Brand of the Pack - Tera Shanley Page 0,1

still wanted her too. This sprawling new land that her mate had set up for his growing pack didn’t smell like her home. Not yet.

She lolled her tongue out of the side of her mouth in a wolfish grin and sprinted for the woods. She’d have to change that.

Thorny mesquite brush and feathery grass taller than her ears doused the land in a dangerous beauty. Cottonwood seeds floated the wind like snow, and sunlight, as gold as her mate’s eyes, permeated the thick canopy of oak. This place was magic.

Birds called back and forth from the gnarly branches above. Squirrels flung themselves with reckless abandon through the trees, and the erratic heartbeats of bunnies, hiding in their underground homes, sounded and faded as she trotted past. Deer trails snaked through the woods, like roads on a map, and she followed one to a creek.

And everywhere, everything smelled like Greyson.

She’d missed his scent more than anything else. That tiny, unconscious reminder that he was around, and she was safe. The months without his smell had done something terrible to her heart.

Cool water lapped against her mouth as she drank from the creek. As she sat on the bank, tadpoles and minnows swam in tiny sanctuaries made by reeds and felled branches, and somewhere nearby, a bullfrog croaked.

Her timing wasn’t awesome. She’d visited the apartment in the city to beg his forgiveness, but an elderly lady with neon blue hair had answered instead. She’d never heard of Greyson, and when she called Rachel, first lady werewolf of the Dallas pack, to figure out where Grey was living, she never would’ve guessed he would be so close.

And how in molasses did Grey have the means to buy land and a giant log cabin like this? The man had some major ’splaining to do.

She loved him. God, she loved him so much it hurt to be away from him, but the damage done by the Montana pack that had kidnapped her was as wide as a canyon. Such trauma had a cost, and the price had been her soul. He would see how broken she was now, but wasn’t that what love was all about? Sharing your life completely with someone. Displaying your flaws and asking them to accept all of you, and in return, doing the same for them.

She didn’t know. Maybe this was all too soon and she’d break them both by coming back in her weakened state. It wasn’t just Grey she had to apologize to either. He had Wolf. Or maybe Wolf had him. Wolf, that stoic, scary beast of a creature who loved her differently than any human ever could, but who also scared the ever-loving dookie out of her on a biweekly basis. What if she pressed a relationship, and her tainted heart brought out his dominant instincts?

Visions of Grey snapping her kidnapper’s leg with a rabid smile on his face flashed across her mind and sank her heart like a river rock thrown in the babbling creek before her. No, he’d never turn that churning darkness he possessed onto her, no matter how broken she was.

Grey loved her. Wolf had chosen her as his mate. She had to stop running from fate and get on with her life already. And if she wanted a shot at happiness, it was going to be with him.

A fat fly buzzed lazily around her, and she snapped at it. Missed.

Ugh, what if I’d actually caught that?

Being a werewolf was gross.

The breeze picked up, laced with Grey’s scent. She perked up and followed it to a deer trail he must’ve frequented. She snaked through the woods on the path and tried to see it through his eyes. He was building a pack, and first in it would be Marissa, the young werewolf he’d taken under his care. He had needed land to hold a pack and secured it somehow. Ducking low-lying limbs and jumping felled logs, she wove through the land he so obviously loved. His smell drifted this way and that, sometimes sticking to the trail, but more often weaving through the trees like something had caught his attention. Prey perhaps.

Mushrooms and moss, plum trees, day lilies, and Indian paintbrush dotted the land with color. Grey must have planted the acres of alfalfa and corn that stretched across open fields. Morgan sat and cocked her head. Clever black wolf. He was bringing in an active population of deer to his land.

His scent marked the edges of his territory as if there