Trapped By The Wolf (Werewolf Fever #1)

by Juno Blake

  She stopped. Ciaran was staring at her. The mocking superiority in his eyes faded, replaced by something harder.

  “Stop playing, Lucy,” he growled. “I looked through your bag last night. You came to Europe on a one-way ticket. You never expected to go back home once you found me. And now that you have, I have no intention of letting you go.”

  Lucy’s insides turned to ice. She licked her suddenly dry lips, opened her mouth to protest—but what would be the point?

  She’d tried to tell him already that this was all an accident, a mistake. That she hadn’t deliberately sought out a werewolf, presenting herself like some sort of depraved sexual sacrifice.

  He hadn’t believed her then. Why would he believe her now? To him, she must look nothing but a—what had he called her? A pack-chaser, seeking out a werewolf to dominate her.

  He had asked her who had broken her in. He had. Utterly and completely.

  And it terrified her.

  Lucy made up her mind.

  “Then my question stays the same,” she said, only the slightest tremble in her voice betraying her. “What happens next?”

  Ciaran smiled at her, his teeth gleaming. “You tell me to stop,” he growled.

  CHAPTER 9

  “I… what?” Lucy asked, confused.

  “You heard me.” Ciaran’s eyes flashed. “You fought me last night. Fight me again, now.”

  Lucy felt as though all the breath had been knocked out of her.

  Ciaran narrowed his eyes. “Or if you’d prefer… I could wait. The moon will be up soon, you know. I can control the force with which I take you now, but under the moonlight, with no earlier release to temper my desires…”

  Ciaran pressed her legs open, and stopped. Lucy could feel every one of his fingers pressing into her flesh.

  And that was all he did. He knelt there, his whole body poised to attack—and waited.

  Lucy forced herself to breathe. He’s waiting for you to fight back, she thought, watching his eyes. That’s what he likes. That’s—oh, hell—it’s what you like, as well. He must know that now.

  And if you don’t… It will be worse than last night. Way worse.

  She gritted her teeth, and slapped him.

  Ciaran’s eyes lit up. His grip on Lucy’s legs tightened—and then he flipped her over and pulled her back down the bed in one movement, throwing her onto her stomach.

  Lucy gasped as the breath was knocked out of her. She tried to wriggle away but Ciaran planted one firm hand on her lower back, pinning her in place.

  Lucy lay with one cheek pressed against the mattress as Ciaran stroked her. With one hand still holding her down, his other one was free to explore her.

  He was gentler than he’d been before, either in human or wolf-man form. His fingers brushed against Lucy’s ass, her thighs, circling around her hips. She moaned. His touch was painfully, tantalizingly light.

  She wanted him. Her whole body was screaming out for more, wet and hot and willing, desperate for him to stop playing and fuck her hard from behind.

  You have to stop this. The little voice in her head was back, quieter than before, almost completely silenced by her lust. Before you’re lost forever. You have to save yourself—now!

  Lucy clenched the bedsheets in her fists, frustrated tears squeezing from her eyes. She made up her mind.

  The next time Ciaran’s fingers slipped between her legs, she kicked back, twisting her body around at the same time. She wrapped one hand around her collar, stopping it from pulling against her neck.

  Ciaran glared at her, his eyes golden and wild. “What do you think you’re doing?” he snarled.

  Lucy stuck out her chin, hoping her expression showed a confidence she didn’t feel. Her heart quailed, but she didn’t back down.

  “You want me to fight?” she challenged him, pulling at the collar. “How much of a fight is it, when I’m tied down?”

  Ciaran’s eyes narrowed, but not before she saw gold flare deep inside them. Excitement kindled inside Lucy, despite herself.

  She knew what the gold meant, now. Ciaran’s wolfish, domineering side. The part of him that wanted to hurt her until she screamed with pleasure.

  Lucy took a deep breath that did nothing to cool the fire inside her. Focus.

  “Very well, pack-chaser,” Ciaran growled. “Have you at last decided to give up your pretense of ignorance? If you’re the expert, tell me what it is you think I want.”

  Lucy licked her lips. She had one shot at this. If it didn’t work, she would be trapped here forever—or worse. Maybe Ciaran would decide she wasn’t worth the trouble, and kill her.

  “I th-think you should take this collar off me, for a start,” she said, wincing at the tremble in her voice. “There’s no point hunting something you already own, is there?”

  “Ah,” Ciaran murmured, his eyes lighting up. “A hunt… just before moonrise. You have dangerous ideas, pack-chaser. Tell me more.”

  Lucy swallowed. “I still have all the clothes I was wearing when I came here. The shirts and pajamas you gave me, they’re too easy for you to pull off. If I wore my own clothes while you were hunting me, you’d have to—to tear them off me. Leather’s more of a challenge than cotton, isn’t it?”

  “You want me to destroy your belongings? Your last connection to the world outside?” Ciaran smiled coldly. “I admit, the thought is… appealing.” He stroked Lucy’s breast, his fingers leaving goosebumps on her skin. “A collar is one thing, but ruining everything you own, knowing that you’ll rely on me even to clothe your body… yes, you do know what you’re talking about, don’t you? Your first trained you well.”

  Lucy’s heart thundered in her chest, as though she was already running. “So—you want to do it? And you’ll give me a head start, to make it more of a challenge?” she asked.

  Ciaran shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.” He lifted his hand from Lucy’s breast to her neck and for a moment, her breath caught in her throat.

  When he pulled his hands away, Lucy’s collar was dangling from his fingers.

  Lucy stood up slowly, relishing her freedom of movement. But she still had to make sure Ciaran wouldn’t follow her too soon.

  “It won’t be much fun for you if you catch me before I’m even out the front door,” she argued, mentally crossing her fingers. “Before I’m even dressed.”

  “True.” Ciaran tipped his head back, and Lucy thought she glimpsed a flash of gold in his eyes. Shameful desire flared inside her. “Very well. You have until I’ve finished my breakfast.”

  He stood up and marched out of the room. Lucy exhaled, as though Ciaran, leaving the room had taken her breath with him.

  She trailed after him, anxious that he would keep his word. He had gone straight to the kitchen, and she found him dropping a steak onto a plate.

  He caught her eye, and licked a drop of blood from one finger.

  “I’m sure you’ll appreciate me slaking my hunger for bloody flesh before I drive my claws into you, sweetheart,” he said sardonically.

  Lucy inhaled, a sharp hiss of breath. She wished it was horror she was feeling, but it wasn’t. It was excitement.

  What’s wrong with you?

  Ciaran dropped his plate on the kitchen bench and picked up a knife and fork. “You’re wasting time,” he murmured, not looking at her, and sliced into the steak.

  Lucy fled.

  She managed to keep control of herself as she darted into the bathroom, gathering up her clothing from the day before. Pants, underwear, shirt, and her trusty leather jacket. She pulled them on, fingers trembling

  Then her nerve broke. She sprinted down the corridor, bursting out into the main hall. It took all the control she had to slow down as she approached the stairs. Breaking her neck wasn’t part of the plan.

  She stopped just inside the front doors. Her eyes flicked to her rucksack. The bag was lying where she’d left it the night before, but now, the top flap hung open.

  Didn’t Ciaran say he found my
papers? My passport. Shit.

  Lucy rifled through the valuables pocket in her rucksack, but it was empty. Her papers, wallet—gone.

  She pulled on her boots, but left the bag. It would only slow her down. And if Ciaran saw that she’d taken it, and guessed…

  Lucy hauled on the heavy doors, pushing outside as soon as there was space for her to squeeze through. It was bright outside, and she squinted in the sunlight.

  There was the path. All she had to do was run.

  Muscles aching, Lucy forced herself to sprint. Every step seemed to awaken some new pain in her body. Her ankles throbbed. Her abs burnt, as though the whole middle of her body was caught in a red-hot vice.

  This is what he did to you, she reminded herself as she dodged pot-holes. Just one night. Her feet slammed against broken paving stones. Imagine what he might do with more time.

  She didn’t know what she was expecting. A howl? A roar? Instead, when Ciaran slipped from the castle and began his hunt, he was silent.

  Lucy didn’t know how she knew when the hunt began. She just felt it, deep in her bones, and in the hairs that rose on the back of her neck.

  Her foot slipped on a wet stone and she stumbled forward onto all fours, just managing to push herself back upright before she lost momentum or, worse, fell. Gasping, she pressed on.

  She could see the gates. Only a few glints of silver broke through the tarnished black metal, gleaming in the sunlight.

  Lucy’s heart leapt into her throat. I must have made those marks when I climbed over. Was it really only last night?

  Yesterday, she’d thought the gates stood between her and shelter. Now, she knew they were the only thing between her and her freedom.

  Silver gates, to keep werewolves out—or to keep one in.

  Why would he live here, trapped inside the gates? Lucy shook her head. Too many questions. Stop asking them. The answers aren’t worth the risk.

  A hundred yards. Seventy. Fifty. Ten.

  Lucy reached out as she sprinted the last few steps. She was so close she could almost taste it. Metal, like the hot tang of fresh blood on her tongue…

  “No!”

  Ciaran appeared out of nowhere, an impassioned roar on his lips. He struck her from the side, tackling her to the ground.

  Lucy hit the ground hard. All the air left her body and she rolled, gasping.

  Ciaran flipped her over. He wrapped his strong hands around her waist, making her hiss as his fingers found the bruises he’d left there the night before.

  She glared up at him. His face was alight with a fierce, violent joy that twisted into pain as she drew her legs back and kicked him square in the stomach.

  He fell back, doubled over. Lucy draw in a shaking breath. She scrambled to her feet, knowing she should run, but still in shock at what she’d done.

  Ciaran lunged at her and she jumped back, light on her feet. He was slower, stumbling, one hand held to his ribs, a look of astonished delight on his face.

  “Silver?” he choked out.

  “Silver,” Lucy replied, her voice flat. Silver nails embedded in the soles of her boots. Her mother hadn’t let her leave the country without them: her totally illegal lucky charm.

  “You—it hurts,” he grunted. His eyes widened. “My God—I think you might have actually broken something. A broken bone. I didn’t even think that was possible.” He winced, and growled, “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

  “You’re the one who called this a game,” Lucy reminded him, backing away. At last she felt the bars of the gate at her back. Solid. Cold. Silver. “Besides, I thought you said it was more fun when I fought back?”

  “You—”

  Lucy saw Ciaran’s intention in his eyes. She spun around and threw herself up at the gate just as he sprang for her. She grasped for handholds, slipped, and pulled herself up.

  “No!” Ciaran’s roar filled the air. She felt him move behind her, and climbed higher—but she wasn’t fast enough. His hand closed over her ankle.

  Lucy kicked, swearing, but Ciaran’s grip was strong. She twisted, glaring down at him. “Let. Me. Go!”

  “You’re mine!” Ciaran snarled. Gold rose up in his eyes, swallowing the black. His bared teeth lengthened, turning into fangs.

  Real terror curled inside Lucy, chilling her bones. She tightened her grip on the gate, knowing it would only be so long until Ciaran regained his full strength and hauled her down.

  The silver. He was standing away from it, keeping a careful distance between himself and the powerful metal. Except for the hand grasping Lucy’s ankle.

  She gritted her teeth and twisted, rotating her ankle so that Ciaran’s hand was between her foot and the silver gate.

  Ciaran screamed, but didn’t let her go. Lucy gathered every ounce of strength she had and ground his hand against the silver. The smell of burning flesh filled her nostrils and suddenly, she was free, toppling over the top of the gate and falling to the ground on the other side.

  The other side. Safety.

  Lucy rolled onto her back, panting. There it was. Her motorbike, just where she’d left it, leaning by the side of the road.

  She crawled over to it, and flung herself over the seat, her panting breaths dissolving into helpless sobs.

  She was free. Free. She could forget all about last night, and just treat it like—like it was nothing more than a horrible nightmare.

  She could leave it all behind her.

  Leave him behind her.

  A low moan brought her attention back to Ciaran on the other side of the gate. He was kneeling on the ground, cradling his burnt hand. Trapped in his silver prison.

  And Lucy was free.

  She leaned back against her motorbike, staring through the silver gate at Ciaran. She’d won. Escaped.

  She’d expected victory to feel more, well… victorious.

  Instead, as she watched Ciaran stumble to his feet, she felt empty.

  Lucy reached up and grabbed the bike’s handlebars. She hoped its solid presence would anchor her, but instead, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was spinning out of control. Lost.

  “Lucy Abbotsford.” Ciaran’s voice was ragged. “Was this your plan all along, then? Hunt me down, offer me your whole self—and then take it away?”

  The expression on his face was like nothing Lucy had seen before. He looked hurt. Betrayed.

  “I told you,” she said, not sure why her voice was cracking. “I told you I didn’t come here on purpose. I didn’t have any plan.”

  “But you were so perfect,” he breathed. “Everything you did… Who taught you? Tell me that, at least. Who broke you in?”

  “I don’t know what that means,” Lucy said, slowly standing up. “But if it means who was the first werewolf I ever slept with… it’s you.”

  “You’re lying.” Ciaran’s voice was hoarse. “If that’s true, then…”

  He groaned and closed his eyes, as though his head was pounding. Lucy’s eyes widened as she saw what was happening.

  Ciaran was doubled over, his muscles jerking. Black hair sprouted from his arms and chest. Lucy stared at the sky, searching for a moon that was nowhere to be seen.

  He’s not a true werewolf. What if he doesn’t even need the moon to transform?

  Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. If her plan had failed—if she hadn’t gotten away from Ciaran—who knows what he might have done to her in his wolf-man form, when he knew she’d tried to run away?

  Lucy’s blood was like ice in her veins. She turned the key on her motorbike, and her knees went weak with relief when the engine roared.

  She didn’t have her wallet, her passport, or her helmet. But, by God, she was getting out of here.

  “Wait!” Ciaran shouted as she turned the bike around.

  Lucy looked back over her shoulder. Ciaran was standing close to the silver gate, his part-transformation all but complete. His eyes burned gold, blazing into hers, straight to her heart.

  “Where
will you go?” he choked out. Lucy could see the effort it took him to form the words, fighting back against the burning rage and violence of his transformed self.

  “Why would I tell you? So you can come find me?” Inside Lucy, a treacherous voice asked: Would that be so bad?

  She shook her head. Ciaran might have been happy to toy with her before, but now? After she’d escaped from him, and wounded him with silver? She’d be lucky to get out of their next meeting alive.

  But somehow, she found herself telling him. “I don’t know where I’ll go. Somewhere safe, I hope.” She paused, and a memory flickered through her mind. “Somewhere with a forest. Pines, so thick it’s like being in an ocean of trees, and everything in shadows except for the moon above.”

  Lucy’s voice trailed away as she looked at Ciaran. Her words had a strange effect on him. All his violent rage seemed to melt away, leaving only a dawning expression of horror mingled with hope.

  “The forest? Please—Lucy—you must stay, you have to listen to me—”

  Lucy knew that if she waited a moment later, she would. All her self-control would dissolve, and she would lose herself to the wolf.

  She couldn’t risk that. She had a whole life outside of these walls, and she wanted to live it to the full.

  But despite the fact she knew she was making the right decision, the sensible decision, tears sprung from her eyes as she rode away.

  Behind her, the werewolf howled his misery to the moon.

  ***

  A note from Juno Blake

  Thank you for buying my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If you’d like me to email you when I have a new book out, please click here to sign up for my newsletter. You can also find me on Facebook!

  Please consider reviewing Trapped by the Wolf. I love to hear from readers and appreciate all reviews, even if you only write a line or two.

  ***

  But wait—Ciaran isn’t finished with Lucy yet…

  Lucy and Ciaran’s painfully pleasurable relationship deepens in Claimed by the Wolf, Book 2 in the Werewolf Fever series.