Chapter One

 

Dover Down gripped the thick branch as a cold wind ruffled his feathers. The gray, heavy, low-hanging clouds didn’t bother him, nor did the cold temperatures. The events transpiring below bothered him.

“The community is growing and with the uniting of strong litters, we’ll make this town strong.” Bart Rivers was a stocky male, his scent ripe with scorn.

Tore Mann would smell that scorn as easily as Dover did. Tore had his back to Dover and was a good quarter mile away, not that distance impaired Dover from eavesdropping.

“We’re already strong,” Tore growled.

Tore and Bart stood down the street from The Running Mate, a local bar and grill known to be the hangout for most leopards in Kenora. Dover held on to his perch in the tree at the far end of the block, out of view and scent from the two males and their serious discussion.

Bart sighed and rubbed his stubby fingers over his thick scalp. “She’s mating age, and your mate’s youngest littermate. Put her in a good litter or some ill-reputed rogue will come sniffing around and fuck her up.”

Dover would bet Tore ached to tell him any rogue in Kenora would be part of Bart’s litter.

“Darla is old enough to choose her own mate. I don’t play matchmaker.” Tore looked ready to stalk away.

“Good enough.” Bart grabbed Tore’s arm. “Just tell me you won’t attack if I send Mick sniffing after her. They’re the same age and my littermate’s oldest. My nephew is a good male, best there is.”

“I’m sure.”

“Then you’ll welcome him into your den?”

“That is up to Darla.”

Dover had heard enough. Taking to flight, his wings gracing the air silently so not even the fine-tuned hearing of a leopard would notice his departure, he headed over town. He needed the long flight back to his nest to clear his head. What Darla did was her own business. She was of mating age, and although she hadn’t mentioned it, it probably was time for her to find a good male.

That wouldn’t be him.

It was something he’d always known. Darla was a leopard and he was an owl. In spite of her fiery spirit, the way her sensual curves were becoming more obvious as she became full-grown, and her sense for adventure, not to mention their strong friendship that had grown over the years, they weren’t now, nor would they ever be compatible. At least not to reproduce.

Incompatible. Not an option. He would never be able to give her cubs, and he wouldn’t risk bringing freaks into the world. There were enough of them running around as it was.

Which was why he’d never tried fucking Darla. And damn, there had been some prime opportunities to have sex with her, especially lately. There probably wasn’t another male on this planet who would smell desire on Darla and pretend not to notice it. She was his very dear friend, but lately it was taking a hell of a lot of concentration to keep it that way.

Darla had led a sheltered life, encouraged by her two older littermates and now their mates. Not many males came around Darla when she was younger without leaving with their tails between their hind legs. Her litter saw to it. No one was good enough for the youngest in the Sheridan litter. Which was why Dover had been honored when both of Darla’s older littermates approved of Darla running with Dover as an escort. And for the first few years it had been a simple task, one he even enjoyed. The fiery-spirited little female leopard was always entertaining.

He wasn’t sure when she turned from a lanky teenage leopard to having the soft, sensual, compelling curves of an unmated female. Worse yet, since Dover was the only male she’d been around, other than her littermates’ mates, it made sense she would start flirting with him. If he were any less of a male, he would have taken advantage of her suggestive behavior. Sometimes being so damn honorable really sucked.

Dover soared through the frigid air, usually invigorated as the cold rushed through his feathers. The best thing to do was create space between them. It had been such an easy task keeping an eye on Darla. Both of her older littermates were mated and Darla lived with her oldest littermate Maurie and her mate Tore. Agreeing to accompany Darla on her runs, keep an eye on her over the years, was an easy task.

Or at least it started out that way. When had her scent first changed around him?

Chiding himself for not noticing the moment Darla’s aroma turned sensual when they were alone together and not putting an end to any delusions the young, pretty female had was a waste of time. Dover didn’t do delusions. He’d enjoyed more than one fantasy involving Darla, fantasies that would make some of his good friends want to watch him bleed out.

He saw clearly he’d allowed himself to grow too attached to her. And he feared Darla might be too attached to him. Which meant there was a situation to repair. He thought about it logically and the answer was simple.

Dover could brood over it for as long as he wished or he could resolve it. It wasn’t his nature to handle a situation emotionally. There was a right way to do things and a wrong way. Only those led by their feelings and not facts focused on the gray area.

When he reached his nest, a cabin he’d purchased because of where it sat along Lake of the Woods, just north of Wheeler’s Point in Minnesota, he still mulled over the pending consequences that would result from his actions. Landing on his perch, Dover stepped into the wooden alcove, his talons scraping over the floor as he moved into the secluded area.

The change ripped through him with a cruel vengeance, harsher than usual, as if in spite of telling himself how rationally he thought through a potentially disastrous situation, he still lied to himself. His flesh burned as he lowered his arms and stood naked in his alcove, feeling his senses dull with his human form. His acute hearing and incredible sense of smell he possessed in his feathers faded and he squinted, giving himself a moment to focus with his human eyes.

“Fucking hell,” he grumbled, reaching for his boxers and stepping into them. Then walking barefoot into his living room, he opened his wood box and prepared a fire.

The problem might be easier resolved if there were any female owls in the area. Dover didn’t doubt for a minute if he got laid all of this would take on an entirely different perspective. He really wasn’t thinking right by dwelling on Darla like this. She might be hot as fucking hell, too damn sexy for her own good, but she wasn’t his kind. He could fuck her. There wasn’t any doubt he could seduce her. But it would be wrong. Darla would think something of it, and he wouldn’t hurt her like that. Last he knew, there were some nests south of him, but they weren’t owls he knew and he didn’t have a clue if there were unmated females in the area.

The fire crackled to life and he stretched, grabbing his hair at the nape and heading to his bathroom to put it in a ponytail. He didn’t bother staring at himself in the mirror. There wasn’t any point focusing on the fact he wasn’t getting any younger. Most owls had a mate at his age. Many had hatched a family as well.

“Thirty-one isn’t old,” he grumbled, passing his reflection in the mirror and heading to the kitchen when his cell phone rang. He groaned when he saw who was calling and for a moment convinced himself to send it to voice mail. “Hello,” he said, answering it without listening to anything he’d contemplated in his mind since leaving Kenora.

“Dover,” Darla’s soft, sultry voice purred into the phone. “Where are you?”

“Home.”

“Oh. I thought you were still in town.” She sounded disappointed.

“I came home,” he told her without further explanation.

“Okay. Well, Tore will probably be calling you soon.”

She paused and he remained silent, waiting for her to tell him why Tore would be calling him.

“There is a situation,” she continued, and then lowered her voice to a soft growl. “It’s out west of here and I think he is going to ask you to go check it out. When he does, Dover, please suggest that I go with you. I can’t stay here any longer.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They’re coming back. I hear them outside,” she said, her voice so soft now it was a whisper scraping over his flesh. “Tore will call you. I know he will. Don’t tell him I called but suggest I go with you as if it were your idea. They would let me go anywhere with you. It’s perfect really.”

It wouldn’t be perfect if Tore were able to smell the feelings Dover experienced when he spent time with Darla lately. Fortunately, he could keep his emotions under wrap well enough to prevent anyone from sniffing them out. What sucked was he couldn’t stifle his emotions from himself.

“You aren’t making any sense,” he told her, refusing to comment on how imperfect her going anywhere with him would be.

“You don’t know, Dover. Tore thinks he can find a mate for me,” she hissed, suddenly pissed off. “You wouldn’t let him do that, would you?”

There was some background noise and the line went dead. More than likely Darla hung up on him so whoever entered her den didn’t know she was on the phone. It saved him from answering her question. But it left him in more turmoil than he’d been in when he walked into his nest. His frustration stunk, which soured his mood further.

“It’s so fucking simple,” he hissed, clenching his teeth and storming into his kitchen. “Leave her alone. Stay away. Don’t go around her anymore.”

He really needed to find a female owl. Hell, a human would even work at this point. Someone to help him relieve the tension. More than likely a human would be a better choice. Any female owl who got a whiff of him right now would turn her tail feathers on him and walk away. And he wouldn’t blame her a bit.

Dover opened his refrigerator, staring at its contents. He needed to do some hunting, although leaving his nest, searching for food, might be dangerous in his current state. Darla’s soft whispers still lingered in his brain, making his cock hard and his desire for her grow even stronger.

Grabbing a beer, he considered heading into Wheeler’s Point. Maybe spending the evening at the bar there. Pierce’s Lair would be a fresh change of scenery. If there was trouble, he’d hear about it soon enough. It wasn’t as if he needed to wait at his nest and suffer any longer. A shower and keeping his thoughts focused would help then he’d head into Wheeler’s Point.

“God damn it,” he complained when his phone rang again. He knew who it was without looking. “Yes,” he said, his tone placid, belying his emotions as he waited for Tore to speak.

“Are you busy?” Tore asked, his deep baritone all business.

It wasn’t an owl’s nature to lie. For the most part it never crossed his species’ minds to tell a falsehood since sensing the truth to the matter was as easy as voicing it. But spending so much time with other kinds, mainly leopards and werewolves, who were aggressive and more eager to fight than make peace, put the thought in his head. Tell Tore he was busy and he’d be off the phone.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, holding off on his answer to the first question until he knew what Tore was about.

“We’re fine.” Tore must have guessed Dover would worry about his litter. “I got a phone call earlier from Kane Masters. There is trouble out his way.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked again, although his thoughts remained closer to home. If Tore believed Dover would worry about his den, then the leopard might suspect Dover’s growing feelings for Darla. Tore was a sharp leopard and an honorable one. If Tore suspected the friendship between him and his mate’s youngest littermate had moved to a new level, at least on Dover’s side, possibly he would suggest Dover leave for a while.

“Apparently there is some fighting going on between the Cariboo lunewulfs and the leopards in the mountains where Kane and Jin are living now. I know this wouldn’t concern you, and I wouldn’t even mention it to you, but it’s being howled that a parliament is fairly well established in Banff. Kane says the tension is so thick between owl, leopard and werewolf you can smell it clear down to Seattle.”

“Shit,” Dover hissed, staring at the moisture building on his bottle of beer as he held it in his hand. “There is a sanctuary north of Seattle. It’s run by owls.”

“I’ve been there,” Tore offered.

Dover remembered that he had been, in another time when another battle had been fought. It seemed years ago and the peace that followed had been welcomed and embraced by all species. Apparently peace was short-lived. But with such violent races, it wasn’t surprising. He didn’t understand why a parliament would be out there though. Owls didn’t fight, not with leopards or werewolves. There was no reason to instigate bloodshed with a species who craved the kill.

“Kane is a new hunter,” Tore continued.

“His skills are fine-tuned,” Dover reminded him. “As well, Jin Rose was a hunter for years.”

“She is Jin Masters now,” Tore corrected him. “And I don’t doubt either of their abilities to fight with honor.”

“More fighting would possibly escalate the problem instead of resolving it.”

“Killing those who bring dishonor on others is never a problem,” Tore growled.

Dover knew better than to debate the ethics behind maintaining honor with a leopard. He might as well fly against the wind. The results would be the same. He would get nowhere.

“I could fly out there,” Dover offered, deciding not to wait for Tore to ask him.

“I have a very huge favor to ask,” Tore said slowly.

Dover thought agreeing to fly out there was the favor. “What’s that?”

“Would you take Darla with you?”

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