They circled and feinted this way and that, each one seeking a weakness, a point of attack. Axel found one first. He swiped at Gunnar, his claws finding their mark, and Gunnar had had enough. He growled and countered Axel’s attack with a leap, landing on top of him, his claws buried into his brother’s sides. Axel yipped like a puppy and then turned his head and snapped, getting Gunnar in the shoulder.
Gunnar shrieked in pain but hung on.
Gunnar grunted and lost his hold on his brother. He turned, grabbed Gunnar’s throat and pinned him in the snow, belly up. Gunnar tried to push him away with his paws, but he had no leverage in the soft snow. And he didn’t want to hurt his brother…not any more than he already had. Gunnar’s will to fight died as quickly as it had flared.
Axel snarled and clamped his teeth tighter, inflicting more pain but not breaking skin.
Another menacing snarl.
With a loud yowl, Axel released Gunnar’s throat and leaped away, his tail swishing, golden-green eyes full of distrust…and hurt.
Gunnar didn’t need to hear his brother’s thoughts to know that it would be a long time before he was forgiven. They’d never let a woman come between them in their entire lives. He refused to accept the idea that this woman might. Axel needed time to calm down before he spoke to him about Dakota. Gunnar would give him that.
Axel turned and bounded through the snow to the pile of clothes on the ground, shifted, and hurried to dress. Gunnar lay in the snow and watched, noting the scratches on his neck and both sides of his body.
Scratches, but not much blood. They’d inflicted much worse on each other in their younger years. The flesh wounds would heal; he just hoped the emotional scars would too.
Once Axel disappeared into the woods, Gunnar rolled to his paws to assess the damage to his own body. A few scrapes here and there, but nothing major.
It looked like the winter jacket Axel had retrieved had gotten the worst of it. Even when mad enough to maim, Axel hadn’t fought to kill, just get the upper hand. Gunnar wasn’t sure, if the tables were turned, whether he would’ve been quite so careful.
He hopped onto the exposed rocks and lay down to lick at a couple of the deeper scratches. He’d give Axel a little while to calm down before he went back to the cabin. And to come up with some story for why he returned looking like he’d waged war with a big fucking cat.
Axel’s pain had hardly subsided by the time he reached the cabin. The cuts on his body were nothing compared to what he’d felt in his chest when he witnessed his bare-assed brother draped over Dakota.
It hadn’t been more than thirty, maybe forty-five minutes, since Gunnar had read him the riot act about responsibility and celibacy, and there he was, fucking the very woman Axel had desired from the moment she waltzed into his store.
Jealousy had never entered his vocabulary, until now. Despite their sparring over the years, he and his brothers had always been a close-knit family, all looking out for their little sister regardless of how much of a fit she gave them for it. Heidi had been the only female to ever garner the kind of protective, possessive instincts he seemed to be suffering all of a sudden.
But somehow this felt different. Dakota wasn’t family. No relation at all. A stranger, and yet he was drawn to her.
The door opened and Dakota dropped to her knees beside him. “Oh, my God!” She touched his torn jacket. “What happened? Are you okay?”
He finished removing the snowshoes and avoided eye contact. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a few scratches.
Nothing serious.”
“What happened? Did Falke do this?”
“Not his fault.” Elbows propped on his knees, he held his bowed head in the cradle of his palms.
Gunnar wasn’t the problem, although he’d taken his frustrations out on him. No, the problem was the woman, or rather his reaction to her. Why did she ignite such strong passions in him? So strong, he’d willingly attack his own brother.
What was he supposed to do now? Dakota would be gone by week’s end. His brother would still be family. He’d have to make amends somehow, even though the gut-deep wound to his pride remained raw.
“I don’t understand.”
He hated to lie to her, but she wouldn’t understand the truth even if he could tell her. “Falke had a run-in with a porcupine.” He snorted. Prickly was an apt description for how he felt.
“A porcupine?”
“Yeah, the quills can hurt like a son of a bitch, but he’ll be okay. He just doesn’t make a very good patient.” He laughed, though it lacked any real humor.
“Maybe it’s my poor bedside manner.”
“Let’s get you inside.”
Because she shivered, he let her guide him to his feet and into the cabin where the warmth of an open flame surrounded him and thawed the last of his anger.
How could he fault Gunnar for doing what he himself wanted to do? It was no secret among the brothers that he and Gunnar shared similar tastes in women. That was why he knew, deep down, that when the time finally came for them to claim a mate, he’d do so with Gunnar at his side.
He shrugged off the ripped jacket and heard Dakota gasp.
“A
“Let me get cleaned up first.”
He told her where she could find the kit in a kitchen cupboard while he excused himself to refill the water tank in the bathroom and take a quick, cold shower.
After he finished, he found her waiting for him on the couch. Dressed in a fresh pair of pants, he padded barefoot over the rug, joined her on the sofa and sat still while she played nursemaid.
“I thought you said Falke wasn’t dangerous.”
“He’s not.” He met her gaze. “Don’t let this change your opinion of him. Like I said, it wasn’t his fault.”
She nodded. “Did you get all of the quills out? Will he be all right? You don’t seem worried that he’s not come back.”
“Yeah, he’s probably off somewhere licking his wounds. He’ll come back when he’s ready.”
A part of him felt he should be disgruntled over her interest in Gunnar, but another part, maybe a larger part, was pleased to see she cared.
He winced when she dabbed at one of the deeper cuts in his side.
“Sorry. This might sting a little.”
