Wolf's Song (6 page)

When the lights came back on after the most spectacular orgasm of her life, she opened her eyes to see Brick hovering frozen above her, as if he’d been shot full of lead, his face slick with her, contorting, as he grappled for control.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. I want to devour you. You’re so beautiful. I need to taste you again. To drink you. To eat you. To be inside you. I need—” He broke off and muttered another curse. Another string of curses. This time she saw the wolf in his eyes, dancing, pacing, unable to work off the fierce hunger holding him in its grip. “
I need a fucking condom
,” he snarled.

“So…you’re hurting a little, too?”

“Hell, I’m way past hurt, Aura Lee. I’m so far into permanent blue-balls territory, I may be howling soprano for the rest of my fuckin’ life.”

“Yeah, um, no. Not if I have anything to say about that.” Before he could react, she reached up and took his cock into her hands, her fingers barely able to close around the wide, hard length.

He howled, his voice rough and hoarse, so filled with raw sex the sound almost made her come again. She slid her hands up and down his erection from base to head, watching his expression, the reaction of the wolf within his eyes. When she hefted his tight balls in one hand and pumped with the other, the harsh cry torn from his throat rewarded her. She leaned over, taking the thick tip of his cock into her mouth, and swirled her tongue around it. He gripped her hair and pressed her to him until she took another inch. And another inch. He pulsed against her and she felt the first drop of salt splash onto her tongue.

With a sudden roar, he lifted her off him and pushed her away, his hips bucking wildly as he came against the sheets. She waited until he flopped onto his back next to her again, panting, the breaths seesawing in and out of him.

“That wasn’t necessary,” she told him.

He gathered her against him and tucked her under his arm, his huge muscles locking her at his side. “Yeah. It was.” His voice rumbled uneven and ragged. But so deep and low there’d be no mistaking him for soprano. Ever.

She nearly laughed. But he looked so tortured she wanted to cry. “I think we’d better go into town. Get those condoms. So we can take care of each other right.”

Calhoun Bartholomew Seven studied the huge map covering one wall of his office at The Graymarket Trading Company Saloon and Casino. Once, the skinwalker town of Shady Heart had accounted for only a small corner in the upper right quadrant. But the march of red pins reflecting the expanding territory and influence of Goldspark Enterprises—named after the shifter clan he headed—drove relentlessly outward and down, until only the town of Los Lobos, on the southwest side of the mountain, and the woodland area surrounding it, remained in the hands of the Black Hills Wolves and out of the perimeter Cal’s influence and control.

He needed all of it. Needed the wolves out of the way and off the map. Only then could he ensure the cats’ survival.

Within him, his cat paced restlessly. He took a long slug of the 40-year-old Scotch in his tumbler and set the empty glass on his desk. Immediately, one of the saloon girls disengaged herself from a corner of the room, where she’d been pretending to be wallpaper, and sidled to his side, crystal decanter in hand.

“Refill, Bart, honey?” she crooned. “Or some other…refreshment?” She thrust her chest forward, her ample breasts all but spilling from her low-cut blouse to graze his arm. Another male might have pounced. But Cal felt…nothing. Except possibly annoyance at the interruption of his calculations.

“Leave it,” he muttered, taking the bottle from her. The top of her head barely reached the level of his clavicle. Which didn’t much matter when she dropped to her knees in front of him and reached for his belt.

He brushed her hands away and yanked her to her feet.

“But I’m so hungry for you, baby,” she whined. “It’s been so long. Emmy says you did her last week.” She rubbed herself against him. Typical feline. Her mewling morphed into purrs of pleasure.

“Don’t believe everything you hear.” He looked down, smelling the musk of her arousal. But also the scent of a she-cat going into heat. “If half the gossip about me was true, I’d be fucking you ladies 24/7 and I’d never have time for anything else.”

“But, baby….” The purring gave way to a yowl of unsatisfied disappointment. “I’ve got an itch. I need you to scratch it.”

He shook his head. “Get back to work, Delilah. Plenty of guys out there’ll pay top dollar to scratch that itch for you.”

“Damn you, Bart. You’re the only one I really want.”

“Out.” He jabbed a thumb toward the door. With a pout, she flounced across the office, heading to the exit. “And take care of yourself, if you don’t want to be knee-deep in a litter of kits.”

She paused, her hand on the knob, and looked back at him, her golden feline eyes narrowed. “Thought you were looking to increase the clan?”

“Yeah. When I know I can take care of all the young and everyone else looking to me for security.”

“Just need you to take care of me, baby.”

“We’re done here, Delilah.”

She blew him a sarcastic kiss and left him alone at last. His employees—hell, most of Shady Heart—referred to him as “Black Bart,” a play on his middle name and the dark looks he aimed in their direction when their work fell short of his exacting standards. Originally, they’d used the nickname only behind his back, but then more openly as soon as they’d realized he didn’t care one way or the other. Women, especially, seemed to prefer it, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, particularly when they managed to entice him into their beds and boasted about it afterwards.

Whatever.

He had bigger things to worry about. Like keeping the clan alive.

Years earlier, he’d forged a secret pact with Magnum Tao, the old Black Hills Wolves alpha. Magnum’s chief interests lay in lining his own pockets, not caring whether he destroyed the pack in pursuit of his greed. He gave up more and more pack territory, dense, untouched forest land, until he held little more than the town of Los Lobos itself. But now the old alpha was dead, and it didn’t look like he’d get the same sweet deal from Drew Tao, the new pack leader. Something told him the prodigal son was more thoughtful, more interested in rebuilding both the pack and Los Lobos and the surrounding areas. Keeping secure buffer zones around shifter territory and those out to destroy the changelings. Not unlike Cal.

The hell with that.

He wanted—needed—the whole fuckin’ mountain under his control. Wolves be damned. Only then could he ensure the safety and security of the pride. A few were skinwalkers like his rebellious niece, able to take any animal form they wished. But most were purebred cats of one kind or another. South Dakota had declared open season on mountain lions and the human hunters didn’t distinguish between the endangered feral variety or the Shady Heart shifters. Only about ten breeding male mountain lions and forty breeding females remained in the wilds of the Black Hills. He’d be damned if that would happen to his extended Shady Heart family. No way would he let the humans wipe out his cats. He’d take over the whole fuckin’ mountain and build a fuckin’ fortress around Clan Goldspark or die trying.

Only one thing he had less use for than a human. And that was a wolf. Especially if Magnum Tao was an example of sterling lupine character. Crazy fuck.

Cal’s lieutenants were primed and bulldozers were poised to raze Los Lobos to the ground, to create a new walled and gated Goldspark community, well-armed and guarded, off-limits to anyone he didn’t want in, forbidden to all those who could not exhibit the proper papers or enough coin. He planned an exclusive country club and luxury mall/entertainment complex to keep the residents entertained, and bring in cash from the outside, the way the enormous influx of money from his Graymarket Trading Company Saloon and Casino enterprises insured the pride’s wealth, stabilized Shady Heart, and fueled the current project. Prosperity and electronic fences insured the clan’s safety. Its longevity. Foreigners could spend all their cash in Shady Heart. But if they ventured near mates, cubs, residences…he’d make sure they were taken out. Fast.

He took another swig of the Scotch, setting the glass on a stack of blueprints and files, and rolled up the sleeves of his black button down, preparing to get back to work. Someone pounded on his office door, the hammering insistent and urgent. He recognized the knock.

“What is it, Smash?”

“Need you out here, Boss.” The deep voice of his second, a swift and lethal puma, carried over the club’s din. A moment later, Smash Snowdon poked his head into the office. Then his broad, bulky shoulders. Then the rest of his massive frame.

He’d chosen his bouncer and cat-of-all-trades well. “Yeah?”

“Your niece, boss. She’s back.”

Cal raised an eyebrow. “So? You know Summer comes and goes as she pleases. Always has.” The most free-spirited member of his pride, she lived far out of town in a tree house she’d cajoled him into building in the woods after her parents died. He’d have done anything for his late sister—and he indulged her daughter the same way. Ever since her mishap as a kitten when she’d tumbled out of a tree, landing naked in human form before the gawking, hooting crowd that had gathered to watch her climb, she flitted around most often in her raven guise. Which drove him and his cat nuts. But which he consciously tried to accept. They’d lose her otherwise. They rarely saw her now.

And still more unlikely for her to put in an appearance at the saloon—although sometimes only her calming, sweet songs lifted the place out of chaos.

“What’s the problem?”

“She’s got a big male in tow—a wolf by the scent and size and look of him—and she’s got some of the guys whipped into a frenzy. He’s wrapped around her pretty much, human teeth bared, growling at anyone who dares to glance in their direction. And, according to Zeke, they were over to the pharmacy.” Smash paused, suddenly fascinated by the toes of his well-worn shitkickers. “Buying condoms.”

“Fuck.” Cal ran a hand through his hair. A complication he didn’t need right now. For a few years now, some of his lieutenants and many of the younger cats had been sniffing around his niece. She’d ignored all of them and he hadn’t pressured her into a choice—although he had been angling for her to take a feline mate. But for her to turn up now with a fuckin’
wolf
? Flaunting him under their noses? Buying fuckin’ condoms together?

“His stink on her?”

“Well….” Smash hesitated and looked away from his fascinating boots to a spot over Cal’s shoulder. Mesmerized by the knots in the polished oak paneling behind him, no doubt. He understood the puma’s reluctance to speak. He’d made his intentions in that direction pretty well known, going so far as to approach Cal for her hand. But Summer’d never given Smash the time of day.

“It’s faint. But it’s there. He hasn’t marked her yet, though.”

A string of curses hissed out of him and the hair stood up on the back of his neck, his fangs descending. He arched his back, bones cracking as he suppressed the shift and took a deep breath. “You recognize him?”

“Yeah. That Brick Northridge character, lives up the mountain.”

Halfway between Shady Heart and Los Lobos. Right in the path of Cal’s land grab. He’d suffered the lone wolf’s presence only because Gee had planted him there as a brutalized teen. And no one crossed Gee.
And
because it annoyed the shit out of Magnum that he’d given the banished rogue a pass so close to cat territory, allowing him into Shady Heart when he pleased.

He nodded. “The one who carves the animal figurines Brynna sells in her boutique. She can’t keep ’em stocked. The tourists—hell, even the cats—love ’em.” And all cash exchanges in Shady Heart eventually floated up or trickled down for the greater good.

“Yeah. Comes in for a drink—or to get laid—from time to time, when he brings the carvings and stocks up on supplies. Usually minds his own business. The girls like him. But this…hell, Boss. It’s
Summer
. ”

Damn it. The wolf was no skinny youth now. He’d grown huge and muscular, at least as big as he and Smash. Likely his niece had no idea what she played with. Or…maybe she did. But no way he’d let the standoffish clan princess, who’d rejected the suit of every one of his cats, hook up with a fuckin’ wolf. Not while he lived.

“Get ’em in here,” he growled. “Now.”

Three big cat shifters jumped Brick from behind, twisting his arms behind his back, holding him down. He flashed back to ten years earlier, Timothy Leary without the Day-Glo posters or the psychedelic buzz. Another bar. Another bar fight. His challenge to Magnum in The Den in Los Lobos, when he’d been beaten bloody and senseless and banished from the Black Hills Pack.

But he’d done nothing this day…except enter the Graymarket Trading Company Saloon and Casino with Summer Krazy Glued to his side. A scramble of voices immediately bombarded him, made his skull go all Excedrin Headache No. 42. Until his female stroked the back of his neck, calming and soothing as only she could. The “Macarena” of sound inside his brain slowed to a jiggle, the cacophony of white noise and static ebbing and dimming, her gentle song playing in the background. But her apparent willingness to touch him so familiarly in front of the cats—hell, her
need
to—seemed to craze them.

His gaze riveted on her. His need to wrap himself around her mushroomed. Her face grew taut, anguish stamped on her tight features, as chaos erupted in the saloon. He smelled the cats, the flood of testosterone, their sexual arousal. They wanted her. As much as they wanted him dead. Must. Protect. Her. No matter the cost. “Get the hell out of here, sweetheart,” he muttered. “I’ll follow. Go. Fly, Aura Lee.”

“Yeah, not quite yet, Summer.” The largest of the cats grabbed her by the elbow, effectively clipping her wings. “And who the fuck is Aura Lee?” He spat onto the floor. “You messing with this wolf, giving him free samples, and he doesn’t even know your name? When there’s so many cats would put a ring on it for you?” He shook his head in disgust. “Your uncle wants to see you.” He nodded at the thugs holding Brick. “Bring him to Cal’s office.”