What a Wolf Wants (Black Hills Wolves Book 2) Read Online Free PDF

of electricity racing over him. If he’d been in his Wolf form, all his hair would have stood on end. “You’re hungry. Stay and be warm. Let me take care of you.”
    Let me take care of you? Where the hell those words had come from, he had no idea, but her expression relaxed, and the more acrid taste of her upset faded.
    “Can I help?” She wasn’t looking at him but at his hand where he’d taken hers. Following her gaze, he curled his fingers instead of letting her go.
    “Stay. I’m going to cook here.” He nodded to the fire.
    “Okay.” She nodded then squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain in the ass.”
    He wasn’t sorry, of course, but he was also rusty on what he should say right now, so he settled for a simple, “Then stop.”
    Shock rippled across her face then she giggled. He smiled because the last traces of her fear vanished with the arrival of her amusement. Giving her a light squeeze, he rose and would have stepped around the chair, but paused to tap the seatback. “Stay.”
    “Sir, yes, sir.” The tart obedience was followed by another laugh, so he nodded. If she could behave, he could feed her then figure out what to do about the rest of their day.
    To his surprise, she did cooperate. It took him time to get the food set up on spits, add more wood into the fire, and finally get the food cooking. By then, the warmth was uncomfortable—but not for his little human. Her shivers finally ceased. After her third inquiry about helping him, he’d carried a cutting board, knife, along with a sack of vegetables over to her.
    “Chop.”
    The sack contained a fair share of one of the local crops, carrots, potatoes, and zucchinis. Tasha most likely brought it to him—he didn’t usually go looking for them. Still, he’d have to do something for the little Wolf to show his appreciation. The chopping, dicing, and cubing relaxed Saja further until her chatter filled the air.
    “When I started this trip, everyone gave me a lot of grief. How could I pack my life into a few boxes—I hope they’re okay out there in the car—and some suitcases then drive cross-country? ‘Saja,’ they said, ‘you don’t know where you’re going. Why do it? In this economy?’ I had a job—well, sort of a job. It was more of an internship, really. But I don’t think I’m cut out to be a tenured-professor type. I like to be in the thick of it, meeting people, studying them, learning their rituals—what makes them tick.” She punctuated each sentence with another series of chops. “Take you, for example. You’re isolated. You don’t like others in your space. Whether your territory is these woods or this cabin, it’s yours. You don’t share the space willingly. I bet you know the landscape like the back of your hand. Now, whether the isolation is because you’re frustrated with the world, the government, or because you’ve embraced a simpler way of life—that’s interesting. I wouldn’t learn about you from a tenured position.”
    So she went, her insights—when she shared them—coming with a startling clarity. Fortunately, she left the subject of why he lived here alone. When the vegetables were done and the stew sat in a heavy iron pot at the edge of the fire where it would slowly heat, he ran out of tasks to keep her busy.
    Sometime during the work, she’d put the gun back in her purse, which she left on the floor next to her chair. When the rabbits finished cooking, he sliced the meat neatly and piled a far more generous portion on her plate. Under his watchful gaze, she ate it all then drank another mug of the tea. Her trepidation for the food vanished after her first bite. He enjoyed her obvious delight.
    She told him more about her studies intermingled with stories of her travels. The little human had been all over the world. Her passion for “learning about people” came when she’d decided to run away from home at the age of fifteen. She’d spent most of a summer going from one