Bayou Wolf by Heather Long

hunt identified threaded through her muscles, a coiled tension she couldn’t ignore or do anything about. Frustration annoyed her. Linc Buckley frustrated her—thus he was annoying.
    “If you glare any harder at the window, he may think you want to eat him rather than sleep with him.” Amy’s voice drifted over her like so much gossamer, soothing her jagged, irritated skin.
    “Leave it alone,” she snapped. The last thing she needed or wanted was pity from anyone, least of all Amy.
    The healer leaned against the wall next to the window, settling right into the periphery of her vision. “I don’t think so,” she said, her voice a low murmur even though they were in Serafina’s bedroom. The Hounds had migrated to the kitchen, currently embroiled in an argument over what to make for dinner. The volume of their debate precluded listening to the conversation between Alpha and healer. The reinforced walls didn’t hurt either.
    Linc’s idea, she suspected, though she hadn’t confirmed. He mentioned he’d drawn up the plans for the houses, supervised their construction and likely hammered a good portion of them himself. After their run, he’d grown more distant and circumspect. If not for the hints of arousal deepening his woodsy scent, she might have thought him utterly uninterested.
    Why is he playing hard to get? After their run, he’d told her he wanted to take care of some of the damaged trees he’d spotted in the woods. She didn’t know enough about forestry to notice what he’d seen; yet he’d taken the time to show her the deep splits in the outer skin and the deadness beneath it. If left to their own devices, they’d rot slowly then tumble and likely damage the healthier trees around them. “ Better to clean cut them now, then I can get some fresh firewood. We might see some snow during your stay.”
    “Sera,” Amy murmured. “You’re putting way too much pressure on him.”
    Pressure? What? Jerking her gaze off the wolf who’d stripped out of his shirt and currently wielded an axe to break up the trees he’d hauled out of the thick woods, she said, “I’m not doing anything to him.”
    “You’re flirting, turning on the charm. The more he doesn’t respond, the harder you’re pushing.” Soft green eyes gentled as they stared at her. “It’s been a while since you took a lover.”
    Snorting, Serafina cut a hand through the air and paced away from the window. She’d excused herself to the bedroom to empty her suitcase and perhaps shower before Mason arrived. Flipping the bag open, she inspected the contents. She’d packed several items, formal and informal. Most wouldn’t care what they wore, but Sera used everything at her disposal—jeans and t-shirts said casual and approachable, dresses could be used to emphasize her femininity and distract the opponent, leather for use when she needed their attention off balance.
    Wolves consumed by thoughts of sex often missed danger lurking in their midst. Three of the four Alphas she would meet with remained unmated. She had phone conversations with all save Diesel—and he never spoke on the phone. They were powerful males and wolves didn’t take packs without the need to look after others, not even Toman Carlyle. Call him a lot of names—and she could think of several—he had protected his people the best way he knew. The problem lay in the injuries he’d inflicted by cutting out pack members as though they were cancers.
    Stroking her fingers over the leather jacket, she considered Linc’s earlier statement. “I’m not the type to pick and choose my words.”
    She growled and dropped the jacket. He was one male, and there was no point in her ridiculous dwelling over his refusal to accept her playful flirtations. “I need to shower and change. Mason will be here soon.”
    “Sera,” Amy said with a sigh as she perched on the edge of the bed. “It’s all right to want a lover.”
    “Uh huh. I’m here to take care of business, not