Instead he leaned over her again, pressing his chest to her back as he settled into a grinding rock he knew would push her over the edge. “Just like this, but I’m your husband.”
He couldn’t tell at first whether her sharp, indrawn breath was due to shock or pleasure. Then she tensed and convulsed around him with a low wail. “Yes,” she rasped. “Yes, God, I love you…”
Any hope of control dissolved at the words. Pleasure rushed through him as he sank into her again and again, fucking her through the first orgasm and into the second before he gave himself permission to let go.
He bit the back of her shoulder as he came, muffling the tortured groan as he found release in the hot depths of her body. She was still writhing beneath him, whimpering and rocking into his slowing thrusts, when he lifted his head and found her ear with his lips. “I love you, Virginia Howard.”
She’d torn free of the ruined nightgown, and she raised a shaking hand to his face. “Ginny Owens.” Her lips met his in a tender kiss. “I like the sound of it.”
Exhausted, he collapsed to his side and dragged her tight to his body. “As long as I can move in with you, baby. My place isn’t exactly ranch material.”
She grinned against his shoulder and warned, “I’ll have you doing chores before sunup.”
Better chores with the woman he loved than one more lonely night in front of his fireplace. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Ginny kissed him again as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry you had to wait for me. I was… scared of disappointing you.” She smiled ruefully. “Still am, I suppose.”
“Impossible.” And it was true. Just her presence, her scent and the comforting press of her power, mingling with his, soothed him so much it was hard to keep his eyes open. “As long as you love me, it’s more than enough.”
“That,” she murmured against his temple, “is a sure bet, honey.”
Lulled by the warmth of her body, he was almost asleep when one last thought occurred to him. “Wait, I lied. You do have one job from now on.”
“Typical. What is it?”
“Starting tomorrow, all of the hormonal young female wolves in the pack are having their awkward sex talks with you.”
She laughed sleepily. “Deal.”
Calling the Bluff
Hazel Young is a rare commodity in town: a young, single female whose first mating is nearly upon her, and she’s spent the last two years fending off suitors. After all, there's nothing flattering about being wanted for the heat in her blood instead of for herself...especially when she gave her heart away to Oliver Russell years ago. But Oliver seems to feel nothing for her but fond kindness, and the time has come to choose a mate before the wolf makes the choice for her.
When Oliver happens across Hazel being pressured by a local who wants to be her first, it awakens protective instincts he thought he'd set aside with the death of his wife five years ago. With Hazel in heat and no time to get her to safety, they wind up in a fishing shack on Lonely River. They have no choice but to ride out her mating fever together...even if the last thing he expects is to be truly tempted by her inexperienced attempts at seduction.
Chapter One
Hazel closed her eyes, propped her chin on her hand and, for the fifth time that day, told herself it was time to be a good girl and fuck Noah Hampton.
Even without looking she could feel his gaze on her, a heavy weight fraught with anticipation. He’d brought another courting gift to the Full Moon Saloon this afternoon, the third in as many days. Hazel glanced down at cookbook resting on the bar and admired its cheerful shiny cover. Finding books which predated the War was a challenge, but she’d mentioned to him the first time she met him that she loved books and he’d obviously jumped through hoops to find a present she would value.
Few people out on the plains could afford the luxuries of pre-War books and gadgets. Hazel had vague memories of the cities back East, where rich people lived in the gigantic skyscrapers that had once housed businesses with technology she could only begin to imagine. People traded in odd relics of the past, but the price had always been too steep for her mother’s shallow pockets.
Noah Hampton was wealthy. He was strong and handsome enough, and he was new to town, which at least made him interesting. He knew when to talk and when to smile, and he’d made it clear from the moment he’d set foot across the threshold of Lottie’s saloon that he was more than willing to guide Hazel through her first mating cycle.
Unlike most of the local boys, who’d spent the last months trying to grab her ass or sneak a hand under her skirt as a prelude to seduction, Noah had been comfortingly blunt about the subject. He wanted to fuck her, to lock them both in a room and satisfy every dirty urge she had or would have over the several days it took for the mating fever to run its course, and when it was over they could decide what to do from there.
He was perfect. He was fucking perfect.
Except for the fact that she couldn’t summon the slightest interest in touching him. Damn you, Oliver Russell.
“If you stare at it long enough, will it spontaneously combust?” Lottie’s polite, cultured voice sounded particularly jovial, and she swept around the end of the bar in a billow of skirts and pale blonde hair. “It’s a very nice book, and it would be a shame.”
Hazel didn’t look up. “Is he still staring at me?”
“He is.” Lottie cleared her throat. “I can tell him to go, or coax him upstairs for a visit with one of the ladies.”
“No.” She brushed her fingers along the smooth cover and sighed. “Because the only person he needs to be fucking is me, and I’d rather not do it here.” The minute the words were out she regretted them. For the madam of the town’s most profitable whorehouse, Lottie had some fairly strict ideas about appropriate language.
“Hazel Young.” One eyebrow arched delicately as Lottie fixed her with a patient look. “There’s no need to be crude about it. Your situation is entirely normal and natural.”
“Is it?” If her situation was normal, she wouldn’t have ended up with so many people meddling in her life. Everyone else spoke of their first mating as if it had been a casual thing. Unimportant, unremarkable. No one had mentioned craving one man so desperately even her wolf would have nothing to do with anyone else.
“Mmm.” Lottie leaned over the bar, and her drawl became more noticeable as she spoke. “A word of warning, though. Any man that smooth?” She nodded toward Noah. “Is rarely a good idea.”
Which was the entire point. “At least a man that smooth might know what he’s doing. Unlike the boys you keep throwing at me.”
“‘Nice’ doesn’t always equal ‘inexperienced.’” Lottie’s gaze skipped past Hazel to the door, and she swore under her breath and straightened.
Hazel didn’t need Lottie’s sudden descent into foul language to know who had stepped into the saloon. It should have been impossible to pick out one scent amidst the jumble of smells that always permeated the saloon, but it wasn’t just any scent. Her skin tingled and arousal crept through her, persistent and demanding as she gave in and lifted her gaze to the door.
Oliver Russell stopped just inside the room, his hat cradled in his hands. Hazel let her gaze linger for a moment on the strong line of his jaw and his rugged features, on his powerful shoulders and hard chest and the large hands that she could almost feel on her skin…
His gaze swept the room and landed on her, hesitating for just a moment. Then he walked to the bar and nodded his head. “Miss Lottie. Miss Hazel.”
“Good afternoon, Oliver. What can I do for you?”
Again, that slight hesitation which might have been Hazel’s imagination, only this time it was coupled with something that looked like dismay. “Whiskey, please.”
Hazel was breathing too fast, and the men in the saloon were starting to take notice. She clamped down on the rising heat inside her until it almost hurt, then turned to find the whiskey. Even with her back to Oliver, she could feel h
is presence, and her hands trembled as she poured a shot and tried not to listen to his voice as Lottie talked to him.
When she turned around with his glass, Lottie took it from her. “Why don’t you go take a break, sweetie?”
Hazel glanced at Oliver, who looked nervous and self-conscious, and the truth of his visit came to her in a rush. The tiny, feeble hope that maybe -- maybe -- he’d come to see her faded.
Oliver was here for the reason he was always here -- to visit the saloon’s only human girl, a sweet woman who accommodated Oliver’s sexual needs. Maybe it would have been easier if Hazel had been able to hate Melinda, but she was kind and thoughtful, and even her wolf saw the human woman as no competition.
Pain gave her sexual arousal a vicious edge, and she met Oliver’s gaze without flinching. “Should I go fetch Melinda for you? I’m sure she’s available.”
He returned her stare evenly. “I’d appreciate it if you could tell her I’m here, and that I’ll be up in a bit, if that suits her.”
So casual. So cold. She’d demanded his blunt acknowledgement and he’d given it to her. Tears stung her eyes as she shoved past Lottie, but she didn’t go to the curving staircase leading to the second floor and the well-appointed rooms where the ladies of the bar entertained.
Instead she went to the corner. To Noah.
He greeted her with a smile and a bow. “Miss Hazel. Can you join me for a drink?”
Everyone was watching. Hazel pushed him back into the chair and followed him. She settled on his lap and curled an arm around his neck before leaning close to his ear. “I don’t think I can wait any longer, Noah. I’m choosing you.”
His smile turned into a cocky, self-assured grin. “And you won’t regret a minute of it, Hazel,” he whispered and bit her earlobe. “Not a single minute.”
It wasn’t what the wolf wanted, but the wolf had made her life miserable for the past three months. She’d deal with Oliver Russell later, when the mating instinct was gone and she could think clearly. Because that’s all it is. The mating instinct.
As lies went, it was an impressive one, but she chose to believe it. She had to.
Oliver picked up his third whiskey and stared at it. He hadn’t meant to put that crushed look in Hazel’s eyes, but she’d left him no choice. He couldn’t give her what she wanted of him, but she’d left him no room, either. No way to go about his own business without hurting her.
Now, a simpler woman waited for him upstairs. Melinda, who was sweet and undemanding. Melinda, who he rarely thought about until his libido grew tired of his own hand and demanded the satisfaction of sinking into something warmer. More comforting.
“People around here are doing an awful lot of angry glaring today.” Lottie leaned her elbows on the bar and smiled gently. “Melinda’s waiting.”
He lowered the glass, untouched. “Not sure I’m in the mood today, after all.”
“Mmm, I’ll bet.”
Irritation gripped him. “Spit it out.”
She smiled. “Something’s been riding you hard these last couple weeks, Oliver. When you figure out what it is, you won’t need my pithy wisdom.”
Her quiet amusement set his teeth on edge, and he tossed a bill on the counter. “Be seeing you, Lottie.”
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard her laugh as he stomped out. His horse shied away from him, and he had to spend several minutes soothing the gelding before he could ride.
Oliver carefully blanked out his mind, focusing instead on the rolling land surrounding him as he headed for home. At length, he spotted a lone horse in the distance and no sign of a rider. A stray, he reasoned, unwilling to let his mind wander to grimmer conclusions.
But those conclusions were unavoidable when he drew closer and saw that the brown Morgan wore full tack, including an exquisitely worked saddle he recognized as the one Lottie had commissioned for Hazel’s eighteenth birthday.
It had been at least an hour since she’d left the bar with Noah Hampton, and the sun had begun to dip toward the horizon. Oliver’s heart seized. She could have been thrown, or --
Or worse.
He didn’t waste time. He clucked to his horse and rode toward Hampton’s place, his throat dry and blood pounding in his ears.
He made it within a mile of Hampton’s before he came across Hazel, barefoot and disheveled with her dress hanging off one shoulder. His horse shied again as he drew up next to her, dancing nervously away from the anger that rolled off Hazel in waves.
He jumped down and snatched his rifle from his pack. “Where the hell is he, and what the fuck did he do?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Hazel wouldn’t meet his eyes, but her voice sounded more frustrated than upset. “Unless you’re going to shoot my horse for throwing me, put that damn thing away.”
“A bad fall’s dangerous, even for werewolves.” His hands shook, but he stowed the rifle. “But if that’s all that happened, where are your shoes?”
Anger returned, but more dangerous was the growing warmth around her, power rising in her tiny body and drawing an answering surge from him. She trembled on the edge of the mating fever, so close it should have taken her by now.
And yet she fought it. Even as she glared up at him, she fought it so hard it had to be hurting her. “Everything went wrong.” Her voice was clipped, edged with that same tense heat. “But it wasn’t him. It’s me. And you.”
Oliver couldn’t deny the role he’d played in her frustration, even if it wasn’t his fault. “You’re going to hurt yourself,” he told her gruffly. “The fever’s nothing to play around with.”
“Play?” Her voice rose. “You think I’m playing? I went there to fuck him and I wanted to. But I can’t give in to the mating without giving in to the wolf, and she almost ripped him apart for touching me.”
“Calm down.” The hair on the back of his neck rose, along with the animal inside him. The wolf stirred, awakened as much by the power rolling off her in waves as by the Siren call of her lust. He needed to get her to safety before the fever took her, but he couldn’t touch her. He knew what would happen the moment he did. “We need to get you somewhere. To Jack’s place.”
“No!” Hazel snatched up her mud-stained skirts and circled around him, her entire body rigid. “I’m not getting near Jack, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
He followed her. “Like it or not, I’m what you’ve got right now. So you can act like a child, or you can let me get you someplace safe.”
Hazel wheeled so quickly he almost ran into her. “If you think I’m going to let you hand me over to the alpha so he can do his duty by me and break my best friend’s heart, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”
“That isn’t what I meant,” he protested. “He and Ginny can find a way to help you. He doesn’t have to -- it’s not --” He bit off his words with a growl. His hands were starting to itch. “Damnation, if you hadn’t waited so long…”
“Yes, I’m a fool. I’m a stupid, romantic fool.” She turned again, but her body had begun to tremble. “Go away, Oliver. I’m fighting her as hard as I can right now, but it hurts. And it won’t stop until you’re gone.”
“It won’t stop at all now. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.” He had no choice, so he reached out and grasped her arm. “Hazel, stop.”
Her skin felt hot under his hand. A noise tore free of her, desperate yearning and need, and her arousal filled his senses. She took a gasping breath as her entire body went tense. “Oliver --” Her voice sounded tiny and maybe even afraid. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Shh.” He didn’t have a clue himself, aside from the obvious, but he drew her back against his chest and tried to soothe her. “Try to relax. You’ve got to -- We have to get you somewhere.” There was a fishing cabin on the Lonely River, close to Ginny’s ranch. If he could get Hazel there, maybe he could help her until the fever passed. If not, Ginny and Jack wouldn’t be far away. “Just relax.”
She shivered under h
is hands even as she rubbed back against him in a way that was anything but innocent. “You don’t have to love me, Oliver, but please… please make it stop hurting.”
His carefully suppressed desire flared, and his cock sprang to life. He gritted his teeth against the urge to slide his hand under her skirt. “Can you ride for a little while?” he whispered. “I’ll do it, Hazel, but we’ve got to get someplace first.”
“Okay.” She turned and reached up, curling her hands over his shoulders. “I trust you.”
He pulled her head back and bit her neck to ease the wolf, and she melted against him with a soft moan of satisfaction. Then he helped her up on his horse and climbed up behind her. His arm stayed tight around her waist as he turned his mount and set him off at a fast trot toward the cabin.
Chapter Two
The world was too warm, but Hazel didn’t mind anymore. The pain and misery of the past months had been swept away with the stinging bite of Oliver’s teeth, his claim that quieted the wolf and her angry need.
She didn’t even mind that her heart would probably be broken by this time next week. The need to mate had washed away petty concerns like love or relationships, replacing them with the carnal need to fuck. Hard, fast, over and over again…
She whimpered and fought the urge to squirm in the strong circle of Oliver’s arm. Soon. Soon…
He whispered to her, words she couldn’t quite focus on but found soothing anyway. She whimpered another protest when they stopped and he moved away, but he only climbed off the horse and gathered her in his arms. The contact calmed her, and she opened her eyes.
She recognized the tiny cabin as one on the river near Ginny’s place. Near Oliver’s place, too. He caught her eye and the corner of his mouth kicked up. “I don’t think there’s time to get you anywhere else.”
Before I take you. He didn’t speak the words, but the implication made her dizzy. “I need you.”
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