He padded out to his back patio, his floodlight attached to the back of his house spreading light over part of his backyard. The land out here was beautiful, rolling hills and more trees than a man could ever count. It was incredible timber country. And he knew more than a handful of his pack earned decent money working in the yards.
When he’d first moved east to Prince George with his brothers to join this pack, one of the
Cariboo lunewulf
, Rock Toubec, had set him up with this home, selling a bit of his land to him. His brothers, Stone and Gabe, still lived in the small cottage they’d built together on the land. But after a year of living with his rambunctious younger brothers, Marc had needed his space. They’d built this house, agreeing they would help each other build a third house soon so they would all have dens and be able to bring a mate home. So far, though, none of them had mated.
There weren’t many bitches in the area strong enough to take on a
Cariboo
.
Was Heather strong enough?
He growled at his insane thinking and walked barefoot out to the edge of his patio. Cold night air slapped at his bare chest, sending chills rushing through him. His human flesh was a weak protection from the elements.
Heather didn’t understand. Her opinion of werewolves needed serious adjusting. She had called him a monster, implied that his kind wasn’t good enough for her, that she found him repulsive, terrifying. He wasn’t sure what labels she would use among her own kind to describe him, but her hesitation, the way she’d pulled away from him, made his blood boil once again.
This time he didn’t stop the heat that surged through him. Stretching, looking up at the incredible star-filled sky, he embraced the cold night air, allowing the change to ripple through him.
His bones had barely stretched, his muscles barely had begun growing, distorting, altering their shape, when his heightened senses picked up her scent.
At first he thought it his imagination. Heather was so wrapped through him, his mind so full of her, that he shouldn’t be surprised that her sweet scent invaded him, teasing him while he slowly morphed into his werewolf form.
The darkness around him changed to a light shade of gray as his eyes altered. Fur poked through his skin, covering his body, warming him instantly against the cold. He slipped out of his sweats while he could still use his hands, tossing them with little thought onto one of his patio chairs.
Muscles bulged through his back, down his legs, over his arms. The intoxicating pain of the change made him want to howl, take off in a quick sprint before he’d completely transformed. Nothing made him more complete, more whole, than the transformation into the carnal half of who he was.
Heather’s unique smell grew stronger as the change consumed him. Turning, his werewolf eyes making it easier to see in the darkness, he paused when he saw her hugging the side of his house, watching him.
A flash quickly blinded him and then disappeared, and he realized she’d just taken his picture.
Well, my little bitch, you won’t capture on film what you imply you despise.
He leapt toward her, and she screamed. It wasn’t the first time he gloried in the fact that he lived outside of town. No one would hear her cries unless another werewolf was in the area. And in their fur, different codes of laws were followed. This unmated bitch was on his land, in his den. She was his to deal with. And right now she was about to learn a valuable lesson.
“Oh God.” She howled again and turned to dash around toward the front of his yard. “Please. Please don’t hurt me.”
He fought the change, something he hated doing. But he would allow her just one moment to hear his words.
“Learn now, precious bitch. I will never allow any pain to ever touch you.” His voice had altered, his mouth barely capable of speech in his half-changed body.
She stopped moving and simply stared at him. He hated how fear covered up her beautiful scent. Taking the camera out of her hands, he hurled it as far as he could. She didn’t fight him, didn’t look after the camera, but simply stared at him, dumbfounded.
He wanted to scream at how his appearance so obviously terrified her. Unable to hold out another moment, he quit fighting the change, which was worse than holding your breath under water for way too long. He no longer controlled the natural release that soared through him.
Falling to all fours, his body completed the transformation, allowing his natural pure state of
Cariboo lunewulf
to take over.
“Do you understand me?” she asked, her fear still filling the air around them, but her curiosity coming forth.
He fought back a toothy grin, knowing that would probably scare her. Instead he moved closer, nudging her face with his. He ran his tongue over her cheek, tasting her. Everything inside him hardened when her sweetness once again filled the air. He had to be very careful, fight the natural instinct that worked to be free inside him. Heather wouldn’t understand how instincts took over with werewolves.
She took a small step backwards, immediately wiping her face with her hand. But she smiled, an absolutely adorable smile.
“I’m sorry that I called you a monster,” she said quietly.
Her hands were shaking but the fear around her slowly subsided, its thick, pungent odor dissipating.
Again he moved into her, brushing his large head against her breasts, feeling how soft and full they were. She stepped away from him again, wrapping her jacket around her, covering her frail human body from the cold night.
“Okay. I can take a hint. I’ll go.”
The last thing he wanted was for her to leave. But it was probably a damn good idea. The longer he stood in front of her the harder the urge to fuck her surged through him.
“And…and you don’t look like a monster.” She still sounded a bit too nervous. “Your white coat is very pretty under the moonlight.”
Pretty? He’d show her pretty.
She took another step backwards and he lowered his head, following her slowly. Heather half-turned to walk to her car, and managed at the same time to walk backwards, keeping an eye on him.
It would take no effort to stop her, change back into his human form, fuck her right here in his front yard. At the moment that sounded damn appealing.
She got into her car, started it, and then almost popped her clutch trying to drive off.
Damn it. There went his chance to run off his pent-up frustration. There was no way he could let her drive back into town in her current condition. Her nerves were frazzled, and although Heather needed to see that she’d bitten off more than she could chew, he accepted full responsibility in ensuring she got home safely.
He waited until she’d driven out of his driveway, then returned to the back of his house. The change reluctantly soared through him and he grabbed his sweatpants, then went inside to grab a shirt and shoes. He would follow her home, then return for his much-needed run. More than likely, that would be followed by another cold shower.
Something told him knowing Heather Graham would result in too many cold showers.
* * * * *
Heather was still shaky when she entered her apartment thirty minutes later. Kicking off her shoes at the door, she padded through her dark living room, thinking a shower might soothe her nerves.
There was no reason for her to be so jittery. Twice now she’d seen werewolves changing, transforming before her eyes. Hell, she had it on tape. First with the funeral ceremony, and then later when she’d followed Marc. Neither of those times had put the fear of God into her like tonight.
That’s because you’re letting it get personal.
And that was the biggest mistake a reporter could make. Right now in her life, there was no room for mistakes. Ever since she’d left Dawson Creek, moved to go to college and then gotten her journalism degree, she lived every day making sure she didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing would jeopardize her career. She was on her way to the top, and this article would be her shoe-in.
To many, Prince George might not be a huge city, but to Heather, she’d landed quite the job writing for the
Tribune
. There wasn’t a better newspaper in all of British Columbia. And with any luck, this article would capture national attention.
So far she’d managed to keep life in order, avoiding any chaos or drama that might clog her brain and make her lose focus on what really mattered. Of course that had meant no social life, no dating, nothing that would distract her. And up until now she’d been content—no, more than content. She’d been happy, damn it.
Maybe some of her nights had been a bit lonely, but she was working to better herself, become a known reporter. That might have meant keeping herself from getting attached to anyone, but it had to be that way so she could think straight.
After flipping on her bedroom light, and then closing her blinds, she slipped out of her clothes so she could shower. She stopped in front of her laptop, which was on the small desk that she’d brought with her from home, and tapped the mouse so her monitor would come on.
The article that she had printed for Marc to see appeared on her screen. It wasn’t done yet, there were still some areas she needed to tighten, paragraphs where she felt more emotion was needed. She sat down in her chair, staring at the words on her screen.
Their bodies twitch and contort. Muscles and bones shift and change, allowing these people to transform into wild animals known as werewolves.
Marc McAllister in his werewolf form appeared in Heather’s mind. As a beast, he stood eye to eye with her, his head huge with long, terrifying teeth. His body was thick, rippling with muscles. But his white coat, so shiny, glowed like a clear full moon on a cloudless night.
Thinking of him made her words seem rather flat, lacking emotion. Marc was everything emotional. He was so…so alive!
What was it that he’d said to her?
It’s the completion of all energy. The change allows a werewolf to release their emotions. We pity you that you aren’t complete.
Heather had always fought to keep her emotions in check. Ever since her mother had died when she was eleven, she’d done her best never to cry, never to get too excited about anything, never to be out of control. Control kept her life neat and organized.
And now she was trying to write an article about a species that changed into a beast so that they could release the emotions they kept in check as humans. What a life that would be.
Heather sighed. Marc pitied humans. She didn’t want his damn pity. Her hand strolled down her naked body, and she began stroking the ache between her legs while she pictured Marc in her mind.
The way he’d moved in on her, pressed his head against her body. Even before he’d made the complete transformation and had been half man-half creature, she’d been mesmerized by what he was capable of doing. His appearance had captivated her, scared her and excited her all at the same time. Just a few years ago no one ever would have been able to make her believe that such creatures walked among them.
Cream coated her fingers and she dipped into the source of her heat, surprised at how wet she was. She’d seen good-looking men before, but damn, none of them had turned her on the way Marc had. Granted none of them ever came on to her the way he had. Adjusting herself on her chair, she moved her fingers slowly in and out of her tight heat, wondering what it would be like if Marc were to do this to her.
Her head fell back and she lifted one of her legs, propping her foot on her desk next to her laptop. She ran one hand over a swollen breast, squeezing it gently while she continued to masturbate.
The ache to have her breasts fondled, tugged on slightly, made her want to cry out. More than anything she needed her nipples sucked on. Need surged through her like a wildfire.
Marc wouldn’t do it this way, she decided. He would be rough, more demanding, pushing her quickly as far as she could go, and then demanding she go even further. He would be able to break through the protective wall that she kept around herself, force her to feel more than she’d ever felt in her life.
Did she want her tidy life disturbed like that?
She added a second finger, stretching her narrow hole and feeling the pressure build slowly inside her. Her fingernails brushed over her nipple. The sensation sent waves of need plummeting through her. Her muscles tightened around her fingers, which were soaked and buried deep inside her.
Still she doubted this was how Marc would make her come. She pictured him as a man, his blue eyes tinted with hints of silver. Just imagining him set her soul on fire. So wild, a cop with a raw edge to him, and definitely more man than she’d ever known before.
Already he’d pushed her boundaries, seen straight through her when she’d been at his house. Within minutes, he’d made demands of her, insisting on complete honesty. And she hadn’t even realized until he kicked her out that she was lying to him.
What would he do to her if he fucked her?
Her fingers weren’t enough. Glancing around her room, her mind fogged with lust and images of Marc torturing her, she noticed her hairbrush on her desk and reached for it. Using the handle, she pressed it against her soaked pussy, feeling its hardness slowly move inside her.
“Oh, hell yes.” She bit her lip, sliding down in the chair so that she could move the brush handle in and out of her cunt.