by Lynde Lakes
Evernight Publishing ®
www.evernightpublishing.com
Copyright© 2014 Lynde Lakes
ISBN: 978-1-77233-060-1
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: Melissa Hosack
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to my dear friend Vonnie Grey.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Many thanks to Evernight Publishing and acquisitions manager Marie Buttineau. And, of course, to my Evernight editor Melissa Hosack and cover artist Sour Cherry.
Appreciation also to the staff at Aina Haina & Kapolei Libraries and last but not least, my loyal and supportive readers, now friends
UNQUENCHABLE DESIRE
Virgin Wolf, 3
Lynde Lakes
Copyright © 2014
Chapter One
On the evening of July 4th, with fireworks from the Mt. Baldy Mountain Lodge sprinkling the sky with rainbow bursts, Valerie breathed in the sultry, slightly smoky breeze coming through the open terrace doors of her second-floor bedroom. Although the mansion, with its jetting towers, history of death, destruction and evil secrets was intimidating, God had miraculously blessed her with loving parents, a raven-haired supportive paternal-twin, and an uncle who loved her as if she were his. Yet, at this moment, as the tremors of morphing started, she felt alone. Valerie pushed her fingers though her hair. Before her twin’s elopement, Victoria usually went through the morphing with her. Valerie struggled back inside and scanned the dark corners of the unsettling sanctuary. Shadows shifted in the room. A tremor slid down her back as an icy essence drifted over her. “Uncle Hugh is that you?”
Although he suffered from the Lamont family’s lycanthrope curse as well, he’d vowed to watch over her. They often ran into the wilds together. Valerie’s stomach knotted. If here, he would’ve answered, even if only in a familiar growl. Clearly, the icy essence wasn’t him. Was the chilling ghostly presence riding the air currents the evil spirit of Dad’s murdered half-brother, Raymond Lee Reeves? Was his wispy evilness floating nearby watching her torment?
She shivered. It wouldn’t surprise her. For years her home was the shelter for the Lamont family’s hideous and undying curse and resulting secrets. Memories swirled in her mind. As a toddler she’d been kidnapped by the spirit residing in one of Reeve’s human forms and was vaguely aware of the dark, undiscovered rooms and twisting tunnels in her own home. After Uncle Hugh rescued her, he and her father had sealed off the tunnels.
The hairs at the base of her neck prickled. But what if the current unidentified vessel for the spirit of her evil half-uncle Reeves had unsealed them? She shuddered. She’d never known Reeves, the resurrected monster that reportedly had risen from the dead and morphed into the now deceased scientist Lazar, a man she’d come to know only too well. Valerie’s saliva tasted metallic. She’d naively trusted Lazar, who unknown to her at the time housed the wicked spirit of the risen Reeves. She shivered again. With icy hands, Lazar had grabbed her and pulled her into his car, then her twin Victoria’s biker hero saved her. Valerie closed her eyes a moment. It had been a close call. She’d almost lost her life—and Victoria had almost lost her true love Rick.
The morphing tremors grew stronger. Valerie’s hands trembled harder and sweat popped out on her face. Is morphing my fate until I die? Will I ever have a true love of my own? Maybe due to the affliction, going solo was best. What guy would have the guts to for fall for a girl who shifted into a wolf on full moon-lit nights? Victoria had lucked out and found the only one. Valerie picked up a magazine and fanned herself. The deluge of sweat rolled down her cheeks and dripped off of her chin. Liquid trickled down her spine. She stepped further out onto the terrace. The breeze was little help. She stiffened as the moon wrapped its spiteful beams around her like steel manacles. She howled in protest, but the on-sought of escalating pain from the Lamont family’s lycanthrope curse hit like a merciless tornado.
Think, think of something beyond the racking agony.
For a moment, she transended the pain and lifted her chin proudly as a twinge of pride surged through her. At the Indepence Day-dual birthday celebration nothing had gone as her parents planned, but due to her quick action, Victoria’s two aficionado’s didn’t come to blows, and her twin ended up running off unscathed to Las Vegas with her true love.
A fiery pain shot down her spine. She wouldn’t wish these sharp spasms on anyone. If her newly married twin had children, would this torment pass on to them? What was happening with Victoria? It was her sister’s wedding night. Was the moon changing her twin into a wolf as well? Or did the moon poppy herbs, as Victoria claimed, really control some of the symptoms. Please, God, no matter what, don’t allow Victoria’s wedding night with Rick to be marred by the curse. And allow any wildness she exhibits to enhance the honeymoon experience for both of them.
Imaging her sister making love as a half-wolf half-human sent a sizzling, electrical charge through Valerie and, when it surprisingly eased the raking pain, she willingly let the steamy heat stir her own untamed highly-sexual desires. She imagined her shadowy lover, leanly-muscled, and monumentally mysterious looming over her, his dark, hungry eyes glinting with raw passion.
He would dip his head toward her. Then, after a small eternity passed, their lips would meet. The imaginary lover circled her lips with a tongue as hot as the flames rising in her core. He slid his warm, rough hand up her thigh. She wriggled and arched her virgin body, wanting the unknown pulsing deep inside her.
She pressed hard against her secret womanly place to calm the fierce tingles. What am I doing? I don’t want to just imagine making love. I crave the feral, sexual, and emotional release. I want to breathe in the scent of hot bodies and sex. Burning with raging desire and a need to conquer, she whispered, “But I don’t want sex with just any male; I want it with an alpha, heroic, caring man like my dad, Uncle Hugh, or Victoria’s Rick.”
Panic shot through her and she closed her eyes. Oh, God, is it possible, while morphed, to control my feral urges so I won’t do something stupid?
Unable to trust the unknown or herself when morphed, she prayed. Please, God, let Dad and his remaining team of scientists find a cure. They’d done a great deal of research on lycanthropes, investigating documented reports and folklore alike, and in their study, they experimented with wild wolves to develop a serum. She closed her eyes. But in all these years of trying they hadn’t found a cure.
To deter the disquieting direction of her thoughts, she looked down at her new PJ’s with glittery pink hearts all over them that her dear grandmother had given to her for her birthday.
Pain whipped through her even sharper now. Overwhelmed by the intensifying tremors of the curse, she quickly stepped out of her nightwear and folded the top and bottoms neatly on the wrought iron that circled the terrace.
She took a deep breath and waited for the swirling thick fog of completion to envelope her mind and its snaking tendrils to squeeze away much of her rational thought while she drowned in agonizing, brain-shaking pain. It was as though she were on a runaway roller coaster, violently rocking and speeding out of control. She pressed her hand her mouth to mute her howl. Muscles throughout her body throbbed and contracted, followed by more escalating, excruciating pain. She howled again and raked
her fingers through her wild, thickening mane.
She looked down at her elongating hands. Long painted claws jutted from her fingertips. She shook her head. Liquid pooled in her eyes as the waves of pain repeatedly attacked her body, each surge sharper than the last. She convulsed and writhed upon the terrace floor. Her lengthening incisors grazed her lip and drew a drop of salty blood. She thirsted for more even as the heat of morphing grew in intensity.
She rose, clung to the railing, and sucked in the cool night air. The call of the moon grew stronger. She backed up, charged forward, and then leapt with arching-grace over the wrought iron railing. The moment her front paws hit the grass-covered ground, she headed for the hills and the caves beyond, thirsting for freedom, lusting for the unknown, and desperate to answer the compelling lure tugging at her feral soul.
Running free through the rough, hilly terrain, she weaved through the dark shadows and tangled bushes, racing deeper into the wildness, intent on shaking the call of the moon from her system. Using what little reasoning ability she had left, she planned for unexpected trouble. Her snow white coat made her a highly visible moving target. If she spied anything awry, the scattering of caves in the lower foothills would be a perfect refuge until the danger was over.
Night sounds of crickets and hissing snakes perked her ears erect. She sniffed the air and caught the strangely pleasant and enticing feral scent of another wolf. Her sharp animal eyesight picked out the silhouette of the huge alpha male posing on a boulder. The silvery glow from the full moon highlighted his gray coat and startling bold markings that extended from the neck all the way along the spine to the tip of the tail. His alpha bold stance and size sent tremors through her. She backed a step deeper into the bushes, fiercely resisting his magnetic pull.
****
Wolf Brian inhaled the beguiling female scent as it grew stronger, escalating the flaming surge of desire in his loins. With his intensified wolf-hearing, he heard the snap of a twig. Yes, that’s it, come closer. Do you look as enticing as your scent?
Then he saw her. She was magnificent. The glow from the full moon highlighted her snowy coat. He’d never seen a white wolf before, or a wolf with such lean, feral grace. Her startling uniqueness, from the elegant lupine-shape of her head to her intriguing, full, slightly-lifted tail, sent a hot coil of sexual hunger through him—and the driving need to conquer. He stood on his hind legs and howled his long, low seducing call…come to me, my alpha queen and answer to the passions of the moonlit night.
****
Valerie froze and stared at the magnificent animal. That piercing stare, attack posture, and resolute high muzzle gave this creature of the night a fierce power she didn’t know how to tame, or if she even wanted to. He’s a wolf! A wolf! She fought the unrelenting pull of their combined feral desires. She craved passionate, body-to-body intimacy but—
Wrestling with all of her might against an overpowering lust, she whirled and ran like the wind in the opposite direction. To her horror, the alpha wolf, in wide, ground-eating leaps, caught up with her. Following close on her tail, he let out a low growl and nipped at her hind legs, forcing her to run faster and faster. Uncle Hugh had used the same type of growls and nips in the past to protect her. The alpha wolf forced her into a circle of boulders and cornered her. The desire in this wolf’s dark, lupine eyes warned that protection definitely wasn’t on his mind.
She stood upright on her hind quarters and returned his fierce look. The raised hackles around his neck and shoulders revealed his exceptional length and breadth. Trembling, she issued a low, throaty growl.
The wolf rose and towered over her, standing deadly still. Although intimidated by his prolonged human-like stare, she thrust her head higher. He snarled, showing the whitest, fiercest incisors she’d ever seen. His low, throaty growl gained intensity. Then, with more nips and snarls, he forced her muzzle down. In the shifting shadows, his feral dominance ranked as far more frightening than Uncle Hugh’s coercion at their first encounter. And this wolf was no relative.
Seeing his jaws open wide, baring those sharp fangs sent another tremor of icy terror through her. She splayed her ears sideways, like outstretched bat wings. Let my show of increased defiance discourage him.
The gray wolf snapped into the air near her head. She lifted her chin higher. He issued a low, throaty growl with increasing intensity. With ears erect, he backed up his determination with another snarl. He paused, and then snapped into the air a hairbreadth from the side of her muzzle, clearly in final warning. Then with nips and snarls, he forced her muzzle down. Her other enemy—the bright moonlight—illuminated this terrifying encounter as though in conspiracy with the attacking wolf. The gray alpha wolf stood deadly still again. He lifted his head, thrust his ears forward, and rose threateningly on his hind legs. Then charged her, jaws wide open.
He had proven he could out-run her. She snarled and charged him. He forced her back and trapped her tight against a huge boulder. She closed her eyes, waiting for his incisor to sink into her throat. She whined softly when instead, he licked her face and rubbed against her, imbedding his scent in her coat, tantalizing her. Don’t be tempted! She’d seen the horny wolves in the lab and knew what was coming. She didn’t want wolf puppies. In spite of his feral beauty and enticing feral scent, she’d never be ready for sex with a wolf. She wanted a man like her twin’s new husband for her own.
She attempted to step back. The stone wall blocked her. She was trapped.
In the near distance, she inhaled a familiar and welcome scent. Uncle Hugh! Her sniffing alerted the amorous young wolf and he sniffed too. Then a shadow shifted and there was good ole’ Uncle Hugh coming to the rescue in the nick of time. He bared his teeth and growled.
Then, in all his wolfish glory, he and the young wolf circled and sized each other up.
With the two alphas distracted and dueling for superiority, she whirled and ran into the night. Halfway home, she heard shots. Oh, no, hunters! God, please let Uncle Hugh and the awe-inspiring, amorous wolf escape unhurt.
****
The next morning, when the rays of sunshine fell across Valerie’s face, she shot upright. I must find out if Uncle Hugh and the young wolf are all right!
She ran a comb through her hair, dressed hastily in jeans and a cardinal red T-shirt, and rushed downstairs. The tinkle of silver against china drew her toward the dining room. She sighed when she spied her Marauding Uncle.
“Uncle Hugh! Thank the Lord!” He was alone at the table. She gasped at the bandage around his right pectoral muscle. “Are you badly hurt?”
“Just a flesh wound,” he said, flashing the grin she knew so well.
“I’ve been so worried. I heard the shots.” She paused and then with a tremor in her voice asked, “What about the gray wolf?”
Uncle Hugh shrugged. “He’s quick, agile—probably got away.”
Please, God, let the young wolf be safe. “How can we find out for sure?”
“He’s dangerous. Best you forget him.”
“I can’t. Not until I know he’s all right.”
“He’s a sly, tough adversary. He had me pinned down when the hunters came. I doubt you have to worry about him. Instead, pray, like I do, that you’re never again forced to go incisor to incisor with him.”
She frowned at the totally unsatisfying answer. “How did you find me last night?”
“I was with you from the moment you sailed over the rail of the terrace into the wilds. But, because you’re twenty-one now and a grown woman, I hung back, not wanting to impinge on your sense of freedom or cramp your style. But then you got yourself into a dangerous situation with that lustful wolf. Until he’s caught or run off by hunters, we should stick close together on your moonlit escapades.”
“Yes,” Dad said as he and Mom entered the room, faces pinched. “Those escapades are just what I want to talk about. I went to your bedroom last night to check on you, and saw your new PJ’s folded on the terrace railing and you gone.”
/> “I…”
“I told you, Valerie, you can’t go out in the wilds alone. There are wolves, hunters, and maybe even a demon waiting to grab and vanquish a beautiful young woman like you.”
“I stayed with her,” Uncle Hugh said, “and kept her safe.”
Dad frowned at Hugh’s bandaged arm. “By getting shot?”
“I’m okay,” Uncle Hugh muttered. “But maybe you should worry about yourself and your family.”
Red crawled up Dad’s neck. “Meaning?”
“Only that you’re doing it again, trusting every Tom, Dick, and Harry who rolls in off the streets. That punk-gardener you hired could be a vessel for Reeves’ evil spirit, for God’s sake.”
Dad laughed. It sounded forced. “The kid’s name is Brian Jones and he’s no punk. I checked him out. Although he has no solid credentials, his polite, soft-voiced manner and knowledge of landscaping and maintenance impressed me.”
“The same way Lazar impressed you with his dreams of a Pulitzer Prize and knowledge of lycanthropy?” Uncle Hugh asked.
Dad shook his head. “If Reeves has risen from the dead again, believe me, he hasn’t morphed into our new gardener. Even if his blackened soul depended on it, Reeves couldn’t act humble and grateful like this kid does. Such attributes are beyond Reeves’ capabilities. But to be doubly careful, I called Brian’s minister in Trona and he verified that besides working for a landscaping firm, the kid devoted the last few years caring for an old woman riddled with cancer. It takes a special young man to be so selfless.”
Valerie agreed, but remained silent, glad to no longer have her moonlight transgressions as their main focus.
