Night had fallen, and he and his lycans had gathered at the meeting point. They were still in Woodland territory, but very close to the Nightwing border, and there was little chance of the Woodland shifters tracking them here, tonight. Woodland would have to tend to their injured and ensure their home den was secure before setting out to hunt for the Alpine guardians. He’d planned for a scattered retreat, and he and his guardians had laid plenty of false trails before finally descending upon their rendezvous point. He eyed the woman across the campsite. Holding the Woodland Tracker Prime would restrict their enemy’s ability to locate them—at least for a while.
Smokey rabbit and pine scented the air, along with the stringent scent of medicinal body rubs and antiseptic creams as the Alpine lycans tended to their injured. Fortunately that nose-burning smell masked the hypnotic fragrance of the woman who even now he couldn’t dislodge from his thoughts. She was delectable. He could lose himself in her scent, in her body—and that made him equal parts angry and scared as a day-old pup caught in a summer storm.
A movement caught his eye, and he looked up. Zane was trying to catch his attention. He walked around to his second-in-command, stopping to chat with some of the injured guardians. Fortunately there were no deaths in today’s skirmish—but it wasn’t for lack of trying on Woodland’s part. Today, Alpine had retreated. His lips pressed into a firm line. His expectations for the outcome of talks hadn’t been high, but damn, things had gone haywire. He didn’t think highly of Rafe Woodland, yet had still been surprised when the alpha prime had attacked under parley. He smiled. He didn’t mind. They now had just cause to launch attack after attack on the enemy pack.
Zane beckoned him over to the pickup truck parked a short distance away from the camp. Matthias caught the eye of Kai, one of his guardians, and gestured toward the tracker. He didn’t want her to think this was an opportunity to escape. Kai nodded and casually strolled to take up a position behind Trinity and the boy.
“What’s up?” he asked Zane as he met him and Nate Baxter, another first-tier guardian and valued sergeant, at the pickup.
Zane rolled out a map onto the hood of the car, and clicked on his flashlight. “You were right. Woodland has gone to ground. Nate and a couple of the others tried to track them, but they’ve disappeared.”
Nate sighed. “Like ghosts. Poof.”
Matthias took the flashlight and scanned the map, then frowned. He shook his head. “Are you sure this is the most current map?”
Zane nodded, his lips pursed. “Yeah. I know all the packs like to keep some of their trails hidden, but Woodland takes secrecy to a new level.”
“I even cross-checked with satellite imagery,” Nate said. “The trees effectively mask many of their trails. This is the best we can get.”
Matt’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the document. “Rafe Woodland doesn’t trust easily.”
“Rafe Woodland doesn’t trust at all,” Zane muttered. “We’d do well to remember that. Someone who doesn’t trust easily isn’t trustworthy, as he proved today. Although that tracker could prove useful...” His voice trailed off in suggestion.
Matthias kept his eyes glued to the map, and merely grunted a response. He’d been thinking of little else since he’d dragged her into camp late that afternoon. That woman, that...she-wolf. Her long legs, narrow waist, and gentle swell of hip and breast—she was beautiful, in a lithe, natural kind of way. There was something about her that called to him, that stirred his beast, that tightened his body with a need he didn’t appreciate and could barely control.
“You two certainly had an—intimate—connection,” Zane drawled, leaning his hip against the truck.
“Oh, really?” Nate inquired. Matthias fought the inclination to growl at his pack mates. He wasn’t in the mood for any of their teasing.
Zane nodded. “Oh, yeah. Thought he was going to imprint on her,” he admitted in a stage whisper to Nate.
“Is that so?”
“Yep.”
“Well, that’s more than he’s done with any of our pack,” Nate murmured.
This time Matthias did growl, the sound low and soft yet nonetheless clear in its warning.
Nate folded his arms and looked expectantly at Matthias. “You say so much when you say nothing, Matt.”
Matthias shook his head, his lips tight. “She’s Woodland.” That pretty much said it all. Her pack had conspired to kill his friend.
Zane shrugged. “She’s hot.”
“That she is,” Nate commented, his tone light with interest, and it was all Matthias could do to stop the snarl forming in his throat.
Zane nodded, then glanced back at Matthias. “Two months ago you were the guardian to stop us all going on a pack hunt, Matt—no matter how much I tried to convince you. I would have thought you, of all people, would be prepared to overlook her...shortcomings.”
This time Matthias did look up at his friend. Zane had this knack for making him feel ancient. His friend liked to act now, and think through things later. Maybe. Matthias had never thought he’d be the cautious one, the voice of reason, but he’d learned his lessons the hard way. Sometimes it paid to do the homework.
“I stopped the pack hunt because we didn’t know what we were up against—we still don’t know,” he said in a low voice. “Woodland haven’t welcomed visitors in years, not since their previous alpha prime died. We have no idea how strong they are, how many there are or how they act. Hell, we can’t even get an accurate map of their territory. We learned today that observing the normal rules of engagement won’t work with Woodland. We’ll fight, but we’ll be smart about it.”
Zane frowned. “They killed Jared. They all deserve to die.”
“And that’s why I’m guardian prime, and you’re not,” Matthias said shortly, then leaned forward, crossing his arms over the hood of the pickup. “Just a minute ago you were commenting on the sexy Woodland tracker, now you want me to kill her? What about the pups? Would you kill them? The juveniles? The elders?”
Zane looked down at the toes of his boots. “Of course not.”
“We want them to pay, though,” Nate said quietly.
Matthias nodded. “Hell, yeah. Jared was a good man, and a great alpha. He didn’t deserve to die, not that way.”
When the conspiracy between Woodland Pack and one of Irondell’s so-called pillars of society, Arthur Armstrong, was revealed, it had been all he could do to keep the Alpine pack from wreaking revenge on Woodland, Nightwing and Irondell—an act that would have cost them dearly.
Armstrong was currently rotting in a prison cell, but Woodland Pack’s involvement meant a crime was committed by lycan against lycan, and justice came under tribal jurisdiction. It was Alpine’s privilege—and duty—to serve justice to those within the pack responsible for the murder of their alpha.
So it didn’t matter how hot, how sexy, how damn desirable their tracker was, she was the enemy. If she was in any way involved, she would pay, along with the rest of her pack.
“I’ll be the first one to admit I want blood for blood for Jared’s death,” he said in a low voice. He shifted his gaze between Zane and Nate. “And I’ll do whatever it takes, but no justice is served if we kill any innocents. It wouldn’t honor Jared.”
Both men dropped their gazes, but he could see he was getting through to them.
“For the record, I said she was hot. You’re the one that came up with sexy,” Zane grumbled.