Untamed Wolf (2 page)

“You’re making it into something I can carry.” She exhaled between clicking teeth. Instead of shifting, she rubbed at her arms and kept dancing on her bare feet in the snow. Even her socks were soaking wet, so who knew how long she’d been out
hiking
in the snow.

“Yes,” he said, tightening the sleeves to form a noose. No, he wasn’t thinking about hanging her. Much. “Shift, woman, before you do get frostbite.”

Wide eyes blinking at him again, she swallowed. “You’re naked.”

“No kidding. And if my balls get frostbite, I’ll do more than snarl at you.
Shift.
”

“But you’re staring at me.”

It was Dylan’s turn to blink. Nudity wasn’t a big deal. She certainly had nothing to be ashamed of. Her long tumble of brown hair fell in damp waves against her soft olive skin. Blessed by generous curves and full breasts, she lacked tight muscle definition but her plush form didn’t betray any hint of weakness. If anything, it reinforced his need to see her safely shifted to a warmer form and out of the snow before she caught a real illness. Though wolves rarely sickened the way humans did, they could get ill if they didn’t take care of themselves.

Or if those who are supposed to be taking care of her fail to look after her properly.
The failure to do so added another black mark against the new so-called Alpha, as far as he was concerned. “Just change, Chrystal. The faster you do, the faster I can slip this on you and change myself.”

Another hop from foot to foot as misery burst like a rain cloud over her head. “I don’t know if I can do it while you’re watching.”

Not a refusal, not a challenge, a cry for help. Grunting, Dylan said, “I’ll watch the tree line, but I’m
not
turning my back on you.” Then, because her continued quaking left him feeling like an asshole, he gentled his tone. “You’re safe, Chrystal. Nothing will touch you while you shift. I promise.”

Doubt clung to her expression, a though her eyes remained downcast. She nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

Yep.
Her gratitude at being granted protection while she did as he’d ordered increased his sense of being a jerk. The little wolf was in the wrong, and it was his task to correct her and send her from their territory. Her constant flouting of the rules, however, needed to be quashed. How the hell did she survive as a Lone Wolf when she didn’t know how to follow the simple restrictions outlined by the probation treaty offered to Three Rivers?

Scanning the tree line, Dylan waited for the sounds of her shift, but none seemed forthcoming. Sparing her a glance, he found her arms folded tight against her chest while she continued to alternate from foot to foot. Her shivering increased ten-fold, however, and a faint tinge of blue touched her lips.

“What’s wrong?”
Why the hell isn’t she shifting?

“I don’t know,” she said with more fear in her tone than bite. “I’m trying, but nothing seems to be happening.”

Disregarding her earlier discomfort at his stare, Dylan studied her. Her shivering increased. His wolf rousing from their shared grumpiness, he clasped her shoulder. If she couldn’t shift, she was in a lot more trouble than frozen clothes, frostbite and violating Willow Bend territorial boundaries. “Chrystal.” He snapped out the two syllables of her name and her gaze jerked to his. Calling a wolf out was a job best left to an Alpha, but dominant wolves could do it if they could override the more submissive wolf’s tendencies.

His vision flickered as his wolf peered out of his eyes. Growling, he uttered the command, “Shift.”

One blink. Then two. Her walnut eyes bled gold as her wolf glared out at him. No, not glared. Her wolf wasn’t angry; she was terrified. Fisting his control, Dylan let his anger and frustration bleed out of him. Ordering her wolf around when she plainly didn’t know how to cope with a more dominant animal served no one.

“Come on, darling,” he murmured, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Come on out and play.”

The change rippled over her, and her eyes went completely wolf. When the muscles beneath his hand began to tug, he released her and stepped back to give her space. Shivering cascaded into the violence of her change. Her moans turned to whimpers and growls. Finally, fur glided over her shifted bones and form. She landed on four feet in front of him, panting hard.

Giving her a moment to reorient herself, Dylan lowered to a crouch rather than towering over her. The stink of fear occluded her sweeter scent. Yes, she needed discipline. Yes, she broke their treaty. Yes, he needed to kick her ass, but none of those offenses interested him at the moment. The she-wolf’s terror ignited every protective instinct he had.

Extending a hand, he said, “Good girl. Beautiful job.”

A low whine vibrated in her throat, and she dropped to her belly.
Dammit.
His wolf’s frustration mirrored Dylan’s. They didn’t want her crawling. If he dragged her to him and gave her a hug, he’d likely scare the shit out of her. Settling his palm against her head, he gave her a gentle scratch.

“Sweet girl, thank you.” The wolf’s ears flicked toward him. She was a dusky black and white wolf, darker hairs sprinkled amongst the silver and white. In low light and at a distance, she’d look more like a husky than wolf. Her slighter build would help her blend in more urban areas. When she dared a glance at him, he gave her a small smile.

“Can you stand up, beautiful? Need to put these clothes over your head and around your shoulders.” If he fit it snug enough, they wouldn’t hamper her movements. With great hesitation and care, she rose to her feet, but kept her whole body hunched and tail tucked between her legs.

Ignoring the frigid air and his own discomfort, Dylan kept his touch on her light. Gradually, her slunk gave way to a better posture, and she darted another look at him. Maintaining a smile, he said, “Ready when you are, beautiful.”

She bumped his hand with a nod. Trusting her word, he retrieved her clothes then slid the sling he’d made of the arms over her head. Afterward, he checked the fit against front. She was so damn tiny. Getting the sling on her tight enough to stay yet not trip her gave him a moment’s pause. To the little wolf’s credit, she held still while he got it sorted. Once he finished, he rubbed between her ears again. “Test it for me, darling. Let’s see how you move.”

Chrystal took a couple of trembling steps, floundering in the snow, but the pack of her clothes and phone remained snug across the top of her shoulders. She tossed him a glance, and he read the question in her eyes.

“Looks good to me, sweetheart. What do you think?” The calmer he kept his voice, the more she relaxed. Though the little wolf might be a pain in the ass, he’d prefer her to bite and scratch back if he snarled. When she sank to her belly on the ground, it undid him. He didn’t see himself as cruel or unkind.

She bobbed her head slowly, taking a couple more steps and tested a leap—one that landed her smack in the middle of another drift. Biting back a smile, Dylan braced his fist to the ground.

“I’ll shift, you follow me.” He added a bit more command to the end.

Pausing, snow on her muzzle, she canted her head and watched him. Taking the risk, he called his wolf. The twisted bliss and agony rode over him until he stood on four legs. Chrystal didn’t make any move toward him as he rose. At nearly twice her size, he dwarfed her. Head down, she sidestepped toward him. Everything in her posture was non-aggressive. Nuzzling her ear once, he closed his jaw lightly around her muzzle. She relaxed at the touch. Once certain she’d obey him, he released her and glanced toward the snow-covered steps he’d used to make it to the top of the falls. She sidled into him and he turned, taking lead with the tiny wolf pacing his every step.

Plowing forward, he made way for her through the denser wet snow so she didn’t have to flounder. When they reach the ice crust, he danced atop it then paused. She tested a paw, then a second. Once she was certain the snow wouldn’t give way, she gave him a little yip of joy.

Amused despite his earlier sour mood, he whuffed at her to get her ass in gear and catch up. She scrambled toward him and he trotted, gradually increasing his speed as long as she didn’t seem to struggle. He’d see her safe out of the storm and back to where she belonged.

It was his job.

T
he bully’s
kindness surprised the hell out of Chrystal. He’d chased her off more than once over the last few weeks for trespassing. Nothing she could do about his temper, either. Usually he bellowed and she fled. She couldn’t meet his gaze for long. When she did, she could only prostrate herself—not really a strong position when trying to stand up to her tormentor. Humiliation seized her at his order to strip and shift. At first, she thought he planned to do more. The feeling crept through her until every muscle shook from the realization if he’d decided he wanted to fuck her, she would be fucked.

Dread pooled in her belly, and her wolf fled at the sight of the man towering over her. Her terrorist’s pure beauty didn’t help matters, either. He was a magnificent beast of a man, from his broad shoulders and tapered waist to his densely packed muscles, which rippled with every step. He’d shocked her with his kindness, however, and his coaxing tone.

When he promised her protection, the fear coiling her belly relaxed enough for her wolf to rush through her. Shifting always hurt. Always. Other wolves told her how much they enjoyed the blend, but she never did. Worse, she seemed ungainly in her wolf form—too small, too uncertain, and her balance was off.

Dylan, by contrast, dwarfed her in size. A monster as a man—and as a wolf. She fought to stay on her feet, but her wolf would have none of it. On her belly, they crawled to him and avoided his gleaming, golden eyes. Soft pats to her head coupled with his softer words allowed her to rise, but she kept her head down while she sidestepped to him.

Better than risking her life by offending him. Bigger wolves could do more damage. Stronger wolves could make her do whatever they wanted. If Dylan told her to run away, she’d have obeyed. Oddly, he got her clothes attached to her, and told her to follow him before he’d shifted. Oh, the way he moved—a cross between demolition and pure poetry. Deep in her soul, she wanted to paint his wolf and capture the raw, untamed wildness simmering in the air around him.

Against the backdrop of silken white, his burnished brown coat stood out. Hints of red hid throughout the deeper browns and his muzzle seemed kissed by softer shades. He guided her through the woods with a skill she envied. When the snow grew too deep, he plowed ahead. In other places, he leapt atop it and waited for her. Under his careful eye, she experienced his watchfulness like a physical coat wrapped over her own fur.

One blessed thing about being in her wolf form and running—she wasn’t cold and her hands didn’t ache. He’d said to follow him as they went deeper into the territory she wasn’t supposed to violate. The thought sent a skittering frisson of fear through her. Dylan halted abruptly, and she collided with his side. Walls were softer than him. All the air whooshed out of her, and she studied him as he swung his gaze around. His ears flicked, and his lips pulled away from his teeth.

Terrifying. Magnificent.

With a sharp gesture, he pivoted toward her. The fierce baring of teeth vanished as he canted his head to the side. If she’d been human, she might have gulped. As it was, she ducked her head and tucked her tail. What had she done wrong? She’d followed obediently, even raced across the snow once he’d demonstrated she could climb atop the dense pack.

Hadn’t she kept up with him? Since he’d stopped, her lungs burned with every panting breath and she sucked them in noisily. After another moment of study, he nuzzled her cheek, before bumping her with his shoulder. When he resumed trotting, he slowed his pace.

Maybe he was tired. She had no idea what he did all day before he’d dragged her away from the falls. Her stomach knotted. For a split second, she’d been torn between the agony of losing her phone—she’d never owned one before—therefore losing all the pictures she’d captured on her excursion and fear of losing her life. Dylan intimidated the hell out of her. During their last meeting, he’d thrown her over his shoulder and stomped her to the
border
while taking great pains to point out landmarks, including a physical road. One she could hardly miss if she crossed it.

Then he’d dumped her on her ass, pointed a finger at her and warned her.
Next time, I won’t be so nice.
The bruises on her butt decried his so-called ‘niceness.’ Worse, he’d ratted out her infraction to Luciana, her Alpha. The beautiful, Italian woman with almost perfect baby doll features and an exquisite accent, Luciana, chided her for breaking the rules. Her calm, patient explanation of why they took every precaution drilled home the precarious nature of her current position.

For the first time in her existence, Chrystal was part of a pack. Pack, Luciana assured her, would protect her, clothe her, help her achieve an education, and much more. However, if she couldn’t be trusted to follow simple rules, she could more than lose her pack. The pack could be destroyed.
I promised her to behave…

You’re in Willow Bend territory.
Dylan informed her.
Again.

Trespassing hadn’t been her plan. In fact, it hadn’t even been on her mind. She’d woken to the promise of snow in the air. The new phone she’d been learning to use all week included a spectacular camera. Luciana’s mate taught several of the pack wolves new skills with their laptops—she possessed one, too—and a graphic’s program. Playing with images meant she needed more photos, so she’d decided to test the limits of the camera’s capabilities.

The snow began to fall…much like it was on her run with Dylan. A creaking groan sound overhead, a faint skittering and she paused to glance at the tinkling. Overhead, ice clung to the branches of the trees, trailing down like Christmas decorations glittering in the half-gray light of the cloudy day. Snow tingled on the end of her nose, and the ethereal crown of ice along the branches gave the tree an almost mystical—a hard shoulder slammed into her and she went sideways. The world seemed to crack.

The drift cushioned her and she floundered for breath then purchase as the hulk looming over her shook hard. Ice sprayed out around Dylan. Beyond him, in the snow where she’d been standing, lay a huge branch. Glass-like ice littered the snow around it.

Oh.

Realization plunged through her, and she shot a look at her companion. The dour look in his gaze made her duck her head again. She’d been staring at the branch, and it almost landed on her. She’d never have noticed…but Dylan saved her. With an impatient whuff, he gave her a little shove. Time to move again.

Glancing once more at the broken branch, she tucked her tail and pressed as close to Dylan as she dared. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he continued to match his pace to her slower strides. Determined to avoid another mistake, she focused on the trail and the burnished brown fur in her line of sight. The rich scent of frost mingled with the earthy warmth of cinnamon, berries, and ginger. She almost imagined the hint of summer grass and the sensation of basking in summer sun. Impossible in the midst of brutal winter, but she embraced the whimsy. Ages seemed to pass before she caught sight of a timber cabin. Traces of wood smoke wafted on the air.

Not slowing, Dylan trotted to the door. With a grace she envied, he arched onto his hind legs and caught the handle. It dipped once and the door opened. Instead of rushing inside, however, he backed from the open door and gave himself a solid shake. The shower of snow and ice from his lovely coat explained the reasoning. After mimicking his gesture, she checked with him and waited to see what their next step would be.

He whuffed and tossed his head impatiently.

Oh, he wanted her to go in first. Embarrassment flooded her, and she darted inside. He followed at a calmer walk, then closed the door once they were inside. The interior of the cabin seemed nice, all rough-hewn bark with solid timber walls. A bed sat in one corner—mussed and unmade—while two duffel bags lay, half-packed or maybe unpacked, next to the room’s single table. No dishes or food scents tickled her nose. Though no fire burned in the hearth, the combination of ash and old smoke told her one had been there recently.

Cozy was the only word for the single-room cabin—it was a single room, right? Sniffing carefully, she explored until she found a door in the corner. Nudging it open with a paw, she poked her head inside to find a well-appointed bathroom. Humidity in the room suggested Dylan used it recently. The combination of ginger and sunshine came from the soap. Intrigued, she retreated and continued to pad through the room. A shimmer of power and a rush of sound behind her interrupted her search.

The beauty of Dylan’s shift took her breath away. It looked nearly as painful as hers, yet no sounds betrayed any discomfort. In the space of a minute—maybe less—he changed from his wolf form to his human. Damn, he was just as beautiful as she remembered. Crouching and braced on his fists, his head hung low at first. With fluid grace, he rose and towered over her. What had been spacious shrunk as his presence filled the room. Without meaning to, she skimmed her gaze over his chest to his hips to the length of his cock hanging between his legs.

Really, he was a good-looking guy. His wolf was beautiful, powerful and terrifying. His human half? What was the right word?

Delicious.

When he stretched, his shoulders cracked. Then he slid his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. An air of relief radiated over him and his gaze settled on her, and she forgot to breathe for a moment. Crooking his finger, he beckoned her. “C’mere.”

Alarm rang through her.

Impatience creased his expression. Sighing, he said, “I need to untie your jacket so you can shift.”

Oh
.

Embarrassment replaced her fear, and she ducked her head. She’d forgotten about the clothing pack he’d made. Keeping her gaze on the floor, she sidled across the room to him. He made short work of the tied sleeves, and slid the clothing down. The jacket landed against the floor with a kind of wet plop. Fresh worry bloomed—what if she’d ruined the phone? She’d captured so many magical photos. She wanted time to study them, time to see if she could capture the images on a canvas.

Snuffling at the clothes, she tried to rummage through the layers. Dylan patted her gently, and the action startled her. “Go on, I’ll get it all laid out to dry.” Without waiting to see if she complied, he walked over to the duffels. He pulled out a couple of items and sniffed them, then paced to the bathroom door. Pushing it open the rest of the way, he tossed the clothes onto the sink top. “Here’s a shirt and some sweatpants. You should be able to tie the sweatpants on. I don’t have anything smaller.”

Utterly casual despite his nudity, he watched her with an almost expectant air while holding the door open. It took a moment for her to realize he waited for her to go inside.

Gratitude waged war on her mortification. Slinking further she tried to creep past him. No blow took her off-guard and no chastisement followed her. He waited till she was inside, before closing the door. The offer of privacy after her humiliation at being unable to shift at the waterfall filled her with relief. Changing took her forever, and she’d rather no one witnessed how abysmal she was at the task.

Settling on the floor, she concentrated on slowing her breathing. Her wolf seemed to understand they were safe even if Chrystal didn’t wholly feel the same way. Surrounded by the hints of Dylan brought more security—he’d protected her from the falling tree and the deep snow, hadn’t he? He’d even caught her when she lost her handhold. Chances were, she’d have survived the plunge into the cold water and maybe even hitting the rocks.

She was pretty tough.

Still…
she shuddered.
It would have been cold and my phone would have been toast.
Neither of those things happened, however, so she could embrace the relief. The sharp tick of a match striking followed by the crackle of wood reached her ears. A fire sounded even better than warm clothes. If she hurried, she could watch the way the flames began to lick over the fresh wood on their way to consume them.

“Luciana Barrows.” Dylan’s voice carried through the door, and her heart sunk. “This is Dylan Royce, Hunter for Willow Bend.” He paused. “Mrs. Barrows, one of your wolves seemed to have misplaced herself. Again.”

Crap.

Crap
.

Maybe she could stay in the bathroom forever. Yes. That was a plan.

B
y the time
she cobbled together enough courage to shift, she scented the fresh invitation of coffee from the other room. His conversation with her Alpha was mercifully brief. The second call he’d made took longer. His Alpha’s annoyance came through in tone even if she hadn’t been able to make out most of his responses.

The second call encouraged her to take even more time. She washed her hands and her face. Her hair was a wild, matted mess. Fortunately, she found a comb. The process of detangling gave her several minutes to keep hiding and offered Dylan a third opportunity to call someone.

He really did like to talk on the phone.

“I’m assuming by the time you get this you’ll have already written me off, Tawny.” His gruff tone softened and grew more flirtatious. “I’m okay with that, because I love a good challenge. I got into your good graces once. I’m looking forward to doing it again. So, make me work for it, babe. I promise…” His voice dipped. “I’ll make it worth both our whiles.”

Her stomach bottomed out at the pure seduction. Liquid heat coursed through her, and she clamped her thighs together. Thankfully, she was still in the bathroom. Although he’d scowled at her and coaxed her, he’d never spoken to
her
with such a provocative quality before.
And he isn’t doing it now.
He’d reserved the sexy allure for
Tawny
.

Whoever she is
,
I hate her already.

The uncharitable thought coupled with irritation did more to shake off her discomfort than all her languishing in the bathroom. Combing the last of the knots away, she dragged on the borrowed clothes. They practically dwarfed her, much as their owner did, and drowned her in his scent.