by Desconhecido
Max’s body cooled and he closed his eyes. He caught the scent of his mate in the air—had the last few weeks each time he went into London for pleasure or business. Unfortunately, he had yet to find her, but then he’d only recently recognized her scent as his—his mate—the woman meant for him.
He had despaired of ever finding her, but now that he had, he felt at peace, knowing they would meet soon, and mate. Shivers slipped up his spine at the thought of being able to lose himself—and the beast inside him—within the welcoming cunt of his mate. He knew, without a doubt, that she was lupine, like him. Never had he imagined her to be anything but werewolf, not a human as his mother had been, but a true mate that would give him children.
He’d shied away from believing any human woman could possibly be his mate, for bearing children was his ultimate desire. Humans found difficulty in conceiving children with a lupine, with the exception of his mother, who seemed to have done a good job of birthing triplets for his father.
A loud smack rent the air, and then another. As Max slowly opened his eyes, he saw Jake coming, pumping his seed inside Maureen as he smashed his palm over and over her plump right buttock.
Max sighed, studying the pure look of ecstasy on Maureen’s face as his brother smacked her rump until he finished. He could never understand how some women loved this rough treatment, though he admitted producing enough coin seemed to help.
Max, Jake, and Simon had kept London and the surrounding villages, safe for several years. There was far less rape, murder, and robberies due to the mysterious appearance of three extraordinarily large wolves, at varying times of an evening, suddenly appearing in the midst of an occurring crime. The citizens gave no more thought as to who these wolves were, but were grateful for their intervention in saving them.
Someone coughed and Max looked toward the door. There stood his brother, Simon, grinning. Triplets, the three of them were, and close—so close they shared many things, including the same woman—frequently simultaneously.
Simon sauntered into the bedroom and kicked the door shut behind him.
Max noticed the glazed look in Maureen’s eyes, and Jake’s chagrinned expression—all attention focused on Simon now as he casually unbuttoned his white, long-sleeved shirt, pulling the tails out of his breeches.
Max and Jake were similar in appearance, both of them very blonde and blue-eyed, as their mother. Even though they’d only been three when they’d lost her, they remembered her well. Simon, though, resembled their father with his bronze-colored hair, dark brown eyes, and tall, broad frame, though he’d been nearly blonde as they had been as children. His shoulders were enormous, as he preferred hard, physical labor and sporting activities outside the bedroom as well as inside.
Having chosen to follow his father’s example, Max had become a solicitor, with an office in London. Jake, a wiz with numbers, had been trained by their grandfather to manage the Darkwirth estates.
Their grandfather. Max sighed, thinking how most recently he’d become bedbound. But then, he was quite elderly and rested peacefully in his bed upstairs in the castle, knowing his estate’s wealth had been restored by Max and his brothers.
Simon, the first-born of the triplets and hence the inheritor of the Dukedom, was what Max called the ‘do-gooder’ who helped Darkirth’s tenants in repairing their dwellings or building new ones. He also helped them manage their crops. Simon had always enjoyed watching things grow.
“Ah, I see I’m right on time,” he murmured, as he chucked the shirt, his britches soon following.
“Welcome home, Simon. You’ve been gone longer than usual,” Max said.
Simon shrugged. “Peter and I built a cabin for the new tenants to the north. Couldn’t have them going into next winter living in a mud hut, could we?”
Jake sauntered over, naked still, and slapped Simon’s back. “You have been busy. Now, if you gents will excuse us, Maureen and I will retire to my room.”
Maureen scrambled awkwardly from the bed and rushed over to Simon. “Not right now, honey. Simon and me got some catching up to do,” she said with a smile on her red lips.
Simon raised his brow and jammed his hands on his hips. “Is that a fact?” At her nod, he chuckled and stuck out his arm. “Then by all means, let’s retire to my room.” He opened the door, swept his arm ahead of him, indicating Maureen to proceed. With a wink to Max and Jake, he rubbed Maureen’s saucy buttocks, and slammed the door closed behind him.
Max sat up on the bed, grinning after the two of them, naked as the day they were born as they left his bedroom.
Jake grumbled as he pulled on his britches. “Damn it, Simon does it every time, doesn’t he? What’s he got that we don’t?” he griped.
“I got to admit the ladies do like him. We seem to float away into non-existence as soon as he makes an appearance.” He climbed into his own clothes then slapped Jake on the back. “Let’s go down to the kitchen and have a pint.”
“Better idea,” Jack replied, “How about heading down to the den?”
Max sighed, thinking how dull the Weres’ Den was of late. No new ladies about or new members to stir things up. Boring. “How about The King’s Tavern, instead? I hear talk in London about some new serving girls there that might be of interest.”
“Lead the way, brother!”
* * * *
Carrie Sweeney was a good Irish girl; her mum had told her so, her da—now gone from this earth—her aunts and uncles, her four older brothers, and her parish priest, had all confirmed the fact. But now, as she stood within the muscular embrace of a tall, golden-haired man, her breasts pressed tight against him, passion lurked deep inside her—a wickedness she’d never felt before. She wanted to be wicked and make love with this perfect stranger. She wanted to shed all of her clothing and feel his big body pressed against hers, as it was now.
She’d come out the back door of her place of employment, The King’s Tavern near Covent Garden in London, glass pitchers in hand, to toss out the last drops of unconsumed ale when she saw him. At first, her eyes had deceived her for she’d thought she saw hair on his face and on his hands, and crouched on all fours. He appeared extraordinarily large, even slumped over, but then he straightened up and she knew she must have been mistaken, for he was a true flesh and blood man who now held her in his arms.
Besides, she’d left her spectacles in her reticule behind the bar inside, and with her vision not being the best, she had to be wrong—doubts assailed her again. Her vision wasn’t that bad! Hadn’t she seen him down on the ground, as though he had four legs? Not likely, she decided, for this was a desirable male of the human species standing on two legs, and holding her with two strong arms.
Nearly swooning in his embrace, there was nowhere else she wanted to be. His lips were pressed against hers, smooth, and cool, enticing. Carrie stopped herself from purring aloud when he nipped at her lips, then slid his tongue inside her mouth, sweeping it over her teeth. Her legs weakened and she felt his hold tighten, holding her up since she couldn’t stand on her own.
“You are so sweet,” he whispered against her lips. “What is your name?”
“Carrie…Sweeney,” she said between kisses. “And you are....”
His only response was to deepen the kiss, making her think again how mistaken she’d been—no four-legged creature was he—but a full-blooded man. She shook her head, and silently scolded herself for her vanity and leaving her spectacles inside. No one at The King’s Tavern knew she wore them. She saw well enough to carry food and drink to tables, though she’d stumbled more than a few times over a man’s leg stretched out in the aisle.
She’d always hated her weak eyes and dealing with the spectacles, not to mention the fact the boys never seemed to pay her much attention when she wore them. And Carrie, good girl that she was, wanted to capture a male’s attention—one that would want her for his wife.
Carrie still had her arms around his neck and she went up on tiptoes, not wanting the kiss to end. The
man obliged her by sweeping her up even closer to him, if possible, so her toes no longer touched the ground. She enjoyed the embrace and the kisses, and thoughts of courting sprang into her mind.
Why not? Just because she was a country girl, whom many a man would think nothing of bedding, and then leaving her with a broken heart, it didn’t mean she couldn’t dream. And dream she did—of her knight on a white horse in shining armor come to take her away from her dreary, mundane life. Not that it was a bad life. She lived in an adequate dwelling, had food on the table, and family—her mother and brothers. Things could be worse. But then she contemplated how she wanted to have her own house, and her own children scampering about her legs, and not serving ale to drunkards each night.
Did that make her a ‘bad’ girl? She didn’t think so—but then common sense made her stiffen in his arms. Yet, once again, his insistent kisses shoved away her thoughts, until his big palm settled on her bottom through her rough, woolen skirts. She groaned, feeling the firmness of his hand, but also prickles of delightful sensations up and down her spine, her buttocks, and thighs as he pressed her hard against his erection.
So, how did a good girl know about a man’s desire? Having been raised as the only girl in a family surrounded by brothers had left her somewhat unsheltered.
The man’s low growl made her pull herself free of him. Her feet touched the ground and she stared at him in wide-eyed panic. Once more she doubted her eyes, recalling the beast she’d glimpsed earlier, and she asked, “Did I just see a…no…impossible,” she muttered.
“What did you see?” his low voice came.
“Why I thought you were a dog—a very large one.” She laughed at her words and shook her head, adding, “Which I know is not possible.”
He gave her a devilish grin. “The light isn’t the best.”
She looked at him and realized he was the same man she’d seen in the tavern several times in recent days. Uneasiness settled inside her then as she wondered about him. Carrie remembered him as he sat with a man who resembled him—likely a very close relative—night after night, watching people come and go—watching her as they drank their ale. But once again, he pulled her into his arms and she willingly went.
He smacked his hand against her bottom and she shrieked in surprise, then groaned when he held her against his groin and ground himself against her again. She knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t for he’d started kissing her again. The man wasn’t giving her a chance to do anything but submit to his desires, to his passion, which was fine since she desired him just as much, possibly more.
* * * *
Max had found her—his love—his mate. At twenty-seven, he’d been fearful of ever finding her, yet here she was, in his arms, willing and wanting him. He was stunned for she was far from being a lupine, but a beautiful human woman. Never had he imagined his mate to be anything but lupine, yet he wasn’t disappointed.
As he kissed her sweet lips, cupped her small, firm buttocks, and pressed her against his erection, all he could think was to take her up against the wall, like the beast that he was.
Beast. Damn it to all bloody hell, he was that, and she’d seen him. Several months ago, he’d scented and had been drawn to her. Skulking along the shadows on the streets of London each night in his wolf form, he followed her scent. He’d found her and she was his; he’d never allow her from his life. He couldn’t, for without her he believed he would surely die. They were mated for life and he would love and protect her.
She wasn’t beautiful, not by society’s standards with her wildly curled brown hair tinged with golden highlights hanging over her shoulders, wide brown eyes, and slightly plump body, yet she was beautiful to him, and that’s all that mattered.
Carrie had questioned him, but he’d managed to divert her queries with his questing hands and passionate kisses; yet then he remembered why else he’d been drawn into the dark alley; not just because of her, but because of another woman, who lay dead nearby, poor soul. He prayed Carrie wouldn’t see her for it was a grisly sight. The woman’s throat had been slit ear to ear.
“Come home with me,” he whispered against her lips. God in heaven but he felt ready to ignite into flames at the touch of her lips. He wanted to take her, his heat bearing down on him now that he’d found her. His heat and pain, since reaching adolescence, had been building, and he’d learned to manage it, but now, he was on the verge of releasing his heat on her, full force, seeking relief, believing she would provide it. “Now that I’ve found you I can’t let you out of my sight.”
She gasped and he damned his persistence, not wanting to frighten her away.
Her arms came down from around his neck. Max lowered his arms from around her and she stepped back. With a scowl, he asked, “Why are you surprised? From the kisses we’ve shared, you must know that I want you—need you. More then breath itself.
Her hand went to her throat and he followed her nervous movements, damning himself for pushing himself onto her too fast, too insistently.
“Why, I don’t even know your name.”
“Would a name really matter? Seems to me my kisses told you more about me, and how I feel, than my name. What difference would it make?”
“I just need to know.”
The defiant lift of her chin, and her hands on her hips as she stood before him, made him nearly laugh aloud. She was a sweet, tantalizing woman and he meant to have her. Carrie was his mate, for life. She wouldn’t be able to deny him for he’d convince her with his loving embraces and fervent kisses.
He decided to give her what she wanted, seeing how important it was to her, yet a sense of foreboding filtered through him at the thought. Still, he said, “I am Max, Miss Sweeney.” He took her hand, lifted it to his lips, and kissed it, his eyes lingering on hers.
Carrie gasped, “How did you know my name?”
Max laughed. “Don’t you remember? You told me a few minutes ago.” He grinned at her suspicious smile, lessening now at his explanation. “And just so you know, sweetheart, I mean to make you my ma—my wife.”
She shook her head and stepped back another step. “Your wife, you say?”
“I know my mind, sweet Carrie.”
“We’ve just met, so how can you know we suit each other? Why, we would need to court some first and…”
“I-just-know. But,” he relented, “if you want to be courted, I shall, with great delight.”
Max didn’t want to frighten the poor woman away by calling her his mate. A young woman such as she would be afraid, yet he knew she’d accept the term soon. She had no choice. When a Lupine found his mate, it was for life, no matter what. Relief flooded him when he saw her tentative smile and her body relax.
“Max is a good, strong name,” she said, slipping into a curtsy. “I am most happy to meet you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” he murmured, reaching out and sweeping her back into his embrace once more. “Now come home with me.”
“Why, I can’t!” She pressed her palms against his shoulders. “My mum would worry about me.”
Mother? Damn, but then, she shouldn’t be too difficult to maneuver around. Now a father might be more troublesome. “And your father?”
“I’ve none, alas.”
Breathing easier, he said, “Then take me home to meet your mother so that I may gain her blessing on our future marriage.”
She scowled and pulled his arms from around her. “What ever happened to courting me?”
Max’s hands came to his hips and he nodded. “I will, with the outcome of us marrying sooner than later.”
The big clock bell at Westminster nearby chimed the hour of two and she sighed. “’Tis much too late to meet my mum. She’s abed. But come by tomorrow and you may meet her, and tell us about yourself.”
Reluctant to release her, he still said, “Gladly!” before reaching for her again. But then he paused when he heard the clopping of several horses’ hooves on the cobblestones as they entered the alley. Recog
nizing the scent of the law, he knew he had to leave. He didn’t want to leave Carrie, but knew he must, not wanting to be implicated in the murder of the woman. So he started swiftly moving away and down the alley, saluted her with a smile and said, “Until tomorrow!”
“But…wait! Max!” She paused when mounted constables came to a stop in front of her and she backed up against the brick tavern wall, her eyes widening in terror at their bold action. Then she heard an officer swear and the two before her wheeled their horses around and moved just a few scant feet away.
“My God!” one constable said to another as he knelt down alongside several empty crates, or so Carrie thought until she drew nearer, following them. Then she screamed at the sight of a woman wearing a gown fit for a queen. Her throat had been slit, ear to ear, and blood poured from the wound.
Carrie’s stomach heaved and her vision dimmed as she fainted.
Chapter Two
Jake Dalton raked his fingers through his hair and groaned, “Why in the hell didn’t you just lure her here to the castle?”
“Don’t you know I’m cursing myself for showing up at the King’s Tavern?” Max growled, meeting the accusatory look on his brother’s face. “But damn, I can’t get the woman out of my mind, ever since the first moment I discovered her scent, ever since I first set eyes on her. She’s the one, Jake.”
Max paced from one end of the spacious library to the other, his steps long and sharp. Pausing in front of leaping flames in the hearth, he looked at Jake who sprawled in a deep cushioned chair, legs splayed out in front of him.
Jake raised his brow. “She’s the girl we’ve been seeing every night for the past few weeks then, isn’t she?” At Max’s nod, Jake added, “At that time of night, you meant for her to see you then in wolf form?”
“No. I knew she worked until nearly midnight. I wasn’t expecting to see her outside any earlier than that.”