by Mandy Rosko
Anne shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind."
He felt like such an ass. Being nicknamed Princess because you were expected to marry the future leader of the pack had to be tough. If there was ever a chance with her, he'd blown it. "Listen, about that whole tying you up to escape thing,"
She sent him a sharp glare.
"I didn't mean it."
She looked like she didn't believe him. "So, that was just you trying to make me angry because you were jealous I'm engaged?"
"No! I'm not jealous." He was such an idiot he wanted to slap himself. He settled for calling himself some pretty nasty names for answering so quickly.
She sauntered up to him, a saucy smirk on her lips. "I think you were."
Her body was a hairsbreadth away from his own, the heat generating between them shot straight to his groin. He fought to keep from grabbing her again.
How could he tell her that the first time he saw her he thought of a one night stand? She was a looker, would probably make Westley one happy man should they ever grow attached in a way that wasn't like siblings. But Mike didn’t want to think about her being married to someone else.
Maybe he was a little jealous.
She pat his chest. "Well, goodness me, look at the time." She went to the old sink, filled a soup bowl with water and put it outside for the giant that guarded them. Then, she all but flopped onto the couch.
She stretched her body out and moaned. She opened her eyes and grinned sleepily at him. "You should head to bed now. Don't know about you, but I'm beat."
"Great." He’d had plenty of sleep already. If watching her stretching on that couch, making herself comfortable and moaning about it was the alternative, then it was probably best he tried to get a little nap in.
Or a cold shower.
Back straight, he turned and headed to the direction of his new room.
"By the way," Anne called. "Gordon is going to invite a few other members of the pack over for protection, and probably to see you."
He groaned. He was an object of staring once in his life and he didn't feel like going back to that.
Anne moaned again and turned around to make herself more comfortable. The sight and sound reminded him of how close he was to having her.
Reminded him of straight up, rolling around, rough sex.
"Goodnight."
Fuck.
"Right, goodnight." He shut the door to his new prison and headed straight for the bathroom.
Buzzed with lust and having the image of her moaning and stretching like that, didn’t put him in the right frame of mind to contemplate his situation. Nor would it put him to sleep.
Mike lifted his Stetson to rub his sweat soaked hair. He needed a subzero shower.
FIVE
After his shower, in a bathroom so small Mike couldn't even stretch his elbows without hitting the walls, he put on his old clothes and tried to sneak out the window.
He needed to call Jason, his partner back in Griffon. Hadrian could be afraid of werewolves all he liked, that didn’t mean Mike had to sit on his ass.
He needed to get to that house and call for backup before anyone got hurt.
His foot touched down on Brock's furry back. The giant wolf released an ugly growl without raising his head.
Mike jerked back inside his room, stumbled over the nightstand and nearly fell over.
How did that wolf know?
"Son of a bitch," he hissed, tiptoeing to the door. He cracked it open, painfully aware of its wailing creaks as he did.
Anne’s eyes were closed like she was sleeping. Her legs hung over the arm of the old chair and her chest rose and fell in easy movements. Encouraged, he slunk out, shut the door behind him and tip toed as gently as he could to the front door.
"Don't even think about it."
Mike halted, his hand frozen over the door knob.
He tilted his head. She still lay sprawled lazily over the couch, her eyes half shut as she grinned sleepily at him.
Mike rolled his eyes, clenched his fists, and exhaled. God, he hated how werewolves could see, smell, and hear everything. He couldn't even do something as simple as sneaking out of this damn cabin.
He felt like a caught teenager.
"I'll be right back," he said.
She stretched like before, twisting and purring with delight. "You’re not going into Gordon’s house."
Rage ate him up like acid. He yanked the door open and turned to walk out. Brock sat on his hunches waiting for him, head bent, ears pointing back, teeth bared in a warning snarl.
Mike glared back and slammed the door on his nose, delighting in the painful yelp that followed.
Anne bolted up. "You don't have to be so mean. We're just doing as we're told."
Mike grumbled. "Yes, well, I've never seen a pack so devoted to their pack master."
He felt like he was in the Middle Ages where if the lord of the land demanded something then it was promptly delivered.
"Having a rich pack master who can hide everyone so easily, will do that." Anne said, popping her back and glaring. "Might as well stay awake since you ruined my nap."
Mike refused to feel sorry for her lack of sleep. Though, in the time it took for him to have his long shower, her hair did twist pleasingly around her head. Which meant she hadn't been doing as much sleeping as tossing around.
Pleasure bubbled inside him at the thought that he could keep her awake like that.
"Besides,” she said. “I was hoping you'd stick around."
"Why would I do that?"
"Aside from the obvious, where if we let you go you'd be dead before you could make it across the state?"
His face twisted. Her humor was not appreciated.
"Fine," she raised her hands, "calm down. I was just thinking about it and wondered if, even if you don't believe you're our first—"
"I'm not."
"Then you could still play the part for a bit."
The statement knocked him back a step. "What?"
She got to her feet and went to sit at the table. She held a finger to her lips.
He took the hint. The wolf at their doorstep was to be ignorant of their discussion. He walked across the room, pulled out a chair and sat across from her.
Annie leaned across the table to whisper to him, like they were a pair of thieves in the night getting ready for a smuggling run. "Alright, listen, I know you don't want to be here, and I'm sorry for that. But, if even a few people think you're the first, they will stop at almost nothing to make sure you get whatever you want."
He rested his cheek against his fist. She might as well have told him she was a leprechaun and wanted to give him all her gold. "Including sending me home?"
She bit her bottom lip, as though she didn’t like that idea. "If there are enough of us to escort you safely, then, yes. They might send you home."
His shock must've showed on his face because Annie snorted back a laugh. "See, I'm not so bad after all. All you have to do is play the part."
Suspicion still loomed heavily inside him. Mike couldn't bring himself to trust her. "Why are you telling me this?"
She looked towards the door, then lowered her eyes. "It's not that I don't trust Brock, I just want him to be able to deny this."
He waited while she took a deep breath and looked him back in the eyes. "You said it yourself, that we all seem to treat Gordon pretty good. Better than how a normal pack master is treated."
"He's like nobility."
She waved it off. "We're mostly about tradition here. Anyway, if the members of this pack even assumed you're the first werewolf, they’d treat you like a king. And, if you told them to call off my marriage to Westley ..." She trailed off, letting him piece together the rest on his own.
He grinned wickedly, impressed and aroused. "Very clever. So that day in the bar, you never thought for a second that I was really a reincarnation of anyone."
She shook her head, grin quirking her lips. "Actually, I did."
Mike's mouth dropped. His arousal deflating.
Annie sighed. "Look, you won't find a crescent birthmark anywhere on me. I wasn't born a wolf, but I still believe in this as much as anyone who is. Grandpa raised me on that story."
Mike leaned back in his seat, considering her words. "You realize that of the five werewolves at this ranch, apart from yourself, no one believes I am the first werewolf. Even if there were more, I can't just all of a sudden start spouting out how I think I am this person."
"You don't have to. The stone and a Warlock out to kill you is all you need. Don't run around saying you are. People will think you're crazy.”
“Oh, of course they would. That is the logical reaction.”
She narrowed her eyes but otherwise ignored his sarcasm. “Just don't flat out deny it when someone asks you if you are."
Mike tapped his fingers on his knee. "Tell them there's a chance that I could or couldn't be, that it?"
She snapped her fingers, excitement gleaming in her eyes. "Exactly."
“Hmm.” Her plan was well thought out. Just a few small holes. "And the lack of people willing to help?"
"Gordon told me that he's going to call up a few members of the pack, people he trusts. Something like this is just too big to keep from everyone. Those few will probably come here to see you. That's another three people at least. Chris is coming for sure, add myself into the equation, and we might be able to overrule Gordon's decision."
It didn't solve his problems, but it did encourage him to have a little hope about being stuck here.
Would it work though? More people who thought he was this mythical person might hinder his plans to get off the ranch before someone got hurt.
But, if they were so willing to do as he asked …
Taking his grin as a sign of his compliance, Anne stuck out her hand. "So, you’ll help me out?"
Mike wrapped his larger hand around hers and shook. According to her, he would be getting a safer trip home. Which, in turn, would get him to the backup he needed to make an arrest a lot faster.
Plus, he would help her to escape a marriage she didn't want with a man she considered a brother.
Leaving her open for what he had in mind.
"With incentive like that? I’ll settle down and live here for as long as you need me."
***
Anne couldn't believe her luck. She'd begged Gordon to let her out of the marriage. Then schemed with Westley. Then she prayed.
At least one of those efforts was worth something, she thought, stepping out of the shower and into the fresh clothes Brock delivered.
She would have asked her grandpa, but didn’t think he’d want to hear that she was showering and changing in a cottage with a man she barely knew just outside the door.
However, being up all night, the fight with shadows, and the heat pressing under her belly every time she was in the same room as Mike, drained her. The cold spray woke her up.
That night outside the bar when she saw the moon stone, she was so sure that Mike was the first of them.
Now that he denied it, not so sure, but with her new plan he didn't have to be. All he had to do was play the innocent fool and she was home free.
It was the epitome of brilliance and, yet, so simple she didn't know why she hadn’t thought of it before. She mentally pat herself on the back.
The shock of cold water and excitement acted like five gallons of caffeine injected directly into her bloodstream. There was no way she would sleep now.
She gave herself a once over in the mirror. Her hair was wet, leaving it heavier and darker and, though she didn’t have any mascara to put on, she thought she looked pretty good in her tight jeans and ruffle top.
Would Mike think so?
She shook her head. Not what she was supposed to be thinking about.
If he’s the one, he’s taken.
She exited the tiny room with the oversized bed that was supposed to be Mike’s during his stay.
He spotted her, pulled away from the cabinets he was searching through, and stared.
Despite having no make-up on, Anne blushed.
Shit. Say something, say something! “Find whatever it is you were looking for?”
He didn’t take his eyes away from her. “No guns, no phones, not even a current newspaper.”
The sound of his voice suggested that he didn’t mind.
She swallowed and moved toward the door. “Well, you’ll get those things when the others get here.” Though she had no idea who they’d be or how many.
His eyes were still following her, like she’d put on something for prom.
“Do you want a tour of the ranch while we wait?” She asked. “We could come back and get something to eat after.”
Fire lit up behind his eyes. "That would be great."
The sexual buzz in the air disappeared as plans came to her. "Perfect. This could be good to show Gordon that you won't try to run. Get on his good side and all. Then, maybe, we can get that moon stone in your hands. See if anything happens when you hold it."
"And if nothing does?"
That thought already occurred to her and didn't make her sweat. "Still wouldn't prove that you aren't the first."
Mike opened the door. Brock lay curled up with his furry rust colored back to them, his ears perking up when the door opened. He growled again.
Mike kept still, as though he weren't sure what he should do.
Anne smirked and stepped right over the mass of hair. "We're going to walk around. You can come if you want."
The giant reddish-brown wolf leapt to his feet and followed behind her. Mike shut the door and followed the wolf.
Anne looked behind her and saw the line-up they made. She laughed. "Brock, he can walk beside me."
Brock lowered his head and let out a disagreeable growl, but did step out from between them.
"Thanks," Mike muttered, his eyes searching the grounds with sudden interest.
Anne turned her face into the sun and stuck her hands in her pockets. This was a nice way to relax.
She opened her eyes and smiled as her guest took everything in. His ten gallon hat suggested that he either used to live on a ranch and had been away from one for some time—he did say he was from Griffon City after all—or was just one of those guys who liked the way he looked in it.
His stride relaxed as he observed the buildings. His body melted from the tense human being he was when he tried to talk his way out of being their hostage, to a man who felt more at home. Anne knew right then that he was a country mouse and not a city one. Why did he make the switch?
"What do you raise here?"
"Horses." Mike’s eyes lit up and Anne knew she found an opening to ask. "You strike me as the cowboy type." She lifted her arm and flicked his stiff, black hat. "Did you work ever on a ranch?"
The light clicked off. "I used to."
She wanted to turn that light back on, but stumbled in the dark looking for it. "Oh, well, what happened?"
He shook his head. "Nothing."
Knowing she would get nothing more out of him, Anne decided to let it go.
Up ahead, the sight of Westley in his work boots, jeans, and old t-shirt with the little guys made her forget about Mike's mood.
"There they are!" She ran to the weathered wooden fence and hauled herself up on it to stand.
Mike's mouth dropped. "Those are your horses?"
"Aren't they amazing?" She waved high in the air. "Hi, Westley!"
He looked up, saw that he was being watched, and sent a limp wave back before returning to the miniatures either galloping around or standing at his feet begging for attention.
"He's a little shy," she said to explain Westley's anti-socialism.
She glanced at Mike and laughed. The shock on his face didn’t go away. "Not the kind of horses you're used to, huh?" She loved shocking people like this. No one who met Gordon—cold, hard, Gordon—expected him to be dealing with miniature horses. Somehow they got it in thei
r heads that a man of his wealth and personality would only deal with proud stallions.
Mike shook his head, then leaned against the fence as one of the horses came to inspect him.
"Hi, Bella." Anne cooed, delighted when her big, brown eyes looked up at her. She flicked her head and Anne reached through the fence to scratch her neck.
Mike reached his large hand through too and gave the little, white horse a pat. "I won't be riding you, that's for sure."
Anne burst out laughing. "If you tried, I think you'd kill her."
She laughed again, ignoring the plain irritation on his face. By that time, Westley worked up the courage to come forward.
"We didn't get a proper introduction," he said, reaching his hand out. "Westley Stone."
Anne beamed with pleasure when Mike took the hand without hesitating. "Mike Carter."
Then Mike blinked and released the offered hand, staring down to make sure Brock was still with them. Anne looked down too, searching for the source of Mike's sudden discomfort.
Brock was still there, sticking his muzzle through the fence to nudge at the younger miniatures back to their mothers. They stubbornly refused to leave and kept returning to be prodded by his wet nose.
Mike shook his head, eyes moving from Brock to Westley and back to her. "I never put it together earlier when I was told I was on a ranch. I thought animals and werewolves...how can you—?" He stuttered.
Oh, so that was it.
Westley reached down and stroked the head of one of the miniature's that refused to leave Brock alone. "Lots of hard work and patience. We don't normally buy new animals because it's so hard to get them used to us. Every horse you see here, including the ones you don't, were all born here. They don't mind that we're werewolves."
Anne smiled. There were few things that could get Westley to talk so confidently like that. His horses were one of them.
"Gordon's loaded," she explained, not afraid of sounding blunt or embarrassing Westley. It was simply a fact that everyone in the area knew about.
“He can afford to keep this ranch running, even though it operates at a loss for the most part. But, he gets amazing tax breaks because of all the donations he makes. Some of these little guys are going to be trained to act like seeing-eye-horses for the blind. Others will go to nursing homes or children’s hospitals. Some are sold as pets."
