Page 37 of Wedding for My Werewolf

His head snapped up as Thatcher’s scent reached him and he growled, his fangs extending as he placed himself between her and the bounty hunter.

“Leave. Now.” The words came out in a low snarl.

Thatcher smirked at him.

“No law against standing on a public street, Sheriff.” His voice dripped false innocence, but his eyes remained cold and assessing. “Just wanted to have a friendly chat with the lady here.”

His wolf howled for action, urging him to eliminate the threat, but he tamped down the impulse, keeping his voice steady despite the rage burning through his veins.

“This is your only warning.”

“Like I said…” Thatcher’s smirk widened. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

His claws slid from their sheaths, his control slipping as his wolf tried to take over. The bounty hunter’s eyes flickered between his claws and his rapidly lengthening fangs, and his smirk finally faltered. His hand moved towards the holster beneath his jacket, but Eric growled again and he stopped moving.

Thatcher looked over his shoulder at a sudden burst of laughter from the street behind him, then raised both hands as he took a step backwards.

“This isn’t over,” Thatcher said coldly. “She’s got unfinished business waiting for her.”

“It’s over.”

He held the man’s gaze, letting his eyes flash gold. Thatcher’s jaw clenched before he turned and melted into the crowd, his leather jacket disappearing among the normal flow of people. Eric continued to track his movements, muscles coiled tight, until the last trace of his scent vanished.

Behind him, Robin’s breath came in short gasp, and his wolf whined, urging him to comfort her. He turned, his heart aching at the sight of her pale face and trembling hands. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. She went rigid for a heartbeat, then collapsed against him, her fingers twisting into his shirt. Her racing heart thundered against his chest, as hebreathed in her scent, his wolf calming a little now that she was safe in his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, stroking her back soothingly. “You’re safe.”

She looked up at him, every freckle standing out against her white face, those big amber eyes haunted. The sight tore at something in his chest. His wolf paced beneath his skin, desperate to protect her.

“You don’t have to face this alone,” he said quietly. “Whatever it is, I’ll help you.”

“I… I…”

“Not here.” He picked her up, ignoring a faint muffled protest. “Home first.”

He carried her back to the cabin, taking the back streets, even though he wasn’t naive enough to believe that his actions would go unnoticed. She didn’t say anything, just huddled against him, small fingers still clutching his shirt. He kept his senses on high alert, ears and nose searching for any sign of danger. His wolf refused to relax, even though Thatcher’s scent had faded away.

Inside the cabin he placed her gently on the couch, then made her some tea, adding two dollops of honey to help with the shock.

“Drink this,” he said firmly as he handed it to her, then settled next to her on the couch. “Then tell me who that man is and why he is hunting you.”

She took a sip, then two, as he watched her face, tracking the subtle shifts in her expression. His wolf prowled beneath hisskin, bristling at her obvious distress. The scent of her fear lingered, souring the air between them.

The silence stretched, broken only by the soft tick of the kitchen clock and the whisper of wind through the trees outside. She gripped the mug tighter, her knuckles white against the ceramic, then sighed.

“He works for my former boss,” she said finally, her voice so quiet he might have missed it without his enhanced hearing. “I’ve been running from him. From everything.”

His wolf surged forward, demanding he eliminate whatever threatened her, but he tamped down the urge, forcing himself to remain still. Any sudden movement now might spook her back into silence.

“I used to work for a man named Martin Kendrick at Palmer Industries. I was his executive assistant.” Her voice cracked. “He had me sign papers all the time. Authorizations, transfers, documents for the board. I never questioned it.”

His gut clenched, already suspecting where this was going.

“One night, I stayed late to finish some reports. Martin was in his office talking to someone on the phone. The door was open just enough…” Her pulse jumped at her throat. “He was laughing about how clever he’d been. How he’d managed to funnel millions through shell companies, but the paper trails all led back to me. My signatures were on everything.”

Her hands shook, tea sloshing against the sides of the mug. “He knew exactly what he was doing, and he set me up to take the fall if anyone caught on. As soon as he hung up, I confronted him but he just sat there, smirking at me. He said no one would believeme. I threatened to go to the police and he laughed and picked up the phone. Said he’d call them first. That’s when I ran.”

“That bastard,” he growled, the sound vibrating through the space between them. He knew his eyes had flashed gold, overwhelmed by raw, protective fury, but she didn’t shrink away from him.

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