Hour of the Wolf

by Bell, Dana Marie

  Iva put her free hand against her tree as he thrust into her. He was fucking her so hard her head was pressed against Yew, digging into the bark so hard she was sure it would leave marks on her forehead. She made sure her right hand remained inside Yew, completing the circuit between her tree, herself, Noah, and his wolf.

  It wasn’t quite enough. It was incredible, the feel of him inside her, but something was missing. Her soul cried out for a deeper connection. But how? She was as close to her tree as she could get without communion.

  He growled behind her, reminding her of...

  Of...

  Of course! “Noah, bite me. Please. Claim me again.”

  With a snarl he complied, sinking his fangs into the spot where he’d made her his mate.

  Iva cried out as the connection snapped into place, heart to heart, soul to soul. Above her, needles rustled and limbs quivered as her tree prepared itself for not one, but two souls. Noah would find himself connected to the forest in ways he had only dreamt of once Yew struck.

  That was what she’d needed to come, to fall over the edge into orgasm. Yew took that moment to join them, sharing in their pleasure, fusing them together into one being, one thought, one mind. She could sense his love for her, his need to protect warring with his wish to let her be herself. She gave that love back, opened her mind so that Noah would be aware of her own thoughts and desires. She now understood the rush of paws on loam, the fierce need to protect his people. She was humbled at how he now viewed the dryads as his to nurture and protect.

  The joining intensified the orgasm rushing through her, blinding her to everything but her mate, his ecstasy fusing with her own into incandescent pleasure. Noah howled, a triumphant sound, as he poured into her, giving her his essence and his love.

  They were one in ways only the Mind of the forest and a prime alpha could be. She could feel Yew’s love mingling with theirs, the joy of Noah’s wolf at their complete mating. He was hers and she was his, and not even death would separate them for long.

  Slowly, in a daze, she became aware of her surroundings once more. Noah was beside her, his head on her stomach, his hand over her heart. He was sound asleep.

  How she’d gotten on her back she didn’t know, and didn’t care. She smiled, caressing Noah’s hair away from his face. “God, you’re cute,” she whispered, indulging herself by running her fingers down his cheek.

  The kiss on her belly surprised her. “So are you.” He blinked up at her, then yawned wide. “When can we do that again?”

  She chuckled. She had a great idea now that things were once again safe in the forest. “After we go running?”

  He loomed over her, hands on either side of her shoulders. “You are my kinda girl.” He kissed the tip of her nose and stood. “I’ll race you.”

  “You’ll lose,” Iva replied, but he was already gone, changing the moment he left the sacred circle. “Cheater!” she shouted, already running after him, the forest murmuring, laughing along with them.

  A howl, both a challenge and a dare, was his only reply.

  Epilogue

  A few weeks after completing her mating with Noah, Iva settled down against the trunk of her tree and picked up her book. It was perfect outdoor reading weather. The cooling air of fall was blowing gently on her cheeks. The turning leaves of her friends’ trees added a beautiful touch of color to the Throne. Her black berries shone with waxy splendor against the dark green of the needles of her yew. Her duties wouldn’t start until after the children were in bed for the night, so she had plenty of time to check out her latest romance novel. She picked up her tea and took a sip, smiling at the taste of chai latte.

  Life was good.

  “The bunnies are coming! The bunnies are coming!”

  Or not.

  Iva glanced up from her book as Carter Williams burst into the Throne, his arms swinging around wildly. “I’m sorry. What did you just say?”

  “The bunnies are coming!” Carter stopped in the middle of the throne and bent over, panting from exertion. His face was beet red, his hair wild. “Where’s Noah? He needs to know, like, now.”

  Iva shook her head. “Downstairs making dinner.” By now most of the wolf enforcers were aware of the homes of the dryads. Noah had insisted on it. Mina had pushed back, but had caved when Noah mentioned the safety of Sana and Milo. Mina had turned to look at Dragos, who was scowling at her.

  From the determined way Dragos had sided with Noah, Iva was ninety-nine percent sure there would soon be a prince or princess crawling around the Throne.

  “Shit, I need to talk to him.” Carter headed for the Great Oak and down the stairs to the Den, as Noah insisted on calling it. She’d just rolled her eyes and let him have his way.

  At the rate the wolves kept showing up, eating their food and playing their video games, it really would become a den instead of the Throne of the ruling dryads. Hell, Greer was talking about putting a pool table in the hall, right on top of the ancient seal of royalty.

  Things were changing, and Iva found she was enjoying every minute of it. The town had been quiet since the death of Peter Bradley. She had no doubt the Van Helsings would come back, but for now they were too busy trying to reorganize. Without their leader they were like ants without a queen.

  The children they’d brought back were living with Paisley. The boy was adjusting nicely, but the girl... The girl needed an attitude adjustment. The other Van Helsing children were working on her, and Dragos was talking of having her moved in with them. Paisley wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but Iva agreed with Dragos. Paisley’s mate needed to be around the others who’d come to live with them and were from the same background. She needed to understand that the people of Maggie’s Grove were just like her, with a few added abilities that she didn’t have. Besides, once Paisley bit her, she’d be a wolf shifter just like Paisley, making her pack.

  “Are you fucking sure?” Noah’s growling voice reverberated through the Throne as he stepped out under the Great Oak.

  “Yeah. I got it from one of our more reliable scouts posing as a bartender. Word is a bunny took out a bunch of bikers a little north of here.” Carter grimaced as Noah rounded on him. He threw up his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m not the one who did it.”

  Noah grumbled, making his way to where she was seated. “We’ve got trouble.”

  Iva sighed and closed her book. So much for relaxing in the autumn air. “There’s never a dull moment around here.” As Noah helped her to her feet she gazed at the Great Oak. The forest whispered to her of twitching noses, soft whiskers and blood on baby soft fur. Bunnies? “Shit. There goes the neighborhood.”

  * * *

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  Acknowledgments

  To my family: I love you guys.

  And to my readers: Thank you for your patience.

  About the Author

  Dana Marie Bell wrote her first short story when she was thirteen years old. She’s now a USA TODAY bestselling author, both self-published and with Carina Press. She lives with her husband, Dusty, their two maniacal children, an evil ice-cream stealing cat, and a dog that doesn’t understand the meaning of “personal space.” Dana has been heard to describe herself as “vertically challenged” and loves video games and anime. She is also an “invisible illness sufferer,” as she has both fibromyalgia and ankylosing spondylitis. Due to this, she walks with a cane or rides in a mobility scooter. She refuses to answer whether or not she’s ever attempted to run her children over with the scooter. She will say, however, that they are now very fast runners.

  You can learn more about her at www.danamariebell.com, on her Facebook page at www.Facebook.com/dana.marie.bell and on Twitter,
@danamariebell.

  Someone—or something—is stalking Abby Marcheson. Luckily, she has her brother’s hunky friend Seth to keep her safe.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from All for You, book one in Dana Marie Bell’s Nephilim series.

  All for You

  by Dana Marie Bell

  Seth wiped the blood off his blade with a charred piece of the Shemyaza’s shirt. The wind ruffled his wings, sending a chill down his spine. That sensation never failed to amaze him, considering his wings were made of power and light. “Is that it? Are there any more of them?”

  The Shem were angel-born who had given themselves over to their baser desires, becoming demonic in both appearance and temperament. Like the Nephilim, they had the ability to appear as human as Seth normally did. It was the job of the Nephilim to hunt them down, to keep humanity safe from their depravities. They almost always hunted alone, unable or unwilling to share hunting grounds with one another.

  Unfortunately, from time to time Shem had been known to gang up on some poor soul, especially if they knew Nephilim like Seth were in the area.

  Damien lifted his face to the wind and closed his dark blue eyes. Light cascaded over his body in rippling, iridescent waves, highlighting his black hair. He opened his eyes, his expression serene, the light fading away to nothing. It always awed Seth to watch him work, that beautiful light show that marked his friend as a Malachi, one of the rarest of the Nephilim. One of his gifts was the ability to sense angel-born within a few miles of his location, a serious advantage when they were hunting. “I think so. I can’t sense anything for miles.”

  Seth put his blade in its specially designed over-the-shoulder sheath. The short sword and sheath would be mostly hidden by his T-shirt, completely hidden if he wore a trench coat. “Dante? You can put him out now.”

  “Aw, Dad. You never let me have any fun.” The vicious grin on Dante’s face was lit by the burning Shem at his feet. Dante waved a hand and the fire went blue-hot, burning the figure to ash before going out completely. Even the ashes would be cold within seconds. “Speaking of fun, any idea when Piotr will get back into town?”

  Of all the Nephilim, Seth was the closest to Piotr, so it made sense that Dante would ask him. They shared a history none of the others would ever understand. He was Piotr’s brother in all but blood, more so than with any of them. “Last I heard, he was in Moscow.”

  Damien holstered the gun he’d brought to the fight, hiding it under his trench coat. He had all the necessary concealed-carry permits, something Dante had insisted on for all the Neph who chose to use firearms. “Why is he in Moscow? Isn’t that where the Shemyaza leader is hiding out?”

  Seth grinned. He wasn’t touching that one with a ten-foot pole. “Have you ever done one of those random-name-generator things?”

  “Oh, here we go,” Dante muttered, dusting Shem ash off his jacket and out of his dirty-blond hair.

  Seth was glad he didn’t have Dante’s powers. As a Seris, Dante’s power over fire was frightening, but it came with an equally fiery temperament that often got the detective in trouble with his chief.

  “We should do one of those and see what our Mafia names should be.”

  Dante never took the bait, but Damien—

  “Our Mafia names?” Damien made a face as he stepped around the ashy remains of the Shem.

  “Yup. You could be Damien the Douche.”

  Damien bopped Seth on the back of the head.

  “Seriously. We could call Dante—”

  Dante bopped Seth on the back of the head, staggering him. Damn, the bastard’s strong. He forgot sometimes how strong, because Dante would never really hurt one of his Nephilim brothers. “Va all´inferno, stronzo.”

  Damien’s grin was pure evil. “Would you like a translation? I’d be more than happy to give it to you.”

  “Knock it off, Boy Scout. If I wanted him to know, I’d have said it in English.”

  Seth ignored them both and dismissed his wings, the glowing blue appendages disappearing under his skin. The only mark left behind would be the two blue wing tattoos that covered him from his shoulders to the middle of his thighs, an exact replica of his real wings when furled.

  Fuck, it was chilly. Being an Angelus was a pain in the ass sometimes. Having to go shirtless on a night like this sucked donkey balls, but the one time he’d tried to leave the shirt on, his wings had gotten stuck.

  That? Had hurt like hell.

  “Seriously. You guys need to chill the fuck out. Like Piotr wants anything to do with Ivan the Terrible.” Seth shivered hard. Damn, it was cold now that Dante’s fire had gone out. He pulled the T-shirt he’d tucked into his back pocket out and tugged it on, grateful for the hint of warmth.

  Unfortunately, the two Nephilim who disliked Piotr the most were Dante and Damien. If only they knew how little Piotr wanted to have to do with Ivan Ilyanovich Romanov, they’d shit purple kittens. Seth wished they’d come to understand the true nature of the man, rather than fearing the beast that lived within him.

  “Hmm. Sounds fishy.” Damien glared at Seth. “You know what he’s doing there.”

  “If you think I’m telling you what Piotr’s doing in Moscow under Gabriel’s orders, you’re off your rocker.” Seth wasn’t that stupid. Piotr or no, if Gabriel wanted Damien and Dante to know what one of his Neph was doing, he’d tell them.

  Damien grimaced. “Oh.”

  “The Boy Scout has a point, though. I might trust Piotr more if he attended the company picnics.” Dante, ever the watchful cop, stepped out of the alleyway and glanced around. He nodded the all clear to Seth and Damien before resuming his walk to their cars. “He doesn’t show up at Gabriel’s very often.”

  God, Seth was so over this. “He’s a bazillionaire. He’s a little busy running his empire and offing Shemyaza. Cut the guy a break.”

  “I get it. You care about the icy son of a bitch. But I’ll tell you this much, unless Piotr steps up and really becomes one of us, he’ll never truly be my brother.” Dante climbed into his car.

  Damien shook his head at Seth. “I agree with Dante. It’s a dangerous game Piotr’s playing. One of these days he’s going to slip up, and then we’ll know for sure which side of the fence he’s been sitting on all along.”

  Dante rolled down his window. “We worry about you, asshole. See you at Gabriel’s tomorrow?”

  “I’ll be there. And love you guys too.”

  Dante drove off with a quick wave. His sedate, tan-colored cop’s sedan was a horrendous mismatch for the man inside. He honked the horn twice as he turned the corner, giving them the green light to move out.

  “Seth?”

  Seth pinched the bridge of his nose. “Piotr is on our side, Damien. Do you honestly think he could fool Gabriel, of all people?”

  Damien closed his eyes, the faint shimmer of his power dancing along his skin. “Gabriel has his own blind spots, but I don’t. And there’s something Piotr is hiding. Something dangerous.” Damien opened his eyes, their luminescence brilliant even under the streetlights. “I intend to find out what.” He patted Seth’s shoulder. “Try not to get caught in the crossfire. You’re the only reason Dante and I have tolerated him for this long.” He headed for his own car, a tricked-out, metallic-black roadster that cost more than Seth made in a year. “Stay safe, my brother.”

  “You too, my brother,” Seth muttered as Damien drove off, honking twice as he rounded the corner toward his own home. “Shit. Now I have to get Gabriel to call off the Double Trouble Team.” If they messed up Piotr’s mission, his brother’s life would be in danger. If they had any idea the risks Piotr took to keep the rest of them safe, they’d be singing a different tune. Unfortunately, that wasn’t his tale to tell.

  Seth crawled into his car, exhausted beyond belief, and glanced at his watch. He swore under his breath, pulling out into the quiet street. H
e should have listened to Gabriel and let Dante and Damien hunt without him tonight, but he’d been determined to find out if the Shem they were hunting knew anything about Abby.

  Unfortunately, Damien’s intel had been right. The Shem had been hired to hunt down Abby, but not to harm her, something that sent a hard shiver down his spine. Why would a Shem want a human like Abby Marcheson for anything more than food? As far as he could tell, she had nothing to do with their world.

  But the dead Shem had known more than Seth was comfortable with, and less than he’d hoped.

  He’d known where she lived. For that alone, Seth would have killed him.

  Worse, he’d been a tough kill, nailing Dante in the arm with his claws and almost taking Damien’s head. Rafe would be more than willing to heal Dante. Too bad the stubborn bastard would never drive his ugly, putty-colored car to Gabriel’s for what he considered to be a minor wound.

  Seth snorted. Yeah. Dante was going to be sore tomorrow.

  Seth pulled up in front of his town house, ready to drop from exhaustion. He wasn’t even certain he had the energy left to order a pizza, and hunger was the only thing keeping him on his feet. He shuffled past Abby’s door.

  Abby’s windows were open. The aroma of burritos wafted out to him, his stomach immediately growling.

  As good as those burritos smelled, and God, they smelled amazing, she shouldn’t have had her windows open. She didn’t know that she was being targeted. She had no reason to believe she should stay behind locked doors and closed windows.

  Damn it. He was so fucking tired. But he’d promised Bill, his closest human friend, that he would watch over the man’s baby sister when she moved two doors down from him.

  He sighed. So far, he was doing a bang-up job of it.