The Master's Woman: (BBW Werewolf Erotica) (Smut-Shorties Book 5) (2 page)

The crowd opened ahead of her, surrounding a dais. Veyr stood on it, surrounded by the council alphas. Jacob McCauley was to his right, his face almost purple with rage. Cyan hid her smirk. The pack grapevine was abuzz that McCauley wanted his sister mated to Veyr. She’d have loved to have been a fly on the wall in the council chamber when he’d announced his intentions.

Her brother stood next to McCauley, but Cyan avoided his gaze. Since she was about to get chased and fucked, since there was no way she could outrun Veyr even if she wanted to, acknowledging him would be awkward.

The presence of the council and the crowd around them fell away as her gaze met Veyr’s. Heat blazed in his eyes, his nostrils flaring as soon as he saw her. He stood in the center of the dais with his hands clasped in front of him and watched her approach. But his body language was deceptive. Despite the indolence of his stance, she saw the tension that arched through him. Saw the feral expression in his eyes as he looked at her. Her heart lurched, stomach rolling with what felt like rioting butterflies.

He still wanted her. The Master of the City wanted her… Her. Curvy, not-able-to-shift Cyan Trevais.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Veyr didn’t take his eyes off her. “You have been called here today to witness a ritual steeped in history, one not often used in today’s society. As some of you may have guessed from my Lady’s attire, today marks the first Claiming Chase in almost fifty years. Today,” he paused and looked around the crowd, his expression like granite, as if daring anyone to gainsay him. “I claim Cyan, from the Trevais pack, as my woman.”

*

Red suited Cyan. Like
really
suited her. Veyr’s hands clenched into fists at his sides when she came into view. The dress fitted her like a second skin, outlining her curves in a way that had his cock twitching in his pants. It was as if he’d not seen a woman in years, rather than screwed this self-same woman up against a wall less than two hours ago.

She met his eyes after his announcement and a shudder worked its way up his spine to lodge in the small of his back. Most women would have refused to look up, would have acted the image of the perfectly brought up, knew-her-place-in-the-world, noblewoman. Not Cyan. She matched his look, a challenge in her eyes. She was the kind of woman who didn’t care what society said her place should be. The kind who, once she’d figured out what place she wanted, would stomp and batter her way through until she stood there.

Like him.

She was perfect.

“Cyan Trevais,” he addressed her as custom dictated. “Do you accept the challenge of the chase?”

Her chin lifted; her bee-stung lips pursed in determination. She looked so cute, and hot. He barely managed to stay where he was, the urge to drop off the dais, sweep her off her feet and kiss the pout from her lips was so strong.

“I do.” Her voice was clear and calm. Firm, but not belligerent. She’d make an excellent mate. Her strength combined with his…they could accomplish wonders. He snapped out of what could quickly become day-dreams of their future to the present. First he had to catch her. Then fuck her.

His wolf growled its approval of that idea.

He inclined his head and rolled his shoulders, shrugging out of his suit jacket. Beneath it, he was stripped to the waist, a habit he’d developed in the ring. He’d always known how to play the audience, and he did now, tensing his muscles to show off as a ripple of fur brushed against the inside of his skin. A murmur ran through the crowd, but he wasn’t watching them. In fact, he couldn’t have given a rat’s ass if they were there or not. All his attention was on the tiny woman in red in front of him.

“Then…” His voice deepened, became rough and harsh with his wolf. “Run.”

She didn’t scream, just picked up her skirts and fled. The crowds parted as she darted through them, lost in their number within seconds. Veyr grinned. She was clever, his little wolf. Hidden among the massed wolves of the court, he couldn’t see which of the five exits from the courtyard she took.

With a howl, he leapt from the dais. His feet left the stone of the platform, and he let the change rip through him. He was a big man, but a bigger wolf. Two hundred pounds of lycan hit the ground, massive paws kicking up dust and stone chips as he took off after Cyan.

The crowd moved, ran to get out of his way, and he caught a glimpse of her red skirts disappearing through one of the arches. A snarl burst from his throat, and he sped after her. She’d escaped into the west gardens, which contained a maze. Built centuries ago by the Fae, its walls were a mixture of stone, hedges and a running stream. Clever. He grinned, pulling his lips back from his elongated canines in the lupine equivalent of a grin. Blood rushed through his veins, his body alive with power and purpose. He hadn’t had so much fun in months.

He hit the arch and skidded around the corner, more agile than a wolf of his size should be. That had always been one of his advantages. He was big, agile and faster than the wind. All of which would help him catch his prey.

She was just ahead of him; her skirts bunched in her hands as she sprinted for the maze. He rumbled amusement deep in his throat, the wolf as amused as the man. Even though she hadn’t a hope in hell of outrunning him, she still wouldn’t just roll over and allow him to win. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

She shot a glance over her shoulder, her eyes widening as she saw him right behind her. The small catch of her breath was one of surprise, and maybe, delight. A small sexy little sound that renewed his determination to catch her. Wrap her in his arms and claim her in the most fundamental way possible. His body over hers, in hers, and his teeth in her shoulder holding her still as he fucked her.

No…no biting, he reminded himself. He couldn’t bite her. The chase was a claiming, not a mating, so he couldn’t. But he wanted to… Grimly, he got the urge under control and beat paw to chase his little prize.

*

Fuck. He was right behind her.

Cyan’s breath caught in her throat. The sound was half sob as her lungs burned and half a squeak of delight, as she dug deep for more speed. She managed it, reaching the entrance to the maze and ducking inside. Straight away, she wheeled to the right.

When she was a child, she’d been a frequent visitor at the court. As pack alpha, her father had often had business here, and he’d bring her and Nick along, leaving then to their own devices while he attended council meetings. They’d gravitated to the gardens, and the maze had been her favorite place. So much so, that it’s layout was imprinted in her memory.

Even though Veyr was the Master of the City, he hadn’t been brought up in the courts. She doubted he’d spent much time exploring the gardens or the maze.

She raced down narrow alley after narrow alley, ducking left and right as she wove through the maze. Fae-wrought, it changed its layout often, but she’d long ago worked out the sequence. Seeing the hedge wall in front of her shimmer, she counted her steps, then stopped dead.

On cue, the stone wall to her left opened, and she sidestepped fast. She grabbed her skirts, pulling them close around her just in time as the wall snapped shut again. ‘Snappers’ she and Nick had called them when they were children, because of the way they snapped shut without warning.

The deep snarl on the other side of the maze made her smile for a second before she was off again. It wouldn’t take him long to track her through scent, so she had to keep moving. Her heart pounded in her chest as she ran. There was no way that she could outrun him, but the unwritten law was that the harder she was to catch, the longer he’d keep her afterward.

The hedges in front of her shifted and she reacted automatically, altering her course. She needed to make it out of the maze, to the other side, then perhaps she could take shelter in the folly on the small rise at the edge of the gardens. A smile curved her lips. Purpose renewing her stride she turned left… Into a clearing that shouldn’t be there.

Skidding to a stop, she looked around in surprise. In all the years she’d played in the maze as a child, she’d never seen this place. Hedges bordered it on all sides. Velvet-like grass carpeted the ground, so sumptuous that her fingers ached to stroke it and see if it was as it looked. In the center was a low stone bower covered in soft cushions and blankets.

“Shit.” She’d taken a step forward without thinking, but stopped herself as she felt the familiar pull of magic. A soft growl snapped her head up, her heart pounding with equal measures of fear and excitement. She
knew
Veyr, but that didn’t mean her human survival instincts hadn’t kicked in. Being chased by an enormous wolf did that, even though she knew that he wouldn’t eat her. Not in a bad way anyway.

She whirled on her heel and raced back the way she’d come, twisting and turning through the maze. Left, right, under the stone bridge, and the next turn up on the right should bring her in sight of the entrance.

Her steps slowed as she turned, and walked into the same clearing again. Great, the maze itself was working against her. She turned again, meaning to retrace her steps and work out the real way out, and came face to face with a huge wolf, padding up behind her on silent paws.

“Veyr,” she whispered, feeling her eyes widen as she backed up.

This was it, out of time. He’d found her.

Her body hummed with excitement. She was screwed.

Literally.

Chapter Three

Veyr stalked her across the clearing, his big paws silent on the moss-like grass. Heart in her throat and shivers stealing over her limbs, Cyan took a step back for each step forward he made. A little voice in the back of her mind, the human part of her, went into hysterics, yammering on about the predator stalking her.

She ignored it.

She’d been around lycans all her life, and even though she couldn’t shift herself, she felt the pull. The attraction. Veyr’s eyes, solid amber due to his change, watched her with interest and intelligence. Heat blazed in them. Not the feral heat of a wolf tracking prey for a meal, but the dark need of a man tracking a woman he wanted.

Her teeth caught her lower lip, worrying at it. Anything to quell the shivers that wracked her body. As a test, she took a step to the side. Veyr’s lips curled back from his teeth, the low growl a warning. Quickly, she stepped back into line, her hand creeping up to her throat. She knew wolves. She knew Veyr. He’d never hurt her. She wasn’t scared. Not scared at all.

Okay…maybe she was a little apprehensive. Not all lycans had perfect control when shifted. Sometimes the wolf was more in control than the man. Her mind pulled up all the old stories of ‘accidents’. Men who’d gone moon-mad and killed their wives.

Veyr’s snarl disappeared, and he surged forward. She squeaked, scrambled backward and fell on her ass on the cushioned bower. She didn’t have time to process the soft surface at her back because he was over her in a heartbeat. Paws the size of dinner plates hit the cushions by her hips and he prowled up her body.

Her breath came in hard pants, the feral smell of lycan sucking the strength out of her limbs, especially when it swelled and changed with his shift. No one smelled the same as Veyr. It was an addictive, sensual mixture of warm skin and wildness that hit her in the gut and made everything feminine within her sit up and take notice. Racked her arousal up by another couple of notches.

“Thought you could get away from me did you, little wolf?” He asked, his breath warm by her ear. She shivered again, hot and cold chills chasing over her skin as her arousal fought with her need not to give in too soon.

“Not thought. Did.” She twisted to look him straight in the eye, not flinching at the bright amber. She’d never known a lycan powerful enough to keep his wolf so close to the surface and still retain control. But then, he’d had control even fully-shifted. “If the damn maze hadn’t conspired against me, I’d have made it to the folly at the least.”

His lips quirked, the beginnings of a smile, but then it disappeared and the hard expression returned. A mask she realized. Maybe.

“Really?” Reaching out, he captured one of her hands in his, not holding the wrist as she’d expected, but twining his fingers between hers. He leaned down, brushing his lips over hers. “Not a chance, sweetheart. Do you think I don’t control the maze just as much as the rest of the city?”

A whimper broke free of her throat. She didn’t know. Didn’t care. Not when he was touching her like this. Kissing her. She lifted her head, trying to follow his lips and make the butterfly soft kiss into something deeper.

He rumbled approval in the back of his throat, the sound more wolf than man, and gave her what she wanted. His lips crashed down over hers. Hard. Feral. Demanding. He kissed like a man possessed. Like a man who only had a day left to live and planned to spend it all in carnal pursuits.

She gasped when he nipped her lower lip and used the opportunity to slide his tongue deep into her mouth. Her moan was immediate, unbidden. He stroked and teased, just their mouths and hand touching. The heat of his body caged hers, so close she could almost feel his hardness pressing against her.

Need curled through her body, invading her veins and making her limbs weak. She drove the fingers of her free hand into the short hair at the nape of his neck. Held him close as the kiss became an inferno of torrid strokes and slides interspersed with hot nips of human-blunt teeth. If a man could compress a night's worth of passion and lust into one kiss, then it was Veyr.

“They’ll be here soon.” He broke away to whisper, his hand reaching down to her skirts and slid beneath them.

Her breath caught in her throat, the same throat he kissed his way down, as he headed for the swell of her breasts, highlighted rather than concealed within the tight dress. It was a ‘fuck-me-now’ dress, designed for easy access and a man’s pleasure.

She whimpered and wriggled as his lips blazed a trail of hot kisses across the twin mounds until he reached the center. A simple ribbon held the too-tight bodice together. A ribbon he caught between his teeth.

“Veyr, no!” she exclaimed, but even as she spoke, the ribbon gave, sliced by sharp teeth. The dress parted, and her breasts spilled free, nipples beading in the cooler air. Heat hit her cheeks. She could hear voices and footsteps as the council worked their way through the maze toward them. Any minute now, they’d find the clearing, see everything…