Cowboy Wolf Trouble

by Kait Ballenger

  The darkness closed in around them within minutes. Naomi turned her face toward the treetops. Grey clouds crept past, darkening the forest and blocking the waning moon. The occasional moonbeam broke through the haze, reminding her that wolves had nocturnal vision, and she didn’t.

  She shook away the thought as she and the horse continued down the mountainside. No matter. They had a brief head start, if Wes even bothered to come look for her…which he would. Her injured ego flared. Just to make her miserable. Just to prove a point.

  Not exactly the usual attitude after a woman experienced an orgasm of that caliber, or so she assumed. She had never come that strong and fast—and she’d thought she knew her own body well enough to know her sweet spots better than anyone. Self-love and all.

  So much for that.

  Her skin burned hot all over again at the thought. Somehow, she knew that the pleasure Wes gave with his fingers was no comparison to his mouth, to that infuriating, smirking mouth.

  The mare shifted to step around a large log—that much Naomi could see—pulling her back to the present. The darkness heightened her senses. The aroma of damp earth from the earlier rain filled her nose. She leaned into the horse’s movements, trusting the animal to get her at least to the bottom of the mountainside. The hoot of an owl in a nearby tree startled her nerves. She jumped, and the horse huffed a frustrated whinny. The equine chose that moment to come to a halt.

  Naomi nudged the animal with the heels of her boots and shook the reins. “Come on, girl. We can’t stop now.” Her voice sounded out of place against the wind brushing through the thickets. She urged the horse forward again—another kick and a tug of the reins against the bit between the mare’s teeth—but the animal didn’t move.

  Dismounting, she lowered herself from the saddle. Careful to keep the reins in her hands, she inched forward. Her palms smoothed over the horse’s coat and up her neck until she cupped the great animal’s cheek. “Shhh,” she shushed. She patted Star’s face. “Don’t be like me and let a little ol’ owl scare you,” she cooed.

  A rustle sounded from a nearby bush. Star whinnied again, raising up on her hind legs and kicking in a frenzied retreat, dragging Naomi backward with her. She tugged against the reins, fighting to keep the mare from bolting. The cloud parted in front of the moon. Dim moonlight lit the shadows of the forest just enough that they both could see. Star trained her dark eyes on the bushes several feet away.

  And that’s when Naomi realized it hadn’t been the hoot of the owl that had spooked the horse.

  On the other side of the clearing, a large wolf stepped through the brush. It wasn’t Wes, and somehow, she knew it wasn’t one of his packmates either. The moon illuminated the wolf’s sharp canines as the werewolf growled. Naomi’s heart thumped against her breastbone. Her breath grew quick and shallow. She dropped Star’s reins and retrieved the hunting knife she’d stolen from the stables as the wolf lunged.

  She slashed her blade through the air, slicing through the wolf’s chest. The beast released a high-pitched yelp. It dropped its front paws to the ground, but the fight was far from over. Seconds later, it rounded on her again. There was no time to attack. She brought her arms up in a defensive position. The wolf’s front paws hooked onto her arms. The werewolf stood on its hind legs, its front paws on her as it snapped its heavy jaws mere inches from her face, threatening to tear into her throat.

  Lashing out, she kneed the wolf in the stomach. It fell backward onto its spine. Within seconds, it had regained its footing. Slowly, it circled her, each step careful and deliberate. She held her knife at the ready. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

  The wolf lunged again. Naomi swung her arm. Her knife sank into the wolf’s shoulder. But it wasn’t enough. The werewolf’s paws connected with her chest, knocking her clean off her feet. She fell backward. Her spine hit the ground. Wind rushed from her lungs.

  She did the only thing she could think to do. She twisted the blade in the wolf’s side. A yelp tore from its throat, and it released her. Long enough for Naomi to tear the blade from its hide and raise it overhead.

  Before she could bring the blade down, the wolf soared off her, knocked to the side by an unforeseen force. Her eyes widened. Star had bucked the wolf with her back hooves, sending the werewolf flying across the clearing and into a nearby tree. Her breath billowed around her nose as she released an enraged whinny. Fiery aggression blazed in the horse’s eyes.

  Star charged. Within seconds, the horse was on the werewolf. The sounds of Star’s heavy hooves striking the other animal rang in Naomi’s ears. The wolf yelped several times, attempting to escape the blows of Star’s wrath, but it was no match for the horse’s mighty strength. Quickly, the yelps turned to keens of agony.

  Finally, when the wolf lay still and silent, the horse retreated, slowly returning to Naomi’s side. She lowered her large head, sniffing at the blood on Naomi’s arm and nudging her gently.

  Naomi’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m okay,” she whispered to the beast.

  Her vision swam.

  No, she would not pass out. She would make it home tonight in one piece.

  Slowly, she lifted herself to her feet, willing herself to stand. The knife still clutched in her hand, she crossed to the tree trunk where the wolf that attacked her lay silent and unmoving. She stood over the majestic, aggressive animal, admiring the patterns in the animal’s grey fur.

  She shouldn’t feel remorse for the death of someone who had tried to kill her, yet somehow, she did. Slowly, she bent down, giving in to the irresistible urge to touch the wolf’s fur, to feel it beneath her fingertips.

  As she reached out to touch him, to her horror, the wolf’s bones shifted and suddenly her fingertips were inches away from the face of a man. He lay against the tree trunk, naked and unmoving. His eyes were open, dark irises staring up at the starry nighttime sky. She reached out and brushed them closed.

  A growl rumbled, and she snatched her hand back. But the sound came from behind her. A chill rushed down her spine. Slowly, she turned. Two more snarling werewolves prowled into the clearing. Wild Eight, she guessed, and there she stood, lingering over the body of their packmate, his blood on her clothes. Her hand tightened around the hilt of her blade. And she had thought she didn’t need Wes to protect her.

  She thanked God she hadn’t dropped the knife.

  * * *

  A feminine scream pierced Wes’s ears. He tore through the trees atop Black Jack, riding faster than he’d ever ridden in his life. He had to get to her. Had to reach her. She was innocent, and he’d caused her to run. If she died, he would never forgive himself.

  The pain of his past mistakes twisted his insides. He couldn’t live through the guilt. Not again. He’d give his own life in her place if that’s what it took.

  Wes released an echoing howl, signaling to the other Grey Wolves that he had located both Naomi and the Wild Eight. Hadn’t they taken enough from him? His pack, his life, his love? And now they wanted this innocent woman.

  Mine. The word echoed, wild and full of raw possession.

  He burst through the trees and into the clearing, the evening’s patrol members on his tail. He leaped from Black Jack, dismounting in one swift move. As the Grey Wolves surrounded the clearing, their sheer numbers made it clear that the Wild Eight wolves had no choice but to surrender. The sounds of the Grey Wolves snarling echoed in a terrifying chorus. Jaws snarled and snapped, prepared to tear flesh. The Wild Eight wolves froze and shifted into human form. They’d been circling Naomi and Bo’s palomino mare, Star. Naomi clutched a knife in her hand, and her shirt was torn. They’d hurt her. He’d hurt her.

  Wes would bleed them dry.

  Colt’s voice rose among the snarls. “Subdue them.”

  Naomi stumbled toward Wes. He caught her in his arms, quickly pushing her behind him so he could shield her with his body. A crowd of Grey Wolf gu
ards and warriors had formed around the prisoners.

  Colt pushed to the front of the crowd. “You.” He pointed to one of the guards in wolf form. “Alert Maverick immediately,” he ordered.

  The wolf gave a gruff huff in response before turning tail and darting off toward Wolf Pack Run, a long echoing howl tearing from him. But Colt’s gaze never faltered from the prisoners in front of him. The Wild Eight wolves hung their heads in submission.

  Colt crouched and gripped one of the prisoners by the hair, forcing his head up. “State your purpose for coming here.” The threat in his voice made it abundantly clear that if the answer didn’t satisfy him, there would be consequences later.

  “Bite me.” The Wild Eight wolf spat into Colt’s face.

  With strained movements that spoke of Colt’s amazing ability to contain his wrath, he wiped the spittle away. The spark of cold anger in those grey eyes said the Wild Eight wolf would be dead as soon as he ceased to be useful.

  “He’s obviously Wild Eight. Who gives a shit what his plan is?” The voice sounded from the other side of the crowd. Malcolm stepped into the circle, shaking his head. He made his way toward the prisoner. “Just kill him already.”

  Colt stepped toe to toe with Malcolm. “Not until Maverick gives the word.”

  Malcolm lifted his hands in surrender. “If you say so, Commander.” He took a step back, and that’s when his gaze fell on Naomi, tucked away behind Wes’s arm. A devious smile crossed his face. “Then again, you’re right, Colt. Why don’t we use him for information?”

  Wes snarled. He’d seen the malicious desire for retribution in Malcolm’s eyes as he’d looked at Naomi. Whatever Malcolm intended, Wes would kill the bastard. Black Jack snarled in evident agreement and bared his teeth.

  Before anyone could stop him, Malcolm crouched beside the prisoner, wrenching at his hair and forcing his head upward as Colt had done only moments ago. But Malcolm took it a step further. He gripped the prisoner’s hair by the scalp, shoving his cowboy boot into the prisoner’s upper back. The Wild Eight wolf couldn’t arch his spine with the pull on his hair. The prisoner’s scalp had to be burning at the roots from the pressure. Malcolm nodded toward Naomi. “You recognize that bitch over there?”

  Within seconds, the crowd around Wes and Naomi thinned. Though Naomi stood behind Wes, it was no use. She was the only female within view. Out of the corner of his eye, Wes saw Maverick approaching. The packmaster couldn’t have chosen a worse moment to make his arrival.

  The Wild Eight wolf stared straight at Naomi. As if the pressure on his scalp hadn’t been enough to make him say yes to end the pain, his eyes turned to Wes. The moonlight reflected back in the wolf’s irises, illuminating a flicker of hatred that screamed at Wes loud and clear.

  Judas.

  Betrayer.

  The young Wild Eight would stop at nothing to cause Wes pain. He held Wes’s gaze.

  “Yes, I recognize her,” the Wild Eight wolf spat. “She works with us. She’s a Wild Eight affiliate through and through. One of our most loyal.”

  With those words, something in the pack changed. Wolf eyes, sharp and piercing, turned toward Wes.

  “No.” Naomi was shaking her head. “No, he’s lying!”

  The scent of Naomi’s fear flooded over Wes.

  He didn’t think. He brushed both arms behind him, shielding Naomi at his back as he crouched and prepared to shift. He bared his teeth, snarling. He didn’t care who they were, Grey Wolf or Wild Eight…

  He was ready for a fight.

  * * *

  Naomi didn’t have to be a genius to recognize the sudden change in the air. Wes crouched in front of her, a deep, protective snarl ripping from his throat as Black Jack guarded her from behind. From the wild look in Wes’s eyes, she had no doubt he would fight for her, but it would hardly be enough, considering half the pack appeared ready to pounce on her at a moment’s notice.

  Words failed her. The group that encircled them eased closer and closer. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was how she was going to die. Not at the hand of one mangy werewolf who’d been caught in her ranch trap but torn apart limb from limb by the jaws of many.

  Her life should have been flashing before her eyes. Yet all she could think was not that she was too young or that it wasn’t her time. Simply, what a horrific way it was to go. In the middle of the woods, surrounded by creatures who were either hateful or indifferent toward her.

  All except one.

  The one risking his life for hers.

  But even he couldn’t protect her.

  And that’s when she saw him.

  She couldn’t have mistaken him if she’d tried.

  The Grey Wolf packmaster locked eyes with her, his entrancing emerald gaze searing into her. Maverick Grey towered over the crowd, only Wes equaling his impressive size. With broad, muscled shoulders and a lean, tapered waist with narrow hips, the two men were all muscle wrought from years of training and battle. At a quick glance, if not for the difference in coloring, she could have thought them brothers. The smooth midnight waves of Maverick’s hair contrasted with Wes’s wild blond locks. Searing emerald eyes battled against icy, piercing blue. But as she looked closer, it was more than their hair and coloring that differentiated them.

  As Naomi stared into Maverick’s eyes, she saw a man of immense power. Wes’s gaze held that same strength. But in his eyes, she saw something wild, and from the way Maverick’s eyes narrowed, he saw it, too.

  Maverick lived beside his wolf.

  But Wes was a wolf.

  A wolf who refused to be tamed.

  In an instant, she understood the underlying power struggle between the two. And she knew what she needed to do. Maverick answered to the will of the pack, but Wes answered to no one. Not even Maverick. If the wolves kept advancing, it wouldn’t matter whether or not she was guilty, because Wes was prepared to defend her, even to his own death.

  Which meant she had no other choice.

  “I swear my loyalty,” she said loud enough for the pack to hear. “I swear on my life, on the blood of my ancestors, my people, that I have no connection to this man or these wolves.”

  The closing of the circle around them suddenly stopped, and silence spread through the crowd.

  Stepping out from behind Wes’s protection, Naomi stood before the Grey Wolf packmaster. “I swear my loyalty to you, Maverick Grey,” she repeated, “leader of the Grey Wolves, and I ask that you allow me to join your pack.”

  Murmured whispers erupted among the Grey Wolves.

  Examining her with careful eyes, Maverick crossed his massive arms over his chest. “Hold her,” he ordered.

  Within seconds, two guards seized her arms. Wes snarled, and Naomi was vaguely aware that it took several other wolves to restrain him. From the angry whinnies, Black Jack fought to save her, too. But her nerves drowned out the noise. The guards gripped her shoulders, forcing her onto her knees. Maverick stood over her. He drew his knife from the sheath at his belt and raised the blade.

  Naomi’s heart stopped as she waited for the lethal blow.

  But it never came. Maverick staked his blade in the ground in front of her before he stepped back.

  She looked up to meet his gaze. “I…I don’t understand.”

  “Pack law dictates that those not born a Grey Wolf, those who are sworn to loyalty, are bound by another equally powerful force…by blood. You will live as one of us tonight, Naomi Evans. But only if the pack chooses. The decision doesn’t lie with me. It’s the choice of the last sworn member of this pack, who must vow on your behalf.”

  He might as well have uttered her death sentence. Which one of them would issue the decree? Malcolm, surely. Colt or Sierra might show her mercy. Maybe Austin? If it were one of them, maybe she might have a chance. Never, never in her life had she felt more alone.

  Until W
es stepped in front of her.

  As she took in the sight of him, that wry smile curled across his lips. Her eyes widened. He hadn’t been born a Grey Wolf? He’d never said otherwise. She’d just assumed…

  “Your choice, Wes?” Maverick asked.

  Naomi already knew the answer.

  “I vow on my life that Naomi Evans’s intentions are true,” Wes said. “She joins our pack this night.”

  At his words, the guards released her, and Maverick stepped back, casting a glance toward Wes. “The second time you’ve saved her life in only a handful of days.”

  “Third,” Wes corrected. “But who’s counting…”

  She only counted two. The Wild Eight wolf in the clearing, and now.

  Recognizing her confusion, Maverick answered for him. “Our pack law dictates that if our true nature is revealed to a human, the human must die to preserve the safety of our pack. When he brought you here, Wes risked his life to spare yours.”

  Naomi gaped at the packmaster, then at Wes. Wes shrugged a single shoulder, as if it was no big deal.

  He’d been supposed to kill her that night. Not only had he protected her from the Wild Eight wolves in battle, but he’d risked his life for her, though she’d been a complete stranger.

  Facing her fully, she watched as Wes bent and pulled Maverick’s blade from the ground. He straightened, and as he did so, his gaze seared into hers, so intense and intimate that she became painfully aware that the whole pack was watching, yet she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

  As Wes stepped forward, everyone else seemed to disappear, as if only the two of them stood there in the clearing. Momentarily, he broke eye contact with her as he slid the blade across his hand. At his hiss of pain, she stiffened with worry for him, but then his eyes locked with hers again, and her fear subsided.

  He extended the hilt of the blade to her. “Barely a prick is all you need,” he reassured her. “Not as much as mine.”

  “You do it.” She extended her palm toward him, trusting him not to hurt her. She had no doubt in him.