Shades of Grey

by Sam Crescent

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Shades of Grey

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-022-1

  ©Copyright Natalie Dae and Sam Crescent 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright June 2012

  Edited by Stacey Birkel

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 148 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 8 pages.

  SHADES OF GREY

  Natalie Dae and Sam Crescent

  She’s everything Travis Williams has ever wanted, but with murder in the cards, will the hunky shifter succeed in claiming Sarah French as his?

  Travis Williams has steadily fallen in love with ranch owner, Sarah French. She’s sexy as sin, beautiful inside and out, stubborn…and as spirited as one of her feistiest horses. She’s going to be hard to tame, but if anyone has the balls to do it, Travis does. After all, he wants to win her and win her good—by loving the Texan bones of her and taking her to heights she’s never been before.

  Sarah French has a problem—she sees things in only black and white and doesn’t trust men. Though she employs all males on her ranch, it doesn’t mean she has to like them. An only child, she’s grown up feeling inferior since her mother died while giving birth to a much-wanted son. All her life, Sarah has vowed to be as good as—or better than—any man, and no one will persuade her otherwise. She’s strong, she’s tough, and she’s obstinate as all get out.

  However, her icy façade is about to be melted, because not only Travis has her in his sights as a potential bed-mate, local bad-boy Clark James has made it clear he’ll take Sarah whatever way he can…including by force.

  With her emotional walls tumbling around her, the suspicion that the man she loves is a wolf, and Clark making her cringe at every turn, Sarah must learn that not everything is so clear cut. Sometimes, you have to look at the world in shades of grey.

  Dedication

  It’s been great writing with you, Sam!

  —Nat

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Stetson: John B. Stetson Company

  Jell-O: Kraft Foods

  Prologue

  In the meeting room of the compound’s church, Travis Williams glared at his pack mate, Sam, wishing he’d get off his damn back and step the hell away. Sam stood too close, his eyes blazing, black hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. Any second now they’d get into a fight. Travis didn’t want that—he just wanted freedom, the choice to live his life how he wanted, not by some fucked-up pack rules handed down to him because his parents had died. Why should he take control of the wolves just because he’d been born as the son of their leader? What if it wasn’t what he damn well wanted?

  And it wasn’t, Jesus Christ, it wasn’t, yet Sam seemed to think it didn’t matter, that Travis ought to suck it up and take care of them all like his father had done before him.

  Not if Travis could help it.

  He was sick of being stuck on the compound, remaining there through fear of being shot and killed. Of people finding out what they were and hunting them down. He’d always had a touch of the free spirit about him, the need to venture away and settle elsewhere.

  “It’s your job,” Sam snarled, drawing closer. “You’ve always known that, man.”

  Travis stepped back, his ass butting up against the altar. “Yeah, I’ve always known that, just like I’ve always known I didn’t want the responsibility when the time came. Fuck, it’s like being expected to become a man of the cloth when all you want to do is fuck. It goes against the grain.”

  “Grain or not, you belong here, leading us.” Sam shook his head. “I can’t believe you’re thinking of running out on us.”

  “What, you’d prefer me to stick around and lead half-assed, my heart not in it?” Travis sighed out his frustration, shoving away the urge to smack Sam where it hurt.

  “No, I expect you to learn how to do it, to rule from your father’s instructions. He left you a ledger, for fuck’s sake. Everything in it you could need to know. All you have to do is read the damn thing!”

  “If it’s so easy,” Travis snapped, “you fucking take over!”

  They stared at each other, Travis on the verge of shifting from anger. He wanted to rip Sam apart, and that wasn’t something he’d ever thought he’d want to do. They’d grown up together—were cousins, for Christ’s sake.

  Sam widened his eyes. “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am. I don’t want this, never have. You’ve always been more of a leader. Makes sense that you do it—seeing as you want to…and don’t deny it, either.”

  Sam nodded slowly. “I’ll not deny it. I’ve always envied you, knowing you’d take this position someday.”

  “So have it.” Travis risked a small smile. “It’s yours.”

  “Fuck…” Sam walked away, pacing up and down the short aisle, his footsteps resounding in the echoic church. “You mean it, don’t you?”

  “Yes!” Travis said, trying not to snap. “I want out of here. I want to live like a normal person.”

  Sam barked out laughter. “Normal! Hardly…”

  “As normal as I can be, then.” Travis closed his eyes for a second, imagining packing his bags and getting out on the open road, going wherever the hell he wanted, wherever his instincts took him.

  “And what if you’re discovered? What then?”

  “I’ll move on.”

  “Every time?”

  “Every damn time.”

  Sam stopped pacing, turned to face him, his face grim. “You have the money they left you?”

  “Yes. I’ll take half, leave the rest for the pack.”

  “Right.” Sam smoothed his hands down his face. “You’ll keep in touch?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe? What—you’re thinking of a complete break?”

  “Yes.” Travis felt guilty, but if he didn’t walk away completely he’d be persuaded to come back at some point.

  “You don’t want more time to think about this?” Sam stared at him, pleading silently for Travis to stay.

  “No, I’m done thinking.” Just let me go. Let me fucking go…

  “Well, then. I guess this is it, right?”

  Relief winged through Travis. “Yep, this is it.”

  “If you need us—”

  “I won’t.”

  By fucking God, I won’t.

  Chapter One

 
Travis stood on the edge of Sarah French’s ranch and sniffed the air. Shit, he could smell her sexy-as-fuck scent from here, would recognise it anywhere. In his wolf form, despite the night cloaking him, he risked being spotted or shot, but hell…what he’d heard earlier had spurred him into visiting her now.

  Seemed local asshole Clark James was intent on making Sarah his woman tonight, regardless of whether she wanted him or not.

  That wasn’t an option.

  Travis narrowed his eyes, cocking his head to listen for hunters. They roamed this area freely all year round, even though they shouldn’t be on Sarah’s damn property.

  A lone woman’s requests were easy to ignore.

  Bastards.

  He looked up at the moon, the big silver ball obscured by thick grey clouds pregnant with rain. He reckoned there’d be a downpour before the hour was up, maybe a storm tagging along for the ride. The autumn weather had been all kinds of crazy lately—warm one minute, teeming with rain the next. The different aromas the rain threw up messed with his sense of smell, obscuring those he would have caught with no trouble at all in the dryer seasons.

  Dangerous.

  Deeming it safe, he loped across the grassy field surrounding her white house, keeping his eyes keen to any movement in the shadows. A line of trees stood to his right, their trunks like thick bodies topped with an abundance of hair. The leaves hadn’t fallen yet, and in the daytime they were a riot of reds, yellows, browns and oranges. Wouldn’t be long and those branches would be laid bare, skeletal arms and fingers stretching into the winter sky.

  He’d wanted to make love to Sarah beneath them for the longest time. Since last summer when he’d first rolled into town looking for work. He’d found it, right here on her ranch, and, hell, he’d found the woman of his damn dreams as well.

  He reached the picket fence separating her house from the fields and paused. Sniffed again. All he smelt was her.

  Good.

  He slunk low and crawled under the fence and, on the other side, scoped the area again. You couldn’t be too careful around these parts. One wrong turn and you were fucked. Those hunters, Clark James and his cronies, didn’t give a shit what they killed. Travis had heard tales of them killing a man once, some hiker kid who had wandered into the mountains at the back of Sarah’s place. Denial had come quickly, as though they’d got their stories straight before news had hit the town of a dead body on the banks of Gordon’s Creek, but Travis had known better. Had known by the glint in Clark’s eyes that something was amiss, had been able to tell by the scent of blood coming off him in waves. Yeah, he might have washed it off, but it had still lingered. A wolf could smell it—no problem.

  Baring his teeth, Travis padded towards Sarah’s house, heading for the French doors to her living room. He’d keep out of sight, wouldn’t want to frighten her, but he had to see if Clark was there. He couldn’t smell the man, but Travis wanted to check just the same.

  He stared through the glass, seeing Sarah curled up on the blue velour sofa, legs tucked beneath her, a book on her lap. A baby-pink nightgown covered most of her body from his view, and he was glad of that. Wouldn’t feel right watching her if she was exposed, unaware he was out here. He was no stalker, no freak.

  The fire to the right of her blazed—long licks of yellow and orange flame that pranced frenetically. What he wouldn’t give to be in there with her right now. She was beautiful, no doubt about it, the kind of woman every man wanted. Trouble was, most single men around here did want her, hanging around the way they did, asking if she needed help with this or that. Apart from Travis and a couple of others, Sarah only employed married men. A sure-fire way of keeping safe, she’d said. He’d asked why she’d taken him on to groom the horses and give them exercise.

  “You’re different.”

  And that was all he’d got out of her.

  It churned Travis’ guts when he thought about one of the other men touching her. Made him see red every time. So why hadn’t he told her how he felt? Why did he stand on the sidelines, just being her friend and employee? Simple. Because what woman would believe he could shift into a wolf? What woman in her right mind could accept that? Sarah was level-headed, strong and independent, saw things in black and white. Anything grey didn’t figure with her. It was a frustrating trait, one that had led to many heated discussions between them, ending up with him walking away allowing her to believe she was right and he was wrong.

  But with Clark fucking James, he wouldn’t be swayed. That man was bad to the marrow. Travis would just have to make sure Sarah saw it, that was all.

  She shifted in her seat, flicking over a page in her book. He wondered what she was reading this time. Maybe one of those horror novels she enjoyed so much, or a thriller, perhaps. He should have known she wasn’t the romance type. No hearts and flowers for this girl. She liked it as real as it could get, true crime being her favourite read, so she’d said.

  Her long hair, black as a crow’s wing, fell forward, shining from the light of the fire. She tucked the wayward strands behind her ear and brought one hand to her mouth, sucking a thumb tip or biting a nail, he wasn’t sure which. He wondered what that hair would feel like running through his fingers, whether the folds of her cunt would be just as soft—or softer. If he wasn’t a wolf he’d be hard right now, battling away an erection that threatened to expose how he felt about her. So far, when in her presence, he’d managed to walk away if his cock sprang to life, or to hide it beneath his plaid shirt fronts. Even taking his Stetson off and holding it casually in front—the action looking as natural as breathing, belying the real reason behind it.

  A few splatters of rain slapped his pelt, one plopping on the end of his snout. That was all he fucking needed. Yeah, he’d known it was going to rain at some point, but he’d hoped it would be later once he’d seen Clark off. Now the rain would mess with his sense of smell, and if a wind picked up he was in the shit and then some. Frustrated, he growled low in his throat, the hair on his neck standing upright.

  Something wasn’t right.

  He cocked his head again, straining hard, wanting to pick up on whatever had made those neck hairs react. Sniffing did nothing, bringing only a damp-earth stench along with a harder dash of rain. Nothing sounded untoward—no footsteps, no shuffles, no—

  Breathing. He heard breathing, all right, and it wasn’t his own.

  “Well, look what we have here,” Clark said, voice smarmy. “A goddamn wolf prowling the property.”

  Travis spun to face the man, retracting his lips and growling louder.

  “You don’t scare me none,” Clark said, his smile creamy from the light in Sarah’s living room. Strands of short dark hair lay flat on his head. “Not when I got me a gun here.”

  The urge to smack the shit out of Clark gripped Travis, but he couldn’t shift, didn’t have the time. Besides, if he shifted, the story of him being a wolf would be around the town by dawn, and fighting Clark naked wasn’t high on Travis’ list.

  He stared at Clark, eyeing the small pistol hooked into the man’s waistband. If he was quick, he could knock Clark down before he even had time to draw. Decision made, he lunged, all four paws smacking Clark in his shirt-fronted chest. Travis sailed through the air with him before hitting the ground with a dull thud. The rain fell harder, running into Travis’ eyes, and he shook his head, blinking to get clearer sight. Beneath him, Clark pushed against Travis’ chest with one hand, his other frantically searching for his gun.

  Travis wasn’t taking any chances. He dipped his head quickly, sinking his teeth into Clark’s ear. He wanted to rip that fucker off but held back. All he needed to do was make the man leave, get him off this land until he figured out how best to keep Sarah safe. Her being raped if she declined Clark’s offer of being her man just wasn’t in the cards, no matter how much Clark had laughed about it earlier. God, that son of a bitch needed taking down a peg or ten.

  Travis bit harder, pleased to hear Clark wailing as he smacked at Travis’
snout with both hands. Scooting his back end around, Travis sat on Clark’s gun and applied a little more pressure to his ear.

  “Get the hell off me!” Clark yelled, the sound of the rain drowning out his voice. “You fucking bastard of an animal. Get off!”

  Travis released his ear and went for one of his hands instead. He bit, teeth sinking into the flesh. Blood flooded his tongue. Clark’s primordial howl almost matched Travis’ when he had a mind to cry out at the moon. If this situation wasn’t so serious, Travis would have laughed.

  “Jesus damn Christ!” Clark said, his breaths heavy pants.

  Travis let go and stepped back, snarling and snapping his teeth.

  Go, get the hell out of here, asshole. Know when you’re beaten.

  Cautiously, Clark scooted backwards, only standing when a few feet separated them. “Where’s my damn gun?” He looked away for a second to find it—it lay a few metres away—but had a change of heart, returning his sights to Travis.

  Yeah, best you fucking forget it.

  Clark backed away, clutching his injured hand to his chest. The blood from his ear looked almost as black as his hair in the shadows he’d retreated to, Sarah’s living room lights ineffective this far away.

  “You goddamned motherfucker!” Clark shouted. “I’ll be back for you. I’ll remember your hairy ass, you see if I don’t.”

  He turned and ran, boot heels almost kissing his ass every time he lifted them from the ground. Travis watched him go, remaining in place until he was sure the man wasn’t coming back. He stood there for a long time, until the moon had shifted some and the rain had gathered speed. Until a giant crack of thunder roared and a streak of lightning fell just short of striking one of the trees.