MATE OF THE WEREWOLF (Changeling Encounters: An Erotic Paranormal Sex Story Of Sexual Blackmail And Domination)

He scented her, the instant he entered the
building.

Noah Lancaster inhaled a deeper breath, letting her
tantalizing smell roll over his senses. Her musk called to him,
sweet and heady. Absolutely irresistible!

My mate is here!

After three hundred years he instinctively knew the
enticing fragrance that was distinctly
hers
.

Noah stopped after entering the luxurious hotel,
savoring the allure of the erotic beckoning. His expression changed
from one of awe and wonder to one of a hunter, a predator. He
closed his eyes, every muscle in his body growing taut, his cock
rock-hard.

She has to be here.

He let his olfactory senses pinpoint her location.
She had to be in the ballroom, probably attending the same benefit
ball that had him dressed in a tuxedo, going to a function that he
never attended. Thank God he had decided to make an appearance. He
never attended this one. This was the first time. Some instinct had
led him to this place, to his mate.

Noah shuddered as he opened his eyes. He was a
Changeling, his mate designated only for him. His animal instincts
made him want to race into the ballroom and claim her
now
in
the most elemental way. She didn't have conscious knowledge of it,
but she was calling to him, luring him toward her, making him
maniacal just from inhaling her tantalizing scent.

The inclination of his wolf battled with his common
sense. Unfortunately, intellect had to win. Somehow he didn't think
that his body's demand to nail her in the middle of a crowded
ballroom, in the most palatial hotel in the city, would be well
received. He almost didn't give a shit. His body was demanding he
claim her; take her before she got away. Only the sense of
self-preservation that his kind had mastered over the centuries
kept him from tracking her down, pinning her body and possessing
her right there on the ballroom floor. Or table. Or whatever else
was convenient.

Christ! He was losing his mind. Noah willed himself
to move forward, to master his snarling wolf. He tried to gain
command of his body and will as he took the spiral staircase two
steps at a time to reach the top.

He entered the large, lavishly decorated room with
his chest heaving, fists clenched, trying to gain control of his
beast. Probably hundreds of well- dressed bodies milled around the
room that had been set up with lavish buffet and drink tables. A
large crystal chandelier made the room sparkle and glitter. The
sound of laughter, conversation and slow, sultry music from a
small, live orchestra floated through the room and down the
hall.

Noah was aware of everything, but at the same time
oblivious to his surroundings. He was on the hunt.

He spotted her immediately, his blue eyes darting
left and right, stopping abruptly on the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen.

She was tall, her figure rounded and generous. The
black, clingy cocktail dress covered her thighs, flirting with her
knees. Noah's mouth watered as he admired her curvy figure and her
graceful, long legs. He could imagine her wrapping them around his
waist as he pounded into her. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead
as he nearly panted with the need to possess her.

He tried to calm his bestial needs as he watched her
expressive hazel eyes while she laughed with an older, elegant
gentleman.

Mine!

He wanted to rip her away from any man who spoke to
her, looked at her. She was exquisite…and she was his.

She had too much skin exposed - the halter top of her
dress crossed behind her neck and covering her generous breasts,
but it left a fair amount of cleavage showing and her shoulders
bare. He wanted to pull down her long, dark hair from its
confinement in that classy, swept-up style and see if it reached
her waist.

He needed to mark her, make her his forever. Noah
wondered how long he could wait. As the silver-haired man she was
conversing with reached over to touch her bare arm, he felt a low
growl rising in his throat.

Obviously...waiting was not an option.

Grace Marin noticed
him
the moment he entered
the room. He was incredibly tall and he wore a tux like no other
man in the room, the expensive garment fitting his muscular body
perfectly. He had a dangerous aura that struck her right in the
gut, sent a shiver down her spine.

His light blond hair was sexy, mussed in a casual,
windblown style that sent tendrils that she longed to brush back
falling to his forehead.

And he was staring directly at
her.

Grace shifted uncomfortably in her three inch heels.
The shoes were killing her feet and she hated them. She suppressed
the desire to glance at her watch to see how much longer before the
event was over and she could finally pull off the torturous
footwear.

She was veterinarian, not a socialite. She sipped her
champagne and tried to listen to what Mr. Whiting was saying.
Having no choice but to be attentive, she smiled and listened as he
droned on and on. Every person here could be a potential benefactor
for her wildlife sanctuary. The shelter was everything to her and
she relied completely on donations. Every year this was a dreaded
but necessary event for her and she had to put on her charming face
to attract every possible donation. The sanctuary needed it.

"I see Noah Lancaster is here," Mr. Whiting mentioned
casually as he moved a little closer to stare at her breasts. The
old man had hardly met her gaze since he had waylaid her a few
minutes ago because he was completely fixated on her tits.

Grace startled at his comment, the first interesting
thing the man had uttered since he’d started talking. Mr.
Lancaster? Here? He never showed at this event although he was her
largest donor. The reclusive millionaire rarely went to any social
events and she was rather shocked that he had made an appearance
this year.

"Where?" she questioned Mr. Whiting curiously.

The elderly man’s eyes reluctantly left her boobs to
motion towards
him.

Mr. Tall, Blond and Gorgeous is Noah Lancaster?

She had never met her largest benefactor, but she had
always somehow pictured him as a sweet, elderly man who loved
animals as much as she did.

Except…he wasn’t elderly, and at the moment he didn’t
look particularly sweet. He looked like a predator looking for a
juicy, raw and rather large steak.

His eyes never looked away from her as he stalked in
her direction with a graceful stride that made her heart accelerate
as he moved closer. She was drawn to him in an eerie sort of way,
something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but the odd and
rather disturbing chemistry was definitely there.

There were very few men who could make Grace Marin
feel petite...but this man did. At five- foot- nine, and in three
inch heels, she still had to look up at him. God...he was huge.
Rock solid and tall. Her eyes met his as he reached her side, their
gazes locking and holding. She could drown in his deep blue eyes.
She knew she should look away...but she couldn't. He had her
completely enthralled.

"Ms. Marin? I'm Noah Lancaster. It's nice to finally
meet you," he told her in a deep, low, intimate voice. It was as
though there was no one else in the room.

Grace shook herself out of her stupor. For God's
sake! The man was her biggest donor and he kept her sanctuary
running.
Stop drooling and greet the man.
"Mr. Lancaster,"
she acknowledged, holding out her hand. "I'm glad you could make
it." Her voice was steady, belying her inner trembling.
Thank
God.
Her insides may be melting, but she needed to keep up a
steady façade, a cool exterior.

He took her hand and instead of shaking it...he bent,
turned her hand and raised it to his face. His eyes closed as he
seemed to inhale her scent, running his nose along her wrist,
fleeting licking it. His lips finally landed on her palm.

Oh. Shit.
It should have been weird, but Grace
was practically shaking, stunned by the feel of his tongue on her
heated skin.

He released her hand reluctantly as she tugged. "I
need to speak to you about my donation, Ms. Marin. May I have a
moment?” he asked politely but firmly.

"Yes, of course. If you would, excuse us Mr.
Whiting." She nodded her head at the elderly gentleman who had
never noticed Mr. Lancaster's strange behavior because his eyes
were still glued to her breasts. He looked disappointed, but didn't
protest as she moved away with Mr. Lancaster.

"You can call me, Noah. And I'll call you Grace. We
won't be strangers for long." He informed her in a clipped, abrupt
tone. "Perverted old bastard," he mumbled as he shot a cutting
glare at Mr. Whiting. He grasped her hand tightly and impatiently
pulled her away from her breast-admiring companion.

"You wanted to speak with me, Noah?" She questioned
as she tripped along behind him, trying to keep up with his long
strides while her feet were wobbling on her heels. She usually
walked with extreme caution because she wasn’t used to the
stilettos, but his pace made her look like a stumbling klutz.

He was silent as he pulled her into one of the
private, unisex bathrooms in the hallway between the preparation
kitchen and the ballroom. He closed the door and locked it behind
him.

Grace gaped at him as she realized where they were.
The bathroom was roomy but he crowded her, making the space seem
smaller. God...he smelled good.

"Noah...what are we doing here?" Grace's voice was
soft and questioning. She was dazed and her hormones were flaring.
Something inside of her body called out to this man. He was a
complete stranger…yet, he was not.

"It's quiet, so we can negotiate. And I can't wait
any longer to do this." His low, baritone voice vibrated through
her body as he lowered his head, his mouth swooping down to cover
hers before she could even take a breath.

What little breath she had was taken as his lips
landed on hers. His kiss wasn't gentle or tender. He captured her,
taking her mouth possessively as his hands wandered roughly over
her body. He backed her up against the vanity counter and pinned
her with his body as his hands moved over her, molding her curves,
like a lover proclaiming ownership.

His tongue was wet, silky and hot as it swept in and
tangled with hers. Grace knew she should be struggling, but
something inside her wanted to let him overpower her and completely
possess her. Something wild and untamed washed over her and her
arms went around his neck, every fiber of her being meeting his
fierce passion with primitive need.

He tore his mouth from hers, panting as he kept her
pinned in place with his large body and strength. She could feel
his ragged, hot breath against her ear as he pulled the halter over
her head and bared her breasts to his hungry gaze. His hands came
up to cup them as his mouth seized her right nipple, biting it
lightly, laving it with his tongue.

Grace moaned as his touch went straight to her core,
drenching her panties without even moving below her waist.

What the hell. I’m not a highly sexual woman. I don’t
react like this.

What was happening to her? She was letting a stranger
seduce her in a public bathroom, with hundreds of people outside
the door. She tried...she
really
tried to pull herself
together, break free of whatever spell she was under, but her
burning body was betraying her. She had never lost her senses this
completely. It was as if she was caught up in a fierce, animalistic
desire that couldn’t be controlled by her brain.

Noah raised her dress to her waist and lifted her
onto the vanity. It was spacious and he laid her back on the
counter, sprawled like a wanton, as his hand roamed her thighs. She
was wearing nothing but a thong and thigh-high black stockings.

He spread her legs wide, licking the flesh at the top
of her stockings, lashing the sensitive skin with possessive
swipes. She fought for sanity, but all she wanted was his mouth on
her aching pussy.
Now!

Surrounded by vanity mirrors, she turned her head to
look at her own face, not recognizing the flushed face and wild
eyes as her own. Her eyes were flashing with a light that scared
her, but she couldn't fight her driving need for him to claim her.
"Please, Noah." The plea came out as a strangled sob, her desire
pounding at her until she was nearly insane.

She needed his mouth and tongue on her.
Something…anything…to take away the unbearable ache.

She watched in the mirror as he ripped away her
thong, sweat pouring from his skin, his face tortured. He breathed
in deeply and growled, "Mine. Your smell drives me wild. Have to
taste you. Make you come."