Authors: Lorie O'Clare
“You’re going in alone.” The GWAR agent looked past her at the plane on the landing field. “You’ll report in after you’ve located the target.”
“What’s the mission? What target?” Another thing Moira had grown tired of—
being called out without having a clue where she was going or knowing anything about the mission profile until she’d arrived.
A cold wind followed Moira through the glass doors of the airport terminal. The strong scent of pine filled her senses. She ignored it though. It wasn’t the smell she was after.
The agent was an American werewolf, his red hair cut short and freckles sprinkled over his skin. He shrugged, giving her a sympathetic look.
“Your instructions are on the disc. There’s a car waiting for you outside. I’m sorry I don’t have any more information.” He looked like he couldn’t wait to get out of there, already turning toward the door. “There’s a laptop in the cabin where you’re going.
Read over your instructions there.”
Moira nodded, worrying her lower lip as she flipped the disc over in her fingers and pushed her way through the glass doors to the waiting car.
Tension rippled inside her while she inhaled the strong smell of waxed leather. The driver never looked back at her, and his stifled emotions stunk from lack of use. A different life called to her as she stared out the window. Members of her old pack were 18
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scattered around the country. And somewhere out there was a werewolf who watched her.
She smelled him, sensed him, over the five years she’d been with GWAR. Not once had she seen him though.
Their drive was a short one, and the car labored up a narrow mountain road with dark green trees and undergrowth crowding them in. The car came to a stop, the driver still not looking at her but pushing a button which unlocked her door—her sign to get out.
“Just drop me off and leave like you couldn’t get out of here fast enough.” Moira glared down the narrow mountain road as the car drove off, leaving her. She looked around, trying to orient herself.
Usually the smells of the night were consistent.
The glow of the moon cast long, dark shadows over pines and the small cabin in front of her. Moira forced her body to relax. With slow, deep breaths her senses gained control, adjusting to the thinner air and taking in the many smells surrounding this dark place. A chill of unease rushed through her. Caution weighed heavy in the breeze.
Someone watched her, not moving but observing. They were far enough away that they were relaxed, satisfied she couldn’t detect they were there. She grinned, lifting her face to the icy chill in the air. Her long black hair slipped behind her shoulder. They didn’t know who they messed with. Damn fool hiding from her thought she was just another werewolf. She inhaled deeply and smelled a male werewolf, a bit too cocky for his own good. Someone wanted to play her for a fool.
There had been no time to get accustomed to the high altitude or enjoy the magnificent mountains that filled her view no matter where she looked. Even now, with some of the most beautiful scenery right in front of her, she ignored it. Something wasn’t right here.
Moira stood on the edge of a narrow gravel road, staring down the side of the mountain, the view of the twisting road blocked by thick pines and fir trees. The car that had brought her here was no longer visible, its rumbling motor fading along with its intrusive smell of gas and oil in this otherwise isolated area.
I could take off—find a new life.
It wasn’t the first time she’d thought of bailing on GWAR. The desire to have her own den, a pack to call her own and live a normal life hit her quite a bit lately. Her superiors would frown on her trying to reunite the Malta werewolves, but she craved doing just that. How to do it was the question.
Gripping the disc in her hand, her bag that held pretty much everything she owned hanging from her shoulder, Moira whipped her waist-length black hair over her shoulder and stared at the isolated cabin.
“Well, isn’t this just lovely?” A person could be forgotten in this isolated spot buried deep in the Rocky Mountains.
She sniffed to get a feel for her surroundings and unease washed over her. Her heart accelerated, thumping against her rib cage and making it harder to breathe the 19
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thin air. The sweet smell of the trees and the crisp, cold air drenched with fragrances of wildflowers drowned the other scents. There should be mountain lions, smaller animals, varieties of squirrels and birds. She didn’t smell any living creatures anywhere nearby. Something higher up on the food chain than any enemy they’d faced before had descended on the place before she got here. And now he watched her.
She could smell him, feel him. But where the hell was he?
Moira knew next to nothing about Colorado, USA. Her brief visits to many different parts of the world over the past few years had helped sharpen her instincts and made it easier to quickly adapt to different climates and cultures, but she didn’t rely on that as she stood within a dozen meters of the cabin along the edge of the rough road.
Turning the disc over in her hand, she stared into the thick trees that ran deep up the mountain past the small cabin. Blood pumped through her veins and her bones stiffened while the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stood on end. Something lingered deep in the dense trees. Very few things scared Moira, yet something out there put her senses on edge.
She tugged on her sweatshirt, feeling the chill in the air wrap around her bare legs.
This wasn’t the climate for shorts. Nice of someone to tell her how to dress!
Taking in a deep breath, tasting his scent, her skin prickled with nervous anticipation. Everything inside her flip-flopped, responding to the carnal domination that hung heavily in the cold air. She sensed aggression, but no anger. His calm confidence grew stronger the longer she stood there.
“Who the fuck are you?” she whispered, although she wasn’t asking the werewolf who hid from her. She tugged at her senses, demanding the elements work for her.
Let the gift surge through me—pump through my veins.
She closed her eyes, feeling new strength burning through her.
Grant me the power to see who watches me without them seeing me.
Suddenly lightheaded, she fisted her hands while her muscles hardened around her bones. She braced herself. Blood pumped so hard that her chest tightened as the sweet pain that indicated the change made her so much more alive. Now wasn’t the time to run over the mountain in her fur. There was a mission to get out of the way. But she would take a minute to learn who her unseen company was.
“Show yourself to me,” she whispered, her lashes fluttering, blurring her vision.
She was in danger. There was no doubt about that. Challenging the unknown made life so much more interesting, though. Her breath caught in her throat. Suddenly she was too warm. The cold chill no longer bothered her. Her heart pounded, pumping blood through her veins painfully. Every inch of her throbbed, ached, cried out to meet this unknown challenge, this alpha male. The urge to change consumed her.
He watched her. The urge to grow, to allow the strength to ripple through her, distracted her. The thought of seeking out such raw strength turned her on. Her pussy throbbed, swelling with the excitement of an unknown predator. She suspected—no, 20
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she knew—that he didn’t hide out of cowardice. His reasons weren’t clear. But too much power and hard, dominating strength surrounded this werewolf. The longer she stood there, the harder her pussy throbbed.
Her skin tingled when the gift pulsed inside her, coming to life, working with the air to make her part of it. The best thing to do at the moment, although incredibly dangerous, was leave her body standing where it was. It stood there, a mere shell, vulnerable and unguarded. She couldn’t risk more than a few moments. She soared out of her body, using her mind to explore her surroundings quickly, thoroughly and before anyone approached her body. Moira found the heartbeat so similar to her own.
A masculine scent closed in around her, calling her to him.
God. She needed to get a grip on herself.
Taking a deep breath, she commanded the elements to work with her, to help her seek out this powerful werewolf. Searching the woods around her, she found him. Eyes so pale she couldn’t tell if they were blue or green stared at the wilderness around him.
He didn’t blink. Not once. The male werewolf stood perfectly still, undetectable in the thickness of the trees. In his human form, clothed, there was still something about him powerful enough to steal her breath.
Over the years, the few werewolves she’d allowed between her legs never measured up to the memory of him. His rich scent, muscles of steel, an overwhelming sex appeal—all of it stole her ability to focus. He was the werewolf of her dreams, the male whose image she conjured up on those lonely nights when she’d masturbated her way to sleep. He was the one she visualized when she’d grabbed relief and fucked another werewolf.
And he appeared even more dangerous than he had five years ago.
She didn’t know whether to run like hell or seek him out.
She thought of the simple rhyme that her mother taught her as a cub.
One with the
elements, carry me. Show me all and all I will see.
The gift, raw and untamed, attacked her soul like fire sparking to life. Not pain, but life, a true gift so few would ever experience. Enlightening, showing her every detail surrounding her, it charged her with power more brilliant than fireworks filling the sky.
Every leaf, every insect that crawled on the ground, every creature that had darted for safety, every movement became so easy to see.
Anticipation, excitement, a thrill of tracking a much-coveted prey heightened his senses, made him easier to detect. The emotions that ransacked Moira terrified her and excited her at the same time. This werewolf was stronger than any enemy she’d ever encountered. Something about him tore at her soul, grabbed hold of her senses and attacked them with raw, aggressive emotions. He was excited, anxious and horny.
Damn it. He smelled fucking better than any werewolf she’d ever smelled before. That overwhelming all-male scent that she’d fantasized about way too many times was now alive and stronger than ever.
She retreated into her body and sucked in a deep breath of mountain air.
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Needing to keep her thoughts in gear, to not act before thinking, she stared at her rugged surroundings, wishing she knew his intentions. Cold sweat soaked her skin.
Her hair clung to her shoulders, stuck to her back. The sweatshirt she wore did nothing to protect her from the vicious chill around her. Her teeth chattered so hard she almost bit her lip. Her legs wobbled, every muscle inside her contracting, making it damned hard to move.
Her heart thudded so hard against her ribs the werewolf hiding out in the trees would have to be fucking deaf not to hear it.
The gift drained her, something she’d yet learned to counteract. Reaching for the doorknob to the cabin, she let go of his thoughts, exhaling loudly at the same time. He watched her and she would have to be prepared when he made his move. At least she could get inside before he pounced on her. If that was his intention.
And the thought of all that muscle, that raw power taking her down made her knees weak. Her pussy throbbed almost as hard as her heart.
“The instructions on this disc better be thorough,” she grumbled. She hated at times that she had to answer to GWAR.
Instinct ached to take over. Survival was in her nature. A man was out there—more than a man—God, she’d swear more than a werewolf. His body heat, the power that had radiated from him, was stronger than anything she’d ever encountered before—at least in the past five years. And she’d responded to him. Sensing his strength, his intense power, her mind had reached out to him. Hell, she’d almost come for him.
Even after closing the cabin door, there was no protection. Her nerve endings tingled with too much energy. He was a stranger, a fucking stranger. And she didn’t know a damned thing about him. Yet all he did was watch her, standing quietly while he carried more strength than most alphas possessed. That had turned her on. Hell, it made her damned horny.
Why was he out there? Who was he? God. She knew who he fucking was. Only one werewolf could come off so strong, heighten her senses and almost bring her to her knees just by inhaling his scent. In all the years she’d been in the States, no werewolf had ever affected her the way the stranger on the motorcycle had the day she left Malta.
It hadn’t just been his intense “fuck me now, little bitch” persona, but also the words he’d spoken to her. Promises from her sire.
God, she missed her parents so badly, even after so many years. She missed them to the extent there were days she swore they were with her, walking by her side, protecting her like they had the first eighteen years of her life.
Not having answers bugged the shit out of her. She was here for a purpose—
granted, she had no fucking idea what that reason was. This was so typical of GWAR.
Always dropped off on location and then briefed. As if it took too much of their precious time to enlighten her about things before she arrived. She knew why they did this. And she wasn’t the only werewolf who complained. GWAR assignments were tricky, often deadly. Some werewolf, obviously with his head up his ass, had decided 22
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their agents worked better if informed of the details once they arrived on location.
Supposedly this kept their emotions from being smelled and kept them from bolting when sent into what was often a suicide mission.
She doubted very much that it was to get laid. But she was about to find out.
Her hands shook from too much adrenaline pumping through her as she looked around the simple one-room cabin. There was no light switch, no indication of power at all. Blackness surrounded her, while a cold, morgue-like sensation crawled over her flesh. Her heart already pounded in her chest, her nerves overexcited and anxious, but she gave the rush of energy inside her new direction. Focusing on controlling the change, she allowed her eyes to adjust enough to see in the darkness.