Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love (11 page)

Wulves!

Instantly alert, he pressed a finger to Rosa’s lips, warning her not to make a sound.

There are at least three wulves near. Be silent. Say nothing. Stay here and wait for me ...

She shook her head frantically. If you think I am going to stay here while you go into possible danger, you are out of your mind!

Fort narrowed his eyes and glared at her. You’ll do as I say, or I’ll tie you up.

She stuck her tongue out at him. Tie me with what ...? This house is empty!

Her eyes widened in fear. Oh my god, Fort! Melody and the children ... what if the wulves are after Melody and ...?

Fortrayn ran toward the back door, situated away from easy viewing from the street, snatching up his clothes as he went. He floundered, trying to put his foot through his jeans leg while still running.

54 Camille Anthony

His lips tightened as he saw Rosa was right behind him, frantically buttoning up her dress. She’d missed one and her dress hung lopsided. She looked cute as a button, and if the situation hadn’t been so potentially dangerous, Fort would have taken the time to tease her.

As it was, he simply grabbed her hand and yanked her after him, silently ordering her to keep behind him and stay quiet!

Easing the back door open, the two slipped out and flashed around to the back entrance of Hunter’s side of the duplex. Fear roiling in his gut, Fortrayn began broadcasting to Hunter on their den-band, praying he wasn’t too far out to pick up the distress call.

* * * * *

Hunter watched for any sign of renewed aggression, but other than the impassioned cry of “Mine!” the troll did nothing else. Soon, it was again trilling the ultrasonic sound that pierced his eardrums with agony.

Hunter’s mid-form enhanced hearing was proving to be a detriment. In an attempt to escape the painful sound, he backed further away, shaking his head, his brain rattling with the agitating noise. On the fringes of his attention, he picked up the murmurs of his team as they debated coming to his assistance. He held a closed fist up, the symbol to do nothing, to wait on further developments.

Just as he lowered his hand, a focused mental cry of caution of needed assistance touched him. Fortrayn’s voice screamed in his head, giving warning -- Chase seeking to foul his den!

Hunter sucked in a breath, panic racing through him. He had to get home, had to stop Chase from claiming his bitch. He came out of his crouch, the troll forgotten in his urgency to get to his woman. Snatching up his boots and shirt, Hunter loped toward the tollbooths and his team. As he ran, his mid-form melted into skin and he dragged on his shirt one-handed, struggling with the flapping sleeve.

“What’s the matter? Why are you leaving that troll on my bridge?”

Morrison’s quarrelsome question bounced off him, not worthy of an answer as Hunter leaned against the side of a booth and pulled his socks and boots on. “Emergency came up at home,” he informed the team. “Do nothing. Watch and observe. I’ll be back.”

The commissioner threw his hands up in the air. “I can’t fucking believe this! First, you tell me to clear the bridge, and then you waltz off as if you have all the time in the world.”

Kevin stormed over to the door of the booth and pointed at the otherworldly squatter.

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“There’s a troll on the Golden Gate Bridge! What are we supposed to do while you go home to your own little emergency?”

“Nothing.” Hunter stamped his foot down in his boot and straightened up. “The troll isn’t going anywhere. In case you weren’t paying attention, we fought to a draw. I wasn’t winning out there.”

“What about security? Are you just going to leave that creature there? What if it wanders?”

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose and gave Morrison a fulminating glare. “Security is your providence, Commissioner. Simply keep the bridge closed if you’re so worried. As for the troll ... if left alone, it will stay put. As long as no one crosses the territorial boundary the creature has claimed, there should be no further violence.”

“I forbid you to go.”

Hunter looked at his former partner as if he was insane. “Are you drunk, Kevin?”

“Do not even think about leaving here until you resolve this mess.”

Agony ... terror ... shame ... rising lust ... The emotions, tinged with a dark, self-hatred and anguished despair ripped though his mind, freezing him in his tracks.

Melody!

Galvanized, Hunter started for his bike, only to have Morrison yank him back. “I said you’re not going anywhere!”

Hunter pivoted and grabbed the commissioner by the shirt, lifting him off his feet.

Peeling back his lips to reveal his fangs, he got in Kevin’s face. “My woman is in danger. This damned bridge can fall into the lake as far as I care. Don’t try to stop me getting to her. I’ll gut you, stuff your intestines down your throat and leave you here to bleed out.”

Five minutes later, the Harley roared to life. Hunter peeled off the bridge, gunning the motor of the powerful touring machine. Disobeying every traffic law, he broke the speed limit heading for home. He chanted Melody’s name like a mantra, praying he wasn’t already too late to stop Chase from hurting her.

56 Camille Anthony

Melody was elbow deep in cookie dough when the knock came at the front door.

Hands sticky with her kitchen sink recipe, which included folding walnuts, pecans, coconut, oatmeal, white chocolate chips, dark chocolate chips, butterscotch chips and chopped almonds into the base dough, she closed her eyes as she pondered the logistics of her choices.

She could ask Andrea to answer the door, but something -- probably the fact that whoever it was at the door had ignored the doorbell -- caused her nerves to jangle. Banging on the wood when you could push a button smacked of arrogance or ignorance. She didn’t want Andrea confronting someone suffering from either one of those afflictions.

She could go to the door, herself, but if she went, she ran the risk of losing half her cookie dough. Her son -- the little flirt -- had been trying to charm his way into that bowl since she’d put in the first cups of sugar to sweeten and cream the butter, and Andrea was an avowed cookie dough junkie.

Reluctantly pulling her hands out of the dough, she raised her voice and shouted, “Just a minute! I’ll be right with you!” Scraping the last of the clinging dough off her hands, she stepped over to the sink and nudged the faucet on with her elbow. “You two keep your fingers out my dough while I go check who’s at the door.”

Andrea stood with one arm slung over Blair, whose little legs kept him perched on her hip. She leaned against the work counter, idly scooping her finger into the stiff dough, gouging out a fat dollop and holding it to Blair’s mouth. “Yes, ma’am.”

Watching them in the mirror mounted over the kitchen sink, Mel saw the raw treat disappear into his greedy little mouth and spun around. “Kids, stop that! I don’t want you eating too many sweets before dinner.”

The two miscreants both giggled at her mock angry expression, their eyes bright with laughter.

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“I’ll get the door for you, Auntie. It’s probably just some salesperson,” Andrea said, boldly popping dough into her own mouth and chewing. “Or some more Jehovah’s Warhorses. If it is, I’ll get rid of them.”

Melody sputtered, desperately fighting to hold back her laughter and losing. “Young lady, you are just too grown for your britches. What have you been told about your irreverent comments?”

Andrea smiled, shrugging. Her gamin face lit up with innocent humor. “Well, it depends on who was doing the talking. You always say smart-mouth comments are unbecoming in a lady. Mom says I’ll never get a husband talking that way.” She frowned as she fed another fingertip of dough to Blair. “Who wants a husband, anyway?”

Melody snorted. “You will, one of these days.” She turned the water off and shook her hands, looking about the room for her drying towel.

Andrea picked up a crumpled towel from beside the mixing bowl and held it aloft.

“Uncle Hunter says I’ll be one of the most powerful women in the world and can say or do whatever the hell I want as long as I’m suitably polite to any Alphas.”

Melody choked. “Ah! Toss the towel, please. And while you’re at it, you can toss your Uncle Hunter’s advice right out the window.”

The teenager smirked. In a gruff, Judge Dredd voice, she deadpanned, “I knew you’d say that!”

Finished drying her hands, Melody straightened her dress and pushed her rioting curls off her forehead. “I’m going to go see who’s at the door. You two stay here and stay out of my cookie dough! You’ve had enough!”

She made the short trek to the front door in record time, feeling slightly guilty for having kept whoever it was standing on the porch for so long. Her manners were better than that. Feeling the weight of her discourtesy, she plastered on a wide smile and flung the door open. “Good afternoon, how may I help you?”

Before the words left her mouth, her instincts caught up with her eyes. The huge men standing on the step weren’t men. They were wulves. Fear cascaded through her, and she gripped the edge of the door, and threw herself against it, intent on swinging it shut.

With a terrifyingly casual show of strength, the shorter wulf placed one hand palm down on the door panel and pushed against her efforts, smoothly forcing the door back into the hallway.

The taller wulf raised his hand to push back a lock of golden hair. His hazel eyes, so much like Hunter’s they gave her a jolt, peered down into hers, the expression in them hard and determined. “Hello, Melody.”

Heart pounding, Melody inclined her head, glancing peripherally to the side to keep the other wulf in her sights. She swallowed a lump of fear, trying to force the emotion down.

58 Camille Anthony

Hunter had told her over and over how fear triggered aggression in wulves. “Chase. I would say I’m glad to see you, but Hunter told me about your phone call.”

A fleeting expression of regret sobered the wulf’s face. A moment later the expression was gone, vanished as if it had never been. “Hunter was foolish not to heed my warning. He should have fucked you and bound you before I arrived. I told him what would happen if he didn’t.” Chase took a step forward.

Melody retreated. Her body retreated. Verbally, she attacked. “You said exactly what you knew would cause him to react in the opposite way, probably on purpose. You grew up with Hunter. You, above all, know that Hunter allows no one to dictate to him in his own city, in his own den.”

The living room had never seemed so small. The wulf dominated the space. Melody looked at him -- really looked. He was so uncannily like Hunter it hurt.

Tall, raw-boned, powerfully built, the cousins’ forms were evenly matched. Chase had thick, blond hair and beautifully shaped eyebrows of a darker brown. His eyes were hazel, but not quite like Hunter’s swirling browns and muddy greens. No, Chase’s eyes were a clear green with sparks of warm saffron sprinkled throughout.

Fisted at his side, Chase’s large, well-manicured hands opened and closed as he stood still, allowing her to see him, to judge him. The Armani suit hid not an iota of his muscular body, and the bulge that tented his pants looked as impressive as Hunter’s package.

“I issued a warning. He chose to ignore it. What am I supposed to think when you meet me at the door still giving off cock-rising pheromones that scream ‘fuck me’?”

Melody blanched when that observation sank in. This wulf intended to rape her, to take her right here in Hunter’s house, in her home.

Melody took another step back. “Hunter will be home soon. Why don’t you wait and take this up with him?”

Chase sighed. He gave a tilt of the head, signaling his cohort into action. The wulf slipped around behind Melody, herding her between him and the other wulf. “I’m not a violent wulf, Melody. After today, I swear never to take you against your will. I will grant you anything within my power, and I am a very powerful man.”

She curled her lip in disdain.

He acknowledged her scornful look. “Of course, that is no incentive, since Hunter holds the self-same status and riches as me. Still, I want you to know I will not treat you cruelly. For Hunter’s sake, I will honor you.”

His sincerity didn’t mean a thing to Melody. She shook from fear, mouth dry and belly muscles clenching in dread. Ice trickled through her veins, chilling her flesh as the intruder took step after slow, implacable step toward her. “I don’t know you, and you have no reason to grant any request of mine, but please don’t do this to Hunter, Chase. He’s your cousin.”

She was ashamed to hear how much her voice shook. “I love him.”

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Chase’s eyes turned murky green. “I’m sorry to hear that. I deeply regret this situation, but you cannot have him. There is no way in hell I will share you once you become my mate. Resign yourself to being my honored bitch. If it will help, I’ll breed you as soon as you come into heat. Perhaps a pup will help you settle into your new life more quickly.”

Melody slapped her hands over her ears. “Shut up! Just shut up. I won’t let you use me!

You can’t just come in my house and rape me and tell me you are honoring me with your attentions!”

Angry tears fell as her back bumped against the wall. With nowhere to go, she realized her inattention had trapped her between the two males intent on subduing her. Hysteria threatened to overwhelm her. She sank down the wall.

True sadness showed in Chase’s eyes while he bent down and lifted her up. His hands cupped her cheeks, gently bracketing her face as his thumbs wiped her tears away. “Hush.

You’re frightened, and I don’t mean for you to be. You are such a strong, brave bitch. I see why Hunter treasures you. I swear I will treasure you, also. Hush, Melody,” he soothed when she would have protested his words. “Hush and let me taste you ...”