North Wolf

by M. A. Everaux

  “I don’t have anything on.” She glanced down at her bare skin, flushing slightly.

  He rolled to his side and propped himself on his elbow. His other hand came over and latched around her neck, pulling her face down toward his. “I’ll bargain with you,” he whispered, his lips against her neck. “I’ll get your robe, but I want something in return.”

  Gwen shivered at the determination in his eyes and voice. “I’m not having sex with you for my robe,” she said stiffly, trying to pull away from him.

  He laughed softly, the sound low and smooth. It soaked into her skin and left her hot and agitated.

  “No, baby. That will come later, after your stitches are out. What I want right now, is a kiss.” He pressed a soft kiss to her neck and brushed his nose against her skin, the caress so soft Gwen couldn’t help closing her eyes and shuddering. “Will you do it?”

  She opened her eyes and looked around the room again. There were no shirts or clothes left on the floor or hanging from the door knob, so she’d have to scramble until she found something she could throw on, which could take several minutes, and that would be embarrassing. Dignity is everything when that’s all you’ve got.

  “How old are you?” she breathed, the question popping out of nowhere.

  He stopped moving against her for a second, his hand flexing around her neck. There was no seduction in his voice as he asked, “Why?”

  She nervously shrugged and kept her eyes glued on the darkness of the far wall. “I’m twenty-two. I was wondering because I think you’re probably a lot older than me, and I’m not really sure if this is such a good idea. The differences…” She shook her head slightly, rather dramatically, she thought, and cut off her rambling. The “a lot older” comment was harsh, but she was in trouble. This was a war, after all, and she needed to bring out the big guns.

  “Do you think I’ll let you go because you find my age unacceptable?” His eyes grew chilly as he stared at her, one eyebrow raised. “I won’t, Gwen.”

  She looked away from him.

  “Now,” he said, “answer me on our bargain.”

  She opened her mouth for a second, and almost backed down just from the tinge of bitterness in his tone. But she was a new woman, a strong woman, learning new things every day and living a new life. She refused to give up the precious little bravery she actually possessed.

  It came out soft and breathy, more from wariness than true fear. “How old are you, Eben?”

  His jaw tensed and the temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. Gwen had to exercise restraint just to keep from rubbing warmth into her arms.

  The tension was terrible in the silence, like waiting for a bomb to explode.

  “Fuck it,” he muttered, tugging her toward him, the movement angry. “I deserve this.” And his mouth crashed down on hers.

  He wasn’t gentle as his lips opened and his tongue plunged into her mouth, petting and licking, determined to wring a response from her.

  She gasped and pushed at his shoulders but he didn’t budge. Instead, he pulled her more tightly against him, rubbing her nude body against his chest. His hands softly traced her spine down to her buttocks, and rolled her hips against his blanket-covered groin. He rolled to his back and pulled her on top of him.

  Gwen was in a daze, not sure what to do, not sure what she could do, but sure she didn’t want it to stop. His mouth was magic, driving thoughts from her head and making her so wild she wasn’t sure it was healthy. He growled and nipped at her, traced the interior of her mouth with his tongue, and forced her to give more.

  He pulled his mouth away, just enough to growl out, “Put your tongue in my mouth, Gwen.”

  He dragged his tongue from her collarbone up her throat, laving little circles into her skin. She groaned and arched her neck, wanting more. At her jaw, he gave special attention to the bruises before returning to her mouth and plunging in.

  She responded in kind and tried to follow his movements. Embarrassment wasn’t even an option for her, he simply didn’t give her any time for it to catch. She was too busy sucking on his tongue and licking over his bottom lip.

  “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, panting heavily. His hands cupped her breasts, kneading and brushing against her nipples which seemed to send fire straight to her groin.

  She rolled her head back and tried to think and breathe at the same time, but it was so hard. Every movement he made against her was torture. It was like having a rubber band in her abdomen, pulled taught and just waiting to be released, and the tighter it went, the less air she was able to suck into her lungs.

  “No,” she breathed.

  His hand drifted from her right breast, down over her stomach, and slid between her legs for just a minute. His finger rubbed gently on her clit, making her want to scream.

  “Now you know how I am, every day, waiting for you,” he growled, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead and rolling her carefully off him.

  She lay on her side, panting and in need. He was stopping now? The son of a bitch. She was dying. She had to be, because there was no other explanation for the heat that was racing through her body, burning her alive.

  “That was cruel.” She sat up in the bed. Glancing down, she jerked the blankets up, covering her breasts.

  Eben stood in the room, completely nude and so beautiful it almost hurt to see him. His legs were long and smooth, thick with muscle at the hip and thigh. His stomach was corded and ridged, full of tension. He had no body hair, except what was on his head. It made Gwen pause in her examination of him—he was completely smooth, all over. But it was his cock that finally took her attention.

  It bobbed heavily in the cool air, the tip deep purple and shiny with his fluids, slightly bulbous compared to the thick length below. He was long, dark and thick, and the sight of it scared the lust right out of her.

  Eben’s nose flared slightly, scenting her fear, and then his eyes warmed slightly. “It’ll fit, Gwen. I promise.”

  “Are you sure? That doesn’t look quite…normal.” She winced.

  “For a Were, it’s normal.”

  He went to the bathroom and came out holding her terry cloth robe. She extended her arm from the covers and took it from him, making sure to keep her eyes politely downcast. “Thank you.”

  He stayed by her side and ignored her discomfort. His hand cupped her jaw and turned her face toward him. “I want you to look at me,” he said darkly, his eyes pale and intense. “I need it, Gwen, just as I need to look at you.”

  “No. I don’t think so.”

  He bent toward her. “Let me convince you.” His mouth touched hers again, this time gently, coaxing her to respond with each thrust of his tongue. It took disgustingly little.

  She moaned and dropped the robe, shuddering as his mouth went to her neck, sucking and biting at the soft skin there.

  He pulled away finally, staring with satisfaction at the marks on her neck. He pulled the blankets from her body and picked up the robe, holding it out toward her. “Come,” he ordered roughly.

  She shivered in the chilly morning air. Seeing no way to win, she slipped from the bed, her whole body flushed with embarrassment.

  He held the robe open as she slid her arms in, then pulled her hair away as she knotted the tie at her waist.

  “You’re very lovely.”

  She shrugged and kept her back to him, wishing she could be modern and strong about this rather than embarrassed. Maybe she’d get there eventually. No doubt, he’d offer her assistance in the endeavor.

  He turned her around and tilted her chin up. Gwen refused to meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare at his chin.

  “I’ll be in the forge. I’ll see you tonight.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and went to the dresser, pulling out clothes and dressing quickly. Just before he closed the door behind him, he turned back and bit out, “Thirty-five.”

  She stayed where she was for nearly ten minutes after he was gone. Then, with a sigh, Gwen collapsed
onto the bed and admitted to herself that she was in serious trouble. And why didn’t that scare her quite as much as it should?

  She stayed busy the entire day. She volunteered to clean all the horse stalls herself, ignoring Christian’s arguments about her stitches. She needed the activity, desperately. It was either get drop-dead tired, or lust all day after a man she wasn’t even supposed to like.

  After the stalls, she swept the barn and scrubbed water pails. When everything was done in the barn, she moved onto the storage shed, rearranging and organizing everything, throwing out old paint cans and boxes that were wet with frost and mold.

  “What is she doing out there?” Connor asked Christian, staring through the window at the old shed where all the activity was occurring.

  Christian sighed and watched through the window as she rolled an ancient bicycle through the door, leaning it against the wall. “She’s trying to forget about Eben.”

  “This should be interesting,” Connor commented.

  Christian agreed wholeheartedly.

  When she came in later, Connor didn’t waste any time in admonishing her.

  “You tore your stitches,” he complained heatedly, glaring at her from the kitchen. “I can smell the blood all the way over here, Gwen.”

  “Like I care,” she muttered under her breath, throwing her jacket down.

  He raised his eyebrows and folded his arms over his chest. “Come in here. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  She glowered but stomped over and hunkered down on a stool. Shaking his head, Connor went and retrieved his bag of medical supplies, and came in to find her glaring at the sink.

  She winced through the process of cleaning the wounds and reapplying bandages. “It’s your own fault,” he grumbled. “I don’t have to re-stitch them, but you pulled the threads.” He finished bandaging and taping everything and then stood back to admire his work.

  “Since I can’t trust you, you’re going to have to stay in the house until this properly heals m’dear. I’m sorry, but you don’t want the mess torn stitches can cause. It’s a nasty business, and I’d like you to have as few scars as possible.”

  Connor watched as she hopped from the stool and clomped toward her room. A minute later, a loud “Damn it!” echoed through the first floor.

  Christian came to the door of the kitchen and looked in. “What happened?”

  Connor smiled as he tossed the pieces of bloody gauze into the trash. “She forgot he moved her things into his room.”

  Christian laughed.

  The next week went by too quickly for Gwen, mostly because she was so busy avoiding Eben. She kept to herself, staying mostly in the studio, working on anything to keep her mind occupied. As he’d promised, Connor refused to let her go to the barn, or anywhere else unless she gave him a full report of her activities. It was irritating, but she didn’t grumble about it, excusing his behavior as a byproduct of worry.

  She saw little of anyone, and she liked it that way. There was too much tension in the air, and it only gave her a stomach ache. The only part of her day she was forced to interact with everyone was during dinner, and that was chaperoned, although it did little good. Eben wasn’t shy about his lust and desires. They were there in his eyes for anyone to see.

  In an effort to avoid any more embarrassing confrontations, Gwen fell asleep on the couch every night after dinner. Her original hope was that he’d leave her there for the night. When that didn’t pan out, she took comfort from the fact that she slept through him gathering her up and taking her to his room. And her mornings ended up being okay too, since he got up earlier.

  With that major worry out of her hair, she devoted her extra time to the computer Connor had in his studio. It was a small laptop hooked up to a satellite online service. It was filled with graphics programs, as well as word processing and other office tools, but what interested her most was the Internet.

  Although she certainly wasn’t going to admit it to anyone else, it bothered her that she hadn’t finished high school. She felt stupid not having that little piece of paper, even though she knew that was silly. So, she looked up GED programs, and then online college courses and vocational schools. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that. Besides, she needed to be self-sufficient and independent, and school was the only way to get that done. After all, she wouldn’t be able to accept Connor’s charity forever.

  “You’re thinking about something,” Connor murmured, as he carefully snipped the stitches from her back.

  Gwen rolled her shoulders and winced as he pulled the threads out. “I was looking up stuff on getting my GED.”

  He paused and stared at her over her shoulder, a smile wreathing his face. “I think that would be marvelous. I’m quite sure I still have some of the materials from when Eben did his. They should be in the den somewhere.” He frowned in thought, “Or maybe the basement,” and went back to pulling stitches.

  “Eben didn’t finish school either?” she asked curiously.

  “Dear,” he said, finally finishing up and dabbing the small holes with alcohol. “He was fifteen when I found him, and hadn’t attended school a day of his life. I couldn’t see enrolling him in a normal school. He had difficulties adjusting to just having a home and wouldn’t have fit at all well into the regimen of school, so I hired him a tutor. When he was ready, he took the exams and he passed.” He smiled at her as he closed his supply bag and set it to the side. “I’m surprised you didn’t take the test in the hospital. Don’t they encourage that sort of thing?”

  Gwen tugged her shirt down and stood in front of him awkwardly, trying to come up with a way to explain her situation without making herself appear stupid. “Actually, they did, but I had another problem. I don’t read very well.” She smiled uneasily. “And with the drugs and everything—well, it was difficult.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “Explain about the reading.”

  “I’m dyslexic. I’ve had problems all my life so.” She shrugged again, at a loss. “Dad had it too. It drove mom nuts because she had to go over pageant speeches with me and read everything until I memorized it.”

  He tossed the soiled gauze in the trash and wiped the counter. “I think one of the pack members is a teacher. I’ll ask him and see if he can help.”

  Gwen’s eyes widened in alarm. “God, please don’t do that. I’d kind of like to keep it private, if that’s okay.”

  “Gwen,” he sighed, exasperated. “These are very nice people. Any one of them would be pleased to help you in any way they could.”

  “Please,” she begged softly, desperate. “I’m not ready to go for help yet. I’d like to try by myself for a little while.”

  His eyes were steady, letting her know he didn’t like it. “You’ll ask me for help if you need it,” he said sternly, the picture of a concerned father.

  She nodded and breathed out a sigh of relief. “Absolutely.”

  Later, at dinner, Connor said to Eben, “Do you remember where your high-school equivalency materials are?”

  “In the office, I think. Why?”

  Gwen dropped her fork and wanted to melt under the table as Connor cavalierly replied, “Gwen wants to get hers, and I thought your materials might help her study.”

  Eben’s eyes swiveled to her. Gwen prayed for death.

  “I’ll find them,” he promised.

  They went out running after dinner. Gwen raised her head from the couch to see Christian and Eben at the door, both of them just wearing jeans.

  “We’ll be back later,” Christian called, giving her a little wave as he went through the door.

  Eben only stared at her before ducking out, his eyes heated.

  She waited for a minute, letting the quiet close over her and Connor, who was reading beside the fire.

  “Are they going to—change?”

  “Yes.” He flipped a page.

  She watched a movie and for the first time in over a week, felt relaxed enough to enjoy her evening. There
was no thought to avoiding Eben’s advances or ignoring her own feelings. She was able to just sit back and enjoy her movie with no concerns.

  Halfway through, a loud howl split the night. Connor raised his head, his eyes getting a faraway look as he stared through the window at the woods just beyond.

  “Why don’t you go out?” she questioned, the look of wanting in his eyes hitting her hard.

  He smiled at her and raised his book again. “One of us needs to stay with you, Gwen. There are some out there who will try to hurt you just to get to Eben.”

  She absently ran her fingers over the buttons of the remote, feeling the difference in texture between the smooth plastic and the rubber buttons. “Is that why that other man hurt me?”

  He looked over at her. “We don’t know. He was dead by the time we got home, remember?”

  She pursed her lips, going over that night and wondering if she should ask the question flying through her head. After peeking a few glances at him, she finally did, making sure her voice stayed light and absent of worry. “Who’s Theron?”

  His book slid down again, but this time there was no mistaking the demand in his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  “You guys say his name a lot and I was just wondering.” She stared at the carpet and hoped she sounded convincing enough.

  Connor didn’t relax and tilted his head to the side. “You’re lying,” he murmured. “I can smell it.”

  “Who is he?”

  Connor’s eyes became just as cold as Eben’s just before he went back to his book. “He’s a Were who thinks to challenge Eben for control of the pack.”

  Gwen mulled over the information, chewing her lip in thought. Eben had told her everyone knew she belonged to him. Apparently, he wasn’t kidding.

  “Where did you really hear the name, Gwen?”

  She could see how much he wanted the information, but it worried her. Christian had killed Thomas, protecting her from his attack. Theron, even if he’d convinced the other man to take her, hadn’t really done anything wrong, and she wasn’t sure if she could live with his death on her hands, all because of something she possibly could have misinterpreted. “From you guys,” she said finally. “Really.”