TheTroublewithWolves Read online

  “No,” she responded, “you’re not getting it. I will do my duty by the contract, but I will not be dictated to by any male. I’ve been made to feel like I was defective for too long now and finally I have some measure of worth to myself. I won’t give it up.”

  He watched her chest rise and fall as she tried to grab her keys from his hand. He couldn’t stand what she was doing to his body and mind. He had to talk her out of doing the fucking Run. For both their sakes. This woman deserved more than what the pack or her family would do for her. The pack would treat her with respect, she would be celebrated and taken care of, but her freedom would be curtailed. He despised the idea of her one pleasure being stripped from her.

  He moved instinctively, without thought, pinning her against the door to her shop. His body pressed into hers, and he stifled a groan as hard muscle melded to soft flesh. He placed both hands on the door, caging her between his body and the glass.

  “Let me explain something to you, luv. When a male claims you, you won’t be given the opportunity to even get out of bed for a week. The mating heat will take over, and by the time you come up for air enough to even think about trying to resume your normal life it will be too late. Any worthy wolf would keep you so exhausted from fucking that you wouldn’t have the energy to do anything other than eat and sleep until he has his young growing in your belly.”

  “I won’t be a bitch in heat for anyone.” Fear kept her paralyzed, fear and desire. Both dripped off her like the finest French perfume, and he was fascinated and enthralled by her reaction. She was seducing him with nothing more than her scent and her smart mouth, and she didn’t even know it.

  “You will be if your mate is worthy of you,” he bit off, all his considerable willpower focused on not giving in, not driving into her meltingly soft body, breaking the law and defying his father, his alpha.

  Her scent spiked again, and he knew he’d pushed her to the breaking point. Her hand flew, and he caught it before she could make contact, turning her wrist over so he could press his lips to her palm. He let the tip of his tongue tickle the very center and stifled a groan. She tasted like fire and lust—and he was in big fucking trouble. He leaned forward, pressing his body fully against hers, and ground his pelvis into her stomach.

  “Do have any idea how fucking dangerous it is to challenge a male? Goddammit, woman, all I want to do is strip off your clothes and find out how wet your pussy is.”

  Her breath was harsh against his chest. For once she seemed to be speechless.

  “This is bad. So bad. I want to bury myself inside of you, luv, and make you come all over my cock, but you aren’t mine to take.”

  “Oh goddess, Nigel, please.”

  Her cry was his undoing. He had to have a small taste, something to remember her by. In three days she would belong to another and he wouldn’t be able to touch her ever again.

  “Luv, let me touch you, just for a minute. Let me borrow a little of what I can never own.” His mouth whispered over her cheek as he waited, prayed she would allow his touch.

  “Yes.” Her whimper urged him on. When her hands rose to flatten on his stomach, he growled. “No. I can’t keep any control if you touch me. Put your hands behind your back.”

  She did as he commanded, and Nigel fought to hold back. He was careful not to rub himself against her skin. His entire being ached to rub his scent all over her. Instead, he slowly slid his hand down to the bottom of her skirt, lifting the front just enough to slide his hand underneath.

  Her skin was so fucking soft as he let one finger travel from her knee to the inside of her thigh.

  “Spread your legs for me, luv.” His voice came out in a guttural rumble as she eased her thighs apart.

  He slipped one finger inside the elastic of her panties, encountering wet, slick flesh. As soft as a rose petal.

  “Oh bloody hell, Claire. I knew you would be this soaked for me. Tell me, I need to know. Do you touch yourself?” He imagined how she would look lying on her bed, her full thighs spread wide.

  “Yes.” Her voice, barely a whisper, caressed his neck.

  “What do you think about when you touch yourself, luv?” Oh Christ, the vision of her mouth opening wide, lips red and damp, as her fingers dipped inside herself fogged his mind. Nigel knew what he wanted to hear. He had a healthy ego, but he needed to hear her say the words.

  “You. I think about you.”

  He smiled into her hair as she gave him what he wanted.

  He slid one finger into her soaking entrance, moving in a shallow thrust.

  “What do you think about, luv? Do you imagine my fingers sliding in and out of your hot pussy?”

  She was biting her lip, her eyes closed. He delved in a little deeper.

  “How about my mouth, luv? Am I there licking your cream, sucking your clit until you explode for me?”

  She whimpered. Her vaginal walls grasped him. He pulled out, then added a second finger and began to work them in.

  “I think about you too.” He pressed deeper, crooking his fingers until he felt the supple, spongy area that tore a desperate cry from her throat. “When I leave here, I go home and I’m so hard all I can do is imagine you.” His thumb grazed her clit. “Your pouty little mouth surrounding my dick. Your pussy hugging me tight, stroking me, making me so fucking crazy I want to die.”

  His thumb pressed harder to her tight bud.

  “I have jacked off every night for the last six weeks, and you’re right there with me.”

  She moaned against his neck and started grinding on his hand.

  “That’s it, luv. Ride my hand.” His cock surged against his zipper, demanding relief. “I do it every night, pretending it’s your hand wrapped around my cock, and I come so hard, luv. You make me come so fucking hard.”

  His thumb moved faster over her distended bud while his fingers pumped her relentlessly. Stretching her, just like he would if he were preparing her for his dick. He pushed her up harder against the door, his fingers caressing, and eliciting little moans. He’d never felt like this—this connection. The desire to fulfill her was overwhelming and all he wanted was to feel her orgasm rain down on him.

  He clenched his jaw to keep from sinking his teeth into her shoulder.

  “Mmmm, ride me. Ride my hand like you were riding my cock. Come on, luv. I want you to give me your honey. I need it so that when I go home tonight, I can smell it on my skin, taste it on my tongue.”

  She was so close and it was driving him insane. With every word he felt her get softer, wetter and hotter around his fingers.

  “I can’t keep you, but you can give me this memory.”

  “Nigel, yes…oh goddess, Nigel.”

  Claire’s cries filled his ears as her body clamped down like a vise on his pumping fingers, splashing them with her essence. Fuck, he knew she’d be like this—this passionate, this responsive to him. Hadn’t it been what he’d always dreamed about? He thrust his fingers steadily while she rode out her orgasm. When she finally quieted, he slowly slid free of her body. He fisted his hand at his side and moved off her.

  He couldn’t look her in the face, refused to see the passion flushing her cheeks and tempting him into finishing what he’d started. He’d already crossed the line tonight, touching her the way he had. One look in those hazel eyes and he’d say to hell with loyalty and duty and take what he wanted, stealing a vital mate from the pack.

  “Nigel?”

  Even her voice made him ache. What the fuck was he doing to himself? To both of them? To have the smallest taste of paradise and no more was a worse torture than never having touched her at all. Who was he kidding? He’d challenged her to defy her family, her coven, and yet he wasn’t able to do the same. He wasn’t willing to stand up to his father, his alpha, and lay claim to this woman.

  He was a fucking coward and the knowledge made him sick to his stomach.

  Placing her keys in her hand, he stepped back in full retreat. He could feel her gaze like a laser beam b
ut refused to meet her eyes. He found he couldn’t breathe. His chest tightened painfully, his body ached and his inner wolf cried out in mourning; it was going to lose its mate.

  “Get inside and lock the door.”

  When she didn’t move, he turned his back on her, growling, “Now!”

  He winced as he caught her desperate fumbling before the door finally opened and she rushed inside. When it banged shut, he stalked around to the back of the building and slammed into his truck. His chest heaved with the force it took to keep himself in the truck and not chase after her.

  His animal instincts demanded that he go back and take what was his. The howls echoing in his head were tearing him apart. No, she wasn’t his, she was meant for someone else. He slammed his fist on the dashboard as pain sliced through his chest.

  Her scent clung to his clothes and he knew, in spite of the care he’d taken, his scent would be all over her too. He brought up his hand, inhaling. His fingers were still wet with her juices. He ripped open his jeans, pulling out his heavy cock, running wet fingers around his cock head. He relived her every sigh, the way she felt clenching around his fingers and the way she said his name when she came. He stroked his shaft from root to tip, his eyes closed. His chest was pounding, his animal shoving adrenaline along every nerve ending. He wanted her so fucking badly. She was his.

  Should have been his.

  “Claire! Fuck,” he shouted as his cock erupted and semen spurted hotly onto his stomach. His fingers, still coated with her orgasm, slid along his pre-cum, mingling them. His head fell back against the seat and he groaned. What the hell had he just done to them both? She didn’t belong to him, never would. His reaction to her shocked the hell out of him. Nothing had ever felt so right. The moment he’d touched her, he’d been a dead man, because once wasn’t enough. He needed to touch her again. And again.

  For one moment in his life, he wanted to know what heaven was like. Needed to relish the body of the only woman who had ever rocked him to the core.

  “Fuck,” he shouted, stuffing his still-hard dick back into his pants. He had to talk to his father. There was no way in hell he was going to torture himself by staying here a minute longer than he had to. He couldn’t watch her mate with another male, bear his young, make a life for herself with someone other than him. He’d go stark raving mad.

  Nigel wasn’t alpha. He could request to be moved, maybe up north with his uncle’s pack. Maybe he’d go back to England. He hadn’t been back to his childhood home since their family had emigrated to Northern Michigan so his father could become alpha when he was eighteen.

  No, he seethed, England was a bad idea. Too far from the pack, too far from her. The truck’s engine started with an anguished roar. Yanking out his cell phone, he called James to come and relieve him.

  Claire sat in a window booth staring as Nigel’s truck pulled around to the front and parked. She prayed her sister Tamara would be here soon to pick her up. Her stomach was tied up in knots.

  What the hell had she been thinking, letting him touch her so intimately?

  She was insane. It was the only reasonable explanation. Her pussy still burned with the memory of his talented fingers. Goddess, if he could do that to her with five minutes and his hand, imagine what he’d be able to do with other, more potent parts of his anatomy and a whole night.

  She let her forehead hit the wooden table in front of her. Closing her eyes, she shivered. The damn Mating Run loomed in her mind like a dark cloud.

  Stupid tradition. For centuries, powerful witch covens had entered one daughter per generation into the sacred Run. Mated pairs of witch and wolf produced exceptional offspring. Some of the most powerful witches and alphas throughout recorded history came from these unions. While witches like Claire—witches whose magic wasn’t considered either offensive or defensive—weren’t considered a benefit to the coven, they still had magic in their blood. That magic, when combined with the inherent magic of the wolves, meant that even the weakest of witches could mate with a wolf and produce strong offspring.

  His engine revved and she looked up in time to see him pull away from the curb with a squeal as James’ Hummer pulled up behind him. The sight dragged a moan from her. She’d lusted after Nigel from almost the moment he’d walked into the café, but she’d never in a million years expected him to return the sentiment. Heck, she’d never even imagined he was attracted to human women; he never paid any of the women who frequented the shop any attention.

  His lips looked so smooth, she just knew his taste would be exotic. He smelled like pine and man and it drove her crazy. How the hell was she supposed to spend the rest of her life with another man when her heart and body so completely belonged to Nigel?

  She needed to talk to his father, tell the alpha the truth of her feelings. Even if Nigel didn’t share them, she was pretty sure he liked her. And clearly he wanted her. No man could do that to a woman and not have some kind of feelings for her.

  Nigel. She closed her eyes, picturing his tall, lanky frame. His amber eyes glowed with his lust. His firm lips had barely touched her skin, and she’d wanted his kiss. Wanted to taste his tongue deep in her mouth, to feel it on other, more tender parts of her body.

  She wasn’t a virgin by any stretch, but no lover ever made her body burn like he did. It wasn’t a slow kindling. No, his touch was like gasoline on a fire. Her body begged for more, craved more of his skilled fingers.

  She put her hands to her temples as a monster headache began to pound. It was painfully unfair to taste ecstasy at the hands of the man she loved, only to live with the knowledge that soon she would belong to another. She couldn’t do it. Claire knew if she were to turn her back on her feelings for Nigel and mate with his brother it would destroy her.

  Tomorrow she’d go to Thomas Rhodes, and she would beg if she needed to. Thomas wasn’t an evil man, nor was he deliberately cruel. He would understand, he had to understand, that she would make a terrible mate to any other wolf besides Nigel.

  * * * * *

  Tamara picked her up, but Claire was quiet on the way to her parents’ home. She couldn’t get Nigel off her mind.

  “Claire, what’s wrong? I can feel your sadness, it’s surrounding you like a freaking fog.” Tam’s soulfully sweet voice pulled her from her thoughts.

  She tried to smile at her very perceptive younger sister but made no attempt to explain herself. Tam could pick up on a lie the moment it left her lips, but Claire couldn’t hide the mist in her eyes or the pain radiating around the vicinity of her heart.

  “Oh no. Who is it?” Tam reached over and squeezed her hand softly.

  “Nigel.” She would not cry. There was nothing she could do to change her fate without Thomas’ help. She wouldn’t go against her coven and over the last six weeks, Nigel had proved with his every word and deed that he wouldn’t defy his alpha. “Break the contract.” Tam’s normally peaceful aura erupted to the point that even Claire could feel the disruption.

  “I can’t. And even if I could, he won’t go against his pack.”

  “Yes, you both can!” Tamara insisted. “You’re meant to be together. I can feel it. It’s not right that you’re going to be married to someone else.”

  The car swerved and Claire grabbed the door handle.

  “Sweetie, calm down or you’re going to start an earthquake or something.” Where Claire’s magic was passive and calm, her youngest sister was one of the most powerful women born to the coven in more than a hundred years. She possessed more than one magical talent, and while her strongest to date was healing, every week a new and more aggressive talent seemed to manifest in Tamara. But with her youth also came unpredictability, as she was still learning to control her powers.

  “You aren’t effing Romeo and Juliet, and it’s beyond wrong what the coven is doing to you.” Tamara kept the car in its own lane, but Claire noticed a rather strong wind bent the trees lining the road toward their car.

  “Tammy, it is what it is.” She laug
hed a little at herself as she repeated Nigel’s earlier words to her. “An Andrews woman must do the Run.”

  “Then let me take your place.”

  “What?” Claire laughed. “Tamara, the Elders aren’t going to let you waste yourself in the Mating Run. You’ve got a much more important destiny in store.” It was common knowledge that Tamara was expected to be the next High Priestess of the coven.

  “I know, and it effing sucks that our lives have been so neatly planned out for us by the coven.”

  Claire had never heard such disdain in her younger sister’s voice before. As the anointed one, Tamara had always been given everything she wanted. To her sister’s credit, she never took more than anyone else received nor did she consider herself better than any other witch in the community. She carried no ego with her many gifts and was generous to the core. She felt a moment of shame that her sister would sacrifice her place in the coven just to make her happy.

  Claire wiped her eyes. “Thanks, sis, but I’ll handle this myself.”

  Tamara gazed at her with wide blue eyes. “What will you do?”

  She sat back. “What I need to.” Her meeting tomorrow with Thomas Rhodes would determine the course her life would take.

  Chapter Three

  “Gone?” Claire felt her stomach sink to her toes. “What do you mean gone?”

  “He woke me obscenely early this morning and all but demanded to transfer his pack. I gave him permission to go to my brother in St. Ignace.” The alpha of the Northern pack gave her a penetrating look. “Has he done something I should know about?”

  The concern in Thomas’ deep voice brought her back from her thoughts. Claire eyed the pack leader, trying to discern whether Thomas was aware of what had transpired between her and Nigel the previous night.