Living Extinct (14 page)

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Lorie O’Clare

“Are you?” she persisted, pulling harder on his hair.

“Yes. Moira. Be my mate.” He moved to her other breast, squeezing it and forcing her nipple to poke up, eager for his mouth.

“Then I’ll think about it.”

She wanted that power. He saw through her suddenly. Wherever her thoughts had gone, they suddenly returned. Pushing up her body, enduring the pain when she pulled harder on his hair as he moved from her breasts to her mouth, he devoured the taste of her. When she couldn’t keep his mouth where she wanted it, she ran her hands down to his shoulder, scraping her nails over his flesh. Electric charges spurred the change to life inside him.

She’d fight for control with tooth, claw and her hot fucking body. Whatever it took, warring with him, distracting him with pain, with sensuality, she’d go to that extreme not to let go. Once, she’d lost everything. He saw into her mind, her torment and confusion. Submitting to him meant losing it again. She wouldn’t let that happen. She fought for power over him.

For years, he’d dreamed of the day she’d belly-up to him and mate with him.

Moira couldn’t give that to him.

Pain attacked his body.

Fighting it, he warred with her tongue. They moved around each other, swirling slowly and then with more fervor. Not only could he smell her lust, but it tasted sweeter than anything he’d ever imagined. He meant to distract her with the action but she kissed with so much passion it made it hard as hell to move into her mind, to see what she’d hidden behind clouds of lust a moment before.

She wanted him, needed him, ached to have him fuck her. A pressure grew painfully inside her, throbbing with a fury that matched the need flooding inside him.

But that was it. For now. He sensed her satisfaction with him asking for the mating.

But she needed more. He should have known this about her. It made sense.

Moira needed love, knowledge that her commitment to her mate would be filled with happiness. She craved a den, a place of her own, an escape from the life she’d led since she’d escaped Malta.

Damn it. Why hadn’t it occurred to him that Moira would want a place to settle down and call her den? She’d been a bitch on the run with no pack, no normal life, for all of her adult life. Dante was the last werewolf on the planet to offer a bitch a normal life.

His heart swelled, suddenly aching worse than his cock. Her fingers stroked his flesh, continuing to feed the fire burning inside him. She traced lines down his chest, reaching between them, and then wrapped her hands around his cock.

He broke the kiss, his teeth extended and puncturing his lip. The taste of blood fueled the beast inside him further. Lights sparkled before him like a thousand fireflies 72

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dancing before his eyes. He howled, feeling the bed shake underneath him, and pulled from Moira’s mind quickly when the elements tore at his soul.

“I dreamed about this.” Her voice sounded so far away.

But her touch, her fingers rubbing his shaft, was pulling all the blood from his body and making his cock swell furiously. She lifted her legs, clamping down against his outer thighs and raised her hips. She offered her pussy to him.

And damn it, he was just a werewolf. For years he’d believed Moira was his. “
When
she’s old enough to mate, you may have her. But you must seduce her, gain her willingness to be
yours.
” The old werewolf’s words had hung heavy in his mind like a dark mantra over the years.

Werewolf tradition remained stronger in Europe than in America. Even over here, he’d believed once he’d convinced Moira of her sire’s words, she’d accept it. He’d never had a moment’s doubt.

Yet in these past few minutes, something had changed. He’d wanted more than sex from her—a commitment. And all she wanted was a good fucking. With all energy draining to his cock, he couldn’t focus on what had altered in his world.

Hot, wet flesh brushed against his cock. Fire, needy and demanding, burned him to his soul.

Fuck Moira. Give her what she wants.

He fisted his hands on either side of her, holding himself up while his arms straightened and shook from the energy tearing at him. He pushed his cock against the entrance of her pussy, feeling her moist heat and almost dying from it.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Please. Now.”

That was all it took.

He glided quickly inside her, entering fast and hard, burying himself deep while tiny muscles constricted and caressed him in farther.

Every muscle in Moira’s body spasmed. She screamed, grabbing his shoulders, digging her nails into his flesh and drawing blood as she scraped them over his back.

“Moira, damn it.” His mouth didn’t want to form words.

Moving quick and hard, his thrusts were met by anxious, hot muscles that almost suffocated him. She was fucking tight as hell. Tiny muscles vibrated and quivered around his cock. Her long, thick lashes fluttered over her partially changed eyes, which glowed with silver streaks as she looked up at him.

“Fuck me, wolf man,” she purred, enticing and seductive.

“Believe me, little bitch, I plan on it.” He straightened, using the sting from her nails to help clear the fog from his brain. “Who has fucked you before me?”

She stroked his back, his shoulders and his arms. Moving under him, she gave him a way to go even deeper, experience more of the intoxicating heat she offered. No bitch had ever been so tight, so on fire. She fit him like a glove—like she’d been made, designed, just for his cock.

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She smiled, taunting him with her silence. A bit of sanity had returned to her brain as well, clearing her thoughts and allowing him to move inside her head. No image of another formed in her mind. There was no one she longed for. Damn good thing too.

He didn’t want her dwelling on another while he was buried deep inside her.

“Are you going to tell me the name of every bitch you’ve taken?” she asked finally, her voice strained.

“There is no one else,” he muttered.

No one else mattered. Moira was here, underneath him, the sweet smell of her sex rising between them. God, she smelled good—fucking perfect.

Reaching for her legs, he spread them, holding her in place as he lifted her. He slowed the movement, focusing on how fantastic his cock looked covered with thick, white cream as it slowly slid out of her pussy. Her dark skin contrasted perfectly against his lighter skin. Her small body, every muscle tense, was an image of beauty—

of a lost paradise he’d spent a lifetime finding and now had to claim as his own. She took quick breaths, her breasts rising and falling while her dark nipples puckered and formed small circles.

God, he could take her like this for hours, sliding in and out of her heat, feeling her muscles constrict and pulse against his cock.

When he slowed, dwelling on her heavy breathing while he fucked her, she managed to block his thoughts again.

“Don’t,” he growled and slammed into her with enough force to push her against the headboard.

Her pussy clamped down around him so hard it almost squeezed the life out of him.

“Oh fuck!” she screamed, reaching for him but grabbing air when he impaled her.

A rush of thoughts—need, excitement over how he made her feel, what he did to her—flushed through him. She’d let down her wall but stared at him wide-eyed, confused and unclear about what it was he didn’t want her to do.

He’d make it real clear.

His cock was so swollen that moving slow blurred his vision. He gritted his teeth and endured it so he could speak. “Don’t close me out of your mind again.”

“Then I want in, too.”

This was part of the commitment she needed from her mate. And it was no less than what he demanded from her. Trust. The only way to get it was to offer it.

He pulled out of her, his cock instantly cold and craving the wet heat again.

“Come here.” He grabbed her, yanking her off the bed and flipping her over. He gripped her hips and pulled her to her hands and knees. Without hesitating, he thrust deep into her cunt. Fire burned him alive. “Fuck!” he screamed and pounded hard into her hot, wet pussy. “Enter my mind, sweet, adorable bitch,” he whispered against her 74

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shoulder. “Feel my thoughts even without seeing me. Know who I am and let me know you.”

Her ass was covered with her come, shiny and wet. He knelt behind her while her black hair streamed down her narrow back and fanned over her like a magnificent cape.

“You think you already own me,” she gasped, slowly raising her head, arching her back farther, while she made an effort to look over her shoulder at him. “But you never will, not even if I agree to be your mate. Know that now, wolf man. We are equals on all levels.”

Words of sharing, thoughts of trust, were as wonderful as fucking her was. But the meaning behind all of it would only come with time. And they would have that. He admitted that he hadn’t thought it through when he’d demanded that fucking her would bond them for life.

“As equals, we will own each other.” He slid deeper inside her, feeling his cock threaten to swell.

Her entire body began shaking and her arms gave out underneath her as she howled. Charged sensations like electrical currents ripped through his body when she convulsed underneath him. Moira made the most incredible whimpering sound when she exploded, her orgasm hitting her hard and tearing through her.

Traditionally, in the eyes of any pack, they were now mates, although tradition wasn’t held on to as strongly over the past century. Few entered into mating as virgins.

Nonetheless, there were no marriages like humans performed. The ceremony consummating a mating was private, between werewolf and bitch. Although it was a tradition so many werewolves ignored these days, making love was enough to mate two werewolves. And he knew in Moira’s heart, he now held a rank and position that hadn’t been there before. But the true bond, the dedication to each other for life, hadn’t been formed. Not yet. And simply because she’d said as much, that she hadn’t agreed yet to the mating. In his heart they were mated, but she demanded equality, and truth be told, he wouldn’t want his demanding little bitch any other way.

That’s why when his cock swelled, preparing to trap him inside her, he pulled out, depriving both of them from the awesome aftermath of damn good sex. He left her heat, feeling like he’d deserted her when she needed him most.

This is what she asked for though. And it was no less than what he demanded. A commitment. A mating. She wanted trust, love, a den to call her own. It would take some work to give that but she’d get what she wanted. As his mate, Moira would know happiness. And that’s why he spilled his come on her back, loving how the thick, white cream dripped over her caramel-colored flesh. Its salty smell mixed with the smell of their lust.

Moira would commit to him, submit and openly say the mating stood. But until then, he wouldn’t sanctify their mating by coming inside her.

She collapsed on the bed, not saying a word and not blocking him out when she mentally praised him for fucking her so well.

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* * * * *

Darrell Martinez was a tall, well-built young Mexican werewolf. Barely out of the den, the pup was hyper, anxious to show how he’d taken control of his pack. Dante didn’t find a lot in the werewolf’s mind. He was all brawn and little brain.

“So you’re the pack destroyer.” Darrell spoke with a thick accent and his thoughts were in Spanish.

Dante bristled, facing the pack leader on the large brick terrace outside the back of the mansion. Darrell’s two men who’d joined them outside gave him the once-over, as if putting to memory what a pack destroyer would look like.

“I’m Dante Aldo,” he corrected the pack leader. He elaborated. “I haven’t given myself that label.”

A pack destroyer?

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck and down his spine straightened. Moira asked the question, but not so anyone else heard. She spoke in his mind. He didn’t look over his shoulder where she sat. After dining and at the request that they all enjoy the cool evening outside, he’d escorted Moira to the terrace and stationed her at the edge along the brick wall. She reclined in one of white iron chairs, away from the other werewolves, her slender legs draped over the armrest. The only female present, she’d be seen and not heard while they discussed business. With the way she looked, she was most definitely being noticed. She didn’t argue yet another age-old tradition, although she didn’t hesitate to question him clearly in his head.

“You grace us with your presence. I suppose now is when we learn why?” Darrell was pushy, more than likely a bully who’d wiped out the other alphas to gain control of his pack.

He pissed Dante off with his sarcastic tone. And he did it on purpose, foolishly thinking with his omnipotent youthful attitude that he could take Dante on.

“We need a place to stay for a few days without a lot of attention.” Being clear and straight to the point would work best with this werewolf. “Your pack and this location works well for me.”

He ignored the low growl of disapproval that rumbled from one of Darrell’s mutts who hovered behind him. Sipping his beer, Dante walked past them, staring at the white cliffs that provided natural protection from the rest of the world. And he knew they’d left little to no trail that could be sniffed out. After a few days he’d sniff around, get a feel for how GWAR and WA were reacting to Moira disappearing.

Then they’d make their next move. Already Juan worked the streets of Albuquerque, learning what he could about what gossip might be drifting through the werewolf grapevine about them.

Darrell muttered something in Spanish to his werewolves who immediately rumbled their disapproval. Darrell wanted to speak with Dante alone. Neither one of the werewolves wanted Darrell to approve their stay. They feared Dante. A common 76

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reaction he got out of most packs. Darrell growled louder, hissing his order for them to get the fuck out and let him speak to Dante alone. The two of them stomped off the terrace, entering the home like two pups throwing a fit for being sent to bed early.