Free Warrior by Elizabeth Lowell

Eden.
    “You’re in for it now, Nevada,” Eden crowed breathlessly. “Baby hasn’t had a decent wrestling match since Mark broke his arm, so Baby’s loaded for bear – and with that sleek beard, you’re looking like bear to him.”
    Just as Nevada turned to ask who Mark was, Baby sprang. Nevada went down in a tangle of arms, furry legs and waving black tail. Laughing hard at Nevada’s comeuppance, trying to catch her breath at the same time, Eden sank onto her bed and applauded while wolf and warrior romped.
    And a romp it was. Nevada and Baby caromed off ice chest and walls, supply sacks and packsaddle, firewood and empty water bucket. The room became a shambles of its former neat condition. Yet no matter how fast or exciting the wrestling became, both wolf and warrior kept individual weapons very carefully sheathed. Fangs never sank into flesh, nor did steel fingers gouge. Claws might rake the floor, but nothing else. Unarmed combat tactics remained unused.
    Finally Nevada wrestled Baby to the floor and pinned him there, both of them breathing hard. The wolf relaxed, baring his throat and belly to the warrior, accepting the end of the game. Nevada shook Baby gently by the scruff, spoke to him calmly, and released him. Baby sprang up, shook himself thoroughly, and stood panting and grinning up at Nevada. The left side of Nevada’s mouth kicked up slightly in return. He sat on his heels and took the wolf’s big head in his hands, rubbing the base of the erect ears and smoothing the thick fur.
    “You’re one hell of a fighter, old man,” Nevada said quietly.
    Baby’s head turned. Big jaws gently closed over Nevada’s right hand, then released him.
    “That’s meant to reassure you,” Eden explained in a soft voice. “It’s a wolf’s kiss. Wolves aren’t quite the same as dogs. They require different things from their friends, whether four-footed or two.”
    “What should I do to reassure Baby in return?”
    “You already have.”
    “How?”
    “You accepted his surrender, let him go with his dignity intact, and then praised him with your touch and your voice.” Eden paused thoughtfully. “You read Baby very well, Nevada. Have you ever worked with undomesticated animals?”
    “All my life.”
    “Really? What kind?”
    “Men.”
    Eden started to laugh before she realized that there was more truth than humor in what Nevada said. Then she laughed anyway, a bittersweet and very human laughter, accepting what could not be changed in the nature of man and beast.
    “Maybe if men had their signals of dominance and submission as well worked out as wolves,” Eden said, “there would be fewer wars.”
    “I suspect we had our signals straight once. Then we got civilized and it all went to hell.”
    Nevada stood and stretched. His glance fell on the upside-down water bucket, the packsaddle standing on end, and other signs of the romp. The corners of his eyes crinkled slightly.
    “Looks like I have my work cut out for me before we go cat hunting,” Nevada said.
    Eden’s breath caught. She smiled brilliantly and said in a husky voice, “Thank you.”
    He gave her a sideways glance. “For not leaving you to clean up the mess?”
    “No,” she said, dismissing the room with a wave of her hand. “For staying here one more day. I know you think I’m silly for worrying about you, but I’m not. Spring, especially in a cold country, is the hardest season on animals. No matter how strong you are, the huge temperature swings stress your body. I’ve seen flu turn into pneumonia
    “
    Eden’s voice dipped, almost broke and then steadied. “Anyway, if you had ridden off today I would have worried. Now I’ll know where you are and if your fever is really gone.”
    “And if I’ve managed to stay on top of Target this time?” Nevada said dryly.
    Eden’s laugh was as soft as the creamy skin of her throat. She started to speak but could think of nothing to say except the truth.
    “I’m glad you’re staying,