by Abigail Owen
Her woods. Eventually. Taking a small portion of land near the wolves’ territory was her way of taking control back, showing whoever had come at her that she wouldn’t buckle to the fear. Not completely, at least.
With an odd combination of reluctance and a buzzing anticipation, she swung the door open and waved him inside. He wiped his boots on the mat first, but she still cringed at the small water marks left on her pristine floor by the bits of snow still clinging to the tread. If she could hurry him to the kitchen, she’d come back and wipe that up while he was busy. He didn’t have to know.
“What’s with the chain and all the bolts?” he asked.
She managed to peel her gaze from the water marks only to land on his face. Heavens, what a face—deep set eyes, thick brows she wanted to trace with her fingertips, and a mouth she wanted...
What is wrong with me?
Almost ten years since she’d seen him, and he still drew her like the full moon drew the wolves out to play every single month. “I live alone in the woods with no neighbors. Can’t be too safe.”
A flicker of something darker, concern maybe, was there, then gone, in his eyes. Then his lips quirked. “Not even a hug for an old friend?”
Shyla grimaced as contrition stung. She was being such a bitch, letting memories and fears drive her actions. “Sorry, Cade. You surprised me, and I wasn’t ready for visitors. It’s…good to see you.”
A lame excuse, but the best she had. She went in for a quick hug only to be dragged closer by broad arms. He smelled of fresh snow and spice and something utterly Cade that kicked in a dozen memories of watching scary movies, and jumping on the trampoline, and doing homework, and that one kiss…
She stepped back and hoped her expression wasn’t as stiff as it felt. Except she’d messed up his clothes. Without thinking about it, she reached out and tweaked them into place, smoothing his shirt under his jacket, until the warmth of his skin through the material penetrated the automatic action and she jerked back as though she’d been snake-bit.
Damn. First, I’m a bitch to him, and then I maul him in the name of neat clothing. What next?
She forced herself to look him in the eye and found him watching.
“Good to see you, too.” His eyes crinkled around the corners with his smile. That was new. “Even in these circumstances.”
What circumstances? Her lack of water? Shyla blinked, thinking over the news that had trickled her way lately. Then winced as her mind finally cut through her shock that he was here. Without thinking, she put a hand on his arm. “You must be here for the funeral? I heard about your uncle.”
He dropped his gaze to her hand, then covered it with his own larger one, and that driving heat surged through her again.
“I’m not here for the funeral.”
The low rumble of his words barely penetrated the fog clouding up her mind. She raised her gaze to his, and steel bands locked down on her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Were his eyes glowing?
“You’re not?” she managed to ask.
He shook his head slowly. “He was a bastard and the reason I had to leave for so long. I wasn’t safe anywhere near here while he was in power, and neither was my…were the people I care for.”
Her mind fell back to that night in the woods. Cade had refused to tell her who’d hurt him so badly. Cade’s father, the previous alpha, had died suddenly shortly before that—she remembered that much. His uncle, Garrett Campbell, had taken over and, until a short time ago, had been the head of the local wolf pack. She’d had little to do with him, but on the few occasions she’d encountered him, his dead stare had left her cold.
Had his uncle been the one to attack him?
“I see,” she said. Though she didn’t. Not really.
The wolves kept to themselves for the most part. A few had claimed mates from among other groups in town, including the humans, turning them with the power of a bite. They sent their kids to the same schools, abided by the laws, and never had many problems, at least not more than any others.
Other than that one night, after Cade had left.
“You don’t think I’m a bad person? Saying that?” His dipped his head, watching her as though her opinion mattered.
“Bad?” She blinked. “Is this about that night in the woods?”
This time she was sure of the something darker in his expression. “You remember that?”
“Remember the night I found my brother’s best friend lying in the woods with horrible cuts and blood all over him? Not something I’m likely to forget.”
A mental image surfaced. One of sitting beside him at the kitchen table, holding his hand, both their heads laying on the table facing each other in silence as he’d waited for his body to heal, watching the color come back into his face.
He frowned now. “I hated that you had to see that.”
This was why she’d had that crush. He was the one who’d been beaten up and he was sorry for her? That protective instinct of his was a mile wide and still sexy as anything. She squeezed his arm. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I would never think of you as a bad person, Cade.” She shot him a grin. “Annoying as fuck, but not bad.”
His hold on her hand jerked at her swear word.
“Shyla Mason. What would your mother think to hear words like that?” He tsked and somehow that only made her want to laugh.
“She’d probably be impressed.”
The tingle in her nose hit about two seconds before she sneezed violently. Damn allergies. Wolf shifters always triggered them. She considered it her version of Spidey-sense.
Cade chuckled as she lifted watery eyes to him. “Bless you.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty sure I’m still allergic to you.”
His expression comically froze in a half grimace, half laugh. “I’d forgotten about that,” he finally said.
She shrugged. With a reluctance that shocked her given her initial reaction to his landing on her doorstep, she pulled her hand away. “The kitchen is this way.”
2
CADE
I shouldn’t have come here, yet.
Cade watched the gentle sway of Shyla’s hips as she walked away from him. Damn she’d grown up even more beautiful than he’d dreamed. Curves for days encased in soft, form-fitting jeans and a white sweater that dipped over her cleavage.
If she hadn’t pulled away, he would’ve buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent—something sweet and sassy, like sex and chocolate, and totally hers.
He’d been waiting ten damn long years to smell it again. To be with her. Finally. But where he needed to start with her meant exercising a restraint that he hadn’t realized would be so damn hard.
My mate.
Sean hadn’t sent him. He’d come on his own after his friend had mentioned Shyla’s current predicament on the phone.
Shyla Mason had always tugged at something inside him. As a kid, he figured that her gentleness, her quiet teasing, made her a target for bullies, and, as a wolf shifter, his need to protect had driven the connection he felt to her. However, as they’d grown, she’d turned into something…special…to him. Then, the night she’d found him in the woods after his uncle’s henchmen had done their best to kill him, he’d known for sure.
He still remembered the sweet sounds of her voice when he’d asked what she was doing in the woods. She’d sounded so confused about why she was out there. “I just felt like taking a walk.” She hadn’t understood what had compelled her to him.
But he did. Shyla was his mate, and until he could protect her, the only way to keep her safe would be to get the hell away.
Staying away had been torture. His pack had assumed him dead. The looks on their faces at his uncle’s burial ritual had almost been worth the years. He expected his cousin, Keith, to challenge any day now. No way could he not have heard that Cade was in town, and Cade’s claim to alpha was as strong as, if not stronger, than Keith’s.
Four days before Chris
tmas with the full moon Christmas Eve. Most likely that’s when it would happen.
“Are you coming?” Shyla’s voice floated down the narrow hall to where he stood, and his body surged in response to the sound. Gods, he’d missed her. Everything about her.
“Yeah.”
He managed to get in a quick look around as he followed her voice. The cabin was pristine. White walls, simple furniture. Hardly any decoration or personal touches. And not a Christmas decoration to be seen.
Odd.
He found her standing at the kitchen sink. The cupboard underneath was wide open. Trying to focus on the issue at hand, and not the woman who was a much bigger problem, he nudged her gently out of the way and turned the faucet on.
Nothing happened.
He turned it off.
“Let me get under here.” He started pulling things out from under the cupboard and setting them on the floor.
Cabinet clear, he stuck his head inside. “Okay, turn it on?”
This time his enhanced hearing picked up a faint hiss of sound from somewhere underground. This wasn’t an issue with the sink.
He crawled out and got to his feet, only to pause at the sight of everything he’d pulled out of the cabinet stacked with military precision on the counter. Labels facing outward, biggest to smallest. A quick glance showed her watching him with her chin already at that stubborn angle he remembered, practically daring him to comment.
So he restrained himself. Barely.
“Leave that on,” he said, pointing at the faucet.
“But—”
Focused on the hissing, Cade moved through the small dining area, out the backdoor onto a wide porch currently covered in a foot of snow. He kept walking, the sound getting louder in his head as he moved until he took a step, and the pitch dropped slightly. Backing up, he crouched lower to the ground. Then stood and turned to face the kitchen window, giving a cutting motion with his hand.
The sound didn’t disappear, but it slowed significantly. Not good.
He stomped back to her place. Only this time, he made sure to remove his boots and leave them outside the door. He’d seen the expression on her face at the small drops of water he’d tracked in before. Somewhere between annoyed and panicked.
“You’ve got a busted pipe in the ground.”
Shyla pulled a face. “I knew I shouldn’t have hooked up to the city water,” she muttered.
At his questioning look, she shrugged. “I was on a tank system, but last winter it froze so hard, my above-ground container was solid, and the ice cracked it. Rather than replace it, my family convinced me piping into the city water system would stop that from happening again.”
The dryness of her tone had him wanting to laugh.
Again.
He hadn’t laughed much since he’d left Holly Hill, but within twenty minutes of being around Shyla, he’d had trouble keeping the smile from his face.
Inside him, his wolf wagged his tail, hopping around practically like a puppy. They were with their mate. No matter what happened with the pack, Cade wasn’t leaving Shyla again. He was strong enough to protect her now.
But he also needed to allow her the time and space to realize this on her own. Without the enhanced senses of a shifter, it might take her longer, but the fates knew what they were doing. Look at how she’d chosen to live on her own in the woods. The part of her meant to be turned did that. He had no doubts.
“Where does your property line begin?” he asked.
“I’m on ten acres. It starts at the road and goes back a ways.”
Which is about what he figured. “Then the problem is on your side, not the city’s, which means—”
“I have to fix it,” she supplied. “Terrific.”
Cade ran a hand through his hair. He shouldn’t be offering. He should be going door to door to talk with his pack one on one, finding supporters. He should be dealing with his cousin. But now that he’d got her in his sights, in his lungs, his wolf didn’t want to leave his mate. Neither did Cade. “I could give it a go.”
Her eyebrows lowered over brown eyes, melted chocolate eyes. Would the gold flecks brighten when he made her come? When she turned?
Fuck.
He shook off the thought. Or tried too. Getting his body to calm down was a different story.
“The ground is probably frozen solid,” she said. Her tone implied that she was a little worried about his state of mind if he couldn’t figure that one out.
“I’ve dealt with worse,” he said.
She cocked her head, curiosity gleaming at him. “You’ve fixed a lot of frozen pipes?”
Cade shrugged. “I left town at sixteen. I got a job in Denver in construction.”
Shyla crossed her arms. “And here I thought the muscles were because you’re a wolf shifter.”
She’d noticed his muscles? Why did that ridiculous little fact make him want to howl like a teenager? Needing to put a stopper on the tension riding him to inhale her scent, bite and claim, Cade did the one thing he knew would make her take a step back. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “The better to hold you with, my dear.”
Just like in high school, her expression immediately blanked, as if she’d thrown up a steel wall between them. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll call the plumber in town, if you don’t mind. I’m sure you’re…busy.”
She turned to the hall, obviously walking him to the door, and he forced himself to grab his shoes and follow. He minded a hell of a lot, actually, but he wouldn’t push. He’d seen other men try to force their mates to the realization before they were ready, and it hadn’t gone well.
At the door he turned to face her. “Suit yourself.”
“I always do.”
“Aww, sweetheart,” he sighed. “You shouldn’t have said that.”
When had she learned to talk back like that? Quiet and shy, like her name, the girl he’d known wouldn’t have said boo to a mouse.
“What? Why?” Her eyes went wide and wary, but he didn’t miss the spark of interest or the surge of color in her cheeks. Or the way her heart tripped over itself. His wolf pushed against his skin in answer to those tells. He wanted to play.
Not yet, he told the animal inside. “Didn’t anyone tell you not to challenge a wolf?”
An alpha wolf couldn’t resist a challenge, and he’d learned the hard way that he couldn’t resist his nature. Slowly, not wanting to scare her, he lowered his head. A heartbeat before touching his lips to hers, he caught her small intake of breath. That one sound sent him over the edge, and, with a groan, he claimed his prize, kissing the unexpected sass from her lips.
Shyla was warm, and bittersweet, like dark chocolate against his tongue with a hint of apples. Damned if it didn’t take every ounce of his tattered control to keep from dragging her against him and then up the stairs.
Mate, his wolf growled in his head. Claim. Take. Change.
Not yet, Cade tried to sooth the animal, now pacing. Too soon.
He lifted his head and had to stifle a smile at the way she slowly blinked her eyes open, visibly dazed. The gold in her brown eyes did shine when she was turned on.
And she was turned on. No doubting that.
But if he told her she was his mate, she’d run a country mile to get away. Shyla lived alone in the middle of nowhere. Her habit of counting, and all the locks, and the pristine state of her house which smelled strongly of bleach, told him enough. Somewhere along the line, after he’d gone, Shyla’s general anxiety that she’d always dealt with as a kid had turned into full-blown OCD.
Unable to help himself, he traced her bottom lip with his thumb.
Mine.
He needed to leave before his wolf took the decision out of his hands. “Call me when the plumber tells you it’s too cold to dig and I’ll come out and help.”
Walking away hurt almost worse than the day he’d left town.
3
SHYLA
You’ve got to be kidding me.” Shyla gritted
her teeth against screaming her frustration at poor Mr. Mackle, the only plumber in town.
“I can turn the water off at the street so it doesn’t keep running and cause you a nightmare of a bill. Unfortunately, that’s the best I can do until we get a bit of a thaw. Otherwise I need big equipment and that’s going to cost.”
“A bit of a thaw?” Shyla wanted to bang her head against something hard. Was he joking? “It’s December. What am I supposed to do for water for months?”
“You might think about replacing your tank system to tide you over.”
After having spent money to hook into the city? Perfect. Just perfect.
You could call Cade, a small voice hinted.
Nope. She’d spent the last twenty-four hours giving her vibrator a run for its money. Two days cleaning and bleaching her house like mad in a vain attempt to work the tension coiling inside her away. Usually cleaning soothed her.
Not this time.
One kiss. The sweetest, softest kiss that had reached inside her and melded with a memory of a teenage kiss long ago.
That night, she’d supported his weight and managed to get him back to her house when he’d insisted he couldn’t go to his. Cleaned him up as best she could. When she’d tried to insist on calling a doctor, Cade had forced himself up from the chair at the kitchen table where he’d been drooping, and said he had to leave. She’d tried to stop him, and he’d turned and taken her face in his hands and kissed her. Then he searched her gaze for the longest second, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but then shook his head and turned to leave, disappearing into the moonless night.
For ten years, though she hadn’t known it at the time. Now she was a roiling mass of nerves lit up for a man who would probably leave again. He was only here for the funeral, or at least she assumed so.
