Under Cover of the Moon Page 5

  He pulled her back to the couch and onto his lap, tightening his arms around her so she couldn’t escape. Closing his eyes against the pain underlying her anger, he tried to imagine what things were like for her. How difficult would that have been as a child? Picking up the thoughts and feelings of the people around you?

  “What do you know about the wolf?”

  She made an exasperated sound. “Why ask if you aren’t going to tell me?”

  He gave her his pack alpha tell-me-now look, and she laughed.

  “That works on most people, doesn’t it?” Arching a brow she continued, “I’m not afraid of you. It won’t work on me.”

  “You’re an impertinent little imp, aren’t you?” he said, amazed she was trying to defy him. “I won’t like it much, but I will turn you over my knee.”

  She gasped in outrage. “You wouldn’t dare!”

  “Wanna make a wager on that, sweetheart?”

  He gave her a minute to realize he was serious. “Tell me what you know about the wolf,” he urged.

  Sighing, she tried to stand up, but he tightened his arms around her. She felt too good to let go. She finally shrugged and relaxed into him.

  “There are werewolves here. I’m not sure how many, but several. I don’t think they normally do this kind of thing though. My grandmother’s stories were about lovers, not murderers.”

  Such easy acceptance was a gift. He closed his eyes. He must have done something right in a past life. Of course, just because she believed the werewolves existed didn’t mean she would want to be bound to one. But it certainly seemed as if her grandmother had paved the way for him.

  “They aren’t myth,” he said in a low voice.

  “I knew that,” she said with irritation, looking at him through lowered lashes.

  He couldn’t resist leaning down to nibble on her pouting lower lip. Once there he had to taste her again and the fire built within his veins. He’d never get enough of this woman.

  “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

  “Well, of course not.” She grinned with a saucy toss of her hair.

  “I’m one of them,” he said, holding her gaze, his fear she’d turn away from him making him sound a hell of a lot more grim than he’d intended.

  She nodded. “I know.”

  “How?”

  She shrugged. “They were joking about it at the bar, and it just made sense. It felt right. I can’t explain how it works.”

  She squinted at the clock in the kitchen and tried to move off his lap. “It’s getting late,” she said. “You should probably be going.”

  He felt a wrenching in his gut. She couldn’t reject him now.

  “I’m staying right here,” he said. She struggled in his arms, and though he hated to, he released her. He’d been sharp and she was scared. The change in her scent was easy to read, and it sickened him that he was the cause. She stood up and backed away.

  “Look. I don’t want to get too attached to you. You won’t stay.”

  “Is that something else you just know?”

  “Yeah. I do. You’ve had lots of women. None of them last long.” She took a deep breath. “That’s okay. I’m not good at relationships either. We should just get this…thing between us”--she waved her hand--“out of our systems and move on.”

  Anger and possessiveness pumped through him. She might be afraid because she didn’t know him yet or understand what he was to her, but she would not dismiss him--them--so easily. Letting his intention show on his face, he stalked her through the open room as she backpedaled, trying to find a safe place to make a stand. Finally backed into a corner, she met his gaze as he took her chin in one hand and forced her to look at him.

  “We will not get this out of our systems,” he said, enunciating each word with care. “You are my mate. I will never let another man touch you. I will never let you go.” Even the thought filled him with rage.

  Her eyes widened. “Wow. You’re serious about this, huh?”

  “Deadly.”

  “I need a chance to adjust,” she said weakly, as if she'd had a major blow. “Some space to think would be nice.”

  “You’re not getting much,” he said, sounding gruffer than he knew was fair, every instinct in him clamoring to tie her to him physically, if necessary. He released her and walked to the sliding glass doors, taking off his shirt as he went.

  “What are you doing?”

  “You need space,” he said, hiding his fury behind sarcasm while he unbuttoned his jeans. “And I need to run off my temper.”

  He felt her eyes on his back as he removed his shoes and peeled off his jeans. Inhaling a deep draught of air, he took the scent of the forest into his lungs before turning back to see frank admiration in her eyes.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he warned.

  “No, of course not,” she said, her gaze still drinking him in.

  He felt it like a touch on his skin, and he shook his head, trying to remember her need for space. He’d give her space all right. Right next to him in bed.

  “Keep the doors locked. Let me have a key so I can get back in.”

  “There’s one under the box of chlorine out there, by the hot tub.”

  “Ok.” He nodded. “Lock this door, and don’t let anyone else in. I won’t be long.”

  She leaned against the doorframe, and he realized she wanted to see him shift. She wasn’t the least bit afraid of him. With a surge of elation, he stepped back and reached for the wolf.

  *

  In amazement, she watched the impossible--a grown man transforming himself into a wolf. His legs contorted and changed, his torso, his arms, and his head. Finally, although she knew it had taken only seconds, he stood before her as a lone gray wolf. She felt a moment of rightness. He was hers.

  On light feet, the wolf approached and butted her hand. As if they had a mind of their own, her hands buried themselves in the soft thick fur behind his ears, and she found herself on her knees looking into its eyes. His eyes, she reminded herself. Darius’ eyes.

  “Darius,” she said, not hiding the wonder in her voice. The wolf grinned and nipped at her, licking her face playfully while she laughed. He was like an overgrown puppy. After a few minutes, he nudged her toward the door a bit more forcefully than necessary.

  “Okay, okay,” she grumbled. “I get it.”

  Under the watchful gaze of the wolf, she pulled the glass shut, and then flipped the lever to the locked position. He seemed to nod goodbye before taking three long steps and bounding off the deck to disappear into the night. Oh, it was going to hurt when he left, but she refused to worry about that. Instead she busied herself straightening the living room and cleaning the kitchen. It didn’t take much time. After wiping the bar down for the third time, she decided to call it a night.

  Upstairs, she found her favorite old, ratty sleep shirt, discarding the thought of finding something even a little bit sexy. This was who she was. He’d have to either accept her, or move on. But… She sighed, digging around in her dresser drawers. He would be leaving soon enough, so maybe she shouldn’t push her luck.

  She stepped under the bright overhead light, comparing the items in her hands. One comfy old shirt--check. One not so comfy red satin nightgown--check. One woman losing her mind--check. Rolling her eyes at her uncharacteristic behavior, she tossed the T-shirt back in the drawer and pulled the satin over her head.

  She didn’t look bad she decided, turning from side to side to study the fit in the mirror. The gown was long with thin spaghetti straps, and it clung to her curves. It slid over her skin like a cool caress, and she ran her hands over its smoothness, imagining Darius doing the same. Her nipples puckered as she traced them and goose bumps rose across her body. She thought about the vibrator tucked away in one of her drawers and wondered what he would think if she finished herself off. He’d probably be pissed. She snickered. Unless he was participating.

  Chapter Eight

  She tried to sleep, but
her body and mind were too restless, and she soon found herself at the glass door, watching the night. Darius was out there, and she was full of questions and new insights. Werewolves were real, and one of them was stalking humans. She was sure of it. She hoped her confidence that it wasn’t Darius wasn’t just wishful thinking. Who then, could it be?

  She ventured outside and rested her hands on the deck railing, and the feeling she'd had for days, of being watched rushed back. Inch by inch she searched the shadows in the tree line. Her breath caught in her throat when a wolf suddenly stepped from the gloom she had just decided was empty. The night was black, and the area beyond the porch’s weak pool of light was in complete darkness. She couldn’t make it out clearly, but it felt wrong. It wasn’t Darius.

  As he crept into the yard, she noticed several differences. He was smaller than Darius, though not by much, and his fur was more black than gray, with silver threads shooting through his mane. Intense blue eyes held her in place and fear clogged her throat, kick-starting her heart to a stuttering leap. This was the wolf that had been following her.

  Fight or flight. Why didn’t anyone ever mention the other reaction to terror? Freeze. She got her legs working again and edged backward, her hands behind her feeling for the door. The wolf seemed to gather itself, its muscles bunched for a leap. A scream stuck in her throat as a second wolf dashed out of the woods, and she exhaled in relief. Darius.

  The two wolves tumbled together across the yard, scratching and biting each other until the smaller one broke free and took off into the darkness, blending out of sight. With her heart lodged in her throat, she turned to see Darius shifting. Scratches down his chest and back dripped with blood but instead of going to his aid, the angry look on his face had her again backing for the door.

  *

  He tracked her in silence, trying to get a grip on his fury. This time she definitely had a spanking coming. He only regretted it would have to be bare handed. Following her through the door, he closed and locked it behind him. He smiled grimly at her attempt to put space between them as she edged around the kitchen bar. There was no way that bar would stop him. Nothing would. He stayed on the living room side though. For now he’d give her the illusion of safety.

  “Woman, I thought I made it clear you were to stay inside,” he said through gritted teeth. Anger boiled anew at his words. Why couldn’t she follow a simple request? Especially when it was for her own protection?

  Her chin came up proudly, eyes practically shooting sparks at him. “I told you I don’t follow orders well.”

  “If I tell you to do something, Meg, you’d better do it. He could have killed you.” His voice shook. He wasn’t sure if it was from anger or fear.

  She bristled at his tone, opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut, obviously searching for the right words to say. He crossed his arms over his chest. Good, better to get this defiance over with. Better she learn he was the boss right from the start.

  “I don’t know what’s going on here, Darius. In one day, I’ve gone from single and thinking werewolves were myths, to this…” she said, waving her hand through the air. “How do I know I’m safe with you? Or that other people are safe from you? I don’t know anything about you, but I’m supposed to trust you enough to do whatever you say? It’s not gonna happen. So get over it!”

  She stood firm as he stalked over to the sofa. He felt a moment of pride at her courage, when he didn’t see even a flicker of fear in her eyes. Of course, she didn’t know what was coming. She would obey him, especially when her safety was at stake. Resolve moved through him. It was time.

  “Come here, Meg.”

  She looked startled at the order. Whether at his tone or something she saw in his face, he couldn’t say.

  “Why?” she asked suspiciously.

  He sighed. Always testing. “Do we have to do this the hard way?”

  She hesitated a few seconds, but started walking toward him. Bold as brass she came right to him. The feel of her soft breasts against his chest was a momentary distraction. Her nipples hardened on contact and he groaned as he stiffened in response. She turned her head when he bent to kiss her, and he nuzzled her neck instead, lost in her taste and scent. Reminding himself of his purpose, he abruptly sat on the edge of the couch and pulled her face down over his lap.

  “Darius! What the hell?” She struggled against him but he held her down with ease.

  “I don’t want to do this, Meg,” he said. Trying to inject a sad note into his voice, he fought a surge of lust. “But there are consequences. You will do as I say.”

  The gown had worked up around her hips when he pulled her down and his hand fell on bare skin. Whack!

  “Ow! Darius, stop! I am not a child!”

  Whack! “No you aren’t.” Whack! “But you acted like one.” Whack! Whack! Whack!

  “Okay, okay, I won’t do it again!”

  She bucked against him, but she wasn’t trying to get away from him. Her arousal was a sweet perfume so he kept a firm grip on her. Whack!

  “Won’t do what again?”

  She paused before answering like she wanted another tap. Whack!

  “All right! Fine! I won’t go outside again if you think it's dangerous.”

  Not exactly the answer he wanted but he didn’t push her further. He shifted her so she was sitting on his lap. It was obvious from the glare in her eye that she might obey him, but she’d hate him for making her do it. And fuck. She'd be right to. A blindly obedient mate wouldn’t survive living with him, needed to be strong enough to take him on in any mood much less furious.

  He held her arms in front of her and reluctantly released them when she yanked. She move the straddle his lap, put her hands against his chest and pushed. He figured it was good sign. She wasn’t trying to get away. Something in him settled.

  “Don’t you ever do that again,” she snapped.

  “Then don’t do something so stupid and dangerous again,” he snarled back, angry all over again.

  Now that he past the fear he wanted to hold her, but she continued to glower at him. At least she was interacting with him. It sure as hell beat the last month of lonely nights and growing sexual frustration.

  He liked the way her ire added a blush to her face and made her eyes shine. She probably wouldn’t appreciate hearing that just now. His gaze was drawn to the rise and fall of her breasts, and he finally noticed her nightgown, a slinky red number that was a big improvement over the plain white bra, but it was distracting as hell. Since he was still stark naked she couldn’t miss his appreciation, his cock hard against her covered pussy. The panties didn’t hide her reaction either. She was wet

  “You liked that,” he said.

  “I didn’t,” she protested, eyes narrowed.

  He snapped the sides of her panties and she lifted enough he could grab them and toss them away. Her thighs clenched as he dipped cream from her pussy, and then he traced her lips with one finger, bringing her taste to her own lips, and her eyes widened with surprise and desire. He bent and licked it off, going back for a deeper kiss when she pushed at him again. She was breathing hard.

  “No. Tell me what’s going on first,” she demanded.

  Damn the woman. Couldn’t she see he was desperate for her? She charged right on.

  “Are you going to explain why it’s so important I let you order me around? Who was that wolf? Why was it here?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He was too distracted by the feel of her warm ass on his lap and by wondering what it would take to get inside her right now. She punched him in the shoulder.

  “Darius, stay with me here. If you really want to protect me, I need to know why. You can't keep me isolated and ignorant.”

  Well, he couldn’t protect her from the realities of being mated to an alpha werewolf, could he? Especially when it was a new pack and under so much scrutiny.

  “The wolf you saw out there is a rogue, hunting humans,” he said, jumping right to the point. After all,
the quicker he explained, the sooner they could go to bed. “We’re hunting him, and until we catch him, I need you to do what I say.”

  “He’s the one that was watching me,” she said quietly. “What do you mean we? How many of you are there?”

  “Seventeen. Six mates, seven with you, so twenty-four in the entire pack.”

  “I’m part of the pack?” she asked, arching a brow.

  “Of course. You’re my mate,” he said, exasperated.

  “You bit me,” she groused. “Does that mean I’ll become a werewolf now?”

  He laughed softly. “No, there aren’t any female werewolves.”

  “Don’t you have daughters?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged. “But they can’t shift.”

  She frowned. "Doesn’t seem fair."

  “I never thought about it. It's just the way things are."

  "Are there only werewolves? I mean, we're not going to have any vampires show up, right?" she joked.

  He laughed. "No vampires. There are other kinds of shifters. Lions, bears, pretty much anything you could imagine. About the bite…” He paused, contemplating the best way to bring up the bond.

  “What about it?” she asked, suspicion lighting her eyes when he didn’t go on.

  “It won’t change you,” he assured her. “But it does tie us together.”

  She narrowed her eyes and rubbed the mark on her neck. She seemed to take mental stock.

  “Oh my God. What does that mean? Undo it!”

  He shook his head, his wolf growling a silent denial.

  “It can’t be undone. Even if it could, I wouldn’t do it. You’re mine, sweetheart.”

  “You’re saying I don’t have any choice,” she whispered. “You can just barge in, take over my life, and refuse to give me a choice.”

  Sensing a trap and uncertain how to avoid it, he remained silent, just watching her. His heart constricted, whether at her hurt and confusion or his own, he couldn’t say. He wanted to be with her. She obviously didn’t feel the same sureness about him. Reminding himself she was new to this, that she hadn’t spent her life waiting to find the right mate, didn’t help.