthest from what an alpha does. An alpha protects his own. We respect the rules passed down to us from the Tribe, passed on from the great spirits of the animals we shift into. We settle our disputes honorably with claw and fang. Never with pipe bombs set outside the houses of families and never to harm our innocent and young.”
Marcy’s eyes shone with tears, running her hands through Rick’s fur. He’d shifted into his cat form to further his healing, but the burns created vivid ragged spots where the fur had scorched off.
“We won’t sit idle.” His voice grew deep and dark with the raw anguish of what they suffered. “We’ve called the Tribe in, and I’ll make Drew face me fairly in a battle for our land. I’ll beat him, and we will reclaim our lands so the Silver Springs pack is no longer severed in two. My people, we will fight to keep our homes, because you—you are loyal and you are strong. United, we won’t let this horror go unpunished. We will prevail.”
He lapsed into silence as the energy sapped out of him, poured into every word he spoke. Glistening eyes and somber faces surrounded him, but as his shoulders relaxed and his mouth closed, his pack reacted. One by one, their growls lit the air, their cries a mournful cacophony taken to the stars. Sierra lifted her chin and howled, even in her human form, the sound piercing and eerie enough to prickle his arms. Everyone surrounding him rumbled with rage and grief, responding as one pack, the Silver Springs he was so honored to be a part of. The pack he was determined to lead until his dying day, no matter what the fates spelled out for him.
“In the morning we will begin to clear the rubble and figure out a way to proceed. As it stands, we have packmates sustaining serious injuries. Help who you can into cars, and let’s get them to safety.” The second the words left his lips, his pack launched into motion. Ignitions turned, bringing car engines to life, and shifters in human or lion form piled into trucks, sedans, whatever possible. Ally curled in her mountain lion form in the bed of his truck.
Sierra approached with Lana, her arm around the woman’s shoulder. “Here’s your girl. I’ve got to grab my people, but my lands are open for any of your pack.”
Dax met her gaze and held it for a moment, wishing he could communicate the depth of admiration welling inside him at how she’d stepped up tonight. At how she’d inspired him, keeping him strong when he came close to crumbling. He’d never met a more remarkable woman.
He clapped a hand on Sierra’s shoulder. He wrapped his other arm around Lana, who slumped against him, numbed from shock. “Thank you. Truly.”
She flashed him a grim smile and offered a salute before racing toward her packmates waiting by the car. Dax tightened his grip around Lana as he began trekking to his own. He had a long night ahead of him.
* * * *
Dax turned the knob to his place, and his shoulders sagged as he stumbled in through the door. Already, the thin air of predawn descended, and he’d expended so much energy tonight he wanted to sink into his couch and go comatose. Once he sauntered in through the main room, a familiar scent pricked his nose, drawing his attention.
“If you’ve come to fight me, plunge a knife in my back and get it over with. I’m fucking exhausted,” he called out, too tired to bother with sneaking around or subtlety. He’d lost the capacity for that earlier in the night when his pack had been bombed in their own homes. A creak sounded, followed by slow footsteps in his direction. Dax braced himself for a fight even though every muscle in his body screamed for rest.
“No need to embarrass yourself, kitty cat,” Sierra’s voice echoed through the corridor as she emerged, those gorgeous hips swinging from side to side.
Dax lifted a brow and crossed his arms. “Funny, I don’t remember handing you the key to my place.”
Sierra snorted. “Not my fault you left your window unlocked. Didn’t even need to bust up your locks.” She pulled a bottle of Jack from behind her, the amber liquid sloshing around in the bottle. “Thought you might need a drink tonight. I’ve weathered my fair share of rough calls.”
Even with the scratches on her cheek, her skin glowed with freshness, and between her shower-wet hair pulled into a ponytail and the lingering scent of soap, she’d clearly seized the chance to clean up. She was the sort of gorgeous that made him salivate, though given how much he reeked, right now he shouldn’t be in the same county let alone the same room as her.
Dax accepted the offering of Jack and unscrewed the cap while they walked toward his couch. He caught a whiff of the campfire smell radiating from his shirt and tugged it over his head. The fabric hit the floor with a soft whump.
Sierra settled into the couch as if she belonged there. “Hey now, no one said this was a booty call.”
A lazy smile reached his lips. “The mere sight of me shirtless takes your mind there? Good to know. I’d rather a solid fuck than getting my kumbayas out.”
She snorted before bursting into a full laugh, the deep throatiness of her voice sexier than any subtle flirting. “Please, I hear enough bitching from every member of my pack. What makes you think I want to add your whining to the list? I come offering a drink. That’s all.”
The seriousness in her eyes communicated what she didn’t say. The weight of a day like this and the burden of leading a pack could break even the toughest soldier. That she understood the loneliness of lying alone in the dark consumed by all that noxious guilt. The fact she was willing to stay by his side right now with no expectations or demands offered a comfort he hadn’t realized he’d been missing. He’d been coming home to an empty house for so long he’d forgotten the relief of walking in the door and having someone notice you were gone. Having someone care.
He took a swig of Jack, relishing the burn as the amber fluid rolled down his throat. She snatched the bottle out of his hands and gulped down more. As she rested the bottle on her thigh, the liquid glistened on those sinful lips. Even though he wanted to talk about anything other than what had happened, the events dominated his mind.
She gave him the side-eye. “Since I’ve had enough of your mouth for the next decade, let’s drink with a movie on. We could use the distraction.”
Dax shook his head, unable to help his weary smile as he settled back into his couch and grabbed the remote. “Were you just born bossy? Did you slide out of the womb making demands at the doctor?”
“If you’ve got a natural talent for something, why quash it?” She shrugged, even though her eyes gleamed with wickedness. Dax let out a bark of a laugh. Already the whiskey quelled the fraying edges of his nerves, and while exhaustion squeezed his muscles like pulp, he managed to turn on his TV to a random channel, the flickering images barely registering.
He reached for the bottle, his hand brushing against Sierra’s in the process. Even the simple touch jolted him, a shock of electricity he wasn’t prepared for. That must come with the whole mate package. The thought stirred the buzzing hornet’s nest in his mind, so he took another sip of Jack and leaned back. Sierra carved her own stretch of space on the opposite side, her legs wide open and her arms lining the back of the couch. The sight sent his blood flow south, even though his body had long since given up on movement.
Despite the stubbornness Sierra wielded like a weapon, after a couple of minutes her lashes started flickering. Moments later, she sank into the curve of the couch, her head lolling to the side as she conked out. A smirk rolled to his lips as he pushed himself up to grab a blanket. He covered her, the amber scent and heat of her teasing him with the not so distant memories of the way she’d felt in his arms. Of the taste of those lips.
Dax plunked down on the couch and leaned against the arm, the heavy tug of exhaustion drawing him in like an eddying tide. He placed the bottle on the floor and snagged some of the woolen blanket as he settled in. Might not be the most comfortable sleep, but here would be a hell of a lot better than settling into his dark, empty bed. Here there was whiskey, warmth, and a woman who had proved to be extraordinary.
With the threat of the mating bond looming over him, he should be pushing her away and running as far and fast as possible. Yet she’d arrived and offered comfort when no one else had. She’d supported him and given him strength at his weakest.
The more he got to know Sierra Kanoska, the closer to an unavoidable collision he came. She wasn’t some casual fling. If he dared fall for her, and if the bond between them deepened any more, he’d find himself mated for life.