A few nights in bed with a dragon, and suddenly she was like a horny teenage boy.

Willa wrung her hands as she stared out the bedroom window, skin still hot with embarrassment and something else she refused to name.

It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with getting her slut on. In fact, getting in touch with her sexuality had been one of her closely guarded fantasies for years. She would daydream of finding another pack that didn’t feel compelled to dictate who she mated with. She’d watch shows like Sex In the City and True Blood and be so jealous that those girls could go to a club, see a man they wanted and sleep with him if they felt like it. Make their own decisions, whether they were mistakes or not.

But, no. She’d had to stay “pure” for the future alpha in yet another backwater, stupid-ass tradition that only the most conservative of packs held dear.

And now look at her. So repressed and backed up sexually that, as mad as she was and as terrible as the past few days had been, she’d woken up grinding against her nemesis like some chick named Bambi at the local strip club on a guy holding a fistful of dollar bills.

Humiliation, two.

Willa, zero.

“Arggg.”

She flopped back onto the bed and grabbed one of the pillows from the defunct pillow-wall that had failed as a barrier between her and Drake and covered her face with it.

So now what? Drake thought he was the big swinging dick on campus, which made sense, since she’d practically thrown herself at him.

Twice.

Maybe she’d take him down a peg or two and explain that it had nothing to do with him and everything to do with her situation. But the lie revealed itself to her instantly as the memory of his skilled hands on her body reared its head, sending a bolt of need running straight to her core.

She tossed the pillow aside and sat up, one ear cocked for the sound of the shower turning off. There was no point in thinking about the other night. Or this morning even, although the tips of her ears burned as she recalled the very moment she realized she’d woken up with a handful of his meat and potatoes.

Nope. She was going to focus on the right now. And, right now, she needed to get ready to go into town. She’d done her grieving for what was lost and it was time to get serious about escaping. Their little shopping jaunt would, at the very least, create an opportunity to make a phone call so she could get the wheels in motion.

A flood of pain washed over her as she realized with a start that, even if she did manage to get a moment away from him and find a phone to use, she had no one to call. When she’d tried to reach out mentally to Grey, her alpha and former fiancé, she’d been stunned and heartsick when she’d realized their connection—and her connection to her other packmates—had been severed.

Was that a bi-product of she and her parents leaving, or had he cut her off from her brethren? She didn’t know, but it hardly mattered. The result was the same. The only family she had now was her parents, and calling them was out of the question. Eventually, she would face them and demand an explanation for what they’d done to her. But now? When she needed help escaping, she couldn’t risk it. They were more likely to bring her right back to Drake than they were to lend a hand. They couldn’t be trusted.

How sad was that?

She gnawed on her bottom lip until the tears that stung her eyes went away, and then she shifted her focus. No more of this sad sack b.s. She could throw a giant pity party for herself once she got away, complete with streamers and a cake for one. Maybe she’d even leave Montana entirely and go to Manhattan. Get an apartment and forget pack life…or even wolf life altogether.

The world would be her oyster.

But in order to shuck it, she had to get away from here. Get away from Drake before she found herself firmly entrenched in yet another situation she didn’t choose for herself. Because no matter how much she tried to convince herself otherwise, he moved her. Made her want things she had no business wanting with a man who would keep her against her will.

She pushed herself to her feet and crossed the room, filled with a renewed sense of purpose. She’d tried vinegar and that hadn’t worked, and she’d already given up far more honey than she’d ever meant to. Now it was time to try for some sweet and sour sauce. The happy medium. She’d keep things light, friendly and easy between them so he would let his guard down, but not so friendly that he got suspicious.

Easy peasy lemon squeezy.

By the time she stepped out into the cool, late-morning sunshine an hour later dressed in some more of Drake’s ill-fitting clothes, she had it all together. She had opted not to make the eggs he’d requested, but handed him a granola bar on the way out and even pasted on a smile as she asked the question she'd been dying to ask since he'd told her they were going shopping.

"So, am I supposed to get off this mountain the same way I got on it?"

It wasn't easy, but she managed to keep the fear off her face. If he insisted on shifting and carrying her in his clutches as he soared over the treetops, she wouldn't fight him on it. As much as she dreaded the thought, her eventual goal was to get down from this place and onto earth again where she could run. Once she was able to find her way to a thickly treed forest—which weren’t exactly scarce here in Montana--he'd never catch her. If it took a dragon ride to get there, she’d suffer through it.

Luckily, though, he shook his head. "No. We're going to take my truck."

He reached into his jeans pocket and she stared on in shock as he pulled out a set of keys and pressed a button that sent what looked to be just another part of the stone keep lifting off the ground. It revealed a standard variety garage that held a truck, flanked by a sleek sports car and a motorcycle.

"You son of a-"

She bit off the rest of the words and tamped down the rising tide of fury. He'd never said he didn't have a car, but he'd implied more than once that there was only one way off the mountain. Why had she been so stupid as to trust him?

Think about the now, Willa.

She still needed him to get her down from this godforsaken rock. Having three vehicles and no way to start them wasn't any better than having no vehicle at all.

He strode over to the driver’s side of the truck and unlocked the door so she could get in the passenger’s seat. She settled in without a word and buckled her belt.

"There's only one store in town that carries women's clothing and it’s not so hot, but we’re expecting more weather this afternoon. I’d rather not make the three hour drive to the mall, so unless you want to fly..."

"Nope. The truck will be fine."

He plugged the key into the ignition and started the engine, pulling out a second later.

"We'll just pick you up the essentials, and then, in a few days, we can make the trip to Bozeman," he said, his tone conversational enough that it pricked her ire again. She was basically his prisoner and here he was acting like they were on a Sunday drive.

She nodded and shrugged, forcing herself to keep it cordial. "Whatever you think is best."

As the truck crept closer toward the edge of the cliff though, her annoyance faded as she stared out the windshield in stunned surprise. If she’d only jumped out the window and run to the other side of the house that night, she might have noticed the ten-foot gap in the massive rock wall. The stone house that had looked entirely inaccessible by any means but flight had a terrifyingly narrow road spiraling the perimeter of the mountain it sat on.

The realization sat in her stomach like a stone.

If she had taken two seconds to scout the area before tearing off half-cocked, she could’ve avoided her pathetic rock-climbing attempt and run down the road. Maybe she could’ve even gotten away before--

“It wouldn’t have made any difference,” Drake said, not taking his eyes off the rocky pathway in front of him.

“What wouldn’t have?” she asked, her heart thudding as they rounded the first corner. Jesus, was this a tight fit. If she opened her door and leaned out even three feet, there would be nothing between her and a straight drop.

She was still trying to decide which would have been more terrifying, this truck ride or hitching a lift on a dragon, when he spoke again.

“Even if you knew about the road, you wouldn’t have made it far. Your kind might be fast, but without wings, Etienne or I would’ve gotten to you long before you reached the bottom either way.”

She wet her dry lips and nodded as her fingers tightened on her seatbelt. “Yeah, yeah, I believe you.” No point crying over spilt milk, anyway. And besides, she had a whole new set of worries. This truck ride might be the death of her after all. “Let’s skip the chatter and focus on the road…or whatever you want to call this passage of certain doom.”

His low chuckle should’ve annoyed her, but his apparent comfort behind the wheel actually calmed her some.

Still, by the time they reached the bottom and pulled onto the main road in the center of town an hour later, her fingernails had bitten half-moons into her palms, and her hands were numb from clenching them so tightly.

“You can breathe now,” Drake said softly. “And, for future reference, I used to race cars back in Scotland and am very comfortable behind the wheel. I would never intentionally put you in danger, Willa.”

His words sent an unwanted wash of warmth through her and she refused to meet his gaze. How screwed up was her life that her own parents cared nothing at all about her safety, yet the captor they’d all but sold her to was committed to it?

They continued to drive for another few miles down the one-stoplight street and parked in front of a quaint general store that looked like something out of Mayberry.

“Come on,” Drake said, turning off the ignition and popping his door open. “We’ll get you some clothes and then I’ll feed you a proper lunch.”

She let him lead the way into the place, but when they stepped through the door, Willa stopped short. She'd been in Montana her whole life, so the store itself wasn't all that strange, but the expression on the clerk's face when Drake walked in sure was.

The blonde behind the counter ran a hand over her perfect, shiny locks and literally beamed at him, big, Chiclet teeth flashing. Then, she noticed Willa standing beside him, and her cornflower eyes narrowed.

"Mr. Blackbourne! So nice to see you again. And is this your...sister?" she asked with a hopeful half-smile.

Willa flicked a glance to Drake and then back at Blondie, trying to suss out exactly what was going on. Drake seemed slightly uncomfortable, which had her wondering if maybe the woman was a former lover, but the fact that she'd called him "Mr. Blackbourne" made her question that theory. Maybe it was more of an unrequited crush?

Either way, a low-level sense of annoyance blossomed in her belly as she took in the clerk's young, lithe form. She looked like she'd been plucked off the pages of Sports Illustrated, Podunk Edition, with her trim waist wrapped in a checkered button-down that flashed a hint of navel when she moved. She was probably one of those irritating just-a-side-salad types who pretended carrots and hummus tasted just as good as chips and onion dip.

"Raina." Drake dipped his chin in greeting and then turned to Willa. "This is Willa.”

"His wife." She tacked the words onto the end of his sentence before she could stop herself. What the hell had made her say that? Her cheeks burned and she tried to block out Drake's slow grin in her peripheral vision, as she added, "For now, anyway."

Raina's perfect eyebrows collapsed into a puzzled frown. "For…now?"

Drake slipped an arm around Willa's waist and she barely managed to suppress the shiver of awareness that ran through her.

"Willa's cranky this morning because we’ve been cooped up with this weather. She's threatened me with divorce unless I got her out of the house today," he said smoothly.

Raina’s eyes took on a predatory glint as she nodded and tucked one of her golden locks behind her ear. "Oh. Well, nice to meet you, Mrs. Blackbourne. And if you do decide you’re sick of him, let me know. I’d be happy to take him off your hands."

She popped him a wink and sashayed out from behind the counter, pert bottom swaying. It took everything Willa had not to trip her when she walked by, which was petty, small-minded and so very sad.

Not qualities she strived to embody.

She forced herself to shove aside her traitorous emotions. She’d only known the man for a few days, and already he was turning her into a shrew. Drake didn’t belong to her. In fact, her singular goal in life was to escape him, and she couldn’t allow herself to forget that for even an instant.

"Check back next week. Odds are, he'll be all yours," she chirped after the girl, and pulled away from Drake to head toward the meager racks of clothes.

To his credit, Drake trailed behind her as she walked around the store, but didn’t remark on her selections or press her for time. For her part, she kept it short and sweet, making no attempt to shop for anything stylish. This whole thing was a charade anyway. She’d select a few of this and a few of that in the right size for appearances sake, but she’d be long gone before she had to worry about a full wardrobe.

"Sneakers too," he reminded her, glancing down at her feet that were encased in a borrowed pair of his clunky, oversized shit-kickers.

"Like I could forget those," she said wryly as she clomped off toward the wall of shoes.

She could feel his eyes on her, so she made a show of picking up a pair of white tennies before putting them down and selecting a second pair.

The whole ordeal took all of twenty minutes but it felt like half a lifetime. Between Raina shooting eye daggers from across the store and Drake standing close enough to Willa for her to smell the Irish Spring on him, she was ready to jump out of her skin by the time they checked out and left with their bags.

"We got something accomplished today," Drake said as they made their way to his truck. "And I think you'll feel much better once you have some things of your own in the house."

She swallowed a near-hysterical laugh. Yeah, that was the issue. If only she'd had a pair of jeans to call her own, she'd be fine…the whole “sold into marriage with a dragon” thing notwithstanding. Still, it did her no good to argue with him. She'd tried that multiple times and failed.

No, her only hope was to gain his trust until he let his guard down. If she could keep her head on straight in the meantime, she'd be fine.

But why did he have to smell so damned good?

"Let's hit the diner for some food," he said, gesturing to the greasy spoon across the narrow street. “That granola bar didn’t cut it.”

She nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically. There had to be a way for her to find a phone and make a call once they were at the restaurant. Because, with every minute that passed, as isolated as she’d tried to keep herself, she lost herself a little more in Drake. And soon, she was going to forget why she ever wanted to leave in the first place…

Choice, Willa, her subconscious snapped at her.

Free will.

The right to pick the man she spent her life with.

And the man she spent her life with wasn’t going to be one who’d traded for her like a head of cattle.

“The diner sounds good,” she said with a smile. “Let’s go.”