Were What?

by Celia Kyle

  Her wolf rebelled, angry a cat had invaded its mating place. Lyla rolled from Michael and placed herself between the cat and her mate. Amidst Michael’s angry words, she let the wolf come out to play. It’d been clawing for a chance to make its appearance, and it looked like now was the time. Since he hadn’t freaked out when facing Carl the night before, Lyla hoped her shift wouldn’t send Michael over the edge.

  The stranger eyed her, hissing and growling low in his throat, eyes glowing as his own animal overtook him.

  Her wolf sprang free then. It had been content to threaten her way through the encounter, but the cat wasn’t backing down. Midnight black hair sprang from her skin, covering her in a smooth, downy soft pelt. Hands shifted and morphed into claws, lengthening into the man’s means of destruction. Cat-boy was going down. How dare he…

  Lyla took a step toward the shifting man. He’d dropped to all fours in the last stages of shift. She always was slower than other weres when it came to the whole shifting thing. She’d just have to make the first move.

  Arm raised, ready to strike, she brought her claw down in what was meant to be a life-threatening blow. She froze in mid-strike when a blur of smooth tan skin tackled the cat.

  No!

  She could protect her mate. She would protect her mate. The man and beast tumbled until … the man ended up with the upper hand. Michael straddled the cat, its throat in his hands as he growled low. “Shift back. Now.”

  Lyla heard the order in Michael’s voice, and her wolf couldn’t help but respond. Hair receded and bones restructured to her normal appearance. The stranger’s noises and grunts as he shifted under Michael’s weight echoed hers.

  By the time the stranger returned to his human form, Lyla was lying in an exhausted heap on the floor. Damn, but sudden shifts took a lot out of her. She kept her eyes trained on the two men, still tangled on the floor. They each tried to stare the other down, until the stranger looked away, conceding defeat and granting submission.

  Wow. Greater, more descriptive words probably lived in her brain somewhere, but she couldn’t think of them.

  As if finally remembering her presence, both men turned and stared at her at the same time. Lyla remained motionless, realizing that the man and the were were equally life-threatening at the moment.

  Huh. Maybe they actually should have had the whole “Hey, I’m a weremutt” conversation the night before. Maybe before all the licking and sucking and fucking and mating stuff.

  Michael raised himself off the stranger and began barking orders. Funny for a human. “Raul, go in the living room.” When the man, Raul, opened his mouth, Michael growled low. “Now.”

  Raul’s gaze bounced between her and Michael, but he finally left, closing the bedroom door behind him.

  She backed away from him then. The man had murder in his eyes, and they were trained on her. She eased away, toward the bathroom. At least there, she could bolt the door behind her. She didn’t think he’d want a broken door on his credit card bill. Then again, the closer she got to the door, the darker his gaze became.

  “I wouldn’t, baby.” Lyla froze, fear clogging her throat and overtaking her muscles. Survival instincts from her wolf weren’t even kicking in. Damn it. Even when Carl meant to mate her against her will, she had been ready to fight the were. Now, here she was cowering in front of this human. That’s ’cause he’s my mate. Idiot.

  He closed the distance between them, slow and sweet, hips rolling with each step. Was it bad that her next thought was how badly she wanted to drag him to bed and fuck him senseless? Especially considering the corralled anger he held in his eyes. How she wanted to experience all of that emotion unleashed on her in bed. Mmm…

  Michael grasped her hand and held it between them. Small bits of fur clung to her hands, her manicure was shot to shit and her palms were an angry red from the shift. She grimaced and looked everywhere but at him.

  “Got something to tell me, baby?” he sneered. Okay, maybe this wasn’t a sexy kind of anger.

  “Surprise. I’m a weremutt.” She muttered the words and tried to smile at the end, but she figured he was still pissed as his fingers tightened on her wrist.

  “Excuse me?” he ground out.

  “I’m a weremutt. A were-wusky to be exact. My father was a wolf, and mom’s a husky. Hence, wusky.”

  She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. All preconceived notions about what Michael did and didn’t know flew out the window. Time to come clean.

  She licked her lips and prepared herself to reveal everything. “You know about weres, right? I mean, you stared down Carl last night, and a … a cat just burst into your hotel room. I mean…”

  He released her wrist abruptly and turned his back on her, running a hand through his hair. Her fingers itched to do the same, but she resisted.

  He sighed, shoulders slumping, and stared at the ceiling. “I know about weres, Lyla. I just didn’t think I’d brought one home.” He took another deep breath. “Fuck!”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, and her wolf whined when his fingers came into contact with her mark. Yeah, bitch, I know the feeling.

  The muscles of his body went tense as he traced the mark. She knew what he was feeling. The wound had already begun scabbing over the moment her teeth pulled from the flesh the night before. It had to be painful still, but since he said he knew about weres, she expected an outburst in three … two…

  “Fuck!” He whirled on her, eyes blazing anew. “Tell me you fucking didn’t, Lyla. Right now. Look me in the eye and tell me that it isn’t what I think it is on the back of my neck. Tell me.”

  Oh, hells, no. She wasn’t about to apologize for marking him. Maybe for doing it without his permission, but never for the mark itself. She raised her chin, daring him with her stance. “I marked you as my mate.”

  The unspoken “What are you gonna do about it?” hung in the air, but the gauntlet had been thrown nonetheless.

  “Fuck.”

  He really had a limited vocabulary.

  “Why? Because you didn’t want that other were? Isn’t that what weres do? Mate? What, I’m some get-out-of-jail-free card for you? Didn’t want that were, so you took a human instead.”

  She growled low, angry that he’d question her motives. Even if she didn’t understand being a were herself, neither her wolf nor her dog would stand for their motives being questioned. For once in her life, the two para halves of her had been in agreement, damn it.

  “Carl is the pack’s omega, and the Alpha demanded the mating. I didn’t choose you because you were in the right place at the right time. My wusky chose you.” She closed the gap between them and poked his chest. “You. I would have gladly died unmated than to go through with a forced mating to Carl, but the damned wusky picked you. Get over it.”

  Seemed what she was finally sank into the stubborn man’s brain. “Were what? Wusky?” He smiled, sorta. Maybe it was a grimace, but Lyla chose to view it as a smile. “Yes. Maybe you don’t recall that part of the conversation. I’m half wolf and half husky. Wusky.” She smiled, a tentative lifting of the corner of her lips that could disappear as quickly as it was formed in case he got all growly again.

  “So, you decided to attach yourself to me for the rest of your life, eh?” She nodded. “Maybe we should talk about what that means to you.”

  He moved to the large chair near the window and slumped into it, pulling her onto his lap. There was nothing sexual, beyond their nudity, to the position, but she couldn’t help that her pussy got a bit achy from being so close to him.

  Michael pulled her close, and she laid her head on his chest, listening to the rapid beat of his heart. He still hadn’t calmed down from the confrontation. She stroked his chest, petting him as her mother used to pet her when she got upset.

  “I don’t have a particular … fondness for weres, Lyla.” She nodded, silently urging him to continue. His friend out in the sitting area—pacing, from what she could tell—was a were. He had to be capabl
e of getting over his little hang-up.

  “Six months ago, my team and I were sent to Brazil to handle a situation. Push came to shove, and we ended up hiking through a hell of a lot of jungle and ended up … fuck.” He took a breath, and she stared at his profile as he gazed out the window.

  “You don’t have to, Michael. We can back off, and I can leave and…” She wiggled, trying to get free of his hold.

  “Stay.” She relaxed into his arms, only to tense up again. “Good dog.” He kissed her temple, and she snapped at him, snarling. Joking. Joking Michael she could handle.

  “Just get it out, Michael. Good, bad or indifferent, I can handle your confession.” She returned her head to his chest.

  “My team and I stumbled into the middle of a territory war between the Pumas and Jaguars. Until then, I believed were-anythings to be myths. Turned out they weren’t, and somehow the team’s presence pissed off the Pumas. They wanted to take us all on in a fight to the death, but I negotiated it down to just me. Carlos was at the center of the argument to kill us all, so he took me on.” He looked at her then, tears in his eyes, and she felt her heart break for him. “I won.”

  She nodded, a purely insufficient gesture, but it was all she had. Mucking through Brazil with men’s lives in his hands, and he was introduced to the paranatural world in a fight to the death. Yeah, she could see how he’d be a bit upset about being mated to a were without being consulted first. Just a bit.

  “The man in the sitting room who was more than ready to take you on is Carlos’s brother, Raul.” “Oh. Look, Michael, I can leave. Just disappear. I shouldn’t have…” “No, you shouldn’t, but I can’t very well throw you out on your own with the pack’s Alpha and omega gunning for you, can I?”

  Chapter Six

  He should. He should throw her to the street and let the wolves have at her, night of amazing sex be damned. But with his arms full of curves and soft, willing woman, he couldn’t do it. Not now, at least. He’d think about later … later.

  “Come on. Raul is probably chomping at the bit to interrogate you and all that.” Lyla snorted. Damn, even when she snorted in disgust she was beautiful. “Not hardly. Cat-boy’s been listening without even trying.”

  He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything else as he scooted her from his lap. He felt the loss immediately, but he needed to put some space between them. “Let’s go have breakfast and make sure he heard everything right, then.”

  Her full hips swayed with every step, taunting and tempting him with every foot that separated them. It wasn’t until she reached the door and placed her hand on the knob that he realized her intent. In two steps, he was on her, pushing the door closed again. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She stared at him, brows furrowed. “Going out to be interrogated by Raul. Isn’t that what we decided?”

  “Yeah, but wouldn’t clothes be a good addition?”

  She blushed. “Weres aren’t exactly bashful creatures.”

  He growled. Damn it, he wasn’t even a were, and she had him growling at the thought of his friend seeing her nude. “Put something on. A shirt, anything. Now.”

  He released her and scrounged up a t-shirt and pair of boxers for her. While she dressed, he pulled on a pair of boxers himself. Satisfied that she was mostly covered, he opened the door for her and ushered her out into the sitting area.

  Raul had been busy. Breakfast was laid out on a table room service had brought in and was covered with more meat than he’d ever seen at a breakfast table.

  “Kill a cow, Raul?”

  The man arched his brow. “Not hardly. But with my normal appetite and your wolf, I figured the extra protein would be appreciated.”

  Lyla didn’t wait for an invitation to sit. She walked around the table and claimed a seat next to Raul and began filling a plate, responding to him as she chose her breakfast. “Werewusky, actually.”

  “Were what?” Raul’s fork froze halfway to his lips, and his mouth hung open, and Michael couldn’t hold back his laugh.

  At least the unflappable Raul reacted like he had. Feeling a bit better about the situation, he took the seat across from Raul and next to Lyla. He reached over and squeezed her knee, offering reassurance. He wasn’t worried about her, though. Nope. He was just being friendly. Riiight.

  “Wusky,” she replied before taking a bit of bacon. “Dad was a wolf; mom’s a husky. You know, wusky.” She turned to him, and he was bowled over by her beauty once again. Those big blue eyes, sex-tumbled hair and pouty lips. He had to resist the urge to lean across the table and make his own claim on those full lips by kissing her senseless. “He isn’t a very good listener, even with the whole cat thing going on.”

  She shrugged and returned to her meal, and he exchanged a look with Raul. His friend just shook his head and went back to eating. Michael did the same, but something just … wouldn’t let him.

  He sat silently, eating small bites of his eggs as he watched the silent byplay between Lyla and Raul. The werecat began treading on thin ice almost immediately. His friend kept stealing sly glances at Lyla. He’d meet her eyes until she’d look away, and then he’d return to eating.

  Over and again they repeated the exercise; each time ratcheted his anger and protective instincts higher. In addition, the bite on his neck began making itself known with a slow burn. With each passing second, his anger grew, as did the pain in his neck. He didn’t understand the game they were playing, but it sure as hell wasn’t going to continue.

  “Raul,” he snapped, and the man tore his boring gaze from Lyla to meet his. “Enough.”

  His neck burned and ached, but he wouldn’t take his eyes from the cat. He needed to know his behavior wouldn’t be tolerated. He hadn’t taken it before, and he sure as shit wasn’t taking it now and not toward Lyla.

  Raul finally relented after several tense moments and returned his attention to his plate. He hated having to dominate the man’s nature and taking advantage, but he wasn’t about to let him treat her that way.

  Damn, but his neck burned.

  He reached a hand out and stroked Lyla’s cheek, wincing as the muscles in his shoulder protested the movement. “Fuck.”

  Lyla grimaced, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “She needs to tend you.” Michael swung his gaze to Raul, and the man kept his eyes glued to the plate.

  “What?” The pain and burning was getting worse with each passing second, and he gritted his teeth against it, moaning low in his throat.

  Raul looked up from his plate and glared at Lyla. “Don’t you know anything about mating?”

  Lyla growled low. “Considering I never anticipated being mated, no, not really. So, why don’t you tell me how I’ve fucked up already, Cat-boy?”

  Raul hissed. Lyla raised the level of her growl. Raul stood, and Lyla immediately followed. If his shoulder didn’t hurt so damned bad, their display and fight for dominance would have been funny as hell. As it was, it just annoyed the fuck out of him.

  “Enough.” He slammed his fist on the table and jumped to his feet.

  He pointed at Raul. “You tell her—” He pointed at Lyla. “—what she needs to do to fix whatever the hell is going on before I pass the fuck out. Now.”

  Raul’s gaze bounced between him and Lyla. For a moment, he thought his friend would deny his order, but in the end, he didn’t. “You mated him last night, yes?” Lyla nodded, a light blush tingeing her cheeks. “If you’d mated with another wolf, or even a were, as nature intended—” Raul glared at Lyla, and even through the pain, Michael wanted to deck his friend for being an ass. “—you’d both be in the middle of a mating fever, and this would be a non-issue.”

  “The point, Raul. Get to it,” he demanded.

  “At minimum, she needs to tend your wound and reaffirm the connection you now share. At least until the wound is healed. Ideally—” Raul faced Lyla and raised one mocking brow. “—she should fuck you blind. Often.”

&nbs
p; Michael slumped into the chair, his energy drained. His cock twitched at the thought of fucking Lyla again, but he didn’t imagine it was a good idea considering … well, just considering. He didn’t even have the energy to see how she responded to Raul’s statement. Vaguely, he was aware of his friend making a plate for himself and leaving the suite. Beyond that, unconsciousness seemed like a really good state right now.

  Michael closed his eyes for a moment, or maybe it was hours. He couldn’t be sure. But suddenly, soothing heat painted his shoulder, and the ache eased. With gentle swipes, it was as if the pain was laved away, leaving a thrumming arousal in its wake.

  The sweet scent of vanilla surrounded him. Lyla.

  His cock hardened at her nearness, and her hair brushed his cheek and flowed over his shoulder. He leaned his head to the side, granting her more access.

  With each swipe, his dick grew in width and length. He eased down in the chair, spreading his legs wide as his cock fought for freedom from his boxers. He vaguely remembered Raul’s words. He knew that the sweet swipes of her tongue were enough to hold the pain at bay. He didn’t want to pressure her for more or make demands on her she wasn’t comfortable with, no matter how much he craved the tight, wet heat of her pussy.

  She scraped her teeth along the still-fresh wound, and pleasure shot from his shoulder and surrounded his cock. “Lyla.”

  “Tell me what you want, Michael,” she whispered against his shoulder, hot breath bathing and teasing the mark.

  “You. Want to be inside you.” He imagined the feel of her pussy clasping him like no other, holding him deep within her, and his cock hardened further, a droplet of pre- cum wetting his boxers.

  “Then that’s what you’ll have.”

  “No,” he gasped. “Don’t want to force you…”

  Lyla made quick work of slipping his cock free of his boxers and straddling his hips. He didn’t know when she’d managed to shuck her boxers, but he didn’t really care now, either. The opening of her pussy kissed the tip of his cock, spreading her moisture along his length. He shuddered, his orgasm not far off.