Carolina Werewolves 3-Pack

by Layla Cole

  Carolina Werewolves 3-Pack

  By Layla Cole

  ****

  Copyright 2012 Layla Cole

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Part 1: Dreaming of the Wolf

  Part 2: Taken by the Alpha

  Part 3: Swimming With the Alpha

  Dreaming of the Wolf

  I had the dream again last night. Well, the first part is more of a memory, really. It's almost always like this…

  I'm a wolf, running under the full moon. I've split off from my pack to run joyfully through the forest, feeling the dirt under my paws and the wind rushing through my fur. But I'm not alone for long--I'm joined by another wolf. A strange werewolf. We greet each other and take off through the night.

  Something in me recognizes this stranger. His scent seems familiar to the human self that is buried deep inside. The wolf shrugs it off. It's enough to know that when morning comes this stranger will belong to me, and I to him. He senses it too, I know. I want him so badly that I spend half the night fantasizing about how he'll look in his human form, but I force myself to wait.

  Together, we howl at the moon, brilliant in the clear skies of the Blue Ridge Mountains. We play, wrestling each other in the dirt, mock fighting, trying to figure out who is more dominant. He loses and I growl in triumph. We hunt together, tracking a deer that soon falls beneath our claws and bared fangs. I feel gloriously alive.

  As night fades, I feel safe enough with this new wolf to fall asleep beside him, my nose buried in his fur. He is already asleep, seemingly content.

  Then the dream shifts. I am somewhere else, somewhere hazy. It doesn't seem to matter.

  What does matter to me is the man on his knees before me. His dark hair hangs straight past his shoulders, but I can't see his face. He holds my hips as my cock disappears into his mouth. I lose myself in the wet heat that surrounds me as he takes me in deeper and gives a low moan. I can't stop myself. I hold his head close to me, my hands buried in his hair, and take over. I fuck his mouth desperately, savagely, and he groans as if he loves it.

  It's over all too soon. I come in his mouth, jerking, my balls so tight they almost hurt and the release more like an explosion than an orgasm. I feel him swallow greedily around me, taking everything I give him.

  He looks up at me as my cock slips from his mouth and I get the briefest impression of a smile. But I still can't see his face. In my dream, though, I know who this man is so it doesn't matter. It's only my real self that is frustrated with the shadows that hide my lover from me.

  And then I wake up. I'm alone, and so hard I'm aching. I can practically feel his mouth around me, but it's an illusion.

  Just like our night together was an illusion. You see, I went to sleep happy, curled up next to the wolf I was convinced would accept me as a lover. And then I woke up alone, naked in the forest, the taste of blood still in my mouth from the deer we killed. The wolf--the man--who ran beside me all night was gone. I tried to track him, but I lost him at a small creek. I sat in the mud at the water's edge, thinking. Somehow I knew even then that I wouldn't find any tracks on the other bank. The stranger didn't just run away; he covered his tracks so I wouldn't be able to find him. Covered his scent so all I could catch was a hint of spice.

  I remember wanting to howl in despair as the early morning sun shone down upon me. Where did the stranger go? Why did he leave?

  ***

  It's been a year since that night. At first, I was hopeful. Who the hell would just leave like that, after feeling what I felt? After recognizing his mate? But then I started to doubt myself. After a few months, I started brooding and now--well, now I've almost given up. The rest of the pack tried to cheer me up at first, but I think they've given up now, too. Ah, well. Their concern is touching, but it doesn't really help. Having my mate would, but oh well.

  Since he's not around, I just have to take things day by day. Someday, I tell myself, I'll forget all about him.

  I tell myself the same thing today as I pull myself out of bed. It gets a little harder every day, but today I'm meeting a client. A friend of mine, as a matter of fact. I'm a freelance graphic designer, so I work from home. Normally, I wouldn't schedule any appointments before a decent hour--noon, say--but Drew is a morning person. It's annoying. Drove me crazy when we were roommates and still does now, but hey, he's a friend and I owe him a favor or two. It would be nice not to wake up hard and lonely beforehand, but I just have to deal with it.

  It's 6 a.m. Who gets up this early? I grab some coffee, then go for a run, hoping exercise will improve my current state of mind. It doesn't, though, and when I get back I still have some time to kill. At least I have a few minutes to pretend my dream lover is around while I jack off in the shower. The brief moment of satisfaction doesn't last, though. Rarely does, unfortunately.

  I hear a car pull up as I get dressed. Drew? I take a quick peek out the window as I pull my jeans on. I don't recognize the grey car in the driveway, but I'd know that face anywhere. Trust Drew to be early--I still have fifteen minutes, damn it. All the same, I shove my irritation away as I get ready for the appointment. I like him. We were good friends back in college, but I haven't seen him in oh, a year or two I'd guess. He moved to California after we got out of school and hasn't been around in a while. I'm looking forward to seeing him again, especially since he hinted that he might be moving back to North Carolina. Some part of me hopes it'll be like old times, I suppose.

  When he doesn't come inside right away, I walk outside to meet him. He's in the car fiddling with the radio or something, his hair falling down over his eyes. Dark and shaggy the way I like it. Not many men can pull it off the way he does, though. Content to watch for a moment, I wait to see if he'll look up. He's ignoring me for some reason, though. Strange. I rap on the window to get his attention and he looks up, flushed, a guilty look in his green eyes. He's hiding something from me. What?

  Be there in a minute, he mouths at me. I nod, frowning, and go back inside to wait for him. Ah, well. Drew's not a very good liar, so if he's hiding something, I'll find out what it is soon. One way or another.

  I don't have room for a dedicated office, so I've got everything set up in the kitchen. Yeah, it's kind of unofficial, but I don't meet most of my clients in person. These days, a few phone calls and e-mails are about all the contact I have with people outside the pack. As I sort through my files, fire up my laptop, and go over my notes, I wonder what the hell's wrong with my old college friend. After a while, I look at the time. Fifteen minutes have passed while I've been sitting here waiting. Where's Drew? He wanted to meet at the crack of dawn, after all--and yes, I think 7 a.m. qualifies as the crack of dawn. Sue me.

  Leaning on the table, I drum my fingertips on the surface in irritation. When the door finally opens, though, it catches me off guard.

  It's not the man who stands so awkwardly in front of the door that catches my attention, though the sudden kick of arousal I feel when he comes in is a surprise. No, what really startles me is the scent that fills my nostrils when he walks in. It's a familiar smell: slightly musky, masculine, but with notes of cinnamon and an exotic spice I can't name. That's the scent that haunts my dreams every night. Smelling it here, now, can only mean one thing.

  I lift my eyes to meet the gaze of the man I've been d
reaming about. Green eyes, wide with apprehension. Does he realize that I know? Or is he nervous about something else? With a groan, I lower my eyes. I want to be angry, and I am, but at the same time I can't deny the desire that surges through me. For nearly a year, I've fantasized about what I'd do when my mate walked back into my life, but now that he's here I'm paralyzed. I don't know what to say, and so for a long moment I say nothing.

  Drew shifts from side to side and sighs. I can practically hear his racing heart from where I sit at the table, but nothing I want to do will make him calm down. Damn it all to hell. I want him to suffer. I want to fuck him. I'm not sure the two belong together. When is he going to say something, I wonder? I need to do something about the tension in the room that doesn't involve taking to the ground and fucking him senseless. I just have to hope that he made up a reason to meet--and I'm sure he has no other reason for being here now--because he's sorry. Or something.

  "For God's sake, sit down," I growl, gesturing at a nearby chair. He's nervous, but as he takes a seat I can pick up the scent of his arousal. Him being turned on like that isn't helping my state of mind one bit.

  "So," he says awkwardly, "what's up, Ian?" He's got a deep voice that rasps along my nerves, but today he's subdued, soft. So different from how he used to be I have to wonder what the hell's happened to him.

  "So," I say, mocking him, "you came back." Something occurs to me. "Since when are you a werewolf?" If he was changed recently, it might explain why I didn't recognize him right away. His scent's different--there's a faint layer of old human Drew underneath, but the rest has altered enough that I'd never have recognized him if he weren't standing right in front of me.

  He sprawls across the chair and shrugs. "Since when are you?" Damn, he looks tired. And his nose looks like it was broken at some point, a small bump marring the otherwise straight line of it. Still, he's gorgeous and I can't help but be aware of it now that I know he's mine. Or will be mine.

  "Since birth," I drawl. His eyes widen. "Look, I know why you're here. I'm not stupid."

  I can tell he wants to run or say something snappy, but instead he nods slowly. "Yeah, I knew you'd recognize me once you saw me in human form again." He sighs one more time. "I got attacked by a rogue werewolf a couple of years ago. It's still kind of new."

  "No pack to help you through it?" We try to help as many newly-made wolves as we can, but some slip through the cracks.

  "No." I want to shake him and hug him at the same time. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't know--I thought…" His voice trails off and he gestures helplessly, his hands tracing random shapes in the air. "I wanted to come home. That night--with you--I don't know, it just scared me. I woke up and realized it was you and that just freaked me out even more. Fuck, I didn't know you were a wolf. Last time I saw you, I didn't even know any of this shit existed."

  In that sense, I had it easy. Being born a werewolf means that I grew up accepting the supernatural. He didn't. That doesn't mean I'm going to let him off the hook, though. "Do you have any idea what you did to me when you left?" He should. He's helped me through more than one broken heart.

  Drew winces. "I do now. That's why I came back. I want to--I don't know, give this a chance, I guess." I want to leap across the desk and throttle him, tackle him, sheathe myself inside him. I want to make him happy, but I want to make him pay. Who the hell is this fucked up?

  "Tell me, and be honest, what did you feel that night? Anything?" I barely recognize my voice--it's gone raspy, hoarse. It feels like the words are sticking in my throat.

  Drew nods slowly, his eyes meeting mine with a wariness that kills me. What the hell is he afraid of? I promise myself right then that whenever we get this shit sorted out, I'm going to find out exactly what happened. I never want to see that look again. I will him to say something, anything, but it seems like forever before he finally does. "I felt--peaceful, I guess," he admits. "Happy. Like I'd just found something I didn't even know I was missing."

  "But did you want me? Before you knew it was me?" I need to hear him say it. If he won't admit what he felt then, how will I ever get him to open up to me?

  Drew shrugs carelessly. "Maybe." He swallows hard, but I can smell the desire that spikes through him. It's a heady scent that drives me crazy, but I'm also relieved now that I know I'm not the only one feeling it. Drew crosses his legs to hide his erection, but his movement only makes it more obvious.

  "Maybe?" I echo.

  "Fine. A lot, okay? It was weird and it freaked me out. It still freaks me out." He rakes his hands through his hair, leaving it adorably mussed. "I mean--this isn't, it's not normal," he says, gesturing at himself. When I arch an eyebrow, he flushes. "I can't help being turned on around you," he mutters.

  Eureka. My chest relaxes as I let out the breath I've been holding. This is a start at least. Now all I have to do is calm him down, win him over, and convince him to stay. I want to slake my desire to fuck him, too, of course. Maybe, after all of that I can let all of this confusion and anger go and just be.

  I get up from my seat to cross over to his side of the table. "I remember you being pretty popular with the college girls," I muse as I lean against the edge, "but I've never seen you with a guy before." I'm so close to him right now--all it would take is a step or two before I could pull him in for a kiss the way my wolf wants me to. Fuck, he looks so good and his scent is so fucking intoxicating I just want to bury myself deep inside of him…but not yet. Have to be patient.

  "No, you're right. I've never been with a guy--never thought I'd…" He shakes his head and clenches his jaw.

  "So what freaks you out more? Wanting a guy, or wanting me?" I'd never hurt him but he doesn't know that yet. I get the feeling his life as a werewolf hasn't been too great, so it'll take him a while to trust.

  "Both," he says after a moment. "I just don't know what's happening to me…" For a moment he seems lost in thought, but then he seems to pull himself back from whatever is haunting him. Drew looks up at me, determined. "I need you to know something, Ian. After that night, I ran and all, but I didn't stop wanting you. I just kept getting more freaked out about how you'd react when I came back, but then I couldn't stay away. I don't know if you'll forgive me, but I need to know what the hell is going on here."

  I know exactly what is happening, but I'm not sure whether telling him will scare him or not. Honesty wins out, though. He deserves it from me. "I think that we're mates--like soul mates, I guess. Or we could be, anyway," I add, suddenly unsure. I've been told that you just know your mate when you see her--or him, in my case--but not one's mentioned whether you have to accept it, or what happens if you don't. "No pressure or anything." I attempt to smile, but I'm not sure how it turns out. Feels more like a grimace.

  I can't resist anymore, so I move behind him and wrap my fingers in his hair, reveling in the silky feel of it against my fingers. I don't know why Drew lets me do it, but he relaxes and almost seems to lean into my hand. "Drew," I groan, "do you trust me?' The room seems hazy as blood flows to my cock. So damn hard to focus right now…

  He swallows hard and tilts his head to look up at me. "Yes," he says, leaving his throat completely exposed. Oh God. He might not know what he's doing--I have to remember how little he knows--but baring his throat like that…it's a gesture of submission and it's such a fucking turn on I can barely breathe. It means a lot coming from him. Truthfully, I think he's stronger. It's only my experience as a wolf that let me take him down before.

  "You'll be with me? Let me fuck you?" He's breathing in short, shallow breaths, his pulse racing as he looks at me again. Finally, he nods.

  "I'll try it--anything you want," he says, his voice hoarse. "I don't know why I want you, but I'm sick of running from it." That's all I need. As much as I want to bend him over the table, I don't have any lube in this part of the house. Bedroom it is, then. I haul him out of his chair and lead the way, only one thing on my mind right now.

  When we reach the room though, I can't wait.
I grab Drew as he comes in and pin him to the wall. I've waited too damn long for this and whatever control I had is long gone.

  "What the fuck--" Drew starts to ask, but I cut him off by covering his mouth with my own. He could push me away, but instead he pulls me closer and moans low in his throat. Oh Jesus. His lips are soft, full, just as good to kiss as I imagined, but the way he kisses me back is deliciously rough. When he opens his mouth and lets me inside, I discover that his taste is spicy and sweet, just like his smell. In other words, amazing.

  Caging him in like this means that his body is pressed tight against mine, so close that I can feel the hardness of his cock rubbing mine through my jeans. I grind against him, needing the friction. Well, I need him naked, but this will do for now.

  I remember that I wanted to go slow, so I break the kiss and pull away reluctantly. He's breathing hard, and so am I, but we've barely gotten started. I rest my head on his shoulder for a moment, thinking how good it feels to be close like this. Finally.

  "Fuck, Drew," I say, "I can't stand this. How--tell me what you want."

  He laughs softly, but it's a little desperate, and the way he's still rubbing against me…hell. "I told you," he says, strained, "any way, anything you want…"

  "And if I like it rough?"

  Biting his lip, Drew looks up at me. "I trust you." He smiles, the first time he's smiled since he walked back into my life. My eyes are probably all crazy lit up with how I feel right now, but I can only hope that I don't scare him off. I do like it rough, normally, but not this time. Can't go too hard on him when he's never been with a man.

  "Let me know if I go too far," I say before stepping away. My clothes are too tight, too--hell, there's just too much in the way. I tear them off, starting with my shirt, which I toss behind me, then unbuckle my belt. It's only a moment before I've got my jeans sliding down my hips and then I stand naked before him. My cock still aches, but at least it's free now. I curl my hand around the base and stroke lazily, then smile as Drew's eyes stay glued to my prick. He reaches for his zipper, but I grab his wrist.