Heart Of The Wolf (3 page)

Sitting on the
edge of the Cairo-Belbes Desert Road, Amil surveyed the faint
outline of the monuments and temple ruins he could see in the far
distance, scattered as they were at points across the country, some
towering over all, and some fallen with the dynasties and lying
horizontal on the powdery ground: depictions of humans with animal
heads and claws and the like.

He wondered if
any of the ancient scriptures had prophesied the creation of The
Trident.

He wondered if
the werewolf had any bearing on the image of Anubis.

Rowdy laughter
erupted behind him, some distance away, coming from the tiny
village he had spent the night in. The laughter belonged to three
men who had just left the brothel – the only rest stop that had
been available on immediate request – the scent of sex tingeing the
air, only noticeable to him because of his Trident nature.

Amil, himself,
had refused rest in the brothel, despite the painful ache in his
loins that heralded the full moon. He had chosen a shielded
alleyway instead, and had nestled down for the night between two of
the white-washed houses. He needed to, and
wanted
to, keep
his last memory of Sarah intact. Engaging in lewd acts with some
other woman, or women, no matter how much he lusted after the
thought, would unmake everything that Sarah had made of him. He was
not the same man he had been four days ago. That he thought of
himself as a man at all was a small miracle in itself. Their sole
time together had held a purity and innocence only she could be
responsible for, and it had changed him – he'd die before he
tainted that of his own free will.

He stood
against the broken dawn, faced north, and continued walking towards
his destination: the city of Bubastis. He had thought of hitching a
lift, or hiring a car with whatever little cash he'd brought with
him, but the truth was that the arduous walk in the unforgiving
heat diffused the sexual energy trying to claim his system, and
made everything more bearable – the sun, once again, saving
him.

Will you save
me before three months is up and a soulless death takes me?

He had a
feeling he'd know the answer before the moon was round.

Chapter One

Lydia moaned
lazily, surfacing from sleep as warm wet lips trailed kisses across
the back of her shoulders.

“I love your
freckles. I've counted seventy-eight so far.”

“You're
counting my freckles?”

“And kissing
them.”

She smiled and
turned in Taylor's arms, the sun already blanketing the grass to
the east. “The summer brings them out, and they all sort of morph
together. I'll be one giant freckle soon.”

“Mmm …
sexy.”

She
laughed.

“No, it
is.”

“
You're
sexy.”

“For a
non-freckly bloke, I brush up okay, huh?”

She laughed
some more, then stretched in greeting of the day, delighting in the
feel of her naked skin against his.

“Do that again
– your breasts look fabulous.”

“Taylor!” she
exclaimed in mock shock. “You're full of it this morning. Is Ryan
rubbing off on you?”

“I prefer the
image of you rubbing off on me, but if it turns you on…”

“I was joking
– and I didn't mean it like that.”

“Thank
god.”

“Ha-di-ha,”
she grinned. “So…”

“So?”

“Was last
night … I mean, was it…”

He rolled her
on top of him, his contented smile making his entire face look
youthful – no sorrow, no grief, no angsty internal pain. “It was
bloody wonderful. Tell me that bonding thing happens more than
once.”

“I think it
does. There's only been the once with Lawrence, but with Ryan –
including the dreams – quite a few.” And then she stopped, her
smile falling away. “Is it okay to talk about them?” Shit. It was
so hard not to, with them all being such an integrated part of her
– of each other.

He brought her
head down and kissed her. “It's more than all right,” he whispered.
“We all know the way things are. Remember when I told you there was
nothing about our mating arrangement that puts me off? Well, I
meant it. And I meant what I said last night, too.”

“Let's see …
there was 'I was the first one here' and 'I've got you now'
and
—
”

He landed a
light slap on her bare backside.

She squealed
in surprise and then dropped another affectionate kiss on him.
Wolf-Taylor really was playful and it felt damn nice to know she
might have a hand in bringing that out in him.

He held her
fast, and transformed her light peck into a deep well of gratitude
and meaning, and she groaned willingly, never wanting to throw
herself down a well so much in her life.
I hope there's a ladder
I can climb back up with…

When he
released her, his eyes shone with seriousness. “That you've owned
me from the first moment I saw you.”

Wow.

She caught her
breath at his intense gaze, and those three terrifying words that
had snuck up on her a few days ago, now hammered away at the door
of her heart once more. Was now the right time to say them? Would
he say them back?

No, it's too
soon, and we're all in such a mess. Your timing could not be
worse.

Taylor swept
her overhanging hair, which enclosed them both in a fiery, orange
haze, behind her right ear. “How are you doing, Lydia?”

Her chest
tightened. She knew what he was referring to and she didn't want to
talk about it. Bad enough she had to relive it in her mind all the
fucking time. Add Lawrence's memories to the mix and it was a
wonder she wasn't a total basket case.

“Okay, I
guess.”

“Wolves make
bad liars.”

Her shoulders
sagged and she rolled off him with a sigh. Talk about landing back
in reality with a thump. It was more like bungee jumping with the
wrong rope. She shook her head. “Taylor
—
”

“The police
are stopping by early afternoon, and then we've got an official
meeting with the pack at seven o'clock tonight, before the moon
rises. And tomorrow, your dad's coming to visit.”

Her stomach
churned again – it had been doing that a lot recently, as if she
was on the verge of throwing up 24/7. If she could just get rid of
the scent of Brendan's blood, which had somehow branded itself into
her nasal passages…

“None of us
will let anyone say a word against you, you know that.”

“Are you
talking about the police, the pack, or my dad?” she said, a little
too curtly. Ooo, her snarky-self was back wearing her cloak of
defensiveness like armour.

Taylor didn't
let it faze him, just as Ryan never did, and this was why she loved
her mates. And crap it, she didn't need to be thinking about that
either.

“All three.
But we can't keep the police away and we need that meeting with the
pack – they're restless and scared.”

“I know.” And
what exactly were her three mates going to do when the entire pack
shouted for her banishment, or worse – her blood? She'd learnt a
lot about storm-wielders in the past month – no one loved them too
much – and that's what cut her up the most: she had brought this to
their door. The pack was in danger, and hanging on by a thread
because of her. No wonder Lawrence blew hot and cold where she was
concerned: the 'hot' of it he couldn't help – it was down to
biology – and the 'cold' of it was that it was safest for him and
his pack (and they
were
his pack, even if Ryan led it) if he
stayed as far away from her as possible.

Great.

Shame her wolf
had the constant, frustrating urge to heal him of all his ills. It
made the 'staying away from him' part extremely difficult.

She had
thought that after their last shared foursome, Lawrence might begin
to let her in a bit more, but he had just grown quiet and retreated
further into himself.

One step
forward, two steps back.

Bad
analogy, Lydia.

Pushing the
perplexing blond wolf to the back of her mind, she stood up, Taylor
following her. She turned to face him, blinking back hot tears and
wishing she had better control over them – but she and her emotions
had never been the best of friends. “I hate myself for bringing
this mess your way. If it weren't for
—
”

“No, no, no,
don't you dare do this.” She was crushed against his chest; a kiss
landing squarely on her forehead.

“If I hadn't
gone back to see Brendan
—
”

“
Don't.
” That was bitten out with a mini-growl. “Lawrence's
past was going to explode at some point, and if he thinks any
differently, he's deluding himself. It was a matter of time. At the
very worst your presence was the catalyst, but you're certainly not
the reason.” He frowned. “The 'reason' is among us, though.”

They both
tensed, suddenly more aware of their surroundings. They had a
traitor in their midst – someone who had been following Lydia.
Someone who had driven her truck back from
Barry's Café
,
straight onto private property. With Brendan's dead body in the
back.

Including the
four of them, there were only fourteen members in their pack. If
she didn't count her mates, that only narrowed it down to ten
potential suspects, assuming the keys to the property gates hadn't
been handed to an outsider.

“Ryan's hoping
the meeting tonight will flush the traitor out. We'll be able to
tell if they're lying, especially with the full moon bringing out
everyone's true feelings, and Ryan will definitely be putting the
pressure on. That's why he chose the meeting for tonight.”

Yeah, Ryan did
ballsy things like that. Gather together an angry mob on the full
moon – great idea. “What about The Trident? Shouldn't we be on high
alert in case they come a-knocking?”

“They're
unlikely to try anything too elaborate near the full moon – they
have their own needs to fulfil, and as a species, they rely on
their baser needs way more than we do. They'll be feeling
vulnerable and looking out for themselves until the moon starts to
wane.”

Footfalls
sounded from behind her.

They both
looked up to find Ryan striding towards them, carrying gardening
overalls and taking in their nude forms.

She
practically felt Taylor's hackles rise behind her in case he had to
defend himself. He might be okay with the foursome-mating thing
they had going on, but it seemed he wasn't sure if Ryan was.

She reached
behind her and placed a soothing hand on his arm.

It didn't go
unnoticed.

Ryan's eyes
travelled back and forth between her and Taylor, until he stopped
in front of them, his nostrils flaring.

Still with one
hand on Taylor's, she placed her other one on Ryan's chest in
reassurance. “Morning,” she smiled.

“I woke up and
you were gone,” he replied, angrily. He was still in protective
mode because crazy, werewolf hybrids knew of her existence and
wanted to capture her, enslave her and use her as a lightning
conductor.

“I couldn't
have woken you up, even if I'd wanted to,” she teased, hoping to
arouse his more jovial side.

He didn't
smile.

Not letting go
of either of her wolves, she took another step towards Ryan so they
were almost skin to skin, and then met his eyes. “I needed
Taylor.”

Sometimes
three words were enough.

Ryan's eyes
softened as his nostrils flared again, taking in their combined
scent.

He leaned down
and tentatively brushed her lips with his, and then with his
tongue. She opened her mouth and the tip of his tongue touched hers
in a purposeful stroke.

He was
scenting her. Tasting where she'd been; tasting her and Taylor's
union.

Her heart
leapt right up to her throat, heat claiming her once more. A
whimper left her, but he pulled away and zeroed in on Taylor
instead, the movement so swift that Taylor instinctively growled in
defence.

Ryan's growl
was both louder and deeper, stating in no uncertain terms who was
in charge, and Taylor submitted, lowering his head.

Ryan lifted it
again with one large hand gripping his jaw and tapped on his mouth
with his thumb.

Taylor opened
for him, darting his tongue out for Ryan to taste, and Lydia might
have melted on the spot 'cause she sure as fuck couldn't feel her
body anymore.

Wait, that
wasn't quite true, she could feel that too familiar torturous ache
and the relentless heat.

Good god!

She knew what
was happening was a gustatory exchange of what had taken place, and
nothing more, but that didn't mean her eyes weren't enjoying the
undeniable treat of two muscled, male bodies colliding as tongues
entwined.

She had meant
it earlier, when she'd said she was joking about Ryan 'rubbing off'
on Taylor.
Never
in her human life had she even played with
the idea of watching two men make out, either with or without her,
but she'd never been mated to three werewolves before. It hadn't
even entered her mind that two men she loved could potentially find
pleasure in each other, and at this precise moment, the wicked
image filled her mind more boldly than her two mates filled her
vision.

She tried to
wipe it from her shell-shocked brain, not really wanting either of
them to catch onto her line of thought.

Ryan pulled
away, hovered around Taylor's neck for another two seconds, swaying
his head a little to breathe him in, and then threw the overalls
he'd been carrying at him.

Taylor caught
them.

“'Bout bloody
time you two sorted it out. Good. We've got work to do. Lydia,
sweetheart, Lawrence needs you at the house.”

She nodded,
even though she wasn't sure she fancied seeing Lawrence in her
need-to-climax state. Fuck. Was there any other state nowadays?