Living Extinct (7 page)

“My name is Dante Aldo.” He doubted telling her who he was would mean anything to her. Bruno Tangaree had always been very closemouthed. Especially with his only cub. Protecting her meant more to him than saving his own hide. “Your sire wishes for us to be together,” he added quietly.

She put on some muscle quickly. Not changing. But bones and muscle contorted against his grip, twisting and bulging under his fingers. Her arms strengthened at the same time she let out a howl, throwing him off her.

“My sire is dead,” she screamed, darting past him.

She didn’t make it halfway across the sparsely furnished cabin before he leapt on her. Terror and outrage clogged the chilled air. The disgustingly sweet odor of fury mixed with the thick, pungent smell of fear swarmed through his senses, turning his stomach. Ignoring her emotions, fighting to block out their smells, he took her down, the two of them landing with a thud on the cold, wooden floor.

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“Let me go!” she screamed, immediately fighting him.

Her long black hair momentarily blinded him. Holding her in place, he raised the top half of his body off her while pinning her with his legs.

“Not on your life,” he said calmly.

Calm was the last thing he felt though. Her soft ass moved furiously against his cock, hardening it before he could stop it. She stilled quickly, resting her cheek against the floor while she strained to look up at him. The shape of her eyes had changed, narrowing while silver streaks mixed with her black orbs. Black hair thickened over her arms and bare legs. Her dress rode up high on her thighs. And he knew she wore nothing underneath it. She fought the change, fought her emotions.

“What do you want?” she hissed through clenched teeth.

He’d give her credit for being intelligent enough to realize she was outmatched. She wouldn’t escape him. Slowly she resumed her human form, her smooth, silky legs pinned between his.

“You.” There was no reason to lie to her.

She didn’t say anything, made no attempt to move. Nor did he. Lying on top of her, half of his body draped over hers, he could feel her warmth, her strength, the carnal desire that rushed through her to survive, to understand. Her submission was a far cry away. But he was a patient werewolf. Five years of waiting was proof of that.

“Why me?” Wary and curious, she turned her head to see him better.

Her scent changed, continually altering with her ever-wavering emotions.

Suspicion mingled with curiosity. Her soft body underneath him was enough to drive any sane werewolf crazy with lust. Dante never claimed to be better than the next guy.

She’d distracted him for years though and he’d managed to keep a level head, keep his tail out of trouble, remain focused. That wouldn’t change now.

“Because of who you are.”

She tensed underneath him.

“And because of who I am,” he added.

Dante had watched Moira over the years, kept a close eye on her track record. She was a damned good bitch—trained warrior, her fighting skills superb, and more beautiful than any other bitch he’d ever sniffed out.

The gift allowed him to read emotions better than many. Smelling a werewolf’s scent, burying himself in their thoughts, was second nature. Or maybe first. He’d done it for so long he wasn’t sure anymore.

One thing was certain. Her emotions ran too rapidly. The gift was too powerful inside her for her to react to him like this.

Unless…

“And what is so special about you?” She still rested her cheek on the floor, her gaze pinned upward.

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Damn. Could he be right?

Brushing strands of black hair away from her cheek, he cocked his head, intentionally digging into her thoughts. He gave her the opportunity to feel him in her mind. Her cheek was warm against his fingertips. She didn’t flinch, didn’t look away from him. Her thoughts were warmer. So many of them. Rushing at him. Hitting him hard. Memories. Speculations. Fantasies. Fears.

They weren’t curbed in. They weren’t hidden. Interesting. Very fucking interesting.

She wasn’t feeling his thoughts.

He couldn’t believe it. All these years. He’d been sure she had the full gift. Would have sworn to it.

But she didn’t. Damn it. She didn’t know he melded with her thoughts.

“I told you that already.” He hid his disappointment.

He couldn’t be mad at Bruno, but there was nothing worse than being lied to. Now to figure out why Bruno Tangaree had told him that his cub had the full gift when she didn’t.

“Tell me again.”

“Your sire and I made a deal,” he repeated, giving her all the information he dared for now.

“I don’t believe you.” She quit trying to look up at him. When she lied she didn’t make eye contact.

He lifted his weight off her enough to grab her shoulder and flip her onto her back.

Her black hair fanned around her and her look of surprise faded quickly. Tiny silver streaks still laced through her black eyes, her emotions running high. She tried pushing against him but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them to the floor on either side of her.

He rather liked lying on top of her naked like this.

“Lie to me again and I’ll take your clothes off too,” he whispered, loving how her lips pursed into a pout when she turned defiant.

“Threats don’t work well with me, wolf man.” She twisted underneath him, fighting to get free.

Dante loved how her mind worked when she struggled to clear her head and put the gift to use. He pulled her hands above her head, gripping her wrists with one hand.

That was enough of a distraction but for good measure, he cupped her chin. Moving his legs between hers, he thrust his cock up her dress. Fire almost burned him alive when he touched the smooth skin between her legs. Damp and hot, her pussy made him rage to life so quickly it made him dizzy.

“Then don’t lie to me.” He clenched his teeth, fighting for some semblance of sanity so he wouldn’t bury himself deep inside her.

He had the strength, the ability and the desire. Not once in his life had he raped a bitch though. He sure as hell wouldn’t start with Moira.

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She didn’t say anything, didn’t look away. Lust clogged the air between them with its rich, sweet smell. At the moment, he’d be damned whether he knew if he smelled her more than his own scent.

“Move,” she ordered through clenched teeth. Her heart pounded furiously against his chest and in her wrists. The rapid beat thumped through him, distracting him as badly as her smooth pussy did against the tip of his cock.

His cock thrust upward when she spoke.

“That’s not what I meant,” she growled.

For the first time she looked away from him, searching the room. Then he heard it too. Heard what had pulled her attention from him.

Lifting her quickly into his arms, he yanked them both away from the door.

It opened quickly, silently, and the tall werewolf who entered the room looked at the two of them and smiled. That way too charming of a grin had always been Juan’s trademark.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to mate with her if she was naked too?” Juan Anthony, his littermate, asked as his gaze drifted down Moira’s clothed body.

Moira had fooled him. Her thoughts had been an open book. Until now. There was no indication in her thoughts of her next move. She tore free from his embrace, changing with enough ferocity to send shreds of her dress flying from her body.

Muscles rippled through her, the change embracing her as her roar echoed in the small cabin. Tearing past the two surprised men, she bolted out the open door, disappearing into the night.

“Damn it.” Dante barely had the word out of his mouth before he released the beast within him. “Let’s get her.”

Juan began stripping but Dante didn’t wait for him. His heartbeat accelerated, thumping too hard for his human body to handle. Blood rushed in his veins while they hardened and stretched. Muscles grew. Bones popped and contorted as his body changed. Hair poked through his flesh while his spine altered its shape, no longer strong enough to hold him on two legs. He fell to the floor, arching his neck while his mouth transformed. Everything around him grew easier to see. Every sound—the boards creaking underneath his new weight, the breeze outside, leaves rustling in trees around the cabin—intensified and crackled with extreme clarity.

He ignored the biting pain that gripped his body, stealing his breath. It lasted moments, meant nothing. True freedom took over—the ability to see and hear better, smell everything around him and tackle it without hesitation. Tearing at rock and dirt with massive claws, he bounded past the running car that sat outside the cabin, the fumes and exhaust from it blocking his scent of her for only a moment. Leaping over large rocks, he tore up the mountain, following her rich scent as he gained speed on her.

Juan wasn’t far behind. She had to know there was no way she could outrun two male werewolves. And in their fur, primal instinct prevailed. He raced after the bitch 36

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that would be his. Moira would now be viewed as a member of their den, to be chased down and retrieved at any cost.

Werewolf laws predated time. No matter the pack, the race, what part of the world they came from, the nature of who they were, what they were, ran strong and true.

He’d laid his mark on her many years ago, had her sire’s blessing. Few knew the truth, but the fact remained. Moira was his and she wouldn’t escape.

Cold air soaked his nose but thick black hair covered his hide. Not that he gave a damn about the cold mountain air. Adrenaline pumped through him, stronger than what any human could experience. Emotions turned raw, instinct prevailed.

Moira would be hunted down, captured, claimed. She’d set those boundaries when she took on her fur. Every bit of him hurt just thinking about sinking deep inside her, feeling her muscles constrict around him. He’d waited a hell of a long time, respecting her sire’s wishes and allowing her to mature. The torturous waiting had ended.

Charging up the mountain, he ached to capture her, mate with her, make her his for life.

The crisp scents on the mountain heightened his senses. Not that they weren’t already on overdrive. He ignored the smells of nature around him. Paid no heed to the small animals that scattered in terror. Moira consumed his thoughts.

Halfway up the mountain, he spotted her. Tearing over the rocky terrain, running around thick clumps of trees and underbrush, she raced with no direction. There were no houses up here, no humans, no roads leading to any town. With nothing more than the full moon glowing down on them, she’d set up conditions for primal emotions to surge to their fullest.

Slow seduction no longer mattered. He would take her hard and fast. She’d belly-up and submit. His carnal side dominated. The harder he raced after her, blood pumping through him while his muscles worked to climb the mountain, the more determined he became.

And in his animal form, determination had a narrow focus.

Capture and fuck her. Claim what had been given to him. Make Moira his.

The Malta werewolves, with their long black coats, were at the top of the predatorial chain. Viewed as extinct by most, an endangered species by a few, the inability to spot them at night, their large size and incredible speed made them the most dangerous werewolves on the planet. Dante was about to prove that very true.

Mine.
The primal announcement roared past his lips.
You’re mine.

He leapt over a large boulder with ease. A clearing lay ahead, the sound of cold rushing water nearby. Dante slowed, aware of Juan closing in behind him. Night vision and a full moon made it easy to see around him.

Moira had disappeared but her scent prevailed. It was everywhere. On every blade of grass, every limb of every tree, in the air, in the dirt. There were no smells other than hers.

But he didn’t see her anywhere.

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His heart pounded furiously, need rushing through him, hardening his cock while the dampness in the air clung to his fur. He turned slowly, studying every inch of his surroundings, his ears twitching while he heard every minute sound. A leaf falling, a twig popping, dirt scraped from the earth by long claws.

His littermate stood like a statue next to him, his instincts on full alert as well.

Neither of them moved.

The little bitch couldn’t have just disappeared.

Disappeared.

Fuck!

A growl rumbled through him, understanding slowly taking life. Juan cocked his head, his ears twitching while his black eyes glowed against equally dark fur.

Damn the bitch for her cleverness. If he weren’t so suddenly pissed off he’d have a good laugh over it.

Disappeared is exactly what Moira had done, using the gift, the powers that he’d begun assuming didn’t run as strongly in her as they did through him. She’d used the elements against both of them, determined to escape.

Turning to race back down the mountain, another thought hit him as if he’d just run into a brick wall. Juan had left the fucking car running. Getting stuck on the side of some damned mountain didn’t appeal to him at all.

The brief amusement that had trickled through him disappeared even faster. If that little bitch took off in the car, leaving them stuck there, he’d have her hide.

Whether Juan understood or not mattered little. He stuck to Dante’s heels, matching his stride as they raced back to the cabin. Headlights glimmered ahead of them and began moving just as the two of them approached the car.

Nice try, little bitch!

He leapt onto the hood, landing with a loud thud just as Moira started accelerating.

The car lurched to a stop, which was all the time he needed. The change ripped through him, stealing his breath, pinching muscle and tendon, burning through his veins.

Ignoring the sensations that made it suddenly harder to see in the night, that made the cold air attack him like a brutal enemy, he ripped open the driver’s side door, almost yanking it from its hinges.