Tamed by the She-Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  Protruding from a nest of dark hair, his long cock bounced free and easy. Angeline’s mouth watered for the salty, masculine taste of him. She could blame the lustful desire on the nearing full moon, but the accusation would be a lie.

  Despite his career choice, she wanted him, even though she wished otherwise.

  Careful to stay downwind, she watched him ease into the chair and begin the laborious process of removing his leg. His movements were slow and methodical, and it hurt her heart to understand that he would never be able to simply shuck his clothes and run free. Not if he wanted a leg to stand on when he returned.

  With one hand, he lifted his thigh and carefully worked off the prosthetic cup. Each time he grimaced, Angeline did, too.

  He laid the artificial limb on top of his clothes. Lincoln’s naturally bronzed skin appeared several shades darker that the flesh-colored stocking covering his stump. Carefully, he began the tedious process of removing the protective sleeve.

  A new ache rose in her heart at the independence he’d lost and sacrificed.

  She wanted to go to him, to help so the task wouldn’t be so difficult. Instead, she remained perfectly still. He’d resented her assistance with the groceries. How much more upset would he be if she tried to help him now?

  The leg and sleeve wrapped in his clothes and stowed beneath the chair, Lincoln eased out of the chair and onto the ground. Balancing his weight on one knee and both hands, he shifted.

  His wolf, black with glints of gold dust on the tips of his fur, looked as magnificent as the man. He took a few wobbly steps, but then his stride grew more confident. He lifted his snout and scented the air. Since she stayed downwind, he didn’t pinpoint her current location but he quickly picked up her scent trail when she’d started her run. He stared in the direction she’d gone, then darted down the same path.

  There could’ve been any number of reasons as to why he’d chosen to track Angeline. But that he did made her happier than it ever should have.

  Chapter 10

  Lincoln jarred awake, the deafening explosion still ringing in his ears. His heart pounded unmercifully and he struggled to breathe normally. The sweat coating his body seemed to burn his skin rather than cool it down.

  Even with the glow of the television lighting the room, it still took a few seconds for him to realize that he was safe inside the apartment and not falling out of a two-story building. Shoving aside a lightweight blanket, Lincoln wiped the troubled sleep from his eyes and rubbed his hands along his jaw covered in several days’ worth of stubble.

  He’d dozed off on the couch again. The bed seemed too much a luxury to get used to sleeping on.

  Muting the television didn’t silence the noise. The rumble outside grew louder, chased by the tinkling sounds of laughter and giggles.

  After putting on his leg and sweatpants, he stood slowly, shook off the sludge the nightmare had cast and limped to the door. The peephole gave him a perfect view down the corridor but not of the ruckus coming from the stairs.

  He cracked open the door and leaned out for a quick peek. The flurry of activity storming the stairwell moved en masse to swarm him, firing questions and exclamations at him faster than a semiautomatic AK-47.

  Angeline stepped up behind the crowd of children, their ages anywhere from six to sixteen. Despite the chaos ratcheting up his raw nerves, she appeared unflustered and unconcerned by the swirl of activity.

  For a fleeting moment, Lincoln wished he would’ve caught up with her in the woods last night. He still needed to tell her about Tanner. After all, he had made a promise. But what if fulfilling that oath did more harm than good?

  “Whoa! Whoa!” Angeline held up her hands. “Settle down, please.”

  The kids quieted, except for one. Obviously the youngest, she stepped forward. Her wide, rounded eyes were just as blue as Angeline’s but her hair was a deep chestnut.

  “Are you the...Dogman?” She whispered the last word. So adorable and brave.

  “I am.” He crouched to her level and flattened his palm over his heart. “Lincoln Adams, at your service.”

  A dazzling smile cracked the serious mask on the little girl’s face, but it wasn’t her brilliance that heated his skin. He slid his gaze to Angeline. The natural feminine curve of her mouth didn’t waver. The heat he felt radiated from her eyes. All sparkly and bright, they warmed him to the depth of his soul.

  The little girl’s hand darted toward Lincoln.

  “Sierra! No!” The oldest boy clamped a hand on her shoulder and pulled her back into the safety of their huddle.

  Fear now filled the little girl’s eyes.

  Like a splash of ice water to the face, Lincoln regained his senses. Dogmen, though generally held in great esteem among Wahyas, were also feared for the awful things they had to do.

  Peace came at a price. Dogmen were the ones who paid it.

  Lincoln stretched to his full height and met each of the children’s uncertain gazes. How brave Dayax must have been, alone and starving, to face a Dogman for the first time and ask for food.

  “I hope we didn’t wake you,” Angeline said.

  Lincoln checked his watch. Quarter past eight. “I needed to get up, anyway.”

  “Aunt Ange.” The youngest boy spoke out of the side of his mouth. “Is he going to kill us?”

  “Not if you study hard, finish your homework and don’t talk back to your elders,” Angeline said seriously.

  “You said the same thing about getting presents from Santa Claus,” the middle boy said.

  “Who do you think Santa gives the naughty list to?” Lincoln stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  The oldest girl, a teenager, rolled her eyes. “I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast?”

  “Well, that depends.” Angeline stepped around the pack of children and stood in front of Lincoln. “Can we borrow some eggs?”

  “And bacon!”

  “No, sausage!”

  “Bread! I want French toast.”

  Everyone shouted over each other, and Lincoln had difficulty determining who wanted what.

  Angeline whistled, shrill and effective. The kids fell silent.

  “Help yourself.” Lincoln pushed open the door.

  “We’re going to need the kitchen, too,” she whispered, ushering the kids inside.

  “All right, then.” He closed the door, watching them file into the kitchen, each diverging into a specific area and setting up like a team of breakfast sprites.

  “It’s a teacher’s workday at their schools.” Angeline peeled off her coat and collected the ones the children had discarded on their way in. She laid them in a chair by the entertainment center. “And they always spend them with me. This—” she waved her hand toward the kitchen “—is tradition. We start the morning with a hearty breakfast.”

  “You don’t cook.”

  “No, but Tristan does, so I always brought them here. Even after he moved in with Nel, we still came here because he has a larger kitchen.” Angeline gave him a sidelong look. “We can gather everything and go to my place if we’re disturbing you.”

  “What’s in it for me if I let you stay?”

  “Breakfast, and the kids clean up the dishes.” Angeline’s blue eyes sparkled and her mouth formed a pretty-please smile.

  “Hard to say no to that.”

  “Hey! Mr. Dogman!” Sierra waved at him. “We’re going sledding after we eat.”

  “You are?” Lincoln noticed an ebbing warmth deep inside. Had he made a different choice, he could’ve shared his life with a mate and a brood of kids.

  “Yep. It’s fun and then we drink hot chocolate.” The little one gathered the silverware.

  “Want to come?” Angeline asked.

  “I probably shouldn’t.”

  “Your loss. We always have a great time.” The tempting smile
curving her mouth wreaked all sorts of havoc on Lincoln’s mind and body.

  “I bet you do.” Lincoln started toward the bathroom. “Don’t let them burn down the place while I’m in the shower.”

  “I’ll keep Aunt Ange out of the kitchen,” the teenaged girl said. “She’s more apt to start a fire than we are.”

  “Roslyn!” Angeline pointed a long, slender finger at her oldest niece. “Keep talking like that and no more driving lessons.”

  The carefree giggles and unrestrained laughter that filled the apartment were sounds like nothing Lincoln had every experienced. He dwelled in a world of strife and fear and desperation. He couldn’t imagine adapting to civilian life, yet longing broke inside him.

  After lumbering into the bathroom, Lincoln stripped off his clothes. Sitting on the shower chair, he removed the prosthetic leg and turned on the water, allowing the icy-cold stream to numb his skin. Too bad it couldn’t do the same with his wayward thoughts.

  Brice had asked what Lincoln planned to do after he found Dayax. “Bring him home” had been the only response Lincoln’s heart would provide. But Lincoln had no home. No future, really. His entire life had been devoted to the Program. Watching Angeline with her nieces and nephews, he began to truly understand the tragedy of Tanner’s choice. And now, possibly his own.

  * * *

  “We killed the Dogman!” Sierra shrieked.

  Angeline’s heart had not yet restarted after watching Lincoln’s sled go airborne, flip twice and slam to the snow-covered ground with Lincoln tumbling behind. A thunderous howl had chased him down the hill.

  “Everyone stay here!” She gave a look to Roslyn and Caleb, her teenaged niece and nephew. Immediately, they gathered Logan, Brent and Sierra closer and assured the younger kids that Dogmen were Wahyan superheroes, so they couldn’t die from falling off a sled.

  Angeline darted to the spot where Lincoln had landed. The snow boots provided her feet with some traction, but she would have made faster progress in her wolf form. Seeing her shift on the fly would likely panic the children, who were already frightened and worried.

  The muscles in her legs burned and tightened as she trudged through the snowdrift. The sunlight glinting off the stark white landscape caused her eyes to water, not the sight of the man, flat on his back, still as death.

  “Lincoln!” Her breath steamed the air.

  Don’t be dead! Don’t be dead!

  Dropping to her knees, Angeline yanked off her mittens and brushed away the snow flurries dotting Lincoln’s face. She didn’t see any signs of blood, his body didn’t appear twisted, and his neck wasn’t crooked at an odd angle. “Hey, are you all right?”

  His closed eyelids didn’t flutter open, no sound escaped his slightly parted lips, and not one muscle twitched in response. Lightly, she pressed her hand to his nose and mouth. Not one puff of warm breath heated her palm.

  “Oh, no.” She yanked open his jacket and laid her ear against his chest. The layers of clothes could’ve obscured the sound, but she didn’t hear the beat of his heart.

  Maybe she should’ve taken the CPR class Tristan had suggested.

  Angeline leaned over Lincoln’s all too still body and lowered her face to his. Just before she touched his jaw to pry open his mouth, Lincoln’s eyelashes lifted. Mischief sparkled in his pale green eyes.

  “Hello, Angel.” His hand rose to cup the back of her neck while the other slid around her waist, pulling her on top of him.

  His mouth, cold from the wind, captured her lips, muffling her surprise. A rush of desire followed on the heels of utter relief. Without meaning to do so, she relaxed in the warmth spreading through her.

  Lincoln deepened the kiss, the taste of coffee and syrup still on his tongue. Probing gently, he explored her mouth, unleashing peals of excitement low in her belly.

  Encouraging Lincoln’s attention was reckless. He stirred up feelings no other man had since Tanner had left her. A feeling she wouldn’t mind exploring with someone other than a Dogman.

  So why didn’t she want to resist his kiss?

  His hand slipped beneath her jacket. His hand branding her skin despite the layers of clothes.

  “He is dead,” Sierra yelled from the hilltop. “Aunt Ange is giving him air!”

  “No, silly.” Caleb’s voice carried down the snow-covered slope. “They’re kissing.”

  “Ewww!” a choir of voices chimed.

  “Obviously, they have no idea what it’s like to kiss an angel,” Lincoln murmured against Angeline’s lips.

  She drew back and gave him her scrunched up I’m-not-impressed face. “Not funny, Dogman. Not funny at all.”

  “And yet I’m smiling.”

  Indeed he was. Mouth. Eyes. His entire face beamed.

  “Are you all right?” Angeline kept her serious mask in place.

  “Never better. But, I—um.” Lincoln frowned. “I’m numb from the snow. Is my leg still on?”

  “I think so.” She patted the fleshy part of his left thigh.

  Lincoln’s head fell back and his chest rumbled with a deep groan that definitely had not come from a place of pain.

  The sound sent a shock down her spine that spread through her body until it settled like a swirl of heat in her abdomen. Gritting her teeth, she danced her fingers lower until her fingertips felt the hard ridge of the prosthetic cup. “Yep. Leg in place.”

  The chatter of children drew closer.

  “Can you take them back up the hill?” Lincoln sat up, his gaze falling to the artificial leg. “It might take me a while to get up.”

  “Nope,” Angeline said. “It’s tradition. After the first person falls, we all make snow angels.”

  She watched the kids’ rosy faces as they made their way down the hill to her and Lincoln.

  Sierra trudged up to Lincoln. Her small, mittened hands clutched his face. “I thought you were a goner.”

  “We all did. The way you flew through the air.” Brent flopped onto the ground a few feet away. “It was spectacular.”

  “No,” Angeline said. “It was a dangerous stunt and no one is going to repeat it.”

  “It wasn’t dangerous.” Lincoln pulled a wide-eyed Sierra into his lap. “No one was shooting at me.” Mercilessly, he tickled her.

  Her giggles of delight echoed around them.

  Logan lobbed the first snowball and after tucking Sierra behind him, Lincoln returned the volley. Soon, all the kids had joined the fight.

  Angeline no longer felt the cold in her fingers as unbidden affection warmed her inside and out. Lincoln truly knew how to connect with kids and that was the very reason why Angeline should not have invited him to come. The fastest way to her heart was the path carved by her nieces and nephews. And if he left them brokenhearted when he left, she just might kill him.

  “How about those snow angels I heard about?” Lincoln said.

  “It’s easy.” Sierra sat on the ground, lay on her back and spread her arms.

  The others, including Angeline, joined her, plopping around Lincoln as if they’d known him their whole lives. And he gave each of them the attention and praise they craved.

  Angeline’s brothers loved their children, but like their father, had difficulty showering them with affection. And why she made a conscious effort to do so.

  She hadn’t expected that a Dogman would understand how much kids needed encouragement and acceptance. But there he lay, sprawled in the snow, giving time and attention to children he’d just met.

  Snow angels made, they began getting up. Tension crept into Lincoln’s body.

  “All right, guys,” Angeline said. “Lincoln is almost frozen solid, so let’s get him up.”

  “Uh, no.” Lincoln sat up, his face deadly serious.

  Too late. The munchkins swarmed him and, despite the ferocious look Lincoln flashed her, he didn
’t speak one cross word to the kids.

  Roslyn and Caleb each grabbed an arm. Brent and Logan pushed from behind and Sierra hugged his good leg. In no time, they had Lincoln up and standing.

  Angeline sent the kids ahead, then grabbed Lincoln’s arm. “Pull another stunt like that, don’t bother playing dead. Because you will be, after I strangle you.”

  “Now why would you do that, Angel?”

  “Because I don’t want them trying to imitate you.” She pointed at the kids.

  “They won’t.” Lincoln draped his arm over Angeline’s shoulders. “I’ll talk to them.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And thank you.” He squeezed her shoulder.

  “For what?”

  “Worrying about me.” He smiled. “That was nice.”

  “Know what’s nicer? Not doing something to make someone worry.”

  “Duly noted.” He laughed softly and a feeling of contentment settled into Angeline’s bones. And she started thinking that being neighborly to a retiring Dogman wasn’t such a terrible thing after all.

  Chapter 11

  Ice-cold beer sloshed against the back of Lincoln’s throat. His second, in what looked to be a very long evening. A full moon on Friday night and Taylor’s Roadhouse was standing room only in the bar area and not a single empty table in the restaurant section.

  The swollen crowd might’ve been overwhelming if he had time to focus on them. But he stayed occupied with keeping track of Angeline. As suspected, more than a few customers had gotten overly handsy with her. She, of course, had expertly handled the overzealous wolfans. Didn’t make him want to break their thick necks any less.

  He never should’ve gone sledding with her and the kids yesterday. A switch had clicked in his brain, moving her from the sexy next-door neighbor with whom he wanted to have a good time to a home-grown family woman who deserved so much more than a fast and furious tumble between the sheets.