Swiftcurrent Creek new york times bestseller

For @Constantine, but all welcome!

She meandered more freely than she had in years, letting her heart take her wherever she wished. Not being tied down by the prospect of a mate who liked to sit in one place was downright lovely, even though she did yearn for children when spring came around. For now, she was on the prowl, looking not only for a suitable place to live, but also anybody she could persuade to father (and/or help to raise) her children. The latter, she suspected, would be more difficult to find. Then again, her mother and father had raised umpteen kids all on their own, so maybe there really were wolves out there who wanted to sit around with them all day. Cyclone's desire was purely animalistic.

The Blackthorn came across a pack's claim, but it was a weak one. She sniffed at it, once again pondering the thought of joining a pack and simply hoping to achieve something in such a short amount of time with a group of strangers (to her) that were probably all related to each other. "No thanks," she decidedly rather quickly, though she couldn't help but linger for a little while longer, testing to see just how weak they really were.

A stark contrast to the snow that blanketed his home, the shadowrunner stalked along the borders, stopping every so often with a pull of discern to the corner of his lips as he noted just how faded their scent was becoming. The land itself would be too large soon for them to properly defend the territory they had mapped out and claimed as their own—the danger of disbanding almost becoming a welcome idea to the swarthy wolf.

He still went through the motions, though. With three children to still look after as his mate disappeared off into the unknown to look for their missing son, he was loath to assert any more changes on his family and pack. Even if Durnehviir returned with Viinturuth… Their home would never be the same. She had made it very clear if she were to return, it would not be for him, but for her kids.

As abruptly as their whirlwind romance had begun it had just as sharply ended.

His tongue smoothed over his lips, his eyes intense as they scanned ahead of him. There was a shadow of black in the near distance—a wolf. Redirecting his path to quicken his pace, the Mayfair began to lumber toward the visitor, his gaze studying her strange markings. His nose lifted, testing the scent of the female, noting she seemed healthy, in the very least. A prospective joiner? “Hello,” he offered, breaking the silence and halting his form feet from hers.

Oops, maybe she lingered a bit too long. Caught in the act! But he didn't know her intentions, so what did it matter. Maybe she could pretend to join anyway, just for kicks. It wasn't like he could do anything about it, was there? Cyclone contemplated this for approximately 3.7421 seconds before deciding he was cute enough to at least talk to instead of bolting immediately. Besides, maybe he was on the verge of ditching this clearly dwindling pack anyway. Maybe she could recruit him just as he was trying to do the same. Wouldn't that be a hoot?

Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes, she greeted, figuring a compliment might very well go a long way. And it wasn't a lie! He was a cutie-patootie. He matched her in height, though he certainly had packed on a lot more meat than she ever had. Cyclone didn't even attempt to hide her ogling at him, scanning him from top to bottom, side to side.

The she-wolf was swift with her words, catching the stocky wolf off guard. It was rare for a female to flirt with him—at least so openly. The tender wound Durnehviir had left on him, and his confusion with his relationship with Aria was still at the forefront of every thought he held—and so it was almost a welcome change of pace when the swarthy stranger before him made the quip.

Perhaps more like his father than he realized in some aspects, the Mayfair licked his lips, his head tilting slightly to the side as the corner of his lips quirked upward darkly. “I’ve been known to make more than a woman’s eyes sore,” he crooned, his nature adjusting to that of a predator. His words implied exactly what he meant—but it was a complete lie. Durnehviir had been his first, his only.

But things had changed, and Constantine was only too eager to distract himself.

Oh, good! He was playing along. She liked it when they played along, even if they didn't really mean it. Whether or not he did was yet to be determined, but there was only one way to find out. Is that a threat? she asked, eyes twinkling with mischief, Or a promise? She had been so chaste during her time with Grayson, and even during her time with Jethro, having never consummated that relationship. She had never been able to bring herself to do it (or rather, him).

That wasn't to say that she had never felt a man's touch. Quite the opposite, in fact. She'd been the homewrecker on more than one occasion, and the thrill of stealing away with the mister (or misses, in some cases) was more fun than anything else she had ever experienced. Why shouldn't they share, anyway?

She didn’t balk at his own advance—a promising sign, if the inexperienced lover could assume a guess. The corner of his mouth twitched, his own need beginning to stir in perhaps a more obvious way as he began to skirt around the she-wolf. His nostrils flared as he took in her scent, and his fiery eyes remained hungrily upon her. “Let me show you,” he decided, his tone becoming a deep rumbling growl, his jaws moving forward to preen boldly at her nape, should she allow his advances.

She knew that look well, and she drank it in, allowing him to do to her as he wished. Cyclone did not move away, and she was complacent in whatever he asked of her... at least for now. His teeth on her nape was a pleasant sensation, and one she had missed since she had parted ways with Grayson and his lot. Too bad the Odolf didn't know what he was missing. Cyclone would have liked to see the look on his face (and Addison's) if they had seen her now.

His teeth teased gently along the fur and skin of her nape, his nostrils flaring as he took in her delicious scent. This was what he needed—a moment where nothing else existed, except for an act that could be completely uncomplicated. Especially when the season had yet to occur—he could indulge himself for this time.

Any frustration and remorse he held as his relationship had burned past repair was temporarily forgotten. The shadowrunner rumbled lowly in his chest, casting her a harsher nip to her flank as he began to press her away from his lands—lest his kids come upon the scene. “Not here,” he murmured against her ear, tracing the lobe with his nose before he pivoted completely behind her, his muzzle tracing along the pitch black fur of her spine and to nestle at the base of her tail. “How lucky am I that you came to my borders,” he continued, his eyes intense as he looked up to her, his teeth nipping to her flank then.

They'd already lingered too long.

Akatosh hadn't dared breech the borders after returning from his adventure with the cougar, but that didn't mean he didn't hang out near the borders sometimes, curious.  It would be a while longer before he got that brave again, at least without something forcing him to do so.  Nah, he'd do sort of wimpy patrols, knowing it was something that should be done, but still not entirely comprehending the most fine details as to why.  It was just what was done, and maybe in a few more months it'd make slightly more sense.  Since the pack didn't have a huge number of wolves coming through and things were often quiet, he was wary of strangers just from the fact they were the unknown.  He liked things simple, which was part of the reason he'd never tried to figure out why Talos had flipped out the way she had at the meeting -- it just didn't really make sense.

Thus when he wandered towards his father's scent and spotted his father and a stranger so close, he wasn't even sure what he was really seeing.  Akatosh's fur pricked on end and he just froze, staring.  The noise he made was equally confused, some quiet but mangled mix of a whuff and a growl.  He was sure it wasn't right, but the fact that Constantine might be doing something wrong (a realm typically reserved for Talos) was almost beyond belief.

Cyclone was happy to oblige, and when he nipped at her, she flinched and grinned, but movement caught her eye before she could take another step further. Another wolf approached, and Cyclone shot her potential lover a look of mild disappointment. Not at him, but because their fun was now spoiled. Something told her he didn't want to do this in front of one of his pack mates.

The Blackthorn leaned in close, and in barely a whisper she said, Another time. She smiled at him sweetly, gave one last glance to the other wolf before slipping away. She would be back.

His nose burrowed into the velvet black of her fur—her subtle sway of her hips as she coaxed him further was proving to be his undoing, and as his teeth nibbled along her hip, Constantine was about to urge her away from his borders and somewhere secluded—when the sound of surprise stirred his gaze up sharply, falling upon his son, who was very blatantly studying them.

He groaned gently, something likely only the woman he was minutes from taking for his own could hear, and he pressed his face into her haunch, exhaling sharply and allowing his mind to come back from his temptation. “Fuuuuck,” he quietly hissed, and then the raven tilted her head back and promised him another time. Blueballed by his own son.

She slipped away, and the wraith didn’t even dare look after her with the longing and frustration he felt at being refused his release and escape. Clearing his throat, the man ambled toward his son, his eyes drifting down to study the tawny boy. “Son,” he greeted, forcing nonchalance into his tone, his mind whirling at how to cover this to avoid driving his family further apart. His eyes drifted to where the mysterious woman had disappeared. “Lone wolf. She had a thorn in her hip and needed help.”

It was a sorry excuse—but it was the best he came up with in the short time he had to allude guilt, even as it now weighed heavily on his shoulders. “C’mon. Let’s go track one of the herds.”

They parted.  Which was probably good.  Akatosh was still naively confused as to what might have been happening, but eventually Constantine came over his way.  After listening to his words, the youth frowned.  But a thorn on their hip should be easy to get out, shouldn't it?  That was well within his range of motion at least.  But why couldn't she reach it?  That doesn't seem right.  I dunno. I wouldn't trust her.  He nodded at his own words.  The pack had been quiet and secluded, so it wasn't like he'd give any ol' random wolf the benefit of the doubt.  It was much easier to accept that his father wasn't doing wrong, and that somehow the stranger was being odd, especially if she had a thorn that she should have been able to remove but didn't.

To a certain point he didn't really expect a response to what he said, and as tracking the herd was suggested.  He bobbed his head, Okay.  Akatosh already started sniffing around for what was nearby.  His nose had been tuned for border scents, so now he searched for prey, keen to follow wherever Constantine lead him.