The Reluctant Wolf and His Fated Mate: A Howls Romance (White Mountain Shifters Book 1)

by Lisa Carlisle

  “That’s amazing.” She gazed up at the beams in the ceiling. “I’m impressed.” She brought her gaze back to him and gestured with an open hand. “Since I skied here when I was younger, who knows—maybe we ran into each other back then?”

  Would his wolf have recognized her as his mate back then?

  Yes, his wolf noted.

  To avoid thinking more about the mate problem and avoid revealing any possible secrets of his pack, he shifted the conversation to her visits when she was younger. While she told him about trips coming up skiing with her family, her face lit up.

  “I generally come up once or twice a year now,” she noted.

  Not enough. “You should come up more often.” He arched his brows. “You could stay with me.”

  She gave him a prolonged glance as if assessing if he meant what he said. “Maybe.” Then she took a long sip of water.

  A half an hour later, they were at a trailhead at the base of the mountain, equipped with their cross-country skis and outerwear. The afternoon sun shone bright with only a few clouds in the distance. The February air was cool, but they’d soon be warm after they exerted energy skiing.

  He motioned for her to start. “After you.”

  She hopped onto the trail ahead of him and he followed her. As they progressed down the path into the woods, the snow-covered trees that surrounded them slipped from his vision. All he could focus on was how her body moved from behind. Her full lush ass. Her scent wafting back and bewitching him.

  Take her. Claim her now, his wolf urged.

  Damon sighed. That’s not how it works. She’s human.

  Still, as he pursued her down the trail, the instinct to pursue and claim his mate rose. Damon struggled to restrain himself.

  Sophie glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “How are you doing back there?”

  If she only knew the battle roaring inside him. “Enjoying the company.” He raised one brow. “And the view.”

  After a couple of hours on the trails where they skied along the river and over to a small lake, they returned to his cabin. He walked over to his stereo system and put a Beatles playlist on low for background music. It started with While My Guitar Gently Weeps.

  “Is this okay with you, Sophie?”

  “Sure. Who doesn’t like the Beatles?” She relaxed on the sofa with a cup of Earl Gray tea and a worn paperback with a black cat on the cover.

  “What are you reading?”

  “A mystery. I devour these.” She glanced at his bookshelf in the living room. “You seem to like nonfiction.”

  That was true. His bookshelves were filled with nonfiction adventures and travel stories, as well as countless guides and maps of the region. “When I read, I typically search for something practical.”

  Her eyes widened. “You never want to escape into a story?”

  He motioned to the books on survival accounts. “I escape into stories, only it’s something that happened.”

  She made a sound of acknowledgment. “Truth is often stranger...” She took a sip of tea and returned to reading.

  He gazed at her. Having her here was pleasant. No, it was more than that. It made him—content. He took a shower and when he returned, hair still wet, And I Love Her was playing.

  Sophie gaped at him. “You look good wet.” She shook her head and rubbed between her brows. “Scratch that. It sounds weird.”

  He grinned. “It sounded quite nice to me.” He sat on his favored brown recliner and picked up a book of puzzles. He flipped through the word scrambles and crossword puzzles he’d already filled out and found an empty Sudoku page. She returned to her book.

  An hour or so went by. They hadn’t said much to each other, but her quiet presence was comforting.

  She put down her book on the table. “I better take a shower before dinner.”

  As she walked into the bedroom, his gaze dropped to her ass. It was almost impossible not to look whenever he had the chance.

  While she showered, he tried not to think of her in there. He picked up the puzzle book and flipped to a crossword puzzle, but couldn’t focus on the clues. Sophie was naked in his cabin. Only a few inches of wood kept him from her.

  He stepped into the kitchen and pulled a cold beer out of the fridge. Touching the glass bottle to his forehead, he hoped it would help him cool off. Don’t pounce on her, don’t pounce on her.

  The sound of her voice came from the bathroom. She’d started singing, but he couldn’t place the song. How could he ignore her now? He listened to her sing and smiled. Even when she went off-key, it was practically a siren song to him.

  When Sophie stepped out of the bedroom, his mouth fell open. She was stunning. Her hair was pinned up and loose tendrils framed her face. Her skin had a rosy glow as if she were as excited to see him as he was her.

  And her dress. He groaned. The little black dress clung to her in all the right places—all those places he itched to touch.

  Would she ever let him?

  “You look good dry,” he teased. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you wet.”

  Chapter 8

  Sophie

  Sophie attempted to ignore Damon’s double entendre about being wet, but her cheeks burned. Even at dinner, over a pitcher of sangria and fajitas, his low sensual suggestion replayed in her head.

  Maybe tonight.

  To distract herself from thinking about sex with Damon, she asked him more about himself. Whenever he revealed a little about himself, he’d soon circle the conversation back to her. Frustrating. Yet, it increased her fascination with him.

  Was he hiding something? If so, why?

  Still, dinner was pleasant. His company was enjoyable—and those eyes. A couple of times, she caught his gaze from across the table—full of hunger and need. Nobody had ever looked at her that way. It left her knees shaky under the table.

  Yes, tonight might be the night.

  They returned to his cabin. He’d driven them down to the mountain village in his Jeep, although it was walkable. Still, she didn’t want to make the trek in a dress and heels. She wore a slinky black dress and heels that made her feel as sexy as Damon did with one of his intense looks.

  As they walked from the Jeep to the front door, he held her hand. The simmering cinders rose within. Her heart quickened, nerves getting the best of her. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, and she’d never been with anyone who looked and made her feel the way Damon did.

  The waxing moon loomed with a golden hue overhead. A crisp breeze fluttered across the snow, sending wisps of snow upwards in a quick turn of a dance. Then they settled again, floating back to the earth to rest. She breathed the clean mountain air, inhaling the heady scent of pine, so different from that of the city with that heavy congestion weighing down and light pollution occluding the stars. Here she could see hundreds if not thousands twinkling overhead.

  “It’s so beautiful out here,” she remarked. “Magical.”

  He motioned to the covered hot tub at the side of his house. “Want to have a drink under the moonlight?”

  That was a great idea. They could start out here. Have a drink and relax. See where the night took them.

  “That sounds perfect.” She bit her lip. “I’ll go change.”

  His eyes brightened with that golden hue again as he stared at her with that hungry look.

  She swallowed and glanced at the moon. “Your eyes,” she noted. “I’ve never seen any like them. They have this gold right now, similar to the moon.”

  He replied with a nervous chuckle. That was an odd response. “Must be a trick of the moonlight.”

  Maybe. But still, something didn’t seem right.

  Inside the guest room, Sophie sucked in her stomach before looking into the mirror. Who did she think she was by braving herself to get into a bikini in the middle of February? She gazed at her winter body—pale and plump—and frowned. It definitely could use some tightening.

  At least this string bikini flattered her breasts. The
tropical design with red and white flowers on a black background added a touch of summer in the midst of the winter mountains.

  Sophie pinned her hair on the top of her head in a loose bun and wrapped a fluffy blue towel around herself. She walked barefoot out of her room and through the living room out the glass doors to the patio on the deck.

  Damon sat with his feet dangling in the water of the hot tub. A bottle of champagne, along with two glasses, was sitting in a glass bucket at his side. Her gaze was glued on his, captured in his amber gaze. Then they traveled down over his massive shoulders and golden chest and abs.

  Her heartbeat quickened and her lips parted. She practically drooled as her gaze skimmed over cut after cut, all mouthwatering indents and carved muscle. They didn’t look unnatural like those gym-rat bodybuilders, but gifted by good genes and toned by hard work.

  When she raised her gaze back to meet his, his eyes gleamed with that golden glow again and pure hunger.

  Her throated felt parched, and she swallowed. “Champagne. What’s the occasion?”

  Aware that she’d frozen like a statue as she gaped at the god awaiting her, she forced herself to take one step toward him.

  His mouth widened into a decadent smile. “Spending the evening with you.”

  Damon

  When Damon heard the patio doors slide open and Sophie walked out, both he and his wolf perked up. As she approached, his heart thumped with a steady, increasing beat that drowned out the hum of the bubbling hot tub in his ears.

  She’s here. His wolf wagged his tail. Coming closer. Our mate.

  Don’t get too excited, he warned his wolf. We’re not going to scare her off.

  Sophie removed the towel and turned to hang it on a hook. Only the tiniest pieces of fabric covered her, revealing all the full luscious curves he ached to touch. Her pale skin glowed under the moonlight, appearing like soft satin. He forced himself to keep from reaching out for her, instead grabbing hold of the champagne bottle.

  And her curves. All those soft and luscious curves were just begging to be kissed and touched as he buried himself into her heat and claimed her as his.

  His skin felt hot and his mouth fell open. He snapped it shut.

  When she walked toward him, he stood beside the hot tub and offered his hand to help her climb the stairs. Her scent washed over him, sending the odor of the chlorine and the pine trees scattering. Hers was like the buds of early spring peeking out from the mountains and then roaring to life with brilliant, bountiful flower petals.

  The moment her tiny hand was in his, a magical sensation rippled through him, as potent as the change in his body when he transformed from man to wolf.

  “Thanks.” She climbed in and sank down into the tub.

  As the bubbling water covered all that silky skin he ached to touch, he stifled a moan that slipped out. The hum of the hot tub might have masked it. At least the top of her breasts peeked over the surface, tempting him with rounded curves that sent blood straight to his groin.

  Damon sat beside her, grateful that the bubbles cloaked his stiffening member. The swim trunks wouldn’t hide his growing excitement.

  He poured them each a glass of champagne and handed one to her. “To a picturesque night with a gorgeous woman.”

  She blushed and then smiled. “Thanks.” She took a sip.

  When she pulled the glass away, a sheen of liquid shined on her lips beneath the moonlight. A wild yearning to kiss her rose within. She was so close to him, her almost naked body beneath the water’s surface. All he had to do was stretch his arm and he could touch her soft skin.

  She glanced at the sky. “The stars look amazing up here.” She pointed up. “The Big Dipper is so bright.”

  His gaze followed, wandering over the patterns that shaped into the legends of some of the mysteries in the world. What the biggest puzzle for him was how both wolves and humans connected their fates to those balls of gas above.

  He sighed. “How did I luck out finding you again on this mountain?”

  Damn, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. For someone who was the strong, silent type, this woman had him uttering things he never thought he’d say.

  Was it luck or fate? Wolf lore about fate claimed he was destined to be with this woman.

  Don’t question it, his wolf noted. Accept this gift. Some things don’t need to be explained. We’re one of the lucky ones.

  Fate and luck entwined again? Was his father lucky to have found his mother, considering what had happened to him? Nope.

  Damon forced himself to shove away that dark speculation. The woman he craved was inches from him and practically naked. He wouldn’t ruin the moment and brood over the ghosts that haunted him.

  “I guess we’re both lucky,” Sophie replied with a slight grin. “Since there’s nobody’s cabin I’d want to wake up in but yours.”

  The way she gazed at him with that ardent glint in her eyes made his throat tighten. He took a quick sip of his champagne and put down the glass, unable to keep his eyes off of her.

  He arched his brow. “So you like my cabin?” he teased.

  She laughed. “It’s not bad. I’m more interested in the guy who lives in it.”

  “Is that right?”

  “I can’t believe you built this.” She gazed at him with admiration. “The more I learn about you, Damon, the more I’m impressed.”

  He arched his brows. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

  She gave him a coy glance. “Maybe it’s working.”

  Desire thrummed through his veins. He yearned for her. Ached. He picked up his glass and took another sip of champagne, which was more of a gulp.

  Sophie searched his eyes for a few seconds that sent his already pounding heartbeat soaring up to the moon. He attributed some of his reaction to that, the growing moon. It stirred his primal instincts, agitating his wolf to want more—to prowl, to hunt, and now—to mate.

  She gazed out to the darkness of the surrounding woods. “And I’m glad that out of anyone who could have found me out there, it was you.” She faced him again.

  His gaze dropped to her lips. Shiny. Parted. Calling to him.

  Kiss her, his wolf stirred, practically ready to burst.

  “I think we can make this night better still.” He raised his gaze back to meet hers and caressed her cheek.

  Her body trembled slightly, and she released a sigh. He was all but shaking himself. Wanting, needing. He’d never yearned so much or felt more vulnerable in his life. If she rejected him…

  Enough of the brooding. Kiss her, you damn fool, his wolf demanded.

  “How so?” Her voice sounded throaty. Her lids lowered and her pupils were wide.

  Damon took her glass and put it near his at the edge of the hot tub. He leaned closer to her. “With a kiss,” he all but growled. “I want you, Sophie,” he softened his tone, but it still came out gravelly and full of the ache he couldn’t suppress.

  A sigh slipped from her lips. “Yesss,” she purred. “Kiss me.”

  Damon’s body hardened. He cupped her face with both hands. Her cheeks were as soft as snowflakes, but the heat from it would melt ice. Her scent wrapped around him, inciting him with desire that hummed in his blood.

  He bent his head and brushed his lips against hers.

  The fire in his veins raged higher. All his senses seemed to detonate when he touched her.

  His wolf pranced with satisfaction. Mate. Mate. Mate.

  Damon attempted to ignore his wolf, but deep down he knew he couldn’t fight it much longer. Not when all he wanted to do was feel, touch, taste…

  Sophie tasted like champagne and sunshine on a bluebird day. Intoxicating. He deepened the kiss, wanting to savor as much as he could of her, and prodded his tongue in between her lips. When she opened to him, their tongues tangled.

  He all but plundered her mouth as his cock throbbed in his swim trunks. He traced his fingers along her neck, over her collarbone, down to the globes spilling out the top
of her swimsuit.

  She reached behind her neck and untied the bikini top. With how she stretched her arms, her breasts were exposed over the surface of the water. Her dusky rose nipples were tight. A desperate need to taste them rose. She dropped the top next to their champagne glasses.

  He covered her mouth with his. “You’re killing me, Sophie.” He reached out and traced over one of her soft, heavy breasts. “You’re stunning.”

  He claimed her mouth again and ran his thumbs over her hard nipples. She moaned against his lips.

  Pulling a hair’s width away, he murmured. “You have me aching hard.”

  “Oh?” She feigned innocence. “Let’s see about that.”

  When her hand stroked over his fully erect shaft, he dropped his head back and released a guttural groan.

  “Now this feels promising.” Her voice lowered, husky with need. “I wonder how it would feel inside me.”

  He growled. “Good. So fuckin’ good.”

  The sound of a snapping twig nearby bolted him right out of the tub.

  Her eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

  All his senses were attuned. It could be a small animal, but Damon knew, he just knew that something was off.

  Someone was out there. Were they watching them? Watching her?

  His protective instincts took over. He handed Sophie her bikini top. “Go inside, Sophie.”

  “Damon.” She huffed. “What is it?”

  “Probably nothing. I’m going to check.”

  He kept his eyes attuned for movement in the woods while he helped her put on her top. After they climbed out, she gave him a questioning glance all but asking what the hell is going on?

  “Hurry in. I’ll be right there,” he said.

  She wrapped her towel around herself. “You can’t go out there alone.”

  “That’s what I do, Sophie. My responsibilities include keeping everyone safe.”

  She gestured toward him with a shaky hand. “But you have nothing. No weapon.” Her bottom lip trembled.