Wolfen (37 page)

 
He broke away abruptly, shucked his jeans with shaking impatience and then turned to her, drawing her upright to peel her shirt off, tossing it aside, and then grasping the closure of her jeans and tugging off both panties and pants in jerky haste. His gaze raked over her with a thoroughness that seemed to take in everything at once, but there was no time for doubts to creep into her mind. He rolled over her, curling a leg around hers, settling a large palm in the center of her back to draw her to him and match their bodies from hip to chest. Sensation exploded through her in a shockwave as every nerve ending in her body, it seemed, received instantaneously, perceiving more than her brain could process all at once.

 
She sank beneath the wave, lost touch even with her body. A fierce joy filled her at his touch, his command of her senses, vying with the carnal delight of flesh to flesh, separate and apart from that rapturous inundation of her senses and yet intrinsically entwined and inseparable at the same time.

 
She didn't explore it—couldn't. Reason abandoned her. Her instincts enslaved her and she relished the loss of control along with the delight to her senses. The faintly rough texture of the coarse hair that furred his male breasts and connected them with his groin in a narrow trail that bisected his torso excited every nerve as it teased her slick skin with each brush of his body. The cool metal rings that kept his nipples pebbled and hard tantalized as they brushed back and forth and around and around her softer breasts in teasing sweeps. His member, engorged almost to steel hardness, almost seemed to throb with a life of its own as he curled his hips into hers and relaxed in a restless rhythm that found an echo within her womb, called to it, summoning heat, moisture for him, want, need, desperation.

 
She became vaguely aware that she sighed his name with each hitch of her breath, reciting it endlessly like a magical mantra that would bring her something she desperately wanted—completion—and beyond that a wholeness release alone couldn't give her.

 
He showered her with kisses that almost seemed as much a form of worship as the hungry feeding of his own senses. Saluting her mouth with the graciousness of his presence, yielding the essence of himself she starved for the moment he relented and sought appeasement elsewhere, he grazed the column of her throat next with his lips, tongue, the edge of his teeth. Then he foraged lower to disseminate what little sanity remained to her by suckling each nipple in turn, endlessly—and not nearly long enough. Finally, he sucked in a morsel of flesh along the sloping valley between her breasts, above her heart.

 
The bite stung briefly. Incomprehensively, it touched off a minor climax that shuddered through her in gentle quakes that only heightened her need for more. “Will I be like you now?” she whispered.

 
He lifted his head. Fury blazed in his eyes momentarily and then understanding evicted it. He dipped his head to soothe the sting, shifting upward after a moment to nuzzle his face against her neck. “No, princess,” he murmured huskily, anointing the fragile skin with tender kisses that made her heart leap in her chest. “You'll never be what I am."

 
He sounded almost regretful.

 
At that moment, she felt regretful, too, wishful for things beyond her. “The other, then?"

 
"No,” he said more forcefully, nipping at her ear lobe. “I don't want that for you, wouldn't risk it. The marking, in this form, wouldn't do that. Won't even do what I wish it would."

 
He silenced any other questions she might have thought to ask with his lips, moving his hands over her to position her for his possession while he claimed her attention with the rhythmic stroke of his tongue along hers. She opened herself to him eagerly at his urging, dragging her legs up the mattress and planting the soles of her feet firmly to counter his thrust. He broke the kiss, curling his arms tightly around her shoulders as he burrowed his thick length deeply inside of her, moving at first in almost a languid caress along her sheathe that made her throat close with emotions she scarcely recognized.

 
It felt like homecoming—and goodbye.

 
He drove the emotions from her with the stir of carnal heat that left no room for the thoughts and doubts. The small climax she'd had was only a prelude, a dim shadow of the fire he built within her belly. Fever suffused her, making her burn with the growing need. Her mouth dried with the panting breaths that was all she manage between the low, pleasurable moans he drew from the depths of her soul. She wanted it to last forever, struggled against the rising tide every inch of the way until it gripped her and tore her control from her grasp. Her climax was shattering, uncontainable. The rapturous quakes that started along her channel sent waves of bliss outward in every direction like seismic aftershocks.

 
She clutched him tightly, riding it until it crested and began to dissipate even as he was caught up in the throes of his own release, jerking against her with the power of it. She let the lethargy that claimed her in the aftermath carry her beneath the cloak of consciousness, basking briefly in the appreciative stroke of his hands before she let go completely.

 
She was disappointed when she woke and discovered he'd abandoned her but not terribly surprised. The warm sense of goodness that filled her faded a little, but she felt too thoroughly satisfied for more than that slight dimming of pleasure. When she'd yawned and stretched all over, she rolled over and stared out of the window for a few moments in hazy contentment, allowing her mind to wander until the pleasant memories collided with the nightmarish ones.

 
Recoiling from them before they could get a firm grip on her, she climbed out of the bed and went to shower and dress, trying to decide what time of day it was. She'd left early with Dakota, but the argument between them had consumed her mind right up until her entire world had turned into a nightmare. Everything was a blur after that, thankfully unclear in her mind. She was sure she couldn't have been unconscious long after she'd finally managed to hyperventilate from terror and pass out, but she had no idea how long she might have slept after Balin had rocked her world.

 
She couldn't believe it was much more than mid afternoon, though. Even at that, she felt a little disoriented.

 
Hearing voices outside when she'd finished dressing, she paused, struggling with a rise of panic. She recognized their voices, knew it was Balin, Con, Jared—the wolfen.

 
They hadn't really changed, she told herself sternly—they were still the men she'd found infinitely desirable, friends, lovers. Only her perception of them had.

 
She'd seen doubt in Balin's eyes, anger, and understanding. There was no hiding the fact that she'd been terrified to the point of idiocy when she'd seen them, no erasing that reaction and pretending it hadn't made any difference in the way she felt about them.

 
She examined that thought and realized that, regardless of how she'd reacted, it actually didn't make any difference.

 
Maybe she was in denial?

 
She supposed she was to a great degree. A sense of unreality still gripped her and when she thought of them, the images that came to mind were the forms she was most familiar with. Wasn't that a part of who they actually were, though? They seemed comfortable in the forms she knew. They might be just as comfortable in the versions of themselves that had frightened her half to death, or the form of wolves. Balin had said they could take that form and she realized she'd seen him in that form.

 
She'd seen all of them!

 
They
were the five ‘wolves’ she'd come upon in the clearing!

 
They were the wolves she'd thought were trying to trap her the night she was certain the pack had divided—
not
rushing to trap her, but rushing to confront the others.

 
Con—the great white wolf; Balin—the great black wolf; Dakota—the golden brown and black; Jared—the dark gray; and Xavier—the tan and white—all of them as handsome ... as
beautiful
in their wild form as they were as men.

 
She discovered she'd moved to the door without really giving it a thought beyond the urge to see them. She didn't want them to be left with the impression that she found them loathsome in any way now that she knew—scary in half man half beast form but she thought she could accept that part of them.

 
It would take some getting used to, and she didn't have the luxury of time to do that, but she needed for them to understand that she still felt the same way about them.

 
They stopped talking when she stepped outside, turning to look at her. She studied them back, struggling with a sudden attack of shyness that was ridiculous given her history with them. Balin's eyes gleamed with remembered pleasure as she met his gaze, and she found herself smiling back at him.

 
The door of their cabin opened and Dakota, moving stiffly, but walking, drew her attention. A rush of relief filled her. Her reluctance forgotten instantly, she rushed down the steps and met him when he reached the yard, throwing her arms around him impulsively. He let out a pained grunt at her enthusiasm, but prevented her retreat by looping his arms around her when she would've pulled away.

 
"I'm so relieved you're alright!” she said.

 
"That makes two of us, then,” he said, chuckling.

 
She pulled away and looked up at him. “They were concerned, too."

 
He lifted his head and scanned the others behind her, but he didn't respond to the remark.

 
An awkward silence fell when she pulled away from Dakota and turned to study them. She supposed it was inevitable, but she was still disappointed. “I guess y'all have things you need to discuss,” she said uncomfortably. “I'll leave you to it. I just.... “She shrugged. “I should probably start packing, I guess."

 
"It's too late to leave,” Balin said, halting her in her tracks.

 
She turned to look at him, feeling uneasiness creep into her.

 
He made a sound of impatience. “The moon will be full tonight. The
weres
are already feeling the pull, their primal natures emerging. There's already been violence. That's only going to escalate until the moon rises tonight and then all hell will break loose. You don't have time to pack and get to safety. You'll have to stay until the moon wanes."

 
Confused instead of enlightened, Danika stared at him a long moment and then glanced at the others.

 
"He's right,” Con confirmed grimly. “I wish you were safely back in Georgia, baby, but that's not how it played out."

 
"I don't understand. I thought you killed the rogues. There's werewolves, you mean?"

 
"The rogue wolfen were only part of the problem—the start of it—not the finish. They infected most of the town. The monsters that come out tonight will be many times worse that what you saw today."

 
She looked at Dakota when he spoke, saw the flicker of doubt she'd dreaded and then looked at the others. “You're not monsters to me. Don't think that. It's not fair to me when you have to know I had no warning."

 
They looked unconvinced, glancing at one another before they seemed to dismiss it. She didn't think they had. She thought they'd merely set it aside as something beyond their control and focused on the immediate problem.

 
"What are we going to do?"

 
Balin smiled faintly. “You're going into ‘quarantine’ with the other uninfected. We've secured a warehouse, supplied it, reinforced it as much as possible. The wolfen will be there to guard the place until things settle. The ‘medical’ team is already in place, collecting the uninfected and moving them to the warehouse for ‘tests'.

 
"It's important that you support us, Dani. They'll be scared, angry, confused, and rebellious. The cover story we've cooked up is that there was a containment breach of a toxic chemical from a derailed train—that's about the only transport that passes through this place that they'll buy because they know this sort thing is routed through the least populated areas.