Lovers' Tussle (2 page)

Through the long nights of the past three years, she had luxuriated in the knowledge that they would one day mend the bridge between them that had been demolished so long ago, put their differences aside, and physically claim her for their own. It was not to be. Father had made that abundantly clear. Tonight, no matter how well she had loved them as the men in her salacious visions, or as unfamiliar as they now stood below her in their wild hound forms, one of them would die. It was the only way.
No
. Pity was an emotion she could not afford. For she had been given two mates, and that was not acceptable.

* * * *

Roth eyed the fluffy monstrosity across from him. With fewer teeth, no growl, and less size, the wolf could easily pass for a damn bunny. How the devil was he going to dispose of this mass of delicacies? For goodness’ sake, he could never harm anything that resembled, even remotely, femininity or daintiness. The supposed white loveliness chose that moment to roar, stamping out his tender emotions and reservations.
I damn well can put an end to that infernal blustering.

He had spent most of his life making sure their paths never crossed again.
Yes
. The wolf that now snarled before him was his brother, but blood mattered little when
Debrett’s
came into play. Perhaps in another lifetime he would have welcomed the chance for a proper duel in ascertaining just who should hold the proper rank and status between him and his brother, except in this present morbid lifetime the idea held no appeal for him. Had he not, one night a long, long time ago, made a life-altering decision?
Yes
. So despite the advantages a title may or may not hold with regards to securing this mate who had lured them here, it was too late to reconsider now.

The day his father had passed away, leaving his fortunes free of the death grip with which he’d selfishly clung to them, had opened for Roth doors of another variety. The trip around half the world had been made merely as a ruse and had returned him to a far different station in life, a different man, but one of his own choosing. No one had dared dispute the fact that a lifelong-protected young man had grown a slight bit bleached beneath the sweltering sun. No one questioned another man who had returned crispy brown from beneath inadequately sheltering masts of a sailing ship. Assuredly no one would ever question Roth Demount.

“I will kill for her, you know.”
The voice cut into his head as clearly as though it had been spoken out loud. It hadn’t of course. They had developed the ability to communicate with each other even as children. They were siblings, and like it or not, the blood that flowed through their veins was the same.

The difference in wealth, status, and even physical appearance was no matter.
“There’s no need for such dramatics.”
Roth emitted a low snarl in warning as his brother moved closer.
“Is she worth the bloodshed, brother?”
He intentionally used the unfamiliar term for their connection shamelessly. Their show of aggression toward each other had been strictly for the benefit of society at large. It was best kept that way. Everyone believed them to be enemies. And while he strongly wished to claim this mate for himself, he did not wish it at the cost of his brother’s life.

Aiden moved closer, snapping his jaws in irritation.
“How would you have us resolve this? Billiards?”

That didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.
“Compromise.”
He drew back a single step, clearly showing his wish not to fight.

Aiden ignored the gesture.
“I scented her first. She belongs to me.”

“And I shall have her.”
Roth mimicked the words that he knew would follow from his selfish brother.
“Always you, you, you. Have you not had enough of overflowing coffers and respect, however coward it may be? I propose we think this through before acting.”
Why had the woman chosen to lure them both here? And more importantly, why in their wolf forms? There were unanswered questions, and he would not proceed with uncertainties lingering in the air. The blood of his brother on his hands at least warranted some preliminary evaluation. It was just too bad Aiden was otherwise inclined.
“Make another move, and I’ll snap your throat in half.”

Seeming to rethink the idea of a full frontal attack, Aiden shifted in a semicircle, threatening Roth’s unguarded left side.
“The world would not miss a dead pauper. A marquis, however, shall be mourned with heavy breasts and tear-laden eyes.”

“Fool. Everyone shall be too busy scrambling around in finding ways to profess a sudden relation to you. Dead noblemen leave a lot behind, desired by humans more greedy and ferocious than both our animals combined.”
Roth kept his eyes trained on his opponent as he sniffed the air tentatively. His smile would have been warmer had it not been displayed with jagged edges, nor if a sly plot did not instigate it.

“Enough. I wish to taste the flesh of my mate. You stand in my way.”

Roth veered agilely to the side at Aiden’s first attack.
“You’ll have to be faster than that, young pup. Have the spoils of the good life softened your battle skills?”
he taunted mercilessly. There would be a show of skill but only if absolutely necessary. In the meantime, toying and frolicking would pass the time sufficiently enough until Aiden made up his mind.

“You tease. Where is your reputed prowess now? All I see is the underbelly of disgusting yellow.”
Aiden launched himself, flying gracefully through the air, and landed effortlessly in the spot that was now vacant.

“And all I see is a fancily coated ornament with nothing more valuable than stale air to occupy a rather large head.”
He chuckled, fully allowing his brother to hear him.
“Bear in mind, little brother, I have spent way more time roaming the wilds in this natural state than you have. What do you do when the hunger of the beast takes you? Seek the icebox for scraps of red meat like a damn pet mongrel? I hunt, brother. When was the last time you did?”

If wolves could color, or fluster for that matter, he was sure white would have looked horrible with crimson patches. But the blush of embarrassment would be far more preferable then the stain of blood. Thankfully, Aiden appeared to digest the information with some modicum of decorum, if he judged his hesitation accurately. He would have hated to drive the point home in a more ruthless way.
“Go home. Sleep off this spell she has cast upon you. We shall discuss this at first light, like men, as men.”

Aiden took a random swipe at his face, easy enough to avoid.
“First light, Roth, no later or I shall begin sharpening my hunting skills with you as my target.”

Roth injected humor in his voice.
“Gentleman’s honor.”

Aiden’s snort was impossible to miss and filled with disgust.
“You are no gentleman.”

Roth watched cautiously as his brother stepped back and gave a final howl at the bright crescent in the dark sky before racing into the enveloping darkness. He turned his face to the luminous moon as well and bellowed his farewell howl. And then, standing absolutely motionless, he called out within his mind, hoping their interloper would hear him.
“You can come down now.”

The startled yelp followed by a graceful descent showed that she’d heard him clearly. However, once on her four dainty paws, she showed no wish to continue the conversation with him. In one smooth move, she spun around and darted into the sheltering shadows, giving him a brief glance of a bushy brown tail, an underside of soft, flashing white.

He laughed.
“I love a good chase. Be sure to make this an entertaining sport, will you?”
He took off after her.

Silence greeted his mocking voice, but he needed no verbal help to know her path. His muzzle filled with her essence, pure, delightfully feminine. His paws pounded into the ground, but hardly at a dead sprint. Yes, he loved a good chase indeed.
Let’s see how good you really are.

As the thick trunks of tree began to pass by much faster, he knew he had underestimated her. She was as fast and wily as a damn fox. Adrenaline pumped through him. His heart hammered against his rib cage, sending spurts of hot blood pumping through his body. The nape of his mane prickled. Her scent was so very strong, so utterly captivating. He longed to taste her. The next leap he took over a fallen log was done with more spirit than he had experienced in a long time. The scenery, which would have been pitch dark to any other eye, was as clear as broad daylight to his acute senses, passed by in a hazy blur. Leaves were left flying frantically in the air by the wind he stirred in his wake.
“I’m coming to get you, little fox. Save some energy for me.”
Laughter rumbled within his chest, mingling with his excitement. He was filled with hunger, consumed by it. He was alive. The hunter in him flared and reveled.

He hadn’t even met the wench, but she ignited his blood. He recalled the generous view she had afforded him and all the other lusty men in the tavern last night. Yes, she was a feisty one all right, but while not overendowed, her curves hinted at satisfying generosity. He was going to take great pleasure in testing just to what arenas her fiery spirit extended to, intimate pleasure.

He plunged through yet another dense wall of growth and skated to a dead stop. Before him lay the slightest of tributaries, but it may as well have been an entire ocean filled with sharks and every other predator beneath the surface. He pawed the damp mud at the edges. It would be so easy to simply stroll across. There was nothing standing in his way. At least not anything physical.

He roared his anger at the silent moon as he scanned the lush greenery on the other side. The tiny face first peeked through the thick bushes, and then she emerged fully. Roth stared at the wolf across the seemingly meaningless patch of water. He had been wrong. Brown did not describe that color at all. Red, blazing and aflame, did her coat more justice. He sniffed the air, catching more dank mud and swill than her essence. His disgruntled roar echoed through the trees, sending birds into a flight of panic.

He paced the slimy silt, allowing his claws to sink into its clingy smoothness, but never stepped in enough to get his paws wet. His hair stood on ends, alert, aggravated. Just one leap and he’d land right on top of her. Just one was all he required. Yet invisible bands surrounded him, holding him captive against his own desires. He stilled, watching her warily, helpless.

The voice, as light and airy as a delicate dandelion and yet as strong and durable as a sunflower, cut into his mind.
“What’s the matter? Is my mangy scoundrel afraid of the water?”

Roth answered her dainty voice with a savage howl. It was not the water at all that posed the problem, but the land on the other side, the stretch on which she now stood. That was territory he dared not trespass onto. Christian Hawthorne, Duke of Sterling, was an influential, ruthless man not to be trifled with. As an Alpha wolf, the leader of the oldest and greatest pack was not one to cross paths with at all.

Roth threw all his pent-up frustration in his roar. How could his mate descend from this pack? With any other, he would have compromised, negotiated, even bloody threatened and dominated, but Sterling did not recognize those words, nor did he cower. With a final longing glance at the prey that was now just beyond his reach, and would probably remain so for God only knew how long, he turned and dashed through the woods.
So much for a life mate
. She could never be claimed. At least he hadn’t killed his brother for nothing.

* * * *

Tienna awoke late the next morning. She rubbed her eyes grumpily, groaning beneath her breath about the grimy, sandy texture due to sleep having been yet again a stranger to her lonely night. But then if she was to be truly honest, she had not been all that alone, at least not within her dreams. They had come to her again. But unlike before, the white and gray wolves had claimed her together. Her body had been melded between their tightly packed, manly muscles and every inch of her body had reveled and writhed in ecstasy.

She threw a half-closed glance around her. Yes, she had been thrusting quite enthusiastically last night. The sheets were twisted, and the cover was lying on the floor. The damp patch between her thighs made her wince. If only her body had actually felt that relief. Ghostly visits did not replace the lusty heat of flesh, blood, and cocks of men. Her body had not been milked by sheer pleasure but had been cheated by unsatisfying visions.

Her muscles clenched as she stretched and turned to face her personal maid. “Good morning, Gracie. Could you have a hip bath delivered? And I think I’ll wear my gray day dress.” Did the color hold any significance? Gray did suddenly seem a whole lot more appealing, but then again, so did white. “Make it the gray- and white-sprigged muslin instead.”