Page 11 of Cowboy Wolf Christmas

She shivered a little, trying to ignore the cold at her back as she worked. At least her true nature was keeping her somewhat warm. Her wolf enjoyed the cold. No way could she do this without gloves and laying in the snow if she’d been human. She’d started off with a pair to cover her hands of course, but once she’d acclimated, she’d quickly abandoned them.

She liked tofeelthe metal in her hands as she tinkered, worked.

“Are you almost done?” Silas grumbled again.

It was maybe the tenth time he’d asked it.

He’d been on edge since the moment they’d arrived, though Cheyenne couldn’t say she blamed him. There was something eerie about the now-abandoned ranch, about knowing that the handful of shifters, her subpackmates, who used to live here had lost their lives to their bloodsucking enemies here only a few years before. Not long past Christmas.

As a former Wild Eight, Silas would understand that kind of violence firsthand. The mark it left on the land. It changed a man. Or so she’d been told.

“Almost.” Cheyenne grunted as she tried to loosen a particularly icy lug-nut. Her wrench couldn’t seem to get a hold on it now that she was in a hurry. She’d spent more time exploring the truck’s stalled out engine than she should have before she’d started in on her true task.

“We were supposed to be back on the road before nightfall,” Silas reminded her again.

She was far too aware that had been the plan, at least. But when they’d arrived, the truck hadn’t been parked in the garage like the pack inventory sheet had said. Like it was supposed to be. It’d taken time to locate it. Time they hadn’t had. The deviation in the plan had made her nervous, irritated. Whoever had been up here last to gather supplies or work on the old ranch’s restoration clearly hadn’t returned it to its rightful spot like they were supposed to. So then the tinkering began as a way to cope. The concentration on work.

As soon as she’d gotten under the truck’s hood, she’d taken comfort from being off schedule by doing what she loved. Working with her hands.

She had a hard time pulling herself out when her focus locked in like this.

Time failed to matter. Like it disappeared.

“I’ll just be another minute,” she said.

Silas growled again, but this time, it sounded harsher. More warning. “Cheyenne.”

She let out an annoyed huff, frustration racking through her. Shehatedto be interrupted when she was hyper-focused like this. “IsaidI’ll be done in just a—”

A rough calloused hand pressed over her mouth.

Cheyenne stiffened. Froze.

She glanced toward him then. Silas was crouched beside the truck now, his hand pressing over her mouth to quiet her. She had to fight to keep still, not to recoil and he seemed to realize it, that she didn’t like to be touched suddenly or without warning, because slowly, he removed his hand from her lips, lifting a single finger to his own to indicate she should be quiet.

Making her realize there was a reason for it.

Careful not to make a sound, she slipped out from underneath the vehicle. The snow had picked up considerably while she worked, coming down so heavy it made it difficult even for her nocturnal eyes to see. Night had already fallen around them. The shadows darkened the abandoned ranch into an endless stretch of starry Montana sky. The snow beneath glittered like it too was made of stardust instead of an infinite number of tiny ice crystals.

It was breathtaking, beautiful really, and yet, something about it felt off, eerie.

Silently, Silas nodded toward the trees, to the darkened snarled branches of the forest. It was a sight her wolf normally would have welcomed, like the trees were calling her home, but right now, it looked a bit sinister with the whole of the ranch abandoned, empty like this. Silas’ eyes flashed to the golden glow of his wolf, silently confirming.

There was something out there. In the darkness.

Cheyenne stilled.

Vampires.

She’d thought Maverick had been being overcautious. All things considered. She hadn’t actually expected any of their bloodsucking enemies would follow them out here and so near Christmas. A shuddered exhale tore from her lips, causing her breath to swirl around her face like smoke.

Silas shook his head, pressing another finger to his lips to remind her to stay quiet, before abruptly, he shifted into his wolf. His clothes and the pack issued cell phone in his pocket fell to the ground in an abandoned heap as bone, sinew, and limbs twisted. A moment later, he was nudging his cold, damp nose against her hand, her leg, urging her to join him. But she was frozen, immobile.

Nipping at her ankles, he slowly herded her a few steps to the right, rubbing and nudging against her. The fur of his coat brushed against her skin of her human form, making her remember herself, working her through her fear. Long enough to allow her to join him.

She shook her head, focusing enough so that she was on all four paws beside him a moment later. The sensation of shifting back and forth had been one she had to get used to when she’d been a child, first learning to shift, but she’d been doing it so long now that’d it’d become second nature. As much as part of her as her autism.

Different and yet full of its own kinds of beauty, strength.

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