Werewolf Me (3 page)

“Forever.” he repeated once more as his cock slid into the wet, tight, heat of her body.

Truro gasped at the hard yet welcome intrusion. His cock slowly filled her to the hilt as he held her body close against his. It was the most amazing feeling. This was not random sex. This was a joining in the true sense of the word. For one crazy moment Truro felt like crying. The whole idea of being complete with someone had always struck her as pop psychology. But this, with this man, made her catch her breath in wonder. As he started to move back and forward, Truro moaned at the intense, hot pressure of his cock. “Oh, wolf man…” It was hard to find the right words to describe what she was feeling.

He stopped momentarily. “Are you okay?” he whispered against her ear.

The tenderness of his voice made her tremble. “Don’t stop.”
I want this forever.
Once more the wolves howled. “Please move.” Truro liked the possessive growl of amusement he gave.

“Anything you wish I will do.”

“I need deep and fast.” If the wolves still cried in the distance, Truro no longer heard them. There was no one but her and this man and the wild need to take and be taken.
I am his.
They were enfolded in their own little world where no one could intrude. It was about driving need and the passion to give of herself to one person alone. “Oh, wolf man,” she panted as his balls slapped hard against her ass, his cock pumping harder and faster at her request. Truro was so close to coming. She rammed her butt back against his thighs taking all he could offer. As the orgasm hit, she arched her back up and pushed against him for more. Truro was hungry for whatever he could give her. The feeling was so intense and exciting then she felt like the tattoo on his chest was burning into the skin on her back. It was hot and delicious and she had a mad urge to be marked for life by this man.

“Hold on, petal,” he growled low against her ear, his mouth brushing the skin of her neck.

It would have impossible to stop the shuddering that shot tearing into her body sending off spirals of delight through her. Truro had only ever come under her own fingers. This primitive, male-induced orgasm beat her own hand. Truro tried to keep pace with his thrusts, but her legs were shaking. She screamed out as she gave in to all she was feeling. The man behind her howled in loud satisfaction. It was a sound of pure primal need and possession.
I am his.

Her lover collapsed against her body and shook as he was overcome by his own release. “You are mine.” The wolves howled almost as if in agreement.

“Yes.” It was madness to say but at that moment it was what Truro believed.

Ten minutes later, Truro was still too limp and relaxed to do anything but lie within the cradle of her lover’s arms. It would have been sensible to get up and leave, yet she couldn’t. She felt the need to stay with this man as long as she could.
A man whose name I do not know
. But this was more than just pleasantries and names. It was—what? She had experienced fantastic sex that Truro knew she was going to remember forever. Maybe it was crazy to think that way but she knew in her heart, this was an unforgettable gift that had been given to her.

“Feel better, petal?” His hands stroked from her back to her ass in a soft, sensual motion.

Oh, the voice
. It was as smooth as Irish whiskey and as velvety as chocolate. “Yes.” Her eyes locked with his. There was such sweet understanding in those golden depths. “Thank you.” Truro would never forget this man who had made her feel so beautiful and desired.

“My pleasure.”

Once more Truro heard the lonely sound of wolves howling.
What is it with wolves at the moment?
They weren’t even native to Australia. Legend had it that a pack had been brought over from America more than a century ago. They were often heard and seen in the hills around Ludlum. But this year they seemed closer than ever. Truro shivered. There was something about the lonesome wolf’s cry that made her tremble with a strange feeling of anticipation. But of what? She touched the tattoo on his chest and shivered once more. For one second Truro saw a flash of this man and a wolf standing side by side.
No wait, they became one. Huh?

“They’ll never hurt you, petal,” her tawny-haired lover said, his lips almost on hers. “They’re searching for their mates. Every time soul mates meet the wolves cry out in recognition and satisfaction.”

Before Truro could ask how he knew, his mouth was on hers and the sound of the wolves could not complete with the man in her arms.

———

“It has begun.”

Bess Calvert nodded. “Yes. It has been a long time coming.” She ran her hand through her long gray curls. No one but William ever saw her with her hair down. “Where have the last fifty years gone?” Bess said it more to herself then to her lover. She was worried yet she knew some things could never be changed. The sound of the wolves howling told her that.

William smiled “Ah, Bessie, my love, time as we both know is irrelevant.” His pushed back the hair from her face and tweaked her nose. “We’ve had a good life.”

“Oh yes, the best.” Bess’ eyes were soft on his. She had made hard choices in her life but they had been the only ones she could have made. To be anywhere but with William would have been denying a part of her soul. Many years ago there had been those who had not understood the decisions she made. They were long gone now and what others thought of her no longer bothered Bess. William was the only person she had truly ever loved.

“No regrets?”

He was as handsome as the first day he had loped into her world. Like her he was older, grayer and not as spry but he was still the most beautiful man she had ever seen. His smile still made her heart skip a beat. “None at all, William.” Regrets were for those too scared to take a chance. Bess had never been afraid with William by her side. Others never understood that, but she didn’t care. Bess thought about those who would soon follow her path. “Do you think they will handle it as well?”

William smiled. “Miss Simpson will struggle.”

Bess nodded. She loved Truro Simpson. That girl was an old soul in a young body. She had seen much and endured more. Bess had known the minute she came to Ludlum that Truro had walked into her fate with no knowledge at all of how her life would change. “She has been hurt a lot in her life.” While Bess had those who had disapproved of her choices, no one had physically hurt her. Truro Simpson had been beaten within an inch of her young life and wounded emotionally by her last lover. Maybe that was why Bess had immediately identified with her. Both of them had been hurt, in different ways. Both of them had come to Ludlum to hide and to lick their wounds. Bess smiled faintly. For a town that had not much to offer on a tourist level, it was a sanctuary to those who really needed it.

“It is exactly the reason she needs to embrace what is to come.”

Bess knew that. Everyone had choices in life. Not everyone made the right ones. She had. Would Truro? “I worry about her. She is so tense and terribly alone.” It was a loneliness that made Bess want to cry.

William’s arm wrapped around her. “You were very much like her.”

“Yes, in some ways.” But unlike Truro she hadn’t built walls around her. William had still been able to reach her, to make her understand the truth and what she needed to do in order to be happy. In the two years she had known Truro she had seen those walls thicken and harden.
Will she give in to what is to come? Will she love the one who loves her?

“You changed.”

“Because of you, William.” If not for him she would have been a lonely old woman wondering what she had done with her life. Bess looked at the man she loved. “I adored you then and I adore you now.”

“As I have loved you.” William lifted her hand to lips. “I must go soon.”

“I know.” It was almost midnight. It was his time to act as his nature intended. Bess would no more stop that than she would ask the sun not to shine. That was when her beloved came back to her and the peace and solitude of the old homestead set far up in the hills where no one but the animals chose to roam. Most of the townsfolk thought her odd. That didn’t worry Bess at all for they were together. “I must go and talk to Truro tomorrow.”

“It’s her destiny.”

They both stood silent as the wolves howled in the cool night air. It always sounded like a lonely lament to Bess but William assured her it wasn’t. She leaned in and kissed her lover with a passion that had not waned in fifty years. “Go, they are calling.” She knew better than to hold back William from his clan.

———

Two men stood outside the motel room and listened to the sighs and moans of the lovers inside.

“We cannot allow William’s clan to become any stronger.”

“Don’t tell me what I already know.” It was the most irritating habit Tavernier had. He acted as if he was the one in charge. Tavernier was a lackey who answered to him. Absolon was in charge of this operation. He needed Tavernier to do the legwork for at seventy-two, although quick in mind, Absolon was no longer spry in body.
I am still strong but not strong enough to defeat my enemy
. The younger man was needed to do what Absolon could no longer do. “I have employed the Scott woman to make sure the clan is crippled.”

Tavernier snorted in derision. “She is a joke.”

Some people never saw the bigger picture
. “We both know that but she has the genetic ability to bring down William’s peaceful little world. Add that to the flighty Simpson woman and those werewolves are doomed.” Absolon had employed Joan Scott under false pretenses. He knew the woman advertised as tracking down supernatural beings. That she could, Absolon doubted. Though her lineage was impressive, she did not strike him as someone who could organize a grocery list let alone track down a werewolf or the like. The important thing about Ms Scott was her blood. She was descended from the being known only as the Destroyer who had terrorized mankind in the sixteenth century. All his blood kin could kill on contact if they chose to. Most were unaware of it or their connection to the Destroyer. Some learned of it by fluke, while others had been prepared from birth to harness their power. Many became no more than common murderers and thieves. No one had descended to the depths of evil the Destroyer had. Not for one second did Absolon think the Scott woman would either. He had traced all the descendants and she was the only one left. While she would not sink to the level of her ancestor, she did have his blood and the ancient enemy to all his descendants was the werewolf. Although she may be unaware of the connection, Absolon knew the minute she came into contact with one she would change. It would be impossible for her to do otherwise. Unbeknown to the woman, she was about to cause the downfall of William’s clan of werewolves.

“I still can’t see how she is going to do anything other than make us laugh our asses off at her antics. For God’s sake, she dresses in black. It’s so clichéd.”

“She may be an unlikely hunter but she will be compelled to act against the werewolves. It is her nature.”

“Maybe, but she’s hardly going to mate with the one called Montague if she has this inherent dislike of werewolves.”

“She will. This one did with the Irishman. It’s their nature to do so. Like most people these two women believe in soul mates. These men are theirs.” Absolon knew that only too well about kindred spirits. The connection was so strong that breaking away from it could kill a weaker person. While Absolon was still standing, he had paid dearly for a love that could never be his. He knew that now.
But back then, I was a fool.

“Soul mates?” Tavernier looked disgusted. “They are nothing but sluts.”

“Well, clearly you have no soul or you would know differently. It’s human instinct to recognize your mate and act upon the mutual lust you feel. Besides women who are mated to the clan are not sluts.” No one could ever call Bess Calvert a whore.
How I loved her.
Absolon closed his eyes once more as a vision of the woman in question came to mind.
How I still love her.

“Are you okay? You sound like you are defending them.”

Absolon opened his eyes and sighed. Explaining his thoughts to this man was not something he was about to do. Tavernier was beneath him. He was a flunky. He was expendable. “I understand them. There is the difference.”

“You never said why we were going to destroy them. Surely it’s not worth all this effort. Why can’t we send real hunters with guns in to break up this wolf pack?”

“You are about as subtle as a sledgehammer.” Absolon had his reasons. He wanted William dead. Killing his clan would do that. Tavernier did not need to know the specifics. No one did. He absently ran his hand down his thigh, flinching at the pain.
I have lost so much to William. Now he will lose
. It had taken half a century to get to the point where Absolon knew he could defeat William. Werewolves were at their weakest every fifty years when vital, life-changing blood was welcomed into to clan. While lovers met their match in the clan, only every fifth decade were the matches so powerful that they could change everything around them. In the shake up, weaknesses were uncovered and bonds created. But like every moment of great change there was a period of flux when people were caught off-guard as rules were relaxed to allow entrance to their clan. It was the only thing that kept them alive. That was what Absolon had been waiting for. Catch the werewolves while their shields were lowered. Normally werewolves were ferocious enemies who could not be fought and the pain they inflicted when angered was terrible. “But we are not in normal times,” Absolon murmured to himself.
And how I live with that constant pain.

———

Fifty years ago, almost to the day, William and Absolon met in battle. Each loved the same woman but only one could have Bess. Although Absolon knew Bess did not have the same feelings for him, he wanted her and he always got what he wanted. The only person in his way was William. This meeting in the forest would remove him from Absolon’s goal.

“She will never be yours, Absolon. Bess loves me.”