Scattered Siblings 3: To Mate a Werewolf (10 page)

Back in the mundane world, she’d be so alone—a monster who made people wince when they saw her scars. So far no Lykae had made her feel self-conscious or uncomfortable—apart from that loud-mouthed new cook, of course. She loved the Tundra Toughs for their easy acceptance. For the next three days, she’d enjoy the pack’s hospitality, and she’d do it with a smile on her face.

Alexander led his lieutenants back into the room, then stood on the dais and clapped his hands. The band fell silent, and heads swiveled in his direction.

His smile warmed everyone, even Ellie. “These are difficult times, but tonight we’re here to celebrate my son’s engagement to Olivia Deerstalker of the Desert Marauder pack. Come, both of you. I’m sure the Tundra Toughs would like to witness your first kiss.”

Joel’s scowl deepened. Across the room, Olivia blanched and whispered something to Lysander. Then she raised her voice so everyone could hear. “I’m afraid that’s not right. While I’m grateful to the Tundra Toughs pack for their welcome, I came here to wed their next alpha. I will marry whoever wins the tournament.”

Titus pushed his way to the front of the room. “I’m mated. No way will I marry her.”

As Ellie watched, Lysander raised his glass to Olivia, smiled over the brim, and shook his head. The look on his face showed he was as hot for her as she was for him, but he kept his distance. That didn’t make sense to Ellie.

Marcellus looked thoughtful. Joel’s color rose, and anyone who’d ever served under him knew he struggled to hold in his temper in. Any minute now, he’d explode. Ellie tried not to grin, but after the way he’d treated her earlier, he deserved everything he got.

Apparently winning the tournament secured the position of pack alpha…along with Olivia. Not that Ellie gave a damn, but that woman would freeze the marrow in his bones.

* * * *

Next morning, Ellie joined the crowd gathered on the green outside the Great Hall. Lysander and Titus stood together, talking quietly and growling at anyone who approached. Joel and Marcellus stood apart, both eager to get the competition started.

Sleep had evaded her, and her thoughts had centered on Joel. She writhed across the bed as she pictured herself sucking his dick. Her pussy had tingled when she rubbed her fingers over her clit. The steady massage had dampened her cunt and upped her heart rate. When she’d imagined Joel kissing her breasts, a fire started deep within her womb.

Eyes shut, she’d slid one finger inside her pussy and explored the liquid heat she'd stoked in her vagina. With a soft moan, she inserted another finger. She rode her fingers for what seemed like hours, but she wished it was Joel inside her. Finally she climaxed. Exhaustion hit, and her eyes closed.

It wasn’t until she woke that she realized that concentrating on Joel had risked flashing to his side. She’d probably have died of embarrassment. Worse, she could have disturbed him with Olivia.

Now she stood outside the Great Hall with Pammy, yawned, and sneaked the occasional glance at Joel. He kept tensing his muscles, starting with his thighs—the ones she’d made shake when she sucked him off—and ending with a shoulder roll. Warmed up and ready to go, he looked up for anything.

The contestants had all dressed in figure-hugging black clothes and sported a collection of weapons. A mace dangled from Titus’s belt, and he wore a sword at his hip. Lysander and Marcellus wore an assortment of knives. Joel had retractable blades strapped to his wrists, and a short stabbing sword hung at his left-hand side. A whip coiled around his waist like a red belt. If the first challenge specified human form, they were ready.

Ellie stood amid the crowd, her arms linked with a couple of unattached males. She smiled and chatted as though her heart wasn’t broken. When one of them cracked a joke, she was the first to laugh.
Live in the moment, remember? Don’t pine for someone I can’t have.

The Great Hall’s clock chimed the hour. One. Two… The crowd fell silent. Tension mounted. On the stroke of ten, a couple of Alexander’s lieutenants opened the doors.

Ellie held her breath.

On the twelfth stroke, Alexander and his lieutenants followed the tallest Lykae she’d ever seen as he stepped onto the veranda. A petite woman with a bulging belly stood at his side. The newcomer’s arrogant stride and toned muscles proclaimed him a warrior so imposing he could have been an ancient Viking.

Even though he matched his stride to his wife’s, he walked out as though he owned the place, but his expression softened when he glanced at the heavily pregnant woman beside him. Oblivious to the watchers, he took her hand and tenderly kissed her fingers. The tiny woman with coffee-colored curls smiled back. If not for the audience, Ellie thought they’d have stripped naked and screwed on the spot.

With her delicate features and lack of stature, the woman clearly wasn’t Lykae. Delighted that another nonwolf joined the proceedings, Ellie almost waved. When spontaneous applause broke from the crowd, Ellie shot Pamela a quizzical glance.

King Caleb and Queen Sylvie
, Pam mouthed at her.

Ellie stared, openly curious. Somehow the fact that King Caleb married a woman from a different species made the way Joel fucked her then moved on worse. Thanks to Joel, she’d felt second-class and ashamed of everything they’d shared. Just like the Elves, he’d used her for his temporary pleasure.

Even if he won the tournament, and Ellie was certain he would, that made Joel Blackheart a louse. Maybe even the King of the Lice.

The wind tousled Queen Sylvie’s hair, and she absently tucked a stray strand behind her ear. Her pointed ear. She ran her fingers over her own pointed ears. With little knowledge of the otherworld beyond the Lykae military camps and Elven abuse, she jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Everyone told Ellie that the Lykae queen was half Fae, but to Ellie, the queen’s pointed ears proved there was Elven blood in her background. Yet clearly being an Elf wasn’t as unforgivable as Ellie had thought. She wasn’t such an unacceptable mate for an alpha. King Louse over there only wanted her for sex and the occasional blowjob. She felt dirty and stupid.

Once the applause died down, Alexander raised his hands. The crowd fell silent. “As you can see, King Caleb did not just send a messenger with the challenges. We’re honored that he and Queen Sylvie came in person.”

The Lykae King, hereditary ruler of all the packs, stepped forward. “An alpha must be quick-witted, cunning, and wise. He should be strong, care for his people, and know his territory as well as he knows the back of his hand.”

Alexander eyed the contestants, and while he gave Joel a smile, worry clouded his eyes.

Ellie swallowed hard. No matter how angry she was with Joel, her stomach churned for him. She turned to Pamela. “He will win, won’t he?”

The wolves at her side nodded vigorously. Pamela smiled. “Of course.”

King Caleb continued his announcement. “There will be three challenges designed to test the contenders’ skill, whatever their form. Today, the challengers must stay in natural wolf form. If they shift or flash before their trial is over, they are instantly disqualified. I will go to ground somewhere across the river. While I will flash, the entrants must cross the river by natural means. The usual tournament rules apply. The first one to find me gains four points, the second scores three, the third will earn two points while the last man to find me scores one.”

“Go, Joel!” Pamela yelled.

The males around them chanted “Joel. Joel. Joel.”

The crowd took up the chant, and the field echoed with shouts of “Go, Joel, go.”

Again Alexander held up his hands for silence.

King Caleb grinned. “An alpha should always be ready for anything, so gentlemen, your challenge starts now.”

King Caleb pulled his queen close to his chest and flashed them both out of sight.

Chapter Ten

Joel growled when he spotted Ellie, her arms linked with two unmated males. He’d never meant to hurt her, but in the end he had, repeatedly. Everything he touched turned to lead lately. He hadn’t intended staying away so long that others saw a weakness and challenged for the leadership. He’d been a loyal second in command for King Caleb, but he’d forgotten his family’s and his pack’s needs.

Even the fiasco with Olivia wouldn’t have happened if Joel hadn’t listened to his dad. He’d agreed to marry her, and until she showed a marked preference for Lysander, Joel had no choice but to go through with it. At least his ice-blooded fiancée had let him off the hook. Once he’d won the tournament, he’d visit her father and explain how she’d publically embarrassed him by saying she’d marry whoever won the tournament.

He wouldn’t marry her after that. The arrangement had been between him and Olivia’s pack. None of the other contenders were bound by it, so Olivia’s dragging them into it gave Joel the perfect out. Damn, that was his shortest relationship ever. The only woman he’d cared for more than a couple of days was Ellie.

When he married, he wanted his wife loyal to him not his position. He’d been an idiot not to see it before. He’d concentrate on the tournament, but seeing Ellie surrounded by a group of laughing ex-soldiers almost shattered his concentration. And what was with those jeans she was wearing? They were so tight they were sinful, and that woman had an ass to die for.

Joel and Caleb often hunted together, and while Caleb was a fraction quicker to bring down his prey, Joel was the better tracker. Once Caleb pulled that stunt with the river—making the contenders who didn’t know the territory race for the bridge—the first task was practically in the bag. Joel’s local knowledge would pay dividends as long as he didn’t get cocky. Lysander and Titus seemed to have formed an alliance, and as soon as Caleb had announced the contest starts “now,” they shifted and raced off together.

Being security conscious, the Tundra Toughs pack hadn’t wanted a bridge that led straight into their village. They’d built one about eight miles upriver. It allowed species like witches and ogres who lacked the ability to flash reach the Lykae’s meeting place, always assuming they were invited. Any Lykae wanting to cross simply flashed over the river. Titus and Lysander faced a sixteen-mile run to cross the bridge and run back downriver.

Marcellus shifted but took the time to scent the doorway where King Caleb had stood. He sniffed thoroughly, taking King Caleb’s and Queen Sylvie’s scents into his lungs. Then he too ran down the road. Joel didn’t want the others to double back and follow him, so he tried to look stunned by the sudden start, and he shifted after the others.

Once Marcellus took off running, Joel’s natural wolf, all dirty-blond fur and huge paws, raced toward the waterfall rather than the bridge. A boyhood spent roaming the Tundra Toughs’ territory was about to pay off.

Even above the crowd, he heard Ellie’s voice. “Why is Joel heading off in a different direction?”

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t pick up Pamela’s response, but he guessed she’d tell Ellie that the cave behind the waterfall doubled as a river crossing. Passing through that sheet of icy water when the river was in flood wouldn’t be easy, but it gave him an unexpected edge.

Ice melt swelled the river and swept up any debris in its path. Before the roar of water pounding stones deafened him to the spectators, Ellie’s voice carried toward him again.

“Pammy, why is Marcellus coming back?”

Bless her
. Much as he’d hurt her, she still warned him. When this stupid tournament was over, he’d find a way to make things better for her, but he couldn’t let her join his pack.
Right. I’ve got to stop thinking about Ellie and concentrate on finding King Caleb…fast.

Joel picked his way over moss-covered boulders, feet splayed to keep his balance. He paused before the torrent of water and watched as a huge chunk of ice—a broken-off chunk of glacier—tumbled over the falls. When it crashed onto the rocks just a few feet from Joel, it splintered into a thousand pieces. Ice chips flew like diamonds and scattered over his fur.

He shook them from his body and eyed the wall of water. He hadn’t time to consider what other debris the torrent carried. He crouched, then let his powerful back legs propel him through the falls. The waterfall robbed him of his momentum, but he scrabbled his way onto the solid ground of the cave hidden behind the sheet of water.

He lay a moment, his wolf legs spread in four different directions. When he rose to his feet, his legs felt wobbly, but he still trotted across the cave. His primal beast would have smashed through the torrent, but if he shifted he’d lose the challenge. He paused at the exit, but water overflowed the banking and turned the path into a fast-flowing stream. He’d have to make another wild leap and pray he reached the shore.

Losing the tournament would cost him everything he held dear. He loved the Tundra Toughs pack, and when he thought of home, he thought of pack territory. He’d been a fool to stay away so long, and he’d been a fool to screw Ellie. Only how could he regret the best sex of his life. Even if he lived another couple millennia, he’d never forget that blowjob she’d given him.

Determined not to let his pack down the way he had Ellie, he sat low on his haunches and launched himself back though the icy cascade. This time, as he leaped from the cave, he sailed through the water. He landed a good two feet beyond the riverbank. That gave him a sixteen-mile head start on the other contenders. Joel looked back across the river, and he spotted Marcellus studying the sheet of water that blocked his way. That wolf was smart. He’d already figured out that, as the local boy, Joel knew a shortcut. He’d doubled back and followed Joel to the river. Thanks to Ellie’s warning, Joel still held a good lead.

He knew his king would head downriver away from the waterfall and the bridge. Joel needed to pick up the trail before the others caught up. He headed downstream, grateful the Tundra Toughs’ territory was too cold for the carnivorous plants that infested the Elf and Fae kingdoms. His pack thrived near ice and glaciers, but the valley where they built their homes had a perfect microclimate that kept his people warm.