That comment about being past her prime breeding years bothered him. He'd guessed she must be in her late twenties or early thirties. The comment seemed to confirm it—because the early and mid-twenties were the prime. It wasn't that he was deeply concerned about breeding her. He'd be perfectly satisfied with one or two. It was her attitude about it that worried him and whether or not she was game to the idea of the one or two. He supposed he could give up on the idea of breeding his own little Dantes, but he sure as hell didn't want to if he didn't have to.
He slid a possessive glance over her at the thought, feeling a welling of satisfaction at the image that rose in his mind of her belly swollen with his child.
She smiled at him tentatively, a question in her eyes, and he grinned at her wolfishly. She didn't have a fucking clue of what he had in mind for her, and that suited him for the moment. She wouldn't know what hit her.
She might
think
she had no interest in discovering what fucking a lycan was like, but once he was done with her....
He dragged in a harsh breath as he parked the SUV at last, surreptitiously adjusting his aching erection. There was no fucking point in trying to will the damned thing down, he thought irritably. It wasn't going to stay down—certainly not as long as he was within scenting distance of her. On the other hand, he couldn't help but notice it made her distinctly uneasy and distrustful of his motives.
Climbing out of the vehicle, he went around to her door and helped her out, keeping a possessive hand on the small of her back as he escorted her to the door. Julie answered it, smiling readily, although he noticed her nostrils quiver as she got a whiff of Shilo's scent. She sent him a questioning look.
He frowned. He'd called ahead to make the arrangements and explain everything. “This is Shilo. Shilo—Julie. She's den mother here."
Julie stepped back, allowing them to enter. Nearly half a dozen pups, from ten down, were romping friskily around the living room. Although the TV was blaring with cartoons, none of them were paying much attention to it. Shilo put on brakes.
That was a bad sign, he thought wryly, giving her an extra nudge with his hand to get her started again.
The children stopped what they were doing abruptly, gaped at Shilo like they'd never seen a human before, and then began to drift toward her. She tensed all over, sent him a look he had difficultly interpreting and sidled a little closer to him. He slid his hand from her waist to her shoulder, partly to comfort her and partly to make it clear to all of them that he considered her
his
property.
Something flickered in Julie's eyes. She nodded almost imperceptibly and favored Shilo with a wide smile. “We're so glad to have you here with us, Shilo. Don't mind the pups. They're just curious."
Maurice had entered the house behind them with Shilo's suitcase. Dante jerked his head slightly toward the stairs.
"Why don't you just have a seat in the living room while I show Maurice where to put your things? Unless you want to go on up now?"
Shilo divided a look between Dante and Julie he could only interpret as unadulterated fear. She looked pale enough to pass out. He'd intended to do no more than make the introductions and depart. Julie was good with people. He'd thought she and Shilo would hit it off right away.
He saw immediately, though, that he'd completely underestimated Shilo's fear of lycans—mostly because she had been damned good at hiding it right up until this moment.
He
needed some breathing room. He'd been in a constant state of arousal since he'd first encountered Shilo. With an effort, he tamped the urge to run and guided her into the living room, dragging her down on the couch beside him. As flattering as he would've found her urge to cling to him under other circumstances, the timing wasn't what he could've wished for, and moreover, he knew damned well he hadn't suddenly become her anchor. She was only clinging to him because he was most familiar.
Resisting the urge to take full advantage and drag her onto his lap, he shifted to put a little more distance between himself and Shilo and smiled at the youngest of the group, a female just learning to walk. She grinned back at him and toddled over to climb into his lap. Shilo and the baby looked at one another with almost identical expressions of wide eyed curiosity and wariness as he settled the baby on one knee.
He found himself fighting the urge, again, to drag Shilo onto his lap. Instead, he curled one arm around the baby to secure her and slipped his other hand to Shilo's back, rubbing his hand soothingly along it—not that it soothed him worth a shit.
He winced as the toddler inadvertently pounded her heel against his erection. He'd forgotten the children seemed to go unerringly for the most tender spots.
"This is Felicity,” he introduced the baby to Shilo.
Shilo smiled at the baby uneasily. “Nice to meet you."
"She doesn't talk yet."
"Oh.” Shilo reddened.
"You aren't used to being around children."
She sent him a quick glance. “Uh ... no."
He smiled with an effort, trying to put her at ease. “They don't bite ... At least, hardly ever."
She turned pale, turned to look at the children crowding around them uneasily.
"That was a joke."
She bared her teeth, but it didn't look like a smile, sidling closer to him when the children edged a little closer to her—drawn, no doubt, he thought wryly, by that wildly appealing scent of hers. Even the children weren't proof against it.
Giving up on trying to maintain any kind of distance, Dante slipped his arm around Shilo's shoulders and drew her closer. Unable to resist, he dipped his head to hers and dragged in a dizzying lungful of her scent. The pungent scent of fear threaded it, tamping his ardor somewhat, puzzling the hell of him. “What is it, baby?” he murmured against her hair as he nuzzled her temple.
She drew back, sending him a startled look.
It was just as well he had both arms occupied, he thought wryly. The urge to drag her even closer and kiss her senseless was so strong he might have done so before he'd had time to consider he couldn't ... not until he
knew
it would be alright. She sent him a tremulous smile.
"I'm just not used to being around children,” she whispered.
He couldn't help himself. He slipped his hand from her shoulder to her cheek, stroking the soft skin. “Would you be more comfortable at my place?” he murmured—because there was nothing he would like better than having her in his bed, however inadvisable he knew it to be.
She dragged in a shuddering breath, seemed to brace herself. “This will be fine. Really. It's only for a few days anyway...."
Not if he had anything to do with it, he thought grimly, but he forced his lips into a smile he hoped didn't look as feral as it felt. “That's my girl."
She reddened, sent him another doubtful look, and returned her attention to the children, who'd crowded around her.
"What's your name?” the eldest boy asked.
Dante gave him a stern look. “This is Shilo. She's mine, and you'll treat her with respect."
The boy blushed.
Shilo's head whipped toward him, her eyes wide and filled with wariness again.
He bared his teeth at her. “Under my protection,” he corrected himself.
Lady
, he thought irritably,
if you keep looking at me like that we're both going to have something to regret about tonight. You are so close to having my cock shoved up your tight little pussy right now....
Fortunately for both of them, Julie returned at that moment. “Bath time!” she announced when she reentered the room. “Charlie, you take Etienne and Dax upstairs and help them."
Reluctantly, Dante eased his hold on Shilo. As torturous as it was, it was still better than nothing.
It was going to be a long, long miserable night, he thought wryly as he stood up and took his leave.
Shilo would never have believed she'd feel so abandoned when Dante left but there was no getting around the fact that she did. As short as their acquaintance was, and despite the fact that she'd lived alone so long she shouldn't have felt the least bit clingy, being left in a house full of complete strangers totally unnerved her. It didn't help that they were also lycan, but she was pretty sure she would've been panic-stricken anyway. She hadn't considered, she thought wryly, how unaccustomed she was to being around a lot of people in this sort of situation—mostly because she never had been. Julie seemed nice enough, friendly, but she was a lycan female and that was almost more unnerving than being around the males.
That and the children.
Except when she'd been a child herself, she'd never been around children at all ... not cooped up with them except in a train or bus—whatever method of public transportation she had used when she'd been on the run ... literally. To all intents and purposes, she would
always
be on the run, she knew, but she hadn't been in constant flight for years now, not since she'd bought the little farm miles from any kind of civilization to hide away from the world.
She thought she would've found it disconcerting if they'd been human children, but these weren't.
"They like your scent,” Julie said by way of explanation for the way the children were climbing all over her now that Dante had left and was no longer there to reprimand them. “They're just familiarizing themselves with you."
Shilo pasted a smile on her lips, struggling to keep her panic at bay. “They're so cute,” she managed. “Are they all yours?"
Julie chuckled. “Only Felicity and Charlie. Etienne and Dax are orphans. And Johnnie and Davie belong to Shelly—one of my pack sisters. They're just visiting."
Shilo smiled again, searching her mind for conversation. “All boys ... except for little Felicity,” she commented.
Julie sent her a strange look. “Felicity's our little miracle baby. Lycans aren't exactly prone to having females to start with, and we almost always run into trouble even if we do manage to get pregnant with a female. Would you care for a drink? I have alcohol!"
Shilo smiled more easily at the playful way Julie announced drinks, as if it was contraband. She was about to decline. She didn't drink alcohol for obvious reasons—it made the lips flap and she couldn't afford that. And she certainly had no interest in drinking alone, particularly when loneliness ate at her a lot of the time. There was no surer way of becoming an alcoholic than to decide to drown her troubles.
"You look like you could use something to help you relax,” Julie added.
"I guess I could,” Shilo admitted wryly. “Go easy on me, though. I'm a cheap drunk."
Julie chuckled. “Good thing! The guys wiped me out of beer the last time they were here. I've got the fixings for mixed drinks, though. Screw driver ok?"
Shilo nodded instead of telling her she didn't know what a screw driver was. If it would settle her nerves, though, maybe, just this once, she'd take two.
Erotica/Romance. 74621 words long.
Chapter Seven
The moment Dante returned to the house, he headed for his office and shut the door, a clear signal to the others that he didn't want to be disturbed. Settling at his computer, he opened his browser and then merely stared at it for several moments, trying to decide the order of importance of what he needed to do. Finally, he cruised over to the lycan headquarters site.
Before he got in any deeper than he already was, he wanted to know where he stood with Shilo.
It took a bit of delving to find the information he was looking for—which didn't surprise him. What did surprise him was that there was any information at all. Then again, he'd never looked for anything pertaining to psychics. Truth be told, he'd figured they didn't exist outside of fertile imaginations, when he'd given it any thought at all, which wasn't much.
He was pleased to discover that Maurice hadn't steered him wrong. There actually
were
bylaws governing associations with psychics. The information was buried deeply enough in the page to make it clear that this was an area the council preferred members to steer clear of, but mating with them
was
sanctioned, mostly because it
was
possible, there was a disproportionate number of lycan females to males, and the psychics were pretty irresistible to the lycan male anyway. Apparently earlier attempts to dissuade the lycan males from fraternizing with psychics had led to some big trouble and the council had decided to back down.
A sense of supreme satisfaction filled him. “You are so
not
going to know what hit you, baby,” he murmured under his breath.
Relieved that he wasn't going to find himself on the wrong side of his superiors and get his hand gnawed off if he touched her, he scrolled down to see what else they had to say on the subject.
That was a little less pleasing. Naturally enough, they didn't have the same standing in the pact as a lycan female, and since they were human, could not hold the standing of an alpha female—unless the female happened to be a very strong alpha female among their own kind—which, unfortunately, Shilo clearly was not. Regardless, their frailty as humans meant usage was limited to the upper echelons, which was a considerable relief.
He didn't like that he was going to have to share her at all, but he hadn't actually thought for a moment that he wouldn't. Her standing as a human aside, he'd never even run across an alpha female and
all
of the females were
always
shared. It was a good bit of consolation to know he wasn't going to have to share her with the entire pack—just Maurice, Jessie, and Kane—which worked out nicely, if he did say so himself—a whole week each!
The alpha male had priority breeding rights.
Not that he'd had any doubts about that, but seeing it posted brought a feral grin to his lips ... and inflated his cock again.
"Down boy,” he muttered. “You'll get your chance, but not tonight."
Frowning over it for several moments, he decided to see what he could find out about breeding human females. That was way outside of his realm of knowledge, but he had a sneaking suspicion that there was a world of difference in breeding the human female as opposed to the lycan female. He mostly steered clear of them as much as possible since they were off limits—why run the risk of temptation when they were? There were always condoms to minimize the risk of infecting one, but they weren't an absolute. The more chances one took, the higher the probability that eventually he might infect one and there'd be his conscience to deal with even if he managed to keep the council from finding out he'd screwed up and infected a human with lycanthropy. They were more interested, he supposed, in keeping the human community in the dark about lycans, but he'd seen what it could do to humans and it wasn't pretty.
He would've noticed, though, he was sure, if they came into heat. Regardless of what he'd implied to Shilo, he wasn't immune to the appeal of the human female.
It was unsettling that he couldn't actually count on marking her as he would have been able to with a lycan female—a relief to know he didn't have to worry about harming her by infecting her—but still worrisome that the same abilities that protected her from adverse reaction to lycanthropy also meant he couldn't count on binding her to him in the usual way. As far as the lycan community was concerned, she would be his, but that wasn't going to be a hell of a lot of consolation to him if the marking didn't ‘take’ with her and she bolted.
Breeding her, though, that was a sure thing, he was certain. Once her body accepted his seed and she was carrying his child,
she
would know whom she belonged to.
It took him damned near an hour and a half to isolate the information on
that
subject that he needed. He was a little shocked and
not
happy to discover how ‘hit or miss’ it was with them. On the good side of that, he had priority, by god!, and that two week ‘iffy’ period suited him just fine since he knew damned well all he had to do was ‘be there’ at the right time and place and it wouldn't be iffy on his side. Maurice, Kane, and Jessie were just going to have to divide the other two weeks between them until he nailed her—or slug it out.
Not his problem.
He sat drumming his fingers on the desk top thoughtfully for a while, considering how he was going to track down the cycle when there were no obvious signs like there were with the lycan females—hell they didn't even no for sure themselves! Fortunately, that thought connected in his mind with a good possibility. She was staying with Julie. He'd just have Julie keep watch for him. Their cycles were roughly twenty eight days. All he needed to do was to mark one and he could keep up with it after that—assuming he ran into trouble the first time around, which he didn't actually expect.
Things could get a little tricky, though, if she wasn't any where near her fertile time. She was thinking in terms of staying a few days. If marking her alone didn't do the trick, she was going to start getting antsy after that and he was going to have his hands full.
He frowned uneasily. Considering the way she felt about lycans, getting her to the point of
attempting
the marking might be a challenge in itself. She wasn't indifferent to him, though. He might've been half insane with the lust driving him toward recklessness, but he hadn't been so far gone that he'd hadn't smelled her desire for him. She wanted him. She might think she
hated
lycans, but she wanted him.
It bothered the hell out him that she disliked and distrusted lycans. He didn't have to think long or hard to figure that one out. Some stupid, randy son-of-a-bitch hadn't been able, or willing, to control himself and had ruined it for everyone else. She was going to take some serious gentling.
He needed to know just how serious, and it was damned sure obvious she wasn't going to be giving him any hints. He'd never run across a woman so disinclined to open up about herself.
The tricky part was going to be figuring out how to get the information he wanted. Her name sure as hell wasn't Shilo McKenzie. Nobody as cautious as she was would be using their real name. Pulling out a pad and paper, he began to scribble down possibilities. He was going to be seriously screwed if her real name was nothing at all like her assumed name, but he decided it was a good possibility she'd picked something similar. When he'd finished his list of possibles—Sheila, Shelby, Sherry, and all the Mac names that came to mind—he dredged her up in his mind's eye and began working up a physical description. Arm pit height. He was just over six feet, so he figured that would put her around five foot two or three.
Good thing she was under average height. That would be helpful in narrowing things down.
Eyes—beautiful. He put down hazel, because he knew they were and then wrote down brown? Green? Beside that since his figured he couldn't count on whoever had recorded her stats to pinpoint it.
Thirtyish—he was pretty sure on that one—give or take two or three years, anyway. The comment about her prime breeding years was one of the most useful bits of information he'd managed to get out of her. If she thought so, that probably put her on the top side of thirty.
Identifying marks? Unfortunately not his teeth, although he'd been damned tempted. Shoving that thought aside, he mentally flipped through the images he'd collected—no moles, birthmarks, or noticeable scars, and he'd thoroughly examined every delectable inch of her—several times already. He frowned, abruptly remembering her bush had had a definite auburn glint to it.
"Sneaky woman!” he muttered. He'd been sure her blond hair was natural—not that he cared, but now that he'd remembered that, he realized her skin tones, in particular her nipples, were definitely indicative of a red head—auburn—something reddish.
Weight—she'd kill him for that one. Women hated for men to even notice their weight let alone guess at it. Very nicely rounded, but taut and firm. That meant a good bit of muscle, which was heavier. He put her down at one twenty ... give or take ten, he decided. No stretch marks which meant it was unlikely there'd been much variation—no rapid or excessive gains or losses. No children.
He sat tapping his chin thoughtfully with the end of the pen as he studied over his description and tried to decide if there was anything he could add.
She'd hinted at the fact that she'd been alone, on the run, for years. Five years? Ten? He could start with five, he decided, and work back.
Setting the pad aside finally, he went back to the key board. It didn't take long, or a whole lot of effort, to get a general idea. He let out a long, low whistle. She was on every damned wanted list the government had. “Baby, you've been a very, very bad little girl!” he muttered.
He sat back in his chair, considering that for a while, idly rocking back and forth. It sure as hell didn't fit his image of her—sweet, vulnerable, without an ounce of malice in her—and he trusted his instincts. Whatever the fuck this was about, it wasn't anything she'd done, he decided. Settling again, he read over each report more carefully. No two of them listed the same ‘crime', and it was always something fairly minor, non-violent. In fact, she was listed as nothing more than a ‘witness in connection with’ on several. And in
every
case, orders were not to approach her but to report the sighting to an agency he'd never heard of. Last verified sighting was seven years ago—but they hadn't taken her off the watch list, which was damned strange in and of itself because the statute of limitations would've run out on most of the stuff she was listed in connection with. The list of sightings helped him pinpoint a more definite timeline for her. Whatever it was she'd done, or been involved in, it had been at least ten years ago. So she would've been around twenty?
None of the damned reports had been very forthcoming about her age, either, unfortunately. She was only mentioned as ‘around thirty'. He supposed that was because it was so hard to pinpoint her age just from looking at her and the description was geared toward recognizing her, but it was damned unhelpful.
It was nearly dawn before his determined hacking helped him to track down the agency most interested in her and then tap into their databanks. He slipped in, downloaded what he could grab, and broke the connection.
He didn't get much—almost nothing about her in particular—but he did find what he was looking for. It was an agency for the exploitation of psychics.
Not that they'd put it that way.
"Scientific research, my ass,” he growled.
No wonder his poor baby was such a wreck. She'd been institutionalized in that fucking freak show when she was just a baby. They'd broken her, and there was no fucking way in hell to fix something like that.
It was going to take a lot more gentling than he'd figured on.
He considered that for a moment and realized it didn't make one bit of difference in the way he felt about her—except to make him feel more protective and possessive if possible. She needed him. She might not realize it yet, but she did. He could protect her from those assholes. She'd spent way the hell too much time by herself, looking over her shoulder. She needed peace. She needed the connection the lycan community could give her.
She needed a life—a real one—a man, children, a future.
Shutting down his system, he got up, stretched, and left his office. Leaving her with Julie had been the best idea he'd ever had. Julie could bring her out of her shell if anybody could. He'd need to bring Julie into his confidence, though, give her an idea of what she was dealing with so she'd have a clearer idea of how to handle Shilo.
It didn't hurt that she'd be getting in some much needed time and experience with the little ones. She was going to need it. If he had anything to do with it, he thought with a wolfish grin, that pretty little belly of hers was going to be swelling fairly soon.
Feeling considerably better for the way he'd spent his night than he'd expected to, he headed to the kitchen for refueling. Maurice, Kane, and Jessie arrived in the kitchen for breakfast just about the time he dropped bread in the toaster.
"Good timing,” he muttered.
Maurice grinned. “I smelled the coffee and bacon. You been up all night?"
Dante nodded, a satisfied grin curling his lips. “It was time well spent, though."