Read Dire Needs: A Novel of the Eternal Wolf Clan Online
Authors: Stephanie Tyler
The first orgasm blossomed almost too quickly for her to enjoy it—her body tightened and she needed more. Rifter knew it, didn’t stop, laving and licking until her body was poised on the verge of coming again. Buried his face inside of her and tried to make her forget everything and anything…
One hard flick of a tongue on her clit and she did, yelling and clawing at Rifter’s back. This time, he kissed along her thighs for a few minutes as she caught her breath before taking her down and holding her back against the dresser.
His sex pulsed between them—but he was most definitely holding back. And she wasn’t about to beg, understood he was worried about hurting her. But God, her body craved him like a drug. She was already intoxicated by everything about him—his scent alone drove her crazy. They couldn’t go on like this for much longer—her body wouldn’t be able to handle it. Something feral inside of her was ready to snap, and hard, and he seemed to understand, nodded a little at her unspoken thoughts. Pressed his body to hers as the last of the orgasmic tremble ended and the pure, unmitigated exhaustion hit her.
She put her face to his chest and breathed him in, and he, in turn, carried her to the bed. Sometime when she was in the bath, the sheets had been changed. These were just as comfortable and still smelled like him.
Rifter turned his head to the door at the same time she heard voices. To her, it was a mash-up of different
voices, but he listened intently like he was hearing every word clearly.
She’d learned in med school that sometimes people who had migraines had heightened senses—and migraines were along the same nerve path as seizures. Lately, every sense was on overdrive and she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was somehow getting stronger, not weaker. Which meant she was in total and complete denial. And she planned on staying there until the end. And in this bed too, police or no police.
“Is everything all right?” she asked.
“I think my brothers are arguing,” he said as his phone began to ring. He grabbed it and immediately rose from the bed and pulled on jeans. “Food’s on its way and I’ll be right back.”
“Are you… leaving?”
“Not the house—just have some business to take care of downstairs,” he told her. “Will you be okay for a little while?”
She shrugged, for the first time realizing that she was, in fact, a prisoner here, despite the nice trappings. “What choice do I have?”
“Jesus, Gwen.” He pressed his lips together and his stance tightened like he was preparing for a fight.
She wouldn’t give him one. “I don’t like being controlled, but I’m here and I’m safe. And when I think about what happened with the fire… if everything had gone as planned…”
“Nothing ever does,” Rifter told her. “And you still ended up in my bed, just where you belong.”
R
ifter left Gwen with a tray of food Cyd brought up and more content than she’d been. He hated that she thought she was in a prison, because capturing and holding anyone wasn’t his bag.
Except for Harm—he’d hold that fucker, preferably with hot tongs.
When he strode into the kitchen, he found Vice and Jinx there, with Liam and Cyd and Cain. Stray came in behind him, holding a small video surveillance camera so he could keep an eye on Harm.
He flashed the screen Rifter’s way for a second so he could see the bruising on Harm’s forehead from where he’d been dropped the night before. Rifter nodded in satisfaction, took the cup of coffee Cyd handed him as Vice told him, “The outlaws are definitely in bed with the witches and weretrappers.”
“Do you think the outlaws are spelled?” he asked after downing half the caffeinated drink in one gulp.
“I think they’re doing more than casual dabbling into black arts,” Jinx said.
If so, it made them vulnerable and put them all at risk—the witches could turn a spell around in ways an unpracticed wolf couldn’t. And since Seb’s coven was
rumored to be conjuring demons, the danger had been turned up more than a notch.
“We’re as much at risk with that human upstairs,” Stray said, with his annoying habit of reading Rifter’s mind, and Rifter wondered why he simply refused to acknowledge his ability outright.
There was always a fucking reason, but Rifter didn’t have the time or patience to deal with him now. Instead, he raked his claws against the wall next to Vice, who, for once, attempted to look contrite even though he hadn’t said a word.
And then he turned to Jinx and Stray and ruined the moment. “Told you he was hooked on the human—she’s like heroin to his wolf.”
“Let’s focus on the real danger,” Rifter told them, and finally he got no argument. He turned his attention to Liam. “We did some real damage to the weretrappers’ main building after Rogue and I were rescued. We burned the facility to the ground—razed it and left before the police and firemen arrived to investigate. It’s in the weretrappers’ best interest not to attract the attention of the law. It’s the only thing that’s stopped this war from growing out of control, and we need to keep it that way.”
But the weretrappers were by far not the only worry. The pack uprising and subsequent war were brewing, and it left them all vulnerable. Having the wolf who would be king added yet another wrinkle to an already impossibly complicated situation.
“You could step in and lead them,” Liam said.
Rifter had him pinned to the ground in seconds, the boy wolf under him, his throat bared in deference to the bigger, badder wolf.
Smart boy. “Don’t you think of ordering me again, Were.”
The guilt over the fact that stepping into that position
would simplify things was always in the front of Rifter’s mind, something he and the young wolf’s father had discussed.
But the thought of overseeing a pack where Weres happily mated and had families, while the Dires had none, was too troubling. Better to stay separated.
“If you won’t lead, then you need to let me,” Liam growled.
“You are nowhere near ready.”
“I don’t have the luxury of time.” The young wolf paced as soon as Rifter let him up, the refrain now familiar to all of them. It wasn’t a hollow request or one made because it was expected of him. The young wolf wanted to live up to the responsibility of becoming king. “If I cannot take back control soon, my pack will be lost, absorbed into the outlaws. And then, who knows how many will turn to the lure of the trappers? There are stories of outlaws turning in my pack members to the weretrappers for money and power—that’s hard to resist for young Weres who have no leadership.”
The young wolf turned back to Vice and said simply, “Train me.”
It was a command, an order that should have made Vice break him in two, and Rifter watched with interest to see what his brother would do.
Vice simply nodded, realizing as Rifter did that the passion in the younger man was impossible to deny.
And then Stray was up so fast his chair was knocked back. “Harm’s awake.”
Rifter turned to Cyd. “Bring Gwen up some more food and make sure she doesn’t leave that room for any reason until I tell you otherwise.”
Rifter was the first wolf in the room, followed closely by the others. He’d barked for Liam to stay behind with
Cain, and the Weres complied, no doubt because of the ferocity of the order.
Now he stood over Harm as the large wolf blinked several times and attempted to get his bearings. Rifter allowed it because he wanted Harm fully aware of what was happening when he ripped him to shreds. Already, his canines were lengthening and it was hard to keep Brother Wolf down.
In time, you’ll get yours,
he promised, and that appeased the wolf momentarily.
“Rifter.” Harm’s voice was hoarse, fear mixed with pain, and his eyes went lupine. The silver chains would stop his shift, but he was suffering. “Is she… okay?”
She? Why the hell would he be worried about Gwen? “I’m not answering your questions, you bastard. You fucked us good—turned us in, and now you’re going to pay in a way no Dire’s ever paid before. And I’m going to have a hell of a good time doing it.”
“I did it… to save… her. Gwen.” Harm paused, took a deep breath like he was trying to get a strong hold on his wolf. Rifter couldn’t stand it any longer, grabbed Harm by the throat and slammed him against the wall, the chains pulling taut on his legs. With his strength, it wouldn’t take much to rip them off his body, but he needed to leave something for the others.
He put his hand back, and one of his brothers handed him a knife. He brought it up to Harm’s cheek. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say.”
But Harm’s arm shot up, chained yet, but his wrist closed on Rifter’s, pulling it slightly away long enough to croak, “She’s my daughter.”
Rifter’s mouth dropped open, and he squeezed Harm’s throat harder until the wolf turned blue and struggled against his bindings nearly hard enough to shake Rifter off. Harm would be hard to take down completely, but he’d inflamed Rifter with his lie.
What if it’s not?
Rifter’s
world had already shifted on its axis. Now it spun completely out of control and threatened to never right itself again.
He’d really lost his fucking mind.
“Bullshit,” Vice growled from behind him. “No female Dire has ever been found, so there’s no fucking way. Let me have him, Rifter.”
“No.” Rifter backed away and stared at Harm, who coughed for a few minutes. “Who’s her mother?”
“Human.”
“There’s no way.”
“Apparently there is, King Rifter.” Harm hadn’t lost his cocky sarcasm—it was what drew millions of screaming women to him and made him and Rifter spar constantly when they were on their Running.
Selfish fucking bastard. “Her mother couldn’t have been human.”
“Don’t you think I would’ve known if she wasn’t? She was an artist—a painter—a good one until she got pregnant and went on the run with Gwen.”
“How did she survive?”
Harm shook his head, like he was refusing to answer. Finally, he said, “I made sure she did—for a while. Then she lost my track and got killed, or at least I thought that’s what happened. Later, I found out that Seb’s sister, Cordelia, had been tracking me for years.”
Had Harm loved someone?
No way—the man was too selfish to love anyone but himself. “Tell me Gwen’s the only one.”
“She is.”
“And she has no idea?”
“Her mother was killed when she was ten. Gwen moved to the States with her aunt and uncle with a sizable
settlement from me. But they never touched the money. I don’t think they ever told her about it.”
He recalled Gwen’s words about her parents, about never knowing her father. If her mother made that up to keep her safe…
“This is impossible. And that makes no sense for her aunt and uncle to never touch the money.” He turned to his brothers, who were all equally stunned, although Vice still looked skeptical.
“Maybe they knew what Harm was… maybe they knew a way to keep her safe,” Jinx said, his eyes the most feral Rifter had ever seen them as they locked Harm in their gaze.
“Or they thought they did,” Rifter said. “Her aunt and uncle were killed in a fire—Gwen was supposed to be there. The weretrappers have obviously been tracking her for a long time, with Cordelia’s assistance.”
Gwen had been right—people around her dying by fire was no coincidence. And that meant the weretrappers had had the witches helping them for longer than the Dires had originally thought.
Had Seb known?
“Wolves didn’t kill them,” Harm said. “The weretrappers and witches made it look that way. Or else they made Weres do it… maybe moon lust.”
Rifter turned. “Why not take her sooner?”
“They were waiting for a shift that never came,” Harm said. “She’d been medicated in hopes of preventing it from happening.”
“The seizures,” Rifter breathed.
“Yes—the medicine helped stop the shift,” Harm said. “But the seizures are killing her.”
Harm’s grim proclamation made Rifter crumple the knife in his hand as if it was made of powder. Smoke rose
and blood ran down his arm and the floor, and his brothers just stared at him.
He didn’t wipe his hand, remained silent. He’d welcome the tight pain that would come with the shift his body so desperately needed, but he forced himself to stay in the present.
“She’s not taking the meds any longer,” he said tightly. “She’s still having… episodes.” During sex, which was a sure sign of a Dire shift coming down the pike.
How could he have been so fucking blind to this? The smells, the changes… her need to run. Her appetite.
“The bruises,” Rifter breathed as Jinx shot him a look. He pictured Gwen’s back as he’d looked on it a short while ago and realized that what he’d assumed were bruises from the earlier attack were now gathering in a very distinct pattern. “Her wolf glyph’s coming out.”
He traced around the edges of her Sister Wolf in his mind. Brother Wolf howled at the thought that she’d been trapped for so long, but Rifter soothed him.
He recalled when his own glyph began to appear, the pack pride that accompanied it. A month later, he was out on his Running. He hadn’t been able to return home after that, because there’d been nothing left. Total and complete destruction. He’d walked through the rubble, wept over the dead men, their Brother Wolves slain with a slash across the men’s and women’s backs that rendered their wolf glyphs completely destroyed.
Cutting out the glyph was akin to killing the wolf in those days. Today it would do nothing to the surviving Dires.
“If she doesn’t shift, she’ll die,” Jinx said. “And if she does shift, she might die anyway.”
“No.” Rifter spoke as if his will could command it.
“The weretrappers won’t give up—neither will the witches,” Harm said.
“And what—we
should turn her over to them because of that? We know that’s how you roll, but not us.” Vice had Harm pinned to the wall, his mouth at the other wolf’s throat, and for a long second, Rifter considered letting Vice do what he needed to.
But there was more to hear. And Rifter had to know every last, bitter truth. “Vice, off.”
Vice complied, slowly. Licked his bottom lip and shuddered as he tried not to shift. A flash of lightning lit the room, while overhead, thunder rolled across the sky like a bowling ball hitting all the right pins, and Rifter swore the house shook. A chill went through him, stronger than any electrical current. March in upstate New York was not the time for this weather.