Claimed by the Pack - The Complete Series: Werewolf Shifter Romance

by Kimber White

  “Go away!” I shouted. It was absurd. As if the wolf could understand me. He did, though. The minute I thought it, I knew it was true. The big wolf held me in his gaze. He was wild, he was deadly, and somehow, this felt personal.

  I tried in vain to loosen the suction on my rear tires, but only succeeded in driving them further into the muck. My options were limited. I could call for help. I could sit and wait, and hope they wouldn’t tear the car, and me, apart. The moment I thought it, the great wolf on my windshield reared up on his hind legs. He came down with thunderous force. The car shook and threatened to roll. He went up again and came down just as hard. This time, a web of fractured glass spread from the point of impact all the way across the windshield.

  He was going to get through!

  I ripped my phone from the charging dock and tried to tap in 911. The other wolves took their cues from the leader, and began slamming their paws against the side windows. The car rocked and rolled, the metal frame creaking from the tremendous weight and stress of the beasts.

  I heard the 911 operator pick up the phone just as one of the wolves launched itself against the passenger side door. The force of the blow caved the door in partway and knocked my phone out of my hand. I screamed for all I was worth, but knew that no miracle on the other end of that phone would save me. Five minutes from now, I’d already be dead.

  The biggest wolf reared its head back and let out an ear-splitting howl, filled with rage and grief. Cold fear pooled low in my belly, and something else too. Recognition. This was the same howl I had heard twice the night before. Once in the distance after Jake drove me away from the crash site, and again last night from my hotel room. It was this wolf. Somehow, he knew what I’d done and wanted to make me pay for it.

  He slammed his great paws against the broken windshield again, and it was enough to finally breach the glass. It crunched inward, the safety glass holding it in one sheet. I could run, but I knew I wouldn’t get far. I could wait here and let them tear me to pieces right in my car.

  The wolf took a lumbering step over the hood and swung his head through the gap in the windshield. His fangs dripped, and I felt his hot, sticky breath across my chest. His body trembled with a constant, low growl and the other wolves retreated. I instantly sensed why. I was his kill and he meant to savor it.

  The ground shook beneath me. For an instant, I thought it was the other wolves joining in with a chorus of menacing growls. It was that, but it was something else too. The unmistakable roar of a Harley engine revved alongside my car. The driver’s side door was wrenched open, even though I had locked it.

  I looked up into the flashing silver eyes of Tucker McGraw. He reached out his hand. “Hop on if you want to live!”

  Chapter Seven

  I reached for Tucker’s hand. Adrenalin fueled us both, and he heaved me onto the back of his bike with one swift motion. The wolf on the car hood reared his head back and let out an ear-splitting howl, but he didn’t come after me.

  Tucker spun the bike around. I snaked my hands around his waist, pressed my cheek against his strong back, and held on tight as he hit the throttle. The engine roared beneath my legs and we sped away, leaving the four wolves behind. I couldn’t look back. They couldn’t outrun a Harley at top speed. My logical brain knew this. Still, I shut my eyes tight and tucked my legs against the bike. God, please let him be fast enough.

  “Hold on!” Tucker shouted above the roar of the engine. I already was. Tucker was warm, and hard as a block of granite. My heart thundered in my chest, and I could feel his pulse matching my own as I gripped him tight around the waist. My hair whipped behind me like a banner.

  The wolves howled at my back, and I swear I could still smell their breath, though I wasn’t brave enough to check if they were giving chase. Not yet. The howling faded into the distance. Then Tucker swerved the bike where the road split, heading back for the Interstate.

  I couldn’t read the gauges on the bike. Tucker’s broad back filled my vision. But he whipped and weaved around the other cars on the freeway. He had to be going close to ninety. He drove fast but never recklessly. He passed other vehicles with skilled precision, putting great distance between us and whatever the hell had happened back there. He kept on and on, taking me back the way I had come. We passed the Woodland Motel and three more exits, until he turned again into Hidden Forest Nature Reserve.

  He went off the main road into the park, taking back trails into the deepest part of the woods. Twice now, woods like these had spelled danger for me. This time, though, with Tucker, something shifted. I had the sense that Tucker could handle any threat that came tearing through the trees this time. It was absurd. Ludicrous. I may have just traded one danger for another. I couldn’t assume that Tucker’s intentions were any less threatening than the wolves. And yet I did.

  Tucker finally came to a stop in front of another cabin tucked far back into the woods. He cut the engine and slid off the bike. On wobbly legs, I did the same.

  “You all right?” he said. He put one hand on my shoulder, and crooked his finger under my chin, tilting my face up to meet his.

  His eyes darted across my face, searching. I saw real fear behind his eyes, and knew it was for me.

  I nodded. “I think so.”

  “Let’s get you inside,” he said. He ran a hand through his thick, black hair. He kept his hand on my upper arm and led me inside the cabin, then he locked the door behind us.

  “Sit down,” he said. “You’re skin’s like ice. I think you’re in shock.”

  I did what he said. I took a seat in the center of the room on a leather couch before an unlit stone fireplace. The cabin was large, with high peaked ceilings crisscrossed with pine beams.

  Before I had a chance to say anything, Tucker put a drink in my hand.

  “Bourbon,” he said. “Take a shot for your nerves, and then let’s talk.”

  With shaking fingers, I raised the glass to my lips and downed it. It went down smooth, leaving a trail of heat from my throat to my belly.

  “Thanks,” I said, raising the glass to him, then setting it down hard on the low wooden table in front of me. Tucker sat down on it and ran his hands across his knees.

  I let the whiskey work its way through my blood. I let out a sharp breath to drain the tension out of my shoulders. Then, I raised my eyes to meet Tucker’s again.

  “Were you following me?”

  Tucker let out a sigh. “No.”

  “Then how did you get there in time?”

  He didn’t answer me at first. He kept his eyes locked with mine. Something swirled behind his like lightning and fire. Heat seemed to come off him in waves, warming the outside of my body as the whiskey worked me from the inside. Then, dark knowledge settled over me and I thought I might need another shot, and soon.

  “They’re going to keep coming, aren’t they?”

  It was absurd. The wolves were just wild animals. They couldn’t think or reason. Couldn’t form rational thought like a person. They didn’t carry grudges or vendettas. The stress of the day and the alcohol was having too strange an effect on me. But that sobering look in Tucker’s eyes settled over me, and in that moment I knew with absolute certainty that what I’d said was true.

  “Yes,” he said, his full mouth set into a grim line.

  “Can you help get me away from them?”

  Tucker scratched his eyebrow with his thumb, before resting his hands on his knees again. He sat tall, with his back rod straight. Before he could answer my question, someone pounded on the door with a closed fist. I jumped in my seat. Tucker shot me a quick smile and patted my knee before standing up to answer the door.

  He opened the door just a crack, using his shoulders to block the view of his visitor. They spoke in hushed, clipped tones, and I couldn’t make out a word until Tucker damn near growled. He shut the door tight and turned back to me.

  “You’re going to have to stay here for a while,” he said. “Until I can figure out what the hell
to do about this.”

  The shock of the last hour finally wore off. I wasn’t scared anymore. Or at least, fear wasn’t my prevailing emotion at the moment. I was moving into straight up pissed off.

  “You plan on telling me what the hell is going on? Cuz all I really understand right now is that there’s a pack of killer wolves hunting me, and every time they show up, you seem to be right behind them. Now, I’m grateful for whatever the hell it was you did back there, but I’m getting damn sick of smashed up cars and the entire state of Michigan right now.”

  Once I started, something took hold of me. It was part rage, part confusion, a hell of a lot of fear, mixed with just enough alcohol, but I was on the verge of a full on rant. Whether it was fair to fire it at Tucker didn’t seem to matter in that moment.

  “What the hell do I have to do to get out of here? I’ve seen enough woods and wolves and ... and ... park rangers to last me a lifetime. Whatever’s happening, I want out. Is that okay with you? If you can help me get the hell out of this county, I’ll pay you. But I’ve spent too much of the last two years waiting for my life to start. I’m not going to let a bunch of rabid dogs hold me up any longer. So please, call the DNR or more park rangers or animal control...whatever. I don’t care if they have to shoot every wolf between here and Ann Arbor. They’re a menace. I’m a human being. I want to go home!”

  I crossed the room and stood before him, craning my neck up to keep eye contact. As I yelled, I knew what I must look like to him. I was on the verge of hysteria. I had a right to be. I wasn’t wrong. Whatever the hell was going on, Tucker was at the center of it, somehow.

  “It’s not going to be that easy,” he said. The calm in his voice seemed to fuel the rage in mine even more. He was handling me, and I resented it.

  “What!” I flailed my arms. “Silver bullets? Stakes through the heart?” I meant it as a joke, but something flickered behind Tucker’s eyes. He winced at my words, and it gutted me. I wanted to take it back.

  I wanted to storm out of here. But, I was angry and keyed up, not stupid. Beyond Tucker’s front door was nothing but woods. I sorely missed asphalt and skyscrapers.

  “You can’t go home,” he said quietly. “Not yet. If you try to leave the park, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “From what!” I wanted to hit something. I wanted to punch a fist through the wall. I wanted another drink.

  “What the hell do you think is going on?” Tucker didn’t yell. He barely raised his voice. But his deep baritone held power, and it vibrated across my skin like the first time I’d heard it. The hairs on my arms raised and gooseflesh covered me.

  “I don’t know.” I whispered it, and plopped down on the couch again. I was done. I was defeated. I buried my face in my hands and sighed. I wouldn’t cry. I’d shed enough tears in the last year to last me a lifetime. But, I was hot, tired, and the world had stopped making sense.

  At least until Tucker touched me again.

  “Can you trust me?” he said. His hands slid across my shoulders, and he gripped me lightly on my upper arms. He tucked a finger under my chin again and tilted my head to make me look at him.

  I don’t even know you, my mind said. It was true and logical, but as Tucker fixed his eyes on mine and his fingers skittered across my arm, something happened to me. It was as if every cell in my body became attuned to the feel of his skin, his scent, his...being. Everything else faded away, and Tucker filled my senses. The way he looked at me with those penetrating, gray eyes. His sure touch on my arm as he drew me closer to him. He smelled of pine and wood soap and his own musk. My eyes went to the corded muscles of his neck, to the tiny flicker of his strong pulse along the column of his throat. I felt my own pulse quicken to match it.

  “Can you trust me?” he said again.

  He shifted, sliding off the table he went to his knees before me on the couch. He still had one hand on my arm and caressed my jaw bone with the other. He titled my head to the side and bridged the distance between us.

  It was a moment. A split second before his lips touched mine I knew I’d reached a precipice. I could pull away. I could tell him to stop. I could run. But I did none of those things and when Tucker kissed me for the first time, I knew my life would never be the same again.

  Chapter Eight

  He kissed me deep and slow, and I sank into him. Tucker’s hand slid from my shoulder to the small of my back, drawing me ever closer. He hovered over me, still on his knees. My body came to life. Blood roared in my ears as my pulse quickened and heat shot through my core. I wanted to touch him, devour him, own him. I wanted him to own me.

  My hands went up. I pulled at his shirt, bringing him down on me until we were both laying across the couch. Tucker braced himself on one elbow to keep from crushing me. My hands were in his thick hair, running over the curve of his muscled biceps, clutching at his back. I don’t know what came over me, but in that moment, the world was Tucker and I, and I couldn’t stop no matter what happened.

  I found myself pulling at his t-shirt, trying to get it up over his head. I had a desperate need to feel more of his skin on mine. It was like my body starved for it.

  “Please.” I heard myself gasp. Please what? Please stop? Please don’t stop? Yes. No. All of it!

  With one hand, Tucker yanked his shirt over his head and cast it aside. Oh. He was broad, strong, and beautiful. I ran my hands down his rippled chest. My fingers traced the lines of an intricate tattoo he had around his right bicep, and I wanted to explore the rest of him. I fumbled with the button on his jeans. When Tucker groaned, it nearly undid me. I writhed beneath him, trying to get my own t-shirt up over my head.

  “Neve,” he said, his voice ragged. He pulled away. My skin felt so cold where he wasn’t touching me. He hovered above me, his eyes searching my face. His were filled with concern, and something else. Torture, if I had to name it. Some logical, far corner of my brain understood that Tucker had reached his own point of no return. He would stop if I asked him, but if he started again...he would not be denied.

  It was crazy, reckless, and dangerous. I had every reason to stop this, to come to my senses and leave this place. This wasn’t me. I didn’t take chances like this. But when Tucker McGraw looked at me that way, when his lips found mine, I knew my fate was sealed. I ran my fingers along his jaw, the way he had done to mine. Then I threaded my fingers through his thick, black hair and pulled him down to me.

  A ripple went through Tucker’s body when his lips found mine. I had a sense that until now, he’d been holding back and with that one simple kiss, I’d given him permission to let go. Where his movements had been strong but tentative, now everything became fluid and full of purpose.

  With barely more than the flick of his wrist, he had my t-shirt over my head and off. I fumbled with the button of his jeans and he lifted his hips to aid me. Tucker slid lower on the couch, leaving a heated trail of kisses along my throat until his lips came to rest between my breasts. My chest heaved, and my breasts bobbed under my pink, lace bra. My skin raised in gooseflesh as his fingers found the clasp at the front. He popped it open with just his thumb, and my breasts sprang free. It should have been cold where the air hit my nipples, but Tucker’s breath and body heat warmed them.

  A noise escaped from him. Rather than coming from his throat, it seemed to emanate from his whole body, a low, rumbling, predatory growl that raised the hairs on the back of my neck. I gasped and arched my back into him.

  I sat up slightly so I could look at him. I hadn’t felt him do it, but Tucker had wriggled completely out of his jeans. He rose above me until he stood. My mouth dropped open as I took in the naked magnificence of Tucker McGraw.

  Every inch of him was hard, chiseled perfection, from the sculpted muscles of his chest, to his solid abdomen where they tapered to a ‘V’ at his hips. He had a dusting of black curls leading a trail to his massive erection. I couldn’t help it. I let out a gasp as I took in the sight of him. Tucker’s cock was huge and hard, pr
essing against his stomach. He was thick and veined, and the sight of him turned some switch inside me. I felt the first slow trickle of juices form between my legs. At the same time, I marveled and wondered how I...how any woman...could take all of him in.

  Tucker’s eyes flashed as he stroked himself. The first fat drop of pre-cum beaded his thick head and I had the urge to lean forward and take him in my mouth.

  “I want to look at you,” he said, and his voice seemed to have lowered an octave, making him sound even more wild and dangerous.

  I didn’t hesitate. I did exactly as I was told. Tucker had some kind of power over me. I wanted this. I wanted him. Even though that rational part of my brain knew everything about the last hour--the last day--should have made me want to stay away.

  I shed my shorts and panties, and threw them across the room along with my bra. As Tucker eyed me with that predatory stare, I found myself posing for him. I arched my back on the couch and let my legs fall open. I wanted him to look. I wanted him to take, even though I worried he might tear me in two.

  His gray eyes glinted silver as he raked them over me. Something was happening to me. A desire I’d never known before filled me. I’d had only a handful of lovers, and this wasn’t my first one night stand. But this was different. As I lay naked before Tucker, I had the urge to do things I’d never dreamed of. I spread my legs wide and thrust my hips upward in offer to him. God. I wanted him to tear me in two. I licked my lips as my juices began to coat my thighs. The heat between my legs was almost unbearable. I wanted him to fuck me, claim, me, own me. I’d do anything to get him inside me. I wanted to touch him, taste him, rake my fingers across his perfect back and mark him as my own.

  “Please!” I heard myself beg. Yes. I’d do that too. I trembled before him, desperate for his touch.

  I groaned and writhed on the couch, my legs spread wide like some wanton whore. Yes! I wanted that. I wanted Tucker to use me until we were both spent.