Free Beast (Norseton Wolves #1) by Holley Trent

away.
    “I like you on two legs, little wolf. I hope that’s not a deal breaker now that I can’t bear to send you away.”
    He eased off the bed and padded toward the bathroom, glancing back once to see her chewing on her lip as she stared at the ceiling.
    She’d get over it. He could be just as stubborn as her, so he’d make sure of it in the sweetest way he knew how.
    New pack. New rules. They’d make a few of their own now.
    His little wolf didn’t need fangs to earn her place.
     

CHAPTER NINE
    Christina thought it would be enough, but it wasn’t. Anton had made gentle love to her again and again and held her throughout the night like he wanted her. When he woke up and had to start his day, he didn’t leave the bed before kissing her and telling her everywhere she’d be able to find him if she needed him. He did everything a typical woman could have hoped for.
    But—she wasn’t a typical woman. She was a wolf. Her wolf might have been suppressed—quieted—but she couldn’t help her nature, and her nature said she’d failed. She hadn’t really won her man—she’d just made it so that no other decent woman would have him. The victory didn’t taste as sweet as it should have, because she knew she’d be different than the other mates. They’d wonder why he thought her unworthy of his bite—think she was less than they were.
    After a morning of feeling sorry for herself in the house, she decided to go feel sorry for herself outside . The moment she stepped onto the doormat, she changed her mind.
    She heard the howling way back near the mountains and recognized it as the Pack. The girls , she thought. She’d seen Anton’s aunt leading them out earlier while Christina was at the kitchen sink washing out breakfast dishes. They’d been dressed to shift—loose clothes and slip-off shoes. Probably getting lessons in handling their animal halves. The men didn’t tag along, so maybe the girls were getting better at it. Christina was behind the curve. Hell, maybe she wasn’t even on the curve anymore. Without a bite, she’d never shift, and no one besides her mate could give her one.
    She stood there on the mat, staring out at the desert for a long while. Then she squared her shoulders. No use harping over things beyond her control. She’d told Anton she wished more than anything to be productive, and since she’d meant it, she would act like it. If she were going to beg for work, though, she was going to start at the top.
    Just let them tell me no.
    She grabbed her purse from the coat rack, tidied her hair in a bun, and set out for Norseton. She bypassed all of the shops and restaurants this time, heading straight for the front door of the executive mansion, as though she’d been invited.
    One of the Pack wolves—hell, she didn’t even know his name—jogged across the lawn as if to intercept her, but she’d already rung the bell.
    “What are you doing here? Anton’s doing target practice,” he said.
    “I’m not looking for Anton.” She squared her shoulders and twined her fingers together in front of her.
    “Does he know you’re here?”
    The door opened, and a prim, brown-skinned woman holding a walkie-talkie and a clipboard stepped in front of it. She raised an eyebrow at the wolf, who put up his hands in a, Hey, I tried , gesture. “Can I help you?” she asked.
    Christina cleared her throat. “I’m—I’m a Pack mate.” There was really no better word for what she was. “My wolf said that I might find some work here.”
    “I’m going to get in such deep shit with Adam,” the guard wolf said.
    “Who’s your wolf?” the woman asked. “Not that one, I’m guessing.”
    “No. Anton.”
    “Anton.” Eyes narrowed, the woman tapped the antenna of her walkie-talkie against her chin and nodded. “Lucky girl. Gotta respect a guy who works as hard as he does.”
    Christina’s cheeks burned with pride, and she smiled. “I do.” It was nice to have her early assessment of him