Page 29 of The Strongest Wolf

A long moment later, she places her hand in mine. The level of trust she’s giving me, and the vulnerability she’s fighting to hide, makes me want to tear into the Stone pack all over again for hurting her so badly they’ve killed her enjoyment in something all shifters love: the joy of a run in our wolf form.

I pull her to her feet and tug her against me, her breasts mashing against my chest, and the contact stirring my arousal. “To prove how nice I am, I might even let you win.”

When the smile she tried to hide before breaks free, I know she’s made up her mind. “Let me win?” In her tone is a world of disbelief.

And because it’s her, and I never get enough of kissing or touching her, I lower my head and kiss her. She slides her free arm around my hips and leans into it.

It takes everything I have to break the kiss when all I want is to lay her down, strip the clothes from her body, and slide into her wet heat. But she’s agreeing to this run. She needs this, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t give her.

“Try not to get too bored if you have to spend the next thirty minutes staring at my tail, little wolf,” I tell her.

She blinks at me in confusion. “Why would I be doing that?”

After releasing her, I turn around. “As I race ahead, little wolf.Farahead of you.”

Sierra is grumbling as I take a few steps away to give her more privacy. Nakedness before and after a shift isn’t something I would usually ever think about, but I remember her need for privacy back in Dexter.

At the sound of fabric rustling, I let out a quiet breath of relief.

She’s doing it. Thank fuck.

Now to get her to associate going for a run as an event to look forward to, instead of as something to dread.

A submissive wolf can take anything from ten to twenty minutes to shift, but as an alpha, it takes me seconds. So, once I’ve shifted, I park myself beside a tree and fix my gaze on the Rockies in the distance as I wait for Sierra to finish.

If she wanted to take an hour, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. Anything would be better than the memory of her terror-driven fast shift back in the Stone pack.

Never again.

Twenty minutes later, I pretend I don’t hear the oh-so-soft tread of paws creeping toward me. Sitting relaxed, I bottle my wolf’s growing excitement at the peach and amber scent of the woman—now wolf—inching closer. Wanting to play.

Excitement churns in my gut as I wait for Sierra to make her move.

The closer she approaches, the quieter her steps.

When she suddenly halts, I hold my breath as I wait for her movements to resume. But when she doesn’t move again, disappointment stirs.

She’s changed her mind. Maybe her fear is back, and she thinks—

I go down under the weight of a sudden wolf attack that I don’t even attempt to stop.

As we roll across the grass, I swallow my need to growl in case it scares Sierra. Instead, I let her do something that I doubt she’s ever done as a wolf before—have fun.

And sheisplayful as a wolf, shoving her face against my neck and mock-biting as she growls and leaps over me.

My wolf surprises me. Since Sierra isn’t dominant, for him to be content to have her stand over him and pin him down like this is… not what I’d expected. The longer he doesn’t attempt to assert his dominance over her, the more I let go of the tight rein I have over my wolf side.

Careful. She’s still afraid.

A snort that suggests I’m stupid for needing to even say such a thing echoes in my head, making me relax further.

This is good.

My wolf won’t scare her. He knows to be gentle and not surprise her.

Minutes later, when Sierra must have tired of enjoying her successful surprise ambush, she clambers off me and to her feet. I do the same.

Although she doesn’t meet my gaze, and she tenses a little as I approach, she doesn’t run. There’s a barely detectable hint of fear tainting her scent. It’s not terror, more wary anxiety.

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