“Good enough,” he growled. “Let’s go.”
He tugged her wrist so hard she almost went flying. He muttered an apology, but Missy couldn’t be sure how much attention he paid to it, since he never bothered to slow down. As they got closer to the pack gathering, she could feel a new sort of tense energy building inside him. Every step seemed to make him wilder, more feral, less civilized. His body temperature shot up until the touch of his bare hand on her arm felt like a heating pad had been laid directly on her skin. It was bearable, but decidedly hot.
She shivered.
When they stepped out of the concealing shadows of the woods, she fought to keep that shiver from turning to a shudder. Everywhere she looked, the clearing was filled with werewolves, more Lupines than she had ever thought she’d see. The animal forms ranged in size and color from small, red-grey wolves the size of coyotes to some big, Christine Warren
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black monsters she swore were the size of Shetland ponies. Luckily for her nerves, not everyone was in wolf form.
Normal, human-looking pack members milled about the clearing or stood in groups, talking in a disconcerting mix of words and growls, yips and snarls. This went beyond
Twilight Zone
and straight to the Sci-fi Channel, especially when a small group stepped out of the tree line on the other side of the large bonfire. Missy had to blink three times before her eyes agreed to filter what she was seeing to her brain, which only grudgingly translated it into understandable terms.
These guys were werewolves.
Real werewolves. Not just Lupines, who looked like humans and could even behave like them when the situation warranted. Not even Lupines in wolf form, who looked like they could step right into an Animal Planet special and make themselves at home. These werewolves were about as hairy as wolf forms, but the resemblance ended there.
Four of them traveled in their own small pack, each walking on two legs that bent in the wrong direction. Their knees arched out behind them, making them look permanently coiled and ready to spring. Missy couldn’t tell their colors until they stepped close enough to the bonfire for the flames to illuminate their fur, and then she was almost sorry they had.
One had a coat the mottled, char-grey color of wood ash that faded to dirty, grey-white on his chest and belly. Fascinated, she followed the color changes until the fur shortened to a plush, velvety-looking pelt that covered but couldn’t conceal the lycanthrope’s heavy and very human genitalia. Her eyes shot back to his—he was very definitely male—face and stayed there, and she made darn sure not to look lower than the sternum on any of his friends.
Two of the others had the red-grey, coyote color she’d already noticed looked most common among the wolf forms present, and the last werewolf sported a light brown pelt flecked with black and grey, like the brindled greyhound Missy’s downstairs neighbor had rescued from a racetrack last year. Judging by the snarl that curled the brown lycanthrope’s muzzle, though, she doubted he had much in common with the friendly and mild-mannered Turtle.
Missy opened her mouth to ask a question but snapped it shut again when Graham dropped his grip on her arm and stepped forward out of the shadows that concealed them. Surprised, she scrambled after him. No way did she plan to be alone in this clearing, thank you very much.
Still looking more like a GQ cover model than the Terror of Central Park, Graham strode across the carpet of moss and leaves and into the bonfire light. Hurrying to keep pace with his ground-eating stride, Missy followed until he stopped near the same pile of jumbled boulders where the werewolves had paused.
“Curtis,” she heard him growl.
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The brown lycanthrope stepped forward, and Missy got her first close-up view of a Lupine in wereform. He was covered from head to foot in a coat of coarse, plush fur, though it seemed to grow thicker at his back, neck and upper chest, like the ruff of a real wolf. And as she’d noted on the grey werewolf, it shortened to a velvety pile on his abdomen and stomach. She made a point of skirting away from looking at his sex and moved right along to areas less likely to freak her out.
He stood upright like a man, but his legs were the hind legs of an enormous wolf, with feet like a dog’s paws, only a whole lot bigger. His arms were long and thickly muscled with vaguely human hands that were tipped with lethal, curving claws. His head looked almost completely canine, with neat triangular ears and a long, pointed muzzle full of razor sharp teeth. Missy couldn’t vouch for the sharpness of those teeth, but she decided to go with her instincts on that one. They certainly
looked
razor sharp.
She stood beside Graham, kept about a half step behind him, and decided she really didn’t need to be any closer to any of the lycanthropes. Her view was fine from right where she was. In fact, it might be better from Nebraska. She stifled the urge to go see.
“You’re being very impolite, cousin,” Graham said, his voice low and rough and so menacing Missy shivered even though he wasn’t talking to her.
The brown lycanthrope swung his head in their direction and snarled. Muscles clenched to keep from recoiling; Missy blinked and almost missed the most amazing thing she’d ever seen. One minute she stood looking at the lycanthrope Graham called cousin, and the next, reality shifted, leaving behind a man where the werewolf had been. The man had hair the same brindled-brown color of the werewolf’s fur and eyes the same yellow-gold. He also stood there stark naked.
“Not impolite,” the lycanthrope said with a sneer, “just impatient. It’s been too long since the last hunt.”
“Hunts are a dying tradition. Our females seem to prefer to choose their mates in a more modern fashion.”
“A more
human
fashion. I, for one, hardly call that progress.”
“But then, it isn’t your call to make.”
Missy kept one ear on the conversation—if you could call their verbal sparring match a conversation—but both her eyes were locked on the other three lycanthropes.
As she watched, that same shift happened. The three forms blurred around the edges.
Their features and outlines faded and became indistinct. She saw movement and a sort of rippling wave, and then everything came back into focus and the werewolves were suddenly men. Naked men. The transformation had her so fascinated, she barely stopped herself from demanding they do it again.
“If you don’t want to lead our pack in the ways of our people, then don’t be surprised if someone else does, Cousin.” Curtis snapped, pulling Missy’s attention back to the matter before her.
She heard the growl before she felt the movement and well before she saw anything, because there really wasn’t anything to see. It all happened so fast, she Christine Warren
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doubted film could have caught it, but suddenly Graham wasn’t just growling at his cousin; he had his hand wrapped around Curtis’ throat while the other man’s toes dangled three inches off the ground. Instead of shouting or struggling, Curtis laughed.
“I haven’t challenged you,” he pointed out, his voice hoarse and rasping, but clear.
“It wouldn’t do much for your reputation if the Silverback Alpha killed a member of his own pack without provocation, would it?”
Missy saw Graham’s jaw clench and saw the first hint of fang flash between his lips when he spoke.
“Oh, I’ve been provoked,” he snarled, “and I know just who’s behind it all, too. Did you think I wouldn’t notice a gamma in my own pack calling a howl in the Silverback name? Did you think I wouldn’t care about an unscheduled and unauthorized matehunt in the middle of my territory?” Graham tossed his cousin aside as if touching the other man’s skin had contaminated him. “I am still alpha of this clan, cousin, and I know precisely what you’re trying to do.”
Curtis landed on his feet in a coiled crouch and sneered up at his clearly stronger cousin. “You may know, but you can’t stop me,” he taunted. “Not unless you can produce a cub before next week,
cousin
. I thought I was doing you a favor. After all, if you can manage to catch a female tonight, you have an entire week to hope she comes into heat so you can fuck her for that pup you need so badly.” Missy snarled this time, before Graham even got the chance. She wasn’t sure where the sound came from, just that it ripped out from between her lips as she took an instinctual step forward.
Curtis’ head snapped around, his feral yellow eyes fixing on Missy and narrowing to menacing slits. “Well, what have we here?” he growled, taking a prowling step toward her. “What’s this, cousin? Some new prey for us? She’s pretty enough, in that totally ordinary way some women have, but she smells…human.” His mouth twisted, and he reached for her, but touched only air. Graham leapt in front of Missy, forcing her back a few steps and facing his cousin with his lip curled and his fang-like teeth bared. “Stay the fuck away from her,“ he ordered. “She’s mine.”
“Yours?”
Missy watched Curtis’ expression twist and contort as if he’d scented something foul, and her own eyes narrowed.
The Lupine took a step toward her, and Graham snapped at him. “
Stay away
,” he commanded, his eyes flashing hot and angry in the near darkness. “I don’t want you anywhere near her.”
Curtis offered them a look of wounded innocence so insincere it appeared plastic.
“But I don’t mean anyone any harm, cousin. I’m simply curious. It’s not often a human is offered up to us on one of our hunts. I do hope she doesn’t get too badly hurt. Some of our males can get a bit…rough, in all the excitement.” He bared his teeth, but no one watching could have called it a smile. “I’d hate to see her pretty skin torn off.”
“
No one will touch her
.”
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“Ah-ah. Now who’s being rude?” Curtis chided. “You know the terms of the hunt as well as I do. She belongs to whoever is strong enough and fast enough to catch her.” Missy opened her mouth for a truly unladylike retort, but her attention strayed when a wave of excitement so intense even she could feel it rippled though the crowd.
Samantha and Annie appeared on either side of her, each clad in a Cooper Union sweatshirt, comfortable jeans and tennis shoes. Missy shot Graham a dirty look.
“The moon is almost up,” Annie said. “When it breaks over the tree line, the hunt will be on.”
“Stay close,” Samantha murmured, leaning down a little to speak directly into Missy’s ear. “That rat, Curtis, has something planned. I can feel it.”
“I believe you. Trust me. I’m not about to go wandering off by myself. I promise.” Missy eyed Curtis suspiciously while he and Graham continued to snarl at each other, even though she no longer understood a word either one said. They’d gone from English to Lupine, and now communicated with grunts, growls, snarls, yips and barks.
Samantha and Annie seemed to know what they were saying, but neither one bothered to fill Missy in. She couldn't decide whether or not she minded.
“I see he’s got Larry, Moe and Curly with him,” Annie said, her disdain clear as she nodded at the three Lupines who had accompanied Curtis.
“Greg, Marco and Paul,” Samantha clarified, her eyes also fixing scornfully on the trio. “They’re Curtis’ right hand idiots.”
“Um, I think idiot number three heard that,” Missy said, as the man pointed them out to his friends. He detached himself from the small group and swaggered toward the women.
“And what are you supposed to be?” Paul sneered. “The human’s bodyguards?” In human form, he stood maybe five-ten, with an indifferent physique and strawberry blond hair. Missy remembered his wereform had been at least six inches taller and about a hundred pounds of muscle more imposing. She raked a deliberately dismissive glance up and down his frame, pausing to give an extra sneer at his unimpressive, semi-erect cock. He snarled.
“She needs very little guarding,” Samantha retorted. “Alpha keeps one eye on her all the time. And he hates to see worthless little pups annoying her.”
“You shouldn’t antagonize me, Samantha. It’s a hunt night,” he snarled. “It’s bad strategy to piss off one of our males. He might decide to catch you and make you pay.”
“You couldn’t catch me with a baited hook,” Samantha scoffed. “And you couldn’t take me if you did. I’m beta female in this pack, Paul. I would never let myself be mated to a little gamma nothing like you.”
Paul didn’t appreciate that remark, and he demonstrated his feelings by springing full force across the ten feet separating them and attempting to drag Samantha to the ground beneath him. Missy jumped out of the way, and fortunately Samantha was Christine Warren
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quick enough to do the same. She spun neatly out of reach and snickered when Paul grabbed air and tumbled to the hard packed ground.
“You see what I mean,” Samantha taunted, sneering down at the fallen male.
“You’re pathetic. Beneath me. I think even less of you than I do of your boss, and I think he’s a worthless little nothing who disgraces the name of the pack. Don’t think I’ll ever let you touch me, because it’s never going to happen.” The look of rage that contorted his face made Missy fear she was about to witness bloodshed, but before the fallen Lupine’s muscles could do more than shift and bunch, a sharp command cut through the tension.
“Melissa. Come here. Now.”
Graham’s hard tone matched his stony expression, but Missy quickly thought better of arguing. In any other circumstances, she might have objected to the ring of dominance in his voice, but these circumstances fell way far short of ordinary. She had stepped into his world the minute she followed him into the Ramble, and for the moment, she had to live by his rules.
The rationalization worked long enough for her to hurry back to his side like an obedient little mate. She halted next to him and looked up at his granite profile. He didn’t bother to look down, but she knew he was aware of where she stood, down to the very inch. His eyes remained on his cousin.
“She seems quite obedient,” Curtis said in a tone of voice that made Missy’s teeth clench and her knuckles itch to make contact with that snarky smile. “I wonder if she’ll respond so quickly when I order her to spread her legs for my cock.” Disgust spoke for Missy, because her common sense had obviously taken a vacation. “I don’t think that will be possible,” she replied, letting her expression telegraph how loathsome she found him. “I find it’s hard to come running when I’m doubled over vomiting at the thought of you touching me.” Curtis’ arm twitched, as if it longed to strike out at her, but Graham’s menacing presence and warning growl kept him in check. “I told you, you will never touch her.