Mackenzie McKade

by Black Widow (lit)

It was a powerful awareness, a stimuli, to feel him tremble, knowing he rode the edge of control. “Yes,” she whimpered, needing—wanting to be there with him when his aplomb shattered, allowing his vulnerability to bleed through.

  Looking over her shoulder, she watched him toss back his mane, his mouth parted to release a howl toward the sky. His grip firmed. His cock jerked several times, and then he thrust his hips, holding their bodies together as a warm jet of come bathed the walls of her sex.

  Tammy’s orgasm stole over her like a thief in the night. Her length stretched as taut as a bow. When the first spasms struck she fought the inevitable—needed to make the moment last forever. One right after another rolled through her. She couldn’t breathe holding on to the iron grip of passion that pulled her into ecstasy. She wasn’t strong enough to fight it. As she released her hold, let her body go, she screamed. The potent feeling of soaring into the heavens took her higher and higher.

  When the last contraction released and she began to descend, her arms gave and she crumpled to the ground, taking Roark with her. But he wasn’t in an amorous mood—a nip to her shoulder proved that as he rose.

  Was he still angry with her?

  Tammy rolled to her side just in time to see the change overtake Roark. Bones crackled, muscles and tendons popped, grinding. Auburn hair seeped from his pores to produce a silky pelt of fur. She pushed into a sitting position. His handsome features blurred, his mouth elongating into a muzzle. A twist and a turn, he morphed completely, landing on all fours before her.

  Immediately, Roark’s ears stood erect. A tilt of his head, he sniffed the air and she knew he searched for danger. When it appeared he was satisfied, he narrowed his gaze on her. Not a sound could be heard as he approached. While pine needles snapped beneath her with every move, she was amazed that she didn’t feel the biting cold. When he was near enough to touch she buried her hands, and then her nose into his coat. He smelled like the earth itself, fresh and wild.

  “You’re beautiful,” she said with awe in her voice. “Roark, I’ve never seen anything so fascinating.”

  “Join me.” He touched her mind with his.

  “How?” she asked. Each time the change had held her in its grasp she had been out-of-control. It hadn’t been a moment of decision, but an ugly, scary time in her life.

  “Let your body relax. Think of each muscle becoming fluid.”

  Tammy was filled with excitement as she moved to her knees and sat down on her haunches. She closed her eyes, rolling her head side to side to ease the tension in her neck. Muscles softened, a prickling sensation spread across her skin as if her very flesh was shrinking, drawing into her body. At the same time there was an indescribable strength that filled her limbs, pulling and tugging on them as they reshaped into strong legs, paws, and claws. Her nose twitched and her eyes opened to a new world.

  Roark waved his tail. “You’re gorgeous. My blonde bitch.” There was no derogatory clip to his tone, just pride. He dug his back feet, one after another, into the earth sending dirt and pine needles behind him.

  She yipped, the sharp sound high-pitched and definitely female. A leap to her feet, she was off in a flash. It was amazing the freedom she felt. Power abounded each stride as she jumped over fallen trees and darted around large boulders that stood in her way. She didn’t know where she was going—didn’t care. Nor did she know how far or long she’d run. Her carefree attitude was suddenly curbed when Roark landed in front of her, snarling.

  “Party-pooper,” she grumbled. He plopped his large head on Tammy’s back forcing her fast upon the ground. She started to struggle beneath his hold, but he snapped at her holding her neck firmly between his pulsating jaws. “What the hell—” she whimpered just as she caught a whiff of something pungent and offensive.

  Tammy tuned in her animal senses and almost peed right where she squatted. The blood in her veins froze. Standing on a cliff a distance away from them was a mountain lion. The path she had been headed down would have taken her right beneath the cat that had sunk to its belly, positioning itself to pounce on an unsuspecting victim—namely her.

  Slowly Roark released her. His steps were silent as the grave as he led her away from the cat. Her heart was racing. Her steps mimicked Roark’s path in the snow as they ran, for how long she had no idea.

  When they were a safe distance away, his ears went rigid. “You must always scour the land for enemies. They are everywhere.”

  Tammy felt like a child being scolded and she didn’t like it. “I’m sorry, but—”

  “Sorry won’t cut it. What if I hadn’t been here? What if—” His body stiffened as he bared his teeth and released a deep growl. A stirring in the underbrush caught Tammy’s attention. When four large wolves stepped beyond the hedge she almost lost her lunch. Her stomach pitched and she couldn’t help moving closer to Roark, ignoring his anger for the moment to seek his shelter.

  One of the wolves was the flaxen color of her fur, while the other three were as dark as the night, except one of them appeared older with streaks of silver through its coat. That particular wolf stepped closer undisturbed by the increased vigor in Roark’s growl.

  “Ease up on her, son.” Tammy recognized Martin’s voice and now that her pulse was beginning to slow she recognized his scent too. If she wasn’t mistaken, Stephen, Franc, and Manny stood behind him.

  “That mountain lion could have killed her,” Roark barked.

  “But he didn’t and she’s safe. What do you say we get her home?” Martin moved beside her as the other three wolves surrounded them.

  Roark grumbled something she was unable to decipher as he bounded forward into the woodland. She had the good sense to follow. It was the second time tonight that he had become displeased with her. She certainly didn’t want there to be a third opportunity.

  Roark kept a steady pace and she struggled to keep up. Snow covered her legs clear up to her belly, weighing her down. How many miles they ran she didn’t know, but her lungs stung and she was panting when the trees parted and they broke into an opening. Before her lay a cozy village with streets of cobblestone that paved the way. No asphalt or its oily smell hampered the air. Instead the smoky scent of pine curled from the chimneys of almost every home. Tucked away from civilization it was a breath of Christmas in the mountains. Colorful lights adorned most cabins. A large, decorated Christmas tree stood in the middle of town.

  Pebbles popped beneath Tammy’s paws as she padded across the road. She was tired, but more than that she wanted to nip Roark’s ass. The big bully held no sympathy for her. She didn’t know anything about his world. Everything was new and a little scary. Even as her stomach growled and the first signs of her heat awoke, she knew it would be a cold day in hell before she let him touch her tonight.

  As the entourage of wolves led her toward the largest of the log cabins, three stone chimneys jutting from the roof, she felt a little weepy. Even still, she couldn’t help take in the beauty of the two-story home Trapped in two worlds, neither of them was willing to accept her. A push from her hind legs, she leaped on the wraparound porch on the bottom level of the house after Roark.

  A young woman dressed in a blue plush robe opened the large oak door as if it were nothing to allow six wolves into her home. She stepped aside while they tracked mud and snow on the polished wood flooring. The large room opened up to a picturesque window that faced the mountains. Tammy knew it would be a gorgeous view in the light of day, but she would never experience that again.

  Why at this moment had she finally realized what all she would be missing? Wallowing in self-pity, she wasn’t paying much attention to what was going on around her until all four men shifted into their human forms.

  Yeow! There wasn’t one thing lacking in form or substance on each man. They moved casually about the room as if unaware of their state of undress. The temptress in Tammy was very aware of them. She slinked just below her skin.

  The petite dark-haired woman gathered a pile of towels and beg
an to hand each of the men one. Instead, of covering themselves, they briskly ran the towel over their heads drying their hair and then their bodies. Only as a second thought did they wrap the cover around their hips.

  “Tammy?” Roark raised a brow.

  Well excuse her for not knowing the protocol. If the lord and master of this place wanted her to materialize in all her glory before all these men, who was she to disagree. More than a little cranky, Tammy let her hold on the wolf slip. It tickled as the hair on her skin disappeared. It was a little disconcerting to hear her bones snap, her muscles creak as the wolf disappeared. Stark-ass naked, she stood before everyone.

  Roark’s eyes widened.

  What had he expected? She answered his surprise by placing her palms on her hips. She shot him a look, daring him to say something—just one word—and she’d turn into the blonde bitch he’d called her earlier. Near tears, Tammy turned to the woman and asked, “Where is my room?”

  “Lonnie, give her your robe,” Roark demanded. As Lonnie began to wiggle out of her wrapper, Tammy raised her hand halting her.

  “Keep your robe, Lonnie. Just tell me where my bedroom is.”

  Lonnie’s gaze darted toward Roark and then back to Tammy. She made a small curtsy. “The sire’s rooms are on the second floor, second door on the left.”

  “Not his room, mine?” Tammy clarified with enough heat behind her words to wither a flower.

  An expression of confusion furrowed Lonnie’s brows. Her mouth opened and then snapped shut.

  “Give her your robe.” Roark’s firm tone made it perfectly clear what he wanted and further more expected from Tammy. It appeared the most important thing at the moment was to cover her from the curious stares she received from the other men.

  Martin moved forward, casting his eyes off her to direct his attention to Roark. “I had the room adjacent yours protected from light as well.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Roark replied sharply. “My room is hers. She sleeps with me.”

  Tammy released a huff of annoyance that brought both Martin’s and Roark’s stares back to her. “In your dreams, buddy,” she mumbled.

  Beneath the robe Lonnie tried so desperately to shrug out of she wore the cutest pair of flannel pajamas, white with red lips all over them. When she managed to disrobe, she approached Tammy, placing the wrap into Tammy’s hands. She took it only to relieve the worried expression on Lonnie’s face, even as Tammy pierced Roark with a heated glare. Slowly she held the robe high into the air away from her body, letting the material slip through her fingers to pool at her feet. Squaring her shoulders, she pivoted and headed for the stairs. She didn’t glance back, but she heard Stephen clear his throat and Manny chuckle, followed by a growl that had to be Roark’s.

  At the top of the stairs she didn’t hesitate. She passed by the second door on the left without a thought. No one was going to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. Roark might as well discover this about her right now.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Baffled didn’t even begin to describe how Roark felt as he watched Tammy’s naked ass sway up the stairs and disappear around the corner. To make it worse, five other sets of eyes watched too—four of them very intrigued males.

  What the hell had come over Tammy?

  She went from seducing him in the Jeep, to making mad passionate love beneath the stars, to bounding through the forest with abandonment, to seconds away from ripping his head off with a single look. He had seen her agitated, yes—but not outright defiant.

  “Welcome to blessed matrimony,” Franc mocked dryly. His gaze was still fixated on the top of the stairs. Although he appeared unaffected by Tammy’s bold departure, the tent in the towel around his hips said differently. On further scrutiny damned if every man in the room wasn’t aroused by her show of opposition, or was it her curves and that sweet ass that had them mesmerized?

  A snicker from Martin drew everyone’s eyes toward him. “She reminds me a little of Beth.” His redheaded wife had been a spitfire. That was where Grady’s uncanny sense of humor had come from. A mine cave-in had taken her life five years ago. Martin had never found another.

  A moment of sadness swamped Roark. He would miss Grady.

  “I think perhaps you miscalculated the docility of our queen’s nature.” Stephen’s words made Roark slide a frown in his direction.

  “You think?” Roark didn’t even try to mask the irritation in his voice. With each rising he discovered something new about Tammy. She never ceased to amaze him, but this side of her he hadn’t been prepared for.

  “Perhaps you were a little too hard on her in the Jeep and forest. She’s unfamiliar with our ways—the dangers we face each day.” Evidently, Stephen didn’t know when to keep his mouth shut, because he continued. “Maybe a gentler hand—”

  “When I want your counsel I’ll ask for it,” Roark bit between clenched teeth. “Good-night.” They remained rooted where they stood until he repeated, “Good-night.” Each of the men bowed and turned toward the door. “Stephen, the ice chest?”

  “Lonnie has taken care of it,” his guard and friend responded before taking his leave behind the rest of the men. When the door clicked shut, Roark glanced back up the stairs. What exactly was he supposed to do?

  “I’ve placed several packets within your chamber’s mini-bar. The rest I placed in the refrigerator. If you’d like I’ll take a drink up to her,” Lonnie offered. “Perhaps it will calm her.”

  That sounded like a reasonable plan, better than the one he was pondering, bounding up the stairs and asking Tammy outright what the problem was. “Thank you.”

  Lonnie curtsied, which should have been odd from a woman dressed in flannel. Like her mother, she had chosen to stick to the old ways and protocols. It made no difference to Roark if someone curtsied or bowed or even called him by his name instead of a more formal title. Since her mother retired three years ago, Lonnie resided in his home and took care of his household needs. Without a sound, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Roark walked toward the blazing fireplace that covered half the west wall and stared into the flickering flames. Stephen was right. Roark had handled Tammy poorly. She had done only what was natural to her. He had to remember that she was not only lycanthrope, but vampire—a combination of both with human thoughts and ways. She would make mistakes. It was up to him to counsel and guide her with patience, not jealousy.

  Yet Roark had seen red when he witnessed how aroused Stephen had been to her flirty words, even though he knew it was a lycanthrope’s nature to service their females during their time of need. If he had been away on business and Tammy came into heat, Stephen or any one of his guards who was entrusted with her care would have seen to her comfort. Logic didn’t play in his thoughts tonight. The only man he could stand to touch Tammy was Donne. For some odd reason he actually missed the irritating vampire.

  Roark listened to Lonnie’s footsteps as she climbed the stairs. The scent of the blood she carried to Tammy filled his nostrils. Quietly, he said a prayer that Lonnie was correct, that if his mate’s hunger was satisfied so would her temper. He waited until he heard Lonnie descend the stairs, and then he turned to face the music.

  As he climbed one stair and then the other, he realized in the turmoil of their arrival he had forgotten to ask Franc about the spirits of their people. At least Lonnie did not appear frightened by Tammy’s presence. She even sought to make her queen more relaxed and welcomed.

  Crying met his ears, when Roark topped the stairs. He moved quickly toward the sobbing behind the bedroom door adjacent to his. Mentally, he reached out and heard her sadness, the grieving she felt for a mortal life lost. When she felt his intrusion, she immediately broke the mind link between them. She was getting stronger—her abilities were growing. Even still, that didn’t stop him from feeling her pain. Not only did her body ache, but her heart as well.

  A twist of the doorknob, he found it locked. There was a brief moment of ag
itation that she or anyone would think to bar him from any room in his own house.

  What was he thinking? He rapped gently upon the door. “Tammy?’

  There was no answer.

  He leaned against the door. “Baby, let me in.”

  She sniffled, indelicately blowing her nose. “No. Go away.”

  “Ahhh…baby, don’t be like this.” With lightning speed the door sprung open and he fell into the room, hitting the floor with a thud. He glanced up into icy blue eyes.

  “Don’t be like this?” Her strained tone coupled with the heat in her eyes was all he needed to see to know he was in big trouble.

  She was adorned in a pair of pajamas much like Lonnie’s, flannel, but solid black, matching her mood. There were little red pitch forks on them and for a moment he wondered if they were symbolic. Her hair was mussed around her shoulders, still wet from the trek through the snow. The flare of anger in her eyes made him think she wanted to give him a swift kick for good measure.