by Mina Carter
It shouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t like she was a virgin or anything. Frustrated beyond measure, she shifted to try and get more comfortable.
“Ohhhhh…”
The moan of pleasure was torn from her lips as the slight movement stroked those nerve endings again, all at once. The burning disappeared, leaving her with just the full feeling and an irresistible need to move.
She did. She rolled her hips again. Jack swore, his cock swelling even further as it jerked inside her.
“Sorry, sweetheart, this isn’t going to take long,” he apologized, kissing her as he started to move. Long, slow pumps of his hips as he worked his thick cock in and out of her.
“I don’t care. Just…just…faster.”
She knew she was begging. She didn’t do begging. Right now, she didn’t care. She’d get down on her hands and knees and crawl over broken glass if he’d just keep doing what he was doing.
He groaned and increased his speed. The bed beneath them squealed in protest, slamming against the wall rhythmically as he took her. With fast, heavy thrusts of his hips, he claimed her and made her his.
His lover. His woman… She felt the truth clean down to her soul as he drove into her.
Their movements got faster. Skin slapped on skin as the scent of sex and arousal filled the air around them like a fine perfume. Even though she’d just come, Lillian felt the familiar tightening between her thighs.
“That’s it, baby, come for me again. I want to feel it, I want to come with you. Together,” he whispered in her ear as she struggled to keep up with him.
It was there, the edge of the chasm. She screamed and fell willingly, pushed over as he slammed into her a last time and roared his own release.
She was in heaven. She’d come home.
Although he was sprawled on the bed, flat on his back with his arm around the slender woman at his side, Jack wasn’t asleep. Far from it. Instead, he was in a comfortable cocoon. Not asleep, but a step from being truly awake. Ignoring the pull of full consciousness he lay, warm and comfortable.
He’d slept. Actually slept. The realization was one he was still trying to absorb as Lillian’s evocative scent wrapped itself around him, ensuring he was just as trapped in her web as he had been hours ago when he’d finally claimed her as his mate.
He hadn’t slept properly since the night he was turned. Most of the time he was like an insomniac on speed. As soon as it looked as though sleep would claim him, something…he had no idea what it was…kicked in and he was wide-awake. If he got an hour or two snatched here or there, then he’d had a good night.
Part of him desperately missed sleep, missed those lazy weekend mornings when the world consisted of little more than a soft mattress, a warm duvet and the blessed knowledge that he had nothing pressing to do or anywhere he needed to be until he reported back for duty on Monday morning.
However, another part of him rejoiced, if that was the right word. His life had changed. People who slept put themselves in danger. Any moment, Project heavies could burst through the door with tranq guns and silver chains, or worse, shove a newly turned Lycan through the door instead. Jack wasn’t sure which was worse—the heavies meant another long spell enduring tests and the second option meant he and his pack had to subdue an often wild, usually terrified wolf. Sometimes they were too far gone into the madness and fear. He didn’t like those. It meant a brutal and painful death under another wolf’s claws. Usually his. He was pack alpha, it was his responsibility. He wouldn’t put that on his men.
So he was always watchful, he was always vigilant and he was always waiting for the Project to try something.
That made the fact that he’d fallen asleep wrapped around Lillian all the more surprising. He’d have thought he’d be more protective, more watchful, now he had a mate to look after, rather than fallen asleep like a babe in arms.
She lay draped half across him, using his chest as a pillow. Her hair covered him like a blanket. The soft whisper of her breath caressed his chest and stirred the slight line of hair down the middle. In a lazy movement, he lifted his hand and tangled it in the long dark locks as a smile crept across his lips.
Memories of having her under him, around him, rose sharp and immediate. His cock was already hard, ready and raring to go. It was like she tapped into all the primal male aspects of his psyche and brought them out to play.
He didn’t get it. Even before he was turned, he’d been strictly a “wham, bam, thank you, ma’am” type. Not the touchy-feely type, and not the type for a long term relationship. He could be called away at a moment’s notice and be gone for months, so it had never seemed fair to ask a woman to wait around on the off-chance he might make it back. He’d never felt this way with a woman before. Never felt this need to cuddle up and wrap himself around her. To make sure every guy, human or wolf, knew she that she belonged to him.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled her scent into his lungs. So deeply down inside that she became a part of him. His wolf, usually close to the surface and ready for a fight, stirred lazily and then went right back to sleep. Damn idle creature.
The ever-present smile widened some more as he let the wolf sleep. If there was danger, he’d be off the bed in a heartbeat, the creature inside fully awake and both of them ready to fight to the death to protect their mate.
What was it about her? What made him feel this way? It wasn’t protection. She was human, she couldn’t fight her way out of a paper bag and the idea of Little Red Riding Hood protecting the Big Bad Wolf was ludicrous.
Clearing his mind, he concentrated, filling his senses with everything about the woman lying over him. The sound of her heart filled his ears, the soft whoosh of her breathing, the siren call of her scent filled his world.
It was her, just her, he finally decided. Something about her pulled him in, triggered something deep within and had its hooks into his soul. His arms tightened around her slender form and he knew that he’d go to the ends of the earth for her. He’d lay down his life in an instant to protect her, and if anyone ever threatened her…
The snarl rumbled up through his chest unbidden, nearly escaping from his lips. With iron control, he forced it back down. If anyone threatened her, then they’d better have a king’s ransom in silver bullets handy, because he’d rip them limb from limb and dance in their scattered entrails.
She murmured, a frown on her face, as though she could sense his mood even in sleep. Her delicate hand fluttered against the toned muscles of his abdomen. A soothing movement.
Releasing a sigh of pent-up emotion over a threat that currently was only imagined, Jack dropped his head back to the soft pillows and studied the ceiling. They were in no danger. They’d escaped the trap at the hospital. He knew the Project—they would regroup and send more teams out, but that would take time. Before that happened, they would be gone. So there was no need to worry, but now that sleep had finally fled, he was wide-awake.
His gaze wandered over the ceiling. Wooden cladding covered it, the same as the walls. Light, dimming now as twilight approached, filtered in through the shuttered window above the bed. He liked the room; it screamed old-country rustic.
It was also highly defendable, with its small window and solid door. The soldier in him appreciated such things. The wolf in him was drawn to the link with nature, the fact that everything about them had once been part of something living, unlike the steel and concrete of their barracks back on base.
Jack snorted to himself. Barracks. Yeah, right. They might have been at one point, a couple of decades ago. Now they were little more than the shells of buildings ringed with reinforced girders and steel mesh. Oversized dog pens. They were lucky they had Richards in the squad. He’d been a plumber before joining up, a skill he’d never expected to have to use in the army. He’d managed to keep the toilets and showers working. Otherwise they’d have been pissing on newspaper in the corners like common mutts.
His heightened senses warned him a second before someone rapped on t
he door. He tensed, his body ready for a fight. The door slid open a few inches, and Jack was on his feet, stark naked and with a warning growl low in his throat.
The door stopped. He strode forward and threw it open to reveal a startled Sanders. The wolf’s gaze flicked over Jack, over his broad shoulders before doing a quick dance down his naked body. When it reached his groin, a flush burned across Sanders cheeks, and he quickly found somewhere else to look.
Belatedly Jack realized giving the only gay wolf in the pack an eyeful wasn’t the best, or most sensitive, idea he’d had all day. They’d left most of the homophobic crap behind with their humanity, but that didn’t mean Sanders was going to find it easier to find a partner. The rest of the wolves in the pack were as hetero as they came, aggressively so.
“What’s up?” Jack grabbed his pants and stuck his feet in the legs before dragging them up to cover himself.
“We’re changing watch, boss. LT said to wake you, see if you wanted in.”
Jack zipped the pants up with a swift movement and looked up. Just in time to catch the wistful look on the other man’s face as he looked at the sleeping form of Lillian in the bed. His wolf didn’t react, recognizing Sander’s longing for a mate of his own, not for Lillian. His voice was soft when he spoke.
“It’ll happen, Joe.” He ushered the smaller man out of the room and closed the door behind them. “One day you’ll find a guy who just can’t resist you.”
Sanders sighed as his gaze darted across the room. It was subtle, almost not there at all, but Jack caught it. For a split second, Sanders’s face was wide open, his expression twisted with longing and need, as he looked over at the half-naked form of the pack’s former plumber, Richards.
“Yeah, I know. But will he measure up?”
Heart wringing in sympathy, Jack dropped a hand on Joe’s shoulder and squeezed. He’d never suffered the agony of unrequited love, but he knew it when he saw it. “Of course he will. More than. You’ll see.”
Chapter Seventeen
It was getting dark, the pale half-light of the advancing evening darkening to full night. Perched high in the branches of a tree, Antonia was nothing but a shadow among myriad others as she looked down on the small cabin.
The wolves had led her a merry chase, first through the unknown tunnel and then through the woodlands beyond. She had their scent, though, and there was nothing more tenacious than a vampire tracking its prey.
They’d been clever, or thought they were, by passing through running water. Since the scent she tracked was less about a smell and more about a psychic impression, they’d just gotten wet for no reason. Unless, of course, they were just trying to turn her stomach with the smell of wet dog. So far, it was working.
She was motionless, unless the movement of the branches as the tree swayed slightly in the breeze could be counted. Her black-on-black eyes tracked the slight movements of the wolves as they patrolled below her. They hadn’t seen her. No surprise. She wouldn’t be seen unless she wanted to be. Watching carefully, she finally moved and pressed the strip of plastic around her throat against her skin.
“Beta team, come up slowly on the right flank. Wolf patrolling south to north. Slow, that’s it.”
Her voice was almost inaudible, the mic picking up the smallest murmur, and her psychic net canceled out the rest. It was a combo that allowed her to get close into a situation and direct the rest of her troops in. Something the Project had hoped to capitalize on.
Cool idea, apart from the fact Antonia had been the only Blood who’d shown the ability. The rest were more into charging in and ripping throats out. Noisily. Fitzgerald had been pissed. Demanded to know why she could do it and they couldn’t. It had taken all the self-control she had not to tell him it was the numb-nuts he was turning. More brawn than brains, so how could he expect them to show any kind of common sense or tactical ability?
One thought of the asshole in charge of the base brought a legion more. The conversation they’d had just before she’d set off in pursuit of the Lycans was still fresh in her mind.
“They’re working as a pack, in both human and Lycan form.”
Arrogant bastard had laughed, not believing her. “I’m sure you think they are, Major. But plenty of highly intelligent scientists assure me that they haven’t evolved that far yet.”
“They got an explanation for why when half the Lycans cut down the RAs we sent in with automatic fire, three of them ripped in with claws and teeth?” she asked, her voice as calm and sweet as she could make it.
That was the trick when dealing with assholes like Fitzgerald. A whole heaping of sickly sweet with a side of dumb, innocent blonde. Not that she was blonde, but that wasn’t the point.
The silence on the other end of the line was telling. She waited and smiled as whispered mutterings replaced the silence. Sound didn’t carry so well over phone lines, especially the old cables in place on the base. No high-tech lines, no cable link. Didn’t want some enterprising little hacker to trick his way in and find out just how corrupt Aladdin’s cave really was.
Finally, Fitzgerald came back on the line. “Are they part-shifting as well?” he asked, trying to sound knowledgeable.
Her lips quirked. She knew full well he had an egghead at his side, directing his questions. Changing position soundlessly, she scanned the area under her perch again. To her left, not a hundred yards away, sat one of the Lycans.
To the uninformed, he just looked like a freakishly large wolf, something that would inspire nightmares for years to come if any human hunter out and about in the forest were to come face to face with him. So far, though, they all looked like normal wolves, just bigger. She hadn’t seen any Hollywood horror movie specials yet.
“Don’t think so. Just one or the other, human or furry. Why?”
“Doesn’t matter. Major, I’m ordering you to bring one in. Alive. Whatever the cost. Do you understand me?”
If the tone wasn’t enough to make her freeze, the words were. Her agile mind analyzed the words and the situation within a heartbeat. This operation had been a strictly “no survivors, torch the place” kind of clean up. Now with evidence the Lycans were displaying new abilities, suddenly Full Bird Fitz was more interested.
Although Lycans and Bloods wouldn’t get along if they were the last two species left on Earth, she didn’t want to hand them over to the sadistic base commander. Whatever abilities they’d evolved and managed to hide, it gave them more of a fighting chance against their common enemy. One she was loathe to take away from them.
“Did you hear me, Major?” Fitzgerald’s voice was sharp, irritated. He didn’t like being kept waiting. A total contrast to Garry, whose reserves of patience Antonia had never worn out.
“Yes, I heard.” She sat for a moment, thinking. “With the resources at my disposal, I don’t believe I can bring a subject in. Not alive.”
It was a line lifted straight from the “how to be a prick to a superior officer” manual, but she didn’t care. The guy was an ass, and she had no incentive to try and take any of the wolves alive. She liked her skin in one piece too much for that.
“Bullshit. Try.” The growl was an order.
She sighed, about to close the line when he spoke again, this time as though the words were dragged from him. “Bring one in, alive, and there’s something in it for you.”
Curiouser and curiouser.
“Oh?”
“Maybe…it’s not been tested yet, mind you…but there may be a cure for your…condition.”
A cure. Just the thought had held her spellbound for long moments after Fitzgerald had cut the connection. She’d never heard of a cure, for any of them. For re-animates, it was a no-brainer. The RA17 virus killed them dead and then piggybacked on their decaying bodies. Garry had been the only one she’d ever seen display any sign of memory or intelligence.
The thought of her dead friend snapped her out of her reverie. She might never have considered him such when he lived, but she was claiming the
relationship now. He needed someone on the inside to avenge him.
Something inside her rebelled. Since her turning, she’d acted like the dead thing she thought she’d become, refusing any and all overtures of friendship until there was no one and nothing she held close.
Fitzgerald was a lying bastard at the best of times. She frowned, the crease in her brow the only movement she made. Did she dare take the risk, though? What if he actually was telling the truth this time, and there was a cure?
Her hand stole back up to her throat, her slender finger finding the depressions to activate the microphone. “Close the net at the back. Let’s hunt us some wolf.”
Lillian woke to an empty bed with sheets that smelled of Jack. Rolling onto her stomach, she wrapped them around her and smiled in contentment. Erotic memories of the last few hours filtered through her semi-doze. Her body ached in places she hadn’t thought of for months, certainly not since she’d split with her last boyfriend. It ached in other places she’d had no idea even existed.
Her smile grew until she was sure she resembled the cat that got the cream. For all his roughness and other problems, like the fact he wasn’t human, as a lover he was thorough and inventive. Dominant and gentle by turns, he was…wow. Just wow.
She didn’t have the words in her head to describe him, so she gave up and just giggled instead and dragged the pillow over her head. Lillian was not a giggler, but this time she couldn’t help it. The happy feeling inside bubbled up and over like champagne, released in sound.
Pulling the pillow away, she looked at the ceiling and wondered when he’d be back. The sheets beside her were cool, indicating he’d been gone a while. Disappointment filled her. She wanted his arms around her again.
She wriggled from the embrace of the sheets and looked about for her clothes. Luckily, Jack wasn’t a clothes flinger, so she didn’t have to recover her panties from a lightshade.