Scattered Siblings 3: To Mate a Werewolf (3 page)

When he last visited the camp, the sway of Ellie’s hips had fascinated him.
Last time? Don’t lie. Every time more like
. As always he’d hurried through his business and left, but he’d fantasized over her curves for days. He’d wanted to swat her rounded ass. Chasing her through the woods would have been good too. When he caught her, he’d have ground his cock in her pussy’s damp heat, just as he had on the cliff top.

Even as he’d dreamed about taking her, he knew any relationship with Ellie was doomed from the start. That woman was too tempting a morsel, so rather than fuck her, he’d stayed away from the camp. He loved the Tundra Toughs’ squad since it was made up of his pack mates, but as Grand Marshal of the Lykae forces, his business kept him at court. When his father had written and begged again him to take over as alpha, he’d resigned his commission. He’d had to wait until King Caleb had appointed his successor, but now Joel was free to go home and start his new life. He just owed his men a final duty visit.

His inner wolves howled inside him, eager for another glimpse of Ellie. His human side insisted he keep his hands, and his cockstand, to himself.

Ellie wasn’t his mate, just a nubile female who made his cock swell. Hell, every time he jerked off, he pictured himself feasting on her pussy or sucking her breasts. He’d loved the way her heels dug into his thighs, and the image of her black hair in sexy disarray was forever sealed in his brain.

He’d cared for Ellie since he’d first laid eyes on her. That night when she’d been drugged into sexual heat, he’d wanted her in the worst way. He’d not taken advantage of her then. Instead he’d gotten through it by telling himself she was his little sister, and he’d worked hard to make the idea stick. Until today.

After her rescue, Joel had conscripted her into the Lykae forces. A trained chef, she’d had slipped into the Lykae mess hall. She’d cleaned, polished, and cooked. He’d understood it was her way of coping and left her to it. Once the Lykae soldiers tasted her cooking, they’d eased up on the
all-elves-suck
thing. It had taken a while, but gradually they’d adopted her as their own. Those two years of military training had stiffened her spine and honed her survival skills, he hoped.

With hindsight, he should have made Ellie mix with more of his pack. She’d been so delighted the soldiers ignored her scars that she’d stayed close to the camp, even when she had leave due. Her favorite leisure pursuit always involved sitting in the sun with a good book. Her least enjoyable pastime? Honing her fighting skills against Lykae trainers. They’d prattled on about exceptional knife skills, but she was a cook. Of course she could use a knife.

Since his diplomatic duties kept him away, he’d demanded regular updates on her progress. Something about her had gotten under his skin, but it wasn’t as if she was his true mate or anything. He’d know if she was. Finding a mate didn’t even make his to-do list. To a player like him, the whole idea
sucked. Besides he’d blown it when he screwed her, but damn he liked her better as a lover than a pretend sibling. Deep down he knew he shouldn’t have touched her, not when it messed up her future.

He was an alpha wolf with responsibilities and a pack to run. Besides, there were so many women out there, how could he tie himself to just one for all eternity? Joel preferred endless variety and no-strings sex. Why would he lose himself in one woman when he could sample so many? Maybe with Ellie… No! A half Elf mating with a pack alpha? Unheard of!

Ellie wasn’t his mate, he felt certain of that. He just needed to look out for her after everything she’d been through. His alpha nature demanded he protect her, but fucking her had put the kibosh on that.

Joel had known Ellie on and off for almost two years. Okay, mostly off, but when circumstances allowed, he’d kept a brotherly eye on her. No way was she his true mate…but thoughts of her consumed him.

He hated the bad feeling between them, but he couldn’t change what just happened. Hell, he wouldn’t if he could. Being with Ellie had been the highlight of his boring year, but that still didn’t make it right. His father had suggested an arranged marriage to strengthen his pack’s ties with the Desert Marauder pack. Like a fool, he’d agreed. If not for that commitment, he might have claimed Ellie—mate or not.

She was strong, sassy, and independent, but she wasn’t mate material. He liked his women wild and demanding in the bedroom, but he never stayed around once they started talking about their future. Mated pairs couldn’t keep their hands off each other in public. All that touching and pawing was plain embarrassing. Ellie definitely qualified in the bedroom department, but he couldn’t get past the obvious. She was half Elf.

That steel in her backbone had helped her survive her ill treatment at the hands of the Elves. He respected her for that. He thought he’d led a rescue party to free a captured Fae, but they only found Ellie. Somehow, finding her made things personal, and that made him wish his troops hadn’t been so quick to wipe out her captors.
Elves’ blood, if I’d have known it was my Ellie they tortured, they’d have died long and slow.

Then it struck him that his mother was a strong woman too. She always stood her ground with his father—the Tundra Toughs’ current alpha. Even Sylvie, the hereditary king’s gentle-natured mate, dug her heels in occasionally.

With Ellie, things were different. What you saw was what you got. Her best life skill was that she knew her way around a kitchen, that and she adapted to new situations easily. Since she didn’t back down among Lykae who could kill her with one sweep of a paw, she was spunky and resilient too. Even a Lykae female would have needed help after what Ellie had been through, but then Elves wouldn’t have captured a she-wolf in the first place.

For all Ellie’s admirable qualities, no alpha would lower himself to mate with an Elf.
Hell, I bet I’m the only Lykae to ever fuck one. And now I have to face the consequences. Well…poor Ellie does.

This afternoon, his lustful Lykae nature had overpowered his common sense, and Ellie got hurt as a result. She stood alongside the high wall around the abbey grounds, eyes narrowed as she tapped her foot at him.
She’s that eager to leave me? I never meant to hurt her this way.

In his haste he’d buttoned his black military shirt up wrong. With an impatient growl, he tore it open. Buttons went flying everywhere. He shrugged and left it loose, giving Ellie flashes of his bare chest as he strode toward her.

When he reached her side, he started to apologize, but she shushed him. “Forget it. Just shut up and get me out of here. Then I’ll be on my way.”

He almost begged her forgiveness, but their sex had been consensual. He’d even offered to help her start a new life, but rather than accept his generous offer, she’d slapped his face. He ran his hand over his cheek as she walked away, but the sting of her slap was nothing compared to the pain in his heart. Even if he hadn’t bedded her, he knew that if Ellie joined his pack, she’d sass him whenever she disagreed with anything he said or did. Pack discipline would go down the drain.

No one but his lieutenants, when he chose them, would have the right to question his orders. They’d be the most dangerous, deadly wolves out there, except for him of course.

Joel didn’t believe in fated mates. Okay, the feelings between his mother and father ran so deep Joel could almost touch them, but it was all too intense for him.
The loss of independence and all that public pawing is just plain wrong.

He cherished his freedom and the thrill of chasing women. Sometimes, usually, catching them left him disappointed and empty inside. If he tied himself down to one woman forever, he’d be bored senseless in a year.

His pack mates often spent their evenings around the campfire, discussing what they wanted in a mate. Some demanded good looks, some wanted a sense of humor or a lush, rounded ass they could sink their claws into during sex. To them, a mate was a treasure they’d protect and cherish forever. Those poor fools thought a mate was the greatest gift a Lykae could have.

Joel knew better. He’d choose his freedom over finding a mate every time. Maybe that was why he was still unmated after five centuries. Even as a pup, his alpha nature had made him the toughest, brightest, and the biggest. Hell, he was the baddest wolf out there, and he liked it that way. Finding a mate left him vulnerable, and gave him an Achilles’ heel for his enemies to attack.

If he had to take a mate, and as pack alpha he should, he wanted someone cool and elegant. Someone who behaved with fitting dignity in public. Yes, he’d settle for a regal blonde who wouldn’t paw him the way his mother did his father.

When Joel took a wife, she’d never expect him to mark her as his mate. He still wanted her smoking hot behind closed doors. Probably not as hot as his little Ellie, but he couldn’t allow himself to think that way.
Doomed, damn relationship, remember?

Whatever just happened between them, it was over and done. He didn’t even regret screwing her. Sex with Ellie was primal and savage, a need that burned through his psyche He’d fuck her again in an instant, but his best option was to put some distance between them, fast.

When he married, he’d need a strong woman at his side—one who would watch his back while he watched hers.
Let’s face it; Ellie’s weapon of choice is a cheesecake.

Chapter Three

Nothing mattered. Not the seagulls screeching as they soared overhead. Not the tide receding from the estuary below. Ellie lifted her chin and swallowed hard. Her best daydream had involved her curling her legs around Joel’s waist as he pumped his cock inside her. Constantly. Endlessly. Consensual sex was amazing, but Joel’s rejection felt like he’d torpedoed her heart.

She blushed when she realized she still stared into his eyes—clear turquoise orbs that matched the beads in his hair, and hard as she tried, she couldn’t look away. She didn’t see the arrogance of a pack alpha or the highest-ranking Lykae soldier in werewolf land. She saw the sexiest wolf ever, one with a kind heart and a strong moral code, and she wanted to fuck him again so badly she ached inside.

Barely holding back her tears, Ellie stiffened as Joel pulled her close. His hold was different this time, stiffer and more distant. Her stupid body wanted to nestle against his broad chest, but her pride came to her rescue. Ellie couldn’t meet his gaze as he leaped back outside the abbey’s high wall. She was scared she’d see icebergs and arctic wastes hidden in the startling blue of his eyes.

Fucking Joel had been cathartic, a healing for those six months of trauma she always pretended hadn’t happened. Two years later, and she’d grown into a strong, confident woman. Despite her scarred cheek and Mr. Spock ears, the Lykae soldiers accepted her. Of course nonmilitary Lykae would never consider a half-bred Elf a fitting mate for their alpha, but that brief spell of acceptance had helped her heal inside. Of course the scars on her face…
Well let’s face it, I’m stuck with those.

Today with Joel, she had felt capable, strong, and horny—then he opened his mouth, and vitriol poured from his lips.
Can’t join the pack? Can’t introduce me to his mate? Can spread my legs and fuck me, though.

That morning when she realized Joel had come after her in person, she’d dodged through Whitby’s narrow streets. Finally she’d taken refuge by the abbey. That run had been proof that people would only ever see her scars, not the woman who carried them. Whitby’s inhabitants, even the weather-beaten fishermen with their grizzled faces, had reacted as badly as the new cook. Then Joel caught her anyway. Not that she was complaining after the way he’d fucked her.

Even if he’d carried her off and introduced her to his pack, why should civilian Lykae accept her any more than Whitby’s inhabitants? Wolf packs weren’t subtle. Just like the replacement cook, they wouldn’t hide their disgust. Sex with Joel left her feeling used and dirty. She couldn’t wait to wash his spunk from between her legs.

Needing to hurt him back, she snapped, “I need a shower to wash the stink of oversexed wolf off me.”

Joel’s eyes lost their customary twinkle. “Ellie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“Really? See, after the stories of you and your legion of women the platoon used to chortle over, I have trouble believing that,” Ellie taunted.

That awful night when the Elves’ potion had turned her into a whore, Joel had held her, comforted her, and most of all, he hadn’t fucked her. She owed him for that—loved him for it, really. The rigidity in her shoulders eased a little. He’d wormed his way into her heart that night. No wonder she’d stripped and screwed him. She’d do it again in an instant.

All she’d wanted was a farewell fuck, and a few stolen moments in his arms. Then he screwed her in more ways than one. The sex had been great, everything she’d ever dreamed of, and then he’d offered to pay her for services rendered. The Elves used drugs to make her willing. Joel just needed to smile his whiter-than-white smile, and her heart turned somersaults. The end result was the same—sex and humiliation.

His I-can’t-insult-my-wife speech cut Ellie to the heart. And why had he said
wife
, not
mate?
They were different things completely. Her two years in the Lykae army had taught her that. A mate strengthened her partner and stood by his side whatever fate threw at them. Marriage was a human custom, right along with divorce. Matehood was a forever commitment that paired two people and made their souls one.

Couldn’t he have kept quiet and let me pretend, just for a moment, that I’m his?

The distance between them reared up like the Impassible Mountains near the Lykae camp, pushing them farther apart.
So much for parting as friends
. At least she hadn’t cried in front of him. Yet.

When Joel set her beyond the boundary wall, he apologized again. She sniffed, clutched her well-stuffed kit bag, and set off down the Church Stairs.
Don’t look back. Don’t turn around. Don’t let him see my tears.

She had nothing to keep her in Whitby. When her mother finally drank herself to death, Ellie had quit school and transferred to a catering college. She’d made a few friends there, but she’d taken care that they never saw her freak-show ears. Her fellow students had been more acquaintances than friends, and she had no desire to look them up.