Wolf Bitten (2 page)

It didn't matter. He'd never find her.

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Awakened by the weight of Max's arm across her waist, Allie's heart plummeted. Her bedside lamp glared in her eyes despite the light peeking through the window blinds. “What have we done?"

"Done? We haven't done nuthin',” Max mumbled.

She scampered out of bed and knocked into the small end table. Her engagement ring pinged to the floor. Scooping it back up, she slipped it on her toe where she usually wore it, out of sight. In all the time of their friendship, Max had never asked about it until last night when she'd let him hold it. Her toe had been empty without the plain band, but she'd stubbornly ignored it, though it called to her all night.

"You've gotta get out of here. I need to clean your scent from my bed,” she said after she'd calmed from her near panic attack.

"My scent?"

"Shit! I mean, go home. I'm late for work.” Max would be too sleepy to remember her slip, or he would think she'd had a wack dream.

"Why do you work at that dump anyway?” he muttered and put his arm over his eyes. He hadn't budged.

"I like working on cars. Now, go.” She pulled at him with more force than she'd intended. He hit the floor hard.

"Ow, dammit,” he yelped.

"Go,” she answered with no sympathy. She helped him up and guided him to the door. He rubbed his eyes as he toed on his shoes and left the laces untied.

Thankful Max didn't normally wear cologne, she counted on the smell of the garage to disguise her scent from the PACk, but if any of them could find her in this asphalt jungle, Brock could.

Unconcerned, Max sauntered into the bathroom. She gritted her teeth. He'd be out soon. He was in the only other room in the small loft, a sterile one-room unit in a low-income high rise. Another decision made to confuse her scent with others. To hide Max's presence, she ran through the steps to cleanse her room.

She courted bad luck. This was the first time she'd had another man in her room—even if she hadn't allowed him to put his dick inside her. Cruel Fate would have Brock show up at her door any moment and smell Max on her sheets as soon as he entered the room. He'd be pissed. And deadly.

Allie shoved Max out the door, promised to call later, and ripped the covers off the bed. She had an hour before she had to leave. Enough time for damage control. She stripped every bit of linen: sheets, towels, curtains. With no choice but to drop them at the cleaners, another expense to her shrinking savings, she threw the laundry into a bag and put it outside her door. Allie grabbed a bottle of cleaner, scrubbed her apartment, and thought about Brock, her usual past-time.

Brock had left the community and braved the world as a lone wolf. A move that went against PACk nature. When he'd made the sacrifice so Allie could grow up without his shadow, without his sexual hunger focused on her, even as a juvenile, she'd missed the gentle man she'd known her whole life. He'd trusted his family to keep her safe. On her eighteenth birthday, he'd returned, and she'd rejected him outright. They'd both left the PACk the same day, and she hadn't heard from him since.

What was I thinking? I've held Max off for three years, only to lose my mind while Brock is on the hunt. Idiot!

She had to face it. Never as affected as other lupines by petrol products like gas, plastics, and asphalt, Brock would find her. It was a matter of when.

Throughout the day, Allie considered the problem of Brock and Max. If Brock was true to PACk behavior, he wouldn't want a human male to touch her. She had to end her friendship with Max.

By the time night came, Allie had exhausted herself with worry. After a long, hot shower, she slipped into her bed and sighed as the cool sheets covered her nude body. She drifted off to visions of the forests and mountains of home.

Too few hours had passed when Allie awoke to the red numbers on her alarm clock. A sensual fog drenched her. She dreamt of Brock again. His faceless form had haunted her for as long as she could remember, but tonight was unbearable. Erotic.

She reached into her nightstand and grabbed her vibrator, one of the few things that kept her sane with the heightened carnal images of wolf mating that plagued her dreams. Stuck between sleeping and waking, Allie pictured a hard man over her, driving into her willing body while she used the toy to complete the illusion.

In her fantasy, the door slid open. Her dream lover returned for another round of love play. When her bed creaked, her mouth watered in anticipation. She flipped on the vibrator in her rush to completion and used her other hand to tweak a nipple. A tongue lapped her folds, and her hips bucked into the air. The force of her climax startled her, and her eyes blinked wide.

"Damn,” she muttered shakily.

"You smell of plastic,” growled the shadow between her legs, highlighted by the door to her apartment wide open to the bright hallway.

He held her down and subdued her as she tried to fight him off. When the sound of his voice registered, she stopped struggling but remained tensed for flight. He pulled the vibrator from her body. The wet popping sound made her cheeks burn in humiliation.

"Despite the stink of that thing in your pussy, watching you pleasure yourself was quite enjoyable."

"Brock?"

"At least you weren't with a man.” His chest vibrated with his snarl. He pushed her knees apart and put his nose into her crotch. And sniffed.

Allie struggled to get away, but hands of steel dug into her thighs and kept her immobile. A whiff of his clean, outdoor scent reached her to awaken her long-hidden yearning for this man.

"Don't.” His guttural voice vibrated her outer lips. The air from his burrowing nose heated her. “You know the nature of the wolf. Don't fight me. Don't run. You're finally under me, and I need to scent you."

Brock rolled his head back and forth between her thighs and snuffled his nose as he circled around her wet heat. The tip of his nose moved inside her then out along her folds, parting her pubic hair to rub her clit. Her lurch nearly unseated him. The sensations forced a cry from her lips. Pausing, he moved his hands under her knees and pushed them up until they were as far as she could bend, almost to her face. He held her there, and the thrill coursing through her shocked her to her toes.

"Oh, baby. You're real,” he said roughly, nearly inarticulate.

Tight, but without giving pain, his hands roughened, altered, against her skin. Her fiancé's short nails elongated and began to dig into her before he gentled his hold. He grunted, shook his head, and muttered, “No."

She'd run because of this, the nearly uncontrollable urges to mate, but she couldn't help but relish his nearness. Her body responded to his feral and dominating play between her legs. It was part of him, this need to leave his scent, to memorize hers, and to spread her juices all over his face. Any ideas of running while he neared his shift melted away like water through a sieve. Instead of wanting to run out the open door, she wanted to shut it and hold Brock in her empty arms, never to let him go.

"Brock,” she whispered in order to keep them both calm. “You need to let go of my legs and shut the door."

Brock didn't respond but stared at her open before him, and she bit her lip against the urge to ask him to scent her again. It turned her on. He inhaled and looked at her as if he were a beast before a banquet. Of course, that's what he was. Even in the darkness, she could tell he watched her face as he lowered his head. He snarled again and continued to mark her.

This time, he moved further down. His nose lingered many heated moments sniffing her ass. He nudged slightly inside the tiny rosette. Each small pressure there made her body lurch above the bed. Her toes curled.

"Please,” she begged, not sure if she wanted him to stop or to finally take her. Was this torture or pleasure? Did she want him inside her, or to leave her in peace? She'd never been so wet in her life, never so sensitive. She'd certainly never wanted to be fucked until she was bow-legged. Easy capitulation to something she'd run from for three years, but damn. She wanted him. How could a twenty-one year old virgin be such a slut?

He jerked her toward him, the smooth cotton sheets sliding beneath her. He knelt between her legs and clutched her knees. With ease, he lifted her legs toward him and put her feet on his shoulders. His hard shaft nudged her wetness. She stilled. The moment was here, and she was scared shitless.

"Mate,” his voice grunted in a tone shy of human.

He tensed, and she could tell he tried not to scare her, or hurt her. The hardness at her soaked entrance was a mixed blessing, an event she had dreamed of since she'd first understood desire, sometimes in terror, other times in heat. Hard as a statue, he remained motionless. She couldn't see his features, or his eyes, only his shadowed form. Why did he hesitate with his wolf barely contained?

He turned his head and pushed his nose along her toes. A low menacing growl erupted over their harsh breathing.

"Shit!” The word escaped before she could pull it back. Max had held her ring. How had the scent lingered after her showers? Oh, it didn't matter. Brock could sense Max. She breathed deeply to calm her nerves before her panic transferred to him.

When Brock moved from between her thighs, she shivered at the loss of his heat. The bed creaked when he stood with her foot shackled in his grip. She calmed her racing heart. His capabilities were well engrained in her. He sensed her fear, her distress, and her guilt. He smelled her every pheromone, heard the blood rush through her body, and sensed the slightest tremor or blush along her skin.

"You're hurting me,” she whispered.

"I smell a man on you.” His voice scratched with the barest hint of hurt underneath.

Remain calm, reasonable. Talk him down before he shifts
.

"You spent a lot of time down there, memorizing me. Did you smell him there?” Mental fingers crossed, she hoped the plastic toy hadn't obliterated the evidence of her virginity.

To pacify Brock, she continued, “I've never had a man inside me."

"Man touched you. Sense it. Wolf want blood.” Brock shook. He ran a finger over her clit and elicited a loud moan from her.

Now that he'd stopped his rush to mate, she wanted the dominant male between her legs with a ferociousness belying the incredible danger of his anger. Such a strong emotion could elude the bounds of his control. He wouldn't sense her willingness with his body fighting to shift. She made one last effort. If he consummated the mating, she could distract him from thoughts of another man. After all, she was technically a virgin. Once mated to her, he would be protective, possessive almost to the point of insanity. His scent would cover her, and Max's touches of friendship would not matter.

Despite her usual modesty and her inherited correct behavior, she panted, “Fuck me. Now. Mate with me."

Rather than heed her plea, Brock licked the band around her toe and sucked it into his mouth. The pleasure surged down her leg straight to her clit. She grunted. She nearly had an orgasm from having her toe suckled. He dropped her foot and shook so badly that his tremors transmitted to the bed.

"Blood,” he said with a thick, unrecognizable grunt. Not the warm voice she had known as a child. “Yours or his."

"Take mine.” Allie shot up in bed, alarmed, her desire gone. She subdued her fear. It would send him crashing toward his shift rather than help him keep restraint. “Virgin's blood."

He shook his head vigorously, and he took several loud gulps of air. His hands clutched his head as if he were holding it together.

"You have none,” he struggled to speak. “Even if no man. Use that filth.” His arm whipped down before the vibrator landed with a dull thud on the bed next to her. “Wolf find him.” His voice deteriorated to a gravely low as he hunched over. He sounded sorry, human again as he said, “Can't stop."

When he dropped to all fours, Allie sat up and looked over the edge of the bed. She knew what to expect, had seen it countless times in the PACk, but she held her breath in anticipation of seeing his wolf.

I've cracked. Why am I excited to see him shift? Especially since he'll kill Max?

In the darkness, she couldn't see, but his hair must be growing on his arms. His claws would push from his hands, and his large form would grow lupine.

A dark shape against the white wall, as a wolf, he was huge. The largest she'd ever seen. She wished she could see the color of his fur and stroke the thick pelt with her hands.

His teeth gleamed before he let out a heart-wrenching howl. The wolf bounded out the open door.

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"Arooooo...” The call to his mate forced from his upturned muzzle though he tried to remain quiet.

Carpet softened the force of his paws hitting the floor and muffled the click of his sharp nails. He snuffled along the hallway and ignored the stinging glare of the harsh lights. The heated mantra in his head repeated.
Blood. Touched my mate. Mine. My mate. Blood.

He caught a whiff of the scent, the memorized smell of the interloper. He bounded toward the stairwell and stopped. A movement behind him broke through his determined intent. Behind him with flushed cheeks, his soon-to-be-mate had covered her body with filthy work clothes.
Beautiful. So beautiful. Mine.

The call for blood overwhelmed the pull of his chosen. His elongated head swung from side to side. His actions stalled, stuck between the two strongest drives in his animalistic nature—the need to rut and the need to protect his mate at all costs.

The human side of Brock battled to overcome the frenetic wolf. Through the haze of the berserk, he regained rational thought. He grabbed the reins of his mind and focused on his woman.

He had scented no birth control on her. A hot receptacle for his seed, her fertile body softened, ready for him. Envisioning her large with his babe, he sat in the hallway, frozen. Wanting her to distraction, he ignored the bloodlust to maim or kill the other man for touching her. He couldn't come to her as an animal unfit to live in the PACk or even in this tainted human world.