Page 21 of Cowboy Wolf Christmas

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he purred against her.

“I-I’ve never came in front of someone before.”

Silas froze, paused where he sucked her clit momentarily as he gazed up at her. He wanted to take every asshole she’d been with before and bury them six feet under beneath the snow. He growled. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you,” he whispered against her. “We don’t finish until you’re satisfied.” He drew her back into his mouth then, the absence having given her just long enough to recover as he ramped the pressure up.

Cheyenne writhed beneath him, fisting the sheets until she was on the verge of ecstasy. But she needed something more to tip her over the edge. Get her out of her own head. He could feel it. He positioned two fingers outside her entrance, prepared to push up, before he nudged his pinky near her back entrance. “This okay?” he asked.

Cheyenne nodded, panting with need.

He entered her all at once, taking her until she bucked against him. She moaned, coming apart on a loud mewl of pleasure. He was lapping her up, reveling in the scent, the smell, the taste of her. Until he was slowly guiding her back down again, bringing her back to earth. He pulled her into his arms, into his lap where he sat on the floor. She belonged there, whether she liked that damn chair of hers or not. He claimed her lips then, kissing her deep as she sunk against him, all loose limbs and shuddered aftershocks.

“That was . . .” She whispered against him, trying to catch her breath. “Best sex of my life,” she admitted.

Silas chuckled, appreciating the raw honesty. He gifted her a slow, easy grin. “Baby, I’m not nearly through with you yet.” He stood then, lifting her up and into his arms before they both fell onto the bed. “I promise to get you home by morning,” he whispered into the crook of her neck and she relaxed against him. “But I can’t promise we’ll get much sleep.”

8

They’d forgotten her.

Cheyenne glanced around the mostly empty cabins of Wolf Pack Run, trying desperately to understand. They always left at the same time. Seven in the morning sharp the day before Christmas Eve. Yet, where there should have been life, cheer, movement, the sounds and laughter of the pack preparing for the holiday, the whole of Wolf Pack Run sat nearly empty. The cabins and halls of the main compound were decorated for Christmas, festive, like they were supposed to be, but there were few left to enjoy them. Only a handful of the children, too young to participate, and the elders responsible for their care. No members of the pack her age.

No one but her anyway.

That morning, when she’d woken, alone in the cabin with Silas, she hadn’t been worried, or nervous about making it back. He’d promised her he would get her there in time, despite all odds. She trusted him. Believed. Instead of worrying, she’d stretched out her spent muscles like a cat, long and languid and satisfied. She hadn’t fallen asleep until the early hours not long before sunrise, having stayed awake for the best of reasons long into the night, but the sleep shehadgotten had been some of the best in her life.

There was no weighted blanket that could ever compare to the feeling of Silas’ arms around her, the pressure of his broad shoulders, the warmth of his skin. He’d made certain to wake her not long after the sun came up fully. Had even volunteered to stay awake and watch the sunrise to be certain they knew when it was time to go.

He’d woken her softly, gently, far more gentle than he gave himself credit for, stroking his fingers through her hair and watching the way the red strands caught like fire in the morning light. Lying there in his arms, she’d felt happy, sated, content.

More whole than she had in a long time.

But that had all ended the moment they’d stepped out into the cold. The ride back to Wolf Pack Run had been a long one, filled with a heavy silence that seemed to stretch as far as the endless Montana sky. Normally, she would have enjoyed the quiet, but as soon as the truck’s engine rumbled to life the silence that’d descended as soon as they’d left the cabin felt . . . heavy, cold. Final, even. Like whatever waited for them back at Wolf Pack Run neither of them really wanted it. But she’d craved her routine, and he’d promised to have her home on time.

And he did.

It’d taken some time for them to dig their way out of the cabin of course—Silas had needed to pry open a frozen window and shift into his wolf form to dig away the snow that barred the door with his paws. But they’d made it back to Wolf Pack Run with only minutes to spare. Yet still, they’d forgotten her. Left early without her.

Cheyenne stood alone in the empty stillness of her cabin, staring at the cold fire grate for a long time, uncertain what to do with herself. She played over the events of the last twenty-four hours in her head, over and over again, trying to figure out why the pack hadn’t left on time, why she’d felt so gutted before they’d even arrived, but she couldn’t understand. She was fine. Really. It was okay. If this was her last Christmas at Wolf Pack Run, so be it.

She didn’t mind. Being alone with the elders and children was what she was used to. She didn’t even mind the change of plans, the disruption in routine. Not this time. Because, if she was honest with herself, she’d expected it. She’d known from the moment they’d been snowed in.

Because to her disappointment . . .

It wasn’t even the first time they’d left her.

* * *

What thefuckhad Maverick been thinking?

Silas prowled around the empty compound, speculating what had been going through the packmaster’s mind, but he couldn’t begin to understand it. Not without thoroughly wanting to tear the Grey Wolf leader in two anyway. Not only had the pack not left on time—goddamn early even—not bothering to question why he or Cheyenne hadn’t arrived back yet, but the wolves theyhadleft were only a handful of the pack’s newest warriors, young alpha males practically still in training. Only a handful of them, to protectallof the compoundandall ofthe elder wolves and children of the pack, those too ancient, too young, or no longer able bodied to complete the run, along with a few past retired warriors who were physically disabled and handful of others who didn’t want to participate.

What in the flying fuck?

Silas snarled, his anger warring inside him as he tore into the main hall, trying to parse out his next move. At least they’d had the damn decency to keep the security room locked, like that did a whole lot of fucking good when the whole of the ranch was vulnerable. He was by far the most skilled warrior here, the fiercest and most trained, so the moment he’d assessed the situation, Grey Wolf or not, he’d immediately taken charge. No one had even questioned it.

When he hadn’t been able to open the security room door immediately with an old kitchen knife, he’d quickly destroyed the handle with the blunt end of a horse shoe. None of the young warriors or others left behind had seemed to know where to locate the key or even a hammer or something to take the door off its hinges and Cheyenne and her tools seemed to have disappeared into the ranch’s ether shortly after they’d arrived.

Silas froze where he stood in the security office, pouring over the pack’s monitor screens. There was nothing important of note there...yet. But...

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