Wulfe Untamed (Feral Warriors #8)(2)

She watched him carefully, her more primitive instincts urging her to retreat to the house, just to play it safe. But as he crossed her yard, as she peered into that beautiful, intelligent face, she once again felt no fear. Exhilaration, yes. And awe. But not fear, not when those golden eyes of his radiated a warm, joyous welcome.

She smiled, his arrival lifting her heart and easing the burden from her shoulders, holding it aloft for a few precious moments. Setting her mug on the table beside her, she turned to him as he leaped up the few steps to the deck with a grace that belied his size.

At the top of the deck stairs, he stopped, gazing at her like a human might rather than rushing forward like a dog. Still, unbridled pleasure filled his eyes, a pleasure that burst in her chest with utter delight. Grinning, Natalie held out her hand.

“I’m so glad to see you,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake Rick or the neighbors.

The dog’s hesitation lasted all of two seconds more before he strode forward, sliding his massive head between her waiting hands. How was it possible she’d missed him so profoundly when she’d only met him once before? Yet that’s exactly how she felt.

Stroking the thick, soft fur on the sides of his neck, emotion welled up inside of her, a strange mix of grief and sorrow, and peace. As if the sheer power of his soul tore away the protective defenses she’d been struggling to build around her misery, then lifted the grief itself, helping her to carry it.

A fanciful notion. And yet stroking his fur, gazing into those intelligent eyes, she felt as if she’d somehow grabbed hold of the anchor she’d been struggling so unsuccessfully to find. She’d always heard that pets had an amazing ability to ground and calm humans, but she’d never expected to feel such a visceral reaction to an animal she barely knew.

“I needed your visit, today,” she said quietly. “I already feel better. Lighter. Stronger.”

If possible, the look in those golden eyes deepened.

“Who are you? You don’t wear a collar or dog tag, yet you can’t be wild, can you? You’re far too comfortable with humans.” As he sat, she ran her fingers between his forelegs, scratching his chest. “Whatever your situation, you’re certainly thriving. Look at you. You’re well fed. Truly gorgeous.”

While she stroked his head with one hand, Natalie sipped her coffee with the other, marveling that what she’d told him was true. She felt one hundred percent more capable of handling the day than she had when she’d first awakened. She felt almost calm again.

Or she did until the big animal stiffened, suddenly, and leaped to his feet. Hackles rising, he turned toward her back door, a low, deadly growl rumbling from his throat.

Wulfe smelled the male before he saw him through the screen door. The fiancé.

Instinct, or maybe jealousy, had him growling.

“For God’s sakes, Natalie,” the man exclaimed. “He’s a wolf!”

Natalie’s soft hand slid through the fur on Wulfe’s neck. If he were a cat, he’d be purring. Deep inside, the wolf animal spirit that had marked him howled with pleasure.

“He’s a dog and a friend. He won’t hurt me, Rick.”

Hell no, he wouldn’t hurt her. He’d kill anyone who tried to hurt her. He’d just come to check on her, to make sure she was okay after all she’d gone through in Harpers Ferry. Xavier worried about her. They both did.

His gaze shifted back to the man behind the screen door. The prick just stood there, making no move whatsoever to protect his female. And, okay, that wasn’t entirely fair since Wulfe had made it more than clear he wouldn’t hurt the female. And more than clear he didn’t like the male. It wasn’t that he didn’t like him. He just didn’t like it that, standing there in nothing but boxers, the male had almost certainly come from Natalie’s bed.

“Natalie, please. Come inside? You said you didn’t want to talk about it last night, but we need to. I feel like I’m losing you.”

Wulfe felt Natalie’s tension through her hands, and it was all he could do not to growl at the fiancé again because he really, really wanted the man to go away and let him enjoy these few minutes with Natalie. He loved having her hands on him, even if it was just in his furred state. Only in his dreams was he free to touch her back. Not only was she engaged to the prick, but Wulfe would scare her half to death if he revealed his human face. So he’d take what he could.

It was so good to see her again, to smell her sweet scent and to drown, even for a few moments, in those calm gray eyes. She was so lovely, the morning sun turning her hair a bright gold, bathing her entire body in rich color. Even with his wolf’s far-less-color-sensitive eyesight, he could see the sun’s light creating the illusion of an aura—gold, blue, and green.

“Nat, I understand you’ve been through hell. I know you’re grieving for your brother and your friends. I’m trying to be here for you, but you’re shutting me out.”

Still, she didn’t answer, but Wulfe had a front row view of her expression, and he saw the sorrow in her eyes. The sadness. And his heart gave a painful squeeze.

Finally, with a sigh, Natalie rose. “Go home, boy.”

Instead, he sat, staking a claim, though on what . . . or who . . . he wasn’t sure. Natalie was not his.

With a wry smile, Natalie stroked his head, then brushed past him and walked inside, closing the screen door. As Wulfe watched, she pressed her palms to the other man’s face, filling Wulfe with a sharp, piercing jealousy.