Her Wanted Wolf (16 page)

Aimee’s nostrils filled with the increased saltiness in the air. She
surmised they ran toward the sea. As they rounded a corner, Micah ran in the
direction of a dilapidated trawler. With its peeling paint and rusty hull it
didn’t look like it would stay afloat in a squall. But its engines purred like
a Ferrari; that could only be a good thing if was going to take her away from
here. In the shadow of the wheelhouse, Micah shifted. He ran over to plastic
barrel and lifted the lid. Pulling out an armful of clothing, he drew on a pair
of jeans and a matching denim shirt

Barefooted, he trotted over to her and shoved some clothes at her. “Get
dressed. The shit is about to hit the fan.” Doing as he asked, she shimmered
into human form, and she pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt.

Micah bounded up the rickety ramp. Taking a leap of fate, she followed
him. If they took a dive into the choppy black water, they’d do it together.

Padding onto the deck, Aimee looked around. She didn’t know much about
boats, but in spite of the dated equipment the deck was clean and the ironwork
reeked of fresh paint.

“Why a boat?”

“We can’t be tracked if we head out to sea and keep moving. It’s the best
temporary solution I could come up with.” He jogged over to the wheelhouse and
shouted, “Dubois, get ready to set sail.” He bustled around untying all the
mooring lines but one.

Aimee dogged his heels. “The captain is human. What’s up with that?”

“I saved his salty hide. He offered the use of his boat when I told him
what I needed.”

The squeal of tires, accompanied by the acrid odor from rubber burning
drew her to the side of the boat overlooking the dock.

Holy shit! Aimee’s jaw dropped.

An old Ford F-150, overloaded with Redmavens, pulled to a screeching halt
on the deserted dock. A second later, a sleek expensive SUV pulled up behind
the pickup. Aimee would bet her shirt it was stolen. Closely following it, a
fifteen-foot Budget truck, and a school bus fishtailed before it stopped inches
from the Suburban, ending the short convoy. More Redmavens came out of the
shadows on foot.

“How did they get away?”

“One of my pals sounded the alarm that I had taken off with you. Finn
used our clothes to lay a false trail to, hopefully, lead Rifkin away from this
area. It gave anybody who’s breaking away from the pack the chance to get
here.”

A mad scramble to board the ship began. The Redmavens moved as if the Devil
was nipping at their heels. Clutching their offspring, the women with young
raced up the flimsy ramp first, followed by the unmated females, with a total
disregard for its moans and shudders. The rest of the male weres followed.

The shrill ring of a phone sliced through the tension-fraught silence.
Dubois tossed a phone down to Micah.

“What?” Micah answered brusquely into the device. “Stick to the plan.
Head out for the rendezvous point to meet the boat. If they track us here, I
have enough men to stave off an attack.”

Micah turned to her, his eyes clouded with concern. “We might be getting
a little uninvited company. Hustle, people, we’re setting sail in five. Dubois,
weigh anchor and get going the minute the ramp is pulled up.”

Nose twitching, Micah lifted his head and sniffed the air. His face
tightened into a grim mask, and the width of his shoulders stretched the cloth
covering them, which tautened as his body tensed. Shedding the shirt he just
donned, he tossed it to Aimee. Micah placed his foot on the guardrail, using it
as a springboard to launch himself up and over the side of the boat. He landed
with a loud thump and took off at a full run. A wolf slunk out from the
shadows, his lips peeled back over his yellowed fangs in a vengeful malicious
smirk.

A gasp whispered through Aimee’s lips. One of Rifkin’s cronies had
tracked them. The men pulled up the ramp.

Pointing his muzzle to the air, the were’s intention to reveal their
location was apparent to anybody watching him.

A big mistake and his last. He’d bared his neck, making himself
vulnerable. Micah shot across the short distance, wrapped his arms under the
wolf’s front limbs and hauled him up, so they were torso to torso. Holding the
were up, with his legs hooked in the crook of his elbows, Micah placed his
interlaced hands on the wolf’s throat and pushed back.

Muscles bulging, Micah held on to the hundred and eighty pounds of
snarling, enraged werekin and forced his head back until the wolf’s back arched
unnaturally backward.

Snap. Crackle. Pop.

Vertebrae separating in the were’s spine made Aimee jump. Her fear for
Micah thinned out her already shaky nerves.

The final crack of a neck breaking reverberated, gunshot loud, cutting
through the tense silence.

Micah hoisted the body over his shoulder and trotted back to the boat.
The ramp was lowered and he climbed aboard.

“Let’s go,” he growled out gruffly, a stark haunted grief etched on his
face, which she didn’t understand. He’d triumphed.

Micah laid the corpse on the deck, stalked to the bow of the ship to
stand in solitary silence and watched as they pulled away from land.

Aimee sighed, walked over to his side, and put her hand on his sweat-dampened
back.

He flinched under her touch and shrugged her hand off. He spun on his
heel to face her, his eyes wild and unfocused. “Don’t…don’t touch me right now.
The blood lust is still there. What they made us rides me, pushing me to carry
out greater acts of violence. The one thing I want most is to take you. I’d ram
myself into you over and over again until I’ve expended this raging savagery in
me. Give me some space, Aimee, for your safety’s sake, please.”

“No, you’d never hurt me.” She wrapped her arms around his heaving torso.
Micah shuddered and buried his face in her hair. He stood stiff as a board in
her embrace for a long while, until he finally wound his arms around her and
held on as if she anchored him.

Aimee ran her hands up and down his back in long comfort-giving sweeps
until he relaxed against her.

Micah let out a sigh. “Don’t think for one minute you’re safe. I want to
take you with as much intensity as I wanted to rip something apart.”

She pulled back and grinned up into his face. “Yeah, I kind of got that
impression. Your cock is drilling a hole in my belly. I can take care of that,
if you want?”

He let out a tension-releasing laugh, “Yes, I want, very, very much.”

Micah hoisted her up in his arms. Ignoring the hoots and snickers from
his stolen pack, he trotted down a short flight of stairs to take her below
deck. She didn’t give a damn either. This was a long time coming. Too long.

He stumbled into a cabin and kicked the door closed behind him. Micah
took her mouth, claiming her. The fierce desire in his kiss stole her breath.
His hands fumbled to remove her clothing, ripping and tearing in his haste to
get to her. He lowered his head, captured her nipple and suckled on it like a
man dying of thirst.

“I should take my time with you,” he mumbled against her breast.

Micah pushed her up against the bulkhead. His hands trembled as he ran
them over the tense tendons in her thighs.

Their breathing, harsh and harried, filled the room.

“Don’t treat me like an invalid. I don’t need gentleness right now. I
need you, want you.” She unsnapped the lone button at his waistband, lowered
the zipper, and shoved his jeans down over his hips.

He cock sprang free. The scent of his need mingled with hers, filling the
closet-sized cabin. She was wet, wanting and willing. There was no need to
wait. The moment their eyes connected and they’d breathed in each other’s
spoor, their coming together was destined.

Micah cradled her hips in his big hands and lifted her. Her thighs parted
in welcome and he pressed his groin against hers.

The hot, swollen column of flesh nudged her cleft. A reflexive shudder
ran through her body. Aimee took hold of his member and set the satiny crown at
her core. Slicking the rotund knob up and down the furrow of her slit, she
masturbated with his tool. Her manipulations drew down her silky fluids,
moistening him for penetration.

Ohmigod, he was huge, and she had to have inside her. Aimee placed him at
the clenched mouth of her vaginal channel and eased her hips forward,
encouraging him, inviting him to do as he needed to satisfy the fierce desire
that lashed them with the sweet ache of denial.

With a deep belly groan, Micah thrust forward. Her flesh separated to
give his cock’s helmet passage. Her tissues shrank after the bulbous head
passed through them to enclose the shaft in a snug sheath. He sank into her
until their groins connected with a soft smack.

Micah rested his damp brow on Aimee’s forehead, their breathing mingled.
Her channel rippled over the rod buried within her, eliciting a moan from her
lover.

The length and breadth of him stretched her to an exquisite capacity. A
shaky laugh escaped though her lips. She couldn’t have taken more if he were
bigger or longer. The added sensation he’d give when he started to move, would
be icing on a very large cake.

Aimee let out a sobbing whimper and clutched his shoulders.

“Sorry.” His muffled voice vibrated over her breast.

“What for?” If he’d done something wrong, she must have missed it, but if
he made a mistake, she couldn’t wait until he got it right. The muscles in her
channel tightened at the thought and Micah grunted.

“No foreplay. I didn’t prepare you.”

“I’ll forgive you, if you start moving,” she promised, her voice a husky
whisper.

“Well in that case.” He eased out of her, half way.

Aimee writhed against Micah. With the pleading little arches of her back,
she enticed him back. Seeing that she didn’t have much leeway being pinned up
against the wall, Aimee used her internal muscles and milked the part of him
still in her.

He pushed a few inches back into her. “Oh, hell Aimee, take it easy or
this will be over before it gets better.” He surged back into her. His thick,
turgid shaft caressed the tissues hidden deep inside her pussy.

“It gets better?”

Eyes glittering with healthy lust, Micah pumped his hips, in an easy
rhythmic glide. The slap of their pelvises, the wet sluicing sound of him
thrusting and withdrawing from her sheath added to the frantic eroticism of the
moment. Micah’s heavy ball sac bounced over the sensitive sinew between her
cheeks.

Deprived for so long, the friction of his cock passing over her
sensitized tissues set off a series of small orgasmic explosions through her.
She shuddered, unable to control her reaction. Aimee clamped her thighs over
Micah’s flanks, ground her groin against him, and wrapped her arms around him.

She caught the pace he set, and with shallow jerks of her butt, she
fucked herself on his pulsing shaft.

“I’m coming,” she warned.

“Let it come, baby,” Micah murmured, his mouth warm against her skin.

Blinded to anything else but the pleasure she shared with Micah, she let
it take hold of her and skydived into an abyss of pure bliss. She screamed his
name.

Micah’s response was immediate. He rammed himself into her as far as he
could, and spurted his warm, balmy fluids into her. This triggered another
orgasm, leaving her weak and satiated. Her body lax against his, Micah’s knees
buckled, and they slid to the floor.

“Damn. Well that’s embarrassing,” he grumbled, his lips on her ear.

Aimee let out a soft, satisfied laugh. She didn’t know what he had to be
embarrassed about. Her body tingled in the aftermath of her orgasm, and his
semi-hard penis jumped in her spasming pussy, promising more to come. “I kind
of like the fact that I can bring you to your knees.”

“Well, as soon as I can stand up without falling back on my ass, I’ll
haul us up onto the bed and we’ll spend what’s left of the night finding out
what else you can make me do.”

“I can live with that.” She smirked and kissed his mouth.

They’d steal these few hours for themselves, for tomorrow would bring a
multitude of problems they might not be able to surmount.

Chapter Thirteen

In a sleek, undulating wave, the combined Lunedare and Silverwolf packs
wove their way through the forest and down the mountain. They headed down to
the plateau Drew had chosen for the designated rendezvous point and away from
all that was familiar to Sabine.

Homesickness left a dull ache in the center of Sabine’s chest, but she
pushed it back and concentrated on keeping up with the weres hurtling forward.
She didn’t have the luxury of time and solitude to grieve. Their survival was
at stake.

The tense purposeful sprint with which Drew’s fore-fighters raced to
their destination was vastly different from Sabine’s customary runs. Even
though the males intermingling with the Silverwolves had adjusted their gaits
to accommodate the women’s much shorter strides, the pace was nonetheless
punishing.

Winded, Sabine lagged a few steps behind Drew. Her tortured thoughts
turned to her father. He’d overruled her suggestion that she stay behind,
agreed with Drew’s plan, and charged her with the safety of the clan before he
drifted off into another doze.

Her sister had volunteered to stay behind with her father and the
unconscious girl. She felt a little resentful of her sisters’ enthusiasm for
Drew’s scheme. To argue more would have wasted time and jeopardized the rest of
the family.

Drew and a few of his men moved ahead revealing their presence. As
instructed, she kept the scent of those remaining behind concealed.

Sabine saw the logic in his plan. It was better to have their
confrontation with the Redmavens hidden by the trees and not out on the open
plain, which might roust the townspeople. But he could be outnumbered, and if
what he told her about these hell-bred Redmavens was true, they wouldn’t stand
a chance if they attacked him and his fore-fighters
en masse
.