by Amy Green
“The mayor and the new sheriff are stirring it up.” Devon nodded to the headline. “Articles like this do a good job of it.”
“Wait,” Nadine said, getting to the bottom of the article. “This is—they’re quoting my dad.”
“Shifters live by their own laws,” said Aaron Walker, retired sheriff and special consultant to the mayor. “They don’t think they have to obey the laws the rest of us do. Well, no longer. There’s only one law of the land—ours.”
She stared at the words, reading them over and over. She’d tried, in the time she’d been here, to make amends with her daddy. She’d called home, tried to talk to him. But he hadn’t had anything to say to her.
It was hurting her mother, hurting all of them. Nadine wasn’t prepared to change her life or her decisions to please him, because she was finally happy. But she wasn’t going to give up on her father either; she was convinced that there had to be a way. She was his daughter. There had to be a way.
She stared at the words in the newspaper and thought for the first time, What if there is no way?
Devon came forward and put his big, warm hand on the back of her neck. He wasn’t demonstrative, like Heath, or even gruffly affectionate, like Ian. Not in public. It just wasn’t who he was. Besides, when they were in public she was the chief of police, and he respected that. Whatever her private life, it wasn’t right for the chief of police to be seen making out with her mate all the time, when she was supposed to be on duty.
After hours, when she was off duty, he’d put a hand on the small of her back when they were out, or hook an arm around her waist if they were out in public. That was all, but she always knew what those small gestures meant. It was his gaze that mattered—the fact that he rarely took his attention off her, that he never looked at another woman, that he was completely attuned to her. If she was hungry or tired or having fun, he always knew.
But in private, he was different. When they were at home alone, he was always happiest. And he was very affectionate, and very demonstrative, indeed.
She leaned into his touch, reading the newspaper yet again. “I can’t believe this,” she said. “Why? What is the purpose?”
“Human politics,” Devon said, rubbing the back of her neck. “The mayor’s up for reelection in a few months. Apparently if you tell everyone there’s something to be afraid of, then tell them you fixed it, humans might vote for you.”
“That doesn’t explain what my father is doing in this article,” she said. “Consultant? What does that mean? He’s never shown an interest in politics before. Not once.”
“I guess he’s not a fan of shifters,” Devon said softly. “Particularly of me.”
Panic sliced through her, thin and cold. Aside from what this might do to the Falls, to the pack, to the Donovans—what if Devon thought this was what she was? How she thought? What if it pulled them apart? She looked up at him, saw that he was watching her with that steady dark gaze she’d first seen when she’d locked him up in a cell. “You don’t think—”
He pulled her close—she could smell his addictive smell—and lightly kissed the corner of her mouth, right there in the hallway. “No, I don’t think,” he said. “There is you, and me. Us together. You know that. Everything else can go to hell.”
She put her hands on his chest, then decided she needed more. She slid her arms around his waist and held him tight while he stroked her back. Forget how it looked. Forget that she was still wearing her uniform shirt. He was hers, and she needed him. He was right. Everything else could go to hell.
He was warm, and he smelled so good, and she could feel his heart beating against her cheek. She started to calm down. “This isn’t going to be good,” she said.
His heartbeat was steady and even; it hadn’t even sped up. “We survived thirty years of my father’s rule,” he said. “Coup attempts. Takeover attempts. I’ve taken silver twice, and I’m still alive. I’m not afraid of bad things.”
She loosened her hold on his waist, though she didn’t let go. She tilted her chin back and looked up at him. He was right. She was still worried—she was a realist, and a worrier—but things were different now. She was different, and so was he. They had the pack. She’d already been through bad things, and had come out stronger. She was strong alone, and strong with him. Whatever would come would come. In the meantime, here she was, with his arms around her.
“You want to go home for a while?” she asked him.
He brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, then bent and kissed the corner of her mouth again. Just that one touch, his beard brushing her skin, and she shivered.
“I would,” he said. “In fact, I would like nothing more.”
A Note From Amy
Thank you for reading Warrior Wolf!
If you missed the first two books in the Shifter Falls series, find them here:
Book 1: Rebel Wolf
Book 2: Lover Wolf
Brody’s book, Alpha Wolf, is coming soon!
Alison Masterson has been in love with werewolf Brody Donovan since she was twelve years old. Now he's the alpha of the Donovan pack, and she's just a waitress at the local diner, dreaming of the man she can never have. Until the night she accidentally discovers his secret.
Brody Donovan has never noticed the pretty redhead who would do anything for him. But now he needs her to keep a secret—and he's starting to realize she's his mate. The problem is, he can't deserve her. Because Shifter Falls is about to enter into a dangerous war with humans. And the secret Alison knows is only the beginning of his terrible past...
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Thanks for reading,
Amy