Command of the Wolf

Jeremy Lennon strode across the pasture, holding the rim of his Stetson against the wind. The heels of his brown leather cowboy boots dug into the frozen ground, each step punctuated with murderous intent. He’d read the note scrawled in his packmaster’s hand an hour ago, yet he still seethed with anger. He’d never contemplated disobeying a direct order before, but there was a first time for everything.Not unless provoked, Maverick’s orders had read. During active wartime, no less. What a load of horseshit.When Jeremy reached the stables, he tore open the doors. The cold mountain air seared through his lungs, mixing with the familiar scent of manure and fresh hay. The soft purrs of several sleeping horses filled the small space. Jeremy spied Silver in the third stall down. In the glowing orange of the heat lamps, the silvery threads of the white Arabian’s coat shimmered. At the sight of Jeremy, the horse’s tail lifted high and proud

The fur of her tail prickled. No. She couldn’t go back to a cell. She was innocent, though she knew they’d never believe her. She was a Rogue, an outcast. According to pack wolves like them, not to be trusted. It was the unfortunate way of their world.The commander’s voice chilled her. “Spread out and cover more ground. We can’t let this one go.”The other wolves obeyed, leaving the commander in the middle of the clearing. Her heart sank further as each wolf prowled in a different direction, lessening her chances for an easy escape.With his back still turned to her, she watched the commander’s wide shoulders rise and fall. For a moment, he leaned his weight against his horse before he removed his Stetson. Setting it on the horse’s saddle, he ran a hand through his short hair, leaving it slightly ruffled. It was pale brown in color, almost dirty blond.He must have decided to shift and search like the men he&

Minutes seemed to stretch into hours as they slowly drew nearer to each other. Just when Jeremy felt certain he couldn’t take the torture a second longer, that he would close the gap between their lips and kiss her, the rustling of the vampire drawing closer to them once again broke the silence. They both froze, the spellbetween them instantly broken. He felt the terrified thrum of her heartbeat against his chest. So many creatures had prowled through the forest tonight, Jeremy hoped it was enough to mask their scents.The bloodsucker lingered for a moment, then pivoted north. It must have decided to follow a different scent. After several minutes, when Jeremy felt certain the immediate threat had disappeared, he whispered, “It’s gone.”He pushed into a plank position and lifted himself off her. Like a bat out of hell, she tore from the bushes, brushing the mixture of dirt and snow from her behind. He tried not to notice how her ro

Isabella scrambled toward him, allowing her medical training to take over. She checked his pulse, measuring the beats and feeling them quickly dropping. The rise and fall of his chest seemed weak. His lips were slightly bluish around the edges. Placing her ear to his chest cavity, she listened to the sound of his labored breathing.From the looks of it, the knife had pierced the pleural space of his chest cavity, causing a steady stream of air and blood to flood in. The gravity and pressure had created a tension pneumothorax—a collapsed lung. With only one functioning lung, the air supply in his blood was dropping, causing his pulse to slow, and he was going into shock.If the blood continued to pool in his lungs, his prognosis was grave. He could die within minutes if the condition continued to deteriorate. Faster than even the most powerful of wolves could heal. She used both hands to hoist him onto his left side.Blood drenched the snow beneath them. Sh

As Isabella monitored Jeremy’s pulse, she spent the next several hours alternating between watching the snow-capped mountains and memorizing the relaxed lines of his handsome face. There wasn’t much else to do inside the cabin, and she tried to reassure herself that was the sole source of her intrigue with him—but she was failing miserably.Every time she looked at him, especially in this relaxed state of sleep, the vulnerability and emotion she’d seen from him in the woods haunted her, softening her opinion of him. He’d been so stoic throughout her wound care, the perfect image of the hardened soldier, yet when she’d turned away, she’d heard him wince in pain.He was strong, fierce, brave, hardened by war. All the things he showed the world, yet…There was softness underneath it all. She’d seen it. And now that she had, she couldn’t bring herself to forget it.She shook her head. She should know