Wolf Rock Shifters Books 1-5: Five BBW Paranormal Romance Standalone Novels (38 page)

“Your parents said that you were just coming back from college,” said Cecile. Nash turned to her with an inquisitive look on his face. “Oh, when I called they mentioned it. What were you studying?”

“Psychology,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. That and history. I’ve always been sort of fascinated by both.”

“Well, I have to say, you don’t look like a psychologist or a historian.”

“Don’t I? Well, we should fix that. Why don’t you tell me about your childhood?” he said, grinning and leaning towards her. Cecile could feel his breath on her neck.

“All right, you’re getting there. But where’s the leather couch? I feel like I should lie down.”

“That comes after the ride,” he said. “For a small fee.”

“Excellent. A beautiful winter ride
and
a psychological assessment. I need both,” said Cecile. “Or did you have something different in mind with the lying down bit?”

“Never. I’m a perfect gentleman,” said Nash, pulling back now and refocusing his attention on Daisy’s gear. “Besides, you’re so not my type.”

As he said the last sentence, something twitched between his legs, as if protesting the words that were coming out of his mouth. His cock, it seemed, was calling him a liar.

“Whoa, boy,” he said under his breath.

“What was that?” asked Cecile, whose smile indicated that she knew exactly what his type might be.

“Nothing. Just getting ready for a long, hard ride.”

W
hen they’d finished tacking
the horses up, Nash put on his cowboy hat, let Cecile walk ahead then led the two mounts outside into the brisk cold. The sky was clear, the air frozen around them. The horses’ breath hung before their muzzles for a few seconds before disappearing.

“Let’s take it slowly at first,” said Nash, holding a stirrup while Cecile mounted. “We don’t want these guys slipping on anything.”

While he was genuinely concerned at what ice might be concealed beneath the snow, Nash’s first concern was the fact that it had been months since he’d been on horseback and he needed to get his seat back. He hadn’t counted on doing so in front of an attractive woman, and nothing was quite so emasculating as feeling incompetent at something that should come naturally to him.

Cecile took the reins with an impressive confidence, and so Nash mounted Flak, leading them further along the driveway onto a frozen dirt path which led towards the snowy peaks. He was quickly filled with the pure happiness that a kid experiences on winter mornings, running out into a new blanket of white. He knew that Flak liked the weather as well, and that he and his stable-mates didn’t get out much these days. He laid a hand on the horse’s neck.

“You’ve been around these guys all your life, have you?” asked Cecile from behind him, her voice echoing in the quiet morning.

“Yeah, pretty much. I sort of hated being away.”

“I can imagine. So, will you be staying? In Wolf Rock, I mean.”

Nash turned in his seat, putting his left hand against the solid ridge of the saddle. “Not sure,” he said, looking at his companion from below the brim of his hat. “What do you think I should do?”

Cecile felt herself lose control of her face, happily surrendering to the smile that formed.

“Well, I think you should stay here. You obviously like it.”

“I’m liking it more and more,” said Nash, turning to face forwards.

His plan had originally been to ride along a narrow trail which would lead them onto a safe but somewhat predictable ridge, but now he’d changed his mind. He turned at the first fork they hit, taking a left towards a valley down below.

“We’ll be heading onto a neighbour’s land,” he explained, turning back again. Cecile had had to remain behind him because of the trail’s limited width. Now, as the land opened up, she was able to navigate Daisy to Nash’s side. “I want to show you the more hidden bits of the territory, if you’re up for it.”

“Totally. God, I love it out here,” she said. “You’re so…free.”

“Do you usually feel like you’re not?” asked Nash. It wasn’t remotely in his nature to ask personal questions, particularly of a stranger. But despite his initial nervousness, this woman put him at ease, somehow. Maybe it was that he’d spent such a lot of time around humans in the last few years, and that she was a shifter. She would understand. She would know his instincts and the reasons for his curiosity. She might even understand his attraction to her, though she was out of his league.

There wasn’t supposed to be a hierarchy in the shifter world; not really. Not outside of the general pack mentality where an alpha male tended to dominate. But class—social class, monetary standing—were not considerations normally. However, it seemed more and more that such a thing was developing, and that this woman came from a family that might be considered above Nash’s rank. He didn’t like that much, but he liked her, and she seemed genuine.

“I don’t usually feel free, no,” she said. “When you have a father like mine, there’s no feeling free even if you’re thousands of miles away from him.”

“I almost hate to ask, but why’s that?”

“Oh, let’s see: he controls my finances. Who I see. Where I go. What I study. All that sort of thing.”

“But, and forgive me for noticing this: You’re a grown woman. Couldn’t you do your own thing and tell him to shove it? Or are you afraid of losing your inheritance?”

Nash regretted the last question as soon as he’d asked. It was, he knew, disrespectful and implied that she was superficial and spoiled.

“Because all I care about is money, you mean?”

“No. I…it’s just…some people…”

Cecile laughed. “Relax, Nash. I’m not like that. I don’t care about those things. It’s complicated is all. There’s a certain amount of pride involved. My dad feels like he’s worked hard to get where he is, and so somehow in all this I’ve become a sort of representation of him. He wants me to be a proper young lady. Fat chance of that.”

Cecile went quiet then, and for a time she seemed deep in thought. Nash took the opportunity to watch her as she rode. Her seat was confident, and he could see a good deal of evidence that she’d been on horses before. The first clue was always to watch a person’s pelvis; if it moved in rhythm with the horse’s motion, there was a good chance that they knew what they were doing. Her thighs clung to the saddle just enough to hold on should Daisy bolt, but she was relaxed and comfortable.

If ever a woman wanted to know if she’s sexy while straddling a horse,
thought Nash,
the answer is an indisputable yes.
It was very hard to watch a hot woman put her thighs around something like a leather saddle and not to picture himself under her, being ridden, her pelvis moving into his own, grinding their bodies together. Those hips…

“Yeah,” he muttered, his mind gone.

“You’re a million miles away, aren’t you?” asked Cecile, her sly smile returning to her lips.

“I was just thinking it’s been a long time since I’ve gone riding with anyone.”

“And?”

“I really like the company.”

D
uring the course
of their time together, the two spoke of their childhoods; Nash’s, spent at the ranch learning independence and how to be a protector and Cecile’s. She and her younger sister had spent their youth largely with their mother, who sounded like a kind and patient woman who nevertheless had an independent spirit which she’d imparted to her daughters.

Cecile’s sister, Estée, had kept in touch with her older sibling during the course of her travels, but not with her father. Whereas Cecile felt a need to stay close to home and to protect Conrad Malcolm in her own way, despite his coldness, Estée had wanted quite desperately to flee and had done it.

“I envy her,” Cecile had said. “She’s done what I was too afraid to do.”

“You’ve done what she’s afraid to do, too,” said Nash. “You’ve stayed behind. You look after your father. She ran away, but you performed a duty. That’s not always the easiest thing.”

Cecile smiled at him then, a warmth lighting her face. His earnest nature filled her with a sort of fondness, as though she’d known him all her life. There was in him all the comfort of a hearth on a winter’s day, and she felt safe and free in his presence, somehow, as though nothing in the world could touch her. Except, in a perfect world, for him.

The two spoke, laughed and joked as they went. Nash remarked internally that he was unaccustomed to feeling so comfortable with anyone. As a man who enjoyed solitude, he was surprised to discover how much more pleasant the company of a witty, beautiful woman could be.

They reached the deep valley that Nash was aiming for after a few hours of riding. It dipped between two mountains which flanked his family’s and the neighbours’ properties, and in the summer, the ranch next door’s longhorn cattle would often migrate to the area to graze. It was the most peaceful place that Nash knew, and something that morning had made him want to show it to Cecile.

“Do you want to dismount for a little?” he asked her as she looked at the view.

“Sure. Will the horses be all right?”

“We’ll tie them up for a few minutes.”

He dismounted first then, holding Daisy’s reins, watched Cecile get down. She was amazingly agile, particularly, he thought, for a bigger girl. There was a strength about her that drew Nash to her; he wanted to ask more questions, to understand her. But a voice warned him off it, telling him that it was best not to gain an intimate knowledge of this daughter of a wealthy mogul. It wouldn’t end well, he knew.

He tied the horses’ reins to a nearby tree, giving them enough slack to dip their heads down and chew on the bits of tall, dry grasses poking up from beneath the snow.

He and Cecile trudged through the crisp white surface, which had a top layer that crunched beneath their boot-clad feet. They came to a stream and Nash crouched down to take a handful of water in his hand.

“Have some,” he said. “It’s amazing.”

Cecile took off her glove and put her hand next to his, between the large pieces of ice that covered the gently flowing water. As she came into contact with his cold skin, she felt herself shiver. But it wasn’t a physical chill; it was that a shot of warmth made its way through her bloodstream and told her what she’d already suspected:

She would have to find a way to be with this man. It was as though the simplest notion in the world had made its way into her mind and she was now enlightened.

“You all right?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said, bringing her cupped hand to her mouth. That was strange. Good strange. Very good.

Nash stood again and Cecile followed suit, looking around, wondering if her cheeks were red. If they were, at least she could blame the cold. She could also blame it for her hard nipples. Unfortunately, she couldn’t attribute what was going on between her legs to the chilly air, though.

Wow.

The lion turned the tiger on more than anyone she’d ever met.

“So this is where I’ve come since I was a kid, to get away from it all,” Nash said, his eyes scanning the mountain range before him.

“Get away? You sound like a tired old day trader in the middle of Manhattan.”

“Yeah well, when you’re a kid growing up on a ranch, you work your butt off. It’s nice to run away sometimes.”

“I wish I could run away,” said Cecile, her voice transforming for the first time to something serious and distant, as though she was only now becoming fully herself and opening up to Nash.

“Why don’t you?” he asked. He only realized a moment later that he’d taken a step towards her as if to protect her from falling.

She turned her eyes to his. “I can’t. I…”

Just then, Flak let out a loud whinny. Nash’s head jolted in the direction of the horses and he looked beyond them. In the distance, towards the other end of the valley, he saw a commotion.

“Is that a wolf?” asked Cecile.

“I think so. And there’s something else too.”

Before Cecile could say anything else, Nash was running, tearing at his clothes. He removed each piece with rapid precision, leaving a trail behind him. Before she knew it, Cecile was staring at the back of an incredibly well-built, incredibly naked man. His muscles rippled as he sprinted.

“Oh my,” she whispered.

The bronze human shifted into a large, muscular lion and ran at full speed towards the wolf, and Cecile followed in human form, gathering his clothing and turning towards the horses. Nash, she had no doubt, would look after the situation. He was larger than the other animal and no doubt much more powerful.

She untied the horses and led them towards the fray. The lion, she saw, had chased the wolf off and was now sniffing at something that lay on the ground.

When Cecile got closer she saw that it was a calf. Nash, crouching over it now in human form, had a look of worry about him.

“How did that get here?” she asked.

“He must have strayed from the herd. The owners are probably out looking for the little guy.”

The calf was bleeding but alive, calm, his breath coming out in snorts. It was clear that he was in pain but his life didn’t seem under direct threat from his wounds.

“We should get him to his home,” said Nash. “Are you up for more riding?”

Cecile, who was trying to avoid looking at the muscular form before her, said simply, “Yes.”

“Do you think I could have my clothes?” Nash was almost smiling now as he stood up, exposing himself to her.

Hell no,
she thought even as she handed them over. Her eyes were sliding, slipping, easing their way down his body. Just as she got to his belly she stopped. In her periphery she could see what lay between his legs; a beautiful, mouth-watering sight; but she forced herself not to stare at it. She knew by now its impressive size and worried that if she looked directly at it she’d fall to her knees before him and begin to eat him up.

My God
, she thought.

She wanted to touch him as someone wants to stroke a piece of silk, to see what it feels like.

Cecile forced herself to look away at last, realizing how offended most women would be to be sized up in the way that she was doing now.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just not used to having hot naked men in front of me these days.”

“They’re usually behind you, are they?”

“Ha. They’re usually invisible. Or, more likely, non-existent.”

Nash pulled his jeans on and when he’d covered himself, he delicately lifted the calf over the pommel of his saddle.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said. “Hopefully this won’t take long.”

Cecile held the calf still while Nash mounted, and then they began the walk to the ranch. Though it bordered the Richardson property, the house was several miles from their current location and their ride took longer than it should have due to the snow-covered terrain and the injured calf, who managed to remain calm throughout.

Cecile and Nash spoke little on the ride. He was thinking, she could tell, and something in his demeanour made her reluctant to ask questions.

When at last they arrived, Nash dismounted and pulled the calf down. It wasn’t bleeding a great deal from the wound in its shoulder but, he knew, it was in pain.

The rancher, Frank, was outside doing some work when he saw Nash.

“Young Richardson!” he shouted. “It’s been a dog’s age. What have you got there?”

His eyes went wide as Nash approached and he noticed his calf.

Cecile dismounted and led the horses over to the two men, who were engaged in quick conversation.

“No,” Nash was saying. “It wasn’t a pack wolf. It was a shifter.”

This was the first Cecile had heard this about the encounter.

“What?” she said, unintentionally butting into the conversation.

“That wolf was a shifter. I saw his eyes. And he was too big to just be an animal.”

“Why on earth would a shifter go attacking my herd?” asked Frank.

“I don’t know,” said Nash. “But it doesn’t bode well. You’d best get them corralled until we know what’s going on. Do you have any enemies?”

Frank laughed, but Nash’s face remained serious.

“Enemies? Hell no. Margaret and I have been here for decades and we get on with everyone.”

“It would seem that not everyone agrees with you,” said Nash.

Frank scratched the white stubble on his chin. “Well, this isn’t great,” he said.

Frank and his wife Margaret were human. They were some of the few locals left who’d happily integrated the new residents into the fold, having spent years of their lives around members of the wolf pack. They’d fought for equal rights for shifters, even, and if anything were well-loved by all.

“Listen, Frank, we’re going to work on figuring this out,” said Nash. “I’ll go talk to the pack. As far as I know, every wolf shifter around Wolf Rock is a member, though I haven’t been around here much lately so who knows what’s going on? Meanwhile, you hang tight. Let us know if anything else happens. And call the vet for this little guy.” He put a gentle hand on the calf’s head. “He needs some pain meds, at least.”

“Of course,” said Frank. “I’ll call your folks if I see anything else.”

Cecile and Nash mounted up once again and took the dirt road back to the Richardson ranch.

“What do you think might be going on?” she asked him.

“I really couldn’t say. I’ve never seen anything like that. Shifters fight shifters, and shifters hunt. But they don’t go after livestock.”

“No,” said Cecile. “They don’t.”

This time it was Nash who noticed a change in her demeanour. The woman who’d been energetic and happy an hour earlier now looked pensive, almost sullen. Something was going on in her mind, and it made him uneasy.

“Cecile,” Nash said, “I want you to tell me if you know something I don’t.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said. “It’s only a hunch and I don’t think it’s smart to share it right now. You go ahead and investigate. Maybe you can figure this thing out.”

“Fine,” said Nash. “But you come to me if you find anything out, you hear me?”

Something in his tone jarred Cecile. She felt that he was issuing an order, and she found herself surprised. And yet, he was exhibiting the tendencies of an alpha. Cecile began to understand why she was so drawn to him. He was strong-willed, powerful and protective. And she found herself indisputably pulled towards him as though he had his own gravitational force.

But she was not good at being told what to do; not at all.

At the back of her mind, she knew that she feared that he would discover all that she knew. This—shifters attacking unprovoked—all felt too familiar, somehow.

This wasn’t the first time Cecile had seen it. It was time to talk to her father.