Her breath swirled as she released a slow sigh. The air in the dungeons bordered on freezing. She’d never been more thankful that she was a werewolf than at this moment. Had she been one of the many humans she’d treated over the years, without the benefit of her wolf heating her from the inside out, she would have died from hypothermia days ago.
The hurried voices of the last two guards trailed off as they pounded out of the dungeons, leaving no sounds but the heavy breathing of two nearby snoring prisoners and the occasional shout from above ground.
Now was her chance.
She pulled the bobby pin from the nape of her neck, digging it free from the mess of snarled curls and frizz. Thankfully her bird’s nest of hair hid several of the wayward pins when she’d been captured. At first, she’d forgotten they were there. Not afforded the luxury of a bath, let alone washing her hair, she’d found them while finger-combing two days ago and she’d been hiding the contraband ever since.
Placing the edge of the bobby pin in her mouth, Belle removed the plastic cap with her teeth and spit the small piece onto the ground beside her. She leveraged the pin against the concrete and bent it at a ninety-degree angle, then she crept over to the entrance of her cell.
She wiggled the hairpin into the housing of the lock, pressing up until she felt the slight pop of the springs releasing and the lock clicked. With shaking hands, she eased the cell door open. The hinges released a whining creak that echoed through the cavernous dungeon. The light of the torches cast a fading orange glow among the iron cages.
Another round of shouts overhead spurred her forward. She needed to get the hell out of Dodge and fast. Slipping through the darkness, she found her way to the stairs leading out of the dungeons and began climbing.
When Belle emerged into the night, the fresh scent of the surrounding pine forest filled her nose. She hadn’t realized how dank the dungeons had been until she was here now, in the fresh mountain air. She scanned her surroundings. To the left were the open pastures and ranch land of the Missoula pack. To the right, lit by firelight, was an army encampment temporarily housing the Grey Wolf soldiers. With the start of the war only weeks earlier, the Grey Wolf soldiers from Wolf Pack Run, the main Grey Wolf ranch and compound, were here in Missoula to train the cowboys of the Missoula Grey Wolf subpack into soldiers. Days ago, she’d overheard the guards discussing their arrival shortly after she’d been taken captive. She would need to take extra precautions.
Shouts and yelling sounded from that direction.
It was now or never.
Belle bolted toward the safety of the forest. When she reached the trees, she continued to run toward the mountains. Toward the safety of the shadows. Toward freedom.
As she ran, her foot landed in a bramble bush, the icy thorns slicing at her leg. She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out but didn’t stop to assess the wounds. She needed to keep moving.
Belle wasn’t sure how long she ran, but she didn’t stop until her legs refused to carry her any longer and she collapsed on all fours in the snow. The cold tingled into her limbs, but she ignored it, staring up at the gorgeous crescent moon shining through the treetops overhead. She fought the urge to let out a victorious howl as she prepared to shift into her wolf for the first time in days. The feeling would be exquisite. She felt the rapid thrum of her pulse as she struggled to calm herself enough to find her focus.
And then she heard it.
A rustling nearby in the trees.
She rose onto her knees. The blanket of snow covering the ground had soaked through her worn jeans, chilling her to the bone. From the close proximity of the noise, her options were limited.
Find or be found.
Lowering herself back onto all fours, she calmed her breathing and steadied herself, finding the place deep inside her where her wolf struggled to break free. In the pale moonlight, her beast came forth with ease. A quick twinge of pain followed by a sweet release and her fur instantly warmed her. Her clothes fell to the ground beneath her. Shaking the snow from her fur coat, she dragged her clothing beneath a nearby bush to cover her tracks and slipped into the underbrush.
Slowly, she prowled toward the source of the noise. Keeping downwind, she zeroed in on the sound. The rustling came from the edge of a nearby clearing. As she peered through the undergrowth, her heart stopped.
The first thing she saw was a horse. From the thin shape of its face, she recognized it as a purebred Arabian. They may not have bred yearlings on her mother’s ranch growing up, but they’d owned enough horses for her to tell the difference. But it wasn’t the massive horse that caused her pulse to race into overdrive.
It was the sight of the cowboy beside the steed.
In this neck of the woods, if his Stetson wasn’t enough to give him away as one of the Grey Wolf cowboys, the earthy scent that drifted on the winter breeze was. She recognized him instantly as one of her kind. He smelled of pine, dark spices, and clove, a warm and welcome scent that was far too pleasant for her liking. But if he was a guard, he hadn’t served on her cellblock. She would have remembered, because whoever he was, he smelled divine.
The Arabian sniffed through the undergrowth again, causing the rustling noise she’d heard. Inhaling a steady breath, Belle inched backward. She needed to get out of here before the man discovered her, but the sound of his deep voice froze her in place.
“Find anything?” he asked.
A small band of wolves stepped into the clearing, all in human form. One of them stepped forward. “No, Commander,” he answered.
Commander. Belle’s fur bristled. These weren’t just any wolves. They weren’t even guards. These cowboys were Grey Wolf warriors.
If they found her, she’d have no choice but to run for her life. She’d never been much of a fighter, and she-wolf or not, her skills would be no match for a well-trained alpha male. Did they know she’d escaped? Were they looking to drag her back to that godforsaken cell?
The fur of her tail prickled. No. She couldn’t go back. She didn’t belong there. She was innocent, though she knew they’d never believe her. She was a Rogue, an outcast. According to pack wolves like them, not to be trusted. It was the unfortunate way of their world.
The Commander’s voice chilled her. “Spread out and cover more ground. We can’t let this one go.”
The other wolves obeyed without question, leaving the Commander in the middle of the clearing. Her heart sank further as each wolf prowled in a different direction, lessening her chances for an easy escape.
With his back still turned to her, she watched the Commander’s wide shoulders rise and fall. For a moment, he leaned his weight against his horse; then he removed his Stetson. Setting it on the horse’s saddle, he ran a hand through his short hair, leaving it slightly ruffled. It was pale brown in color, almost dirty blond.
He must have decided to shift and search like the men he’d given orders to, because he chose that moment to reach down and tug the hem of his shirt over his head.
Had Belle been in human form, she would have had to stifle a gasp. The spine and musculature he revealed rippled with sinew, but it was the scars that stole her breath. Even in the dim glow of the moonlight, her wolf eyes allowed her to see. The commander’s body was a history of battles won and lost, wars waged on behalf of a supernatural empire.
And then he turned around and Belle’s breath caught.
He wasn’t just any commander. He was the commander. In an instant, she recognized exactly who he was. This cowboy wolf was none other than Colt Cavanaugh, high commander of the Grey Wolf armies, infamous Grey Wolf warrior, and one of the fiercest wolves ever to live. Second only to Wes Calhoun, the Wild Eight’s former packmaster turned Grey Wolf, Colt had been the Wild Eight’s enemy number one. He was more accessible than the Grey Wolf’s untouchable packmaster, Maverick Grey, and responsible for countless deaths among the Grey Wolves’ enemies.
Anytime one of the Wild Eight had returned to their compound near death’s door and clinging to a thread of life, it had almost always been this man who was singularly responsible—and that didn’t even begin to cover the damage he’d done to the Wild Eight through the information gathering and patrolling schedules he had directed his men to perform.
To top matters off, his battle skills weren’t the only dangerous thing about him. If rumors among the females of the Wild Eight were true, he was also known as an unrepentant rake and womanizer, a man of deep carnal pleasures who could charm the pants off any female he set his sights on and whose intimate exploits were not only known far and wide, but coveted by many…
In graphic detail.
She could see why.
If she’d thought his battle scars made him intimidating, the pair of eyes locking onto the bush she hid in, as if he saw straight through the shrubbery, chilled her more than the snow beneath her paws. Irises the color of steel bore into her, distant and cold.
Those steely eyes framed a handsome yet harsh face. The brown hair of his close-trimmed beard framed his strong jaw and she realized the chill of his gaze made him more rugged than his features should have allowed. With high cheekbones and a perfectly straight blade of a nose, he should have been a charming, handsome cowboy. Yet years of a hard life had roughened him around the edges with a rugged, raw masculinity. Had she not feared discovery, it would have been enough to make even her ovaries quiver, and Belle wasn’t a woman easily moved.
As he stepped toward her, Belle hunkered lower into the leaves. He drew so close, only the toes of his brown leather boots remained visible. Just as she was certain he had detected her, his horse let out a frustrated whinny, drawing the commander’s attention. As he stepped away, she breathed a sigh of relief.
Belle watched as he placed his shirt in his horse’s saddlebag before starting on the fastening of his worn, ranch-worked jeans. Oh no. It wasn’t as if she could move from her position to look away without rustling the leaves. She tried to close her eyes. She really did. Her brain made the signal to her eyelids and everything, yet somehow, the order didn’t take. Curiosity got the better of her.
As if the rest of his hardened body and those intense eyes weren’t enough to leave her equal parts terrified and wanting for days, the sight of his bare, muscled ass would have done the trick. Never had she seen a more glorious male behind, which was saying something considering that for the past several years she’d worked as an orthopedic surgeon for the rodeo circuit before being forcibly enlisted as the doctor for one of the most notoriously dangerous wolf packs in history. She’d seen hundreds of nice male specimens in the nude—from a physician’s standpoint, of course—yet this particular cowboy’s behind was worthy of a medal.
What she wouldn’t give to see that in a pair of chaps.
She watched as he shifted into his wolf—a massive, gorgeous grey, larger than most others she’d seen of their kind—and bounded away into the woods. It was only once he was gone that the tension in her limbs eased. Slowly, she started to ease backward from her hiding spot, causing the leaves to rustle.
As if his horse had known she was there all along, the beast trotted toward her, sniffing across the ground until the soft warmth of its mouth tickled her paw. The beast examined her with dark eyes, sniffing in her scent. It must have decided it liked what it smelled, because it nudged her with its wet nose.
The horse nudged her again, this time harder, forcing her to adjust her balance. When the horse persisted, she finally shifted into human form and stood, taking in the full sight of the beast and the old worn leather saddle on its back.
Its saddle. Her eyes widened.
Having grown up on a ranch in central Florida, and after spending several years working the rodeo, she was an accomplished horseback rider. She knew her way around a stable well enough that she could tell that not only was this animal well-cared for, it was powerful—fierce in strength, and more importantly, speed. She would move faster on horseback. Deep into the safety of the mountains, far past the Missoula Grey Wolf territory, if she could help it.
What was petty thievery compared to the horrible crimes she’d been charged with? Little consequence, if you asked her. The accusations failed to take into account the truth of her circumstances.
Treason. Murder.
And now…
“Horse thief.”
Belle froze. She felt the blood drain from her face as she turned toward the sound of the commander’s voice.
Chapter 2
Colt crossed his arms over his chest as he stared at the naked she-wolf holding Silver’s reins. “We can add horse thief to your growing list of violations.”
He’d sensed a pair of eyes on him from the bushes moments ago. He had passed it off as his own sense of paranoia, anticipation over finding Lucas. It was only when he’d paused while leaving the clearing and heard Silver huff that he trusted his initial impression. He should have known better by now. His time as high commander had honed his instincts into a lethal weapon. Not to mention working a ranch the size of the Grey Wolves’ lands tended to teach a cowboy to trust his gut. Colt’s intuition rarely proved him wrong.
And neither did Silver’s noises. The horse always made that same huffing sound when he’d found a new loyal subject to demand attention from. The horse was the worst kind of bleeding heart. Friend to all and foe to none, as long as they gave him the ample attention he thought he deserved. Apparently, even with lost she-wolves.
He didn’t recognize her. Though he knew every wolf at Wolf Pack Run, he’d only been at the Missoula ranch a handful of days and had yet to meet everyone. Between the dozens of Grey Wolf territories with hundreds of wolves at each ranch, it was near impossible to know them all.
Colt stepped toward the pair, shaking his head in disbelief. “Breaking pack curfew and prowling through the woods during a hunting ban, while there’s an active vampire threat no less, and now stealing my horse.” He ticked off the list of offenses. “Not to mention hiding in the bushes while watching me strip naked like some sort of delinquent. Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
Whoever she was, she bristled, changing from terrified to defiant in an instant.
Silver mimicked her outrage, huffing and flicking his tail as he drew closer to the she-wolf, his loyalty instantly gone. Colt shot him an annoyed look. Et tu, Brute?
“I…I wasn’t watching you strip naked,” she stammered.
“No?” He raised a brow. “By my calculations, you’ve been hiding in that bush since well before I removed any clothing. If not from curiosity, why linger?”
She gaped at him as a flush of pink colored her cheeks.
He stepped closer to her, his gaze raking over her nude form, pausing just long enough to make that tantalizing blush deepen. “Typically, when a woman wants to see me nude, she doesn’t resort to hiding in the bushes to do so.” A wolfish grin crossed his lips. “All she has to do is ask.”
Her eyes grew wide. Not that he was able to hold his attention on her eyes for very long. He tried to focus on those beautiful hazel eyes lined with thick, heavy black lashes, but there were other tantalizing parts of her staring him right in the face. Standing where she was, though her lower half was shielded by the darkness, her upper body remained bare, covered by little more than the shoulder length of her dark brown hair. The dark curls, almost black in appearance, glittered in the moonlight with bits of fallen snow. She looked every bit like Eve standing in a wintery Garden.
And Colt would have given anything to be the snake to tempt her.
It was a strange sensation, noticing her nudity. He’d seen hundreds of Grey Wolf women naked after shifting and he’d never stopped to notice the finer details. It was a different experience from having them naked beneath him or in his bed. In the forest, their true nature somehow made the nudity asexual. But not this woman.
Everything about her called out to him in a way that wasn’t just sexual—it was primal. From the wild, untamable locks of her hair he wanted to grip in his hands to the growing flush spreading across the fair, creamy skin of her shoulders, all the way down to the puckered nipples of her bare breasts, which begged to be licked, teased, tasted with his tongue. The sight alone made his mouth water.
And from the vivid blush on her cheeks, the feeling was mutual.
That didn’t even begin to cover her scent. A delicate mix of baby powder, lemon verbena, and wildflowers that reminded him of the mountainside when spring was in full bloom. Between the sight of her naked and her intoxicating scent, his cock was instantly hard and he was grateful his lower half was also concealed in the shadows.
Sure, he worked hard—so he played hard. Colt had a healthy, carnal appetite and liked to take his pleasure among the she-wolves in the subpacks, women like her, but only when he wasn’t on duty and was away from the main ranch at Wolf Pack Run. Like you are now, his brain helpfully noted. One-night stands at the main ranch quickly became tricky, and Colt didn’t do relationships. He always made that clear from the outset. In his position, it was a liability he couldn’t afford.
Shaking his head, he tried to clear his mind. He needed to remain focused. Not only did he make it a point to keep his fair distance from the females of the pack while working, but she was in jeopardy standing out here in the middle of the woods during an active vampire raid.
You’re meant for violence, not love. The words of his birth father echoed in his head.
Colt cleared his throat, falling into the role of stern commander with practiced ease. “So, delinquent horse thief, what do you have to say for yourself?”
“I…” She stared at him like a doe caught in a hunter’s sights.
Suddenly, she shifted into wolf form and bolted into the trees.
Cowboy Wolf Trouble Page 31