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My wolves purred when they saw her. Lenox and Rohan stood next to her, ready to guard her with their lives. All this tells me the female is desirable. And then she hugged me as if she’d done it countless times before.
Most females, especially Kilseleians, stay away from me. If they approach me, they certainly don’t touch me. I dislike strangers touching me, and, since most people fear me, their fear works in my favor.
I have no doubt this one fears me too, but the drive not to make her lady upset is stronger than fear. Her desire for harmony in a tough situation is telling of her submissive nature, and since she’s a submissive female, she will find many males up her tail in my clan.
This is good for her and great for us, and even though my second-in-command opposed my acquiring a breeder instead of Rohan’s or his son’s or both of their skinned furs, once he meets the female, he’s likely to change his mind. Her delicious scent will stir up desire in my males. I’m certain taking a breeder instead of taking the lives of the McMar males is the best course of action.
* * *
With the female in my arms, I sprint up the mountain and across the bridge over the river while she holds on tightly and remains quiet, even when I start climbing trees and bending the flexible trunks, then using them as springboards to catapult us over the swamp below.
The bodies of water grew during the last rainy season, taking over what little land we have for farming, forcing some of our settlers to move into the clan’s main settlement. Since the lycan count grew in the settlement, the demand for food grew as well. I secured provisions along with the female. Surely food in the belly would put out the fire in the minds of the families of the males who fell under the McMar claw recently.
The coin and the ships the McMars gave up with the female are no small means of feeding my people, and not just for this winter, but many more, if we play our cards well. I imagine we could build wealth the likes of which our clan has never seen. The McMars’s access to the sea has been a crucial factor in the differences of the riches of our two clans, and now that they’re giving us ships, they’re also giving us the means by which to improve our lives.
Landing on the clearing before Main Street, I shake out the snow from my fur and retreat from my warrior form back into the male. The female’s still holding on to me. I rub her back and tap it, indicating that we have arrived.
She remains clinging.
On our left, the males working on clearing the forest to build homes for the settlers who lost their houses due to flooding stop hammering and chatting. They drop their tools and start making their way toward us. Some of them whistle.
The whistling spreads through our tightly packed settlement as fast as gossip, and before I know it, the males are leaving their posts and crowding the streets to get a good look at the McMar female.
Suddenly, I have no desire to show her to them or for them to meet her, but I squash that impulse and give her arse a squeeze. She yelps as if spanked and hops off me, using my arm to steady herself when she wobbles on her feet. Big brown eyes look up at me, then quickly look away. She fixes her white apron and gray skirts, then steps behind me.
I give her my profile. “What are you doing?”
“Waiting for you, sir.”
“It’s Alpha to you.”
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Good. Now, come stand with me.”
She does as told, and I note her inhalation of breath when she sees the males gathered on the street. I don’t know what she sees, but I’ve never noticed the evidence of our poverty until now. Glued and stitched-together belts hold up faded old kilts that look more like aprons. They’re thin and old, the leather turning almost suede. Even though long hairs keep the head warm in the winter, most of us cut our hair because short hair (or a bald head) is easier to manage. Beards are a different story. Too lazy to shave all the time, most males grow and braid them.
Lack of females in the clan has never been so obvious until now.
And I think some of the males are starting to notice what they look like too. My brother, Spence, over on the roof runs a hand through his shaggy white hair before dusting off his bright red (McMar color) sweater and jumping off the roof and onto the street.
Show-off.
When he swaggers toward us, I wish the female had stayed behind me.
Actually, I wish I’d taken her straight home and never told anyone about her.
I resist the urge to show possession of the female as my brother makes his way toward us, a big grin on his boyish face. She’ll like my brother. He’s always been the better looking of the pair of us.
And yet, the female steps behind me, using my body almost as a shield.
I cross my arms over my chest and widen my stance.
Spence gives me a once-over and traces a thumb over his bottom lip. “You got something cute back there, brother?”
Behind me, the female snorts. Loudly.
Spence’s eyebrows lift. “Is it a piglet?”
