Heart Of The Wolf (4 page)

Not on the
morning of the full moon, and it's only going to get worse…

Ryan threw a
wink in her direction, obvious lust in his eyes, which he was
clearly keeping a rein on for now, and then he signalled for Taylor
to follow him towards the rest of the pack who were out working in
force. Timber and foods from the land still brought in an income –
there were still chores to be done.

With overalls
in hand, Taylor came in for a quick goodbye kiss. “I'll see you at
lunch.”

She nodded,
not able to form words because Ryan's aroma on Taylor now sent her
head reeling to some place she couldn't reach … and the rest of her
body into a furnace.

Taylor left,
and with difficulty, she forced her legs to work and made her way
back to the mansion.

How was she
going to survive like this –
fucking sex-starved
– through
the police being here, and the pack meeting?

She glanced up
and spotted the moon still in the sky, barely visible against the
blue of day, but there nonetheless.

I can't cope.
I can't…

She wanted to
flay her skin off – everything felt too hot and too tight. Was this
her wolf trying to surface? Was this a hint of what shifting
actually felt like?

When she
reached the house, Lawrence wasn't in sight.

Racing up the
stairs, she ran straight to her room and into the adjoining
bathroom. Stepping swiftly into the shower unit, she turned the
dial towards blue, and heaved a sigh of relief when the cold water
hit her.

I am not an
animal – not completely – I can control myself for fuck's sake.

And she
would
, damn it. She would.

She didn't let
her hand meander down to find that swollen bud between her legs
that permanently throbbed now. She would not be a slave to it.

Nope.

Not even if
illicit visions of Ryan's mouth on Taylor's saturated her mind.

~*~

Selena
repeatedly tapped the spoon lightly against the ceramic bowl, her
cereal looking like gloop because she hadn't been able to eat a
bite owing to the pain scorching her lower half, not to mention
that monthly stabbing in her heart that all unmated females
suffered from.

In the past,
Ryan had happily obliged her; Lawrence at a push, but he'd never
denied her – the males never denied the females around the full
moon – it was too bloody dangerous.

Except
Taylor.

He had denied
her over and over again for eight months, and it had frustrated her
no end because he intrigued her the most. She had wanted him –
still did. Why Ryan and Lawrence had let him get away with spurning
every female, every month, was a mystery to her.

But what did
it matter now – all three of them were gone.

Anger coursed
through her as surely as her hazardous mating pains.

Who was there
left to turn to?

Marco and Bill
were boys, and certainly not Alphas. If she were fifteen, she'd be
all gooey-eyed for them, but she was fast-approaching twenty-five
and in need of an actual mate – not a monthly service, even though
that aspect was unavoidable. If someone in the pack didn't soon
sprout a 'Selena gene' she could kiss her short life goodbye.

Doug was
already mated and Pete was creepy as fuck – 'sinister' was the word
that sprang to mind. He and her dad were good friends, although she
really didn't know why, other than the fact that he was also an
older wolf. Others said he used to be mated, but he never talked
about it – had his mate died? What else could it be? Mates never
left any other way. Throughout her childhood, she had made up
scenarios about Pete. She imagined some epic brawl for the sake of
his loved one, or perhaps to protect family, because he had had his
face mauled at some point in his past which he never talked about –
it was not too pretty a sight.

But she held
enough reality to know that her fantasies were ideals, and the
reality was most likely much more sobering: he had probably been
the one causing the trouble. There was gossip that he liked his
females a certain way. It involved ropes and chains, and there was
even talk of blades. She'd never once run to Pete for lunar relief
and like hell was she starting now.

Hendrickson
and Amelia kept themselves to themselves, and although it was all
hush-hush, she suspected they relieved each other. With the wolf
clans becoming more and more scattered (on the verge of extinction
was more like it) it wasn't unheard of for unmated siblings to turn
to each other in their hour of need.

Gross.

She eyed her
brother – two years her senior – from across the table.

No way.

But her clit
already throbbed in response to his biceps contracting as he
brought his toast up to his mouth; his strong jaw moving as he
chewed. He was Alpha material, but in the wrong pack for his
liking.

Yeah, aren't
we all.

A warmth
rushed between her legs at his presence – some fucked up biological
response because her cells would be dying soon and there weren't
enough wolves to go around – and her anger turned to rage as
disgust mingled right in there along with the lust.

He suddenly
stopped chewing, and glanced up at her, his nostrils flaring…

Selena stood
abruptly. “I'm going out. See if I can help with any chores.
Where's Dad?”

Stephen
shrugged slowly, his gaze still on her. The usual Stephen response
… except for his glazed, questioning eyes. “You haven't eaten,” he
stated.

“Not
hungry.”

Silence.

“We're always
hungry near the full moon.”

She ignored
him and wandered into the living room to find the trainers she'd
discarded there last night, briefly wondering if she should change
out of her short sun dress for working in the woods … but it was so
blinkin' hot, and it's not like brambles and thorns annoyed her too
much as a wolf – all wolves had a natural tough layer of skin under
the visible one. It was part of the reason they healed so
quickly.

Stephen
appeared at the doorway as she was tying up the laces of her
trainers. “Dad and I were talking yesterday, about the new
female.”

“Lydia?” asked
Selena, not even bothering to hide the snarl that accompanied that
bitch's name.

“Yes.”

Still
crouching, she swapped feet and did those laces up too.

Stephen came
up behind her. “Everyone knows she's taken three mates: Ryan,
Lawrence and Taylor. But there are rumours about her being a
storm-wielder. We've all seen and heard the flashes of lightning
around here since she arrived.”

She kept her
mouth shut because she already knew that juicy bit of information
was true. Saying a single word might out that fact – she doubted
she'd be able to hide the taint of the secret she harboured, or the
scent of what she kept covered up. And it was a bloody big cover
up.

'Bloody'
being the operative word
, she grimaced, keeping her head
down.

“And now
there's the dead human and they're sayin' Lydia knew him.” There
was a pause before he continued. “What are you going to do with
three less males in the pack?”

She threw his
shrug back at him, feigning nonchalance. “There are other packs. My
mate's out there somewhere. Somerset's only a couple of hours
drive, I could
—
”

“We have a
meeting tonight.”

Fuck
.
She needed to find a way out of that meeting and fast.

“And the other
packs are all shunning us.”

She stood,
surprised. “What?” That was news to her.

“Rumours
spread fast. Turns out that most have heard about the storm-wielder
and they want nothing to do with us. Pete, Marco, Bill and I went
out last night – you know we always meet the London females every
month. Well, they rejected us, and brought their males with them to
warn us off.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, it is
shit.”

He was
suddenly looming over her. She grabbed the back of the sofa for
balance.

“There are
four males in this pack with nowhere to go, and you're the only
available female in it.” His words were possessive and …
oh,
god
… was that his mating scent?

“No,” she bit
out, injecting as much warning as she could into the single
syllable to hide her fear. “There's Amelia.”

“Hendrickson's
odour is all over her –
in
her. Breaking her away from him
for our own needs would cause a rift. They're our only medics. We
need them.”

He leaned down
and sniffed her hair, and she damn well knew she was excreting
pheromones all over the place.

She backed
away, but he followed her, keeping barely an inch between them.
“Stay away from me, Stephen.”

“One of the
others will claim you by tonight if I don't. Is that what you want?
Our goodbyes were strained last night – they already have designs
on you, I can tell. We've always had choice before, and now we have
none.
You
have none. Do you understand? You'll be taken
whether you want it or not, by the male who proves himself the
strongest and you'll be tied to him every full moon until you find
your mate or die. The days where you can choose who services you is
gone.”

She placed a
hand on his chest and shoved him.

His eyes
flashed in anger.

“And your
solution is what?” she bit out. “To keep it in the family? Amelia
signed her own death warrant by letting Hendrickson mark her with
his scent – we all know it. It took them from Betas to below the
Deltas; the crap at the bottom of the heap. Even if she finds her
mate—”

“She won't
find her mate and she's always known it. This is her twenty-fifth
year and Hendrickson's only got two left –
that's
why they
chose the road they did. Might as well go together – blood ties and
all that; they've done everything else together. They wouldn't be
the first to go down that path.”

He advanced
towards her once more, and she pushed him hard with a growl. “I'm
not fucking my own brother like an outcast – we're not werewolf
scum, our pack is royalty!”

“
Was.
A
long time ago before the Gunvalds were slaughtered and their only
surviving son, too much of a weakling to lead us.”

“Don't let Dad
hear you say that about Lawrence.”

“Dad's an old
fool,” his tone dropped low, “and you're one step behind him if you
think I'm letting you out of here for every other male to
have.”

“No!” She was
spun back towards the sofa before she knew it, Stephen catapulting
her there by the weight of his body.

She landed
hard on the cushioned seats, the base of her neck hitting the arm
of the couch and making her wince. “Get
off
. I don't want
this!”

And curse the
heat in her for rising in response. Despite her words, the wolf in
her whimpered in submission, her body already opening for his.

She raked his
face with her nails.

His fangs
bared at her denial of him, and then her wrists were pinned above
her head, uncomfortably so, a bone-felt pain shooting through her
where he pushed her forearms, bent backwards at the wrong angle,
over the armrest.

She hissed in
anger, lunging at him in any way she could, prepared to bite, and
managed to graze the edge of his jaw with her teeth.

He slapped her
across the face.

It was hard
and it stung, and it was the first time he'd ever done that.

A sob erupted
from her before she even understood the extent of her hurt at the
loss of her brother, because that's what was happening: if he did
this, she would lose him forever. There'd be no going back. “Please
no – I don't want this. I don't want you … like
this
.”

“It's not
about want.” He shoved her dress up around her waist, tearing at
her underwear. “It's about survival.”

“
Not like
this!
”

His eyes, the
same hazel as hers, shone with that luminous glow specific to their
kind. It was the first indication of wolf taking over man; of
desire taking over reason. When a werewolf's eyes glowed, you could
rarely make them see sense anymore. It was like trying to talk
logic with a starving beast. “What about
my
survival?
My
needs? All the females strut around like they're the only
ones craving relief; as if their pain is somehow greater.”

His fingers
slipped under her gusset; slid along her entrance. “DON'T!”

The front door
was flung open with enough force that it crashed into the wall.

Stephen
turned, already half-shifted, to face their father who glowered at
him. He filled up the door frame almost completely, looking
murderous, and Selena suddenly wondered how she had even thought of
him as a washed up old wolf for most of her life. Oh, neither of
them crossed him – he'd always been a firm father with a right hook
that, although rarely used, never missed its target. But neither
had they respected him all that much either. He had never been
around since her mother – his mate – had passed away.
Physically
he was here, but inside… He was a vacant hotel
with the lights still on.

She had heard
stories. Stories of how great her dad, 'Richard, Richard, the
Trident killer', had been in his youth; stories of how Tridents and
deserter wolves had feared him based on his reputation alone.
Stories about how he had courted her mother with unrivalled
passion, went to every known length to protect her from all and
every enemy before she had died.

Selena had
always taken those stories with a pinch of salt. Right this second,
seeing his face as he took in the scene in front of him, she
believed them.

He didn't give
his son the chance to say a word. On the bellow of a roar, he
barrelled himself into Stephen at breakneck speed, and then Stephen
was off her, and she rolled off the sofa, still sobbing; grabbing
at her knickers to pull them back up … and the door was open.