Dingo Wild (The Dingo Pack Book 1)

by Lexxie Couper

  “H-how soon?” she croaked, staring up into his eyes. He wasn’t that much taller than her—but then, most men weren’t, given she was five foot nine—but the energy and confidence radiating from him made her feel somehow fragile and vulnerable.

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She caught her bottom lip. Why the hell was she trembling?

  “Now,” he said, his amber eyes glinting with that enigmatic light again. “Why don’t you ask me the question you really, really want to ask?”

  Katy swallowed. “Are you…can you really change into a dingo?”

  He nodded once again, a single, slow, confident nod.

  Her knees gave out. Just like that, she crumpled.

  And just like that, he caught her, his arm sliding around her back, pressing her to his body.

  She gasped. Oh God, he was all sorts of yummy hard planes and angles and heat.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his warm breath fanning her lips.

  She stared up into his eyes, heart racing, and before she could stop herself, smoothed her palm up his chest, over his shoulder, and up into the hair at the back of his neck.

  A low growl rumbled deep in his throat. The growl of an animal.

  Oh God, what was she doing? What was she—

  She shoved at him. Hard.

  He let her go, nostrils flaring.

  “Stay away from me,” she ground out, backing up a step. “Let me go.”

  His jaw clenched and he shook his head, the corner of his mouth tugging. “Can’t do that, I’m afraid.”

  “Yes, you can,” she said, backing farther away as he advanced on her. “You just give me back my stuff and let me walk out the door. I won’t tell anyone about what…about what you are. I promise.”

  His lips curled into a smile.

  She bit back a whimper at its arrogance.

  “Three reasons I can’t let you go, Katy. One, for someone like you, Kangaroo Creek is not safe.” He kept walking toward her, as she kept backing away. “Two, no matter how much you promise to not tell anyone, you will.”

  The backs of her thighs bumped into the edge of the bed. She gasped, incapable of retreating any more. Her heart smashed into her throat. She stared at him as he destroyed the remaining space between them.

  His body’s heat caressed her bare limbs. His eyes held her captive. Or maybe it was the playful gleam of confidence dancing in them? Or his sheer magnetism? A primal, carnal energy she couldn’t deny?

  “And three?” she rasped, her breath too shallow for her own peace of mind.

  “Because I like you exactly where you are now; in my home, in my bedroom.”

  Katy swallowed. “And just what exactly do you think is going to happen here, in your bedroom?”

  He chuckled. “This.”

  He crushed her mouth with his.

  She fought him, for exactly half a second, maybe even less. Even as her brain was scoffing at how pathetic her resistance was, her body was throwing herself into the moment.

  Holy smack, he could kiss.

  His tongue took possession of her mouth with savage mastery. He snared a fistful of her hair with one hand, holding her head where he wanted it as he explored her teeth, her tongue, her lips.

  She moaned, a river of pleasure pouring through her. She wasn’t inexperienced. She’d been kissed more than once in her life, popping her cherry with the high school quarterback—an all-American hunk with lips like a god and an ass to match—and only recently ended a relationship with a sound technician who could kiss like the devil, but none of their kisses compared to this.

  She’d never been kissed like this.

  Dean ravished her mouth, plundered it, worshipped it. Dominated it.

  His tongue and teeth and lips ruled her senses with demanding arrogance. Wave after wave of base pleasure and lust crashed through her, building into a ball of urgent need in her core.

  She moaned, starving for him on a level she should have found terrifying. But it wasn’t. It was right.

  It was perfect.

  “Fuck, woman,” Dean growled, his lips and breath hot on the corner of her mouth. “This isn’t what I’d planned to do.”

  She chased his lips with hers, impatient for more of his kisses.

  He groaned, and punished her mouth with a savage assault.

  Tight heat flared in the junction of her thighs at his hunger.

  She clawed at his back, lashed her tongue against his. Her head swam, her body thrummed. Her very center seemed to pulse, constricting on a cock that wasn’t there.

  Yet.

  Want him. Inside me.

  The delicious thought filled her head a heartbeat before he tore his lips from hers and tore her shirt open.

  She cried out, raw excitement giving away to heady delight as he pushed the bottom of her tank up over her breasts.

  “Such a pretty bra,” he murmured, skimming his palms over her pink-laced covered boobs. Her nipples puckered harder.

  “It’s my—”

  Before she could say favorite he pulled the lace cups aside and captured her right nipple with his mouth.

  “Holy fuck,” she gasped. Hot pleasure arced through her. He sucked on her flesh, drawing on it in a rapid series of pulses. Liquid electricity licked at her core. Her clit tingled. Her pussy lips did the same, flooded with fresh blood.

  He growled around her nipple, and sucked deeper.

  A distant part of her mind, the part not overwhelmed with pleasure and ruled by lust, recognized the sound for what it was—the growl of an animal. But that recognition meant nothing. Not when she felt so good.

  “Again,” she pleaded, eyes closing, nails scoring over his scalp. “Please, again.”

  He chuckled. And then drew on her nipple once more, releasing the button of her shorts and lowering the zipper of her fly as he did so.

  She shoved her hips upward in a silent entreaty.

  He moved his mouth to her other nipple, nipping at it as he slipped his fingers into her now-opened shorts.

  Oh yes, oh yes. Oh, so much yes.

  “Oh God, Dean,” she moaned, pressing her sex up to his seeking fingers.

  He parted her folds, finding her clit immediately. Concentrated pleasure rushed through her, exquisite sensations that tingled every nerve ending in her body.

  “Yes…” she moaned, dragging one hand over Dean’s shoulder, down his arm to snare his wrist and hold his hand where she wanted it. “That’s the exact spot.”

  He raised his head and chuckled. “My kind has a unique ability to find exactly where we’re looking for.”

  His kind.

  Kind.

  The term sent a shiver down her spine, but before her brain could finish reminding her what his kind was—dingo shifter—he rolled his finger over her clit again, his rhythm perfect, his pressure even more so.

  The unsettling thoughts of his kind vanished, replaced with a carnal need too potent, too consuming to deny.

  “I’m going to make you come, Katy,” he promised, his voice low and rough. His fingers worked her clit in a delicious caress. “First with my hand, and then my mouth.”

  Her pussy contracted, a licentious heat stirring deep within her.

  She’d never been turned on by the Mr. Darcy types—alpha males who thought they controlled everything and demanded everyone do as they freaking said, but whoa baby, at Dean’s declaration…

  She moaned, gripping his wrist tighter. “Now. I can’t wait. Now, Dean.”

  He laughed, penetrating her seam a little with his finger. “When I’m good and ready, woman.”

  “Oh God, now. I want it now.” She arched beneath him, grinding her sex harder to his hand. “Don’t make me wait. Now. Make me come now.”

  A low growl rumbled in Dean’s chest. “When I’m good and ready, Katy.”

  Katy gasped. His eyes. His eyes glowed.

  Fear raced through her. She shrank away from him, pushing herself as deep as she could into the mattress.

&nbs
p; He isn’t human. He really isn’t—

  His eyes flared amber fire again. A tremble rippled through his body. Another growl tore at his chest, and then he reeled backward.

  She stared at him, heart wild.

  His eyes…

  “Oh God…” she whispered. “I can’t…I can’t…”

  He bared his teeth and she gasped again. His canines were longer.

  A soft cry of shock burst from her.

  Contempt etched his face, there and gone in a split second, replaced with rage. “Can’t deal with what I am?”

  She swallowed, unable to speak. The fear of his changing eyes, his animalistic growls…

  “I…” she stammered.

  He shook his head. Balled his fists. His body shuddered. “Fuck. I have to—”

  He turned and ran from the room.

  “Dean,” she shouted, scrambling off the bed.

  She half-ran, half-stumbled to the door, her head swimming, her heart a pounding cannon in her ears.

  Oh Christ, what had she done? What was she doing? Everything was a whirling mess.

  The hallway beyond Dean’s bedroom lay empty. There was no sign or sound of him.

  She ran towards what she hoped was the rest of the house, her bare feet slapping the polished floorboards in a frantic soundtrack to the surreal moment.

  Chasing a man she hardly knew, who turned her on more than she’d ever been, who may or may not be about to change into a dingo. And why was she chasing him?

  Why wasn’t she running away?

  “Dean?” she yelled, unable to answer that question.

  Her shout echoed through the living room area as she burst into it. She took a second to scan the tastefully decorated space, her heart plummeting when all she saw was understated but fashionable furniture, an entertainment system and television set that looked more expensive than her classic 1970s Pontiac Firebird back home.

  “Dean?” she shouted. She needed to find him. Talk to him. Tell him she was sorry for being scared. Ask him to help her understand what—

  Movement beyond the living room’s glass door caught her eye.

  A dingo. A big one. Running away from the house.

  Dean.

  Katy bolted for the glass door. She flung it open, wincing at the inferno blasting at her. Goddamn it, why was the Outback so damn hot?

  The dingo shot across the lawn, on the edge of Katy’s line of sight, and leapt the fence.

  If she hadn’t been so frantic to stop him, she would have been in awe of his grace and power.

  “Dean,” she yelled, following him.

  She sprinted across the grass, watching him run across the dry red ground that swept on forever on the other side of the fence.

  The fence.

  Katy skidded to a halt, staring at the glass-paneled barrier. Shit, she had to climb that. How the hell did she climb that? The top of it was just above her eye level.

  She pulled a deep breath and looked left and right. Glass panel after glass panel. How big was Dean’s property? Green, manicured lawn, gum trees, and beds of flowers and bushes on one side of the glass; red dirt, sparse tufts of dry, spiky grass on the other side.

  She turned back to where she’d last seen the dingo.

  Gone.

  “Okay,” she muttered, scrubbing her palms on the tops of her thighs. “Okay. He’ll come back. He’s left you at his house. He’ll come back. And when he comes back, you just tell him…tell him…”

  What? That she was sorry she got scared at the sight of his glowy eyes? That she freaked out and acted like a…a stupid heroine in a horror movie?

  That she wanted him to continue where they’d left off?

  That she wanted to get to know him? Have a conversation with him?

  That even though he was essentially a stranger to her, she really, really felt like they were connected?

  She dragged in another breath. “Uncle M, I am so going to strangle you for putting me in this sit—”

  Something gray moved in the dry grass on the other side of the fence. A long way from Dean’s property, so far she couldn’t quite make out what it was, but there. Moving through the arid terrain.

  Following the same path Dean had run in dingo form.

  Katy frowned. Squinted into the glaring heat.

  What was it? An animal? It was low, almost slinking against the ground. As if…

  “Shit,” Katy whispered, as the gray something rose up out of the dry grass.

  Wolf. A wolf. In the Australian Outback.

  She didn’t know a lot about this country, but she knew wolves weren’t a part of it.

  And yet, hadn’t she thought she’d heard wolves last night? At the shearer’s shed? When Merv had jumped her? When Wedge Grayson appeared out of the dark and grabbed her?

  A hot band wrapped her chest. Something itched at her, deep in her skull. What was it? Something she’d heard since arriving…something someone had said. Something…

  Give it your best shot, wolf.

  Dean’s voice. Dean’s words. Directed at Wedge Grayson. In the bar last night.

  Katy blinked. “Shit,” she whispered again. “Shit.”

  A wolf was chasing Dean.

  She didn’t like that. She didn’t like that at all.

  God, she hoped Dean had a 4x4 somewhere.

  * * * *

  He shouldn’t have left her. But his anger, his rage at the fear in her eyes had pushed him to a cold place, a place that gutted his raw, primal, deep-seated desire for her. He wasn’t human, and he’d forgotten what it was like to deal with those that were.

  Overwhelmed by the potent, undeniable craving for Katy turning his blood hot, he’d forgotten she wasn’t a shifter. Forgotten she’d had no knowledge of shifters until meeting him.

  Forgotten that what he was—the animal he was, the primal beast—would be terrifying to experience.

  He’d forgotten all that, and scared the shit out of her.

  So he’d run. To keep her safe from himself.

  But he shouldn’t have. Sure, bringing a halt to the sex was the right thing to do—no matter how much his body tried to tell him otherwise—but running away from her? Dumb.

  Talking. That’s what he should have done. Talked to her. Retreated to the far side of the room and talked to her. About what he was. About what her uncle had learned about his kind before disappearing. About what he could do to help her. About the impossible-to-deny sexual connection he felt for her…

  Well, maybe that last one could have waited until she calmed down over the fact he was a dingo shifter.

  But instead…

  He slowed to a padding lope, the ground beneath his paws giving way to rocks as he climbed a craggy outcrop of granite and sandstone beside the billabong.

  The deep water sat still and calm, reflecting the cloudless blue sky, an irregular mirror framed by rocks, boulders, greening grass, and three ancient gum trees. To this day no one at Kangaroo Creek could explain how the body of water remained so long after rain. A billabong was meant to slowly empty over time, only refilling after torrential rain, but this one—small, isolated, and far away from its original river source—stayed full for months.

  Dean came to it often, always in his dingo form. The ancient magic and primitive aggression of his dual existence somehow seemed more at peace here. He felt more focused, calm here.

  And calm was what he needed to be right now. Before he returned to Katy, before he risked his small pack’s safety and secrecy from the human world.

  Calm.

  Hard to be fucking calm when all you can think about is claiming her. Being with her. Taking her. Mating with her.

  The unsettling thought scratched at him and, with a low growl, he shifted into human form. It was easier to control his animal lust as a man which, given how much he wanted to return to Katy and fuck her senseless, wasn’t saying much.

  Drawing a deep breath, he stared at the billabong’s still water.

  Dingoes mated for life. Din
go shifters did the same. The craving for Katy gnawing at his very soul was beginning to concern him. Surely she couldn’t be that? His mate? To the best of his knowledge that couldn’t be possible.

  And yet…

  He closed his eyes, lifted his face to the sun, and tried to clear his mind.

  An image of Katy came to it instead, the first time he saw her in the Longyard. She’d tried to defuse the situation between him and Grayson then, taking him up on the offer of a beer with a smile so bloody sexy and adorable he’d come close to hauling her into his arms and kissing her.

  “Fuck a duck,” he muttered. “What the bloody hell do I do now?”

  Go back. Claim her. Take her. Now. Now now.

  He ground his teeth, opening his eyes to study the water again. “Cold bloody swim. That’s what I’ll do. Maybe that’ll—”

  A stick somewhere behind him snapped.

  He spun around, a heartbeat before the distinct stench of wolf flooded into his breath.

  A cold grin stretched his lips as his stare locked on Merv Sullivan—in wolf form—a few feet away.

  The wolf’s muzzle wrinkled. Gray fur stood on end down a back Dean had always considered spineless. “Trying to take me down alone, Merv?”

  He got a growl for an answer. Merv’s back haunches coiled.

  As a man, Merv Sullivan was far from intimidating. As a wolf…

  Dean’s blood ran to icy rage. He prepared himself—to shift or to attack in human form. “Give it your best shot, fuck knuckle.”

  Merv leapt at him, and let out a high yelp, twisting sideways in midair as something small smashed into the side of his head.

  What the—

  “Get away from him,” Katy shouted, running—or more to the point, scrambling—up the rocky outcrop, her stare locked on Merv, her right arm up.

  Is that a rock in her hand? Did she just throw a rock at—

  She pitched another rock at Merv. Fast. Hard.

  It struck the wolf between the eyes, driving Merv backward in a yelping cower.

  “Get away,” she shouted, a bigger rock now in her hand, arm cocked behind her head. “Get a—”

  Merv growled. And charged at her.

  Dean threw himself at the wolf, shifting midstride.

  He sank his teeth into the wolf’s neck, fur and blood and dirt filling his mouth.