Her Viking Wolves: 50 Loving States, Michigan by Theodora Taylor Page B
Authors: Theodora Taylor
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the other side of my protective wall of wolves.
Olafr. I sense the growl’s origin even though I can no longer see him. And then I know it for sure when I hear FJ gravely say, “Brother, do not. Stay in control of yourself.”
My wolf stumbles a little inside of me, both terrified…and compelled.
But my human has no doubts about what I need to do. Run! she screams at me, when I see every king in the room put a hand on their tranq guns.
As if reading my thoughts, Alisha says, very carefully in a low voice, “Don’t, Tee. That will only make him come after you faster. Let us handle it.”
Sure, sure…my upstairs brain can see her logic. The worst thing any would-be prey can do is run from a faster, stronger predator who’s already got her scent.
But then Olafr’s growling shifts into a full-on engine, revving to come after me, and I can feel true panic set in, yelling, Run, bitch, run!
“Don’t, Tee,” I hear Alisha say again, somewhere in the distance. “Daddy, Rafe, Grady, Mag, maybe you should…”
I see them all raise their tranq guns, not needing to be told.
But it’s too late. My scaredy-cat human’s already made up her mind. I turn and haul ass out of the clinic as fast as my legs can carry me.
As I push through the door, I hear raised voices and the sharp, whooshing sounds of several tranq guns going off behind me.
But instead of the thud of a dropped body, I hear another set of feet pounding behind me and then I smell campfire and fir trees.
Oh no! They must have missed! My mind nearly collapses in on itself in horror. They missed! And now Olafr’s right behind me!
Which means I’m totally screwed.
The ensuing blind panic makes me run even faster. That’s the only thing I can credit for how my big ass nearly makes it down the entire street before Olafr tackles me, sending us both crashing into a bank of snow on the side of the road.
I spit out a mouthful of icy cold, mind scrambling to figure out what to do. Dude, I cannot let this wolf get me into a mounting position again. Adrenaline at ten, I jack knife on to my back, so I’ll at least have a fighting chance—
I scream when large hands suddenly grab on to my legs, and Olafr’s pulls me underneath his body, like he isn’t wounded and I weigh nothing.
“No,” I yell at him, kicking and scratching. My hand finds skin, and the smell of fresh blood hits the air when I rake my nails across his face.
We both pause then. Me shocked that I actually managed to hurt him. Him probably for the same reason.
He sits back on his haunches, one large hand covering his face. His eyes are glowing now. Like our eyes often do when our wolf gets too close to the surface.
He stares at me with those glowing eyes, his expression both confused and apologetic. And then, possibly because this night just wanted to out-do itself at next year’s “What the Fuck?” awards, Olafr morphs back into a wolf.
My breath catches and I quickly sit all the way up. Olafr’s wolf is horror movie large, but a beautiful specimen to be sure, with a magnificent coat of copper red hair and strong white teeth.
And he’s coming right toward me. Now I start to scramble backwards, but before I can get too far, he pushes his muzzle into my chest. And when I bring my hand up to fend him off, he pushes his face into my palm. Once, twice, then a third time, like, “C’mon, do your job, lady!’
“Do you…?” I start, then stop. Because surely this can’t be what this large, man-eating wolf wants. “Do you want me to pet you?”
Now it’s his turn to look confused. He probably doesn’t understand much English, I remind myself. Have I mentioned I am so confused? Because I totally am.
“Um…pet,” I repeat. “Like this…”
I stroke a hand over his red hair. And this must be what he wants because he dips his head into my hand. Like a much-pleased beast. And maybe, just maybe I misunderstood the situation that almost went down because he growls in a way that
Olafr. I sense the growl’s origin even though I can no longer see him. And then I know it for sure when I hear FJ gravely say, “Brother, do not. Stay in control of yourself.”
My wolf stumbles a little inside of me, both terrified…and compelled.
But my human has no doubts about what I need to do. Run! she screams at me, when I see every king in the room put a hand on their tranq guns.
As if reading my thoughts, Alisha says, very carefully in a low voice, “Don’t, Tee. That will only make him come after you faster. Let us handle it.”
Sure, sure…my upstairs brain can see her logic. The worst thing any would-be prey can do is run from a faster, stronger predator who’s already got her scent.
But then Olafr’s growling shifts into a full-on engine, revving to come after me, and I can feel true panic set in, yelling, Run, bitch, run!
“Don’t, Tee,” I hear Alisha say again, somewhere in the distance. “Daddy, Rafe, Grady, Mag, maybe you should…”
I see them all raise their tranq guns, not needing to be told.
But it’s too late. My scaredy-cat human’s already made up her mind. I turn and haul ass out of the clinic as fast as my legs can carry me.
As I push through the door, I hear raised voices and the sharp, whooshing sounds of several tranq guns going off behind me.
But instead of the thud of a dropped body, I hear another set of feet pounding behind me and then I smell campfire and fir trees.
Oh no! They must have missed! My mind nearly collapses in on itself in horror. They missed! And now Olafr’s right behind me!
Which means I’m totally screwed.
The ensuing blind panic makes me run even faster. That’s the only thing I can credit for how my big ass nearly makes it down the entire street before Olafr tackles me, sending us both crashing into a bank of snow on the side of the road.
I spit out a mouthful of icy cold, mind scrambling to figure out what to do. Dude, I cannot let this wolf get me into a mounting position again. Adrenaline at ten, I jack knife on to my back, so I’ll at least have a fighting chance—
I scream when large hands suddenly grab on to my legs, and Olafr’s pulls me underneath his body, like he isn’t wounded and I weigh nothing.
“No,” I yell at him, kicking and scratching. My hand finds skin, and the smell of fresh blood hits the air when I rake my nails across his face.
We both pause then. Me shocked that I actually managed to hurt him. Him probably for the same reason.
He sits back on his haunches, one large hand covering his face. His eyes are glowing now. Like our eyes often do when our wolf gets too close to the surface.
He stares at me with those glowing eyes, his expression both confused and apologetic. And then, possibly because this night just wanted to out-do itself at next year’s “What the Fuck?” awards, Olafr morphs back into a wolf.
My breath catches and I quickly sit all the way up. Olafr’s wolf is horror movie large, but a beautiful specimen to be sure, with a magnificent coat of copper red hair and strong white teeth.
And he’s coming right toward me. Now I start to scramble backwards, but before I can get too far, he pushes his muzzle into my chest. And when I bring my hand up to fend him off, he pushes his face into my palm. Once, twice, then a third time, like, “C’mon, do your job, lady!’
“Do you…?” I start, then stop. Because surely this can’t be what this large, man-eating wolf wants. “Do you want me to pet you?”
Now it’s his turn to look confused. He probably doesn’t understand much English, I remind myself. Have I mentioned I am so confused? Because I totally am.
“Um…pet,” I repeat. “Like this…”
I stroke a hand over his red hair. And this must be what he wants because he dips his head into my hand. Like a much-pleased beast. And maybe, just maybe I misunderstood the situation that almost went down because he growls in a way that
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