Cry Wolf (Wolves of Angels Rest #7)(43)

They’d left a team to watch the fire, and they were all wondering about their choice to avoid fatalities with the KGB, but the prisoners were freed and the moon was full and they were beasts of the moment, after all.

Willow watched and listened, her eyes wide, and he thought he’d never seen her intimidated before. Until Malachi told her he didn’t really like country music, and she told him that was okay because he obviously hadn’t listened to enough of it so she’d start him on a beginner playlist right away since he was so behind.

That was his mate.

Since the Villalobos house was overflowing with shifters, they retreated to her van.

“You need a new futon,” he groused as they settled in. He groaned a little as he tried to find a cushioned spot for his wound.

“I won’t be using this anymore,” she said as she nestled in under his arm. “Except for fun.”

He tucked her close and kissed her hair. “Are you sure?” he asked softly. “Once you’ve mastered the wolf, you can go back to the life you had.”

“Oh, I still want the music,” she said. She levered herself up on one elbow to look down at him. “But I want you too.”

He tucked back a strand of her hair. “You have me. You’ve had me all this time.”

With a sly smile, she pushed herself over to straddle him. “Maybe I’ll have you one more time…”

As the moon rose over the mesa, it beamed down onto the van, and for all the country and western outside, there was definitely some rock’n’roll inside, and their entwined cries were a music as old as the hills.