Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love (2 page)

News of the impending turf war had caused him to abort his trip to California and delayed him setting his mark on the new Breed Fortrayn had located. He’d resolved the situation quickly, but lost almost three weeks dealing with the aftermath of that fiasco.

Thinking about the immature Breed, Chase groaned and slapped the window. While traveling to New York, he’d had time to contemplate the present situation. This letter screwed everything up.

He’d about decided to make a bid for Hunter’s Breed. He needed a mature Breeder he could mount and officially mate. One he could fill with seed immediately. He didn’t have the time to wait for some sheltered teenager to come of age.

Now he’d read the letter. Damn it.

The timing sucked.

Hunter sounded so happy. Even through the inadequate medium of the written word, his joy almost jumped off the page. Like all happily mated wulves, Hunter believed Chase wanted to find himself a mate, also. Nothing could be further from the truth. Oh, he had need of a Breed female, all right, but he did not intend to fall madly in love, as Hunter seemed to have done. No, he wanted the female for one thing, only ... to give him pack status as an adult. With that status, he earned the right to challenge his father for leadership of the Eastern-North American half of the Pack.

His cousin’s letter stated he wished Chase and Rann could resolve the craziness between them. Hunter had no idea what that craziness truly entailed. Rann had betrayed all 4 Camille Anthony

of Wulfdom and covered his tracks by ordering Chase to remain silent about what he had discovered. As long as Rann ruled as Alpha Prime over his half of the Pack, Chase was bound by blood and law to obey him. He’d tried to break the silence only once, by going to Hunter’s father, Uncle Lachlan. The North American Prime Alpha had refused to hear him, had reminded him of his unmated status, and sent him off with a bug in his ear about making trouble between his elders. No, he didn’t want a bride, but he needed a mate. And the clock was ticking ...

Chase sighed heavily. If he hadn’t read this letter, he’d have followed through with his plans to go to San Francisco and challenge Hunter for his Melody. He couldn’t bring himself to do that, now, having read his cousin’s words and knowing how Hunter felt about his bitch.

He was letting his soft heart rule his head. Chase greatly feared he’d live to rue this day; even so, his hand reached for the phone. He punched in Hunter’s cell phone number, trying to resign himself to settling for Fortrayn’s immature Breed stepchild.

The phone rang three times before Hunter picked it up.

“McCallum, here.”

“Hunter, this is Chase.”

“Ho, Chase, you old dog! How’s it hanging?”

“The situation requiring my intervention has been resolved. I am preparing to come to San Francisco to view the Breed.”

“Great, man. You can stay with us. Melody and I’d love to have you. I’ve told her a lot about you and --”

Chase closed his eyes and bit back a groan. “Hunter, listen up! Word on the grapevine is you haven’t officially claimed Melody yet.”

“That’s right. I’m waiting until she grows more accustomed to me. Then I’ll take her to the Pack Lands and mate her before the Pack Prime as tradition demands.”

“Hunter, you better mate your bitch before I get there. Fuck her good and official. You can formalize it afterward.”

The silence at the other end turned ominous before the line exploded with the snarling rage of the Northern American Pack Prime-in-waiting.

“What the hell business of it is yours, Chase? You got something you’re trying to tell me?”

“I’m telling you I NEED a Breed. Not in three years, not in three months, but now. If there is a ripe Breed available, I’m going to take her. Make sure yours is not available.”

“How dare you threaten me? You’ll never lay a hand on her. I’ll kill you first, you motherfucker.”

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“You’d try. I guess we’d finally find out which one of us is the stronger. Listen, I’m telling you this so we don’t have to go there. I can’t afford to lose. What I’m up against is too big to risk losing. Hell, it’s too important an issue to do what I’m doing, now -- giving you advance warning of my intentions -- but you’re my cousin. We were cubs together, and I love you. You’re the brother I’ll never have, thanks to my sire’s madness.”

“Then why this posturing ...? Why even bring up the idea of challenging my claim?”

“Hunter, I can’t explain it to you, but believe me -- the only way to stop me from seizing your Melody is to render her beyond my taking. Wulves mate for life, and all other wulves must honor that bond. It is the only bond that will stop me, that will force me to wait ...”

Chase’s chest rose on a heavy sigh, knowing his next words would send Hunter’s anger over the top. He shook his head. There was no other choice left to him. “I’ll be on my way in a few hours. This time, my flight really will be arriving within the day. When I get there, I’ll be greeting my new cousin or my potential mate. Right now, the decision is yours to make.

In a few hours, that will change.”

Trying not to take Hunter’s angry, top-of-his-voice response personally, Chase set the phone gently in its cradle, disconnecting from his pack counterpart. He didn’t need mind-reading capabilities to know Hunter was fuming mad and chomping at the bit right now to get his claws and fangs into him. His elder cousin wasn’t one to take a challenge lying down.

What he’d done barely skirted challenge by a hair. He’d probably ruined their easy-going relationship for all time; still, it was better than the only alternative ...

6 Camille Anthony

Mama wet! Blair giggled. His carefree laugh was a slap in the face. He could talk verbally to her if he chose. He didn’t.

“Yes, I am, thanks to you, you little water-demon!” Melody Spenser held her wriggling son at arms’ length, laughing as he tried to splash her with his wildly churning feet. With a resigned glance down at her soaked blouse and equally sodden casual skirt, she resumed the battle that constituted bathing her scruffy child.

Of course, he fought her every step of the way; not resistant to his bath, simply determined to get as much enjoyment out of the process of getting clean as possible.

Finally finished, she quickly lifted Blair out of the dingy bathwater, giggling with him over his playful antics, glad deep down in her soul to see her baby giggling and teasing, acting like any other normal toddler. Using the detachable showerhead, she rinsed him off, grabbed the towel off the warming bar, and wrapped his precious body in it. “Come on, scamp. Playtime is over. Time to get you dried and dressed.”

Melody laid Blair down on the long counter. One hand on her child, she reached for the jar of cocoa butter. As she dried her son off, pausing to tickle his tummy and blow loud raspberries in his bellybutton, she surreptitiously examined him for any sign of lingering injury.

Hunter constantly reassured her she had nothing to worry about, insisting that their little one thrived and grew just as he should. She knew he was right, but her mother’s heart couldn’t help her instinctive urge to over-coddle. After all, she’d almost lost him.

Eight months ago, when Blair was three months old, her brother-in-law had kidnapped him. While in Gerald Spenser’s possession, her son had become a thin, sickly infant, suffering emotionally as well as physically from the neglect and worse he’d undergone at the hands of his insane relative.

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Melody’s lips thinned as she thought about her evil brother-in-law. He had truly been a terrible man, preying on the weak and helpless, a dirty pedophile who liked defiling young teenaged girls. He’d raped her when she was fourteen -- found her in an alley, a scared runaway from an abusive foster home.

Melody had embraced her late husband’s religion, which taught she should turn the other cheek. Still, it had taken years of determined effort for her to forgive Gerald, but she couldn’t forgive what he’d planned to do to her son. She’d felt no guilt, had smiled when she gave Hunter permission to play with Spenser before eating him.

Her hands smoothed the fragrant cream over Blair’s baby-soft skin. Picking him up and holding the damp toddler against her breasts, she slicked her palms down his legs, pushing away those disturbing memories by focusing her mind on Hunter. Her mental turmoil immediately calmed. In its place, sexual excitement arose.

Hunter McCallum was all things to her -- a retired Navy Seal and cop, a security expert, and most importantly -- the love of her life. He’d already claimed Blair as his, declaring the toddler his first-born pup. Soon, he would be her husband and have the right to legally adopt Blair, becoming his father, not just his stepfather.

He was also a Werewulf.

After almost two months of loving and living with him, there were still times she found the fantastical truth of his existence hard to believe; times when it was hard coping with his alien-ness and certain aspects of the conjugal acts he wanted her to revel in as he did. In fact, there were times she found it hard to believe her own existence as a “Breed”

female -- a woman bioengineered to be the perfect mate to a Werewulf ... her werewulf.

Blair all clean!

Melody blinked and refocused, glad to have her thoughts interrupted. “Yes, you are, you scamp. See that you stay that way for at least half an hour.” Her attention claimed by her impatient son, Melody’s concern over his refusal to speak to her verbally resurfaced. He’d spoken to Fortrayn last month, and she knew he occasionally shared a few words with Andrea, but he absolutely would not talk to her other than with mind-speak.

Mel bit her lips in indecision. Perhaps Hunter shouldn’t have bitten him so early.

Biting Blair marked him as Hunter’s family and made it possible for the three of them to communicate telepathically. Hunter called it den-speak. He also claimed she worried too much, constantly reassured her Blair didn’t talk because he felt no need to. When the time was right, he promised, her son would talk so much she’d long for these days when he didn’t.

She couldn’t bring herself to believe that. True, Blair communicated his needs adequately, so Hunter was probably right, and he would talk when he was ready. She just felt he wouldn’t feel ready any time soon. Blair had Hunter, now. He didn’t need anyone else.

Her two loves had formed a deep emotional bond, so entwined with the other’s thoughts she sometimes felt like a third, unneeded wheel.

8 Camille Anthony

Mel sighed. No mental slouch, her son must have realized he had to tolerate her presence if he wanted to keep Hunter close. She couldn’t blame him for giving his trust to his new father; in fact, she was thankful he’d found someone he felt he could rely upon. After all, she’d failed him. Failed to keep him safe and failed again when she’d taken so long to rescue him.

How was Blair to know how hard she’d struggled, how she’d tried everything in the world -- even returning to her old life as a street prostitute -- to get him back? All he knew was she hadn’t come for him.

Hunter and Fortrayn were the ones who’d saved Blair’s life, snatching him out of the clutches of his evil uncle. In Hunter, Blair had found a champion with the will, strength, and ability to stop anyone or anything from ever hurting him, again.

Glad for her son, though her mother’s heart hurt at his studied rejection, Melody finished dressing her wriggling bundle of curiosity. Giving his bottom a playful slap, she set him on his feet and shooed him out of the bathroom.

Her eyes lingered lovingly on his little brown body as he bounced out the room on unsteady toddler legs. With a shake of her head and a last thankful smile for how much her son had grown in these last two months, she started tidying and mopping up the mess left by Blair’s exuberant bath time.

The men in her life loved to frolic in the bath. Melody grinned over one particularly torrid recollection of a playful Hunter, admitting there were times she really liked water play, too.

Bending over the side of the tub to reach the dirt ring left by her scruffy little boy, she scrubbed at the line of smudge. Her kneeling position triggered an erotic memory and her pulse sped up as her mind replayed images of Hunter enacting her favorite wicked capture fantasy. She shuddered, remembering him entering the shower stall, pushing her to her knees, taking her forcibly and roughly from behind while hot water pounded on her head and over her shoulders.

Melody’s womb clenched as sultry heat coiled through her. Dampness dewed her mound at the thought of the sexy games her mate enjoyed playing with her.

Straightening up, forgotten washcloth clenched in the shaking hand she pressed to her tummy, Melody gasped as a sudden, intemperate rush of need poured through her. Toe-curling lust swept over her, brushing electrically along every naked, quivering nerve. The jangling of her pulse, the growing wetness between her thighs, and the insatiable strength of her arousal told her Hunter had arrived home ... possessed of a sexual hunger for her that threatened to rage out of control.

The mating connection between them grew stronger daily, linking their desires and binding their minds. It flared to life, now. Knowing his thoughts, privy to his needs, Melody groaned softly, biting her bottom lip.

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The cleaning cloth dropping from her hand, she palmed her breasts, using thumbs and forefingers to tug on the throbbing tips of her swollen breasts. Her head fell back, breath feathering through her open lips as sexual energy zinged through her system. Her own hands were not enough, and suddenly, starved for the feel of Hunter’s mouth on her thick nipples, she dropped to her knees moaning, the sound needy and forlorn.

Where was he? She needed him, wanted his lips, his mouth on hers, his hands buried in her amply curved ass cheeks. Swallowing thickly, she ached for the feel of his long, thick cock digging into her vagina, stretching and filling her as no one else could.

Sometimes, the wanting overtook them like that, leaping up between them primal and hot -- a demanding urge that stripped them of all restraint, patience, and self-control.