Free Waking Up Dead (The Western Werewolf Legend #1) by Catherine Wolffe Page A

kids
play.
    His gut clinched with one of those
intuitions of his. Funny how nothing good ever followed. “What
rendezvous?” Ty didn’t try to hide the softer, more menacing tone
to his voice. She’d been up to something while he’d been gone and
he damn well wanted to know what it was. Slowly rising to stand, he
waited.
    She rose on one elbow, clutching the
gown to her breasts. The one word, “Wait,” and a simple shrug and
she pulled her legs up to a crouch as she used the billows of
material as a cover from the men’s eyes. Throwing the gown over her
head, she wiggled her hands into the sleeves of the gown. In a few
seconds, two slender hands appeared. Shimming the bodice over her
breasts and settling garment in place, Sonja pulled back her curls
and presented her back to him so he could do up her
buttons.
    Ty’d already noted, after he
understood what happened with the change, merely becoming angry
could bring about a shift. So to forestall any such occurrence, he
focused instead on breathing deeply with his eyes ever on her
request for assistance.
    “ You weren’t here. I
concluded you must’ve taken your pistol from the armoire where I’d
hide the weapon. I’d loaded the colt with wooden bullets to use in
case of an attack.” She ran slender fingers through her hair as she
spoke of the incident as if the fact she survived and healed, all
while he was about other matters should be of no consequence to
him. She’d handled things she said.
    Her matter of fact description of the
events stroked a smoldering irritation at the chances she took with
no more concern for her well-being than if she washed clothes on a
rock in the nearby stream. “Hell’s own fire, woman. You could have
been maimed or worse – you could’ve been captured.”
    “ True,” Sonja admitted,
though the response came out stilted. “But everything turned out
for the best.”
    Her flippant attitude did queer things
to his backbone. A flush raced up his throat, engulfing him in a
wave of sickening reality. “What ifs” began to invade his control,
eliminating the little guard he held tightly within his weakening
grasp. In the flash of an eye, he reached out, snatching her close
by both arms.
    Immediately regretting the move, Ty
tried to remain calm. “Sonja baby, you don’t seem to understand how
important it is that you remain safe.” Hating the coddling sound
creeping into his voice, he closed his eyes for a moment to
regroup.
    Sonja’s calm snapped in the brief span
of time. “Who do you think you’re talking to?” she charged. Tugging
free of his iron grip, she wheeled away, gathering steam as she
went.
    With fire leaping in the depth of
those whiskey colored eyes of hers, she unleashed her version of
hell’s-own-fury on him when she turned once more to look him dead
in the eyes. Her chest rose and fell with the effort. Her hands
clenched in fists at her sides. The fact the early morning air
caused a rise in her nipples to erect points under her meager
attire did nothing to appease his frustrations.
    “ Don’t make this about the
wolf. You know what I’m talking about.” Ty glanced past her to see
the faces of several of the men peering covertly from under hats,
behind kerchiefs and collars to absorb their words. “We’ll talk
about this later,” he snapped.
    His voice low and grave should have
done the trick, but she remained where she was and continued to
glare at him with mutiny riding high in her face.
    Snorting out a laugh, Sonja’s fists
landed on her hips. “Oh, you can be sure of it, sir.”
    The fact he wanted to take her across
his knee and paddle her behind for confronting him in front of the
men warred with how fool hearty it was to argue with her when she
had a head of mad on. “Gather your things. I have to see to
business.” With temper smoldering to the boiling point, Ty cut a
cold shoulder around her and headed for the group.
    Someone, perhaps Hortence, since the
rag tag bunch bore no