Captivated by the She-Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  “Gavin and I discussed it. At the time, we weren’t having issues with hunters, so he wasn’t interested. I intend to bring up the subject again.”

  “Considering the amount of forested land the Co-op owns, I’m surprised this hasn’t been a problem before now.”

  Tristan’s brow wrinkled and he rubbed the back of his neck. “The Co-op is well respected and established in the community. The local hunters are respectful of our preservation efforts, especially since at one time or another, the Co-op has provided assistance to them or a family member.”

  “You suspect that the poachers are from out of the area?”

  “I do.”

  Despite the symbiotic relationship the Co-op had with the local residents, Bodie wasn’t inclined to dismiss the entirety of Maico’s population simply based on the idea that the Co-op was too well respected for someone to poach its lands.

  In his experience, most illegal hunters lived in the rural areas they hunted and were simply trying to put food on the table. However, whoever was poaching on the Co-op’s private lands wasn’t doing it because they were hungry. They were collecting trophies.

  Using his smartphone camera, Bodie documented the scene and sent the photos to the DNR office.

  “Such a goddamn waste,” Tristan said.

  Both men turned at the sound of someone approaching. Wearing a Walker’s Run Cooperative security uniform, a man in his early twenties came into view.

  “Shane,” Tristan said by way of introduction, “this is Sergeant Bodie Gryffon from DNR. Bodie, this is Shane MacQuarrie. He was with Reed the night he was shot.”

  “I owe him my life.” A lethal glint frosted the young man’s gray eyes. “He took the bullet for me.”

  If Bodie didn’t catch the perpetrators before Shane did, another “wild boar” incident might close his poaching investigation, permanently.

  * * *

  “Ronni.”

  She jumped at Rafe’s voice and the straight pin she was pressing through the fabric jabbed her finger.

  “Ouch!” She pressed the injured finger to her lips, soothing the sting with the stroke of her tongue. Despite the minuscule amount of blood, the coppery taste filled her mouth.

  Wearing jeans instead of his work coveralls, Rafe walked into the sewing room. “You all right?” He hooked his thumbs through the front belt loops.

  “I didn’t hear you come in. I was in the zone.” Only the zone wasn’t work related. Bodie wouldn’t stay off her mind. His scent had imprinted itself in her nose while his flirtatious attention had resurrected her libido, at the most inconvenient time.

  Too often, she found herself daydreaming about his kisses, his sensual touch, the lyrical sound of his voice. And his pecs, those bulging, dancing, comically sexy pecs. She fanned herself.

  Over the last two weeks, Bodie had stopped by the store to see her nearly every day. A few times they had the opportunity to eat lunch together and had plans to do so again today. And she couldn’t wait.

  “Gavin wants to see us.”

  Ronni’s indecent thoughts about Bodie train-wrecked. She paused a moment for the debris to settle.

  The first worry her mind conjured was about Jeb, but he’d taken up too much residence in her thoughts in the previous weeks and she refused to give him any more space. Besides, she didn’t have to worry about any more surprise visits. Gavin had clearly stipulated that Jeb’s visitations had to be coordinated through him. She doubted Jeb would be invited back so soon after being sent packing with his tail tucked between his legs.

  “Is Alex in trouble?”

  “Gavin didn’t mention it.” And likely, Rafe hadn’t asked. When the Alpha or his son called, Rafe merely responded to their requests.

  Ronni tamped down her imagination already gearing up for the worst-case scenario. Alex had gone through a rebellious period after they first arrived in Walker’s Run, but with Rafe’s mentorship, Alex’s behavior had gotten back on track. With no reason not to trust that her son was still on the right path, Ronni breathed easier.

  Gavin probably wanted to review The Stitchery’s I&E ledgers. Last month was the end of her second business quarter.

  The Co-op had fronted the start-up money. In return, Ronni paid thirty percent of her earnings to the Co-op. It wasn’t a repayment, but something all Co-opers were required to do. All of the money went toward the pack members’ housing, healthcare, education and any other expense that would benefit the pack.

  Ronni removed the pincushion from her wrist. “I’ll get my things.”

  Stepping back, he allowed her space to leave the sewing room. Ronni removed her purse from the cabinet and slid the thumb drive with her spreadsheets into a side pocket. She turned off the lights, flipped the sign to Closed, then they walked outside for her to lock up the store.

  Rafe drove at a leisurely pace toward the resort. Calm, cool, civil. That’s how most people saw him. And generally, that’s exactly what he was.

  But if anyone looked close enough, they would see his Wahyarian lurking below the surface. Most Wahyas kept their beastly primitive nature in the deepest, darkest places of their psyche, never acknowledging its existence. An unimaginable circumstance had forced Rafe to unleash his beast and then embrace it.

  Rafe said if he hadn’t made peace with that part of himself, the creature would’ve destroyed his humanity. Had that happened, the Woelfesenat would’ve put him down rather than allow his primal beast to terrorize the public and expose their kind’s existence to the human world.

  There were valid reasons Wahyas were conditioned to fear the Wahyarian within them, but Rafe was proving the inner beast could be managed. People could claim all they wanted that he skirted the line between civility and barbarity, but as far as she was concerned, Rafe was one of the most decent people she knew.

  “Bodie seems like a good family man.” Coming from Rafe, who valued family above all else, it was the highest compliment.

  “He is.” It wasn’t difficult to recognize that Bodie’s daughter meant the world to him. Pure devotion was readily seen in his eyes whenever Willow was around.

  “If Bodie makes you happy, don’t dismiss him,” Rafe said a few minutes later.

  Ronni answered by gazing out the window. She hadn’t thought about being happy in a long time. There wasn’t room for it when living in survival mode. But that wasn’t really living, and since meeting Bodie, Ronni realized that she really did want that kind of happiness again.

  Rafe stopped at the valet stand outside the resort.

  “Thanks, Jimmy,” she said to the young pack member who opened the vehicle door and helped her out.

  He grinned. “My pleasure.”

  The jitters ate at Ronni’s stomach as they cut through the lobby to the corridor leading to Gavin’s office. Muted voices wafted down the hallway in indistinguishable words.

  “Come in.” Brice waved them into the room. Gearing up to become the pack’s next Alpha, he periodically attended his father’s meetings.

  Gavin sat comfortably behind his large mahogany desk. His dark blue eyes assessed every move they made entering the office. “Please, have a seat.”

  Brice sank into the far right captain’s chair in front of his father’s desk. Rafe waved Ronni to sit in the center chair while he took the one to her left.

  “The Stitchery is doing well, I hear,” Gavin began.

  “It is.” Ronni handed him the thumb drive. “I’m grateful for everything the pack has done for us. And their orders keep me busy.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Though there was genuine warmth in Gavin’s eyes, he did not look glad at all.

  “If Alex or I have done something wrong, please tell me.” She sat straight, hands folded in her lap.

  “You and Alex are not the problem, Ronni.”

  So, there was a problem. Her stomach sank.
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  “There’s nothing for you to worry about,” Brice said. “But—”

  There it was, the infamous but. It meant, Forget everything that was just said; here’s the real deal and it’s probably a doozy.

  “Jeb filed a petition with the Woelfesenat requesting custody of Alex.”

  Over my dead body.

  “On what grounds?” The icy undertone in Rafe’s voice raised the hairs on her arms, despite the heat of anger bubbling beneath her skin.

  “He claims Walker’s Run is unsafe,” Gavin answered. “And its leadership—” his face darkened at the pause “—unstable.”

  A giggle of hysteria rippled through Ronni’s mind. For the new Alpha of the most capricious pack in recent years to accuse the renowned and well-connected Alpha of one of the most steadfast Wahyan packs of being unstable was absurdity to the nth degree.

  Typical Jeb arrogance.

  “He cited our current problem with poachers as his grounds for custody,” Gavin continued. “He feels Alex is in danger and wants him returned to Pine Ridge for his own safety.”

  “Safety?” Ronni’s voice hit screech level. They had fled Pine Ridge to escape the violent uprising incited by the Alpha’s rogue nephew. Jeb’s subsequent takeover was merely a replacement of an egotistical narcissist, not an improvement.

  If that bastard thinks that I’ll just let my son go...

  An arctic chill passed through the marrow of her bones. By hook or by crook, if Jeb did manage to get custody, he knew Ronni would never let Alex go without her.

  How dare Jeb use her son to manipulate her?

  She felt the heat of Rafe’s hand on her shoulder.

  “He’s not going to take Alex.” A glimmer of Rafe’s beast blinked in his eyes.

  “You will not challenge him,” Ronni snapped. Rafe had a mate and two little wolflings to provide for and protect.

  In good conscience, she could not allow him to risk a physical confrontation with Jeb. If Jeb proved stronger and got the upper hand, Rafe’s Wahyarian would emerge. The Woelfesenat might’ve given him a free pass when his beast came out to save Grace, but the creature didn’t outright murder anyone in the process. If his Wahyarian killed Jeb to keep him from taking Alex, Rafe’s reward would be a death sentence.

  “No one is challenging anyone.” Gavin’s authoritative voice broke the battle of wills taking place in the glares she and Rafe exchanged. “This situation has moved from an uncomfortable personal matter to a political pile of shit that I don’t want smeared around by either of you.”

  “I’ve filed three counterpetitions,” Brice said. “One on your behalf, Ronni, one for the pack and one I filed presumptuously for Rafe.” Brice looked at his best friend. “I didn’t think you would mind.”

  Rafe tipped his head. “I appreciate it.”

  “What happens now?” Ronni asked.

  “Leave that to me.” The pack lawyer and a seasoned arbitrator for the Woelfesenat, Brice was well qualified to handle this nightmare.

  Jeb might excel at scaring the little fish, but he’d just jumped out of a puddle and landed in an ocean. Ronni hoped he drowned in it while getting his ass chomped by a shark.

  Chapter 17

  Beautiful reds and golds dotted the treetops in the distance. Although most Tlanuhwas preferred spring, Bodie loved the crisp, cool air and campfires that embodied fall. And he certainly appreciated seeing the mountains after spending all morning surrounded by the gray walls of his office cubicle.

  Unfortunately, the restlessness he’d felt for the last hour or so didn’t settle with a change of scenery. He was counting on lunch with Ronni to put him into a better mood.

  A dark blue truck crested the hill ahead of him, coming toward him on the deserted highway.

  Bodie’s gut tightened like it always did whenever he saw dark-colored trucks on the road. So far, none had three men riding in them. Even if he encountered one that did, without actual probable cause, he couldn’t stop them.

  As the truck drew closer, Bodie sharpened his vision to the single occupant but was unable to get a good look at the driver’s face because the man wore his hat pulled down over his brow.

  The right blinker came on and the truck slowed, then turned down a side road. As Bodie passed the vehicle, he glanced at the tag number. It matched one he’d seen several times and when he’d run the number through the database, it came back clean.

  “Better leave the lights on at night,” he told the driver, as the vehicle meandered down the long, narrow road leading to the Thornbriar Lodge.

  The dilapidated motel, built in the sixties, was nestled in a shallow valley and scattered throughout the woods behind the building were a handful of A-frame rental cabins that had weathered far too many seasons without any upgrades.

  “No telling what critters might come out of the woodwork after dark.” Bodie had checked out the place when his family joined him and immediately marked it off the list of potential residences. He also called the agency that had provided him a list of short-term rental places and advised that the only list on which it should appear was for a demolition crew. In hindsight, he should’ve mentioned that the photos on the website should be considered criminal misrepresentation of the property.

  He shook off the creepy-crawly sensation prickling his neck.

  Ten miles later, Bodie drove into Maico’s city limits. He slowed approaching the traffic light and turned onto Sorghum Avenue. The two-lane road went right past Wyatt’s Automotive Service. At the corner, he turned left and parked behind The Stitchery next to Ronni’s car.

  He walked along the sidewalk to the front of the store. The chimes jingled as he went inside.

  “I’m back here,” Ronni’s voice rang out. Clear, strong. Strained.

  He locked the store’s door, flipped the Closed sign, then walked toward the room from where Ronni’s voice had drifted. She sat on the floor in front of a mannequin. Long, reddish-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, she wore a loose pink sweater over black leggings. Her posture was rigid and her shoulders lifted and dropped in tandem with her short, quick breaths.

  “Hey, beautiful, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Why?” Her harried gaze was quickly blanked. She returned to sticking pins in the garment hanging on the mannequin.

  “Well, you didn’t fling yourself into my arms, stick your tongue down my throat and grind against me,” he said, intending to break the tension. “I kinda hoped you would.”

  “I don’t fling.” Slowly, she stood facing him. Her frown wobbled a bit from the corners trying to turn up. “I pounce.”

  “Not seeing the difference.” He closed the distance between them. “We should reenact the scene, then you can show me how a pounce is different than a fling.”

  The fire simmering in her gaze heated his skin. Expectancy charged the air. Not wanting to misread the signals, he tuned into her every breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the slight parting of her lips. He even heard the click in her brain when she finally decided to act.

  Oh, yeah! It was a pounce. If he hadn’t been anchored in a wide stance, his feet spread and his knees flexed to absorb the shock of impact, her momentum might’ve knocked him to the ground. Automatically, his arms fastened around her, holding her intimately against his body.

  Now, this was the way he liked to be welcomed.

  Clamping her hand against the back of his head, she pushed his face close enough to hers and claimed his mouth. There was no other way to describe the hard, hurried, hungry kiss. Grabbing the front of his shirt, she urged him toward the nearby cutting table. She perched on the edge, tugging him to stand between her open thighs, then locked her ankles behind his knees.

  Before lust clouded his brain, he tipped her chin until she met his gaze. “How far do you want this to go? I need to know if there’s a point where I should stop you during this
demonstration. You know, in case my manliness is too overwhelming for you.”

  “Shut up and kiss me.” Her sweater flew behind her.

  He took that as an all clear. Before yielding to the flood of hormones racing through his bloodstream, Bodie removed his gun belt and stowed it in a safe spot.

  Ronni unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. He removed the Kevlar vest, then Ronni yanked off the long-sleeve shirt he wore beneath it.

  She playfully pinched and rolled his nipples between her fingers. He made his pecs dance just to watch the fascination on her face.

  “That is so—”

  “Sexy, right?” He did it again.

  “I was going to say ‘amazing.’”

  “That works, too.” He pulled her in for a kiss, unhooking her bra as his hands palmed her back. She peeled away from him long enough to slip the garment off her arms.

  Bodie’s mouth watered. Visions of her, naked and welcoming, had haunted his dreams. His hands could no longer be still. He reached for her, cupping her face and she nuzzled his palm.

  Kissing her gently, he held back the primal drive to take her hard and fast, wanting to savor the sweet moment of her surrender. Since he’d had a vasectomy, pregnancy wasn’t a worry, and her scent was deliciously sweet and feminine, untainted by the stench of disease.

  He trailed his hands down her neck and over her breasts, which more than filled his hands. Strumming her pale, puckered nipples elicited a deep-throated groan.

  Her fingers glided across his shoulders and down his arms. Goose bumps pebbled his skin. His groin grew tight and uncomfortable. As if she knew, Ronni unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down his legs. Already he was hard and wanting. She took him in her hand, stroking the length of his shaft.

  “You asked me how far I wanted to go.” Sliding off the table, Ronni rose up on her toes. “As far as you can take me.”

  She shimmied out of her leggings, revealing a red lacy thong.