Vic pushed harder. With each harsh breath, the cold knifed into her lungs. She passed the stream and followed the tracks in the snow. She fell once and scrambled back to her feet as she heard a cougar’s snarl.
At the base of a slope, she burst into a meadow and spotted the lonely walnut tree, then Daniel, Calum, and Alec. Naked and in human form. Helen lay sprawled on the ground, unconscious, and something had ripped her up bad. Red splotches marked the snow, the smell of blood metallic and ugly in the pristine wilderness. Anger and fear tightened Vic’s throat as she saw bites and claw marks.
“I need something to stop the bleeding.” Alec pressed his hands over a long laceration. He scowled at Helen’s coat, the leather thick and useless for bandages.
“I’ll go back,” Calum said.
“No. Here.” Vic shrugged out of her jacket, yanked off her flannel shirt, and tossed it at Daniel. As he ripped off a length of material, she took off the long-sleeved Henley she’d worn under it. Using her boot knife, Vic cut off strips and handed them to Alec.
“She must have covered her head with her hood and arms.” Calum examined Helen’s face and neck with gentle hands. “She didn’t panic.”
Helen’s coat was sliced to ribbons, but it had mostly protected the fragile skin underneath. Not her legs. Multiple gouges went through muscle almost to the bone, and she was bleeding badly. The men worked quickly, tying pressure bandages over the worst of the wounds.
As Vic pulled off her coat and bent to wrap it around Helen, Alec and Calum moved aside.
Calum bent to examine the red-flecked tracks leading away. “It’s a feral.” He looked at Alec, his voice level… and sad. “I’m sorry, cahir.”
Alec bowed his head slightly. “Your will, Cosantir.”
“Let’s get going.” Daniel lifted Helen in his arms.
“Go.” Alec turned to Vic. “You’re shivering, baby. Where’s-” He glanced at Helen, saw the coat around her. “You’re a treasure, Vixen. Now haul that precious ass of yours to where it’s warm.”
Vic hesitated. How could she leave?
Calum put his hand against her back and gave her a nudge. “We’ll be taking turns carrying her down as fast as we can. Will you go ahead and find Aaron? Tell him what has happened and to prepare for us. Medical kit, heated blankets-he knows what to do.”
Vic nodded with relief. “I’m on it.” And then she ran.
When Calum eventually finished his duties and returned to Aaron’s cabin, he looked for Victoria. She wasn’t in the kitchen where Aaron and Maude were stitching up Helen. The living room? There, tucked into a chair. He frowned. Although they’d returned almost an hour ago, she sat by the woodstove shivering, her face still pinched with cold.
Calum poured out some thick black coffee from the pot on the woodstove and held it out to her. “Drink. It’s vile, but hot.”
Giving him a pale smile, she tried to take the cup, but trembled so hard that coffee sloshed over the side.
Calum took it back and set it on the end table. “Stand up.”
She gave him a confused look. Her wits were definitely chilled, or the obstinate little female would have argued with him.
When she stood, he took her place in the chair, pulled her onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around her. She wore a sweater, and he felt as if he held a fluffy icicle.
She relaxed against him. “God, you feel wonderful.”
“I believe you have said that before,” he murmured in her ear, “In the cave.” He hardened at the memory.
She squirmed, then stilled as she felt his erection. “Sorry.”
“I shall live.” With his free hand, he picked up the cup of coffee and held it to her lips. “Drink, cariad.”
She sipped, shivered, sipped. “I feel like a baby,” she muttered.
He chuckled at the resentful tone. “Ah, you begin to recover.”
“Damned cold mountains.”
“They are indeed.” He wrapped his arms tighter around her, enjoying the feel of a female’s softness and the surprisingly firm muscles underneath. He rubbed his cheek over her silky hair, breathing in her scent, marking her with his.
“Sometimes people call you Calum and sometimes Cosantir. What’s a Cosantir?”
Calum grazed his lips over a scratch marring her high cheekbone. “I am guardian of this territory.” He knew what she’d ask next. “That would be the Northern Cascades.”
“Huh. Big area. So, did you run for office or something?”
“Ah, no. I fear this isn’t an elected position. The God chooses.”
Her breathing stopped for a few seconds. “Oookay. Right.”
When her lovely, cinnamon-colored eyes rose to his, he barely stifled a laugh. It had been a long while since someone looked at him like he had gone stark, raving bonkers.
“God picked you out of the herd, huh. And you would know this how?”
He nipped the back of her neck as a reprimand. “It is risky to taunt Herne, Victoria. And I know this because certain powers come with the title.”
Rubbing her nape, she scowled at him. “You’re so full of -”
As he opened himself to the God, power surged through him in an unstoppable wave. From the way she froze, his pupils had probably turned the color of night and even a sense-blind human could feel the hum radiating from him.
She swallowed. “That’s why you played judge for that bear guy?”
“Aye,” he sighed. He’d never wanted to be a Cosantir. He’d been a lawyer-a damn good one-living just inside the territory lines. But one does not refuse the call of a God. With his acceptance, Herne’s power had fallen upon him like an avalanche, sweeping his past life away.
“What’s a feral? Is that what got Helen?”
“Feral means wild. So did a real mountain lion attack her…or one of you?”
How badly would this aspect of shifter life terrify her? “One of us.”
She glared at him. “Pulling answers out of you is like getting information from a Su-is really difficult. Tell me, do shifters just go around attacking their buddies for fun?”
“Hardly for fun. We are stronger, live longer, are immune to human diseases, but we’re still half-human, Victoria. If a Daonain becomes unbalanced mentally…” He shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t continue.
Her brows drew together. “But humans don’t turn into wild animals when they go nuts. Can it happen to anybody? Are
“I fear there is no easy answer to your questions,” he said carefully. “Daonain do occasionally decide to live in animal form and simply become wild. However, attacking humans is an aberration.” One that occurred all too often.
“How many ferals have you seen in the last…oh, five years?”
Stubborn wench. “Maybe ten or so.” He felt her stiffen.
“That’s…that’s a lot.” She shivered, and he didn’t know whether from cold or from horror. Why couldn’t she ask his silver-tongued brother these questions? Alec could make a visit to hell sound like a tropical vacation.
“Well, when you guys go hunt this feral, I want to go along. I’m a good shot. Someone can loan me a rifle and-”
“No.”
“Dammit, Calum, Helen is my friend and-”
“There will be no hunting party with weapons.”
She shoved off his lap and stood up, legs braced. “You’re going to just let that thing go? Let it attack some