Nigel Rhodes sat down at his usual table in Claire’s Coffee House with a resigned sigh. The place had been his home for the past month and a half. One of the waitresses gave him a wave and a sly smile. He nodded back to her and opened his Time Magazine.

The girl set a cup of coffee in front of him and he thanked her without looking up as he continued to read. He hated being here, but as one of the Pack’s Enforcers he was left no choice. Especially considering his father was Alpha. Nigel was at the mercy of his father’s whims.

“Hello, Nigel. Right on time, I see.” Claire Andrews’ slightly husky voice broke into his thoughts.

“Hello, Claire.” Again he didn’t bother to look up. He knew she was there; her scent was all over the small shop. Cinnamon and apples, just like his favorite muffin. He groaned inwardly when he heard the chair scrape across the floor indicating she’d decided to sit down.

“Aren’t you getting tired of babysitting me?”

“You have no idea,” he muttered. When she remained expectantly silent, he elaborated. “Thomas wants you guarded. My Alpha commands and I obey.” He was as sick of the question as he was of sitting on his ass day after day in her café. But she posed it to him every single day, and every single day he gave her the same answer.

“I’m a big girl, Nigel. I think I can manage to keep myself out of trouble.”

He ignored her sarcastic tone.

“I’m sure you’re right, Luv, but you’re the one who agreed to participate in the Mating Run. All prospective mates are being guarded.” Here we go, he thought. Same argument, different day.

“I’m a witch, Nigel.”

Nigel closed the magazine, finally looking up at her. She wrinkled her pert little nose at him.

“Yes, but you’re a human witch. Dad doesn’t want any of the boys nosing around until the solstice, and if someone decided to make a play, you don’t have the physical strength to fend him off.” He hid his smile as she crossed her arms beneath her very ample chest and huffed at him. That chest had played front and center in more than one fantasy when he was alone and horny. The idea of sliding his cock between her large breasts made him come so hard, it drove him nearly to his knees, relieving some of the stress that had been building in him over the past month.

“If I’d known the Pack was going to insist on dogging my every step, I wouldn’t have consented to the Run.” He quirked his eyebrow; she was in rare form this evening. “Yes, the pun was intended.”

“You could always get out of it, Claire. All you have to do is go and find a man to rub all over you. Trust me, no wolf looking for a mate will want the stink of another man on his female.”

“I thought of that,” she sighed, “but then my family would be pissed. One Andrews’ woman in every generation is expected to be in the Run. You know that. This generation I drew the lucky short straw.”

Exasperated with her familiar grumblings, and the lust that seemed to flare out of control every time he caught a hint of her sweet scent, Nigel lost his patience.

“Claire, what the hell do you want me to do about it? You entered the Run of your own free will. Either commit yourself to it or break the contract, just stop whining about it.” Six weeks of sexual frustration boiled over. “It’s not like I’m having any fun here, either. My childhood goal was never to be a babysitter when I grew up.”

“You’re an ass, Nigel Rhodes.” Claire shoved her chair back forcefully. “No more free muffins for you.”

Nigel watched her stalk away, feeling like that cartoon wolf with his tongue unrolling in pure lust. Her ass, like her chest, was round and ample and he enjoyed the way it swayed when she was all in a huff. It made him hot, and relieved some of the boredom of being in the coffee shop. Of course, it also ramped up his sexual frustration to a whole new level.

He scanned the rest of the table and chairs. Snotty, elitist college kids crowded around, discussing politics and the rotten state of the country, not understanding they would become part of the problem as soon as they entered the working world.

He pretended to read his magazine as he watched Claire go about her work. His jeans tightened uncomfortably when she bent over to wipe a table, giving him and every other man in the place a nice view of her plump tits. Dammit, he came in here every day and left hard as stone every evening.

The truth was, Nigel wanted little Miss Claire Andrews. He wanted her in the worst way, and she was untouchable. He normally wasn’t attracted to human women; they tended to be too fragile for him. He was a rough lover, as most wolves were. Human women, with their exaggerated concerns about looking like the latest celebrity heiress, never had enough muscle or padding to take a man of his size or predilections. No, in general human women weren’t his cup of tea at all. He shivered. But Claire was different.

Her delicious curves could handle Nigel; he wouldn’t have any worries about damaging her if things got a little ... energetic. Hell, she could probably give him a run for his money.

It was her body type and her particular magical ability which had allowed her to join in the annual Mating Run. According to her grandfather, Claire was the only Andrews woman to possess the exact combination of physical and mental strength to handle mating with a wolf. Nigel knew that was a load of bullshit. While her family’s abilities were powerful and plenty, Claire lacked the more aggressive magic they believed necessary to strengthen the family. So they offered her as the latest sacrifice to a centuries-old pact. It annoyed the hell out of Nigel. In the Pack every wolf was valued for their own unique strengths. No Alpha would willingly compel one of his wolves to fulfill an ancient pact against his or her will.

Nigel sighed. Of course, the Alpha was more than willing to manipulate his own sons into fulfilling roles not of their choosing.

Wolf shifters were a prolific bunch, highly sexed and highly fertile, but the vast majority of young were males. As a result, there weren’t enough female wolves to keep the breed “pure.” So several generations ago Nigel’s ancestor, a strong and well-respected Alpha, had instituted the Mating Run. Each Solstice a lottery was held to determine which males would compete for the available female wolves.

The local Wiccan community had joined in, offering the promise of one woman each generation to participate in the Run in return for support and protection.

This year wasn’t his year. Again. That honor went to his older brother, Taylor, and Nigel obeyed Pack law, no matter how it burned like acid to imagine another wolf sinking into the fire that was Claire. His Claire.

*

Claire tried not to stare at Nigel as she put out fresh cookies in the display case. She’d cursed herself a thousand times over for allowing the Coven to pressure her into agreeing to participate in the Run. The Elders had conspired, her parents had pleaded, and her sisters had pointed out the positives. She was almost thirty, had no serious boyfriend and the wolves were a heady bunch of men. What she never expected was her lightning hot attraction to her personal bodyguard, nor did she imagine she would lie in bed at night dreaming about him mounting her and staking a claim.

She rubbed her arm discreetly along her hard nipples; they always ached whenever Nigel was in the vicinity. She was going to have to find a way to back out of the Hunt, because she couldn’t possibly be mate to another wolf when she was in love with the one sitting in her shop.

Hellfire and damnation, but this was an impossible situation. Her first responsibility had to be to her family. At least that was the lecture her mother always gave her.

Her magic didn’t strengthen the family or the Coven. No, Claire wasn’t able to influence others like her sister Drew, call upon the weather like her sister Rio, or provide great healing like her sister Tamara. Hell, she couldn’t even manage to do the simplest levitation spell.

She’d been blessed with the gift of food. She could conjure up the sweetest sugar, grow the best vegetables and bake like no one’s business. More, with a little flex of her Will, Claire could imbue each of her creations with a charm to relax or calm someone. While they were always more than happy to enjoy the fruits of her labor, the Coven Elders didn’t consider her talent to be of any importance, a fact they frequently reminded her of.

Claire had been reluctant when her mother approached her with the news that she’d been selected to participate in the Mating Run. When her sister Drew sympathetically pointed out that by doing the Run Claire could finally contribute something worthwhile to the Coven, Claire had been so hurt and offended she’d refused to even discuss the subject.

Finally, after months of argument, she was called before the Elders, who informed her that, because she was showing such poor judgment by refusing to participate in the Run, they felt compelled to call in her business loan on her café. It wasn’t wise, they explained, to trust someone so irrational and emotional with such a great responsibility.

She’d been stunned speechless and had left the meeting room without a word. The horror and pain had come next. She couldn’t believe her Coven, her very family, would stoop to blackmail to secure her cooperation. The threat went against everything she’d ever been taught about the responsibilities of the Coven to its members.

It wasn’t until her father pulled her aside and explained to her that the Elders truly believed they were doing what was best for her as well as the entire group that Claire was able to begin putting the situation into perspective.

The Elders didn’t believe her magical talent had any benefit for them, but they also didn’t believe it provided any protection for her. By participating in the Run, she would guarantee another generation of protection for the Coven, and a safe haven for herself.

She hated it, thought it was positively medieval, and she couldn’t think of a way out of it.

The Coven was utterly practical, and in the end Claire forced herself to be practical, too. Thomas Rhoades, the Pack’s Alpha, seemed more than happy to relieve the Coven of Claire’s presence, and honestly, Claire didn’t have much use for the Coven at this point. So she’d listed all the pro’s, not the least of which was the fact that the wolves were all hotties, and signed the contract more or less of her own free will. Which led to her present quandary.

She’d never in a million years have guessed she’d fall for her bodyguard. Of course, Nigel hadn’t given her even a hint that he saw her as anything more than an irritation. Besides, if she backed out now, she’d alienate the wolves, bring shame to her family, and endanger the generations-old agreement they had with the wolf Pack.

Stupid, archaic and unreasonable Pact. Claire shook her head at herself. She knew better than to fight it. Some traditions couldn’t be broken, even in the twenty-first century, and this was one of those traditions. So she was left with only her fantasies of the six-foot-two wolf with shaggy brown hair, amber eyes and a killer English accent to keep her warm at night.