Lone Wolf (First in Lone Wolf Series)

Chapter Fifteen

Grange had sent Trig and Nickolai patrolling, though Trig had come very close to disobeying the order before Nickolai had finally grabbed him and dragged him out the door, and Dawn was out grooming the horses, after having said that Grange’s pacing was driving her crazy.

Grange was pacing beside the couch waiting on the sleeping werelion to wake up. He didn’t like her sudden presence here, especially covered in bruises and clearly dead on her feet. She was running from someone dangerous, clearly, but were they dangerous because she was bad or because they were, that was the question he needed answered.

His agitated pacing came to a sudden stop when he heard the woman moan. She sat up quickly, a crazed look in her hazel eyes, as she glanced all around her and then her gaze settled on him.

Grange saw her tense, saw her lip curl in a feline snarl.

“Farrah, attacking me would not be in your best interests since I would have to kill you. My beta, Trig, found you and brought you here to my pack and my home. Do not make me regret allowing you to spend the night here.”

“Night?” she whispered as she jumped to her feet and ran to the window. The dress that Dawn had dressed her in was much too short and came up on her shins and Dawn had cinched it at the waist with a belt in effort to help it fit Farrah’s much more slender frame.

“Yes. You slept the entire night. Now what are you doing in my territory?” Grange asked as he crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. She moved with the lithe grace that all cats moved with. But there was something different about Farrah.

She was scared. She seemed almost a little crazed as she paced by the window and kept her eyes on the surrounding woods. Somehow this did not make Grange feel any better about her being here.

“I must go.” Farrah stated, and Grange heard an emotionless in her tone. Was she a soldier? It was well known that werelions were common mercenaries. Killers and thieves who were loyal to whoever was offering them the most money at any given moment.

“I can’t let you do that until you convince me that you are no danger to my mate or to my pack.”

Farrah turned and looked into his eyes for the first time. Grange scented the air and studied her eyes. Paying careful attention for any sign that she was a threat or a liar as she spoke.

“I am no threat to anyone here. But I really must go.” Grange nodded and motioned for the door. He certainly would not make her stay and he believed her when she said she was no threat. Grange saw her eyes fill with surprise and then she turned on her heels and quickly slinked out of the cabin.

Grange was relieved that she was gone, at least until he heard her hissing outside, following by a warning growl that had him running forward.

He jumped out the door, grabbed Farrah by her long dark hair and then threw her backward away from Dawn, though she caught herself before she hit the ground. Farrah remained crouched with one hand on the floor of the cabin bracing herself. Her long hair fell forward over her face as she looked up at Grange with her teeth bared.

“Grange!” Dawn exclaimed. “What in the world are you doing?!”

“I heard her threaten you.” he growled back as he stalked toward Farrah. Dawn gripped his arm and tugged on him.

“She was just scared. We bumped into each other.” Grange frowned and looked down at his mate. She was so small. Barely over five feet, light skin and an angelic face. She brought out every protective urge that he possessed and he could admit that the thought of her being harmed made him a little crazy.

But the idea of this werelion, who Grange had no doubt had been trained to kill, would be afraid of Dawn? That was laughable. His mate was soft, kind, gentle, a great cook, an amazing baker and even funny most of the time but scary? That she was not.