Claimed (The Lair of the Wolven #1) by J.R. Ward

After she opened the gate, they went around to the ATV, which was parked by the rear entrance of the building. Daniel had fixed the leak in the fuel tank—or patched it, as he’d explained, so that it was good enough for them to take the thing out into the preserve. And if it died halfway back after they’d freed her wolf? Who cared, they could walk.

“I’ll sit on the rear platform,” she said as she hopped up onto the carry shelf that was mounted across the back tires.

“You sure? That’s a hard seat.”

“I’ll be fine.” She arranged herself and put out her arms. “Lay him across my lap. And go slow.”

Daniel leaned down and draped the wolf over her legs. To make sure she was steady, Lydia braced her hiking boot on the corner of the cargo level.

“You guys okay?”

She nodded and stroked the wolf’s fur. “Ready. And just go for about a mile, starting at the main trail and taking every right you come to. I want to free him as far as possible from the hotel.”

“You got it.”

As Daniel mounted behind the handles, the suspension absorbed his weight with a lurch-and-settle. Then the engine came on, the whiff of gas making her nose itch.

“Let’s do this,” he said.

He eased them forward and onto the WSP’s private path to the main trail. When things widened, he picked up speed and avoided the roots that had broken through the dirt track, the subtle swaying of their forward motion hypnotic.

Meanwhile, she held on to her wolf.

With the trees going by and the fresh pine in her nose … she was not relaxed in the slightest. Staring out at their wake, she was barely aware of being on the back of the ATV. If it weren’t for the fur against her hands, she wouldn’t have known where she was.

Fourteen.

Daniel had been fourteen years old when his mother had killed herself. When he had jumped off a bridge to try to save her. When he had lost his hold in the cold water and no doubt barely got out of the river alive.

No wonder he compartmentalized emotion like he did.

Closing her eyes, she went back to being on that bed with him, all naked and totally exposed. He had been an incredible lover, and contrary to what he’d thought, the idea that he’d been so into pleasuring her that he’d lost control himself was pretty much the biggest compliment she’d ever been given.

He hadn’t spoken much afterward.

When she’d collapsed in a boneless heap, he had held her to his chest and stroked her hair. And when they’d finally gone their proverbial separate ways, her to take a shower, him to downstairs for food, she’d been floating. He’d made them breakfast. They’d murmured over the eggs. He’d driven them into work early, before Candy had come in.

And everywhere she went, his eyes were always on her. Tracking her.

Not in a creepy way. It was as if he found her … captivating. A mystery.

She liked being someone’s fascination.

Scratch that … she liked being Daniel’s.

But what about when he left, when he moved on? He was going to leave a helluva hole to fill.

Assuming she lived that long.

As he pared off at the first branch in the trail, going to the right, just as she’d told him to, she tried to stop thinking like that. Thinking at all.

Focusing on the wolf, she ran her hand over his gray-and-white fur. The currents of air ruffled the stray, longer hairs and teased his tail, and she sent up a word of thanks to Rick—and then added a prayer in her grandfather’s tradition.

For the wolf.

And for Daniel.



Daniel was pretty good at distances. After taking three right turns, and heading so far into the preserve that even the hotel’s shave job on that forested ledge was no longer visible, he eased off the gas and let things roll to a stop.

Over the putt-putt of the ATV’s idle, he said, “This good?”

“This is perfect,” Lydia said.

He cut the engine and left the key in the ignition. Dismounting, he went around and stood off to one side. Lydia was petting the wolf, running her hand in the direction of his fur, over and over again.

She didn’t want to say goodbye.

As he watched her, he knew how that felt—and maybe that was why he couldn’t stop looking at her. He didn’t understand what it was about the woman that had gotten him so deep. Was it her hair? Her eyes? The feel of her body, the taste of her lips?

What was it exactly?

Some kind of magic as far as he could tell. Except it was not enough to keep him here, and in fact, it was something that made leaving an imperative.

But he didn’t want to say goodbye, either.

“I should just let him go,” she said in a sad way.

“It’s gotta be tough,” he murmured. “What with Rick having worked on him. Last ties and all that.”

Her hair had fallen forward and was blocking his view to her face, so he reached out—as if he had any right to reposition the waves behind her ear. Before he made contact, though, he snatched his hand back.

“You mind if I step away and smoke?” he asked. “I’ll stay downwind.”

“No, that’s fine. I just want to have a little more time.”

Daniel nodded, even though she wasn’t looking at him.

Walking off a short distance, he leaned back against a tree and took out the open pack. As he flipped the top, he was surprised to find so many of the Marlboros gone. When had he been smoking so much? Whatever. Lighting up, he coughed into his fist and then stared out to the valley. The northernmost tip of the lake was gleaming in the sunshine and the unseasonable warmth seemed like a peace offering from the weather, a way of making up for the brutal, long winter.