Undeniable Bonds

  Undeniable Bonds

  Hidden Wolves Book 6

  Kaje Harper

  SMASHWORDS EDITION

  * * * * *

  Copyright © 2021 Kaje Harper

  https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/KajeHarper

  Editing by Debbie McGowan

  Proofreading by Ashley VanBuren and Jor Barrie

  Cover art by Jay Aheer

  Formatting by Beaten Track Publishing – beatentrackpublishing.com

  License Notes

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this ebook ONLY. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission of the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Image/art disclaimer: Licensed material is being used for illustrative purposes only. Any person depicted is a model.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Content warning: For adult readers over the age of 18 only. This book contains explicit sexual situations between two men.

  Some bonds are strong enough to last a lifetime, and change the world.

  Rory O’Sullivan has spent his life alone. Once upon a time, he made one real human connection as a gay man. That moment happened in Nazi captivity, and the wolf he escaped with was a Soviet soldier. They had a taste of what love might mean, but in 1944, personal happiness had to come second to survival.

  Now, seventy years later, when he feels the presence of Nikolai, somehow close and needing him after all that time, no one— not gay Alpha Aaron of the Minneapolis West pack, or rising political threats, or even top Alpha Rick Brown himself— will stop him. Rory’s going to answer the appeal he’s waited a lifetime for. Some bonds can’t be denied.

  Contents

  Acknowledgements

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Marked by Death

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kaje Harper

  Author’s Note

  This book was written in the fall and winter of 2019, before the poisoning of Alexey Navalny, before George Floyd was murdered, before the demonstrations and the Capitol riots. Publisher communication slowdowns, and then getting back rights to the series and rereleasing, pushed the release off by a year. And in the interim, life— to a degree— imitated art.

  But then, those elements were already there, not unanticipated, even if unexpected in the particulars. I thought about a rewrite, and decided to stick with my original story. I hope that among those deeply affected by the events of the past year, this fictional account of another America, and another crisis, does not cause any distress, or hit any painfully wrong notes.

  If it does, I am deeply sorry, and the fault is mine alone.

  Acknowledgements

  So many people helped get this book published. Big thanks to Katarina for checking my Russian, to ELF for the beta read, to Jay Aheer for the gorgeous cover, to Kate for her index of wolves that let me keep the array of characters straight, to editor Deb, and proofreaders Jor, Ashley, and Jonathan, without whom this series would be in much rougher shape. I also owe so much to Jess, whose beta insights and suggestions have really improved so many of my stories over the years, including this one.

  And thank you to readers who have followed my wolves through this series. May you get your own HEAs, even if they remain a bit complicated and a work in progress, imperfect, but real.

  Werewolves came out to the human world in July 2011. The repercussions are rippling out around the globe, some of those echoes now reaching places as far flung as Russia and the quiet, deep backwoods of Northern Minnesota…

  Chapter 1

  September 2011

  Aaron Tremaine, Alpha of the Minneapolis West Pack, took a slow, calming breath through his nose and carefully did not crush his cell phone in his grip. “With all due respect—”

  “Hah.” Rick Brown’s deep voice cut him off. “You always say that when you think I’m wrong.”

  Aaron reminded himself that being interrupted by Brown was a compliment, in a backhanded way. The powerful Council leader was usually careful to give other Alphas every show of courtesy. Treating Aaron more casually was a sign of trust.

  Didn’t mean Aaron had to like not having his say, though. “With all due respect,” he repeated, “our local lone wolf has been as low key and as isolated as one could ask for. He was given permission to run without a pack by some past Alpha, well before my time. I’m not sure there’s enough reason for me to abridge those rights.”

  “I am sure.” There was no concession in Rick’s tone. “That lone wolf down in the Blueridge Mountains wasn’t known as a troublemaker, but he almost caused a riot. And that mess this summer showed the risk of having wolves with no pack ties. The Council has decided. Bind your lone wolf to your pack, or deal with him.”

  “Kill him.” Aaron had no taste for euphemisms in this situation.

  “I have faith in your powers of persuasion.” Rick’s voice turned to ice. “But our very existence hangs in the balance. Do what you have to do.” The line went dead.

  Damn it. Aaron set the phone down gently.

  “Let me guess. No exceptions.” His mate, Zach, gave Aaron a sympathetic look from where he sat at his computer.

  “None.”

  “Fuck them anyway! They’ve no right to keep asking you to be their hit man.”

  “I hope it won’t come to that. I do understand the reasoning.” I don’t like it one bit, though. We should be better than this.

  Zach glowered. “Tell me it won’t hurt like hell if you have to kill another innocent man. You’re finally sleeping most nights. Why can’t Rick Brown tap one of the wolves out there who don’t have your conscience?”

  “I don’t want him to send someone else,” Aaron pointed out. “Especially not a wolf without conscience. If Whitefoot the lone wolf has to die in my territory, it will only be because I did everything I could and failed. Not because I hid behind my scruples and let some other wolf play assassin.”

  Zach bit his bottom lip and nodded. With a couple of mouse clicks, he turned off his screen and stood, stretching. Despite Aaron’s anger and frustration, he felt a wash of pleasure go through him, seeing Zach’s lean muscles flex. Rick’s call had left him unsettled, but he was looking at the antidote in one strong, slender, wickedly brilliant package.

  With a yawn, Zach locked his hands behind his head, riding his T-shirt up to reveal a hint of flat belly.

  Oh, yes, all mine.

  Zach chuckled, and Aaron realized his reaction had broadcast loud and clear over their shared pack bond. He’d shut out the rest of the pack to keep them from sensing his displeasure with the Council, but his emotions were wide open to Zach. Including th
at flash of desire. Too late to shut it down now, so he might as well take advantage. He strode over and threaded his fingers into Zach’s dark hair. His mate relaxed beautifully into his grip, tipping his head back to expose his throat.

  Aaron nipped him under the jaw, then bent to apply teeth over Zach’s collarbone. Zach moaned, eyes fluttering shut as Aaron leaned back to look at him. Aaron tugged his silky dark hair harder, then let go suddenly, for the pleasure of watching Zach catch his balance and laugh.

  “One good thing,” Aaron said. “This will get you out from behind that screen. You’re going cross-eyed.” Rick Brown had Zach working with other computer experts doing things too esoteric for Aaron to follow, and apparently important enough to cut into his boy’s rest time and put dark circles under his eyes. Aaron laid a hand on Zach’s cheek and brushed a thumb over his cheekbone. “We’ll take time for a run in fur while we’re up north.” If Rick was going to demand that Aaron take on the roles of judge, jury, and executioner— again— he could damned well spare Zach for a day.

  Zach sighed. “Sounds too fucking good.”

  Aaron cupped his face between both hands and kissed him. Kissing Zach sometimes felt as necessary as air. Soft lips parted under his as Zach welcomed his possession. When Aaron was done with the kiss, quite thoroughly, he let go and stepped back. “Bring clothes for a couple of days at the motel. We’ll ask around the local towns up there, see if anyone has a human name for Whitefoot, before we go barging into his space.”

  “Just you and me?” Zach asked. “Like a holiday?”

  The idea was tempting. They hadn’t had any real one-on-one time yet, to explore who they were to each other without the pack. And probably won’t for God knows how long. Since becoming Alpha, survival of the pack had trumped Aaron’s own needs. Someday we’ll get away, just the two of us, as men in love, as Dom and sub. But not this time.

  “I’m going to get Paul to set up the dart gun for us. And we’ll bring Lucas along. A lot of lone wolves have excellent fighting skills. If we have to subdue him, I want someone with more rank and more muscle.” And someone whose blood won’t put me in a killing rage.

  Zach play-pouted, but his eyes remained bright. “You never take me anywhere.”

  That lone wolf hadn’t caused problems yet, and coordinating Lucas, Paul, and Brandt at the motel wouldn’t happen instantly. Which meant Aaron could, in good conscience, make time for one more essential thing. “I’m going to take you upstairs,” he said, gripping Zach’s wrist. “And then I’m going to take you in our bed.”

  Zach laughed. “Works for me.”

  § § § §

  Rory O’Sullivan woke from a wolf’s light sleep to the smell of strangers. Enemy soldiers? He shouted mentally for his pack as he leaped to his feet. Alpha! Joe! Leslie!

  A twinge in his shoulder and the deep silence in his head where glowing bonds should have been brought him back to himself. Idiot. It’d been almost seventy years since he’d felt his Alpha’s approving touch in his mind, or Joe’s brotherly one.

  Standing in the shadows beneath a Minnesota pine tree, he sniffed the cool air. Past the tang of sap and richness of earth, he could make out three wolves approaching, none men he knew. Scent and sound told him they were coming openly, in skin and without stealth, jogging down the path toward his cabin. He eased out from under the tree, keeping his paws off the first crisp leaves of fall, and climbed to his lookout.

  From the top of the tumbled boulders, he could overlook the path where it opened out near his front door. After a moment, the men came into sight. The one in front was lean and dark and fairly young, perhaps not yet fifty, but he moved with the confidence of a high-ranked wolf, trusting the other two to follow. One of those was barely past a pup, small and slim. The other was older with some gray in his hair and a sturdy build.

  They stopped a few paces from his cabin door, chins tipped up, scenting the air. Rory didn’t move. The breeze was in his favor today, and the gray of his coat would blend with the rocks.

  Why are they here?

  Curiosity stirred in him for a moment, along with a hint of anger. This was his place, his territory even if he was no Alpha and never had been. His peace— for what it was worth, for what peace he might ever have— after the darkness. How dared they invade it?

  I could kill them all. His wolf wanted to leap down and rip into them. The rifle in the storage box down in the cabin called to his human, more sensible side. Shift, get the gun, three head-shots. Everything would be peaceful again. He shivered with suppressed violence and heard an echo of his Alpha’s voice. “Wait, watch, listen.”

  That voice had turned to dust half a century ago. The pain of remembering that cooled his anger enough to keep him still.

  The leader said, “Plenty of fresh scent. He’s been here recently. You really couldn’t find out his name, Lucas?”

  “Nope.” The older man turned in a slow circle, scanning the woods. Something in his bearing said hunter and soldier in ways that were more than just his wolf. Rory hunkered down, still as stone.

  The pup said, “We could’ve spent more time in town asking. Someone has to know him by more than ‘old dude’ and ‘that cabin geezer.’ You just were impatient for a nice walk in the woods.” The pup nudged his leader’s elbow playfully.

  Rory waited for the top wolf to put the brat in his place, but all that happened was a glare that failed to wipe the grin off the younger man’s face, despite a respectful dip of his head. The exchange drained some of the tension from Rory’s chest. Wolves on a deadly mission seldom played like that.

  The leader stepped up to the cabin door and knocked. “Sir? Are you in there? We’d like to talk for a moment.”

  All three of the men cocked their heads, listening. After a few seconds, the leader repeated the knock. Then a third time. When nothing answered but silence, he set his hand to the door handle and pushed the door open.

  Rory couldn’t suppress the growl rising in his throat. Couldn’t? No control? Alpha would be ashamed of you. A red wash of fury overcame that voice, flooded past all his training, driving him to his feet. Teeth bared, hackles raised, legs stiff, he stood on the edge of the overhang and glared down at the invaders.

  They whirled as one, facing his way. The older man whipped backward around the corner of the cabin, out of sight.

  He’ll flank you. Get the leader. Four leaps would bring him onto the younger two, wolf to their man, but he’d lose the high ground. And the other would be coming from behind.

  The leader raised his hands, saying calmly, “We mean no harm. We just want to talk.”

  The older one would be shifting now, out of sight. Rory had maybe a minute to get him mid-shift before it’d be wolf on wolf. That could get bad. He bounded down the side of the boulders heading for the back of the cabin. Kill the one shifting, then the Alpha, then the pup— That hurt, somewhere deep. Not a pup, just young, low-ranked, cannon-fodder. His paws hit rock and dirt as he hurtled forward.

  Swinging around the side of the cabin, he found the older man still in skin, his back to a tree, and armed, the muzzle of the weapon trained on him. Dammit, O’Sullivan! You never were smart. He dodged but the sting of impact hit his rump. Bad? No! Must be a graze. He could still turn and run. Get distance. Regroup.

  He leaped for the trees. Three strides and his beloved woods would protect him. River that way. Cover the scent. A back leg dragged and he stumbled, tangled in the weeds. Clumsy! Run! The Krauts are gonna get you, boy. Jerry’s gonna fry your liver and serve it to Hitler on a plate. Run, boyo!

  The ground got rougher. He didn’t recognize the huge logs he battled over, the fallen branches snaring his feet. He fell, struggled up, and kept going. Weakness sucked at him. He must be bleeding, though he couldn’t smell it. Get to the water. Joe would’ve planned their retreat but Rory couldn’t remember any details now. Still, some things were basic. Get to water, confuse the trail, regroup, fight another day. He ran, weaving, limping now, vision tunneling dark
. He fell, managed to get his front end up, fell again.

  Joe? Alpha? Silence echoed in his head. No one was there with him, when the blackness closed in and pulled him under.

  § § § §

  Zach jogged through the woods behind his Alpha, senses alert for anything out of place, as they tracked down the lone wolf. That sedating drug wasn’t well tested and they’d had to guess the old man’s likely weight from the stories about him, which ranged from frail and crazy to built like an ox and crazy. Hopefully they’d guessed close enough.

  Lucas, running ahead of him, muttered, “I hope he drops before he hits the water.”

  Yeah, that’d be bad. Murder, almost. He shuddered. It seemed like they could’ve left the old man alone. He’d been out here for decades, as near as they could tell, and done no harm beyond a few stories of wolf-killed livestock. Even that might’ve been wild wolves. Why the fuck couldn’t the Council leave him be?

  Zach knew the answer to that, of course. With human-werewolf relations balanced on a knife-edge, lone wolves who might be threats or targets could tip the safety of their people over into chaos. Still the command to bring them in, or put them down, was an echo of the bad old days. He hadn’t signed up to be an assassin.

  Of course, he hadn’t signed up at all. Werewolves were born, not made. They were simply playing the hand they’d been dealt generations ago.

  Up ahead, Aaron said, “I see him. He’s down.”

  “Might not be out,” Lucas grunted. “Might be playing possum.”

  “He fell— there and there.” Aaron pointed as he slowed to a walk. “Would he take time to be that convincing?”

  “Who knows?” Lucas pushed past Aaron to approach the crumpled wolf form first.

  Zach hung back. He knew his strengths, and they didn’t include fighting a veteran wolf if he was playing a trick. Aaron and Lucas could handle the old guy. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when Lucas knelt and lifted the wolf’s limp head.