Living Extinct (10 page)

“Why do I matter so much to you?” She finally met his gaze.

“Your sire gave you to me a long time ago.” He said it so matter-of-factly.

Moira laughed. “I’m honestly surprised that you’re the first werewolf to come up with that line. Good one.” She narrowed her gaze. “Now tell me the truth.”

“Know now, little bitch—I will never lie to you.”

“You’re lying right now. I doubt you even knew my sire.”

Something about his scent changed. It was anger, raw and unleashed. It was spicy, tickling her nose like fresh pepper. Dante lunged at her, pinching her under her arms when he lifted her quickly. She was pinned against the wall, the cold hardness against her back doing nothing to soothe the quick temper that unleashed inside her. Moira clawed at his shoulders, fighting to no avail.

“I will never be accused of lying. Real werewolves don’t lie.” His face was inches from hers. Silver streaked through his pale blue eyes, his glare hard and cold.

As quickly as he’d pushed her against the wall, he pulled her from it, tossing her on the bed. Moira moved to all fours, furious.

He’d abducted her. Taken her by force. Stolen her in the night. Her outrage was more than justified.

Furniture quaked in the room, her gift
rushing through her and the inner ache to hurl something—anything—at him, battled her rational thought.

He grew while standing before her. Anger clogged the room. She fought not to sneeze, the thickness of the strong emotion making her eyes water, her nose itch as if someone had just spilled pepper everywhere. Muscles bulged in his chest, in his arms, his hands fisting next to his hips. Although not hard, his cock definitely wasn’t soft. It was long and thick with black curls forming a line up the middle of his hard stomach before spreading over his broad chest. As outraged as she should be, her emotions tumbled over each other. He looked so fucking sexy standing over her like that, naked and growing harder as she stared at him. He looked fierce, deadly, and like he could take her until she couldn’t walk.

And he was tall. Damned tall. Growing up on the island, pale-skinned males had never appealed to her as much as her own, darker pack members. There was something about Dante though. He was different, demanding, enjoyed taking what he wanted, and more than likely almost always got it. Challenging him turned her on and submitting to him might possibly take her over the edge sexually.

What the hell was she thinking?

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She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly too dry. Her gaze traveled down him quickly. The dresser drawers had opened an inch or two and the sliding closet doors had opened slightly. Willing the room to quit rattling from her intense emotions, she sucked in a long, soothing breath.

Her mouth remained too dry.

“Tell me why my sire would give me to you.” No matter his outrage over her challenging his words, it was too hard to believe she’d be given to a werewolf she didn’t even know.

Dante moved in on her quickly. He leaned forward, pressing his fists into the blanket covering the bed. Anger swarmed around him, but there was more in his scent, in his eyes, in the strength that radiated from his body. This werewolf would take a challenge. She sensed that about him. He’d take it, run with it. Something told her he’d fight to the bloody end for what he wanted.

Well, so would she.

Moira didn’t back away from him. She dug her fists into the bedspread on either side of her and took on his daring stare.

“Bruno knew he was going down.” He spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “His work was challenged. But the proof existed. In you…” he paused. “And in me.”

What proof existed in him? She didn’t ask. He hadn’t answered her question.

“Your sire knew I’d protect you. Keep you alive.”

“I’ve kept myself alive,” she growled at him. His face, inches from hers, invaded her personal space. “No one has helped me. No one’s protected me.”

The anger had faded. But the intensity of emotions, dominating, strong, challenging, kept her on her guard. Still she didn’t retreat. No matter his size. No matter that he probably had ten times her strength, if he thought she’d belly-up to him, he could go to hell.

“The day your pack burned, packs from the other islands and parts of Europe descended and took over,” he began, his voice no more than a cold whisper. “You were only eighteen. In that short dress, your scent prime and ripe, any other werewolf wouldn’t have ensured you made it to the bay.”

The day her sire and mother died. Never too far from her thoughts, but something she’d refused to think about. That he’d bring it up, mention it with such a harsh, bitter tone violated some unspoken law she’d created for herself.

In spite of her determination over the years to move forward, that terrible day flooded her thoughts.

“Okay. So possibly once in your life you were a gentleman. You’ve shown me that you’ve overcome that trait.”

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“I would never take a cub, even if she looked like a woman.” He almost sounded hurt. “When I learned Bruno thought he could share the gift he’d been born with, I sought him out.”

“Then how come I never saw you?” She never saw her sire when he worked with others. Her parents didn’t want her pulled into the intensity of the gift until she was old enough to understand it. As a cub it hadn’t bothered her. When she’d grown older, she’d felt left out.

“I know you ached to work alongside your sire, to understand and be closer to him by learning more about what he did.” He straightened, moving to his knees on the bed, and took a handful of her hair to push it behind her shoulder. “I told him that more than once, but he saw into my mind too well, knew my interest in you was more than just concern for a cub and her sire.”

Suddenly she was eye level with his cock. Thick and long, it straightened as she stared at it. She inhaled his rich, alluring scent. Son of a bitch! It would take nothing to stick out her tongue and taste him, stroke the smooth roundness of the tip of his cock.

“And what were your interests?” she asked, again drawing his scent deep into her lungs.

He continued stroking her hair and she had a feeling if she’d tried to move, he would have pinned her right where she was, her mouth inches from his cock.

“I wanted to know you. Eventually I talked to Bruno about this. He made promises, but also laid down rules.”

That sounded just like her sire. Always rules, always ways to make her grow, make her stronger. And if she followed his rules, his promises of what her reward would be made it all worthwhile.

She licked her lips, letting her tongue move out of her mouth and closer to his cock.

His fingers tightened in her hair. Good. Misery loved company.

She fought the urge to give her ass a slight twitch, arch her back and shift suggestively on the bed. “What were the rules and the promises?”

Dante chuckled. His cock jerked in front of her, growing while his soft baritone laughter vibrated from him. “He sent me to you for the first time to make sure you got off the island. I had to wait though, and give you time to mature, discover your own path in life and become your own female. And that’s where we are now.”

She raised her hand from the bed. His fingers were tangled in her hair and she put her hand over his, attempting to free herself from his grasp. His grip on her hair tightened, and he pushed his cock closer. The tip of it brushed over her lips. She tasted him, salty and tempting. Her lips parted, aching to experience the width of him in her mouth, to run her tongue over his soft tip and down the length of his shaft.

Her insides swelled and quivered, need pumping inside her so hard she almost collapsed onto her belly on the bed.

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“There’s more to your story,” she managed to say, her voice raspy and her lips brushing over his cock when she spoke. “You’ll tell me everything if you expect anything.”

“There are some things you are better off not knowing right now. Trust me, little bitch,” he said, sounding just like her sire.

And she’d hated it when her sire spoke to her like that.

Enduring the sharp pain when she yanked her hair from his fingers, she jumped off the bed. For a moment, her leg muscles quivered so hard she worried they wouldn’t hold her.

“Treat me like a cub and you can go find some other bitch and fuck with her head.”

She marched to the door, yanked it open and headed down the hall.

The overwhelming power of a predator, a protector determined to lay claim, wrapped around her, sinking in so deep it stole her breath. Moira gasped, momentarily frozen from the impact of emotions that attacked her.

And they weren’t her emotions. Heat, burning with more intensity than she’d ever experienced before. Lust, carnal and raw, rushed through her hard enough to make her legs weak. A pressure stabbed through her, thick and strong.

You aren’t going anywhere.
She didn’t hear him speak so much as she experienced the words shot hard into her mind.

Hyperventilating. Fighting to make her limbs function. Moira’s world spun around her. Rising. Movement. A grip so hard on her she couldn’t breathe. And then she was airborne, her feet leaving the ground while suddenly air filled her lungs too quickly.

She hit the couch, stunned, fighting her hair that tangled around her face as she looked wildly around the room. Where she would swear he wasn’t there a second before, Dante now stood over her. The first thing her gaze locked on to was his large cock, erect, hard and determined like the warrior werewolf it belonged to. Gulping in air, she shoved hair from her face, almost scratching her flesh before quickly allowing her claws to recede back into fingernails.

“What the fuck?” she gasped, looking up at the hard expression of a predator.

Dante lifted her. She was too stunned to react in time. Strong arms pulled her to him, her legs still not cooperating with her as she stumbled and fought to regain control of her actions. He didn’t allow her time.

Muscles harder than rock pressed against her, the T-shirt she’d donned far from providing a shield against his body when suddenly she was stretched against him.

Strong arms wrapped around her. His mouth captured hers on a breath, stealing it, giving her a taste of pure, raw virility.

Her vision blurred, barely focusing on pale blue eyes streaked with silver as he kissed her. Leg muscle pressed against her thighs. Powerful arms enclosed her against his chest. Corded muscles pulsed warmly along her front.

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Moira closed her eyes. Too many sensations, both physical and emotional surged to life inside her.

His mouth was hot, his tongue aggressive and demanding. Long fingers combed her hair, stroking her back. She arched into him, unable to grab hold of her thoughts.

He deepened the kiss. A growl rumbled inside him. His cock throbbed to life, hard and demanding as the rest of him.

One with the elements, carry both of us. Show us all and all we will see
.

How the hell did he know the rhyme her mother had taught her?

His voice was right next to her, but he didn’t speak, didn’t stop kissing her.

His lips pressed against hers. Their tongues intertwined, exploring, thrusting, stroking.

But he had spoken…

Moira whimpered. Her thoughts twisted in a tangled mess, making it impossible to think. Dante had just spoken but he couldn’t have. It didn’t make any fucking sense.

She knew what she heard though. Dwelling on it was enough to clear her head.

He impaled her mouth with his tongue. Again he spoke to her in her mind.
Unless
you control your thoughts, no physical action you inflict will allow you to win
.

Moira ripped her mouth from his. Every gasp of air filled her lungs with his scent, his domination, his control of the situation, of her.

She stared at her hand, her fingers stretched over the curly black hair that covered hard, smooth muscle. Strong hands slowly stroked her back. His lips moved over her forehead.

More than anything, she wanted to know how the hell he spoke in her thoughts.

Asking would make her sound like a damned fool and admit he possessed a strength she didn’t have. No way would she let him see her weakness or her curiosity.

“The gift you have is untamed. And until you understand it, you’ll never be able to control it.” His breath was like fire against her skin.

And his words didn’t make a damned bit of sense.

Nothing did. Too many muscles pressed against her. His hands on her, stroking, caressing, gentle and yet more powerful than anything she’d ever experienced in her life.

Unable to find her own strength, trapped by her own lust, this incredible werewolf who held her created a fire inside her that burned out of control. Her thoughts wouldn’t focus. The throbbing between her legs pulsed painfully, building inside her. Need that was riper, more powerful than she could handle coursed through her veins.

She’d been seduced before. The best of them had taken her on. Nothing had ever hit her like this. It didn’t make sense. No werewolf got the better of her.

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Her dark skin was soft and smooth. Black hair, coarse like raw silk, teased his flesh.

Every inch of her was fucking perfect. Dante had known that much for years.

Her thoughts, torn and confused, lust-filled and on fire, threw him off balance. It wasn’t too often that he cursed the gift. This was the moment he’d ached to experience for as long as he’d known her, as long as he’d had the knowledge that she would be his.

Holding her, feeling her against him, was better than any fantasy he’d ever had about her. And there had been a hell of a lot of those.

Her breasts were full and ripe. Her dark nipples puckered against his palm, teasing the soft part of his flesh when he brushed over them. His hands stroked the curve of her hip, reaching the end of that blasted T-shirt she’d put on. Finding skin again, he gripped her soft ass. He was so close to her heat and her aroused scent that it about did him in. Her small hands, hesitant and warm, rested against his chest. She wanted him.