Anny wiped her hands on the towel. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to see your wolf too.”
“You can undress here and shift before we go outside,” Cherise suggested.
“Good idea.” Gwen turned to her. “That work for you?”
Sylvie nodded, but she suddenly felt self-conscious. Besides the scar on her cheek, there were some on her stomach and back. They’d probably show when she shifted but she hoped her fur would hide them. The few times she had shifted since she’d escaped her mate, she hadn’t been around a mirror or anyone else so she didn’t know for sure.
“You can change in the bedroom if you’d like.” Sylvie could have cried at Anny’s gentle suggestion.
“I’ll do that.” She turned and hurried from the room, desperately trying to fight down the familiar feeling of inadequacy. She entered Gator’s room and inhaled his scent. She could do this. Wanted to do this.
Seymour was lying on Gator’s bed, his long body sprawled out as only a cat can. The animal blinked, decided she wasn’t a threat and closed his eyes again. She shook her head and tried to calm her racing heart.
She could do this. She reminded herself that she’d been brave before and could do it again. The other women were chatting in the kitchen, waiting patiently for her. No one seemed upset, or worse, looked down on her. They were incredibly supportive and understanding.
She kicked off the sneakers and peeled off her socks. Then, taking a deep breath, she quickly stripped off the rest of her clothing before she could change her mind. She tossed them onto the end of the bed. Then she removed the elastic and unwound her braid, letting her hair flow over her shoulders.
It had been so long, but the change came so naturally it brought tears to her eyes. Her wolf was there, ready and waiting. Sylvie felt her body shifting and reforming. Her bones changed shape, becoming shorter and denser. She fell forward, her feet and hand replaced by paws. Fur covered her skin. Her jaw elongated, her teeth sharpened.
Pure joy enveloped her. She wiggled her body, settling into her wolf form. Run. She had to run. She rushed out of the room, sliding slightly on the wood floor. She careened into the kitchen and headed straight for the open door.
Sylvie didn’t even notice Anny and Cherise. All she saw was freedom.
She raced out of the house, onto the deck and down the stairs. The woods waited.
“Hey.”
Sylvie almost ignored the call but managed to pull her wolf back. Her wolf recognized the alpha female even if Sylvie hadn’t. She stumbled to a stop. Her entire body vibrated with barely leashed energy.
“You look so much like your brother,” Gwen told her. “Same black fur and brown eyes. You’re much prettier than he is though,” she added.
Sylvie knew the scar on her right cheek was now clearly visible on her muzzle. Something else she and Armand had in common—scars. Gwen’s eyes flickered to Sylvie’s back and she knew her scars were visible there as well. Shamed, she lowered her head.
“No.” Gwen’s voice cracked with anger. “Don’t you dare be ashamed of those marks. They shame the one who made them. Not you. You’re a survivor, Sylvie, an amazingly strong woman.”
She’d tried to believe that about herself, but hearing someone else say it gave her confidence. She raised her head and released a low growl.
Gwen laughed. “That’s right. Embrace who you are.” She paused. “Do you want me to go with you or do you want to go alone?”
Sylvie thought about it and shook her head. She wanted—no, she needed to be alone with her wolf.
“Okay, but don’t go too far. I don’t want the men crawling up my butt later about this.”
Sylvie inclined her head, turned and raced into the woods. Free. She was finally free.
He was almost back to his place when he caught several scents that made him swear—Sylvie and Gwen. What were the women doing outside the house? Of course, they hadn’t exactly told them to stay inside, just to stay close. It was unwise to assume you knew what a woman would do. In Gator’s experience, they always surprised you.
What in the hell were they doing? Gator was going to throttle all of them, starting with Sylvie. He ripped off his shirt and jeans, shifted and raced after Sylvie. He kept downwind from her so she couldn’t scent him. Not that he really thought she would. She was oblivious to everything around her. Nothing existed for her but the thrill of the run.
Gator could relate to that. What he couldn’t handle was how easily she disregarded her own safety. Gwen should have known better. So should Sylvie. She’d been hiding for years.
And finally felt safe.
It was like a kick to the gut. Sylvie felt safe enough to embrace her wolf and run. How long had it been since she’d been able to do such a thing? A very long time by the looks of things. And if she’d been living in cities all this time…
His thoughts trailed off when he watched her clear a small stream in one graceful jump, her slender body graceful and beautiful. She really was gorgeous. All sleek black fur and lean muscle.
Gator was honest enough to admit he was a little pissed he hadn’t been around to see her make her first change. That was petty of him, but he couldn’t help it. Still, he was the first of the males to see her. That was something.
He hadn’t seen her wolf in years. And just like in those days, his wolf wanted her. He stalked her, keeping pace easily. He wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt her or take her from him. Not this time.
Since she wasn’t watching her back, he’d do it for her. He sped up, getting a little closer. His gaze narrowed and his wolf wanted to howl. He barely restrained the beast from taking her to the ground so he could have a better look. That would only frighten her and make her run from him.
He’d expected to see the scar on her muzzle. After all, it marred her smooth cheek when she was in human form. What he hadn’t expected was the multitude of scars on her back and flanks. He’d prayed the ones he’d felt on her stomach when he’d touched her last night were the only ones.
Andre was a bastard who’d needed killing. Gator was glad he was dead but felt doubly cheated now that he’d seen Sylvie’s injuries. The bastard had died much too quickly for Gator’s liking.
He shook off his anger before it could take too deep a hold. He had to stay vigilant. Sylvie meant more to him than she knew, and he had to keep it that way for a while. Slow and steady, he reminded himself.
With that in mind, he put on a burst of speed and went around her. He stopped in a small clearing between a stand of oak trees and waited. Sylvie burst out from between two of the trees. When she saw him, she stumbled and tried to stop her headlong run. She skidded on the mossy ground, her body flipping over before she regained her footing.
She bared her teeth and growled at him. Gator simply waited, knowing what she was going to do next. And when she turned tail and ran, he followed her.
Chapter Twelve
Fear was a bitter taste in Sylvie’s mouth as she raced through the woods with the other wolf hot on her trail. Where was she? She’d been so lost in the beauty of simply being able to run free she’d lost track of her surroundings. She knew how dangerous that was. She knew it and she’d done it anyway because she’d felt safe.
Which was an illusion. They knew that someone from Pierre’s pack had probably seen her. There could be other wolves out there just waiting to attack.
She’d been defiant after all the years of suffering, all the years of running. She was taking a stand here and now. She stopped suddenly, whirled around and growled at the other wolf.
She was tired of running. It was time to stand and fight.
The wolf didn’t attack but simply came to a halt about seven feet from her. He tilted his head to one side and studied her with very familiar blue eyes.
Gator. How had she not known it was Gator?
Because she’d allowed fear to overwhelm a
ll her senses. She hadn’t used her head. She’d panicked and ran at the first sign of trouble. He was heavily muscled, his fur black with only a few patches of dark brown. He was all lean strength and predatory grace as he prowled around her. She circled with him, keeping him in view at all times.
He really was glorious to see. Her wolf wanted to preen and stretch but she kept the animal in check. He still hadn’t made a sound. It was unnerving. He was quiet and dangerous.
She growled again as anger and guilt filled her. Okay, she could admit that this hadn’t been the best idea she’d ever had. Sure, it was probably safe, but there was a very slight chance there might be someone out there. Watching.
Gator stopped and studied her. His blue eyes seemed even lighter surrounded by dark fur. He seemed to sigh and then he began to shift. Mesmerized, she watched him as hands and feet took the place of paws and tanned flesh replaced fur. His jaw receded and his facial features emerged.
A muscle pulsed in his jaw. He was angry. He was also extremely aroused. It was impossible not to see the evidence jutting out in front of him.
Fear trickled into her and she backed up a step.
“Don’t even think it,” he all but growled. He raked his fingers through his hair and pinned her with a glare. “I won’t hurt you. You know I won’t.”
Deep in her heart, she did know that, but she found it difficult to control her natural instinct to run. As she watched him, he huffed out a breath and put his hands on his lean hips.
Yeah, she really shouldn’t be looking at his groin, shouldn’t be noticing how long and thick his cock was. And she really shouldn’t be thinking about how good he’d feel inside her.
“Sylvie.” She tilted her head upward when he said her name. He had a half-smile on his face and his features were more relaxed. “You probably shouldn’t be looking at me like that.”
If it were possible for a wolf to blush, then Sylvie figured she must have been doing so at that moment. Her cheeks felt warm. She’d been staring at him. Well, it was his fault for running around naked and looking so darn hot.
“You look beautiful.” There was no doubting the sincerity of his words, but Sylvie knew she wasn’t anywhere near beautiful.
As if he were reading her thoughts, he shook his head. “Yes, you have scars on your body, but they can’t mar your true beauty. You’re sleek and black. I like black fur.” He took a step toward her. He kept his hands open and held slightly out in front of him as if to reassure her he meant no harm.
“There’s so damn much in your eyes, chère. So much knowledge and pain I’d take away if I could.”
She closed her eyes. He saw too much. She felt exposed and raw.
She sensed him before she felt his fingertips graze the top of her head. She snapped her eyes open and growled, but he held his ground.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll never hurt you.” He fell to his knees in front of her and stroked her muzzle. His thumb traced the scar on her right cheek. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
A tear fell from her eye and trickled down her muzzle. He leaned in and brushed his lips over it. “You’re safe now.” He tightened his hold on her briefly before relaxing. “But if you ever put yourself at risk again by running off with no one to protect you, I’m going to take you over my knee and spank you.”
Sylvie pulled away, shocked by his outburst.
Gator nodded. “I’m serious. You can’t risk yourself like that. My heart can’t take the stress.”
She snorted, not quite sure if he was serious or teasing her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to test him but backed up another step.
“Fuck. I’m doing this all wrong.” He rubbed his hand over his face. “Look, you need to be careful, Sylvie. Our old pack knows you’re here.”
She quivered at the thought of them finding her but then anger took hold and she growled. She wasn’t going back to Louisiana. They’d have to kill her first.
“We don’t have any proof. But I know it here.” Gator thumped his chest as he rose from his knees to tower over her. “They’re going to be out there at some point.” He circled slowly and she could tell he was sniffing the air and listening at the same time. “If not today, then tomorrow or the day after or the one after that.”
He was right. She knew the threat was real, but her wolf had taken hold and she’d gone with it even after promising Gwen she’d stay close. Shame filled her and her head dropped low.
“Hey, none of that.” Gator caught her muzzle in his hand and lifted her head. “I should have known you’d want to run. I should have been with you.”
Now he was taking the blame for her running off halfcocked. She wasn’t having it. Sylvie began to shift. Her wolf didn’t want to go at first but reluctantly went when Sylvie promised her they’d run again soon. She felt her limbs reshape, her jawline shrink and her skin cover her body.
She pushed upward, naked and unafraid. “You can’t take the blame for my actions. I’m the one who chose to shift and run.” She wanted to cover her body but made herself stand tall and proud. “I promised Gwen I’d stay close. She wanted to come with me but I needed to do this on my own.”
Gator knew his cock was standing at attention and there was nothing he could do about it. Sylvie stood before him, proud as a queen and as beautiful as a sunset. Her black hair hung loose, falling like a curtain around her shoulders. Her smooth skin was marred with scars from past fights, most likely with her mate, but some of them looked even older and might be a result of a beating from her father. Remy LaForge would never have been nominated for any father-of-the-year award.
“Turn around. Let me see.” His voice was so low and guttural he almost didn’t recognize it, but he had to see the scars she lived with daily.
She took a deep breath and slowly rotated away from him. Her hair still covered most of her back. He slowly walked up to her and pushed aside the silky curtain.
He swallowed hard and said a prayer under his breath. She flinched slightly when he touched the first scar but held her ground. She was so brave. He knew she thought of herself as cowardly, but he was in awe of her courage.
To be naked and allow him to stand behind her took more courage than most men would ever possess. To hide for years among humans, all alone, was so very brave.
He leaned down and kissed the mark. It was an outrage, an abomination on her creamy white flesh.
“I know they’re ugly,” she began.
He ran his tongue over the longest one. “Non. Badges of courage, of survival.” There were eight in all. “When?”
She knew what he wanted to know. “The night he tried to kill me.” She shivered. “I think maybe I did die for a few seconds. All I know is I felt light, like I was leaving my body.”
Gator wrapped his arms around her from behind and held her close. There was nothing he could do about his erection and it pressed hard against her back. “I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t begin to imagine what that had been like for her.
She tried to shrug it off, to shrug him off, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He rocked her gently from side-to-side and kissed her nape.
“Maybe that’s why I never fully healed. It took too much of my healing energy to bring me back to life and keep me alive.” Her voice was calm and almost clinical. Gator knew she needed the separation from the event to actually talk about it.
He slowly turned her so she was facing him. “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.” He sifted his fingers through her hair, shuddering slightly at the erotic caress against his skin. It was even better than he’d imagined. What would it feel like trailing over his chest or his dick?
Gator took a deep breath and struggled to regain control.
“Gator?”
“I’m so glad you’re alive, mon ange.” Then he kissed her. He had to. He had to know she was really here with him.
He framed he
r face with his hands and tasted her sweet lips. The bittersweet flavor of coffee clung to them. He loved coffee, especially when it was flavored with her unique taste.
He licked her bottom lip and slid his tongue inside. She moaned and stroked her tongue against his.
This was dangerous. Warning bells went off in the back of his brain. They shouldn’t be out here alone like this. It wasn’t safe.
But he couldn’t touch her like this if he took her home. Not with everyone around. Not with her brother watching.
Armand. He felt a twinge of guilt about what he was doing. Then Sylvie started kissing him back and the feeling was smothered with more dangerous, potent ones—lust and need.
He almost pushed her back toward a tree but the bark would be too rough for her skin. She’d been hurt enough in her lifetime. His wolf growled, wanting to maim someone, anyone for the affront to her.
Then she touched her hand to his face and nothing else mattered but getting closer to her. He scooped her off her feet. She gasped but didn’t pull away from him.
Gator felt like the king of the universe. The ground was hard in spots but there was a tiny field of wild flowers only moments away. He began to walk, which wasn’t easy because he was still kissing her.
Sylvie solved the problem by ending their kiss. He barely swallowed back his growl of displeasure.
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” He was almost there. “You’ll like it,” he promised.
“Hmm.” She was noncommittal, but at least she didn’t demand he put her down. Her fingers played with the ends of his hair. That small touch almost sent him to his knees. He wanted her so damn much. His balls felt like they were being twisted in a vise and his cock was so full it hurt. But none of that mattered, not with Sylvie lying so trusting in his arms.
He stepped out of the shadowy forest into the bright light of the day. The area was small—no more than ten feet by about twenty—but it was a carpet of wildflowers. Most of them were more than a foot high, as though they were reaching for the sun.
Wolf from the Past: Salvation Pack, Book 4 Page 13
