by J. K Harper
“Are you sure that didn't hurt her?” she demanded with some suspicion. “Poor sweet girl,” she said, again crooning to the mare.
Tate threw back his head and laughed. Tendons rippling across his neck, face tipped into the sun, he exuded so much pure cowboy Claire really felt like she was in a movie.
But this was real. As deliciously real as the sensations he'd pulled and sucked and stroked and licked from her body. As real as the thin sunlight caressing her skin, the beautiful live creature who carried her with no worries at all about her wolf nature, the truth that this man was her mate.
Claire shivered with the bone-deep, stunning knowledge of it all.
“You're such a goner for that horse,” Tate teased. “Gonna be calling her 'snookums' any minute now.”
“And you don't ever call a horse 'snookums'?” she asked, arching a skeptical brow at him.
Tate just chuckled as he easily swung back up on his own horse. “Come on, beautiful.” He set them off down the trail again.
“So why do you wear those things?” Claire asked as Luna followed his horse.
“What, pants? So I can stay legal,” he said in a deadpan tone.
She couldn't help the peal of laughter that rang out. “No, your chaps. I know cowboys always wear them, but why?”
His answering voice stroked her in all the right places. She was a total goner.
Should be. Mate, her wolf thought, utterly satisfied with the fascinating new, simple answer to everything about the gorgeous male wolf with her.
“To protect our legs from bushes, branches, things than can snag on your jeans and rip them.” He glanced back at her. “We'll have to get you a pair someday. You'll need them if we keep riding out here”
Claire's heart and body warmed to supernova levels. He wanted to do this again with her. He planned to. The realization he understood how much she was enjoying this unexpected fulfillment of a childhood dream both amazed and soothed her more than anything else at the moment.
“There's lot more country to see out here,” Tate went on. “Though you probably know it pretty well already, don't you?”
“I do,” Claire said simply. “This is home.”
“I know,” he returned in a serious voice. “I knew you were from around here somewhere. I could smell home on you. Though you did scent block pretty damn well. Like right now.” He twisted in the saddle again to look at her, eyebrows raised inquiringly.
Claire nodded. Yes, putting on scent blocker was a habit for her, despite how lax she sometimes got.
“But I surprised you when I showed up at your door the other morning,” he said. “And in Cortez, that first time we met. You sometimes don't check for other wolves around here, do you?” He carefully watched for her reaction.
Instinctively, she bristled just a bit. “This is my home. My territory.”
A long beat passed with only the sound of the horses' hooves on the soft sand and the call of a raven winging through the air currents far in the distance. Tate nodded at her, then turned around to face front again. The crisp scents of fall lay everywhere, even though they rode in the canyon lands. Then he quietly said, “This is free territory, Claire. It's not claimed by any pack. But you live here.” His voice was a question, but Claire sensed without a doubt he already knew the answer.
She decided to face it head on. “Yes. A wild wolf lives in free territory. You know that.”
Her words hung in the air between them while silence wrapped around them. But Claire must have tensed up more, because Luna suddenly lifted her head and crowded into the tail end of the horse Tate rode.
“Steady there, cowgirl. She picks up on everything your body does.” He lightly clucked to his horse, who moved out a bit.
“Does it bother you?” Claire asked, stroking Luna's soft neck.
Tate sent her a questioning glance over his shoulder.
“Me being a wild wolf.”
After a few seconds of apparent consideration, Tate casually said, “Should it?” But doubt edged his tone.
Claire didn't answer him, concentrating instead on relaxing so Luna would relax as well. She didn't feel at all frightened—she knew Tate wouldn't let her get hurt, and this mare was just too sweet—but she didn't want to upset her horse. Or, if she was honest with herself, the sexy man who easily rode in front of her. Her mate. Which apparently she could have, despite being a wild wolf. Her mind still boggled at the concept, grappling with all the implications. She decided not to pursue the conversation down the path of her being a wild wolf and him being a pack wolf. For now. Taking some deep breaths, she focused on the moment. All she wanted to do was enjoy the day, the ride, and the company.
Neither one said a word for the next several miles, but Claire sensed an easiness between them. Tate was enjoying this time as much as she was. She could tell by how he took in the scenery now and again, his expression one of true appreciation. She inhaled all the distinct smells of this desert country, her home. Mingled with everything was the sweetly horsey smell she was quickly growing to love, and the still wildly arousing scent of her—mate. Even though she still had some trouble wrapping her mind around the concept of having a mate, his scent she already very much enjoyed. For the thousandth time, a flash of his sweaty face moving above hers as their cries filled the room together flashed through her mind. She pressed her nails into her palm to distract her. It still drove her crazy that he hadn't really touched her just the other day, when he'd shown up at her house. She knew he'd wanted to, and god knew she had.
She also, reluctantly, understood why he hadn't. He was fully aware she was a wild wolf. And mate or no, he probably was scared of moving too fast with her. Since, of course, rolling around in an uncontrolled frenzy together on the hotel bed wasn't moving too fast at all. Swallowing a nervous giggle, she finally broke the silence.
“So am I better in the saddle now?”
Tate swung back to look at her. The easy grace of his body astride his horse, the gentle yet connected way he held the reins, and that beautiful grin on his face all served to raise goosebumps on her skin, although not because she was chilled.
“You still want to run, hmm?”
The smooth slide of his voice caressed her limbs, lighting something along them to a slow simmer. Claire nodded, feeling the thump of her single heavy braid on her back as she did.
Tate eyed her more critically. “You've got natural balance, actually. I think you might be ready. Okay, do exactly as I tell you,” and he proceeded to show her how to prepare for the faster speed and not fall off.
When he was satisfied she understood his instructions, he said, “Ready?”
Claire nodded. Everything in her abruptly coalesced into the sharp desire to race across the desert with him, faster than she ever could as her wolf. Tate smiled and turned forward again. She didn't even see him move, but suddenly his horse leapt ahead in a slow, rolling gait. She squeezed her legs on Luna and clucked, just like she'd been told to do. To her immense delight, the mare took a bouncy few steps, then eased off into the same smooth-flowing movement as Tate's horse. Claire laughed with sheer delight.
“This is amazing! I love it!” she called to him, lightly holding onto the leather saddle horn with one hand while keeping her feet firmly pushed into the stirrups. The rhythmic speed was smooth and fun, just liked she'd always dreamed it would be ever since she was little. She was in heaven, and it was because the sexy man up there had made it real. “Whee!” she couldn't help adding, then laughing like a loon in her pure joy at the experience.
In response, Tate grabbed the brim of his hat and waved it in the air, whooping himself as they loped down the trail. They ran for a few more minutes until the trail started to head into a rocky patch. Tate slowed the horses to the bumpier trot that wasn't remotely comfortable, then back to a walk.
Claire felt pumped. “Can we do it again?” she asked, feeling a smile split her face from ear to ear.
Tate laughed, sounding just as happy as she felt
. “Sure thing, darlin'. But let's take a quick little break over there.” He pointed ahead. “I'm betting there's a nice view just a short walk from that clump of trees. You can see how it probably drops off from the canyon walls there.”
Still grinning like an idiot, Claire nodded even though he was facing forward and couldn't see her. She followed as he led the way, picking their way off the trail through rocks, past sagebrush, stepping around anthills and over the small clumps of low-to-the-ground desert plants. When he stopped, he dismounted and turned to help her off, but she'd watched him and managed to slide down before he got to her. He stepped close in to her, though, his rich scent filling her senses and making her suddenly light-headed.
“Figured it out, huh?” The small grin still played with his lips, but the look in his eyes was so serious Claire shivered. She suddenly saw the possessiveness of the man who had claimed her body just a few weeks ago. The answering ache between her legs reminded her she was still incredibly aroused.
“Yeah,” she said back, sounding a bit breathless as her eyes caught on his darkening ones. “It's easy once you show me how.”
They stood like two statues for a moment, staring at one another, pulses speeding up. Claire's wolf turned in contented circles in her mind, supremely pleased about the entire situation. Finally, Tate said, “Okay then. I'll show you how to tie her up, too. Gotta make a good hand out of you, I suppose.”
“I thought my hands were already pretty good,” she responded without thinking. The second the words left her mouth, she felt a hot flush race throughout her body, even though she knew her skin wouldn't show it. But Tate would be able to tell. He would easily be able to scent the sudden shooting up of her arousal.
By the look on his face, he very definitely sensed it.
15
Tate wavered for an indecisive moment, wondering whether he should just drop everything to crush his sexy mate to his chest, where she belonged, and finally kiss the hell out of her again. She was definitely giving him signals. The entire ride, he hadn't been able to banish images of her sprawled naked on the bed beneath him, over him, kissing and touching and trembling, covered in a gorgeously sweaty film of uncontrolled lust. He'd fought damn hard to keep himself in check, though his wolf worked equally hard to urge him into giving in to his desires again. She'd loved it, that was clear.
Then he sighed to himself. Despite the haze of lust that surrounded them both, he wasn't about to just take her like some uncouth barbarian out here on the desert floor.
Well, not unless she made the first move.
“This way,” he said, reluctantly turning away from her to lead them toward the small group of juniper trees and tie up the horses. Aware of her every step behind him, he tried to walk as if he didn't have the burning desire to grab the woman again and do completely wicked things to her body.
After tying up the horses, they headed up to the ridge Tate felt certain would give them a spectacular view of the canyons sprawling below. Once they arrived, both of them sighed together in pleasure. His prediction had been very correct.
“I love it here so much,” Claire murmured, her gaze fixed on the vast tumble of land and colors spread out before them. “It's the most amazing place in the world.”
Tate grinned as he said, “You been all over the world, huh?”
Her mouth quirking into a smile, Claire nudged him with her shoulder in a mock attempt to push him sideways. He pretended to be knocked almost to the ground, which elicited exactly what he'd hoped: that sweet laugh ringing out as her face and body relaxed and opened to him.
Mate, his wolf thought, pushing hard.
This time, Tate couldn't stop himself. He stepped forward to Claire in one stride and tipped her chin up to his. The laughter fled her, replaced by the urgency he knew simmered just beneath the surface. Bringing his mouth down to hers, he first lightly then with increasing need explored her lush lips, curved his hand around her head so his fingers tangled with the hair at the nape of her delicate neck, pushed her entire body against his with his other arm. Claire moaned into his mouth, her lips and tongue seeking him just as greedily. His cock almost immediately went rock-hard where it nestled against her hips. Urgent images of the single wild night they had spent together exploded in his mind, which almost immediately went from thinking to pure sensation.
Claire wrapped her arms around him, running a hand over his back and rear, experimentally squeezing his ass and huffing out a light chuckle at his gasp. Her breasts pressed against his chest, just begging for him to fondle them and stir the nipples into little peaks again. Her scent and taste, that wild citrus topped with snow and the promise of rich honey, filled him to the point of becoming senseless, driven by his pure need.
Claire pulled back long enough to say in a ragged whisper, “I want you,” before assaulting his mouth again. Tate could only groan in response as he took a quick look around them, searching for any place he could gently lay her down and ravish her apparently very willing body.
So much for taking it slow and not behaving like a barbarian.
“Here,” she said, stepping back and starting to fumble with her clothes. Even in the full sunshine, he could see Claire's wolf glowing through her eyes as she was swept up in the same crazy, wild lust.
“I don't want you to get uncomfortable on the ground,” he began to say, although he knew he was so far gone it was going to happen anyway.
Then his head suddenly snapped up, along with Claire's. As one, they turned into the bare breath of wind, which carried the very unwelcome scent that had the hallmarks of what Tate's pack had been expecting to return for months now. His wolf immediately growled, leaping to the forefront of his mind, the sound filled with worry. Claire actually growled out loud, her wolf clearly ready to leap out as well.
“Rogues. Several.” Tate swore, low and angry from both his thwarted desire and sudden fear. He was alone out here with Claire. She might be a fiercely independent, self-sufficient wolf, but he had no illusions about her training. Hers was nonexistent compared with his extensive Guardian background, slightly reluctant at it as he might be. He would have no chance of protecting her if he was faced with three or more rogues. Their mingled scents, rising on the air currents to his sensitive nose, told him there were almost certainly several in their group. Somewhere out in these canyons, where they'd probably been hiding out.
As soon as he spoke, Claire turned to him with utter shock on her face, her growl dying in her throat. “What did you say?” Her entire body had stiffened into tenseness. He sensed she might teeter on the edge of shifting right there.
Hurrying to ease her, Tate said, “It's okay, darlin'. We're getting out of here. They won't find us. We're downwind. Besides, they're probably deep in the canyons. Too far away to reach us for now.” Turning, her grabbed her hand and began hauling her back to the horses.
But Claire resisted, planting her booted feet firmly on the light reddish-orange earth, shaking her head. “No, wait. Did you just say, rogues? As in, rogue wolves? What are you talking about?”
Tate looked at her. Nothing in her stance screamed defiance. Completely bewilderment was more like it. He stopped, too, looking hard at her despite the rest of his senses still on the lookout for the bearers of the acrid, definite rogue scents. He sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them, he took both her hands in his. They were cold, which spoke to her mental state much more than the actual weather, which felt temperate thanks to their shifter genes.
“Claire,” he began slowly, though he was still poised to flee with her at any second. “Claire, this is why I worry about you living as a wild wolf. You don't have the training or understanding like a pack-raised wolf would.”
Rogues didn't phase her, but his words now sure as hell did. Absolute fire suddenly jumped into her eyes, which narrowed at him. Pulling her hands from his, she said in a low, fierce voice, “Oh, really? Then how have I managed to survive without the protection of your mighty pack all these
years?”
Well, damn. He had no time to backpedal and try to soothe her newly ruffled feathers, though. His wolf snorted at the thought of Claire with feathers, even as he still pushed at Tate's mind, urging him to go. Even if they were at a distance, the breeze could shift and take their scents to the rogues instead. He had to get himself and Claire out of here.
“This isn't about that, Claire. It's about why you don't recognize those scents as belonging to rogues. That just means it's dangerous for you.”
She stared at him again, multiple emotions tracking across her face in a nanosecond. To his relief, the one that finally landed was framed more by fear and her original shock. Very slowly, she shook her head, staring at him with wide, troubled green eyes.
“Tate,” she said, the word dragging from her mouth. “Tate, those aren't rogues.” Her expression was stark. She opened, shut, then finally opened her mouth again. “That's the scent of my—my ex-boyfriend, and some of his packmates.”
Tate thought his heart was about to stop in his chest.
“That's why I'm so upset.” Her eyes stood out in her face, which seemed paler. “He said he wanted me back, even though I said no way. He said he would be out here again, but I didn't think he was serious. The ex, no good,” she ended on a whisper, which made no sense at all but clearly was starting to freak her out.
Pure dread flooded over Tate, washing through his body in cold, wracking chills. His wolf stood, tautly quivering in his mind with ruffed-out fur, ready to howl along with Tate in pure shock. In a strangled voice, he said, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Claire bit her lip, the gorgeously full one he'd just been kissing moments ago, with no other thoughts in the world except her. “Unless—unless I've been an utter fool.” Her voice was the strangled one now. “He smelled like a pack. He told me what pack he's from. I know his name, his family's name. Tate, he's pack.” She paused, eyes searching his now in the beginnings of a panic. “Isn't he?”
