Wulfe Untamed Read Online Free PDF Page B

unhappily.
    Tighe nodded. “It would be best if you kept your distance. Then maybe, when this is over, you can forget about her.”
    That was just it, though. He couldn’t forget about her. Not for one damned minute.
    Tighe shrugged. “I’m just saying, humans don’t live long, buddy.”
    Wulfe snorted. “The way things are going, neither do we.”
    But he understood Tighe’s concern, and he shared it. The last thing he wanted or needed was to have his heart ripped out of his chest in fifty or sixty years—a blink of an eye if he managed to get his immortality back. Because fifty or sixty years was all Natalie had. Maybe far, far less.
    T he rain started just as Wulfe pulled to a stop behind the deserted warehouse. It was early evening, approaching sunset, though the sun was hidden behind thick rain clouds. He turned off the ignition and climbed out, tossing his keys beneath the vehicle so the rain didn’t ruin the electronics. Stripping, he shoved his boots and clothes into the backseat, then locked the doors and shifted into his wolf.
    A thrill of pleasure snaked its way through him as he reflected on the fact that Lyon had officially given him the job of keeping an eye on Natalie Cash. Unfortunately, there was really nothing else for him to do. Not unless word came of another newly marked Feral for them to hunt down and throw in the prison beneath Feral House. Or they got a lead on the two escaped new Ferals, Grizz and Lepard.
    Wulfe trotted through the woods, the rain soaking his fur and his mood, because there was zero chance Natalie would come out to see him this time, and slim to no chance she’d let a soaking-wet wolf into her house. Otherwise, he didn’t mind the rain. The day had been warm, and the cool rain felt good against his hide.
    They’d tracked down the screamer, Christy, without much trouble and confirmed that she had no odd glow. Nor did Xavier. Which meant that whatever was going on with Natalie was hers alone.
    Inside, his wolf gave a howl of misery. Neither man nor animal spirit liked it, not one bit.
    As he reached the edge of the woods, he eyed the house with the yellow siding that he knew to be hers. The kitchen light was on, but he couldn’t see any sign of Natalie. Wait. There she was. She crossed the kitchen, the overhead light turning her hair to gold. His stomach did a little flip, but as he sat on the wet ground, the rain splattering against his snout, his heart felt heavy in his chest.
    Natalie had already been through so much, even if she didn’t remember most of it. She wasn’t supposed to be in danger anymore, yet in his gut he felt it circling around her. The need to protect her clawed at his insides.
    Somehow, he had to get her to let him in.
    A s the rain pattered against her kitchen windows, Natalie dropped the last teaspoonful of apple-spice cookie dough onto the baking sheet in front of her, slipped the cookie sheet into the oven, and set the timer. Baking had always been her comfort activity, that and work, and both were getting her through now. In the month since the incident, she’d made a dozen cakes, two dozen pans of brownies, and at least sixteen different cookie recipes. Her neighbors were starting to complain that she was trying to fatten them up, but she had to do something with the fruits of her crisis since she ate few sweets herself.
    And there was no doubt she was in crisis. Especially after this morning.
    Leaning back against the kitchen counter, she wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes, fighting back the thoughts that constantly flayed her—the days she had no memory of, the police investigation that continued to go nowhere. And the pounding, grinding grief. The police believed Xavier was dead, and she refused to accept that, but where was he?
    She blinked back the tears that burned her eyes and turned to the sink to wash her mixing bowls. Her gaze caught on the package of Oreos, drawing a bemused smile and a disbelieving shake of her