Wild Instincts - Complete Edition (Werewolf Erotic Romance)

by King, Claudia

  I realised, in my dimming awareness, that my attraction to Cyan was very different from what I'd shared with Thorne. There was something wrong about it, something deeply primal that almost made me afraid. He wasn't just a powerful male who would stop at nothing to claim me. He was more than that. Cyan was the alpha, the leader, the one who had fought his way to the top of the hierarchy and reaped the spoils of his conquests. I liked to think that I was in control—that I could resist him in my own ways, by being disobedient, by sneaking away behind his back—but how much control did I really have against a creature like him? Every time he'd desired me, every single time, he'd taken what he wanted, for months on end. Despite how much we liked to behave like normal human beings, some things about our society were uncompromisingly wild and savage. The way Cyan was pinning me, holding me down, practically taking me by force, made some part of me realise that our relationship was as one-sided as that of two wild beasts. He was the male, and I was the object of his desire. He was bigger, stronger, more powerful—and out in the wild, that was all that mattered. When it came down to it, he would have his way with me whether I accepted it or not.

  I shivered, an anguished moan slipping from my lips as he pushed another finger inside me. Somewhere in the back of my mind I was afraid of Cyan, and my wolf was drawn to him because of that fear. It was the same lust I'd felt towards Thorne when we were together in the cave, but with Cyan it was ever-present. It wasn't just his instinct that made him powerful and dangerous, it was everything about him.

  "Beg me for it, Lyssa," he growled, grinding his thumb against my sensitive hood until I was whimpering again. "I want you to tell me who you belong to."

  I looked up into his eyes, shaking with need, ready to say and do anything. His lips were curled into a snarl of victory, amber eyes glinting with aggression.

  I remembered Thorne's eyes after our night together. Deep and green and comforting. Even when his wolf had been in control, he'd never looked at me in the way Cyan was now. His gaze was cruel, malicious. It wasn't enough for him to take me as his mate, he had to break me as well.

  The thought of Thorne had an instantly sobering effect on me. I dug my heels into the ground and drove myself away from Cyan's fingers, pushing him back by the shoulders.

  "Thorne..." I said weakly, blinking in a daze as I struggled to put my human thoughts back together. "Where is he?"

  Cyan snarled. "He's a runt. Not even fit to mate a bitch like you. I don't need him in my pack, and you don't need him in place of your alpha." He snatched my left hand away and pinned it against the ground, glaring at me in frustration. "You're mine, Lyssa."

  "What did you do to him?!" I cried.

  He held me down as I began to struggle, breathing heavily. "He won't be around to distract you any more. You're going to be my mate, and I won't share you with anyone else."

  The effect of his words was instantaneous. My instinct shrank away into nothing, even my wolf realising that what Cyan was doing was wrong. Desperation and anger welled up inside me, but the confusing mix of emotions was completely overshadowed by one terrifying concern: that Thorne was hurt, or worse. I felt sick at myself for letting Cyan do this to me so willingly, when someone I cared about could be in danger.

  I lashed out with my free hand, hitting Cyan's shoulder with a blow that felt horribly feeble compared to his grip. He snatched my hand out of the air and pinned me again. I struggled, trying to push him off, kicking my legs as hard as I could, but he was far too strong. I hadn't been able to outrun him before, and I couldn't fight him now.

  I couldn't, but maybe my wolf could. A flutter of panic clutched at my heart at the thought of further exposing myself to my instinct—but my wolf wasn't fighting me any more. I could hear her listening, waiting, ready to do whatever I needed of her. Cyan's eyes met mine as I stopped struggling, and for a second I saw a flicker of realisation in his face, but it was one second too late. I let the beast rise to the surface, my body changing, my senses altering, and suddenly my limbs were coated with thick fur, sleek with muscle, tipped with sharp claws.

  I twisted away from Cyan, raking my right paw across his face as I threw him off me. He howled in pain, stumbling and clutching at his cheek as I kicked my legs until I found my footing. I thought for one brief moment about the street behind me, my old life that I'd been so eager to return to minutes earlier, then bounded away in the opposite direction.

  I didn't look back at Cyan. I dug my paws into the ground and ran as fast as I could, kicking up a shower of leaves and dirt as I dashed for the trees. I could hear him yelling after me. That was good. It meant he hadn't shifted into his wolf yet, and that gave me precious seconds. I knew he'd chase me.

  My eyes darted from tree to tree, my agile legs picking out a route through the rapidly thickening undergrowth as I tried to get my bearings. I needed to get away from the path, away from Cyan, and I needed to find Thorne. He couldn't be far, but Cyan wouldn't give up the chase easily. I could already hear the crashing of branches behind me. Where I picked my way through the foliage quickly and carefully, Cyan tore through it in a rage. My eyes flitted around desperately, trying to find some landmark I recognised. I knew this part of the woods better than him. If I could just find some way to lose myself amongst the trees, I could get away.

  But there would still be my scent to follow. Even if I did manage to hide, it wouldn't take long before Cyan picked up the trail and tracked me down. My only hope was to find a stream or river nearby that would wash away my scent as I ran. I remembered there being one nearby, if I could just keep ahead of him for a couple of minutes it might be long enough to reach it. I leapt over a tangle of thorns and scrabbled my way down a bank, my paws slipping out from under me as the steep incline challenged even my wolf's keen reflexes. I tumbled over with a yelp, bruising my hind leg on something hard as I hit the bottom. I didn't have time to catch my breath. I could still hear Cyan crashing through the forest somewhere behind me. My leg protested as I put weight on it, but I grit my teeth and forced myself back into a run, weaving through the trees left and right, trying to keep my path as unpredictable as possible. Cyan could follow my scent, but sniffing for it would slow him down. He'd still be relying on his eyes and ears—or maybe just instinct—to chase me at the speed he was running.

  The stream was nearby. I recognised the downward incline I was following now. I hadn't come this way for years, but as a girl I remembered playing in the stream here on summer days. The pain in my leg thumped and pounded with each step I took, and soon I was gasping for breath, my eyes searching frantically for any sign of the stream. It had to be here. I should have seen it by now. Could I have been wrong? The thick carpet of autumn leaves had left the forest looking different than I remembered. Maybe this was the wrong place. Had I taken a bad turn in my hurry to lose Cyan?

  My paws crashed through a drift of leaves, and I felt the cool touch of damp mud beneath them. I forced myself to stop, twisting my head back and forth as my wolf's mind struggled to put together what I'd been dreading. The bank of leaves had heaped up in a shallow ditch where the stream had once been. It must have dried up months ago, and now there was barely anything left. My mind raced to think of where the next closest watercourse might be, but even as I called to mind the locations of half a dozen more streams within a few miles of where I was, I realised I'd never make it in time. Intense pain dug into my hind leg as I struggled to climb the opposite bank, enough to make me whine in anguish. The sounds of Cyan's chase were closing fast, and I doubted I could run for another hundred yards, let alone a mile. I thought of Thorne again, and the despair of knowing I'd failed him dragged me down until my leg gave out and I collapsed with a yelp. I was ready to give up, lie down and wait until Cyan caught up with me and did whatever he had to do.

  But my wolf wouldn't let me. I wouldn't let me. I was Lyssa the wolf now, and I had to listen to my instincts over the despair of my human side. I dragged myself to my feet, limping forwards with my injured leg tucked i
n close to my body, and made for a heavy drift of leaves on the far side of the stream. If I couldn't run, I could at least hide. Cyan would find my scent eventually, but it might be long enough for me to catch my breath. It was a weak hope, but a desperate wolf clutched at any straw she could find.

  I burrowed my way into the leaves, digging in with my forepaws until I was confident the heap had me covered from view. I peeked out through a gap between the leaves. The pile was thick and deep, musty and damp. I barely had a second to tuck in my tail before I saw Cyan burst out of the bushes. He was further down the stream than where I'd come out. That was good. It meant he probably wasn't following my scent yet.

  I watched as Cyan stopped, drawing himself up and cocking his head left and right, scanning the open area around the stream for any sign of me. His teeth were bared in a snarl, hot breath huffing through his muzzle as he prowled forwards. I stayed as still as I could. My lungs ached for air after the frantic chase, but I barely dared to breathe. Cyan's ears pricked up as he listened intently, crossing over to my side of the stream and then back to the other. Finally he barked with impatience and lowered his muzzle to the ground, snuffling back and forth as he tried to find my scent. There was no way he could miss it, not when he was this close. The human part of me began to panic, yelling at me to run before he found us. But I made myself wait, eyes fixed on my predator as he edged closer.

  Cyan snorted, a frustrated growl rumbling in the back of his throat, and doubled back a few paces. He huffed again, shaking his head furiously and swatting at the side of his muzzle with a paw. He buried his nose in the leaves and covered the same stretch of ground a second time, then a third. The next time he exhaled I saw the droplets of blood dripping from his muzzle, and the deep gashes I'd raked across his nose with my claws. He couldn't smell me.

  I held my breath, daring to hope again. Cyan paced up and down the bank, his movements becoming more and more erratic as he sniffed the same spots over and over. He didn't know I'd hurt my leg. The longer he spent looking, the further away he'd think I was getting.

  After what seemed like an age he span around, sending a flurry of torn leaves scattering through the air as he slashed at them with his claws. He threw back his head and let out a furious howl that sent birds fluttering from the nearby trees, so loud it made me flinch. Cyan shifted back into his human form and raised a hand to his cheek, clutching at the painful wounds I'd given him as he glared into the forest.

  "Lyssa!" he yelled, his voice grating. "If you're out there, I'll find you! The only way you're coming back to the pack is as my mate!" He paused, eyes darting through the trees as he breathed heavily. "And Thorne! Find yourself another pack! And stay away from Lyssa, unless you want me to finish you off next time!"

  Cyan waited, his teeth bared, listening to the sounds of the forest, daring it to respond. Then, as if some fire inside him had finally burnt out, the anger melted from his face and he slumped down into a sitting position, burying his face in his hands. He rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, wiping the blood from his cheek with a sleeve. He looked tired, weary, and everything that had seemed so terrifying about him a moment ago had evaporated into nothing. I held my breath again, barely blinking as I stayed hidden in the pile of leaves. No matter how innocent he looked now, I still remembered the cruelty I'd seen in his eyes when he held me down.

  At last Cyan rose to his feet, digging a scrap of cloth from his pocket and holding it to the side of his face as he picked his way back up the slope on the far bank, before finally disappearing into the trees.

  I waited for as long as I dared. Despite the terrible ache in my hind leg, I was desperate to get moving again. It sounded like Thorne was still in one piece, but he could be hurt—badly hurt. I needed to pick up his scent and find him as quickly as possible.

  When I was sure Cyan was out of earshot I squirmed out of the leaves, testing my leg gingerly as I sniffed the air. Walking was still painful, but I didn't think I'd done myself any serious damage. I limped into the trees on my side of the stream, heading back in the direction of the path. I kept my ears pricked and my nose close to the ground, my animal senses alert for any signs of life. My leg was slowing me up, but at least it gave Cyan enough time to disappear before I got back to the spot where he'd chased me. I could smell three fresh scents: mine, and two belonging to Cyan, his wolf and his human. The human scent was fresher. He'd come back this way a few minutes ago, headed deeper into the woods, back towards our camp.

  I swallowed, running my canine tongue over the edge of my muzzle. The adrenaline of the chase was starting to wear off, and I was beginning to feel queasy. So much had happened in such a short time. In the space of half an hour I'd gone from being excited to see my sister, to running for my life, to sneaking and hiding, and now to the point where I was starting to feel sick with worry for Thorne.

  I followed the scent of Cyan's wolf into the trees, tracing it back the way he'd come before he chased me. The undergrowth was trampled down, the soil torn up. I even saw vicious claw marks slashed into the bark of the trees. He must have been furious. The anxiety in my stomach clenched tighter as I imagined Thorne being on the receiving end of that anger. I desperately wanted to call out for him, but I doubted Cyan was out of earshot just yet. If I got a response, it would lead our alpha straight back to us. And if I didn't...

  I shook my head sharply and growled, telling myself to keep moving. The scent was thick and easy to follow, heavy with the smell of Cyan's body. I kept on going until I caught sight of a fallen log. It was raked with claw marks, the surrounding area scattered with torn leaves and broken branches. Staining the bark was a spatter of red blood. I dashed forward, unable to hold back a whimper of agitation as Thorne's scent filled my muzzle. The blood smelt of him, hot and strong and coppery. I felt dizzy as the raw odour ran through me, calling to mind images of the savage beast who'd taken me that night in the cave. It reminded me of all the most primal parts of Thorne, and as my eyes darted over the claw marks on the log I had no doubt that half of them were his.

  The scents of the two male wolves intermingled and became lost in one another as I circled around the area. I couldn't tell where Thorne's trail began or ended. But my eyes told me what my nose couldn't. The spatter of blood had run down the side of the log into a frighteningly large pool, and half a dozen crimson paw prints led away through the leaves accompanied by a trail of bloody droplets. I followed the trail back into the trees, hurrying as quickly as I could until my nose picked up Thorne's scent again. It doubled back across the path once more—and I took a moment to pray that Cyan hadn't spotted the telltale drips of blood on the ground when he came this way—then past the stream bed and further along the outskirts of the city.

  I wondered why Thorne hadn't headed deeper into the forest, or tried to pick up my scent, but I was too focused on following the trail to give it much thought. The droplets of blood showed no signs of stopping, which meant he'd been bleeding all this way. I started to run, ignoring the pain in my hind leg and relying on my eyes to follow the trail of red dots peppering the leaves. I began to wonder how long we'd been separated for. How much time had I spent hiding from Cyan and trying to retrace his steps? Perhaps Thorne was miles ahead of me by now. The trees flew by as I ran, half-limping, almost hysterical with worry. The pain shooting up my leg with each bound wormed its way into my stomach, mixing with my sick fear and the smell of Thorne's blood until I began to lose focus, tripping over my own feet and wandering off the trail until I forced myself to stop and turn back, pick up the scent again, and go on. I expected to catch sight of him around every tree, but tree after tree after tree passed with only the sight of more blood and his never-ending scent dragging me on.

  My partner. My friend. My lover. Someone who already meant more to me than any other wolf in our pack. The pain was exhausting, but I couldn't stop. Thorne had to tire eventually, and I wouldn't let myself rest until I caught up with him.

  The sun was high in the sky by the ti
me the trail of blood—thankfully a lot thinner by now—reached the edge of a gushing river and began to meander about, as though Thorne had been looking for something. I made myself slow down and follow his scent carefully as he doubled back on himself several times, before tracing it into the trees and to a narrow opening in a bank of bare earth. It was a wolf den. An old, sturdy burrow dug into the ground between the roots of a large tree. The faint scent of half a dozen other creatures still lingered around it. I thought I caught the smell of at least one other unfamiliar werewolf, but I couldn't be certain. I peered inside, and saw that the hole opened up almost immediately into a larger chamber. I saw the trail of blood end, and a pair of boots belonging to Thorne.