The wolf's heart

bin—quiet, vacated. Since it was winter and no longer hunting season, except for the end of dusky Canadian goose season, she shouldn’t glimpse another human

pines and firs, ducked beneath low-hanging branches,

ak. Definitely red wolf; and because none ex

dence back to her cabin, but she was miles from there, and as c

marking his territory. She hesitated. If he were looking for a mate, she’d be a prime target; and i

A chill raced all the way down her spine to the tip of her taut

turn him over to whatever pack happened to live in the area? Even if he were a loner, the pack in the territory would condem

hange like she was—who had come across her, a loner lupus garou violating the pack’s territory.

she considered

fled the pine needles in a whispered hush. If there was a severe shortage of female lupus g

go

An alpha male would have already approached her and let her know he wanted her, if he needed a mate. He had to smell how ripe she was and know she was ready, too. Was that w

ching her ears back and forth and withdrawing her panting t

elled—

arby. At the fringe of the forest she hesitated, not liking the way the stream’s banks were s

th

gain, stared at the rush of the stream, th

e watched her, she waited like a rabbit

er rounded rock. She dipped her tongue into the water and

done when they were younger—chasing through the woods, nipping at each other’s hind

nd sugar-drained oak leaves rustled in the breeze all around her.

the side. Another flash of fur, and another male appeared. Then, the wave of a wolf’s tail as the lupus garou made a hasty retreat. She should have heeded the instinctual warni

ost dangerous sound known to wildlife—a trigger clickin

upright, and the hair on he

the creek, her heart thundering. Her ears twisted back

sharp pain stabbed her in the left flank. She stumbled . . . t

going! I’ve never seen a red w

dn’t kill her wit

he men splashed across the creek in hot pursuit of her. She sprinted north toward her cabin, miles away. Excep

his voice rife with enthusiasm, b

ed. Ripping out their throats came to mind, if they got close enough. The primal instinct for self-preservation voided out the ruling drummed

e river! We don’t want him dr

She stumbled when her back legs gave out. What had they shot her

pacting with the earth radiated outward and the tremor cente

said, wearing camouflaged gear, his dark hair chopped short, the bill of

egs to push her forward, she couldn’t manage. She sat, panic driving her to run, but unable to oblige as a strange numbness slipped

oth drew closer . . . cautiously . . . the smell of fear cloaking them. H

effort cost her precious energy. Exhausted, she dropped her head b

ng from her hip. A dart, not bullets. Damn. H

e get here? I mean, he couldn’t have traveled all the way from the Great Smoky Mountains National Park.” Joe smelled of swe