by Celia Kyle
Leaf’s mouth fell open, stunned.
“Out,” she spat and pointed at the open door.
Leaf’s demeanor turned cold as he crawled out of the van. He stood outside the door, hands on his skinny hips, and glared at her. “You know what? You’re a real bitch.”
“And don’t you forget it.” She smiled and chucked his backpack at him.
Leaf lingered for a moment and then wandered toward the hidden campsite in search of shelter for the night. Who needed a television when watching Leaf beg for handouts was so immensely entertaining? Someone finally handed over a tarp, then another someone apparently had a sleeping bag to spare. They’d be sorry when he returned it smelling of his white-boy dreads.
What a user, just like everyone else in this ugly, fucking world of theirs. Good riddance!
Still, Leaf was well-liked among the protestors, and Persia was in no mood to sit around waiting for the inevitable tidal wave of gossip. Shrugging into her favorite Oompa Loompa sweatshirt, she pulled her walking stick from its overhead holder and climbed out of the van. She locked the doors before heading into the woods she was so committed to protecting.
Handmade signs shouting KEEP WOLF WOODS WILD and DOWN WITH DICK—referencing Dick McNish, the owner of the McNish Development Corporation—sat propped against tree trunks and tents. Not far away, bulldozers sat idly, menacing reminders their protest wasn’t going as well as they’d hoped. Not that a little pushback from Dick McNish would stop her. She’d seen worse. Much worse.
Once the lush forest surrounded her, Persia could finally breathe again. The deeper she pushed into the woods, the lighter her heart felt, until she suddenly she realized she was singing her favorite song, Endless Love. The Luther Vandross and Mariah Carey version, not the original, though that was good, too.
None of her new-agey boyfriends had ever understood her fondness for sappy love songs, but Persia had a penchant for surprising people. It kept them on their toes and made them wonder what she’d do next. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to pin down exactly who she was and what made her tick. She preferred to remain an enigma. Wrapped in mystery.
Nature had a way of curing whatever heartache or stress ailed Persia. Nothing compared to being completely alone in the woods, the birds in the trees harmonizing with her terrible singing. Her troubles seemed to melt away with every step she took, until she was totally blissed out. So blissed out, in fact, her brain didn’t quite register what she was seeing when she stumbled across a huge, beautiful clearing in the woods.
“My…endless…” She stopped singing mid-chorus, eyes popping wide.
An absolutely enormous beast crouched in the center of the clearing, not twenty feet away from where she lurched to a stop. A wolf. With sandy-colored fur. And gleaming blue eyes.
Oh.
My.
God.
Persia’s blood ran cold as the wolf stared at her. Then her heart thundered in her chest while options flitted through her brain at the speed of terror. No way could she outrun an animal that big—hell, with her short legs and extra poundage, she wouldn’t have been able to outrun a freaking mini-dachshund. But it wasn’t as if there was a panic room handy. She didn’t have much choice. She’d have to make a run for it. Better than standing around waiting to become wolf chow.
Panic seized her, but before she could spin and bolt back into the woods, the wolf’s next action froze her where she stood. He laid down and rested his stupidly huge head on his stupidly huge paws. Oh hey, I’m just a wolf taking a nap. Nothing to see here.
Sure.
Persia remembered Little Red Riding Hood. She knew the score.
But the way he looked at her, all big-eyed and gentle, gave her pause. His blue gaze never wavered, almost as if he was curious rather than ravenous. It wasn’t like she had a lot of experience with wild animals, but she knew enough about wolves to acknowledge that his behavior wasn’t exactly typical.
Then it got even weirder. The beast let out a plaintive little whine and then rolled over on his back to expose his soft underbelly. He stared at her from his upside-down position and panted, his tongue lolling out as he looked at her almost… expectantly?
No way. That couldn’t be. Time to stop ogling and start running. But just as she prepared to turn, the fear that consumed her just vanished in a single heartbeat. The panic had been replaced with certain understanding that the wolf had no intention of harming her.
Before she even knew she was doing it, Persian leaned forward a bit. “Do you want me to rub your belly?”
What.
The.
Fuck.
That was a dumb question. Wild wolves didn’t go around begging strange humans to rub their tummies. This was some kind of apex predator trap. It had to be. But her gut told her it wasn’t, despite what her brain insisted. Almost as if confirming her instincts, the wolf seemed to smile, his big, bushy tail wagging happily.
Fully aware she acted like a crazy person, but unable to resist, Persia slowly approached the wolf. She held her walking stick out in front of her as if the brittle piece of wood might protect her. When she got close enough, she set it down and knelt beside the gigantic wolf. He still hadn’t moved from his upside-down position, so she raised one trembling hand and tentatively petted the wolf’s stomach. His silken fur was so soft and warm beneath her palm and he appeared to enjoy the attention, as bizarre as that seemed.
“Wow,” she breathed and shook her head in disbelief. “You really like this. Don’t you?”
The wolf simply gazed at her with what could only be described as affection. If a guy had ever looked at her that way, she would have married him in an instant. Thick fur resisted her fingers, but the deeper she dug and scratched, the happier he seemed.
“This is weird as hell. But hey, who am I to turn up my nose at a new friend? I’m Persia Moonshadow. I wish you could tell me your name.”
The wolf groaned and shifted slightly so her fingers could access an itch, and then his hind leg started thumping the air.
“Oh, that’s the spot, huh?” she chuckled.
Most dogs had “that” spot, the one that made their back leg go crazy. Persia never would have believed she’d find such a spot on a strange wolf. Yet, he wasn’t strange at all. Something about the creature seemed almost familiar. Like they were old pals. And just as she would with a friend, she started venting to him. It wasn’t as if he had problems of his own to unload on her. So why not?
“Dude, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had. Protesting all day, to no effect, of course. Then I found out my boyfriend stole my debit card to buy weed—again—and I finally kicked his ass to the curb. Oh, don’t feel bad for me. He was just another user. Leaf—yeah, you heard me right… Leaf—was never primo dating material anyway. More someone to pass the time with, you know? Three months wasted on another loser. Again.”
The wolf still gazed at her intently, like he actually listened. And understood.
“The worst part is, he wasn’t even that bad, compared to some of the assholes I’ve dated. God, I’m so sick of passive, whiny, wimpy guys who leech off me for their food and shelter while they sit around playing their harmonicas or bongo drums or, god forbid, didgeridoos. Oh, and smoking a ton of grass, too. Which, whatever, but we’re trying to save a forest here. It’s serious business. This isn’t Burning Man. Know what I mean? But they never see it the way I do. They all talk a big game about how much they love the environment, blah blah blah, but eventually their true colors show. That’s when I know it’s time to kick ‘em out.”
The wolf panted and blinked, waiting for her to continue. Persia rolled her eyes.
“Most of these guys don’t give a shit about anything but themselves. Protesting is just an excuse not to have a job, if you ask me. And to not shower,” she added, wrinkling her nose.
“The worst part is how many girls lap that shit up like milk. They fall for all that green, hippie crap. But not me. Nope. I only hooked up with Leaf because, l
et’s be real, protesting is tough work. It can be isolating and lonely. A girl’s got needs, you know? Not that any of those guys were ever good in the sack anyway.”
The one-way conversation lit a bulb over Persia’s head. “You know, screw it. Men are just distractions. I’m done with them. For good.”
The wolf whined and rolled back onto his tummy, resting his head in her lap and looking up at her with pleading eyes.
“I know. I know.” She stroked his giant head. “But I have more important matters to focus on. Like saving Wolf Woods.”
The wolf wriggled closer and licked her face, stunning Persia for a moment before she started giggling.
“You are a sweetheart. Aren’t you?” She buried her hands deep into the fur on either side of his head and grinned. Then she glanced up at the darkening sky overhead. “Crap. It’s getting late. I need to get back to the campsite so I can get ready for work.”
Releasing her new woodland buddy, she stood and brushed wolf hair off her clothing. The wolf cocked his head in a silent, very judgy question.
“What? It’s not like protesting is a high-paying gig, my friend. A girl’s gotta eat, ya know.” As she turned to head back to her van, she glanced back at the wolf, who’d sat up to watch her departure intently. “It was, um, nice to make your acquaintance, Mr. Wolf. I hope you have a good night.”
An hour later, surrounded by smoke and annoyingly blaring country music, Persia slid a tray of beers off the counter of The Wolf’s Lair Bar and Grille. Her new temporary boss, Hux Davenport, gave her a congenial nod. Thank goodness it was a slow night, so she didn’t have to weave and dodge a bunch of good ol’ boys. She made her way to a table in the corner where two old-timers sat deep in conversation.
“Don’t you get it, Chuck?” the old guy with the red hunting cap spoke. “We need to protect what’s ours, not let some damn fool like Dick McNish come in and cut it all down. Wolf Woods has been wild since… forever. Besides, you know as well as I do how much money these idiot werewolf seekers spend in town, just for a chance to walk in those damn woods.”
Chuck shook his head, as if his companion was the biggest idiot in Tremble. “That ain’t nothing compared to jobs, Hank.”
Oh lord, not that old chestnut! Persia, who’d never been very good at holding her tongue, couldn’t help herself.
“Actually,” she interrupted, startling both of the men who seemed to not have noticed her presence, “any jobs McNish brings in will be temporary, at best. And trust me, those very temporary jobs won’t go to locals. He’s known for bringing in his own crews, who cost way less in the long run. Even if he does hire some locals, the work will only last until the houses in his cookie-cutter development are built. And then you’ve lost the steady tourist dollars forever.”
“See?” the man named Hank crowed at his pal. “Even she knows how it works.
Chuck’s face flamed red with fury at being upstaged by some stupid waitress. “Yeah, like some libtard bitch has any idea what she’s talking about!”
“You callin’ me a bitch?” Hank thundered, jumping to his feet as his chair spun across the floor from the sudden move.
“No, I’m calling her a bitch,” Chuck snarled, slowly standing and clenching his ham-sized fists. “I’m calling you a fuckin’ dumbass!”
Oops! If Persia had just kept her big mouth shut, she wouldn’t have to break up a fight between a couple of drunk codgers.
“Guys, can we please take it down a notch?” Persia pleaded, stepping between them and flashing a wobbly smile. Men usually went crazy for her dimples.
But the men were already moving, and before she even knew what happened, a plaid-covered elbow connected sharply with her forehead. That sent her flying back into the wall with a painful thud before she bounced off and her head bashed against the side of a table. Then the lights went out and the world went dark.
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Real Men Hunt
She's willing to sacrifice anything to save Wolf Woods from developers--including love. He refuses to let her.
Persia has dedicated her life to saving the planet from greedy construction companies, even if that meant she lost out on a life filled with laughter, love, and passion. Considering she's generally surrounded by losers, potheads, and slackers, it's not such a big loss. Then she meets Warren--a tall, muscular hunk of hottie she wants to climb like the trees she's trying to save.
Werewolf Warren Edgecomb lost out on love once and never imagined he'd find a woman for him. Then he stumbles across Persia and he knows the gorgeous female is *his*. Every curvaceous, delicious, tempting inch of her. The only problem? She's human and can't sense their shifter mate-bond. Plus there's the fact that she likes his wolf better than him.
Warren's only chance of winning over the delectable Persia is to join her protest. Since they both want to bring down the developer attempting to steal his pack's lands, it seems like a match made in heaven. Until he learns a secret that rocks his faith in his instincts--and in Persia.
Chapter One
“How can you do this to me, Moonshadow?” the skinny guy whimpered, still kneeling on the orange shag carpet inside the van. He was probably wearing yet another hole in his canvas pants.
Persia Moonshadow’s soon-to-be-very-ex-boyfriend gazed up at her with a plea in his brown eyes, his spindly fingers laced as he begged her not to kick him out. His funky-smelling blond dreadlocks cascaded over his tie-dye-clad shoulders, reaching down his back nearly to his flat ass. Persia wrinkled her nose. How had she ever found the mewling, whiny excuse of a man attractive? One good thing about living in a van with someone—it was a surefire way to fast-track a doomed relationship to the bitter end.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Moonshadow’s my last name,” she replied curtly. She dragged open the door to her ancient Volkswagen Westfalia with a grunt and then slumped onto the back seat.
When they’d first met at a protest a million full moons ago—okay, in reality it was only three—Leaf had decided he liked her last name and was going to call her Moonshadow instead of Persia. Sort of like a nickname, he’d insisted, despite her asking him not to several times. Leaf fancied himself a real hippie, but he’d revealed his true colors over the last three months, and Persia was done.
Leaf blinked slowly in confusion and disbelief, as though he couldn’t wrap his mind around how she could possibly want him out. Because he had so much to offer her, of course.
As if.
The warm afternoon breeze had cooled slightly since dusk was falling quickly. Persia took a nice, deep breath to ease her irritation and took a moment to enjoy the way the wind whispered through her soft, red curls. Once her anger was under control, she sighed and gave Leaf a look that broached no argument.
“Time to go.”
Or so she thought.
“But, Moonshadow…”
“Persia,” she snapped, no longer willing to tolerate his disrespect.
“Persia,” he repeated, his face contorting slightly as though her real name was too distasteful for his tongue. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“Not everything is about you, Leaf. That’s kind of the problem.”
He shot a sideways glance out of the van’s open side door at the orange-hued horizon. “But…it’s almost nightfall. Where will I go?”
What kind of guy used the word nightfall in conversation? Him, apparently.
“I’m sure one of the others has a sleeping bag you can borrow, and I’ll loan you a tarp.”
Persia had been in charge of setting up the temporary campsite about a week earlier. Right off the main entrance to a greenspace called Wolf Woods, it was just outside the small Georgia town of Tremble. Most of the protestors she’d recruited had set up tents inside the tree line in an effort to stay off the local cops’ radar, but still near the big McNish Development Corporation billboard—the one announcing a new housing development that would decimate the pristine woods. Of course, those with vans had to park in t
he gravel turnout that acted as a parking lot. That gave Persia a perfect view of the hidden campsite and the road, allowing her to be a lookout.
Leaf shimmied a few inches closer, worry she was serious finally settling into his eyes. “But… it gets so cold at night. It’s so much warmer here in our van.”
“My van,” she reminded the loser. “You mean my van.”
“Whatever,” he brushed off the concept of ownership. “We all share this big, blue planet, bae. You of all people should know that true enlightenment only comes to those who share.”
“Uh huh, and which internet guru fed you that line?”
Persia reached behind the back seat and grabbed a grimy old sweatshirt decorated with an ironic yellow smiley face. She tossed it in Leaf’s face. He caught it awkwardly—and ironically, considering his frown—and slung it over his shoulder.
“Come on, Moon—” he quickly caught himself “—Persia. Seriously, I hear there are wolves in these woods.” He reached for her hand, but she snatched it away. “Just one more night, baby. One more night and I’ll get out in the morning. I swear.”
“You are aware the more you beg, the less likely I am to say yes, right?”
Leaf adopted a pained look, as if she’d just shot him in the heart. “What happened to you? What happened to us?”
Once upon a time, that soft, sensitive expression had made her weak in the knees. Now it annoyed her. Crossing her arms, she decided it was time to call his bluff.
“I have just one question for you, Leaf. Do you even like me?”
Persia knew Leaf didn’t love her, just as she didn’t love him. One benefit of living to the ripe old age of twenty-eight meant she recognized when a relationship was a short-term thing. And Leaf had been short-term from the very beginning. He only dragged it out now because he didn’t want to sleep on the ground.
Wimp!
His hesitation was all the answer she needed.
