Untamed Wolf (3 page)

Her wolf approved, but Chrystal didn’t share the glee. She had enough problems. Smelling like Dylan didn’t seem likely to earn her any points—not with anyone. With all her excuses spent, she opened the door and dared a glance into the cabin. A cheery fire waited her, along with a blanket of much warmer air. The bathroom cooled during her tenure inside. A pair of steaming coffee mugs sat on the table. Her clothes hung on a makeshift rack in front of the fire and her—oh! Her phone sat next to a coffee mug.

Abandoning her hiding spot, she darted over to reclaim it. It turned on with one touch. Delighted, she entered her passcode so she could flip to her photo app. There they were…all her glorious pictures. Mood buoyed, she did a little dance.

“I take it the patient survived?” His dry inquiry didn’t diminish her joy one iota.

“Yes,” she said with a quick smile. Dylan stood by the bed. All the bedding had been stripped away and rolled into a ball. His duffels were zipped closed and, instead of the golden-skinned nudity from before, he’d dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that seemed a tad too small for how it moulded to his frame. His feet were bare, but he’d left a pair of work boots by the door, so maybe he didn’t wear shoes inside.

Tearing her gaze away took more effort than she cared to admit, but she focused on the photos. “I’m sorry I made you miss my—I mean, your date.”
My?
They didn’t have a date, and she wasn’t really sorry. Only she was.
Dammit.

“Not worried about it.” Dylan’s voice was so close, she couldn’t suppress her start of surprise. He dropped his keys onto the table and retrieved his coffee mug. “There’s sandwiches, if you’re hungry.”

Before she could protest, her stomach growled. Would her humiliation never end? Chewing the inside of her lip, she glanced at him. Amusement curved his lips, but he didn’t comment on her rude belly. Instead, he sipped his coffee and checked his phone. Maybe looking for a message from Tawny.

“Go ahead and eat,” he told her. “Sandwiches are in the cooler. We’re leaving in about fifteen minutes.” His phone rang. Pacing toward the windows, he answered. “Cabin’s clean. I’ve got to return a stray before I take off for the weekend.”

Stray
.

Her elation over the photos plummeted. She wasn’t a stray. Wasn’t that the point of having a pack? Three Rivers took her in; Luciana claimed her. She had a place, a home, and a pack to rely on.

“Damn wolves have got to learn what a border means. I get they aren’t used to hanging out in groups anymore, but how hard is it?” The wolf on the other end of the phone knew she could hear him, right? Maybe he simply didn’t care. No one cared about strays, did they?

Her appetite vanished. Refusing to be cowed by their disdain, she opened the cooler and inspected the sandwiches. A half-dozen sat packaged and waiting. All of them appeared to be the same compositions—ham and cheese. After choosing two, because one he offered and two she should eat, she carried them to the table.

“It happens.” Dylan didn’t sound annoyed with her. “We’re not exactly giving them a reason to not show up. Takes time.” His patience seemed to soothe the other wolf.

“Maybe you should take it up with Mason.” Mason Clayborne, the Alpha of Willow Bend and the wolf in charge of all the boogeymen who’d kept them caged in town for several weeks after they’d finally moved in. Luciana promised to protect them, and she’d done a good job. Admittedly, they’d lost some wolves.

Like Patrick.

Chrystal suppressed a shudder. He’d been a mean wolf and, when he’d challenged the Delta Crescent Alpha, she’d killed him so easily. The battle resulted in a small exodus from Three Rivers. Several wolves simply packed into their vehicles and left. She didn’t know where they headed and they never came back either. Luciana mentioned them only in passing, reminding everyone they had a choice. If they wanted to go, she wouldn’t stop them. If they chose to stay, she would do her damnedest to take care of them. Chrystal was one of the ones who chose to stay.

Where else did she have to go?

Taking a bite of the sandwich, she hunched into the chair and tried not to listen to Dylan talking.

“No,” Dylan said for the second time. “We trust Mason. He has a plan, and this is his call.”

“Yeah, I just wish it was easier.” The anger bled from the other wolf’s tone. “I hate seeing them make so many mistakes.”

“Life is about learning from our mistakes.” The quote resonated within her soul. She’d been a mistake, too.

“You have been talking to Mr. Chase.” Laughter vibrated in the reply.

“Since he raised Owen, he’d know all about mistakes.” The humor turned to a roar and Dylan’s chuckle, so open and filled with rough amusement captivated her. “I’ll see you in three days.”

Finished with his call, he leaned against the wall next to the window and studied her. The food seemed impossible to swallow under his quiet eyes. Instead of saying anything, he sighed and sipped his coffee. His attention went to the fire and the knots in her shoulders eased.

Eating the sandwich in hurried bites, she washed it down with the bitter coffee. Although she preferred sugar and cream, she hesitated to ask for any. The sooner they finished, the better. Halfway through her second sandwich, she began scrolling through her photos again.

“Did you get any good ones?” His question startled her. She’d almost managed to block out his presence, though forgetting him was not an option.

“I think so.” She shrugged. “I won’t really know until I get them on the big screen at home.” Though he hadn’t asked, she continued, “I can’t always tell if the detail is too fine to recapture later or not until I see it enlarged.”

“You seemed to like the one you risked your neck for.”

Her neck?
The waterfall.
With another shrug, she tried to adopt an air of nonchalance she didn’t feel. “Light does cool things to pictures. But what we can see and what the phone sees isn’t always the same.” Still, it was better than nothing. Way better. “I’m not as used to it yet, so most of the time I just have to memorize what I see. Even if the pictures aren’t great, they can remind me of what I saw and maybe I can capture it.”

Wanting to stem the flow of words, she stuffed the rest of the second sandwich into her mouth.

“Huh, never thought about it.” He rubbed his jaw, then drained his coffee cup. Bypassing the table, he carried his mug to the sink and washed it out before setting it on the rack with a handful of other dishes. Other than their presence, the cabin seemed to be scrubbed of his stay.

The silence stretched out, and she washed down the last of her sandwich with the coffee. Hot, it helped warm her the rest of the way. At least her hands already healed. Half-staring at her undamaged palm, she asked, “Are you leaving?”

“Yes.” He stood right next to her, and she bit her tongue to keep from swearing. “Damn, you’re a jumpy little thing. Trust me, sweetheart. If I was going to bite, I’d have already done it.” He tapped the table. “Done?”

Disappointment curled through her at his declaration, and she nodded. He scooped the mug and the other debris away, disposing of her trash and cleaning her cup with the same efficiency as he had his own. Afterward, he did a sweep of the room, but didn’t say anything else. Uncertain of whether she should stay put or not, she rose to go and check on her clothes. Most were still too damp and cold to wear, and her shoes were saturated. Great, her feet were bare and she wore borrowed sweatpants. Maybe if she rolled up the pants, she could hop out to his truck.

“There’s a plastic bag there, you can stuff your clothes and shoes in.” Dylan had his duffel bags in hand. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

When the door opened, a whoosh of chilly air raced in, so she eased closer to the fire. The door closed with a bump after he left. Abandoning the fire, she crossed to the window. Dylan opened the back door of a four-door, heavy-duty truck. After tossing his bags in the back, he pulled out a broom and a scraper. Pausing at the driver’s side, he turned the vehicle on. It rumbled to life with the same kind of power she’d sensed in him when he’d ordered her to shift—no, when he’d ordered her wolf out of hiding.

Once he’d roused her wolf, she’d been able to shift. As mortifying as the experience was, he’d never commented or made her feel less. In fact, his words had been complimentary. Maybe he wasn’t the terrorist she’d imagined him to be. He began to clear the snow from his truck and she backtracked to retrieve her phone. Between the frosted windows, the faint plume of exhaust and the way his muscles rippled as he moved—it was a picture she wanted to remember.

Snapping a few shots in rapid succession, she bit her lower lip. She was still standing there when he stomped his boots on the porch seconds before opening the door. Pivoting, she raced to grab her wet clothes. She should have been ready. Instead of hurrying her, he waited till she finished before he banked the fire.

“Shouldn’t we put it all the way out?”

“Nope.” He didn’t add anything more, taking possession of her plastic bag and dropping his jacket on her in the same breath. Like the borrowed clothes, the jacket was huge. Her arms wouldn’t fit all the way to the cuffs without rolling them. He did one more scan of the room, while herding her to the door. The jacket, the warm vehicle, the food—Dylan was really— She yelped as he scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

He got the door open, and they were suddenly out in the cold. With one hand, he pulled the door shut. Carrying both her and her bag, he walked to the truck. A moment later, he dumped her into the passenger seat.

“Buckle up,” he told her with a grin, then closed the door.

Hateful man. Just hateful.

And God he smelled so good.

“
B
eer
,” Dylan said with a sigh as he tapped the bar and slid onto a stool. Late Friday at the Wheelhouse and the crowd hadn’t gotten loud yet. The partiers would arrive in another hour or so. The majority of the population dining out at the adult-only establishment on the weekend evenings was mated couples. Bachelors and singles would begin making their way in as they finished work or after the mated pairs all rolled out. Pack life bound them together, but the two crowds didn’t always party together.

“I didn’t think you were going to make it.” Joanie slid a foamy capped ice mug toward him. In her late seventies and still fighting trim, Joanie had held court behind the bar of the Wheelhouse for all of her life. Her mate owned the steakhouse itself and served as the primary cook. Joanie served the drinks along with advice. From time to time, she’d even been known to match make. “But I’m glad you did.”

The twinkle in her eyes gave him a pause. “Do you have someone you want me to meet?”

“Maybe.” She wiped some moisture off the bar. “Or maybe you’ve already met her, and I talked her into coming in for a drink tonight on the off chance you would be here.”

When the front doors opened and a jasmine scented cloud floated into the room, Dylan’s grin grew. “Joanie darling, if your mate wouldn’t eviscerate me, I’d kiss you on the mouth.”

Laughing, she leaned over the bar toward him. “Want to test the theory?”

A growl reverberated from the kitchens, along with a bellow. “Woman, I can hear you both.”

Grinning, Dylan blew her a kiss and took another drink before turning to enjoy the image Tawny painted as she sauntered in the door. Sleek and so put together, he wanted to pop every button on her silk blouse and tousle her carefully coifed hair. Her only concession to whimsy was the red streaks in her dark hair—nothing disheveled or fantastical about her.

As far from Chrystal as a body could get—and why the hell was he thinking about the scattered little wolf?

Locking gazes with the tempting she-wolf at the door, Dylan smiled. Tawny hadn’t returned any of his calls, and she hadn’t been at their destination for a drink… then again, he hadn’t expected her to be. If the law student was anything, she was punctual and precise. Challenge filled the air as she strolled toward him. He felt every step of her too-high stilettos. Most wolves didn’t bother with fashion statements. Not Tawny. ‘Course with the lift those heels gave her ass and the way they shaped her legs? She wouldn’t hear a word of complaint from him.

“Well, well,” she murmured. “Look what the dog dragged in.”

“Want a drink, babe? I’m buying.”

“I’m sure you are.” She trailed a finger down his chest. “I’m meeting someone else, however.”

“Oh, your bolt wounds.” He sighed. “Guess I’ll just have to cry in my beer.”

Her snort of derision carried a note of humor. Sliding onto the stool next to him, she furthered his torture by crossing one leg over the other. “A glass of wine please, Joanie.”

“You got it, hot stuff. Now, you be careful of our Dylan, here.” The sly older woman shot him a wink as she poured a glass of white. Apparently, she knew exactly what kind of wine Tawny preferred. Dylan packed the knowledge away for the future.

“Should I?” Tawny spared him another sweeping look, though she couldn’t disguise the lick of heat warming her cool green eyes. “I don’t see much to be concerned about.”

“You know how many wolves have said the same thing? Yet they all go home without their panties.” Joanie laughed.

“Put her drink on my tab, won’t you, darlin’?” God love Joanie for being on his side. Hell, over the years, she’d even given him pointers on how to lure a woman into his bed. Speaking from his experience, she definitely knew what she was talking about.

“We don’t have to worry about him getting my panties,” Tawny no longer looked at him, skimming the bar as she sipped her wine. “I don’t wear any.”

Joanie made a face behind Tawny’s back and waggled her eyebrows. Dylan managed to not choke on his beer. Only just. “I like a woman who’s prepared.”

“Just not enough to prepare yourself.” Tawny’s dig landed smartly.

“Ouch.” Granted, he’d been late, and she’d warned him, but he wasn’t a whelp to take her kicks without a bite. Draining his beer, he set the mug back on the bar before facing her. “Not all of us punch a time clock, darlin’. Some of us have jobs that involve actually helping people rather than filing papers or…” He slanted a glance at her fresh manicure and too-pressed skirt. “Spending a fortune on personal grooming. I wanted to buy you a drink because I thought you were hot and sexy.”

Heat flushed her face. Her eyes warmed and her scent took on a particularly spicy hint of desire. She definitely wasn’t wearing panties.
Damn pity
.

“I gotta admit, you’re all of those things.” Stroking a tongue over his lower lip, he gave her a long look. The skilled wolf walked the walk, talked the talk, and armed herself with civilization, but she was every bit the predator. No longer interested in being her prey, he stood, pulled out a few bills and dropped them on the bar. “But I’m not interested in jumping through your dog show hoops. Five minutes late isn’t a crime, darling, but being a bitch is. Enjoy your date tonight, if he shows.”

Joanie blew him a kiss as he waved to her. Ignoring Tawny’s scowl, Dylan strolled out of the bar not entirely certain why he’d been interested in the vixen before. Everything about her was an act, a carefully deployed plan to captivate, seduce and control. He’d hopped right to and followed.

Outside, the cold air flooded his lungs, and he sucked in a deep breath of home. Hunters spent more time outside of Willow Bend than in, and he’d done his fair share of rotations over the years. Being in town never changed, even if the people—the Alpha—did. He’d never cared much for Toman. More precisely, he’d never given the Alpha much thought at all since he’d only ever met him what, twice? Maybe three times?

At least the snow stopped. Canting his head back, he studied the skies. Thick clouds blotted out the stars and left no moon visible—though in his bones he knew they were still in waxing moon with at least another week until full moon hit.

He wouldn’t be in Willow Bend during the full moon. He’d be back on the border keeping a firm eye on Three Rivers. Thankfully, border duty meant he didn’t actually spend a lot of time on their side like the watchers assigned by the Alphas. No, Collin pulled the short straw for the first three months in Three Rivers. His term would be ending soon, and another Hunter would be drawn from the pool. If Owen were back by then, Dylan would toss his name into the hat.

The door to the bar opened, spilling the light and noise out into the snow. “You’re going to get cold standing out here without a jacket.” The pack’s healer, Emma Halifax joined him at the curb, staring across the picturesque snow covered field. For her part, she wore a soft rabbit fur lined leather jacket. She bumped his shoulder. Chances were, her jacket was a gift from her mate and he’d probably hunted the rabbits, too. A nice trick some courting wolves did—bringing down prey neatly enough to use all of it for presents as well as a meal.

Dylan never bothered to take that much time. His jacket was still in Three Rivers with Chrystal. He’d driven her back to her town and given her a lift from his truck to the front step of her Alpha’s house. Rather than stick around to play politics, he’d left the issue in Collin’s lap. If Luciana Barrows had an issue with him, well—let her take it up with Collin. He’d been halfway back to the airfield when he’d realized Chrystal still wore his jacket.

All he said, however, was, “Not so bad tonight.” It wasn’t. The heated interior of the Wheelhouse bar was stuffy, and at least the cloying scent of jasmine didn’t irritate his nostrils. Maybe, just maybe, with his jacket, Chrystal wouldn’t freeze out in the snow if she decided to go snap more pictures.

“No,” Emma said. “It’s not. But you still work too hard and if you don’t play or rest, you can still get sick.” The admonishment warmed him to his toes. Healers were easy wolves to be around; they soothed everyone.

“I’m having breakfast with the most beautiful woman in the world tomorrow, so I’m sure I’ll be well fed and ready to nap in the sun afterward.”

“Taking breakfast to your parents?”

“Already ordered from Mrs. Sexton at the grocery. She makes the best crepes.” It might even be the first hot food breakfast his mother had eaten in a while.

She chuckled. “How is your mother? She hasn’t been in town recently.”

Recently could mean anything from the last month to the last ten years. His mother preferred her privacy. Once upon a time she’d joked she would have been a Lone Wolf except for meeting Dylan’s father during one of her adventures across the ocean. “They’re both great,” he said. “Dad’s probably building more furniture and she’s painting.”

Artistic souls, both of them. They hungered to create and develop and sometimes lost themselves in their projects for weeks on end. Dylan learned early how to forage for himself and to make noise. They weren’t bad people, and they’d more than made up for their lack of attention to meal times with wild discoveries and by encouraging him to fulfill his potential.

“Good, good.” Emma paused to glance at the Wheelhouse door. “Thomas is flirting with Joanie to get a rise out of her mate.”

Considering he’d done the same exact thing, he could only nod. “Of course.”

“I have been wanting to talk to you. Do you mind walking me to our car, and I’ll get it started?”
Damn.
Emma baited the hook and he’d bitten right down like a pup discovering meat for the first time.

“Of course.” Holding out his arm, he waited for her to slip her hand onto the crook of his elbow before walking her across the plowed lot toward her vehicle. Emma cared for so many, caring for her was an honor. “What can I do for you?”

Though she’d never approved of his pursuit of Gillian, she’d never discouraged him either. He’d always known where the wind blew between Gillian and Owen. At the time, the Senior Hunter had his head so far up his own ass about deserving the journeyman healer, Dylan hadn’t been able to resist tweaking him.

At her vehicle, she paused the conversation to open the door and get the engine started. Once done, she leaned against the vehicle and studied him. “You’re aware of the meetings we held with the other healers, yes?”

“Aware? Yes. Know the content? No, ma’am.” He’d been assigned to dealing with the Yukon Alpha. Or big, bad wolf of pain in the ass, as Dylan dubbed him. Old, cantankerous, and difficult were the kindest descriptors. Escorting the Yukon pack out was the best part of the whole trip.

“I thought as much. We’re not making it common knowledge yet, but you Hunters will definitely need to be more vigilant.” The practical nature of her tone and the assertion of need erased his earlier distractions.

He nodded once. “Tell me what you need.”

“We’re seeing a trend in wolves on the fringes of pack life becoming more and more disenfranchised. They are being forgotten, these wandering wolves who are not so much Lone as alone. Do you understand?”

“I think so.” Every pack counted among its members a wide variety of personality types and temperaments. While most craved close contact, others simply did not. Hunters were among those who fell in both camps. Dylan could spend weeks without contact with his packmates, but it made the time he did spend with them sweeter. “My parents, for example, who forget as often as not, that they are still a part of a pack.”

“But they have you kids—though I know your brother is going to school somewhere down south.”

“Yes, in Austin.” The unclaimed territory wasn’t always the best place for pack wolves to spend long periods of time, but for school and employment assignments, concessions were made. Margo kept an eye on him when it was her territory. Chances were, another Enforcer continued the task—if any were free. He hadn’t talked to Braden in a while. “Another year or so, till he graduates.”

“And your sisters?” Emma must have a point or she wouldn’t have requested the conversation.

“Both mated in the last couple of years. Phyllis has a baby on the way, but then you know that.” Beyond his sisters, his only other family in the area returned recently. His second cousin, Claire, mated to a Buckley. His mother had been her father’s cousin, and their parents were all deceased.

“I did. With their matings, they don’t go out to your parents’ place as much.” Since it was located on the other side of the lake and deep in the woods, Dylan wasn’t surprised. “We don’t want your parents to slip away from us. You know Gillian and Owen were doing rotations that let them visit all the outliers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Though they are closer to town proper than our others, your parents still fall into the small section of ‘alones…’”

“Please excuse the interruption,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. At her nod, he continued, “My parents are mated. They can be flighty and forgetful, and I know how Mom and Dad get. They might forget to eat for days. They might forget to put gas in the car or that they can drive to Willow Bend to see other wolves while they are hip deep in their latest projects…but they never forget each other.”

Emma’s expression softened. “Mating does help.”

“I can’t speak from experience.” He’d never been mated. Didn’t intend to mate either. His mate would have to ambush him. The wolf that could do that—yeah, he’d be interested in her. “But I do know them. I think they’re fine, but I will take a closer look when I see them tomorrow and make sure I see them more often.”

“You are a good son, Dylan Royce.” Emma patted his cheek. Thankfully, her mate chose that moment to exit the Wheelhouse, a roar of laughter chasing him out.

Thomas wore a wide grin as he strolled toward them. “I did it.”

“Oh Thomas,” Emma gave him an exasperated stare. “Tell me you didn’t.”

“I would my love, but it would be a lie.” He clasped Dylan’s hand in a quick handshake, before he dropped a kiss on Emma’s lips.

“Won this week’s pot, did you?” Joanie could flirt with whomever she liked and they were welcome to flirt back, creating a running joke at the Wheelhouse.. Everyone dropped a couple of dollars in the prize jar for the lucky wolf who could incite her mate into abandoning the kitchen to break up the flirting.