Living Extinct (23 page)

You will not control this situation, little bitch
. He made his point very clear and she looked at him wide-eyed, biting her lip so that she wouldn’t argue in front of the werewolves. She wanted to though. Her temper spiked, the urge to protect her mate strong. He brushed his thumb over the pulse beating in her wrist.

“You know these werewolves?” he asked quietly, his voice calm.

She nodded, offering a small smile that was only for appearance’s sake. He didn’t doubt for a minute that she’d have words for him later. Moira turned, glancing from one werewolf to the other.

“Dante Aldo is my mate. What issues do you have with him?” she asked.

“Moira Tangaree. Daughter of Bruno and Renee Tangaree. You live.” The younger of the two werewolves gave her the once-over.

Dante growled again. No matter that they were surprised to see her, they would respect his property. Moira looked over her shoulder at him like she wanted to clobber him.

Again a strong presence swept through the room, manipulative and powerful. It took over all scents, replacing it with something dominating, something musky. Moira glanced around the room and then closed her eyes. For a moment Dante worried she’d leave them to chase after the smell of her sire.

And why all of a sudden were they sensing him? How many times over the years had Dante wondered if Bruno’s gift was strong enough that he could help Dante even 119

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though he was dead? Bruno hadn’t come to him—not once had he detected his presence or experienced any words of wisdom in dreams.

“You have the advantage of knowing my mate and me. Care to introduce yourselves and tell me why you seek me out?” Dante knew damn well why they were here. He wanted Moira to remain focused though, to dwell on what happened around her and not on the smell of her sire. Stating to these werewolves who didn’t have the gift that they felt Bruno Tangaree in the room would get them all attacked.

Why he was allowing his presence to be felt Dante couldn’t figure out.

“I’m Nicolo Spalto,” the older of the two werewolves said. “This is my younger littermate, Dimitri. We’re here because of your sire, Moira. It’s been a long time but we will avenge his death by challenging Dante Aldo and taking him down for destroying our pack.”

“You can challenge me if you want.” Dante didn’t hesitate. “But I’d hate for both of you to die without knowing the truth.”

“What truth is that?” Dimitri asked.

“And why would we believe the words of a pack destroyer?” Nicolo grunted.

He knew there was only so much truth he could reveal to them today. He hated the pact he’d made. There were days when he despised it. But Dante was a werewolf who kept his word, even if that meant to the death. He let them glare at him for a moment before starting slowly.

“Ten years ago I agreed to work with Bruno Tangaree. He’d learned how to make werewolves stronger. One werewolf could destroy ten. It was a gift he wished to bestow on his entire pack. And he needed an assistant. I agreed to take the job.”

He had everyone’s attention in the room. Now to let out the hard part—the secret that had weighed heavily on his shoulders for so many years.

“His work was very successful. There were a few drawbacks, but for the most part, every werewolf and bitch who underwent the experiments came out stronger, capable of so much more. And as always with a gift given to werewolves, there were those who quickly grew jealous, made efforts to steal the knowledge and use it in their own abusive ways. Bruno wouldn’t have that. And he fought it. Damn it if he didn’t fight it with everything he had.”

He reached for Moira’s hand, meeting her gaze. She intertwined her small fingers with his and licked her lips as she looked up at him. Speaking of her sire brought her so much pain. He’d do anything to wipe that pain from her. But that damn fucking promise allowed him to say only so much. He looked at her sadly, knowing she needed to hear this more than any of the werewolves in the room.

“Bruno arranged for every pack to escape safely before setting fire to Malta. When we sent out the messengers, giving each den only hours to clear out before wiping out all evidence of his work, we were attacked. Werewolves from the other islands had planted spies. Your sire wasn’t perfect, although he was one of the greatest werewolves 120

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that I ever had the privilege of knowing. Most of the dens didn’t get the message. I fought that day to get you off the island.”

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“You knew the pack would burn, yet spent your time simply on this bitch?” Dimitri lunged at Dante.

Dante didn’t want her swaying their thoughts. But fighting now would accomplish nothing. Years had passed since that terrible day, and she’d much rather hear details she’d never known than watch these two werewolves roll around on the floor in their skin.

He didn’t tell her that she couldn’t alter her own body. Dimitri’s attention was on Dante. Juan and Ollie jumped toward the two werewolves too. Dimitri’s anger and hatred, his pain that he’d held all these years, fueled his attack. All he wanted was to take Dante down, release walled-up emotions on the one werewolf he’d blamed for all of his loss.

She had plenty of pent-up anger too. And it was easy to turn it into a raging fire when she attacked Dimitri.

She grabbed his thick arm that he had pulled back in order to strike Dante.

“Ow!” he howled, shaking her free easily enough and then grabbing himself where she’d touched him.

Dante stood tall, an overwhelming presence in the room.
Behave, my sweet bitch. I’d
hate to have to send you out of the room.

The stern expression he gave her was proof enough that he’d act on his thoughts if she weren’t careful.

She acted quickly, needing to be part of this discussion more than she needed to breathe. She faced her mate, turning her back on the other werewolves.

“So you’re on trial here,” she told him, her heart burning when his expression hardened. “Did you try to help the other dens escape on that day?”

The look he gave her didn’t change. She felt remorse pumping inside him, but damn him for being such an alpha werewolf that he couldn’t show a bit of compassion in front of the other werewolves.

“I managed to get several dens to the bay before finding you. There was chaos everywhere, and I’m one werewolf.” He nodded toward Juan. “My littermate worked with me, getting as many as we could to the ship.”

“There were eleven of us in our den. Now we’re three.” Nicolo’s words silenced the room, drawing the past forward so that all of them took a moment to see that horrendous day in their minds. Ollie put his thick fists on his hips, taking in everything around him with the quiet authority so common to pack leaders.

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Thinking about the many who had died wouldn’t change the fact. The pain would simply consume her once again. She had to focus on what was good here.

“I’ve searched so hard for members of my pack. I had begun to think I was finally the only survivor of an extinct breed.” Moira forced her attention away from Dante, although his overwhelming presence wrapped around her even when she turned her back to him. He didn’t touch her, but God, she swore the heat from his body sank to her very core. “What pack took you in?”

Dimitri still breathed too heavily. Instead of commenting, he turned away from her, running his hand through thick black hair. Ollie and Juan adjusted their stances, ready if he decided to lunge again. She ignored the charged energy, the adrenaline and testosterone that were thick enough to cut with a knife, and fought to keep her expression calm. She wouldn’t use the gift, but she would use her status as a mate to gather enough respect that they wouldn’t strike and risk attacking her too.

“The Malta werewolf is feared and despised everywhere. No pack took us in and without a pack, we had no strength. We’ve moved, traveled in our fur, done whatever it took to stay alive. When word hit us that Dante would be here, we headed here.” Nicolo managed to remain a hell of a lot calmer than his younger littermate. He looked over her head at Dante behind her. “There are others, you know. We’ve had some contact. A few are in packs, but only because they’ve denied their heritage. We are all out of place until we reunite. The Malta werewolves are different from any other werewolf. The mending won’t begin until we can claim territory for our dens and make a pack for ourselves.”

“Contact the dens. We’ll find a meeting place and work toward settling down.”

Dante put his hands on Moira’s shoulders while he spoke.

His touch burned her skin, and it wasn’t from any part of the gift. In spite of how well he’d fucked her less than an hour ago, pulsing need made her pussy wet. She fought to focus on the harsh look that Dimitri gave Dante, just to keep her scent from turning to lust.

“You helped us keep the
lunewulf
s from coming over the mountain, Aldo. Call your dens and we’ll offer a secure place for you to meet. All I need is a head count and that all dens announce themselves to me when they arrive.” Ollie got everyone’s attention.

A few more words were exchanged but Moira had a hard time paying attention.

Dante’s hands stroked her back, ran down her hair. No matter who he spoke to, he continued to touch her, driving her nuts. On top of that, it sounded like a handful of dens would be contacted. She ached to know which ones. Possibly werewolves she’d run with growing up. There had been cousins, aunts and uncles that she’d assumed perished in the fires. The few who’d escaped with her on the boat had disappeared and traveled to their own safe havens—or places where they thought they’d find safety and peace. Excitement tore her insides apart. Soon all who were left of the Malta werewolves would reunite.

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A strange sensation swept through her. Damn! She swore her sire stood right in the room with them. He beamed at her and then glanced at all the werewolves in the room.

His chest puffed with pride before he slowly faded away.

Her heart pounded too hard for her to catch her own breath.
Dad?
she cried out in her mind.

Dante looked down at her, tilting an eyebrow and giving her hand a quick squeeze.

She smelled intense determination on him, but nothing else. And her mind was in too much of a whirl to organize her thoughts and hear what was in his mind. She searched the room anxiously, aching to see her sire again, but he was gone.

“We will need some time in your territory while we wait for these dens to arrive,”

Dante told Ollie. “We’ve taken enough of your time this evening. You know how to reach me when others arrive.”

“I’ve arranged for all of you to stay at the same motel,” Ollie said when Dante led her out the front door into the crisp night air. “It’s run by a good older den and there will be no trouble.”

“Tell that to your pack destroyer,” Dimitri growled. “You’ll get no trouble from us.

It’s him you want to watch. He might have helped your pack, but you know they say he disappears and no one can track his scent.”

Dante ignored the werewolf’s accusations and turned to shake Ollie’s hand. “Give us a call when you’re up tomorrow. We’ll talk then.”

Ollie sized Dimitri up when he turned to him. “I’m not sure how much you’ve personally interacted with Dante, but I consider myself a good judge of werewolves.

Don’t cause my pack any trouble.”

Dimitri scowled and Nicolo stepped forward. “Our den is very grateful that you welcome us here. You have my word that we’ll offer no problems.”

“Good enough.” Ollie turned and entered his den.

* * * * *

Moira woke up to Dante’s cock harder than steel, nudging the soft, tender spot on her lower back. His thick, muscular arms were wrapped around her. She blinked a few times, realizing she used his corded biceps for a pillow.

She stretched, enjoying how his body touched her everywhere. They’d stripped the night before, and that was about all she remembered. She was pretty sure sleep had hit both of them hard the moment their heads hit the pillows. Now, lying naked under the covers next to him felt like the most perfect place in the world to be. She couldn’t help twisting her body, rubbing herself against his powerful chest. Their legs intertwined and he raised his thigh until it pressed into her hot, moist pussy.

Instant pressure stole her breath and ripped it from her body. She inhaled sharply, twisting her torso. Her nipples hardened instantly when the covers slipped down her 124

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chest. She looked up at his brooding expression, so dark with black hair fanning over his broad shoulders.

“I’d love to lie here and fuck you all day, little bitch.” His tone was gravelly, turned on.

“Would you make Juan watch again?” She turned her head quickly, seeing an unmade, empty bed.

“It’s almost noon and time to get up. Already Juan is out making contact with some of the dens who’ve already arrived.”

Werewolves were nocturnal by nature. Any decent pack started its workday around noon, allowing pack members to sleep after running during the night. She adjusted herself against his hard, warm body, feeling his erection throb between them.

She wanted time to fuck him, and she wanted time to talk. It didn’t sound like they’d have time for both. He smiled, reading her thoughts.

“Do you know what dens will be here?”

He shook his head and then lifted her so that they both sat in the bed. “Time to shower.”

“Dante,” she began when they were in the bathroom. “Last night at the pack leader’s den, did you sense anything? I mean, like someone else was there?”

Muscles stretched and bulged in his back when he bent over to start the water in the tub. Black curly hair ran down his thick legs. She took in the view, waiting for him to respond while he adjusted the water. “Who do you think was there?”

“My sire was in that room.”

Dante took her hand and pulled her into the shower. Hard, pelting hot water pitter-pattered over her skin, feeling damned good. She tilted her head into the spray, letting it soak her long hair.