Her Wanted Wolf

by Renee Michaels

  A dearth of odors broke through the monotonous hypnotic pace of stealth and silence. Drew froze, jolted into full alertness. He sniffed the air to pinpoint the wolf’s location. Nothing. He couldn’t smell a damned thing. A flash of panic gripped him. He couldn’t lose the wolf he trailed. Not now!

  Nostrils flaring, Drew sniffed the air again, searching for the smallest hint of wolf spoor. He blew out short gusts of air from his nose to clear it.

  Hell, he really needed to eat. Perhaps being one step away from starvation affected his most useful ability, his sense of smell.

  Would his other senses betray him too? But no, he could still hear and see. He heard the thunderous beat of his heart. His ears picked up the frantic beating of an owl’s wings before it stilled in mid-motion to dive downward. Through the darkness, he clearly saw the owl snatch a mouse scrambling through the dead leaves on the ground a dozen yards away, proof his ears and eyes retained their acuteness. It was only his sense of smell that had deserted him.

  Drew stuck his muzzle into the ground and sniffed the loamy dirt that would be rich with the odor of decaying vegetation. At such close proximity, he should smell something. Nothing. It wasn’t possible. Then it hit him. There was nothing wrong with him. It was his surroundings.

  The air, the ground, the trees were devoid of all scent, including the vital trace of the wolf he followed. One question was answered, but he still had a mystery to solve. What could wipe away the scents of nature?

  Drew trotted forward a few feet and stopped. Concealed by the thickness of a clump of trees, he hesitated. He sniffed the air again. Still nothing. He gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to rush forward blindly. Near bursting with frustration, he conceded neither speed nor brute force would get him what he wanted.

  Stealth and cunning would.

  Think, Drew, think. He sunk to the ground and pressed his body into the earth. The vibrations of a four-pawed animal’s steady swift gait reached him. He zeroed in on his target’s position by the direction of the reverberations. The wolf he followed was exactly where Drew figured he’d be and lengthening the distance between them rapidly. He’d lose him soon if they didn’t find his scent trail.

  Drew shifted into human form.

  The sleek compact sinew of his wolf gave way to the longer, bulkier body of his man-form. The larger balls of his joints snapped into their sockets. His paws lengthened and separated into long, tactile fingers. Nerve endings tingled as his fur receded to expose smooth skin stretched taut over a long frame. The transformation left him shuddering. His limbs felt uncoordinated and cumbersome. He’d lived as a wolf for months, far too long.

  Drew paused to reacquaint himself with the differences in his perceptions and physique. He shivered when the wind caressed his skin like loving fingertips.

  The kinks in the stiff muscles covering his body eased as he flexed them. Hunger and weariness weighed him down more in this body. Bare skin was a disadvantage and a handicap right now.

  Eyes closed, Drew focused. The wolf’s spoor would rise with the heat his body gave off.

  Taking care not to abrade his skin, Drew clambered up a tree. He wasn’t about to put the scent of his blood into the air. He inhaled and grinned with relief. He was right. He could smell. The redolence of autumn filled his nostrils. Decaying leaves combined with the sweet scent of wild apples drifted by on a brisk breeze.

  Drew’s head jerked up when he caught a faint telltale whiff of musk. His lips twisted with wolfish anticipation for the moment he located his sister.

  He separated the piney tang of sap from the dense smell of wet bark, and the sweet sootiness of moist dirt to focus on the wolf’s spoors lingering on the air. Drew marked the wolf’s scent-trail.

  Got him.

  Careful not to disturb the leaves, he slid in silence to the ground. In a single fluid motion, he shifted back into his more efficient hunting form.

  One with his wolf, he used the inherent skills of his kind and slunk through the thicket. With each lope, he gained ground on the were he pursued. In spite of his rush to catch up, he took care not to step on any brittle twigs or to brush against any trees.

  His nostrils flared when the faint hint of another scent mingled with the were’s. Drew pulled to a stop, his body tense, and listened for any sound of the wolf backtracking.

  Something was off. The wolf’s scent had changed. The ripe testosterone vapors blended with something sweeter.

  The beguiling fragrance of a she-wolf drifted down to Drew. Unable to help himself, his tongue flicked out to catch the invisible airborne flavor of the unknown female. He tasted and savored her essence. Ambrosia.

  Inhaling deeply, he filled his lungs with the womanly lushness of her scent. Drew’s shaft hardened in answer to the pheromone-rich lure of a she-wolf. His mind spun, drunk on the sultry fragrance, he raced forward.

  A yelp followed by the growls and snarls of a vicious fight reached him. The coppery scent of blood diffused the aroma of the female and pulled him out of his sexual reverie.

  Fuck! The son–of-a-bitch had attacked the she-wolf.

  He’d wasted precious moments drinking in her scent. If he could smell her, his quarry could, too. Discarding his previous cautiousness, Drew wove in and out of the trees, flinching as the supple branches lashed his vulnerable eyes and muzzle as he raced to the source of the she-wolf’s scent.

  Drew skidded to a halt when he broke through the trees into a small clearing. He lowered his body, prepared to attack when he saw the injured were. The wolf was struggling to transform into a man on the blood-soaked ground. He managed to shift, curled up in a fetal position, and held his hands over his shredded stomach.

  What the fuck happened here? Drew spun around to look for the she-wolf whose scent had roused the most primitive of instincts—the urge to mount the female who emitted a call to mate.

  Drew caught sight of her perched above them on a stony outcropping, panting from exertion. His steps faltered and his jaw almost dropped.

  The unalloyed silvery whiteness of the she-wolf’s fur shocked him into immobility. Only one pack had that coloring. But it wasn’t possible. A Silverwolf? The were council declared the pack extinct several generations ago. Drew stared at the living proof of their existence in disbelief.

  No wonder he hadn’t picked up her fragrance earlier. She’d masked her scent. Shit, if she was shielding Bardo, he was so screwed. The breathtaking beauty, who’d aroused Drew’s lust to the point of mindlessness, and triggered his instinctive protectiveness, was now his enemy. She’d die with those she shielded.

  Her fur shimmered eerily in the pale moonlight, the tufts marred by dark splotches of the blood from her attacker, or victim, he wasn’t sure which. A mere she-wolf couldn’t take down a fully grown male and leave him bloodied and wounded.

  Drew angled his body to face her. He wouldn’t leave his back vulnerable and open to an attack. With his eyes fixed on her, he shifted into his man-form, and approached the wounded man.

  The she-wolf shied nervously on her pedestal.

  “Easy, I won’t hurt you,” he murmured to reassure the skittish she-wolf. Drew dropped to his knees and rolled the man onto his back.

  The size and musculature of the wounded wolf’s body belied the immature youthful curve of the boy’s jaw.

  Drew grunted. He’d been so fixated on finding Aimee, he never took the time to test the hormones in the boy’s spoor to check for his age. The cub’s wounds were fatal. Blood gushed from the gaping holes in his belly and neck. The flesh struggled to knit together, but the damage was too great. The stench of perforated intestines hung over the boy. The piteous whimper and the plea in the youngster’s eyes tugged at Drew. The boy’s wet gurgle was a request to put an end to his suffering.

  Drew’s cursed inwardly. Hell, he wouldn’t get any information out of the dying were.

  Reluctantly, he morphed his hand into a paw and extended his claws. In an act of compassion, he slashed the wolf’s jugular to hasten his de
ath. Blood dripped from Drew’s fingers in silent condemnation, as they lengthened to take the place of his claws.

  Drew swung around to meet the black-ringed blue brilliance of the she-wolf’s expressionless eyes.

  The surging tug of arousal in his groin made his voice unnecessarily gruff.

  “Where is your alpha?” Drew demanded, taking a step toward her.

  The haughty little bitch didn’t deign to respond. She merely spun around, flicked her tail in dismissal and disappeared behind the boulder.

  Drew gaped in disbelief.

  Infuriated by her insult, Drew leapt off the ground. In midair, he willed his hands to shift into paws. In an undulating ripple, fur sprouted over his skin. Sinewy muscles covered the shortening bones of his lupine body as he sailed over the rocky ridge in pursuit of the silver wolf. The loud thump of his paws when he landed a few feet behind the she-wolf jerked her around to face him.

  Drew bared his fangs at her startled yip. Her shock didn’t last long. She took off through the trees in a silver blur.

  Excited by the chase, he followed. He growled when he lost her scent, but the abrupt dissipation of her scent-trail didn’t faze him. In her rush to evade him, the girl got careless. Drew found the traces of her presence, a line of crushed leaves on a bush. A snapped branch on a sapling not long after. Her mistakes were going to cost her.

  Drew tracked the impertinent little brat, and raced to shorten the distance between them. The lupine side of his nature demanded a show of contrition from a beta.

  If he were honest about the root of his anger, he’d admit it was the enticement of her aroma, which pulled him mindlessly after her.

  Drew’s musings were cut off when he ran straight into a cloud of the cock-hardening fragrance their females exuded to signal their willingness to mate. His blood sang with lusty exhilaration. All thoughts of disciplining the wayward female faded. His body tightened with anticipation and need.

  He glimpsed the plume of her tail disappearing into the brush and quickened his gait. They were only a few yards apart. He released a purely masculine growl of triumph and cut through the greenery.

  Drew caught up with her, panting from more than breathlessness. He sported the cock-stand of all cock-stands. The knowledge that she was about to submit to him in more ways than one drove all else from his mind.

  The she-wolf cast a mocking glance over her shoulder, slipped between two trees, and ran into the dense shrubbery, out of sight.

  Drew lunged after her and stepped into thin air.

  Chapter Four

  Drew pumped his limbs in a frantic parody of a bird flapping its wings to stop himself from falling. Even as he clawed the air, his mind registered the uselessness of his actions, but he kept at it anyway.

  His furious snarls of disbelief, disgust at himself, and anger rang out through the night.

  Damn it to hell. He’d fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Led by his freaking nose, he’d followed the treacherous bitch’s lust-invoking pheromone trail right into a trap. Now his ass and ego were going to pay.

  Instinctively, Drew tucked his head into his stomach, twisted and rolled to position himself for a better landing. Catching the female would be the least of his concerns if he broke a limb. In his weakened condition, it’d take time to heal, time he couldn’t afford to lose.

  His swift descent into the hole ended in a loud thump on the pitted limestone bedrock. The sharp stones bit into the pads on his paws and bolts of agony shot up his wobbly legs.

  Driven by fury, he ignored the pain and took a running leap at the wall of the pit. In a desperate scramble, Drew tried to claw his way out of the trench, but the loose, root-riddled dirt crumbled under his paws. He slid down like a raindrop on a windshield.

  Where was she?

  He glared up at the grassy edge of his prison. Drew’s angry growls echoed through the valley. At this point, he didn’t give a rat’s ass who heard him. Let them come. He was pissed enough to take on a battalion.

  Finding a foothold in the loose soil of the gully’s walls proved impossible. It didn’t stop him from attempting to get himself out of the shaft. After each try, he slithered in an undignified heap. For his efforts, all he got were sore paws and aching joints. Growling and snapping in fury, his wolf held onto his base form. Lupine pride wouldn’t allow him to accept the fact he wasn’t able to work his way out of his predicament as a were.

  He prowled the circumference of his stony cage. His anger at himself and the Jezebel who’d led him into this humiliating situation grew with each circuit he made. Drew couldn’t understand why a she-wolf would lead unsuspecting weres into a hole. He never imagined he’d be susceptible to such an obvious ploy.

  Just wait until he got his hands on her…he’d take pleasure in slowly teaching her the proper way to show respect to an alpha.

  Pebbles skittering down the sides of the pit drew his attention back up to the edge of the shaft. He reared back, muscles bunched, ready to spring. A threat rumbled from his throat.

  Some of the fight went out of him when he spotted the trio of women above him. The she-wolf had morphed into human form, and she’d brought company.

  Bathed in the white-blue light of the moon, their pale hip-length hair caught the moonbeams to create an ethereal corona around them. At first glance, they could easily be mistaken for mythical creatures. But he knew better. The little bitch and her friends were very real.

  In silence, they scrutinized him with an avid curiosity.

  “Now that we’ve caught him, what are we going to do with him?” the shortest of the trio asked her companions.

  Her question took Drew by surprise. Do what with him?

  The women studied him as if he were a specimen in a Petri dish.

  “Set him free, I suppose. I’m disappointed. I thought he’d be harder to catch. He can’t possibly be what we need. We’ll have to find another one.” The emasculating statement from the she-wolf he’d stalked was the last straw. He recognized the pissy attitude.

  He was nobody’s science project.

  Grasping the two halves of his whole, he willed the man to dominate the wolf. It took a lot of effort to shove back the rage which held him in the grip of his were’s body. Their eyes widened with shock as his fur receded, honed tendons covered bone, and his body bulked out. Drew pulled himself up his six foot four inch height to glare up at the women. He caught their gasps, and their shocked expressions soothed his wounded male pride…a little.

  He’d bet his last dollar they’d think twice about letting him go now.

  With an experienced eye, he measured the depth of the hole. It had to be thirty feet at the very least.

  Even gripped by his fury, Drew’s body responded to the siren call of the she-wolf’s scent who lured him into the mess he found himself. The familiar achy pull in his groin preceded the tightening of his ball-sac and the slow persistent rise of his erection.

  Angered and aroused by her unique bouquet, Drew fixed his gaze on the moon-washed figure, taking in every minute detail. His mouth dried up as he felt himself respond to the sight of her full breasts, narrow waist, and the wide sweep of her pelvis. His eyes lingered on the silver-gilt down covering her mons. He kept his eyes fixed on her body, but not because he was a horn dog. If anything, he feared if their gazes collided, he might have to acknowledge something he didn’t want to.

  His body and senses recognized her on a primal level. She’d give him strong, healthy cubs. All he had to do was claim her. The possessiveness of his thoughts gave him pause. He’d claim no woman as his own, never again.

  To prove to himself that the connection didn’t matter, he lifted his eyes to meet her intrigued gaze.

  Drew shook off the intoxicating effects of her fragrance and addressed her in the low, commanding timbre of an alpha reprimanding one of his subordinates.

  “To deliberately lead a wolf into this pit is tantamount to killing him. I have the right to sink my teeth into your ruff,” he gritted out b
etween bared teeth.

  The warm expression in her eyes cooled, her brows lifted in mock alarm, and a smirk twisted her lips. “It seems we’ve caught ourselves a big, bad alpha wolf. One who has delusions of dominance.”

  The amused derision in his tormentor’s voice took Drew aback.

  “You’re in no position to threaten us. I’d say you’re at a bit of a disadvantage.” His captor crossed her arms under her lush breasts, and shot him a fuck-you sneer.

  “I’d disagree. That’s some weapon he’s wielding there.” The amused remark from the last female elicited a snort from the woman Drew found damned near impossible to drag his eyes from.

  “It’s not much.” Her declaration piggybacked a dismissive grimace.

  His ego stomped into to the ground again, Drew invited, “Come on down here and repeat that. You’ll change your tune when you’re under me.”

  “Oh for Heaven’s sake, Sabine, don’t rile him up any more. We need his cooperation.” Gesturing with her hand, the nervous little she-wolf introduced the three. “We’re Sabine, Ishbel, and Ala Silverwolf. We need your help. Our apologies for using this method to get your attention, but we are desperate.”

  Ala’s shorter, curvier stature set her apart from her taller sisters. He surmised she’d be the one least likely to give him any trouble. Drew already identified the ringleader as the wolf he’d chased. Sabine. He now had a name for his nemesis.

  “Don’t apologize to him, Ala. He ran, nose first, blinded by visions of mounting me, into our trap,” Sabine derided. “We need an alpha a little brighter, one who’s not so easily led by his cock.”

  Did she just call him stupid? Hell, what a ball buster.

  Ala ignored her. “If you agree to at least listen to us, we’ll lever a tree trunk down and you can climb out.”

  “I won’t be coerced to make bargains.” Drew eyed them, marking the subtle, but telling differences of their fragrances.

  He memorized the anxious sweetness of the nervous sprite, and the tartness of the nonchalant blonde beside her. The spicy, challenging allure of the woman whose bait he’d sucked in like a nectar-drunk bee he already knew.