Dire Desires_A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan

by Stephanie Tyler

  “You told me I could run. That I needed to.” She put her hands in the air. “That was amazing!”

  He couldn’t be angry. “We just have to be careful.”

  “I’m sorry—I just couldn’t stop. We can go back now.” She managed to look a little chastened but her smile broke through. “When can we do it again? When will I be able to shift, like you?”

  He’d told her everything but that. “On your birthday.”

  “My birthday?” she echoed, her voice suddenly hollow. “Why didn’t you tell me it would happen so soon?”

  “Your birthday is in three weeks,” he said, but she shook her head and his gut tightened.

  “My parents shortened the last name and changed the birthday to keep anyone from connecting the famous Blackwell daughter to the crazy thing they locked up. My twenty-first birthday’s tomorrow, Jinx.”

  Tomorrow, as in five fucking minutes from now. They were exposed, out in the open and too far from the Dire house for his comfort. “We’ve got to go back. Come on.”

  He kept his tone light and guided her through the woods, joking, “You can’t tell my brothers that you beat me running. Or Jez—the deadhead would never let me live it down.”

  She laughed a little, then said, “Wouldn’t running be faster?”

  “It might bring the shift out.”

  “So it doesn’t happen exactly at midnight?”

  “Not always. And it’s past midnight.”

  “Okay, that’s good. Maybe we’ll make it.”

  “Gilly, no matter when it happens, I’ll make sure you’re just fine.”

  She was so vulnerable. He couldn’t call out for fear of calling attention to them, just waited for the familiar signs of the shift and tried to keep her calm.

  They were five miles from the Dire mansion when she said suddenly, “I feel . . . weird,” and yeah, there was that. She clutched her chest and then her throat, stared up at him.

  “Let’s keep going,” he suggested, but a snarl came out of her mouth and as he moved to hold her hand again Brother warned him to back the fuck off. “Okay, we can stay here. But Gilly, this is important as hell—whatever you do—when you shift, you can’t run anywhere but toward the house. You can stay wolf inside the house. You can tear the place apart, but we can’t stay out here.”

  “I thought . . . you said . . . safe?” she asked, more growls escaping. She trembled too.

  “You’re okay,” he soothed her. She was so goddamned beautiful, so gloriously naked. Would she always take his breath away like this?

  “Make love to me, Jinx. Please. Now.”

  So dangerous. All he could do when he was around her was do goddamned dangerous things, and this was no exception. And since he was already good and naked, it made the decision that much easier. Because Brother was tired of thinking all the time, of making the right choice, of watching out for the humans instead of enjoying his own primal nature. Watching Gillian had reminded him of that.

  Maybe he understood Rifter’s position more than he thought. Maybe the king was also hanging on to his structure by a thread.

  This isn’t mating sex, he justified. It was their second time.

  And she’s readying to shift.

  “Fuck it. Time to live on the edge,” he muttered as he yanked her close, ignored the snark and kissed her until she was putty in his arms. Pliable. Maybe Sister Wolf would hold out until they’d gotten their fill.

  He kissed her breathless, until he was barely thinking. Until everything base and primal inside of him took over, laid her on the mossy floor of the woods.

  It was hot. Dirty. The way it should be for them. And Gillian was locking her legs around his waist, driving him inside of her almost immediately.

  “Yes, Jinx.” She arched up into him as he thrust deeply, over and over. Wanted all of her—wanted to own her.

  A part of him already did.

  He wasn’t sure how long they made love in the woods like that—it seemed too short but it was probably closer to an hour, more like a promise than a mating—the second time typically was.

  “Don’t let go of me,” she begged him and he buried his face against her neck, bit down along her collarbone and she groaned. “Do that again.”

  He laughed, did so. And then she bit his shoulder, hard enough to cause his orgasm. It pushed her along and she climaxed with a loud cry—his name on the wind and he bit back his own howl as he tried to preserve any privacy they might have left.

  Maybe they were meant to escape all of this unscathed. Maybe, for once, it would be easy because it felt so right.

  She was stroking his hair. He was still inside of her, still hard. Wanting nothing more than to take her again. But that would have to wait.

  “Gillian,” he started, but something flashed behind her eyes and they glowed a little more.

  “It’s happening,” she whispered. He rolled off of her before she threw him off. In seconds, she was on all fours, her fingers digging into the dirt, shaking her head against the rustling that he knew from experience was deafening by now.

  “Go with it. Sister Wolf knows what to do.”

  “Suppose I don’t make it.”

  “You will. You have to. I need you,” he told her.

  • • •

  It was a feeling Gillian knew she’d never be able to describe thoroughly enough. There was pain—she heard bones popping but she was so absorbed, it was as if she was having an out-of-body experience. The rustling in her ears was as loud as it was calming and she breathed and gave in, because there was nothing else she could do.

  She was done fighting her body’s natural instincts. She’d done that for twenty-one long years and finally, she was allowed to shed her skin. Still tingling from the orgasm and Jinx’s touch, she felt confident. She closed her eyes and felt herself transform.

  She wasn’t sure how long it took, but when she blinked, she knew she was looking at the world from an entirely different angle. She threw back her head and Sister Wolf howled, a loud, mournful sound even though her heart was light.

  She looked down at her paws—the soft fur that covered her was the same color as her hair. Her eyes would have the same glow Jinx’s did. And the rustling was gone, replaced by a low, growling voice that told her, Sister Wolf is here to protect you.

  And me, you, Gillian told the wolf in return.

  When she looked at Jinx, he’d shifted as well. Brother and Sister Wolf nosed one another. And then, they ran, her wolf reminding her of the promise she’d made to Jinx to run toward the Dire mansion.

  She did so. The power she released as she ran was incredible, a rush beyond her wildest imagination. Her paws were strong on the earth, her balance, perfect. She jumped and sidestepped, swiveled and cut as she navigated the dark woods path, her eyesight better than ever.

  Her life would never, ever be the same. And if Jinx hadn’t come to find her, to save her, who knew where she’d be.

  But now, she was happy. And she simply kept running, because that was all that was expected of her.

  • • •

  Gillian was happy. Sister Wolf was gorgeous. Graceful. Jinx would have a hard time talking her out of staying a wolf for days at a time, but taking the first three shifts quickly was important.

  They’d already run for hours before her shift and she showed no signs of wanting to stop. She was powerful—he’d been right about her warrior ways. They were a part of her bloodline, bred into her, a birthright she’d come into.

  She was trying to run in a direct line toward the mansion, but Sister got easily distracted by scents, different trails and he had to rally her to stay on track. They still were several miles away when shots rang through the air. He saw something whiz by his head and hit the tree behind him. Tranquilizer darts.

  Trappers.

  And they were after Gillian, for
no other reason than she was a wolf. He knew he should be grateful for the small miracle of them not being able to recognize her as Gillian Blackwell, but that didn’t make the danger any less real. He supposed they were here and out for blood to avenge their friends.

  When the darts went right above her head, it must’ve frightened her enough that she shifted. Naked, crouched on the ground of the woods, her face shone fearful in the moonlight as she looked to Jinx silently.

  He didn’t shift, went to her and crouched down, hoping she’d understand. She did, pulled herself flat onto his back with her hands in the thick scruff around his neck and she hung on for dear life as he ran them out of the darkness and toward the Dire house, where they’d be safe again. As they ran toward the house, Vice’s white wolf ran past him, followed by Stray and Killian.

  Jinx didn’t stop until they were safely inside the screened-in porch that would forever be protected by Seb’s magic. Jinx eased Gillian off of him and shifted. Gathered her into his arms and walked her through the hallway until he got to one of the guest bedrooms in the twins’ apartment area. He wrapped her in a blanket because she was shivering, checking her first to make sure she hadn’t been hit.

  Her eyes hadn’t changed back all the way yet.

  “I froze,” she whispered, lowered her face as though terribly ashamed.

  “You’re new at this, Gilly. Not used to shifting, never mind having people shoot at you.”

  “I’ll do better next time,” she promised.

  “I don’t mind being your hero.”

  She hugged him, her body relaxing a bit. She was still shaking, though. Most Dires weren’t the object of target practice during their first shift and it was most definitely affecting her. He was about to called for Gwen—or just carry Gillian to her when Harm came around the corner with a medical bag. Jinx studied him for a long moment before nodding that it was okay for him to come forward. When he touched Gillian’s arm, though, Jinx growled and Gillian said, “He can’t help it.”

  “I know. I’m Harm.”

  “I haven’t met you before.”

  “They keep me in the attic,” he deadpanned. “I’m Gwen’s dad.”

  “Oh,” she said and Jinx added, “We don’t force him to stay in the attic anymore—he just likes it there.”

  Harm rolled his eyes but continued checking on Gillian. It was, of course, something Jinx could’ve done himself, but since all he wanted to do was bed her, it was best to have someone else make sure she was all right.

  “Any problems coming out of the shift?” he asked.

  “It just . . . happened. I got scared when the shooting started.”

  “That’s natural,” Harm told her. “But you have to let Sister Wolf take over next time that happens. Because, for you, you’re safer in wolf form these days.”

  “Right. So no one will be able to know who I really am,” she agreed. “Okay, that makes sense. I’ll know what to expect next time.”

  “It gets easier. And you seem to like what you are,” he said as he checked her blood pressure.

  “Don’t you?” she asked and Jinx waited to see what Harm said. It took a good minute of silence before the Dire male who should’ve been king said, “For a long time, I didn’t. But since I’ve been back among these particular wolves, I’m beginning to.”

  • • •

  Vice’s white wolf had blood marring his otherwise pristine coat. Stray and Killian weren’t hit but they’d bested this group of weretrappers, catching all four of them.

  Inside one of the men’s backpacks, they’d found disturbing pictures of other Weres the weretrappers had captured and tortured recently, all over upstate New York. These groups were working without a leader and they were thugs, just taking down as many Weres as they could.

  Hunters had been taking these kinds of weretrappers down as well, but Vice wondered if the hunters would be able to tell if these trappers died because they’d tried to hurt wolves, or if wolves killed them for sport.

  The thing was, Weres hadn’t killed humans for sport in centuries. They’d learned it was the only way to survive in this world filled with more humans than wolves. And if the hunters didn’t know that . . .

  “You all right?” Killian asked.

  Vice had been hit in the biceps. Burned like a bitch but, of course, he’d live. “They were trappers,” he said.

  “After Gillian or all of us?” Stray asked and Vice shrugged and asked, “Does it say Kreskin on my forehead?”

  “You can be such an asshole,” Stray muttered and Killian smiled.

  Chapter 22

  That night, Vice ran with Cain and Rogue. Rogue had asked for Cain specifically, and it made Cain proud that his omega skills were helping the Dire. Liam also liked knowing that a Were in his pack was in high demand.

  It was better this way. Liam needed an alpha with him at all times and Cyd was good playing the role as bodyguard for him. He excelled at fighting.

  Cain was still trying to shake off the violence of the other night, even though he had to admit that a part of it had excited him. His wolf needed the violence, the fighting, to survive. But as an omega, Cain was built to crave peace. To have all of that coexist in one body was at times frustrating and exciting and scary as fuck.

  “Come on, Cain, let’s roll,” Vice said, and speaking of coexisting and scary as fuck . . .

  “Have you heard from Jinx?” he asked as they stripped down in the woods. He’d texted and called, gotten a brief things are fine text in return.

  “He’s in hiding with Gillian,” Vice said. Cain noticed the tightness in Rogue’s expression when Jinx was mentioned and he made a mental note to keep his mouth shut on the subject around the wolf from this point on.

  The shift went from pain to pleasure in minutes. Cain ran between the two Dires, slowing as they scented humans around the same area he and Rogue had seen the hunters gathering.

  Quietly, Cain padded forward, camouflaged in the heavy brush. He peered out and what he saw made his groin tighten.

  He was back. Holy mother of the moon, Angus was back and he looked . . . like a goddamned warrior.

  The scars were still there, marring his chest and back and neck and they didn’t distract from his beauty. Cain hadn’t lied when he’d told the man that, the last time they’d seen one another.

  The conversation had gone downhill after that, but Cain knew he’d come back.

  He’d just never thought the ex-fed would come back as a hunter.

  Angus had always been damned handsome and strong to begin with. He’d always had an edge, but it was more pronounced now, especially the way his eyes glinted as he spoke with the other men in his group.

  Cain took him all in, especially the silver knife and the tattoos on the backs of the man’s hands.

  Hunter.

  He drew a stuttered breath, found himself at a total loss for words as he watched Angus shoot the bow and arrow and hit the target exactly in the center. His muscles bulged and the look on his face meant business.

  A woman came out of the trees and hugged him. And then another guy came out too—human—and clapped Angus on the back.

  And Angus smiled at the guy.

  Son of a bitch. Cain knew that smile. And he wasn’t about to compete with anyone.

  “And that’s why you don’t fall for humans,” Vice told him.

  He hadn’t heard the Dire approach, which was part of the problem, hadn’t realized he’d even shifted, dammit. He was off his game and couldn’t afford to be. Not now, with the impending move to Manhattan. He was Liam’s great white omega hope, and he wasn’t supposed to be out anywhere alone.

  But he wasn’t, technically. He was with Angus and his new boyfriend.

  It had been less than a month. And Angus seemed to have gotten over Cain just fine.

  It’s not like you had a relat
ionship.

  But they’d had something and Cain valued loyalty. Had thought Angus did too. But Cain had obviously been wrong about many things. He could barely bite back a growl when the other human male put a hand on Angus’s shoulder. He could bite that hand off easily and he gave serious thought to doing so.

  “They could just be friends, you know? Wolves are extremely jealous and possessive,” Vice continued, giving Cain a lesson in weredom that Cain already knew. He didn’t bother denying anything to Vice.

  “Is this going to be a problem?”

  “Hunters hunt weretrappers and other bad things, especially Weres gone bad. We’re not bad things, hence, the hunters shouldn’t cause us trouble,” Vice said. “Sounds good in theory, right?”

  “Too good to be true,” Cain muttered.

  • • •

  Angus knew the Were was close. He could feel the tingle on the back of his neck and wondered if being bitten by a Were hadn’t done something to him after all.

  But Cain hadn’t been the one to technically bite him. Not enough to scar him, anyway. And he’d always been able to sense the young Were. He’d done this purposely, come to the same spot twice to make sure Cain saw him.

  Maybe you really do have a death wish.

  Or maybe he missed the young wolf more than he cared to admit. But he had a new life now, and he had to make sure his loyalties remained true.

  “You with us, Angus?” Joe asked, turned down the music.

  “Just reminiscing about the last time I came to town,” he said honestly. The people in this truck all knew that hadn’t gone well at all. But from there, things had looked up.

  He’d heard rumors about this group, usually in derisive terms from his brief encounters with the weretrappers. The hunters worked against the weretrappers, like the hunters actually had some kind of in with wolves, Al had said sarcastically.

  But it wasn’t really like that at all. In fact, Angus had learned that many hunters did get killed by wolves, even though they were actually helping the breed. Their main goal was to take down the bad supernatural influences and keep the good.

  Angus knew that finding that line in the sand wouldn’t be easy at all.