Tamed By The She-Wolf. Kristal Hollis

      “Once upon a time that didn’t work out so well for the Trojans.” Regardless, Angeline lifted the coffee cup and bag of pastries from Tristan’s hands. Ignoring him as he entered the apartment, she sat cross-legged on the couch and fished a bear claw with an apple filling from the bag.

      Tristan closed the door and made himself at home in the overstuffed chair. “I’m not exactly sure what this means.” He showed her the angry, emoji-filled text message she’d sent last night.

      “Just delete it.” Angeline wiped away the sugar sticking to her lips. “We’re good now.”

      “I’m sorry that I didn’t give you a heads-up about Lincoln.” Tristan paused and suddenly the exhaustion he’d been hiding surfaced. “Nel and I were at the hospital most of the night.”

      “Is Nel all right? Did she have the baby?”

      “False alarm. She’s had Braxton Hicks pain on and off, but last night she got so uncomfortable, I took her in to be checked.” Running his hand through his tousled blond hair, Tristan yawned.

      Angeline did, too. Seemed they’d both had a long night.

      “Lincoln called right as the nurse took Nel to an exam room. I meant to text you—”

      “Forget it.” She waved off Tristan’s worry and he began to relax. “You’re dealing with a lot. Seems to be your calling.”

      “I’m hoping to build a team to shoulder that burden.” Everyone’s problem solver, Tristan—a former sheriff deputy, had recently been named the Walker’s Run Co-op’s chief of security. A huge undertaking considering the pack now had its own police force.

      “Don’t look at me. I like my life the way it is.” In defiance of Tristan’s pointed, disbelieving look, she shoved another pastry into her mouth.

      “I’m talking about Lincoln,” Tristan said. “Brice wants him to remain in Walker’s Run.”

      Not surprisingly, the Alpha’s son had a habit of keeping his friends close. “Good luck to him. Lincoln doesn’t seem the type to walk away from the Program, even if he could.”

      “Apparently, he’s being forced into a medical retirement.”

      “Whoa.” The only utterable word able to form on Angeline’s lips. A Dogman losing his career, much like a wolfan losing a mate, hurt to the soul.

      She would not sympathize with Lincoln, though. Not about that.

      “I have a favor to ask,” Tristan said quietly.

      Over the rim of her coffee cup, Angeline watched him squirm in his seat. The hot liquid heated her mouth and the warmth traveled all the way to her starting-to-clench stomach. “I’m not going to like it, am I?”

      “I need you to keep an eye on him.”

      “No.” Angeline cut her eyes at her oldest, dearest friend. He should know better than to ask such a thing. “I’m not spying on a Dogman.”

      “Just be neighborly.” Tristan leaned forward, his elbows planted on his knees with his fingers laced. “Brice trusts him, but I don’t know this guy. Dogmen are just this side of feral. I need to know sooner than later if he’s on the verge of crossing the line. The pack has been through enough violence.”

      “Why me and not Shane? He’s only a few doors down.” And a legitimate pack sentinel.

      “Shane doesn’t have your assets,” Tristan said good-naturedly. “Lincoln isn’t likely to let his guard down around a male. But you?” Tristan’s expression turned serious. “You could make a wolf lie down at your feet, roll over and purr, if you wanted him to.”

      “You know why I can’t do this.” Angeline swallowed another mouthful of coffee but the kinks in her stomach tightened rather than relaxed.

      “Lincoln isn’t Tanner. Don’t judge him for Tanner’s mistake.” Tristan stood. “If Lincoln is the man Brice believes, when the realty of his medical retirement sets in, he’s going to need help coping. It can be you or someone else, but I strongly feel you’re the best person he could have in his corner because you know how it feels to lose the life you thought you were meant to have.”

      Quietly, Tristan closed the door as he left.

      “Dammit!” Angeline slung a throw pillow after him. Harmlessly, it glanced off the door. She snatched it up and punched it. “Damn you, too, Tanner.” She smacked the pillow again, then hugged it to her chest and schlepped to the couch, knowing she’d do just what Tristan had asked. Because she did know exactly how it felt to watch the future crumble. No one, not even a Dogman, deserved to face it alone.

      Bracing against the cold, Lincoln knocked on the door to Brice Walker’s residence, two miles up the mountain from the family-owned Walker’s Run Resort. Used to the heat in Somalia, the lower temperatures in Northeast Georgia would be a welcomed change if his stump didn’t ache.

      The heavy wooden door opened to reveal a petite, human redhead. A smile warmed the porcelain tone of her skin and her cinnamon eyes shimmered.

      “Hello, Cassie.” Though they had never met, he knew her from the late-night chats he’d had with her mate during a mission in Romania several years ago.

      “Lincoln! Please come in.” She stepped aside, welcoming him into her home.

      Gratefully, he shook off the cold.

      “Thank you for keeping Brice safe so he could come back to me,” she said, closing the door. “If you need anything, let me know. I’ll make sure you get it.”

      “I appreciate your kindness.” But what he wanted she couldn’t give. Her husband, however, could be the Ace that Lincoln needed. After all, he had saved Brice’s life. “I was just doing my job.”

      “You went beyond your job. You were a friend when Brice needed one the most.”

       Uh-oh.

      Reading her body language and seeing the intent on her face, Lincoln leaned down so that her arms reached his neck in the full-on hug rather than banding around his middle, which would’ve appeared quite odd and a bit too personal to her mate. Lincoln didn’t have a visual on Brice Walker yet, but his ears honed in on the slight thump of the man’s limping gait inside the house.

      A tawny-headed wolfan, not quite midtwenties, stepped into the hallway. On his shoulders sat a toddler.

      “Shane—” Cassie grinned at the young man “—this is Lincoln Adams, Brice’s friend from his time in Romania.”

      Lincoln hid his smile. Humans often identified a personal connection when introducing people. Wolfans pointed out their rank or benefit to the pack.

      “Lincoln, this is Shane MacQuarrie. He’s a close friend of ours.”

      Neither he nor Shane made an effort to observe the human custom of shaking hands. Instead, they greeted each other with a curt nod.

      “I hear we’re neighbors at the Chatuge View Apartments.” Shane’s wintry gaze didn’t warm. Close to the age Lincoln had been when recruited for the Dogman program, the young wolf reeked of confidence, piss and vinegar. Lincoln liked him immediately.

      “Good to know.”

      “And this is my daughter, Brenna,” Cassie said.

      The little girl’s bright blue eyes targeted him with the same intensity Lincoln had seen in her father’s gaze years ago. And although her hair wasn’t red like her mother’s curls, the blond ringlets held a tinge of fire.

      Cassie held up her hands and Brenna practically launched into her mother’s arms. “More monkey than wolf, I think.”

      Although the little girl’s mother was human, her father was Wahya and wolfan genes were dominant. All Wahyan offspring were born with wolf-shifting abilities.