Wolf Tracker by Cynthia Sax

Wolf Tracker
by Cynthia Sax

Cover art: Bryan Keller
ISBN: 978-1-60521-690-4
Genre(s): Paranormal, Wildest West
Theme(s): Werewolves, Shapeshifters, Men and Women in Uniform, Alternative Universe
Series: Wolves of the Wild West
Length: Novella
Page Count: 38

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Blurb
Trace has hunted the deadliest outlaws in the Wild West, but that tracking ain't nothing compared to the dangers of courting his werewolf sweetheart, Harriet. He wrangles a deal with her brother, the alpha of her pack. Trace will wait for a year to ask Harriet to marry him, and the alpha will give them the pack's blessing.
When a rival werewolf pack takes Harriet, Trace reckons he'll do his courting with a six-shooter and a fistful of silver bullets. 'Cause no one touches Trace's woman and lives.
Excerpt
Wolf Tracker
Cynthia Sax
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2011 Cynthia Sax

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Harriet was being hunted.
She crept between the rock facings, in wolf form, dragging her tail in the red dirt. Erasing her paw prints merely delayed their confrontation.
Trace would find her. He was the best tracker in the territory.
And when he did... She wiggled her rump.
Her nostrils twitched. His scent flavored the night breeze with musk and arousal. Trace was gaining on her. Harriet dashed along the trail, moving faster and faster until her muscles ached and she panted, her tongue hanging out of her open mouth.
Boot-covered feet smacked stone. As he normally moved as silently as any shifter, the noise was a deliberate declaration of intent. He would catch her. Soon.
The path straightened, and her withers quivered with awareness. He was close enough to see her, the full moon lighting the ground, coloring the rocks gray and blue.
She shifted as she ran, her fur becoming bare flesh and her front paws becoming human hands. Trace inhaled sharply, and she smiled, smelling his frustration -- the aroma raw and poignant and exciting.
He wanted her, and despite the hurt he would soon inflict upon her, she wanted him too, her pussy moistening and her nipples tightening in anticipation. The trail widened, revealing a suitable spot for their confrontation.
Harriet stopped, glancing around her, and she backed into a recess in the rock wall, her bare ass pressed against cool stone. There she waited, hiding in the shadows.
Trace stepped into the open area, his broad shoulders blocking the moonlight, and Harriet froze, her gaze fixed on his muscular form. Her human lover exemplified all that was wild and primitive and fierce. Buckskin clung to his body, and his long, brown hair hung loose down his back. He had arrived for their rendezvous armed: a knife strapped to his narrow hips, and a rifle clutched in his big hands.
He raised his chin, displaying a profile consisting of angles and strength, and Harriet's fingers twitched, the compulsion to stroke his high, proud cheekbones nearly overwhelming her sense of self-preservation. He sniffed, his nostrils flaring.
Did he smell her warm, wet pussy? Harriet's breath hitched -- the sound obscenely loud.
His head turned. Silver glinted in his smoke-gray eyes while his grim lips curled into a smug smile. Without looking away, he propped the rifle against the wall of rock.
He had spotted her.
Harriet pushed away from the stone, launching her body into the air. She bounced off a solid wall of chest. Large, tanned hands slapped flat against the rocks, trapping her face between them, the tracker's muscular arms creating a cage around her.
"Got you." Trace's deep voice rumbled through the cool night air. Heat rose off his body, seductively reaching out toward her.
She licked her bottom lip, and his gaze followed the nervous sweep of her tongue, his face darkening ominously. "And what will you do with me?" Harriet feigned bravery. She tilted her face upward. His breath fanned her skin, caressing her eyelashes.
He leaned into her, his buckskin shirt brushing against her nipples. "This." His mouth dipped to cover hers, his lips firm and possessing as he claimed his prize. She opened to his questing tongue, allowing him to explore her softness, and he blazed a trail of fire and desire, mapping her soul with the tip of his tongue.
"Trace." Harriet moaned, reaching up to encircle his neck with her arms, holding his huge physique to her smaller form. Trace slid his callused palms around to the small of her back, his fingers resting on her spine, as they kissed like they'd never kissed before, and might never kiss again, his surges into her synchronizing to the pounding of her heart.
"She-wolf." He pulled back from her, lightning bolts of passion shooting across his stormy eyes, and Harriet took a tentative step forward, blindly following him, her bare soles connecting with cool rock.
"You tracked me." She gazed up at him.
Trace loosened the laces at his neck and tugged his buckskin shirt over his head, the action tousling his long hair and revealing a chest covered with smooth, tanned skin and ridged with muscles.
"Hunted me." Harriet examined him from under her partially lowered eyelids, want settling low in her womb.
"Yeah." Trace kicked off his worn, leather boots and removed his breeches, his legs corded with toned flesh and his cock jutting out from a base covered with brown curls. "Always."
He stood in front of her, proudly naked except for the knife strapped to his hip, and Harriet ran her hands over his pecs, circling his flat, male nipples with her fingertips, marveling that he was hers, this marvelous human male.
"Always?" It was a lie, as he was only hers for the moment. Others made demands on his time.
"Yeah." Trace wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her forward, crushing her to his hard body, driving her head back with the force of his kiss. "I need you, wolf."
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