Read Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy for Free Online Page B

sigh of contentment.
    He knew exactly when she recognized the pole pressing her
spine. She tensed. Fresh fear nipped his nose. “That’s nothing for you to be
concerned about. Werewolves are sensualists, easily aroused, but I’m not a pup.
I control my wolf and my cock.”
    She flinched, putting distance between them. His wolf howled
while the man clamped his jaw. His reassurance hadn’t erased her fear. The
brief sensual spell had been broken.
    Peter and the Wolf played from his jeans pocket. Chet ignored Daniel’s rotten timing and wielded
the hand sprayer, rinsing every bit of shampoo from his female’s hair. Even
without the body contact he craved, he enjoyed caring for her more than he
would have believed possible. Both he and his beast approved of her natural
scent layered with his favorite soap. He swallowed a possessive growl,
remembering how she’d stiffened in his arms earlier.
    Her toes began to prune from the water, so he turned off the
shower, grabbed a bath sheet for her, and swathed his hips in terry. Once he’d
snuggled her in the fluffy towel, he sat her on the closed toilet and used hand
towels to rub her hair dry. When her heavy locks were only damp, he dug out a
wide-toothed comb and began working out the tangles, starting from the ends.
The long mane was streaked with dozens of subtle shades of natural blonde and
brown. He wondered if her wolf would have the same tawny coloring.
    She made little cries of contentment like a pup with a full
belly and a patch of sunny grass for rolling. A pleased-with-her growl escaped
his lips.
    “Tell me that was a happy noise,” she teased, but her eyes
were full of wary glints.
    “Absolutely.” He started to grin and then worried his smile
was too feral. He ducked his head and concentrated on undoing a troublesome
knot.
    “I guess werewolves are a lot like regular people—some mean
and dangerous and others kind and gentle.”
    He thought about letting her speculation go with a nod, but
lying, even silent lying, wasn’t a good basis for anything real. And he found
that he wanted real with her very much.
    “Werewolves may look like ordinary people, but we’re
fundamentally different, and we’re all dangerous.” She didn’t start screaming—a
good sign. He kept combing.
    “Are you allowed to tell me what makes werewolves
different?”
    “Staying off the grid is our general rule one. So if you
were human, no.”
    “You seem certain that I’m…not altogether human. Why?” Her
big, moss-green eyes held a lot of worried puzzlement.
    “My nose tells me you’re a Beta.”
    “Your nose is never wrong?”
    “Not yet.” He smoothed the silky sections he’d untangled.
    “Then this is a first for you. I haven’t grown fur and
started howling yet, and the monster bit me more than a day ago.”
    “You don’t turn into a werewolf because a rogue bites you.
In order to shift, you have to be born wolf.”
    “I wasn’t, so that’s never happening.”
    “How well do you know your parents?”
    She was quiet for so long, he wondered if she was going to
answer. “I don’t know my father. My mother died when I was a toddler, but they
were human.”
    Her tone had been defensive and worried. He kept his own
voice carefully neutral. “Who raised you?”
    “An excellent nanny and a series of exclusive boarding schools.
At twenty-one I received access to a trust fund that ensures I will never want
for anything, so don’t you dare pity me.”
    “Wouldn’t think of it.” Her childhood might have been less
frightening, but it sounded every bit as lonely as his.
    “And forget about me keeping quiet. I didn’t swear any pack
loyalty oath.”
    She was still scared and giving him attitude anyway. Damn,
he liked her. “Staying off the human radar isn’t an oath. It is a matter of
survival. Humans have a long history of hunting and killing what scares them.
Rogues are scary—no argument. Hunting them to protect humans and the pack is a
big part of what