5: Hood - Pack Trust (5 page)

Chapter Five

“You want me to hook you up with someone?” Hood looked at me. There was nothing in his eyes. No feeling. No life.

I knew exactly how he felt, or thought I did. Saying the words killed me. I admitted, “I don’t think I’ll ever be happy with anyone else. So, you could just pick anyone. I’ll roll over.” That’s a dog term. It means...give in.

But I was thinking,
And then I’ll kill myself.

I thought I saw him flinch, but that had to be my imagination.

“Frankly, I’m surprised you’re moving so slow on that. I know the database is full of DNA confirmed matches.” He’d explained that all to me so I could grasp what he was trying to do, and come to terms with the fact that they needed me. That the only way out of the program was death, really.

Thinking to hasten my own demise, I said, “You want me to pick somebody?”

The next thing I knew, he had me on the floor, flat on my back. His anger was a palpable thing. But he wasn’t talking. Not English, anyway. Some grunts, straight from feral alley.

Crudely, he handled me. Not hurting me, just--possessively all over me at once. But it wasn’t Hood, the man, I was looking up at. It was a crinos wolf. He ripped my shirt with one yanking grip, then the bra, exposing my breasts to his gaze.

In a guttural voice, he promised me, “I’ll do the picking.”

I should have been afraid, shaking beneath him, but I liked pushing him to rage. I knew what it felt like to go crinos. Although I only shift at the full moon, it’s a release of emotion that you can’t get anyway else. Inhibitions are gone. For Hood to crinos on me like that, I knew he was actually feeling something. Fury, maybe, over something I said--but emotion, any emotion, was an improvement over the controlled man I dealt with all the time.

Maybe it didn’t seem like control, the way he screwed me--whenever he wanted to--but that was sex, nothing more, if you understand what I mean. This...this was raw, honest. I could feel his anger. I’d have to re-examine that conversation that brought it on--later.

Provoking him more, I shrugged and affected an air of tediousness. “Suit yourself. Just do it quick. I’m getting tired of Lobos.” And playing this game with you.

Putting his face nose to nose with mine, he asked, “You’re bored?” Before I could answer, he assured me, “This isn’t a game, Giselle.”

“Bet me.”

Hood curled his lips back, showed me the fangs that had ripped more people apart than I could ever guess, and let out a full, roaring howl.

Yeah. That usually precedes murder.

In my mind, I taunted,
Go ahead, kill me. Put us both out of our misery.

His ears perked and a little sadly, he pulled himself together and put my shirt back over my breasts. Not that he could actually fix it.

As quick as it had come on him, the crinos vanished. Now, I have to mention this...it’s a mark of amazing breeding that he could do it without a bone grinding, ligament stretching, painful ordeal. That fact that he could do it in a blink of an eye testifies that he is the top of the garou bloodlines.

My own transformation doesn’t go nearly as quickly, nor as painlessly. Watching him do it is a marvel, made me appreciate him and his control. Another crinos would have probably gone with the emotion that had helped him shift.

“I can bet you one thing, Giselle.” He wasn’t moving. Nope. He was sitting on top of me, staring at my shirt. “When you find Jack, Fera won’t give him up.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

“We’ll see.”

His fingers gently trailed over the ripped front of my blouse. The tenderness there made me ask, “Hood?”

“Hm?” He didn’t look me in the eye.

“Would you make love to me now?”

That got eye contact. I saw distrust there.

And that hurt.

“If you want.”

He was always ready to go around me, but it was a little funny the way he said that, like he didn’t really care to. I had to grin up at him, and let out a huffy little chuckle. “I want, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

I reached up to him and he met me halfway, kissing me. Like it always was, he put a lot into it. You could never leave his embrace without feeling like he’d given you half his attention.

But his intensity changed pretty quick, and that made me frown up at the ceiling. When his lips left mine and danced a skip over my cheek and jaw, down my throat, it felt too--calculated? Controlled? Before long, he scooted his attentions lower and pushed my blouse aside. Tender flicks of his tongue ministered to my breasts and nipples and I wondered...what was he doing?

Usually, Hood devoured me. Made me feel like he couldn’t get enough, fast enough. This change bothered me immensely. It was the flipside to the coin I craved. When he slid even lower and dropped his cheek to my breast and went still, it hit me.

Déjà vu to my last time with Brett Burkett.

I couldn’t move. Especially when he finally asked, “What do you want, Giselle? A pretty little house in a quiet town where people don’t know about the big bad wolves at the door?”

What could I say?

I wanted to push him off of me, and crawl away--scramble for a place to lick my wounds, and my pride. A place where he couldn’t watch, and see what he was doing to me. Worse--I didn’t want that--fantasy of Brett’s.

Sure, I pondered it from time to time, wondered what it would have been like if I hadn’t left his house that night. But I know now that Hood was there already. That there had never been a choice for me.

He let me think about his words for several minutes before he lifted his head and said, “The wolves aren’t outside the door, Giselle.”

I knew that. They were inside. In my heart. In my head. Like he’d been inside Brett’s house that night, watching us. Always watching, waiting.

Twisting my lips in the semblance of a smile, I said, “Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

Now you know who coined that phrase. Garou.

His return smile had a hint of sadness in it, but he agreed. “Yeah.” He dropped a kiss on my chin and asked, “You mind if I continue what I started?”

That dragged another little harrumph of a chuckle from me. In my head, I thought, What? Trying to piss me off? But out loud, I said, “Do your best. Who am I to stop you? It’s not like it’s a full moon, is it?”

Hood thought that was funny. Ducking his head, he said, “No, it’s not.”

Then I got the full, honest, treatment I was used to. Pushing both breasts together, he laved one nipple and then the other, sucked them both into his mouth at one time. Wolf suction will drive you wild. Remember, their tongues roll.

In fact, their tongues are magnificent muscles designed for a lot of things. Mostly to stimulate, if you ask me. He had me squeaking and squirming beneath him in no time. So much so that I asked, “Go down on me?”

“I was working up to that.” He didn’t hesitate, though, before he was taking my lower garments down and off me and sliding his tongue up the side of my clit.

It was good--real good. Garou have long tongues. They can reach up and find those hard to reach spots that have you writhing and clinging when they’re touched. And they know how to use their jaw to stimulate the outside. He brought me to a climax more than once before he rose up above me, stripping his own clothes. I didn’t argue the point. I wanted him to slide into my wetness.

Here’s the thing, though. He read my mind. I could tell by the fast way he peeled his pants, the minute the idea flitted through my mind that I was wet enough to really get him going. Remember, he was trying to please me--fill my request. Maybe make amends for the shirt. Who knows?

It’s all a head game. I had to stop him. “No. Hold up.”

He had just tossed the slacks and was about to settle back between my legs. I scrambled up and away, licking my lips.

Again, he gave me that distrusting eye. “What are you doing?” There was a grin on his face, but he wasn’t real happy with me. Okay, I’ll admit, I’d left him--hanging--before.

Well, panting, anyway.

Maybe that’s why he kept coming back? I think every other bitch just backed up for him, and let him have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He wasn’t used to the tease and taunt of foreplay and after-play that I gave him.

I didn’t answer his question. I just got up and walked into the other room, knowing he’d come after me. Usually when I did that, he backed me up against a wall and showed me the hard and furious side of his personality.

But I was ready to surprise him. With all those hours staring at the screen, looking for familiar names, I had plenty of time to think up scenarios to intrigue or mess with Hood by. Yes. I’m good at multi-tasking.

The minute he came through the door, I demanded, “Lie on the bed.”

So, Hood doesn’t take orders. Ever. From anybody. This was totally new to him. He immediately hesitated, obviously letting his mistrust and his true nature--of being the alpha in charge--move to the fore. He shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

At an impasse, we both had our feet planted wide, facing each other. Staring into one another’s eyes, clashing wills.

He read my mind again. I’d been going to service him.

I can always tell when I surprise him. He narrows his gaze--just for an instant. Then there’s a minute bit of wonder or appreciation that zips over his expression, but he’s careful not to say too much.

I licked my lips with a smile, letting my eyes flash a little triumph. “Shame,” I said. “You let your pride get in the way of a lot of things, Hood.”