Free Untamed Wolf by Heather Long Page B

dangerous states. In the former case, treacherous to the wolf; in the latter, to everyone else. Even if the weather had been clear, he’d have found a reason to keep her at the cabin until he’d fed her belly full.
    Why she let herself starve was more troubling. His assignment had been to monitor the border, coordinating in part with the Willow Bend Hunter—Collin—who’d been assigned to act as one of the five watchdogs within Three Rivers proper until Luciana got her pack together. They’d lost some wolves—a handful left Three Rivers in the immediate weeks following the Alpha meeting.
    Enforcers retrieved them all. Some choose to return to the packs of their origin, while others applied for Lone Wolf status once more. Blanket forgiveness had been offered to these wolves, but they were all on probation. Collin’s last report indicated the pack thrived, at least on the surface. They dedicated efforts to fixing the town they’d purchased, refurbishing their homes and getting businesses open and operational. Considerably smaller than all the other packs, Three Rivers didn’t have the financial resources or the manpower of Willow Bend. Still, their wolves shouldn’t be starving.
    Leaving her to sleep, he checked his cell phone. No signal. Another circuit of the cabin showed it locked up tight. Satisfied with the security, he added another log to the fire. He turned off the generator to conserve power, then set an alarm on his phone. If he slept in shifts, he could keep the fire going for Chrystal and Mama. The pup made a little mewling noise, and Mama licked his head a couple of times. Their wild cousins might not turn into humans, but they handled disquieted wolves the same way—touch comfort.
    Pulling a blanket up, he settled on the floor next to Chrystal’s pallet, placing himself squarely between her and Mama as well as the door. Stretching, he checked the claw marks on his chest. They’d all scabbed over. The cold water took most of the sting out of them, and the shallow slashes would heal in a couple of days even if he didn’t shift. Settling onto his back, he turned his phone to vibrate. No sense in disturbing the ladies if he didn’t have to.
    Closing his eyes, he let sleep carry him away. Chrystal’s cry cut through his dreams and galvanized him to his feet. Mama made it to her feet a second behind him. Like Dylan, she faced the door. After exchanging a quick look with the wolf, he glanced at Chrystal. She’d kicked away her blankets and perspiration dotted her face.
    Frowning, he checked the fire. It had banked some. Though it felt as if he’d just closed his eyes, at least an hour had passed. The room was comfortable, but not too hot. Placing his palm against her forehead, he earned another moan from her. Her skin was scorching, as though she ran a fever. What the hell? Sweat soaked her borrowed shirt and she writhed, muscles jerking and pulsing.
    She’s shifting. Pulling his hand away, he put a hand toward Mama who’d begun to growl. “Stay there.” One moment Chrystal writhed, then the next she jerked upright. The shift took her hard. Skin and muscle slid, twisting as her bones snapped. The shirt got in her way and she let out a cry, her dark eyes flashing pure gold. Seizing the shirt with both hands, he split it in half, careful not to touch her shifting skin. Too much damage could be inflicted.
    The process seemed to hang on forever, and his teeth clamped together at the stress and strain of transformation. Most wolves shifted on pure instinct alone, the agony and ecstasy twining together as they let their other half out. The only wolves he knew had a really difficult time at first were…
    Son of a bitch. Turned wolves struggled until they learned and usually they relied on their mates to guide them through the worst of it. Their mates and their Alpha. Cold fury flooded him, but her soft cries turned strident as her body finally gave in. The shorts didn’t seem to hamper her as much, but