Half-breed Wolf by Shiloh Saddler Page B

stern
tone.
    Panic flashed in the colored man’s
eyes, but he did not move.
    Mr. Pierce mounted and the three men
rode away. Oliver was glad to be rid of the lot. He looked the
stranger over with an appraising eye. He couldn’t be more than
twenty. In the moonlight he saw his features were more Indian than
African although his parentage was clearly both. So that’s how he
became a shifter.
    He’d never heard of an African
shifter—at least not in the United States. But there were plenty of
Indian shifters. Even though the man averted his eyes, every muscle
screamed anger.
    The hairs on Oliver’s arms bristled.
He’d have to handle this one with kid gloves.
    The man showed his clenched teeth. “I
don’t belong to you, sir. I belong to no one.”
    Oliver bobbed his head
slightly. Not for long. “You think they’d believe that?” Oliver’s gaze
shifted to where the patrollers had disappeared down the road. “You
know they’d take my word over yours.”
    The stranger grunted. He was trapped
and he knew it. His erect posture softened to a meek
demeanor.
    Now where should he start the
conversation? The best place to start was usually the beginning.
“Was your sire a shifter?”
    The slight man stared at his moccasin
clad feet. “Yes, sir.”
    “ You belong to a pack?”
Oliver asked even though he already knew the answer.
    He drew a sharp breath. “Not any more,
sir.” His voice was airy. If it hadn’t been for his keen hearing he
probably wouldn’t have caught the words.
    Oliver’s nostrils flared. He inhaled
the man’s masculine scent a heady mix of leather and sweat and a
hint of pine. His tongue circled his lips, wishing he was tasting
him instead.
    “ Stand up straight,”
Oliver ordered.
    Immediately the stranger’s spine
snapped taut. Their eyes met. The heat in the colored man’s gaze
told Oliver all he needed to know. He preferred men.
    Trying hard to hold back a
smile, Oliver circled the man, his footsteps measured, firm,
methodical. He’s inner wolf screamed Mate and his cock
stirred.
    He concentrated on controlling his
breathing. He didn’t want the Omega wolf to scamper away. He might
not get another chance at a mate for years. Submissive males were a
rarity, and not all submissive males were sodomites. This chance
meeting could be his lucky night if he played his hand
right.
    “ What’s your name, boy?”
Oliver whispered in his ear.
    His closeness elicited a tiny shiver.
“Lance, sir.”
    Lance’s buckskin breeches showed off
his tight ass. Despite his small stature, Oliver could tell he
would be delightfully toned underneath his clothes. He caught
Lance’s chin and the man closed his eyes.
    “ I’m not going to hurt
you.” He spoke in a soothing tone. “I promise.”
    Lance didn’t move. He looked poised to
absorb a blow.
    Oliver took a step back, giving him
more space. He didn’t mean to be intimidating. He was powerfully
built yes, but he would never hurt his own kind unprovoked. “My
name’s Oliver. Oliver Sawyer.”
    “ Pleased to meet you,
sir,” Lance said although he looked far from pleased, more like he
had a toothache.
    Oliver didn’t know whether to sigh or
laugh. “Please open your eyes.”
    Lance did as he was told. Oliver found
their slate gray coloring with flecks of amber very
mesmerizing.
    Lance continued to look
wary, unsure. Raised by his father’s pack he probably didn’t trust
a white man, not that he could blame him. A trail of the
government’s broken promises was in itself a lot for him to
overcome. But he had to try. His inner wolf continued to
scream mate ,
until it was hard for him to think.
    Oliver turned Lance’s head from one
side to the other, carefully inspecting him. When he traced the S
brand with his finger, Lance’s muscles turned to stone. “It’s a
pity that brand marred your handsome face.”
    Lance’s forehead creased. “You think
I’m handsome?”
    Oliver chuckled. The Omega was fishing
for a compliment. Well, he didn’t