Tamed by the She-Wolf

by Kristal Hollis

  “You didn’t see me when I felt Tanner die. I thought I would die, too. If not for Tristan, I might have.”

  “I thought you and Tristan...”

  “We were never more than really good friends.”

  “I’m glad,” Lincoln said, holding her tightly. “Glad he was here for you back then. But I want to be the man for you now. I will never intentionally hurt you.”

  “But?”

  “I’ve talked to Zach. His heart is set on the Program. He needs everyone’s support now because the next few months will be what he carries with him. Don’t let it be full of arguments, because that’s what he’ll dwell on during those long, lonely deployments.”

  “Tanner and I argued the last time I saw him.”

  “I’m sure he knew how much you must’ve loved him.”

  “I did love him,” Angeline said. “And I had put all this behind me, but you came into my life and now this situation with Zach has stirred it up again. I don’t want to lose him, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Me?” Lincoln rubbed his hand down her back, infusing his strength into her spirit.

  “Until your retirement papers are finalized, you are still a Dogman. What if I lose you, just like I lost Tanner?”

  “You won’t lose me.” Now that he’d found her, not even the devil himself would keep Lincoln from Angeline for long. “I’m like a boomerang. I will always find my way back to you. I promise.”

  And Lincoln never made a promise he couldn’t keep.

  Chapter 19

  “The situation with Zach escalated quickly,” Brice said, watching Lincoln come into the Alpha-in-waiting’s official office inside the Walker’s Run Resort. “The whole damn pack thinks you and Damien are recruiting for the Program.”

  “We’re not recruiters. And Zach told me that he’s been planning to do this for quite some time. His parents really shouldn’t be surprised.”

  “They’re scared and upset. Walker’s Run is family-centric. Conflict is not a conscious reality for the people here.”

  “And yet you’re upgrading the security system, employing surveillance tactics and expanding the pack’s sentinel program,” Lincoln said, taking a seat.

  Brice tipped his head.

  “I didn’t come to help you talk Zach out of his decision. However, I do want to give him a truer picture of how one becomes a Dogman, the sacrifices and the realities of living with the consequences 24/7.”

  “I expect no less.” Brice pushed back from the desk. “It takes a special kind of wolfan to do what you do, Lincoln. When bullets started flying in Romania, you didn’t hesitate. Even after catching one in the shoulder meant for me, you continued to mobilize your team and eliminated the threat. It was damn amazing.”

  “It’s what we’re trained to do. Being a Dogman isn’t about us, it’s about being a shield. We’re expendable. Those we protect are not.”

  “Do you think Zach has what it takes to succeed in the Program?”

  “He has the heart and motivation,” Lincoln said. “But he’ll have to endure grueling physical training, learn to take orders and follow without question and pass an intensive psychological evaluation. Realistically, less than a quarter of the recruits make it past the first six months of drills.”

  “Seventy-five-percent failure rate. That’s steep.”

  “That’s only the first round. Half of those who begin the second six months will successfully complete the endurance training program. After that, another third are eliminated with the final psych profile.” Lincoln shrugged. “In the end, the Program is about service, not egos.”

  “Are you ready to take the final readiness test for active duty?”

  Lincoln nodded.

  “And if you don’t make it?”

  “That’s not an option. Dayax is depending on me.” Lincoln folded his hands over his stomach. “I will find him, and then we’re coming here because I plan to claim Angeline as my mate.”

  “Is she in agreement?”

  “Yeah.” Lincoln felt his smile broaden. “Well, at the moment, she isn’t too happy with me because of the situation with Zach. But we’re starting to bond.” And Lincoln damn sure wouldn’t make the same mistake as Tanner Phillips.

  * * *

  The rich, buttery scent of fresh popcorn filled the air. In the comfort of her home, Angeline stooped in front of the microwave, watching the expanding bag and listening to the rapid eruption of the kernels. Usually, her nerves weren’t jittery until the category and song titles were announced.

  However, two hours ago her stomach had started doing low-impact flip-flops. More so because tonight, she had no moral support.

  If she’d gone to LA to participate in the awards show, at least her agent, Sandra Lively, would’ve accompanied her. Win or lose, there would’ve been someone to share the moment with her.

  After last night’s meltdown, Angeline wasn’t sure if Lincoln would show up. He’d remained levelheaded when fear had caused her emotions to overload. Like a pro, he’d helped her see that Zach’s choices were his to make, and family supported each other, no matter what.

  Helping Miriam and Jimmy accept Zach’s decision? Lincoln proved to be good at that, too.

  In the end, everyone realized how much becoming a Dogman meant to Zach. Including Angeline.

  He had chosen to follow his heart. How could she not support him? Especially knowing how it felt to not have her family’s support.

  And she didn’t want Zach to disappear into the Program believing his family had turned against him.

  Angeline didn’t like his choice, but it was his to make.

  The microwave dinged. From the cupboard over the sink, she pulled down a large plastic bowl and filled it with the popcorn. Tucking a handful of napkins beneath her arm, she carted a cup of hot chocolate and the snack bowl into the living room, placed the items on the coffee table then settled comfortably on the couch with her drink.

  Lincoln opened the front door and walked in. “Hey, Angel.”

  “What are you doing here?” Happily surprised, she didn’t mind that he hadn’t knocked.

  “You invited me, remember?”

  “I didn’t realize you accepted the invitation, but I’m glad you did.”

  “Did I miss anything?”

  “Nope. It should start after the next few commercials. Oh, there’s beer in the fridge or hot chocolate in the electric kettle.”

  Lincoln detoured to the kitchen and poured a cup of hot chocolate before joining her in the living room. He sat close to her. He smelled of winter, clean and crisp.

  “Has it started snowing again?” she asked.

  “A few flurries. Nothing to worry about.” He picked up the popcorn bowl and propped his foot on the coffee table.

  “Oh, the show is starting.” She took the sound off mute and got up to turn down the lights.

  Returning to the couch, she snuggled against Lincoln. He tilted his head toward her so they touched. Cozy and comfortable, in that moment, she was the most content she’d been in a long time.

  He watched the opening number raptly and laughed at the emcee’s joke. She filled him in on tidbits about the nominees and added a little trivia.

  “How did you learn so much about country music?” he asked during a commercial.

  “Well,” she said, “I do play a little guitar.”

  “And sing.” Lincoln grinned.

  “Not according to Connor.”

  “I’m a man who can make up his own mind.” Lincoln laughed. “Even if your brother is right, any song you sing to me will be beautiful.”

  “Careful, Dogman.” Angeline playfully bumped his shoulder. “You’re starting to turn sappy.”

  He flicked a piece of popcorn at her. It glanced off her nose and tumbled down her chest, landing between her breasts.

&
nbsp; “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you did that on purpose.” She plucked the popcorn from her cleavage and popped it into her mouth.

  Lincoln winked. “Skill is making something look like an accident.”

  “Oh, really?” She grabbed a handful of popcorn and a fight ensued, quickly turning into a tickling fest with Angeline succumbing to giggles. And then they were kissing.

  Long, deep, soul-bending kisses that nearly made her forget why the television was on.

  “Wait!” She pushed against Lincoln’s chest. “They’re about to announce best song of the year.”

  Lincoln eased back into his seat with only a muffled groan in protest. Angeline sat up, increased the volume and perched on the edge of the couch. Her folded hands pressed against her mouth.

  “And the winner is...” The camera panned from the announcer’s face to her hand opening the envelope.

  The air in Angeline’s lungs stilled. No matter the dozen or so awards stashed in her closet, she always awaited the announcement with bated breath.

  “‘Heartache Lane.’”

  “Yes!” A joyous howl erupted as Angeline jumped up to dance her happy jig. Each win felt like the first and she took none for granted. Every musical note and lyric she had imbued with pure emotion. Recognition of her talent and knowing how loved her songs were nearly burst her heart.

  Typically, Tristan joined the celebratory dance. However, Lincoln remained on the couch. A warm smile took the chill off his piercing silvery-green gaze tracing her every move.

  The air whooshed out of her inflated excitement.

  “I, uh...” She sat on the couch. Hands pressed together between her knees, she fixed her attention on the television. Jolene McKenzie, the woman who’d lent her voice to the words and lyrics Angeline had written, finished the acceptance speech. She would take home the award for the vocals, Angeline’s gold-color statue would come in the mail.

  “I really like that song,” Angeline said, feeling the heat from Lincoln’s gaze sizzle her skin.

  “It’s a memorable tune,” Lincoln said. “I’ve heard it a few times on the radio. That Jolene girl who sings it doesn’t look old enough to have endured that kind of heartbreak.

  “Really?” Angeline had been a few years younger than Jolene’s current age when Tanner had left her. “I didn’t think there was an age restriction on when a woman could have her heart broken.”

  “Maybe it’s her eyes. They don’t reflect the deep pain that the song is about.” Lincoln tapped Angeline’s leg, drawing her gaze. “But yours do.”

  Awkward silence strained the space between them.

  “The announcer said the songwriter was A. R. O’Brien. Any relation?”

  Angeline’s stomach clenched. Lincoln was opening the proverbial bag and her secret was the infamous cat. She could either allow the truth to escape or leave it muffled inside the bag.

  “What gave me away? The dance?”

  “The song.” Lincoln squinted at her. “When I heard it on the radio after you mentioned the ancient history with a Dogman, all I could picture was you. I didn’t think you’d wrote it, though. Until that little dance of yours. Come on.” He laughed. “What was that?”

  The tension broke as Angeline laughed with him.

  “That was my happy dance.”

  “Kinda looked like an octopus on ice skates,” he said playfully. “Arms and legs flailing in all different directions.”

  “Hey, that’s my signature move.”

  “Anyone else seen it?”

  “Just Tristan, and he’s sworn to secrecy. He’ll never admit to it.”

  “Is the secret just about the dance?”

  “No.” Angeline took a breath, for courage. “Come with me.”

  Without looking back, she led Lincoln into the bedroom and opened her closet. A waist-high cabinet provided a divider between her winter clothes and all the rest. The cabinet shelves displayed the trophies awarded for her music. She stepped back so that Lincoln could see.

  “No one except Tristan knows that I’m a professional songwriter.”

  Lincoln’s silence weighted the room. He knelt on one leg and seemed to read the inscription on each statuette.

  “You’ve got amazing talent, Angel. Why don’t you want anyone to know?” Concern laced his curious gaze.

  “You’ve met my dad. How well do you think this would go over with him?”

  “He should be damn proud of you.”

  “He would be ashamed that I allowed my heart to be so easily broken.”

  “Then he doesn’t understand the nature of love,” Lincoln said quietly. “It’s a gamble. Sometimes it pays off, sometimes it doesn’t. But I believe it’s worth the risk.”

  On the other side of a once broken heart, Angeline wasn’t sure she quite agreed.

  Chapter 20

  Lincoln eased over to the bed where Angeline had sat. “Are you still hurting over the past?”

  “No,” she said without hesitation. “When I wrote those songs, I had to put myself back into the heartbroken woman I used to be. It’s exhausting.”

  “Why do you keep doing it?”

  She gave him a quizzical look. “Have you seen what’s in my closet?”

  “Is the payoff worth the torture?”

  “Not so much anymore.” Angeline sighed. “I’ve been talking with Jolene—”

  “Jolene McKenzie?” During his last deployment, Lincoln had seen the popular country-pop recording artist performing at a USO holiday function. “The woman who gave the acceptance speech, you know her?”

  “Yes.” Angeline gave him a funny look. “I know quite a few recording artists. It’s my job to write songs for them.”

  “I didn’t realize... Never mind. So, you were talking with Jolene?”

  “She’s young and doesn’t want to get typecast as only singing one type of song. She wants to expand her repertoire and so do I. We’ve been brainstorming ideas and I’ve given her a few sample pieces.”

  “And?”

  “She likes them.” Angeline smiled. “And I like writing them. It was hard at first. My brain kept defaulting to all the hurt and turmoil I’ve lived. After a while, though, writing more upbeat music and lyrics became easier.”

  Lincoln grazed his knuckles over the skin of her cheek. Such a delicate appearance she had. Fine-boned and slender, she looked almost fragile. All the years he’d carried her photo, he’d thought of her as an ethereal beauty. One that might shatter at the touch.

  But Angeline wasn’t like that at all. Sass fired her soul and though she might look breakable, she had a will of steel.

  Lincoln leaned in, brushing his lips against her mouth. She opened for him to deepen the kiss. She tasted of popcorn, chocolate and hope.

  Her fingers slid past his ear to cup the back of his head and he felt her essence ebb inside him. His inner wolf howled in tandem with his heart’s declaration. Mine, mine, mine.

  Both admitting to the mate-bond growing between them made courtship easier. But Lincoln wanted to be careful. Mate-bonds didn’t guarantee a conflict-free relationship. And he didn’t want to rush getting to know Angeline. Really knowing her. The preconceived notions that he’d had needed to be unscripted so that he could see the real woman, not the fantasy.

  Most important, he never wanted to cause her the pain that she drew upon to write those haunting, achingly beautiful songs.

  Without breaking their long, deep, sweet kiss, she drew him down to the bed with her.

  Desire had been coursing through his veins prior to the kiss and his body was already hot and ready for coupling. Settling over her body would be a bit tricky. Though he could never be totally unaware of his prosthetic, most of the time he could ignore the feeling of the artificial limb cupped to his stump.

  However, in the current situation, he found t
he prosthetic distracting him from a pleasurable experience.

  “What’s wrong?” Angeline whispered against his lips as her eyes fluttered open.

  She had been straightforward and honest with him, he could do no less.

  “I should probably take off my leg,” he said.

  “Okay.” Her hands fell away, allowing him to change positions.

  “This will be the first time...since losing my leg.”

  “Um, are you forgetting the full moon?” She playfully poked his arm.

  “I was standing. This is different.” Rubbing his hand against his jean-clad thighs, he felt the upper edge of the prosthetic cup snuggled high on his stump. “Things might get awkward.”

  “No, it won’t. We’ll figure this out, together.”

  Lincoln bent down to untie the laces, then pulled off his shoes.

  “That’s so cute,” she said, looking at his feet. “You have a sock on your prosthetic.”

  “I feel weird wearing only one sock.”

  Obediently, he lifted his arms for her to pull off his shirt. Next, she straddled his lap and kissed him, possessing his mouth as her fingers laid claim to his shoulders and glided down his chest to his jeans. Deftly, she undid the button and inched down the zipper, then she slid her hand inside his boxers to stroke his shaft. His body ached as much as it hummed from her touch.

  She urged him to lie back on the bed. Though his vision clouded with lust-laden lashes, he couldn’t take his gaze off the sparkle in her eyes or the soft, genuine smile curving her luscious mouth. She was his. Not because some instinct demanded her to be but because she’d made the active choice to follow where the instinct led.

  As she eased off his lap, her fingers curled around the waistband of his pants. Adjusting his weight, Lincoln lifted his hips, allowing her to slide down his jeans and boxers

  in one swoop.

  “My God, Lincoln. How many times have you been hurt?” Her gaze seemed to bounce from one scar to another. Not counting the ones on his stump, he had twenty-seven.

  “That’s really not what a man wants to hear when he’s naked in front of the woman he wants to have sex with.”