Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] by Lorie O'Clare

ground with humans. More so than ever before.” Johann’s patient tone grated on Marc’s nerves.
    “I don’t need a fucking history lesson,” he growled, managing to calm the beast in him enough that the darkness around him once again grew, his senses maintaining their human form. “We’ve got a situation down at Howley’s. If you’d like my assistance, I’m there for you. If not, I’m going home.”
    Johann took a moment, staring at him. The others around them remained quiet, which was a damned good thing. Marc held Johann’s gaze, allowing the werewolf time to accept his offer, or decline.
    “I can handle the matter.” Johann turned, without another word, and headed toward his Suburban.
    Marc knew declining his offer meant his pack leader was upset with him. Well, so fucking be it. The lunewulf was out of line to tell him how to lead his own life. He took off around the side of the house, stripping once he was alone.
    The change burned through him, anger and frustration egging it on. His body contorted, his heart pounding faster than a human body could handle. Feeling the cold night air against his fur, and inhaling the rich scents of the night, he burst into a hard run, needing to burn off energy.
    It wasn’t right for his pack leader to tell him who he could associate with. Werewolves had been interacting with humans for centuries, and peacefully too. Granted, now that the humans knew who they were, times had grown tougher. Yet that was exactly what had brought him together with Heather.
    He hadn’t voiced any commitment toward her. And at this point, he wasn’t sure what type of relationship they had. What he did know was that she was on his mind a lot—a hell of a lot more than any bitch he’d ever seen before.
    Tearing across the countryside, pushing himself hard as he worked his way toward his house, he realized that was where his anger toward Rousseau had stemmed from. It bothered him that Heather had gotten under his skin. He’d wanted to show her how werewolves really were, and her saucy attitude and damn sex appeal had sent him for a spin.
    Rousseau had been right. The timing on all of this sucked. And no matter how personal he would like to keep that side of his life, both he and Heather had high profile jobs. It wouldn’t be possible.
    And as bad as it had been for him just now with his pack leader, Marc knew it would be even worse for Heather if her kind were to find out.
    He slowed his pace, suddenly not in a hurry to get anywhere. Quite possibly the best thing to do would be to leave her alone.

Chapter Nine
     
    Heather took a deep breath before raising her hand to knock on Johann Rousseau’s door. After she’d managed to get his phone number, it had taken over a day before she had the nerve to call him. Part of her just wanted to forget she’d ever wanted to write an article about werewolves.
    But she needed to stay focused on her goals. Marc hadn’t come around. If she didn’t find something to concentrate on, she would go nuts. If only studying werewolves didn’t make her think about him even more.
    The tension between humans and werewolves in Prince George seemed to be escalating daily. Timing was perfect to put out a full-length article giving detailed insight on how these creatures lived. It would be the breaking point for her career, what she’d lived for, an answer to her dreams.
    Yet every time she went on an assignment, showed up at a place where she knew werewolves were, she immediately found herself looking for Marc.
    Tapping on the Rousseaus’ door, she cursed herself silently for wondering if she might not see him while she was here. But that wasn’t her reason for visiting with the pack leader. Somehow she needed to get Marc McAllister off of her brain.
    “You must be Heather.” A very pretty blonde answered the door, her hair short in a sporty punk haircut, and with just a touch of makeup. She even smelled good. “Come on in. I’m Samantha.”
    “It’s nice