The Last Werewolf Bride Complete Trilogy

by Sage Domini

  The Last Werewolf Bride Complete Trilogy

  The Last Werewolf Bride Complete Trilogy

  Midpoint

  THE LAST WEREWOLF BRIDE

  The Complete Trilogy

  By Sage Domini

  Copyright 2013

  Smashwords Edition

  The Last Werewolf Bride: Alpha Lust

  The Last Werewolf Bride 2: Mating Season

  The Last Werewolf Bride 3: With Wolf

  All events and characters are fictional.

  Warning: Explicit content meant for adults.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person ,please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  ***

  THE LAST WEREWOLF BRIDE: Alpha Lust

  Men would never lust after me. I was used to that. I had made friends with a shower nozzle and a battery operated lover I called Max. But tonight I’d had enough. Liza was also a law student and the stuff of male masturbatory fantasy. Tiny waist, blond hair, perky (fake!) breasts. She tried to be nice, pushing me forward impatiently.

  “This is my friend, Jessa.”

  But the two men who had eased over to be next to her cast vague glances at my unimpressive form and let their eyes drift back to Liza. I knew I wasn’t repulsive. But my thighs were on the thick side and the loose enveloping shirts make me look shapeless, sort of a fleshy female garden gnome. Liza was critical of my choices, saying I had some great assets to work with. “Look at those tits!” she had shouted with what I guess she considered encouragement. “Work the mammaries.”

  The sad truth was I wasn’t even trying anymore. I had for so long been deprived of positive male attention. I figured now that I was twenty four it probably wasn’t going to get any better. I had only agreed to go out tonight because Liza was nursing a fresh breakup and “needed a good fuck”. It looked like she might have found at least one of those as the two handsomely suited young businessmen danced with her in an awkward sort of sandwich. The bar was crowded and loud, as bars in college towns perpetually are. I cast furtive glances from the rim of my Sex on the Beach. Liza was rubbing herself on a darkly trousered leg. She closed her eyes in bliss as a wide-knuckled hand slipped beneath her translucent blouse and moved in circles.

  I looked at my watch. It was only eleven. So my choices were to either resign myself to a long night of watching other people dry hump while growing increasingly sweaty, or else go home to my apartment and waste a few hours on Netflix Doctor Who episodes. No contest.

  “Liza. Liza!!” I had to scream. She flashed me a look of ‘what the hell do you want?’ annoyance. “I’m heading out.”

  Liza rolled her eyes. “We barely got here. Jesus Jessa. At least try not to be such a rag.”

  How was I supposed to answer that? The Suit Twins watched me mutely. I imagine they were also wishing I would disappear. Liza seemed to feel a sudden twinge of pity and reached out to squeeze my arm. “I’ll call you tomorrow!”

  I wasn’t sorry to leave the pulsing chaos of the bar behind. My apartment was a three block walk away. It was convenient to campus and The Avenue, a motley collection of bars and clubs which were the heart of local night life.

  People teemed outside the bar; kissing, vomiting, shrieking. But by the time I had reached my street all was dark and quiet. I had the uncanny sense of being watched, but shook it off, reasoning that such feelings were what came from walking alone in the dark. I looked up. The Man in the Moon looked back. His silvery grin was full tonight. “Just you and me,” I muttered.

  I felt better once I reached my apartment. It was a tiny studio but all mine. It was the first place which had ever actually been all mine. I’d grown up sharing a room with a pair of much younger cousins after my parents were killed in a ski lift accident. My father’s sister had not liked me. “You watch yourself,” she’d said more than once but I never knew what she was talking about. I was a good girl. Perfect school grades, not a twinge of trouble in my record, no surly teenage boys sniffing around. She was a miserable woman anyway. Her husband evidently thought so too because he ran off with a buxom neighbor strangely named Twiddly. I had escaped to the other side of country as soon as it was legally feasible.

  I tossed my clothes off and stared critically at myself in the bathroom vanity. I was a little bigger than a woman my height ought to be, but my skin was smooth, my face clear and pleasant. I unhooked my bra and unleashed peachy tubular breasts. There must be a man somewhere eager to appreciate this. Perhaps Liza was right. I should go shopping tomorrow to find whatever tit-bearing tops my meager budget would allow. I sighed and let my hand travel south. I would get myself ready for a romp with Max. It would be the most excitement I would see anytime soon. After I enjoyed the guilty glow of an artificial orgasm I would settle in front of the television with Ben and Jerry.

  I frowned. The slow swirl of inner pleasure wasn’t coming. I felt too distracted, uneasy. Perhaps it was the loneliness which plagued me in the bar. Maybe it was the creepy walk home. Whatever the reason, I couldn’t concentrate. I gave up, throwing on a large t-shirt. It barely covered my ass, but who was there to see?

  I surveyed the living room restlessly. The worn red futon seemed depressed. I felt stifled suddenly by the smallness of my life. I opened the latch to the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the shallow balcony.

  The night was cool. The silver light of the moon played upon the courtyard. In the community pool a barely discernible male/female pretzel was locked in a pose of wet ecstasy. I stared. Would this be my life?? Casting sneaky glances at the pleasure of others before bringing myself to a forlorn climax?

  I closed my eyes and imagined strong fingers undressing me. They explored my honeyed depths before my legs were spread to welcome that engorged organ which required satisfaction in a tight wet place. Even as I pictured it and could nearly feel it I was terrified such delights would never be mine. I had one more year of law school and then what? Likely some dismal grueling position in a corporate hellhole. So I tried to console myself with the possibilities. A late night working on a brief with virile coworkers in rumpled suits…. Perhaps there would be conference table begging to be used in an unconventional way. Perhaps no words needed to be spoke and he (or they; I was generous) would sense my ripe need and bend me over that conference table. There would be neckties to play with, orifices to abuse. I didn’t want some dullard’s hand under my shirt in a seedy bar.

  I wanted something else.

  My musings had brought me to the point where Max would be welcome. I was about to retreat indoors when the close weight of a dark shape made me gasp. There, having launched himself onto my narrow second story balcony, was a large grey wolf. His amber eyes glowed. He was so close I could nearly feel the bristle of his fur. The sight was so astonishing that for a moment I did not move. I opened my throat for a scream but a rough hand sealed my mouth.

  “Don’t,” a low voice warned.

  The face peering into mine wore a grizzled shadow but was definitely the face of a man. And the hand clamped over my mouth was nothing more than that, a hand. My eyes shifted. Where was the wolf? Was I dreaming? Was I high on some unknown drug furtively slipped into my drink?

  Slowly the stranger relaxed his hand. I could see his form in the moonlight. He was large, muscular. And naked. Almost involuntarily my gaze shifted down, past his spectacular abs, down further
to where that enormous part of him swung between his legs. I became suddenly conscious of the fact that I was not wearing underwear.

  He knew my name. “Jessa.” One finger brushed along my jaw and down my neck. I still didn’t know who the hell he was or why he was naked on my balcony and I couldn’t even begin to address the sight of the wolf, but my deprived body didn’t seem to care about any of that. I felt my nipples rise with the electricity of his touch. I was instantly wet with want. He spoke again, he voice low but sure. “It is finally time.”

  My breathing quickened. “Time for what?”

  He pressed against me. He was impatient. The hardness of that part of him I had briefly glimpsed in the moonlight pushed against my belly. “Surely some part of you had to know what you were? The last of the Caprese line.”

  I was utterly confused. Caprese had been my mother’s maiden name. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.

  He ran his lips along my collarbone and I nearly passed out. Dimly I wondered why I didn’t scream. Would that be the usual reaction when being molested by a nude stranger in the night? And yet…there was a familiarity to it. Some earthy part of me screamed out in recognition there in the moonlight as he reached between my legs and touched my center.

  “I am Marcus,” he said, “leader of the Dark Claws. I have won you, my sweet. You are the only remaining survivor of a carefully cultivated bloodline.” With a fluid motion he tore the thin fabric of the t-shirt. I gasped as he proceeded to trace my nipples. “You were wanted by many, but I am the one who will claim you.” Marcus lifted me against the sliding glass door. Almost instinctively my legs snaked around his firm body. He whispered fiercely, “Let the others mate with ordinary girls, but you are mine. The last werewolf bride.”

  And I felt it; his mighty organ searching for that tight crevice and I guided him to me, crying “Yes Marcus, yes!” And it made no sense and perfect sense.

  The first thrust caught me unawares as he pushed his way through the barrier of my virginity. My body gave way and he was fully inside me, coaxing that needy muscle deeper inside. My legs snaked around him more tightly, urging him on. It was the most unbelievable thing I had ever experienced. I could not believe it was real. I was afraid my insides might crack in half; his need so large and his pumping so frenzied. I began actually feeling the first twinges of pleasure from a real flesh and blood throbbing dick as my body became accustomed to this sudden intrusion. He managed to rub against the front of my pussy and my clit responded with rapture. He came with a grunt and a potent plunge. I felt the hot mix of his essence spiraling deep inside. Some of it ran down my legs, which seemed too weak to stand at the moment.

  Marcus swung me effortlessly into a carrying pose and entered my apartment. In the cool aftermath of our encounter my mind raced with the effort to piece everything together. Bloodlines? Werewolves??

  Once Marcus had gracefully deposited me on the bed I got a better look at him. Dark eyes peered at me from roughly cut rakish features. I was not short but he would tower over me. I estimated his height at about six foot five. He also knew his way around the gym, as evidenced by the abundant swells of muscle in all the right places. My tender female parts were bruised and sore but I knew I would not object to whatever activity he might have in mind next. I could swear he read my thoughts as he flashed a devastating grin and shook his head slightly.

  “Soon,” he said. He disappeared into the tiny bathroom. I heard water running.

  I sat up when he returned. I tried not to stare at the shaft between his legs. “Marcus.”

  “Shhh,” he whispered and gathered me up into his arms again. He brought me swiftly to the tub where I was deposited gently in the water. My pummeled core objected to the sting of the hot water, but the discomfort lasted only a moment. Marcus cast his gaze over my nude body with a hungry look. His touch was not ungentle as he outlined my breasts with a forefinger but I recognized a certain possession in the act. He had said “You are mine.” I didn’t know what that meant.

  My blue bath towel had found its way around his middle. I thought it amusing that he chose modesty now, considering our balcony acrobatics. I was about to ask him where the hell his clothes were anyway when he knelt by the tub. His voice was liquid mercury as he explained himself. And me. And us.

  “You were born of a woman promised to the leader of the Pacifics, a coastal werewolf pack. He had not yet taken her as his mate when a war broke out between all the packs in the western hemisphere. It was fought for the usual reasons wars are fought; territory, insults. It was a long and bloody struggle. Many were eviscerated. Your mother’s betrothed was among those killed. You see, the Caprese family was one of three remaining bride bloodlines, having produced alpha queens for a millennia. Strong queens whose bodies were built for pleasure and for breeding.” Marcus paused. His eyes lowered. “Your mother had three sisters who all perished, killed by jealous enemies. One was to be the bride of my uncle, a tough but reckless alpha. Many of the Dark Claws were lost in the savage attacks under his leadership.” He sighed sadly, his dark eyes seeming to see the bloody deaths playing out there on the ceramic tile. “The packs were so battle weary and reduced that a whole generation had to pass before we began to rise again. All the remaining bride bloodlines were lost in the war. Or so we thought. Your mother escaped and lived long enough to bear a daughter. You, Jessa. You will be my mate, my bride, my queen.”

  Marcus looked at me expectantly. I tried to find some words. “So, I’m a …sort of werewolf princess?”

  Marcus frowned. “It isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not laughing.” But then I did laugh; long raucous giggling born out of shock and pleasure and the attempted mental absorption of this odd story because despite all my sense telling me otherwise, I knew it was true. I knew it as well as I knew the soft planes of my own breasts and the curl of my long brown hair.

  Marcus, however, decided to regard my sudden mirth as an expression of doubt. He stood full and tall and let the towel drop away. The change was so abrupt I scarcely had time to register his glower when his stunning face faded into a bristling hulk of wild animal. The wolf which had been Marcus stared at me fixedly with bright feral eyes. Perhaps he expected me to scream but I did not. I made no noise, nodding slightly.

  With the ease of a breath Marcus had returned. His mouth was twisted in a wry grin. “I knew you were worth fighting for, Jessa.”

  He’d mentioned earlier that I had been wanted by many. I wondered what he had meant. As far as I knew tonight was the first time I had ever been wanted by anyone. I asked him.

  Marcus nodded. “When The Seer appeared at The Gathering-“

  I shook my head. “When the who appeared at the what?”

  He spread his hands. “Sorry, Jessa. I forgot you don’t know the terminology.” Marcus sat on the closed toilet seat and stroked his chin, thoughtful. He had not replaced the towel. “The Seer is an immortal guide to all the creatures of the underworld. And Jessa, there are many. You will learn of them all. The Gathering occurs only once every five years. It’s, well, it’s just that, a gathering…” Marcus struggled to explain realities which must have been known to him from birth. “Sort of like a huge family reunion for werewolves. Except some of us don’t like get along very well.”

  I smiled. “Then it’s exactly like a family reunion.”

  He grinned back. “So be it. Anyway, the Seer told of a girl from his visions. She was shy, studious. She did not know her worth.” Marcus brushed a curl away from my forehead. “She was the lone survivor of the Caprese line. She was a lost queen. The alpha who won her as a mate would be most fortunate for she would breed the future.” He cupped my chin and kissed my lips gently. “It’s you, Jessa.”

  Marcus backed away and squinted. He pointed to a long scar on his tanned shoulder. “You see this mark? It’s a worthy scar. The Seer demanded a civilized fight. Whichever alpha emerged as the victor would lay claim to the last bride.”

  I leaned out of the tub and
let my finger trace the jagged outline of the wound, which was still healing. “And you won.”

  Marcus looked at me. I realized my breasts were draped over the side of the bathtub. The length of male flesh between his legs began to rise. “And I won.”

  Perhaps it wasn’t very feminist of me, but I reveled in being carried back to the bedroom. It was intoxicating. I could never have fathomed being the grand prize to a secret race of wild creatures. But still…I recalled the recognition I felt when first I had heard Marcus’s words. I scarcely remembered my mother. She was a blur of soft skin and thick brown hair. But she used to sing me a song every night before bedtime. I could not recall it in its entirety but the last line came to my lips now.

  “Until my wolf can claim me.”

  Marcus paused and raised an eyebrow. “You know it? It was the prayer recited by young girls of the bloodlines, girls who are destined to be alpha queens.” He glanced at the bed and changed his mind, settling me on the futon.

  I looked at him expectantly. “Wolves like red,” he explained, licking me playfully on the neck before rising. He stood before me. He was a majestic picture and he knew it. Every inch of his flesh was taut and muscled. He seemed to enjoy my silent appreciation. The pleasure center of his body rose in front of my eyes until it seemed to be straining of its own accord to find the tight cavern of its longing. Marcus’s voice was rough with the strain of passion. “Jessa, you will be my mate, the queen of the Dark Claws. But ours will not be a mortal marriage.” I gasped as he abruptly grabbed each of my thighs and pulled them apart, arching me upward to meet the grasping member which reached hungrily. He paused. “I desire you to have pleasure.” His hard organ crashed into my tight slit like an iron cannon. “And I will always demand you offer me the same.”

  He buried himself inside so deeply I was sure my body could not bear it. Yet there it was again…the warm curl of bliss which extended like a ripening flower. He rocked my hips. He was rough. He was merciless. I loved every second of it. I extended my arms over my head and shrieked as the wave of delight washed over every feminine sensor and left me shaking with its power.