Page 8 of Taken By The Wolves (Blackwood Forest #2)

NIXON

Scarlet touches a walnut slab like it’s capable of appreciating her gentle reverence. Her fingers trace the grain the way I’ve only ever seen Finn do, as if the wood is speaking to her and she’s listening carefully for its secrets.

I lean against the beam out of reach, arms crossed, watching her. She doesn’t notice. She’s too lost in her work. I didn’t expect to like that about her.

“You’re good with your hands,” I say before I can stop myself.

She glances at me over her shoulder, brows raised. “You wouldn’t believe how often people assume I pick out colors and shapes and call myself a furniture designer.”

I can believe it. A woman like her, who’s fine-boned and feminine, but wrapped in lean muscle and strong opinion, must confuse people. They want to put her in a box, but she doesn’t fit. I rub my beard, considering her.

Reed emerges from the side shed, wiping sawdust off his chest, looking far too pleased to see her. I grit my teeth. He’s got that look again, the one that always precedes him doing or saying something idiotic.

“Careful, Red,” he drawls. “Keep caressing that slab like that and it’ll start groaning.”

Scarlet laughs a short burst that’s bright and real, and the sound hits me like a punch.

Reed is a pain in the ass, but he knows how to bring joy to people. I don’t. That’s not my job.

I lead. I protect. I carry the weight.

Laughter isn’t part of what makes an alpha.

I wait until Reed disappears again before stepping forward.

“You like this one?” I point to the slab she’s caressing. “We’ve got a few more from the same tree. Took it down last fall. An old black walnut. Finn cried when we milled it.”

She smiles, tucking a strand of beautiful red hair behind her ear. “I might cry, too, when I run my hand across it one more time.”

I’m not prepared for the image she creates of her hands moving over my chest, her lips parting. Fuck. I turn away.

“Cherry, walnut, oak. You name it, we’ve cut it,” I say, trying to rein in the heat rising in my blood. “We can handle any size order. Even rush jobs if the client is worth the time.”

Her gaze pins me. “Am I?”

I tip my head. “You tell me.”

There’s a pause. Tension coils between us, laced with unspoken intention.

Scarlet shifts her weight on her crutch, her jeans hugging long legs and curving hips that are not helping my self-control.

She’s not even trying to be sexy, and that’s what makes it worse.

Everything about her is unfiltered. Her irritation, her fascination, and her defiance.

She holds nothing back and I don’t know how to deal with such transparent, deeply felt emotions.

“You should get off that foot,” I say finally. “You’re pushing it.”

“I’m not glass,” she says, jaw lifting.

No, she’s steel. And fire. And temptation in human form.

“Even steel bends,” I mutter, stepping closer. “And I’d rather not carry you back again if you collapse in the damn dirt.”

She laughs again. “You say it like it was a chore. You didn’t seem that bothered when you had your arms wrapped around me.”

I stare at her, silence stretching. She stares right back, defiant and amused. Daring me.

God, she makes me want to bite something. Her, mostly, in soft places like her ass, her breasts, and the inside of her thighs.

Her neck.

Claim her, my wolf growls in my mind, always impatient.

“I wasn’t,” I say quietly.

And that’s the truth.

She doesn’t know how close she’s come to discovering what I am, what we all are, and the only thing more dangerous than that is how much I want her anyway.

I take a step toward her, caught in the soft part of her lips, and the curve of her palm still ghosting over the walnut slab.

And I want.

Fuck, I want her with a desperation that’s almost violent.

Then I scent who’s approaching before he comes into view, as it cuts through the whiff of sawdust like a warning.

“Company,” Reed calls from across the yard.

I turn toward the entrance, already knowing who it is.

“Stay here,” I tell Scarlet. My hand lands firmly on her shoulder for a second. She tenses but doesn’t ask why.

I step outside before she does.

Hunter’s already halfway to me, wearing his usual scowl and smelling like fresh pine, irritation, and enemy, even though he isn’t. The man’s built like a semi-truck and has all the subtlety of one.

“We scented it,” he says, no greeting.

“Last night?”

“Who was he?”

“Rival pack,” I say, voice tight. “The same ones you chased off.”

Hunter’s brows lift as he scents the air. “She yours?”

Jesus. His bear senses are almost as good as my wolf ones. “Yes, but no.”

He snorts. “I know how that is.”

It took him a while to claim his mate, so I guess he understands that it isn’t always a straightforward process.

I shoot him a look.

He lets it go, but barely. “I followed the trail halfway to the old creek. It ended too fast. It’s like he vanished.”

My gut tightens. Reed and Finn should have finished him and left his body outside territory lines, but he was fast, and the scent of our mate tore the rug from under us all.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” I remind him. “They might be my kind, but that’s where the similarities end.”

“You still intend to keep them out of this area?”

He doesn’t bother to conceal the hope in his voice, and I don’t think any less of him for it. He has two small boys and a mate to worry about. The last thing he wants right now is a battle between feral wolves and his family.

“I am.” I glance toward the shed. Through the window, I can just make out Scarlet’s silhouette. She’s moving slowly, careful on her ankle, running her hand along another stack of timber like she’s feeling for a pulse.

“Now more than ever.” I run my fingers through my hair. “She doesn’t know anything.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Hunter says. “Yet. But you can’t hide what you are forever, and she can’t ignore what she is to you forever, either.”

“You ever wonder why the fuck this works like this. Human women and shifters?”

“In the old days, it was easier. Raid a village. Carry off a bride. Wait until they stop hating you for claiming them and start loving being owned by an animal.”

“I’m glad it doesn’t work that way anymore,” I say. “No way I want a reluctant mate in my bed.”

“So, you’re going to take your time to claim her? Even with a threat at your door?”

“I don’t have a choice, Hunter.”

He turns to stare into the depths of the forest that we both call home. “My brothers felt the same. They were right to have patience.”

“I’ll take care of it and her,” I say. Then, remembering he’s come out of his way to meet me today, I reach out my hand. “But I appreciate your eyes and ears, and your collaboration.”

We shake, although it’s alien to touch a man who should be my enemy, like our bodies were forged to repel each other, and our tentative truce is going against our natures.

“How is your family?” I ask, and before my eyes, his serious expression is transformed by wonder.

“I waited a long time for this happiness,” he says. “Cubs and a mate have brought life and laughter to our dusty old house.”

“That’s good,” I say. “Blessings to you all.”

“And blessings to you. May your mate be fruitful.”

Scarlet.

She’s not claimed. She’s not mine yet, but the thought of breeding her makes my wolf howl and my body flare.

“Thank you.”

Hunter heads back toward the trees. His boots crunch over the gravel, then fade into silence as he disappears. In a few seconds, his bear scent intensifies. He’s shifted and will now be bounding through the forest towards home.

And me? I’m already turning toward Scarlet again, knowing the only way to sate my wolf is to be in her orbit.