And I’ve got all the time in the world to make her mine.

Two

Chapter 2

RYDER

I can’t stop thinking about her. Zara. My mate. The woman I’ve been waiting for my whole damned life.

From the moment I caught her scent in that bar, my wolf went crazy, howling and scratching to break free. To claim what’s ours. But I can’t just shift and pounce on her like some kind of wild beast.

No, Zara’s different. Special. She’s not some biker groupie looking for a wild ride and a quick knot. She’s classy, with a mouth that could cut glass and eyes that see right through my bullshit.

I grin, remembering the way she shut me down at every turn. My baby’s got fire, and fuck if that doesn’t make me want her even more.

I’m still half-hard as I roar up the mountain on my Harley, the cool night air doing little to calm my raging hunger. I need to run, and work off this restless energy before I do something stupid. Like show up at Zara’s door and fucking claim her.

Halfway up the switchbacks, I pull off onto a hidden trail, kickstand down and helmet off in one smooth move. The second I’m deep enough in the trees, I strip off my clothes and tuck them into my saddlebag, then let my wolf burst free.

Bones crack and realign, fur rippling over skin as I drop to all fours. I shake out my shaggy black coat, lips curling in a lupine grin as the world sharpens into focus. God, I fuckin’ love being a wolf.

I take off at full speed, paws silent on the grassy ground as I lose myself in the simple joy of the hunt. Out here, I’m not Ryder the biker, or even Quinn the businessman. I’m just a predator, fierce and free, with the moon on my back and the wind in my fur.

But no matter how far I run, I can’t escape the memory of Zara’s scent. It clings to my muzzle, rich and intoxicating, a siren song my body can’t ignore. My mate. Mine.

As I chase down a fox, I imagine I’m chasing her instead - pursuing my mate through the underbrush, cornering her against an aspen tree and claiming her with teeth and tongue until she’s wet and wild for me…

I come back to myself with a carcass under my claws, its blood hot and coppery in my mouth. Fuck. I’m in deep, and I’ve barely spoken to the woman. At this rate, I’ll be panting at her heels like the dog I am before she even agrees to a first date.

Speaking of dates, how the hell am I gonna get her to give me a chance? She was pretty firm about not being interested back at the bar. I could just shift in front of her, go for the shock and awe tactic… Nah, that’d probably earn me a face full of mace and a restraining order.

As I run back to my bike, an idea starts to form. Zara gave me her name, which means I can look her up, find out where she works. If I can arrange a “chance” meeting, get her alone and turn on the ol’ Ryder charm…

Yeah, stalker much? But hell, she’s my mate. My goddamn soul. The woman I’m meant to love and protect for the rest of my life.

‘Sides, it’s not like I’m gonna go all serial killer on her fine ass. I just need a foot in the door, a chance to show her I’m more than meets the eye. That beneath the leather and ink, I’m a man she can trust. A man she can love.

And if that means using my shifter senses to “accidentally” run into her again, well… all’s fair in love and war, right?

Plan in place, I shift back to human form and throw on my clothes, grinning like the lovesick fool I already am. Zara Sinclair, you gorgeous, frustrating woman. You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into.

But you will, baby. I’ll make damn sure of that.

I’m a wolf on a mission now.

Three

Chapter 3

ZARA

Oh no. Not today. The kids are counting on me for story time at the library. But as I turn the key in the ignition, my ancient Accord only sputters and dies.

Desperate, I call for roadside assistance. Please let them get here soon. Twenty minutes later, a tow truck rumbles up my driveway. Thank goodness. I grab my bag and hurry outside, apology at the ready. But when I see who steps out of the truck, the words lodge in my throat.

“Morning, Miss Sinclair. Fancy meeting you here.” Ryder smirks, looking entirely too delicious in a greasy work shirt and jeans.

“What are you doing here?” I blurt, brain still reeling from his sudden appearance.