Cowboy in Wolf's Clothing

by Kait Ballenger

  For good…

  And then he could wipe his hands clean of the debt he owed her.

  Until then, that left him with plenty of time to kill with this she-wolf under his charge. Plenty of time for the scent of her hair to torture him.

  He imagined how she would taste on his tongue. He guessed like strawberry wine and berries. Already, she’d gotten under his skin, which meant she was an itch he needed to take care of. A man couldn’t force this kind of desire away. He needed to address it, or it would do him one worse and become a weakness.

  And Colt couldn’t afford weakness, especially not now.

  Even a hazel-eyed woman whose irises reminded him of the first emerald grass that broke through the brown earth come spring.

  Never had a woman’s scent called to him this way.

  It went against every fiber of his being. Let alone over a she-wolf who growled at him and held his own knife to his throat like the viper-tongued little minx she was. He usually preferred his women a little less…prickly, and this woman might as well have been a cactus.

  True, he’d developed a reputation for enjoying women over the years, but that had been mostly before he’d become commander, when he’d been a young ambitious soldier, rising in the ranks under his father’s command. Before women had been capable of being temptations that would cloud his mind on the battlefield.

  It was his one and only vice. His escape. Because for the short time he held a woman in his arms, he was able to lose himself, to forget who and what he was—the monster beneath the lie.

  He tipped the rim of his Stetson to keep the blinding sun reflecting off the snow from his eyes. Come hell or high water, he had no intention of diving down that rabbit hole, at least not now. He needed to focus. Home in on his plans. Matters would move quickly once he had the Pact’s approval, and he’d need to strategize. Easier said than done, considering that, at the moment, that round, ample ass of hers was pushing against the bulge in his jeans, courtesy of the continuous sway of Silver’s saddle.

  A deep, rumbling growl sounded inches away from Colt, enough to cause Silver’s ears to rise in alert. He pulled on the reins, slowing the beast to a sudden halt.

  He raised an eyebrow. They’d been riding more than a few hours now and were drawing close to the Missoula ranch, but that couldn’t have been this woman’s stomach, could it?

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to protest when her stomach growled again. A light shade of pink flushed her cheeks. He hadn’t seen her eat at the cabin, and neither had he. Hell, she likely hadn’t had a truly decent meal in days if she’d been locked up in the cells. They kept the prisoners fed, but it wasn’t ideal fare. She had to be more ravenous than he was, and the least he could do before he handed her off to the guards to play prisoner was put some hot food in her belly.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” he mumbled.

  He seized the opportunity to hunt wholeheartedly. Being cooped up inside the cabin had made him feel idle. He knew himself well enough to know that idle hands truly were the devil’s workshop. Already he itched with the need to work, to keep his thoughts from swirling down into the dark abyss of his past. Post-attack, the vampires had likely retreated to regroup, and there was still enough light left to the day so they’d be holed up somewhere—for now. The sun may not have been death to them, but it weakened them considerably. As much as he wanted to ride straight through to get the news to Maverick, it would be wise to take a meal break.

  They rode a short way down the mountainside and deeper into the forest, stopping in a small patch where the trees were less dense. Colt dismounted first, and she followed. He removed Silver’s bit, allowing the horse to go forage nearby. When finished, he turned back toward Belle and pointed to a large rock.

  “Stay here.” Lifting the rim of his shirt, he stripped the material over his head.

  “What are you doing?”

  He shot a glance over his shoulder toward her. She was scanning over the planes of his back, her eyes wide at the sight of his battle scars. His body, though pure muscle, was a testament to the hard life he lived. He’d been training to be high commander since the night James had taken him in, and he carried the brutal wounds to show it.

  “Hunting for food.” He cast his shirt onto a nearby rock. “I could use some grub, and from the sounds your stomach was making, clearly you’re hungry, too.” He reached for the button of his jeans.

  Without so much as a backward glance, he shifted. Bones cracked. Muscle stretched and fur grew. The painfully sweet release sent a burning sensation through his skin as if he had just burst forth from a constricting hold as he darted into the woods.

  Twenty minutes later, he trotted back to camp with two dead hares clutched between his jaws. Dropping the hares on the ground, he quickly shifted back into human form and pulled on his clothes before he set about building a fire.

  He gathered and piled nearby brush, then lit it with the lighter he kept in Silver’s saddlebag. “Stoke the flames.” He passed her a long stick.

  She frowned at the command, but she didn’t question it. As she stoked the fire, he retrieved the hares, laying them out on a nearby rock and using his switchblade to start the skinning process.

  When he glanced up from his work, her nose was wrinkled in disgust.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a vegetarian.” Just what he needed. A she-wolf who wouldn’t touch meat. He wasn’t sure which side of him it would offend more—the carnivorous wolf, his true nature, or the tried-and-true rancher who raised beef to market. It was an honest, fair way to make a living in these parts, and the Grey Wolves depended on their ranch for income.

  Her frown deepened. “No, I’m not a vegetarian.”

  “Your issue then?” His eyes darted down to the bloodied rabbit in front of him.

  “You’re skinning it all wrong. If you do it like that, you won’t be able to use the hide,” she scolded.

  He chuckled darkly. “And what would a city-slickin’ Wild Eight know about skinning an animal?”

  The Wild Eight had made their home in downtown Billings. The ranchlands and mountains outside Billings were what the Grey Wolves claimed as territory, along with several subpacks farther north near Missoula, one near Helena, and several more down near Bozeman.

  Colt hacked another slice, purposefully haphazardly to rile her. He was going for efficiency, not preservation. If he were to preserve the hide of every animal he killed in these woods, he’d have enough fur to clothe all his men.

  Her lips tightened into that angry pucker. “I’m no city slicker.” She jabbed the stick at the fire’s embers, a little harder than necessary.

  Apparently, he’d struck a nerve. No matter. He wasn’t here to make friends. All she had to do was go along with his plan.

  When he’d finished skinning the hares, he rigged them up on makeshift spits he created from some branches and set them over the fire. They sat in silence, waiting for their dinner to cook. Finally, when the hares were finished, he passed one to her and took one for himself.

  The gamy meat filled his mouth as he chomped down into the leg.

  “You’re not going to put me back in the cell, are you?” Her voice broke the heavy silence between them.

  He glanced up from his food and swallowed the bite he was chewing. “No. I can’t risk you being in with the other prisoners.” Not if he wanted to be able to sleep at night. The thought of any of those grubby monsters putting their paws on her made his stomach churn. “You’ll stay in one of the guest houses with soldiers posted outside the door as long as I can trust you won’t slip out the window with a friggin’ bobby pin again.”

  He wasn’t about to get further into the mechanics of how she’d be treated as a prisoner. He would save that until after they’d finished eating. He had about five of the Grey Wolves’ most elite men with him at the Missoula ra
nch and the dozens of young cowboys he’d been training under his charge. Between them, he’d ensure she’d be treated fairly, but having guards watching her every move was the only way. He couldn’t free her without reason, not unless he wanted his own loyalties questioned.

  “Did you learn that little trick from the Wild Eight?” he asked, referring to her escape.

  “No.” She finally took a bite of her rabbit. A small, satisfied groan escaped her lips.

  Colt fought down an aroused growl. Had she made that sound when she’d been pressed naked against him in the clearing…

  “I know from your file you were with them three years,” he continued, forcing his thoughts elsewhere. “You expect me to think you didn’t pick up a thing or two?”

  “I learned how to pick locks on the ranch growing up. We lost a key to a padlock on the stable gates. We didn’t have much cash to spare, so I learned how to pick the lock. It became a hobby from there. We were busy out on the ranch, but for a young girl, it’s not the most exciting life.”

  “We?”

  He couldn’t stop himself from asking. Once they both fulfilled their ends of the bargain, that would be it for them. No need to get attached, yet somehow he found he wanted to know more. How could he not?

  Because when her gentle hands had caressed him, she’d made him forget who he was, what he was. Not the valiant Grey Wolf warrior everyone thought him to be, but one of the most hardened, violent, lethal wolves among these mountains—a product of both his ambition and the circumstance of his birth. And for a brief moment, for once in his life, he’d felt worthy.

  “My mother and I.” She glanced down at the rabbit but didn’t take a bite. “I never knew my father.”

  That made two of them. The only time he’d met his birth father had been the night he’d lost his mother, the night James had taken him in. It was an experience he would happily forget.

  “So where was that ranch you called home?” He took another large bite of rabbit. He wasn’t typically the kind to make small talk, but he needed to keep the conversation moving freely. Eventually, he’d need answers from her, and that would come easier if she trusted him.

  “Florida,” she answered. “We owned a small cow-calf operation, mostly local buyers.”

  She’ll be right at home at Wolf Pack Run. Colt frowned as soon as the thought crossed his mind. No. He could not go down that road.

  This was definitely an itch he would need to scratch. Before this got out of hand. But on his terms…with his rules, if only she agreed.

  “The Sunshine State, huh?” He supposed that explained the ever-present smell of sun and salt on her skin. Even as ivory as she was, it was as if she’d carried the sunshine and the sand here with her.

  He cursed under his breath. He was known for his ironclad will, his strict self-control, even as he took his pleasure. It was how he’d managed to avoid the complexities of a relationship for so long. One night and one night only, and no women from the main ranch at Wolf Pack Run. Those were his rules. And yet, this woman, he couldn’t seem to resist…

  Either he was way more desperate to get laid than he thought, or this woman was trouble, plain and simple.

  Pushing the thought aside, he swallowed the bite of rabbit he’d been chewing and forced himself to focus on their conversation—and not the way those perfectly round breasts felt pushed against his bare chest.

  “Florida, where the old go to die and the young run from the law,” he joked.

  When he glanced up at her, she tried to glare at him, but he saw the amusement tugging at the edge of her lips.

  “Yet you ended up here in Montana?”

  She shrugged. “I traveled a lot once I got out of med school. I thought I wanted to settle down here. Now I’d give anything to go back to what I had before.”

  “Which was?”

  “The rodeo,” she said. “I was an orthopedic surgeon on a couple different circuits.” She grinned. “Still think I’m a city slicker?”

  He gave a small tilt of his Stetson. “I stand corrected.”

  She took a bite of her rabbit, chewed, and swallowed. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you about this.”

  “That makes two of us.” At least he wasn’t the only one sensing the strange tension between them. It was as if some invisible force were pushing them together. He took another chomp of hare, a bite with heavy sinew that he had to tug apart with his teeth.

  When he finished chewing, he shrugged. “In any case, we’re on the same side now.”

  Her dark eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Are we?”

  “You and I want the same thing, Belle.”

  He tossed the leftover bones and gristle of his rabbit into the flames. The fire crackled and spit a burst of embers as he placed his hands on his knees. “You almost finished?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. There are a few finer points of our agreement we need to go over.” Colt moved to stand, but as he did, a sharp hiss tore from his lips. He clutched his chest where the wound from his blade was still healing.

  “Stubborn cowboys. I was afraid that was going to happen,” Belle mumbled in between bites of rabbit. “You all think you’re near invincible when it comes to pain. I knew you were going to overexert yourself. Riding down the mountainside post-injury was bad enough, but then hunting.”

  “Why didn’t you say something?” he grumbled.

  “Would you have listened?”

  “Likely not,” he admitted. “Though I should have.”

  “I appreciate a man who can admit when he was wrong.” She threw what remained of her rabbit into the fire, causing the flames to roar again. Crossing to Silver, she splashed some of the water from his canteen over her hands before pouring some for Silver to lap his tongue at. The horse whinnied appreciatively. If Colt didn’t know better, he would have thought she was still trying to steal his horse.

  “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled.

  She smiled a tight-lipped grin. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Clutching his arm, she guided him back down to where he’d been seated and reached for the hem of his shirt. “I’m going to make sure you didn’t reopen the wound.”

  He gave a curt nod, but he was watching her with eyes like a hawk.

  Slowly, she peeled his shirt up, revealing several ripples of abs until she reached where his still-healing wound remained. Not far beneath his solar plexus. Much higher, and the blade would have pierced the ventricles of his left lung or, worse, his heart. Much lower, and it would have hit his intestines. Either could have proven fatal. He’d been lucky.

  When she peeled the material away from the inflamed flesh, he realized the bandage was missing. It must have fallen off when he’d shifted.

  “Let me grab the gauze and adhesive.”

  She released his shirt and headed toward Silver.

  “I don’t have any,” he said.

  When she had Silver’s saddlebag, she reached inside. “I packed some in here while you were asleep. I’ve cared for enough cowboys to know that as soon as you were up and walking again, you were going to tear out of that cabin like a bat outta hell, so I planned ahead.”

  “Yet you think I’m a control freak.” He watched her make her way back toward him, supplies in hand, as he enjoyed the sway of her full hips.

  “There’s a difference between controlling and being thorough. I take the care of my patients very seriously.” She set the supplies down on the log beside him. “So you were saying something about our agreement?”

  He nodded. “We’ll return to the main ranch at Wolf Pack Run in two moons. Once there, you’ll remain in custody until the Seven Range Pact convenes and you deliver your testimony. In the meantime, there are some ground rules you’ll need to adhere to.”

  She knelt in front of him to reach his wound, sitting between his spread knees. “Such as?
”

  “Rule number one: Never breathe a word of this agreement to anyone. Do you understand?” His gaze narrowed in a hawklike stare, impressing the seriousness of that order upon her.

  She reached for the canteen, unscrewed the cap, and poured some of the liquid on the gauze. When the gauze was good and damp, she reached for him.

  A low grumble released in his throat as she began to wipe the fresh blood from the edges of the wound. Thanks to his true nature, it had begun to scab over, but it would still bleed if he overexerted himself.

  “What’s rule number two?” she asked.

  “You didn’t agree to rule number one.”

  “It’s never a good idea to enter a contract, verbal or otherwise, without the full details. As a commander, I think you would know that, Colt.” She wiped at the blood. “What’s rule number two?”

  “Rule number two is you need to behave like a prisoner. Be convincing.”

  “That sounds harder than rule number one.”

  Colt shook his head. No surprise there.

  “And rule number three?” she asked.

  He narrowed his gaze again. “Don’t speak a word of this to anyone.”

  “That’s the same rule as number one.”

  “It’s so important, it bears repeating. If rule number one is broken, I won’t be able to protect you any longer. All our agreements will be null and void.”

  “Is that what you’re doing, Colt? Protecting me?” She braced her hand against his bare chest as their gazes locked.

  “Yes,” he said. It may have been the first full truth he’d spoken to her. Not wrapped in teasing, challenge, intimidation, or any of the other bullshit armor he wore to protect himself.

  “And when this is over?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “You’ll be able to leave Wolf Pack Run and never look back.”

  Her chin drew into a tight line, and for a moment, he almost thought he saw her lip quiver, but then it was gone. Maybe this woman was far better at hiding her emotions than he thought.

  “Is that what you plan to do with your freedom, head back to the rodeo?” he asked.