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

God, he was tired. And that fucking nightmare, just what he didn’t need—

“I think he’s coming around,” Lydia said. “We better lay him down and move away. We can watch him to make sure he fully revives, from a distance. Rick always …” Her voice caught and she cleared her throat. “When Rick and I used to do this, we made sure that the wolves were safe, but not interfered with. He wouldn’t … well, he never approved of me getting so close.”

Daniel glanced at the lit Marlboro. For some reason, it was down nearly to the quick, like he’d been puffing for a good ten minutes.

His sense of time was really fucked, wasn’t it.

“You took amazing care of him,” he said as he killed the butt with his fingertips and put it in his back pocket. “That’s all that matters.”

As he went over to her, she said, “Rick’s standards were higher than mine—or maybe my heart is just too in it. I should be more professional.”

Studying her, Daniel thought, I want to hold this memory forever. Of this woman and her wolf, both so fierce, so fragile.

“You’re beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

Her shy eyes lifted to his. “My hair’s a mess.”

“Don’t change, Lydia. Keep your heart just as it is. Will you promise me that?”

She blinked as if he were speaking in a foreign language. Then she tilted her head. “You sound so ominous.”

“Here, I’ll get him off of you.”

As he bent down to get his arms under the animal, the smell of Lydia, of her shampoo, her clothing detergent, her skin … was enough to burrow into his brain and knock out his higher reasoning. Forcing himself to remember what the hell he was doing, he picked up the wolf and straightened.

“Where do you want me to lay him?” he asked.

And she was right about the animal coming around. Those closed eyelids were not so closed anymore, and there was resistance in the legs and in the neck that hadn’t been there when they’d done this back at the pen.

“Over here,” she said. “In this patch of sunlight.”

Lydia walked up a little incline and then dropped into a crouch in front of a soft bed of pine needles that was glowing with golden illumination.

As Daniel went to her and put the wolf down, the sun bathed the animal in a pool of beautiful light.

“He’ll be warm here,” he said. “That’s the idea.”

They stood up at the same time. Then she put her hands on her hips and stared down.

“Come on,” Daniel murmured. “He’s really waking up.”

On that note, the wolf’s eyes locked on Daniel and those jowls twitched like innate aggression was also coming back online—and the predator didn’t like what he was looking at. Yet there was nothing like that sent Lydia’s way. It was almost as if the animal was protecting her.

Yeah, well, back off, fuzz ball, I got that job, Daniel thought to himself.

Although for how much longer?

He put his hands up and took a step back from the wolf. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt her.”

“I’m not sure he speaks English.”

Daniel found his stare returning to the woman who was haunting him, even as he was standing right next to her.

“Well,” he said roughly, “I mean it just the same.”





I PROMISE, I’LL BRING it back in one piece.”

As Lydia stood over Candy’s desk, she smiled at the other woman like everything was fine. Like life hadn’t gone haywire. Like she wasn’t lost in familiar surroundings.

“You look like shit,” the woman said.

“Are we back at this again?” Lydia pushed her hair off her face. “We talked about not using that kind of language.”

“Did we? I can’t recall. Fine, poo-poo. Is that better? Or do you want me to go with ‘doody.’ ” Candy motioned around the empty waiting area. “God knows I wouldn’t want to offend alllllll these people in here. I mean, we got a standing-room-only full of churchgoers. These hankies start flying and we’re at Six Flags without the rides.”

Lydia dropped her head. “You’re trying to be funny.”

“Is it working?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good. I mean, you look so much better now.” The woman held out something. “God, will you mop up here before you get me started?”

“I’m sorry?”

A Kleenex box was jogged in front of Lydia with impatience. “Clean your puss up, girl. We’ll have none of that crying stuff.”

Flushing, Lydia snapped a tissue free. “Sorry, I’m sorry.” She pressed her eyes with the soft cotton—God, she hadn’t even realized she’d teared up. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Good. So am I.” The Kleenex disappeared and was replaced with car keys. “We’re both fine. Don’t hit anything.”

“I won’t.”

On the way to the door, Lydia had a feeling that some other things were said. Nothing was tracking, though—which considering she’d just promised not to run into anything with Candy’s car was probably something she needed to address before she clicked that seatbelt in place.

Outside, she took a deep breath. Then she walked over to the parking area. As she got in behind the wheel, she took a moment to feel how impossible it seemed that Rick was never, ever going to bring his Jeep into work again. Ever.