Captivated By The She-Wolf. Kristal Hollis
his trapped leg and he fell flat on his beak.
“Easy, little one.”
Little one?
Indignation nearly overrode his sensibility. Too bad it would be really awful for him to shift right now.
“Ouch!” The woman drew back her hand. A perfectly round drop of blood formed in the spot where Bodie had pecked her.
“I’m only trying to help.” She pressed the small wound against her mouth.
Yeah? Well, Bodie didn’t know that when she’d reached toward him and he had defended himself with the only weapon he had, his beak. He felt bad about breaking the skin, though. But his reflexes were hyped on adrenaline. Having never encountered a shifter species outside of his own, his linear view of reality had suddenly turned kaleidoscopic. As a matter of survival, Tlanuhwas like himself were extremely secretive about their ability to transform into ravens.
“I know what it’s like to feel trapped and afraid,” the woman cooed.
Now sympathy overran the adrenaline, awakening Bodie’s protective nature and flooding him with an undeniable need to safeguard the she-wolf. Instinctively, his chest puffed and his feathers fluffed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you in my human or wolf form. Wahyas are forbidden from harming other creatures, especially inside the sanctuary.”
So that’s what they called themselves. Bodie repeated the word in his mind. Wa-hi-ya.
Filled with suspicion, her eyes inspected every inch of him. “You look different from the ravens in these parts.”
That’s because I am.
Double the size of ordinary ravens, Tlanuhwa had inky black feathers that shimmered with a silver iridescence in moonlight and their eyes were golden rather than black.
“If you’re scavenging for leftovers, you won’t find them here.” She eased forward. “No hunting of any kind is allowed inside the sanctuary. Our sentinels will hunt down anyone who tries.”
No hunting allowed.
Bodie wanted to kiss her. Would have in fact, except for...well, him being a bird with his foot stuck in a crack.
He looked at her. Really looked to see the woman, not the she-wolf.
Her long, strawberry blonde hair was damp, rumpled and sexy. Her captivating eyes had remained the same beautiful blue as her wolf’s had been. Tiny crinkles around her mouth and the faint lines in her forehead said she experienced the ups and downs of life head-on. He’d expect no less from a she-wolf.
High cheekbones flanked her straight nose, neither too long nor too short, and the slightly upturned tip was the perfect place for a teasing kiss. The faintest freckles dotted her creamy skin and the delicate expanse of her slender throat inspired visions of delicious nips and licks.
Any man would be honored to be held by such soft, round shoulders and sleek, strong arms. Her breasts were full and perfectly shaped and the pale, pink nipples made his mouth water even though his throat went dry.
“Hey!” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Unbelievable!”
Sorry.
His gaze naturally found her chest again.
Oh, so not sorry.
“Show some respect or I’ll leave your feathered ass here. None of the animals will hurt you, but the ants are bitches.”
The threat snapped Bodie’s mind back to where it needed to be.
“So you do understand me.”
He answered with a deep-throated croak.
“If I’m going to get you unstuck, I need to see what your foot is caught on.” Slowly, she leaned down.
He froze, unable to breathe. His form might be that of a raven, but he was still male. Hot-blooded and drowning in testosterone.
“How in the world did you manage to get stuck like that?” she said, staring down into the crack.
Funny story. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.
“I’m gonna need something to dislodge that pebble.” Frowning, she glanced around.
Hey, beautiful, what’s your name?
Crouched on her hands and knees, she leaned over the boulder and reached into the water.
Come here often? I’d really like for you to show me around. Show me a good time.
Unable to resist, he cautiously stretched out his wing so that the tips of his feathers grazed her backside.
“Hey!” Clutching a thin reed, she sat up and looked around.
Bodie quickly pointed his beak in the air looking everywhere except at her gloriously naked body.
“Weird,” she mumbled, moving back into position to peer into the crack.
He couldn’t see what she was doing but he felt the debris fall away from his foot. In his excitement to be free, Bodie accidentally slapped the woman’s face with his wing.
“Gee, thanks.”
Sorry! This time he meant it.
On his good leg, he hopped in circles, trying to inspect his other foot. Thankfully, it wasn’t bloody or mangled.
“You should be all right now.”
He eased his foot down until it was flat against the boulder. After a few tentative steps, he put his full weight on it. It didn’t buckle and he felt no pain.
Croaking gratefully, he bowed to his lovely rescuer.
His reward was a soft smile. This time, when she reached toward him, Bodie didn’t strike back.
She gently stroked his chest. His insides got all warm and fuzzy, and he felt a little drunk. He blamed the sensation on his relief at being freed.
“Aren’t you cute.”
Cute? Seriously?
Cute was for teenagers. When she saw him in his human form, that would not be the first word that popped into her mind.
A howl rose in the distance.
“Gotta go, little one,” she told Bodie before shifting into her wolf and leaping from the boulder.
Little one.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to show her how little he wasn’t.
The hypnotic whir of the sewing machine was as near to heaven as Veronika Lyles could get, except for the moment of ecstasy when being loved by her mate.
Since Zeke had died, owning her own business was near enough.
Inside The Stitchery, the aromatic scent of dye from the bolts of fabric lining the shelves had taken a while to get used to, but now Ronni barely noticed them. She loved the feel of fabric between her fingers, taking yards of shapeless cloth and fashioning them into something useful and beautiful.
The Walker’s Run Cooperative, the public human face of her new wolfan pack, had spared no expense on the renovations of the abandoned store next to her cousin’s automotive repair shop. Not only had they given Ronni a place within their pack but also a purpose.
In Pine Ridge, her poverty-stricken and turmoil-plagued former pack in Kentucky, she’d mended threadbare clothes, patched thrift store finds and reshaped garage sale discoveries into whatever her family had needed. Now she and her teenage son, Alex, lacked for nothing, including the freedom to live a life of their own choosing and the safety in which to do it.
Gratitude swelled in her heart. The Co-op really took care of its