Page 23 of Lone Wolf’s Claim (The Kincaid Werewolves #1)

E ven though he knew he should be looking for the markers he'd left to lead them back to where the note had indicated, Brock couldn't take his eyes from the luscious female in his arms. Even covered in dried mud and bruises, she was the prettiest thing he'd ever set eyes on.

She must have felt him staring, for she peeked up at him from under her lashes and grinned.

He grinned back.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing to the right.

Tearing his eyes from her, he saw a piece of material hanging from a tree branch. About three feet away was another one. He looked down just in time. Another couple of steps and he would've fallen into the crater he'd left in the ground when he'd landed.

He could feel the excitement that must be shining from his eyes as he told her, "We're here!" Turning in a tight circle, he waited for something to happen.

"Are you sure this is the right spot?" she asked.

His heavy brows drew down into a frown as he carefully placed her on her feet, but he didn't let go of her. This time, they would go into the void together.

"I'm positive. I left those markers, and this is where I landed." He indicated the crack in the ground his body had made.

"You did that? And you didn't break anything?"

"I changed mid-air. My wolf form can take a lot more than my human body."

Heather started limping toward the crack to take a closer look, but he grabbed her arm.

"Stay with me. We don't know when we'll suddenly get sucked back again, and I want you to be with me."

She hung on to his hand. "Why were you alone?"

Brock studied the area. This had to be the right place.

It was exactly how he'd left it less than five days ago, and he'd been given five days to get her back here.

Maybe they'd go back on the fifth day? He suddenly realized she was staring at him, waiting for something, and he wracked his brain for what she'd said but couldn't remember. "What?"

"Why were you alone?"

He frowned. "I told you."

But she shook her head. "No, I mean before. Before you found your old pack. Why were you alone?"

"Oh, that. My parents died when I was very young.

When I was eight, actually." Distracted, he stuck his free hand in his pocket, looking for the note he'd been left, but then remembered that it had been lost along with the coins when he'd lost his other clothes in the flood. He hoped they wouldn’t be expected to pay their passage back with them.

"Didn't they belong to a pack? Didn't you have a family to take care of you?"

The sad tone of her voice finally got his attention. "Yes, we did. The pack was killed. Only my best friend and I survived. We were off playing by the loch when it happened. Oh," he smiled. "I should tell you that I grew up in Scotland. Which is how I know what heather smells like."

Her careful expression didn't change or give anything away. "Who killed your pack?"

His hand tightened around hers. She would find out sooner or later. "I was told later that they were Fae. They ambushed the pack near dusk, when they were busy getting meals together and children gathered. Lucian and I were never good at getting home on time. Lucky for us."

"Oh, my God." Tears filled her beautiful cognac-colored eyes. "How can you stand to be near me?"

He frowned. " You didn't do it." He stepped closer and pulled her into his arms. "It's okay. It was a long time ago."

She hid her face in his shirt and mumbled something that sounded like, "Butter peed on it!"

He laughed out loud. “What?”

Looking up at him in all seriousness, she said, "But my people did it!"

"You said they weren't your people. That your parents had taken you away and you grew up just like any other kid."

"They did, but…"

"But nothing. Were you there when it happened?"

"No…"

"Then why should I blame you?"

She sniffed and planted her face back in his shirt.

"So, let me ask you something. What else can you do besides move as fast as a vamp and shoot blue lightening from your fingers?"

She shrugged and wiped her teary face on his clean shirt. "I have no idea. I didn't even know that I could do that until it happened. Can we sit down?"

"Don't see why not. But let's stay as close to this spot as we can." He helped her sit against the closest tree trunk. "Are you cold?" The mist seemed to be getting heavier.

"No, I'm okay. I have a hot-blooded werewolf to keep me warm." She gave him a bit of a watery smile.

"Hey, that's enough of that. Let's talk about something else."

"How did you end up in that pack you were in if yours…was gone?"

Settling back next to her, he kept a firm grip on her hand, knowing from previous experience how quickly she could be sucked away from him.

"Well, Lucian and I actually lived on our own for a few years.

We had this secret fort down by the loch, and after we'd gone home and found out what had happened, we ran back there to hide.

We ended up staying there for a long time.

We collected water, and we fished for food or hunted nearby.

And we had each other." He smiled fondly at the memories.

"But eventually, puberty hit and we got restless, so we ventured out.

We were about thirteen when we came across the new pack.

They took us in, helped us through our first shifts, and invited us to become full-fledged members when we were old enough to pass their tests. They'd been good to us, so we stayed."

He neglected to mention that it was because of him that Lucian had been allowed to stay.

Lucian had never found a way to deal with his family's deaths, and he'd hit puberty with a vengeance, always getting into fights and causing trouble.

Brock couldn't even count how many times he'd had to get between his friend and some other male to calm the waters.

As Lucian had gotten older, the females had really started to take notice of him. With his chiseled jaw, muscular physique, auburn hair, and intense grey eyes, they were drawn to him like bees to honey.

Even some of the mated females had a hard time staying away from him when he turned on the charm. Which meant Brock had spent most of his time making sure that Lucian stayed out of trouble. He needed the pack, whether he realized it or not. He needed them much more than Brock did.

Coming back to the present, he said, "So, back to you. Do I need to worry about you zapping me into another dimension whenever I piss you off?"

She laughed. "I don't think so. Only the most powerful of the Fae could pull off something like this. The rest of us are only good at parlor tricks."

No sooner had the words come out of her mouth then they heard a rustling in the tree limbs above them.

Brock jumped to his feet and tilted his head back, alert to anything that may be coming for them through the fog.

Something thunk'd on a branch not ten feet above them, and Heather quickly struggled to her feet, out of the line of fire.

A moment later, a golden coin fell to the ground at his feet.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," he said in disbelief.

A second coin bounced off of Heather's shoulder to land in the grass and pine needles by her shredded up sneaker.

Brock stopped breathing as her eyes met his. He shook his head. "No. NO!" he shouted to the sky.

She laid her hand on his arm, "Brock…"

"NO," he gritted out. "I will not play this fookin' game anymore! No' anymore!!" His fists clenched tight at his sides, he walked out to the scarred ground where he'd landed, pulling Heather with him. "We are DONE, prince! Or whoever the hell ye are! Send us home. NOW!"

The air around them was still. No black voids opened up to suck them back to reality.

"Come on!" he shouted. "I followed yer fookin' rules. I did wha' the paper said. I have the girl! We're here, where I started. I even played yer fookin’ game! Now hold up yer end o' the deal!"

Breathing hard, his hand gripped tight around Heather's wrist so he didn't lose her again. He waited…and waited…

"AHHHHHHH!!!!!!" he screamed.

Heather wrapped her free arm around his waist as she pressed herself against his back. Releasing her wrist, he pulled her arms tighter around him as he fought his rising temper.

"Maybe we just toss the stupid coins," she suggested.

Brock gritted his teeth. She was right. They had to play the prince's stupid game. He knew there would be no getting them out of there without doing so. She tried to pull away, and after a moment, he let her. Bending down she picked up the coins and brought one to him, keeping one for herself.

"On the count of three," she said. "Ready?"

He gave her a barely perceptible nod.

"One, two…three."

They threw the coins in the air, both calling out, "Heads!" They looked at each other and smiled.

Heather's coin, thrown not quite as high as Brock's and unbeknownst to them, paused in mid-air. It seemed to hesitate, thinking, then very deliberately it turned to face the other way before falling back toward the ground.

They both looked back up just in time to catch their respective coins. Slapping them onto the backs of their opposite hands in unison, Brock swallowed nervously.

"One, two, three," Heather whispered, and they both removed their hands.

Brock nearly got light-headed with relief when he saw the prince's face staring back at him. With a wide grin, he looked up at Heather. She was staring down at the coin on the back of her hand, her face unreadable. He stepped closer to see her coin.

An etching of a pine tree, meticulously done, shone deep yellow against her pale skin.

Heather raised uneasy eyes to his as Brock grabbed the coin from her hand and chucked it into the crack in the ground.

When he turned back around, Heather was staring at him in outright horror.

He took both of her hands in his. "It's okay, sunshine.

I've got you. Nothing is going to happen. "

"It already is," she told him.

Confused, he pulled her closer, terrified that she was going to get ripped from his arms at any second.