Mated To The Devil

Mated to the Devil

By

Eve Langlais

Copyright © March 2013, Eve Langlais

Cover art by Mina Carter © March 2013

Formatting by Bob Houston eBook Formatting

Amira Press

Charlotte, NC 28227

www.amirapress.com

ISBN: 978-1-937394-92-9

No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared by any electronic or mechanical means, including but not limited to printing, file sharing, and e-mail, without prior written permission from Amira Press.

Chapter One

She’s here. My mate.

The scent proved impossible to mistake. Remy smelled her the moment she stepped into the fraternity house: sunshine, flowers, and woman, all woman.
His
woman
.

The essence, even diluted by the myriad scents of human, alcohol, Mary Jane, and tobacco, called to him, spun around him in a dizzying mix that rendered him light-headed—and roused his wolf. The sheer act of fighting to maintain control over himself and his beast, already worn down by the copious amounts of beer he’d chugged with his buddies, made it almost impossible to restrain his baser urges. He wanted to get a closer sniff of the female who intrigued him. More than smell, he wanted to stalk her down and put his nose in places humans shouldn’t. Indulge in a deep inhalation of her fresh and seductive scent. His mouth watered and his teeth elongated in his mouth as he craved a bite of her, a taste, a long, hard fuck with the woman destiny decreed was his.

Mine.
The possessive feeling, so unlike him, so new, was a force he’d not reckoned on. Forget the stories his father and other males told, more like warned the young randy pups with. Remy hadn’t realized until that moment just how strongly the mating urge would grip him. How completely it would snare him. And for a woman he’d not even set eyes on—yet.

His gaze unwavering, he located her amidst the milling crowd, a tempting lodestone that drew his eyes with unerring accuracy. He cursed that his enhanced eyesight didn’t include x-ray vision, as getting an accurate glimpse of her proved a difficult feat given her short stature. Dark ringlets bobbed among the taller women, a petite flower stuck amid towering weeds. Despite his desperate need to see her, he didn’t go up on tiptoe or shove his way through the crowd to her side—barely. But he wanted to see her,
dammit
. Meet the woman he’d court, and when she accepted him for who he was, mate. Of course first he’d have to get her to trust him and get over the shocking discovery he could swap his human skin for fur. Minor details, he hoped.

A gap appeared in the throng, and he caught a brief look. The breath sucked from him as desire slammed into him with the force of a raging bull. Pain blossomed in his mouth as he bit his cheek to stop himself from howling. A little less restraint and his foot would have thumped on the floor in excitement like an unschooled pup.

Dark, curly hair tumbled over his mystery lady’s shoulders, framing an exquisite face with ivory skin and round cheeks. Full, red lips beckoned him—and his cock replied with a twitch as he already imagined their velvety softness sliding up its length. Her wide eyes, a beautiful blue if his keen view was not mistaken, peered about with fascination and clearly declared her newcomer status. It also explained why he’d never run into her on campus before.
Or
else I’d have already begun my courtship of her.

Remy craned to see her body, catching only a glimpse of a generous bosom, straining the fabric in a tempting fashion through her primly buttoned blouse. She appeared to have a more rounded frame than his usual bed partners, which suited him just fine. He preferred his women with a little meat on their bones—more cushion for the pushing.

His shaft hardened as he imagined dipping his cock into her moist channel—while she rested on her hands and knees, panting as he claimed her. It was the most intense boner he’d ever gotten and thankfully went unnoticed in the sea of partying bodies, many of whom sported woodies of their own.

The mating urge and utter fascination pushed him to move closer to his woman. She seemed out of place amidst the partying college students. Her eyes wide, her lower lip gnawed in a nervous reaction he deemed adorable. The crowd jostled her, and she did nothing to shove them back.

How dare they touch her! He resisted the temptation to bat the humans in his path, slap them for their temerity. He wondered if perhaps something in his expression gave him away because of the odd looks tossed in his direction. The good thing about everybody drinking, smoking, sniffing, or swallowing various illegal drugs was that most would either not remember or explain away any hallucinations about a guy with glowing eyes and sharp teeth. A full furry morph, though, might raise a few brows, but even drunk, Remy could control his shape. Or so he hoped. He’d never fought so hard to keep his wolf chained.

Mere feet separated him from her, and he stumbled as it occurred to him he was about to meet the woman he’d spend the rest of his life with. The female he’d date—but unfortunately not have the pleasure of fucking—until he knew she’d fallen irrevocably in love with him. The one human he’d finally tell his secret to.

Damn, I wish I’d worn something nice. Or at least cleaner
, he thought ruefully peering down at his paint- stained Mötley Crüe T-shirt, a vintage piece of his dad’s from the eighties that had definitely seen better days.

Looks shouldn’t matter, well, much anyway. As his dad had explained it, once he met the one, they’d find themselves undeniably attracted to one another. The urge to touch—and fuck—would make holding back hard, but centuries of history and tradition had shown that the claiming went much smoother if the human held affection for her mate before the mating, hence the courtship period, a get-to-know-you time meant to cement a budding relationship so that when the big reveal happened, the woman didn’t run off screaming. Not to mention, a male was less likely to wake up to the muzzle of a shotgun if the chosen female understood what binding herself to a Lycan meant. Besides, according to his winking father, those few weeks of torturous waiting as they spun a web of seduction around their woman acted as the most intense foreplay ever, making the crowning event an explosion of epic proportions.

Awesome.
He couldn’t wait.

Sucking in a deep breath, he prepared to move the last few feet separating him from her, but she chose that moment to meet his ardent gaze. Talk about feeling the floor drop out from under his feet.
Oh, fuck. This is really happening.
Panic made his breathing quicken, and he swallowed hard as fear—an unknown emotion for him—made his limbs tremble. What if she didn’t like him? What if she didn’t feel the same way? What if, what if, what if . . . ?

Eyes locked, he might have stood there forever, frozen with fear and anticipation. He almost sighed in relief as his fraternity brothers foiled his planned meeting when they came rushing by and gathered him up in their wave. They swept him away from the enchanting female, who terrified him, into the next room for a drinking contest.

As reigning champion, he couldn’t easily say no. Nor did he want to. Apart from the fact that he needed to locate his courage—at the bottom of a brown bottle, if needed—the college years were for fun and games. And drinking. Lots and lots of drinking. His delectable woman, whose name he would soon learn, would have to wait a moment longer for their courtship to begin. As his soon-to-be mate, she’d spend a lifetime with him, or so he reassured himself, ignoring the snide voice in his mind that cackled
coward
.

Seating himself at the battered wooden table, Remy opened his mouth wide and emitted a trademark howl. Those of his ilk in the crowd recognized the sound for the challenge it was and joined him. The ululation drowned out even the loud music rocking the joint. The humans, oblivious creatures, found it hilarious.

Time to show them who was champ. Tilting his head back, Remy inserted a rubber hose into his mouth, which led up to a funnel into which his fraternity brothers poured beer. Raucous laughter and chanting urged him on as he chugged the ale in a race against an upstart who thought to supplant him.
Stupid freshman
. He owned some pretty damned big balls if he thought he could beat a senior, and not just a senior, but a Lycan.
I’m gonna put the human puppy in his place.
Remy drank faster.

Awareness slammed into him as a breath taken in through his nose let him know the mystery female hovered nearby. His gaze roved as he couldn’t help trying to pinpoint her location. Did she feel the same pull toward him?

A glimpse of blue eyes framed in dark lashes and a bottom lip tucked seductively between white teeth—talk about cock-hardening—made him inhale at an inopportune moment. Remy choked and sputtered as the beer went down the wrong tube. The lost grip on the hose meant the remaining ale poured free, splashing him, an ignoble end to his reign as beer-chugging king.

The crowd
oohed
before they broke out into jeering laughter and then cheers as the new champion was crowned. Remy bore the thumps on his back and taunts good-naturedly. He might have lost for the moment, but he’d soon retake his title as fastest beer-drinker. What he’d lost in prestige, he made up for in renewed—if drunken—determination.
I think it’s time to meet the source of my distraction.

A quick scan of the room showed she’d disappeared from the watching crowd, not an impediment to one like himself.
I’ll just follow my nose. It always knows.
A chuckle slipped free as the commercial ditty for those words danced through his head along with the cartoon bird who sang them. Nerves and his tipsy state got the blame for his inane train of thought.

A few of his packmates, brothers in the same fraternity, tried to waylay him as he weaved his way, but he brushed them aside with smiles and promises of later.

“Remy, dude, maybe you should go lie down. You’re looking pretty wasted,” his best friend, Dean, said. Or was it his shimmering twin?

Remy blinked and refocused until he saw just one blond-haired friend. “I’m fine.” He almost said it without slurring. The alcohol swimming in his stomach made everything seem louder, more vivid, including his pulsing need to find the cute little human. As a Lycan, he processed alcohol more quickly than humans, but given the amount in which he’d partaken, it would take more than few hours to work its way through his system. In the meantime, he felt the effects and could see them in his unstable steps and blurred vision. He didn’t let it stop him from pursuing his objective. He brushed Dean’s hands aside.

“I’m f-f-fine.” Yup. And the wall he bumped into? Obviously moved to thwart him. He noted the wall’s new placement and charted a new course.

The hunt for the woman excited him. The more she seemingly evaded capture, the more his heart raced—and his cock hardened.
Come out, come out, wherever you are. This big, bad wolf wants to say hello.

It took a few more stumbles and teeters before he found her, standing with her back to him at the kitchen sink, and for a moment Remy almost forgot himself. His beast side came close to taking over, and what it wanted to do shocked him—although not as much as it should have. He wanted to go to her and shred the clothing from her body. To bend her over and thrust into her, fuck her hard until he came with his cock buried to the hilt and his teeth firmly planted in her shoulder, marking her.

Complete madness of course. A Lycan didn’t just take a human female like that. Even drunk as a skunk he knew that. There were rules to follow, a courtship dance designed to seduce the woman until she willingly agreed to bind herself to a man who was also a wolf. But knowing the steps involved in seduction didn’t lessen the urge. With great effort, Remy tamped it down.
I have more control than a beast. Drunk or not, I won’t fuck this up.