Mated to the Wild

By Mary Winter

He's the alpha of the Nail Creek Pack, and his job is to keep his pack safe.

She's discovers wolf signs, and is determined to keep her livestock safe at any cost.

What's an alpha werewolf to do when he discovers that his mate is the bobcat shifter who lives next door? Why show her that not only can he protect his pack, but he can also protect her and her livestock as well. After all, who says cats and dogs always have to fight?

One steamy night with him, and she'll realize that she's mated to the wild.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mary Winter
• Release date: Dec 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370807727

Book preview

Mated To The Wild

BOOK 1

by Mary Winter

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Mated to the Wild

Copyright © W.M. Kirkland, 2017

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Cover Art ® 2017

Cover art by Unscramblet Author Solutions

Book formatting by Unscramblet Author Solutions (http://www.unscramblet.com)

Electronic Publication Date: December 2017

Print Publication Date: December 2017

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the author.

Chapter One

With little flourish, Clare finished dabbing antiseptic on the deep scratch down the goat’s back. The tawny fur was stained red around the edges, the scratch going from shoulder down across the barrel as if something had tried to swipe at the creature. Maybe it had. Or maybe it waited until the goat had fainted, laying rigid on the ground, to attack. Either way, Claire growled under her breath at the audacity of the creature to come into her pasture on her land and attack her goats. Her beautiful herd of Myotonic, or fainting, Goats.

She stood and went to the corner of the pasture where she’d seen the print. It remained, a deep paw print with claw marks on the end, made in fresh, soft ground. She sniffed. The overwhelming scent of canine hit her nostrils and nearly made her gag. Those fucking wolves. She strode down the fence line to the gate, searching for more signs, and passed through onto the national forest that bordered her property. Here more of the prints littered the ground, large and small as if there might have been two of the creatures here.

Tonight she’d make sure this didn’t happen again. Passing back to her own property she made a check of her livestock. All were safe, except the large scratch on Bluebell’s side. At least the stress hadn’t done any other lasting damage, and Claire trusted that the animal would heal well. The wound hadn’t even required stitches or a trip into the vet’s office. Not yet anyway.

Her skin itched with the need to shift and run. Later. The whispered promise to her cat kept the urges at bay long enough for her to step inside and head to her office in order to unlock the gun safe and see what she had on hand. Certainly more than enough to take down a rogue wolf; they weren’t native here so the one who tried to feast on her goats was most likely a young male driven from his territory somewhere out west. She had little sympathy for it. Kill or be killed, that was the law of nature, and while she’d hate to destroy such a beautiful creature, law—both state and Mother Nature—were on her side.

Lunch, then scouting out a good place for tonight, and maybe a run, were on the agenda. She strode to the kitchen, once more securing her hair into its pony tail as she went, and grabbed a plate from the cupboard. One ham and turkey sandwich with thick slabs of Swiss cheese on her homemade rye bread later she felt fortified enough to scout. Keeping her human form, she headed into the national forest next to her pasture and looked for the perfect tree in which to perch. Tonight, if the wolf came back for her goats, it would not leave. Her flock came first; the very reason why they trusted her in spite of her smelling like big cat was that they knew she’d protect them with tooth, claw, and in this case, a 30-30 rifle.

~* * *~

The sight of the alpha pacing behind his large, oak desk, pausing every once and a while to rest his fist on the blotter before glaring at the young man sitting in the chair, should have cowered anyone who saw. To the young pup he looked ashamed, but not afraid. Julian didn’t want to have the boy afraid of him, but he needed to have the fear of God put into him. Attacking a neighbor’s livestock was the recipe for discovery and possibly worse. Julian stopped and took a deep breath.

The young man’s tawny hair was still mussed from sleep. First changes hit them hard. His lanky frame hadn’t yet muscled out, and his voice still cracked, giving him a young pup look, though he was nearly seventeen. Certainly old enough to understand the ramifications of what he’d done.

You can’t go over and apologize to her, but I want you to think of some way to make it up to her. I’ve heard in town, Miss Casswood loves her goats like her kids. You can’t lose control like that and not expect to pay for it. I’ve discussed the situation with your father, and he agrees that a few weeks working for your uncle will do you some good. Now that school’s out, I’m sure you’ll also have plenty of time to help out around here. He sat in the chair and leaned forward. Do you understand?

Toby nodded. Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean--

I know you didn’t. Julian cut off his words. But that doesn’t mean shit when you wounded livestock and risked discovery. We’ve just finished with the DNR sniffing around after locals reported wolves in the woods. It wasn’t his pack, thank goodness, that had caused all the trouble, but a neighboring one. For once he’d like to go a month, hell even a week, without wolves running amok. Your father is going to drive you over to the ranch for the week.

Toby nodded again. Yes, sir.

A wave of sympathy for the boy pulled Julian to his feet and around the front of his desk. He leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest and imagined he looked much like his father had some twenty-five or so years ago. Hey, you lost control. But you stopped yourself before any long-lasting damage was done. You can recover from this. The pack will recover from this. Now go pack. I understand that your father wants to leave within the hour.

Thank you, sir. Toby waited a moment before standing and hurrying out of the den.

Julian breathed deeply and waited until the teenager was gone before going behind his desk once more. As he sat down, he wondered if perhaps a visit to Miss Casswood would be in order. Then again, what would he say. Sorry one of my young wolves lost control and almost killed your goat. What the hell do you do with a fainting goat anyway? Livestock he understood. His brother’s thousand acre cattle ranch produced some of the best Angus beef in the Ozarks. His sister had a couple of milk goats for her soap-making business and they had a small meat herd with two Great Pyrenees guard dogs for when the urge to hunt became too much. The dogs guaranteed they failed more often than they succeeded.

Maybe he ought to switch, maybe go into sheep or something. Except he really wasn’t fond of sheep, and he hated it when wool got between his teeth.

~* * *~

An owl hooted in the large oak tree a few hundred yards behind her. Crouching in the make-shift tree-stand she built in the crook of two large branches, she stared not at her goat herd, but back into the national forest. If that wolf showed up tonight, it would be his last.

Movement caught her attention. She sniffed. Deer. A big buck judging by the