The Vow (Black Arrowhead #1) - Dannika Dark Page 0,47

from a bloodthirsty wolf years prior. Then again, she was just a child at the time. On that winter’s night, Melody was on the cusp of becoming a woman, and his wolf had used his body to shield her from the deathly cold. In all his years working as a bounty hunter, he’d never been able to recreate that same rush. Not when he took down criminals, not even when he saved lives.

And he’d saved many lives.

Now that Melody had grown into a stunning young woman, he wasn’t sure where he stood. She beguiled him with her familiarity and unfamiliarity all at once. He knew her—but he didn’t. His wolf sensed her wolf for the first time, and they had an undeniable chemistry.

Or maybe it was the way her milky-green eyes looked at him with secrets behind those irises. He thought about those pouty lips and the way they’d latched on to his, making him burn for her. She fit perfectly against him, as if his body were made to protect her. He remembered the smell of her hair when he’d nuzzled close behind her while they slept together.

Slept.

Lakota had never imagined that simply holding a woman in bed could be so gratifying. How could sex possibly top hearing a woman’s heart beating against his chest—feeling the rise and fall of her breath as she entrusted him with her life?

For years he’d seen her as unbreakable and determined. Never once had it occurred to him that the reason behind her ambition had to do with the guilt of simply surviving something. That knowledge made Lakota feel closer to understanding her.

Yet one thing bothered him. Melody still hadn’t embraced her natural brown hair color. Lakota didn’t care if she shaved her head or dyed it silver; the vibrant shades had become her signature look. No, it was the reasoning behind it. She’d once confided in him that she colored her hair because she felt unremarkable.

Melody had no clue just how remarkable she was—how infectious her creativity and love for life was to those around her. She possessed a warrior’s heart and always wanted to be equal to men in every regard. She chased her dreams, even at the risk of failing, and held on to life with such ferocity that she shone brighter than any star in the sky. How could she possibly believe that her looks defined her worth as a woman?

It was puzzling how she and Hope had become such fast friends. Melody was the risk-taker, whereas Hope was more concerned about disappointing people. His sister had a gracious heart, and that goodness made him want to intervene in their business affairs. What kind of brother would he be if he didn’t do everything within his power to make her happy? That gave him pause about the whole Shikoba situation. Somehow he needed to make it right.

But he also had a job to do.

Lakota opened the back door to Shikoba’s property. Melody had opted to return to the kitchen and stay out of sight. Koi’s wolf was lying on a bed of flowers, surrounded by women. Someone had cleaned the blood from his fur and stitched up the wounds.

One at a time, each of Koi’s packmates approached his body, knelt, and honored him with private farewells. As they rose, they sliced a dagger across their hearts, and rivulets of blood trailed down their chests. Koi’s mother sat close, and each packmate bestowed her with a gift, as was their custom. Some brought her food, while others gave trinkets or tokens. When a Shifter died, he remained in whatever form he was in at the time of death. It must have been hard for the family not to see his human face again, but they treated his wolf with the utmost respect.

Tak met him at the door, feathers in his hair and paint across his chest. “Come.”

Lakota glanced at the old mother. “I don’t have a gift.”

Tak wrapped his arm around his shoulders and led him toward the body. “You brought her the most sacred gift of all—her son. My father doesn’t deal with the Council, so had you not gone, we never would have gotten him back.”

When Tak branched away, Lakota knelt in front of the grieving mother and bowed his head. He whispered a prayer in his native tongue and then rested his hand on the flowers beneath Koi.

Lakota’s throat closed when the mother’s hand covered his and moved it onto Koi’s head. She said something in her