Kristal Hollis - Charmed By The Wolf

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.