The Wolf Who Loved Her (4 page)

“But I’m just a bookstore owner!”

“No matter. I’m his sister, and family knows best. You’re his mate. Why else would he shift in front of you? His wolf felt comfortable shifting. His wolf recognized you as its mate. Plus, haven’t you noticed his overbearing protective streak of late?”

Joni grinned. “Yeah, but he’s just bossy.”

“This is beyond that. Ianlick is only protective of those he cares about. My brother values his privacy. He wouldn’t go to such lengths to keep a human safe if you didn’t matter.”

Joni rolled her eyes. Enough was enough.

“I appreciate you stopping by and warning me about these
mating rites
, but I guarantee you that nothing like that is going to happen between us. Believe me. We are from two completely different worlds. It...it...well, it ain’t going to happen, understand?”

She let out a deep sigh, unsure of who she was trying to convince. The other woman leaned in close, her eyes flashing with laughter, a wry expression etched across her lips.

“Give him a chance.”

Before Joni could reply, the dark haired beauty turned and exited the store. Joni propped her elbows on the booth, her braids flopping around her face, her bottom lip wedged between her teeth.
Perfect.
Now she had two matchmakers in her life. The woman could give Trichelle a run for her money.

She sighed and checked out the last customer. It was already closing time. Feeling the urgent need to escape thoughts of Ian in the buff, she grabbed her coat and headed for the door to take a walk. Mating rites? Hadn’t she read something about the custom in one of her books, the one that specialized in supernatural traditions? The mating ritual involved one night of hot, butt naked sex. It was the equivalent of marriage for werewolves. Afterwards, both lovers were bound together for the rest of their lives, like soul mates. It was all very sexy in theory, but the thought of it in everyday use frightened her. She valued her freedom and independence. She did not want to be shackled up with some werewolf for the rest of her life, no matter how fine said werewolf was.

A voice in her head laughed.
Yes, you do.

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbled.

Heavy with thoughts, she studied her surroundings. She usually didn’t take walks after seven, but she needed fresh air to restore her equilibrium. Forcing a smile on her face, she walked past the florist and computer repair shop, down cracked sidewalks and over busted sewer pipes. All the while, she felt Ian’s presence behind her.

Was he going to follow her the entire way? The stubborn man! What was it about him that made her blood boil? She slapped her thighs in frustration and kicked a stray bottle, sending it bouncing across the street. Maybe Sabrina was right. Maybe she should give in to him. Who was she to deny herself? Despite his bossiness and rudeness, he had a “good heart” as her momma used to say. She’d just have to explain that one night was all he was going to get. Period.

She made her way down the hill that led to her favorite park. Then she cut through the woods and walked toward the small man-made bridge next to the pond. There, she sat on the cracked curve and waited. If she hadn’t been so still, she wouldn’t have heard his approach.

“What are you doing here,” he whispered, somewhere behind her. She turned and sucked in a shocked breath. He was kneeling beside her, only a hair away. If she moved her head forward by just an inch, their lips would meet. As she stared at his mouth, heat suffused her skin. She felt lightheaded all of the sudden.

“I wanted some fresh air.”

He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “Look, sweetheart, you can’t wander through the streets like you’re Red Riding Hood. Not when Terrance’s sidekicks are on the loose.”

She couldn’t help herself. “And who are you supposed to be? The big bad wolf?”

A grin tugged his lips. “Maybe.”

Up close, she saw faint traces of the bruise. “Your bruise—you’re all better now.”

“Almost...”

She blushed, awkward silence passing between them. Why did he have to say that? Why the sexual innuendos? She was barely holding herself together as is. Remembering his sister’s words, she spoke. “Your sister stopped by.”

“I saw,” he said, sitting behind her so that his long legs were spread out by her sides. “Do not concern yourself with anything my sister says. She has a flair for theatrics.”

“Do you have a large family?”

“Yes.”

“Do they all live in Milwaukee?”

“Yes,” he replied, pausing slightly, “Why?”

“Just wondering if I’ve seen them in passing.”

“They are here now. Watching.”

Joni turned around, expecting to see packs of wolves lining the trees, something from the Twilight movies Trichelle made her watch, but all she saw was darkness. The light of the full moon did little to illuminate the dark forest. “Where are they?”

“Everywhere. Every member of my pack has been watching you these past few days.”

Rattled, she gazed at the shadows. “How many?”

“Perhaps twenty to thirty males.”

“Thirty freaking werewolves!”

From the trees to her left, she heard a cluster of yelps, as though a group of animals were laughing.

A blush crept up her neck. “But I haven’t seen anyone.”

“They’re good at what they do.”

Joni mulled that over. “And you’re the pack leader?”

“Yes.”

“Then why are you so afraid of Terrance’s sidekicks?”

Another clatter of laughs came from the tree line. Whipping his head around, Ian growled. The laughter ceased. He turned his attention back to her, his eyes glowing bright.

“I am not afraid of those werenuts, sweetheart. For years they’ve been a fucking thorn in my side and I’m hell-bent on ridding the world of them once and for all. Especially now.”

She shivered, chilled by the wafts of anger pouring from him.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m fine.”

Her gaze returned to the tree line. “Do they look like you?”

“Who?”

“Your pack members.”

“I don’t know, Joni,” he replied, exasperated. “It does not matter—”

“I want to see them.”

With a bemused expression, he snapped his fingers and five of the hunkiest men she’d ever seen sauntered from the darkness. All of them were tall and muscled, with powerful shoulders, bunching and rippling. One of them had shocking silver hair and piercing gray eyes. The other four had the same features of Ian; dark haired, pale-skinned, and green eyed, with wicked, devilish grins. Each wore jeans, t-shirts, and spiked black biker boots. They were walking images of sex and they all knew it.

Her eyes bulged like saucers. Hell, she felt like she was on the Planet of the Hunks.

“A pleasure to meet you,” said the silver haired one, taking her hand in his for a gallant kiss. Inside, Joni swooned. Damn, where had these boys been hiding all her life?

Ian roared, pulling back her hand, eyeing the silver haired man dangerously.

“Zachary, don’t test me tonight.”

“Just being friendly, Ianlick.”

“As friendly as a horse’s dick.”

The men laughed.

Ian glowered. “Get lost.”

Joni pinched Ian’s thigh. “Forgive him,” she offered. “He’s just crabby tonight.”

“Get lost,” he hissed again, wrapping his arms around her so that her head fit beneath his chin. Joni bit back a smile, amused by his jealously.

“But we want to speak to your lovely mate,” answered the one called Zachary.

“No,” she heard herself say. “I’m not his mate.”

The men swapped knowing looks but remained silent. “Joni—such a lovely name for such a lovely woman.”

Ian snapped his fingers. “Leave.”

Without a word, the men returned to the darkness of the woods.

Joni was at a loss for words. “Wow, they’re really something, aren’t they?”

At Ian’s ferocious sneer, she suppressed a chuckle. No need to rile him up.

Suddenly, a cold wind came from the east and Ian’s hands were on her, traveling up and down her arms in an effort to warm her skin. The feel of them through the coarse fabric of her coat made her eyes close against waves of pleasure. It had been so long since a man had cared for her. Her last boyfriend, Marcus, a computer programmer from Chicago, had been an inconsiderate jerk, who’d claim she didn’t know how to satisfy a man in the bedroom. He’d left her with a slew of bills and a flat tire. She figured it was for the best, since his slimy hands and allergies never really did it for her. But Ian was different. He stirred something unfamiliar inside of her, something that made her want to be as bold and wild as her friends. At the realization, she began to chat nervously.

“Ian?”

“Yes?”

“Did you ask people to visit my shop? Business has picked up lately.”

She felt him shrug behind her. “I called a few friends.”

Joni sighed. He called more than a
few
friends.

“Besides, you need money.”

She blanched. “What?”

“You live in a mouse house.”

“I do not!”

“Okay,” he recanted, “but it is a bit small.”

Joni huffed. It wasn’t
that
small. Some people might call it cozy. Some people had good taste. Some people should mind their own damn business! Besides, it was her only home now that her parents were gone. No family would swoop down and save the day. No famous witch ancestors. No matter how much she prayed. She glanced up at the twinkling stars.

“I don’t need much.”

Silence hung between them. Prolonged. Cloaking itself around them like an intimate lover. She wondered what he was thinking. Did he put stock in his sister’s beliefs of mates and rituals? Did he want to go that far with someone like her—goofy and frumpy Jonalle Watson from around the way? A frigid breeze encircled them, causing her to shiver, but he continued his soothing strokes, heating her skin and frail nerves simultaneously. When his fingertips brushed the sides of her breast, she lost control. That was it. She’d had enough. She turned and grabbed his shoulders, not caring if an audience of hunky wolves had a full court view. She only cared about satisfying her need for him.

She kissed him hard, whimpering like a satisfied cat, loving the way his tongue tangled with hers, the way her nipples puckered, and her pussy throbbed with anticipation. The kiss was rugged, wild, raw with need.

Suddenly, he was lifting her up by her shoulders and she was leaning against his chest, rejoicing in his solidness. A sound of excited yelps came from the woods, heightening the thrill of kissing him in such a public place, in front of a ton of horny werewolves. She ran her fingers up and down his chest; he was all biceps and triceps, all ridges and angles. But his sweater was a barrier. She had to get rid of it. She yanked at the material, and buried her hands inside the warm wool. Tuffs of chest hair slivered between her fingers. His nipples were hard little pebbles.

She moaned when his hands slid from her lower back to her ass. He squeezed her cheeks.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all week,” he said in a husky voice. She arched her back, so he could grab a good handful. She knew men loved her behind.

“You could’ve just asked.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Duly noted.”

Joni smiled when she brushed up against his hard cock, remembering its girth.

“Babe,” he gasped. “We have an audience.”

She heard herself say “who cares” and couldn’t quite believe she’d formed the words.

At her response, he howled. Birds scattered. Squirrels leaped. Bushes swayed. Then, slowly, he turned and locked eyes with her. “Just told them to give us a little space, is all.”

Thrilled by the primal, guttural sound, she jumped up and straddled his waist, determined to have him, determined to show him that despite her frumpy clothes and her rambling, she could still feel white hot passion like any other woman. That she could please his wolf.

She smiled as his head bent forward to kiss her collarbone. Running her fingers through his curly hair, she lost herself in a haze of pure lust. He was so strong—so masculine. So much a fantasy come to life.

Effortlessly, he carried her below the nearby bridge. The place was desolate, abandoned.

“Please,” she whispered, when he held her up against the graffiti wall. “Do something.”

He growled. “Wait.”

“Now.”

His eyes glowed green. “Wait.”

His voice had grown heavier, deeper, as though his beast was right below the surface. It did not frighten her. Only increased her hunger for him.

She watched, transfixed, as his facial muscles grew harder, leaner yet wider, simultaneously. His nose became flat, resembling a dog’s, his forehead longer. He grew three good inches, towering over her, cinching her waist with humungous claw-like hands. Hair crept down his sideburns, and the curly hair she’d come to love, lengthened so that it flung below his shoulders in rolling waves. Muttering deep guttural sounds, he slowly became a cross between human and wolf, leering over her, panting wildly.

“I’m sorry,” he growled. “It happens...only...when my arousal is strong.”

Oh, he was hot. No doubt about it. And he was all hers.

“Don’t apologize. Just tell me I was right.”

Perplexed, he studied her. “About what?”

“About wolves standing on two feet.”

He shook with laughter. “You were right, babe. You were right.”

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she purred. “Thought so. Now give me some.”

He chuckled, guessing her request. She watched as he pulled up her long ankle length skirt, pushed aside her tights and panties, and buried two long fingers inside of her, all the while holding her up with his arms. Her legs clung to his waist.

“
Oh God
.”

His fingers were a lightning bolt, massaging her sensitive folds over and over again, until she arched her hips up with need, silently guiding his mischievous ministrations. It felt so good. His touch. The firmness of it. The heat. She closed her eyes against the pleasure as he murmured something low and sexy in her ear. But she was too far gone to decipher his words. How could she in this state? She gripped his muscular shoulders, rubbed her face against his coarse hair, loving the prickly friction. His exploration grew deeper, churning her insides this way and that, spreading her juices like whipped cream.