Page 6 of Cowboy Wolf Christmas

Normally, she hated facial hair. The texture. The feel of it. But on him, she actually sort- of liked it. But it was thewayhe was watching her which caused her to still.

It wasn’t as if she’d never been with a man and yet . . .

He was watching her in that way. Like they were alone. Likethatwas about to happen. Though they’d never done anything close to that. Not yet.

His eyes flashed to his wolf, those golden irises tracking her every move.

She willed hers to do the same, to mask, to mimic his frustration. “What’s the problem now?” she snapped.

“What’s your end-game?” he growled.

End-game?Cheyenne quirked her head in confusion.

Without warning, Silas stood from the chair, rising to his full height before he prowled toward her. Lord, he was large. Dwarfing the small space between them in that same way Maverick and the other elite warriors did. Except different. Because she was more aware of it somehow. With him, that was always the case.

She’d always been on the small side. Born a bit premature and the runt of the litter. But now she felt downright diminutive––fragile. Like he was a predator, and she was his prey. Which was silly because he wasn’t her enemy. Not anymore.

Grumpy and tattooed or not.

“Do you really think you can keep this up the whole trip?” He leaned an arm on the mantel over her head. Like he was pinning her between him and the fireside. “I’ll admit, you’re cute. But you really think I’ll buy into this whole adorable act like your packmates do?” His lip curled with a barely held in snarl. “Cut the bullshit.”

Cheyenne didn’t know what confused her more. His question or that he’d called her cute. Her stomach twisted a little. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rounded on her then, dark eyes flashing.

This time, she didn’t struggle to read the emotion there.

“You knowexactlywhat I’m talking about,” he grumbled. “No Grey Wolf in their right mind would have let me out of those cells.” He leaned in closer, close enough she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. Smell him there.

Spearmint toothpaste. A hint of aftershave, and . . .

Something inexplicably male.Him. His wolf. His skin.

A chill went down her spine, despite the warmth of the fireside licking at her back.

“Why’d you do it?” he drew nearly nose to nose with her. “Why let me out?”

She stared up at him. “You said you weren’t guilty.”

His brow furrowed. “And youbelievedme?” he asked like evenhedidn’t believe it.

“Yes,” she breathed. Hadn’t he wanted her to? She didn’t know why she was suddenly having a hard time drawing air into her lungs, but she was.

Silas watched her for a long beat, until this time, his eyes fell to her lips.

The little gasp which escaped her was unintended.

He’d kissed her there. Once. A few weeks after she’d saved him. Though she’d been the one to initiate, he’d stolen that kiss from her the moment she’d met his lips. Like a plunderer. A marauder. He’d taken it from her, and it’d become his. Then and now. It’d been a mistake.

She still regretted it.

A dark unamused chuckle tore from his lips as he cast her an almost sinister grin. “Either you’re a damn good liar or you’re a fool.” He shook his head. “I’m not sure which is worse.”

Cheyenne frowned. She’d defied the packmaster’s orders when she’d let him out then, taken him at his word. She’d even been wounded by theirrealenemy as a result. Sometimes, the scar where the knife had entered her side still ached. Yet she wasn’t naïve. Especially not enough to think she and a wolf like Silas would ever be friends.

But she believed in justice. Fairness. In a pack as large as the Grey Wolves, too many times she’d been treated as less than, sometimes downright cruel, because she was different. Not every one of her packmates were kind. But she’d helped him because it’d been the right thing to do. She knew what it was to feel like an outsider because as much as her packmates loved her, she was one, too. None of them really understood her.

Not firsthand.

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