Right Wolf, Right Time

Dedication

To everyone who asked for Monty’s story. This one’s for you.

Chapter One

Cougar Falls, Montana

Monty GrayClaw’s heart raced and his palms sweated. Years spent in captivity paled next to the dread spreading like a toxin through his system.

A wolf in human clothing, Monty should have felt far more confident than he did. He was Ac-taw, a born Shifter who could take the form of the noblest creature on the planet—a gray wolf of estimable grace, power and control. Yet he trembled. Hell. He couldn’t screw this up, not if he wanted to remain sane. One false step would be the end of him.

He glanced over his shoulder, expecting a trap. It was too quiet, too easy. All the months of lying in wait, the subtle stalking, being patient while his prey turned ripe for the plucking…it boiled down to how he maneuvered tonight.

The moon shone brightly overhead, the sweet smells of pine and rosemary making the cool, late-August air crisp with flavor, but not sharp enough to hide the creature moving within the antiquated Victorian still in sad need of repair.

Monty tightened his grip and swore when he cut himself. The scent of blood would carry. Damn it. He’d been waiting so long. He needed to act now. But what if he’d read the signs wrong? He’d already tried twice and had been rebuffed. What if he screwed up and set himself back even further? He couldn’t go through this again. Not after all his preparation, the sleepless nights, the new interference from the Gray Wolf Order…

A sound—footsteps—froze him in place as the scent of his prey approached. Creaks and groans of aging wood grew louder until only a solid plank of oak separated them. He tightened his grip, bore down on his nerves and readied to spring as the door slowly creaked open.

He moved before he could think about what the hell he was doing and stuck out his arm.

“Hello? Monty?” Sophie Tanner, the prettiest she-wolf Monty had ever seen and the star of his nightly fantasies, brightened like a sunbeam as she blinked at him. “Flowers. For me?” She gushed over the crumpled bouquet still extended in her direction. “Oh, you’re bleeding.”

The stupid roses had thorns. Trust Rachel, his pride leader’s female, to grow flowers with teeth. Friggin’ cats.

“Come in here and let me have a look.” She took the bouquet from him and led him into her kitchen.

He followed like a docile lamb, willing to do whatever it took to get her hands on him again.

Oh man, he wanted this woman
bad
. His stomach did somersaults whenever he was around her and his tongue ignored his brain. He’d been unable to ask her out on a date for fear of being rejected again. Him, Monty friggin’ GrayClaw,
denied
—the thought boggled the mind. It would have been funny if he hadn’t already sensed she was and would be the most important thing in his life. Knowing she had a history almost as rough as his own had slowed his pursuit way down. But Christ on a crutch, Monty was no saint, and waiting two years for her to get settled into town and over her fear of male Ac-taw had worn thin.

The woman needed to overcome her past and deal with him. Tonight. Right now. Before he lost his nerve and bolted for the door. Fuck. Maybe it wasn’t the right time after all…

“Shit.” He swore as cold water stung his scarred palm. Hell, he was marked up like a chew toy. He hoped she didn’t mind a few abrasions…scars…whip marks.

“Big baby,” she teased, a blush on her cheeks. Her gray eyes gleamed like diamonds against skin that saw the sun often. She’d braided her long brown hair down her back, and that thick stuff teased him with images of what it would look like soft around her shoulders and curled around those tantalizing breasts. Not too big, not too small, just perfect to put his hands around…

She gave a polite cough and he brought his head up with a snap, flushing with guilt when she gave him a look.

“I, er, thanks for the water.”

Sophie pried the thorn out of his hand. In a soft voice, she said, “I’m glad you came over. You said you might stop by, but you always…” She cleared her throat and patted his palm with a towel. “The flowers are beautiful.”

Crumpled and smashed, but if she liked them, who was he to say differently? He grinned. “Sure thing. Pretty flowers for a pretty girl.”

His pridemates would have laughed their asses off at the lame compliment. Grady and Dean, cat pranksters and ladies’ men during their bachelor days, would have tried to work the she-wolf out of her panties on the first date. But Monty wanted more from the gentle wolf than a quick tumble. He wanted kisses and hugs, tenderness, pups…

“Are you okay?” She pressed her small hand to his forehead and he fought not to groan. “You feel hot to me.”

As usual around this particular female, he was hard as a rock and caught between wanting to bend her over for a thorough fuck and defending her from the world—including himself.

The protector, as usual, won out. Monty leaned back, away from her touch, and forced another smile, glad for the jeans that kept him in check. He’d have zipper marks on his dick when he got home, but being around his girl was worth it. Slow and gentle would win the race, or so he kept telling himself.

“I always run hot.”
Around you.
“I’m good. We going out to dinner, then?” Their first official date. He’d been hanging around her for months. Lending support, just being there, waiting for her to need him. He’d gone so far as to attack a few bears when they’d roughhoused in her grocery store and broken her arm back in March. Accident or not, they’d hurt Sophie and put his animal spirit into a frenzy. His wolf reacting so violently only reaffirmed what he’d already known—Sophie was his.

“I was kind of thinking we could eat here, if that’s okay.” So shy, she ducked her head away after asking.

Monty loved everything about her. That shyness, her soft hands, the way she skirted trouble if she could avoid it. Unlike the sly cats and foxes he lived with in the pride, Sophie didn’t ask for problems. The cats lived to antagonize. The Bermin sisters were as bad about mouthing off when they felt the need. And the foxes had a way of causing innocent mischief that somehow landed trouble at
his
door. He couldn’t shake the feeling one of the female foxes had sabotaged his last card game. And though Monty sincerely loved his pride leader’s woman, Rachel was pushy, no two ways about it.

So unlike his Sophie. She took his lead when they talked, and if he wished at times she would be a bit more assertive, he also liked the fact she wanted to please. The woman knew her own mind—she just needed patience, kindness and an understanding mate. Monty prayed he could be that wolf, because he didn’t plan on letting anyone else lay claim to her. Sophie Tanner belonged to him, and in time, he’d show her the way.

Sophie smiled at Monty, loving the way he looked at her as if he couldn’t wait to eat her right up. Then, as always, he masked his hunger with a tepid smile and pretended to be sweetness and light. As if she couldn’t see the wild wolf within the quiet man.

Of all the wolves she’d met in her lifetime, she’d never been so taken, so immediately intrigued, as she was with Montgomery GrayClaw. There was an injured fierceness in him that spoke to her on another level. Her animal spirit, the wolf within her, recognized his pain because Sophie had suffered its like. For years she’d thought herself half crazy, able to sense things normal people couldn’t. And her uncle and cousins, her guardians after the death of her parents, had been nothing better than lowdown killers. They took sheer joy in slaughtering innocent life.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to ignore the gruesome pictures that would no doubt haunt her tonight. Lately, she’d had a feeling trouble was coming. Not just to town, but for her specifically.

“Sophie?” Monty stared at her as if he could see inside her.

Not wanting anyone to ever get that far into her mind, she shook her head and gave him a warm smile. “I found a terrific slab of meat at the store. I had Benji cut something special for you.”

Their butcher had a crush on her, but the older bear also had an on-again, off-again relationship with a raptor nearing seventy-five, a few years his junior. Sophie didn’t consider him a threat on any level, for which she was grateful. Lately, the wolves circling her gave her the shivers. Talk about feeling like a piece of meat…

“Benji’s a good guy. For a bear.” Monty nodded. “He likes to pretend to save the good cuts for the cats, but whenever I do the shopping, I bring back better meats than Dean or Grady.” Dean and Grady Chastell, Monty’s pridemates, were younger brothers to the pride leader, Monty’s best friend, Burke. Monty, a wolf, lived with a pride of cats, foxes and a bear. How odd, and how very fitting for the wolf she constantly thought about. He was different, like her. Just another way they fit.

“You probably get the better stuff because you’re one of the few men who never flirted with Benji’s niece. He’s pretty protective of Juneau.”

Monty blinked but said nothing. Why did his silence make her feel like she had her information wrong?

“What can I help you with?” he asked and hustled her into the kitchen. To take her mind off the fact he might have slept with the pretty Kodiak or because he didn’t want her asking questions?

Like he really had to worry about that. As much as Sophie wished she could be more self-confident, like her friends Julia and Gabby, she couldn’t quite work the words past her stiff lips. A lifetime of keeping her thoughts to herself and staying out of sight didn’t go away just because she’d found her place in Cougar Falls. Her last two and a half years had been ideal, but they didn’t make the previous twenty-four fade away.

Now if only a sexy wolf with a hard stare and a mouth to kill for would make a move and distract her. He still gripped her shoulders with a firmness she’d dreamed about. Monty had a bad habit of being too hands-off.

“What can I help you with, Sophie?” he asked again.

“Um, you can make the salad.”

To his credit, he didn’t make a face at the thought of eating rabbit food—what the other wolves usually called the veggie aisle in the store.

While he rinsed the lettuce and cut up some vegetables, they made small talk about the latest tour group he’d taken through Big Mountain, and what they anticipated for the coming months. He worked for Chastell Tours, the pride’s touring company located in Whitefish. She envied him his ability to labor alongside humans without fear, but she preferred Cougar Falls, where only other Ac-taw could visit the town. The magical totem that protected the Ac-taw would keep her uncle from ever finding her. She prayed.

Annoyed to find herself thinking about
him
again, she focused instead on Monty. What must it be like to live with cats, foxes and bears? She stayed on the outskirts of wolf society, content to associate with other wolves from a distance. But Monty openly preferred non-wolves to the order. She envied his confident dismissal, especially the way he dealt with disapproval from Rafe, the Gray Wolf alpha.

She wished she could be as firm in her decision to remain apart. More like Monty, except not so careful
all
the time. Frankly, she grew tired of waiting for him to take control of what she hoped might be a burgeoning relationship. She wished she had the guts to plaster herself against his incredible body. He had scars—a lot of them—and from what she’d gathered, Ac-taw rarely scarred unless they’d been through serious damage. His marks were a testament to his strength and made her want him all the more.

Heck, she’d love to kiss him until she forgot her own name.

With a subtlety she’d mastered long ago, she watched him work, absorbing the grace of his long-fingered hands, the flex and play of his broad back and thickly muscled arms. The man had a tapered waist she was dying to measure, and an impressive ass she’d giggled about over mojitos with her friends a time or two.

“Where should I put all this?” He showed her the colander full of wet lettuce alongside a cutting board full of carrots, cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes—enough to feed an army.

She bit her lip and hoped he hadn’t seen her ogling his butt. “The, ah, that bowl up there.” She pointed to a shelf above him, wondering how he thought they’d eat all that salad.

Forget the lettuce, Monty. Kiss me. Touch me with the passion you’re hiding all the time.

He turned with the ceramic bowl in hand and froze. “Sophie?” He didn’t blink as he watched her.