My Wolf Cowboy: Wolf Town Guardians, #3

Chapter 1

I'VE COME TO FORMALLY request your permission to go to war against the Amish.

Alexander gaped at Connor, his expression dumbfounded at his words. It wasn't often the King of Wolves revealed his thoughts so openly, but Connor was too upset to feel any satisfaction over shocking the other man so thoroughly. The very purpose of his existence was on the line. He'd waited too long already.

Finally, Alexander regained control. He leaned back in the large chair, his blue eyes locked on Connor's face. Why would you want to do that? His tone wasn't mocking, just curious. Only a life or death situation would push a guardian to make a request like this. Connor was sure Alexander knew that.

Connor shifted in his seat, relieved that they were the only two in the library. He was a mess, both physically and mentally. He'd denied his mate for too long and now he was paying the price for it.

He opened his mouth to speak several times, but nothing came out. How could he explain the last few months, and the part he'd played in it? Never had he heard of a wolf refusing to claim his mate, it was simply unheard of. In this matter, he was alone. There was nobody to blame but himself.

In his defense, though, he'd spent the majority of that time gravely injured. It took extensive injuries to debilitate a wolf, and the damage his body had sustained had been enough to get the job done. Had he not been hurt, he doubted he would have been able to deny his need for so long—despite his resistance to mating.

Well? Alexander demanded, prodding him for a response. You can't just march in here and make a statement like that, not without explaining it.

I'm mated, Connor burst out in a hoarse voice, his wolf simmering just beneath the surface. The turmoil alone was enough to force the change. The man and the wolf were both uneasy. Neither of them were comfortable with such high levels of frustration.

Congratulations, Alexander replied dryly, amusement flickering over his aristocratic, handsome features. He'd given Connor some serious competition amongst the women of Wolf Town. Now that he was mated, though, the women were smart enough to leave him alone. What's that got to do with the Amish?

Dammit, Alexander, Connor growled out, standing up to walk to the window. The world outside was dark, the ground blanketed with snow. And in that darkness, she waited for him.

My mate... she's Amish. He spat the last part out over his shoulder, his tone filled with disgust. What would a lusty werewolf do with a woman like that? It was likely she'd been taught since birth that sex was good for nothing but reproductive purposes. The thought of mounting an impassive female was enough to render his shaft useless. Almost.

In between his grave injuries, Connor had haunted the Amish settlement over the last few months. He'd learned their ways, easily seeing their day-to-day lives with his heightened eyesight and hearing. It went against everything that he was. The Amish had a very restrictive way of living, one that completely eradicated the pleasures that could be found in the throes of passion. He shuddered at the thought.

Werewolves were very passionate people. They were completely uninhibited, the unmated wolves often indulging themselves with multiple partners. It was why they had the spa. It was a place of pleasure for men and women alike.

What common ground could they possibly have? Her first glimpse of the hopefuls would be enough to send her back to the safety of her rigid Amish settlement, likely screaming ever inch of the way. It would be for naught, though. His sex life was over. Now that he was mated, his shaft would never rise for another female. It was the way they were designed.

He shuddered again, nausea washing over him at the thought. He was a lusty male, his well-endowed shaft legendary among the unmated females of Wolf Town. That was saying a lot, considering the fact that most werewolves were naturally quite large. A female werewolf would have appreciated all of that. Why couldn't he have mated one of them?

Come again? Alexander choked out in disbelief, tearing Connor from his thoughts. I must have misunderstood you. His voice was shocked, a reflection of Connor's own feelings. He couldn't believe that fate had been so cruel.

Connor turned to stare at him, his body rigid and full of tension. You heard me correctly. My mate is an Amish woman. He didn't offer any further explanation.

You're sure of this? Alexander asked him, his expression filled with uncertainty. Connor didn't take offense; he could understand where the other man was coming from. Mating the average human was hard enough. But mating a woman that shunned even mainstream society? It sounded impossible.

Without a doubt, she's mine, he replied firmly, his lips twisting into a grimace. The thought left a bad taste in his mouth, a reaction he couldn't quite conceal. I've done all I could to avoid claiming her, but I can't anymore. My body is forcing me to accept what's mine; the wolf is demanding his mate. It no longer matters what my mind might want, he won't be denied.

Shit, Alexander replied, running a hand across his mouth. He exhaled deeply, a frown marring the perfection of his face. How long have you known?

A few months, Connor replied, shrugging his large shoulders. It was right before you met Carole Anne. I was patrolling the woods that border the Amish settlement... and it just happened. I ended up following her scent.

His mind went back to that day, the day he'd discovered his mate. His voice lowered, his tone turning husky as he continued, I found her outside of a two-story home, hanging her wash on the clothesline.

Her scent had been unlike anything he'd experienced before, floral and fresh, with a hint of sunshine. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to remain hidden. After she'd gone back in, he'd shifted, bringing himself to orgasm twice. Even then, he'd barely had the strength to control his need.

It had only grown worse.

That's been months ago. How have you stood it?

By nearly dying twice, Connor replied dryly. It was a mighty shitty way to delay the inevitable, though. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone else.

Alexander leaned forward, resting his arms on his desk. He was quiet for a moment, likely considering all the angles. Having your mate would have helped you recover from those injuries, Alexander said, his tone grim. In fact, the second injury might not have even happened if you had accepted your destiny.

Alexander just had to bring that up. Two months before, he'd been shot trying to save two mates. Normally, the average bullet wouldn't have slowed him down—at least not much—but there hadn't been anything average about the ones he'd been shot with. They'd been made of silver, with some experimental substances thrown in. The bullets had damned near killed him, the contents making it impossible for his body to heal.

He still wasn't back to normal. Some days he wondered if he ever would be.

Maybe, Connor replied evasively. Regardless of anything, though, I can't wait any longer. I have to have her, which brings us to my original request. His eyes blazed preternaturally, his nerve endings sizzling with the need to claim his mate. Yes, the wolf was very close, indeed. Make no mistake about this, Alexander. I will have her.

Easy, boy, Alexander replied, his words making Connor growl. I agree with you. I can't even imagine the hell you must have been in, even right now. We've got to think about this, though. You can't just storm in there and grab her.

Why the hell not? Connor bit out. Now that he was well enough to actually do something about it, the mating heat was burning him up alive. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, drawing upon his deep well of self-control. He really had to work hard for it. His well had almost run dry. I can't make it through a lengthy courtship, Alexander. I'm not even sure if I can make it until morning. And I'm damned sure I can't make it until the next full moon.

He stopped there. Both men knew what would happen on that night. Connor had already waited too long. His wolf was taking control. On the full moon, he would have her, one way or another. There was no changing that, there was nothing that could be done to stop it. Somehow, someway, he had to win her over by then. Her acceptance of him was the only thing that could appease the animal that resided within his body.

Dammit, why couldn't she have been a werewolf? Connor muttered to himself, half out of his mind with need. There wouldn't have been any delays with a female wolf. She would have experienced the same urges he did, even better, she could have handled them. Connor would have claimed her and fucked her. The end.

Fate really was a cruel bitch. She'd paired a perpetually horny werewolf like him with a prim and proper Amish woman, knowing damn good and well they wouldn't mesh well together. Connor wasn't sure who was going to resent it more. Him? Or would it be the woman who was about to find herself bedded several times a day?

Do you know the worst thing about this, Alexander? Connor asked, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor. She's going to be programmed to hate sex. How can any man overcome that?

Maybe, she won't be— Alexander protested, but Connor cut him off.

Oh, she will. I've spent a lot of time over there, learning their way of life. She's been taught that nudity is wrong, that sex is only for reproduction. They even have days where sex isn't allowed, for God's sake. The women believe that sex means lifting their nightgowns to their knees once a week to endure their husband's attentions. To them, it's a duty that has to be endured. They don't expect pleasure, in fact they would believe themselves sinful if they even experienced any.

Connor thought of his size. His mate would have to want him—and a whole lot—if he ever expected to ease into her. I don't see how I can win this, he continued, his voice bleak. As long lived as we are, it's going to be a mighty depressing existence if my mate refuses to desire me. It wasn't the way he wanted it to be.

To his surprise, Alexander chuckled. He stood up to make his way over to him. Patting him on the back rather forcefully, he said, Welcome to my world. I'm going to let you in on a little secret, a lesson I've had to learn the hard way. When it comes to your mate, you'll never win. You might as well accept defeat now. At least in that aspect.

Gee, thanks, Connor growled in response, shaking his hand off as he glared at him. His patience was shot. Enough with the talk, I'm ready for action.

Alexander grimaced again, his expression resigned. Bishop Jed has already made it clear that he wants no further involvement with our pack. It's a truce I hate to see broken, but we have little choice. A werewolf can't exist without their mate. So, the way I see this we have two options. Neither one will be pleasant.

What are those options? Connor persisted, his body alert.

Number one, we could meet with the Amish and formally request their permission for you to press forward with your suit. He stopped as Connor vehemently shook his head, staring at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

Connor exhaled in frustration. I tried that tonight. His eyes flickered with anger at the memory. He was completely furious at how haughty Jed had been. I was informed that they would never condone any affiliation between the wolves and the Amish and certainly not a courtship. That's not the worst of it, though.

What is? Alexander's face was drawn, his features tight. He didn't appreciate the bishop's rudeness anymore than Connor did.

In a few days, Natalie is to be married to an Amish farmer twice her age. Anger made his throat narrow off, his breathing harsh in the silent room. She's twenty-five and has already been married once. Her husband was another older male, but he died a year ago. They are using her, pushing her onto any available man that will have her.

Connor had heard her crying the last several nights in her home. He hadn't known the reason then, but he sure did now. He was furious with the Amish, but he was also furious at his own actions. By rights, he should have already claimed her. If he would have, her remarriage would have been a moot point.

Is she agreeable to the match? Alexander asked curiously, his voice ice cold. It will make it harder for you if she is attached to the male.

Hell no, Connor growled out. Not if the crying she does when she's alone is any indication. Even if she was agreeable, though, it wouldn't matter. She's mine.

Looks like you're stuck with option two, then, Alexander said, shaking his head at Connor's predicament. You'll have to take her. They've effectively cock-blocked you from every single angle. Even if you did somehow manage to woo your way into her home, there's not enough time to make her want you enough to mate you... not with an impending marriage looming over her head.

Connor's mind wasn't jumping with joy at the thought, but his body definitely approved. His shaft was hard as a rock at the thought of taking her. Clearing his throat, he turned back to the window, giving his randy body time to settle down. God, it's like regressing back to the caveman days, he scoffed, his voice tight. Despite the disdain in his voice, though, the thought intrigued him. The wolf wanted to conquer, tease, and seduce his mate into submission.

Actually, it's not, Alexander replied dryly, returning to his desk. We've never been cavemen, but we are animals. Animals with extremely large appetites, and we don't know how to take no for an answer. The animal won't tolerate any more delays, Connor, he warned him. You've almost pushed your wolf too far as it is. We have to do something now, before you turn into the poster child for rabies.

Sitting down in his expensive leather chair, Alexander chuckled. It's nice to finally know the real reason for your nighttime visits to Amish territory. I was starting to feel some real concern over this. But we can all rest easy. You might be a pervert, but at least you're not a window-peeping pervert.

Connor rolled his eyes in exasperation before muttering, Just wait till Marrok gets back from his honeymoon. Hell was going to hit when he came back to Wolf Town. It hadn't taken Marrok long to tell everyone about their little meeting in the woods. Shit was going to hit the fan when Connor saw him again.

He thought of Alexander's last sentence.As if, Connor scoffed, shuddering at the thought of the matronly women found in the settlement. Besides, I don't think they are ever naked. I wouldn't be surprised if they bathe with their clothes on, but that's a moot point. I wouldn't be caught dead spying on them.

Connor fell silent for a moment. There was one, though, that wasn't so matronly, and it was his mated female, Natalie. Standing about five foot eight, Natalie was thick and buxom with large breasts and wide hips. Her hair was coal-black, thick and straight. And those plump, pink lips of hers. His shaft grew hard enough to bust a hole through brick.

I've had some contact with her, but not any that will further my cause, he shot out, much to Alexander's surprise. The lust riding him added a determined edge to his voice. She thinks I'm a stray dog.

Alexander choked, coughing loudly to clear his throat. She's seen you in wolf form, and she thinks you're a starved stray? He ruefully shook his head. Jesus, you're as big as a horse when you've shifted.

Connor glared at him as Alexander raised his hands in defeat. He didn't lose his grin of amusement, though. Of course we all are, though. Bigger is better, right?

He hadn't thought of it that way. You're right, Connor replied, mollified. Naturally, I am the biggest in this pack.

Alexander muttered something that strangely sounded like, Keep telling yourself that...

Before Connor could press him he changed the subject. So, what's the game plan?

Connor never got the chance to answer him. Instead, fear and pain slammed into him, hard enough to take his breath away. It didn't originate within him. It came from his mate. His eyes swung wildly as his wolf went wild. Seeing his physical reaction, Alexander shot out of his chair with enough force to send it flying back into the wall.

The cloying scent of desperation and panic filtered into the library, a scent that both wolves easily picked up. It was faint, but Connor was able to hear the screams of pain and fear. His heartbeat accelerated; his powerful body ready to shift at a second's notice.

Where the hell is that coming from? Alexander asked, his impressive stride carrying him quickly to the door.

The Amish settlement, Connor retorted, right on his heels. His mate was in trouble. It was the reason why his senses picked it up so easily, even from such a great distance. I've got to go, now.

I agree, but damn. Is there anybody the Amish haven't managed to piss off? Alexander asked drolly, pulling the door open. It sounds like a combat zone over there. It looks like we won't have to start a war, after all. It's pretty clear someone has already beat us to it.

Several guardians raced down the hallway to protect their king. Get your mate and get out of the settlement, Alexander continued, his eyes catching his. We'll hold off the rest... and deal with the fallout.

Connor nodded, his mouth tightening into a hard line as he took off. Nothing would stop him from getting to her. Nothing.

Chapter 2

TEARS STREAKED DOWN Natalie's face. They left her face uncomfortably cold from the draft in the large, two-story home. She quickly wiped them away, barely registering the action. Shoving a neatly-folded dress into her bag, she closed it before placing it over her shoulder.

Her small bag was full, containing several of the homemade dresses from her closet. She'd also packed undergarments and a few other essentials. Picking up the lantern, Natalie turned in a slow circle. It would be the last time she saw the house she called home. Bishop Jed had announced her upcoming remarriage, her fate set in stone as far as the Amish were concerned.

The lantern revealed a simplistic room, with a hand-carved bed that was neatly made, a dresser, and not much more. The large rug on the floor had been woven by her very own hands. It had been a welcome relief from the cold, hardwood floor. She couldn't take it with her, though.

Recollections of her life among the Amish would only come from her memories. Her beloved adopted parents were dead, having passed away not long after she'd turned eighteen. There were no pictures to take with her. It was considered a sin among the Amish.

Shortly after the death of her mother and father, the bishop had demanded she marry. Alone and scared, Natalie had agreed. A widower had been selected, and their marriage was announced. Samuel Yoder had been nearly thirty years her senior, a kind, plain man looking to sire the children his first wife had never been able to have. At eighteen, Natalie had fit the bill. Or so they'd thought.

The next six years had been bleak, colorless. Natalie had done nothing more than exist. Samuel had been a good husband by Amish standards, but not necessarily by hers. Deeply religious, he had worked hard to keep their farm running, following the Ordnung to the word.

He'd seemed happy and satisfied with their marriage, especially in the beginning. It had all changed when he'd realized she was incapable of reproducing. After six months of his Saturday night visits to her bedroom, Samuel had finally pronounced her barren. The news had been devastating to her. A baby would have went a long ways toward easing the unhappiness she'd secretly felt.

Despite his belief that Natalie was barren, his weekly visits had continued. He expected her to be waiting in her bed for him after the kitchen chores were done. So that was what Natalie had done. Wearing her homemade, high-necked nightgown, she'd waited in her bed until he had joined her. Thankfully, his visits had never lasted very long.

The night of their marriage, Samuel had explained her wifely duties to her. She was to remain on her back until he approached the bed, making sure her body was free of any undergarments. When he came into the bed, she was to bend her knees and spread them, remaining in the same position until he finished. After that, he'd silently return to his own room. It had been a cold act, an act without any feeling or emotion to it. An each time she'd endured it, Natalie had felt used.

For the first few weeks, the pain had been horrible. Natalie could understand why the Ordnung classified relations strictly as a means for reproducing. There was no pleasure to be found in a husband's embrace, only emptiness and sadness. They were feelings that had to be hid, it would have been wrong to voice a complaint.

And so her life had continued, until the day Samuel had died. He'd been plowing the fields that fateful day, when, out of the blue, he'd fallen over. The bishop said he died immediately, likely from a heart attack. And for the first time in her life, she'd been well and completely alone.

Another cold draft passed through her room, reminding her of the late hour. Natalie stepped out into the hallway, carrying a gas lantern. Like most Amish homes, hers did not have electricity. The stairs creaked as she stepped down them, revealing their true age.

At least two hundred years old, the house had been passed down from generation to generation. It lacked the lived-in feeling that most homes had. Instead, it felt empty, even with her in it. Bleak, stark, and lonely. In some ways, it was an accurate representation of the life she'd led. And