by Celia Kyle
“Brenna? You doing okay over there?” He repeated her name and she realized her mind had ventured into “hump Declan’s leg” territory. Again.
“Yeah?”
“That sounds like a question.”
“Are you still convinced you’re a werewolf and Connor and Harper, too? You’re taking me to your secret werewolf compound because I’m also a werewolf?”
Please say no, please say no, please say—
“Yes.”
“Then it’s still a question. Because, really, I am not anyone’s idea of strong and furry. I’m soft and squishy. And pale.” She held out her arm. “Do you see the paleness of the pale?”
Declan chuckled and that sound went straight to her pussy. She wanted to scold that part of herself. Bad kitty, bad. Then she remembered she was a werewolf. Allegedly.
“Pale only matters to vamps, baby.”
Baby? Better yet, vamps?
“Uh…” That was it, her brain was on overload and any second now it’d go blargh and quit working altogether. But before it decided to take a permanent vacation, she did have a few questions. Or, one question. Okay, maybe two.
Shit, she wasn’t sure. She just wanted to know…
“Why the hell do you smell so good? I mean, like, whoa kind of good.”
The man-wolf purred.
God, she was so ready for that straightjacket. Because 1) she thought of him as a wolf, and 2) that sound made her wet.
“Baby—”
“I’m not your baby.” She hated that endearment. She wasn’t a child. She did not engage in kiddie play and if a guy asked her “who’s your daddy” she typically told them he lived in Chicago and would he like her father’s number. That was also about the time she kicked the man out of bed.
“Baby, that’s your wolf telling you it’d be a good idea to get to know me better. Naked.” Oh, there was that purr again. The one that enveloped her body in a sensuous hug and stroked her in all those pink places. Her pussy clenched, growing heavy and wanting with desire. Her clit practically screamed for his touch, and her nipples pebbled, hardening just for him.
She was a ball of “do me now.”
Twice.
Ten times if he had the stamina and lube.
Instead of screaming that from the rooftops, she huffed and glared at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Of course, while she was looking, she took in the muscles hidden beneath his stretched T-shirt and the way his jeans clung to his thighs. Then there was the bulge at the juncture of his thighs and… Yum.
His grin was seductive, the corner of his mouth hitched up the tiniest bit. He slowed the SUV to a halt and popped it into park, the click of the doors unlocking catching her attention. She scrambled for the door handle, but he turned toward her and snared her attention. She did her best to ignore his small grin slowly filling with pure sin. The man was too delicious for his own good.
“Oh, you do know.” He breathed deeply. “You smell like sex and sweet and I can’t wait to unwrap you, taste every inch of you, and make you mine.”
Brenna whimpered. She couldn’t help it. One second she was wondering how to escape the land-o-what-the-fuck and the next she wondered how quickly she could get him naked. The thoughts in her head, spinning through her mind and urging her to mount him like a bronco, weren’t hers. And yet they were. She was torn between running and crawling onto his lap.
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m not what you think I am and I’ve worked for you a long time, Declan. Attraction aside, sexytimes are not on the table and…”
Oh, he leaned across the space separating them, intruding on her personal space, and he smelled so good. Her body tingled, something inside her urging her to get closer. It was strong as hell, pushing, whining, and demanding she lean forward. Damn her, she did. She closed some of the distance, and then shivered when he once again traced the line of her throat with his nose and tongue.
“We’ll do it on the table, Brenna. The table, the counter, the floor… our bed.”
Fiery warmth enveloped her, her body reacting to his nearness, and suddenly she wanted the same things as him. Lots and lots of nakedness.
Thankfully, she was saved by her obnoxious, crazy, amazing friend. Harper knocked on the window, the rap of her knuckles against glass breaking the seductive haze that surrounded Brenna.
She jerked away, shifting out of his reach until her back collided with the door. His growl followed her and she ignored that something inside her that was attracted to that snarling sound. She was not turned on by Declan. At least, not that part of him.
Chest? Yes. Abs? Oh, let her lick them, yes. Thighs? She wondered if he could support her with those big legs. He’d push her against the wall and she’d wrap her legs around… and then the thrusting…
Okay, yeah, all of that was hornball worthy. His growl? Not so much. Because he wasn’t a werewolf no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise.
Yet her clit twitched, her cunt clenched, and her nipples sent up a great big “come to momma” signal.
She looked into Declan’s yellowed eyes, something unnatural peering through the orbs, and she realized several things.
Declan was possibly—probably—a werewolf.
He was hot as hell.
Should have stocked up on condoms for the eventual trip to Fucktown.
Because now, it was so gonna happen.
*
Declan was half a second from leaping onto Brenna and claiming her. The scent of her arousal permeating the air drew his wolf, and the beast was onboard with immediately sinking his fangs into her. He held the beast back through sheer force of will. He wouldn’t rush her, not when there were so many other things to discuss.
Specifically persuading her she truly was a werewolf and they belonged together. The way his cock pulsed and throbbed with the need to be inside her, he needed to sway her soon.
He gripped the back of her seat and placed his other on the dashboard, steadying himself as he inched even closer. “Is that how you want me to take you, baby? On the table? The counter? Our bed? All of it?” He breathed deeply, his wolf releasing a rumble when her arousal filled him. “Oh, that is what you want.”
Brenna opened her mouth to reply, but then the passenger door was wrenched open, sending her tumbling from the vehicle. The only thing that kept her from crashing to the ground was Connor catching her and saving her from harm. While his wolf should have been thankful of his Beta’s presence, it was enraged by another male touching the woman who belonged to them.
His beast rushed forward, shattering the bonds that’d held it captive and burst through with an overwhelming roar. It snarled, transforming and leaping in one rapid move that forced his Beta to release Brenna or fall prey to Declan’s wolf. The animalistic side of him half hoped Connor stood his ground simply because the wolf craved satisfaction.
Yet it wouldn’t be satisfied with easy prey. Not when Connor immediately dropped Brenna to the ground and scrambled away, putting space between Declan’s mate and himself.
But Connor wasn’t fast enough, not for Declan’s animal and not for Declan either. So instead of halting beside Brenna, he continued, landing with a grunt on the concrete driveway and then leaping toward his Beta once again. Connor tore at his clothes, the change rippling through him in a jerky series of spasms as he fought free of the fabric covering him.
Declan’s wolf recognized the disadvantage and reveled in the opening Connor presented. One leap, one tear, and the male threatening his mate bond with Brenna would be eliminated, one… little… snap…
“Alpha!” A woman’s voice sliced through the growl-filled air. “Your mate needs you!”
His mate?
“She needs you, Alpha. She’s bleeding.” The feminine tones pricked the wolf’s memory, prodding his mind until the beast and man connected the alto to a member of the pack.
Harper.
Beta’s wife.
He snarled at the ra
pidly shifting wolf. She was merely trying to distract him from his intent. Ridding himself of the interloper was the best course of action. Harper could find another mate. There were plenty of wolves in the forest.
“Your mate needs you, Alpha!” Harper’s voice carried a harried bit of anxiety and fear, drawing more of his attention from Connor.
He flared his nostrils, breathing deep, and found… Harper was telling the truth. The barest hint of Brenna’s scent came to him, the aroma tinged with the coppery tang of blood.
She was hurt.
With a final parting snarl to Connor, Declan spun and retraced his path, racing to Brenna’s side. The wolf gladly relinquished control, knowing that an animal couldn’t care for her. He shifted as he moved, paws and legs transforming to a human’s shape. The change was so rapid that by the time he covered the fifteen feet separating them, he’d become a man once again.
He lowered to his knees beside Brenna, ignoring Harper’s rapidly retreating form. He only had eyes for his mate now. Dust and dirt covered her arms and legs, small pieces of sand and rock embedded in her skin. Some parts of her were bright red from her fall, but there were several spots where her flesh had succumbed to the rough texture of concrete. Tiny wounds sprinkled her palms and knees, attesting to the fact she’d tried to catch herself when Connor suddenly released her.
“Oh, Brenna.” He released a low whine. Each pinprick was due to his overwhelming need to possess and protect her from those who would steal her.
Declan reached for her, hands outstretched and ready to ease each and every sting, but she didn’t allow that. Instead, she clambered away, shuffling backward in an awkward crab-walk that put distance between them.
Brenna shook her head, blond hair swinging with the rapid movement. “Stay back.” He eased forward, intent on keeping her within reach. She couldn’t get away from him. He had to protect her, claim her. “I mean it. I’m not one of those.” She waved at the space behind him. “I don’t know what the fuck… No…”
The shuffle and scrape of someone closing in on them had Declan spinning to face the newest arrival, but he cut off his growl before it had a true chance to begin. Connor and Harper—both now wolves—crawled toward him, their bellies hovering hardly an inch above the driveway. The moment his attention focused on them, they both rolled to their backs, baring the most vulnerable part of themselves in submission.
A low whimper had him refocusing on his mate, on the way trembles wracked her body and how the scent of her fear overwhelmed her blood and pain. She shouldn’t ever fear him. Others, but never him.
The sounds of the couple inching forward increased with each passing second and the nearer they eased, the farther away Brenna scrambled.
The wolf raged at the expanding distance, shoving forward once again and demanding they pounce on her, keep her near. Declan held back the urge to pin her beneath him, shoving the animal aside when it leapt forward. Violence had caused this mess; it wouldn’t solve their problem.
“Brenna?” He remained still, tension pulsing through his veins, but he managed to hold the beast in check.
“No.” She shook her head. “I thought… I almost believed… I won’t become that. I won’t! That’s not me!” Brenna’s terror vibrated her words and speared his heart.
“Easy.” He held out a hand to her, dropping it when she crawled further away.
“I won’t. I wanna go home. Can I go home? I don’t want to do this anymore.” Her chest heaved, body seeming to fight for oxygen as panic overtook her.
“Okay, okay,” he crooned. “It’s fine. You won’t be that way, Brenna. Calm down.” Declan’s wolf was anything but calm and he imagined his unease merely added to her fright. A wolf instinctually took direction from its Alpha which meant his fear and disquiet fed hers. He took a deep breath, begging his wolf to relax, before he spoke again. “I will take you home.” It caused his wolf to rage, to fight to take flesh from bone in a bid for freedom, but he made the promise anyway. “I’ll take you home.”
Declan didn’t add that he’d remain in the area, lurking in the bushes or sleeping in front of her door. He might allow her the comfort of her own space, but he refused to leave her side. Not when he knew she was his and his alone. Not when a rogue still lurked in his territory.
As far as Declan was concerned, as far as his pack was concerned, Brenna was the most important person on Swan Mountain.
She just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter Three
Brenna lowered into her favorite chair, the plush cushions welcoming as she relaxed and curled her knees to her chest. The mug of hot cocoa warmed her palms, calming her further. She needed that bit of comfort after her day. The events continued to replay in her mind… Harper’s office, Declan, the ride to his home and subsequently his explosive show of aggression. The wolf.
She’d refused to climb back into a vehicle with him, demanding a car, Harper’s or his own, and was finally tossed a set of keys. Declan followed her home, but she didn’t care. He hadn’t stopped her from racing inside or locking him out.
Werewolves? Mates? None of it mattered in the face of that violence. She was sure she’d awaken tomorrow and discover the day was nothing more than a horrible, margarita-induced nightmare. At least, she hoped.
Then a movement in the shadows caught her attention, a subtle shift of the bushes that revealed dark gray fur and a single yellowed eye. Even though she’d only gotten a brief glimpse earlier in the day, she knew that animal. Or rather wolf. Werewolf. Declan.
She sipped her drink, savoring the chocolate on her tongue and flowing down her throat. No matter how comforting, it couldn’t take away the new tension pulsing through her veins.
So, he’d allowed her to return home but hadn’t left her alone. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Especially when something inside her jerked, an internal, involuntary movement accompanied by a low whine. A whine similar to the ones she’d heard only hours ago.
Brenna tried to suppress it, pretend it didn’t exist, but then a soft shuffling scratch jarred her. She startled with the touch and sat up straight as she scanned the room. The feeling had been there, close and drifting across her skin, yet she was alone.
The whine was louder this time, a cool wet nose nudging her from within.
Still, no one was nearby.
Movement in the yard had her refocusing on the wolf lurking in the shadows. More of him was revealed, the distance between them lessened. He’d obviously eased forward, stepping to the boundaries that separated the forest from her lawn.
The thing inside her, the one she refused to call a wolf, whined once again. It urged her to go to Declan, to rub against him, and lean into his side. She sensed the barely suppressed urge to throw herself at his feet and raise her tail. But that wasn’t happening. The thing was strong, but Brenna was stronger. At least, for now.
The grumbles and begging slowly eased, drifting to the back of her mind, but not completely disappearing. The thing accepted her dominance and she breathed a soft sigh of relief.
She wasn’t sure who would have won had the wolf—no, the thing—pushed the issue.
The wolf behind her house jerked its attention from Brenna to the side of her home, lip curling as it narrowed its eyes.
It. No, she should just call the animal by name.
Declan jerked his attention from her to the side of her house, curling his lip, and she imagined him releasing one of those hair-raising growls.
That distraction immediately preceded a knock on her front door, the rap of knuckles on wood both timid and unsure. The wolf inside her—fuck, she was a werewolf and she couldn’t deny it—reacted with a rolling rumble of its own. Brenna imagined it raising its head and scenting the air, searching for the visitor’s identity.
She refrained from doing the same with her human body. Barely.
Another knock and she set her mug aside before rising from the chair in an easy shift of muscle and bone. There was no grunt or groan as she h
auled herself to standing. Not like normal. She cracked her neck. Or rather, tried to. Again, no more aches accompanied the move. It was as if the wolf had soothed…
Had it? Could it?
Probably. She didn’t have any doubt the animal sped healing. By the time she’d clambered from the compound’s driveway and raced home, the evidence of her fall was gone. Cuts and scrapes no longer lingered and marred her skin.
The knock came a third time, the sound causing an immediate reaction in the wolf surveying the house. Declan stepped forward again, and she knew he’d venture farther if she didn’t answer the door.
Brenna padded forward and her wolf urged her to breathe deeply, to try and identify her visitor. Air filled her lungs, sinking into her body, and the beast helped her sort through the aromas. Those familiar to her home were discarded. It was those that didn’t belong that the animal hunted. Spice. Sweetness. The well-known hint of disinfectant that caused her nose to wrinkle.
They all belonged to one person: Harper.
She rested her forehead on the smooth wood of her front door, the surface solid and heavy. Would it keep Harper—or Declan—out if they really wanted in?
Probably not.
The wolf snorted at her thought.
Okay, definitely not.
Twisting the deadbolt and disengaging the chain, Brenna finally turned the knob to grant her friend entrance. With the overwhelming wave of Harper’s scent, other things also became apparent. The look Harper gave her, the combination of fear and timidity with a dash of hope that filled the normally confident woman. As Brenna continued to stare, silence stretching between them, Harper squirmed.
Harper’s next move clued Brenna in to one of the blatant differences. Similar to the submission—yes, she researched real wolves, sue her—shown at Declan’s, her friend now tilted her head to the side, eyes downcast. The longer the quiet lasted, the more of Harper’s neck was bared, and her eyes were now closed.
This was wrong and even the wolf whined at the change in her friend.
“Harper, what are you doing?” she whispered and reached for Harper, ignoring the woman’s flinch. When she tugged, her friend eased into Brenna’s embrace without hesitation, slumping against her. A tremble wracked Harper and she was quick to quiet the woman, rubbing her back and squeezing tightly when a low whine escaped Harper’s lips.