Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love (13 page)
Read Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love Online
Authors: Camille Anthony
“The temptation is strong to pretend you are Hunter, to yield without a fight and later convince myself I thought you were he.” She shook her head, refuting the poisoned vision. “I Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love
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know better, though. Hunter expects better from me.” She cocked her head, turned her face toward the window and stilled.
Calm eased into her heart as she caught a wisp of Hunter’s frantic thoughts. She smiled at Chase. “He’s coming, you know.” Mel gave the naked werewulf a considering glance. “Of course you do. That’s why this supposed seduction is moving so fast.” Her smile fell away.
Voice shaking, she warned, “I’m going to spit on what’s left of your corpse when Hunter finishes taking you apart.”
Chase didn’t answer in words. Taking the front of her dress in both hands, he ripped downward. A judicious use of claws shredded her bra and decimated her panties. “I’m hoping Hunter will resign himself to the inevitable. If he doesn’t, you’ll feel every claw and fang mark I take. Every wound will wound you, also, for we’ll be joined and bonded as one.”
She bared her blunt teeth in a parody of Hunter’s snarl. “It’ll be worth the pain and Hunter won’t let it last too long.”
His teeth latched on to her breast, his mouth suckled on a straining nipple, depressed the bud between his tongue and the roof of his mouth, bathing her in sweltering heat.
She shuddered as her pussy overflowed and drenched her thighs. Explosive sensations curled through her. Cradling his head, she forced his mouth to her, pushed her flesh against his mouth in a wordless plea for more. Tears clogged her voice as she outlined what she planned to do once Hunter freed her from his possession.
“In front of your dead body, I’ll kneel on the floor, take Hunter in my mouth and suck his cock in gratitude for freeing me from you. After I’ve drained his seed, I’ll present my body to him, lift my ass in the air like a good bitch and beg him to fuck me. We’ll use your body as a cushion.”
Chase lifted his mouth off her, lips tight with displeasure at her words. “I’ll deserve everything you and he does, but you’ll still name your firstborn Chase, after his father.”
“Perhaps ... yet any child of mine will call Hunter Daddy.”
Chase bowed his head against her breast, his breath hot and moist on her nipple. “I can’t think of a better wulf in the world to have raising my pup.”
“Oh god, Chase, will you listen to yourself? If we both love the mutt so much, why must you insist on making this happen?”
Haunted green eyes turned up to stare into hers. “Unavoidable imperative -- I have to save the world. I must be mated in order to do that.”
Before she could process the implications of his statements, he drew back from her and lowered his bulk at her feet. The bottom dropped out of her stomach when he began the change ...
66 Camille Anthony
Andrea could hear the agitated murmur of voices coming from the living room.
Though she couldn’t make out the words, she knew Aunt Melody was upset -- possibly frightened. She recognized the note in her new relative’s voice. Before Tio Pablo had moved in to protect her and Daddy, her own voice used to hold the same cautious wariness when she conversed with the scary boyfriends Daddy brought home.
Her heart thumped in her chest. She knew she should help Auntie Mel but she didn’t know what to do. Maybe she and Blair could run next door to get Papa Fort. Why weren’t he and Mom back, yet? They’d been an awful long time over at the new house. Just how long did it take to get their rocks off?
A shadow crossed the kitchen window and Andrea drew back when a big black man walked over to stand on the back door porch. Her nose crinkled. He smelled like every other male around here. He was a wulf, like Papa Fort and Uncle Hunter, but he didn’t look friendly.
Scooting around to the counters that lined the wall under the kitchen window, Andrea stretched her arm out and quietly twitched the curtains closed, so the wulf outside couldn’t see into the room. Then she sank to the floor, settled baby Blair on her lap and stared into his eyes. Using mind-speak and a little big cousin magic, she hushed him and told him to keep quiet.
Aunt Mel is in trouble and we have to save her. Stay here. There’s two wulves in the front room with your momma. One is probably going to come in here to check on us. When he comes in, throw the cookie dough at him. Can you do that?
Blair’s solemn brown eyes fixed on her face for an eternal moment. With a happy nod, he let his cousin pick him up and set him on the counter next to the mixing bowl full of fun.
A dimple danced in his cheek as he plunged his hands into the gooey, sticky mess.
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* * * * *
With a shocked cry, the wulf, thrown back by the impact, instantly recovered his balance. Snarling in defiance, clawed hands gripped Rosa’s body at shoulder and hip, prepared to peel her off when he obviously realized he held a woman -- a noncombatant --
in his arms. His grip immediately softened.
Recalling Fortrayn’s spur-of-the-moment plans, she wrapped her arms and legs around the wulf and clung like a limpet, resisting his frenzied efforts to shake her off. Rosa continued screaming and squirming, making damn sure the wulf didn’t get a solid grip on her.
It was incredibly difficult hanging on to a wulf trained at hand-to-hand combat, but Rosa managed it for the few minutes necessary for her mate to rush into the kitchen past the wulf keeping watch at the back door.
“Run, Blair, run!”
Rosa stiffened at the sound of her child’s voice shouting through the open door. All of a sudden, it was Rosa fighting to win free from the big male as she kicked, scratched and snarled into the disbelieving face of her wulf captor, who was just as eager to get away from her.
They finally untangled themselves and raced for the back door, both of them tumbling into the kitchen where they began slipping and sliding through slimy patches of some gray substance. Rosa yelped, yanked on the wulf’s shirt to keep him tethered to her, using him to maintain her precarious footing.
Lungs laboring, chest heaving and pulse hammering, Rosa stood frozen, unable to believe the level of chaos ruling in Melody’s usually sedate kitchen.
A heavy, cast iron skillet gripped in a white-knuckled grasp, Andrea stood over a prone werewulf. From the angle of the skillet, she looked like she was prepared to knock him out again at the slightest hint of movement.
Perched on the center island, Blair flung globs of -- oh, that’s what the slippery stuff decorating the floor was -- cookie dough at everything moving ... including the curtains shifting in the breeze from the open door.
Fortrayn, standing in the middle of the doorway leading to the living room, had just removed his last item of clothing. Shifting faster than she’d ever seen him do, he changed to fur form and flashed into the hallway.
Behind her, the last werewulf made an inarticulate sound deep in his throat and started toward the door. Figuring he was planning on following after her mate, Rosa ran to the door 68 Camille Anthony
ahead of him. Holding onto cupboards and counters on the way, she managed to make it to the entryway without once falling on her butt. The wulf behind her didn’t fare as well as she had.
Gaining the doorway, Rosa turned and confronted the tall black wulf. Beside her, standing shoulder to shoulder with her, Andrea shifted her grip on the skillet and narrowed her eyes on the stranger who had chased her mother into the kitchen.
“Stop right there,” Rosa demanded, holding up a palm. “We both know you aren’t going to hit us, and you damn sure better not hurt us. We, however, don’t have those same orders. If you try to go through us, we’ll try our best to hurt you.”
“Your companion has gone to threaten my Alpha.”
The man’s voice was incredibly dark and sensuous, and Rosa couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she found herself thinking about such things. Must be the adrenaline rush, she mused.
Shaking off her distracting thoughts, ignoring the clutch of fear for her mate, she sighed. “We also both know Fortrayn is no match for your Alpha. So let’s just all make nice and wait and see how things play out.”
The wulf growled his displeasure in no uncertain terms ... using quite a bit of foul language.
Disgusted, Rosa cocked an eyebrow at him and leveled her most severe motherly gaze on him. “Hey, there are women and children present. How about you watch your language, buddy? Or I’ll have my daughter knock you out with the frying pan.”
Muttering under his breath, eyes bled down to “human normal,” the guard kept his eye on the girl hefting the makeshift weapon while he dragged his cohort over and propped him against the wall. “Taken down by a pipsqueak teenager and a brat in diapers ... this is low even for you, Kerry.”
* * * * *
He lunged at her, fangs bared, trying to scare her away from the wall. Melody screamed and drew up both legs, lashing out at him. She landed a powerful blow on his chest that hurled him back, but he dug his claws into the rug and quickly halted his backward momentum.
His eyes laughed at her feeble attempt to fend him off. He sidled around to her left, forcing her to turn her torso to keep him within eyesight. She scuttled about on her butt and Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love
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hands, one foot kept aimed at him at all times. It didn’t look dignified, but it served the purpose.
Chase lunged again, snapping his jaws inches before her face. She jerked back and flung up her right arm, trying to protect her face. Pain exploded at the back of her skull as her head bounced off the wall. Stars swam before her eyes and she closed them to fight the nausea swirling in her gut.
Sharp fangs grabbed her forearm and bore down just enough to make her aware of the potential damage if she didn’t submit.
Mel’s eyes snapped open and she froze, staring into the white-hot glow of Chase’s eyes.
A growl trickled out from between his clenched jaws. She swallowed, weighing the possible outcomes of her future actions. Down by her side, hidden by her ample hip, she fisted her left hand.
“If thy right hand offends thee ...” she muttered, slamming her fist into Chase’s jaw.
The blow, delivered with every ounce of her strength, knocked his head to the side, forcing his fangs to drag across her arm. A second later, she screamed -- sharp agony running like acid along her forearm. Cradling her bleeding arm with her left hand, Melody panted. Sick to her stomach, she tried to catch her breath.
With a pained whimper, Chase backed away, horror in his eyes as he stared at her deeply lacerated arm. A louder, longer whine came from Chase’s muzzle and Melody nodded, full lips flattened into a thin line of pain. “I know you didn’t plan this,” she said, lifting her arm toward him. She wouldn’t cry ... she wouldn’t, but god, it hurt!
Chase slowly rose to his four feet and lowered his head until he was staring up at her through glowing eyes, his body language telling her another attack was imminent. Melody watched his expressions of sorrow and regret fade, watched renewed determination grow.
He may not have meant to hurt her, but he’d use her weakened state to his advantage. He intended to bring this battle to a close.
Chase gathered his muscles, lowered his haunches and prepared to spring at her, when, suddenly another wulf skidded to a halt in front of Melody and braced its legs, snarling a warning at the attacking wulf.
For a moment, Melody thought it was Hunter. She straightened with a glad cry. A second later, hope collided with despair. This wulf couldn’t be Hunter. It was too small, too gangly. Chase towered over the young wulf, his mature body massing more than twice that of her youthful defender.
Fortrayn!
She was frightened for him. Chase would wipe the floor with the younger wulf. Heart pounding hard, pulse beating so loud she heard nothing over its thunder; Melody pushed her body up the wall, forcing her weak knees to support her weight. “Fortrayn, get back!” She didn’t want him injured on her behalf.
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Fortrayn didn’t back off. Hunkered low to the ground, he waited for the other wulf to attack. Tail down and ears back -- a posture of submission -- even an outsider could see he was out of his league.
“Damn you, Fort!” Melody shouted “Why must you be as stubborn as both your hardheaded cousins?”
She turned an angry glare to the golden-furred werewulf. She had nothing to throw at him but her fury. “Fortrayn is your cousin, your family. Don’t you dare hurt him, you damned cur!”
A menacing growl answered her. Her shoulders slumped at the sign her words had fallen on fallow ground. “Chase,” she whispered, “has this mission of yours to save the world burned all the compassion out of your heart?”
His tortured glance said it all. Howling at Fortrayn, Chase knocked him out of the way, clearing the path between him and Melody. He swung his head and side-swiped her. The blow knocked her to her knees.
She fell, landing on her injured arm. The jarring impact caused it to collapse under her weight. Before she could recover, Chase mantled her, using his muscular fore body to pin her down. With a despairing cry, Melody lowered and shifted her hips, making it difficult for Chase to enter her. In retaliation, he sank his teeth into her shoulder and bit down. He dug his claws into her waist, forcing her submission.
She writhed frantically under him, trying to dislodge him. Chase’s erection thudded against her butt, searching for entry and she stilled, realizing her frenzied movements had only made it easier for him to solidify his position