Captivated By The She-Wolf
A shifter finds his soul mate...
Ronni Lyles and her son are just settling into their new pack when her dead husband’s brother comes to claim them. Bodie Gryffon is looking for a safe place to raise his daughter—a raven-shifter, just like him. What begins as a purely practical alliance turns passionate. But Ronni senses that Bodie has a secret—one that could force him to make a painful choice.
Southern born and bred, KRISTAL HOLLIS holds a psychology degree and has spent her adulthood helping people and animals. When a family medical situation resulted in a work sabbatical, she began penning deliciously dark paranormal romances as an escape from the real-life drama. But when the crisis passed, her passion for writing love stories continued. A 2015 Golden Heart® Award finalist, Kristal lives with her husband and two rescued dogs at the edge of the enchanted forest that inspires her stories.
Also available by Kristal Hollis
Awakened by the Wolf
Rescued by the Wolf
Charmed by the Wolf
Captivated by the She-Wolf
Visit millsandboon.co.uk for more information
Captivated by the She-Wolf
Kristal Hollis
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN-13: 978-1-474-08200-6
CAPTIVATED BY THE SHE-WOLF
© 2018 Kristal Hollis
Published in Great Britain 2018
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
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To the Cradle of Forestry employees and volunteers at the Brasstown Bald Visitor Information Center, thank you for your dedicated conservation efforts and diligence in maintaining one of my favorite places to visit.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Extract
Chapter 1
Watching two wolves copulate wasn’t how Bodaway Gryffon wanted to spend his evening.
In his raven form, he’d flown into the Walker’s Run Cooperative’s wolf sanctuary to scout possible locations for his daughter, Willow. Her Transformation Ceremony would take place on her sixteenth birthday, the age their kind, the Tlanuhwa—an ancient Native American clan of raven shifters—developed the ability to shift into their bird forms.
Bodie had first learned of the Walker’s Run Cooperative and their commitment to conservation and the preservation of wildlife a few years ago while working with other state, federal and local agencies to contain a massive fire within the Chattahoochee National Forest.
Recently moved to the area, Bodie now had the opportunity to explore the Co-op’s protected lands with the hope of finding a safe and permanent home for Willow, his mother and himself.
Ignoring the activity below his perch, Bodie lifted his gaze to the full moon, a large, bright, unblinking eye that watched over the earth—or at least the wolf sanctuary. He wondered if its bluish glow served as an aphrodisiac for the wolves, considering the number he’d seen mating tonight.
Peripheral movement in the distance drew his attention and he launched from his perch to investigate. Weaving through trees with branches still weighted with lush, green leaves, he honed in on the she-wolf leisurely padding ahead. Thick reddish-gold fur covered her sleek, toned body. Nose twitching, she tilted her head and watched Bodie alight in a nearby tree. Curiosity shimmered in her cobalt blue eyes and as she examined him inch by inch, an indelible warmth spread across Bodie’s skin beneath his dark feathers.
Inspection complete, she continued on her trek and he felt an unusual tinge of sadness at her departure. Before the she-wolf disappeared completely from view, she looked over her shoulder directly at him.
Bodie wasn’t presumptuous enough to simply assume that he was her visual target. His vision was as sharp as any raptor and he could see her blue gaze fixed on him as clearly as if they were standing nose to beak.
She smiled.
Whoa!
Could wolves actually smile?
Damn curious, Bodie took off from his perch and landed in a tree near where the she-wolf waited. No sooner had he settled than she restarted her journey.
Following along, he flew from limb to limb. She didn’t look back at him again, but if he waited too long to catch up, her pace slowed.
That she wanted Bodie’s company gave him a rush. Although he couldn’t physically smile with his beak, mentally he couldn’t seem to stop himself. If all of the Co-op wolves were this friendly, then the sanctuary would be ideal for Willow’s ceremony and a great place to teach her how to fly.
The she-wolf made her way to a wide, peaceful stream. Gently flowing water sparkled with the moonlight. She eased into the water, as graceful as a nymph, and Bodie landed on an outcropping of rocks at the water’s edge. Leisurely, she swam without once casting her gaze in his direction. He shook off the unexpected annoyance, ruffling his feathers.
A few minutes later, she leaped from the stream and shook. Hopping backward to avoid the spray, Bodie slipped on a slick spot and one of his three-toed feet wedged inside a small crack in the giant rock. A shock of pain shot up his leg and he squawked.
Wiggling his toes didn’t cause further pain, so nothing was broken. Gently, he tried to pull his foot free. But again, something sharp in the slim crevice kept him pinned. Even clenching, then unclenching his toes as he lifted his foot didn’t work.
He tilted his head and peered inside the crack at the jagged piece of debris. With a spaghetti-thin stick or perhaps a pine needle, he might be able to dislodge the obstacle. Too bad nothing was in reach of his beak.
An ominous prickle crawled up his spine and he became aware of the sound of nails clicking against the rock. Slowly, he turned his head and saw the she-wolf peering down at him.
Oh, boy!
Trying to remain calm, still and avoid sudden movement, Bodie tried again to lift his foot free of the crack. He got the same result—a stabbing pain when he bumped against the sharp debris.
Nudging him, the she-wolf snorted softly, blowing air through his feathers. His heart stopped and panic exploded in his mind. He didn’t think about death often, but on the occasion he did, getting eaten by a wolf was not one of the scenarios his mind conjured.
Attempting to shoo her away, he squawked and flapped his wings. Her nose wrinkled in a grim expression, then she planted her rump on the rock.
The silvery light that flashed along the tips of her fur wouldn’t have bothered Bodie in his human form. However, to his bird sight, the brightness was blinding. When he finally lowered his wings from his face and the black spots faded from his vision, he saw a beautiful, naked woman crouched where the she-wolf had been.
Shock threw his brain into flight mode and the only clear thought he had was to escape. Wings flapping, he intended to soar upward. Pain anchored his trapped leg and he fell flat on his beak.
“Easy, little one.”
Little one?
Indignation nearly overrode his sensibility. Too bad it would be really awful for him to shift right now.
“Ouch!” The woman drew back her hand. A perfectly round drop of blood formed in the spot where Bodie had pecked her.
“I’m only trying to help.” She pressed the small wound against her mouth.
Yeah? Well, Bodie didn’t know that when she’d reached toward him and he had defended himself with the only weapon he had, his beak. He felt bad about breaking the skin, though. But his reflexes were hyped on adrenaline. Having never encountered a shifter species outside of his own, his linear view of reality had suddenly turned kaleidoscopic. As a matter of survival, Tlanuhwas like himself were extremely secretive about their ability to transform into ravens.
“I know what it’s like to feel trapped and afraid,” the woman cooed.
Now sympathy overran the adrenaline, awakening Bodie’s protective nature and flooding him with an undeniable need to safeguard the she-wolf. Instinctively, his chest puffed and his feathers fluffed.
“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you in my human or wolf form. Wahyas are forbidden from harming other creatures, especially inside the sanctuary.”
So that’s what they called themselves. Bodie repeated the word in his mind. Wa-hi-ya.
Filled with suspicion, her eyes inspected every inch of him. “You look different from the ravens in these parts.”
That’s because I am.
Double the size of ordinary ravens, Tlanuhwa had inky black feathers that shimmered with a silver iridescence in moonlight and their eyes were golden rather than black.
“If you’re scavenging for leftovers, you won’t find them here.” She eased forward. “No hunting of any kind is allowed inside the sanctuary. Our sentinels will hunt down anyone who tries.”
No hunting allowed.
Bodie wanted to kiss her. Would have in fact, except for...well, him being a bird with his foot stuck in a crack.
He looked at her. Really looked to see the woman, not the she-wolf.
Her long, strawberry blonde hair was damp, rumpled and sexy. Her captivating eyes had remained the same beautiful blue as her wolf’s had been. Tiny crinkles around her mouth and the faint lines in her forehead said she experienced the ups and downs of life head-on. He’d expect no less from a she-wolf.
High cheekbones flanked her straight nose, neither too long nor too short, and the slightly upturned tip was the perfect place for a teasing kiss. The faintest freckles dotted her creamy skin and the delicate expanse of her slender throat inspired visions of delicious nips and licks.
Any man would be honored to be held by such soft, round shoulders and sleek, strong arms. Her breasts were full and perfectly shaped and the pale, pink nipples made his mouth water even though his throat went dry.
“Hey!” She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Unbelievable!”
Sorry.
His gaze naturally found her chest again.
Oh, so not sorry.
“Show some respect or I’ll leave your feathered ass here. None of the animals will hurt you, but the ants are bitches.”
The threat snapped Bodie’s mind back to where it needed to be.
“So you do understand me.”
He answered with a deep-throated croak.
“If I’m going to get you unstuck, I need to see what your foot is caught on.” Slowly, she leaned down.
He froze, unable to breathe. His form might be that of a raven, but he was still male. Hot-blooded and drowning in testosterone.
“How in the world did you manage to get stuck like that?” she said, staring down into the crack.
Funny story. Maybe I’ll tell you one day.
“I’m gonna need something to dislodge that pebble.” Frowning, she glanced around.
Hey, beautiful, what’s your name?
Crouched on her hands and knees, she leaned over the boulder and reached into the water.
Come here often? I’d really like for you to show me around. Show me a good time.
Unable to resist, he cautiously stretched out his wing so that the tips of his feathers grazed her backside.
“Hey!” Clutching a thin reed, she sat up and looked around.
Bodie quickly pointed his beak in the air looking everywhere except at her gloriously naked body.
“Weird,” she mumbled, moving back into position to peer into the crack.
He couldn’t see what she was doing but he felt the debris fall away from his foot. In his excitement to be free, Bodie accidentally slapped the woman’s face with his wing.
“Gee, thanks.”
Sorry! This time he meant it.
On his good leg, he hopped in circles, trying to inspect his other foot. Thankfully, it wasn’t bloody or mangled.
“You should be all right now.”
He eased his foot down until it was flat against the boulder. After a few tentative steps, he put his full weight on it. It didn’t buckle and he felt no pain.
Croaking gratefully, he bowed to his lovely rescuer.
His reward was a soft smile. This time, when she reached toward him, Bodie didn’t strike back.
She gently stroked his chest. His insides got all warm and fuzzy, and he felt a little drunk. He blamed the sensation on his relief at being freed.
“Aren’t you cute.”
Cute? Seriously?
Cute was for teenagers. When she saw him in his human form, that would not be the first word that popped into her mind.
A howl rose in the distance.
“Gotta go, little one,” she told Bodie before shifting into her wolf and leaping from the boulder.
Little one.
Oh, he couldn’t wait to show her how little he wasn’t.
Chapter 2
The hypnotic whir of the sewing machine was as near to heaven as Veronika Lyles could get, except for the moment of ecstasy when being loved by her mate.
Since Zeke had died, owning her own business was near enough.
Inside The Stitchery, the aromatic scent of dye from the bolts of fabric lining the shelves had taken a while to get used to, but now Ronni barely noticed them. She loved the feel of fabric between her fingers, taking yards of shapeless cloth and fashioning them into something useful and beautiful.
The Walker’s Run Cooperative, the public human face of her new wolfan pack, had spared no expense on the renovations of the abandoned store next to her cousin’s automotive repair shop. Not only had they given Ronni a place within their pack but also a purpose.
In Pine Ridge, her poverty-stricken and turmoil-plagued former pack in Kentucky, she’d mended threadbare clothes, patched thrift store finds and reshaped garage sale discoveries into whatever her family had needed. Now she and her teenage son, Alex, lacked for nothing, including the freedom to live a life of their own choosing and the safety in which to do it.
Gratitude swelled in her heart. The Co-op really took care of its own. Even those adopted into the pack.
Having lost and gained so much over the last nineteen months, she was finally starting to feel settled and relaxed. Time did eventually heal even the deepest wounds. She had expected last week’s full moon to be a difficult night, since it fell on the anniversary of her claiming—the night Zeke had bitten her during a sexual encounter and marked her as his life-mate.
His death had been the catalyst in expediting Ronni and their son Alex’s relocation to Walker’s Run, saving them from the deadly uprising within her birth pack. The tug-of-war between the grief of losing her beloved mate and the downright thankfulness for a new and better life was a battle she fought daily.
Since the encounter with the unusual raven a few nights ago, Ronni had found the struggle a little easier to bear. Every night since, he perched in a tree outside her house and watched over her as she sat on the back porch swing. Ravens were infamous thieves, so maybe he was stealing her troubles away, one night at a time.
Whatever his reason for visiting, she now looked forward to his company. Preferred it, actually, to the males who figured her mourning period was over and that she was back on the market. Most of them would make fine mates for some other she-wolf. Having been loved and loved hard, she wouldn’t be content with anything less and she simply hadn’t connected that strongly to any potential suitor. Except the raven.
She laughed at the absurdity.
The delicate chime of bells jingled from the front of the store.
“That you, Elliott?” Ronni rolled her chair away from the sewing table and stood, arching her back and stretching her arms above her head. The bunched muscles relaxed.
“Yep.” Without fail, postal employee and fellow packmate Elliott Dubois delivered Ronni’s mail at ten fifty-five every morning.
She walked into the front where slanted teak shelves were loaded with bolts of every imaginable color of fabric. More for show than actual use, the rainbow effect reminded her that this store, this pack, this life was her pot of gold.
“You have to sign for this one.” In his late fifties, Elliott had dark springy hair clipped close to his head, smooth brown skin, sepia-colored eyes teeming with intelligence and a tightly trimmed beard framing a generous mouth that usually dazzled her with a flash of straight white teeth. Today, Elliott clenched his jaw hard enough to flatten his lips until they whitened around the edges.
“Well, it can’t be an eviction letter.” The Co-op owned her building and she paid a portion of her profits to the Co-op, as all members did.
Ronni stepped behind the sales counter and picked up a pen from the cup beside the register.
“It’s from the Woelfesenat.” He handed her an overnight, certified letter.
Ronni’s heart stopped. As did time itself.
The air inside The Stitchery stilled. Neither she nor Elliott breathed. The ticking of the pendulum clock on the wall behind her ceased to tock in her ears.
Although all Wahyan packs were independently governed by their respective Alphas, the Woelfesenat was the international wolf council that ensured their species continued to live peaceably among the unsuspecting human populace. They held the ultimate ruling power over all wolf shifters, world-wide. A communique from them was either really good news or it wasn’t. There was no middle ground with them.
Since Ronni preferred to stay off their radar, she doubted they were awarding her a commendation.
Nervously, she signed for the document.
“Maybe it’s not too serious.” Elliott offered her a hopeful smile.
“Probably paperwork involving my mate’s death,” she said, even though Zeke had died over a year ago. “It all happened so fast, Alex and I just packed up and left.”
“I’m sure that’s all it is.” Relief eased Elliott’s worry. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ronni kept her smile in place until Elliott walked out of The Stitchery and across the street. Hands shaking, she tore into the letter.
It wasn’t about her deceased husband, Ezekiel. It was about his brutal older brother, Jebediah.
Ronni’s heart dropped into her stomach with such velocity it could have passed right through her pelvis to make a crater on the concrete floor.
Jeb wasn’t dead like everyone had believed. And despite the many prayers and supplications Ronni had made to never lay eyes on that man again, the Woelfesenat was officially informing her that Jeb had petitioned for the assertion of his blood-kin rights and would be contacting her shortly regarding visitation with her son, Alexander.
The letter slipped from her fingers. Her knees gave out. She sank to the floor. Her heart climbed back into her chest and beat in a furious attempt to make up for lost time. A sudden deluge of adrenaline made her head spin. Her breaths grew short from the tightening of her chest and the closing of her throat. Even her nose seemed unable to draw in air.
As her mate’s brother, Jeb had a stronger blood-kin relation to Alex than Rafe Wyatt, Ronni’s distant cousin, who had given them refuge after Zeke’s death, providing a home and helping to establish them in the Walker’s Run pack.
Zeke had risked his life to protect her from Jeb, who had begun obsessively stalking her with a mind to forcibly claim her if she resisted. And later, in hopes of giving his family a better life, Zeke had been coordinating with Rafe on their transference to Walker’s Run when he was killed by rebel packmates.
If allowed to go unchecked, Jeb would undo everything Zeke had sacrificed to give them.
Under no circumstance would Ronni allow that to happen. Taking a calming breath, she forced down her panic.