The Wolfan’s Redemption...

Wolf pack sentinel Tristan Durrance firmly believes happily and mated don’t go together. Until Penelope Buchanan arrives at Walker’s Run Resort. Nel’s undeniably gorgeous...and human. Tristan should steer clear of her. But she awakens an indescribable longing in him; one he can’t resist.

Nel’s ready to explore new things, and Tristan is one of them. But despite the visceral attraction between them, Nel senses he’s keeping some powerful secrets. Tristan will do anything to protect Nel. But he also knows the beast within him won’t stay hidden forever.

“Here’s something to warm you up.” Nel held out a coffee cup to Tristan.

“I’m not cold.” He accepted it anyway, his eyes tracking her every movement as she sat on the couch. He sat next to her, closer than she expected. His posture was rigid, his breathing tight and controlled. Nothing like the easygoing, self-assured guy she’d danced with all evening.

Nel cleared her throat. “Was everything okay on patrol tonight?”

“Penelope, what are you doing?” He placed his mug down on the table next to them.

“Trying to distract myself from the storm by having a conversation with you...except you’re not cooperating.”

Thunder broke overhead and Nel jumped. Tristan took the coffee cup from her hands and put it down next to his.

“Storms bother you?”

She nodded. “My dad used to read me stories as a distraction.”

Tristan leaned forward, grazing his cheek along her jaw.

“What kind of distraction are you looking for tonight?”

Southern born and bred, KRISTAL HOLLIS holds a psychology degree and has spent her adulthood helping people and animals. When a family medical situation resulted in a work sabbatical, she began penning deliciously dark paranormal romances as an escape from the real-life drama. But when the crisis passed, her passion for writing love stories continued. A 2015 Golden Heart® Award finalist, Kristal lives with her husband and two rescued dogs at the edge of the enchanted forest that inspires her stories.

Charmed by the Wolf

Kristal Hollis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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For Keith.

Through all the ups and downs,

you remain my constant.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

How dare the sun show its bright, bold face today?

And the serene, clear blue sky was simply all wrong.

The beauty and tranquility belittled the horrific tragedy that took place here, seven years ago to the day.

In his wolfan form, Tristan Durrance padded across the isolated forest cove. It had taken a long time, but the pack was finally healing. The violent loss of Mason Walker, the eldest Alpha son, had struck all the Wahyas in Walker’s Run hard, but particularly Tristan. Mason had saved his life, become his mentor and his closest friend. His senseless death was a deep wound that hadn’t quite closed.

Tristan wished he had been with Mason and his younger brother, Brice, on that fateful day. His presence wouldn’t have prevented the rogues’ attack, but he could’ve evened the odds. Maybe Mason wouldn’t have died and Brice wouldn’t have nearly lost his leg, if Tristan had only listened to his instincts.

Something had felt off that morning. The sensation had wormed its way beneath his skin and inched into his muscles, making him restless and irritable.

Much like today.

He blamed the feeling on working too hard, too little sleep and the anniversary of his best friend’s brutal murder.

Tristan never found peace when he came to the cove, but usually the dark, dank, somber woods nursed his misery. Today, however, all signs of the violent past were obliterated by fresh green moss, tiny blades of grass and delicate flowers with colorful petals stretching toward the barrage of morning sunbeams breaking through the tall, skinny pines. Even the gentle breeze carried the fresh, fragrant scent of summer.

He scratched at the ground, his paw slicing through the gossamery green disguising the greedy soil that had soaked up Mason’s blood. Life had sprung from death, yet Tristan found no solace that it had. Everything and everyone had moved on.

Why couldn’t he?

Stuck in a rut, he didn’t quite know how to get out of it or if he wanted to. Most wolfans his age were mated and had a wolfing or two in tow. He wished them the best, all the while resigning himself to a life of bachelorhood. Coming from a long line of wolfans mated unhappily-ever-after, he preferred to be alone than to spend his life stuck in a doomed relationship he could never be free of.

Life is what you make of it, so make the choice to be a better man.

Mason’s voice whispered through Tristan’s mind. A memory rather than comfort from beyond the grave. In life, Mason had spoken those words to Tristan on more than one occasion and he found the sentiment both inspiring and irritating, depending on mood and circumstance.

Right now, Mason’s words of wisdom deepened Tristan’s restlessness. After all, he had made the choice to be a better man. He gave one hundred and ten percent to pack, family and community.

His efforts were never enough. Never good enough. People always wanted more.

Tristan stretched out over the freshly unearthed dirt and rested his chin on his paws.

“Brice has a daughter now. Brenna—she’s a real cutie.” Just as if Mason were next to him, Tristan used the telepathic communication Wahyas employed when in their wolf form. “She has the Walker coloring, with a touch of red that she got from her mama. And her eyes... I swear, sometimes I see you looking at me through her eyes.”

Silence answered, as always.

Still, Tristan shared everything that had happened with the pack since his last visit, a year ago. When there was nothing left to tell, he pushed up on all four paws.

“Gotta go,” his thoughts whispered, because there was no sense in expressing how much he missed his friend. If Mason’s spirit could hear or sense Tristan, he would already know.

Head down and with a slow pace, Tristan left the cove. With the day off from the sheriff’s department, the longer he stayed away from his cell phone, the better. Everyone in the pack and at least half of the human residents in Maico had his number on speed dial. No one ever called to say hello or ask how he was doing. Not even his family. If his phone rang, someone, somewhere, had a problem they wanted him to fix.

The nearly two-mile trek back to his truck was uneventful, except for the occasional curious deer who watched him pass. The forest animals within the Walker’s Run territory had grown to trust Wahyas, who never hunted to kill.

Cautiously, he approached the clearing where a dirt road dead-ended. A forest green truck was parked so that the front end pointed away from the woods. Tristan gave a quick look around. Merely a habit. No one—more particularly, no humans—ever came out here.

He trotted to the truck and sat on his haunches. A tingling sensation sparked at the base of his neck, spiraled down his spine and spread along his nerves as he shifted. An instant later, he stood as a man and yanked open the driver’s-side door. The ringtone he’d set for the Alpha’s calls greeted him. Leaning across the crumpled clothes on the seat, he reached into the glove box and grabbed his phone.

“Where have you been?” Gavin Walker’s irritable growl added to Tristan’s foul mood.

He shoved aside his true feelings and responded respectfully. “Same place I always am on this particular day. Things are beginning to grow again.” Tristan kept the strain out his voice. “By next summer it might be a nice place for a picnic.”

Concern threaded through Gavin’s long sigh. “When you leave, come by my office. And I expect to see you sooner rather than later.” He ended the call, saving Tristan from the chipper lie that he was on his way.

He tossed his phone on the dashboard and reached for his knee-length shorts.

“Excuse me.” A soft, sweet feminine voice froze his movements.

Damn!

Not expecting anyone to be in the area, he’d forgotten to guard his blind side.

Stiffly, Tristan made a quarter turn left. In front of the vehicle stood a woman wearing a thin-strapped summer dress with an unusual hem that was higher on the sides so that if she turned he’d get a glimpse of her thigh. And her hair, tied back with a blue ribbon, was the color of honey. He loved honey. Especially on biscuits.

He felt a smile bud on his lips despite his mood and the unfortunate circumstance of being caught bare assed by a human female.

“Sorry to bother you,” she continued, hesitantly, “but are you a sheriff’s deputy?”

“I am,” he said politely, though it should’ve been obvious. His double-cab F-150 had red-and-blue emergency lights embedded in the grill. And the doors, one of which currently shielded the woman from the extent of his nudity, were detailed with the Maico Sheriff’s Department logo.

“Great.” Relief lightened her worried expression. “I was down at the abandoned plantation house when you drove past, earlier.”

“What were you doing there?” The dilapidated structure had been condemned for the better part of twenty years. Such a shame. The architectural design was amazing. Under different circumstances, Tristan would love to buy the old place and restore it, but the huge house was much too big for a single man.

“Taking pictures and making some sketches. I thought it would be fun to paint.” Her gaze slowly traveled from his face all the way down to his bare feet. Thankfully, the open truck door shielded him midchest to the knees. Still, her whiskey-colored eyes rounded. “Oh!”

The bottom of her dress flared and swirled as she quickly turned away, giving him the glimpse of the shapely thighs he’d so hoped to see.

“Why are you naked?”

A warning streaked through Tristan’s mind. When two of his friends had been caught naked by human females, they’d kept their natures secret and a whole lot of trouble followed. Now they were mated to those women.

Tristan didn’t want to add to his troubles, nor did he want a mate. Truth was his best course of action. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.

“I’m a wolfan. I was in the woods as a wolf and came back to the truck to turn human, but you interrupted me before I could get dressed.”

“Ha, ha.” Her head shook with an indignant bob. “I walked all the way up here because I need help, not sarcasm.”

“What kind of help?” Tristan pulled on his shorts and T-shirt.

“My car won’t start and I can’t get cell service.” Without looking behind her, she waved her phone at him.

He shoved his feet into his sneakers. “Get in.”

She peeked over her shoulder before scurrying toward the passenger side of the truck. Tristan waited for her to climb inside and buckle her seat belt before he slid behind the wheel. In seconds, the truck cab filled with her scent. It was soft, feminine, with a touch of vanilla-like sweetness; she smelled utterly delicious.

“What’s your name?”

“Penelope Buchanan.”

“Tristan Durrance, at your service.” Since she sat to his right, Tristan didn’t need to look directly at her to notice the nervous clench of her laced fingers resting on her lap. “Relax before you break your fingers. I promise, I don’t bite.”

No sooner had the words left his lips than his tongue glided over his teeth, testing the sharpness of his canines.

He forcibly relaxed his jaw. Never could he ever bite a female, especially during sex.

If ever seriously tempted, he’d have all his teeth pulled immediately. He’d rather be a toothless wolfan than make the soul-crushing mistake of claiming a mate.

* * *

“It’s not you.” Flattening her moist palms against her thighs, Penelope looked straight ahead rather than at the man seated next to her. Tall, broad shouldered and blond. If that wasn’t striking enough, he had the sculptured face of a Greek god. Adonis incarnate. Just her luck.

Incredibly shy, Penelope had a hard time initiating conversation with an average-looking guy. The one next to her would’ve left her speechless if she hadn’t made a promise to herself to break out of her comfort zone.

“I don’t want an expensive car repair bill.” Not particularly clever conversation starter, but at least her voice didn’t squeak.

“No one ever does.” Tristan cranked the engine and drove carefully along the pothole-riddled dirt road. “What brings you to Maico?”

“There’s a new children’s program at the Walker’s Run Resort. I’ll be assisting with the arts-and-crafts workshops.” She gave Tristan a furtive glance. Though his gaze seemed focused on driving, she had the impression he knew every breath she took and when. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

A few months ago, on her birthday, Penelope had realized that she was now the same age as her mother had been when she died. Not only did Penelope’s heart ache for the years lost between mother and daughter, but a new ache had sprung. Because of her untimely death, Penelope’s mother’s hopes and dreams were now unfulfilled.

Unless she made changes, Penelope’s life would be no less tragic. After all, the only thing worse than a life ending too soon was a long life never lived.

“The Walkers are good people. You’ll do fine working for them.”

Amicable silence filled the space.

“Can I ask you something?” Penelope studied his profile and silently sighed. He’d be a perfect model to sketch and paint.

“Ask away.”

“Why were you naked?” So very, very naked, though the open truck door kept her from seeing too much.

“Checking for ticks. The woods are full of them.”

“Oh, no!” Penelope inched her skirt up, turning her legs to look for possible hitchhikers.

“I can check you.” Tristan flashed a daring smile along with a wink. “If it will make you feel better.”

She wouldn’t say the thought of Tristan stripping her down and running his hands all over her body made her feel better about ticks or car repairs, but it certainly made her feel hot and incredibly turned-on.

She adjusted the air vent toward her face.

“What happened to your arm?” Tristan’s voice held no disdain, no disgust. Merely curiosity.

Still, Penelope quickly folded her undamaged arm over the scarred one. “Car accident.” Oh, but it had been so much more, and the scars ran far deeper than the jagged, five-inch reminder along her wrist and forearm.

Tristan turned into the overgrown driveway and parked next to her white Corolla. Penelope unbuckled, shoved open the door and slid out of the passenger seat before he’d pulled the keys out of the ignition.

She unlocked her car to pull the hood latch. His footsteps crunched the dry grass behind her.

“Hey. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Strong, gentle fingers molded around her shoulder and leisurely slid down her arm to cradle her wrist. Tristan’s thumb lightly caressed the hideous scar. Usually she had no feeling in the damaged skin, except for the needle-stabbing sensation that accompanied terrible storms. But Tristan’s touch was feather soft and tickled.

Penelope turned around. Breathless, she stared into warm, decadent eyes the exact color of Hershey’s dark chocolate.

Oh, she loved chocolate. Faithful and true, it never failed to bring up her spirits, which was why she indulged in eating a piece, or three, more often than she should considering every bite she swallowed ended up padding her backside.

Something flickered in his gaze, something predatorial. Something primal.

In a blink, it was gone.

“Let’s check out what’s under your hood.”

“Excuse me?”

Already headed to the front of the car, Tristan walked with a loose-limbed swagger that resonated confidence, strength and sex.

Blatant desire flooded her, head to toe, and she grew damp in places not already glistening in the morning humidity.

Penelope didn’t usually have this reaction to strangers. Usually not to the men she dated, either—at least, not this overwhelmingly. And certainly not on the first meeting.

Thankfully, Tristan was bent over the engine and didn’t see her jelly-kneed walk.

“When is the last time you had the car serviced?”

“A few months ago, maybe.” Penelope avoided driving in downtown Atlanta traffic as much as possible, riding the MARTA to work and taking the bus for errands.

“A few as in three? Six?” He glanced sidelong at her. “A year?”

“Definitely less than a year.” She nodded confidently.

Tristan hmmphed. “The battery posts are corroded.”

“Is that bad?”

“Definitely not good, but it’s something I can take care of for you.” Tristan went to his truck and came back with a toolbox, a can of Coke and a bottle of water.

After using a wrench to remove the battery cable connectors, he popped the tab on the cola. Instead of drinking it, he poured the contents over the corrosive buildup.

“How’s that going to help?”

“Trust me, it works.” While the soda worked its magic, Tristan checked the oil. “Looks clean, but it’s a little low. You should take the car in for service. Soon.” He fished a business card from the toolbox and handed it to her. “Ask for Rafe. He’s the owner. Tell him Tristan sent you and he’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks.”

Tristan set to work, scrubbing the connectors and posts with an old toothbrush. “Why the name Penelope? Was your mom into Greek literature or something?”

“Yeah,” Penelope answered, stunned. “She loved The Odyssey by Homer. How did you know?”

“My mom did the same to me. Ever heard of Tristan and Isolde? It’s not a Greek legend, but—” He flashed her a quick smile that sent her heart racing.

“At least your name is easier to pronounce. Kids used to call me Penny-lope.” Antelope and cantaloupe were also among their taunts.

“Ever go by Penny?” He poured water over the battery, rinsing away the gunk.

“No. My mother never allowed anyone to call me that. She said I wasn’t a piece of currency shoved in a piggy bank.” Penelope dabbed the back of her hand along her moist brow.

“I see her point.” Tristan wiped the battery down with a blue shop towel. “Penelope was a queen. Your mother wants no less for her daughter.”

Penelope’s heart tweaked that a stranger had made a connection she had never seen herself. “Something simpler, less formal, would’ve been nice, though. Especially growing up. Penelope is quite a mouthful.”

Tristan reconnected the cables. “That should do it.” He cleaned his hands and dropped the towel and wrench into the toolbox. “Crank her up and let’s see if she purrs.”

Penelope slipped into the driver’s seat and turned the key. The engine roared to life. No expensive car repair in the immediate future. Relief and gratitude nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Tristan closed the hood and strolled to her, toolbox in hand. “Do you know your way?”

“I have GPS.”

He squinted against the bright sun shining in his face. “Reception can be quirky. Why don’t you follow me? I’m headed to the resort anyway.”

“Great!”

He gave her a quick nod and turned toward his truck.

“Tristan.”

He swung around.

“Thanks. For everything.”

“My pleasure, sweet cheeks.”

Sweet cheeks?

Penelope wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or appalled.

But he did just fix her car, so she’d let it slide this time.

Tristan stowed his toolbox behind the second seat and climbed into the truck. He backed out of the driveway and waited for her to follow.

They drove about thirty minutes before arriving in the picturesque town of Maico. He turned down Sorghum Avenue. Tooting his horn, he stuck his arm out the window, pointing at Wyatt’s Automotive Services.

Yeah, yeah. She got the hint.

Across the street was the town square—a quaint little park with huge canopy trees. Surrounding the square were a dozen or so mom-and-pop stores, including a market. The crowning jewel, though, was the large, Colonial-style courthouse.

“I have to paint that,” she said. Getting her car serviced didn’t seem like such a chore if she could sit in the park with her sketchbook.

Another ten minutes and they pulled into the entrance to the Walker’s Run Resort. Unlike the posh, contemporary-style resorts in the city, this one looked like a huge log cabin, with its giant wood pillars and rafters, and natural stone accents. Penelope loved it immediately.

Tristan waved her toward the valet service, while he parked a little farther away, in a spot designated for resort security.

When she stopped, her door opened and a handsome twentysomething’s face ducked inside. “Welcome to Walker’s Run.” He offered her hand to help Penelope out of the vehicle. “Are you checking in?”

“Sort of. I have a meeting with Cassie Walker. I’m supposed to start working here.”

“Penelope Buchanan?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks, Jimmy. I’ll take her in.” Tristan waved toward the doors. “After you,” he said to Penelope.

“My car?”

“Jimmy will take care of it.” Tristan’s hand rested against her lower back.

Oh, boy.

Hopefully the bones in her legs wouldn’t melt before she reached Cassie Walker’s office. Penelope would hate to meet her new boss while imitating a puddle at Tristan’s feet.

He held open the heavy wooden doors for Penelope to enter. The lobby was just as charming as the outside, with polished wood floors, richly colored rugs and tapestries, and dark leather couches and chairs in the seating areas. And, her instant favorite, an indoor totem pole with the faces of three wolves carved into it, so lifelike they appeared to be jumping out of the wood, and topped with a fierce-looking bird—its wings spread as if to protect them.

I love it. I love it. I love it.

Tristan chuckled softly.

“Oops. Did I say that out loud?”

“No. Your face is very expressive. Makes it easy to read your thoughts.” He winked. “Every last one of them.”

The waggle of his dark gold eyebrows did not bode well for her.

They stopped in front of a windowed office, the blinds partially closed. Tristan rapped his knuckles against the wooden frame of the open door before stepping inside the office, Penelope in tow. “Hey, Cassie.”

A petite woman with striking red curls pinned back with a silver clip looked up from her computer. “Tristan, hi. What are you doing here? Don’t you have a meeting with Gavin?”

“I do, but I wanted to introduce you to Penelope first.”

“Penelope Buchanan?”

Penelope nodded.

“Oh, I’ve been expecting you.” Cassie stood.

Tristan’s phone buzzed. He quickly answered, “On my way,” then shoved it back into his pocket. “Gotta go.” He clasped Penelope’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “It’s been a pleasure, Nel.”

“Nel?” First sweet cheeks, now Nel. Had he really forgotten her name already?

Smiling, he leaned close, his lips brushing against her ear. “Like you said, Penelope is a mouthful—and a bit formal, considering you’ve seen me naked.”

Chapter 2

“Penelope?” Cassie stared at her curiously. “Are you all right?”

“Um, yeah.”

Tristan was no longer in the office, but Penelope’s body still registered his heat next to her.

“Sorry, I’m a bit distracted.”

“Tristan has that effect on women.” Cassie laughed softly.

“Not on you?”

“I’m very happily married and Tristan, well, he’s family.” Cassie waved to a chair in front of a simple but solid wooden desk.

Penelope took her seat, swallowing her question as to Tristan’s marital status. She hadn’t seen a ring, but these days lack of one didn’t necessarily indicate the man was unattached, and asking her new boss personal questions about a stranger seemed unwise.

Casually, Penelope glanced out the glass interior window of Cassie’s office and glimpsed Tristan nearing a side corridor. He turned, his gaze locking on hers. A current passed through her body, warm and exhilarating. He tipped his head and disappeared down the hall.

Several seconds passed before she breathed again.

“Please don’t get your hopes up.”

Penelope snapped her attention back to Cassie. “Excuse me?”

“Tristan is a great guy but a huge flirt. I don’t want you to be hurt or misled.”

“I assure you, my heart is quite safe from his charms.” She wasn’t foolish enough to invest serious hope in a man out of her league.

“Good.” Cassie withdrew several forms from her desk drawer and fastened them to a clipboard. “As we discussed on the phone, the resort is experimenting with new programs this summer. Originally, we planned to hire you as an assistant to the children’s arts-and-craft teacher. However—” An apprehensive grimace replaced Cassie’s smile.

“You’ve decided not to hire me?” Penelope swallowed her disappointment.

“Oh, we want you to work for us.” A loose curl bounced free from the silver clip in Cassie’s hair. “But we do have a slight change. The instructor you were going to assist left unexpectedly. Instead of assisting, you’re now in charge of the program.”

Excitement and fear wrestled in the pit of Penelope’s stomach. “Um, what do you mean by in charge?”

“You will plan the daily activities and teach the workshops.”

“I’m not an art teacher, per se.”

“According to your résumé, you are an elementary school teacher, and in our phone interview you mentioned that you are an artist.”

“I said I like to paint.” Having never shown her work to anyone, Penelope wasn’t sure she could claim to be an artist. “I may not have the right skill set, since I’ve never taught an art class.”

“I have faith in you,” Cassie said. “We aren’t asking you to turn these kids into prodigies. Simply help them have fun creating handmade souvenirs.”

“Is there a curriculum?”

“Here’s what Linda had planned.” Cassie handed Penelope a three-ring binder.

She flipped through the pages of activities, supplies needed and the link information to online how-to videos.

“The hours are the same, seven-thirty to noon, Monday through Friday. And, instead of a suite inside the resort, we can offer you a cabin on the property. I thought you might like the extra space and solitude to paint in your spare time.”

“I like how you think.”

“Is that a yes?” Cassie rested her folded hands on her desk.

“Yes.”

“Fantastic!” Cassie picked up the clipboard. “I need your signature on these forms, then I’ll show you the activities room.”

Penelope reviewed the documents and signed in the appropriate places. Handing the clipboard back, she knocked over the silver frame on Cassie’s desk. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She picked up the picture of a striking black wolf. “This is a great picture. Do you know the photographer who took it?”

“I did.” Cassie reached for the framed photo and smiled lovingly at the picture before placing it back on her desk. “The Walker’s Run Cooperative, of which the resort is a subsidiary, runs a wolf sanctuary. That’s my husband’s wolf in the picture.”

“Your husband owns a wolf?”

“No one owns the wolves. Brice is his wolf’s handler. Co-op members are tasked with safeguarding the health and well-being of individual wolves.”

“Is his wolf tame or did you use a telephoto lens?”

“The Co-op wolves aren’t tame, but they aren’t dangerous, either. Unless you threaten their families.”

“Could I go into the sanctuary to take some pictures? I’d love to expand my portfolio to include wildlife.” So what if she didn’t exactly have a professional portfolio. Never even considered one, since showing her work to anyone had been something she hadn’t dared.

Only learning to paint after her parents’ deaths, Penelope had received art therapy as part of her own recovery. She fell in love with turning swipes of color into pictures and dreamed of being a professional artist. But Penelope’s aunt and uncle had convinced her of the impossibility of such a foolish notion when she was without a modicum of talent.

“For the safety of the wolf pack, only Co-op members are allowed access.”

“How does someone become a member?”

“One is either born into the Co-op or marries into it.”

“That exclusive, huh?”

Cassie offered a sympathetic smile. “There are great scenic views in the area and your cabin is up the mountain near a river. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of inspiration.” She flipped through the signed papers. “Everything looks good, but I’ll need a copy of your identification.”

As Cassie turned away to scan Penelope’s driver’s license and social security card on the printer behind her desk, Penelope used her phone to capture a snapshot of the wolf photo. If she couldn’t get into the sanctuary to photograph the animals herself, at least she could use the one in Cassie’s picture for inspiration.

“I heard Tristan call you Nel. Would you prefer that on your name tag?”

“Sure.” Why not? It would be easier for the kids to say and remember.

“Welcome to the Walker’s Run Resort family, Nel.” Cassie returned the identification cards to Penelope. “I hope your time with us will be memorable.”

Considering that, in her first few hours in the area, she’d met a naked man with the face and body of a Greek god, Walker’s Run already had the memorable part down pat.

* * *

“I wanted to be the first to tell you.” Behind the large mahogany desk, Gavin Walker leaned back in his leather chair and stroked the short-cropped white beard framing the unhappy curl of his mouth. His dark brows, a contrast to his snow-white hair, frowned.

Tristan’s stomach instinctively clenched and the feel-good high the encounter with Nel had given him plummeted.

“Jaxen’s release from Woelfesguarde is being finalized this week. I’m granting your father’s petition for Jaxen’s reinstatement into the pack.” Gavin paused, as if expecting Tristan to respond.

At the moment, it wasn’t possible. Tristan’s brain was emulating a train wreck. With the jumble of thoughts and emotions crashing and exploding in his head, coherent words weren’t possible.

Jaxen Pyke was a criminally minded, narcissistic bully. He was also Tristan’s blood-kin. A cousin. The only one on his father’s side. Both Tristan and the majority of the Walker’s Run pack had heaved a good-riddance sigh when Jaxen was eventually booted from the pack. The time on his own apparently hadn’t fostered any remorse or a need for reconciliation, because Jax eventually took up with a rogue pack and continued his merry criminal path. Until three years ago when an assault charge landed him in Woelfesguarde, a wolfan-owned-and-operated penitentiary.

“Do you understand?” Gavin continued. “Jaxen is coming home.”

“When?” The single word sounded clipped and tight and full of hostility to Tristan’s ears. No doubt the Alpha heard it, as well.

“Saturday.” Gavin’s calculating gaze seemed to target every twitch Tristan’s jaw made as he ground his teeth. “I am allowing him to reenter the territory, but he’ll need to earn back his place in the pack.”

“Does Aunt Ruby know?” Tristan rubbed the furrow between brows. Of course she didn’t know. Ruby’s first call would’ve been to Tristan. His ears would still be ringing from the tongue-lashing she served every time something happened concerning Jaxen.

Gavin affirmed with a shake of his head. “I wanted to tell you before Cooter and I pay her a visit this afternoon. I’ve asked your father meet us there.”

The Alpha and the pack’s chief sentinel delivering the news would leave Tristan with one less worry on his mind. He eased into his next breath, thankful he’d have time to psych himself up before dealing with Jaxen’s arrival.

“If that’s all.” Tristan stood.

“There’s something else.” Gavin leaned forward, rested his arms on the desk and steepled his fingers.

There always is.

Tristan remained standing. “Yes?”

“Considering Jaxen’s history, he’ll need someone to help keep him out of trouble.”

“I agree.” Wholeheartedly and without reservation.

“Notify me immediately if he inches one paw out of line.”

“Wait—” Tristan stepped forward. “You’re putting me in charge of Jaxen?”

“You’re the most logical choice.”

“Like hell I am.”

“You’re a sentinel and his blood-kin.” Gavin’s stony expression usually meant the matter was settled.

“If Jaxen screws up, it’s on him. I don’t want to be in the same position I was last time.”

Fifteen years ago, Jaxen’s fate with the Walker’s Run had rested on Tristan’s shoulders. The truth led to banishment, a lie to freedom.

Tristan had chosen the truth over family. Neither his father nor his aunt had forgiven him.

“I’m hoping your influence will keep him from backsliding.”

“You have no idea what you’re asking of me,” Tristan forced out.

“For god’s sake, Tristan. You’re both adults now. You need to let go of that grudge.”

A searing-white flash momentarily blanked Tristan’s vision. What he harbored was a hell of a lot more than a little grudge.

“Everyone makes mistakes, especially young people.” Gavin walked around the desk and laid a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Be the better man. Help Jaxen because it’s the right thing to do.”

“For whom?”

“For you and your family.”

Family?

Disgust slithered into the pit of Tristan’s stomach.

His family was the epitome of dysfunction. His parents could barely stand to be in the same room with each other and they had little or no regard for him—the product of an accidental mate-claiming. Ruby only barely tolerated him and Jaxen, whom Tristan had once hero-worshipped, had left him to die.

“I’m not asking you to police him.” Gavin leaned against his desk, his hands folded against the silver buckle on the belt fastened around the waist of his jeans. “Be his friend again. Let him know he can count on you.”

Good ole dependable Tristan.

How that character trait had come to him was beyond his understanding. No one else in his family had been plagued with it.

The alarm on his watch beeped. “Gotta go.”

Wearing an expression indicative of an Alpha who expects his orders to be carried out, Gavin tipped his head.

Tristan walked out of the office, quietly closing the door with a greater appreciation for the Alpha’s son’s door-slamming habit. Instead of externalizing his anger or frustration like Brice, Tristan always internalized. Mostly he tried to ignore those feelings. His family was too loose with their tempers. He hated their arguments and outright fights. As soon as he was old enough to live on his own, he’d moved out.

Over the years, he’d learned the only way to deal with his family was individually and briefly. Jaxen’s homecoming would definitely upset the rhythm Tristan had established.

Walking down the long corridor from Gavin’s office toward the lobby, Tristan’s steps grew heavier. His current schedule barely allowed time for sleep. How would he manage squeezing in “befriending” his long-lost cousin, whom Tristan would rather have stayed lost?

A wolfan could only handle so much and Tristan had been stretched beyond his maximum limits for far too long.

God, I need some fresh air.

His fingers closed around the cold brass handle to yank open the large, heavy wooden door to exit the resort. A newly familiar feminine scent rushed his senses.

“Hey, Tristan!”

He turned to his left.

“I’m officially a resort staff member now.” Penelope’s lightly tinted lips parted with a soft smile. “And Cassie arranged for me to stay in a cabin up the road. I’ll have plenty of room to paint.”

“That’s great, Nel.” He stepped into her, his hand resting against her hip as he moved them away from the entry doors opening toward them.

A genuine smile broadened his mouth. Genuine because he could feel it all the way to his gut, tingling with a warm, fuzzy, effervescent sensation that dispelled the heavy shroud that had cloaked him a few minutes ago.

“Umm.” Her voice was a mere puff of soft breath. Her curious gaze caressed every angle of his face, her pupils growing larger with every beat of his heart.

The wolf in him sighed. There was no other way to describe the rush of contentment that raced up his spine and down his chest, then settled in his groin.

Tristan had the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to spend the day with her, learning her laugh, her mannerisms, her likes and dislikes.

Damn! He’d been working too many long hours and sleeping too few for those unbalanced thoughts to surface.

“It was nice meeting you, Nel.”

He dashed outside, sucking in lungfuls of fresh air before her scent imprinted on and permanently rewired his brain.

Chapter 3

“You’re not on duty today.” Carl Locke sucked his teeth, his hard gaze fastened on Tristan.

“There’s something I want to discuss with you.” Tense, Tristan sat in one of the two wooden chairs positioned in front of the sheriff’s paper-laden desk and waited.

Elected sheriff less than two years ago, Locke was a hard man to work for. Mostly because he held a grudge against the Co-op’s influence on the town. An outsider and new to the area, Locke viewed everything the Co-op did with suspicion. He felt the previous sheriff, who had known the truth about the Co-op, had been too lax in his duties. Gavin’s stubbornness and refusal to clue in the new sheriff to the Co-op’s purpose only compounded the problem.

Since Tristan was a member, Locke scrutinized his every action, his every decision, and the constant conflict had turned a job Tristan loved into a nauseating chore.

Last year, after a fiasco involving his friend Rafe Wyatt and Sheriff Locke, Tristan had quit the department. Gavin had been furious. Tristan’s position as a deputy afforded him some flexibility in running interference between the pack and human law enforcement. Gavin didn’t want to lose that advantage.

Locke, surprisingly, neither accepted nor rejected the resignation. Instead, he placed Tristan on leave for two weeks. A vacation, of sorts, to give him time to decompress and carefully consider his decision.

With nowhere to go and no one to go with him if he did, Tristan had stayed with his mother at her condo in Atlanta. The visit didn’t suddenly forge a mother–son bond, but it had provided the chance for Tristan to reassess...everything.

Including Gavin. His decision to cage Rafe in wolfan form, to display him like a circus animal in front of the sheriff to prove that the Walker’s Run wolves were docile had almost cost Rafe his life and came damn close to exposing the pack and the existence of Wahyas, worldwide.

Gavin had never apologized, never admitted he’d made a bad choice. He stuck by the affirmation that he’d done what was necessary to protect the pack.

So what the hell was he thinking now?

Didn’t he realize that allowing Jaxen to waltz right back into the territory was a disaster waiting to happen?

“Spit it out,” Locke barked.

“Sir?”

“You look like you’re chewing your words, trying to find the right ones. Is this about the Co-op?” Irritation flickered in Locke’s squinted gaze. He shoved aside the paperwork in front of him. “Whatever you got to say, just spit it out. I ain’t got all day.”

“Jaxen Pyke,” Tristan began, as if giving an ordinary report. “He’s got a long list of minor offenses as a juvenile. He left Maico about fifteen years ago.” Actually, Gavin had banished Jaxen because of his involvement in a liquor store robbery where a human was severely injured. “Hooked up with less than desirable associates who helped him graduate to more serious violations. Including assault, for which he spent the last three years in Woelfesguarde.”

“Isn’t that the fancy private facility in the Northwest?”

Tristan nodded. Human law enforcement believed the compound to be an elite, but highly effective rehabilitation center. In truth, it was a state-of-the-art wolfan correctional facility, situated in the harshest undeveloped region of Montana. With only the barest necessities provided, Woelfesguarde was no country-club prison. One either survived it or didn’t. “Pyke’s release is being processed. He’s coming home. I expect him to be here sometime Saturday night.”

Locke leaned back and crossed his arms over his stomach. “Is he Co-op?”

Technically, no. According to Gavin, Jaxen had to earn his way back into the pack.

Whatever the hell that means.

“Jaxen is family.” Tristan tasted the bile creeping into his mouth.

“When it comes to enforcing the law, I don’t give special considerations to anyone. Not to the Co-op, not to my deputies’ families.”

“Good!” Tristan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Someone besides myself needs to understand how dangerous he is.”

“An assault conviction is enough to convince me.”

“Maybe not. When you get his records—” as Tristan knew Locke would “—you’ll find most of his convictions are nonviolent misdemeanors. The only violent charge, the assault, stems from a bar fight. He claimed self-defense, but took a plea rather than face a trial.”

The Woelfesenat, a secret, international wolf council and the ultimate ruling authority on wolfan matters, would’ve never allowed Jaxen’s case to go to court. If convicted, he would’ve been incarcerated in a human prison. Long-term confinement for a Wahya, especially during a full moon without access to a sex partner, posed an unacceptable risk of the wolfan eventually losing control of his Wahyarian, the primitive beast that lurked within every Wahya.

The Woelfesenat would’ve had Jaxen put down if Adam Foster, Alpha of the Peachtree pack and an internationally renowned lawyer, had failed to negotiate an alternative. Instead of a trial and subsequent conviction, Jaxen was sentenced to serve thirty-six months at Woelfesguarde.

“What do you know that isn’t in the official record?”

Bitterness coated Tristan’s tongue and he fought the urge to hurl. “Remember our first meeting after you were sworn in? You asked if I had any impediments that could affect my job performance, and I told you it wouldn’t affect my duties, but that I have a blind side.”

“Yeah. When you were a kid, you slipped off a rock outcropping and cracked open your head.” Locke tapped his pen on his desk. “What’s that got to do with Pyke?”

“I didn’t slip, Sheriff. I was pushed.”

* * *

Fingers cramped and achy, Penelope returned her pencils to the holder and shook out her hands.

After settling into the cabin yesterday, she’d planned out about two weeks’ worth of activities for the children’s workshops, which left her wide-open for a three-day weekend before starting her new job.

This morning, she’d taken a leisurely drive around Maico to orient herself with the town and bought a few groceries from the market. She’d also stopped by the automotive shop Tristan had recommended. Short-handed due to a virus going around, the owner had scheduled her car service for next week. If Nel had dropped Tristan’s name, she might’ve gotten the oil change and battery check today, but would’ve had to wait all day. Since the car seemed to be running fine, she opted to come back next week.

This afternoon, she’d immersed herself in art. Usually, she made quick sketches of a scene she wanted to paint.

This one had taken several hours, but she was incorporating several disconnected elements. Before picking up a paintbrush, she wanted to make sure the image in her mind would actually make sense on canvas. To check the accuracy of the two focal subjects, she picked up her phone and swiped between the snapshot of the black wolf she’d taken in Cassie’s office yesterday and the photo she’d taken today of Cassie sitting on the floor in a small nook off the main lobby, playing with her daughter.

Precocious and quite verbal for child a few weeks shy of her first birthday, Brenna had noticed Penelope watching them and immediately determined that Penelope would be her new best friend. At the toddler’s insistence and Cassie’s invitation, Penelope had joined them in the dining hall rather than eating lunch alone.

Old habits were difficult to change, and putting herself out there to meet new people was harder than she’d imagined. Cassie tried to help, introducing her to staff members and the townsfolk who stopped by the resort restaurant.

Left to her own devices, Penelope preferred to hole up in the cabin to paint, curl up with a book or sit on the back porch drinking hot coffee and wishing for a doughnut like the one Tristan had devoured as he rushed into the resort while she was there with Cassie and Brenna. Dressed in slouchy black shorts, a black T-shirt and a dark gray skullcap despite summer temperatures, he’d flashed her a quick smile and a wink before disappearing down the corridor to Gavin Walker’s office. The high from his attention had lingered all day.

Penelope uncurled her legs and touched her bare feet to the floor, curling her toes in the plush rug before padding into the kitchen. It was after midnight, and supper was little more than a memory to her stomach.

She slipped on her sneakers, grabbed an apple from the basket on the counter and strolled out the back door. Sitting on the porch swing, she munched her snack.

The moon, not quite full, beamed in the sky, big and bright, bathing everything in a soft, silvery glow.

She stepped off the porch and her skin warmed as if sunshine had disguised itself in moonbeams. As long as the thin strip of dark clouds remained in the distance, there would be enough light to follow the walking trail without use of the flashlight.

Quiet in Atlanta where she’d lived was definitely different than the quiet here. She could actually hear her thoughts, with no interference from the static of urban living.

Even in the utter stillness, she didn’t feel frightened or alone. Cassie and her husband and daughter lived a mile up the mountain. Gavin Walker and his wife, Abby, lived in private quarters adjacent to the resort. And security officers routinely patrolled the property, although she hadn’t caught sight of them.

Her ears tuned to the chorus of crickets and the soft gurgling of the river. Tiny lights blinked among the dark trees in a hypnotic dance. Watching fireflies wasn’t on her mental list of the new experiences she wanted to explore, but it should’ve been because they were simply mesmerizing.

A loud rustling echoed in the woods. The possibility of an unintentional wildlife encounter hadn’t crossed her mind when she left the cabin.

A rustle of commotion erupted ahead. There was an ear-shattering squeal, followed by low animalistic growls.

Wolves!

Cassie had said the Co-op wolves weren’t dangerous. They had handlers and were confined to the sanctuary miles away, which meant the ones in the woods had come from somewhere else.

A flurry of movement divided in two directions, one headed straight for Penelope. She turned to run, tripped over a tree root and hit the ground with a startled cry.

Run! Her mind screamed; however, her body had other ideas. Her feet seemed stuck in quicksand and neither of her legs would move.

“Security?” she cried out, hoping one of the patrols would hear.

The bulk of the commotion moved away from where Nel had fallen, except for a loud thumping that steadily came closer until a large wolf emerged from the shadows.

Her chest locked in the last pant of air. Her shoulders rose and dropped with the effort to breathe, but nothing entered her lungs. Unable to scream, unable to run, she pulled herself into a turtle-shell posture, covering her head and neck with her arms.

Getting eaten by a wolf was definitely not on her list of things to try before she died. And she certainly was about to die, a horrible, painful death.

A caustic tear burned a trail down her cheek. She didn’t dare wipe it away, fearing the animal now hovering over her would chomp into her if she moved.

Warm puffs of breath grazed her hands, which were clasped over the back of her neck. Despite her arms helmeting her head, the animal nudged past Penelope’s defensive pose and found her ear. A cold, damp nose pressed against the shell.

Come on, sweet cheeks. Sit up and show me your pretty face.

“Tristan?” She peeked beneath her arms.

The wolf gently touched his paw to her shoulder. If the animal was going to eat her, he was taking his time sizing her up.

“Tristan,” she called again.

The woods remained silent. In her panic, she must’ve imagined his voice.

The wolf plopped his rump next to her. Head cocked to the side, his gaze mapped every inch of her body.

Back aching, knees throbbing and toes going numb, she needed to move and stretch before she lost all feeling in her limbs. Slowly, she unfurled from the defensive huddle and sat up.

The wolf didn’t move, growl or otherwise display any aggression.

He was nearly double the size she expected for a wolf, and his coat was a beautiful blend of light to dark golds and soft browns. In contrast, his pointed ears were richly dark except for the outer rims tipped in white.

“How unusual.” Without thinking, she reached to feel if his ears were as velvety as they looked.

The wolf didn’t shy away; in fact, he seemed not to notice until she actually touched him.

A spark of static electricity zapped her palm and the charge spread throughout her body. The wolf yelped and backed away.

“I didn’t mean to shock you.” She held up her hands. “I just wanted to rub your ears.”

The wolf gave her a funny look.

“Yeah, weird. Right?” Idiotic, actually. That animal was a wolf, not a Labrador. “All righty.” Penelope stood slowly to avoid startling him. “I’m going back to the cabin.” She hiked her thumb over her shoulder.

The wolf simply stared.

Mindful of her movements, she turned and plodded purposefully along the worn path. A quick look behind her confirmed the wolf followed. She stopped, he stopped. She started, so did he.

She climbed the porch steps; he sat at the edge of the trail.

Safe and locked inside the cabin, she grabbed her phone and took a picture from the kitchen door of the wolf watching her. A howl sounded in the distance. Her wolf cocked his ears, then threw back his head and answered the call. He needed to return to his pack and she needed to get to bed.

She gave a little finger wave, her nails tapping against the glass plane of the kitchen door. The wolf acknowledged with a nod, then bolted into the woods.

“Best decision ever.” Penelope congratulated herself on answering the ad that brought her here.

A gloriously naked man, a friendly wolf...her life was already more exciting than it had ever been. And she’d only been at Walker’s Run for two days.

Whatever else the summer held, she was ready.

Chapter 4

The incessant tick of the large clock on Ruby’s living room wall thumped inside Tristan’s achy head. After spending the day volunteering at Youth Outreach, he would’ve rather crashed in his large plush bed for a few hours before going to work tonight. Not that he would’ve gotten much sleep. Whenever his mind quieted, Penelope filled his thoughts.

In spite of their unconventional introduction, he hadn’t expected to see Nel again. Bumping into her so soon after their first meeting had made it difficult for him to forget her. Excitement sparkled in her eyes and the sweetest smile plumped her cheeks, and the most unusual thrill had tickled his chest.

Tristan had felt it again, last night when he’d caught her scent in the woods. He, along with Henry “Cooter” Coots—the pack’s chief sentinel, and a few others were out trying to round up Cybil, a large, ornery potbellied pig who’d escaped from Mary-Jane McAllister’s farm.

Realizing Nel was nearby, he’d broken formation to get ahead of Cybil and cut her off before she encountered Nel. Cooter gave him hell later, but it had been worth it.

The ruckus Cybil created had frightened Nel. So had the sudden appearance of his wolf. Nel had called out for Tristan—the man—and the urgency to shift so that he could soothe her had caught him off-guard.

Wahyan law prohibited wolfans from revealing themselves to humans. The only exceptions were if the human was in mortal danger or was the wolfan’s mate.

Nel was neither, so he’d done his best to assure her in his wolf form.

Once she overcame her initial fear, Nel had touched him. Or rather, his wolf. The electric charge from the contact had opened something between them. Whatever it was, the brief experience had felt incredibly intimate.

“Jaxen should’ve been here by now.” Nathan Durrance wore a path between the front door and living room.

“Not unless they drove twice the speed limit, Dad.”

Per protocol, any Wahya returning to the pack had to submit to a complete physical exam given by Doc Habersham, the pack’s physician. Cooter had called nine minutes ago to report they were leaving the clinic with Jaxen, and the drive to Ruby’s house took seventeen minutes.

“Sit down, Nate.” Ruby clunked her empty porcelain teacup against the matching saucer. “You’re making me nervous.”

Tristan stood, collected Ruby’s dishes and walked to the kitchen to pour her another cup. If she hadn’t wanted a refill, she would’ve told him. Her silence was its own reward. It meant he’d done something right. Otherwise, she would’ve given him a tongue-lashing.

In the community, his position as a deputy commanded a certain amount of respect. The same was true of his sentinel status within the pack. However, Aunt Ruby cared little to nothing for either. To her, he was the tagalong little brat she’d had to feed and clothe whenever his parents forgot to do so, which was more often than not.

Truthfully, Tristan didn’t need Ruby, but she was blood-kin. After Jaxen was banished, well, even before that, Tristan had been the one to look after her—not that she would ever admit to wanting or needing his help.

Still, he visited Ruby at least every other day to make her meals and do some cleaning. Mostly she napped on the couch and never did much more than complain.

Ruby’s mate had died when Tristan was a child. Never entirely healthy, she had a predisposition to respiratory problems. Weak lungs, she called it. The older she grew, the more often she got sick, creating yet another job for Tristan.

“Here you go.” He held out the cup and saucer for her.

Outside, car doors closed.

“He’s here!” Ruby grabbed Tristan’s arm and tried to stand.

Hot tea jostled over the edge of the cup and sloshed down on his hand. Biting back a few choice words, he sat the dishes on the coffee table, then helped Ruby to her feet.

Tristan’s dad reached to open the front door.

“My house, my son.” Ruby jabbed her cane at her brother’s backside. “I greet him first.”

Gut tightening in a viselike grip, Tristan gathered Ruby’s discarded dishes and returned to the kitchen. She wouldn’t think any more about hot tea tonight.

The front door creaked open and the porch squeaked beneath the thud of heavy footsteps.

Arms folded over his chest, Tristan leaned against the sink and waited for the show.

It wasn’t a long wait.

“Mama!” Emotion choked Jaxen’s voice. Arms fastened around Ruby’s thin frame, he lifted his mother off her feet.

“You’re home.” She wept into his chest. “You’re finally home.”

A fist-sized lump formed in Tristan’s throat.

“Ah, Mama. Don’t cry.” Jaxen set her down gently. “I’m back for good.”

“Glad to hear it, son.” Nate vigorously shook Jaxen’s hand, then pulled him into a bear hug.

Tristan inhaled sharply and the lump in his throat dropped to his stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time his father showed any affection toward him or called him son.

The buzz in his head drowned out the rest of the homecoming exchanges. He glanced at Cooter and Reed lingering in the doorway. At a curt nod from Tristan, the sentinels silently departed.

“Well, well.” The edge in Jaxen’s voice was expected.

Tristan unfolded his arms and straightened to his full height.

Expression hard, Jaxen strode into the kitchen. “It’s been a long time since I saw your ugly mug.”

Odd thing to say. They were the same height and build, with features so similar they could be mirror images of each other. The only significant physical difference was their eyes. Like Ruby and Nate, Jaxen’s eyes were blue-gray and slightly squinty. Tristan had his mother’s eyes, big and brown.

“I missed you, man.” Jaxen clasped Tristan’s shoulders in a brotherly hug.

Not at all what Tristan expected.

“Who punched you in the face?” Tristan asked, noting the fading bruise beneath Jaxen’s eye. He hooked his finger in Jaxen’s collar and pulled on the shirt. “Why is your shoulder bandaged?”

“Well—” Jaxen slightly lowered his head in a sly shake. “You don’t think the bastards at Woelfesguarde would let me go without a proper send-off, do you?”

“The inmates or the guards?”

Something unsettling glinted in Jaxen’s eyes. “Does it matter?”

It did to Tristan.

“Jaxen,” Ruby called. “Come sit with me.” She swiped the couch cushion beside her. “Tristan, bring us some pie.”

Tristan cut the rhubarb pie into equal wedges, plated three slices and grabbed some forks. He passed out the desserts.

Jaxen shoveled a big bite into his mouth. “Damn! This is the best pie I’ve ever tasted. Did you make this, Mama?”

All smiles, Ruby chuckled. “No. I can’t hold out to bake.”

“I asked Cassie to make it for you,” Tristan said.

“Cassie? Don’t remember her. She yours?”

“Hardly.” Tristan snorted.

“A lot has happened since you’ve been gone.” Ruby patted Jaxen’s leg. “Cassie is the Alphena-in-waiting.”

“Ah, so she’s Mason’s mate.”

“Mason is dead,” Nate said bluntly, and Tristan felt himself flinch.

Jaxen stopped chewing and swallowed. His curious gaze lighted on Tristan and then fell back to his plate. “Sorry, man. I know you two were close.”

Braced for a smart-mouthed jab, Tristan was thrown a bit off-kilter by the condolence. Maybe the hard-core incarceration had taught Jaxen to have a better perspective. At the very least, it had improved his surly attitude. Tonight, he seemed almost chipper. Then again, who wouldn’t be happy to be free of Woelfesguarde?

Nate handed his empty plate to Tristan, then leaned forward in his chair. “Jax, have you thought about what you’re going to do now that you’re home?”

“I have.” Jaxen forked the last bite of crust and held up his plate toward Tristan. “Another slice, if you don’t mind.”

Annoyance nipping his pride, Tristan took the plate. Although Jaxen flashed him a bright smile, an icy gray zapped all the blue from his eyes. It was gone in a blink, and Tristan decided he’d imagined the color change.

“I picked up some trade skills over the years,” Jaxen continued. “Thought I’d look for handyman work.”

“Why not work for me?” Nate asked.

Tristan’s first impulse was to protest. Ruby’s hopeful look silenced him.

Obviously, she had asked her brother to give Jaxen a job. Tristan couldn’t fault his father or Ruby for trying to keep Jaxen out of trouble. Besides, with his father and the construction crew looking out for Jaxen, Tristan wouldn’t have to.

“You’d actually hire me?” Jaxen’s voice held an uncharacteristic note of emotion.

“Why wouldn’t he,” Ruby said. “You’re blood-kin.”

Since his input wasn’t requested or required, Tristan quietly withdrew to the kitchen. Tuning out the discussion on Jaxen’s actual job skills, Tristan rinsed his father’s plate, hand dried it and placed the dish in the cabinet. Next, he doled out his cousin’s second piece of pie and returned to the living room.

“You’ll start a week from Monday morning. That’ll give you time to get reoriented.” Nate grinned.

“I appreciate it, Nate. Thanks.” Jaxen accepted the dessert from Tristan with a slight nod.

With nowhere to sit comfortably, Tristan stood next to the couch, close to Ruby.

“I want you to do your best.” Ruby shook her fork at Jaxen. “No cuttin’ up, and I mean it. Nate is giving you a serious job.”

“I won’t mess up this time, Mama.” Jaxen kissed her cheek. “I swear.”

For all their sakes, Tristan hoped Jaxen would make good on his promise. But he wouldn’t hold his breath.

“If you work hard and demonstrate an aptitude for the business—” Nate cleared his throat “—I’ll let you take over when I retire.”

What the hell?

Though he stood perfectly still, Tristan felt as if he’d smacked head-on into a brick wall.

“Are you kidding?” Jaxen looked genuinely happy, in contrast to the stormy emotions swelling inside Tristan.

“I never joke about my business.” It was the one thing Nathan Durrance loved more than anything. Except for his sister, Ruby. And, apparently, Jaxen.

Jaxen’s attention swung to Tristan. “Is this all right by you, cuz?”

“Of course it is,” Ruby interjected. “Tristan would rather ride around in a comfy po-leece car all day than do hard work.”

The tops of Tristan’s ears heated. Swiping a palm across his mouth, he swallowed the spew of words burning his tongue.

Jaxen set down his plate. “What happened to you becoming an architect?”

“Plans change.” Tristan’s lungs no longer seemed to process the air inside Ruby’s house. “I have to go.”

“Always rushing to leave. Family time don’t mean squat to you, does it?” Ruby’s disapproving gaze cut Tristan to the quick.

“I told you earlier, I’m on duty tonight.” Tristan paused at the door. “I’ll stop by tomorrow to fix lunch.”

“Don’t bother.” Mouth scrunched, Ruby squinted at Tristan.

He gave her a curt nod and walked outside. Unfortunately, summer humidity had thickened the night air as much as the tension had indoors. Dark, threatening clouds floated across the sky, bright from a near full moon.

Damn! Why did that time of the month seem to come around faster when he wasn’t looking forward to it?

“Hey, cuz, wait up.” Jaxen leisurely descended the porch steps.

Tristan leaned against the grill of his truck.

“Hard to believe you ended up in law enforcement. Why weren’t you one of the dozen sentinels who escorted me?” Jaxen spit on the ground. “Gavin’s going a bit over-the-top, don’t you think? A dozen, really?”

“Not my call. And I wasn’t involved in your escort because I’m not your keeper, Jax.”

“No, you’re not. You’re family.” Jaxen hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans, his shoulders loose and posture relaxed. “Are you okay with your dad’s decision?”

“It’s his business. He can do whatever he wants.” What irked Tristan was that his father hadn’t bothered to discuss his plans with him, who by blood rights was the heir.

“Not what I asked.” Jaxen shook his head, good-naturedly.

“Fine.” Tristan sighed. “If you’re serious about turning your life around, then I’ll be happy for you to take over my dad’s construction company when the time comes.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“But, toe a straight line or—”

“Or what?” An irritating grin spread across Jaxen’s mouth.

“I’ll make your time in Woelfesguarde seem like a picnic.”

Jaxen laughed, hard.

Tristan pushed away from the truck and stood tall. “I’m not that little kid who idolized you. I will put you down without a second thought if I think you’re going to hurt someone again.”

Jaxen sobered and fell silent.

Tristan opened the truck door and climbed inside.

“For fuck’s sake, Trist. We were kids.”

Tristan didn’t miss that Jaxen didn’t express regret over the incident.

“You getting me banished kinda makes us even. Don’t ya think?” Jaxen held the truck door so Tristan couldn’t shut it.

“Not by a fucking long shot.” Tristan yanked the door closed and rested his arm on the open window, keeping Jaxen in his line of vision. “For the record, you got yourself banished. I simply didn’t lie to give you an alibi.”

“Why don’t we forget all the stuff that happened when we were kids? I’m ready for a fresh start, how about you?” Jaxen extended his hand.

Tristan’s inner wolf prowled restlessly and his instinct warned against a truce until Jaxen proved himself.

“Come on, Tristan. Clean slate?”

“Time will tell.” He cranked the truck engine.

“Watch yourself out there.” Pregnant clouds drifted across the moon and a shadow darkened Jaxen’s face, twisting his features into a grotesque mask.

Unease coiled in the pit of Tristan’s stomach. “Always.”

Chapter 5

Butterflies darted and fluttered in Nel’s stomach as if they were auditioning for a Cirque de Soleil performance. Starting tomorrow, she would be responsible for the success or failure of the Walker’s Run Resort’s new children’s activity program.

Although Penelope confidently managed her kindergarten classes, she never volunteered to take the lead in any of her school’s events. She made a great assistant, but being in charge was something she never had the confidence to attempt.

“It’s fabulous.” She gazed at the colorful paper-ring garland swooping from the ceiling and crisscrossing the room. “I couldn’t have hung it without your help. This old lady on a ladder is a Shakespearian tragedy no one wants written.”

“Nonsense.” Shane MacQuarrie stepped off the last rung and gave her a mischievous look. “You’re in your prime and quite the catch, milady.” He bowed low.

“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Laughing, Penelope curtsied.

No older than his early twenties, Shane was too young for her to have a romantic interest in him, but his easy manner and teasing banter had immediately put her at ease.

“Someone is in a really good mood today.” Cassie leaned against the doorway. “I haven’t actually seen you in a bad mood, but you seem more engaged.”

“The gunk from the city is sloughing off.” Penelope placed the extra construction paper on the supply shelf, returned the scissors to the plastic bin and secured the glue bottle in a drawer. “Or it could be the invigorating moonlit stroll I had Friday night.”

“How can a stroll be invigorating? A run, yeah. But a stroll?” Shane folded the ladder.

“Would you do me a favor?” Cassie looked at Shane. “The light in my office is out. I put in a call to maintenance, but they’re searching high and low for the ladder.”

“No problem.” He hoisted the missing ladder onto his shoulder.

“Thanks.” Smiling warmly, Cassie touched his arm. “The bulbs are on my desk.”

“Holler if you need me again.” He nodded toward Nel and left.

“Sweet kid.”

“You’re right, but Shane wouldn’t take that as a compliment.” Cassie glanced around the room. “Looks great in here. All set for tomorrow morning?”

“As ready as I can be.” Penelope gave one last look. “Thanks for providing the big round table. I think it will be more fun for the kids to sit in a circle and help each other rather than sitting alone at individual desks.”

“You’re going to be great at this.”

“I hope so.” After Penelope turned out the lights and locked up the room, she and Cassie walked down the spiral stairs to the main lobby. “Where’s Brenna?”

“Sundays are daddy days. She’s with her father, and her godfather and his two-month-old twins.”

“Sounds like a handful. Where’s the babies’ mother?”

“Oh, Grace is on her way here to meet me for lunch and an afternoon at the spa. Would you like to join us?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

They stopped in the middle of the quiet lobby.

“If you were an intrusion, I wouldn’t invite you.” Cassie withdrew a cell phone from her purse. “Should I confirm three?”

“Yes, please.” Penelope’s fingertips and palms warmed and her nerves prickled nearly to the point of discomfort.

“Something wrong?”

“Um...” Penelope’s breathing hitched. She glanced in all directions, but when the lobby doors swung open, her gaze locked on the uniformed lawman coming inside. Tristan stopped suddenly and looked directly at Penelope. Some of the tension drained from his shoulders. A tired smile disrupted his firmly set mouth.

Was he glad to see her?

Every feminine cell in her body danced.

“Penelope?” Cassie tapped Nel’s arm. “Are you feeling okay?”

Okay didn’t begin to describe the feeling of standing on a cliff, toes gripping the edge a second before leaping, or the rush of wind stinging her skin during the free fall right before she opened her wings to fly.

Not that she’d ever experienced those things, but Penelope couldn’t think of any other way to describe how she felt in that moment.

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I’m good.”

Noticing Tristan, Cassie giggled.

“I’ve never met a man who could steal my breath with a simple look.” Men as gorgeous as Tristan never took notice of Nel. Their gazes simply swept right over her without a moment’s pause.

“He’s headed this way,” Cassie said.

“What?” Penelope’s heart kicked into high gear, beating fast and furious, and flooding her body with so much giddy adrenaline that she nearly swayed from a wave of light-headedness.

Breathe, just breathe.

Halfway across the lobby, Tristan stopped, slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone. His smile turned downward as he held the device to his ear. While talking, he tipped his head back and ran his fingers through his hair.

Penelope figured the conversation was over when the hand holding the phone dropped to Tristan’s side. His gaze returned to her.

Maybe next time, sweet cheeks.

He nodded in her direction, took a few steps backward, then turned on his heel and headed toward the corridor to Gavin’s office.

“Did you hear that?”

Tristan had been too far away for Nel to actually hear anything he said, but his deep, Southern drawl hummed in her head.

“Hear what?” Cassie looked around.

“Someone called me sweet cheeks, just now.” And when she’d been frightened by the wolf in the woods.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear anything.”

Maybe the higher altitude and fresh mountain air had induced some sort of auditory hallucination.

More likely it was her hormones running amuck.

“Why is Tristan here? Is there a problem with one of the guests?”

“Everything is fine. He’s a member of the Walker’s Run Cooperative and helps manage the resort’s security as well as the wolf sanctuary.” Cassie pointed to a corner nook. “We can wait for Grace over there.”

“Does he patrol the area around the rental cabins?” Penelope sat in a cozy overstuffed chair next to Cassie.

“Sometimes. Why?”

“Friday night, I walked one of the trails from the cabin and thought I heard his voice.”

“He was on duty so it could’ve been him. What did he say?”

“Basically, he told me to sit up.”

“Sit up?” Cassie’s nose wrinkled and her brows drew together. “That’s weird. Were you lying down?”

“Hunkered down. I fell trying to get away from an animal making terrible noise in the woods. Scared the daylights out of me.”

“It was probably Cybil. The old sow sounds like an elephant stampede whenever she gets out of her pen. Her owner lives on the border of the wolf sanctuary. Usually the sentinels round her up before she makes it this far.”

“Sentinels?”

“The Co-op’s security team.”

“Ah.” Penelope picked at the drop of glue stuck to the front of her blouse. “Well, I didn’t see a pig, but I did encounter a huge wolf.”

Cassie’s friendly expression blanked. “Can you describe him?”

“His coat looked like burnished gold, but really was a mix of warm, rich colors.” Penelope’s voice rose with excitement. “And his ears were absolutely delightful, like chocolate brownies with the edges dusted in white sugar. He was the sweetest thing. Didn’t growl or bark at me, and he followed me back to the cabin to make sure I got in safe.”

“He did, did he?” One of Cassie’s red brows arched.

“He won’t get into trouble, will he?” If the poor thing was put in heavy chains, forced to wear a muzzle or locked in a cage, Penelope would be heartbroken.

“No.” A smile broke the serious mask that had formed over Cassie’s features. “Our wolves aren’t punished for being curious or for helping someone, but I’ll need to talk with Tristan about the incident.”

“Why?”

Cassie tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “From your description, the wolf you described matches Tristan’s wolf.”

“So, Tristan was nearby?”

“Oh, yeah.” Cassie’s curls bounced with her little head nod.

“Why didn’t he answer when I called him? I could’ve been hurt and he didn’t come.”

“The wolf would’ve alerted him if you were in any danger. I can speak from a similar experience with my husband’s wolf.”

“I would’ve appreciated Tristan giving me a quick heads-up before sending his wolf to check on me. I nearly had a stroke before I realized the cutie wasn’t going to bite me.”

“Tristan probably had his hands full with Cybil.” Cassie brushed her hand across her lap, as if wiping away invisible crumbs. “I think he would’ve given you an explanation if that phone call had come two minutes later.”

“I wouldn’t mind meeting up with him again. I haven’t forgotten your warning, but he seems like a nice guy and someone fun to know. I could use some fun.”

“There’s always tomorrow night,” Cassie said cautiously.

“What’s happening tomorrow night?”

“Singles’ night at Taylor’s. It’s a family-friendly roadhouse on the outskirts of Maico. The steaks are fabulous.”

“Singles’ night.” Penelope’s voice unintentionally deadpanned.

“It’s not what you think.”

“I’m thinking everyone there will be looking for a hookup.”

“Some will, but it isn’t sleazy or creepy. And there’s no pressure to go home with anyone. It’s a great chance to meet some nice people and have a good time. There’s a band, a dance floor and excellent food. Come to think of it, that’s pretty much every night at Taylor’s.”

Penelope wasn’t a great fan of singles’ night at the bars in Atlanta, mostly because she was uncomfortable in crowds and didn’t appreciate drunken gropes from men who wouldn’t give her a second glance sober.

“Might be your only chance to meet up with Tristan. He’s always coming or going somewhere, but tomorrow night he’ll be at Taylor’s.”

“Thanks for the tip.” Penelope had always been too shy to attend singles’ events alone. But, if Tristan was there maybe she wouldn’t be alone for long.

Chapter 6

A full moon on singles’ night, it wouldn’t be hard to find a partner for the evening. Tristan, weary of the primitive drive for sex a full moon triggered, just wanted to get it over.

In his twenties, he’d been more appreciative of the biological urge. Now, in his midthirties, he’d become too tired or too bored to care.

Still, he had to be careful about coupling with the same female too often or risk inspiring false hope about future possibilities. Though he was always upfront about his commitment to singlehood, some women considered it their mission to convert him to the ranks of the happily mated. In his family, happy and mated were an incongruent pairing.

He lifted a frosted beer mug to his lips. Cold, dark ale slid down his throat and plunked into his empty stomach. The gnawing clench didn’t ease and likely wouldn’t until the full moon passed.

“Hey, Tristan.” One of the she-wolves had broken away from her friends to sidle up to his table. A dark-haired beauty, her slightly upturned nose and pretty eyes spaced close together made her look exotic and mysterious.

“Sonia, you look lovely tonight.” He focused on her face rather than ogling the swells of her breasts popping out of the low-cut neckline. At least twelve years his junior, she didn’t appeal to him on a sexual level and it bothered him that some of the older males nearby were practically panting for her.

“Are you waiting for someone?” She-wolves didn’t flush from embarrassment and they definitely weren’t shy. But, Tristan heard the hitch in her breath as she waited for his response.

“Sorry, doll, I am.” He lied, knowing he wouldn’t bed her tonight or any night.

He hated that the process of selecting a moon-fuck partner had become so tedious and torturous. Some unmated wolfans had regular partners for the full-moon nights. The pair usually did not maintain a social relationship. They merely rendezvoused in the woods and took care of business as wolves. Tristan had considered doing the same, but hadn’t had the time to discuss a possible partnership with the limited, unmated she-wolves his age.

“Aww.” Sonia’s voice turned soft and seductive. “Mind if I keep you company while you wait?”

“Not tonight.” Or any other night as far as he was concerned.

Her smile turned pouty. “I’ll be at the bar, if you change your mind.”

I won’t.

Tristan tipped his head, then picked up the beer mug and swallowed the ale without tasting it. Sonia sashayed toward her friends. She was the fourth she-wolf he’d turned down tonight. If he kept at it, he wouldn’t get laid.

For the past two months, he’d missed the full-moon fuck. The first time, Ruby had fallen ill and he’d taken her to the hospital. The second, he got called in to help a neighboring town’s law enforcement deal with a multicar collision that had resulted in a dozen casualties.

Tonight, Tristan had no choice. He had to have sex or run the risk of elevated wolfan hormones awakening his beast.

An unexpected electric charge pulsed along his nerves. His heartbeat kicked up two notches. Before the restaurant doors opened, he made a guess at who would enter. Even though he shouldn’t, he couldn’t wait to see her.

Penelope cautiously stepped into the restaurant. Tonight, her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders. She wore white jeans and a billowy black blouse that hid her generous curves.

Curves his hands ached to feel again and that had tormented him in his dreams.

Intense desire spread through his body like a wildfire during a drought. The full-moon effects were starting early.

A tumble with her might be foremost on his mind, but was definitely not on his agenda. He’d pegged her as a forever kind of woman and he needed to stay far, far away from her.

Her confident stance was slightly marred by her uncertain gaze as she eyeballed her surroundings. Though she failed to notice him, Tristan couldn’t drag his attention from her.

The hostess greeted her and picked up one menu.

Here alone and not expecting anyone.

His evening just got better and more complicated. Not unlike felines, curiosity often got the best of wolfans. And he wanted to know why she’d specifically called out for him, Friday night.

Watching Penelope follow the hostess to a table, he scooted back from his own.

“Tristan!” A feminine squeal rang in his left ear. Slender arms lassoed his neck and a sloppy kiss dampened his cheek.

Damn!

He hated being blindsided. Keeping a tight cap on his irritation, Tristan focused on the woman making a concerted effort to squeeze onto his lap.

“Hello, doll.” Tristan didn’t budge an inch to allow her room.

He searched her vaguely familiar features but couldn’t recall her name. Heavy perfume and cigarette smoke clung to her skin, so her scent was no help in identifying her, either.

“Long time no see,” she said, all breathy and dramatically animated. “I hoped you would be here.”

“And so I am.” He consciously smiled, racking his brain for a name.

A name, a name, he’d give up his dinner to remember her name.

Well, maybe not. Wolfans loved to eat.

Shoving back the table, she managed to wedge herself onto his lap. Her arms draped his shoulders. Long, red nails raked his hair.

Huh!

Not one single spark. He felt absolutely nothing.

What the hell was wrong with him?

A full moon, a willing woman and not one flicker of interest. He might’ve suspected some type of dysfunction if not for his reaction to Penelope.

“What have you been up to since the last time I saw you?” Not that he cared, but her response might help him figure out her identity.

“Kenny and I divorced. The rat bastard skipped out on child support so the kids and I had to move back to Maico to live with my mom.” Tears glistened in her heavily painted eyes.

Somehow, Tristan got the feeling her sorrow stemmed more from living with her mother than the divorce. Or maybe it was his skewed perception of family.

He would cry, too, if he had to live with his parents again. Neither loving nor caring, his parents could hardly be in the same room without a fight breaking out.

If they were human, a divorce would’ve sent them happily on their separate ways. As wolfans, a mate-claim bound them for life. Even if it was accidental, as it was in their case, the claim was irrevocable.

“Here ya go, Slick.” Angeline slid him a glass of ice water he hadn’t ordered. One perfectly curved auburn brow arched and she looked pointedly at the womanly octopus tangling him with her tentacles.

“Thanks, Sassy.” He gave Angeline a bug-eyed stare. She had been his friend long enough to recognize the SOS.

Humor played on her lips and she actually looked ready to walk away without tossing him a lifeline. He squinted a dire warning.

Angeline’s teasing gaze locked on Tristan, then dropped to the woman in his lap. “Long time no see, Deidre.”

The name exploded in Tristan’s ears. In disbelief, he stared at the woman who had been his high-school sweetheart. Short platinum hair, steely gray eyes lined with thick black smudges, pouty lips painted dark red against a weathered canvas obscured the traces of the pretty girl he’d once dated. Tristan’s heart gave a tiny squeeze. When he’d ended the relationship with Deidre, he’d truly wanted her to find happiness. The haggard look behind the heavy makeup suggested she hadn’t.

“What do you think?” Deidre said to Angeline as the clamor in Tristan’s ears faded. “Do we still look the same as we did in high school?”

“Um...” Angeline’s head tilted as if picturing them then and now.

Clenching his jaw, Tristan felt his mouth pull tight and his brow wrinkle.

“Oh, yeah.” Angeline laughed. “Now you look exactly like I remember.”

“Thanks,” Tristan muttered. Back then, he was an infatuated fool and believed he could beat his family legacy of high drama.

It didn’t take long to learn that he couldn’t. When his and Deidre’s behavior began to mirror his parents’, Tristan ended the relationship before the unthinkable happened and he accidentally claimed her. Under no circumstances did he want to be in a relationship that he couldn’t escape.

“After all this time, we’ve found each other again.” Deidre beamed. “It’s kismet.”

“I don’t believe in that crap.” The humor faded from Angeline’s eyes.

“Deidre,” Tristan interrupted before Angeline launched a tirade about fate and fairy tales and not so happily-ever-afters. “My leg is falling asleep, doll. Would you mind moving?” To another table? Another restaurant? Another town?

“How about some company for supper?” Deidre stroked his jaw.

“He’s waiting for someone,” Angeline said.

Hoorah for the wing-girl. Tristan owed her big-time for this one.

“Oh.” Deidre’s mouth took on an exaggerated pout. “Rain check?”

Tristan offered a noncommittal nod.

Deidre pressed her lips against his. He kept his lips closed instead of encouraging her kiss. Had to be a first for him.

When she finally vacated his lap and sulked away, the tightness in Tristan’s body eased.

“Never expected that blast from the past, did you?” Angeline dipped a napkin in the glass of ice water on her tray and handed it to him.

“What’s this for?”

“Wipe your mouth and cheek, unless you want to walk around branded with big red lips all night. Might scare off the real woman you’ve been waiting for.”

“Thanks.” Tristan used the damp cloth to clean his face. “But I’m not waiting for anyone.”

“Sure you are.” Angeline looked over her shoulder. “She’s sitting alone near the restrooms.”

“Penelope’s just...” Exactly what was she to him? “A friend?” Possibly, if they ever got past the furtive glances across the resort lobby.

“You and I have been friends since we were twelve.” Angeline leaned close enough to whisper in his ear. “You’ve never lit up for me the way you did for her when she walked in that door. Go get her.”

“You know my situation.”

“It’s your parents’ situation. Doesn’t have to be yours.”

Unfortunately, Tristan knew differently.

“Don’t be a jerk and leave her sitting alone.” Angeline bumped his shoulder. “She’s got that vulnerable look and there are hungry wolves on the prowl tonight. One of them might get lucky enough to eat her up.”

The low, warning growl vibrating in his throat caught him off guard, but apparently not Angeline.

She laughed and laughed.

“Don’t you have work to do?” Tristan grumbled.

“Don’t you?”

Chapter 7

Penelope barely heard anything over the panicked drum of her heart. She was so out of her comfort zone. How had she allowed Cassie to talk her into this?

In the ten minutes since she’d arrived, Penelope had kept her head lowered and avoided eye contact. Some habits were hard to break.

She picked up the menu. Her gaze skipped over the fried foods and sandwiches, and landed on the salads, but what she really wanted was that platter of chicken wings the server carted past her.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced around the restaurant. For singles’ night, the crowd seemed relatively calm.

Oh, she could spot the hookups, all right, but the frenzied, frantic atmosphere of the few singles’ bars she’d gone to with a friend from work was thankfully absent.

Through the crowd, she noticed a tawny-haired man at the bar and her heart fluttered.

Lately, her sex life had stagnated. Not that it was anything spectacular before. She’d been in a few relationships, but none of the men had rocked her world in or out of the bedroom and she really wanted to be rocked. Hard.

Hard enough to leave her sweaty and breathless. Hard enough for the headboard to chip the paint off the walls.

She’d settle for one good orgasm.

Oh, she could give them to herself when she indulged in fantasy, but she’d never achieved the same result with any of her boyfriends. Tired of fantasies, Penelope slid out of her seat and made determined steps toward the bar.

Tristan, the subject of her latest fantasies, tossed back a shot of something. If she wasn’t such a lightweight drinker, she might do the same. “Courage,” she muttered to herself.

The closer she came to him, the more militant the butterflies in her stomach became. Maybe that was why the zip of excitement she usually felt when seeing Tristan didn’t manifest.

Penelope tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hi there.”

He turned slowly. His gaze landed on her chest and lingered before sliding down the length of her body and then all the way up to her face, leaving an icky feeling on her skin.

Not the reaction she hoped for.

“Do I know you?” His blue-gray eyes were cold and distant, and no smile touched his tight mouth.

“No.” Penelope forced a confident smile. “I thought you were someone else. Sorry to have bothered you.” She turned to scurry back to her table.

“Hold on.” Steely fingers cuffed her wrist and spun her around. “You are definitely not a bother, love.” The man pulled her close, way too close for her comfort. “Join me for a drink.”

“I have other plans.” She employed the stern tone she used when disciplining the schoolkids in her classroom.

“Plans change.” His grip remained firm but didn’t tighten. For a second, his gaze lost the hard edge and she glimpsed a shadow of loneliness.

She almost relented.

“Let her go.”

Now Penelope’s internal bells and whistles went off. Tristan stepped close enough that she went all gooey inside and had to concentrate on remaining cool and collected so she wouldn’t melt into a puddle at his feet.

“We were just about to get to know each other,” the other man said.

“Jaxen, this is Penelope. She’s my date for the evening. That’s all you need to know about her.” The growl in Tristan’s deep, sexy voice inspired all sorts of electric mayhem throughout her body. She shivered.

When his arm gently slipped around her waist, the ripple along her nerves twisted into a wild, interpretive dance.

“Let her go.” With his right hand, Tristan clasped Jaxen’s wrist until he released her, one finger at a time.

“No harm, no foul.” Jaxen rubbed the red streaks Tristan’s grasp had left on his arm. “Man, you need to lighten up.”

Penelope glanced at her wrist. Jaxen’s grip had not left a single mark.

“You need to mind your manners.”

“Noted.” The muscle in Jaxen’s jaw twitched. He gave Penelope a wistful look, then showed them his back and ordered another shot.

“Did he hurt you?” Tristan gently turned her away from the bar.

“No.” And she wasn’t so sure Jaxen would have.

Tristan laced his fingers through hers. Warm, comforting heat spread beneath his touch.

“Is Jaxen your brother?” Penelope fell into step slightly behind Tristan as he led the way through the swelling crowd. Mostly people moved out of his way and he made a direct path to a table near the dance floor.

“Cousin.”

“You favor each other.”

“Only in looks.” Tristan’s upper lip lifted in a silent snarl.

Apparently there was an unpleasant history between the two men.

“I hope you don’t mind joining me, sweet cheeks.” Tristan’s warm eyes encouraged her company.

“Just so you know—” Nel sat in the chair he pulled back for her “—I like Nel. But I don’t like doll, darlin’, love, sweetie, sweetie pie or sweet cheeks.”

He took the other seat. “Sweet cheeks is a compliment. When you smile, you look so damn sweet I want to eat you up.”

“Oh.” A light heat spread across her face, down the column of her throat and across her cleavage. “I changed my mind, you can call me sweet cheeks.”

He glanced around the room before settling his gaze back on her. “I was working resort security Friday night and heard you cry out in the woods. Did you get hurt?”

“No, but I was scared. There was a terrible noise, then a wolf came up to me and...I thought heard your voice.”

Surprise and disbelief blinked in Tristan’s eyes.

“I know it was my imagination kicking into overdrive because I was frightened.” Penelope fiddled with her fingers. “And I was really hoping to see you again.”

“Yeah?”

She needed sunglasses to protect herself from Tristan’s smile. She also needed to divert away from flirting with him because, well, she rather sucked at it.

“I was scared, Tristan. To know you were nearby and didn’t help—” Her voiced cracked.

“Nel, when I heard you call out, it was impossible for me to get to you. My wolf accompanies me on patrol, so I sent him instead. I trust him with my life. I knew I could trust him with yours.” Tristan’s hand covered hers and the angst tying her stomach in knots dissolved into a calm, soothing assurance. “My wolf will never hurt you. I’ll stake my life on that.”

“What’s his name?”

“Tristan.” His brow creased. “With the population we have, it would become confusing to give separate names to the wolves.”

“Everyone should have a name of their own.”

“Trust me, he doesn’t mind being called Tristan.”

“He told you that, did he?”

“As a matter of fact, he did.”

Penelope nearly giggled because of the teasing tent in Tristan’s eyebrow and the broadening, impish smile he flashed at her.

“Am I forgiven?”

Nel studied his face. He had a strong brow that dipped over warm, deliciously decadent eyes, a straight nose of just the right proportion, high cheeks, a masculine mouth tempered by a delicate cupid’s bow and soft-looking lips, and a powerful jaw shadowed by dark gold stubble.

How could she stay mad at someone with a face of exquisite perfection?

“Forgiven.”

“Here ya go.” The server placed a glass of white wine in front of Penelope. “Figured you’d rather have this here than at the table where you were.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Ready to order?”

“A Caesar salad will be fine.”

“That’s an appetizer, right?” Tristan’s gaze slid past Penelope and to the left.

“Um, no. It’s supper.”

“For a rabbit.” He turned his attention to the server. “The usual, and add an order of grilled chicken wings.”

“Want another beer? That one’s probably warm by now.”

Tristan handed the server the nearly full beer mug. “Water is fine.”

“Sure thing, Slick.” The server sauntered toward the kitchen.

“Slick?” Penelope asked Tristan.

“A nickname. Angeline and I have been friends for years. She calls me Slick. I call her Sassy.”

Penelope felt a slight prick of envy. She’d lost her first friends when her parents died and she had to move. In college, she’d had some acquaintances and quickly lost touch with them after graduation. More recently, her small social circle included a few coworkers and the sister of Penelope’s last ex.

“So, what’s your usual order?” she asked Tristan.

“Sixteen-ounce rib eye, medium rare, a loaded baked potato and fried okra without the batter.”

“You’re going to eat all that plus a plate of chicken wings?”

“Nah, I got those for you. I saw the way you looked at the platter on the table next to us. Besides, after supper I’m hoping you’ll be my dance partner. You’ll run out of steam before the second song if you don’t have protein in your stomach.”

“I’m not a much of a dancer.” Mostly because she’d never learned.

“Good thing I’m an excellent teacher.” Tristan exuded an easy confidence and openness Penelope would find sexy even without his perfect features.

“I bet you’re excellent at a lot of things.” Vivid visions of all the things she would like for him to do to her flashed through Penelope’s mind.

“Yes.” Tristan’s smile turned wicked and decadence smoldered in his dark sinful eyes. “I certainly am.”

Nel’s body charged with awareness, heat erupted from her core, and raging desire flooded her senses.

With no experience to handle a man like Tristan, the safest thing to do would be to cut and run.

Unfortunately, her legs had turned to jelly.

Chapter 8

Anticipation coiled inside Tristan. He couldn’t wait to get Nel in his arms, hold her close and work up a sweat. He’d be a liar to deny he wanted more, but dancing was all he dared.

Another quick visual sweep of the restaurant confirmed there were no simmering or escalating troubles, especially since Jaxen had left with Deidre. Even when he wasn’t looking directly at Nel, Tristan was intimately aware of every move, every breath, every sound she made.

Methodically, she wiped her hands on a napkin and tucked it beside her empty plate. Her soft sigh sounded sad, disappointed, drawing his full attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Her voice sounded tight and she avoided his direct gaze. “How much do I owe you for dinner?”

“Nothing, it’s my treat.” No one had ever mistaken a date with him before. Maybe he was losing his touch.

“Oh, okay. Um, thanks for dinner.” She inhaled a slow, deep breath. Her spine straightened and her shoulders stiffened. “It’s been a long day, so I’m going back to my cabin.”

The sudden crash of disappointment left him speechless.

Damn. How did he screw this up?

They both stood and Tristan hooked his fingers through Nel’s to make sure she didn’t walk off.

“One dance?” He gave her his best puppy dog look.

“One,” she finally agreed.

Despite the band’s fast beat, Tristan pulled Nel close and set their own slow pace. He waited a few more beats before asking, “So, how did I mess up at supper?”

“You barely looked at me once the food arrived.”

“I hadn’t had a decent meal since yesterday.” He was wolfan. Even when he wasn’t starving, food was a pretty big deal.

“Hunger has nothing to do with roaming eyes.”

“What?” Tristan halted their dance. Absolutely and unequivocally, he had not scoped out any woman tonight, aside from Nel.

She looked up at him, her eyes clear, guileless, and a direct window to the vulnerability she was trying not to show.

“I’m not the most desirable woman here tonight...”

To him, she was. To prove it, he tipped her chin intending to give her a gentle kiss.

But the moment her lips parted, Tristan’s rational mind disengaged and primal instinct took control. He swept her mouth, probing, claiming, branding her as much as she probed, claimed and branded him.

Thankfully, she broke the kiss because he couldn’t.

“You were saying?”

She touched her fingers to her lips as if they tingled as much as his did. “That was an unfair distraction.”

“But it was good, right? Good enough to adjust your perception?”

“Do you find me boring? Because every few minutes you look away.”

Tristan scratched his jaw. He was such an idiot for not mentioning it, but he’d done it for so long he no longer realized when he was doing it. “I’m partially blind.” He enticed her back into his arms, but she resisted getting as cozy as they were before. “I have no left peripheral vision. Whenever I sense movement on that side, I look.”

“Oh.” Nel’s expression softened and he hated the sympathy that pooled in her big, beautiful eyes. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“Don’t be. I’m glad we cleared the air.”

“Since we’re on the subject of clearing the air...” Nel inched closer. “Is it my imagination, or have you also sensed this thing...this energy bouncing between us?”

He did, and wondered what it was. Even more so, he wondered what to do about it.

* * *

A fast country tune belted from the speakers. Penelope was swirling across the dance floor before her brain caught up with her body. Song after song, it seemed the rhythm never slowed. Neither did Tristan.

Penelope’s laughter chased her all around the twirl Tristan spun her in until she landed back in his arms and he dipped her deep. Slowly, he brought her upright and flush to his body. She was panting too hard from exertion for her breath to hitch. Otherwise, it would have.

“You are a fast learner. No one will ever believe you didn’t know those moves before tonight.” Tristan seemed in no hurry to have her step back. His hands palmed her low back, holding her in place. “Ready for the next one?”

“I don’t have the energy to keep up the pace.” Her sigh was really an attempt to catch her breath. When she’d vowed to make up for lost time, she hadn’t meant to do it all at once.

“We can slow it down again.” He drew her closer. So close her cheek rested against his chest.

Admittedly, they’d hit a rough patch during the evening. However, Tristan impressed her with his earnestness in discussing the problem and his honesty in solving it.

He was a true gentleman. Even now, squashed together as they were, his hands rested respectfully on her lower back, not copping a feel of her ass, which hopefully would not grow a size larger from the chicken wings she’d eaten at Tristan’s insistence.

He didn’t seem to mind she wasn’t a size two, or even a ten, and she certainly appreciated the solid bulk of his muscular build. The face of Adonis, a body built for sex and a devilish Southern charm that could entice a woman to drop her panties without a second thought.

So what was he doing with her?

Yeah, they had some kind of inexplicable connection. Electricity sizzled between them and had from the start. She had no idea what it meant, but a definite idea of where she wanted it to lead.

Unfortunately, despite the kiss and smoldering looks Tristan gave her, he hadn’t suggested anything more than a night of dancing.

Maybe her fantasies had colored reality.

“Hey!” Tristan’s hand glided up and down her back. “You’re all tensed up.”

“Sorry. My mind wandered.”

Tristan stared down at her. In the dim light his eyes looked puzzled, contemplative. “I must be rustier than I thought.”

“Rustier at what?”

“Entertaining a date.” He shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve been on one.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” His smile flatlined. “I’m not celibate, by any means, but those aren’t dates.”

“What are they?”

“Hookups, for lack of a better term.”

“So, why is this a date and not a hookup?”

Tristan’s eyes warmed. “I’m not angling to bed you at the end of the evening.”

“Why not? Aren’t you attracted to me?”

“I think I proved I am when I kissed you.” Tristan trailed the back of his hand along her cheek. “You aren’t the kind of woman a man turns to for a one-nighter. You are a now-and-for-always kind of woman.”

“You’re assuming an awful lot about someone you just met.”

“Am I?”

“Sometime in the future, I may want to settle down,” Penelope said. “Right now, I’m stretching my wings and trying new things.”

The band wound down to take a break.

“Damn.” Tristan sweetly kissed her knuckles. “I hate for our evening to end, but I have Co-op duty tonight.”

“And I have to work tomorrow. I guess I should go.”

“Yes, Penelope. You should go. And when you get back to the cabin, lock the door and don’t open it until morning.” Tristan sounded so serious a sliver of alarm swept through her.

“Why?”

“It’s almost midnight.” He stroked his thumb along her jaw. Waves of fire and ice undulated beneath her skin. “The moon is full. And the wolves are restless tonight.”

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