Page 5 of Caught By the Wolf

Somewhere under the wanting, a second quieter thing moved through him. Something that wasn’t only hunger. His chest felt tight and unfamiliar, like something long shut had been pried open by the weight of her in his arms. He didn’t examine it. He kept walking as the sounds of the woods returned to normal.

“You can put me down,” she said quietly.

He finally allowed himself to look down at her. Her arms were still wrapped around his neck, but her face was no longer hidden in the curve of his shoulder. She was studying him.

“I know.” But he made no move to set her on her feet. He just adjusted his grip, pulling her higher up on his chest. That made him aware once again of his shoulder.

“Please, put me down and let me look at your shoulder. I’m a nurse.”

“It’s fine and we’re almost there,” he answered.

“I—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut in.

“I won’t. This time.” He caught the small huff she made under her breath.

That made his wolf grin like a fool.

He wanted to as well but kept the stoic expression on his face. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he could still smile. Except…

He was holding his mate in his arms. His. Delivered at the worst possible moment, by men who’d have them both dead if they got the chance.

Fate had a morbidly wicked sense of humor.

Finally, his house came up through the trees. He and his brothers had moved to Stone Creek to start over. They’d purchased almost a hundred acres on land no one wanted—or could use. They could use it. To run. To build a new life. Make a new pack.

He slowed once he reached the porch, shouldering the door open, and setting her on her feet. He kept a hand at her waist until her legs could hold her. Or that’s why he told himself to do it. Not because he didn’t want to stop touching her. She stepped back and looked at him.

All of him.

She made it about halfway down his body before she caught herself, and then her eyes snapped up to the ceiling and stayed there.

“Okay. You’re—that’s—there is a lot of—” She waved a hand in his general direction, cheeks going pink. “Pants. Do you own pants? Please tell me you own pants.”

Pants. Who needs pants with mate in the room. The wolf let out a wicked chuckle. She looked. She liked it. She is looking at our cock and her scent just got sweeter. She wants us even if she is trying to hide it.

“Bedroom,” Roman said, already moving, because the pink climbing up her neck was not helping his problem, and neither was the fact that she was still sneaking looks and terrible at hiding it. “The first aid kit is under the kitchen sink. Towels are in the drawer next to it.”

“Kit. Sink. Towels.” She announced it to the ceiling. “Doing that now. While pants happen.”

He came out of the bedroom wearing sweatpants—the wolf sulking the entire time—and came back to find her at his kitchen table with the kit open, towels stacked, and her composure firmly back into place. She pointed at a chair.

“Sit.”

Roman had not taken an order from another living soul in six years. He sat.

“Ella Scott,” she said, tearing open a pack of gloves. “Since you’re going to bleed on my hands, you should know who I am. I’m a nurse at the hospital in town.”

“Roman Matthews.”

“The Matthewss?” she asked.

“I guess.” Roman shrugged his shoulder and regretted it at once. She took out a bottle of sterile water and wet a towel and got to work. Everything about her changed the second her fingers touched his skin. The babble shut off as she leaned in close, and Roman fixed his eyes on the far wall and thought about fence posts. Rows of them. Straight, boring rows.

It didn’t help. She was warm and she was close, her scent all over him where he’d carried her, her thumb braced against his collarbone while she worked, and the wolf was narrating nonstop.

Her hands are on us. Put them lower. Put them on our cock. She is so close. Her breasts are brushing our arm. We could lean forward and taste that mouth. We could have her on this table in under a minute. She would be so soft under us. So wet. We can already smell how interested she is.