Gentry (Wolves of Winter's Edge Book 1)(59)

Bouncing unsteadily, she aimed for them. Roman huffed a sneeze that sounded suspiciously like a wolf laugh. Jerk. Asher blinked slowly and made her walk all the way to him, lowering herself like she’d done with Gentry because the Strikers felt scary. She was basically camouflaged into the snow with just her ears poking out when Asher finally sniffed her once and then trotted away, apparently bored. Jerk number two. She liked them.

A blur of gray blasted past her, then Gentry skidded to a stop and circled back, running so fast it shocked her to stillness. And right when she thought he would plow into her, he leapt into the air and sailed right over her with a grace that stole her breath away. Behind her, he was down on his front end, his butt up in the air, his tail wagging slowly, his tongue out.

Play with me.

She liked playing! Blaire took off, concentrating on her feet until she got the hang of running. And then Gentry was right there running beside her, racing her. On either side of them, Asher and Roman ran through the woods, eyes drifting to Blaire time and time again.

Mine, all mine, my Gentry, my life, my boys, my Strikers, my pack, my snow, my woods, my wolf. She wanted to scream and laugh and cry and then start all over again. Blaire felt insane with how powerful and fast this body was. The pads of her feet barely made any sound as she sprinted through the snow, around trees and brush, weaving in and out with the other wolves now.

Everything was going to be okay.

Emotion overwhelmed her. She locked her long legs and skidded to a stop in a clearing. Gentry reached her first, worry pooling in his glowing green eyes. He clamped his teeth on her neck when she ducked to the ground for him, but it didn’t hurt. Love bite. He sniffed her fur as she lay there, then flopped over on top of her, rubbing his back on her like he had an itch. Felt good. He was so warm. Happiness trilled through the bond, and now the emotion that had stopped her swelled. She wanted to cry but didn’t have the luxury of that outlet in this body. She couldn’t absorb this all-consuming feeling in her body, so she closed her eyes and sang. It was a short howl, unpracticed. But Gentry stood in a rush right above her, tossed his head back, and cried out, too. His voice was deeper and started low, then rose by an octave and held. Stunning.

When Roman howled, he sounded different from Gentry. She committed his tone to memory and sang again with him and Gentry. Asher waited so long she thought he wouldn’t join in, but as the tightness in her chest finally eased, he lifted his head and cried out to the winds and the woods and the sky.

This was a declaration. And not just Asher’s. Blaire could almost hear their thoughts, hear the meaning behind this song. A mash-up of jumbled words rattled around in her head, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out if she was making them up or if the three wolves standing so near were talking. I’m staying. We have to stay. I’m staying, too. Just for a while. Not ready to go. Things left unfinished. Not this time.

She was glad Gentry hadn’t killed Rhett now. This moment wouldn’t have existed if he had. He would’ve been alpha of that awful pack, and Asher and Roman would be scattered to the wind. And she, by default, would’ve been a Bone-Ripper, just like the bloodthirsty animals that had tried and failed to kill her.

Her clever mate had known what he was doing.

Gentry had separated the Strikers from the monsters and separated her from the darkness. They’d saved each other, but he’d gone above and beyond what she could’ve ever imagined. He’d brought her from the brink time and time again when she was fighting for her life in Odine’s cabin. He’d called to her wolf when she got weak, called to her protective instincts, called for her to come back to him.

She was no longer weak, frail, and weaponless in a place where supernaturals ruled the shadows.

Gentry had gone to war with an entire pack for her life.

And then his love had made her into the white wolf of Winter’s Edge.





Epilogue




Well, no one would ever be able to call Blaire boring again. Her eyes were glowing like green bug lights, and the snarl in her chest was constant. Matt would crap a brick if he saw her like this.

While she slathered on another layer of lip-gloss in the pull-down mirror of Gentry’s new truck, stalling like a champ, Roman laughed like a psychopath behind her. From the familiar audio on the phone, she wanted to strangle him.

“Look at this,” he said, shoving his phone toward her. “Look how dumb you look trying to run from your own tail.” Butthole had taken video in Odine’s cabin.

With an eyeroll, Blaire shoved his hand away. She secretly adored Asher and Roman, but she also secretly wanted to strangle them several times a day.