The Werewolf’s Bride: The Pack Rules #1

by Michele Bardsley

  He tasted my collarbone, moved up my neck, and peppered kisses along my jaw.

  His eyes were wolf, more wolf than I’d even seen. The shape of his irises, the swiftly changing color, the dark hunger reflected…beautiful.

  He fascinated me.

  Grey stretched my arms above my head. My back arched slightly, my lace-covered breasts pushed into his chest. Me nipples pebbled against his warm flesh.

  The slow melding of our mouths made my breath hitch and my heart pound. His tongue slipped into my mouth and danced with mine. He let me explore his lips with my tongue, and even seemed to delight in when I denied him briefly—so that I could be the one to kiss him. Take him. I felt awkward, unsure, but…inside me grew a delicious ache of wanton desire.

  He cast a spell over me then, something inside just seemed to click into place. I knew that I was exactly where I belonged. It was not an accident. It was not Carolyn’s blame. It was not anything but real and right and true.

  In this moment, I was ruled by the alpha.

  By my own choice.

  The dam of uncertainty broke within me. Having accepted, welcomed, the alpha into my dominion, in choosing him completely, I was free.

  Free to be his mate, in word and deed. In our bed.

  In my heart.

  With one hand, he cupped my breast. His strong, warm fingers squeezed my flesh. He lightly pinched my nipple and the bud tightened. His tongue flicked the peak. Pleasure jolted through me.

  “Grey,” I whispered.

  He suckled my nipple while his fingers tormented the other. He would switch sides, back and forth, while his cock pressed sweetly against the swelling of my feminine flesh.

  I ran my hands down his body, seeking to touch him, to give him what he was giving me. My hands found his muscled buttocks and squeezed them because I could. I could, and no other woman had the right.

  Mine.

  I felt ravenous, greedy.

  I ached.

  Yearned.

  I wanted the delightful torture to last … and yet, at the same time I wanted relief from it.

  Grey kissed his way down my body. Then he pushed apart my legs to nuzzle the flesh at the vee of my thighs.

  His tongue parted my slick folds and flicked the little pearl. “Oh!” I squirmed and Grey laughed, his hot breath teasing the hard nub of my femininity.

  He settled between my thighs, his laving tongue creating wicked heat and fulsome pleasure.

  “Grey…” His name held the balance of my uncertainty, my need.

  “It’s all right, Arabelle. Give in.”

  I felt the rising of my pleasure, the blooming of something more intense, more wonderful than I’d ever known. Then the heat, the pure aching pleasure burst, and sensation after sensation rolled over me. Through me.

  As I moaned and trembled, Grey kissed his way up my body, his lips and fingers touching me everywhere. He easily stirred another bout of hunger, of need, of pure unrestrained craving.

  He slid his arms under me and cupped my shoulders. His beautiful hair curtained around us as his cock slowly penetrated me, and I was grateful that he took his time. Our first experience had been rough, had been about claiming, about taking. And now there was this. Mating. A beautiful tender joining of two bodies. I was beginning to realize that sex was an endless landscape that needed to be explored. The more I learned about this wild land of taste and touch and primal need…the more I wanted.

  Grey filled me, stretched me. He let my body get used to him, and he held me close, breathing hotly onto my neck, shuddering with his own feral longing.

  “Put your legs around me,” he said in an aching whisper. “And let me love you, Arabelle.”

  I did as he asked, slipping my legs around his waist while he settled even more deeply inside me.

  He began to thrust.

  In no time at all, I was lost in his sensual movements, and I found myself rocking to meet his every penetration, straining yet again for that nirvana.

  Erotic tension coiled tightly.

  Then Grey cried out, his expression one of exquisite pain, as he released his seed inside me. His final brutal thrust plunged me over the edge into beauty and light and fulfillment. He took a moment to recover, and then he blew out a breath and offered me a grin that had my toes curling. He rolled off me, and the sudden movement dislodged the plate of treats.

  Suddenly, it was raining cake and truffles.

  “Oh!” I cried as cakes splattered my naked flesh. A truffle rolled between my breasts, down the valley of my stomach and stopped right on the curls that hid my womanhood.

  “I’ll get that one,” said Grey. He didn’t seem to care that he was squishing desserts into the covers, onto me and him, as he sought the chocolate. In fact, he seemed to delight in it.

  He licked all round the dessert before slowly taking it into his mouth and chewing. He re-positioned himself beside me and looked at me, eyes filled with amusement. “Now that’s the best chocolate I’ve ever had.”

  “Grey!” I couldn’t help but laugh, and then, without quite thinking it through, I pushed him over and crawled on top him. He, too, became a victim of the cake debris.

  I leaned over him and kissed his naked chest, swiping at bits of frosting and smashed cake with my tongue. I could taste the faint musk of his skin. We both smelled like sweat and sex. It was an essence I liked.

  Grey’s skin was taut, all muscled curves and ridges. I feasted on his pectorals, trying to kiss every centimeter of flesh. I even dared to treat his tiny brown nipples like he had mine, and flicked my tongue across each hardened nub.

  As I explored his body with fingers and lips, his hands were restless on me, so restless that Grey pulled me forward so his mouth could ravage my breasts.

  Oh, sweet, sweet mercy. These marvelous zings traveled from my nipples to my core as he tugged one peak, then the other, between his teeth and flicked his tongue rapidly. An ache bloomed within.

  I popped out of his embrace, and he scowled at me. Laughing, I scooted down and rubbed my wet heat against his length. It pulsed against me, hardening.

  Anticipation trilled through me.

  My skin prickled, as if electrified. I was learning about my own body, what I liked, what I didn’t. Exploring this new part of who I was, indeed, learning about my own sensuality with Grey was gift. And learning about him, about how to please him—that was a gift, too.

  I loved the feel of him, the smell of him, the way he groaned as I explored his body, familiarizing myself with every curve, ridge, swell, and scar. I very much liked getting to know my mate, my husband, in this intimate way and I delighted in making him want me. I wanted him so much. I wanted to feel the way I had in his arms moments ago.

  Pleasure unbound.

  I placed my knees on either of his hips and hovered over his shaft.

  “Help me,” I said. “Please, Grey.”

  He held onto his manhood with one hand and placed the other on my hip, directing me until the tip of his shaft touched my entrance. He said, “Push down.”

  I did, slowly, taking in every delicious inch of him. He cupped my hips as I planted my palms on his chest and started to move. He was patient as I tried to figure out how to move, what felt good to me, what felt good to him.

  “Everything feels good to me, sweetheart,” said Grey as though he’d read my thoughts.

  I felt shaky, unsure, but willing—very, very willing. “I don’t know what to do. Show me.”

  “I’ll show you. Just let me take the lead. You follow.”

  “Like dancing?”

  “Only better.”

  Now his hands clamped onto my hips and he began pistoning inside me. I found his rhythm, syncing with him as we began to move faster and faster.

  And then…

  Pleasure burst like honey, thick and sweet. I moaned as found that nirvana once more, digging into my alpha’s chest. My pulsations were so strong, he was squeezed out. He didn’t take it as an insult, but as challenge.
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  “Get on your hands and knees, Arabelle.”

  Dazed, I rolled off and did as Grey commanded. He got behind me and worked his hard shaft into me. He held on to my hips, plunging hard and fast.

  I knew what to expect now.

  I knew what could be had if I only gave in to my own desire. If I met his needs with mine. If we mated in the primal way that bound husband and wife together.

  I reared back to meet his every pleasurable thrust.

  Oh, sweet merciful heavens.

  Grey’s pace quickened. I heard his groans and gasps, felt his fingers dig into my waist, and then he cried out, called my name, and filled me with his seed again.

  We collapsed onto the bed, a wonderful, sticky, dirty mess.

  Nine.

  THE PRISON CELL had a full bathroom, including a stand-up shower. I don’t know how Grey managed to get new bedding and pillows to replace those ruined by the dessert disaster, but by the time I had finished scrubbing off cake, chocolate, and werewolf, he was waiting by the bed, as beautifully made as it was when we arrived.

  “Alphas have minions,” he said in response to my look of astonishment. “All that sex with my beautiful wife made me ravenous. I wolfed down a plate of meat pies, but there’s plenty left for you. Eat something, Arabelle. In fact, eat everything.” He kissed me soundly on the lips and went to take his own shower. I found a pair of lacy panties and beautiful set of blue silk pajamas, which I slipped on. My hair was still damp, and I twisted it into knot on the top of my head.

  As I perused the table, I noticed mini-quiches, tiny sandwiches, and meat pastries had joined the newly arranged desserts on the table. I sat down and began filling a plate, humming a lullaby my mother had sung to me when Carolyn and I were young. Funny. I hadn’t thought of “Hush, Little Baby” in a very long time. Soon, I would be a mother.

  Perhaps even now, Grey’s seed was taking hold.

  The thought staggered me so much that I stopped piling food onto my plate and pressed a hand against my stomach. A baby. I hadn’t thought much past the Choosing—and then the mating had taken up my thoughts and worries.

  Not so worried now, though.

  I felt as if I was coming into my own, finding my place within Grey’s life, within the pack’s life.

  All I to do was get cleared of a murder charge.

  Well, hello reality.

  THUD!

  Startled, I turned and stared at the bathroom door. Water rushed from underneath. What on earth? I slipped out of the chair. “Grey? Are you all right?” I couldn’t avoid stepping into the burbling water as I swung open the door.

  Grey lay against the stone floor, wet and naked. The simple shower had only a thin plastic curtain, one that ripped apart as Grey had fallen through it. The shower water going at full blast was drowning the whole room.

  My heart climbed into my throat.

  “Grey? Grey!”

  Maneuvering past his prone form, I turned off the water lest my mate drown. It took some effort, but I managed to roll him over. He was breathing, his heartbeat strong. He had cut on his forehead from where he’d fallen.

  My nursing training, what little I had, would not get me far when dealing with werewolf anatomy. I needed help.

  Mac had mentioned two-way radios. I rushed into the main room, scanning every surface for the walkie-talkie.

  Then I heard a key rattling in the door lock and it swung open. Mac stood there, smiling.

  “Thank goodness!” I cried. “Something’s wrong with Grey!”

  “I’m afraid the only thing wrong with Grey is you.” He strode forward. The menace in his expression had me shrinking away. But there was nowhere to run.

  “You really should’ve eaten the meat pies,” he said. “Passing out from being drugged would’ve been easier for you.”

  He cocked back his fist, and before I could move or scream…he punched me.

  My head snapped back.

  Pain radiated, exploded.

  Then the world went dark.

  Ten.

  I AWOKE IN a small dark space, where I bounced and rolled like loose change in someone’s pocket. My mouth was covered with what I could only assume was duct tape. God almighty! My jaw hurt something fierce, and that pain radiated up my temple, wrapping around my head like a steel-spiked vise. It took me a few solid moments of concentrating to realize I was in the trunk of a car—a car going very, very fast.

  Ropes bound my ankles together and my arms behind me, adding more misery to my pain-wracked body. With the tips of my fingers, I felt worn, ratty padding beneath me. It smelled musty, the kind of stale air that suggested disuse. The rectangular rear lights offered the dimmest red shine, but even so, I could make out very little. Still, it wasn’t difficult to surmise I was in an older car, one that didn’t have an emergency trunk release. Not that I could pull one—or kick out a tail light given the way I was trussed up.

  Fear fluttered like the wings of crows, beating, beating against my skin, tripping my heart, compressing my chest.

  I shuddered.

  How long had I been unconscious?

  I had no way of knowing. Giving the numbness of my extremities, I figured it had been a while. I stretched my fingers and toes, but the movement was minimal and proved I wouldn’t be able to wiggle out of my bonds.

  Why would Grey’s beta kidnap me?

  He’d been furious. The only thing wrong with Grey is you.

  What did that mean?

  My heart raced as I began to understand the complexities of my situation. Mac had drugged Grey, the Shadow Pack’s alpha, and taken me. What on earth for? What did he hope to accomplish? I was already on the hook for murder. Had that been his doing, too? Had he and Neela plotted together? As much as Grey’s former lover loathed me, I was quite sure she would heartily approve of any scheme that got me out of the way.

  That terrible thought brought me to my final, awful conclusion. My life was forfeit. Whatever game was being played, whatever Mac hoped to gain, I was obviously an obstacle to be removed. I had no doubts that my death was imminent.

  Panic made me break out in a cold sweat. I panted, unable to draw solid breaths into my beleaguered lungs. My heart pounded so hard, I thought it capable of bursting out of my chest. At least then I would be dead, and this wretchedness would be done.

  Stop it, Belle!

  I shut my eyes tightly and sucked in long, deep breaths. Calm. I had to be calm. I had to focus. I had to think.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  My heart rate slowed, and the cold sweat dried. I thought only of my breathing, only of inviting tranquility into my body. Steady, Belle. Steady.

  As I got my fear under control, I pondered how I’d ended up cold-cocked, tied up, and imprisoned in a car trunk.

  What threat could I possibly pose to Mac? At least I understood Neela’s jealousy and hurt—Grey’s rejection damaged her heart and her pride. It made sense she would point her rage at me. I’d only met Mac for five minutes, and yet, he hated me. Or would he have hated any woman that married Grey?

  Grey. Was he all right? Had he discovered I was gone? Though we were only just bonded, I believed he would do everything within his power to find me, to rescue me. But I couldn’t pin my hopes to his alpha prowess. I had to rely on myself. I couldn’t be sure how long Grey would be unconscious, if Mac would be there to feed him lies when he awoke, or if Mac had abandoned the pack entirely.

  If Mac had wanted Grey dead, he merely had to poison the food. Instead, he’d put sedatives into the meat pies so that Grey would be incapacitated. Had I eaten my fair share, I would’ve passed out, too. Why drug Grey? Why kidnap me? Why? The question circled my brain like a moth fluttering around a porch light. Why?

  I had no answers, and my head ached so badly, I abandoned thinking all together. I faded in and out of consciousness as the car continued speeding toward its destination. When I felt the vehicle slow enough to make a turn, I awoke fully, and tried to concentrate. We continued a
t a more sedate pace, though the path we were on now seemed rife with potholes. I heard the tires crunching, too. A gravel road, maybe? Gah! One that was not maintained, given the number of times the wheels hit uneven patches and sent me sprawling. Luckily, I didn’t have to contend with other objects. No tools or tires or other items one might find in a car trunk. I jounced upward and back down again. Pain radiated up my spine to join the web of agony that covered my skull. Sweet mercy! Had anything else been in here with me, I’d sport even more bruises and scratches.

  I kept wiggling my fingers and toes, though the actions did little to alleviate my poor circulation. I’d read an article once about a yogi who’d fallen off a roof and landed on his backside without sustaining a single injury. When asked how he’d managed to do such a miraculous deed, he said only that he made a conscious effort to relax every muscle in his body. Basically, he landed like a pile of spaghetti—completely loose, yielding totally, and doing so saved his life. It was the same reason drunk drivers walked away from accidents. Their alcohol-addled reflexes kept them from tensing up before a crash, while sober people braced for collision. That’s what caused injuries—constricting the muscles so tightly there was no cushion against the unforgiving force of impact.

  These were the thoughts that occupied my mind. Pointless, really, but my options were to worry about what would happened to me once the car stopped—or spend useless amounts of time and energy trying to free myself. Whoever had tied my bonds had done so in a proficient manner. No amount of wiggling or twisting would release me.

  The car slowed to a crawl, executed a slight turn, and then parked.

  The engine turned off. I heard the squeal of doors opening, the scuffle of shoes against pavement, the low thrum of conversation.

  Trying to fight my way out of the trunk—out of the clutches of werewolves—would not be productive. I needed to wait for the best opportunity to escape. I had to believe that getting out of this situation was possible. I had to believe, too, that I was strong enough to save my own life. After all, I’d defended myself against the Blood Pack scruffer who’d attacked me, and I’d lived to tell the tale.