it.”
“Well, I’m not used to talking about it. We haven’t even told Dec the real story.”
“What about Dylan?”
“What about him?”
“How much does he remember?”
Oh God, no. She tried to keep the panic out of her voice. “He says he doesn’t remember any of it. We don’t ask him about it and we don’t talk to him about it. Look, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I’ll leave if you want me to, but don’t ask him about that night.” She stopped, wondering what else she could say to make him understand. “Please, Cade. Leave him alone.”
Once more Eir’s words echoed in her head. Yours to raise, yours to protect.
She didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want him to see the way she fought so hard to keep from crying. So she stared at his boots.
An instant later, he was on one knee in front of her.
He brushed the hair from her face, his fingers lingering for a second on her cheek. As he put his hand under her chin and tilted it up, his voice flowed through her, low and soft. “I know bad memories, Ally. I know what it’s like to remember things you wish you didn’t, things that still scare you no matter how old you get. I would never make Dylan talk about this.”
He dropped his hand to her throat, running his palm lightly up and down, his thumb tracing her veins. His touch didn’t disconcert as it had earlier, when they shook hands. Now it warmed and enervated. Ally closed her eyes. A small sigh leaked out as all the fear and tension drained away, leaving her deflated. A wolf’s thumb on the jugular should make one real damned alert, but she was relaxed, even drowsy. She didn’t want to cry anymore. She just wanted him to keep stroking her like this. If she fell asleep, would he carry her inside? That would be nice.
“You really are extraordinary,” he murmured.
Before she could rouse herself to speak, the plaintive howl of a frightened wolf split the night.
Her eyes flew open. “That’s Dylan.”
She tried to stand up, but he pushed her back down. “You stay here.” He took off in the direction of Dylan’s howls, coming from the woods behind the little cluster of buildings.
“Hell with that,” she muttered, and took off.
Chapter Eight
She plowed into him when he came to a sudden halt. They were about a half mile from the house, amid dense trees.
Cade paused for a second before running forward to grasp the legs of a figure dangling from a noose. She gasped.
It was Aaron—the wolf from the restaurant where they’d stopped that afternoon.
Cade lifted the body up so that the rope went slack.
“He’s not dead,” she said stupidly.
“No, he’s not.” Cade fumbled in his front pocket with one hand while holding up the wolf’s legs. He pulled out his cell phone. “Call 911 and get back to the house. Go!”
She took the phone and sprinted for the house, Dylan on her heels. Wolves met her as she raced out of the trees. Some were on two feet, some on four. Michael took some wolves and went to help Cade.
Sitting in the living room with Shawn much later, she asked, “Who was that poor wolf?”
Shawn shook his head. “Name is Aaron Stapkis. A good guy, just nineteen. His father is the Seattle Alpha, real old school.”
“Old school?”
“Unpredictable, ready to rip some fur the minute someone looks at him cross-eyed. Most Pack Alphas used to be like that, back before we came out. Now it’s just the older ones. Stapkis lost his wife last year. It makes some wolves a little funny in the head. He’s always hated Cade.”
“Why?”
Shawn shifted and stretched, rubbed his neck and didn’t say anything. She waited, careful not to press him.
“Well, see, when Cade came back here fifteen years ago, he contacted some of the younger wolves born in the pack with us, back when Louis and Eirny were alive.”
“You were in the—? Wait, back when who was alive?”
“Louis and Eirny, Cade’s parents. Louis was the Alpha.”
“How do you spell
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