Marked By The Wolf (Werewolf Fever #3)

by Juno Blake

  By the time he moved on to her lower legs, carefully following the curves of her calves and the delicate bones in her ankles, Lucy’s body was trembling so violently she didn’t know if she could speak, let alone stay standing with her arms above her head.

  The waterfall shower washed the soap from Lucy’s limbs, leaving her clean and dizzy with need.

  Ciaran stopped washing her ankles, removing the sponge from her skin for the first time since he’d started. Lucy took a deep breath, steadying herself for what she knew must come next.

  Instead of what she’d hoped for, she felt the sponge again, brushing soap over the tops of her feet. Lucy could have screamed. Her knees were shaking.

  “Up,” Ciaran ordered, tapping the back of one ankle.

  Gritting her teeth, Lucy slowly raised her foot. She could barely keep her balance even before he began to wash the sole of her foot. Her leg twitched involuntarily as he ran the sponge over her skin. She was so sensitive all over that the additional tickling sensation almost pushed her over the edge…

  “Next.” She shouldn’t have been able to hear Ciaran’s voice over the rush of water over her head and the throb of her heartbeat in her ears. But somehow his soft instruction cut through all the other noises.

  She switched feet. This time, she had to clench her fists to keep her balance. She could feel herself slipping closer and closer to the edge. She just didn’t know what she would find there.

  Could Ciaran make her come without even touching her, skin to skin?

  Did she want him to?

  No.

  She wanted him. His touch, his body, not just this teasing, frustrating game. But she could already feel the warning signs that she was too far gone. Her fingers twitched as desire sparked across her skin. Her nerve endings were on fire. The water pouring over her body scalded her, so hot it hurt, coursing over her body like lightning…

  The trembling in her legs grew stronger. So did the white-hot need inside her.

  “God, Ciaran, please—” she cried out as he released her second foot.

  For a moment, the absence of his touch was like being plunged into ice water. Then his hands were on her, pressing and caressing her, digging into her skin.

  CHAPTER 3

  Ciaran rose to his feet behind her, his hands on her hips. He spread his fingers wide. Every touch sent more thrills down Lucy’s spine. He stepped forward, his chest hot against her back, his skin slick with the water that still poured down on them both.

  Ciaran pulled her towards himself and Lucy gasped as his cock pushed into her lower back. He was rock-hard for her.

  “God, Lucy.” Ciaran’s voice was thick with desire, his breath hot on her neck. He kissed her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. He was ravenous. “How did I survive without you for so long?”

  His hand slid lower, delving between her legs. Lucy jerked in his arms. Her nerves sparked as he slipped one finger, then two, between her folds.

  Ciaran’s skin wasn’t calloused, but she could feel the scar tissue on his palm as he played with her. Ciaran’s werewolf healing abilities meant that even terrible injuries would not leave much of a mark on his skin. But no amount of healing would fade the silvery scar on his hand. Lucy had burned it into his flesh the first time they met, attacking him with silver as she fled from him.

  An emotion she couldn’t identify shot through her.

  “I’ll never leave you again,” she cried out. “Never. I’m yours, forever—ahh-h!”

  She cried out as Ciaran plunged his fingers into her. He was still holding her fast against his chest, and she could feel his heartbeat as he pistoned his fingers in and out of her.

  Her whole body twitched. Heat was building inside her, a dam ready to burst.

  “Please—no—I want—” Her voice failed her. I want you inside me, she thought desperately. I want your thick hard cock fucking me until I can’t breathe.

  Ciaran growled low in his throat. He spun Lucy around, crushing her against his chest and kissing her. His tongue ravished her mouth. She was so dizzy she barely noticed him picking her up and striding across the room.

  Lucy hissed and arched her back as it came into contact with cool marble. Ciaran was holding her against the wall. His cock was digging into her, just below her belly button.

  “Please don’t make me wait any longer,” Lucy begged. “I’m so close—”

  Ciaran shifted his grip on her, lifting her higher. He steadied himself and Lucy held her breath. Her whole body tensed, waiting for him.

  Ciaran growled and thrust into her, filling her completely. Lucy gasped as all he forced all her breath from her lungs. She scarcely had time to inhale before he pulled out and pounded into her again.

  She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding herself against him. He filled her again—and she lost it.

  Lucy flung her head back, crying out as pleasure overtook her. Her cries spurred Ciaran on even more and he thrust faster, every movement forcing more pleasure out of Lucy’s helpless body. She trembled and twitched, her muscles losing control as orgasm crashed over her.

  Lucy's grip on Ciaran’s waist loosened, her whole body going limp in the wake of overwhelming pleasure. Her head fell forward onto Ciaran’s shoulder.

  Ciaran moved one hand from under her ass to her jaw. He tipped her head back and kissed her fiercely. Lucy’s body responded at once, fire burning through her veins even through her exhaustion. Her muscles tensed as Ciaran’s kiss became more violent. He bit at her lips and then moved downward, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck.

  Her pulse fluttered under his teeth. She gasped. Please…

  Ciaran’s fingers dug into her ass. He came with a roar, his teeth grazing Lucy’s throat. She moaned as his cock flexed inside her, filling her with his seed.

  His grip loosened as he came down from his orgasm, but the ache left by his fingers still lingered on Lucy’s skin. So did the memory of his teeth against her neck.

  There was no pain. No rush of blood. He’d teased her—but not broken the skin.

  Lucy bit back a sigh, ignoring the way her pulse thrummed as she realized how much she wanted Ciaran’s mark on her. He can protect me in other ways, she told herself.

  And pleasure her in other ways, too. She might not bear Ciaran’s bite, but he could still mark her in other ways. Her bruises from this morning would linger for days.

  Lucy curled into her mate’s arms, giving herself over to aftershocks of pleasure, and almost convincing herself that everything was going to be all right.

  CHAPTER 4

  Eventually, they made their way back to the bedroom, clean and exhausted. Ciaran nipped at the back of Lucy’s neck as she rifled through the hangers in her walk-in wardrobe.

  Most of them were empty. It wasn’t a reflection of any stinginess on Ciaran’s part—the wardrobe had been fully stocked when he brought Lucy to the safehouse. But clothing did not last long around him at this time of the month.

  Or at least, Lucy’s clothing didn’t. As the full moon grew closer, Ciaran’s passions grew hotter, and he was less interested in details like “not literally tearing Lucy’s clothing off”.

  She settled on a pair of tailored pants and a luxurious cashmere top that felt like being enveloped in a warm cloud.

  Ciaran, already dressed, watched her pull on the cashmere shirt.

  “Don’t,” she warned him as he prowled closer. “I like this top. And I’m running out of clothes. Do you want me to walk around here naked?”

  “The thought is tempting… but I would have to kill the guards for looking at you. And they are so expensive.” Ciaran plucked an imaginary speck of dust off her shoulder with exaggerated care. “Your wardrobe is rather depleted, isn’t it? We’ll have to do something about that. With the trial ending, and your birthday coming up… it’s time to celebrate.”

  Lucy felt as though the ground had moved under her feet. “You know when my birthday is?”

  “Of course.” Ciaran’s mouth hooked in
to a half-smile. “I did, if you recall, steal your passport at one point.”

  A hot flush burnt across Lucy’s face. “Oh. Right.”

  He had given it back—on the understanding that she would never use it.

  “Theft, abduction…” Ciaran’s smile was knife-thin. “So many sins and yet, somehow, they’ve brought me everything I could ever desire.”

  He kissed her with an intensity that made Lucy’s bones quake. By the time he released her, she was gasping for breath.

  “I have no intention of letting your first birthday as my mate pass without celebration, Lucy Abbotsford,” he murmured into her hair. “I’m going to take you away, somewhere we can forget all about the trial. Somewhere I can have you all to myself again. Under the moon.”

  “Yes,” Lucy breathed. Somewhere like the castle, she thought, and a thrill zapped through her. Somewhere she could be completely at Ciaran’s mercy, again.

  But this time, she wouldn’t run away.

  Ciaran glanced at his wrist, then smiled wryly and grabbed his watch from the bedside table.

  “What time is it?” Lucy asked.

  Ciaran’s mouth quirked downward. “Time for me to leave. Your guard for the evening should be here soon—ah,” he added as a soft chime cut through the air. “That must be him now. Just on time.”

  “Good thing I’m dressed.”

  “Mmm.” Ciaran nuzzled her neck on his way past. “I’ll be back in the morning.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Lucy couldn’t help the plaintive note in her voice. She was under no illusions about why she had to stay here under lock and key. It was for her own safety.

  But that didn’t mean it wasn’t dull as all hell, sitting around in the safehouse day after day, waiting for the day when the three rogue werewolves would be exiled and she would be able to go outside without fearing for her life.

  Ciaran looked back at her from the doorway. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. This will all be over soon.”

  Lucy heard him greet the guard, and then he was gone. The house fell silent.

  Lucy groaned and flopped onto the bed. Just one more night of this, she told herself. One more night of not seeing the outside world. Of no natural light or fresh air. Of no one to talk to except Ciaran and the guards, and they only ever talk in grunts anyway…

  She stopped, straining her ears. There it was: the soft, steady tread of the guard making his rounds around the safehouse. Lucy sat up.

  I should probably go and say hi, but… ugh.

  Lucy didn’t know where Ciaran had found his security team, but they were like highly-trained robots. She knew exactly what would happen if she did go find tonight’s guard and try to make small talk. One polite “Ma’am” and then deathly silence. She might as well have been part of the furniture.

  Well, Lucy didn’t feel like being treated like a precious pot-plant today. If the guards insisted on ignoring her, she would give them the same treatment.

  It was easier said than done. Lucy put on some music as she made herself a late breakfast, but even with that and the rumble of the coffee machine grinding fresh beans, she found herself on the alert for the sound of the guard’s footsteps.

  Tromp, tromp, tromp. Living room. Tromp, tromp. Hallway. Tromp—pause—tromp, tromp, as he stopped outside the kitchen door, looked in at her, and moved on.

  Lucy scowled as she cracked an egg into a saucepan. Oh, don’t even bother to say hello, she thought grumpily. I guess I’m not even worth a “Ma’am” today.

  She sighed and half-heartedly whisked the egg into the laziest scramble ever. One more night, she told herself, sliding the meal onto a plate and grabbing her coffee. One more night, and then…

  And then what? Lucy paused, her coffee mug at her lips. Steam wafted up, clouding her vision. Then her new life would really start.

  She still didn’t know what it meant to be a werewolf’s mate, not really. Ciaran had claimed her, and used her, and brought her more pleasure than she had thought possible—but what would happen when she was out of the safehouse?

  Lucy closed her eyes. For a moment, the smell of coffee was replaced by the sharp scent of pine needles. Ever since she met Ciaran, her dreams had been haunted by visions of a pine forest. It felt so real, that at first she had thought it must have been a place she had photographed, burned into her mind—but she knew she had never visited this particular forest.

  Not in real life. Only in her dreams.

  She shivered. Ciaran was going to take her away, he’d said. Maybe she would find her dream-forest, after all.

  Her mind wandered on. Would he take her to meet other werewolves? What about his Pack? He’d never mentioned them—but she knew he must have a Pack, somewhere.

  A soft tap brought Lucy out of her thoughts. She turned around.

  The man assigned to guard her was standing at the door, one hand raised to knock gently on the doorframe. “Morning, miss,” he said, and cleared his throat.

  “Uh… hi,” Lucy replied awkwardly. She hadn’t met this guard before; he was in his late forties, with a receding hairline and a grayish complexion, but the same muscular build as the rest of Ciaran’s security team. “Er… do you want some coffee?”

  “Thanks.”

  Lucy showed him which buttons on the machine made which sorts of complicated coffees, and then retreated to the table, feeling flustered. Somehow, one of the guards actually being friendly put her more off-balance than them ignoring her.

  She gulped down the rest of her scrambled eggs and moved into the living room, trying not to feel like she was fleeing the kitchen.

  Settling in on one of the huge sofas, she pulled out her laptop and opened her email. Ciaran had bought the computer, which he’d assured her had enough security apps on it to prevent anyone using it to trace her. For the last month, it had been her only connection to the outside world.

  The first thing she did was go through her emails. There wasn’t much: a few updates from friends and family back in America, more than a few spam messages from various Nigerian were-princes…

  A name caught her eye. “Sibby!” she yelped happily, and clicked on the email.

  Sibby Jenkins had been Lucy’s roommate before Lucy was claimed by Ciaran, and had exchanged the damp, draughty flat for the safehouse. While they were living together, they’d both kept secrets from each other. Lucy had never told anyone that she was running from Ciaran… and Sibby had kept very quiet about the fact that she was seeing a werewolf, too, and was about to take the next big step in her relationship.

  Sibby had been a guest at the Blackpaw pack-meet the same night that Lucy was attacked. Not staff: a guest. Her werewolf boyfriend had brought her to the pack-meet as the greatest test in their relationship, to find out whether she was truly his mate, or would be claimed by another wolf.

  Lucy and Sibby had exchanged a few emails since that night, but Sibby had been… cagey about what had happened that night. Lucy got the feeling things had gotten complicated, and Sibby was trying to spare her the details until the stress of the trial was over.

  She quickly read through Sibby’s latest email and surprised herself by laughing aloud. Her previous emails might have been subtle, but this time it was super obvious that Sibby was trying extremely hard not to talk about something so excited, Lucy could almost feel her glee buzzing off the screen.

  “After I’m out of here, I’m going to track you down and you’re going to tell me all about it,” Lucy murmured to herself, giggling. She tapped out a reply and sat back, sipping her coffee.

  Maybe today won’t be so bad after all, she thought. Music, coffee, a guard who treats me like an actual person… not bad, for my last day under lock and key.

  She gulped the last few mouthfuls of coffee and stretched out on the sofa, idly flicking through her favorite photography websites. When she was out of here, she would have to talk to Ciaran about getting another camera. Wherever he was taking her, she was sure there would be some beautiful landsc
apes worth capturing.

  Not to mention Ciaran himself. Lucy had never been very interested in portraits before—but recently, she’d become obsessed with the idea of taking Ciaran’s photo.

  Not for an exhibition, of course. No. Just for herself. Something that would capture the changing lights in his eyes. His tender violence. Maybe—maybe he would let her photograph him at the full moon, when the moonlight drew out the most animal part of him…

  Something crashed, further away in the house. Lucy spun around on the sofa, instantly alert.

  Shit! What’s his name? Lucy licked suddenly dry lips.

  “Hey! Uh… guy? Is everything ok back there?”

  There was a pause that made every hair on Lucy’s body stand on end. Then:

  “It’s fine! Sorry, miss, I knocked something over out here. I’ll fix that right up.”

  Lucy relaxed. She sat back down, picking up her coffee cup which had spun out of her hand. Good thing I’d finished drinking that, she told herself, and tried not to notice how much her hand was trembling.

  CHAPTER 5

  Lucy couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She kept glancing behind herself, on the lookout for—what?

  She could hear the guard talking softly on his phone in another room, and tried to tune it out. Everything’s fine, she reminded herself. Delauncey and his two mini-me shits are going to get what’s coming to them, you’re going to go away with Ciaran and have your happily ever after. The end.

  She took a deep breath. It’s going to be fine.

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  Her anxiety was turning into restlessness. Luckily there was a gym in the safehouse, so she could go and sprint on the treadmill until the itchy feeling on the back of her neck went away. She thought she probably had some workout clothes left that Ciaran hadn’t shredded yet…

  What was that?

  Something in the house had changed. Something in the air, or, or—a noise. Lucy held her breath, focusing. She was familiar with all the sounds the house usually made, the hum of the air-con and appliances, the few floorboards that creaked when she or a guard walked over them—but this was different.