With Her Capture

by Lorie O'Clare

  Hating him might be safer. He might come bearing gifts but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t howl about her presence in this cave—if he hadn’t done so already. It was best to focus on that then how damn hot he looked in faded jeans and long sleeved sweater that hugged his muscular chest. There was warped satisfaction in seeing the edge of it now slightly unraveled.

  “I’ll step outside. You can have your privacy.” He misunderstood her lunging at him and held up his hands in surrender. “No reason to bite the hand who is trying to save your ass. I didn’t hunt you down to dishonor you.”

  Save her ass? No! That didn’t make sense. No one tried saving Malta werewolves.

  She forced herself to look away when he turned his back on her and pushed at the fallen tree trunks against the cave entrance to step outside. Magda didn’t look away in time. A mental image of steel buns got stuck in her head when the change seared up her spine.

  After being in her fur for so long, her veins burned with fire hotter than usual when she began changing into her human form. Her bones stretched. Muscles took new form. Her brain screamed with new emotions that had remained dormant in her more primal state. A werewolf was blessed with the ability to release all their feelings and reactions to life when they changed into their fur. Unlike humans, who were half of a whole, when she changed, her instincts took over and washed away all the luggage humans were so notoriously known for carrying around until they stunk from it. Apparently, recent events in her life were so traumatizing that Magda hadn’t been able to release the anxiety, panic and desperation to keep her litter safe and carried those negativities back with her into her human form.

  The moment her front legs adjusted on her shoulders and became arms, her hind quarters lengthened until she was able to straighten and stand on them. Magda instantly crumbled to the hard, cold floor of the cave. Her fur receded and the frigid air sunk deep into her smooth flesh. She began shaking uncontrollably.

  Unable to stand the conditions of the cave as a human, she grasped at the duffle bag the male had tossed at her. Before her fingers were in full working order she was struggling to open it. Her nails receded at her fingertips just in time not to rip the bag in two.

  “God,” she stammered, her teeth chattering enough to make speech impossible.

  First she found a t-shirt, then a sweatshirt, and struggled to pull each over her head and burrow her arms into the sleeves. It barely provided enough comfort to block out the freezing temperatures sinking into her until they hit bone marrow.

  Her eyes completed the transformation and darkness enveloped her. In her flesh, her vision was nothing compared to how it was in her fur. She groped at the other contents the male had brought her and grabbed more clothing. Magda found long underwear and socks by feel. There were sweatpants and she shoved her legs into them, but not before falling backward. Her already cold rear slapped against the hard stone floor of the cave.

  “Fucking tail!” she cried out, this time managing two coherent words in between the painful chatter of her teeth.

  A light shone in her face. Magda ducked her head instinctively. It created spots before her eyes and made it harder to pull the sweatpants up her thighs.

  “What the hell?” she snapped. “Let me guess. You decided to convince me to change so I’ll freeze to death.”

  “Not at all, little bitch,” the male mumbled and lowered the flashlight that conveniently he’d forgotten to mention that he had. “Damn.”

  Magda rolled to her side and pulled the oversized sweatpants over her freezing rear end and up under the baggy sweatshirt. The pants were long enough to pull over her feet, which she did before moving to a cross-legged position on the incredibly cold cave floor. In moments her underside went numb.

  She glared at the male she had deemed necessary to hate. Having shown a flashlight in her face the moment she’d changed made it easier to do.

  “What?” she demanded.

  He lowered the light so it created an oblong circle on the cave floor. She had no idea how he’d managed to see her in the cave when he’d first arrived. With the cave entrance blocked, and it being night, it was pitch black and her limited eyesight made it impossible to see anything past the circle of light.

  “You’re beautiful.”

  Magda blinked. She moved her thick, long and tangled, dark hair away from her face. Intentionally she did her best to focus on him in the barely lit cave and allowed her gaze to travel slowly up his magnificent body. If she lied, he’d smell it instantly. Making a snarky comment in turn might not be her best move.

  She decided on a practical answer. “Thank you for the clothes.”

  “Shit. You’re shaking like a leaf. We need a fire. Hold this. I’ll drag in some firewood.” He walked to her and extended his hand, offering the flashlight and causing its light to bounce off the cave walls.

  Magda took it and wondered at his actions, as if they were best running buddies preparing for an overnight and adventure. She was damn near done with adventures. And there were no best buddies in her life.

  “There are some candy bars in the bag. I’m Ayden, by the way. What’s your name?”

  Already he was pulling on the closest trunk she’d used her gift to lay long ways against the cave entrance. Wood cracked and snapped as he put muscle into it and began breaking it down.

  Magda moved the light to focus it on the bag. Later she’d wonder why this male brought chocolate. At the moment it was the greatest treat she could have imagined. She ripped at the paper, peeling it away and sunk her teeth into the candy bar. Nothing had ever tasted so good. She’d already thanked the male—Ayden—once and wasn’t going to shower him with gratitude, not when his true motives weren’t clear from his scent.

  He smelled amiable, but more than that. She picked up on the scent of his shampoo, the soap he’d used and the smell of his laundry soap. It was more than the external aroma about him. There was that friendly, content scent but there was also curiosity, and determination. Determination to do what?

  If she dwelt on it he would detect her fear. Already he knew she was hiding. He knew why. He knew what she was. It wasn’t clear yet why he was playing friendly instead of killing her.

  If he fought with some internal moral code that killing a female was wrong, she might need to play that to her advantage. For the time being, she would return the amiability. There was no harm in allowing him to see what he was doing while he broke down the trunk into sizes small enough to make a fire. She flashed the light in his direction and took another bite of the delectable chocolate.

  Watching him almost made her forget how cold she was. Muscles rippled in his back as he put more strength into making firewood than a normal human was capable of doing. His arms were long, and well proportioned with the rest of him. Through the sweater he wore, she noticed biceps bulge when he turned and began piling the wood on the cave floor.

  It was a toss up on whether those powerful looking, long legs, or his perfectly shaped tight ass were her favorite parts of his body. Although when she glanced up, his focused expression on a perfectly chiseled face, damn near did her in.

  His skin was very white, but there was healthy color in his cheeks. He had broad, high cheekbones and a firm, square jaw bone. His eyes were a beautiful blue and blond hair cut short around his face showed his maturity. This was a healthy, well built in his prime male. Large and powerfully strong. Muscular and sexy.

  Damn. She was in trouble.

  Hurrying to make herself busy, Magda shifted the light off him and into the bag in search of another candy bar. If she started drooling over this ideal specimen of the human male body, her scent would ripen with her lust. It would be incredibly foolish to forget she was now alone in a room-sized cave with him. There was no way she’d be able to out power, or out run him. He wasn’t mated. She didn’t smell another female on him. In spite of how well he was treating her at the moment that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try fucking her the moment the fire was going.

  Ma
ybe that was his plan. Fuck her then kill her. He didn’t smell like a sick, demented werewolf.

  Her hand slipped over something smooth in the bag. Fried chicken in a ziplock bag! Her mouth started watering. Such a wonderful find couldn’t have happened at a better moment. One more second of imagining what he might do after the fire was going and he’d smell how wet her thoughts were making her.

  When was the last time she’d had sex?

  The moment the fire he was building warmed the cave and filled it with light, Magda would crawl over to him. If she seduced him first, it would throw off balance any schemes he might have in mind. Possibly once he was naked and sated, she’d escape him.

  “What’s your name?” he asked again.

  Magda leapt out of her thoughts. Her hand was pressed flat against the freezer bag still inside the duffle. She shot her attention to him, praying her scent would remain skeptical and wary. What the hell had she been thinking?

  Ayden squatted on the other side of the wood pile and ripped bark free from one of the logs. Then reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a lighter.

  “Look,” he said, his voice lowering into a sexy rumble. “I’ve spent the last day searching for you. I saw how hard you ran from those leopards. Obviously you aren’t from around here and there isn’t anywhere nearby that you could be from. I know of all packs of all species on these mountains. There isn’t much between here and Prince George. You’ve been on the run for a while.”

  “Why do you care?” She wasn’t sure why she asked.

  He had beautiful blue eyes. There were faded streaks of red mixed in with his blond hair. There was stubble on his jaw and she imagined if he had a beard it would be thick with red highlights. Once again it was the expression on his face that caused a pressure to constrict around her heart.

  “Little bitch,” he whispered. “No one should be hunted down like a dog the way it appears you’ve been.”

  Magda had begun pulling the chicken out of his duffle bag. She dropped it and stared at him.

  “Out of pity? You feel sorry for me, without even knowing me, based on my breed?” Anger spiked through her. The firewood he’d just stacked between them began shaking as if each log had suddenly come to life.

  Which in a way, they had. Her anger took life, dispelled from her in waves. Sometimes she swore she saw it. The spicy smell of her instant outrage filled the cave.

  Ayden glanced down at the wood. He didn’t move, continued squatting, and slowly raised his gaze back to her face. When he looked at her, she froze. Her anger reached out only so far, grabbing a hold of the wood between them. It went no further. She didn’t dare touch him with it. Touching him in any way seemed more dangerous than her anger was capable of being.

  “I wouldn’t call the emotion I’m feeling toward you pity, little bitch,” he growled, his eyes growing as he ran his thumb down the small wheel in his lighter. A small flame grew to reach the wood in his other hand.

  When he dropped the burning bark on the bouncing logs, they stilled. He’d sobered her anger with something even stronger, desire. At least it smelled like desire. His happiness wasn’t just over her. This male lived a life so content that happiness was strongly embedded with any other emotion he emitted.

  “What emotion are you feeling?” she asked, her voice husky.

  It wasn’t a question she should have asked. With her next breath she smelled her answer without him having to voice it. His gaze on her didn’t waver. The flames grew, intensifying the blue glow in his alert eyes. And the smell of his lust grew strong enough for her to bathe in it.

  Chapter Three

  Ayden watched the female across the growing fire between them. The temperature in the cave rose several degrees, although he wasn’t sure it was from the fire. The mystery of her that she held on to like a damn life line made her as appealing as her incredibly erotic body. He’d never sniffed out a more beautiful female. Not that he hadn’t already guessed she’d be as beautiful in her flesh as she was in her fur.

  There was something exquisitely captivating about her. It didn’t exist in any other female he’d ever known. Ayden admitted the challenge of hunting her, and now learning about her, held its appeal. Most females bellied up the moment they got a whiff of his scent. There was howling over him being the next pack leader. Although it wasn’t a job he wanted, or had ever suggested having, it didn’t stop available, misguided females from strutting around him with their tails in the air. Something told him this female had never bellied up for anyone. What he wouldn’t do to be the first to be honored with her submission.

  “There are several emotions I’m feeling right now,” he told her honestly. “But first, it seems I’m going to have to give you a name, my beaute noire.”

  “You aren’t hiding some of them very well.”

  Ayden didn’t care if she picked up on his lust for her. What male wouldn’t crave such an intoxicating female?

  What mattered was that her anger was gone. She now smelled curios. If she were afraid, feared him in any way, he would pick up on it. She didn’t. Possibly a life on the run, as he imagined it had been for her, had trained her never to show fear. It would be a survivor technique, and one he admired.

  He also smelled her lust. Not that he minded. He had a feeling she warred with the emotion inside. Ayden wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want. If that meant keeping his thoughts off how he’d love to earn her submission, he’d manage that. He wanted her trust before having her body. But once she sniffed out the truth, that he truly was here to help and not hurt her, damn was he going to enjoy every inch of her beautiful, dark skinned body.

  He smiled. The flames dancing higher between them brought out auburn highlights in her otherwise black, straight hair. He’d never seen a female with her coloring before. Cariboo lunewulf, as well as lunewulf, were all blond. But this beaute noire, with her tan skin and even darker hair that tumbled down her shoulders and arms, was a rare sight. She should be honored and adored, not hunted. Ayden wondered if her guarded wariness kept her eyes from glowing. Would they shine like onyx if she no longer feared life and all who were in it?

  “Are you going to share that kill I brought for you?” he asked, deciding to start working on that trust.

  Any howling of how she pulled certain emotions out from deep inside him would only make her mad again. And his black beauty had a temper different from most. Her differences didn’t seem cause to be hunted and killed.

  She looked down and something played at her lips. Was that a smile? He liked her mouth. Her lips were full and the color of a rich, dark red exquisite wine. When she moistened them his dick instantly hardened.

  She held up the freezer bag full of the chicken and something flashed in her eyes. If it was amusement, he didn’t quite capture the smell of it.

  “This kill? Did you kill a chicken just for me?”

  He almost laughed. “Just an expression,” he admitted. “It’s hardly an honorable kill to reach into a pen and pull out a docile bird and break its neck. Trust me, when I lay my kill at your feet, you’ll know it.”

  She stared at him a moment, not lowering the bag of chicken. When a male brought his kill to a female it meant more than his desire to appease her hunger. It was laying claim, honoring her from his heart. Ayden wasn’t sure why he’d just said that.

  “Magda,” she said.

  “Magda?” Was that her name?

  She dropped the bag of chicken between her legs and lowered her head, focusing as she unzipped the opening.

  “My whelped name is Magdaline. My sire nicknamed me Magda when I was too young to remember.”

  It was a nice name for a sire to call his cub. But the female across from him was hardly a cub any longer. She also wasn’t shivering anymore. The cave had warmed nicely. He selfishly wished he’d thought to have brought her one of his t-shirts, or something that would reveal that tempting body he knew was underneath the baggy folds of his sweats she wore.

  “Magdaline. It’s
a beautiful name.”

  “Everyone calls me Magda.”

  He wanted to know who everyone was.

  She pulled a large breast from the bag and ripped at the cooked flesh with her teeth. He watched her chew, swallow. Then she moved, straightening, standing. Instantly, she grabbed the sweatpants with her free hand. He hid a smile as he watched, not daring to move or say a word. When she started around the fire toward him he sensed it took a fair amount of courage on her part to approach him.

  Her gaze met his. Magda stared at him, studying him, and sniffed before moving to sit closer. Once she was cross-legged again, this time on the same side of the fire as him, she extended her hand and held the bag of chicken out to him.

  “You will always be able to trust me,” he told her, hoping she smelled the truth in his words.

  “I don’t know the meaning of trust.”

  He believed her. It was why her dark eyes didn’t radiate as they should.

  Instead of taking the bag, Ayden grabbed the breast from her other hand before she was able to stop him. “Allow me to show you,” he whispered, and held the breast to her mouth so she could take another bite.

  Magda didn’t take her eyes from his when she opened her mouth, closed her teeth on the cooked flesh, and ripped more meat from the bones of the chicken. He’d never enjoyed watching a female eat before. She swallowed, tore off more meat, and ate. When she reached to take the breast from his hand, he let her have it. Then in silence, they ate his kill.

  “Are you full?” he asked when she’d eaten three pieces and didn’t reach for a fourth.

  “Yes.” She sucked on one finger, then on another.

  He fought a low possessive growl that threatened to rise in his throat. She had to know what she was doing to him by sucking her fingers into her mouth.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice soft, sated.