Wolf Whisperer

Changing the subject, Kelly asked a question instead of answering. “Do you realize what happened? You were shot with a silver bullet. You almost died. But you didn’t.”

Inane chatter, but sometimes a simple pointing out of the facts was necessary before hitting him with the big one.

Mac’s frown deepened. She saw the exact moment he remembered. Everything.

“Silver bullets. Hell hounds.” For a moment he glanced down at his leg, wincing. “I remember. You’re right—I shouldn’t even be alive. How’d I get in here?”

“I helped you. Mostly, you walked.”

“Seriously?”

She nodded. “You lived because you’re under my protection. You won’t die. We are one.”

Gaze locked on hers, he swallowed hard. “So it is true. You really can do this? When you said we were one, that’s what you meant?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “You were married to my cousin. Didn’t Maggie ever discuss this with you?”

“No. She thought all of this was a big joke.”

Now he’d succeeded in shocking her. “Being a Tearlach was amusing to her?”

“You’d have to understand her sense of humor. But yes, she thought the rest of her family took it all too seriously.”

Careful now, she tried to figure out how to phrase her next question. “Besides what you learned in the Protector’s file, how much do you actually know about us?”

“How much did Maggie tell me, you mean?”

She nodded.

“Very little.” He sounded bitter. “I didn’t even know about the protection thing until I read the file. We were together three years and she never said those words to me.”

Careful not to show her shock, Kelly nodded. Luckily, Mac didn’t understand enough to realize the ramifications of this. She did. Maggie had not considered Mac, her husband and the man whose children she’d borne, her true mate.

Which meant there might have been another. Enough to make her wonder if Mac indeed was the children’s real father.

She said none of this, aware he certainly wouldn’t appreciate it. Yet the only other option was that Maggie had wanted to ensure that if anything happened to her, their children would still have a father.

“Tell me what you know,” she urged.

“Are you immortal?” he asked, his expression serious.

“No. And neither are you, now that you’re under my protection.” She avoided using the more honest phrase bound to me. “Tearlachs eventually do die, of course, usually of old age, but nothing else can kill us. Except fire. That never changes.”

Eyes narrowed, he swore. “So the only advantage over being a regular shifter is that you can withstand silver bullets.”

At a loss for words, because there was more, so much more than that, she swallowed. “I—”

“Damn. I don’t see what the big deal is. No wonder Maggie joked about it. Tearlachs aren’t really all that different than regular shifters. So you can withstand a silver-bullet wound. So what?”

“You’d be dead if it weren’t for that,” she pointed out. “And you forgot to mention our ability to confer this gift on another person.”

“True, and thanks for that. But I still don’t understand why everyone is so eager to form an alliance with the Tearlachs.”

“The ability to withstand a silver bullet could come in handy in the event of a multispecies war.”

To his credit, he caught on immediately. “In other words, if the humans came against us like they did back in the Middle Ages.”

“Exactly.”

He didn’t appear convinced. “How likely is that? It’s—”

“Far-fetched.” She dropped into the chair at the side of the futon, aware she had to tread carefully. Though she’d never had to have this conversation with someone, she’d heard stories of others who had. What she bestowed was a gift, a treasure beyond price. Yet the recipients didn’t always view it that way.

“Why me?” he asked, as she’d known he would.

Keeping her expression neutral, she lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Because you happened to be there when I was attacked. I didn’t want to have your death on my hands.”

“I see.” His bemused look told her he didn’t. “If this is such a good thing, then why didn’t my wife …”

She felt a knife twist in her heart. “I don’t know,” she answered. She wanted to ask him if Maggie had loved him, but wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It was too personal and, ultimately, none of her business.

Odd. Completely and utterly strange. She’d never been one to shirk things and had always believed in straight-on honesty right from the start, but she didn’t think she could handle any more of this.

Trying to think, she looked away. Was she required to inform him how deep the bond she made between them went? Or would it be better to let him find out for himself?

Choosing the latter, she rubbed her hands together.

“Now,” she said briskly. “You’ve asked your questions. I want to ask a few of my own.”

“Go ahead.”

Her turn. Kelly stared at the man, wondering what questions she should ask to get the most knowledge in such a short span of time. She’d chosen him, like it or not, by an impulsive act of mercy. Now, she needed to find out what sort of man she’d picked.

She’d always trusted her dogs’ judgment of people. They all loved Ben, which was part of the reason she trusted him.

Brandi, the golden-eyed pit bull with the battered ear, never strayed from Mac’s side. She adored him. Kelly suspected that it might be a case of one damaged individual drawn to another, as if the dog recognized a kindred spirit.

Maybe that rationale would explain why she’d given something so sacred to a complete stranger. Sometimes, she felt like one with the damaged dogs. Something she’d never admitted, not even to herself, until now.

Putting such thoughts from her head, she forced herself to focus on what she needed to know.

“Have you remarried?” Though he didn’t wear a ring, she needed to get this out in the open.

One brow went up. “Maggie’s only been gone eighteen months.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No. What about you?”