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Shannon didn’t have to howl once.
CHAPTER 25
Shannon woke up on the dark side of dawn, her head nestled against a cushion of thick, luxurious fur. A pillow fit for a queen. It seemed to move up and down with a slow, steady rhythm that matched Shannon’s own breathing, and for a minute that gentle motion threatened to lull her back to sleep.
Then it occurred to her that, for one thing, she didn’t actually own a fur pillow. And for another, pillows were not supposed to move. She promptly bolted upright, wide awake and fearful.
The cushion she’d been sleeping on was an enormous wolf with tawny red fur.
Rufus.
The realization that she knew this wolf calmed her a little, as did her memory of his promise to protect her, a promise he’d made good on a couple of days earlier when he had killed the man calling himself Gilbert Blaylocke.
And Rufus wasn’t the only protector who was with her this morning. The two alphas were sleeping beside her, one on each side, their naked bodies halfway on the Navajo blanket which served as their bed. Tanner McBain was lying face down on her left, giving her a nice view of his muscular back and perfect, round butt. Logan was on the other side of her, lying on his back, his hard cock resting against the taut muscles of his lower abdomen.
Shannon experienced a thrill of arousal as she looked at the two naked alphas, remembering all the things they’d done together in the night. Her arousal quickly vanished, however, and the heavy weight of guilt settled over her like a cold, wet blanket.
For fifteen years, she’d hidden her true nature from the world. She’d done it for the hucow women of Duffy Ranch. Now her secret was out, and she stood to lose everything.
She had failed in her duty.
With tears in her eyes, Shannon pushed herself up to her feet and cautiously moved away from the two sleeping alphas and the giant wolf. She had no thought of running away from them. That would have been impossible. She just needed a little time alone to decompress and think. She walked barefoot past the remains of the fire, which had burned down at some point in the night, and looked for her clothing.
Yesterday’s shirt was missing most of its buttons from when Tanner had torn it open in a fit of lust. Shannon slipped her arms into the sleeves and tied the ends together in a loose knot, just as she’d done two days earlier with the shirt Blaylocke had ruined. As for her jeans, the stains of her slick had dried in the night, but the scent of her arousal still clung to the faded denim. She pulled them on anyway, even though they were dirty.
This morning, she felt dirty. She may as well dress the part too.
With the clothing situation handled, Shannon went to check on Stormy and the other horses. They were already awake and nibbling at the greenery that edged the side of the spring. They had put a big dent in it yesterday, but there was still plenty for them to have a nice breakfast today. Shannon gave Stormy a good morning rub on the neck, then she turned and climbed the shallow incline that led up to the flat plain of the desert. Once she was a few yards away, she sat down and awaited the sun.
To the east, the dark sky blushed pink, then orange. Shapes resolved themselves out of the darkness. Purple shadows of cactus and sagebrush, and farther off the violet ridge of the plateaus that surrounded this wide basin. In a few hours, everything would be shades of brown, but for a few blessed minutes as the sun climbed the horizon, the desert was full of color. It was Shannon’s favorite time of day.
She closed her eyes and thought of home.
She thought of the adobe ranch house, simple yet spacious enough for her humble needs, and the several barn-like structures where the hucows stayed when the weather was bad, though most of the time, they preferred to sleep outside under the stars.
She thought of the land, too. Most of it was too dry to grow anything useful, but there was a creek running through the center of the property, and with a bit of irrigation, they were able to grow the sorts of food hucows liked to eat—prickly pear, anasazi beans, Osage oranges, and palo verde trees with their big green seed pods. There was also a small plot for more human-friendly crops like corn and potatoes, and even a small patch set aside for flowers.
Soon, all of that would be gone.
The insides of Shannon’s closed eyelids reddened with light, and she opened them to watch as the sun exploded over the horizon, an orange fireball crossed with streaks of low clouds that looked as if they’d been scraped onto the sky with a palette knife. Already, the air was beginning to get warmer.
Shannon sensed somebody approaching, and she turned.
It was Logan Summerhill. The alpha had pulled on his pair of buckskin britches since she’d last seen him a few minutes ago, and his feet were shod in his usual pair of quiet leather moccasins. He wore no shirt, however, and his tanned torso made something flutter deep within Shannon’s belly. She quickly turned her eyes back to the sunrise before that fluttering turned into something she wouldn’t be able to control.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Good morning. You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”
“I didn’t go far.”
“I know, but remember what Rufus told us last night? We’re being followed. Flarity’s back there somewhere, and he’s got an alpha with him, along with a small army of cowboys. Best not to be out in the open like this. They could see you.”
Shit. Shannon’s mind had been so occupied with all the dirty deeds she’d done the night before, she’d completely forgotten they were being followed. And by Ned Flarity no less.
That bastard. All of this was his fault.
Shannon’s eyes steamed with tears, but she resisted the urge to start sobbing. Logan knelt behind her and placed one large hand tenderly against her back. That simple touch felt way, way too good.
