Ancient Ties (Pale Moonlight (Wolf Shifters Romance) Book 2) Read online

  Ancient Ties

  Book 2, Pale Moonlight

  By Marie Johnston

  Ancient Ties

  Copyright © 2016 by Lisa Elijah

  Developmental Editing by Sharper Editing

  Copy Editing by Night Vision Editing

  Cover by P and N Graphics

  The characters, places, and events in this story are fictional. Any similarities to real people, places, or events are coincidental and unintentional.

  Born to be Guardians…

  Chayton Eagle comes from a strong line of wolf shifters, his father an ancient in their pack. Chayton proudly acts as a Guardian, defending the colonies from danger—both from outsiders and from threats inside the pack. The one thing he doesn’t need is a human-raised female on his team—especially not one who passes out each time she shifts! Never mind that she was trained by elite Guardians, Chayton doesn’t need the distraction of a tall, sexy-as-hell redhead when he’s working. He has to focus. And he has to remember he’s scheduled to take the blood oath with a female, a long-ago pairing arranged by her parents. It doesn’t matter he and Kaitlyn are fated mates.

  She can’t be his. Not now. Not ever.

  Destined to be Mates.

  Kaitlyn Savoy knows Chayton is supposed to be her mate. Too bad he’s such an ass about her human upbringing making her weak. Too bad she’s been assigned as his partner to take down the feral shifters threatening one of the colonies. Too bad she’s so damn attracted to him. As the mission continues, Chayton is captured by the ferals, and Kaitlyn proves her worth as a Guardian. During the rescue, she uncovers the secrets of her past, secrets that will affect her future. Despite his best efforts, Chayton’s opinion of her begins to change, his respect growing—along with feelings he can’t deny. She’s become part of his life, part of his heart. A fact his soon-to-be inlaws notice—and they intend to put an end to the temptation Kaitlyn poses to Chayton.

  No matter what.

  For new release updates, chapter sneak peeks, and exclusive quarterly short stories, sign up for Marie’s newsletter and receive download links for the book that started it all, Fever Claim, and three short stories of characters from the series.

  To my critique group, Wet Ink. Always there for laughs, questions, and support even though you’re across the country.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Aww, fuck. You’re cooking?”

  Kaitlyn Savoy cringed at the male’s voice. So unfair that Chayton Eagle’s deep rumble and unique cadence made her nerve endings tingle, while his cocky swagger propelled her anger off the charts.

  “You’re welcome,” she shot back, sugar dripping from her tone. “I’m sure the others will appreciate not having to dig fish bones out of their food like when it’s your night to cook.”

  Chayton propped his hip on the counter. She didn’t have to look at him to know his glimmering sorrel eyes swept her body, as good as a feather whispering over her skin.

  She ignored him while waiting for her quinoa to boil. Negative feelings about her cooking weren’t restricted to Chayton; the others didn’t appreciate anything that didn’t have a face before it died. Once the water boiled, she set the lid on top.

  With a fortifying breath, she faced the tall male. The planes and angles of his face were every bit the Native American warriors he descended from. The long braid trailing down his back didn’t detract from his masculinity, but enhanced it, in her opinion, which had no business offering insight into his looks.

  She flipped her own braided hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms. “No matter what the guys around here say, grains and vegetables are good for shifters, too. Just because you’ve all devoured meat with a side of meat for decades doesn’t mean it’s healthy for you.”

  His upper lip rose in a sneer. “Spoken like a human.”

  Oh, the guy crawled under skin and pricked at her! “Yeah, it is. But I’m still a shifter, regardless of being raised human.”

  He plucked a piece of bacon off the platter she’d set aside to drain. She lunged to swat his hand, but he popped it into his mouth and chewed with a shit-eating grin.

  Add another offense to his growing list. The bacon was to be chopped into the quinoa to coerce the baconphiles she lived with to broaden their food horizon. She’d cooked five pounds and no matter how much Chayton extolled the benefits of fish, he’d eat half in minutes. He’d done it to her before.

  She slid the plate away from him.

  He flashed another grin that bared a hint of fang. Her stomach flipped. She ignored that, too. Just like she always dismissed her body’s reactions around Chayton.

  “Uh, you were raised human and you act human.” His gaze taunted her.

  Ah, yes. His favorite hobby of pointing out her humanity. He treated it like a stain on her soul. She rolled her eyes to show him he didn’t get to her, when in fact she was developing a nice inferiority complex—but only around him.

  “You’re in my way, Eagle.” She waited for him to move, knowing he’d make that a fight, too.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “What? We get more than nuts and berries tonight?”

  His Native American accent grew more pronounced whenever he was picking on her. Her secret shame was that she almost looked forward to her confrontations with him so she could hear it, and not because it meant he was irritated.

  The way his voice deepened and stressed each syllable with a little kick… It’d be more enchanting if he wasn’t usually insulting her when it happened.

  Their little game of chicken where no one moved ended when he finally pushed away from the drawer so she could find the tongs she needed for the steaks. The meat, which was coming to room temperature on the table, was in plain sight, so he knew full well nuts and berries weren’t on the menu.

  He might’ve moved out of her way, but he hadn’t left the kitchen. While it was a large area meant to cook for several people, it shrank to a quarter of its size with his presence.

  She flipped steaks onto the grill one at a time, savoring the sizzle with each landing. “Why are you still here?”

  “Why aren’t you grilling outside; it’s beautiful out. In my culture, we’re outside every chance we get.”

  Again with the culture stuff. “Maybe you should go fishing, Eagle, prep for your assigned night to cook.”

  His gaze sharpened on her like it did every time she used his last name. He placed one hand on the countertop next to her and his other hand on his hip, drawing her attention to his muscular, yet lanky, frame. He would never out-bulk any of the other male Guardians in the pack, but his body still rippled with lean muscles.

  She ripped her gaze off him before he thought she was actually interested in him and rewarded her with his disdain.

  “I have been hokuwa—that’s fishing. I’ve had to start freezing my catches.” His mouth twisted as if the thought disgusted him. “But everyone here eats more than I catch in a week.”

  Even with so many new additions to their pack, they each
still ended up cooking almost weekly. Most were mated and couples got to share cooking duties versus splitting two nights. Kaitlyn didn’t mind. She loved her job as a Guardian—a shifter cop for the surrounding packs. But cooking duty meant no one was trying to fight her.

  Well, except for Chayton, but it wasn’t physical. Grappling with him would be…

  Thankfully, he spoke before that thought train took off. “The guys complain about scales and fins, but they eat fish by the ton.”

  She flipped the steaks. A sear on each side and raw in the middle was how everyone liked them. She preferred a little less bleeding in her food, but according to Chayton, that was the human part of her talking.

  “You could, you know, buy the fish,” she pointed out.

  He made a disgusted noise and his face reflected it tenfold. “To catch and gather what we eat is a significant aspect of our nature. Not buying a hunk of stockyard raised cattle sitting on a slab of Styrofoam and covered in cellophane. I kill what I cook.” He bared another fang and her butterflies took off. “If I even cook it at all.”

  Yuck. The backlash of not knowing she was a shifter until her early twenties: she couldn’t stand raw meat. And that was exactly why he said it.

  “Then run off and fetch supper instead of bitching about mine.”

  “I will, but the commander called and wanted me to wait here until he could talk to both of us.”

  She flattened her lips. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Chayton rarely ate with them. Some of their crew often ate in their own cabin, whether personal preference or it was just easier and more intimate with loved ones. But Chayton dined in on his night only. Was it a sign he rejected them and being a part of their pack, or because he was a control freak with his food?

  Commander Fitzsimmons entered the kitchen. “Chayton, Kaitlyn, I need a minute.”

  “Sure, boss.” Kaitlyn gave him her full attention, difficult with Chayton around, as she finished prepping dinner.

  Chayton tracked her every move. “Commander.”

  Fitzsimmons was the one male in the pack whom Chayton never used a less than reverent tone with: not only was the commander the boss, but he was one of the oldest in their pack. He rarely cracked a smile—okay, she’d never seen him smile—and his ruddy complexion amplified his stolid demeanor.

  “A colony northwest of us has been having problems with a group of rogue shifters who are deteriorating into becoming feral. The colony leader thought they could handle them, but last night they lost ten people, three of them pack leaders and one clan leader. The majority were females and children.” The commander’s grim hazel gaze pinned them both. “I need you two on it.”

  Kaitlyn’s mind whirred. “They targeted females and young? Is anyone missing?”

  Commander Fitzsimmons’s eyes lit with approval at her deduction. “Yes. Two females. The colony fought ’em off, but the leaders suspect, as do I, that they’ll be hit again. It’s a forested region, a perfect place for our kind, so it’s scattered with colonies.”

  Chayton had gone unusually still, his gaze piercing the commander, but not seeing him. “When do you want us to go?”

  Us. She had to go on a distance mission with Chayton Eagle. Twenty-four/seven exposure to what she went through the last fifteen minutes.

  Her boss’s gaze flicked to Chayton. “It’s not your colony, but it’s not far away. I’m concerned they’ll become a target.”

  Chayton’s tone sharpened to a deadly edge. “I dare them to hit my colony.”

  “You need to stop them before that happens. It’s a four-hour drive. Take off after you eat. I want you in the vicinity in case they’re attacked again. Talk to them. Take a look around, then get those females back.”

  Kaitlyn nodded and flipped the second batch of steaks. She peeked up at Chayton, who stood motionless. His bronzed skin had developed an ashen tint.

  The commander’s intense gaze captured them both. “This won’t be a problem.”

  He wasn’t asking. It was a warning that vibrated through his voice.

  “I’m a professional, Commander,” she said, concentrating on cooking. It wouldn’t help getting upset if she looked at Chayton’s reaction.

  Out of the corner of her eye, her nemesis inclined his head. An ambiguous way to say yes, it was a problem, but he’d deal?

  “Good,” the commander replied. “Report when you arrive.”

  “You got it, boss.” Kaitlyn would not let Chayton ruin this job or her position in the pack. The males she worked with were her family, their mates her closest friends. They were all she had in this world, and she owed them more than they ever knew.

  Chayton hissed under his breath. “I gotta go deep in the forest where we’re going to hunt wild shifters with the girl who passes out after each shift.”

  She clenched her jaw. There it was. Her secret shame and the other major reason he couldn’t stand her.

  “I’ll go pack,” he snarled. “Meet me in twenty.”

  She willed herself not to tell him to stuff himself with his inflated ego until he choked. She’d been a Guardian for less than three years; he had seniority. She had to at least pretend to get along with him.

  He stalked out of the kitchen. Kaitlyn released her breath. Gut through this mission. It’d be over soon enough.

  Chayton stormed to his cabin.

  A four-hour drive. With Kaitlyn.

  Spending the night. With Kaitlyn.

  Roaming the woods. With Kaitlyn.

  His heart pounded, his nostrils flared, and he huffed like a bear after a marathon. Slamming his front door open, he charged through and kicked it shut behind him.

  Only then did he double over, hands on his knees, sagging to catch his breath.

  Kaitlyn Savoy.

  The sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

  The shifter he was never supposed to meet. His mate.

  And she was oblivious to it.

  He stomped through his cabin. Her lack of mating insight was for the best. If he had his pick of shifters, she’d be the last on the list. Besides, he was promised to another. Kaitlyn was young yet, and based on her blasé-to-distasteful reaction to him, she’d have no trouble moving on. Or not. Her sanity may last longer than most who don’t anchor their souls with a mate. But if she needed to bond, she wouldn’t have a problem finding someone. Like that bartender at Pale Moonlight.

  His fangs bared and a growl escaped before he stopped himself. Chayton had never caught her with him, but stories had it the bartender helped her assuage the physical needs experienced by shifters of their caliber. She hadn’t been with the guy in the months Chayton had been around. That decision had increased the bartender’s life expectancy considerably.

  No. No. It shouldn’t matter. She would find someone to mate with and he had no say with whom. Chayton straightened and wiped his brow dotted with sweat. It was always an effort to contain his reaction around that female.

  Why her?

  Ancient blood—pure, undiluted shifter blood—ran through his veins, thanks to his father. His Sioux mother would roll over in her grave. Chayton’s bloodlines were rich with history and honor.

  The female he’d sworn himself to, Tika, would make a lovely mate instead. Soft brown eyes, feminine curves, and ancestry as strong as his. In fact, she was coming of age soon. For him, that was twenty-five. Her parents had pushed for their union when she turned eighteen, but that had seemed too pervy for him. At two hundred twenty-nine, he wasn’t about to jump a girl the second she was legal. If it was up to him, he’d wait even longer, but even Tika had pushed for their binding.

  His stomach rumbled, alerting him that he’d missed dinner. Not that he’d eat at the main lodge anyway; it was a tactic he used to avoid Kaitlyn.

  He trudged to his fridge and pulled out two plates of walleye. He’d caught them early this morning, his favorite time to fish. After tossing a skillet on the stove to heat up, he went in search of his overnight bag. Not much was really needed. He was a low main
tenance guy.

  His lip curled. Kaitlyn would probably have a suitcase that weighed fifty pounds. She was a notorious shopper and he’d heard her cabin was bursting at the log seams. Packing done, he drifted into the kitchen and tossed his fish on to fry. While the fish cooked, he took out the elastic band at the bottom of his hair, unraveled the braid, finger-combed it, and then parted it down the middle. Separately, he braided each side into the traditional two of his mother’s people.

  His people. He’d keep his promise to his mom. Carry on their ways. It had hurt her enough when he’d had to leave for Guardian training, a job that kept him away from home. The least he could do was carry on their bloodline.

  Once his hair was done, he flipped his fish out of the pan onto a plate. He leaned against his kitchen counter to eat. Most of the West Creek Guardians thought his eating habits were primitive, probably assumed he ate everything raw. And, yeah, sometimes. But his mother raised him to be civil, too.

  After he finished eating and cleaned his dishes, he glanced around his cabin, making sure nothing else needed to be done before he left. His cabin echoed his heritage, and that he was a bachelor. Sparse decorations were scattered around the main area, while partially completed beadwork and feather art scattered the surfaces. Mostly, he preferred leather-working, like the satchel he’d packed his gear in.

  He hefted his bag and steeled himself for flashing green eyes and full lips that held back a lot of Kaitlyn’s comments. Oh, he’d see them, churning in her eyes, but her sense of duty prevented her from spilling them.

  A trait he tried not to admire her for.

  Trotting to the lodge, he aimed for the garage stall where he could pick up his SUV. When he pulled out of the garage, Kaitlyn was waiting, one hand shoved in a pants pocket, backpack slung over her shoulder, rifle bag in her hand. He looked around, but she had no other luggage.

  She tossed her gear in the back and hopped in, bringing her honeysuckle scent with her. The cloying fragrance wrapped around him, tightening his gut. His fists clenched around the wheel. He hated flowers. He hated flowers. He hated flowers.