Hunger of the Wolf (14 page)

His swarthy complexion turned a dull red. “I'll get more,” he said uncomfortably.

"But.... “Shaking her head, not certain whether she was more irritated, more pleased, or just plain stunned that he'd been in such a hurry, Shilo got off the bed and removed what was left before heading into the bathroom.

Dante followed her. “I'll wash your back."

Still naked and drop dead gorgeous, Shilo saw he was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest, a distinctive predatory gleam in his eyes as he watched her. He'd
torn
her clothes off of her, though. Bad lycan! She sent him a censorious glance. “I don't need my back washed."

"I'll wash the front then,” he retorted, curling his lips upward in a smile.

She could feel her lips curling automatically in response. He was just too damned cute for her good. She looked away, trying to hide it, but she figured it was with indifferent success. When she climbed into the shower, he followed her as if he'd been summoned.

Not that she minded!

He washed her front. Obviously, her breasts were
really
dirty. He spent almost five minutes washing them before he slipped his hands downward and washed her pussy with equal attention to detail. As thoroughly aroused as she was, though, she was still mindful of the fact that no one had eaten. Not that she believed they'd be gnawing on her if they weren't fed, but still....

Bending down, he slipped his cock along her cleft, biting down on the side of her neck and sucking at the patch of flesh. Her nipples instantly stood erect and her insides performed a slow, delicious shimmy.

"Nobody's going to get fed before midnight at this rate,” she murmured in half-hearted warning.

"Mmmm,” he growled low in his chest, stoking a finger lazily along her cleft. “I'll just have some of this pie right here,
chère
."

"I doubt it would be very filling ... for you,” she responded with a husky chuckle, feeling dizzy with the thought, vaguely horrified, but definitely intrigued.

He moved his mouth to her ear. “But I'll bet it's tender and sweet as honey. I could just suck on it a little bit, lick it nice and slow for a little while, and then lap up the cream filling."

"Gross!” she commented, uncertain of whether she was more shocked or thrilled at the suggestion.

He chuckled. “I can guarantee you won't think so when you feel my tongue lapping up your sweet juices, baby."

A shiver skated through her. Alas, he eased his finger from her and straightened. “I'll have pie for desert,” he promised huskily.

Chapter Fourteen

Shilo was still so wobbly legged when she got to the kitchen she thought she was going to have to sit down for a few minutes to collect herself. She saw from the kitchen clock, though, that Dante had undoubtedly been right about the time. She hadn't had anything more than a cup of coffee to sustain her all day and felt weak and shaky from that besides the ferment going on inside of her.

She couldn't believe she was aroused, again, after what he'd already done. It not only wreaked havoc, it made it almost impossible to collect her scattered wits.

Struggling to ignore it, she headed to the back porch to dig through her freezer. Thinking quick, easy, and filling, she grabbed a bag of fryer parts and hauled it into the kitchen, tossing it into the microwave to thaw. Fortunately for the guys, her situation demanded that she stock up when she did get into town and she tended to buy large packs of everything. The bag would probably have lasted her a month. She figured it ought to be enough to feed four big men—strike that—lycans. She hoped it would be anyway.

Dante, wearing nothing more than his jeans, strolled through the kitchen and stepped onto the back porch, issuing a high pitched, near deafening, whistle. She jumped at the sound, dropping an armload of canned vegetables all over the floor. She was standing on one foot, nursing her bruised toes when he came back in.

His dark brows drew together over the bridge of his nose. Striding toward her, he caught her waist and lifted her up onto the counter. He was stroking her bruises when Maurice, Kane, and Jessie trooped inside.

"What happened?” Jessie asked.

"Kitchen injury,” Dante murmured. “She dropped a can on her toe."

Shilo reddened, but under the circumstances she felt mean to even consider blaming it on Dante, despite the fact that he'd startled her into dropping the cans.

"We can handle kitchen duty,” Maurice volunteered.

"No,” Shilo said firmly. “It's fine, just bruised. Y'all go on in the living and make yourselves at home. I'll have some food soon—promise."

"You sure you don't want help?” Dante asked when the other three had left.

"Positive,” she said firmly.

Shrugging, he helped her down and left her to it.

Fried? Or stewed? Shilo wondered as she flipped the bag and checked the thawing progress. They were southern boys—except for Maurice. She didn't know where he was from—and that meant they were in luck, because she did know how to make chicken and dumplings. Unearthing the huge pot she'd gotten for canning—a project she'd never actually gotten around to trying—she cleaned it and set it on the stove top.

This time, she decided, she was going to make a better impression.

* * * *

Kane had sprawled on the sofa when Dante reached the living room. Jessie was studying the titles of the movies in the tall case, and Maurice was merely wandering about studying the room and its contents. He picked up the calendar Dante had left on the desk, frowning as he studied it.

Folding his arms, Dante leaned against the doorframe. After flipping back and forth through the calendar for a moment, scanning the months already marked, Maurice slowly lifted his head and looked directly at Dante for a long moment. Turning away after that significant exchange, Maurice picked the tack up from the desk and pinned the calendar to the wall where it had been before.

"I could use a bath,” Kane drawled, “but I sure as hell don't feel like hiking back to the SUV at the moment. I assume we're set here for a while?"

Dante pushed away from the door and moved to the couch, sprawling at the opposite end. “I'm working on it."

Jessie chuckled. “So I heard."

A satisfied smile curled Dante's lips. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so completely relaxed and utterly content. He'd been worried as hell when he'd finally woken, wondering uneasily if she was going to wake up screaming, or wake up and knock him senseless for assaulting her.
He
was happy—god, but it had felt better even than he'd expected!—but it couldn't be avoided that he didn't have a very clear idea of what he'd done after that first kiss except for a dim memory that he'd been desperate to get inside of her.

She'd enjoyed it, though—
How
much, he wasn't certain, but enough that she hadn't tried to throw him out the door, enough that she seemed to have accepted him—for the moment at least.

Maurice glanced around at the room and wandered from the living room to the bedroom. Returning after a few minutes, he propped a shoulder against the doorframe. “She has cats,” he murmured, smiling faintly.

Dante grunted. “We met when I first came in. I hope she isn't too fond of them because they're not too fond of lycans."

Kane grinned. “I noticed that. I met up with them in the barn."

"Hey,
mes ami
! Check this out!” Jessie said with a chuckle, tossing a video case to Dante.

Dante caught it deftly, examined the illustration on the front of the box and then flipped it over to read the back. Uttering a sound of disgust, he tossed it to Kane. Kane looked it over and grinned.

"What is it?” Maurice asked curiously.

Kane tossed the box to him.

"Give me a break!” Maurice muttered after he'd looked it over. “No wonder she's so wary if she's watching this shit.” He tossed the box back to Jessie.

"Hey! I've seen this werewolf flick. It's funny as hell.” Striding toward the TV/DVD combo, he switched it on and inserted the disk.

Once the movie had started, Maurice pushed away from the door and moved to the sofa, crouching at the end beside Dante. “Did I interpret that correctly?” he murmured.

Dante gave him a look. “If you interpreted Friday as yours, then yes."

Maurice studied him. “But you think that's too soon,” he said perceptively.

Dante frowned uneasily. “I don't want to push her too hard, too fast. This is for keeps, Maurice. I don't know how well she understands, or how much—or how receptive she is to our way of life for that matter. I wouldn't worry about it if I was more certain about marking her—she'd
know
she was ours then. But this psychic thing has me uneasy."

Maurice was thoughtful for several moments. Finally, he lifted his head and looked around the room again. “If there's one thing she is used to it's being different,” he said finally. “I'll test the waters carefully. If she seems skittish, I'll wait."

Some of the tension eased from Dante. “It's a lot to ask...."

"You didn't,” Maurice responded. “And it isn't for you, anyway. You may think what you feel is different from the way we feel—and maybe you're right—but you're wrong if you think it's no more than mating fever with the rest of us—or least me. And I'm thinking it is for them, too. A woman like Shilo doesn't come along more than once in a lifetime."

He sent Dante a wry look. “Aside from the fact that she makes my blood boil, I'm thirty two. And not only have I had all the ‘lone wolf’ I can stomach, I want a pup of my own. I don't have any plans to go out anytime soon, but nobody ever does, and I don't want to be like Gerard. He was thirty five—never had a mate or a pup."

Rising, he moved to the desk chair since the couch and easy chair were already occupied and sat down, dividing his attention like everyone else, he suspected, between the TV screen and the door of the kitchen where he could see Shilo moving around and hear her humming to herself.

The need racing through his veins hitched upward a notch as he watched her, listened to her voice. He didn't know if he had it was bad as Dante or not, but he felt sorry for Dante if
he
had it
worse
.

A faint smile curled his lips after a few minutes. Regardless of Dante's reservations, she didn't seem the least bit unnerved about the fact that she had a wolf pack sprawled in her living room.

* * * *

Shilo was so pleased with herself she had a hard time containing it. She'd managed to cook an entire, gargantuan meal, and she hadn't burned a thing, hadn't even scorched the dumplings, although that had been a near miss. They seemed to appreciate her efforts, but then again Dante had said they hadn't eaten since before day.

There wasn't enough room for everyone at the table, so they'd brought plates into the living room and settled to eat. She'd chosen to sit on the floor in front of the coffee table.

It was almost amazing how comfortable she felt sharing a meal with them.

She revised that after a little thought. No, more than comfortable, happy.

Of course a lot of that, she knew, was residual contentment from being so thoroughly satisfied, but they all seemed relaxed and perfectly comfortable and she thought that contributed to her sense of pleasure.

She didn't feel anxious that she needed to work to entertain them, felt she could just relax herself and enjoy being surrounded by company.

They'd been watching an old horror movie from her collection while she was cooking. She'd thought it was a comedy from the chuckles erupting from the living room and had found it more than a little embarrassing when she'd finally been drawn into the room to discover what was so funny. She'd stared at the wolf-man on the TV screen, looked at them, and then decamped to the kitchen.

She supposed she'd spoiled their enjoyment. They'd turned the movie off.

She still didn't know why they'd found it so amusing, but she'd decided not to ask. “Where are y'all headed?” she asked when there was a lull in the previous conversation.

When no one said anything, she lifted her head and looked around at them curiously. Dante, she saw, was looking at her taut faced. Maurice, Kane, and Jessie glanced at Dante, looked at her, and then focused on their food.

Embarrassed, feeling vaguely snubbed that they obviously didn't want to tell her their business, she returned her attention to her plate. “Sorry. I was just curious. It's none of my business.” She frowned as a thought abruptly occurred to her, though. “How did you find me?"

"We're lycan,” Dante said after a lengthy silence.

Shilo stared at him as that slowly sank in. A wave of cold washed over her at the wealth of meaning behind that simple statement. She'd thought she'd been so clever in covering her tracks! “Which means you tracked me,” she whispered, “which means they could, too—the others, the rogues."

Was that why they'd come, she wondered abruptly? Because Dante had promised to protect her? Because he'd told her plain out he wasn't taking any chances on the rogues catching her and using her against him?

A frisson of discomfort wafted through her as she remembered that conversation.

He'd told her the rogue probably meant to try to ‘turn’ her
and
‘breed’ her.

He'd said that was what he'd do if it was him.

Now she had to wonder if that was what had been behind all that wonderful sex, not passion, but calculation.

She shook that thought off. He'd been passionate. She might have been half out of her mind, but she'd
felt
the same from him. She knew she had.

Maybe it was passion
and
calculation, but there'd been nothing cold blooded about it.

"You shouldn't have run off,” Dante said finally.

Uncomfortable at the reminder of why she'd run and the fact that she'd agreed to cooperate with him and stay until he'd taken care of his rogue problem, she looked down at her plate. “I figured I'd be safe here."

"You are. We're here."

She met his gaze with a mixture of relief and doubt. Regardless of his motives, she didn't feel safe anymore knowing that if Dante had tracked her the others might. “But ... you can't stay forever."

"We won't need to."

Shilo dragged her gaze from Dante and studied the faces of the other men. “I'm not safe here anymore, am I?” she asked, feeling a tightness in her throat at the thought of leaving her little cabin—her animals, her garden. Getting to her feet abruptly, she left the living room.

She was standing at the sink, staring at the bubbles mounding beneath the tap when Dante joined her. For several moments, he merely stood behind her. Finally, he slipped his arms around her and pulled her back against him.

Comforted by that simple gesture, she sniffed, trying to blink away the tears that had gathered in her eyes. “My cow's pregnant,” she said forlornly.

Dante chuckled. “Is she?"

She sniffed again, but bit her lip. She supposed it did sound funny, but it wasn't amusing to her. She loved her cow. She'd had plans! “It's not funny! I was so looking forward to having a baby cow."

Reaching in front of her, he shut the tap off. “I'm not goin’ to let anyone hurt you,
chère,
or take anything away from you,” he murmured, nuzzling his face against her temple.

She knew he was only trying to comfort her and she had no right at all to expect more than he'd already done for her, but she didn't want to leave. It was so very true that one never really appreciated what one had until it was gone—or threatened. “You'd do that?” she asked, unable to keep hope from threading her voice.

"Yes."

"You'll stay until you're sure I'll be ok?” she added, just to be sure she'd understood him.

"I told you I'd keep you safe. I always keep my word."

She believed him. She supposed she shouldn't have. She hadn't known him long enough to consider it sound judgment, and yet she trusted him. She felt like she could believe him. Maybe it was just that she wanted to? “The others won't mind?"

"They're as dedicated to this as I am."

She wasn't sure she believed that, but they didn't seem put out about being dragged here. Her conscience smote her, though, as another thought occurred to her. “You won't get into trouble? I don't want you to get into trouble."

"I make my own decisions."

"This isn't against pack law?"

"No."

"Even though it's outside your territory?"

He was silent for a long moment. “It isn't actually outside my territory,” he responded finally, and with perfect truth. She was his—whether she knew it yet or not.

"It's not?” she asked doubtfully.

"It isn't,” he said firmly, releasing her finally and moving away. “We'll take care of kitchen duty. You go relax."

She turned to smile at him and discovered the others had crowded into her tiny kitchen. “You'll have dishpan hands,” she said teasingly.

Kane sent her a look. “Not him—me."

She chuckled. “He volunteered you to do the dishes?"

He smiled back at her in a way that was rife with promise. “Could I play on your sympathy if I said he always picks on me?"

"Does he?” Shilo asked doubtfully.

He shrugged, his expression wry. “No. It's my turn."

Shaking her head at him, she chuckled as she left the kitchen. She surveyed the living room doubtfully, though. It was the largest room in the tiny cabin, and still small considering what it was going to be expected to hold. She'd bought a queen sized bed because she liked plenty of room to sprawl out, so it would sleep two, but otherwise there was just the couch and the floor. Maybe she should just take the couch and let them have her room, she thought?

Dante had promised her desert, she remembered, feeling warm all over at the thought, but it was going to be crowded and uncomfortable for everyone else if she and Dante took the bedroom. There was barely enough floor space in the living area for two big men to sleep. And she only had a couple of spare blankets and pillows.

Deciding to worry about sleeping arrangements later, she moved to her computer and sat down to check her mail. Pleasure filled her when she'd opened her mailbox and discovered she'd gotten an actual order!

"What are you doing?” Dante asked as he returned to the living room and dropped onto her couch.

She turned and grinned at him triumphantly. “I've got a project!"

"What sort of project?"

"They want one set of number fifteen—that's a whole set—booties, cap, and sweater—in pink. Somebody's having a girl!"

She saw when she turned to look at him again that Dante was studying her with a mixture of amusement, puzzlement, and something else she couldn't quite interpret. Something about it made her feel ... unsettled, though, exposed somehow. Resolutely, she pushed that thought aside. He didn't know her well enough to ‘read’ her. “I sell handmade baby clothes—crochet and knit mostly, but sometimes hand sewn and embroidered."

"Come here,” he murmured, lifting a hand invitingly.

She raised her brows, but shut down her system and got up to join him on the couch, unable to resist the invitation. He dropped an arm across the back of the couch behind her when she sat down, dragging her against his side. “You enjoy working with your hands?"

She looked at him in surprise and then frowned thoughtfully. “I guess I do. Mostly I picked it up because I was bored out of my mind and it looked like something I might enjoy doing.” She thought it over, realized it must sound strange that she enjoyed making things for babies when she'd never had one, and cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I like doing the baby things because they're small, you know—doesn't take long to make them."

"You sell a lot?"

She grimaced. “Actually, not. I'm lucky if I get one project a month, but it's sort of a special treat for me. I can't wait to get started!"

"I could drive you into town tomorrow morning to pick up what you need."

"Oh, I have everything."

"Then why wait?"

"I've got company,” she said, smiling at him.

He gave her a nudge. “Go get the stuff. I want to see this."

She looked at him doubtfully, torn. She hadn't exaggerated when she'd told him it was a special treat for her, but then so was company. In fact, she never had company. On the other hand, there wasn't any reason why she couldn't enjoy both at the same time if he wouldn't feel slighted. She didn't want to be rude. She certainly didn't want him to think she wasn't glad of his company. “You're sure you don't mind?"

"Go!"

"Why don't you pick a movie to watch?” she suggested as she bounded off the couch and moved to the large cabinet the TV was sitting on. Pulling out one of the large drawers, she took out a well worn leaflet, studied it for several moments, and then selected a large, pink ball of yarn and a hook.

"What about this?” Dante asked, showing her a video box.

"Oh yeah! That's one of my favorites. I've watched it at least a dozen times. Have you seen it?"

"No, but if you've watched it that many times...."

"No, let's watch it. It's a Sci-fi horror, really creepy."

He chuckled, but crossed the room to put the DVD in. “Every time?"

"Well, it isn't as scary as it was the first two or three times,” she admitted absently as she studied the directions for her project. “But mostly I just listen while I work anyway. It keeps me company."

Maurice joined them just as the movie was starting. Grabbing her needle work, Shilo scooted to the center of the couch and made room for him on the end opposite Dante.

"What's this?” he asked as he settled beside her.

"It's about aliens,” Shilo volunteered when she'd finished counting her starting chain. Kane finished up in the kitchen and joined them a few minutes later, settling in the easy chair. Shilo frowned, wondering where Jessie had gotten off to. A few minutes later, however, she heard the sound of a vehicle on her driveway. Tensing instantly, Shilo bounded off the couch to look out the window.

"It's just Jessie with the SUV."

Shilo turned to look at Dante. “You're sure?"

He tilted his head as if listening and nodded. Shilo frowned. She didn't see how he could tell just by listening, but he seemed certain enough she returned to her seat and picked up her crochet work again. Uneasiness wafted through her. She'd known they didn't drive up to her place. She would've heard the vehicle, but she'd been too distracted before to consider why they hadn't. It stuck her forcibly that they'd anticipated trouble and hadn't wanted to announce their arrival and she wondered, nervously, if they'd tracked her to her place or tracked the rogues.

It seemed unlikely, she decided after considering it several moments, or the rogues would've attacked her before Dante's pack arrived—unless Dante had been close behind them and they'd still been checking the place out and trying to decide on an attack strategy.

Dante hadn't said that, though. In fact, now that she thought about it, he hadn't actually explained anything. She'd been the one who'd jumped to the conclusion that the rogues were the reason they'd come. Everything Dante had said had seemed to confirm her suspicions, but she couldn't pinpoint anything specific he'd said other than to assure her he meant to protect her.

Despite Dante's reassurance, she was still relieved when the vehicle was parked and Jessie came in a few minutes later carrying several bags. He disappeared into her bedroom with them and then she heard the shower.