Bad Boy Cowboy’s Runaway Bride by Scarlett Stone

Prologue

Slakefield, Two Days Ago

Patricia knew that she and her father didn’t always see eye to eye, but this was outrageous.

She sat uncomfortably by her bedroom window, anxiously twisting a lock of her jet-black hair between her fingers as she gazed out at the street below. Slakefield was always pretty at dusk, with the trees and houses bathed in gold as the sun set, but as much as Patricia loved to admire the detail, it was hard to appreciate the view before her. The echoes of her last argument with her father returned to her as distant voices in the back of her mind.

I don’t want to do it,she heard herself saying. Why should I?

Because it’s not about what you want, Patricia. This has to be done.

She should have known trying to talk sense into her father would be futile. Once Gregory Baxter set his mind on something, he couldn’t be dissuaded, not even at gunpoint. And her father wanted power. She’d seen that look in his eyes before when he mentioned Michael’s name.

Michael will be here this evening to discuss the terms of our arrangement. You will sit upstairs in your bedroom and wait until you’re called.

Patricia had almost laughed in his face. Almost. How ridiculous! She was twenty-six years old, for goodness sake, and capable of making her own decisions. Yet her father was bent on dictating every aspect of her life. If she was from a human family, she wouldn’t be sitting here right now with her chin pressed against the windowsill, sulking. If she was from a human family, she would be living on her own, preferably in some other town than Wildclaw Ridge.

If.

As long as her father remained the alpha of the Baxter clan, everything he said was law. He might be inconsiderate, blinded by his ambition, and a cataract in one eye, and once or twice today she’d really considered slashing at him with her claws, but there was nothing she could do. Her father’s decision was final. In a matter of days, maybe weeks, she would be officially married.

It's been done, her father had told her. He’s your husband now. All that’s left is the ceremony.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Marriage. In all her years, she’d never thought she would have to worry about that. It sounded like a lot more work than reading or baking.

Patricia gazed for a moment at the white gown laid out on her bed. Her wedding gown. Her father had picked it out for her. She suppressed a shudder of revulsion and sighed as she watched a lone woman walking down the street, hands in her pockets. She sniffed the air. Even from where she sat, she caught a whiff of her scent. Human. Patricia couldn’t help the envy that bubbled up inside her. Other people got to lead normal, often boring lives. She, on the other hand, had to sit and wait for the man who’d taken her hand in marriage without her consent. What did she know about Michael Greyson?

Nothing good.

She’d seen him only a couple of times, but she’d learned enough about him to know he was far from husband material. He was wealthy, even more so than her father was, but that was his only redeeming quality if you could call it that. Between the murders and other crimes he was rumored to have committed, the very thought of him was enough to leave her unsettled. He was a powerful, dangerous man, and he was ruthless.

Well, that was one way to put it.

The last time she’d met Michael had been a year ago, and it hadn’t exactly been a pleasant experience. His very aura was threatening like he had some devious scheme up his sleeve. How he had become friends with her father was a mystery to Patricia.

But he was the man her father wanted her to marry. Her father was downstairs in the living room now, waiting for his new son-in-law to arrive. The way her father saw it; the union would strengthen his clan and Michael’s. The way Patricia saw it, she was waiting like a lamb to be led to the slaughter. She should’ve asked her father to marry Michael himself if he was so fascinated by him. That comment would have earned her a punishment, no doubt, but it would’ve been worth it.

She lifted her gaze to the setting sun, squinting a little. Any second now, Michael would be arriving at their home.

Any second now.

Bitter laughter rumbled in her chest, and her lips stretched back over her teeth. She ran her fingers through her hair like a comb, brushing it over her shoulder. Her life had changed significantly since her mother passed away years ago. She and her father seemed to have grown farther apart as time went by. Patricia didn’t hate him. She just thought he could be a bit over the top sometimes.

Like now.

A thought crept into her mind and she picked up the wedding dress. It fit her perfectly when she slipped it on, hugging her curves.

You can’t let this happen,said a small voice in her head.

There’s nothing I can do about it,she thought. He’s already decided. I can’t change his mind.

You’re smart. You can figure something out. You always do.

Yeah, well, for now, I’m already a married woman.

Just then, she heard the sound of tires rolling over gravel, which drew her gaze away from the setting sun. A red truck pulled into the driveway. Patricia felt her stomach clench, but she remained still, her heartbeat accelerating slightly as she stared at the vehicle, waiting to see who the newcomers were.

She didn’t have to wait long. Three burly men wearing dark blazers over Hawaiian shirts climbed out of the truck and looked around. None of them looked particularly familiar, but she could tell from their scent what they were—werewolves.

Patricia held her breath.

Then the fourth door opened, and he got out.

He was huge, not as brawny as his men, but certainly big enough to do some damage. In his gray suit and black tie, he looked like he was here for a business meeting—which wasn’t far from the truth when she thought about it. Michael Greyson was in his late thirties, patches of grey already appearing in his dark hair. His grey eyes swiveled left and right like he was sweeping the area.

And then his eyes rose and stared directly at her.

His thin lips of his curved into a smile.

Crap!

Patricia spun away from the window, clutching her chest in panic. She looked down at the wedding gown she had on, and a single thought crossed her mind.

I need to get the heck out of here.