Fierce Cowboy Wolf

by Kait Ballenger

  But as Maverick started to step away, the sound of Silas’s gasps for air transitioned into a deadened, flat laugh.

  “So that’s the end of it then?” Silas called after him. “Blame the first sinful wolf in sight? So like a Grey Wolf. I should’ve known being your former enemy would put me on a cross tonight.”

  Slowly, Maverick faced toward him again. Red-faced and thrashing against Blaze and Austin’s hold, Silas looked as lethal as the day Sierra had dragged him into Wolf Pack Run. It was a disappointing sight. Had Silas not been such a treacherous snake, a man who’d blazed a trail of dead bodies on his path through hell for most of his life, then in another life, he might have been one of them. Not that his body count would have been any different…

  For a brief moment, Silas broke free from Blaze and Austin’s hold, casting his arms out to the sides. “Come on now, Packmaster. Put me on your fucking cross tonight.”

  Maverick wrinkled his nose in disgust. “You’re no Christ.”

  Blaze and Austin pinned the wolf again. This time, he’d be in silver cuffs for the remainder of the night. “You’re right,” he snapped. “I’m not. You can’t imagine the pits of hell I’ve climbed through just to be able to beg like a pup at your arrogant fucking feet.” He shook his head, that demented laugh filling the silence around them again. “Maverick fucking Grey, packmaster of the Grey Wolves, you pompous, arrogant bastard, I’m not the man you want. Not tonight.”

  If Maverick had his gun, he would have drawn it for the second time in a handful of nights, but he didn’t. Instead, the cold metal of a blade’s hilt pushed into his open hand. He didn’t need to turn to know the identity of the woman who’d given it to him.

  He’d once lent her his sword to make her a warrior.

  Now she lent him her blade and allowed him to claim her as his wife.

  He gripped the dagger in hand, stalking toward his enemy. With his free hand, he gripped Silas by his hair, exposing the skin of his throat as he pressed his blade against it, hard enough to draw a trickle of blood down the other wolf’s throat. “Innocent or not, you made your own bed the moment you chose to threaten my life.” He’d meant to say wife, but somewhere in his unconscious mind, the two words mixed.

  Because she was his life. Body and soul.

  That was what she’d done to him, brought him back from the deadened, cold life he lived. She was a breath of fresh air into what had felt like a meaningless existence, his sole purpose to live for and protect others. She was the one person who didn’t need that protection from him, for whom he could give himself freely. She was his lifeblood.

  Even if the life she offered was one he’d never be allowed to live.

  A last nod from him and Colt directed some of the pack’s foot soldiers to take Silas from Blaze and Austin and drag the Wild Eight wolf off to the pack’s cells. Maverick would leave him to rot there. The thought wouldn’t even plague him.

  He raised his voice, pointing the tip of the blade at those who surrounded him. “Let that be a warning to the rest of you.” Turning away, Maverick gazed out toward the crowd without truly seeing any of their faces. “I value her more than my own life, and any threat against her will cost you yours—swiftly.”

  In this state, that was all they were to him right now—faces without meaning.

  Except for her.

  He handed the blade back to her, and this time, she didn’t stop him when he hauled her over his shoulder. She only let out a small eep in response as he stalked from the reception hall, the congratulatory howls of the pack marking them as wolf and wife.

  * * *

  Sierra had never seen him so full of lethal, protective ferocity. It radiated off him in waves—and all in the name of defending her honor. She didn’t dislike it.

  They left the reception hall in a mad dash, the cold of the Montana winds chilling her instantly as soon as they stepped outside the refurbished barn. Thankfully, Trigger, faithful old mare that she was, had been tied up nearby in anticipation of their departure. As Maverick mounted the old horse, he hadn’t said much of anything other than a low grumble of “Get on the damn horse, woman.”

  Considering his sour mood and the dark look in his eye, Sierra wasn’t about to protest.

  They followed the plan as dictated, riding out to Maverick’s apartment, where one of the foot soldiers waited to return Trigger to the stables. Once inside, they used the hidden tunnel access to reroute from the apartment into the heart of his main office in the compound.

  Inside his office, Maverick paced the length of the dark wooden bookcase like a caged animal. He drew open the curtain over the window behind him. The pane was peppered with bits of frost and snow, almost iced over from the Montana cold. Since they finally were alone, he’d turned toward her more than once as if to speak, only to run his hands through his hair in a gesture full of frustration as he muttered yet another string of colorful curses. Cowboy or not, he could put a sailor to shame.

  Thank goodness she’d come prepared for this.

  If he reminded her of a raging bull now, she didn’t want to envision the dark fury in his eyes when she was through with him.

  Or maybe she did.

  She’d never shied away from taking risks.

  Finally, she let out an impatient sigh. “Are you going to pace a hole in the floor, or are we going to have this out? It’ll be our first fight as a married couple after all, and as you’ve said before, fighting has always been something we’re good at.”

  He rounded on her then. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he snarled. He let out a low, intimidating growl, but she didn’t dare back down.

  Her eyes flashed to her wolf, then back to their more human honey-brown again. A sign that as calm as she was, she was equally frustrated. “I could say the same.”

  For a split second, he watched her with a look of confusion as if he didn’t understand before realization dawned over his face. Only a flicker before those prickly, barbed walls he’d built around himself were back in their rightful place, leaving her standing in the emotional rubble left in their wake.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she accused. “Night after night, we’ve been together since the lunar ceremony, and not once did you feel the need to mention you were the one who nominated me for my position? Or that one of the reasons you needed to marry wasn’t just to appease the council but so I could lead the Seven Range Pact if you were killed? Why? Is it because you regretted your decision?” She knew without a doubt that was nowhere near the truth. She had known that from the moment Blaze told her. Maverick didn’t regret his decision. In fact, he’d done everything in his power to make sure all her dreams had come to fruition. She said the words to bait him, to draw him closer.

  And it worked.

  “Of course not.” His response was biting, harsh. He strode several steps closer, advancing on her as she purposefully eased back.

  They stood directly in front of his desk. Exactly where she needed him.

  “Then why didn’t you tell me that it was you who put my name forth?” She jabbed an accusing finger against his chest. “Why keep it a secret?”

  His brow furrowed. “I didn’t see that it makes any difference.”

  “Of course it makes a difference,” she snapped. Her words were shrill even to her own ears. Like hell it didn’t make a difference. Didn’t he realize?

  It’d changed everything.

  His lack of support for her candidacy had been her one safeguard. In the battle strategy she’d been waging to win his heart, that was her pièce de résistance, his one fatal flaw she could use to save herself. She’d been relying on it for the past several weeks to assure herself that in the end, even if he didn’t love her like she’d always loved him, she could move past it, carry on with her life.

  And now her shield was gone.

  He must have realized she was on the brink of bari
ng all her pent-up emotions to him, because he chose that moment to lash out, to push her away. “What do you want from me, woman?” he growled. “I can’t give you what you need.”

  She straightened, holding her head high and standing tall. Weakness would get her nowhere with him. He’d already seen her weak once, and he’d used that moment to raise her up, to inspire her. She owed him better than weak. “I know you won’t, which is why I intend to take it for myself.”

  Without warning, she rushed him, capturing his wrist in her hand and locking the handcuff she’d stored on the garter beneath her dress over it. Riding sidesaddle behind him on Trigger on the way from the reception had given her the perfect position to access it.

  He hadn’t so much as noticed.

  First wrist cuffed, she locked the other end to the latch beneath his desk. Cheyenne was more than handy with a power tool or two, and the fellow cowgirl had been happy to help Sierra install it several days prior.

  When Maverick caught sight of exactly what she’d done, the feral snarl that ripped from his throat was nothing short of frightening. “What in the blazing fuck are you doing?” he sneered.

  Expect resistance, she reminded herself. Every wounded animal lashed out when they were afraid. She’d gotten more than a fair share of small dot-like injuries on her hand when she’d been caring for Elvis. And this particular king was far more bitter.

  She moved toward his other wrist. “Restraining you.”

  She knew he wasn’t going to allow her to do so without putting up a fight. Normally, the animals she brought into her care were considerably more on the cuddly side. Occasional peck of a beak or poke of a feather and all.

  When she captured his hand, to her surprise, he didn’t pull away. His eyes flashed to his wolf in warning. He didn’t stop the growls, though he didn’t pull away either. “Restraining me?”

  She pegged him with a hard stare. “We had an agreement, Maverick. You said you’d teach me how to pleasure a man, and you didn’t fulfill it.”

  Another snarl. This time, even more wolflike. As if he were seconds away from shifting. “Like hell I didn’t.”

  She laughed. She should have anticipated she might injure his fragile male pride. Men really were the gentler creatures of their species, weren’t they? “Oh, don’t get me wrong, you’ve certainly pleasured me. Plenty of times. More than three times just two nights ago, though honestly, I lost count somewhere in the middle of what I think was maybe the second one.”

  This time, the aggressive sound he made was laced with a hint of arousal.

  Which meant she was getting somewhere. She grinned.

  She leaned closer. Catching him unaware, with more than a bit of satisfaction, she handcuffed his other wrist to the opposite side of his desk before stepping back to admire her work. He really was a sight, wasn’t he? All that writhing male virility bound and chained, the handcuffs that subdued him splaying his chest and arms wide before her, like a succulent present to be enjoyed by her and her alone.

  She felt more than a little bit greedy with the pleasure of it.

  She heaved a dreamy sigh as her gaze trailed over him, mimicking how he’d taken in her form on the dance floor. “In any case, you haven’t held up your end of the bargain, because while you’ve done plenty of touching me, you haven’t allowed me to touch you.” She drew close, causing him to strain against the handcuffs like a wild beast. She reached out and gripped the metal of his western belt buckle, hooking one finger into the thin trail of hair that led beneath. “Why?” she asked.

  His eyes locked with her. “Which question do you mean, warrior?” Why didn’t he tell her he’d put her name forth, or why hadn’t he allowed her to touch him? He was purposefully being saucy with her and insolent.

  Oh, how the tables had turned.

  “Both,” she said.

  He glanced away from her, staring down at the cuff on his left wrist. “I didn’t figure it mattered.” The chiseled jaw clenched.

  “Bullshit,” she accused. “Of course it mattered. I don’t believe that for even a second, and neither do you; I can see it.”

  He bucked against the hold of the chains again with a feral snarl, but doing so only thrust his hips closer to the palm of her hand. “Any man worthy of you will put your pleasure before his own, Sierra.”

  She believed it, but that wasn’t the whole truth. Not in the slightest. “And you accomplished that the very first time. Hell, every night since then. But that’s not the only reason, is it? Try again, Packmaster.” She threw out his title to bait him.

  But he didn’t take it. From appearance, he was growing ever more comfortable in the position he was in, or at least he was resigned to it. “I didn’t tell you I nominated you because I hadn’t thought of it again since then.”

  “Lies,” she hissed. “You can’t hide anymore, Maverick Grey. Not from me.” She gripped his silver belt buckle in both hands, popping the metal loose as she unbuckled it. He’d changed from his tux into his normal clothes before they’d used the tunnels to come to his office. “I’ve always known you better than most. Hell, these days, likely better than anyone considering you snarl every time anyone dares draw close to you. I’m the only one persistent enough that you don’t scare me away.”

  As if to prove her point, he growled at her, followed by a muttered curse as she slid his belt from his pants loops and dropped it to the floor, only to start in on the button of his worn ranch jeans.

  “I know the reason you didn’t tell me, and neither of those are it.” She released the button before she pulled down his zipper.

  Another curse. Another snarl.

  “Then say it,” he ground out. He spoke through gritted teeth. The words were filled with equal parts frustration and passion. Exactly what she wanted from him. “Please enlighten me, warrior.” The title was derisive, diminutive, but he didn’t fool her. He could lash out all he wanted, because she held all the power here, despite his desperate attempts to reclaim it.

  “There you go again, growling and snarling like you think it can push me away. But I’m not having it anymore. Not one bit. I know the truth, Maverick. I’ve seen the soft underbelly you’re hiding beneath all the grit, and I won’t go back to the way things were before. I refuse to let you.”

  Tonight, the permission was hers to give.

  And to her surprise, from the spark of pride in his eyes, she was almost certain that despite the frustration he felt, he might actually…enjoy it. Even as it tortured him.

  “I know why you didn’t tell me,” she continued, dropping to her knees as she pulled his jeans and boxers down to the floor. His erection sprang forth, pulsing and hard, leaving him in only his shirt. That would be gone soon, too, if she had her way.

  She met his gaze with full confidence. “You’re scared, Maverick, because for once in your life, you might have to admit that you love me, too, and that terrifies you.”

  One didn’t catch a man like Maverick Grey off guard by sheer chance.

  No.

  A man like him required careful planning, strategy, effort.

  Confidence.

  Yet she’d done it.

  For a split second, his prickly exterior faltered, and those feral eyes widened. “You’re in love with me?”

  As if he hadn’t known before…

  The denial was strong in this one. She knew he’d seen the hopeful look in her eyes when she looked at him, more than once before, but still, his surprise seemed so…genuine. And he almost seemed pleased, if she dared to let herself think it. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I am. I always have been, and had you not been so busy trying to protect yourself from being hurt again, you wouldn’t be so surprised to hear it.” She fingered the hem of his shirt, but she realized she’d backed them both into a corner. There was no way it was coming off over the handcuffs.

  To hell with it. She’d buy
him another. In one tough yank, she used the whole of her wolf strength to rip the garment in two up the front until he was nude and panting before her, like he was less of a man, less of a cowboy, and more of a chained beast, which from the golden irises of his wolf that stared back at her was more truth than hyperbole…

  She rubbed her hands together in anticipation before she straightened the placement of her still intact wedding bodice. “Now, if you’ve ever loved me, even for just one moment, you’ll let me have this.” She stepped toward him, placing a hand onto the bare skin of his chest, directly above his heart as she met his gaze. “Please,” she pleaded.

  Slowly, he eased back, settling into position on the edge of his desk, the jutting length of his cock protruding toward her. He surveyed her, standing in her sultry gown before him as he ran his tongue over the points of his canine teeth. The darkness of his office cast a grim shadow over his face as he flashed her a devilish grin. “Do with me as you wish, warrior.”

  Chapter 25

  Maverick leaned back against his desk, naked and chained, the pulsing length of his cock bared toward her. That was exactly the danger of the power she held over him. As far as he was concerned, she could have her way with him. As long as he was the man she used to take her pleasure.

  She watched him with a greedy desire in her eyes that only made his sex jerk in response. “Go ahead,” he commanded again, urging her on. “Take your fill, she-wolf.”

  A hint of fire sparked in her eyes. She’d never been a fan of that term, but now, it seemed to please her. She reached out a freshly manicured hand and gripped the base of his cock. He threw back his head with a curse even as his hips thrust closer to her.

  Christ.

  The feeling of her small, confident fingers wrapped around the base of him caused his balls to grow heavy with a pleasured ache. Good God, she had the power to ruin him. He’d never be able to be with another.

  Not after her.