Chameleon Wolf

CHAMELEON WOLF

Delta Wolf 1

Stormy Glenn and Joyee Flynn

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

CHAMELEON WOLF

Copyright © 2010 by Stormy Glenn and Joyee Flynn

E-book ISBN: 1-60601-458-7

First E-book Publication: May 2010

Cover design by Jinger Heaston

All cover art and logo copyright © 2010 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

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Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers

Dear Readers,

If you have purchased this copy of
Chameleon Wolf
by Stormy Glenn and Joyee Flynn from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy

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The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

This is Stormy Glenn and Joyee Flynn’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Glenn and Ms. Flynn’s right to earn a living from her work.

Amanda Hilton, Publisher

www.SirenPublishing.com

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To Stormy: Thanks for being a wonderful woman who was willing to take on a crazy girl like me. For showing me the ropes, keeping me calm, giving me encouragement, and mostly for making it fun!

To DT: For reminding me who I was and where I came from doesn’t define what I can do. Thanks for always giving me the love and support of a true sister!

Stormy Glenn

To Joyee: This has been an absolute blast. Your creativity is astounding and I am glad we were able to work together so well.

Hope for many more books in the future. I not only gained a work partner but a friend.

To JS: Thanks for being our sounding board. I can always count on you to keep me grounded.

CHAMELEON WOLF

Delta Wolf 1

STORMY GLENN AND JOYEE FLYNN

Copyright © 2010

“I know you’re out there, Chameleon. I can smell you!” the prey yelled, panting from the exhaustion of being hunted and changing back to human form.

Of course you can smell me, you dipshit, that’s the whole point of
being a Delta. At least come up with some new insults. Be original,
would ya?
Zac thought to himself as he circled closer to his prey, completely unseen in his camouflaged wolf form.

“Why me? Why hunt me? I’ve not gone feral,” the man ended in a whisper, as if actually considering he had.

No, you didn’t go feral, but you still left a line of victims in your
wake.

“Is this about the sex?” the man shouted. “They wanted it. They came to me, not the other way around. I’m no rapist!”

Just because they came to you for sex, doesn’t mean they wanted
to bleed from every orifice. They didn’t want to be beaten, broken,
and abused, either. They begged for mercy, but you didn’t give it, did
you? You sick son of a bitch!

Now only several yards away, Zac was grateful there wasn’t any snow. That made hunting, even though invisible to any human/werewolf eye, very difficult.

“Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?”

The council
was Zac’s last thought as he leapt onto his prey and tore out his throat. He stayed in wolf form, making several other life-threatening wounds before backing away from the now dead werewolf.

He waited until he was sure his prey was really gone before turning back into his natural form. He ran to get his clothes and gear before dressing quickly and getting back to the dead body.

Zac stacked several logs together before reaching for his lighter.

He started a small blaze then added accelerant to the body to make quick work of destroying the remains. Luckily the chase had taken them to a deserted construction site where the evidence of death and a burning corpse could be easily hidden.

Once the remains were burned beyond recognition and there was no chance of any DNA left to gather, Zac put out the fire. He sighed to himself. He grew weary at times of his life and the deaths he caused.

It had to happen. He knew that. There wasn’t a jail cell that could contain a werewolf, and this was their form of justice. But sometimes, like now after a grueling hunt, he wished he hadn’t been born a Delta.

He wondered what it would be like to be a normal werewolf.

His parents and pack had told him over and over:
“Deltas are
such a rarity. To be born as one is a great gift. With any gifts, or
power, the responsibility is great and should always be remembered.”

Okay, he had to admit, it was cool that he had extra forms to change into, the Chameleon form being the best. That wasn’t what the form was really called. It was the slang name, meant to be an insult.

The real name, which no one could really pronounce since Greek wasn’t taught to packs anymore, is αόρατοσ.

The literal translation for αόρατοσ was “inconspicuous, not visible.” But “Chameleon” worked for Zac, too. That’s what he was, after all, except for his eyes and teeth, but those were easy enough to hide. Just don’t go hunting all wide-eyed and open-mouthed!

There were some surroundings Deltas couldn’t blend in with.

They had to be colors that could be found in nature. Not to say that some flowers didn’t have vibrant colors to them, but within reason, he could adapt. In other words, he wouldn’t be changing into anything bright pink anytime soon. Zac could live with that.

At least he could control when he was normal-colored and invisible, unlike his scent. A Delta’s scent was a natural aphrodisiac.

It worked on humans like a great-smelling pheromone.

Wolves, on the other hand, had a heightened sense of smell.

Putting a Delta around them was like throwing an open bag of blood into a shark tank. They reacted with their basic instincts, the need for wild, hot, passionate sex.

Werewolves went nuts when they smelled a Delta. It didn’t matter if it was a woman or a straight or gay man, they wanted him. It had less of an effect on mated wolves and, thankfully, no effect on cubs.

Not that he would ever touch anyone under eighteen, or anyone with breasts, for that matter. Alphas, Betas, other Deltas, and his mates were all immune to the scent, as well. It would be hard to do his job for the pack if he couldn’t even talk with the Alpha or Beta of the pack because they were so busy trying to get him naked.

Every Delta had two mates out there for them. Given their increased adrenaline and unique Delta scent, they needed two mates to ground them, to keep them from losing their minds.

Until he found his mates, though, that left Zac with little choice of werewolf sex partners, which is why he tended to sleep mainly with humans. That in itself could be difficult at times. He couldn’t get too attached because they might figure out he wasn't human. That left Zac with one-night stands and unmated pack members of the inner circle.

The scent itself was explained by the elders as necessary for Deltas to do their job in the pack for two reasons. One, it made it impossible to get close to members of the pack because his scent drove them into a sexual frenzy. If one day Zac needed to hunt down a member of the pack and he was friends with them, his feelings for his friends could cloud his judgment. Logically it made sense to not become attached to any member of the pack. But the reality was a very lonely life for Deltas, living on the outskirts of the pack.

Two, Zac's inability to get close to anyone helped in the hunt of any rogue pack members. The Delta scent drove werewolves sexually crazy. They couldn’t think about running away or attacking him if they were wildly horny.

Zac finished up the hiding of all evidence then grabbed his gear and headed back to his truck. This job wasn’t for his pack. It was for the wolf council. Given most packs didn’t have a Delta, it wasn’t uncommon to be loaned out.

Normally jobs kept him in the Midwest, where he lived, not the West Coast, like this one. Figuring by the time he made his way back to his truck, he’d be completely wiped, Zac decided to check into a motel, grab food, and just crash.

It had been a long hunt and would be a long drive back to central Illinois, where he lived. He finally reached his truck and jumped. He needed to find the next town with a motel. He wanted a shower more than he wanted his next breath. He felt grimy, dirty, and downright disgusting.

* * * *

Matt sat at a table drinking a beer with his Beta, Sam, and Alpha, Donatello. Most of the males and some females of the pack were here having a few drinks and laughs after their football game. It was a nice tradition, once a month forming some kind of game for the pack to join in. He and Sam had been on the winning team, while his Alpha was one of the losers.

“Oh, Alpha, I’m ready for another beer,” Sam said, gloating.

Losers bought the drinks for the night, as was tradition.

“Matt, you ready, too?” Alpha Donatello grumbled.

“Sure, Alpha, if you’re buying, I’m drinking,” Matt answered with a smirk. Donatello stood up. He cursed all the way to the bar.

“I love it when he loses,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, but don’t push him too far. Remember last time he made you pay later.”

“I know, but sometimes he needs to be reminded that he is just Donatello. He doesn’t always have to be Alpha, ya know?”

“I guess,” Matt replied with a sigh, hoping things didn’t get out of hand. A little fun chiding the losers was one thing. Nasty words and causing problems was another. They watched the college football game in silence until Donatello came back with the drinks.

“Enjoy, you bastards,” Donatello said with a smirk as he handed them their beers.