So he grabbed her hind foot and tugged it as he rolled out of reach of gleaming fangs.Īnd he ignored the rich scent of his father's anger-a scent that faded abruptly.Īnna was oblivious to his father's presence. He could have stopped their play, but Brother Wolf had no desire to take up a real battle yet. That she'd risk this was a statement of trust that warmed him immensely-but he never let Brother Wolf forget that she didn't know them well and had more reason than most to fear him and what he was: male and dominant and wolf. He was careful never to pin her down, never to hurt her, even by accident. He laughed at her mock growls when she got him down and went for his stomach-then laughed again at the icy nose she shoved under his coat and shirt, more ticklish than any fingers in the sensitive spots on the sides of his belly. She didn't use her claws or teeth against his vulnerable skin. He stayed human to even the odds, because Brother Wolf outweighed her by sixty or eighty pounds and his human form was almost her weight. They wrestled all over the front yard-making a mess of his carefully tended walk and turning the pristine snow into a battleground of foot-and-body prints. He rolled forward, and she took off with a yip of excitement. He had too much practice controlling all of his expressions.īut she saw something that had her dropping her front half down to a crouch and loosening her lower jaw in a wolfish grin-a universal invitation to play. He knew that she couldn't read anything in his face. She got out of reach quickly and turned back to look at him.

Hunting ground briggs