by Sofia Grey
Wolf at the Door
Snowdonia Wolves Book 1
Sofia Grey
Published 2013
ISBN: 978-1-59578-997-6
Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2013, Sofia Grey. 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, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
Manufactured in the United States of America
Liquid Silver Books
http://LSbooks.com
This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
Blurb
Love can heal all wounds…
Pop star Lillian Hart is determined never to trust another man. She has no idea that the wolf at her door is anything other than a wounded dog, much less the Alpha of the Snowdonia Wolf pack. There’s something about the wild creature that pulls at her. Then a man with her wolf’s eyes starts to invade her dreams, and reality and fantasy merge in a way that has her hoping, against all odds, for dreams to come true.
Lillian may have sworn off men, but Jake’s not just any man, he’s a shifter, and he’s about to shift Lillian’s world to make room for him. He vows to claim her as his Mate, and when Jake makes a vow, he keeps it. But Lillian wants to take it slow and Jake is not about to waste any time.
In this battle of wills, both discover giving in and trusting their hearts can heal even the deepest of hurts.
Dedication
For my lovely critique-partner Lillian Grant, who nagged me into sending the manuscript to LSB.
Acknowledgements
Huge thanks to my beta-reader “A,” and the fabulous team at LSB.
Chapter 1
ELLA HART-LESS…aka THE BITCH WHO STOLE MY CHRISTMAS
Lillian averted her eyes from the headline screaming at her from the rack of tabloids. The service-station coffee would be bitter and had already scalded her fingers when she poured it, but it would be enough of a caffeine jolt to prime her for the rest of the drive. She tugged down her beanie while rummaging through her tote for some money.
The bored-looking clerk paid her no attention. His stare was riveted on the tiny TV in the corner, currently playing the music channel. It was Lillian’s latest number-one hit, in her Ella Hart persona, with its mandatory raunchy pop video. He graced her with a brief and fake smile as she placed her money on the counter.
“Something else, that Ella Hart.” He winked at his coworker. “She could grease my pole any time.” The guy filling the chewing gum stand sniggered in reply.
Please God, don’t let them recognize me. She waited as he counted out her change, his attention still focused on the TV. He pushed a few coins at her without breaking his conversation. “D’you reckon it’s true that she banged all the firemen in the video? They say she had ’em lined up, waiting their turn.”
Lillian felt her cheeks heating, but they hadn’t finished. “Yeah,” came the reply. Had she become invisible or something? “That last song of hers, the one with the zookeeper? Fuck, man, that vid gets Shelly so hot. She loves to fuck to that one.” Oh no—I really didn’t want to know that.
“The bit with the—” Lillian had heard enough. Snatching up the coffee, she stalked to the exit, their lewd sniggers ringing in her ears. Jesus. She felt like offering them tissues to wipe up the drool. It was a video, for chrissake. A fancy piece of dancing and a bunch of pretty—probably gay—male models.
The coffee was long gone before Lillian found the road leading to her rental cottage deep in the heart of the Snowdonia mountain range. Secluded was the word that came to mind. There was nowhere quite like this remote part of Wales for utter privacy. She yawned as she guided the car around yet another bend. Why hadn’t she stayed in a hotel tonight? Oh yeah. Because she didn’t want the press to get wind of her location. Even so, she hadn’t factored how long the drive would take through the remote countryside. The mountains would be heavenly in the daylight.
The headlights picked out a dark shape in the road, and Lillian squinted through the snowflakes battering the windscreen. What the hell? Was that a dog? She slowed, but not quickly enough. The shape lifted its head. A huge dog. Dark eyes stared directly at her and she fought to stop the car. Everything happened in slow motion. She stomped on the brake pedal, hauled the steering wheel to the side, and then closed her eyes, waiting to feel the bump.
The tires slipped on the road surface, dug into fresh snow briefly, and then gripped enough to shudder to a stop. No bump. Lillian opened her eyes, her heart pounding and palms damp. Had she missed it? Had it run away? She was far away from the nearest village, and hadn’t even passed a farm for ages. There shouldn’t be a dog wandering around up here and especially not on a freezing night like this.
Before she could change her mind, she threw open the door and scrambled out into the night. The cold assaulted her. The wind snatched the breath from her lungs and she shivered. It was hard to drag her eyes away from the dark smear on the middle of the road. Fresh blood. She saw it clearly on the pristine snow. Her heart kicked up a gear. Christ. She’d hit it after all.
Her spiky-heeled ankle boots were useless on this terrain, but she walked up and down anyway, hoping to see the injured animal. Common sense yelled at her. What would she do if she found it? The nearest vet would be miles away. It might be crazy with pain—it might turn on her. It might also be scared and alone, and Lillian knew what that felt like.
It was only when her toes had gone numb and she fell over in the snow that she gave up the search. Poor sod. She could only hope the cold numbed its pain.
Chapter 2
Jake stared at the shiny car parked outside the cottage. The only house for fucking miles, and someone was in residence. The poacher’s trap had ripped his leg badly, and he continued to bleed like a stuck pig. Even with his rapid healing, there was no way he’d make it back to Pack territory.
He had to get back. Being wounded and alone—and out of territory—was stupid. As leader of the Pack, he was supposed to set a shining example to the younger wolves and to make sure everyone’s needs were met, even at the expense of his own. Jake knew he shouldn’t have left, but his blood had been hot and he howled with a need he couldn’t explain.
His father, Gareth, had seen it as a good thing and told him it was the mating urge. The minute Jake claimed a Mate, Rhys and any other randy young wolf looking to become leader of the Pack would be shut down. Rules of the Pack—bloodline dominated, but as a single, young wolf, he could still be challenged. As a Mated wolf, with Gareth’s blood in his veins, there would be no challenge he couldn’t weather.
Jake shook thoughts of the Pack and his worries away. He needed warmth and shelter. Fast. Cautious, he lifted his head and sniffed the air. This was the car that had damn near finished him off. The woman with the exotic perfume. She’d been alone, had tried to help … maybe things weren’t as dire as he’d feared.
Gritting his teeth at the pain that jolted through him, he shook the snow from his pelt and hobbled toward the front door.
*
Lillian closed the refrigerator door in disgust. Yes, it had been prestocked for her arrival, but with nothing she wanted to eat. Where were the salad leaves? The alfalfa sprouts? Not a block of tofu in sight. The cupboards yielded little that appealed either. Cornflakes. Canned soup. Who ate canned soup these da
ys? At least she’d thought to pack her old faithful, Jack Daniels. She might be in for a liquid supper.
She wandered back into the lounge area and glared at the empty fireplace. No heat either … great decision, Lillian. A hotel looked more attractive by the minute. She’d have a shower, get out of her wet clothes, and then go straight to bed.
She grabbed her toiletries case and headed for the bathroom. Please God there would be hot water. There was, and she allowed a tiny smile to escape, her first that day. Within seconds, warm clouds of steam rose up in the bathroom and Lillian stripped, abandoning her clothes where they fell. Her boots were ruined, but right now, she didn’t care.
About to climb under the cascading water, she paused. What was that? A scratching, scraping noise from the front of the house. Rats? And then a whine, like an animal in pain.
All thoughts of her shower fled. Lillian shrugged into her bathrobe and padded to the door. Surely the dog couldn’t have followed her here? She hesitated a moment, tugged the belt tight around her waist, and eased the door open.
*
Jake stared at the vision before him, unable to stop his mouth from dropping open and his tongue lolling out.
Her.
She was almost certainly naked beneath a white robe, with a flash of cleavage, and a long, slender leg in view. He dragged his eyes higher. Graceful neck, determined chin, and an almost perfectly shaped oval face with cheekbones he could cut himself on. Damp curls stuck to her forehead above intelligent green-brown eyes, and he was struck by the contrast of her translucent skin against the riotous mass of flame-red hair.
Oh God. Her perfume. Amber resin with a hint of mountain heather after the rain. He inhaled deeply, intoxicated. He’d obviously passed out from the pain or was hallucinating due to hypothermia.
The vision spoke. “Oh … you poor thing.” Even her voice was perfect. Husky and deep with a hint of a lilting Irish accent.
The words rippled across his skin, making him want to howl with the sheer pleasure of it. She crouched—giving him another flash of her breasts—and held out her hand. Remembering his manners, he nuzzled at her fingers and risked a quick lick. The taste made his head spin and his blood heat. How could this be? She was his Mate?
Chapter 3
“Poor boy—let me help you.” She crooned as she ran a hand through Jake’s pelt. Oh, yes please. When she stood and coaxed him into the cottage, he followed without a sound.
He sat just inside the doorway and watched. She flew from one room to the next, a whirl of energy with him at the center of the storm. She produced a towel to lay on and then another that she draped around his shoulders.
“I saw a first-aid kit somewhere.” She paused and gave a self-conscious laugh. It sent a tingle down his spine. “You haven’t the faintest idea what I’m saying, have you?” He heard the creak and thump as cupboard doors opened and closed, and then she reappeared complete with a beaming smile and clutching a bright red box. “Why do they always put these in bloodred packaging? Oh, no matter.”
She knelt next to him and he eyed her in delight. “You look just like my grandfather’s dog.” I do? Her grandfather had a tame wolf? “You’re a bit bigger though and have more fur.” Okay, maybe not. She flicked the box open and dumped the contents onto the towel. “He had an Alsatian.” She sifted through the rolled bandages and packets and Jake stretched out the injured leg to give her easy access. “Was it an Alsatian?” She frowned and sifted again through the items before her; antiseptic wipes sat in a neat pile but she ignored them. “It might have been a Collie.” Collie? He was offended now.
Her gaze fixed on the wound, her eyes widening. Antiseptic would be a good start and then a gauze pad. He whined, hoping to get her started. “Or was it a terrier? I’m not very good with breeds.” He nudged at the wipes with his nose. For God’s sake. She’ll call me a fucking poodle next. If he hadn’t bled out by then.
*
Lillian couldn’t drag her eyes from the blood dripping onto the towel. The dog’s lower hind leg was ripped open, with a cut as long as her hand, deep and ugly. Matted fur and blood stuck to the raw edges. He’d need stitches. The way he whined, she knew he was in pain. She chattered on, trying in her clumsy way to soothe him.
“You’re a pretty boy, aren’t you?” He growled at that and she paused, before continuing to sift the contents of the first-aid kit on the towel. Tape. Gauze. Sterile pad. Saline in a tiny bottle. She had no idea what to look for and feared she would throw up from anxiety. He whined again and she suddenly noticed he was pushing a silver packet toward her with his paws. Antiseptic wipes.
“Clever boy!” He didn’t flinch when she dabbed at the cut, hesitant about touching it. “Okay, I think it’s clean. I guess I need to bandage it now.” A roll of tape lay next to her knee and she ripped away the cover. He growled again. She eyed him carefully. She’d never been afraid of dogs, and they’d always liked her, but there was still a chance he’d attack if she hurt him.
“I can’t just put the tape on. It needs something underneath.” He seemed to smile at her, a distinctly wolfish grin. “Bandage!” She seized a roll of sterile bandage and tore it open. Holding his leg firmly, she wrapped until the bandage was all used. It was lumpy and uneven, and blood continued to ooze through the dressing. She repeated with a second roll. The bandage stood out in a white bump against the dark fur and blood still seeped to the surface. In desperation, she grabbed the roll of tape again. The dog looked alarmed by her sudden movement and she crooned to him, stroking his nose. Quickly as she could, she wrapped tape over the entire dressing. It stuck to his fur, but sealed the wound. Finally.
Feeling shaky, she sat back on the carpet and admired her effort. She’d stopped the bleeding—might have saved his life! When he lifted his huge, shaggy head and placed it in her lap, she nearly burst with pride. He really liked her.
Chapter 4
While the woman bumped and clattered in the kitchen, Jake took the opportunity to look around. The cottage felt cold, even to him, and he wondered why she didn’t use the fire. He’d seen a neat stack of logs outside and a basket of kindling near the front door. There was even a tidy pile of newspapers with a box of matches, everything to make a good fire.
She reappeared in the doorway, a large plate in her hand and a harried expression on her face. “I found steak in the fridge, so I’ve cut it into pieces for you.” A pretty flush rose over her cheeks. “There I go again, talking to you.” She placed the plate of food in front of him and he ate, careful not to make a mess. It amused him to eat in this fashion. Normally he sat at the table and used a knife and fork like everyone else.
He paused in his meal when she left the room, and then he heard water running and smelled citrus. She was taking a shower. Dear God. If he crept into the bathroom, he could watch… The idea danced before him. Unable to resist, he rose to his feet and padded quietly in search of her.
It’d been a long day—a long week really—and he desperately needed to rest in order for the healing process to work, but he couldn’t miss this opportunity to see her naked. She’d closed the bathroom door, much to his disgust, and so he had to content himself with lying on her bed.
As he waited for her to appear, he pondered how she could possibly be his Mate. Shifter-human pairings were unusual, especially for Pack leaders, but not impossible. He’d known for months that it was time to mate, had felt the call, but his search had proved futile. He’d been running to burn off his excess energy, to keep his raging libido under control, and had failed to see the aging trap underneath the tree. He’d been lucky; it was old and it hadn’t clamped shut, and he’d been able to wriggle free.
Jake buried his nose in the pillow, but it held none of her scent. She must have only just arrived. He took in the stack of luggage next to the bed. Well, duh. The bed was comfortable, soft pillows stacked high with a fine woolen blanket thrown across, and he snuggled into the depths and closed his eyes. Just for a minute.
*
&
nbsp; Lillian frowned at the sight of the dog asleep on her bed. She had no intention of turning him outside, but it was a bit cheeky for him to just claim the bed—the only one in the cottage.
The warmth from the shower was rapidly fading, and she dug into her case to find her favorite pajamas, the cream flannel ones with snowflakes. Perfect for this icebox. She’d call the housekeeping service in the morning and if they couldn’t sort out some heating, she was leaving. Socks came next, and she smirked as she remembered the idiots in the service station. Her fans would expect her to go to bed in expensive lingerie or nothing at all.
Finally, before she slid under the covers, she reached for her phone, unsure if she wanted to check it or not.
No new calls or messages. Relief evaporated when Lillian realized she had no cell phone reception. Feeling like a masochist, she scrolled back through the most recent messages from Kurt and then mentally kicked herself.
Stupid. Just like always. When would she learn?
The dog grunted in his sleep and Lillian smiled briefly. She had company in her bed for the first time in too many months … and she had her bottle of Jack Daniels waiting patiently on the bedside table. If she was going to be a slob, she may as well go all the way. She unscrewed the top and took a swig straight from the bottle.
It was official. She had just reached an all-time low.
Chapter 5
Lillian spun and shimmied on the dance floor. Strobes flashed, bathing her in neon lights and making the diamante jewels in her hair sparkle. She stamped her feet and smiled at her dancing partner, Kurt. The crowd didn’t bother her, didn’t surge and pester for her autograph, didn’t behave as they would in real life. That was the beauty of dreams—she could control her world for once. In this dream she could have Kurt again, the illusion of him loving her. Tonight though, he seemed reluctant to move forward and dance. He hung back, just out of reach, and she realized he watched someone else.
