by Susan Bliler
“There are men in this pack,” she declared gruffly, ignoring his snort and eye roll at her words. “And the wolves aren’t at the door. I have two weeks.”
“And what’s your plan?”
She turned to face him. “To protect my pack and my territory.”
“How?” He demanded, stepping up to tower over her. She had to tilt her head far back to keep her eyes on his. “You’re not mated. And smelling the way you do…” He let his words die to a low rumble. Holy shit! Barron almost spoke the words aloud when Willa’s nostrils flared slightly, and she gave the smallest turn of her head. She was scenting herself. She had no idea what he was talking about.
“You’re fertile,” he supplied, his voice pitched lower and huskier than he’d intended. “Ripe.” His hands actually itched to touch her, and that was odd. He curled them into tight fists when Willa paled.
“It should be gone by the time challengers begin arriving.”
Barron smiled, but it was humorless. He shook his head hard as if saying ‘no’ while simultaneously trying to shake her alluring scent. Mistakenly, she thought he was implying that she was ovulating. He wasn’t.
When a she-wolf came of a certain age, her scent changed. Turned sweeter. It was a signal to the males that she was old enough for carnal delights. The longer a female went without being ‘taken’, the stronger the scent grew. Right now, Willa smelled like cotton-fucking-candy, and it had his dick hard as a spike. Her soft, curvy body hadn’t been breached. No one had penetrated her tight little pussy. Maybe her own fingers he thought, and then quickly regretted it when a punch of lust shot through him at the image of her sliding dainty fingers through her slick wet folds. He nearly doubled over. “That scent,” his voice was practically a growl now. “Is only disappearing one way, gorgeous, and it isn’t time.”
He watched her bristle and then flush beet-red. Her blush was becoming, and so was her anger. Whether the latter was the result of his words or the endearment, he didn’t know. Hell, he didn’t care.
“Well, my scent is not your problem. Just as my pack is not your problem. I appreciate Evander’s concern, but we’ll handle this ourselves.”
She turned to go, but he caught her arm. The touch of skin on skin did something. He dropped to a knee and clenched his gut, his teeth gnashing at the pain that ripped through him. One fisted hand planted on the ground while the other wrapped around his knee, his knuckles going white with the pressure as he tensed through the pain that continued to hammer him.
“Hey!”
He saw her feet back up a little, and he wanted to lunge at her.
“A-are you okay?”
Sucking in a deep breath through his nose, he forced himself to his feet, biting back the groan that wanted to spill from him. He was more than an Alpha, he was battle born, and he refused to tolerate any weakness, even in himself.
Standing, he leveled his ominously dark eyes on hers. Concern was clear on her face as she eyed him up and down. “What…what happened?”
“Long journey,” he offered but knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t know what in the hell was wrong with him, only that whatever struck him had done so when he’d touched her.
“Look.” Her features softened, and for the first time since he met her, she didn’t look defensive. “You’re welcome to stay the night in the guesthouse. I’ll have Arden bring you some dinner. But in the morning . . .” She was back to looking defensive again, lifting her chin in that defiant little way she so favored. “I’d like you to go. We’ll solve our own problems.”
“No, you won’t.” What in the hell was he doing? She’d given him an out. So, why in the hell wasn’t he taking it? I wasn’t made for this type of domesticity!
While the words felt true, he also knew he wasn’t meant for the type of wild near-solitude he’d lived the previous seven years. No, his time in the wild was over. He needed to find his place, and he needed to find a pack, but first, he’d repay his debt to Evander and be free to seek out his own life.
“I’m not leaving!” He rolled his shoulders and fisted his hands, letting the Alpha authority in his tone lash over Willa. He wanted her to know he meant what he said, and while he was willing to cede a few concessions to the female, leaving wasn’t one of them.
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Now Available by Susan A Bliler
Skin Walker series
King (Skin Walkers Book 1)
RedKnife (Skin Walkers Book 2)
Bishop (Skin Walkers Book 3)
Conn (Skin Walkers Book 5)
Leto (Skin Walkers Book 6)
Monroe (Skin Walkers Book 7)
Gauge (Skin Walkers Book 8)
York (Skin Walkers Book 9)
Remy (Skin Walkers Book 10)
Taken (Skin Walkers Book 11)
Angel Lost (Skin Walkers Book 12)
Baymac (Skin Walkers Book 13)
Bellis (Skin Walkers Book 14)
Tyce (Skin Walkers Book 15)
Marko (Skin Walkers Book 16)
Now Available by Susan A Bliler
Territory series
Territory Prequel
Territory
TerrIIItory
Terr4tory
Terr5tory
Terr6tory: The Primes
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Standalone Shifter Romance
Chance
Devour
Bad Beta
Now Available by Susan A Bliler
Standalone Contemporary Romance
Prince of Cats
Furious
About the Author
My pack territory is in Central Montana, between Stone Crow Estates and the North Fortress. Born and raised in an untamed location that bridges the gap between rolling prairies and majestic mountain peaks, I am born to a family that also bridges the gap between cultures. My father’s people boast a fiercely proud Scandinavian ancestry while my mother’s tribes descend from two savagely beautiful and unique nations (White Clay and Nakoda) that inspire my Skin Walker series.
I'm a huge fan of MMA, boxing, 30 Seconds to Mars, DMX, Nahko and Medicine for the People, and 21 Pilots (“…sometimes quiet is violent”). I also love to read because it encourages me to write. (I hate it when authors add that they love coffee and chocolate. Really? Who doesn't love coffee and chocolate?) Anyway, I love beer...kidding. I don't love beer, but we are engaged in a very serious relationship. (Mom, please don't call me when you read this.)
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Check me out at www.susanbliler.com for updates, my blog, and for excerpts from upcoming books.
~A’hau.
