“We didn’t want you to sneak onto the land,” Landry said.
They took a step closer.
“That’s right,” Wade added.
“What are you going to do to me?” I whispered, afraid of the answer. Going out into the wilderness alone had dangers. Falling off a cliff. Being dragged off by a mountain lion. Getting mauled by a bear. I’d never imagined two hot guys. I wasn’t sure if I was afraid they’d hurt me, or if I’d like his answer.
“Oh, the list is long. And pleasurable. But first, I think you deserve a little punishment for what you’ve done,” Wade said.
My gaze flicked to him as I took a step back once more.
He held up his hand. “Don’t be afraid, sugar. We’re not going to hurt you.”
“We’d never hurt you,” Landry repeated. “All right? You’ve got to feel the attraction between us.”
I licked my lips and nodded. Somehow I knew they wouldn’t hurt me. They might not want me on their land, and were mad that I’d snuck on, but they were here specifically because they wanted me. Knew where I’d be and, generally, when. They’d been waiting for me.
“That punishment? It’s the kind you’ll enjoy receiving as much as we enjoy giving it.”
I stilled. Frowned. “Huh?”
“Eventually,” Landry added with a sexy flick of his brows. “Since we do things in pairs around here.”
All I could do was gulp as my panties went up in flames.
2
WADE
Two Weeks Earlier
I sat in my parked pickup, trying to formulate a plan. Searching online records—some public, some private—I’d located the human my alpha ordered me to investigate. The one who requested access to our pack land. Caitlyn Shriver, the post-doc wolf biologist at Granger State, my alma mater. Age twenty-seven. Cute, judging by her college and motor vehicle IDs.
I was parked across the street from her apartment, deciding my next move.
On paper, Dr. Shriver didn't look dangerous. Hell, she was a tiny thing. No threat to me or mine. Physically. But her request to chip and track wolves on Two Marks pack land raised all kinds of red flags. Gibson, the alpha, was in Montana with Ben to track down their mate. Before Gib left, he’d read Caitlyn’s email and responded. He’d told her no way to her request, then asked me to investigate her and ensure she wasn’t going to be a problem. Because a wolf researcher interested in tagging and tracking wolves was bad.
My phone rang. It was Ben, the pack enforcer. He normally would have handled this task, not me. But since he and Gib were scent-matches, he was in Montana too.
“Hey, Wade,” he said when I answered.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Good. We found our mate.” His voice was so upbeat, it sounded like he won the lottery. Maybe he had.
“So I heard,” I replied. “Congratulations.”
“Well, she’s going to take a little convincing, but we’re working on it,” he said. “I’m calling to check on that wolf biologist situation.”
I quietly sighed. He didn’t need to know that I wasn’t thrilled about my upcoming task. “Yeah. I’m on it. I’m actually down in Granger right now, figuring out my next move.”
“Good. See if you can find out what her research is about. The last thing we need is something that will fuel the rancher’s quest to put wolves on the trophy game list in these parts.”
That meant anyone in the Two Marks pack would be in danger if they were in wolf form.
“Yeah.” My chest constricted painfully. “You don’t have to tell me that.”
“Of course not.” Ben’s voice softened as he probably realized that I, of all people, probably had the biggest stake in making sure wolves were never hunted in our county. “Sorry. I spoke without thinking.”
“It’s fine,” I said quickly. The last thing I fucking needed was people feeling sorry for me. Fate knew I’d had enough of that since the shooting eight years ago. I’d lost my mother; my dad had lost his mate. The pain of it still caught me off guard at times. The pack, too.
Because of that, the alpha was adamant about our safety, meaning: no outsiders, and monitoring the ranchers or anyone else who might endanger our way of life.
Including Dr. Caitlyn Shriver.
She might not be a danger, but she was a threat. Her research could impact us. Our way of life—the shifter life—had been a secret since the West family settled and founded West Springs, Wyoming, in the late 1800s. Making wolves trophy game as a result of some population study she was working on could be disastrous. We could die for what some considered sport shooting.
In her email, she’d mentioned that the mountains around West Springs were known wolf territory, with multiple sightings of a pack reported in the past ten years. If her research showed the reintroduction of grey wolves into the area had created over-population and the packs need to be thinned, the Fish and Game Department could change their designation. That would be disastrous for the lesser wolves but, more importantly, dangerous for shifters.