Steal Her Heart (Kaid Ranch Shifters #1)(17)

With a growl, he picked up the wolf’s back legs and began to drag him again. Two dead, five left. They would come retrieve their dead by sunup. He just didn’t want them anywhere near the house again when they did. The burial they deserved would be the buzzards picking their bones clean. Packs got sentimental about burials, though.

And now he would be a target for protecting Maris and the herd.

Well, bring it on, motherfuckers.

He hadn’t felt this alive in years.

And for better or worse, he suspected Maris, his weakness, was to blame or thank for that. He wasn’t sure which yet.





Chapter Eight


Maris waited for him.

It was so late when he came back, but that wasn’t the point. The point was…he’d come back. He’d followed through.

She was in bed, bedroom light off, curled up under the warm blankets, staring at the hallway illuminated by the kitchen light she’d left on for him.

Four a.m., and he’d come back. She heard the door creak open and click closed. Listened for his softly called, “Maris?”

“In here,” she said.

She watched his shadow get bigger on the hallway floor, and then he was there, leaning against the open doorway, arms crossed as he canted his head and looked at her. “Everything’s taken care of.”

“Okay, good.” She hugged her pillow closer and winced when she jostled her ankle.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“It’ll heal fine. Just gotta take it easy for a few days.” She huffed a laugh and shook her head, her cheek rubbing against the pillow. “Like that’s an option for a rancher.”

“No…” His dark eyebrows drew down. “I mean are you okay?”

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get me attached to your kindness. I did that before, and it destroyed me on the way out.”

“I told you, I won’t be payin’ for anyone else’s mistakes.” He pushed off the frame and made his way to her bed, knelt down, and slid his hand under the covers.

Tensing, Maris asked on a breath, “What are you doing?”

“You’re like a scared animal, you know that? Your whole body freezes up when anyone gets too close, and you automatically go on the defensive. You throw an insult like a bullet. Pullin’ trigger after trigger to make sure no one wants to be around you.”

“And yet here you are, putting your hand under my covers.”

He gently pushed the covers back, exposing her wrapped ankle. “I’m here because bullets don’t scare me much.” He offered her a lopsided grin, his bearded jaw stretching with it as he ran his hand gently down her ankle, pressing on the outside.

She hissed at the tenderness there.

“It ain’t broke. Bad sprain, feels like.” Big, rough man, but his hands were so gentle.

He glanced up at her with those strange eyes that had darkened to whiskey brown again, and he brushed his thumb across the top of her bandaged skin. It drew a tremble from her body at how good it felt to be touched.

His slow simmering smile was cocky as hell.

She lifted her chin primly and hugged the pillow even closer. “There was a draft. It made me shiver.”

“Mmmm hmmm.” He rubbed his thumb a little higher, and she couldn’t help it. She rolled her eyes closed and huffed out a little sigh.

And then he pulled the blanket back over her leg and stood.

“Typical,” she teased.

“I ain’t a runner. I already told you. But I know a thing or two about skittish horses. Here’s the thing about wild animals like you. It’s better to break them slow when they don’t even know they’re being trained.”

“Did you just call me a horse?”

“Neigh,” he snickered softly as he gave her his back and walked out.

“I’m offended!” she called half-heartedly after him. “And unbreakable!”

His deep, warm chuckles echoed down the hallway back to her and drew a smile from her lips.

“Hey, Bryson?”

“Mmm?” he asked from the other room.

“You did good today, too.” She’d waited all night to tell him that, just in case he followed through with his assurance that he would come back and check on her. “And also I left a plate of leftovers in the fridge for you. And also, also, you can crash on my couch for a couple hours before you have to go back home. I mean if you’re tired.”

“Really?” he asked. “You made a plate for me?”

“Don’t get used to it. I made too much.”

“I can hear lies, remember?” The door of the fridge creaked open, and her grin grew bigger.

Who was gonna break who?

****

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, but already Wes was standing at the front gate, leaned up on it, piece of hay hanging from his lips, his jaw twitching as he chewed it, hat pulled down low over his eyes. When Bryson pulled his truck through, his boss pushed off the gate and sauntered over to the open window.

Well, shit, this wasn’t good. Wes avoided interaction like the plague. Better off alone, that one.

When he lifted his head to look Bryson in the face, his eyes were glowing bright green. Smelled like pissed-off dog.