Wolf's Song

by Taryn Kincaid

  Annabel Lee.

  She paused—froze more like—one graceful arm raised above her head as she washed herself. Her other arm bent, her elbow bobbing up, back, around and he imagined the slow, almost caressing circular motion of her hand in the place where her tits would be. Stroking, stroking. Beyond bathing. He shut his eyes, nearly groaning, envisioning the slick, plump flesh beneath her fingers as she teased her nipples to aroused, erect points.

  Had he said the name out loud? Had she heard him?

  No question she knew he watched her. An imbecile suddenly struck dumb and brainless. Unable to move except for the cock whipping to attention and saluting against the tight confines of his jeans.

  Usually, when other shifters were around, members of the Black Hills pack especially, their thoughts, their conversations, bombarded him. The t’ai chi techniques Gee had taught him had helped with that, as he’d proven to himself with his excursions into Shady Heart. But as he gazed at the graceful sway of the female’s back…he heard…nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a murmur. Silence far beyond the muted vibe he got off Gee, when the ancient werebear imparted his rare words of wisdom. This took him into deep and profound country, a restful well of peace that Bengay-balmed his psyche, a set of earmuffs for his clanging nerves.

  Was she human then? He didn’t get as chaotic a read with humans as he did with weres, their voices mere whispers, the buzz of mosquitos. No visions of their deaths to haunt him.

  But this female…. Blessed stillness enveloped him. Soothed the savagery once so ready to erupt, that he’d forced into submission only through a decade of solitary living in the woods, and long hours of t’ai chi training that channeled his innate ferocious tendencies. Tendencies that nevertheless always lurked below the surface.

  He shut his eyes, breathing her in.

  “Brick.”

  He snapped his eyes open again. The harsh, blunt, one-word syllable of his name fell from her lips, soft and lilting like a song, producing a magical effect on him. Calming. Sweet music played in his brain like a movie score, her unique theme, swelling when she came onscreen. But the soundtrack remained hushed. Quiet. He did not hear her inner thoughts. Tranquility bathed him. But did nothing to tamp down his sexual excitement.

  He was still aroused, maybe more so. He wanted her. Badly. The wolf paced with anticipation. Would bite through the leash of Brick’s tight control to get at her if he let him. They both wanted her.

  “Turn around, Annabel Lee. Let me see you.”

  She did not move, except to lower her raised arm from its frozen position. “Why do you call me that…? Annabel Lee?”

  “I don’t have another name.”

  “Summer,” she said. “I’m Summer.”

  Yeah. Def. When the berries plumped sweetest. “Suits you.” His raging arousal made the words hoarse and jagged. Too harsh for this gentle female. “Turn,” he murmured. “I want to see your face.” A low growl escaped him before he could bite it back. “Your breasts.”

  She turned then, slowly through the water, rounding to face him.

  He sucked in his breath, his heart slamming against his chest. She was stunning and glorious. The beads of water rolling down her golden body sparkled in the sun. She glistened. All natural. No makeup. No artifice. Everything a female should be. And more. Much more.

  Another pheromone cloud engulfed him. Her eyes went large and rounded, as if she guessed she’d zapped him with her hormonal lures, but couldn’t help emitting her sex juice any more than he could. Her nose twitched and she sighed, as if enveloped in a vat of melted chocolate, or whatever the fuck his own mating scent smelled like. He could only hope he gave off an aroma as rich and delicious as she did.

  He struggled to control the raw savagery of his attraction and had to tear his eyes from her face. But her breasts…. God, her breasts. Full and high, the exact size to fill his large hands, rose tips jutting toward him. He remembered how she’d touched herself, how much he’d wanted to replace her hands with his. Hell. He wanted to bury his face between those breasts, lapping at her, licking and sucking, taking each one into his mouth, between his lips, grazing the pointed nipples with his teeth until he tore moans of delight from her.

  His throat closed, his tongue swelling, filling his suddenly dry mouth, cutting off his ability to utter either animal sounds or inane words. After a beat or two of silence, she glanced away.

  “What do you think?” Not shy exactly. Expectant. An undercurrent of doubt laced her question, as if she could not bear to disappoint him, and did not know what to make of his continued speechlessness.

  “Perfect.” He rubbed his eyes. “Ah, Christ. You’re perfect.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You are to me.”

  A smile lit her face, so brilliant it nearly blinded him. His beast purred and lifted his head, butting at the ribs caging him, stamping his paws to indicate agreement like a beered-up Jets fan at MetLife Stadium. “And to the wolf, too,” he added. Important for him to say that. Important for her to know. To appease his brother, include him, if nothing else.

  “I enjoy watching you chop wood,” she admitted. “I pray for you to take your shirt off. When the sweat trickles down your body, I get just as hot. Just as wet.”

  She swept a long, thick skein of hair off her shoulder, exposing more of her breast. He nearly choked as she fisted the locks, wringing the moisture from them.

  “Maybe hotter and wetter. I need to cool off here before I can leave.” Beneath dark lashes, her eyes lifted to his, slanting a bold glance in his direction. “I think of you. But you never come.” She swallowed, as if the words of her confession clunked in her mouth, chunks of broken concrete she was determined to spit out and release. “Why today?”

  “Why?” he repeated as if he’d suddenly had a lobotomy. And lost his vocabulary along with his mind. Her scent tantalized him, hypnotized him. Her gentle curves, the soft glow of her skin, the whole package melted what remained of his brain. He couldn’t tear his hot gaze from her. But she didn’t attempt to cover herself. The way he’d refused to hide his colossal hard-on when he shifted back to human form after they raced beneath the full moon. As if they knew each other too well for such false modesty. Maybe they did. But he wanted to know her better. In the full human biblical sense of the word. And every other way under the universe.

  Why? The answer came to him suddenly, nearly blinding him. His wolf had known. Because it’s time.

  He kicked off his sneaks and surged toward the lake. Plunged, splashing into the water, disturbing the placid surface. A great roaring beast who’d slipped its tether.

  She stumbled, taking a surprised step back before standing her ground, and he realized she’d always only watched him from afar, even if his shirtlessness made her “hot” and “wet.” Jesus. The thought alone nearly killed him. He imagined parting her legs with his hands, testing her heat with his fingers until she writhed. Replacing his fingers with his mouth. Sucking her moisture. Tonguing the button of sensation at her core. Inhaling her essence. Tasting her.

  Fuck. He needed to be inside her. Like he’d needed nothing before ever in his life.

  She reddened as he neared her, as if she hadn’t expected him to come so close. As if she thought he would just continue to hail her from the bank. A chattering whassup from one totally bare-assed friend to another half-naked friend. As if he regularly greeted her as she bathed in his lake in her human form and he’d seen her in her hell yeah holy shit altogether glory many times before. As if he could continue to engage in a little cocktail party hi-hello-how-are-ya without approaching her. Without touching her. Without pouncing on her. As…if….

  As if either he or his beast would be A-okay with that.

  Yeah. Uh-uh. That’d be a hell no. No. More. Fuckin’. Words.

  But the sounds coming from his throat didn’t form words. More like something between a growl and a groan. His wet jeans gripped his swelling cock like a vise and he unsnapped the top button, slid dow
n the zipper to free himself. His erection sprang up. And out. No worries about shrinkage. No amount of cool lake water would deflate that throbbing girder.

  She gasped, even though he knew she’d seen him before, his length, his thickness, his state of sexual stimulation, as he lay on his back, chest heaving, recovering from the sensual effects of the moon. Although, to be fair, she’d probably never seen him exhibiting this raw degree of pulsing need.

  Nearly shaking, he struggled for control, for dominance, battling the wolf. He was not an animal. No moon glowed, gripping him with compulsion. The afternoon sun shone bright. She wasn’t prey to be stalked. She was a female to be caressed and stroked. Despite his hot fantasies, no way would he grab her and toss her onto her belly. No way would he jack her to her knees and slam into her like a rabid beast.

  “I—just want to touch you,” he managed at last. “I won’t hurt you. Promise. I won’t do anything you don’t—”

  “Okay.” Her voice, so soft, so sweet. Like when she sang to him. A musical lilt, a calming cadence. Cutting across his blather. Unclouding his mind. He stared into trusting eyes. Dark hazel. A dense forest green ringed by a thin border of lush brown, flecks of gold lightening the irises. Yeah. Summer. The fullness of the season, of August—warm and serene. Before the first crisp snap and crackle of fall.

  “Okay?” Apparently he’d been lobotomized again. Struck fuckin’ dumb. The wolf mocked his inaction, pacing faster, whining and growling, claws out and prickling his skin.

  She stepped into him, as if as impatient with his stupidity as his beast. He realized how petite she was, how much smaller than he, her bones fragile, birdlike. This close he loomed like a great bull in a delicate china shop.

  “I’ve waited for you a long time, Brick,” she said. “I want you to touch me.”

  He seized her by her narrow shoulders, and forced his hands to gentle, to slide down her slick sides until he held her around the waist. A waist so tiny he could span it with his hands. The scent of her arousal clobbered him, the muskiness of sex overwhelming her more intricate and subtle fragrance. “Can I kiss you?”

  “I think you’d better.” Her voice came out strong, as if she were consciously imposing an iron will to sound more forceful. To meet him. To match him. To stand with him on equal footing. But the words wavered a little at the end, her breathing uneven. She couldn’t quite hide her excitement, either, it seemed. She arrowed another glance up at him through a fringe of dark lashes. “Don’t you?”

  He drew her toward him and she lurched into the circle of his arms. He pulled her into him. Closer. Tighter. His body hard. Rigid. Surrounding her. Her bare breasts smashed against his naked chest. Her legs jammed between his denimed thighs. He could wedge one hand between them and stroke her until she orgasmed and went limp. Or palm one of those rose-tipped tits. He didn’t think she’d stop him.

  But she raised her chin off his chest and stared at his lips. Her tongue darted out to wet her own. The wolf growled. Or maybe he did. Kiss. Yeah. Start there.

  He had to slow it down or he’d break his promise to her. He’d have her on all fours, moaning and groaning—and not necessarily with pleasure—while he grunted and sweated on top of her. Plunging his cock in and out of her. Hard. Fast. Without preparing her or getting her ready for him. Without foreplay of any kind.

  He touched the plump curve of her lower lip with the pad of his thumb, the simple gesture a teasing caress. She parted her lips and closed her eyes. He leaned forward and bent his head to hers. Goddess. Mother of the Moon. The scent of honeyed musk berries intoxicated him. His head whirled.

  His mouth came down over hers, wreaking havoc with his good intentions. After the first instant of sweet shock, hesitant exploration gave way to sheer excitement. She returned his kiss with hunger, her tongue sweeping against his. And then he took possession, the kiss long and deep. Going hard. The way he wanted to be inside her. Not quite claiming. Not yet. But every instinct rose to the fore until he’d dwarfed her, engulfed her with his body, completely dominating her. He smelled himself on her, like an identification stamp obliterating any other stops on her passport.

  “Don’t play big, bad alpha with me,” she murmured, her lips vibrating against his.

  He gulped a breath. “Can’t help it.” Wow. Where the hell had that come from? But he recognized the unwanted truth smacking him over the head like a two-by-four. He. Could. Not. Help. It.

  “Well….” Whatever she meant to say faded against the surging strength of his next kiss, more hungry, more powerful, more necessary to him than the last. “Okay.”

  He forced himself to slow down again, to take a step back. To leash the beast. Rein in the rampant dominance to which she’d hesitantly, reluctantly acquiesced. Lifting his mouth away from hers, he rested his forehead against her brow, breathing heavily, nearly panting.

  Holy. Fucking. Shit. Was he no better than that evil sonuvabitch Magnum Tao?

  “Won’t force you to submit to me. Not ever. Don’t want that. Don’t want you that way.” He picked her up and she slung an arm around his neck for balance. He carried her to the shore, setting her down on the towel he’d brought from the cabin, handing her the clean shirt he’d also grabbed on his way out the door.

  She didn’t use it to cover herself, though. Instead, she leaned against him. “You didn’t know.” A statement, not a question. “You didn’t know what you are.”

  He shook his head. “Haven’t been around pack for ten years. Living up here, alone, wouldn’t see it, wouldn’t feel it. Wouldn’t recognize it.”

  “You are what you are, Brick. An alpha. A strong alpha.”

  “When I left Los Lobos, I was just a stupid pup. Couldn’t even drink legally.”

  “I saw you when Gee brought you here. Saw the condition you were in. Makes sense now. You tried to challenge your pack leader for dominance, didn’t you?”

  Were they doing this? Having a more or less normal conversation with the wolf nearly bursting out of his skin, howling to get laid? He’d kinda missed that, too, though. He’d never talked to anyone—not even Gee—about the night he’d gone all berserker in The Den and ended up banished. A lone wolf. A rogue wolf. Not belonging anywhere.

  “Didn’t think it was a dominance play. Didn’t know what the fuck I was doing.”

  She turned, sitting next to him and drawing up her knees to mirror his posture, but sidling close enough to embrace him. The sides of their thighs met as she leaned into him. She curved her arm around him, running one hand up and down his back, her touch comforting, soothing. “I think you did.”

  “Well…maybe. Not in a conscious way. I just wanted to be rid of that stinking piece of crap.”

  “He’s gone now, you know.”

  Yeah. He knew. He’d seen Magnum’s death like a movie in his head years before, but never knew when or where it would happen. Gee’d advised him of the monster’s passing, had encouraged him to return to Los Lobos. Recent town gossip from Shady Heart on the other side of the mountain—with the ramped-up rumors flying about Cal Seven getting ready to make a move on the wolves’ territory—carried more confirmation the fucker was gone. Good fuckin’ riddance.

  “Drew’s back. He’s the Black Hills Wolves alpha now. Didn’t Gee tell you?”

  No, Gee hadn’t fuckin’ told him. Although, scanning a replay of their last few convos, the hints were there, as if Gee had been trying to gauge his reaction, to both warn and advise him with his usual vague Yoda-speak wisdom, to bear-talk him docile. To make sure he didn’t challenge Drew. As. Fucking. If.

  Especially not now—if war between the wolves and cats was about to break out—as he suspected.

  Brick’s fists clenched and he rose to his feet, stepping closer to the water—and away from Summer—before he inadvertently did something to hurt her. He had no real quarrel with Magnum’s offspring—he’d wished for the prodigal son’s return even before the ill-fated challenge in The Den ten years ago that had seen him Oscar Mayer sausaged a
nd banished from his pack. Well, yeah, sure, maybe he’d nursed a little resentment over junior leaving in the first place, instead of stepping up and seizing control of the pack from his maniac father.

  But the idea Summer knew Magnum’s son well enough to “Drew” him, made him want to strangle somebody. Or bear his fangs and take a chunk from the new alpha’s hide.

  Summer ignored his fight-or-fight adrenalin-testosterone dump and stood up, drawing beside him again, Band-Aid close. She took his hand and looped his arm around her, then did the same with the other. “I don’t know him,” she whispered, reading him correctly. Once again her sweet, soft voice soothed him like a hot oil massage. “I just heard he’s in charge.”

  “Okay.” Brick nodded and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “As it should be.”

  “You know he’s mated, right?”

  “He was mated ten years ago. Didn’t stop him from leaving his mate and the rest of the pack in the clutches of Magnum and flitting off wherever the fuck he went.” Great examples and role models, those Taos. First the heinous Magnum, then the fleeing son.

  She rubbed her body against him and all thoughts of Magnum, Drew, the pack, and everything other than Summer vanished into nonexistence.

  “Can we focus on us now?” Her voice soothing, like her touch, her song.

  “There’s an ‘us’?” He stood still, turning into a block of uncarved wood, sure even the slightest touch would light him up, a match to kindling.

  But she was having none of it. She pressed his hands to her ass. “Isn’t there? We know each other, don’t you think? Don’t you want there to be?”

  Her lush lashes fell as she lowered her eyes, but not before he glimpsed the uncertain question there. As if she’d taken a great leap being so bold with him. As if she’d never done anything like that before. Never chanced anything in this particular sexual arena before.