Lovers' Tussle (8 page)

That was all the encouragement she needed. “I am no fool. I am fully aware of the responsibility I bear and the implications and repercussions my decision would have on each of you.” Her grandfather many generations removed had been the sole introduction of the werewolf trait in England. Every member of this elite pack, or rather their ancestors, had been handpicked based on both their political power and brutal physical strength. While the other rivaling packs had been formed by some accidental or greedy fatal bite, she was sired by the one who held the pure blood. They should never forget that. She would not let them. “I shall see this matter dealt with anon.”

If she had expected that to be the end of things, she would have been disappointed. Fortunately, she knew enough about her father to know he was a fighter and never gave in. He was, after all, the sire of her blood. It was high time he was reminded of that fact, since what flowed through his veins also flowed through hers. “Before you interrupt, Father, I would like to reiterate that my decision shall be taken as final if you wish the continuation of our generation.” She ruthlessly went for the throat. “My supposed wish to procreate and supply the future generation of blood-born cubs is not a given. I could, for the sake of argument, decide I do not wish to marry at all.”
Let him chew on that.

But Christian never chewed. He chomped, ground everything to fine dust, and spat out. “You wretch! I shall have you forced to the conjugal bed if need be.”

Tienna shrugged. Her courage was congealing. “But why bother with such unpleasantness when I clearly offer a more viable, humane solution?”

Her father’s hands pressed into his desk as he leaned forward. She imitated the move, staring right back at him even if it strained her neck to maintain eye contact with one who obviously towered over her. But as she stared into the depths of shimmering green, a mirror of her own, her family’s proud history flooded her.

They were the descendants of the greatest Sterling that had ever existed. So many generations back an adventurous man had commissioned a ship of his own and taken on the world as his destination. He had returned with a lot more than he had bargained for and, additionally, a crew marginally diminished. But the man had had foresight.

He’d turned the wretched curse he’d been kissed with into a gift, building, by careful calculations and the tips of his fangs, his very own army, his empire. He had started his pack. Those discarded or unworthy castoffs had formed lesser bands, seeking to expand their groups. But the man had been wise and brutal. As the foremost, strongest werewolf, once he’d secured his pack of the strongest amongst England’s society, he had had passed his banning law. His reasoning, of course, had been to maintain the balance between humans, or as he’d worded it, food supply, and the supreme beings. There had to be a stop on the further turning of any more humans. In truth he simply wished to maintain the largest force, and he’d succeeded. How could he not have? The penalty for breaking that sacred code was a stake through not only the heart of the transgressor, but his entire pack as well.

Yes, Sterling’s blood had ruled supreme. They possessed the keenest senses, greatest prowess, and had accomplished the most advancement. While only this turn of the century had seen other packs learning skills such as clothing themselves at will and even communicating nonverbally, it was a trait this pack had mastered a long, long time ago.

But now change had come knocking at their door. The tap had begun the day she’d been born. Of course there were female werewolves. But none were allowed participation in council meetings and decisions. None had held positions of high rank. But with her fateful birth displaying the alarming lack of male genitals, she now held that honor. It had come with a price. Two. Two mates meant dual Alpha intruders would be allowed into the bloodline that had thus far been bred solely of male heirs. She was female. The mate she chose would be the first ever in the Sterling line to rule and not be
of
the Sterling blood. But she was more than willing to breed the next generation. A problem still remained. With whom?

They faced each other with the full force of stubborn resolve and plain tenacity. Tienna was not going to be lobbied off her rights because of inappropriate body parts. “
I
will choose, Father.”
Who needs dangling body parts anyway?
To fill pants, should she ever decide to don them, she was sure she had enough ass cheeks.

“Their scent is strong. They will not submit easily.”

Tienna nodded. “They are indeed strong Alphas, and I am counting on that.”

Her father’s face softened. “You would not escape unscathed.”

“Which is why we embark on this course, is it not?”

He slumped in resignation. “I will not see you hurt, but the future of this pack relies on you.”

Before Tienna could respond, a rough voice interrupted.

“We could settle the matter right now.”

Tienna turned to face the speaker and shook her head in annoyance. Viscount Matthew Willington had, from the time she had met him, harbored some insane hope that he would someday be chosen as her mate. Although she suspected his ulterior aspiration was to eventually hold the reins of leadership after her father’s time had expired, even if that proved to be a very long wait. Werewolves tended to live far longer than humans and aged delightfully slower.

Her father addressed the man. “What do you propose, Matthew?”

Matthew’s heated gaze traveled the length of her body but sent a chill through her. He smiled slyly, and Tienna knew his intention immediately. She was about to slap him for his outrageous implication, but her father intervened on her behalf.

“I will remind you that you address the heir of this pack.” His voice was steely.

Tienna stared at Matthew, daring him to dispute. He was wolf, so he did not accept defeat well. But he did not slink. Wolves, especially of this regime, did not do that, either. Furthermore he was a gentleman. He inclined his head and, with a single hot glare, stepped back with all the dignity he could muster. With narrowed eyes, Tienna refused to release her prey from her deadly stare. He had best not attempt such a foolish move again against her. If he dared touch her, as he’d implied he could, she would rip his throat out long before either of her astute, raging mates would be able to react. She sent him that warning, but nonverbally. For now she wanted him threatened, not publicly shamed.

“While I show marked patience with regards to this matter, especially when our very futures depend on it, I am by no means going to allow further delays.”

Tienna turned at the sound of her father’s voice. The initial pride that had surged through at hearing her father, for the first time, utter such confidence in her, dispersed like a cloud of smoke. Despair rushed in to fill the gap. She knew what was coming even before he said the words.

But having advanced knowledge did nothing to hamper the blow to her belly when the words were spoken out loud. “You will present one of them immediately, or we shall take matters into our own hands. And there will be no mercy shown again, I assure you.”

Tienna swallowed. Her time had drawn to an end. Since she could not possibly choose beyond maybe drawing a name scribbled across a piece of paper from a hat, she had to revert back to her initial plan. Instigating a battle would be no difficult task. They had disclosed their weakness. All she had to do was use the ardent attention of one to lure forth the wrath of the other. She would have the victor and mourn the death of the loser, perhaps for an entire lifetime.

But here again she did not know how to pick one. Would she use Aiden’s suave seduction, knowing Roth would react with red rage and rancor? Or would she use Roth’s cocky confidence to unleash Aiden’s beautiful, bewitching beast?

* * * *

The call came as clear as a commanding voice. It was urgent. It was inescapable. It was powerful. There was no choice but obedience. Roth jerked his attention away from the deer he’d been hunting. His hunger for the sweet blood strumming through the veins, feeding the steamy, succulent flesh of the fawn gave way to another need altogether. And this need overpowered every other sense in him.

His body stretched as he took off at a dead sprint, sending the wide-eyed prey fleeing for cover beneath the trees. He spared no thought for the escapee. The need to dominate, to possess coursed through him, primal and raw. The time of reckoning was upon him. The air rushed past his ear as his hot breath fanned his face. This time there would be no mercy, no retreat.

He broke into the clearing with a single mighty bound. His prey stood before him, preoccupied and unaware of his fierce arrival. He paused only for a moment to take in the scene. Every pore within him fragmented, screaming its urgency. His beast demanded its release. The fragile reins on his control snapped like a brittle twig in a wild storm. With a silent, savage growl lodged in his throat, his next leap took him directly to his target. He landed on two booted feet, straightening to his full length as a man.

Tienna’s gasp was audible as she spun around. The skirts she’d been twisting between nervous fingers fell with soft rustle. Her hands smoothed the fabric but its torment showed clearly under the bright moonlight. The tight lines of surprise gave way as she broke into a welcoming smile. The green in her eyes glowed with wariness, but Roth had every intention of rectifying that until those eyes darkened with passion. His breath was hot and frantic as he lowered his head. All he could think was “finally.” The word echoed through his body with every forceful beat of his heart. Finally, she was going to be his.

His hands were cool against the heated flush of her cheeks. He held her imprisoned, memorizing the exquisite expression of surrender on her open face before he took full possession of her lips hungrily. Finesse was not his forte, and he didn’t even try to pretend. He poured himself into her mouth, feeding off her ravenously at the same time. Her body was pressed flush against him, and he could no longer wait. He had to have her. She would take him into her body, and he would finally claim her as his own.

His hands squeezed the glorious flesh of her ass as he rubbed his aroused cock against her. Her nails on his shoulders dug in, the sting fueling his own ardor. Like the previous times, she ignited with a brilliant burst of flames. Roth groaned his delight. But all he longed to do was roar his conquest.

Her movements struck him as less fluid, almost jerky in hesitation. The shivers that raked through her body appeared to be more from apprehension than passion alone. Roth was much too invested already. There would time to still her anxieties.
A whole lifetime
. But now he needed to slip himself into the smoldering sheath of her pussy and plant his seed of victory deep in her womb.

The expected malevolent blast hit his back. He mentally smirked as he licked a path down her stretched throat. He shrugged off the offending, interrupting force and concentrated his efforts to center only on the woman coming to life in his arms. His brother could wait—in vain. He had lost. But the hostile energy was relentless.
“Send him away, Tienna.”

She stiffened slightly as he growled in her mind. Roth tightened his hold. He would not allow her to leave now,
ever
.
“Don’t be afraid. He can’t hurt you.”
He gentled his caresses, cajoling her to do his bidding.
“Now, Tienna. Tell him.”

Her soft, breathless voice penetrated his mind.
“I’m sorry.”

That was all the warning he got. A brutal force slammed into his back, this time entirely physical. Roth pushed Tienna away from harm, and even as he felt himself go down, he called on his inner beast. The soft underbelly of his wolf crashed into the hard ground. The vicious claws of his attacker dug into his back, drawing a long line down its length. Roth snarled his pain into the unforgiving earth.

The sharp snap of jaws sounded much too close to his ears, his fragile throat. Using all his might, he pushed himself upright, taking his unwanted passenger with him. He shook him free even as the sharp claws dug in deeper for purchase. With another forceful push, he threw himself over onto his back, onto his opponent. He came back to his feet, finally free but not finished.
“She has made her choice, brother.”

“Never.”
The white wolf was a blur as he leapt into the air.

Roth barely made it out of the way.
“Ask her!”

“I’ll ask her after I’ve sent you back to hell.”

Roth growled his frustration. Her final apology niggled at the edges of his conscience. What had she meant? Whatever it was, now was not the time for deciphering.
“Don’t make me fight you, Aiden. I don’t want to kill you.”

“Only if you come back from the dead, brother.”
Aiden launched another attack.

Roth was ready this time. He swiped his claw, ripping a healthy chunk of flesh from Aiden’s back. All he saw was the red stain. It was striking against pure white.
“Cease your foolishness before I really hurt you.”

Aiden seemed to recover quickly from the attack. He crouched. Roth remained on the defensive. Lash after lash he ducked and evaded until he became frustrated.
“You really wish for death this night, Aiden.”