Ridge
When I left the cabin and shifted into wolf form to patrol the borders of my pack’s land, I had no idea my trip back home would include carrying a beautiful, unconscious woman against my naked body.Granted, most men wouldn’t hate this particular situation. The girl is stunning, even with all the cuts and bruises. Golden hair that falls in a thick curtain around her shoulders. Petite, but with perfect curves beneath her tight blue jeans and gray sweatshirt. The kind of heart-shaped face poets dedicate entire stanzas to in the throes of their passion.But this sure as shit wasn’t how I expected to spend my night. Not to mention, I feel like a fucking perv holding her while my cock dangles freely beneath her ass. Shifting into a wolf is great as long as you don’t need clothes when you shift back.Still barely conscious, the girl moves restlessly in my arms, wincing as she draws her injured wrist to her chest. The limb is wrapped in a hard brace, which I take to mean it was hurt before she took a tumble down Devil’s Ditch and landed at my pack’s doorstep.Something that tastes a lot like pity wells up inside me as I glance down at her sleeping face. She looks like a princess in the moonlight, small and fragile and beat all to hell. She deserves a white knight to carry her off into the sunrise on his noble steed.Instead, she got the fucking big bad wolf.What the fuck was she doing all the way out here? Devil’s Ditch isn’t even accessible by road. It’s miles from any civilization that doesn’t belong to my pack. Humans can’t just stumble onto our land like they’re out for a hike in the national park or some shit. We’ve made sure of that.Jesus, she’s lucky I even found her.I almost took a different route tonight. The protected boundary stretches atop the cliff, and I came out this way prepared to climb up and check on our sigils to make sure they were still firmly intact. Some vague instinct kept me from climbing to the top of the cliff—wolf’s intuition or some shit—and coaxed me into the ravine instead. If not for that, the girl might have laid out there and died as the temperature dropped overnight, then became vulture food tomorrow morning.Unfortunately, her presence means my patrol got cut off early. Not a good night for a distraction.We've heard rumors of dark witch activity scented in the area, which is exactly why I wanted to check out the boundaries to begin with. Typically, where we smell a witch, there’s a witch to be found, and having to lug this injured lamb back to my cabin is gonna keep me from doing my duties as alpha. My pack’s protection comes first and foremost.It’s supposed to, anyway.So why the actual fuck am I carrying this chick back to my cabin? Why do I even care that she looks like she’s been torn to pieces and tossed out like trash? She’s not a shifter, and she’s not my responsibility. I should drop her in a soft spot away from anywhere she could be exposed to danger and leave her there. Not my problem.And yet… I won’t.For one thing, I’m not that fucking heartless. She’s young and fragile-looking, and I guarantee she wouldn’t know how to survive out here even in broad daylight. I’m not a monster, even on days when I feel like I am.So I readjust her weight in my arms and press on.I keep my steps light as I stride into the quiet village my pack has built for itself. Most of us are night owls, but it’s late even for wolves, so the majority of the pack is sleeping. We’re sometime in the darkness before dawn is my best guess. I was on foot for a couple hours before I came across the girl, and I started my patrol pretty late.Moving quickly and silently, I make my way through the small village. My gaze roams the shadows surrounding my pack members’ homes, searching for any sign of life. Nobody here would be happy that I’ve brought an outsider in. Sure, I could growl and grunt and pull rank, but the path of least resistance seems best in the current moment.And that path is stealth.I’ll get her cleaned up, wait for her to wake up and figure out her story, then decide what happens from there. Maybe she just needs a ride somewhere. Maybe she was taking a hike and lost her way. Wouldn’t be the first time some idiot hiker nearly died in the wilderness for biting off more than they could chew.I shift her weight into one arm so I can open the door to my cabin. My hand is dangerously close to the girl’s nicely rounded ass, and a tingle of warmth shoots through me. I rein in the beast with a stern, for fuck’s sake, man, she’s unconscious and beaten, and shove the door open with my bare foot.The house still smells like the dinner I cooked earlier, a medley of lamb and rosemary. I add the scent of her body to the mix—the thick, cloying smell of dirt, the tang of a mountain stream, and something a little more feminine underneath it all. Flowery.This cabin isn’t acquainted with flowery.I carry her to my bedroom and gently lay her on top of the covers. She’s soaked through, which is the source of the mountain stream smell, I’m sure. I peel off her torn, filthy sweatshirt and discard it on the floor, then reach for the button on her jeans. I’m trying desperately not to notice the perfect mounds of flesh cupped by a delicate pink bra, but it’s hard not to.Studiously avoiding her tits, I tug on the waistband of her jeans, struggling to get them over her ass. When they finally begin to peel away, they expose a pair of soft cotton panties. They’re not anything special, not fancy lingerie made of lace, but my heart skips a damn beat at the way they hug the curves of her hip bones.Jesus fucking Christ. Gritting my teeth, I avert my eyes and head for the closet. I need to cover her, and even more than that, I need to cover me.How did I end up in this situation?I yank on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, then find an old, worn pair of pajama pants that might not fall off her gorgeous ass. They’ll have to be rolled eighty times to keep from tripping her up, but they’ll do.I toss the pants over her hips, hiding those infernal panties so that I can take stock of the situation without distraction, and lean over her, running my gaze over her wounds. Whatever she did, she got torn up anywhere she had bare skin—the kinds of small scratches that might come from sharp tree limbs and a full speed chase.But the scratches aren’t the only thing I notice, and my eyes narrow as my gaze moves over her small form.The girl’s covered in scars.They’re everywhere. On her smooth, pale abdomen. Above her round breasts, across her clavicle. Down her arms, her legs, even her fucking feet. Small scars, round scars, cuts so thin they look like they were carved intentionally. Some old, some new, and some nearly as fresh as the wrist brace on her arm. The worst of them appear to be situated on parts of her body easily hidden by clothes.As if they were put on her intentionally.Pure rage envelops me, and I grip the t-shirt I’m holding so hard I feel my nails dig into my palms through the fabric. She’s so fucking beautiful. So fragile, breakable, soft… Who would hurt this woman? How could they live with themselves?I’m surprised by the intensity of my anger. Uncurling my fingers from the t-shirt, I breathe through the fury as I gently tug the shirt over her head.With the most intimate of her injuries covered, I feel a little more level-headed. I move on to the pants, pulling them up over her hips and keeping my eyes firmly on her sleeping face instead of the panties.Then I roll her gently beneath the covers, pulling them up over her shoulders. She turns over in her sleep, curling into a fetal position beneath my quilt, her good hand resting beneath her cheek. I tuck the blankets around her, marveling again at how lovely she is. Despite the fact that my cock has a mind of its own and she’s got a body like a goddess, this isn’t the kind of girl you fuck and run. I can smell the innocence on her; smell the goodness in her.Moving to the door, I extinguish the bedroom light and leave her to her rest.As far as I’m concerned, no one will hurt this girl again.I’ll make damn fucking sure of it.SableI wake up slowly, as if my body and mind are resisting consciousness. My dreams were surprisingly calm and comforting, and my eyes don’t seem to want to open. I don’t want to leave this calm, peaceful space between sleep and waking.And why would I? So much of my life has been pain and trauma that it’s only fair I linger in the good moments as long as I can.I’m beneath soft, warm blankets in a quiet room, and for a moment, I think I’m back in my bed in Uncle Clint’s house. But then a comforting scent wafts over me. Not the usual smell of Tide and my lavender body lotion.Something more masculine.Woodsy and spicy.Unfamiliar yet achingly intoxicating.I nestle farther into the pillow, breathing the soothing scent in deeply. I slide beneath the covers, ignoring the pained protests of my body as I roll into the sheets and take another deep breath. I spread out on my belly, blankets covering me from head to toe, and smile as I’m completely surrounded by this woodsy smell. Even sti
RidgeGoddammit. This isn’t how I wanted to get a half-naked girl in my arms.Normal guys, they go to parties. Go to bars. They talk up the first hot woman who shakes her ass in their direction, then fuck her senseless against a bathroom wall covered in graffiti that probably includes her phone number.Not me. No, my dumb ass has to find an unconscious woman in the wilderness and bring her home, only for her to strip to her panties and race madly through the village in an attempt to escape.I mean, I know I’m not People’s Sexiest Man Alive, but damn.The girl’s head slams back toward my face, and I have to crane my neck sideways to keep from getting a busted nose.“Hey! I’m not going to hurt you!” I snarl as she tries again, whipping my head back the other way.“Then put me down and let me go!” she gasps, struggling against my hold. She has a light, bell-like voice, though the bite to her statement takes some of the melody away. One bare foot catches me in the shin, and I grunt at the
SableFor a moment, I got lost in Ridge’s honey-colored eyes. I woke up expecting to come face-to-face with Uncle Clint, but what I ended up getting instead was pretty much the complete opposite of the man who raised me.When the dark-haired man caught me near the trees, I was so certain I was about to die that I fought with everything I had in me. But inside his house, something shifted in his demeanor.His gruff voice managed to block out the fear, to shove away the rising panic so that I could focus on him and his calming words.I started to calm down.I started to feel… safe.But I don’t feel safe now.Nearly a half-dozen of the biggest people I’ve ever seen crowd into his living room, voices raised as angry, violent energy pours out of them. My terror returns full force, and I cower into the cushions, wishing I could sink right through themand disappear to the other side of the planet.Ridge meets my eyes, a look of resignation passing through his amber irises. Then he pushes to
SableI wake from sleep groggily, my eyelids blinking into clear, early morning light. The curtains on the window are drawn open, and I can see that Ridge closed the window back up sometime while I was asleep. His presence in the room while I slept sends a little shiver down my spine, despite the fact that he’s done nothing but take care of me from the moment he brought me here.Sleeping is such a vulnerable time.And I’m terrified of being vulnerable with anyone.I shove back the covers and gently sit up. My body is stiff and unwieldy, my limbs as heavy as my eyelids, and I scoot back to rest against the headboard and get my bearings. I don’t remember getting out of the shower or falling asleep, but that’s not abnormal for my panic attacks. When my mind goes blank at the tail end of an attack, I operate on autopilot.I’m wearing some of Ridge’s clothes again. A soft, worn pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt three times too big for me. I realize I’m not wearing a bra or underwear, an
RidgeIt takes a lot of fucking willpower to leave that door open.What I really want to do is slam it shut and barricade it closed so that the woman in my bedroom can’t leave. Just because I told her she was free to go doesn’t mean I want her to. I want to keep her right here with me, where I know some jackass isn’t putting out cigarettes on her perfect skin.What the fuck is wrong with me?The front door slams shut behind me as I step out of the cabin, and I shove my hands in my pockets as I stride down the front walk to the packed-dirt road. I don’t know why I want so fucking much for Sable to stay with me. She’s nobody to me. Some chick I found half-dead in a ravine, and to hear my brother bitch about it, I should have left her there.But as I walk away from my cabin, the thought that she might actually leave while I’m gone makes me sick to my stomach.For now, though, this council meeting is a lot more pressing than keeping Sable in my bed. If Lawson caught a whiff of me putting
SableThe cabin is calm and silent after Ridge leaves. I finish the bacon before moving on to the scrambled eggs, and even though the meal is as simple as it can get, it’s delicious—the bacon just the right amount of crispy, the eggs fluffy and moist. It hits the spot for me in a way no food has in a very long time.From what I’ve been able to tell, Ridge definitely lives alone in this small cabin. I’m touched that he went out of his way to cook me breakfast and to bring it to me in bed. He also wasn’t half bad at trying to be as non-threatening as possible. And I appreciate that too.That doesn’t mean you should stay, I think as I finish off my cooling coffee and put the empty mug back on the tray.But I’m torn. On the one hand, my fight-or-flight impulse has taken up what feels like permanent residence in my gut, and every nerve-ending in my body is screaming at me to run. Ignoring that self-preservation instinct that’s become so ingrained in me after life with my uncle feels like t
TrystanThese council meetings are a waste of my goddamned time.But I come to them because that’s what I’m supposed to do. The alpha plays nice with the other packs. The alpha builds bridges and shakes hands and kisses rancid ass to ensure cooperation between them and us. Inter-pack cooperation and all that stupid bullshit.That doesn’t mean I have to like it.I hate this drafty barn the North Pack has built out of recycled materials and spit, and I especially hate listening to fucking Ridge Harcourt droning on about trespassers on their land, or Archer from the East Pack talking about his sick father.Their problems are real, and they have my sympathies—but their problems aren’t my problems. My pack is doing fine. We’re handling the witch threat, beefing up our own security, and not for the first time, I’m spending every boring second of this meeting wondering what the fuck I’m doing here.The West Pack has never been stronger. My pack hasn’t lost a wolf yet, and those goddamned wit
SableRidge’s growl finally fades, but I swear I can hear an echo of it bouncing off the stark walls of the large building.The room has grown so silent, I feel as if I can hear every breath being taken. Beyond the breathing, I can also feel the weight of every gaze latched on to me, made heavier by the thick tension that clogs the air.I don’t like being the center of attention like this. I don’t like all these eyes on me—not Ridge’s concerned gaze or Lawson’s pissed off one or any of the different levels of emotion in between.My heart pounds with such force that I’m sure every predator here can hear it or sense the blood pumping overtime through my veins. I stand with my feet shoulder width apart, ready to run at the first glimpse of violence, even as fear threatens to turn my knees to jelly. Lawson left the door open, and I will absolutely make my escape if it looks like my only option.Two nights ago, I decided to live life on my terms for once.If it comes to it, I’ll die on my