Tempering Steel

by Lea Barrymire

  Connor did a full body stretch, groaning slightly as he cracked his neck, and she nearly swallowed her tongue. Good Lord Almighty, the man was fine. Muscles bunched and stretched under the thin layer of clothing, showing off all his attributes in fine relief. Was it wrong of her to want to run her fingers along each well-defined ridge? Or that her fingers actually twitched with the need to debauch the poor man?

  To save herself the agony of him grinning after he took a whiff of the air and tasted her lust, she climbed out of the truck. Fuck it. He knew he affected her that way. But to sit so close and have his eyes take on a hint of his coyote and then have him once again turn her down was more than she could take. She was a strong female, but being refused numerous times still took its toll on her nerves and self-esteem.

  Connor climbed out shortly after she exited the truck and to his credit didn’t say a word to her. If he’d scented her arousal he didn’t comment on it. Which was a good thing for him. She didn’t need the sheriff to be conscious when she went stalking through the woods to find the wounded creature they were looking for—she could easily tranquilize him and leave him to get the sleep he obviously needed.

  She snorted and a brow-raised gaze whipped around to her. She shrugged. Like I’m going to tell him about wanting to shoot his fine ass with enough drugs to have him sleeping like a hibernating bear for the next few hours. Instead she waved him off and pointed into the woods.

  “Smell anything? Or shall we move farther along our path?”

  Connor huffed and turned back toward the forest until he was facing into the breeze. She watched as he sniffed and moved his head in a definitely canine fashion. When he tilted his head back she couldn’t keep the laughter in. She tried, covering her mouth with her hand and turning from him, but it was too funny. The people she’d known for two years had finally shown their true heritage, fur and all. To watch someone she had the major hots for throw his head back like he’d be baying at the moon had her in stitches.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, woman?”

  Turning back, she found her scowling companion staring at her. “Nothing, Fido. Are we moving on or what?”

  He flinched at the comment and she instantly felt bad. “Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. Really.”

  “Whatever. I don’t smell anything. Let’s move closer to Billy’s land and see if I can catch a scent there.”

  He pouted. Incredulously, she watched Connor stalk back to the truck and get in, slumping down into the seat like some teenager. Well, what had just happened? He’d taken every other insult she’d ever thrown at him like a champ, and usually threw something back at her just as quickly. Did her coyote friend not have a thick skin? Had the dog comment been too much?

  Guilt flooded her. She didn’t want to hurt him, just keep him guessing. Stupid me and my stupid mouth. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something to someone and put a huge crater in their friendship.

  Sighing, she climbed into the vehicle and turned to her sulking passenger. “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For whatever it is I said. I didn’t mean anything by it. Really.”

  “Fine. Can we go?”

  She watched him for a few moments, waiting for him to turn and look at her, but when he continued to stare out of the window and ignore her, she shrugged and started off down the road. Margie had apologized. There wasn’t much more she could do. Making a mental note to lay off the nicknames did enter her mind. She liked irritating him but she didn’t want to hurt him. Sure he drove her insane, but she really did count Connor as one of her friends. No matter what others thought of her, she wasn’t bitchy enough to want to hurt people she liked, even if she did end up saying something sharp or sarcastic to everyone she came into contact with more than once or twice.

  The drive wasn’t as pleasant as the first leg of their journey. Connor sat staring out of his window, his shoulders tense and his fists clenched. Margie tried to think of something she could say to lighten the mood but came up blank. She sighed with relief when Billy Ward’s land markers started showing up along the road.

  “Pull over here.” She’d expected him to say something but she still jumped. She obeyed and threw the truck into park. Before she could open her door, Connor continued. “Stay in here. I’ll just be a second. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable with my methods.”

  The venom behind the words took her aback, but the anger and accusation in his tone was far worse. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, to fix what she’d done but he stopped her with a raised hand. “Stow it, Margie. It won’t take me more than a moment.”

  With that, he shut the door and walked toward the trees. Well, fuck a duck. She’d really stepped in it this time. How was she supposed to know a reference to a dog would cause this, though? She’d called him all kinds of things before and nothing had even made him blink.

  Waiting for him to return gave her some time to really think about their convoluted relationship, if she could even call it that. Perhaps it was time to give up her and just accept him as the friend he seemed to want to be. Maybe it was a shifter thing. If they weren’t compatible or something, why keep trying to force him to see her as anything other than a friend? Sure, she’d seen the heat and lust in his eyes, but maybe it went deeper than that. It was something she could ask Ian or Skip later, but she needed to fix this rift now.

  Plucking up her courage, she waited, leg jumping and palms sweaty, for Connor to come back. The moment a flash of denim and gray shirt was visible through the leaves, she was out of the truck and rushing around to the front. “Hey. Look. I’m sorry. My mouth gets me in trouble all the time. I really didn’t mean anything by it. Can we, I don’t know…have a friendly truce? I won’t say anything else to piss you off and you’ll forgive me?”

  She’d rushed the words, wanting to get them out before he could stop her. He’d stopped walking the moment she’d started talking, and remained half-hidden behind a huge conifer. His face for once was blank—no emotions scrunched his brow or pinched his lips. Connor’s stare left her fidgety and anxious. It bored into her heart and mind with a frightening intensity. She’d seen that same look in the eye of a predator as it stalked its prey. Single-minded and harsh, he gazed at her.

  The silence was killing her. It pressed into her chest, squeezing her heart. Finally, after an hour or maybe only a couple of minutes, she burst. “Please. Geez. I didn’t mean to call you a dog. Nothing you guys do even seems strange. I think its way cool you’re a shifter. Come on. You know my mouth goes before my brain has time to filter.”

  The bit of whine in her voice was embarrassing, but she didn’t care. The slow nod of Connor’s head had a breath of relief whooshing from her lungs. “Thanks. I really am—”

  “Get in the truck, Margie. Stop apologizing.”

  She rushed to comply. “Okay. I get it. Truce it is.”

  Now how to keep her mouth shut long enough for him to get over his snit? Shit. She hadn’t really tried to censor her words in years.

  Chapter Three

  It was a relief to finally get out of the enclosed space of her truck. They’d parked at the trailhead and had a plan. Connor had remained silent, even if the tension in his shoulders had lessened. Margie was bouncing between being pissed that he was angry over something so benign and being upset that she’d unintentionally hurt him. Once they arrived at the small gravel parking area at the base of the mountain and started gathering their gear, she felt her own tension melt away. Going in the woods to rescue an animal or put it down humanely was her thing. She lived to aid creatures, loved to make friends with the town’s pets and livestock. Connor and his stupid feelings could be pushed to the back of her mind while she dealt with work.

  Slinging her equipment bag over her shoulder gave her a moment to watch him from the corner of her eye. He seemed intent on scouting the woods, scowling deeply at the darkness under the trees. He didn’t turn but his voice broke the silence. “Ready?”
>
  “Yep.”

  He grunted in affirmation and headed toward the trail. He kept his head moving back and forth, looking for trouble. Over the soft sound of their footsteps she could hear him snuffling. She kept quiet and followed him into the forest. With his nose and ears, he’d find the animal before she did. For now her job was the carry the gear needed to deal with whatever they’d find.

  As they hiked and she breathed in the scents of the woods, she relaxed and enjoyed the experience. Sure, they were potentially going to come across something stressful, but until then she could concentrate on the surroundings and soak in nature. She used to laugh with her mother about being some sort of wood pixie. She’d spent so much time barefoot in the woods that her skin had been permanently stained. The memory brought a smile to her lips. If her mom only knew the truth about this sleepy little town Margie had moved to.

  The slow, steady pace they’d adopted gave her a little time to look around and watch Connor treading along in front of her. The mystery of why he’d reacted so badly puzzled her. Had she inadvertently insulted shifterkind? Had it been something every one of the shifters would react badly to? Or something specific to him? Had he had a traumatic experience as a child?

  Every paranormal book she’d ever read flew through her mind. Could it be something as terrible as slavery? Or was it something less horrific? An ex-girlfriend, maybe?

  Chewing her lip and dividing her attention between the leaf-strewn path and her thoughts kept her from asking Connor for clarification. She knew it would piss him off if she asked, but how could she avoid this all again if she didn’t know?

  Curse my curiosity.

  “Stop.”

  Margie slammed her lips closed around a scream of surprise. She did as commanded, stopping half a dozen paces behind him. She froze in mid stride and glanced around, looking for whatever had triggered the terse word. Even straining her ears and turning to stare in the direction he was looking didn’t clue her in. She wanted to ask what was going on but kept her mouth shut. If she had to bite her tongue just a little too hard and bounce one leg, so be it.

  A growl unlike anything she’d heard before rolled from Connor’s slightly open mouth. It was animalistic and angry, combined into one deep vibration. She could feel it as it rolled up from the balls of her feet to her spine. She shivered as goose bumps broke out on both arms. That sound was something she never wanted aimed at her. It wasn’t sexy or inviting. It held a note of death and destruction, a promise of retribution and rage.

  “Shifter. I can smell him. Wolf. No one I’ve met before, and he’s bleeding.” Connor turned to her with golden eyes. His coyote was ready and willing to take on whatever they came across. With quick strides he closed the distance between them. “Give me your pack. We’re going to move fast and I can carry it easier than you.”

  With shaking hands, she did as bidden. For once her tongue didn’t want to wag at him, asking questions. He grunted at her with a small nod of his head before turning again and walking quickly off the trail into the knee-high ferns.

  “If you fall more than thirty steps behind me, you need to tell me.”

  He didn’t even turn to find out if she was following him. Margie answered him anyway. “Okay. But I should be able to keep up.”

  Grueling. That was the only word that came to mind after twenty minutes of chasing Connor. Sure, if he’d been human she could have kept up with little trouble. The fact that he could move far faster at a hustle than she could running had her calling out to him every few minutes. She started letting him get farther and farther ahead before she yelled for him. Knowing she was hampering his speed had her stomach in knots, but without him to lead her she’d never find the shifter.

  Or maybe she would have. Once they got closer a howl, eerie and chilling, filled the air. It pulled tears to her eyes. No wonder the other hikers had booked it out of the woods. Without knowing it was a wolf shifter, she would have run at that moment as well. The mournful sound was raspy, probably from the creature using its voice to cry for help. The cadence was deep and haunting, with an off-pitch so terrifying that her heart raced and the hairs on her body stood on end.

  The sound spurred Connor on, and she watched him disappear up an incline. She fought the urge to call him back to her. You’re strong and know the man who’s trapped won’t harm you. Sure, she knew that in her brain, but her adrenal glands were scared shitless and pumped her full of adrenaline.

  Climbing the same incline her elusive coyote had gone up brought her face to snout with a very angry black wolf who seemed hell-bent on not letting Connor get anywhere near him. The growling from the two shifters sounded very similar to a National Geographic special she’d recently watched on wolves. Even in his human form Connor had his teeth bared, and he looked bigger and way more pissed off.

  At least he’d dropped her pack near a tree she could easily get to. Circling the two males had every flight instinct going off, but she’d faced angrier animals before, and she could deal with these two. Getting to her pack was easy enough. Both wolf and man ignored her, neither looking her way at all. It seemed some sort of dominance thing was going on between them, a distraction she planned on using to prep a couple of darts and the medical equipment she’d need to stem the bleeding she could see and smell.

  Once she had her dart gun loaded and two extra charges ready, she stood and turned to the two growling men. She cleared her throat before yelling, “Hey. Guys. Cut it out.”

  No response. Shaking her head, she cleared her throat again. “Connor. Back off. I need to get him treated.”

  Still no response. If anything, Connor’s vocalizations got louder. She grumbled under her breath. “Screw this.”

  She took careful aim and pulled the trigger. A small puff of air and the telling thwack let her know she’d hit the injured wolf with the first dart. While he yelped and continued to growl, she casually loaded a second dose into the gun. Looking up, she caught the wolf’s gaze. “I’ll shoot you with another dose if you don’t calm down.”

  “No. I’m not taking a chance. Dart him again. I won’t have you around him if he’s not asleep.” Connor’s words were so thick with his animal’s voice that she could barely understand him.

  Her feminist side bristled. “It’s not up to you, Sheriff. I’m the one who has the certificates and licenses to carry this gun. If he can calm down enough to allow us to get him out of that trap, then so be it.”

  She was ready when he charged at her with the light of caveman and coyote in his eyes. She fired from the hip and grinned at the sound of dart hitting solid muscle. The look in Connor’s eyes when he went down on his knees was comical.

  “You shot me?”

  “Yep.”

  “Why? ‘Cause I wouldn’t talk to you before?”

  She shook her head and watched his eyes dilate slightly. The sedative worked wonders in animals and it seemed to work just as fast in shifters. From experience she knew the dose she’d used on both men was only going to make them pliant and would wear off in thirty minutes or less. Enough time to get the wolf out of the trap, calmed and bandaged. And…well, enough time for Connor to get over his wounded ego at being shot and over the anger he’d displayed when they’d found the wolf.

  “You…you shot me.”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  He was already listing to one side, and she rushed forward to help him to sit against a tree. “Because you needed to calm down. I need to look at this wolf and I can’t do that if you’ve got him all pissed off.”

  “Dangerous.”

  His eyes drooped. She leaned down and kissed the lines of confusion between his brows. “I know. That’s why I gave him a little more than you. He’ll be sleeping like a cub in about two minutes.”

  “Sorry about being mad. She called me that before she left,” Connor mumbled.

  The slurred words had her ears perking up like a fox’s after hearing the squeak of a mouse. She. Margie squashed the questions
bubbling up. Instead she turned, gathered her gear and slowly approached the downed wolf. In the back of her mind, Connor’s words swirled. Someone had hurt him. Some female. A growl of her own, laced with jealousy and anger, vibrated in her chest.

  Turning to her new charge helped to push away the irrational feelings. Margie needed to take care of this poor wolf, who was still bleeding all over the forest floor. Getting a good look at his condition for the first time had her cataloging information. He was big—much larger than any of the coyotes she’d seen during the fight at Cammie’s house. Even Skip and Connor couldn’t match the wolf for size, and they were big boys. Ian in wolf form was close to this male’s size, maybe. But where Ian was light browns and tans, this wolf was jet black. She couldn’t see a single patch of brown or white anywhere.

  When she stooped and slid to her knees, one big yellow eye rolled in its socket before focusing on her. “Shhh, you’re fine. I’m the local vet. I know you’re a shifter. That big guy over my shoulder is the sheriff. He’s a coyote. Be still so I can get you out of the trap. Nod if you understand.”

  A slight movement of the wolf’s head was enough for her. Even if he meant her harm, the drugs coursing through his system would make him move with the speed of a drunken snail. “Good. Now be still.”

  Margie had become very good at manipulating coyote traps. It seemed that if a man in the area of Coyote Bluff didn’t hunt with a gun, he was a trapper. There’d been a rash of dogs getting slammed in metal jaws right after she’d moved to town. This setup was nearly brand new. Its slick metal reflected the filtered light from above, and even over the blood she could smell the oiled steel. With a practiced move she pressed down on the two levers, careful to use her palms to grip the sides of the trap once she’d pried it open.

  No matter how many times she worked a paw or tail free, the devastation left behind by the metal teeth and crushing jaws made her stomach flip. Margie understood the reasons for using the traps and would never berate a trapper for his choices, but that didn’t help how she reacted upon seeing the damage.