Tempting the Wild Wolf

by Rayna Tyler

  Tempting the Wild Wolf

  Seneca Falls Shifters: Book 1

  Rayna Tyler

  Tempting the Wild Wolf

  Copyright © 2018 by Rayna Tyler

  http://raynatyler.com/

  Published by Rayna Tyler, 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9993513-7-6

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  A Special Note

  Books by Rayna Tyler

  About the Author

  Excerpt From Captivated by the Cougar

  Chapter One

  Mandy

  For some reason, walking into the living room of the old cabin felt as if I were entering someone’s home uninvited. I strained to listen, to see if I could hear even the slightest noise to confirm that my uneasy feeling wasn’t anything more than my active imagination. Even though the only sound that greeted me was the creaking of floorboards under my feet, I wasn’t completely reassured.

  The Seneca Falls Resort had been closed for business for the last few months, and all the rentals, including this one, were supposed to be unoccupied. Realistically, I knew the building was empty because it was being renovated, and I was one of the people hired to do some of the work.

  A musty smell lingered in the air, and, judging by the thin layer of dust on the half wall separating the kitchen from the living room, I’d say the place hadn’t seen any decent cleaning in a while. Although there was plenty of light to find my way, I was tempted to open the blinds covering the picture window to let in some of the early morning sunlight and dispel my nervous tension.

  Instead, I shrugged off my imaginings, crossed to the other side of the living room, and headed down the short, narrow hallway leading to the back of the house. Once I’d located the entrance to the small bathroom, I ran my hand along the wall until I found the switch for the overhead light and gave it a flick.

  The bathroom had a vanity-style sink and a bathtub that also served as a shower. The almond-colored toilet sitting in the corner appeared out of place compared to the remainder of the room, which was equipped and accessorized in white. It wasn’t overly large, and two people could fit in here comfortably with only a minimal amount of elbow rubbing.

  I placed my rectangular black-and-yellow toolbox along with the short plastic bucket I’d clasped in one hand on the floor against the only unused wall. Next, I pulled the bundle of dry, clean rags and towels I’d tucked under my other arm and dropped them in the same spot. I liked being prepared and always brought along extras in case any of my jobs got messy. And being a plumber/handyperson meant there were times when messy wasn’t an exaggeration.

  I examined the dilapidated cabinet that housed the pipes for the bathroom’s single sink. Long, thin cracks marred the faux wood finish, and the porcelain inside the bowl had been badly chipped. The destruction was obviously due to human mistreatment and abuse, not the usual wear and tear expected over time.

  As in several of the other units I’d visited with Reese Reynolds, one of the new owners of the mountain resort, this one would have to be replaced. The repairs weren’t going to fix themselves, so I could either continue to stare at them or get to work. With a resigned sigh, I snagged one of the towels from the stack and stretched it out on the vinyl floor tiling in front of the vanity to protect my bare knees.

  The June temperatures usually hit the eighties. None of the cabins had air-conditioning, so I preferred to wear shorts to work. Since I wasn’t required to make a fashion statement, my current outfit—one of my favorites—was a blue tank top and some cutoff overalls.

  I knelt next to the cabinet and opened the two single-paneled doors to examine what I’d be dealing with. I was glad to see that the original piping had shut-off valves for the cold and hot water. Provided both of the powder-coated valves worked, I wouldn’t have to mess with finding the main and turning off the water for the entire building. Definitely a good thing, because I’d have to crawl under the porch to find it.

  One problem at a time.

  The shelf on the lower part of the cabinet contained a few puddles of water, was badly stained, and parts of the wood showed signs of rotting, another reason the entire unit needed to go. I leaned closer to examine the drainage pipe. It was metal, encrusted with rust, and had at least one thin crack beginning near the edge of the seal.

  I shook my head and frowned, then reached inside and unwrapped a moldy old rag from around the pipe, wondering who the idiot was who thought the flimsy piece of fabric would work to fix the leak. Would it have killed them to temporarily patch it with a little duct tape? There’s a reason they say it has one hundred and one uses.

  The rag was damp, and I was surprised to find moisture on the metal where my hand brushed against it, an indication that someone had recently used the sink. Dread, along with the feeling of not being alone, skittered across my skin. I tried to convince myself it was nothing, that Reese had turned on the water during another one of his inspections.

  After a couple of hard cranks, and a few silent prayers that the old metal wouldn’t disintegrate in my hands, I was able to turn the valves. Rising on my knees, I twisted the faucet handles to ensure the water was completely turned off. Next, I snagged another towel off the stack and used it to sop up the water on the shelf, then placed my bucket underneath the pipes. After grabbing a wrench out of the toolbox, I lay on my side and angled my upper body inside the cabinet so I could reach the pipes connected to the faucets behind the bowl of the sink.

  Of course, banging my head and having a sharp pain blast across my skull was not part of the plan. “Mother of pearl...that hurt,” I grumbled and reached for the top of my head. Turning slightly, I glanced behind me and found a tarnished nail, bent at an angle, protruding from the wall. It looked as if someone had trouble pounding it all the way in and had decided to leave it. I glared at the evil piece of metal, thankful I was up-to-date on my tetanus shots.

  I’d lost count of how many times over the years I’d banged my head or other parts of my body and ended up bruised, scraped, or bleeding. Clearly, Roy Jenson, my employer and father, had stretched the truth when he’d taught me the skills of the trade and said being a plumber wasn’t a hazardous job. I was certain this was his fault, because I refused to believe my propensity for injury had anything to do with my clumsy tendencies. Okay, I’ll admit I wasn’t the most graceful of people—more like the complete opposite. But I was darned good at my job, and that was all that mattered, right?

  At least when I rubbed my fingertips across my scalp, I didn’t feel anything wet and sticky, so there was a good chance I hadn’t cut myself. Although, if someone shaved my honey-blonde hair, I was pretty sure they’d find a road map attesting to all the times I’d injured my head while working underneath sinks or replacing the plumbing in tight areas.

  After
more uncomfortable maneuvering and skinning my right elbow on the wall, I finally got the wrench clamped around the section of pipe where I wanted it. Several twists later, I heard a low, deep, threatening growl, and the tingle along my spine was back.

  Crap, with a damn thrown in for good measure. Was that a dog? And if it was, how did it get inside? Reese didn’t have any pets, and I hadn’t seen any dogs running around outside when I’d arrived. I loved animals, especially the furry, domestic variety, but had no interest in becoming a chew toy.

  Whatever was growling sounded big, close, and very angry. My muscles tensed, and my heart raced loud enough to make my ears pound. From this position, I couldn’t see the doorway, and I wished I could pull my long, exposed legs into the cabinet with me. If it was a dog, it was possible it had been abandoned or belonged to one of Reese’s neighbors. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop images of an angry Rottweiler or a snarling German shepherd from slipping into my mind.

  I stifled a groan when my imagination decided to toss in an image of a bear. And not just any bear, but a big black one with sharp teeth. Bears were common in the southern Colorado wilderness. Personally, I’d never seen one, but that didn’t mean one hadn’t wandered onto the grounds and was now planning to make me its lunch. I’ll admit there were times when I get distracted and have a bad habit of leaving doors open. I quickly sifted through my memories, trying to remember if I’d at least secured the screen portion of the double door when I’d entered the cabin. Not that a screen was a deterrent for a large predator.

  I hated the idea of hurting an animal, but if it came down to thwacking it over the head or me losing a chunk of flesh from my leg, I would choose thwacking. With narrow hips and breasts that lacked the ability to make decent cleavage, I wasn’t model material. At twenty-six, this body was all I had, and I planned to keep it long past reaching twenty-seven.

  The wrench I clutched tightly in my sweaty hand was the only weapon I had available. Slowly, without making any jerky movements, I slipped it off the pipe and eased myself backward out of the cabinet. I bumped my head on the inside of the wooden frame and bit back the flow of curse words rapidly forming on the tip of my tongue. Threat of death or not, I was honoring my deceased mother’s wishes by not using the “F” word, even if it made me feel better and the circumstances warranted a good rant.

  I’d barely gotten out of the cabinet when I heard another growl, this one much closer, and I froze. I inhaled deeply, then slowly turned my head so I could get a glimpse of whatever was standing in the doorway. I widened my eyes because what I saw wasn’t even close to what I’d expected.

  This was not a dog or a bear. There were no paws, no fur, or even four legs. What had me cornered in the bathroom was much worse and far deadlier. And right now, I’d rather be facing one of my first two choices.

  Crouched in the doorway was a man. A man with two sharp fangs, and claws extending from his fingertips. Okay, so he wasn’t entirely a man. More like a man on the verge of transforming into an animal, a shifter. He glared at me with silvery-gray eyes made more noticeable by the darkening hue rimming his irises. His chest and feet were bare, black sweatpants the only thing covering his lower body.

  There had to be something wrong with me. I was scared to the point of peeing my pants and should have been screaming until my lungs hurt. Instead, I stared with appreciation at the way his mussed, shiny black hair touched his shoulders and admiring the smooth tone to his pronounced pectorals and the thick muscles flexing in his arms.

  Most of the people living in the nearby town of Ashbury had no idea shifters existed, but I did. Because of my friendship with Berkley, Reese’s sister, I’d discovered their existence by accident when she’d saved my life. When James Reynolds, the resort’s previous owner, was still alive, Berkley and Reese had spent a few weeks of their summer vacations with their grandfather. I could remember every detail of that horrible day as if the eleven years since then hadn’t passed.

  Back then, the resort was doing well. It was shortly after my fifteenth birthday and I was camping with some of my girlfriends. I’d somehow gotten separated from the group and came across two older boys who were staying in one of the outlying cabins. They thought it would be fun to show me their wolves, scare the hell out of me, and chase me through the forest before doing who knows what else to me.

  Luckily, Berkley had been out on a run and heard my screams. Her wolf tore through the trees, snarling, snapping, and protectively pacing between me and the other wolves. Reese showed up a few minutes later. Even as a teen, he was a much larger, fiercer wolf. One look at him and even I knew who’d win if there was a fight. It didn’t take long for the two boys to come to the same conclusion and take off running.

  Afterward, Berkley shifted into her human form and walked me back to my campsite. Once the shock wore off, I had lots of questions. Questions she didn’t mind answering with the stipulation that I didn’t share them with anyone else. The existence of shifters wasn’t common knowledge, and I was honored to be trusted with the information.

  That day marked the beginning of a close friendship, one I’d cherished for many years and was still ongoing. Since I’d witnessed my friend’s transformation on numerous occasions, I was certain the man filling most of the doorway with his large frame was a wolf in a partial shift. He’d allowed enough of his animal to surface in order to frighten what he considered a threat. Me.

  I was smart enough to know it was never a good idea to challenge a shifter, even if the change is partial. After setting the wrench on the floor, I kept my gaze focused on his chest and lowered my head in a submissive manner. Not that staring at his chest was a hardship.

  Berkley also taught me that during any part of a shift, the animal still maintains their human side and could understand what was being said to them. “Easy there, Fido. I come in peace.” Using sarcasm probably wasn’t a good choice, but it was my natural defense mechanism in scary situations. It was either that or start screaming. I knew that screaming would make me seem like prey, and, according to Berkley, wolves loved going after prey. It was better to stick with sarcasm. I might live longer.

  If I didn’t end up as this guy’s breakfast, I planned to let Reese know how uncool it was not to tell me ahead of time that the cabin was occupied, or that its new owner was a huge, intimidating wolf.

  His responding growl sounded more like a snort and a lot less threatening. I allowed some of the tension to ease from my body and sat back on my haunches.

  “Please don’t eat me.”

  This time I got a grunt rather than a snort and felt I was making progress. “There has been some kind of misunderstanding. If you let me use my phone, I’ll call someone who can clear this mess up.” I glanced at his face and patiently waited for a response.

  He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, studying me with a piercing intensity. After a few long and tense moments of silence, he nodded.

  Unlike him, I was big on communication and didn’t want him to think I was a threat. “I’m going to reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, okay?” After retrieving the cell from my bib pocket, I ran my thumb over one of the speed dial numbers. I wasn’t interested in wasting time with pleasantries and blurted out what I needed to say as soon as I heard a familiar male voice on the other end of the call. “Reese, it’s Mandy. Please get your ass over to cabin forty-one now. One of your guys has me trapped in the bathroom and looks like he’s about to go feral.”

  “Fuck,” was all I heard before the call disconnected.

  Satisfied that help was on the way, I slid the phone back into my pocket and decided to get a better look at the guy while I waited.

  Ashbury is a small town. I’d lived there my whole life, knew pretty much everyone, and didn’t remember ever seeing him before. I might be forgetful, but I’d have a hard time forgetting someone this good-looking.

  I tried not to stare, but it was difficult to keep my eyes from wandering to the smooth, tanned skin covering those seri
ous abs. Even crouching, he was massive, and I calculated his height to be at least six feet when standing. Dark stubble ran along his defined jaw, and I wondered if his hair was as silky as it appeared. I’d bet anything his wolf had a gorgeous fur coat.

  “I’m not feral,” he muttered. He’d been quiet for so long and his deep voice was so low, I almost didn’t hear him.

  I stopped drooling over his chest and snapped my gaze back to his face. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “I’m not feral.” This time, his voice was louder, a deep baritone that sent pleasant flutters through my insides.

  Now that he was actually speaking to me, I felt a little braver. “Could have fooled me...what with the whole badass fangs-and-claws thing you have going on.” I waved my hand through the air. “Besides, isn’t there a rule about showing them off to the locals?” It wasn’t a criminal offense or anything, but Berkley had told me there was an unspoken rule that shifters aren’t supposed to expose themselves to humans, except on rare occasions. Saving my life had fallen into that category.

  A brief glint of hurt flashed across his serious expression as if I’d somehow insulted him with my comments. He flexed his fingers, and the claws magically disappeared, followed a few seconds later by the large fangs. “Better?” His sarcasm mirrored my own.

  “Much.” Since he’d scared the crap out of me, I was finding it hard to feel bad about hurting his feelings.

  “Mandy?” Reese’s gruff bellow reached the bathroom at the same time I heard what sounded like the front door banging loudly against a wall.

  “In here,” I called, keeping my focus on the stranger.

  Reese appeared in the hallway, his chest heaving and a hint of red flushing his cheeks. I wasn’t sure if the color was induced by anger or from having to run from the lodge to get here. I was leaning toward irritation since I knew Reese was in good shape. He’s a good-looking guy, and I couldn’t remember ever seeing an ounce of fat on him. Not that I’d ever spent time perusing or anything.