Wild (Savage Alpha Shifters 1)

I slip my hand away and turn over to watch him.

He continues to sleep, so I carefully inch my way down to the bottom of the bed and off. It doesn’t rouse him.

Maybe I should go now. Get out of here and drive to town. Leave his truck there so it’s not like I’ve taken it too far. Call a tow truck. Get my car. Pay for the tow truck to bring his truck back, maybe. Get home.

The idea of the loneliness of this place without another person would drive me absolutely bonkers. How can he be alone like that? Isn’t it sad? Of course it is, for me, but he knows nothing else, except for companionship of one person, a person that died and someone that doesn’t sound like he was great company.

Should I encourage him to go meet that guy that says he’s family? If I do that, it doesn’t mean he’s not going to try to stop me from going again. But the way he stops me? Visions of yesterday assault my senses in a delicious way that makes my belly swoop.

It’s just gotta be because of how lonely he’s gonna be that I feel bad right now at the idea of leaving him alone.

Maybe he ought to try to live in society, where there’s the opportunity to meet people.

I understand, being supernatural that being away from prying eyes is probably better. I’m guessing it’s a rule that they don’t reveal themselves to the general population or something.

He’s on his side, lashes resting against his face, mouth full and pouty looking. The lines and angles of his face… he should be replicated in bronze and put into a museum. Perfect Male Specimen.

His face is shadowed by a few days of not shaving, though not really because he wouldn’t have shaved for a lot longer than that if he’d been living as a wolf for years. A completely different form. An animal.

Reconciling it isn’t easy. I’ve always been pragmatic, amused by Aunt Nelle’s anecdotes and her eccentricities, but my feet remained firmly planted in healthy skepticism.

Here was fantasy as reality. This meant magic was real. Maybe aliens, too. Vampires? Ghosts? The skeptic part of me now ceased to exist because Ty is flesh, bone, and emotion. He’s excitement and wonder. He’s passionate and protective. He’s also nurturing and enjoys being amused.

He is a multifaceted person that I find myself fascinated by.

I now feel like anything is possible, like magic is real, just like my aunt told me.

I gaze at his massive frame, all those muscles, that sexy tanned skin. He’s the epitome of masculine. And yet he’s tender. He treats me with reverence, but with a caveat that I really like.

I’m a waif of a girl and this often instills protectiveness of me by men. As if I’m too easily breakable. With Ty, he touches me like he means it. No feather-light caresses when he’s in the throes of passion. When he touches me, I know it. He touches me like I’m his. And fuck, but I like it.

Holy moly am I ever using a lot of F-words these days. Sometimes they’re the only word with enough oomph to describe a situation, I guess.

He stirs and sniffs at the air like he smells something. And then he makes that purring sound as he rolls to his back. I round the bed and get back in with him, without thinking on it, just simply lifting the blanket and crawling in, plastering myself against his warmth. He pulls the blanket up over my shoulders and puts his hands on my ass. I smile against his chest and close my eyes, feeling the gentle vibration of the purrs coming from his chest.

“Good morning,” I say.

“Good morning,” he parrots and then his hands caress my backside. “I smell you.”

“What do I smell like?” I ask.

“Like you want me. Like you’re mine.”

What a way to wake up. Enveloped in warmth by someone who wants me. Someone good with their hands (and mouth and other parts besides…). Someone who, on sight, decided I was destined to be his.

How bonkers is that?

It’s not like I’m the only female he’s ever seen. If that were the case, I’d be my usual skeptical self. He makes it sound like he caught my scent on the wind and hunted until he found me.

So, not on sight, really, more like he decided on scent that I was his.

He’s had women before, so this isn’t just a case of a wild man seeing a female for the first time and getting hooked on me for that reason. He has had others and didn’t want to keep them.

He made a mark on my neck that feels like an erogenous zone. He’s said he’s given nobody else that mark.

He can burst into a wolf in a snap.