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19

Wolf

I stayed within the shadows as I watched Marcella speak with the old human.

I trusted my little human, knew that she wouldn’t leave, but the urge to go to her, to place my body between hers and anything and anyone that could take her from me, rode me strong.

But I forced myself to stay back, reaching out and gripping the thick trunk of a cedar tree, my claws digging into the bark until I left deep gouges.

I waited and listened as she told him there was a change of plans, that she made other arrangements and would stay here longer.

Once we reached her cabin two days before, I hadn’t been in a hurry to make the trek back to my lair. I wanted her to rest. I needed her to eat and drink. I knew she was sore from everything that had happened, and all I wanted to do was take care of her.

So I stood guard as she sat by the shore and drew. I watched her make shapes using colors from these thin sticks she held. Pencils, she called them.

She made beautiful pictures of our surroundings, and I wanted to take them back and press them to the cavern walls of our lair, coloring the dark space with her light.

And at night I held her, letting her use my body for cushioning and warmth as I wrapped my arms around her, my tail curled around her waist.

When she was sound asleep, I prowled outside, stalking the familiar trails and land surrounding the cabin.

But now here we were, the day she told me she was supposed to leave, a boat coming to pick her up. I became surly at the thought of anyone getting close to her. I became territorial at the thought of anyone even looking at her.

But if I wanted her to trust me, I had to do the same.

And so I stood back and watched, stayed hidden and let my perfect female control the situation. Just this once.

Even from a distance I could smell his apprehension, saw the way his wrinkled face took on an inquisitive, maybe even slightly concerned expression.

He wasn’t a fool. Age and experience had made him wary. He might’ve even heard about my kind over the years, fables about the beastly wolves that lived deep within the Alaskan wilderness.

But he finally gave a nod and turned to leave. My Marcella stood by the shore, watching until he rounded the bend and was out of sight.

When she turned, I expected to see a little apprehension, maybe even regret, on her face that she made the wrong decision. But what she gave me was the prettiest smile I’d ever seen.

She took a step toward me and I moved out from the shadows of the forest. And then she ran to me. I held my arms out just as Marcella jumped into them, wrapping her legs around my waist, her arms around my neck.

I buried my snout in her hair, inhaling deeply and letting out a very pleased rumble.

“My Marcella,” I said softly, and slid one paw down to cup her ass, the glorious mounds overfilling my palm. “Mine.”