Scattered Siblings 3: To Mate a Werewolf (14 page)

Ellie shot to Pamela’s side.

Deflated and totally frustrated, Joel returned to the ballroom. He elbowed his way to the front of the crowd. Lysander, Titus, and Marcellus already stood by the orchestra’s dais.

The music stopped, and King Caleb held up his hand for silence. “Tomorrow’s competition takes place in human form. It’s a trial of strength and wit. I know how much Lykae love sport. Most of you have visited the mundane world to watch televised wrestling. Tomorrow the contenders will wrestle
Royal Rumble
-style. All four of you will enter the ring together. You can only eliminate the other contenders by tossing them over the top rope. Once a contender’s feet touch the floor, he may take no further part in the contest. The last man in the ring wins. I have already arranged for my army to assemble the wrestling ring, and the match will take place at twelve noon.”

Joel knew Lysander and Titus would double-team him. To survive the initial free-for-all, he needed to pair up with Marcellus. Torn between making things right with Ellie and forging a temporary alliance, he froze.

He felt a kiss of cold air and turned in time to see Ellie and Pamela leave. At least they were leaving without a male escort. He didn’t need to defend her from unwanted attention. Joel’s stomach churned as he imagined her kissing someone else. Ellie was his. He just hadn’t convinced her yet.

Joel didn’t speak, just moved onto the veranda and gazed toward Pammy’s home. He considered following Ellie there. His natural wolf wanted to sit outside her window and howl. His primal wolf wanted to go after her and claim her. After this display in the kitchen, he realized she needed time—and he was running out of that. Trapped by Lykae tradition, she couldn’t leave before the tournament ended, but once he reclaimed his birthright, she’d take off. He had two days left, and he needed to make them count.

Marcellus approached. He kept his voice low. “Tomorrow, I guess it’s us against them. Right? Do we team up?”

“We do,” Joel agreed, “but once it’s down to the two of us, the gloves are off.”

Marcellus nodded. “Done. Doesn’t it bother you the way that pair hangs around Olivia? Didn’t she come here to marry you?”

Joel grinned, glad she’d backtracked on their ridiculous bargain. “She did, but I’ve already drafted my speech for when I visit her father and officially end the engagement. Once the tournament’s done, I’ll tell him how she refused me last night. Her actions negate any contract between us, and believe me, that woman isn’t getting a second chance. I will still offer to ally with the Desert Marauder pack.”

Marcellus raised an eyebrow. “A little ahead of yourself there.”

Joel shook his head. “The scoreboard says different. I scored full points, remember? Looks like I’m right on track, pal.”

* * * *

Ellie had made an utter fool of herself, running from Joel last night. Facing her friends would be hard, especially as Lykae lived to poke fun and tease. If only she could switch her feelings on and off, or at least stay calm and straight-faced. No, she’d turned stupid and run like a loon.

At least today Joel would be concentrating on the wrestling, and he’d leave her in peace. A small part of her wished he’d come after her and claimed her, but he only wanted to get into her pants. No way would she be his bit on the side.

He’d sworn to marry Olivia, but the way that woman flaunted her preference for Lysander must have bruised Joel’s pride. If not for Pamela insisting Ellie attend the match, she’d have stayed in bed like a coward, and she’d never move until the tournament finished.

Thanks to Pamela’s cajoling, Ellie had showered, then pulled on her jeans and the turquoise T-shirt Pammy had left in her room. As noon approached, she felt as though she starred in a Hollywood Western. Damn, she couldn’t remember who’d starred in
High Noon. Not that it matters.

I wanted to be a tough talking, gun-toting cowgirl, but I’m more of a Doris Day version of Calamity Jane
. She refused to waste any more of her life daydreaming. In the future she’d stay well away from Joel. The instant he regained his pack, she’d leave the Tundra Toughs’ territories. It hurt that she could never return, especially when she’d made so many friends here.

For today, she’d live in the moment and enjoy this last couple of days with her friends. Sometime during the morning, Caleb’s soldiers had assembled a wrestling ring in front of the Great Hall. It looked every bit as sturdy and professional as the ones she’d seen on television. Lykae didn’t do things by halves. A cordoned-off walkway stretched from the Great Hall to the ring.

Ellie and Pamela pushed to the front. After last night’s debacle, Ellie expected good-humored teasing from Pammy and her friends. Instead, the unattached males spent ten minutes eulogizing her cooking skills. One even proposed, and Ellie thought he actually meant it.

Good thing I’m leaving tomorrow…really.

Ellie had expected the Lykae king and his queen to sit on thrones on a dais, but she spotted them hand in hand in the crowd. She’d never get used to the way wolves mixed informality with strict rules and traditions.

Inside the Great Hall, the clock chimed twelve times. The contenders stepped out and strutted toward the ring. Ellie stared shamelessly. The men were shirtless and wearing only Lycra leggings. Even the Lykae women sighed over the contenders’ six-packs. Ellie had never seen so much well-oiled muscle in her life.

Marcellus hammed it up for the crowd, smiling for the unmated females and adding an extra swagger to his step. Titus stomped to the ring, his face as dark as a thundercloud. None of the females sighed for him. Lysander followed, his face stony as he ignored the crowd. Olivia waved at him, and his unemotional mask broke into a smile. Ellie didn’t trust any of them.

Joel came last, his torso shining as the sunlight played over the oil on his skin. Ellie pictured herself rubbing it on him, her hands massaging his muscular flesh.
Daydreaming again. It’s time I faced reality, and that means keeping my hands off him.

Ellie started when a small hand slipped into hers.

Sammy, the youngster she’d played ball with yesterday, slid his hand into hers. “Don’t worry. Mr. Joel will win.”

She certainly hoped so, but she wouldn’t lie to the youngster. She smiled, said nothing, and prayed Joel came out on top. Without thinking, Ellie lifted Sammy in her arms and settled him on her hip, ready to watch the fight.

Chapter Fourteen

Joel slid beneath the bottom rope and into the ring. He scanned the crowd and grinned when he saw Ellie standing in the front row with Sammy settled on her hip.
She came. I‘ll talk to her after the match and make her understand she’s the only woman for me
. Her kind heart and cooking skills had won his pack’s hearts, and he knew she’d make a great alpha female. With another smile in her direction, he swaggered to his corner.

The four challengers stood, one in each corner. The timekeeper rang the bell, and the match was on.

Titus and Lysander headed straight for Marcellus and backed him on to the ropes. He splayed his arms to the left and right. His attackers tried to hoist him out of the ring. Mindful of his agreement to team with Marcellus, Joel sprang forward. He grabbed two-handed at Titus and pulled hard, but Titus tangled his arms around Marcellus like an octopus clinging to its prey. Lysander dragged Marcellus’s left leg over the top. Titus released his grip on Marcellus’s waist to help Lysander heave him over the ropes.

Marcellus clung hard to the ropes. Titus and Lysander didn’t watch him fall, and unaware Marcellus’s feet didn’t touch the ground, they turned to double-team Joel.

Joel backed off across the ring, then charged the pair of them. He clotheslined Titus and sent him tumbling over the ropes. He landed with both feet on the floor. He’d come in fourth again. Lysander snarled. He circled Joel, looking for any weakness.

Joel grinned and used four fingers to beckon him closer. “Bring it.”

Lysander bellowed and charged across the ring like an angry bull. Matador swift, Joel sidestepped, then moved backward toward the rope. Lysander’s bulk gave him momentum, and he crashed past. Joel didn’t change, but he used the strength of his primal beast to lift the top rope. Lysander’s legs hit the lower ropes, tripping him. He dangled headfirst, scrabbling for a handhold. Then he tumbled to the floor. Third place, again.

Joel heard a noise behind him. Marcellus, a natural athlete, had held on to the ropes and kept his feet off the floor. As Lysander fell, Marcellus scrambled back into the ring.

To acknowledge the other man’s skill, Joel touched two fingers to his forehead. “It’s every man for himself now.”

Marcellus nodded, and they circled each other. Joel watched him with wolfish intensity, spotted a weakness, and slammed Marcellus to the canvas. Marcellus kicked Joel’s legs out from under him. Joel went down hard.

They grappled for supremacy. Joel tried to stand, but Marcellus grabbed his ankle. Joel shook him off. With a flex of his back muscles, Joel sprang to his feet. Marcellus copied him. They fought Greco-Roman-style.

As the lighter man, Marcellus was fractionally quicker. Joel was stronger and used his extra weight to his advantage. Both men were supple and lithe. Joel circled, intent only on Marcellus. Titus sped from the Great Hall and into the ring. Marcellus tried to shift Joel aside, but he stood like an immoveable man mountain.

Look out!” Ellie yelled.

The crowd’s jeers drowned Ellie’s shout. Titus locked his hands and hammered them down on Joel’s back. Joel went down as if poleaxed. Titus raced away to the Great Hall.

Marcellus stood back and looked toward King Caleb as if awaiting instruction. The Lykae king’s face stayed impassive. The crowd howled. Joel shook his head, hauling himself to his feet. Marcellus shrugged and tossed him toward the ropes.

Joel twisted midrun, turned his back, and rebounded into the ring. He doubled over and rested his hands on his knees, desperate to catch his breath. Marcellus charged toward him. Joel struggled upright and took a half-step forward. Marcellus crashed into him. Joel planted his head in the other man’s stomach. Using his powerful back muscles, Joel forced himself upright. Marcellus’s momentum worked against him, and he flew over Joel’s back and over the top rope. Joel raised one hand in victory celebration, then collapsed in the center of the ring.

ELLIE SET SAMMY down, climbed into the ring, and knelt at Joel’s side. He lay on the ground, totally winded, but stared into her eyes. Not one to let an opportunity pass, he reached up and rubbed the tips of her pointed Elf ears. He smiled up at her and asked, “What happened?”

Self-conscious, wishing she’d never left Sammy’s side, she brushed his fingers away. “Titus cheated. He hit you from behind and skedaddled out of here. I shouted a warning, but you didn’t hear me.”

Joel stroked her unscarred cheek. “I’ll listen harder next time.”

Ellie didn’t move, just watched as he tensed each muscle in turn, clearly checking everything was in working order. Without thinking, she brushed his beaded lock from his face. “You still won, and I know you’ll win again tomorrow.”

He grasped her hand and tugged hard. Surprised, she tumbled across him. He wrapped his arms around her and held on as if the world would stop turning if he let her go, and for her, it would.
I’m in his arms, just where I want to be. Maybe he thinks I’m Olivia. Let’s face it, all he wants from me is sex.

Again, his gaze met hers, and he nibbled at her lower lip. In a show of strength, he sat up and cradled her to his chest. He smelled of baby oil, sweat, and masculinity. Ellie’s heart somersaulted. Her pulse raced, and she ran her tongue over her lips. Her throat was dry, but her pussy flooded with liquid heat. She should pull away, she knew that, but when he held her like this, her willpower turned to jelly. His whole pack watched while he pawed her—and she loved it.

His lips pressed against hers, a firm caress that shattered her resistance. New life sparked in her soul. Chills ran up and down her spine. Heat boiled though her blood. Light-headed and eager, she snuggled against him, pressing her breasts against his oiled torso. Worn-out, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, filling her lungs with his masculine essence.

He leaned in to steal a kiss. When his tongue danced with hers, she forgot to breathe at all. The crowd faded into insignificance, and it didn’t matter that he’d rejected her twice. She poured all the love in her heart into that one, endless kiss.

“Ellie the Elf, why are you kissing Mr. Joel?” Sammy asked just as the crowd quieted, his high-pitched voice loud enough to carry across the green.

King Caleb already stood in the ring. He looked down at Joel and grinned. Beside him, Queen Sylvie’s head shot up, and she frowned at Ellie.

Great, even the other non-Lykae disapproves of me.

Joel kept his arms locked around her as he smiled down at the youngster. “Because I love her, Sammy, and because she’s my true mate. The thing is, she’s really cross with me right now. Perhaps you can convince her I’m not that bad.”

His true mate? Really? Then why did he reject me in Whitby? Even when I gave him a blowjob, he dumped me on the road like an unwanted kitten
. She gazed into his fathomless blue eyes, daring him to walk away again. She loved him completely, but not even for Joel Blackheart would she spread out like a doormat and let him trample all over her.

Joel’s voice dropped, and he held her tighter. “I tried to tell you when we swam yesterday, but you reacted badly when I tried to kiss you. When you flashed off you left me with a giant hard-on and a void in my chest where my heart used to be.”

What? He’d tried to tell her she was his true mate? Then why had he been so eager to dance with Olivia last night?
Talk about having his cake and eating it.
No way
. “I’m not up for sharing. You stick with your business arrangement and stay away from me.”

Oblivious to everything but the man who held her, she squealed when someone sank claws in her shoulder.
Okay, the royal couple definitely do not approve of Joel holding me
. When she turned her head, it wasn’t the royal party that stared down at her.