Allister, J. Rose - Discarded Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

Lone Wolves of Shay Falls

J. ROSE ALLISTER

Copyright ©

Chapter One

Talaitha was in a hurry again, an ironic condition for someone who’d spent half the trip to Shay Falls feeling as though her life was frozen in suspended animation.

“Make sure you bring the
white
sage this time!” her father was yelling.

With her back to him, he couldn’t see her eyes roll. “I know, Papa.”

“Hurry, child. It’s getting away! Vanje, watch out! Don’t let it get its teeth in you.”

The men were shouting orders to one another in a mixture of English and Romani while she raced toward the RV.
Child
, he’d called her, and not just because she was his only daughter. When would he ever see her as something less than inept?

Talaitha hefted her long skirt enough to climb the steps into the vehicle she called home, trying to recall where she’d last seen the white sage bundle. She was frantically digging through a wooden box of supplies when she heard a scream loud enough to prickle the hairs along the back of her sweat-dampened neck. One of the men was being attacked.

She clenched her teeth and slammed the lid shut, almost forgetting the matchbox on her way out. She was already muttering the incantation on the run as she lit the sage bundle, releasing thick tendrils of white smoke. When she approached the group, she steered far clear of the battle in progress and walked a perimeter around them, tracing a white smoke circle in the air.

“Counterclockwise, Tal,” her father said. As clan leader, the great Zakono Koppel was nothing if not good at giving orders. His grizzled face was compressed into a determined squint while he and four of the others, each bearing long metal poles with loops attached, surrounded the creature.

She subdued the urge to point out she was already walking counterclockwise, instead focusing on her spell. “For protection I draw this circle,” she proclaimed. “For me and mine, no harm may come. To the darkness lurking within, you are bound. You cannot pass.”

Birds that had been chattering excitedly from the pine trees surrounding the campsite fell suddenly silent, and a breeze arose to caress her words and waft strands of dark hair around her face. As she reached the halfway mark, she had to step around poor Vanje, who was lying on his back on the ground. The man was gritting his teeth, and his dark eyes were narrowed in obvious pain from a wound bleeding freely on the forearm he was clutching. If he had been bitten, legend said he would change quickly. Tonight began the full moon cycle, after all. Either way, she had no time to stop and see to his aid.

She conducted herself around the rest of the circle, enclosing Vanje inside, just in case. The purifying smoke from the sage joined at the ends to finish the ring just as Zakono’s loop slipped around the animal’s neck. She watched from just outside the protective circle, the sage still smoldering in her hand, while her father wrestled with the creature. How bold for the animal to walk right through a campground before the sun had even finished setting. Bold and unfortunate, for it clearly had been shocked when her people set upon it, intent on its live capture. Perhaps local folk did not recognize the being for what it truly was. But the Romani had a long and arduous history with all sorts of dark secrets that
gadje
—non-Gypsies—had no idea existed.

The hauntingly majestic white wolf planted its front feet wide apart, jerking its head up and down to fight against her father’s restraint. When that failed, it began to quiver, almost shimmering before her eyes. She blinked as its fur rippled, then began to retract. Within moments, all that remained of the animal it had been was a pair of wicked gold eyes that caught hers and held them in hypnotic fascination. The rest of the creature transformed around that yellow gaze until she found herself staring at a rather spectacularly naked man with shockingly bleached-blond hair.

His hands flew up to his neck, grasping at the loop tightening like a noose. When he rose up, her gaze dropped to a sight she had never seen before. Her eyes widened at the cock between his powerful thighs, and she gaped as the organ bounced back and forth with the man’s every frenzied attempt at escape. The others stood frozen, and she wondered why they weren’t rushing in to loop their cinchers over his head as well. Her father was a strong man, but he was getting older. He would be no match for the strength of a werewolf.

As soon as she had the thought, the blond man staggered to his feet. He was taller than any of the men around him, and packed with a good deal more muscle.

“Fuck off,” he shouted, spittle flying from perfectly bowed lips. “All of you. Get this damn thing off me.”

He gave a feral lunge forward, and the pole ripped free of Zakono’s hands and hit the dirt. It dragged behind the stranger as he sprang straight at Talaitha. His eyes glowed wild with yellow fire and desperation, and she stiffened. She clutched the sage in her hand like a weapon while she prayed for her spell to hold.

The man picked up speed and drew close enough for her to see his nostrils flaring, as though he was scenting her. Her resolve to hold steady was giving out, and she was about to jump out of his way when the man hit her magic. He literally bounced backward off of nothing, shaking his head and staggering. His eyes glared at her in disbelief, but the brief distraction had been enough. Her father snatched up the pole and called to the others.

“Bring your poles,” he shouted. “Get the loops over his head now. Whatever you do, don’t break Talaitha’s circle.”

Soon, two other loops were cinched around the man, and for all his attempts to wrench free, the tripod of captors held him tight in their grip. The man was strong, she had to give him that. All of his kind were. But three against one, especially with her spell at work, proved too much for him.

“Tal, go tell Tomas to bring the cage,” her father said.

“You already sent him to start the build up,” she said.

Her father’s eyes sparked. “Then get someone else, girl. Use your head. Go!”

Suppressing a flash of irritation, she extinguished the smudge stick by grinding the tip into the dirt at her feet. A wayward spark flew off and hit the top of her sandaled food, but she ignored the brief sting and took off into the caravan in search of someone to bring the animal cage that was occasionally occupied.

It was while she was on her way back, when she’d detoured through some bushes to avoid the truck towing the requested cage behind her, when she quite literally tripped over the second shocking sight of the day.

“Li’ha’eer!”
she cried out, righting herself just in time. She spun around and gaped at the stomach-clenching sight sprawled on the ground.

This man’s hair was much darker than the stranger her father had captured, though not as dark as the near-black tresses Talaitha’s Gypsy heritage had gifted her with. His hair color was closer to the tree trunks rising around them, brown strands that were tousled in thick, appealing waves covering his face. She’d tripped right over his naked torso while he lay face down on the ground, but he didn’t move. His eyes were closed, but he appeared to be breathing. Her eyes skimmed each ripple of muscle along rounded shoulders and a broad back, coming to rest on the pale, perfectly round buttocks below his tapered waist. Heavens, but she’d seen more naked man flesh in the past half hour than she’d seen in her entire adult life.

When her gaze finally rose from the ripe backside that held her interest for a good while, his profile struck a familiar chord in her chest. Her pulse began a faint hum of warning, but she bent down to peer closer at his finely chiseled nose, square chin, and long sweep of curly lashes. As carefully as she could, she delicately brushed the bangs from his face—and stifled a gasp. There was no denying it. She knew this man.

She gaped in shock at the star of years’ worth of nighttime fantasies. This was the handsome gadje she’d waited for, the one who was supposed to sweep her off her feet and take her away from a dreary, rootless existence. She didn’t need to see Western clothing or hear his sexy drawl to know he was a cowboy. Nor did she need to see his eyes to know they were the deep, potent green of a dimly lit forest. Long after she’d given up hope, he was here. He was real, a flesh-and-blood man. And oh my, what an impressive display of flesh it was.

Her heart pounded a steady drumbeat, but began hammering wildly when his eyes abruptly flew open. She hadn’t realized her hand was still on his head, stroking his thick waves. She snatched her hand away and shrank back, but it was too late. His gaze regarded her in narrowed scrutiny, and the telltale glimmer in his eyes shattered every hope she’d had of a future with her handsome fantasy stranger. She gasped at the gold flecks that marred his dark green irises, betraying him for what he truly was. That yellow glimmer had never been present in her dreams, meaning her Gypsy foresight had proven false. They could never be together now.

Feeling a much bigger stab of disappointment than seemed possible for a man she hadn’t even officially met yet, she jumped to her feet and spun around to leave.

“Wait,” he said weakly. “Don’t go.”

That voice, so rich and velvety. Like thick, golden honey pouring over her and sticking her legs in place. Still, she kept her distance as she turned back to him slowly. He pushed himself onto his knees with a wince of obvious pain, and she fought the simultaneous urges to rush to his side and stare at the part of him that would be revealed as soon as he succeeded in getting upright. He tilted his head to one side, then the other, and rotated his shoulders as if checking to see if his joints still worked. With a grunt, he hauled himself to his feet—and Talaitha promptly turned her head away.

“You saw me fall and came to help,” he said. “Thank you.”

The cowboy accent came out in his words, just like she knew it would. He
was
the man of her dreams, down to the last detail. Except for one vital fact that would divide them forever. No matter. She’d waited around for her destined lover to show up long enough, only to be disappointed year after year. She had devised a plan of her own for leaving her Romani existence behind. The fact that the cowboy had finally arrived changed nothing.

“I didn’t see you at all,” she said. “I tripped over you. I’m sorry.” She blinked and glanced around. “What do you mean, you fell?” When her gaze came back to him she held a hand up strategically, blocking the view of his cock.

He tilted his head back and pointed upward. “I was in that tree right there.”

When her eyes lifted to follow his stare up into the nearest pine, she sucked in a breath. “How on earth did you manage to get up there? That tree must be fifty feet high. There are no low-hanging branches.”

“Wasn’t easy, I’ll tell you that. Pops always used to say it was a might bit harder comin’ down a tree than gettin’ up one. Ain’t the way I see it.”

When she realized he was watching her intense scrutiny of him, she averted her head again but left her hand in front of her in case she might be tempted to peek below his lean, toned waist. And considering the flashbacks of favorite dreams his appearance was conjuring, she was definitely tempted.

Either he read her thoughts or the reason for her outstretched hand, because he moved behind a waist-high bush. She lowered her hand. “You fell fifty feet and barely have a scratch on you?” Four scratches, from what she’d seen—two on his forearms, a rough abrasion on one thigh, and a stripe of angry red over his chest that looked like he’d taken a lashing.

“I guess you’d know, from the way you’ve been starin’.” His thick drawl was laced with a tinge of humor. “Not that I don’t appreciate a thorough visual examination by a beautiful woman.”

She scowled. “Hardly thorough, and I wasn’t staring. I didn’t even see anything that counts.” That wasn’t strictly true. Even now, the hard lines of his broad, smooth chest and the flexing biceps toyed with her senses, making her stomach quiver.

“That almost sounds like a complaint. I can remedy that in a flash, if you’d like.”

He made a move as if to come out from behind the bush, and she sucked in a breath. “No!” she shouted in panic. Her hand flew up in front of her again, which stopped him with a chuckle. “That isn’t the point,” she went on, wishing her voice didn’t sound so shaky. “You shouldn’t even be able to stand up after a fifty-foot fall. Every bone should be broken.”