Prymal Lust (5 page)

“Maybe the rumors of the Wylfen culling their deformed cubs from the pack are, in fact, the truth,” Lycus muttered.

For a split second, Axe considered and then dismissed the unfounded gossip. “I’ve never met a Feral female whose maternal instinct didn’t go on overdrive the second she became pregnant. You?”

“Absolute zero chance of that
not
happening with a Rogue woman carrying a cub. Question backatcha—how many Wylfen females do you know? And you’ve read their laws. Those women do dick all. They go to finishing school for crap’s sake.” Lycus sneered.

“Tania didn’t. Eva didn’t. And Eva isn’t spoiled and pampered and stupid. I’m thinking that all of us Prymals need to start shedding prejudices that have been built into us from birth. And it needs to start with the alphas. Look at how we came to accept Jaz. He isn’t what we were taught a typical Wylfen alpha would be.”

“Jaz is the youngest son. He’ll never have a pack. That’s the reason he listened to us in the first place.”

Axe realized Lycus was not about to see reason. “You’re picking at shit. We don’t have time for this. Just think about what I said.”

“It fucking pisses me off that
she’s
the one fate picks for you. And that you have to give her up.”

Ironic that Axe longed for a mate, searched for
the
one
for him, and now knew only futility. For he had no intention of taking a mate by force the way others of his kind had. The results of that kind of mate claim were all too often tragic and fatal.

“You really don’t intend to claim her? And you believe you’re going to be able to stick to it?” Lycus demanded.

“She won’t come willingly. Would you claim her?” He knew what the Rogue alpha would answer. They discussed the topic at great length during their initial negotiations to merge the two types of mixed breeds, the Ferals and the Rogues, into one Prymal pack. After all, mate claim had been the issue that had divided all known species of shifters on earth.

“No.” Lycus shook his head. “But, I’m not the one who’s facing being alone for the rest of his life. I’m not the one who’s never going to have cubs. I’m not the one whose lineage will die out. This bitch needs to be taught a lesson.”

A red haze of rage torpedoed through Axe, he half-shifted, and had Lycus by the throat before the other wolf had the time to blink. He snarled, “No one harms her. You hear me?”

”Understood.” Lycus stood frozen in place. “No one harms her.”

Axe pried his fingers from Lycus’s thick neck. He concentrated on regulating his ragged breathing. Violence simmered in his veins. Tania was his and he’d protect her to the death. He glimpsed the light glistening off his claws and splayed his hands fighting for control.

Horror filled him.

Axe met Lycus’s gaze and plowed a hand through his hair. “Jesus. It’s been mere hours. I was ready to kill you. Maybe we’re wrong about this. Maybe the Wylfen were right to ban mate claim.”

“You stopped yourself, Axe. You could’ve cracked my neck before I had a chance to react, but you didn’t. We aren’t wrong. The Wylfen are. I won’t fault you if you want to back out. But I gotta tell you that Prymal will never work if you do.”

“Congrats, Jazshuka. I’m so proud of you.” Tania had to tiptoe to kiss her twin even though she stood near six feet in her strappy three-inch stilettoes. Not perhaps the wisest choice of footwear for the heavy sleet raining down outdoors, but they were her sole Jimmy Choo’s and her one big splurge with the money she had earned herself. Her eyes misted when she glimpsed the scrolled certificate her brother held in one hand.

Jaz caressed the side of her face and inspected her features. “You promised not to cry, but I can tell you’ve been bawling. Why? This is a good thing. And don’t use my familiar diminutive. Use Jaz, got that?”

In Russian-speak the familiar diminutive was used only between family and intimate friends. Having been born in the U.S., Jaz and Tania hadn’t retained much of their Russian heritage save for their use of the full versions of their names in private.

Tania sniffed and blinked away the threatening tears. “Sorry. Jaz. I know it makes no sense, but it feels like an ending. As if things will never be the same again.”

The grim set of his mouth scared shivers up her spine. He rubbed the backs of his knuckles over her cheek. “Change is a given, Tanichika. Now. Spill. Something else has you tied up in knots.”

“Uncle Viktor wants Dad to submit my name to the Mate Alliance Registry.”

Jaz leaned his forehead on hers. “It was inevitable, sis. Unless you leave the pack entirely.”

“You mean unless they exile me.” No one left the Prakov pack voluntarily.

She didn’t want a mate. She didn’t want to turn into her mom. She didn’t have a submissive bone in her body. She’d go insane being nothing but a Wylfen wife. Eva had felt the same way. They’d both hated the control Wylfen males had over their females. In particular, the way their fathers and brothers could smell any human male interaction on them. Eva had experimented with masking her fragrance for the last couple of years.

Tania touched her finger to the back of her ear. She’d shampooed and lathered twice, as well as using the scent mask Eva had given her some months back.

Jaz hadn’t picked up any lingering hint of her gym lover. Her twin would jump on
that
right away. Eva’s scent mask
was
working. A wave of sadness crashed through her. She refused to mourn Eva. That would mean accepting Eva’s death.

“I know. But once my name’s submitted, it’s a done deal. I didn’t think I’d have to make a decision so soon. Sorry. Enough about me. Tonight is all about you. You look so handsome in your dress uniform. Bet you’ll score big tonight.”

“Tsk, tsk. Your mind’s in the gutter. I’m on the straight and narrow for a few months. Got things to do, places to go.” He moved to her left and gave her a little warning headshake. “Mom and Dad and the bros are heading this way. You got to back me up tonight, sis. No matter what happens.”

“Always—you know that. But what’s got you so defensive?” She shifted to his side and traced her parents and brothers as they threaded through the packed lobby of the stadium.

The Prakovs aristocratic lineage showed in her father’s regal stance and patrician nose. The three piece onyx suit he wore had been tailored to fit his lean build and six two height. He had an arm around her mother’s shoulder, as usual. Alpha to the max, Dad belonged to the old-school Wylfen, and believed women needed to be pampered and protected constantly and had strictly defined roles.

She shivered when the main doors to the building opened and a fierce, cold blast swept up under the billowy skirt of her suit. A quick check showed a band of uniformed naval officers marching through the entrance.

“Perfect timing,” Jaz muttered under his breath. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“What?” Tania’s question went unanswered when Jaz darted behind her. She twisted to glance over her shoulder but her twin had merged with the crowd.

“Where did Jazshuka, I mean, Jaz go?” Her mother, dressed impeccably in a royal blue Chanel suit that matched the color of her eyes, had added three inches to her five foot nothing height by wearing spiky patent black pumps.

Tania crossed her eyes. “Jaz just gave me heck for calling him Jazshuka.”

Her mother flashed a brief smile. “I’m sure to slip tonight. I’m bursting with pride. He graduated summa cum laude.”

“I got the text too.” Tania echoed her mother’s wide smile. Her twin had always been the academic one of the two of them. Their differences had somehow further cemented the deep twin bond between them.

“Daughter.” Her father, Arman Prakov, had the physique of a man ten years younger than fifty-seven, but the fine lines bracketing his icy blue eyes and the deep grooves on either side of his mouth, gave his true age away. “Nice to see you in something other than pants.”

Stifling a terse retort, Tania pasted a wimpy imitation of a grin on her face, and said, “Hi Dad. That was some ceremony, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Except for the latecomers who drew attention away from the candidates.”

Crap.

Dad was pissed at her for sneaking into the stadium thirty minutes late. Heck, she’d been furious with herself for letting time get away from her. For not being able to get her frigging fabulous gym lover out of her head and daydreaming for hours. She’d even tried unsuccessfully to find out his name by flirting with the young twerp who manned the hotel’s front desk and sneaking in leading questions about the occupants of the penthouse suite.

Tania missed the cocktail reception entirely and barely made it to her seat in time to see Jaz accept his degree. She was in no mood for one of her father’s disapproving lectures, or the inevitable demand for her to move back home. But, she kept her mouth shut.

“Give it a break, Dad. Hi sis. You look great.” Breede, her oldest brother, bent to give her a quick peck on the cheek.

“Where’s the star candidate?” Mishe, her middle brother, thwacked her hard on the shoulder before lifting her for a kiss on the forehead.

“Mishe, put me down. I’m not twelve anymore.” Tania scowled at him.

“You need to get some flesh on your bones. You’re way too light.”

Mishe bumped noses with her and set her back on her Jimmy Choo’s.

“Haven’t you heard? Fat isn’t in. I’ll have you know, I’m ten pounds over the ideal weight for my height and build.”

Jaz cut in between Mishe and Tania. He turned, half-backing her, and she caught a glimpse of a man in naval uniform. He had a white cap emblazoned with a silver eagle tucked against his side.

“Senior Chief Johnson, meet my father, Arman Prakov, my mother, Orlenda Prakov.” Tania scooted around Mishe and peered at the striking man standing beside Jaz.

A drop-dead walking testosterone hunk. His broad shoulders, wide-legged military stance, and spine board-stiff posture, seemed vaguely familiar.

Heat scaled her throat when she visualized the massive, powerful back of her gym lover. For long moments all she could see, feel, and smell was the fragrant steam in the shower stall coating her skin while he hammered into her. Flustered, she stared unseeing at the medals above the man’s left pocket.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” Senior Chief Johnson shook hands with first her father and then her mother.

“Senior Chief Johnson is the lead trainer for BUD/S Class Three Twenty-one. I was assigned to the class two weeks ago.” Jaz made the announcement in such a blasé tone that, at first, the meaning of what he’d said didn’t penetrate Tania’s gray matter.

Her jaw dropped. She snapped her teeth together so hard they squeaked. Omigod. Jaz had signed up for SEAL training. The Senior Council agreed to allow Jaz to enlist in the Navy, but she knew they’d stipulated Jaz would specialize in information systems and request desk duty. Even she knew SEALs engaged in combat. Lethal combat too.

Dad’s complexion turned a painful red. At any point, Tania expected to hear him roar.

“I’m certain there’s been some sort of mistake. The Navy can’t force you to be a SEAL. This is not what the Senior—what was agreed upon.” Arman folded his arms and wolf-stared the senior chief.

“No mistake, Dad. Contracts are signed. I leave for Coronado in the morning.”

“Problem, Jaz?” Another man in uniform emerged from behind the senior chief.

That voice.

It couldn’t be.

She craned her neck and met her gym lover’s contemptuous glare.

Tania’s knees wobbled.

She grabbed Mishe’s arm.

“Negative, Senior Chief. A slight misunderstanding. Easily remedied.” Jaz addressed his answer to the man who’d fucked Tania into a dazed trance not five hours ago. “Senior Chief Smith. This is…”

She didn’t hear a word beyond that. Her mind froze. The fuzzy hairs on the back of her neck bristled. His musky aroma surrounded her like a whirling top, wrapping tighter and tighter until all she smelled was him, them, sex.

“Jazshuka—this can’t be true.” Her mother wailed and she clutched Jaz’s forearm. “What have you done? Arman, do something. My baby’s not going to war.”

Red blotches stained Jaz’s tanned cheeks. “Mom, please. This is a done deal, Dad. I’d appreciate it if you all tabled any discussion of the topic for later. In private.”

“I agree with Jaz. We’ll discuss this in private. Senior Chief Smith. A pleasure.” Breede shook Senior Chief Smith’s hand.

“This is my sister, Tania. Senior Chiefs Johnson and Smith are the lead instructors for SEAL Class Three Twenty-one.” Jaz elbowed her when she didn’t respond.

“Ms. Prakov.” Senior Chief Smith’s sexy rumble spiked Tania’s nipples into stiff, aching points.

Staring at the palm held out to her, Tania had a moment of absolute hysteria, and total paralysis. It took her a few seconds to gather her shattered composure.

Unable to meet Senior Chief Smith’s gaze, Tania stuck out a shaky hand, and her lungs decompressed when his large palm kissed hers for half a second. She jerked her arm back and wanted to stick her blazing flesh into one of the pitchers of water a waiter carried.

Oh Gawd.

Oh shit.

She’d screwed her brother’s new commander.

“We’ll discuss your new situation right away, Jaz.” Tania realized from her father’s lapse into Russian that he was about to detonate.

Dad shifted his attention to her and switched to English. “If you encouraged Jaz to do this—”

“Tania knew nothing about my change of plans. She had no part in my decision. Mishe, do me a favor and escort my twin down to the dinner dance.” Jaz didn’t even glance her way. Tania knew he was trying to protect her from their father’s wrath.

“Message delivered loud and clear, Jaz. Mishe, Tania’s your responsibility. We’ll meet you down below shortly. After we’ve settled Jaz’s surprise announcement amicably.” Breede grab-handled Jaz and Dad and shoved them toward the corner of the lobby. He tucked an arm around her mother’s shoulder and followed her father and twin brother.

Helpless to do anything but stare as Breede led Jaz and her parents away, Tania chewed the insides of her cheeks in an attempt to stifle the howl of panic welling up her throat.