Feral Love (Paranormal Alpha Werewolf Shifter Romance) (4 page)

The sun rose and woke Blake with its golden rays. Remy was asleep in the crook of his arm, her body curled close to him beneath the massive fur pelt that covered them. After their first ride, they rushed through the snow to a nearby grove where his pack kept the hides of their prey: trophies that they carried with them since the days of old when the pack came from the forests of Siberia thousands of years ago on the heel of mammoths. He showed each one to her and she listened in rapt attention as he explained where each had come from.

This one, a great buck in the Yukon. He blinded Emma in one eye before we took her down.
And Remy’s eyes widened at the vast expanse of tanned leather and thick furs. When he showed her the youngest fawn that the pack brought down for sacrifice to the moon years ago, tears welled in her eyes where reverence might be found in a fellow hunter for the soft unbroken skin.

Her soul was not wild. She was collared. A slave through and through.

Yet…

When they fell into each other again in the presence of the trophies and pelts, she became wild in her own way. She nipped at his neck in her passion and for a moment he thought she might break the skin. The thought that she would draw blood—his blood—as she rode him dry made him tremble and shake in anticipation.

It was everything he wanted. But for the good of his pack, he knew he could not give it to her so he pulled her into a kiss. Not yet. Not yet. He had to remind his own wolf. There were still many things she knew nothing of, things that her collared mind could not—would not—accept.

The closer they came near the rest of the pack, the more hesitant Blake Christensen became. He would have laughed at the absurdity of it all a few moons ago. He was an Alpha—
their
Alpha. He fought Yaroslav the Old for the right to the pack in the endless expanse of the Alaskan tundra. He forced the hot-headed Jason to bow to him by the belching fires of the Yukon Mountains, with bone and sinew crunching between his powerful jaw and thick red blood flowing hot in his mouth.

He risked losing it all should they see a mark on his neck from Remy. But more importantly he risked losing her. In the Old Ways, an Alpha’s mate was an Alpha as well. Should an upstart Beta wish to take control of the pack, he or she can fight any Alpha of their choosing.

Before he met Remy, he always assumed that his Alpha would be someone strong and powerful like he was. For the longest time he thought it was Emma but when her touch incited nothing in him, he was forced to concede that it would be someone else.

A collared wolf. He thought silently. Was this some divine punishment?

The sunlight pierced the grove, spilling gold in Remy’s wavy hair, and Blake’s heart stopped. She was beautiful, more beautiful than anything else he has seen.

To some, she might seem too fat, her eyes too far apart, or her teeth too rounded and dull. But he saw none of that. He saw the spirit of her wolf buried deep within; he
felt
her wild nature fighting against the restraints she put around her own mind. A few times in their lovemaking, that wildness came out fighting and even threatened to overtake him. He couldn’t get enough of her.

She was his mate and an Alpha by right.

Her eyes opened and his heart skipped at their deep mossy green. Clear as water and shimmering mysteriously as if she knew some great secret that goaded him to guess. How could he ever be away from her? He smiled at her and bent to kiss her forehead.

“Morning.” She stretched into him and raw desire snaked through his veins.

No words could express his feelings for her so he continued grinning at her like some poor lovesick pup.

She reached up and traced a single finger to his neck. The trail pulsed hot and delicious in the cold morning air. The impish smile on her face had him stirring. “Did I do that?” she asked.

The heat seared at him and he reached for his neck. His hand reached up and touched the tender raw flesh. Panic flared through his eyes and he pulled back.
She almost marked me…

She saw his eyes change but didn’t understand the gravity of it all. “It’s just a hickey. It’ll go away in a few days.”

His own words echoed again and again, beating against his skull like a drum.
She almost marked me.
His Betas were no fools. Locke would know, Locke would see, and Locke would act on the opportunity to challenge the Alpha.

He looked back at Remy. The old buck’s pelt covered her full breasts and lent her a modesty that made her appear even more erotic by the suggestion of what lay beneath it all. The smoldering look on her face made him stiffen again as she stared at him.

“Oh my. Am I about to be attacked by the big bad wolf?”

Yes
. He wanted to say and pull aside the pelt to claim her again. But he slid against her, threaded his fingers through her wavy hair, and whispered. “Not this morning. Today, we’re going back to my pack.”

He drew her in for a kiss again, gentler and softer than last night but still warm and passionate. She shifted beneath the pelt and suddenly he found their limbs tangled once more. The morning sun and snow shimmered around them. Blue eyes found green.

“Liar.” She smirked and nibbled his lip.

***

Freedom
. She repeated the word again as her nibble turned to a kiss.
Freedom
. She thought again as her fingers reached down to caress the strong bands of muscle lining his abdomen. When they fell into the pelts last night, she found herself kissing his neck with such fervor that he pulled her away into a kiss.

She was implacable then. All she wanted was to feel him move, to feel him push deep into her until they were one. But always he pushed her away at the last moment. Once or twice, she swore she heard his wolf speaking to hers.

As she fell deeper into the kiss, she rolled on top of him and pushed him into the bed of moss and pelt. Her hands pressed into his hard chest and she marveled at the broad expanse of his body. His fingers—thick and warm—reached up and brushed her lips lightly. She kissed their tips and took each one into her mouth.

He throbbed beneath her but she wanted to give him something else, something different. She kissed him again and filled her mouth with his taste before making her way down his body.

***

When her lips brushed his neck, he feared that she might linger there and tensed up for a moment. But then she was gone, her full lips tracing lines further down until it went past the tuft of hair that extended to his sex. But still she descended, to a place that Blake never expected anyone—least of all a collared wolf like her—to descend.

And when her warm lips closed around his head, he gasped and clenched his fists. It was different than when he entered her. Gentler, wetter, and somehow more intimate. Her hair cascaded between his legs and tickled. When she brought him so close to his climax, she eased off and kissed inside his thighs.

“What was that?” he asked when he caught his breath.

“Do wild wolves not do this?” There was that impish smile again.

“We—” He didn’t get a chance to finish when she took him in her mouth again.

Where he’d left her gasping, she now stole his breath. Where he’d held her trembling in his arms, she now had him powerless as a child.

And when he’d lit her world up with the sparks of desire, she now set a conflagration in his heart that burned through all five senses. Blake shivered as a multitude of different pleasures and sensations rocked through him, culminating into a single throbbing point that Remy’s silky tongue and lips caressed. But when he thought he was at his peak again, she pulled away once more and squeezed him gently.

“If you keep doing that, you’re going to make me explode.” He panted as he ran his fingers through her hair.

She pressed her tongue against the shaft and giggled. “That’s the idea.” For the first time in his life, Blake Christensen heard himself cry out in ecstasy as Remy’s head bobbed up and down between his legs.

In the haze of his pleasure, he suddenly found her body fitting to his and her hands pressed down on his chest. He reached out take her waist when he slipped inside and she slapped his hands away. Her message was clear: she was in control now.

She rode him with reckless abandon, her wavy hair bouncing against his face. When she bent down to kiss him, he felt control slipping further and further away. He tasted himself on her sticky lips and her eager tongue. But always he could taste her with every deep kiss, each one claiming him and sending his heart racing faster and faster.

When he finally came, she gasped and held on tight, sinking down on him so as to not lose a single drop. Their fingers twined together and she whimpered into his chest as their pleasures mingled as one.

He no longer cared that Remy Clearwater was a collared wolf. The doubts were erased from his mind. He found himself drawn to the beautiful woman bucking wildly above him in the morning air. His lips pressed against her neck and sucked greedily until just the barest hint of copper filled his mouth. She did the same and the two collapsed into each other as one.

Aaron grabbed the jacket and sniffed it deeply. Hints of Remy snaked their way through his nose. He closed his eyes and it was almost as if he were running his hand through her wavy hair.
The Clearwaters had been gracious enough to give him some of Remy’s clothes so he could pick up her scent but it didn’t make tracking her any easier.

He’d been running all night through the snow with two of his best hunters. They carried high powered rifles with them and shifted only when they lost track of the scent. Several miles away from pack territory, they picked up on Remy’s scent again—this time stronger and fresher than the mere traces they chased during the night. Aaron was sure they were going to stumble on her and he prayed silently that she would be huddled underneath a tree or a bush or
something
and not strewn in the snow with her throat torn open.

A part of him knew that if she wandered this far from pack territory, she was bound to encounter Christensen’s wolves but a part of him also didn’t want to entertain the terrifying notion. He had been in love with Remy Clearwater for years and now that he was so close to being finally with her, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her forever.

There once was a time when the two of them were as close as any couple but Aaron had always been afraid to make a move. He didn’t want to ruin their friendship. What would happen if she rejected him? Could they still be friends? It was this paralyzing fear that stayed his hand when they were fifteen and lying down in the meadow looking at clouds on a lazy summer afternoon.

As the years went by, so did their paths until she became almost a stranger to him. But still, Aaron Van Houten loved the chubby little girl who has now grown into a voluptuous woman with curves in all the right places.

There were nights when she came to him in dreams but never spoke. It was always the same dream. She stood there in a robe of wispy silk. Maybe in a doorway, maybe beside his bed, it didn’t matter. Always, she would smile at him and the robes would fall.

And always he would wake up before the silken material could pool beside her feet.

So close! It was so close! Just three more days and all of those dreams that haunted him at night would have become realities. Aaron balled his hand into a fist and took a deep breath to calm himself.

She kissed him once. On the tip of his nose when they were fifteen. He still remembered how her hair tickled his face when she leaned in. But when he suggested that they kiss for real, she giggled and shied away.

“Aaron, look.” One of his hunters pointed at the snow and brought him back to reality.

Fresh tracks. Aaron followed the tracks and felt his heart drop. It led deep into the woods where even the most seasoned hunters didn’t go. But what frightened him the most wasn’t where the tracks led. It was what accompanied the tracks.

Another set of prints—wolf prints—were pressed into the snow. He bent down, sniffed them, and nearly
tasted
the wildness in them. His heart stopped and Aaron Van Houten dropped to his knees in the snow.

Remy was taken by the wolves in Christensen’s pack.