Voracious Vixens, 13 Novels of Sexy Horror and Hot Paranormal Romance

by Travis Luedke

  “Not long now, Beth.” Donovan replied with a smile brightening his face for the first time that day. He’d seemed to be in a world of his own since morning. It was probably nerves. After all, arriving home mated to the wolf his father had wanted for himself was going to take some explaining. “It would go a lot quicker if we could shimmer.” He smiled again to take the edge off those words.

  They weren’t yet able to reach each others’ mind voice. “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault, my mate.” His heavy boots crunched through dead leaves and fallen pine needles, as he searched for a comfortable spot to have a rest. “The tie will come in time.”

  Will it, though? she wondered. None of the pack had left in her lifetime. Not to mate into another pack, nor to travel, or anything else. She didn’t know what would happen, but she imagined that usually after a mating ceremony, when a mate is chosen, the tie automatically snapped into place, allowing them to hear each other’s mind voice, regardless of pack ties.

  “It’s just going to take a bit of time, that’s all.” He slumped down onto a fallen log, his amber eyes twinkling up at her. “Sit down, my mate,” he whispered. “Take a rest. We have another few hours of trekking before we reach the neighborhood, so to speak.” His hand was soft in hers as he pulled her down beside him.

  It was so good to take the weight off her feet. Not for the first time she wished the tie had already developed so they could have shimmered. They could have, regardless, but it was best they stayed in a form they could communicate in. Three days they’d been hiking through the forest. She’d had no idea the Loam Floor lands were so extensive. “Loam Floor is a big territory, isn’t it?” she had said to him on the first night they curled up under the stars, cuddled close for warmth.

  “It’s one of the biggest in this region,” he’d confirmed with a yawn. “There’s only one territory that’s bigger within three hundred miles.”

  “And that would be...?” But she’d already known the answer, had read it in the smug lines of his crinkly smile.

  “Tall Grass, of course!” he’d told her, delightedly. “You’ve never seen such beautiful territory; I guarantee you’ll love it there.” His hands had roamed down her back to cup her bottom. He’d pressed himself against her, hard and ready. She’d known his patience would run out sooner rather than later.

  He was a virile male wolf, with all the attributes of a future Alpha – naturally his sex drive would be a large part of that package. And it was her job to satisfy him, as his mate, his wife. But she couldn’t. Not yet. It was too soon. Her war wounds were too raw. Gareth had left her with an ache that he, and only he could soothe. Damn him.

  “Sometimes,” he told her now, rubbing her knuckles in circles with his smooth, long fingers. “I would come out here when I was a cub. At dawn, this area is filled with rabbits and moles and all sorts of juicy treats for a young cub looking to fill his belly.” He laughed, the sound rich and joyful on the cool wind. “But, naturally, I would make a mess, and return home to my Den Mother covered in all sorts of unsavory remains. She would pitch a fit worth seeing, Beth. She wasn’t pure bred, and she never really took to the wild life.” Sadness now crept in to his eyes and she longed to wipe it clear.

  Beth leaned forward to close the distance between them, and placed her lips upon his. For a moment, they were stiff and unyielding beneath hers, and then he seemed to relax. His tongue swept into her mouth and she was again treated to one of his blistering kisses. Damn, but the wolf could kiss. Her hands fisted in his hair and he moaned into her mouth. Gaining courage and momentum, she slanted her lips and took the kiss deeper, deeper again.

  She could feel his hands bunching the material of her tee shirt at her waist, afraid to break whatever spell this was, perhaps. Tight and tighter he squeezed, until she ran her hands down his arms to twine her fingers in his. He breathed in her scent – not quite arousal, but damn close – and changed the pressure of his kiss. It was gentle now where she wanted rough, slow where she wanted fast, and soft where she wanted hard. She whined in frustration, and he smiled against her mouth.

  “You want more?”

  An image of Gareth, poised above her, eyes like midnight oil in the darkness, asking her the very same question washed over her like a basin of frigid water. “Let’s push on,” she suggested. “I’d kill for a bath.”

  “A cold shower,” he agreed. “Wouldn’t go amiss.”

  Donovan pulled her to her feet as if she weighed nothing, and they took off at a brisk pace, chased by their own private demons, she guessed. The territory was pretty beautiful, she had to admit, a half hour later. They’d passed bubbling streams, and meadows she could imagine being full to over flowing with wild flowers in spring. The day before they’d passed a glistening, frothing waterfall pounding into a clear, crystal-like bowl of water. “We call that the River Fang,” he’d explained, seeing her fascination with the body of water. “It cuts right through the north-most area of our territory. If you could see it on the map, it looks like a giant incisor. It trails off and disappears underground after twenty miles or so.”

  “Beautiful,” she’d whispered, thinking she might come here sometimes to be alone. If she could remember the way, that was.

  “Cold,” he corrected. “Even in the height of summer, that water is always so cold. Cold enough to make your pretty little teeth chatter.” With that, he’d chucked her under the chin and led them onward.

  Certain similarities between the two territories struck her as they passed through Tall Grass pack lands. There were no species of tree here that she couldn’t have found at home.

  Home, she sighed. This was her home now. Loam Floor and all that went with it was a memory, and she’d better not forget it. Something had happened between the two packs. Something bad enough that it had instigated a blood-feud that had been alive and well for as long as she could remember.

  Although some things here were the same, like the trees and the foliage and the clean sharp scent of fresh water, there were a lot of differences also. Instead of a soft, mossy forest floor, there was a dusting of pine needles layered over the bare, dusty earth. In places the earth had been churned to mud, which would freeze over at night, to be churned again the next day.

  There must have been a lot of wild life here. “How do you support such a large pack, and still have such an abundance of wild life?” she wondered out loud.

  “My Father is a great believer in the Three R’s,” he told her with a wry grin. She could sense the capital letters in those words. “Reduce, Re-use, Recycle,” he explained, taking her hand to help her over yet another fallen log. There were so many fallen logs in this forest that she wondered how there were any trees left standing at all.

  “Reduce, no hunting just for fun, which I didn’t appreciate while chasing down rabbits in my youth,” he laughed. “Re-use, we don’t chop down any trees here. There are enough of old ones which fall during storm season to sustain our needs. And recycle,” he went on in the same narrative tone. “We replenish the animal stock every spring. In the spring, when the animal auctions are on in the human villages, our females purchase enough stock to breed and replace what has been used the previous year.”

  “That’s a good system,” she admitted. They hadn’t done any of that in Loam Floor lands. Two years previous, Marcus had had to initiate a ban on forestry. The saplings just weren’t growing fast enough to replenish the forest. At that time trees were used for a lot, if not everything, from the homes to the furniture, and when the woods were noticeably thinner around their Dens, the Alpha had called a halt to any wood cutting.

  “It’s worked for us for a long time,” Donovan told her now. “I saw how sparse your woods had gotten, and I knew that our Alpha had the right of it here.”

  The grin he gave her wasn’t exactly superior, but it was close enough to be related. She wasn’t sure she appreciated that, but she did have to admit they had a good system going here. If she could just explain this to Marcus. But no,
she would probably never see him again. She wouldn’t see Marcus or Melinda, or Gareth or her dear David again. She found she was even missing the condescending attitude of Bea. What in the name of the Great Mother was wrong with her?

  She had a chance for a new beginning here. A new life. She aught to be snatching at it with both hands, but she wasn’t. Why wasn’t she? “Well Mister Three R’s,” she teased, “pobody’s nerfect!”

  He swept her up, laughing, and she determined – again – to start living her new life, right now. “Donovan,” she whispered.

  He kissed her. How she loved his kisses. They made everything feel better. She felt safe and cherished and loved in his arms. He didn’t smell like adrenaline and danger, just love and acceptance. She could do a lot worse in a mate, than gentle, loving Donovan. She kissed him back and promised herself silently that tonight she would give herself to him. Tonight, she would complete the tie. She was not brainless – she figured they couldn’t speak mind-to-mind because they hadn’t spoken body-to-body. She would fix that. He was her husband. Her mate. It was natural.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The Tall Grass pack had arranged their homes pretty much the same way as had the Loam Floor pack. The huge house in the middle was, of course, the Alphas’ home, and the rest of the pack built their houses in a loose circle around it. Weres always put their leader in the middle of their society. He was the heart and the wisdom, and while he was their protector, he was to be protected at all costs, also.

  There were the usual buildings besides the Den Houses – a store house, where all their supplies were kept. Everything from bolts of material, to extra furniture. There was a Common House, where they could all meet up for some casual relaxation, and a huge Herbhouse, with various bunches of herbs and flowers hanging upside down from the porch to dry. A thick smoke that smelled vaguely like vanilla curled from the chimney, and Beth’s nostrils flared in wonder.

  Things were old-fashioned in wolf society, and that was the way most wolves liked it. Beth had been to the human villages nearby – she’d accompanied Bea in her younger years to purchase supplies. Old-fashioned or not, there were some things you just couldn’t go without. Chief among them, staple food stuffs, and writing material. Marcus had even installed generators, so they had hot running water and washing machines, TVs and iPods.

  It looked like the Tall Grass pack was on an even keel with the Loam Floor pack judging by the gentle whir of several generators. “What do you think, so far, Beth? Could you be happy here?”

  “I’m happy with you,” she replied diplomatically. “Which Den House is yours?” She gazed around her, seeing log cabin after log cabin, all uniform in shape, and size. She supposed it didn’t matter which one they’d live in. They were all the same. She found herself missing the old whitewashed cottage she’d shared with her Den Parents.

  “Well, for the moment,” he shrugged. “We’ll be living in the Alpha’s Great House.” A sheepish look crossed his handsome face. “I wasn’t supposed to return with a mate of my own.”

  “Of course.” She’d forgotten. How could she have forgotten that she was supposed to be the mate of the Alpha himself? “I guess we’d better face the music then, huh?”

  “You bet!” But his expression said more than his upbeat words did. He wasn’t relishing the prospect of introducing his father’s supposed bride as his own. She couldn’t blame him for that. An Alpha’s wrath knew no bounds.

  Hands woven tightly together, they made their way through the sleepy afternoon in the village, toward the towering, three story Great House in the center. Beth swallowed. This was going to be awkward.

  ~~~~

  There was no feminine touch to this house, Beth noticed, as she stood in the hallway outside the Alpha’s office. Donovan had already preceded her to an audience with his father, and even with her wolf-senses, she couldn’t pick up a word being said.

  All around her there were bare wooden floors, and dark, muted colors. Dust settled on the less-used objects dotted around the hallway. There, an old oak chest, carved with a wolf head atop its previously loved, and lately ignored, dusty lid. Here, a tall mahogany coat stand, also covered in a thick layer dust. The only things in the hall that were dust free, were the three chairs lined up outside the maroon walls of Bradley the Tall Grass Alpha’s office. She guessed he kept people waiting quite often during his day.

  Her tour of the house, such as it had been – straight from the front of the house in a hurry to the rear – had shown her that no female had lived here in a long time, although one had, in the past. There were little knick-knacks still sitting on the massive fire place of the reception room they traveled through, and there were mirrors dotted around the walls, which were, unsurprisingly, covered in a film of dust.

  She decided they were doing all their speaking via mind voice, when the door opened a crack and she could hear the tail end of a conversation.

  “...remains to be seen. Show her in now.” The deep timbre of his voice set her teeth aching and her ears flinching. She was debating how submissive to be in her approach when Donovan smiled tightly and held out his hand. “Father, may I introduce Elisabeth. Formerly of Loam Floor, more recently mated into our Tall Grass pack.”

  “Ah yes, you are,” he croaked, in his scratchy voice, “quite fetching. I can certainly see why you caught my son’s eye.” He rose from his dark wooden desk, chair groaning from the sheer relief of relinquishing his vast, muscular body, and smiled. It was pure predator.

  You’re the kitten, and I’m the wolf, it seemed to say.

  “Allow me to introduce my father, Beth. This is Bradley Tall Grass, Alpha of the Tall Grass pack.”

  Power, dark and frightening roared over her as he strode forward. She offered him her throat, which he ignored in favor of taking her dainty hand in his much larger one. Those hands had done plenty of dirty work, she realized, feeling the calluses scrape her fingertips. “You would have made me a fine mate, Elisabeth,” he told her, gaze roaming from head to toe. “And borne many children, no doubt.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” she whispered. When in doubt, nod, smile and agree.

  “Ah, but alas,” he replied, releasing her hand to her immense gratitude. “It was not meant to be. But I’m sure you’ll make a fine mate for my son, instead.” His gaze captured her and she felt like a swan confronted by an alligator. “You remind me of someone,” he whispered, so low she might not have heard him if there were any other sounds in the house.

  The silence felt oppressive, and she longed to fill it, but nerves got the better of her and she just nodded slightly while Donovan shuffled his feet. The usual sounds of a pack were missing here. The barks and yelps of cubs, the shuffle and crackle of paws in the undergrowth. Even the simple sounds of day to day work were absent.

  He read the question in her eyes – or from her mind, she wasn’t entirely sure which – and enlightened her. “Most of the pack has gone hunting or fishing and all the children are with the healer, learning Herb Lore.” The poor chair creaked again as he eased his weight into it, and she decided he was much less menacing when he was sitting down and she was standing up.

  “Do you know any Herb Lore, Elisabeth?”

  “Beth,” she corrected automatically, before slapping hand to her mouth in shock at her rude amendment. “No, Alpha, I never learned that skill. In our pack...” she trailed off. “In my old pack, I mean. We were assigned different skills that suited our strengths.”

  “Here,” he announced, all authority. “The cubs learn every skill. That way they are never caught short.”

  She nodded. It made sense to her, although she supposed it was an awful lot of work and learning for the cubs.

  “What was your particular strength, Beth?” he requested quietly.

  “Hunting,” she replied just as quietly. “I was good at hunting. I’m fast. The fastest of that pack, and I’m quiet. And I’m very hard to track.”

  “Good to know,” he winked, “in case you ever try to esca
pe us.” He roared with laughter at his own joke, but Beth was reminded of an old saying of Patina’s.

  Half in jest, and in all seriousness.

  “So,” he waved them out. “I have work to do. I’m sure you newlyweds can think of something to entertain yourselves until sundown. We eat here at sundown.” He glanced back up from his ledgers and papers, amber eyes glinting in the deep shadows of his navy office. “Can you cook, Beth?”

  She laughed self-consciously. “No, Alpha. That was my Den Mother’s duty. I suppose she had thought to teach me when I’d been a little older. But as things happened, she didn’t have time.” What a failure he must see her as. She couldn’t cook, she couldn’t heal, and she couldn’t even make his son her official mate. All she was good for was running away and evading capture. A skill she’d once thought was her only requirement.

  “Yes, you were a little...ah...young, to be mated.” His eyes seemed to twinkle, letting her know he knew she was capable of being a bad girl. “But now you’re here, I’m sure you can learn what you need to from the other females. Donovan will introduce you to some of them who remained behind today.” His giant hand waved them off again. “No rest for the wicked,” he teased.

  She wondered if he was talking about himself, or her.

  ~~~~

  Donovan led her toward a small cottage more like a hut than a home, and knocked lightly on the door. A wizened, old woman with a cotton-ball puff of white hair cracked the door and peeked through the gap. “Yes?”

  “I apologize for interrupting your work, Weave Mistress, but the Alpha suggested I bring my mate around and introduce her to the women not out with the cubs today.”

  “Mate, eh?” she squinted at Beth, as if trying to see better. “I see.” The door creaked as she opened it a little wider, affording Beth and Donovan a broader view of the room beyond. It was little more than a room full of yarn and a spinning wheel, with various instruments of the craft hanging on hooks on the bare wooden walls, or perched upon shelves. “Come on then,” she snapped, not unkindly. “You’re letting the heat out.”