Free Untamed Wolf by Heather Long

pinching in her side hurt. The nervous flutters turned into full-blown anxiety.
    “Because you’re scared of her. You being nervous is making her nervous.” He stroked a hand over her damp hair and gave it a light tug. “Now sit down before you fall. You’re starving. When was the last time you ate?” There was the bossy pants attitude and tone.
    “Would you stop doing that?”
    “Hmm?” Her demand didn’t slow him, quite the opposite. He all but deposited her back in the chair before vanishing into the kitchen.
    “Stop— ordering me around.” Her wolf roused, and her voice rumbled.
    “Well, well.” Dylan grinned as he returned with a steaming plate of lasagna. The scent of tomato sauce, meat and pasta wreathed the room. Her stomach went wild with gurgles and pops. “You do have claws. Nice show of teeth.”
    No sense in arguing when he handed her the large bowl and a fork. “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” He stood like a silent sentinel until she shoveled three or four bites in. No sooner did she try one mouthful than she was desperate for another. Approval radiated off of him. By the time she scraped the bottom of the bowl, he chuckled. “We have more.” He held out his hand and waited for her to hand it to him rather than pluck it from her fingers.
    Glancing at him, she opened her mouth to thank him again when she focused on the red welts and broken skin along his neck and disappearing beneath the shirt. “What happened?”
    “She clawed me,” he said with a dismissive shrug. “I’ll heal. Do you want more?”
    “Yes, please.” Even she heard the note of strength in her voice. Her wolf perked higher, studying both Dylan and the room. She could feel her peeking out of her eyes and sweeping her attention over the male. Then remembering she still held the bowl, she offered it to him awkwardly. “I’m not sure why I’m being so scatterbrained. I’m not usually this disjointed.”
    He didn’t respond immediately, disappearing into the small room that made up the kitchen. When he returned, he carried two bowls both full to the brim. After passing one to her, he took a seat on the hearth between her and Mama. Her wolf settled and the last vestiges of anxiety drifted away. Mama’s eyes closed—finally—and she stopped glaring.
    “How long were you a Lone Wolf?” Dylan asked. The question floored her, and she took a bite of food to avoid answering. He devoured a bite of his own before adding, “I know it’s a rude question, but you seem to have forgotten the most common rules of life in the open…and I’m having trouble imagining you without a pack.” Almost below his breath, he said, “Or why anyone would let someone so fragile go Lone Wolf.”
    Anger speared her. No one had given her a choice before her sixteenth birthday. Who the hell was he to judge? Sitting a little straighter, she glared at him. “I’m not fragile. I’ve survived for years on my own, and I don’t need you coming down on me about how I survived, Mr. Bossy Pants. I’ve lived through worse, despite whatever dumbass rule you’re accusing me of breaking…or maybe I just like breaking the rules.” Not really, but it sounded good.
    “Uh huh.” Disbelief occupied every syllable. “Sweetheart, when you let yourself get so hungry, your wolf stops responding—it’s a problem. We need a lot of calories to get through a day, and this is the second time I’ve seen you floundering from hunger. You forget where you are, you get caught up in the most mundane of things and your wolf drifts further. Sometimes wolves who let themselves starve die, because they forget to have a will to live much less fight.”
    Shock slapped her. What?
    Utterly serious, Dylan stared at her. “When was the last time you ate?”
    She wanted to argue with him, but she couldn’t remember.
    “Exactly.” Anger and something more vibrated in the word. “Eat every bite, then you can have some more cocoa. You eat until you’re full. I