Opposition: Montana Wolves, Book Four (Montana Wolves series 4) (5 page)

"What?" He snatched up the letter. Was this about his warning? Or worse, was this about Maggie and their incident in the forest? Not that a kiss would mean much of anything, but his father would see fraternizing with a Pray wolf as tantamount to treason.

Whatever the case, Grey wasn't about to wait to find out but when he examined the seal, he found the edges wavy. Like the letter had already been steamed open once and then put back together very carefully.

He read his name scrawled on the front and raised his brow at her.

She shrugged and tried to look innocent, but he knew better.

She already knew what was inside. That was good news. If it was truly dire, he’d know it by now.

He dragged his thumb beneath the seal. It sprung open easily enough and he unfolded the letter, scanning it once, then twice.

"I don't see what you’re freaking out about. A meeting at the intersection of our lands? It's a chance for peaceful negotiation."

"Yeah, I think that's definitely how your father would see it if he found the letter. He wouldn’t wonder at all about, I don't know, how they found out about his plans or why they reached out to you specifically or—"

"Okay, okay, I get your meaning." He hit his head back against the headboard and took a deep breath.

If he could meet with Maggie and just get her to agree to change the human—
Amber
—then he was sure he could convince the pack to stand up to his father. None of them were comfortable having a human in their midst who could expose their existence to the world, but they would be much less inclined to kill her if she was just another wolf…

He pictured the mulish look on Maggie’s face and her stubborn refusal and groaned.

He'd already made as many compromises as he could with her. Even if he promised peace, there was no accounting for his father. Hell, even if his father agreed to peace, that didn’t mean he’d keep his word.

He had to think of another compromise, and fast.

"Who delivered this?" Willa poked at the letter with an outstretched foot.

That was a great question, and one that sent a shaft of dread straight through him. Had she seriously snuck onto their lands when he’d told her they were gunning for her pack? That seemed beyond reckless and his stomach knotted at the thought. Only the fact that he would’ve heard if something had happened if she’d been caught settled him some.

“Maggie, it says,” Willa read over his shoulder. “She's not their alpha. I wonder why she contacted you?”

He glanced at Maggie's signature at the bottom of the letter, then back at Willa. Christ, when it rained, it fucking hail stormed. Though, truly, he had no reason to share more than necessary about Maggie.

There wasn't much to tell.

She was just a pack member. What would any of that mean to Willa? Alternately, he could lie. How hard would it be to say he didn't know?

But even the thought of lying to his best friend's face made his stomach uneasy.

"Another complication," he said. Simple enough and most certainly the truth.

"Well, whatever it is, see that you handle it." Willa's mouth was a solid line. "I'm serious, Grey. You've gotten this far because you're your father's son, but it won't get you much further. You're putting yourself in front of two firing ranges at once."

He scooted toward her and flung an arm around her petite shoulders. "Everything's going to be fine."

He hoped it was true. If one side or the other
did
kill him, Willa might come around and kill his ghost for lying to her.

“I’ve got to get ready to go. You stay here and hold down the fort. Tell the others I went on a hunt if they ask."

She nodded and eased herself away from him before finally rolling to her feet.

He had a few hours to think and prepare. The only problem was that whenever he tried to focus on what he'd say, his thoughts would wander back to
her
. The black hair, the slamming body, hell, even the bad attitude. Something about her drove him nuts in the best and worst way. Already he could feel his blood going hot at the thought of seeing her again.

“What if she doesn’t come alone? What if it’s a trap and there are others with her?” Willa tried again, but he was already pushing past her, heading for the door.

“It’s really just the one that worries me,” he muttered beneath his breath.

He padded down the stairs, brain whirring as he tried to fashion a plan even as his wolf prowled restlessly inside him, hungry for another taste of her, and making plans of its own…

M
AGGIE RAN
her nails along the broken-down table in front of her. He was already fifteen minutes late. Hardly a good way to start off a two-man war council.

And maybe he isn’t coming at all.

The thought sent her stomach sinking in a way that irritated the crap out of her. He wasn’t her boyfriend, after all. He was the next alpha of what was still, at this point, an enemy pack. Walking around with her head in the clouds was a sure recipe for heartache.

Exactly the reason she’d avoided getting involved with men to this point. They were nothing but trouble.

She padded across the room and pressed her cheek to the door, breathing in deep.

There it was.

The smell was faint at first, but unmistakable. Sweet like the trees that lined the way to the Big Sky Canyon lands, but strangely spicy and clean. Like the stream that ran high onto the fragrant grasses by the rickety little shack she was standing in.

Greyson.

Steeling herself, she ignored her suddenly dry throat and swung the door open to find him standing there, looking handsome as ever in jeans and a crew neck, navy sweater.

His mouth was twisted into a grim line and she cursed her heart for thudding even louder at the sight of him.

“Hello again, Maggie.”

He was already sidestepping her and heading into the wooden shelter before she got her voice back to invite him in.

He settled onto a metal folding chair opposite the one she'd occupied earlier. As she returned to her seat, he folded his arms over his muscular chest, sending his biceps bulging against the fabric of his sweater.

"You really shouldn’t have risked coming onto our land," he said softly.

She shook her head to clear it, still enthralled in his scent. Jesus, how hadn't she noticed it that first night? Had it been this tantalizing then? This masculine and tempting? Or had the kiss just brought it all to the forefront for her. She shook her head, trying to focus on the here and now. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have much choice.”

“Next time, I’ll give you my cell number.” He shook his head slowly in disapproval. "That was foolhardy, Maggie. You could’ve been killed on the spot. And what if someone else had gotten to your letter first? You could’ve been a sitting duck here just ripe for an ambush."

She squared her shoulders but didn’t bother to reply.

His frown turned to an outright scowl as he set his feet back onto the ground. "Funny, I don't remember you being this close-mouthed the last time we met."

She got up, ready to scramble over the table and thrash him. Just as quickly, though, she sat back down. That was what he wanted. He was trying to get under her skin, although why, she couldn’t say.

“I’m way stealthier than you are. The chance of me getting caught if I didn’t want to be were slim to none,” she said finally, not comfortable with the idea of him thinking she was a reckless fool but not willing to delve too deep into the why’s of that discomfort. “Besides, just because I’ve decided to trust you doesn’t mean I’m willing to risk my pack on it. My neck is one thing. The whole pack? That’s another entirely.”

The anger in his eyes seemed to cool a little, replaced with what looked something like a grudging respect. "Well, we’re here now, so let’s talk. Did you speak to Liam? Have you reconsidered about the h—" he broke off before correcting himself, “Amber?”

“We did discuss it, and it’s just not going to happen right now. The risks are too high.”

His jaw went tight and he scrubbed at the dark stubble shadowing his cheek. “Then I’m not sure what I can do to stop my father. Unless I have the support of the rest of the pack, I—”

"You're just not trying hard enough." The words came out louder and angrier than she'd wanted, but she wouldn't apologize for them. She was here, for Christ’s sake. She was trying. How could there be no other solution?

"You were the one with the job. You were supposed to convince your wolves to turn her. If I'm not trying hard enough, then neither are you.” His speech stung like a slap in the face and she blinked at him, not sure what to say. It was a cold truth that neither one of them was in charge, and it was a helpless feeling that they could both relate to.

After a long, silent moment, he continued, "If you won't stop this, then the least you can do is run. Leave Montana. Before you get yourself killed."

"Are you calling me weak?" She couldn't stop herself from leaping from her chair this time, towering over him before he got the chance to stand again.

"I'm calling you foolish. There's evidence enough of that by the fact that you came out here alone after coming onto enemy territory and dropping a note under my door. So either you’re foolish or you're crazy."

"It was a strategy."

"It was a death wish." He stood and she was forced to crane her neck in order to stare up into his silvery eyes.

He was close to her, his chest practically pressed against her own, his body heat radiating off of him until she had no idea what the temperature was in the air. All she knew was the rage in her belly, the muskiness of his scent, and the warmth of his skin. It was like his presence consumed her, and the more he spoke, the more she wanted to kiss him and punch him in the gut at the same time.

"That's not true," she finally said, but the words came out far more strained than she would have liked.

He tucked a finger under her chin. "Maybe not an intentional one."

She wanted to step away. To stumble back until she was as far from him as the little space would allow, but every signal in her brain misfired. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. Her breath caught and she met his heated stare, daring him to risk kissing her again.

She wanted that so badly, she could taste it. The desire to escape faded as she let her instincts override her reason. Rather than stepping back, she stepped forward and pressed herself against him, the need clawing at her guiding the way. "Say what you will, but it sure seems like you’re glad to see me."

The truth of her words was evident as the thickness of his arousal pressed against her belly.

He let his quicksilver gaze trail past her mouth, down her throat to her breasts, where her nipples pebbled beneath her cotton shirt. "You seem pretty happy to see me, too."

He shot her a slow, crooked grin and she opened her mouth to argue, but before she got the chance his lips were on hers, crowding her against the wall with his body.

God, he was warm. His muscles were so hard against her, and even if she'd wanted to fight him, she didn't think she could have. Still, she couldn't let him believe that he'd won. She struggled weakly against him as each of his hands encircled her wrists and pressed them against the wall. The lean plane of his stomach pushed against her chest and her nipples strained at the rough feel of his skin.

She caught his bottom lip between her teeth and nipped him, half playfully and half daring, but he only grinned.

"What's so funny?" she hissed when he came up for breath.

"You're still putting on a show." He released her wrists to slide up the contour of her stomach, resting just below the curve of her breasts. "But there's no fight left in you."

The devil in her couldn’t resist. She tackled him to the ground, straddled him, and pinned each of his wrists in her hands before he'd realized what she'd done. "I could always change my mind," she growled.

She’d no sooner spoken the words than she was tumbling onto her back, held in place by the sheer power of his weight on top of her.

"You won't." He moved to hold both of her hand above her head with one hand and then slanted his mouth over hers again. His breath was sweet and spicy, his lips more tender than she'd expected. With him, she thought it would be nothing but hard edges, but even in all his intensity, there was a tenderness.

And even more surprisingly, she wasn't sure which she liked more.

She dipped her tongue into his mouth, meeting his in yet another battle for supremacy. They twisted and swirled, plunging deeper, then pulling back.

His free hand found her breasts at last, and as he cupped her overly sensitized flesh, she found herself arching into him against her will. She simply couldn't help it. Worse, a low moan escaped her throat and he smiled against her mouth.

"It doesn't mean anything," she breathed between kisses, but the huskiness of her voice only made his smile broaden. Dammit.

"Whatever you want to tell yourself is fine with me," he said and tweaked her nipple between thumb and forefinger. "I don't mind giving the lady what she wants."

"I—"

He cut her off with another searing kiss, but by that point her head was swimming too much to resurface again. She’d always been the good soldier. The one who spent her whole life living for her pack, to the detriment of everything else in life.

She’d never taken those cooking lessons she’d wanted to take.

She’d never gone to Greece, or Paris, or even New York City.

And she’d never allowed herself to feel the way she did right now about a man.

Yeah, if she was going let herself get lost—even just this one—she wanted it to be with Greyson West.

CHAPTER FIVE

H
e wasn't sure which he liked better, her bark or her bite.

The fight in her was hot as hell, but the way she kissed...

That was pure sex. Wild and carnal. Even better was the way her body responded to him, almost like they'd mated before. Like her body knew his and was desperate for what only he could give her.

He reached behind her with a muffled growl and unclasped her bra, a move that sent her pert breasts spilling forward to press against the thin cotton of her shirt.