Disorderly Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by J. Rose Allister

  Lana almost tripped as she got out of her seat. “What hot guys?”

  “Werewolves can be dog ugly, pun intended. But even I’ll admit most of them up here fall into the drop-dead-gorgeous category.”

  That was for sure.

  “The eyes are a dead giveaway,” she went on, pointing at her own. “If you see anyone with weird yellowish dots in their eyes, steer clear.”

  Lana’s smile was rigid, but she managed it. “Thanks for the tip. For what it’s worth, I hope things work out for you.”

  “First time for everything.” Jayel opened the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Wait.” Lana jumped out of her seat and took hold of her braid. She walked up to Jayel and slid off the elastic holding her braid in place.

  “What are you doing?” Jayel asked.

  Lana closed her eyes and let energy flow into her. She held the braid out close to Jayel, whispering a prayer to the silver lady and the lord of antlers while she carefully unplaited two sections of braid. She hurried to wrap the elastic around the remainder and opened her eyes. “I gave you some of the braid’s magic. For protection.”

  Jayel blinked at her, clearly stunned. “Why would you do that? I thought you needed to leave the braid in?”

  Lana ran a hand along the strand. “There’s still plenty left for me.”

  Jayel stared for a moment and finally blinked. “Thanks.”

  After she left, Lana mulled over the strange conversation while she made bacon and eggs. She wanted to trust the bizarre bond she felt with Jayel, but could she risk having her as a sort-of friend? What if she dropped by with anti-werewolf spray while the cowboys were visiting? Sure, she claimed she wasn’t interested in harming any but the werewolves who murdered her family, but that didn’t mean she’d be happy to see Lana cozying up to them. And maybe she was right.

  She wandered to the bedroom and dug through her suitcase until she found the book, the first one she’d ever bought about wolves and the only one she’d let herself bring along. She sank onto the bed with Sage beside her, and together they looked through pages of majestic wolves with intelligent eyes and powerful bodies. She stopped at a photo of a black wolf that reminded her of Zane.

  “Maybe I should tell them about her,” she said.

  Still, she’d vowed not to say anything about Jayel, and Jayel had agreed to do the same. How would Lana feel if Jayel broke that vow and led a killer to her door?

  There’s someone out there huntin’ when they oughn’t be.

  She closed the book and her eyes. What if they’d meant Jayel? Shouldn’t they know her intentions were only for justice, not to hunt indiscriminately? But then, what if they already knew and didn’t care? What if they weren’t as innocent as Lana hoped?

  A tapping sound at her window startled her almost into dropping the book.

  Chapter Six

  Lana tossed her book aside and stared at the curtains, her heart pounding.

  “Lana?” she heard from outside.

  She went to the window and parted the curtains. “Zane? What are you doing out there?”

  “I tried knockin’ at the back door, but I reckon you didn’t hear. Thought somethin’ might be wrong.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She dropped the curtain and went to the kitchen. Zane was already waiting at the back door.

  “I thought you had to work today?” she asked as he came in with a load of supplies.

  “They overscheduled,” he said, strolling past her. “I told Jayson I’d handle repairs since he’s got the interview.”

  His scent breezed by as he did, unhinging her stomach. He’d changed into tan-colored jeans with a matching T-shirt, and he pulled off his Stetson as soon as he entered. His hair was smoothed back into a neat braid, although some strands rebelled when he took off the hat.

  He sniffed the air pointedly, and Lana froze. Maybe Jayel’s spray didn’t work as well as reported.

  “Smells like bacon in here,” he said.

  She forced a smile. “Late breakfast. Did you want some?”

  “No, I’m fine, thank you. I’ll get right to work on the door. Do you have the key?”

  She nodded and followed him through the living room to the entryway, where the keys hung from a peg on the hall console. She handed it over, her heart drumming and urgent questions racing through her head that she couldn’t quite spit out.

  With little effort, Zane lifted the heavy hall console and set it back against the wall. “Hope you don’t have any plans after I’m done here.”

  “Me? Plans?”

  “Because you do now.”

  A pang of fright shot through her. “What sort of plans?”

  His smile gave her a tingle. “The surprise kind. I’ll try to hurry.”

  She gave a weak nod and left, pacing restlessly in the living room. While he hammered, she mentally argued both sides of her debate. She couldn’t let this go on. She couldn’t agree to surprise plans without knowing what kind of men she was dealing with, not after what Jayel had told her. She needed the truth.

  Zane calling her name startled her from her bleak thoughts. She poked her head into the entry way to find Sage supervising repairs by standing right where Zane was trying to work.

  “Think your cat can find a new place to sit?” he asked. “I don’t want her gettin’ hurt.”

  Yeah. That sounded like a cold-blooded monster.

  Lana sighed. “I’m sorry. Come on, Sagie. Time for you to get a new hobby.”

  She carried the cat to the bedroom and closed her inside. Lana stood in the hall, her mind in turmoil, until she couldn’t take it anymore. Then she returned to the entryway.

  “I have to ask you something,” she said.

  He looked up from where he was kneeling to fit a new strike plate. “I’m almost finished.”

  “This can’t wait.”

  Zane rose and turned to her. “Okay.”

  The rehearsed question faded, and she just stood there for a moment, clutching her elbows. “Do you hurt people?” she finally asked, although “hurt” wasn’t quite the verb she’d intended to use.

  His brows furrowed. “Not intentionally.”

  “But accidentally?”

  “Everyone has hurt someone accidentally. That’s how you and Jayson met, if you’ll recollect.”

  “Yes, but you’re a werewolf. Your accidents could have worse repercussions than me bumping into someone.”

  Zane gave her a measuring look. “You want to know if I kill. And whether I enjoy it.”

  Straight talk again. If only she was as good at it as he was.

  She lifted her chin. “I’m sure you understand why I need to know before we start making surprise plans.”

  His eyes flashed. “Ain’t you a killer, Lana?”

  Her mouth fell open. “Of course not! What kind of insinuation is that?”

  “Humans kill one another. Shouldn’t I assume you do?”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “But you assume Jayson and I are killers because we can change form.”

  She frowned. “I didn’t say that. But you aren’t answering the question.”

  There was a pause. “Truth is, I have killed. But I didn’t enjoy it.”

  Her stomach sank. “Recently?” A quiver was evident in the word.

  “No.” He sighed and toyed with the brass strike plate in his hand. “I killed werewolves long ago. That’s how I became one.”

  She frowned at that. “Killing a werewolf turns you into one?”

  “Bein’ bitten by a werewolf turns you, unless it’s a mate’s bite durin’ sex. Suffice to say I didn’t win all my fights. That’s how I got this scar.” He tapped at his chest. “And it’s how I eventually got turned.”

  “But all that was before you became a werewolf. What about after?”

  He gave her a sober nod. “Gettin’ turned gave me even more reason to hate ‘em, so I kept fightin’ for a while. But I finally realized that a life of violence,
even for a just cause, ain’t really a life.”

  She thought of Jayel. If only someone could convince her of that.

  “So you don’t, you know, eat people?”

  He made a face. “Humans ain’t exactly prime rib for werewolves. I happen to like venison myself.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Deer meat. Preferably fresh and raw.”

  While her stomach turned at the thought, it was oddly reassuring.

  “Werewolves can be vicious animals who hunt for the thrill,” he went on. “But so can humans. Many of my kind work hard to tame the curse and stay the men we once were. We can learn to control our shifts, even durin’ the full moon.”

  She stared at a shiny spot on the floor, where the overhead light reflected a bright circle just like such a moon. “So you don’t have to be monsters if you don’t want.”

  He stepped closer to her. “I may wear the skin of a wolf, but I can choose not to act like one. I’m as much a man as some men are animals, darlin’.”

  “I suppose I’ve met a few of those in my day.”

  “I ain’t sayin’ it comes easy. The call of the animal is like the touch of a lover.” He reached out and stroked a finger along her jaw. “Many give in to its demands and embrace that darkness. They live the life of a predator, and not just when they’re in wolf form.”

  The heat of his touch lingered like a trail after he pulled away, but it was his words that made her shudder. She saw a flash of lifeless, shark-like eyes. Werewolves weren’t the only ones who chose to exist like predators.

  “And if someone was hunting you?” she asked quietly.

  The gold in his eyes flared. “If you’re askin’ what would happen if Tyson came after you, I’d do to him what I’d do to anyone who was a threat to me or those I protect. I would fight.” He stepped closer. “Is this really about Tyson? Or are you afraid Jayson and I might hurt you?”

  “No. I don’t think you’re out to hurt me.” And she believed it, although part of her wondered how stupid that kind of faith was. “I just needed to hear the truth.”

  “And did I ease your mind? Will you come out with me when I’m finished?”

  “What for?”

  He cocked his head at that. “Why do most men ask a lady to come out with them?”

  “You’re talking like a date.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  The hot flush in her cheeks spread through her body. “I suppose I am.”

  “Just take a walk with me. I reckon it’ll do you good to get out of here for a spell. I told you before, what happens between us is up to you. I ain’t gonna force it.”

  The sincerity in his eyes seemed genuine, but she was more focused on their seductive shape and the way his dark lashes framed them. “Okay,” she said.

  He smiled and returned to fixing the door while she staggered up the hallway, shell-shocked at what she’d done. One minute, she was questioning his thirst for werewolf violence. The next, she was breathlessly agreeing to date him.

  She tried to make a good show of berating herself, but that soon gave way to deciding what to wear. Her shirt was wet from the braid, so she changed into a pink crocheted sweater. Then she spent some time in the bathroom squeezing her braid and using the blow dryer on it. She applied just a little makeup and finished off with a sheer, cotton-candy lip gloss.

  “All done,” Zane said, standing in the bathroom doorway just as she was zipping her makeup bag shut. “I’ve got to run out and get somethin’. I’ll be right back for that walk.”

  She nodded and followed him to the front door, which she locked behind him. The door closed solidly into the newly repaired frame. When she wandered to the guest room to peer out the window, she saw his truck still sitting at the bottom of the driveway. She wondered about that while she let an indignant Sage out of lockup.

  When Zane returned, he was holding his hat upside down. It was filled halfway to the brim with delicate pink-and-white blossoms.

  “Where did you get those?” she asked.

  “Not far from here. They’re for you.” He said the last part rather shyly, endearing enough for her heart to jump a little.

  “Thank you. I’m not quite sure I can put them in water, though.”

  “They’re for your hair, if you’ll let me touch it.”

  Her heart was outright fluttering as she followed him into the living room. “Why wouldn’t I let you touch it? You held me half the night.” Not to mention other things they’d done. The thought set off a flush of embarrassment.

  “Hair’s different.”

  That struck her as odd. “How so?”

  He picked through the blossoms. “In my culture, hair is part of our strength. I wouldn’t aim to touch someone’s hair without permission. And I don’t let anyone touch mine.”

  She looked at the sleek, dark hair smoothed away from his forehead and plaited cleanly down his back.

  “It’s all right,” she said.

  He moved in front of her, setting his hat on the end table beside them. His face was serious while he pulled the braid in front of her shoulder and began threading it with flower blossoms.

  “You really don’t let anyone touch your hair?” she asked.

  “My mother, long ago.”

  “And Jayson?”

  His lip twitched briefly. “Jayson tried sooner than he ought to have. Somethin’ he’s famous for.” He glanced up and caught her looking at him. “You probably think my beliefs are as ridiculous as he does.”

  “No, I don’t.” She looked down to watch his fingers as they deftly laced in flowers. “I actually have a similar thing about my hair. I believe it offers me strength and protection so long as I don’t take this braid out.”

  He nodded as though that made perfect sense. “Your hair is damp.”

  “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

  “Actually, it’s helpin’ hold the blossoms better.”

  She fell silent to watch him work. His smooth motions and concentration made her pulse pound in her throat, and her body was stiff from his proximity and the soft touch of his fingers. She made herself relax by dropping her shoulders and clasping her clammy palms in front of her.

  “There,” he said, and he stood back for a moment, regarding his work.

  She glanced down and smiled before turning to the fireplace mirror. Tiny flowers laced the braid from top to end in a feminine, appealing way. The gesture squeezed at her heart. If he was trying to paint himself as a kind man rather than a ravenous beast, he’d succeeded.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s just lovely.”

  “Yes,” he said, and his eyes smoldered provocatively. “Beautiful.”

  He had that look in his eyes that made her wonder if he was about to kiss her, but he cleared his throat and stepped back. “Reckon we should go. Jayson’s gonna get antsy waitin’ on us.”

  “Jayson? I thought he was at a job interview?”

  “He was.” She followed him out the door, and Zane nodded in satisfaction when it closed tight behind them. “Good as new.” He emptied the remaining blossoms on the front lawn and tugged his hat back on.

  She started to head for Zane’s truck, but he stopped her. “We don’t need the truck to go for a walk.”

  He held out his hand, and she took it with a happy little jolt. He led her around the side of the cabin and along a short dirt path before heading down a fairly gentle slope into the woods.

  “Why didn’t I know the climb was so much easier on this side?” she asked as they descended gently. “You should have seen me shoving my suitcase up the steep hill a few cabins over.”

  “A lot of us gravitate toward the harder path,” he said, tightening his hold on her when the descent steepened a little more. “I reckon it’s second nature.”

  She glanced at him. Zane had a different outlook on life, perhaps in part because of his heritage. There was his comment about strength lying in hair, for instance.

  “What tribe are you from?” she
asked.

  “I’m Navajo.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t sound Native American. Your accent is western. And Zane Larson sounds like an English name.”

  They’d reached the bottom of the hill where the woods leveled out, and he loosened his hold on her somewhat. “I wasn’t raised among my people. I was taken in by a rancher.”

  “Taken in?”

  Zane casually laced his fingers through hers. “By a man named Jed Larson. He found me wanderin’ the desert when I was a boy.”

  “In New Mexico?”

  He nodded. “I was barely more than a toddler when he found me. I was parched as the sands and sayin’ azhe’e and ama over and over, along with Tse Wauneka.”

  “What does all that mean?”

  “Azhe’e and ama means father and mother. Tse Wauneka is my name. My real name.”

  She stopped and pulled out of his grip. “And Jed just stole you away while you were calling for your parents?”

  “He didn’t steal me. He tried to take me home.”

  “Why didn’t he give you back?”

  “My parents were dead.” He started walking again. “Everyone in the tiny village where we lived had been slaughtered.”

  Her stomach turned over. “Oh God. How?”

  “Animal attack.” He shot her a grim look. “Unnaturally fast, brutal animals.”

  “Werewolves,” she whispered. “That’s why you hunted them, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. “As soon as I was old enough to learn the way.”

  “But how on earth did you manage to survive?”

  “No idea. I don’t recollect the attack. I barely remember bein’ found.”

  She shuddered at the thought. Had he witnessed the attack and been so traumatized that he’d repressed the memory? Or had he wandered away from his village just in time to be spared his tribe’s fate?

  “That’s horrible,” she said, feeling her heart wrench. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was long ago.”

  “So Jed took you back to his ranch.”

  “He and his wife couldn’t have children. She said the way I said Tse sounded to her a bit like Zane, so that’s what they called me. They taught me a rancher’s life and raised me as their own, even though townsfolk gave me a wide berth because I wasn’t white.”