The Ulfic's Mate

  The Ulfric’s

  Mate

  The War of the Weres

  Book 1

  Leona J. Bushman

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Ulfric’s Mate

  Copyright© 2012 Leona J. Bushman

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-084-9

  Cover Artist: Staci Perkins

  Editor: Kristie L. McKinley

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Acknowledgements

  I would like to thank Patrick, Edward, and Isaac, my three youngest children still at home, for loving their mom and being happy for me. Thanks also goes to my husband, for supporting me by buying some fun toys to help me with my writing, and not a moment too soon as my laptop bit the dust during edits.

  I dedicate this book to my mother-in-law, who never stopped

  believing in me.

  Foreword by the

  author:

  I live on the Yakama Nation Indian Reservation; Yakama Reservation, as it’s more popularly known to the locals. I’m married to a Native American. However, in this book, although there are many things “native” to the area, I have very few actual tribal traditions in this story. But I do have a few things that visitors to the reservation may need to know.

  The most important term I use is “restricted lands” referenced to where, for the purpose of this novel, a large population of werewolves reside. Much of the reservation is open to the public, its roads policed by state, county, and tribal police forces. There is a special area, known as the restricted lands, where only enrolled members may go. You can get special compensation to take other’s there, but it is a process, and normally permission is only given to family members, like non-enrolled descendants. Some ignore this (in this story, it’s the antagonist and her henchman).

  The restricted lands fall deep within the reservation, moving up into Mt. Adams. There has always been lore among tribal members. I have not taken any of the local lore for my werewolves, merely maintaining the mystique flavor and giving the werewolves their own lore within the lands.

  Not all werewolves are tribal, and each pack has its own bylaws and ways of doing things that evolve over time. This will come into play more as the series goes on.

  Thank you for reading!

  Chapter One

  His black fur rippled in the wind, gleaming under the blue rays of the full moon. He lifted his nose in the air, sniffing for hunters. Getting caught in wolf form was not on his list of things to do before he died. In fact, being caged might kill him. Sinewy muscles flowed with strength as he swiftly tracked the renegade wolf.

  He put his nose down to the ground. He had her scent and resisted the urge to howl. At first, she had been hard to follow, but her scent grew stronger the deeper into the evergreens they went. As soon as he realized it, he slowed down, instincts telling him it could be a trap. Regardless, he needed to track her down. She had killed or ordered the death of three pregnant women in his pack.

  As a detective, Nolan Littlebull needed to do things by the book. As head of his pack, there were other obligations. Nights like tonight brought his dual personas together. He possessed some evidence against her group. However, the culprits had committed the crime in wolf form. The authorities were searching for a stray pack of wild wolves or someone with pet wolves.

  They were wrong.

  It wasn’t a stray pack or even wolves exactly but rather a faction which split from his werewolf pack more than a hundred years ago.

  The real enemy was the rival pack leader. Crossing the agreed upon truce land without notice and then killing on Nolan’s territory required him to meet the aggressor or lose face. He growled in frustration. If she had done it openly, he would have personally met the challenge the first time.

  Now, the human authorities, animal control activists, and half the damn world were aware of the killings. He stopped behind a large pine and crouched down in the undergrowth. They were on the Yakama Reservation’s restricted lands.

  Smart move by Roxy Whitekiller to lead me out here. If something happened to him, it would be attributed to wild wolves and coyotes. Tribal authorities would find him naked and ravaged by canine teeth. He shook his head. How the majority of the humans continued to deny the existence of other races within their world constantly amazed him.

  He saw no other choice; he must go on. Watch his step and his back. But he could not let Roxy get away with murdering those under his protection. He felt the bloodlust of his beast swell. That side had no problem with the plan of chase and attack. His human instincts were calling for caution. Could he be thinking too much, or was this an elaborate trap set up to capture those getting too close in the hunt for the killers?

  Despite the misgivings, he continued deeper into enemy territory. After an hour, he came to a confusing junction on the path. Scents all congregated together—the forest, the old growth, the dead foliage slowly rotting providing the necessary nutrients for the new growth, and at least thirty of his kind, males and females. The hair behind his ears stood up, and awareness trickled down his spine.

  Someone was watching him.

  Doing a slow three-sixty, he sought the source. Although he could feel the presence, he could not pinpoint it. As he turned to his original task, a huge ball of brown and gray fur flew at him. He tensed, most of the weight on his hind legs, as he readied himself for a counterattack when a red-gold wolf sideswiped the airborne aggressor.

  Watching for an opening, he circled the fighting wolves. The brown wolf seemed intent on getting to him, but the other one kept blocking its attack. Frustration gnawed at Nolan as he was not used to someone fighting his battles for him. Finally, he saw an opening. He leaped onto the brown wolf’s back and locked his jaw on its shoulder.

  The aggressor yelped and lost its grip on the red-gold wolf. It shook Nolan off, and then ran into the woods. Everything in Nolan wanted to follow and finish the fight, but he did not. Instead, panting from exertion, he went to the wolf that had interceded for him and looked at it. A female. A beautiful she-wolf.

  Cream markings showed on the face and underbelly. He had never seen markings like hers, and he wished he could ask her questions as well as thank her for her help. Communicating in wolf-speak was hard work. He cringed inwardly as he thought of the guttural way human speech sounded on the wolf tongue but decided he needed to talk anyway since most of the werewolves were no longer telepathic.

  “I am.”

  Nolan leaped back as if a rocket had gone off. “You’re telepathic? That simplifies things,” he said nonchalantly, deciding he would ignore the fact he’d reacted like a child at his first horror show.

  She laughed softly in his mind. “It would be the first time. It has been a curse since I was young. I’ve hidden it.”

  “Thanks for your help. My name’s Nolan Littlebull. What’s yours?” The bloodlust, which always rode him during battle, was quickly turning to lust of another kind as he stood near her and smelled her essence.

  “You’re the same as the other men of my acquaintance,” she chided.

  “The beast recognizes your strength and ability to protect your young,” he replied, not apologizing.

  “
And the man?” she persisted.

  “The man recognizes your courage to protect a stranger.”

  “You’re good. I’ll give you that. Come on,” she said, turning and heading back the way he’d come. “They will be back soon.”

  He darted ahead with a quick jump to take the lead. “Who’ll be back soon? And why are you going this way?” They were jogging at a good clip. He noticed she evaded the question regarding her name. He turned to look at her. Although a wolf’s face tended to be less expressive than a human one, it was still possible to see mood and learn habits.

  “Roxy Whitekiller and the rest of the pack. The wolf who fought you is Boris. As soon as he reports back that you’re alive, they’ll come for you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m a part of the clan. Although they don’t know I’ve learned to shift. They can’t know. I can’t be seen with you. My mother is Yakama, but my father’s white and a non-were. I have enough troubles without adding you into the mix.”

  Nolan was stunned and nearly missed jumping a fallen log. “A half-breed who can shift?” This would rock their community on its heels.

  “Half-breed?” Anger vibrated through the question.

  “It’s what you are, right? Half-werewolf and half-human? You’ll find that I’m not up with all the political correctness. Half of it is used incorrectly anyway. For now, know I mean no disrespect or racial slurs. I’m merely stating facts. So what’s your name?”

  ***

  “I’m Alexandria,” she admitted after a pause. “But they call me Red. I’m a natural redhead in my human form.” How did he get her to do that? She wasn’t in the habit of telling strangers her hated nickname.

  What compelled her about this man, and caused her to spill her secrets? She cringed and felt reluctant to give him her name but figured he would come searching for her otherwise. Which would be dangerous for them both, even if he was braver than anyone she knew. Following Roxy this far into the protected lands took courage and determination. She felt a small thrill as she thought of his reaction to her.

  She may have chastised him about his lust rising, but her own libido was not far behind. The bloodlust, working together, and his size all called to her beast. His self-control in not chasing after Boris to kill him called to her as a woman. Any man who could control the bloodlust in a fight, especially in their wolf forms, possessed great strength of will.

  She hoped his car was not far. Fear of having the pack catch them nipped at her. She seriously considered getting a ride with him to the city so she would have an alibi. If anyone questioned her, she could say she had been in town.

  “I’d be glad to give you a ride. In fact, I insist. If you’re caught out here, we both know what they’ll do to you.” Visions of blood, teeth gnashing, and growling flowed through her head at his words.

  “I know better than you what my people are capable of,” she retorted, angry at the bloody visions he had imparted.

  “I doubt it,” he replied grimly. She shuddered as he allowed the bloody corpses of the pregnant women from his pack to the forefront of his mind. “Any who would kill a pregnant woman have no conscience. It had to be someone from your pack and likely with Roxy’s blessing, if not your Alpha herself. You must stay away from them. If they find out you helped me, your life will be forfeit.”

  “Where’s your car?” she asked rather than deny his accusations. First things first, they needed to leave now. She would deal with the rest later. “You must get out of here before they pick up your scent. Roxy and her lieutenant are faster than the others.”

  “About a mile from here. I didn’t want to spook her.”

  “Well, you might become a spook if you don’t move faster.” She sprinted ahead as the sound of howling filled the area. “They have your scent. Move it!”

  Together they ran full out, Alex easily keeping pace with Nolan. She loved to run. She had never found anyone to run with, a downside to hiding her ability, fear being a powerful detractor. She decided she should take Nolan up on his offer. He would need her close to recognize the pack if they came looking for him.

  She would have to be careful. If someone saw her with him, they would put out a kill order on her as well. She could not rely on Roxy’s understanding. She had seen the evidence of Roxy’s tender mercy. Like tenderizing meat.

  She tried to ignore the sounds of the pack’s howls as they tracked their scent to give chase. She hoped they did not recognize her under her wolf smell. She had been careful never to shift around them or within their territories.

  Her nervous tension built as she and Nolan changed from wolf to human and got into the truck. She tried to ignore the instant lust which flowed through her at the site of his tall, bronzed form. Blushing as she heard his thoughts run along similar lines as hers, she decided silence was the better part of valor in this case. The last thing she needed was an affair with a werewolf, particularly one not of her pack.

  Nolan drove away in silence, and she tried to ignore the sexual tension in the cab. Worried about the consequences this night held, she could hardly concentrate. Grateful for the clothes he handed her from behind the small space of the truck’s bench seat, she donned the shirt but still did not breathe easy until they had driven past Fort Simcoe on their way back to civilization. Alex continued to look behind them even though she was sure Roxy would have called off the chase by now and gone back to the lodge so she could regroup and plan the next attack. Feeling Nolan’s gaze on her, she turned in time to see him look away.

  “What?” she asked, all too aware of his muscular legs that peeked out from the scrap of clothing he had thrown over himself while driving. His human form attracted her as much or more than his wolf form called to her beast. What a time for her libido to make itself known.

  “I’m trying to decide what to do with you,” he replied.

  “Well, that sounds ominous,” she said. Or interesting. She ruthlessly blocked the wayward thought. Only trouble could follow that line of thinking.

  His lips quirked. “Sorry. You were amazing back there. It has been a long time since I’ve seen one of our kind come to the aid of someone not in their pack.”

  “It has been a long time since our packs haven’t been at war. There’s a natural distrust that comes with that.” She hated the war. Endless hatred and bickering. The wolves in her pack reveled in it. The few who did not enjoy it learned quickly to hide their distaste or risk getting killed by their own pack mates.

  “How did you manage to stay alive? I can feel the abhorrence coming off you in waves.” Nolan looked at the road, but Alex knew he still managed to watch her.

  “Would you get out of my head? It’s disconcerting.” Not to mention potentially embarrassing.

  “Sorry. I haven’t learned how to shut it off. Sometimes, in a large group, I can make it sound like static, instead of individual thoughts.” He rolled down his window. Even though it was a cold night, the cab of the truck felt overly warm. “What do you preferred to be called?”

  “Alex. I’m called Alex,” she said, flinching as she answered. One of the ways she stayed alive was by not telling the Lupins she hated being called Red. Maybe he purposefully ignored the atrocious nickname she had inadvertently revealed earlier.

  “My mother protected me,” she said, going back to the original topic. “She, not Roxy, is the strongest of our pack. In a fair fight, she would beat Roxy. Problem is, Roxy never fights fair and has her goons to keep others in line. Once I became a doctor, they left me alone. Very few of our pack become doctors because it’s so hard to deal with our lunar cycles around non-weres. I don’t know how your pack handles living in or so close to the city. Most of my pack can’t control the shift very well around the full moon.” She paused as she recalled how much harder it had been for her to fight it when the pressures of school had added to her stress of hiding her true nature. Roxy had assumed it would be easy for her presumed defective pack member, and it was one of the reasons Whitekiller had
agreed to help with her education—and she had earned enough scholarships to pay for most of it.

  “My mother’s a healer and helps with most of their wounds and even studies online, but I have full training. They need me.” She turned and watched the blue-gray landscape flash by as they left the neutral zone. They were getting closer to Yakima, the nearest large city. But they were still on the reservation, about five miles from Wapato, one of many small towns they had in the area.

  “I also give the pack prestige and something else. Something I don’t understand. Whenever Roxy looks at me, she gets such a look of pleasure on her face, I get the creeps. I’ve tried reading her mind, but all that comes through is an eerily gleeful satisfaction. No details.” She was frustrated. “What good is being telepathic if you can’t find out the information you want?”

  “We can only read what they’re thinking. I haven’t figured out a way to find out what I want either. Believe me, I’ve tried,” he said as he slowed down at an intersection still a few miles out from Wapato and turned down a new road.

  “Where are we going?” she asked. Since she had been thinking so loudly in her own mind, she had neglected to pay attention to his thoughts.

  “My house. I have a guest room you can use. We’ll worry about clothes in the morning, if you don’t mind wearing my sweats for the night,” he said, indicating the extra clothes from his truck. Most weres carried at least one extra set. She would bet money he had more clothes in his toolbox, which sat across the bed of the truck against the cab.

  “These are fine. I’m off rotation for a couple of days. That gives me time to buy something.” All of a sudden, she felt weary. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off, leaving her with worry over her pack’s actions and no way to fix things. Although Nolan had dutifully kept his eyes on the road as she had dressed, she did not know him well enough to really trust him. A part of her wished she could close her eyes and pretend it was a bad dream, but she had never hidden from problems and figured now was not a good time to start.