by J. K Harper
Claire bolted upright, scattering small twigs and inadvertently sending one of the pebbles bouncing and skittering across the slickrock nearby. On all fours, she swung her head toward Melle in shock. “But I can't. That's impossible. I'm a wild wolf!” She felt slightly frantic as she said that. Her human paced in her mind, just as agitated. “I can't have a mate.”
Melle let out a half-whine that sounded a bit apologetic. “Yes, you can. Wild wolves can and do have mates. I never did only because I never met mine.”
No sadness tinged her words. Merely acceptance. Claire had always known her father not only wasn't her mother's mate, he wasn't particularly kind to her. It had been a relationship of convenience and expedience, one forced by her pack's alpha. The only good thing that had come of it, Melle often said, was Claire.
It had also been the reason why Melle had finally fled her native pack, eventually finding her way here in the red rock desert. A place as far from the natural home an arctic wolf could find. They would never think to search for her here. She'd raised Claire alone, teaching her how to be self-sufficient, self-reliant, and highly distrustful of anything and everything pack related.
“But he's pack!” Claire began to pace on the sand and rocks, matching the restlessness of her human. “I thought—I mean, I knew he was pack, but he was just so—so interesting. Fascinating.” She bit back a growl. “How can a wolf who is pack be my mate? How can I be his?”
Melle sighed. “Wild wolves have mated with pack wolves before. One of them must make a compromise.”
“To be pack?” Claire half-howled, feeling strangely torn. She barely knew Tate, but the draw she felt toward him was undeniable. “Never. I won't compromise for that. To see him again, to enjoy his company, to be around him—yes. That much, yes. That's what I thought might happen.” What she'd hoped would happen, despite her deeply instinctive wariness that had told her to make him find her, to not just roll over and show him her belly merely because he was the most stunning wolf she'd ever seen before.
He sure is. Dammit, her human muttered.
Very gently, Melle reached over and nuzzled Claire again. “Enough for now. Worry isn't good. But another run is.”
With that, she gracefully leapt up and bounded off into the desert, darting around the small, rugged trees and jumping over the healthy sagebrush clumped here and there. Claire sighed but joined her. Two wolves, running through the empty canyons under the moonlight. As she ran, she shook off thoughts of a very intriguing male wolf with chocolatey-hazel eyes. Her mate.
Her human harrumphed at her as she stretched her legs and ran.
As the sky began to lighten far to the east, Claire and Melle gradually ambled their way back to Claire's small home at the farthest southern reach of the sprawling canyons. Before they got to the point where they would exit the shelter of the wilder spots, though, Melle's steps slowed, then stopped entirely. With a small sigh, Claire stopped as well.
Melle never came any closer to human places anymore. Then again, she never became human anymore, either.
“Will I see you again later today?”
A small shake of Melle's head deflated Claire's spirits somewhat.
“If you need me, I'll know.” Melle turned and began to silently pad back into the canyons as the sky brightened more. But then she stopped and swung her head over her shoulder, pinning her daughter with an inscrutable look.
“The wolf who is your mate, Claire, will never leave your heart. And you will never leave his. Think about that before you make a choice.”
With that, she flipped her tail and loped away, her coat blending into the grayish play of shadows and light that held forth just before the sun actually rose.
Claire sat and watched after Melle long after the other wolf had disappeared. When the sun lifted above the canyon rim, its merely faint promise of warmth indicated fall was indeed reaching into the desert lands. Inhaling hard to pull the soothing, familiar scent of sand and sage deep into her lungs, Claire finally turned and trotted the ten or so minutes back to her house.
She was so deep in thought about Melle's words, feeling stupidly comfortable so close to home and therefore not as alert as she usually was, she didn't notice him lounging on her porch until she was mere strides away from her own front door. His voice startled her so badly she shied a few feet into the air and sideways, landing with her back fur ridged and her teeth bared in shock.
“A white wolf.” Tate's rich baritone was filled with surprise and deep admiration, and the same hunger she'd seen in his eyes on that one amazing night they'd spend together. “I knew you were unusual, Claire. But I sure didn't expect to ever find a wild arctic wolf living by herself in these canyon lands.”
Chapter Six
Tate couldn't take his eyes off her, despite his instincts telling him to soften his body language and lower his gaze. Claire was an arctic wolf. He'd never met one before, although of course he'd seen pictures and knew they existed. Most arctic wolves stayed in their native territories of Alaska, very northern Canada, Russia. He'd even heard there was a pack in Greenland, though they were the only shifter pack there. Intermingling happened, of course, since a wolf was a wolf was a wolf regardless of color, but it was fairly rare.
Finding an arctic wolf living in the desert was like finding wild elephants foraging in Maine.
She still stood with a snarl on her face, though it clearly was from surprise and not actual aggression toward him. On the contrary, he immediately felt the same pull toward her as he had during the too brief evening they'd spent together in Denver. Yes, she still was more than interested in him. She was still his.
Just the recognition of that truth sent shivers bolting along his spine.
Standing there, regarding him closely, she seemed to make a quick decision. With a shake of her beautiful head, she abruptly stalked around to the side of her house and disappeared in the back.
Tate remained where he was, about ten different thoughts firing in his brain simultaneously. When Lily had brought up the subject of wild wolves, he'd first dismissed it. By the time they'd reached the den, however, she'd given him enough ammunition to consider the idea a little more seriously. Wild wolves existed. But they were just as rare as lone wolves, if not more so, and they very much kept to themselves. They neither liked nor wanted to be affiliated with packs. Wild wolves were required to live in the free territories. Aside from not interfering in any local pack business, they could come and go as they chose, living life completely on their own terms.
In his mind, his wolf's tail twitched at that thought. For a brief moment, he imagined running free through the mountains and canyons, unrestrained by some of the slightly more chafing pack rules. I belong to my own pack, Claire had said. That was clear to him now. He'd never met a wilder wolf, one so easy in her own skin, so attuned to her needs, so self-assured about her place in this world.
Then again, life as a wild wolf wasn't necessarily easy. There was no protection, no camaraderie, no relationships with pack members who would support them in any situation. For a female wild wolf, such a life could be especially dangerous. Especially if any rogues decided to sever ties with their own packs and create new ones—by force if they had to. Just the thought of any rogues sniffing around Claire raised Tate's hackles. His wolf growled, low and menacing.
Kieran said Alpha would know for sure if Claire lived nearby as a wild wolf. But Tate was reluctant to bring his father into it just yet. He wasn't quite ready for the rest of the family to be aware of his new fascination. Especially not his Alpha—and especially not if Claire did indeed turn out to be a wild wolf. Who had ever heard of a pack wolf mating with a wild wolf?
Mate, his wolf insisted. My mate. There was no question about it. Especially not after the unforgettable night they'd spent together.
Swearing Lily and Kieran to secrecy for the time being, Tate had set off for the canyons southwest of Cortez despite the sleepless night patrolling. Just the thought of finding the bewitching green-
eyed woman who'd been front and center in his thoughts for the past weeks and getting to the bottom of the mystery of her existence was enough to give him a good boost of energy.
When he'd arrived in Cortez earlier this morning, instead of stopping in town again to fruitlessly search for her scent, he headed straight for the most likely areas a wild wolf might live: the far outskirts of town, outside the Black Mesa boundaries. He realized a wild wolf might well try to cover her tracks as much as possible, using scent disguises and simply not interacting much with the local human population. He didn't exactly go around knocking on people's doors to ask if they knew about a beautiful blonde writer living alone nearby, but he carefully prowled dark, sleeping neighborhoods in wolf form, seeking the tiniest whiff of Claire's scent.
By the time he finally got his break, the sun was almost up and he was much farther away from town than he'd thought. McElmo Canyon ran east to west, just beneath the soft sprawl of sacred Sleeping Ute Mountain. Very few people lived here, and there was immediate access to the mountain to the south, to protected canyons to the north, and to the empty lands to the west. It was the perfect place for a wild wolf to live. Just inside the free zone, and isolated enough to make what was probably the ideal writer's retreat, but close enough to town for errands. Tate admired Claire's insight in choosing this place to call her home.
Despite that, he was intensely curious to find out why she had chosen this entire life. If she was indeed packless by choice, what had driven her to it? A faint doubt niggled at his mind as well, but he brushed it aside. First things first.
As soon as he'd wandered up to the next to last little place in the canyon, a tiny parcel of land tucked way back at the western end, he'd finally caught her scent. It was faint, but it was there. He also immediately realized why he'd had such a hard time finding her in the first place and why neither he nor anyone else in the Black Mesa Pack had ever noticed her in the area before. She used a scent blocker. Such things were often used by wolves, especially Guardians. Easily available to any human hunter, let alone any wolf shifter, scent blockers were primarily useful when a wolf wanted to travel incognito through another pack's territory, for Guardians in dangerous territory, and of course for rogue wolves. No scent blocker could entirely mask a wolf forever, of course. Claire must have a lot of it stockpiled.
Again, Tate wondered at her insistence on living in such a careful manner. It couldn't be an easy life.
His wolf whined softly. Choice, he thought. Her choice.
A door banged at the back of the compact little house. He shifted position slightly, but stayed put. The ball was in her court now. Besides, he could still definitely sense her very female interest in him. She'd scent-marked his clothes. She still claimed him as hers.
Whatever that might turn out to mean with a wild wolf.
Claire's front door opened. She stood on the other side, giving him another searching look. Although now human and fully clothed, there was no mistaking the fact that she'd just spent hours as her wolf. Something feral clung to her, showing itself in her eyes, her stance, even in the wild tumble of her hair.
An image of that hair spread out over a pillow while she looked up at him with sleepy, satiated green eyes flashed though his mind. He firmly ground down the very enticing thought almost as soon as he had it. She'd dared him to find her, but now that he had, she seemed a little less eager to invite him. Once again, he had to tread gently.
Before he could open his mouth though, she stepped back, swinging the beautiful wooden door wide and wordlessly gesturing for him to enter. Taking off his hat, he let a corner of his mouth crook up a just a bit as he carefully stepped into her house.
***
Claire's heart pounded hard as Tate passed by. Her nipples perked up, too. Sternly reining in her very needy body, which had flared to life the second she'd realized he was actually here in her presence, and still just as intrigued by her—her wolf thumped her tail in full agreement with that assessment—she shut the door behind him, though not without taking an automatic glance around her yard for anyone else. She didn't exactly have a security system, but she did keep an eye on everyone who came through her tiny, remote little neighborhood. No wolves had ever bothered her here before, because they didn't know of her existence. Even so, her mother had drummed safety and careful observation into her head from the time she could walk. Despite that upbringing, Claire sometimes still let her guard down around her own home, where she felt safest and most comfortable.
Tate's presence filled up her small space. It felt a little strange to have him here. She didn't entertain often. She had a very few human writer friends over at times, and her recent ex had spent time here of course, after she finally allowed him to come into her small sanctuary. Her best friend, a human girl who grew up in Cortez but moved away after college for a job and ended up settling out of state, sometimes stayed with Claire when she came back to visit, but that was getting more and more rare. Otherwise, Claire spent the majority of her time alone, and she liked it that way. This was her private retreat.
Despite that, Tate being in her space felt—natural. Normal.
Because he was her mate? That simultaneously unsettling yet elating thought had stayed with her, swirling through her mind despite the long run with her mother, through her trot back to the house, right up until the moment she finally saw him and nearly had heart failure from being so startled. It was also the second time she'd come upon Tate and not sensed his presence in advance. Was she getting too distracted just by thinking about him all the time now? Or was she letting her guard slip because since she'd been unbothered for so long, she didn't pay quite as close attention to her surroundings in familiar areas as she should?
“Very nice little place you have here, darlin',” the sexy man on her mind said. He wasn't wandering through her house, checking it out. Instead, he politely stood in the middle of her small living room, which was really one large room that opened right up into the kitchen, a dining area, and her office, all in one. “That view is amazing.” He gestured toward her huge south-facing window, which framed the mountain in a postcard perfect scene.
He seemed as comfortable here as she felt having him. While he wasn't looking at her, she took a moment to inhale his scent. It flooded her with its tantalizing maleness, the one licked by hints of dark chocolate, a dash of cayenne, the light snap of ginger. It set her nerve endings to tingling and stirred the banked fire between her legs. Not to mention her darn nipples, which pebbled beneath the shirt and thin sweater she'd tossed on when she entered through her perpetually unlocked back door while still in wolf form, which could be opened simply by pushing hard on it. She didn't worry much about thieves here in the canyon. No one really did.
The sudden image of Tate leaning over her, braced on his arms, his face slicked with sweat and concentration while he penetrated her, whipped through her so fast and vividly she swallowed a gasp, then almost choked on it. Tate turned toward her as she began coughing.
“You okay? Been drinking already?” His teasing voice again. She really liked that about him. He'd pulled more laughter out of her the other night than she'd probably done in months.
And orgasms. Definitely more orgasms than in months. And the best orgasms in—ever.
She tried to breathe normally before answering. “I'm fine. Just—um, I'm fine.” Time to change the subject. “Speaking of drinking, would you like some coffee? Or tea, if that's your poison.”
“Coffee, please,” he said, still polite but with that wickedly funny edge just beneath. “Let me know if you need help in there. The way you just choked on air alone, a whole pot of java is likely to drown you.”
“Ha ha,” she returned, but a silly note hugged her voice. It just felt so natural to be teased by him.
As she ducked into her compact kitchen, Tate called after her, “Lots of cream if you have any. I like my coffee blonde.”
“Just like your women?” Claire arched her brow as she leaned back to glance at him
through the open connecting space. “Or was I just a coincidence?”
“No such thing as coincidence,” he said easily. “You have a lot of books in here,” he noted. He must be examining her very full bookcases.
“Job hazard.” Claire moved around her kitchen with efficiency, despite every last nerve she had tingling like crazy just from the man's presence. Morning coffee was a daily ritual. She'd laid out her favorite mug last night before she left, along with filling the coffeemaker with grounds. Adding enough to make a whole pot, she looked into her fridge while trying to relax about the fact that the wolf who'd tilted her small universe on end a few weeks ago had not only found her, he was standing in her house right now.
Looking and smelling like some sort of sinfully delicious man-treat. Claire inhaled again while he couldn't see her. Between his fascinating scent and the smell of fancy organic coffee brewing, it was a delightful sensory overload.
Needs rabbit, her wolf murmured. Claire bit back a laugh. Her wolf didn't fully understand the human need for coffee much more than her human fully understood the wolf's need for rabbit, but both sides of herself indulged the other.
“Feel free to look around out there,” she called out, eager to hear his voice again. “I know you're probably curious.”
“My mother taught me it's not polite to snoop.” The deep wash of his voice spilled over her, oozing along her body and setting the tingling sensation to high. Claire took a steadying breath before she answered.
“It's not snooping if I tell you it's okay.”
“Well then. If I have your permission.” The light tease outlined his words again, but she heard genuine curiosity as well.
“Yes, you definitely do.”
Surprised at her own firmness, she rummaged through the fridge with determination. She hardly knew the man and had already invited him to poke around her life. She should be feeling trapped, or like her boundaries were being pushed. Her recent ex—The Ex! No Good, she thought wryly to herself—always wanted to know more about her, why she lived as a wild wolf, how she could be happy without a pack, what had happened to her mother. His insistence on pressuring her about topics she didn't want to talk about had been a large part of why she'd ended things with him.