Jennifer Ashley: Lone Wolf

Ellison walked up to his front porch. From the quiet inside, everyone had gone to bed—he could hear his nephews snoring in the bedroom they shared, and the quieter breathing of Deni.

Broderick was going to be a problem. Ellison had no worries about kicking his ass, but Maria’s fear had been sharp. Getting past that would be more difficult.

Ellison didn’t trust Broderick not to try to climb up on Sean’s porch and steal Maria out of her bedroom. Broderick would never consider doing that with a Shifter woman—not these days—but humans were regarded as weak, and Maria had already been the victim of a Shifter abduction. Broderick would figure that meant he could do what he wanted with her, and unfortunately, so might other Shifters.

Ellison sat down on one of the chairs on the porch, the chair’s wood creaking. He put his feet up on the rail and leaned back, hands behind his head, to watch the square of light that was Maria’s window.

The window went dark, Maria seeking her bed. She’d be all cuddled up under the sheets, alone, not wearing much of anything. She’d smell of sweet sleep, damp skin, desire.

Ellison let out a sharp breath. If he kept his thoughts in that line, he’d be climbing up on the roof himself to steal her away. He was as bad as Broderick, and he knew it.

Ellison settled back in the chair, gaze fixed firmly on the dark window. Good thing wolves liked to stay up all night.

Maria opened her eyes in the dark. She smelled them around her, the women, both human and Shifter, who’d been sequestered by the ferals. With them the scents of the kids—scared, defiant, exhausted. Maria didn’t need to be Shifter to understand what fear and defeat smelled like.

How own child lay in her arms. She could feel him, the weight of the little body, the warmth, the beauty of him.

But he’d been born too weak. Maria had begged Luis then Miguel to take her and him to a hospital, to a doctor at least, and Miguel wouldn’t. Hours later, her son was dead.

The child in her arms disappeared leaving Maria bereft, empty, grieving. She lay on the cold floor, her sobs coming, dry and broken. A hand touched her hair, the soft brush of a woman called Peigi, trying to comfort her.

There was no comfort. Maria had lost everything—family, her child, herself. She lay in the cold darkness, alone, empty. She’d never see daylight again, never feel warmth, never feel whole. She’d been broken, part of herself taken away.

In the middle of the grief came a hated voice. Peigi’s gentle touch vanished, to be replaced by a fierce grip in her hair, pulling her up.

“You’re trying again,” the voice said in rough Spanish. Maria had never known where Miguel had been born and raised, but he spoke several languages, fluently if not elegantly. “We need cubs that live.”

Maria screamed. The scream rang through the huge basement, coming back to her in waves. The kids started to cry, the women to keen.

Miguel pulled her up, and up, and up . . . and Maria was sitting in her bed in Shiftertown, her heart thudding, her breath coming in dry hiccups. She put her hand to her face and found it wet with tears.

Air, she needed air. The little room was stuffy, the nights warming now.

Maria scrambled out of bed, her legs shaking, and stumbled to the window. She cranked up the blind and opened the casement as quietly as possible.

Something moved on the porch across the street. Maria froze, ducking into the shadows of her bedroom before she worked up the courage to peer out again.

She saw a pair of cowboy boots propped up on the porch railing, and long legs going back into shadow. Maria’s body relaxed, her racing heart slowing.

She crept across the room to her dresser and found the pair of binoculars Sean had given her when she’d expressed interest in bird-watching down at the river. Right now she wanted to do a little Shifter-watching.

Maria returned to the window and trained the binoculars onto Ellison Rowe’s porch. There he was, leaning back in a wooden porch chair, eyes closed, mouth slightly open. She couldn’t hear from here, but she knew soft snores issued from his mouth.

Maria smiled, the fear of the dream vanishing. The grief didn’t lessen, and it would never go away, but her emptiness receded a little. The cowboy across the street, who’d come to her rescue twice tonight, was here with her. She wasn’t alone.

Ellison went inside in the morning, stiff, groggy, and having no idea how he’d fallen asleep in the chair.

All looked normal at Sean’s, and at Liam’s house next door to it. Kim had tripped off to work, Andrea’s boy was wailing with his usual energy, and Connor came out to work on Dylan’s truck, along with Tiger, another rescue from captivity.

Tiger glanced over at Ellison but didn’t return Ellison’s wave of greeting. Not that Ellison expected a Shifter who’d spent his entire life in a cage to know how to respond, or to care.

Tiger hauled up the truck’s hood and bent over it, starting to tinker, with Connor’s help. Working on vehicles seemed to be the only thing that kept Tiger calm.

Ellison showered, shaved, and came out of his room to see Deni cooking breakfast with Will. Jackson had already left for a job he had with a moving company; Will worked at a furniture warehouse. Shifters were good at lifting and carrying.

Deni looked rested, cheerful even. Ellison put his arm around her as she stirred the mess of eggs and cubed potatoes in the frying pan and kissed her cheek.

“Don’t put too much salt in mine,” he said.

“Don’t backseat cook.” Deni smiled at him, and Ellison’s heart lightened.

It would lighten even more when he saw Maria. Ellison told Deni he’d be right back, gave Will a brief hug, caught up his hat, and walked out the door.

Running across the street to see how Maria was doing after she’d been badgered last night would be the neighborly thing to do. Right? Ellison could pretend he’d come to get a taste of whatever pancakes Sean was cooking today.

Andrea met him at the door, with little Kenny Morrissey, her firstborn, on her hip.

“Maria? No, she’s not here,” Andrea said. “She left without a word very early this morning, and I don’t know where she is. I was hoping she was with you and Den.”

Maria. Missing. And Andrea stood there calmly, cuddling her son, like nothing was wrong.

“What do you mean, you don’t know where she is?”

Ellison took a broad step forward, his wolf growling all the way.

A mistake—a big mistake. Sean materialized out of the kitchen, holding a pancake turner. His eyes were Shifter white, focused on Ellison, the lion in him responding to a threat to his mate, his cub, his territory.

The Guardian was the last person a Shifter would ever see, the point of the Guardian’s sword sending the Shifter’s soul to the afterlife. Whatever else Sean might be—friend, mate, tracker—he was also death.

Ellison stepped back, hands up, trying to show Sean that he meant no harm—to Sean’s house, mate, cub, or pancakes.

“Why don’t you know where she is?” Ellison asked Andrea.

“She was gone when we woke up,” Andrea said. “Or at least when I checked on her. I was up early, with Kenny, and I heard the back door close.”

Which explained why Ellison hadn’t seen Maria go. Or else she’d left while Ellison had been in the shower. Shit.

“Did you call her?” Ellison demanded.

“Of course I did,” Andrea said. “No answer. Left a voice mail.”

Ellison didn’t need to ask Andrea for Maria’s number. He’d memorized it a while back. “And you don’t have any idea where she went?”