Lone Wolf(14)
Ellison didn’t wait. He came into the tunnel, his long legs bringing him to her in a few strides. “Maria, honey, you all right?”
He slid his arm around her waist. He did it without thought, the most natural thing in the world.
Maria managed a nod. “It’s Olaf. He’s gone exploring and won’t come out.”
Ellison was like a rock. His arm steadied her, and his warmth at her side quieted her fears. His hat touched her hair, and then she felt his lips on the top of her head.
“Stay put,” he said. “I’ll get him. Tiger—look after Maria.”
“I’ll watch her,” Broderick said, too quickly.
“No. You’ll come with me.”
“Chase bears yourself, Rowe,” Broderick said with a growl. “I’ll take Maria home.”
His arrogance snapped something inside Maria. The fiery temper she’d been ashamed of before her abduction reared up. “You get in there and find Olaf,” she said to Broderick, pointing her finger down the tunnel. “If he doesn’t come out, or one hair on his pelt is hurt, you can explain to Ronan why you didn’t go in after him.”
Ellison chuckled, more heat. “I know who my money’s on.”
Broderick growled again. “You’re going to leave her with the crazy?”
Tiger said absolutely nothing, but when his yellow eyes flicked to Broderick, Broderick swallowed.
Maria took a step closer to Tiger. “I’ll be fine. Get Olaf.”
Broderick made another snarling noise but took off down the tunnel.
“Be right back,” Ellison said. He touched his hat brim, gave Maria his big smile, and jogged down the tunnel after Broderick.
***
The wolf in Ellison didn’t like the tunnel of the culvert. Wolves preferred wide meadows, where they could run, or the quiet of woods that flowed for miles. Wild wolves did hole up in dens, but those were shallow caves, not deep tunnels.
The dislike of caves came from racial memory, maybe. The Fae had liked caves, not to live in, but as a place in which to keep their slaves. Slaves meant Shifters; that is, until the Shifters had told the Fae to go fuck themselves and had fought a long, bloody war for their freedom.
Ellison’s Lupine Shifter ancestors had been thrilled to be free of the underground, to run in the wild, where they belonged.
Bears, on the other hand . . .
“Why does he want to explore down here?” Broderick asked, a shudder in his voice.
“Bears. Damn things like caves.”
“But he’s a polar bear.”
“So maybe he likes ice caves.”
“Let’s find the shit and get him out of here,” Broderick said. “It’ll make the woman happy.”
The woman. That was how he talked about Maria, the beautiful lady Broderick said he wanted to mate-claim. Dickhead.
Ellison had drunk in the beauty of her, even as he’d worried for Olaf. She wore form-hugging jeans today and a tight-fitting shirt, a black elbow-sleeved T with spangled red and blue flowers on the front, two small buttons holding it closed at the very top. She was a delicious package. Ellison wanted to find Olaf quickly so he could return and enjoy it.
“Olaf!” Ellison called, his voice falling against the dead air of the tunnel. “Where are you?”
If they lost Olaf, it wasn’t only Maria he’d have to face. Ronan loved the kid. Olaf was an orphan of unknown clan who’d needed a home, and Ronan had volunteered his. Ronan was always doing things like that, the big, giant softie.
The big, giant softie had foot-long claws, and teeth that could rip a tree in half.
A trickle of water sounded up ahead, the tunnel built to carry runoff from creeks when they overflowed. Ellison always found it fascinating that Austin was crisscrossed by creeks and wetlands, while other parts of the vast state, not very far from here even, were bone-dry. Texas and its amazing diversity went on forever.
Ellison heard Olaf growl. A long, low growl, from a baby animal throat, at something that had the cub surprised and worried. Olaf was a fairly fearless little guy, so anything that worried him worried Ellison.
Ellison stripped off his boots, ready to let his wolf come out.
Shifting wasn’t always instantaneous. Ellison’s body fought it today, both human and wolf wanting to hurry and find Olaf and take him out. He willed himself to be wolf—easier to track, easier to fight in that form.
He shucked his jeans as his legs started to bend to the wolf’s, fur swiftly erasing his human flesh. Once Ellison’s four wolf feet hit the ground, the struggle ceased, and the wolf took over.
He pinpointed Broderick’s rank smell right away and ran past it, Broderick a smudge in the darkness. Up ahead, Olaf was still growling, throwing off agitated bear cub smell.