A Shifter's Claim (Pale Moonlight Book 4) Page 5

  Waylon came back in while she explained their encounters with Paulie and Langdon. He didn’t sit, but hefted his duffel and waited.

  “So,” Shilo wrapped up, “it’s something to think about. Langdon didn’t like being challenged about it and he didn’t like Waylon. We need to take a page from his playbook and use it to our advantage. Now, I’ve gotta get to bed.”

  She rose and walked out. Waylon was on her heels. His presence irritated her as much as it was a balm to her rising rage. Until she reached the landing of the wooden staircase that arched to her room. It was really a suite that took up the entire top floor of the wing. The bottom level had the spare bedroom, kitchenette, sitting area, and guest bathroom.

  “I’ve never seen you talk to your parents like that,” Waylon said quietly so their voices wouldn’t carry down the hall.

  Her crankiness bested her. “Yeah, well, I changed after you left.”

  “Too bad it wasn’t before,” he muttered and stalked down the hall to disappear into the guest room.

  Her mind wanted to return to old arguments. Why she hadn’t stood up to her parents. Why she hadn’t asked for his mark. Why they’d been together for years without going through the bonding ceremony.

  But those arguments were best left in the past. How she acted wasn’t his business anymore. He just had to keep her alive.

  Chapter 5

  Staring at his black boots wasn’t getting him anywhere. He’d risen with the sun, having fallen asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. With his job—former job—he’d slept during the day and worked the evening until close, then hit the back room with a willing female or two.

  But yesterday, he’d not only gotten to bed late, but he’d also been mentally exhausted. Hours and hours with the female he’d sworn off.

  There was something different about her. Everything. She dressed classier, though her rumpled top and slacks were the only outfit he’d seen her in since they’d parted. Her attitude wasn’t as subdued as five years ago—her temper was quicker to rise and the way she’d addressed her parents had shocked him. That wasn’t his Shilo, who played the middle ground like she was rooted in it.

  He switched his gaze to the ceiling. There were no footsteps, no running water, and no sounds of an awake Shilo. She used to be up with the sun; morning runs were her wolf’s favorite.

  Her personality had changed, and her habits must’ve as well. If she was anything like him, staving off the loneliness was most commonly done after nightfall.

  He stared at the floor. Being here was… He’d love to pretend the last five years hadn’t happened, but it was the weeks before that, the night before, that he couldn’t ignore.

  You’d give your life to a worthless mate?

  I love him, Mother. We’re fated.

  Then you cannot be our legacy. You cannot take over for us if you bond to him.

  Waiting for Shilo’s adamant refusal to bow to her parents’ threats had slaughtered him. Because it hadn’t come.

  We’ll wait. They’ll soften.

  What if they don’t? he’d asked.

  We’ll still be together.

  Riding the middle like always. Ironhorse Falls’ ambassador. Waylon snorted and shot a look at the ceiling. All quiet.

  When was she going to fucking wake up? He was starving.

  She had a small kitchen; hopefully she had food. Sitting here was a test in madness, trying to ignore memories of them together that were prompted by every object he looked at. The bed he sat on? He couldn’t count how many times they’d made love on it. The dresser? He’d taken her up against it and repaired the gouges in the drywall afterward. The tiny bathroom he used when she took her epically long baths? She’d jumped him shaving one time.

  The kitchen wouldn’t be safe either. The dozens of times they’d laughed at the counter. The night Charlie had announced over a game of cards that he and Cass wanted them at their bonding ceremony. And, of course, the sex.

  He’d taught Shilo to cook. She’d been so coddled she couldn’t boil water. But his time in the isolated cabin with Uncle Wolf had taught him to be self-reliant.

  Uncle Wolf. A mystery male to the entire colony and to Waylon himself, despite being raised by the old codger.

  Waylon scrubbed his face and stood. He’d been so young when he was brought here by a shifter who’d found him eating a rabbit carcass in the woods in his human form, his only possession a note with a name on it. Shuffled from house to house, the families barely able to tolerate his nearly feral behavior, until he’d landed at Uncle Wolf’s.

  Another thing he’d lost before he left. Uncle Wolf had been gone for days. Waylon had gone out to the isolated cabin to check on him each day until he returned. And he had. He’d died on the doorstep from wounds that had refused to heal. Silver toxicity. Feet away from the salt that could’ve saved his life.

  Waylon should’ve stuck around and waited instead of staying at Shilo’s. He should’ve found out how Uncle Wolf had been injured, but the male would’ve come back from the dead to haunt him for interfering. He’d been that private.

  Waylon shook his head. He’d be sobbing in his OJ if he kept this line of thinking up.

  In the kitchen he didn’t find as much food as he’d hoped.

  “What the hell does she eat?” Two gulps of juice were left in the bottle. No milk. No leftovers. The condiments were all different colors and shades than they were supposed to be. He opened the freezer door and his stomach rumbled. What could he make out of a pound of hamburger and old peas? Rummaging through the cupboards turned up spice containers that probably hadn’t been opened since he’d left, penne, and a can of mushrooms that expired next month.

  The makeshift hash was over half gone before he quit eating and saved the rest for Shilo. She might turn her little button nose up at it, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat it all. He’d have to get his own groceries later so he wouldn’t be accused of freeloading.

  She still wasn’t awake.

  He wandered through her home but stayed on the main level. It looked almost the same. Each and every knickknack he’d gotten her was gone. Packed away or thrown away? Too bad. A couple of Uncle Wolf’s animal carvings had been so delicate and lifelike, Waylon had expected them to walk away. The carvings Waylon had attempted himself were lackluster, but she’d proudly displayed them on the bookshelves in her bedroom. Bet they were gone, too.

  After a few minutes, he’d seen every inch accessible to him. He was staying far away from her bedroom. Might as well watch TV.

  He sank into the plush deep-purple couch and turned it on. Static roared through the room.

  “Fuck.” He hit button after button. Finally, he got it muted and crawled behind the television. The only wire hooked into it came from a DVD player. He couldn’t find a coax cable, a Roku, a satellite connection, nothing. She hadn’t even bothered to hook up an antenna.

  Her sweet-clover scent swamped him before she spoke. “Getting a signal of any kind has become impossible. We’ll be completely cut off soon.”

  She was at the base of the stairs, facing the room he was in. She must’ve showered last night; he hadn’t heard the water running. The navy-blue leggings she wore matched her baggy graphic tee with a picture of the Eiffel Tower. She should look refreshed, but her eyes were as solemn as the dark circles under them.

  Was there something going on with her, or was it the stress of the previous day? “Is that what the negotiations were about the other day?”

  She nodded and crossed her arms like she was cold. It was at least seventy in the house. “We’re playing it off like we’re just trying to get fiber optic cable. If we can arrange to dig in the line for that, we can figure out what’s going on with our DSL and telephone lines.”

  “But an antenna doesn’t work.”

  “It was always spotty out here.”

  “More coincidences.”

  “I know” was all she said.

  Asking her if everything was okay wasn’t an optio
n. She wasn’t going to open up to him and it wasn’t his place. “There’s some hamburger…stuff…in the fridge.”

  Her eyes lit up. “You cooked?” She didn’t wait for an answer but spun around and hunted his food.

  He went after her only because he had to know what she had planned for the day. He was dressed in jeans with only a hole over each knee and a black T-shirt. Eh, should be good enough for what she’d have going on.

  When he rounded the wall to the kitchen, he caught her trashing the rest of his food. She looked over her shoulder. “I guess I’m not that hungry.”

  He’d be offended, but her complexion had paled. “That pizza not sitting well?”

  “No. I think my midnight snack was off.” She dropped the lid on the trash and set the container down. “I guess I should get some decent food. I have to talk to Mother and Father before they meet with the other pack leaders. I’m sure they’ll want to share what Covet’s been up to, and about…you.”

  Yesterday, she’d been full of fire, today he couldn’t see more than an ember of her energy. “I’ll be your shadow.”

  “All right. I’ll get dressed then.”

  She came down minutes later in gray slacks and a black silk top. For a pack meeting?

  She was trying to act the part of future colony leader. Waylon smacked against the bitter taste in his mouth and followed her to the same meeting room he’d been in last night.

  He expected more out of the update with her parents. Drama. Glares. Outright hostility. But Shilene and Weatherly Ironhorse must’ve decided that he was worth less now than he had been before and it was best to treat him as if he didn’t exist. Posting himself at the doorway, he listened as Shilo briefed them in more detail about how talks had gone with Langdon.

  From her report, the Covet shifter was suave. He’d treated Shilo as if he was their biggest proponent in technology upgrades. He claimed he was willing to meet with the company about where to dig the line and generously offered to let Ironhorse Falls piggyback off of what Covet already had. How convenient for Langdon.

  When discussion about the Guardians taking over the murder investigation died down, Waylon spoke, knowing he was the last person the Ironhorses wanted to hear from. “The Covet shifters think of Shilo as theirs.”

  All three stared at him.

  “Langdon thinks he’s being charming,” Shilo said.

  Waylon shook his head. “It’s more than that. The way Paulie behaved when he saw me wasn’t just aggression over another male challenging his authority on his turf, it was also about a male being with you. Langdon checking on you before we left town was more than a wellness check, or a display of power. His focus was on you.”

  “You’re more attuned to Shilo.” Weatherly glanced at him and looked away. A dismissal. “That’s why you think that.”

  Waylon dragged in a suffering breath. “Maybe because I’m more attuned to her, I can tell.”

  Shilo licked her lips, avoiding his gaze. “It’s been his acquaintances that I’ve gone home with the last couple of times. I doubt he’d be plotting a claim on me without trying to cockblock them.”

  As hard as it was to talk about Shilo’s sex life with other males, he mulled it over. “Do they seem convenient? The first few meetings in Freemont, did you find partners on your own, then suddenly, there were guys with stamina hanging around?”

  Shilene sat back and crossed her arms. Motherly anger that a male would orchestrate her daughter’s sex life carved into her expression. “Shilo?”

  “Well, last night was his IT connection. Before that…” She thought for a moment. A crease formed in her satin skin and she chewed her lip.

  Waylon couldn’t help his smugness. She was having a hard time remembering. But like him, she probably remembered each one of their times together.

  “I think…” Shilo said. “Yeah, I partied with Langdon’s old college buddy. Another human. And before that I think I might’ve been introduced to one of his construction suppliers.”

  Shilene tsked. “Why couldn’t you just come home and use one of your regulars?”

  “Because they’re getting clingy,” Shilo snapped. “And I shouldn’t have to worry about getting used by who I take to bed.”

  It was increasingly difficult to play impervious. Regulars? Memories of snide gazes and curled lips assaulted him. Ironhorse Falls was full of males who had thought Shilo should give up on him. They’d joked about keeping them in mind when she got sick of him, or when she realized Waylon wasn’t enough. How many times had Shilo talked him out of jumping the bastards?

  Turns out she really had kept them in mind. And he hated himself for it.

  “Shilo’s right,” he forced himself to say. “When’s the next meeting?”

  “Langdon’s going to know who you are by then.” Weatherly’s gaze took on disgust. “I’d love to vouch for every resident of Ironhorse Falls, but gossip finds its way to Passage Lake.”

  “Two days,” Shilo answered. “In Freemont.”

  Waylon needed to start planning now. “Does the pack give you trouble on the way to the meeting?”

  She thought for a moment. “Only when I’m not alone. I’ve brought the librarian to Freemont before and we were stopped. Then one time, the elementary and high school principals accompanied me.”

  Waylon didn’t know who any of them were. He’d set eyes on Shilo during the one year he’d attempted school, and all other shifters had faded away. Uncle Wolf had offered to teach him what he needed to know, and after experiencing how much time class wasted, Waylon had agreed. Uncle Wolf had looked like he should be holding up a thumb and hitchhiking across the nation with his scruffy face and faded, grungy clothing. But his intelligence had been unparalleled, and only Waylon knew that.

  Too bad his cabin hadn’t met typical standards. Uncle Wolf’s place had lacked heat or an indoor bathroom. Waylon still thanked the inventors of modern plumbing every time he used a urinal and had the pleasure of washing his hands afterward.

  “Last year, the colony journalist came with,” Shilo said. “I was stopped with each of them. Paulie flirted with the librarian, which I think she pretended to like to keep from causing trouble. Peter, the journalist, got questioned a little more.”

  “How’d they stop you? Car trouble?” Waylon asked.

  Shilo chewed her bottom lip as she remembered. “A check-engine light one time. The gas light. I didn’t think anything of it the first few times. They’d chitchat, ask some nosy questions, then send us on our way. And yes, when I was with a male, we’d be delayed longer.”

  “What made them back off?” Waylon asked. Was she involved with any of the males?

  “At the time, I thought it was because they were just being Covet, but now that I think about it, the males I was with were mated and we had no romantic ties. The Covets could’ve smelled their family on them and left us alone.” She chuckled. “Peter probably smelled like spit-up. He told new-baby stories the whole way.”

  Peter was already mated with kids? He was younger than Waylon and they’d both amicably ignored each other the entire time they were growing up. Unlike several others, both young and old, Peter hadn’t felt it was necessary to point out that Waylon didn’t have a place in the colony.

  When they’d found him as a speechless child in the woods, no one had claimed him. The only possible colonies he could’ve been from were Passage Lake or Ironhorse Falls. Neither had claimed him, and none of the packs had ponied up and allowed him in. Ironhorse pack had finally given in.

  It was like he exuded a repellent for everyone in the colony that had rescued him. Somehow word of him had filtered to Uncle Wolf, and the Ironhorse pack had gladly sent Waylon to live deep in the woods with him. Until Waylon met Shilo, he couldn’t figure out why they’d bothered to pluck him out of the woods.

  And since the packs in Ironhorse Falls had wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, he’d happily ignored them. No use wasting the effort to play nice when the residents found him useless.


  He had two days before the meeting in Freemont. There was little to plan for, but Waylon formulated a strategy. “We’ll be open about who I am and what I’m around for. Totally open. Shifters took out C&C, so Shilo might be in danger. But here’s what we do: we play up our history.” He switched his gaze from Weatherly to Shilene, then Shilo. “You don’t like me, but you trust me to keep her safe. We play up that you can’t stand me. Shilo and I aren’t together anymore for reasons, and we play up the separation, the feelings, the bitterness. Don’t hold back.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Shilo asked.

  “Hey, I’m just a bartender who needs extra cash—that’ll be my angle. Maybe they’ll underestimate me, try to get me out of the way, or buy me off. Whatever they choose will tell us something.”

  Shilene’s lips pursed. Her chin automatically lifted in that superior way she adopted around him. But her words surprised him. “If they ignore you, they’ll think Shilo’s vulnerable. If they try to get you out of the way, their intentions for Ironhorse Falls are more aggressive than we feared. And if they buy you off, they’ll confirm all our suspicions about the orders and shipments. I wouldn’t be surprised if Langdon paid good money for a direct ear into this town.”

  “Those humans he tossed in Shilo’s way,” Weatherly agreed. “Right. I’ll call the pack leaders in to discuss our needs for the next meet up. Our residents are getting antsy with the lack of outside communication.”

  Waylon crossed his arms and didn’t move. He would be sitting in on the meeting, just like this one. They were stuck with him, and that fabulous plan of his gave them all free rein to treat him worse than they had before.

  So much talking. A fun day of meetings and Shilo was antsy, irritated, and jonesing to rip something apart.

  Having Waylon positioned within feet of her, his pine smell tickling her nose, was driving her hormones into a frenzy. Too bad talking to her parents about her recent sex life hadn’t put a damper on them. All it had served to do was remind Shilo of how satisfying it would be to get fucked by Waylon again.