Desert Hunt Read online

  Desert Hunt

  a prequel to The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch series

  by

  Anna Lowe

  Twin Moon Ranch

  Desert Hunt

  Copyright © 2015 by Anna Lowe

  [email protected]

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

  Other books in this series

  The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch

  Desert Hunt (the Prequel)

  Desert Moon (Book 1)

  Desert Blood (Book 2)

  Desert Fate (Book 3)

  Desert Heart (Book 4)

  Desert Rose (Book 5)

  Desert Roots (Book 6)

  Desert Wolf: Complete Collection (Four short stories)

  Desert Yule (a short story)

  Sasquatch Surprise (a Twin Moon spin-off story)

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  Desert Wolf: Friend or Foe (Book 1.1 in the Twin Moon Ranch series)

  Off the Charts (the prequel to the Serendipity Adventure series)

  Perfection (the prequel to the Blue Moon Saloon series)

  Contents

  Other books in this series

  Desert Hunt

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Sneak Peek: Desert Moon

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  Desert Hunt

  Strictly off limits or destined mates?

  Rae has a secret — one she can’t allow any wolf pack to discover. But with an old enemy hot on her heels, she has no option but to trust Zack, the man from the wrong side of the tracks. Taking off on the back of Zack’s Harley seems like good idea at first, but when she lowers her defenses for the captivating coyote shifter, she might just be risking it all.

  The new she-wolf in town may be strictly off-limits, but Zack just can’t keep away. When the thrill of the chase gets his blood pumping in more ways than one, he’s ready to overstep every boundary and break every rule. Destiny says she’s his—but the pack’s ruling alpha says she belongs to another.

  There’s more than meets the eye on Twin Moon Ranch, home to a pack of shapeshifting wolves willing to battle for life and love. Each book is a complete standalone story — no cliffhangers!

  A paranormal romance with adult content. The perfect read for fans of strong heroines, alpha heroes, werewolves and shapeshifters, bad-boy bikers, red-hot cowboys, romantic westerns, paranormal suspense, action-adventure romance, and fantasy romance!

  Prologue

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  * * *

  “Rae!”

  It was a barked order, not a request.

  Rae gritted her teeth and counted to five before turning slowly and facing the source: Sabrina, the daughter of the wolf pack’s ruling alpha. The girl was seventeen and still a spoiled brat. Rae didn’t want to imagine what the girl might be like in another couple of years.

  “My father wants you in his office. Now.” Sabrina underpinned the command with a flick of her glossy mane.

  Rae wouldn’t have thought it possible for a wolf shifter to be a princess, but there it was. Sabrina made damn sure she punctuated every sentence with a jangle of gold bracelets and the same two words—my father—reminding everyone of the pecking order around here.

  That was one of the bitter truths of pack hierarchy. The alphas and their offspring ruled the roost, and the rest of the pack had no choice but to fight or submit. Twenty-eight hardscrabble years had taught Rae that all too well.

  She chipped another little piece off her soul and did as directed, pretending to be like the others. A good little female meant for hearth and home—and definitely, definitely, not for the hunt.

  She worked off the tension steeling her jaw, reminding herself she had something far, far more special in her heritage than alpha blood. Something secret. But she’d be damned if she let on to anyone. A pack would claim her forever if they found out, and then she’d never be free.

  “Do you ever bother looking in a mirror?” Sabrina eyed Rae’s tangled hair.

  Not nearly as often as you. Rae nearly shot the words out but caught herself on the first syllable. So what if her long brown hair was usually thrown into a loose ponytail? So what if her figure said athlete and not cover girl? That’s who she was, and she liked it that way. She’d leave the plunging necklines to curvy girls like Sabrina, because attracting unwanted attention could be a dangerous thing.

  She set off, finger-combing her hair on the way to the alpha’s office and flicking away a burr she’d picked up that morning. So she’d been out wandering again. Was that so wrong for one of their kind?

  Except she wasn’t exactly their kind. Oh, she was a wolf shifter all right, but one born to another pack. And even back home in Colorado, she’d always been different. The one who didn’t quite fit in.

  Her inner wolf let out a snort. A lot different. If only they knew.

  Rae eyed the alpha’s office door warily before giving it a nervous knock. There was a grunt, and she entered, dropping her eyes in the required sign of subordination to the grizzled old alpha and his haughty mate. Even after all these years at Westend pack, the gesture didn’t come easily.

  “Your lucky day has come,” Roric announced, curt and cold. “Pack your things.”

  For this alpha, a smile and a sneer were one and the same. What did he mean by lucky day?

  Rae glanced uncertainly at Roric’s mate, who frowned in acid disapproval of Rae’s dusty jeans, her plain blue T-shirt, her… Well, her everything.

  “Get moving.” Roric jutted his square chin toward the door. “Another pack is willing to try you out for a season.”

  Rae’s heart thumped. She’d been hoping something would come along in another pack—a job, an internship, anything. She’d had enough of Nevada. Not so much the heat or the dusty flats but the stifling hierarchy of Roric’s Westend pack. That and the fact that these shifters had sold their souls. Gambling was big business in Nevada, but as far as Rae was concerned, it was a business wolf packs had no place in. What happened to their connection to the earth, to the old ways?

  Unfortunately, Roric’s pack had only let go of some of the old ways. They’d clung to the rest: the crushing, absolutist authority, the strict delineation of male and female roles. The only consolation was that Roric wasn’t as bad as some others—like the alpha Rae had fled in Co
lorado ten years earlier. Here, her body was safe. And by now, she’d learned the ropes. If she toed the line carefully, she had a modicum of freedom. After all, no one ever paid attention to what the odd wolf out did on the night of a new moon.

  But who knew what it would be like in a different pack?

  “Where?” she blurted.

  Roric waved a lazy hand as if it were all the same to him. But that gesture, like so many others, was probably rehearsed. The alpha didn’t do anything without analyzing it for the benefits—to him and his pack. Individual wishes didn’t register on his list.

  “Arizona. Twin Moon Ranch.”

  She caught a breath. When she’d put in a request for a transfer, she’d been thinking East Coast, where the packs were said to be more modern-minded. But Arizona? Wolf packs in the Four Corners area were known to be old school. And Arizona—that was old-old school. Who knew what kind of alpha she’d have there?

  She glanced around, second-guessing herself. Westend had never felt like home, but did she really want to start all over again?

  The hard faces greeting her provided all the answer she needed: the decision was made.

  “Who knows,” the alpha female added with a conspiratorial glance at her partner. “You might finally find a suitable mate there.”

  Rae hid the stutter in her breath. Was that a hint? A threat? The room leaned in over her, as enclosed spaces always did. She let her chin dip into the briefest nod, asking—begging—to be dismissed while her mind spun. Arizona?

  Roric flicked a finger toward the door. She was released.

  “Good luck,” Sabrina called, her tone clashing with the words.

  Right, luck. Rae had been in Nevada long enough to know that it took a hell of a lot of waiting to win at any gamble. Better to make her own luck, or at least stack the odds in her favor.

  She hurried to her room, forcing calm over her mind as she decided which of her few belongings mattered enough to take. Topping the list was her recurve bow and a freshly fletched set of arrows, with a few silver-tipped ones, just in case. Because there were wolves, and there were wolves. Who knew what Arizona might bring?

  Chapter One

  Zack stretched and squinted into the morning sun. He took a deep, testing breath and got a lungful of promise. He did it again, just to be sure. No, he hadn’t been dreaming. The desert really was alive with an enticing new scent. One of those fresh, optimistic scents that said spring was coming and everything would be new, good, and clean. He’d gotten home late last night after a week away tracking, but the scent had struck him the minute he rolled his Harley back onto the ranch. Something like the fragrance of a century plant in bloom—something that didn’t come along but once in a very long time.

  He looked around, searching for the first hints of spring as he walked the meandering path that connected his hermit’s cabin to the bustling central part of the ranch. But nothing was blooming, at least not yet. The ocotillo weren’t showing any scarlet buds, nor were the manzanitas giving any hint of color.

  So what the hell was that scent?

  He sniffed again, figuring it was one of those tricks of nature. The desert was full of mirages that showed a man what he wanted to see, only to cackle and whisk them away. For all that his Navajo mother had tried instilling the beauty of nature in him, his white father’s skeptical nature seemed to win out. The desert was simply another place on earth—just emptier, quieter, and more dangerous than the rest.

  He wound around the ranch outbuildings, heading for the work shed. A tracker’s job was an on-and-off gig that he balanced with projects on the ranch. This past week, he’d been tracking trespassers on the north edge of pack territory. A gang of three, it seemed, who’d long since come and gone. Nothing to worry about.

  Today seemed like a normal morning on the ranch with the usual guys out on the usual jobs. Except that Ty, the pack’s second-in-command, was over there, looking like a thundercloud that had stalled on a craggy mountain peak. Zack pulled up in midstep, wondering what was wrong. Ty was hacking at the earth like it was his mortal enemy.

  “Hey,” Zack called by way of greeting. He walked up and steadied the fence post while Ty chopped the earth around it in short, angry swipes.

  “Hey,” Ty grunted without looking up.

  For Ty, that passed for warm and fuzzy. Anyone but Zack, his oldest friend, would have earned an outright growl.

  The funny thing was, they had no business being friends. They’d both known it, even as kids. As the alpha’s oldest son, Ty couldn’t mix with just anyone and neither could the no-good half-breed from out on the western fringe of the ranch. Yet somehow, that was enough to bond them in spite of the odds.

  “You okay?” Zack ventured, watching Ty hack away.

  “Sure. Good.”

  Zack lifted an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. He sighed and found himself savoring the air. That scent was stronger down here on the ranch. A scent that tempted him to hope for something better in life. He bent his head against it, concentrating on his work. Hope only led to disappointment—a lesson he’d learned young and hard.

  Of course, that lesson only held true for some people. Hope sure seemed to work for people like Ty’s younger brother Cody, who was walking by now, chipper as always.

  “Heya, Zack! Ty!”

  Zack gave him a nod. Yes, optimism worked if you were the younger son of an alpha and life laid a golden path before your feet. Light on responsibility but heavy on privilege.

  Ty straightened, bringing his six-foot-two frame eye to eye with Zack’s. As the oldest son and heir apparent, Ty had it the other way around: heavy on responsibility, light on privilege. These days, his intense eyes pretended he was more machine than man, but Zack knew the truth. Inside was a man yearning to breathe free.

  Funny how two friends could be so different, yet so very much alike.

  Working and sweating side by side… They hadn’t done that in a while, and it felt good. Zack could forget he was the son of a vagrant wolf and a coyote mother, and Ty could pretend he could take on the whole world all by himself.

  “You got it?” Ty murmured.

  “Got it.”

  They switched places, Ty bracing the post while Zack excavated. He couldn’t resist another long drag of that air. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted. That scent was full of color and life and… Damn it, there it was again: promise.

  A dog huffed in the distance, and a woman turned the corner at the very same moment that the desert expunged another breath of that sweet, clear air. Zack watched her glide by with an easy, graceful step, and his wolf gave an appreciative whistle before launching into one of his inner monologues.

  Bet she could run for miles.

  Yeah, she probably could.

  Bet she could scale the hills without losing her breath.

  That, too.

  Bet she could lead a wolf on a chase to remember…

  He slammed the brakes on there and gave his head a firm shake.

  “Check it out,” one of the ranch hands whispered to another. Zack’s keen ears caught every word. “The new girl.”

  “Yeah, welcome to the ranch, sweetheart,” the other ranch hand said, not loud enough for her to hear.

  Zack’s inner wolf growled.

  With that windswept almond hair and lanky limbs, she was much, much too appealing for her own good. The defiant jut of her chin wasn’t for show; this was a woman ready to defend her cause, whatever it was. Pretty and totally unafraid. A dangerous combination for an unclaimed female away from her home turf.

  Zack followed her movements much longer and closer than he’d intended. Everything about her said wild, tangled, and free. Everything he wanted to be.

  A dozen pairs of eyes trailed after her as she strode across the work yard, with one strap of her overalls loose, the other tight. A new female on the ranch was always cause for speculation, and a colt-legged, sharp-eyed country girl like this scored highest of all. And from the looks of it, score was on ev
ery man’s mind.

  He tested the air. She was a shifter, all right. He could sense the wolf in her, see the self-control holding the beast in check. It was right there, under the surface—closer than most females shifters allowed their wolves, as if she was on guard. The question was, on guard against what?

  Not your type, part of his brain ordered. Definitely not your type.

  Just my type, his wolf growled.

  Exactly my type, his coyote agreed.

  That’s what he got for being a mixed-breed: two voices in his head, even if he only ever shifted into the same canine body—big as a wolf with the dun-colored coat and pointed muzzle of a coyote. But the voices were always separate inside, and the wolf and coyote parts of his brain rarely agreed.

  We agree on her, both chuckled at the same time.

  Chapter Two

  Zack watched a dog run up to the new girl, putting on a snarling show. But she stopped it with a single firm syllable. Within a minute, she’d turned the vicious mutt into a leg-thumping puddle of mush. Half the guys in sight looked like they’d be ready to do the same until a harsh whisper broke the mood.

  “Crap! Look.”

  “Quick. He’s coming.”

  Everyone scrambled back to work as the sound of booted feet stalked into the yard. Old Tyrone, senior alpha of the pack, was approaching, and everybody went on high alert. Zack’s shoulders tensed and he gripped the post tighter. Ty did, too; he could sense it.

  The alpha stomped right up to Zack, clamped a viselike hand over the back of his neck, and squeezed. Zack held his breath and stood very, very still. From a distance, the older man’s gesture might pass for a wise old alpha leaning in to give a young up-and-comer a word of well-meaning advice.