Fierce Cowboy Wolf Read online

  The lives of his packmates depended on it.

  “It’s process of elimination at this point. We can’t rule anyone out until we have more information,” Colt said, coming to his aid.

  Colt was ever loyal to him. Almost to a damn fault.

  “It makes sense.” Blaze tossed another barbecue chip into his mouth, talking as he chewed. Despite all the hours behind a computer, the other shifter was a massive wall of lean muscle with the constant appetite to prove it. “The deal with the rogues has made the treaty with the Execution Underground tenuous. If that deal ends, it affects not only us, but all our allies in the Seven Range Pact.”

  “Can we be certain it’s not the bloodsuckers though? They coulda hired a wolf to do the job for ’em,” Austin drawled.

  Over the past year, they’d fielded several battles with their parasitic enemies. Their kind and the vamps had never seen eye to eye, having centuries of distrust sown between them, but any thin pretenses of civility had been lost years ago when the Seven Range Pact negotiated their treaty with the Execution Underground and vowed to keep the bloodsuckers in line.

  Colt shook his head to Austin’s question. “Not likely. The bloodsuckers still haven’t recouped their legions yet. They’re hiding with their tails between their legs. For now…” The grim expression on his face promised future resurgence on that front.

  “It’s sheer dumb luck that the ceremony’s two nights from now, but it could prove useful.” Blaze lifted a brow in question.

  Maverick nodded in agreement. The pack’s calendar year ended with the transition from fall to winter, and on the last full moon of their lunar year, the Grey Wolves came together as one in order to remember the history from which they came while looking toward their future. An integral part of that process was receiving guidance from their ancestors.

  It had saved them before. More than once.

  “The ceremony is our best chance at this point.” Colt nodded. “But in the meantime, how would one of our allies attacking the leader of the Pact prove fruitful when Maverick’s trying to get the council to approve enough warriors to renegotiate the deal?”

  “It’s simple.” Wes shrugged a shoulder. Considering his dark past, Maverick’s second was always keenly aware of their enemies’ motivations. “Whoever’s doing this wants the treaty to remain the same. To keep the treaty intact, one of our allies in the Seven Range Pact would do the one thing Maverick won’t: betray the rogue wolves.” He cast Maverick a pointed look. “And now they’re after your position as Pact leader to do it.”

  “If there were no deal with them, there would be no need to renegotiate the treaty.” Colt raised a brow at Maverick, as if to question the possibility.

  Maverick shook his head. No. He wouldn’t even consider it. He couldn’t betray the rogue wolves. Not a chance. The effects for the Grey Wolves would be devastating. Jared would never sit by if the deal for the rogues wasn’t honored. Not only would going back on his word spark a civil war the likes of which the pack had never known, but Maverick’s own sister would be caught in the cross fire. He had far more integrity than that. He was a man of his word.

  That was all he had left these days.

  But keeping that word made him a target, a singular opportunity to seize power.

  With him dead and the deal with the rogue wolves nullified, not only would the treaty with the Execution Underground remain intact for their allies, but that would pave the way for new leadership to rise among the Montana shifter clans. The Grey Wolves would no longer be the leaders of the Seven Range Pact. Another of the shifter clans would take over, which meant…

  His pack would be at the mercy of another’s leadership.

  A familiar thrum of rage built inside Maverick as his gut instinct to protect his pack, his family flared. He would never allow that to happen. He would do whatever it took to protect them. All costs be damned.

  “Ignore the council’s protests and renegotiate the deal now, despite the extra danger it poses.” Wes eased forward. “We can stop this before it gets out of hand.”

  Maverick grumbled. “Unfortunately, I’m held to a higher standard than you.” The damage of that move would impact his relations with the council for years. They’d use the action to block him at every future turn. It’d render him a useless figurehead of a packmaster. Not to mention, he’d be risking the lives of the pack, should negotiations go south. Without the council’s support, the pack wouldn’t be unified. He wouldn’t risk a war with the human hunters while their leadership was divided.

  “But assumin’ Mav kicked the bucket, wouldn’t you be the default leader of the Seven Range Pact?” Austin shook several strands of dark curls back from his face as he paused to look at Wes. He was nearly finished with his work on Maverick’s wound and had begun the final stitch.

  “No.” Blaze had finally abandoned the damn bag of barbecue chips and cleaned his hands with a nearby napkin before he whipped out his laptop. His fingers flew across the keyboard. “Wes would become packmaster, but according to the Seven Range Pact bylaws, Pact leadership wouldn’t go to him. It follows a sort of primogeniture. It has to default to another Grey family member, regardless of who’s in line for packmaster.” He turned the screen toward them and pointed to a specific subsection of the document.

  Maverick clenched his fists. He guessed he had his own father to thank for that rule.

  “So if Maverick kicks the bucket, it defaults to Maeve?” Wes asked.

  Maverick’s sister, Maeve, may have run off with one of their former enemies, but wayward as she was now, she’d still do what was right for the pack. It was what had caused her to run off with the criminal bastard in the first place.

  Blaze winced. “Actually…not that simple.”

  Maverick growled. He didn’t like the sound of this. Not for one second. “What do you mean, not that simple?”

  Colt shot Blaze a shut-up-now look.

  Blaze flashed Colt an unapologetic grin like he was a small child with a secret he couldn’t wait to tell rather than one lethal motherfucker. “He’s going to find out eventually.”

  Maverick raised a brow.

  Colt released a short sigh. “Belle spoke with Maeve over the phone the other day. She and Jared were somewhere in India and apparently…they decided to elope.”

  Maverick snarled. “In India?” He wasn’t sure why the location mattered, but somehow it seemed to.

  “Good move on Jared’s part.” Blaze raised both brows and nodded as if he were impressed. “I hear the weddings there are top-notch.” He made an okay sign with his thumb and forefinger.

  Maverick’s sister had always had a soft spot for wounded animals. In this case, a feral wounded animal. To say he wasn’t his new brother-in-law’s biggest fan was an understatement.

  Maverick gripped the sides of his temples, rubbing in slow circles. “It wasn’t enough to be mated to the bastard, she had to go and marry him?”

  Blaze shrugged. “Apparently, yes.”

  Maverick swore.

  “Personally, I like him.” Wes grinned.

  Colt shook his head. “You would, Brother.”

  Maverick inhaled a deep breath through his nose, fighting to remain levelheaded despite the surmounting mess. Someone wanted him dead, and considering Maeve was the only other living member of the Grey family and no longer shared the family name, in the event of his death, the Grey Wolves would no longer be the leaders of the Seven Range Pact.

  Which meant…

  He did need a wife. Far more than he’d initially anticipated.

  At that moment, the door to his office flew open, and Sierra charged in as if she owned the place. How the damn thing hadn’t fallen off its hinges by now from the countless times she’d kicked it in, he’d never know. There was a cut on her temple from where he’d shoved her away from the attacker’s blade, and she’d hit a hard bit
of tree stump. When he spotted her wound, Maverick stiffened. Minor or not, he didn’t care for the sight of her injured, and the fact that he’d been the cause ate away at his insides. Austin had reported that she’d momentarily lost consciousness, though she had been fine afterward. The Grey Wolf medic had suggested she rest, but from the glare of anger in her eyes, she hadn’t taken that advice to heart.

  If Maverick had thought she’d been angry before, it was nothing compared to this.

  “First you demand I marry you, and now this?”

  Maverick wasn’t exactly certain what this meant, considering he had taken a blade to protect her. Was it too much to hope she might thank him? If not for him, she’d have been little more than fodder.

  “Wait. What?” Colt’s eyes went wide, and he glanced between them. “Maverick asked you to marry him?” The high commander looked as if his sister had announced the most ludicrous thing he’d ever heard, which all things considered, probably wasn’t far from the truth.

  Sierra shot him a disapproving glare. “Don’t act like it’s so surprising. He did, and all while my stupid horse was busy trying to run off and dry-hump his no less.”

  Austin quirked a brow from where he was now collecting the remains of his medical equipment. “Is that some kinda euphemism for somethin’?”

  Blaze shook his head. “Nah. If it was, I would know.”

  Maverick had little doubt on that point.

  Wes, who was watching Colt’s emerging reaction to the situation with more than a hint of amusement, clicked his tongue. “Wait till I tell Naomi there’s now an unrulier horse on this ranch than Black Jack.”

  Sierra waved a hand. “Don’t be ridiculous. Randy is a saint compared to Black Jack. Just not an abstinent one.”

  Maverick couldn’t disagree on that point. Wes’s monstrous black mustang had bit him on more than one occasion. Wes was lucky he had extra patience, at least when it came to the ranch’s horses. Maverick still hadn’t decided if his second’s amusement following the last incident had been a sign that Black Jack’s bite had been provoked by his master, rather than incidental.

  Disregarding the turn of conversation, Colt cast an uncharacteristic glare at Maverick. “Did you at least get down on one knee?” The words were half question, half growl.

  Maverick shot his friend an impatient look. The high commander hadn’t taken such a harsh tone with him in years.

  Colt’s frown only deepened. “Don’t give me that look. You’re the one who proposed to my sister. Packmaster or not, you could have bothered to ask me for her hand first.”

  “I’m not property to be given away.” From the gleam in Sierra’s eye, that distinction was vitally important.

  As Sierra and Colt devolved into a sidebar of bickering while Sierra recounted his proposal, Blaze was busy enticing Wes and Austin into looking at satellite images he’d found on his laptop that would no doubt forever serve as Maeve’s only wedding photos. Maverick leaned back against his desk amid the chaos, the pain of his newly stitched wound throbbing. By now, he was accustomed to the level of insanity that usually ensued when his packmates—who, for all intents and purposes, were his family—were left to their own devices. Everyone knew that was what family was for after all, making a person miserable.

  Though he rarely enjoyed the insanity, most of the time, Maverick expected it. So many hotheaded wolves living in proximity, even on a ranch as large as the Grey Wolves’, were bound to give way to lunacy. But as their packmaster, it was his job to draw the line—and that line was crossed the moment a rooster crowed in the hall outside his office.

  “What the hell was that?” he snarled.

  Immediately, the room fell silent.

  Sierra groaned in frustration. “Elvis.”

  As if on cue, the Polish rooster in question flapped his way into the office, ridiculous mess of crested feathers atop his head, bobbing with each step.

  Sierra tsked at the animal. “Why have you been following me everywhere?” She shook her head before turning back toward the crowded office. “Since I nursed him back to health from an infected wing, Elvis is practically family now.”

  As if that were a perfectly reasonable explanation…

  She was a madwoman. He was sure.

  And yet, she was going to be his wife, even if it killed him.

  He’d make certain of it.

  Chapter 5

  “All of you out.”

  The packmaster snarled the words with such forceful command that Sierra nearly turned tail herself, but from the incline of his head toward the rooster now flapping about her feet, she realized she wasn’t fortunate enough to be included in his order.

  Maverick leaned against his one-of-a-kind executive desk, the dim lighting of the sizable office casting shadows across his face. The polished dark maple of the unique piece he perched upon, coupled with the sheen of the coffered wooden ceilings overhead, looked too polished to belong to the hardened, rough cowboy who owned them.

  Because if looks could kill…

  “Out.” He growled again. “And take the damn rooster with you.”

  Sierra snorted, covering her mouth with her hand as she fought to hold in a laugh.

  The elite warriors exchanged glances before finally Blaze muttered a few displeased curses under his breath and corralled Elvis out of the office. Soon, nearly all the crew had made their exit. Only her brother lingered.

  “Your orders about the attack?”

  At the reminder, any humor Sierra had felt was gone.

  The thought of what happened in the woods sent a shiver down her spine. Someone was trying to kill their packmaster. Had Maverick not shielded her, the attacker would have killed her, too. It was a blatant attack on the pack, and if she had any say in the matter, she’d find out who’d orchestrated it. Then, she’d prove exactly how much she deserved the position he and his damn council had denied her.

  Maverick’s response to Colt was as decisive as it was cryptic. “Intel only. No one moves until we know what we’re facing.”

  Colt nodded before he made his exit, though not before his gaze darted between her and his friend with more than a hint of skepticism. Finally, as the door closed behind her brother, the goose bumps on Sierra’s skin intensified. This time, she couldn’t blame the cold autumn wind of the Montana mountainside. Deep down, she was aware of the source of her nerves.

  She was alone with Maverick again, and not only had he proposed to her, but then she’d stupidly gone and kissed him. Why in the world had she kissed him?

  Whatever point she’d intended to make at that moment, it was lost to her now. Not that it mattered. She’d come here with a purpose, and if she didn’t state it before he turned those piercing eyes on her, she might make a fool of herself again.

  The packmaster crossed his large arms over his chest, waiting for her to say her piece. He was shirtless from where Austin had stitched the knife wound in his side closed, and she was highly aware of it. Several stitches ran along the side of his muscled abdomen, interrupting the curving black tattoos that marked him as packmaster. The ancient markings covered the wide span of his back and wrapped around the chiseled muscles of his obliques.

  She still remembered what he’d looked like before the tattoos were there. Before he had made the idea of them an impossibility.

  But she didn’t dislike how they looked on him. That much was certain.

  She cleared her throat. “You owe me an apology.”

  He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “I saved your life, warrior.”

  Warrior.

  There was that title again. On his lips, it did things to her, things it shouldn’t have.

  And now to make matters worse, he’d saved her.

  That unfortunate fact hadn’t escaped her. He’d been valiant, brave, fierce. She’d only blacked out momentarily, courtesy of tha
t godforsaken tree stump, which meant she’d seen most of what he’d done for her. He hadn’t even hesitated. His life, the state of the pack, his title: he’d risked all of it. As she’d watched him eviscerate their enemy with such lethal precision, it had stolen her breath away to know that he’d risked everything for her.

  And it wasn’t the first time he’d done as much.

  To pretend she hadn’t been moved by his noble actions would have been disingenuous. Watching him risk his life to defend her had awakened something primal inside her, and of course, she was grateful she hadn’t had to suffer the wound herself, but he failed to see the obvious. She hadn’t needed him to be noble.

  She could have defended herself.

  “Of course you saved me, and I’m obviously grateful, but when word of that gets out to the pack, especially with the last moon of the lunar year being only a few nights from now and every damn packmember we have coming home to the ranch, you’ll have also made me look weak…and after the council already denied me.”

  “I think you and I have different definitions of the word ‘obviously,’ warrior.” He couldn’t have appeared less interested in her or her silly problems. “And as for the ceremony, I’m aware of it.”

  As packmaster, it was a tradition in which Maverick led them, so of course he was aware of it. She frowned. What he didn’t understand was that meant she’d have to face the whole pack, all from their own large, extended families—and being a female who didn’t walk the expected path… Lord, the endless questions. She could already feel the frustration and hurt building in her.

  Still chasing that long-shot warrior position? And now the council denied you? And you’re still not mated? What a shame.

  If she had to hear even one comment about why she still hadn’t found a mate, particularly this year, she might forcibly vomit on the unsuspecting culprit’s boots and use that as an excuse to skip out on the whole event. And now, on top of the usual, she’d have to deal with questions about the packmaster saving her.

  “That doesn’t change what you did,” she said.