by Celia Kyle
“Actually, you know what? You can find someone else to borrow a tarp from. I think I’ll keep mine.”
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 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 t
hat shit up like milk. They fall for all that green, hippie crap. But not me. Nope. I only hooked up with Leaf because, let’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.
Chapter Two
Warren Edgecomb pulled into the parking lot of The Lair, turned down the lazy melody of the country song he sang along to and rolled his windows up before anyone heard his terrible voice. He brought the truck to a stop in a parking spot with lines so faded only locals knew where they were and took a deep breath.
Warren, you’re getting ahead of yourself again.It was just light enough to see bats flitting around between the swaying trees, having their nightly dinner. Watching bats and fireflies always settled Warren down when he felt out of sorts. Tonight, though, they weren’t cutting it.
How could they? It wasn’t every day a guy went out for a walk in the woods and ran into his fated mate. Not even a shred of doubt lingered in Warren’s heart that he had, indeed, finally found his mate. If he’d been in his human form when they’d stumbled across each other in Wolf Woods earlier, he might have questioned their connection, but his wolf knew better. The beast recognized her in an instant, and his entire world had turned upside down.
Warren had always had a good head on his shoulders. Dependable, even-tempered, smart. Just like any good ol’ country boy should be. He felt confident as the beta for the Soren pack, their lands located just on the other side of Wolf Woods. He’d never doubted his abilities to serve the pack and their alpha, Zeke Soren.
But a love life? Yeah, no.
The strangest part of it all was that he hadn’t just been wandering around the off-limits Wolf Woods for fun when he’d caught Persia’s scent on the wind and followed it to the clearing. Dick McNish had greased every palm he could to secure the rights to rip out the woods for the sake of some generic, cookie-cutter condos.
The pack had thought they’d won when a large newspaper had published a scathing exposé accusing the real estate developer of pulling shady crap all over Georgia. Then McNish had brought in an army of bulldozers—okay, three—to intimidate them.
It was a mind-fuck, and they all knew it. Unfortunately, it had also been quite effective. Apparently so had the article. After moving the dozers to the parking lot of the woods, not another peep had been heard. It seemed McNish had gone into his own personal form of hiding.
He’d been a thorn in the pack’s side for far too long. Not a thorn, more like a loaded gun trained directly at the pack. Literally. Considering McNish had ordered one of his goons to shoot a Soren pup, along with any other wolves they ran across, the pack knew better than to breathe easy as long as he was out there, ready to stir up trouble. So Zeke had sent Warren out to make sure McNish hadn’t revved up his bulldozers.
As he’d been heading back to Soren pack lands after seeing the slumbering dozers, he’d scented his mate and stopped dead in his tracks. It didn’t seem possible, not after his heart had been so shattered when his childhood crush had found her own mate, but once he’d caught sight of her, any doubt had vanished. She was his.
And she’d taken his breath away. Flowing red curls topped the loveliest, creamiest skin he’d ever seen. His sharp wolf eyes had been able to see the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, even at a distance, and her plump pink lips begged to be kissed. When she’d drawn closer, he’d been mesmerized by her eyes—one blue, one brown—and the fact she’d seemed to trust him, a strange wolf in the woods.
As a wolf, he stood as tall as her waist, but in human form, he would tower over her short frame by a good foot, not that such a height disparity bothered him in the slightest. But her abundant curves had really started his wolf panting. Breasts out to there, tucking into a trim waist and flaring back out generously where her hips started.
But there was more to his mate than mere appearances. He’d caught the faint scent of patchouli on her, as if she’d been near someone wearing it, coupled with a gauzy, flowing skirt that hugged her hips beautifully and a thin tank top which showed off what her mama had given her—without the benefit of a bra, praise be—told him she had to be one of the protestors trying to save Wolf Woods. The females he’d grown up with wore camo and r
ode ATVs while Persia probably had a dreamcatcher hanging over her bed. Or tent, more than likely.
Not that her status as an environmentalist bothered Warren either. Wolves in general leaned in that direction, purely to maintain their ancestral pack lands. It didn’t really matter why they were both fighting against McNish, just that they were on the same side.
What worried him more was that his mate was a human. Of course, some of his favorite pack mates used to be human, but she might have a problem with him being a werewolf. Humans didn’t always react well when they learned werewolves were real.
Even worse, he’d presented himself to her in his wolf form, and now she saw him as an overgrown pet rather than her life mate. He could still feel her fingers buried in his fur, staring into his eyes with her bi-colored ones, and a shiver of need rolled through him. He’d just have to track her down, woo her in his human form and pretend to be something he wasn’t, which presented its own sort of difficulty.
Warren’s luck had run out in the love department, and he certainly didn’t have many skills at flirting. He’d grown a lot since letting go of his immature crush on Zeke’s sister, Chloe. One of the things he’d learned was that he’d need to be open and honest with his future mate, should he ever be lucky enough to find one. Now that he had, he realized how hard that would be as a wolf trying to court a human.
He’d tried following her at a safe distance, but too many campers had been milling around. Sadly, most humans reacted to wolves exactly as Persia had initially—with fear. Besides, even though they hadn’t seen any of McNish’s wolf hunters out for a few days, that didn’t mean they weren’t prowling around, just itching to spill some wolf blood.
After high-tailing it to the pack house, he’d driven his truck back to the entrance of Wolf Woods in search of his ginger mate. Even before he’d opened his door, he knew Persia wasn’t there. Her scent, an intoxicating mix of cotton candy and berries, had lingered in the air though, so he knew she’d only recently left. Time to ask around.
