Rhyannon Byrd - Dark Wolf Running

Tonight, however, Wyatt had eyes for one woman—and one woman only.

Of course, Elise Drake was hardly just any woman. Fiery and cool, strong and yet at the same time achingly vulnerable, she was a fascinating combination of opposites that had managed to turn his entire world on its head.

“Keep staring at her like that and she’s gonna notice,” Carla whispered, jabbing her elbow into his arm.

“Maybe I want her to notice,” he muttered, appreciating the way the twilight turned the fiery strands of Elise’s hair a deep, vibrant red, her dark blue eyes the color of a storm-ravaged sky. He’d chosen his seat specifically because it afforded him a clear view of her place in the wedding party, but he hadn’t anticipated how torturous it would be.

“What? Could it actually be true?” Carla gasped, pressing one delicate hand to her bountiful chest. “After months of waiting, you’re finally going to get off your ass and do something about her?” She made a soft, feminine snorting sound and rolled her eyes. “Call me cynical, but I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Shifting in his seat, Wyatt stretched his long legs out as far as he could and tried to relax. “I’ve been waiting for the right time,” he said tightly, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. Sometimes he wondered why he even bothered talking to Carla. He loved her like family, but like a bratty little sister, the Runner got too big a kick out of pushing his buttons.

“Bullshit,” she quietly snickered. “You’ve been waiting for her to make the first move. But guess what, Pall? She’s never going to come panting after you like all the other ladies. Not in this lifetime.”

Biting back a foul curse, he groaned instead. “Trust me, I noticed.”

“Anyway, it’s good to see you conquering your fear,” she said brightly, patting his thigh. “I’m proud of you.”

Turning his head to the side, Wyatt gave her a hard, steely look. “I’m not afraid of her.”

Obviously unconvinced, Carla just smiled. “Right,” she drawled, her tone making it clear that she didn’t believe him. Problem was...the little brat knew him too well. He’d been Bloodrunning with Carla for almost seven years now, and she no doubt understood him better than anyone. But that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Will you stop trying to pick a fight?” he muttered. “I said I’m not afraid of her and I’m not.”

“Hmm. I know you’re not afraid of her physically. You just don’t know what to do with a woman who doesn’t go all starry-eyed every time she gets near you.”

Choking back another primitive growl, Wyatt drew a second round of disapproving stares from their neighbors.

“I suppose it could be that she just doesn’t like you,” Carla offered with a delicate shrug of her bare shoulders, after motioning with her fingers for the frowning guests to turn back around in their seats. “God knows I’ve seen crazier things happen.”

Wyatt slanted her a mean look. “Reyes?”

“Yeah?” she asked, giving him an innocent smile.

“Shut up,” he grunted, while she snuffled a quiet burst of laughter under her breath.

They listened to the ceremony for a few moments in blessed silence, until she leaned in close again, asking, “So are you on duty later tonight?”

He sighed, knowing there was no sense in lying to her. “Yeah.”

“Took another shift again, huh? Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Just fucking drop it,” he warned, pushing his hair back from his face in another restless gesture of impatience.

“Okay, okay.” Her voice softened, as if she’d decided to take pity on him. “Hey, maybe you’ll even get lucky and she’ll actually take you home with her. I’m sure that little scenario would be a hell of a lot more fun than watching her from the woods.”

As Carla turned her attention back to the love-dazed couple exchanging vows, Wyatt leaned forward and braced his elbows on his parted knees, thinking he had about as much chance of getting invited home with Elise Drake as he did of becoming a friggin’ ballerina. And the hell of it was, he wasn’t even ready to go home with her. Not when he was still trying to wrap his head around how he could get everything he wanted from her without giving more than he was willing.

And, God, did that make him sound like a dick.

Yeah, there was a lot he needed to get figured out in his head. But no matter how bloody difficult it proved to be, he was done letting her pretend he didn’t even exist. Done driving himself slowly into this maddening state of frustration, with no apparent end in sight.

One way or another, he would approach her tonight—and with that firm decision finally came the merciful beginnings of peace. Leaning back in his chair, he kept his avid gaze focused on Elise as he lazily crossed his arms over his chest, the rise of anticipation in his veins like hot, thick syrup. Wyatt figured he might get his face slapped for his efforts. Hell, knowing Elise, he might even get a knee in his balls. But one way or another, things were about to change.

Come hell or high water, she was done running.

Chapter 1

Three hours later...

Elise Drake hated weddings—even ones torn straight from the pages of a fairy tale.

Not that the pure-blooded Lycan had anything personal against the institution of marriage. It was the event itself that she couldn’t stand: gloms of people gathering around, smiling and incandescent with happiness, while she had to plaster on a beaming smile, doing her best to disguise the truth. To pretend that she wasn’t freaking out at being in a crowd where everyone was expected to act friendly and sociable.

Brittle. On edge. About to crack at any moment, shattering like a crystal goblet slammed against a craggy surface. That was how she really felt, screaming inside her head, wanting to flee, to run, but forced to play a part, projecting an outward look of cheerful, joyful celebration. Smile, wave, laugh. And all the while thinking that she would do anything—anything—to escape. Twist an ankle. Fake a headache. Hell, at that point she’d have jabbed a freaking pencil in her eye if she thought it would get her out of there.

But none of those things were going to save her tonight. She was surrounded by too many who “cared”—who made it their mission in life to protect, rather than destroy. Unless, of course, the thing they were hunting deserved to be destroyed. Though years of bad blood stood between the Runners and their birth pack, the Silvercrest Lycans, the werewolves owed their survival to the half-human hunters.

After all, it was the Runners who had put an end to the gruesome events that Elise’s own father, Stefan Drake, had set in motion the previous autumn. Events that had not only decimated the political structure of the pack, but which had also left the Silvercrest vulnerable to outside forces, with a new set of enemies sniffing at their borders, eager to take advantage of their weaknesses. With her brother’s and the Runners’ help, the Silvercrest were finally entering a new era that would modernize their archaic social structure, and hopefully lead to a day when the pack’s racial injustices against the half-human Runners would become a thing of the past. But it would be a long while before they were the powerhouse they had once been.

The winter had been rough, rife with lingering animosity and grief, until the snow had finally bled away to reveal a new sense of hope that came with the spring. One not without trouble, but at least the Runners were now allowed in the pack’s mountaintop home of Shadow Peak without it leading to a call for violence.

Tonight, in light of the occasion, the Runners, along with their friends and families, had agreed to put their troubles behind them—and yet, her brother’s wedding or not, Elise knew they were all keeping a close eye on her, which was why she was trying so damn hard to act normal. After the craziness of the past few months—with all the murder and mayhem, the betrayal and bloodlust and strange occurrences—the protective alphas had her in their sights, waiting for the moment when they’d need to rush to her rescue.