And Jericho Burned: Toke Lobo & The Pack

by MJ Compton

  “Join?” She was being an idiot, but she wanted everything spelled out in black and white. Charles-the-Fink had taught her some difficult lessons.

  “Mate.” Impatience accented his words. “Copulate.”

  That sounded so distant, so clinical, not at all what her imagination had conjured up each time she thought about sex and Stoker.

  Oh. Sex. Werewolf sex. Oh, this was not good. She was practically a virgin; going at it with an animal–

  “I’ll also marry you in your tradition,” he continued. “For your peace of mind, but once I mark you, it’s forever.”

  Forever kind of negated her determination to have a prenuptial agreement should she ever again attempt marriage. Even to a werewolf.

  Would such a document have any meaning with a werewolf?

  Her lungs tried to fold themselves up and hide.

  “Do you understand about mating?” he asked. “I don’t want you to think I tricked you into anything.”

  “About this sex thing.” Oh Lord, she was wheezing. Embarrassment burned her face. “I mean, you’re in your human form when you have sex, right?”

  His face crumpled into the dark scowl she’d first noticed on stage. He looked as if the whole world irritated him in the worst way; as if she and her ignorance of werewolves were unwelcome burdens.

  “Well, yeah,” he said. “What did you think? We’d mix forms?”

  “I don’t know what to think. Really. I didn’t even know werewolves existed.” She laughed, still sounding shaky. “I’m still not sure that I’m not dreaming all of this. I mean, should I be afraid of you? Are you going to rip out my throat if I burn your breakfast or something?”

  Another thought intruded, one almost as scary as animal sex. “Will I turn into a werewolf?” She wanted wings, not another set of legs.

  Stoker sighed. “Sex can’t happen between mixed forms. Both mates have to be either human or wolf. And why should you be afraid of me? We’re the best thing that will ever happen to each other. I cherish you. I will protect you with my life. And no, you won’t turn into a werewolf, although you might develop latent instincts when you’re pregnant.

  “My kind–lycanthropes–we have only one mate, one true spouse. Males have a mating instinct. Our senses are more acute than human senses, and we can smell things that apparently your kind can’t. My nose is particularly sensitive. That’s why I was able to pick out your scent from all the others in the bar tonight. Green, like spring. Like your eyes.”

  Or my money, she thought, clinging to hard-earned cynicism.

  “And this happens.” He gestured at his still-burgeoning erection.

  “What happens?”

  “The need to mate.”

  She didn’t think it was possible, but her face heated even more. She couldn’t believe she was discussing sex with a virtual stranger. “You mean you become sexually aroused?” Oh, God, she sounded as clinical as he did.

  “Yeah. That’s the proof.”

  “Proof of what? That you’re a guy?”

  “Yeah, I’m an adult male. I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you.” He brushed the pad of his thumb along her cheek. “A very long time.”

  Hold on. The night had just taken another surreal twist. “Are you trying to tell me you’re . . . you’ve never . . .?”

  “Of course I haven’t.” He peered at her, scowling even more darkly. “I just met you.”

  His eyes widened as the implications of her questions struck him. “You . . .?”

  She stepped back. Her sexual history was none of his business. Besides, it wasn’t as if abandoned lovers littered her past or anything. There was only Charles-the-Fink, who’d been enough to warp her expectations on multiple levels.

  The pain in Stoker’s eyes nearly undid her resolve. “Lucy.” His hoarse whisper was like the wind ruffling leaves.

  “Maybe you’d better rethink this mating thing,” she said, feeling dirty, and hating that she let him make her feel that way. “At least with me.” She drew her legs to her chest and rested her chin on the shelf her knees made.

  “The mating instinct is never wrong,” he said. “At least for lycanthropes.”

  “Is that another word for werewolf?”

  “Yeah.” He sounded glum.

  “But I’m not a lycanthrope,” she said. “And Restin doesn’t like me. Isn’t he the leader of your . . . pack?”

  Pack. Toke Lobo and the Pack. Good God, they must all be werewolves. A lot of what had been said in the break room back at the tavern made sense when put in that perspective.

  “Restin can’t do anything about it,” Stoker said. “He leads the task force, but Tokarz–Toke Lobo–is the pack alpha. And pack law supersedes everything. Mate and offspring, wife and children are always top priority. Once you and I are mated, our bond is sacred. Restin can’t do anything to put you in danger. In fact, he has to protect you.”

  Stoker’s scowl morphed into a rather self-satisfied smirk. “Actually, now that I’ve found you, Restin has to protect you. Serves the arrogant beta right. He’s got to be chasing his tail, what with first Tokarz and now me mating with humans.”

  “Toke’s wife is human?” Lucy asked, somewhat surprised.

  Stoker nodded. “Yeah. Delilah. I thought Restin would yak a hairball when Tokarz marked her.”

  Well, Lucy thought, some of the weight lifting from her chest, if this Delilah chick can do it with a werewolf, so can I. Hey, I’m a lot more desperate than she was, what with Michelle being a virtual hostage in some freak-a-zoid military-slash-religious compound and all.

  It was amazing what a woman could do when a loved one’s life was in the hands of a lunatic.

  “I’m scared,” Lucy said. “I have to admit that I’m a little unnerved by this whole werewolf thing. Then there’s my brother-in-law, who really isn’t playing with a full deck. What if he hurts Michelle because I escaped from Bill?”

  Stoker shook his head. “I’ll take care of him.”

  “You were going to kill him anyway. Isn’t that why you’re all here?”

  Stoker’s head jerked, as if she’d slapped him. “No, Restin would like to arrest Butler, disarm his militia, and seize his weaponry except the government frowns on using us as weapons. We perform services using our unique abilities, but we’re not mercenaries. We’re here to figure out what’s going on. Restin has delusions of leadership.”

  “Right,” Lucy said. “Service for sanctuary. At least Randy doesn’t stockpile silver bullets.”

  Stoker looked confused.

  “You know–only silver bullets can kill a werewolf.”

  “That’s a myth.” His expression folded into a scowl again. “Bullets kill us, garlic is my favorite seasoning, and I don’t eat babies for breakfast.”

  She stared at him, helplessness overwhelming her.

  “Are you okay?” His knuckles–not so very hairy–brushed her cheek again. His dark eyes glowed.

  She had no choice. Toke Lobo had outlined her options. The only way to save Michelle was to go back to New Sinai. The only way to avoid marriage to Bill Danby was to marry Stoker first.

  She was trapped. There wasn’t time for her lawyer to draw up a prenuptial agreement. Another option would be to hold off Stoker so the marriage could be annulled once Michelle was safe.

  Except his still visible arousal didn’t breed much hope for a platonic relationship. Especially if he kissed her again, because she was only human, and his kisses sucked her brain right out of her head, as if he were part zombie, too.

  Then there was the forever-mated werewolf thing. She doubted she could take something so bizarre to court. Besides, she’d promised Stoker she would keep his secret. Dragging him and werewolf law through the legal system wasn’t an option.

  So ho
w was she going to get out of this mess?

  “The charges against your friends have been dropped,” Restin said as he slid into the sticky vinyl booth of the motel’s coffee shop.

  “They’re not my friends,” Lucy snapped.

  Restin arched an eyebrow. “Aren’t we testy this morning.”

  Stoker yawned. This butt-crack of dawn meeting wasn’t his idea, but a delta werewolf did as he was told.

  He hadn’t slept. Lucy’s scent had affected him all night. He ached, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

  As soon as he could, he’d have a private talk with Tokarz, who was the only mated member of the band, or his cousin Hank, who was a widower. There had to be a better way of coping with this new phenomenon than icy showers or attempts to ignore it.

  The dark circles under Lucy’s eyes testified that she hadn’t slept well, either. She’d ordered coffee before he could stop her, and now she cupped a white mug between her thin hands, as if absorbing its warmth.

  After the waitress delivered the blueberry muffins he’d ordered, Stoker said, “I revealed myself last night.”

  Restin watched Lucy. “I didn’t hear any screams.”

  “I suppose you’re all werewolves,” she said through a yawn.

  “Do you want proof?” Restin asked.

  She shuddered. “I’d prefer you kept your clothes on.”

  Her response pleased Stoker.

  “You didn’t mark her.” Restin’s gaze shifted to Stoker.

  Heat filled his face. “No.” He handed a muffin to Lucy.

  “Good.”

  If he weren’t so tired, he would have challenged Restin. There was nothing good about not marking your mate. Nothing good at all, because until you marked her, she wasn’t truly yours. Family was the only thing that mattered.

  Stoker wanted family in the worst way. If Lucy were his kind, last night wouldn’t have been spent in a lonely bed with a sleep-depriving throb.

  But he’d promised her, and a werewolf’s word was second only to family. Without honor, the entire fabric of their society would disintegrate. Without their infrastructure, they would be little better than humans.

  Restin knew all of this. Why did he persist in trying to keep Stoker apart from Lucy?

  Stoker really needed to talk to Tokarz.

  Lucy yawned again and dragged her fingers through her hair.

  He couldn’t stop staring at her. She was as fragile and beautiful as a butterfly. She’d admitted lying about that, but he wanted to believe it. He would need to take care with her, treasure her, always keeping her human frailties in mind.

  “So you sprung Bill from the pokey?” She swallowed another yawn, along with her coffee. “Now what?”

  “You return to New Sinai with him,” Restin replied.

  “If I go back, how will you stop Randy from forcing me to marry Bill?” She bit into her muffin. A crumb clung to her lip.

  “You’re engaged to Stoker. The ring is en route.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes. “Like that will stop Randy. Hello? He’s nuts.”

  “Why does Butler want you to marry Danby?” Stoker asked.

  Lucy’s teeth trapped her full bottom lip. “He’s whacked.”

  “Give me another reason. Something specific.”

  Lucy’s level green gaze bothered him. She shrugged with a nonchalance that didn’t fool him for a second: she had a secret.

  How quickly he’d become attuned to her.

  “I don’t understand anything Randy does,” Lucy said. “I understand you guys better, and I know nothing about you.”

  “Yet,” Stoker softly added, and Lucy flinched.

  “Try it my way,” Restin urged. “We’ll make sure Danby doesn’t touch you. Even if you have to go through with a ceremony, I guarantee he won’t touch you.”

  “But he’ll think about it,” Stoker growled.

  “So rip out his throat.” Restin sounded annoyed. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Stoker thought about ripping out Restin’s throat.

  “I hope you brush your teeth afterward,” Lucy said, her slender frame shuddering. She abandoned her muffin.

  Stoker fought the urge to grin. Lucy was wonderful.

  “If I go back,” she said, her sweet mouth trembling, “I want your word that nothing will happen to my sister or me . . . including a forced marriage.”

  “You’d trust our word?” Restin asked, his eyebrow arching.

  “Hardly.” Lucy sounded bitter. “I want it in writing. No marriages, no flame throwers, Molotov cocktails, bazookas—no military toys at all.”

  Jealousy and hurt struggled inside Stoker. Why did she negotiate with Restin? “Where do I fit in?” he asked.

  She turned to him. Finally. “I want you with me.”

  Her faith in him stole his breath.

  After a long pause,Restin said: “He can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if he’s stuck there on the full moon?”

  Lucy’s gaze never left Stoker. Silent accusations of broken promises tried to shred his heart. “Want to explain?”

  “The full moon controls the change,” Stoker admitted.

  Her face paled. “I don’t understand.”

  “On the full moon, I’m all wolf.”

  “You can’t twitch your nose or blink and stay human?”

  “No.”

  His lie was one of omission. He knew of one method, a method he didn’t trust and whose origin was shrouded in the history of his kind. But the risk was too great. Maybe not for an alpha like Tokarz or even a beta such as Restin, but for a delta male? Just thinking about what Tokarz had risked by drinking alcohol still frightened Stoker.

  He felt flawed for the first time in his life, as if he’d let Lucy down in some sort of basic manner.

  “That’s why none of you have let Randy recruit you,” she said, almost as if to herself.

  “Right,” Restin confirmed. “We can’t risk being trapped inside and exposed.”

  She propped her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.

  Stoker slid his arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Don’t worry,” he murmured against her ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you. And I promise I’ll rescue your sister.”

  His jeans grew tight and uncomfortable. Only his deepest wells of willpower kept him from scooping her off the banquette and escaping to their room. He rested his cheek against the top of her head, knocking his hat askew.

  “Does the band have a cover for being here?” Lucy asked, in a muffled voice.

  Some of the tension left Restin’s shoulders. “We’re cutting our new CD at a studio just outside of town.” He turned to Stoker. “The ring should arrive this morning.”

  Good. If he couldn’t mark his mate in his tradition, at least he could mark her in hers. Not that an engagement ring would deter Danby and Butler, but it was a symbol that would mean something to Lucy, a token of his promises to her.

  “You don’t have to go through with this,” he told her. He prayed to the Ancient Ones that she’d say no. It would be easier–and safer–if he snatched Michelle on his own. Lucy’s presence might distract him at a crucial moment.

  She lifted her head from her hands. Her face was pale, nearly transparent. He counted the sprinkling of freckles marching across her nose.

  He’d never realized it before, but he loved freckles.

  “I want a promise of no weapons.” Her elfin chin quivered a moment before she mastered it with an impressive determination.

  “I can’t make that kind of promise,” Restin said.

  “The day we have to depend on tools to get the job done is the day we all need to retire,” Stoker said at
the same time. He glared at Restin, who shrugged, as if her concerns were trivial.

  Lucy’s gaze flitted between the two of them. “Which is it?”

  Stoker took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I’ve already given you my word. I will save your sister, and I will protect you with my own life.”