Cry of the Wolf (3 page)

He stilled inside her, and she groaned in frustration. “Ryan,” she pleaded.

“We all have a sea inside us; can you hear it? Can you hear the ocean roaring?”

Yes, she could. Maybe it was her own blood roaring in her ears rather than the ocean, but she got the point, and in her highly sensitised state, she was as in sync to all elements of nature as a tuning fork was to pitch.

“Ryan,” she begged again, grinding against him, but still he wouldn’t move. He nipped at her neck instead – the side that didn’t bear the scar of Lawrence’s bite. It was an unspoken rule that no one but Lawrence touched that scar.

“So, sweetheart,” he pulled her back against him so she could feel his erection against her backside, “are you going to break, or are you going to release that tide?”

The ground rumbled, and the realisation of the cause sent a little wave of pleasure through her body. Shit.

She’d always had a thing for motorbikes, and there, about a hundred metres away, emerged Lawrence from his garage on his bespoke, only-one-in-the-world-made-just-for-him Honda. It was the only road worthy bike of that model in the world. For all his cantankerous self, she couldn’t deny how god-damn
hot
he looked on that black and silver beauty. The sight of him drew out her wolf – or as close as it could come to the surface before her first full moon. She realised the low growling was coming from her; she felt the tips of her canines rest on her bottom lip…

Ryan remained unmoving inside her, but he didn’t need to do a thing – she was right on the edge, the purr of the motorcycle sending rippling vibrations her way through the earth. The pads of her feet and fingers suddenly hummed with anticipation.

Lawrence halted the bike and whipped out his helmet to put on, then froze halfway up.

Even all this distance away, she felt the connection – some crackling current that ran between them. The wolf in her went crazy, wanting to break out of the cage of Ryan’s arms, even as she silently pleaded for him to finish her off.

He was right – this was turning painful. This was like being torn apart, or crushed… She whimpered her need for release.

Holding her in a vice, he finally began his sweet torment of her again, stroking, thrusting, circling… But his stare focused on Lawrence, his voice rough from both desire and defeat… “This wasn’t the way I wanted it, you know. In my dreams –
our
dreams – it was just you and me.”

Tears danced in her eyes as that lust-filled ocean pounded against her skull. Through her tears, she saw – no, she
felt
– Lawrence stiffen on his benchseat.

Oh, god, don’t look this way.
She felt too open; too exposed right now to deal with her reactions and their consequences – her fucking biology…
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look
…

Yes, look!
screamed her wolf.
See me…

He turned and stared straight at her, and even from the other side of the lawn she could make out the blue of his eyes – they burned her. Strange how ice could burn.

She climaxed right there with a cry that ripped out of her – both men embedded so deep within her in completely different ways.

And still he stared…

And stared…

Until he suddenly grabbed his helmet, shoved it on his head, kicked the stand off the bike with more ferocity than necessary and sped away.

Fuck it. It felt like he was leaving her – abandoning her – even though he’d never touched her; even though all he did was ride out at the wrong moment and look when maybe he shouldn’t have.

Fuck it all.

Ryan withdrew his hand from between her legs, and gently turned her around to face him, his own eyes shiny and showing confusion. He kissed her forehead, then gazed at her in question. “Should I have stopped? I didn’t know whether to … you saw him and every inch of you practically sang to be…” He sighed, unable to put into words the complexity of the moment. “Lydia, should I have stopped?”

His raw words, spoken only moments ago, rose to the surface of her mind…
This wasn’t the way I wanted it, you know.

He
did
love her, she’d swear on it! He had known her intimately for ten years. That those shared moments were in dreams didn’t lessen their connection – not with them – it made it greater. It wasn’t just biology doing the talking here. And was it any wonder he ran from it? How horrendous to fall into love – to be in love for ten years – only to find out the person you loved was never truly yours. Especially when it’s not in your nature to share.

She reached up for his face, rose onto her toes and planted a kiss on his mouth; then she shook her head. “You were right about the pain; about the tearing feeling. Stopping would have hurt, but,” she stared at him, trying to figure him out, “was that little display right now just for my benefit?”

His eyes darkened, and the lust in them gave way to a rocky strength she’d never seen in anyone else. “It’s been three weeks. I’m the only mate you’ve been with – that you’ve slept with. I can guess what Lawrence and Taylor put themselves through to deny what they really need from you, and I fear it’ll tear us all apart if they don’t accept the way things are. That sea inside us? Lawrence’s spans continents. That man does nothing that requires him to be vulnerable unless he’s pushed, so I’ll fucking push him if I have to. It’s my pack. I won’t let it break.”

“Wow,” she said, softly. That single word would have to do. She couldn’t think of any others to convey the admiration she felt for him.

He lifted her chin so she met his eyes, and returned her kiss. “You’re so strong, Lydia. But I know this also wasn’t what you expected. I don’t want you to break either.”

She lifted her chin higher. “I won’t break.”

He gazed at her with pride, and she knew she wouldn’t. Hell, she’d do anything for him – she’d already forfeited all men for him over the last ten years. To accept two others as a part of her – as a part of
them
– she could do that too. It was the ‘how’ of it she couldn’t work out. She took a deep breath and asked outright what they’d all skirted around for the last three weeks. The moon was waxing now, and they could no longer ignore what it demanded from them. “How are we all going to survive this arrangement?”

He smiled wryly, with a hint of sadness that didn’t quite win over the smile, and shrugged his shoulders in that carefree way he always did. “I hear Sambuca helps.”

She laughed through the uncompromising reality they faced, and found herself thinking that as long as Ryan was there to bring on the happy, just maybe, they’d all pull through.

~*~

Taylor watched Sarah through her bridal boutique shop window, hoping he was standing far enough back so he didn’t look creepy to anyone who might catch him staring.

He hadn’t been planning on coming to see her – not again. But he’d had to, because he needed to say goodbye. Properly.

A month ago, Ryan had been abducted by The Trident, and Taylor had had no choice but to turn away from his past to help find him. And then there was Lydia.

Lydia who had hurtled into his life – into
their
lives – with hair like fire, eyes like amethysts and a fuck-me scent so palpable that he’d betrayed the only woman he’d ever loved.

Okay, so maybe that was a tad over-the-top, but not really, because all those things were true. It didn’t matter to him that Sarah couldn’t remember who he was, or their history as a couple, or their marriage … nor that their togetherness was now a complete impossibility, what with him being a werewolf and all.

But for a couple of minutes, wrapped up in Lydia’s heady need,
he
had forgotten. He’d forgotten his wife. And therein lay the betrayal.

He blinked back tears and glanced up at her again. She stood on the other side of the window pane and laughed at something her colleague and friend, Beth, was saying.

Beth couldn’t remember him either. Thanks to Lawrence and ‘procedure’, all those nearest and dearest to Sarah and himself had had their minds wiped of the knowledge of his existence –
not
one of the perks of turning from human to werewolf.

All evidence of who he was had been removed from his home, and from the home of his parents. Official computer files had been hacked into, marriage certificates had been deleted and replaced with deed poll certificates; Lawrence’s underground contacts had done the same with the hard copies they could get hold of.

“That’s not possible!” Taylor had exclaimed, in a rage at the time. “You can’t get rid of everything. People will find photos, letters, notes they’ve made in their own diaries…”

“Yes, they might,” had been Lawrence’s reply. “And you’d be amazed at the grand tales the human brain will throw up to make sense of something nonsensical.”

Lawrence had been right.

And Taylor had been forgotten.

He pricked his ears, not really wanting to eavesdrop, but needing to hear Sarah’s voice one last time.

“Bethany Michaels, you are impossible!” she shrieked.

“I’m only saying what you won’t. He’s a hunk, admit it. A tall, dark, exotic hunk who wants to bed you, and you must be a fucking nun, because it’s been three weeks since you met him and you’re going to have to remove the cobwebs from your vagina with forceps soon, they’re growing into intelligent life form—”

Whoa! Fuck!

He pulled right out of
that
conversation and spun around so fast he almost fell over.

Oh, shit.

His stomach churned.
There’s someone else.

Of course, there’s someone else, you dimwit! How in the world would a woman like Sarah – kind, caring, funny and beautiful –
not
find someone else?

Still, he hadn’t prepared for it. The sour taste of bile stung the back of his throat and he leaned against the side of whatever building he was standing next to for purchase.

Sarah with someone else.

Sarah being
touched
by someone else.

Don’t think about it!

He gasped, took in a couple of deep breaths and tried to shake the torturous image out of his mind. It wasn’t like
he
hadn’t touched another woman, right? And this was what he’d come here for – to say goodbye.

Too bad it felt like his heart was being skewered over the flames of a barbecue.

“Hey, mister. You okay?” Some freckly kid, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, frowned up at him. He couldn’t have been more than ten. “Only, this is my mum’s shop you’re leaning on and she wants you to piss off if you’re drunk.”

Charming.

He looked up and found he was standing against a toy shop. Hmmm, this hadn’t been here a year ago. Time flies when you grow fangs and fur.

He eyed the boy. “I’m not drunk. You got any unicorns in there?” he asked, nodding at all the displays in the window.

He shrugged.

Helpful.

“One of those little ornament ones – sometimes they’re glass, or sometimes porcelain…”

The boy raised him an eyebrow. “You mean like those fantasy figurines? Yeah, we have some of those. They’re all kinda girly, though.”

Taylor took a twenty pound note out of his back pocket. “Here. This should cover it. I want you to go pick a unicorn – whichever you think looks the most girly,” he added, dryly, “then, I want you to go into that bridal shop over there. See it?” He pointed across the road.

Freckly nodded.

“Good. The really pretty woman in there, with the frizzy brown hair and really dark eyes – her name’s Sarah. She loves unicorns.” At least he hoped she still did. He doubted that the general likes and dislikes that came down to personality would have been obliterated by Lawrence’s handiwork. “I want you to give it to her.”

“What?” he asked, scrunching up his face. “Why can’t
you
give it to her?”

Why did it have to be the really obnoxious kid that found him? “That’s a long, scary story.” He pulled out another twenty from his back pocket and thrust the two notes in the boy’s face. “This will
definitely
cover it and you can keep the change. You gonna do it or not?”

His eyes lit up at the cash and he yanked it from his hands. “Yeah… What do you want me to say to her?”

Taylor worked past the lump that ached in his throat and forced the tremor out of his voice. “Tell her it’s a goodbye present from someone … from someone who wishes he could have stayed. Say, goodbye.”

And with that, he pushed himself from the wall of the toy shop, glanced at his wife one last time – her laughter permeating his sensitive hearing – and then turned away for good.

Chapter Two