Wolf and Punishment (The Alaska Princesses Trilogy, Book 1) (20 page)

“I’m done with you, Janelle, and tomorrow I’m asking your town doctor to pay you a visit.” Mag shook her hand off his arm and headed to the house. He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing how deeply she’d hurt him. Again.

He found Rafe waiting for him between the two totem poles that stood on either side of the kingdom house’s doorway. Just Rafe. Not the king or queen or any other royal Alaska family member, as would have been proper in even the lowliest of wolf families. They weren’t even trying to act like they still wanted him to be their future son-in-law.

It shouldn’t have hurt. He’d seen through King Tikaani’s Eskimo Bill Cosby-routine from day one, but damn if he hadn’t gotten caught up in the fantasy Janelle had painted. The prettiest she-wolf in America welcoming him home when he walked through the door. Christmases spent with his wife and pups instead of his brother and a bunch of beer. A family. He’d let Janelle sell him on that, and now he had no right to be hurt, just pissed at himself for letting her do it.

“Hey, what’s up, man,” Rafe said, clasping his hand in a bro lock and pulling him in for a one-armed hug. “So, did you decide to break things off with Janelle?”

Mag’s jaw clenched as he considered how to answer this question. Rafe had proven himself more than a friend, but also a true ally. He’d not only given him the heads up on what his Uncle Tikaani had up his sleeve, but let him know, “I’m still going to pledge Alisha, but if you want to keep your claim on Janelle, I’ve got your back. I’ll handle Freedom Town however you want me to handle Freedom Town. Just give me the word.”

Yeah, Rafe was a good friend, but Mag knew he considered Janelle his family. No way he would approve of Mag’s plan to make sure she didn’t get to hold her head up high in wolf society anymore. So Mag didn’t lie to his friend, but he didn’t tell him the whole truth either when he said, “No, not yet.”

Rafe eyes flicked to where Janelle was still standing at the dock. “Then why did she look so upset when you were talking to her?”

Mag re-shouldered his duffel. “Look I’ve been flying and rowing all day. Why don’t we talk about your girl. She here yet?”

“Not yet,” Rafe said. “But the queen assures me she will be.”

Mag shook his head. “I don’t see how you can trust anything those two be saying, yeah? Look how they did me, and Wilma was pissed I came out for this. For all you know, the plan was to throw Janelle at you until you broke down and agreed to pledge her.”

Even though he was only speaking in a hypothetical, the thought of Janelle going to Rafe made his wolf see red, and even though he was all set to break up with her in the most asshole-ish way possible, he couldn’t shake the ache inside his chest. The ache that had been festering there for three years.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth lifted in a sorta smile. “Remember, I’m coming at it from a different perspective than you. I know this world, and I know how to get what I want. I want Alisha and in this case, I’m using the king to get what I want, even if he thinks it’s the other way around.”

Mag had to take a mental step back from Rafe. When Rafe had been with Chloe, he’d been one of the most honorable, considerate wolves he knew. But pursuing Alisha Ataneq’s pledge had brought out a ruthless side to him Mag hadn’t known his friend possessed.

Rafe smiled. “C’mon, man, let’s go inside. I’ll show you to your room.”

Inside the house, Mag was surprised to find a downstairs that looked a lot more like a ski lodge than a fancy mansion. A fire roared in the stone fireplace, hand woven carpets covered the hardwood floors, while an eclectic assortment of tapestries, vintage Inuit kayaks, and animal heads covered the walls. The house was gigantic with two sets of stacked stairs that led up to second and third floor landings. But somehow the place came off as warm and inviting, as opposed to imposing, like the Wyoming mansion had before Janelle gave it her Inuit makeover.

The log mansion radiated so much warmth and hominess, it was hard to believe the people who lived within its yellow cedar walls would treat anyone bad. But of course, that wasn't true. The Alaska royal family were just as, if not more, cold and calculating than most rich folks. They just hid it a whole lot better.

Righteous adrenaline pumped through his veins and accompanied him up to the third floor, where Rafe showed him to a large room that kept the Inuit ski lodge theme going with a stone work fireplace on one wall and an umiak hanging on the other-one he suspected was vintage, judging from the whalebone and ivory frame and the aged look of the bearded seal skin covering its outside.

Seeing the traditional version of the boat he'd used to row into the kingdom town's harbor reminded him of the look on Janelle's face as he paddled up to the dock. She had looked happy to see him. Genuinely happy.

“I'll leave you to it, man,” Rafe said, heading out the door. “But I'm right down the hall if you need me.”

“Thanks,” Mag answered, even as he found himself drawn toward the picture window that looked out onto the harbor. Janelle was still standing where he'd left her, shell shocked, like all the sadness in the world had just pulled up to her doorstep.

She'd only been pretending, he reminded himself. Same as before. Janelle and her father deserved the punishment he was about to bring down on their heads the next morning. He knew this in the angriest part of his heart. Also, this last piece of revenge would finally allow him to withdraw his pledge, go back to Wyoming-maybe even L.A., get back on good terms with Sofia, and just let Janelle go already. Be free of her.

So then why did he feel so guilty?

JANELLE HAD NO IDEA how long she stood out on the dock, staring at the water, but it must have been a while, because eventually Tu came out and started asking questions like, “Are you all right? What’s going on? Why’re you just standing there?” and “Um… do you need a doctor?”

So she went up to her room. And instead of staring at the water, she stared at the town. The town she’d probably be forced to leave in shame the next day.

The sound of voices shouting in the next room floated into her room from the next one over. Alisha must be home. Alisha, who her parents had pinned too much faith on. Alisha, who—Janelle knew in her heart—would not accept Rafe’s pledge. And if she didn’t accept his pledge, that would be the end of that.

Janelle had been under the same roof as Rafe for a couple of weeks now, and he’d been unfailingly kind to her whenever they were together. However, he hadn’t sought out her company or lingered any longer than necessary after any of their short conversations. Her parents had grossly miscalculated their hand. As pretty and well-trained as she was in comparison to her middle sister, Rafe did not consider her a replacement for Alisha. He would never ask for her pledge—not when he wanted her sister.

There would be no great saving of the crown by either Mag or Rafe. And tomorrow, she’d have to confess everything to her parents so as not to go through the humiliation of a formal medical examination. They’d either kick her out or she’d volunteer to leave to avoid the public airing of her non-virgin status. Either way, the perfect princess would finally be knocked off her pedestal.

Where would she go? Maybe to her mother’s family in Detroit. Michigan was a mange state, not nearly as stuck in its traditional ways as Alaska. And her uncle, the current King of Detroit, had always been kind to her. He’d take her in… maybe.

She stared some more at the pretty postcard town outside her village. Watched the school let out and the rich wolves shopping and greeting each other in the streets as the servant wolves ran errands. And then it was night.

“Why are you sitting here in the dark?” her mother asked, flicking the lights on behind her. “And why aren’t you dressed yet?”

So Janelle changed, taking off her modified summer dress, taking the braids out of her hair, and replacing them with the cocktail dress her mother had bought for her and a loose bun.

“Sit there,” her mother told her when she came down for dinner, indicating the place directly across from her own. “And Mag, why don’t you sit on the other side of Rafe. I’m sure you two would like to catch up. Tu, you can take a seat on the other side of Alisha…”

By the time her mother was done, Rafe and Alisha were sitting directly across from each other, while Janelle and Mag were as far away from one another as two people could get. Yet another insult to Mag delivered with a warm Alaska smile.

Janelle stared at their yellow cedar table gleaming underneath the chandelier’s light. Eventually a plate of salad was set in front of her and she stared at that. The salad was replaced with soup, then an entrée, and then dessert, all of which got stared at but not eaten by Janelle.

“Janelle, you could come, to,” her mother said.

Janelle blinked and looked up. Her mother was talking to her.

“To Colorado. For the holidays. We could all go right after the annual Christmas party.”

“That sounds lovely,” Janelle answered, because it did. Then she went back to staring at her dessert, wondering what would become of her. The world was not kind to ruined princesses. Especially ones like her with no job skills to speak of, she-wolves who had been raised to be the perfect wife for a king and nothing more.

Alisha and her parents started arguing after that—they had been terse with each other all night, but apparently Alisha said something that sent her parents through the roof. And Rafe was also talking angrily, like a large binder clip had suddenly pinched his voice box. Tight, like he was working hard not to go off on Alisha himself.

What was going on? Why had the conversation suddenly gone from happy to angry? Janelle made a feeble attempt to tune back in, but the gelato suddenly became blurry. Why was it so hot in here? Had someone turned up the heat? She could barely breathe, it was so hot. In fact, her whole body was tingling, like goose bumps were breaking out over her skin, but times ten.

Was she getting sick? And why did her breasts and hips suddenly feel swollen? Hot and swollen, like, like…

“Mag, I want you inside me. Right now. Please!”

The memory of her begging Mag to put himself inside her came back so vividly, it was like she was watching it on a TV screen. Janelle ran her hands over her breasts, which felt twice as large as they used to. And at least three times more sensitive. She could feel her own nipples straining against the bodice of her dress. They were tight as rocks underneath her demi-bra, and she sucked in a hiss when the dress material rubbed against them underneath her own reckless hands.

Then to her horror, she felt something trickle out of her and pool between her thighs. Oh dear God, what was that? It reminded her of the first time she had come under Mag’s tongue, but it couldn’t be, because Mag was nowhere near her and she-wolves couldn’t produce an arousal scent by themselves until…

The realization hit her like a pile of bricks with the word “duh” scratched into them.

“What’s that smell?” she heard Alisha ask in the distance.

And then the whole world went crazy. There came the sound of dishes flying off the table and crashing to the floor. It was Mag… running across the long table. His body hunched over on all fours as he came straight for her in a diagonal line, so fast, she threw up her hands in an X to ward off what she was sure would be a full body tackle.

But then… nothing. Nothing happened.

She lowered her arms to find Mag, his big body hunched over in front of her, his arm between his legs as he stared down at her, his nostrils flaring in and out. In and out.

And the smell… it filled up the room, making it hard to breathe, it was so thick. It was coming from her. She could be certain of that now. The liquid rolling, not just trickling, down her thighs was her heat. She was in heat.

Janelle raised her eyes to Mag’s. Even though he was still in human form, his eyes were glowing, just as his arctic wolf’s had been during the August full moon. Like two moon beams inside his head. And she could practically hear his wolf howling behind them, even though the room had gone deafly silent. No sound. Just her. And Mag. And the smell of her heat.

“Mag?” she whispered carefully—

He grabbed her by the arms and threw her on the table. Somewhere in the distance, she could hear Alisha screaming her name as she landed face down on the surface Mag had cleared off when he ran across it.

And Janelle wondered why she wasn’t screaming. Why she wasn’t running, trying to get away from the wolf who’d thrown her across this table.

The answer throbbed between her legs. The need that was upon her, it was nothing like what she had experienced in the hotel room with Mag three years ago after he’d made her come with his mouth. This was worse. So much worse.

She wanted to move but she couldn’t. Her body was like a vat of molten jelly, on fire and trembling so much, she doubted she could have stood up, much less run away. The heat smell was impossible to escape, filling up her nose, and snaking down her throat. Like a gag made of smell, it struck her mute.

Otherwise, she would have been begging him, “Please fuck me!” She would have screamed it at him, despite the presence of her family and Rafe, all of whom she could still vaguely sense in the room behind them.
Please fuck me!
she thought at him.
I need you to. I need you to…

Two hands grabbed her where her legs met her hips, and pulled her up on her knees. She felt cool air on her core, which was now so completely drenched with her heat, she could feel the crotch of her panties plastered against her swollen mound before they were ripped off by the same hands that had pulled her to her knees.

Nasty. So nasty. She was exposed to the entire room, not at all like the princess she had been raised to be. Her bun had unraveled, and now her hair hung in her face in messy waves. But she didn’t care. She needed… she needed…

Mag mounted her and plunged into her at the same time, and Janelle let out a choked cry. Only the position she was in, knees on the table, arms splayed out like she was kowtowing to an emperor, kept her from collapsing under his weight. He was so heavy on top of her, it felt like he might crush her as he drove himself into her, his chest against her back, his arms over her arms, his large legs against the outside of hers all the way down to their feet.