Walking into the Shamrock, Heather almost did a dance of joy. The dark hardwood floor gleamed as did the brass lamps on the walls. The tables and chairs were in place. Dishes had been delivered. The staff had been hired. And the whole town was delighted to have the restaurant open again.
The scrumptious aroma coming from the kitchen made her stomach growl.
Since the restaurant would open this Saturday—four days away—Madoc had been testing his menu to ensure he had everything he needed, and all the equipment worked. Mmmm. Today must be pizza day.
Talking him out of a slice or two shouldn’t be difficult. The male loved to feed people—even her.
No, the disgruntled thought wasn’t fair to him or her. He didn’t dislike her. He simply treated her with the same distant politeness he used with any female younger than an Elder. As if he’d never kissed her, never played with her breasts, never been inside her.
She couldn’t even resent his behavior since it was the same way she wanted to treat all the males in all the world.
Yet, when he walked out of the kitchen, her heart still sped up, even though it’d been well over a week since the full moon.
By the Gods, she had fewer brains than a pixie.
His courteous smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Heather, what’s up?”
“Nothing for you. I have to drop off some paperwork for André.” She returned his smile. Politely. “I just came in this door to see how everything looked over here.”
“Ah.”
“The restaurant is beautiful, Madoc. From what I’m hearing, the place will be crowded on opening night.”
Feeling her eyes prickle with tears, she strode quickly across the room, escaping through the shared double doors to the gift shop.
She almost ran into André.
“Heather, how—” His smile died. Setting her bag on the floor, he pulled her into his arms. “Ma chère, what has hurt you?”
The sympathy in his dark resonant voice almost undid her, and she blinked hard to hold back the tears. “N-nothing.”
He made a French sound in the back of his throat, a huffed noise disputing what she’d said.
“No, really. I’m fine. It was a…a female moment.”
“I see.” He looked past her, through the open door to the restaurant. “I suppose we can leave it at that. For now.”
She started to relax.
“And you say you feel fine. I’d have to agree—you truly do feel fine.” He drew her closer, right up against his hard body, illuminating exactly what he meant.
Her hands closed on the steely bulge of his biceps, and she found herself totally breathless at how good it felt to be held.
All week, he’d been moving closer, holding her hands, stroking her hair, touching her face. Whenever she saw him, the flirtatious dance made her senses tingle and heated her body.
And here she was in his arms and couldn’t think of anywhere else she wanted to be. Except, no, she wasn’t going to do this. “André.” She tried to put a protest in the word—and realized it came out throaty and entreating.
He cupped the back of her head and…kissed her. His firm lips moved lazily over hers. When she parted her lips, he took advantage, sinking deeper, kissing her with an unshakable insistence that melted her bones.
“Well, well, well.” Niall’s smooth baritone came from behind her. He’d come through the gift shop’s second door—the one to the busy square. “Stealing kisses should put you in a good mood, brawd.”
“It did.” André rubbed his cheek against her hair. “But my cahir, I would hate to be selfish.”
Leaving the door open, Niall prowled forward, his green gaze trapping hers. “Well, if you’re sharing, I haven’t had a kiss from our pretty wolf for an entire week.”
Without a word, André handed her over to his brother, who pulled her up against him.
Niall’s arms were unyielding, his mouth disconcertingly gentle…and his kiss just as passionate.
Leaning against her from behind, André nibbled on her shoulder.
Sandwiched between the two powerful males, she quivered as heat engulfed her.
“Want to come home with us?” Niall asked. “Be with us tonight?”
“N-no. No.” And her breathy answer lacked any conviction. So she made her voice firm and loud. “No, I’m heading for Cold Creek. I’ll spend the night with my friends.”
From behind Heather came a familiar high voice. “You… You…”
She turned far enough to see Gretchen in the doorway. The blonde’s eyes burned with fury before she stomped back out, slamming the door behind her.
“I suppose it’s somewhat indiscreet to be kissing our accountant in a place of business.” André chuckled and nipped the back of her neck before stepping away.
“Rules, so many rules.” Eyes dancing with laughter, Niall kissed her lips and released her. “How about tomorrow night, a thaisce? Shall we continue then?”
“Yes.” She blinked. “No, I mean no. We can’t do this.” This was insane…yet the need to step back into their arms made her tremble.
“But”—Niall frowned—“we did do this.”
“No, we shouldn’t. Won’t.” Gods. She grabbed her tote bag and dropped the paperwork from it on the desk. “I’ll…I’ll see you tomorrow, André, like we planned. Nine at the communal house.” Moving fast, almost running, she escaped the gift shop.
Niall’s voice drifted out behind her, “I like her, brawd,” followed by André’s low chuckle.
In front of the café, Talam scattered the crumbs from his peanut butter sandwich on the bricks. The birds would like them.
Next to him on the bench, Sky did the same. “Who do you figure left the sandwiches—Heather or the cahir?”
“Probably Heather. She looks like a sandwich sorta person.” Talam didn’t know why, but the red-haired female had left food at their den a few times.
She was nicer than the big cahir who’d try to catch them after, like they were stupid or something. The pixie always warned them, and they’d stay away until he gave up.
He brought good food, though.
Talam turned sideways to keep an eye on Mr. Wendell. The Cosantir—no, the old Cosantir—had come out of the bar and was glaring at the Shamrock restaurant across the square.
Would he be getting kids together to take to a city?
Talam sighed. Even if he did, they wouldn’t get to work. He’d seen them and turned his back.
Why’d the male have to get so mad? They needed to work. Bad.
Their money ran out a few days ago, and it wasn’t easy to pick pockets here. There weren’t any big stores, either. And even if they lifted stuff, where could they sell it for money?
The sandwiches had helped, but he was really hungry and so was Sky.
A slamming door at the Shamrock made Talam jump.
Gretchen stomped away like someone had toasted her paws over a fire.
“Whoa, she’s really pissed off,” Sky whispered.
“Yeah.” Talam glanced at Sky. “We sure won’t try to pick her pockets.”
Sky snorted. Yesterday, they’d been scavenging in the garbage cans behind the B&B, and she’d yelled and thrown rocks at them when they ran.
“Gretchen,” Mr. Wendell called. “Were the mangy fleabags bothering you?”
“It was Heather!” The blonde crossed to talk to him in a screechy voice that made Talam’s ears hurt. “The disgusting, old, bat-eared bitch was coming on to the Cosantir. And now she’s off to spend the night in Cold Creek, and she’ll probably fuck every male there too.”
“Heather.” The way Mr. Wendell growled the name made Talam’s stomach twist in fear. “She brought Crichton here, and I lost everything. It’s her fault.”
Gretchen kept ranting. “I heard she was going to leave Rainier Territory, but nooo, she’s staying. Why doesn’t she just leave? She makes me so mad! Maybe I should run her over with my car or burn her house down or…”
Giggling, Sky wiggled his fingers over his head.
Talam choked. Because his brother was right—she was waving her hands in the air like a drunken gnome.
When Mr. Wendell stopped talking, Gretchen snapped something at him and stomped away.
Talam rolled his eyes. Back when he or Sky got stompy, Mama’d say they were “obviously cublings in need of a nap” and would send them to bed for an hour.
He missed her.
Still in front of the bar, Mr. Wendell was staring at the Shamrock again. When he smiled really mean, it made Talam’s stomach feel all shivery.
“Want to go back to our den?” Sky whispered.
Talam scowled. “He’s gonna leave soon.” They couldn’t pick any pockets with him around.
Instead of leaving, Mr. Wendell motioned them over. Was he going to let them work again?
They ran over as quickly as they could.
“Mr. Wendell, sir.” Talam tried to look really respectful.
“I’m not one to hire wagtails back, but you were good workers before.” Mr. Wendell’s eyes narrowed. “I’m going to give you one last chance. I have a special job requiring two workers.”
“Sure. We’ll do it. Sir.” Talam said fast. He glanced at his brother, whose bony wrists stuck out of the ragged shirt. Sky needed food. So did Talam, but Sky really needed it. And it was getting cold.
“Good.” The male pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it over. “Get something to eat. I need you strong. Then I’ll pick you up in the usual spot at five tomorrow morning.”
Before sunrise? Talam stared.
Mr. Wendell pulled a cheap watch out of his pocket and handed it to Sky. “This is your only chance. Don’t be late.”
“We won’t.” As the male walked away, Talam glanced at his littermate. “Are stores even open before the sun rises?”
That evening, in the Wild Hunt Tavern in the North Cascades Territory, Heather was sitting on a couch near the fireplace and mostly ignoring her friends. Because she had Sorcha in her lap.
Smiling, she handed a small chunk of banana to her favorite girl in all the world. “Here you go, my cubling. I still can’t believe you’ll be a whole year old in November.”
Chortling, Sorcha waved her banana-filled hand in the air, then popped the fruit in her mouth.
So adorable. Rosy-pink cheeks and fluffy, golden hair. Just this month, Sorcha’s blue eyes had changed to the same green as Alec’s. She also had his sociable nature.
“You are the bestest of babies.” Heather’s squeeze set off a stream of giggles. Yes, this was what Heather needed. Babies and friends…and no captivating males to confuse her.
A roll of thunder sounded, and rain lashed the big picture windows, making Heather glad she’d arrived before the storm began. Since Calum had started a fire in the huge fireplace, Heather and her friends had taken over their favorite sitting spot near the hearth. Emma and Breanne were on the opposite couch from Heather’s. Darcy and Margery were in chairs.
“All right, Heather, time’s up.” Vicki carried a tray of drinks from the bar, followed by her mate Alec. “Trade you a beer for a baby.”
“Nope. That’s a poor exchange.” Pulling Sorcha closer, Heather kissed the pink cheeks. The baby waved her little arms and let out an infectious peal of laughter.
Everyone grinned.
With a sigh, Heather relinquished her charge to Alec who was cub-watching tonight. He already had black-haired Toren in one arm. Sixteen-year-old Jamie was carrying her half-brother, Artair.
Vicki kissed each cub, then dropped onto the couch beside Heather as they left. “I can’t believe I’m raising three babies and a teenager.”
Picking up a beer, Emma raised it in a toast. “In a couple more years, you can hand the littlest ones over to me during the days. I’ll teach them how to surf the internet.”
Vicki gave her a sour look. “This is all I need—a squad of juvenile computer hackers.”
“Actually, if you need an instructor for that, you want Niall.” At the interested looks, Heather added, “He’s the new cahir in Rainier Territory.”
“A computer hacker?” Calum’s voice behind her made her jump. The Cosantir was a cat-shifter and as silent as André and Niall. Sneaky-pawed cougars.
She turned. “He worked cybersecurity in Canada and knows the business from both sides.”
“A Canadian.” Calum’s eyes narrowed. “The one who Donal treated a month ago? He’s still here?”
Whoa, she knew more than Calum for a change? “Did you not hear about Rainier’s new Cosantir?”
“I heard, aye.” His lips curved slightly. “The God seemed quite chuffed with his new conscript.”
Gods actually talked? Remembering the unnerving touch of the God on her soul, Heather shuddered. No, absolutely no. “As it happens, André Crichton is the new Cosantir, and Niall is his brother.”
“Wait.” Vicki held up her hand. “Niall and André. From the festival? Weren’t they the ones who helped you and Margery when the mercs tried to blindside me?”
“Mmmhmm. Their third littermate, Madoc, also came.”
“Interesting.” Calum raised an eyebrow. “What do you think of your new Cosantir?”
Under his perceptive gray gaze, she felt her cheeks heat. “He’s…well, more like you than Pete. Careful, organized, logical.” No, the description made him sound like a CEO. André was far more. “Brilliant. Compassionate.”
The females around her leaned in.
“He even unsheathed his claws about the brawling at Gatherings.” Grinning, she told them about the two fighters left on the porch all full moon night. “At dawn, Niall released them, and I tell you, they walked bow-legged all the way off the property.”
Her friends hooted with laughter.
Calum’s grin flashed. “Excellent discipline. I might have to give it a try.” He set a hand on her shoulder and murmured in her ear. “To formally call upon the Gods took courage. I’m proud of you.”
He walked away, leaving her open-mouthed. How did he know?
“So…” Breanne leaned forward. “What do these new males look like?”
Margery wrinkled her nose. “They’re probably as flabby as Pete.” The curvy brunette had no love for Pete, who’d trapped her in Rainier Territory. The old Cosantir had figured a banfasa—the Daonain equivalent of a nurse practitioner—was the next best thing to having a healer.
Last spring, Heather had helped her get out of Ailill Ridge. One more thing Pete blamed her for, right?
“No, no, I want to hear. What do they look like?” Emma bounced a little. The bard had an insatiable curiosity.
“Weeeell. The Crichton crew certainly aren’t out of condition.” Heather couldn’t suppress a smile. “As a cahir, Niall is as big as Alec, but with clear green eyes and gorgeous platinum-blond hair down to here...” She held her hands to her upper chest to show the length.
“Oooo, yum,” Darcy said. “And the Cosantir?”
“He’s the dark to Niall’s light. Seriously ripped.” She shot Margery a grin. “Not even close to flabby. Dark hair, darker eyes, and his voice is like warm whiskey.”
Emma sighed. “I adore my males, but…wow.”
“What about the third brother? I take it he’s the runt of the litter?” Darcy asked.
“Madoc—a runt?” Heather’s laugh died as she remembered his overly polite smiles and talk. “Niall and André are cats. Madoc’s a bear, almost cahir-sized, but brawny.”
“Blonde like Niall?” Vicki asked.
“No, thick, wavy brown hair”—Heather marked the length by patting her shoulders—“warm hazel eyes. He’s sociable. Everyone likes him.”
“You like those brothers, don’t you?” Margery looked simply delighted.
She did. She hadn’t realized how much until trying to describe them. Aaand, she’d better shut this down fast. “Sure—but as friends and, you know, full moon fun. Nothing more.”
“Full moon fun, hmm?” Vicki had an evil look in her eyes. “Did you…indulge?”
Honestly, at Heather’s age, she should have some control over when she turned red, wouldn’t one think?
“She did!” Bree squealed, spilling her drink.
Heather threw a peanut at her. “It was just at a Gathering.”
Vicki tilted her head. “I don’t remember you turning red before when talking about full moons and past indulgences.”
“Exactly.” Bree pouted. “Remember when she told us she’d had my mate—she didn’t bat an eye.”
Heather sniffed. “You’re acting like a batch of cubs. Teenaged cubs.”
Heh, she knew the way to change the subject. “Margery, I told Niall I knew a male who went to Canada to find a shifter-counselor. Would you believe it was André and Niall who told your littermate they had a shepherd in their territory?”
Margery’s mouth dropped open. “Oliver? Have they seen him?”
“Yep, when he came to the Lammas celebration in August. He’s not drinking, is seeing a shepherd, and has a job doing trail maintenance in one of the national forests.”
Happiness lit Margery’s face. “He’s doing all right.”
“So it seems. André said he’s coming out of the shadows. He’s gained weight and muscle. Niall said Oliver was smiling a lot—especially at the females who were enjoying having a new male in town.”
“He sent me a letter in August, but…” Margery huffed. “He said nothing more than he was doing all right.”
“Males.” Darcy made an annoyed chuff. “Communication isn’t in their vocabulary.”
Looking over Darcy’s shoulder, Heather saw the tinker’s lifemates, Owen and Gawain, at a nearby table. Undoubtedly having heard Darcy’s raised voice, they were watching closely.
Probably to make sure it wasn’t them who’d pulled her tail.
Emma grinned and made a guess. “Your brothers?”
“Yes. One whole letter. Patrin and Fell are somewhere. Doing something. And alive.” Darcy growled. “I don’t even know what they’re planning to do or where they’ll live when they get done chasing the Scythe.”
Chuckling, Heather caught the gazes of Darcy’s lifemates and raised her voice. “Darcy, your brothers need a good nip on the tail to teach them to communicate.”
Darcy huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Exactly.”
Owen grinned in relief; Gawain winked at Heather, and they turned back to their own conversation.
Beside Heather, Vicki had obviously followed her gaze, and she let out a huff of a laugh at the big, deadly males, so worried about putting a paw wrong with their mate.
What would it be like to be loved so much?
Heather shook her head. She’d known it from the other side. Opening her heart wasn’t going to happen.
Even for the Crichton brothers? No, girl. Maybe André and Niall were interested, but Madoc certainly wasn’t. She wasn’t going to risk everything to have it all fall apart.
Friends, though—friends are worth every risk.
Downing half her glass of beer, she smiled at Emma. “So bard, have any good tales about your Ben, Ryder, and Minette?”