Like a Wolf with a Bone

by Shelly Laurenston

  Darla glanced back at the wolf. He watched her from under the branches of the trees and she had no idea what to make of the look he was giving her—and not sure if she wanted to make anything of it.

  Eggie stood with his butt resting against the passenger door of his car. He smiled when he saw her and that made Darla smile back.

  “You ready?”

  “Yes.” She walked to him and went up on her toes, kissing him lightly on the mouth. “Let’s go home.”

  And as Darla turned from him and reached for her door handle, she quickly edited her statement to, “I mean, let’s go to your house.” She opened the door. “I mean, let’s go to your home.” She cleared her throat, knew her face was red from blushing.

  So awkward. Poor guy probably thought she’d bought that furniture just for herself. Horrified, Darla sat in the passenger side and closed the door. Eggie got in the driver’s side a few seconds later. He closed the door and looked at her.

  “You done babblin’?” he asked.

  Darla nodded. “Uh-huh.”

  “Good.” He kissed her. “Now let’s go home.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “The problem is,” Eggie explained as he closed the front door of his house, “that you have two Alpha Females in the same town. Momma ain’t ready to give up her position yet.”

  Darla stopped in the middle of the living room and faced him. “Will Janie have to fight to the death against your mother?” Because she really didn’t know who would win that one.

  “An Alpha fight to the death hasn’t happened in about half a century. Doubt my momma plans to start all that up again.” When Darla only stared at him, he asked, “Does Janie Mae plan to start all that up again?”

  Darla forced a laugh and headed into the kitchen.

  Eggie followed her. “Any more sweet tea?”

  “In the fridge. I’ll get it.”

  “Nah. I’ve got two hands. You want some?”

  “Sure.” She picked up a pad and pen and walked to the corner of the kitchen.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Need a list. A few of your aunts and cousins asked for pies. I’m getting together with my sisters tomorrow to bake.”

  “Hope you ain’t doing all that for free.”

  “Nope. We have cold, hard cash.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “It feels so decadent making money from my wares.”

  Eggie chuckled, took two glasses down from one of the overhead cabinets and poured the sweet tea. He placed one glass on the counter beside Darla and walked to the other side of the kitchen so she could have some space.

  While he sipped his sweet tea, he watched Darla work on whatever she was working on. She had her bare foot pressed against the opposite knee so that she was balanced only on one leg, and she used the pen to occasionally scratch the back of her neck. There was just something so beautiful and perfect about the whole thing. Something that Eggie didn’t understand but knew he had to have in his life for as long as the Lord allowed it. He couldn’t imagine not coming home to her. To find her in his house. In their house.

  “I love you, Darla.”

  She froze, the pen resting against her neck, her body still being held up by that one leg.

  “You don’t have to say anything,” Eggie went on. “Just listen.” He put his glass down and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I feel like I’ve been waitin’ my whole life for you. Not someone like you, but you. And I know being with me for the long term won’t be easy. I know I’m not real chatty. Not real friendly. I find almost everyone but you, the full-wolves in the forest, and that Columbo guy on TV real annoying. And I don’t really have any intention of changing. I’m not even sure I could if I wanted to.” Eggie cleared his throat. “But I promise to always be faithful. Never to argue with you over ridiculous bullshit. To keep my blaspheming to a minimum. And to never take you for granted. I will do whatever I can to make you happy. If that means living in San Francisco or Timbuktu, I’ll do it. I just never want you to feel trapped. But, if being with me isn’t what you want . . . you just say the word. I’ll still protect you, Darla Mae. I won’t let anything happen to you, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to be with me. I want you to be with me because you want to be with me.”

  Eggie took a breath. “Anyway, that’s it. Just felt the need to get that off my chest. Hope I didn’t make the night uncomfortable for ya.”

  Darla dropped her raised leg, her bare foot slapping against the ground. She placed the pen on the counter and took a step back.

  She slowly faced him, eyes downcast. “Eggie Ray . . .”

  Eggie steeled himself, waiting for her to “bring down the hammer” as McMartin liked to call it.

  She sighed, deep and long, then walked across the kitchen. “There’s just so much going on right now. People trying to kill me,” she said as she went through one of the brown paper grocery bags she’d brought from the store earlier in the day. “Poor Mr. Kozlow. A sudden influx of pie requests. Your mother calling me a polygamist. Suddenly getting along with my sisters. It’s just all too much, Eggie.” She walked over and stood in front of him.

  “I understand.”

  “You do? Really?

  He wasn’t happy about it, but he understood. “Yeah. Of course.”

  “Good. Because for the first time in years, since I left my daddy’s house when I was eighteen, I feel like I’m home. And I’m happy. And I’m safe. And that, Egbert Ray Smith, is because of you.”

  Darla placed a white paper bag from the Smithtown Pharmacy on the table. “Picked that up when I was out with the girls.”

  She walked back to the counter, faced him, and said, “I love you, Eggie Ray.”

  Eggie nodded and waited for more—because there was always more when it came to Darla Mae and that’s where he was expecting that damn hammer—but after nearly a minute she shrugged and said, “That’s it. I love you. I’ll always love you.”

  Darla looked off and suddenly added, “And I like pie.”

  Relief washing over him, Eggie grinned and asked, “You like pie?”

  “Yes. I think pie will end up making me a decent amount of money. So I like pie. I’m a big fan of pie.”

  “That’s good. It’s good to be a big fan of something.”

  “I think so.” She nervously combed her hair behind her ears. “So . . . am I supposed to make a run for it and then you catch me? Or just put up a fight?”

  “Do you feel like making a run for it?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Putting up a fight?”

  “Pacifist.”

  “And I fight all day. It’s my job. So I’d rather not start off fighting my mate unless you want me to.”

  “Well, it’s just the two of us here. I mean, can’t we do this however we want to?”

  “As far as I’m concerned, Darla Mae, we can do whatever we want whatever way we want and however many times we want to.”

  She smiled, appearing relieved. “Good.” Then she pulled off her T-shirt, tossed it aside, and shimmied out of her cutoffs. She kicked those and her panties away, turned from Eggie to face the counter, and pulled her long hair over to her left shoulder, leaving her right bare. She rested her hands on the counter, bent one knee, and leaned forward a bit.

  Darla looked at Eggie over her exposed shoulder, her smile so unbelievably sultry that he became instantly hard—so hard it hurt.

  “What are you waitin’ for, Egbert Ray? Come on over here and make me yours.”

  Eggie’s growl was so low, Darla didn’t hear it but she felt it. It was like it rumbled through the kitchen, through the floor, up her legs, shooting through her body.

  When Eggie reached for his jeans, Darla faced forward, her hands gripping the counter. It took Eggie only seconds to strip off his clothes and find the condoms she’d purchased from the Smithtown pharmacy. Of course when she’d picked them up—much to her sisters’ giggles and the disapproval of the maned wolf pharmacis
t who clearly hadn’t attended the feminist seminar Darla had gone to about women owning their own sexuality—Darla had thought of them only for emergency purposes in case Eggie ran out. Now she was relieved because she didn’t think she could wait until he went upstairs and got his own.

  When Eggie moved up behind her, she felt the heat pouring from his body. His arms reached around her, his hands bracing on either side of her own. His chest pressed against her back and his mouth against her neck.

  Darla closed her eyes, leaned back against the wolf behind her.

  “I love you, Darla,” he growled against her throat, making her smile.

  Eggie gently dragged his right hand across Darla’s hand and up her arm. Then he reached under her arm and pressed his hand against her stomach. Her breath caught when his fingers eased down, the tips caressing her. Her toes curled against the floor, her hands gripping the counter tighter.

  She trembled as his fingers became more insistent. Eggie’s other arm went around her chest, the hand gripping the opposite shoulder. He kissed her beneath the ear and moved down her neck to her shoulder.

  While his fingers stroked her and her body trembled, her knees weakening, Eggie pressed his mouth against a muscle on her shoulder blade. He kissed the area, licked it. Darla began to pant, her entire body shuddering. And when she cried out, Eggie bit down hard, and the feel of his fangs sliding past skin and muscle, scraping against bone, had the power of her orgasm doubling, tearing through her. It felt like she exploded from the inside out.

  When the roaring in her head stopped, she heard Eggie’s voice. He spoke to her in between kissing her neck.

  “Darla? Are you all right?”

  She really couldn’t imagine anyone taking such care with her the way Eggie did. It always seemed as if her happiness meant everything to him.

  Maybe that Arctic fox yogi she’d met in France—who’d turned out to be not from India but from Queens, New York—had been right when he’d said karma would take good care of her. Because how else did she get so lucky?

  “Finish it, Eggie,” she told him, breathless, desperate. “Finish it now.”

  Eggie tried not to scare her. But her desperate plea, the way she leaned against him, the scent of her lust, all conspired to rip away his control. To bring out the wolf that he barely kept reined in as it was.

  Gripping her hips, Eggie pulled her back a bit and pressed his condom-covered cock against her pussy. She was already wet and open, her muscles relaxed.

  “I love you, Darla,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ll always love you.”

  “I love you,” she replied, her ass pressing into him. “I love you.”

  Unable to wait, Eggie pushed his cock inside her and both of them groaned. Darla’s arms stretched across the counter, her body lengthening as she bent forward to give him better access to her body. He took her then, his cock stroking inside her.

  Every time Eggie pushed in, her pussy tightened, the muscles rippling around him. Without much effort, this one little She-wolf was effectively sucking his brains out. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t reason. The Lord himself could walk into the room and Eggie wouldn’t be able to stop.

  He reached around Darla, his fingers, still wet from her pussy, gripped her nipples. He played with them, teased them, until Darla’s body was shaking as she writhed beneath him. It was all too much.

  Eggie came, a growl torn from him, his body tightening around Darla’s. His hands holding her breasts, his face pressed against her neck.

  Darla cried out with him, surprising Eggie because he didn’t think he’d manage to get her to come again. Not so soon and not with him being completely lost in his own pleasure. Of course, he would have taken care of her as soon as he could think straight again, but he was glad he hadn’t left her behind. The human male in him was proud of that.

  He carefully pulled out of her, stroked his hand down her back. “Don’t move,” he told her.

  Eyes closed, the top half of her body resting against the counter, Darla weakly raised her hand and sighed, “Oooookay.”

  They sat on the kitchen floor, Darla between Eggie’s incredibly long legs, and he cleaned off her wound. It had already started to heal but would still leave a scar, letting any shifter know that she’d been marked and mated.

  “You sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

  Darla smiled, patted his knee. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

  “You’re very quiet.”

  “Just happy. Nothing to say when you’re just happy.”

  Eggie put aside the first aid kit and wrapped his arms around her, held her tight. Darla never felt trapped in his arms. Never felt scared or worried or annoyed. She just felt . . . safe. And loved. Very loved.

  They sat like that for a very long time, just holding onto each other. Until Eggie asked, “Any chance you hid one of those pies away before you headed over to Momma’s?”

  Darla looked up at her mate, raised a brow. “Pecan work for you?”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Francine and Roberta showed up with a list of requests for pie and a list of supplies they’d need for all the baking. They decided to wait for their other sisters before going shopping and got out what few supplies they had left to get started on some prep work.

  Darla took them into the kitchen and while they chatted and got to work, Eggie trotted down the stairs in his wolf form. He came into the kitchen, circled around Darla’s legs, his body pushing against her, his tail curling around her knees. Francine opened the back door and he went out, leaving them alone.

  “Where’s he off to?” Francine asked.

  “Got me.”

  “When will he be back?”

  “No idea.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Yeah. He always comes back with half a deer or something, so he’s clearly thinking of me.”

  Roberta giggled but when she saw Francine glaring at her, she stopped and went back to cutting up butter.

  “He marked you last night, little sister,” Francine said. “I can smell it.”

  “Even though I showered this morning?”

  Roberta giggled again.

  “Are you sure about this, Darla?” Francine pushed. “I don’t have a real problem with Eggie—other than the fact his nickname is Eggie—but still . . . he’s not like his brothers.”

  Thank the Lord for small favors.

  “No. He’s not. But I’m willing to make that sacrifice.” And Darla was sure she almost sounded serious rather than sarcastic.

  “Daddy and the boys won’t be happy.” The “boys” being their brothers, but Darla had already known that. But once she talked to her father, she’d be able to smooth things over. She always had before.

  “I love him, Francine.”

  “I know you do. But does he love you?”

  “He told me he did last night.”

  Francine blinked and looked over at Roberta. “He said that to you? Actually spoke the words?”

  “More than once.” In fact, all night long, but that wasn’t her sisters’ business, just hers. Always hers.

  Suddenly tears rolled down Francine’s face. “Oh, baby sister!” Then she was hugging a very confused Darla. “He does love you!”

  “I know.”

  “You think you know,” Francine explained when she pulled back. “But you don’t really. But if Eggie Ray Smith actually said the words . . . he must have meant them. Benji says Eggie never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever.”

  “Oh. So my sense about it is meaningless.”

  “You’re the same woman who thinks she can look into people’s souls. I mean . . .” She shook her head.

  “You know, if you opened your mind and allowed yourself to experience things, you might actually learn to read people just like I do.”

  “Did you learn to read people before or after you ended up with the Manson Family?”

  Darla stomped her foot hard. “I did not end up with the Manson Famil
y! I was there for less than an hour! And I knew he was a nut even then!”

  The backdoor opened and Janette and Janie Mae walked in. Janie looked between Francine and Darla. “What’s going on?”

  “Eggie marked Darla last night and she’s still trying to pretend she didn’t join the Manson Family.”

  “You lying sow!”

  “We don’t have time for this,” Janie cut in. “I’ve got a list of pies and a chance to make some real cash.”

  Darla’s eyes grew wide. “I was thinking the same thing!”

  “You were?”

  “Yeah. It’s brilliant. We open a pie store or a bakery here and sell pies to the entire town.”

  Her sisters stared at Darla and Janie said, “Actually, that’s not what I was talking about. But it is brilliant.”

  “Then what are you talking about?”

  Janie grinned. “Racing against those Barron sluts.”

  “I am not racing a cat. And neither are you, Janie Mae. You’re five months pregnant.”

  “Only three of you need to race. Three of our best against three of theirs. I figure you, Roberta, and Janette. Francine’s out because she drives like Grandpa Lewis.”

  “Gee . . . thanks.”

  “And how are we supposed to make money from that?” Darla asked.

  “Both the bears and the cats have been taking bets. The cats are favored to win.”

  “So you bet on us?”

  “It was easy. I had the money from every damn Smith wanting a pie.”

  Darla glared at Roberta. “I thought I told you to get her gosh darn money!”

  Roberta shrugged. “Ooops.”

  Eggie wandered into the back door of his oldest brother’s house. He knocked over the trash can and went through it. He was always amazed at the stuff his kin was willing to toss out. He usually found all sorts of stuff he could fix up later, you know, when he had time.

  Not finding anything interesting today, he went to the refrigerator and with his muzzle grabbed hold of the towel someone had left hanging from the handle. He pulled it open and studied the contents. Francine was usually pretty good about having plenty of food available for her mate and pups.