Tall, Dark and Furry (The Elementals Book 1)

by Meredith Allen Conner

  I’m so in trouble.

  Sela turned her cheek to rub in his pelt. Mac’s chest rose and fell in quick bursts under her skin. The battle had been short, but vicious.

  Her hands shook as they petted over his wide chest. No tangible wounds apparent. The trembling traveled up her arms and through her body. She couldn’t stop shaking.

  All the emotions she repressed, poured out. Fear for Livie. Anger at Mac. Hate for the MIBs. Joy at finding her sister. Battle heady adrenaline. She couldn’t contain it. She gasped for breath, overwhelmed. This wasn’t a panic attack, this was knowing her life was changing before her eyes.

  She needed to make a choice soon.

  Mac thrust his muzzle into her neck. Sela shivered from the damp heat. And the hot tongue that licked her tendon.

  “Mate,” he growled. His voice, slightly distorted in his werewolf form, carried a deeper, gravelly tone. “You ran.”

  Guilt swamped her. She’d hurt him. Sela stomped on the guilt. Her sister had been in danger. The MIBs were her problem and had been for years. She . . . damn it all.

  It didn’t matter how logical her excuses, how right her reasoning, it hurt her that she’d hurt him.

  Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

  Mac scooped her up. One arm locked behind her back, keeping her tight to his chest, the other under her legs. She felt a brief tensing of muscle and then he leapt. They landed outside of the downpour.

  Sputtering and wiping the rivulets out of her eyes, she looked around. Her rainstorm hadn’t encompassed the entire block. It surrounded the tree, about twenty feet on all sides. The top of the tree stood exposed, halfway down the dense, nearly impenetrable storm wrapped around the tree and the immediate area.

  Huge waves of dirty red water tumbled out of the circle, turning the block into an instant lake.

  Wow.

  Mac jostled Sela. She looked up . . . wanted to avoid his eyes for a bit longer.

  She expected to find lots of anger. Probably some hurt. And braced for the guilt. She found none of that. Mac’s amber eyes glowed and swirled as usual when his beast was out, but then again, not as usual. It was like looking through a kaleidoscope inside, instead of outdoors in the bright sun. The colors and swirls were all there . . . just a dimmer version of them.

  Sela swallowed. She tried to thrust her shoulders back, but they slumped instead.

  Mac raised his muzzle toward the storm. “Make it stop.”

  Sela averted her gaze from Mac and raised her hands. She envisioned her inner Hoover, her mark glowed brightly and the rain stopped.

  Silence descended, held the night for brief ransom, then released its demands and allowed the shrill alarm of a siren to break through.

  “Not much time.” Sela turned to see another werewolf, holding Livie, standing a few feet away. Livie’s mouth hung so far down Sela hoped it hadn’t become unhinged. Her tiny fists – they really looked miniscule against the big werewolf – knotted in his fur and pulled rhythmically.

  It looked to be a subconscious thing because Livie’s eyes had glazed over to I-am-not-really-here land. Luckily, she didn’t seem to hurt the werewolf.

  This werewolf stood as tall as Mac, perhaps even slightly taller. His massive form was covered in charcoal fur. Thick, dark grey turning lighter over his lower chest and belly. Sela didn’t look any lower than that.

  Broad, pointed ears constantly turned and flexed, hearing things Sela could only guess at. His eyes swirled silver above his muzzle. Sela saw the blood dripping from his fangs, but didn’t let it bother her.

  They had killed for her and Livie. She refused to thank them by screaming like a girl.

  Charcoal werewolf jerked his head to the side. “We need to leave.” He turned and said, “Thanks for your help. Sorry about the mess. If you ever need our help, you’ve got it.”

  Sela gasped. How she missed them she didn’t know. About a dozen werewolves surrounded them. Dark, brown, red – earthy colors, colors that more than likely allowed them to blend really well into the night and landscape.

  These werewolves stood, crouched and even walked on all fours. Graceful, lethal and so other-worldly beautiful it took her breath away.

  The scene before her eyes transcended reality and plopped her right down into fairytale land. Their movements so fluid, it took Sela a moment to realize, that no human could ever move like that. In these forms, the werewolves were true beasts, muscles and bones reshaped to resemble wolves more than men. Knees bent backwards, heels raised so they walked on the front of their paws, arms a tad longer than a human’s. And, of course the thick fur, wolfish heads, lethal claws and sharp fangs.

  The better to eat you with my dear.

  Sela watched a reddish werewolf leap casually into the large tree and land on a large branch twenty feet up. The branch groaned warningly under his weight – these guys had to weigh close to three or four hundred pounds. He snatched something up and jumped down, landing lightly on his feet.

  The only sound she heard had been that of the branch squeaking in protest. Absolutely incredible given their size.

  The reddish werewolf held the item he’d snatched up to his muzzle and began chewing.

  It took several very long seconds before her mind caught up to what her eyes were telling it.

  The werewolves were eating the mess. The mess left behind after the battle with the MIBs. The dead body part-ish mess.

  Holy Hannah, I’m going to hurl.

  She must have made some sound, because Mac appeared to realize what held her attention. He squashed her face into his damp fur and growled, “Don’t look.”

  Good idea.

  Werewolves remember? They eat meat. All sorts of meat.

  Sela swallowed cautiously and told her inner voice to shut up.

  She felt Mac’s muscles shifting and bunching around her. Air swished passed her ears in a near constant stream. Probably jumping. Or leaping. Moving them quickly away from the carnage at any rate.

  At last, he stopped and set her on her feet. Sela swayed slightly, Mac grabbed her waist holding onto her until she regained her balance. Did he know his hands kneaded and squeezed her as if he couldn’t resist the feel of her beneath his paws?

  Mac released her, then grabbed her shoulders and set her back upright. Sela ducked her head and turned, cheeks tinged red. Mac stroked her while she leaned into him. Their bodies certainly knew what they wanted.

  A large truck stood in front of her. Big, black with oversized tires, an extended cab and a snarling wolf’s head painted on the side, Sela could only hope Mac borrowed it.

  Energy buzzed behind her and the air seemed to shimmer. Sela swiveled to find Mac, human, naked and very, very male Mac looming where the werewolf had been.

  Her palms tingled.

  “Ladies, we need to leave quickly before the police arrive.” Cam stood next to the truck, holding a door open and motioning with his hand for them to get in.

  Silver werewolf equaled Cam. Now, equally naked Cam.

  Sela glued big eyes to his face. Livie swayed in place.

  Cam made an irritated barking sound and bent to pick up Livie. Sela’s eyes, unfortunately, followed his movement.

  A warning growl issued from behind her half a second before a very large masculine hand covered her eyes.

  “You’re my mate. Mine.” Possession dripped from his every word. “You look only at me.”

  Sela wanted to argue with his Neanderthal behavior, but she felt too relieved to hear the strong emotion to be upset. Finally, some emotion! She didn’t care how angry he might be, as long as he showed some sort of emotion instead of that awful calm and uncaring tone, she didn’t care what the emotion was.

  Just go ahead and slap your forehead now. First, you’re worried because he doesn’t appear mad and now you’re happy that he is mad?

  She’d better start checking out nice, lunatic asylums, as it appeared she’d just taken up residency.

  ****

  The truck stoppe
d in front of a motel that had seen, not only better days, but better years. Considering the way the paint peeled from the exterior and the cracked windows that had been fixed with duck tape, better decades might not be too far off.

  The motel was perfect.

  Not only did Sela hate to waste money she never had, but she’d traced the MIBs back to their lodgings on several occasions. Always mindful of getting caught, any knowledge gained regarding her enemy proved to be not only useful, but potential ammo for the next encounter.

  Every time she followed the bastards back to their lodging of choice, it turned out to be a mid to upper class facility.

  Just another reason to hate the assholes, they obviously had money.

  Low rent motels were not only easy on the pocketbook, but could be found anywhere and in great plentitude. Finding the right cheap motel took manpower and time. Manpower and time the MIBs would need to spend while they all got some sleep.

  Funny, she wouldn’t have thought a cheap motel would be Mac or Cam’s first pick. Sela knew Mac had money - to spare, give away and possibly burn. Her curiosity perked up, wondering exactly when and why the werewolves learned how easy it could be to hide in the slums.

  Plus, it gives you something else to think about other than exactly how upset Mac is with you, huh, Chickie?

  Mac opened the passenger side door, slid out and opened the rear door before Sela could think of a reasonable put down.

  And once again she was arguing with . . . herself.

  Mac and Cam had planned ahead. They’d both left a spare pair of jeans in the truck, so when Mac reached in and lifted Sela, she pressed up to his heated, bare, not-quite-so-furry chest. Without the worry of his being arrested for indecent exposure or inappropriate grabbing and drooling on her part.

  Mac tucked her head under his chin with just one quick inhale along her cheek. By now, Sela knew the scenting thing to be a sort of reassurance and a bid for information. Judging by the quick, deep rumble Mac gave after every sniff, whatever scent she gave off satisfied his beast. Could the werewolf smell her emotions as well? Did emotions have a scent?

  Mac headed towards one of the motel doors, clasping Sela easily with one arm, while he dug for a key. The heat from his bare chest invited her in. Sela snuggled in closer, arms wrapped around his neck. She rubbed her cheek over his pectoral muscle, relishing in the hard muscle and the soft, dark hair tickling her face.

  She loved his easy strength and thick, roped muscles. His every movement brought a new muscle into play, defining different areas of his body. Flexing, rolling, creating shadows and valleys that Sela knew she could investigate for years without ever losing interest. His body made her want to throw away the compass and lose herself in exploration.

  Mac almost reached the door when Sela remembered Livie.

  Son of a . . . sabotaged by overzealous hormones again!

  Sela held onto his shoulders and leaned back to see Cam unlocking the door next to them with Livie draped over his shoulder.

  “Hey! Is Livie okay?” Sela leaned farther back trying to see Livie’s face. She succeeded in nearly falling backwards. Mac let go of the key in the lock and planted his hand between her shoulders to halt her fall.

  “She’s fine.” Cam’s growl rumbled over her shoulder. “Heartbeat’s steady. She looks too thin. I think she just needs rest and food.” A door slammed shut.

  Sela shifted, but couldn’t see around the hold Mac had on her. Had Cam just gone into the motel room with her sister? Alone?

  Sela knew exactly what reaction the battle had on Mac and Cam. Changing between forms, leaving them naked before they put on their jeans, had left nothing to the imagination.

  Before Mac put his hand over her eyes, Sela got an eyeful. She now knew that Mac was not the only circumcised werewolf in their clan and that all werewolves liked fighting. Really, really liked fighting.

  And her sister was now unconscious and locked in a room alone with an enthusiastic Cam?

  Mac shrugged his shoulder, claiming her attention. “Cam won’t hurt her. Your sister is safe. He’ll protect her.”

  “But ah, he, um,” Sela couldn’t decide how to phrase it. She didn’t want to remind Mac of her eyeful of Cam’s lower region, but she couldn’t just ignore it either with her sister now enclosed in a room with those excited lower regions.

  Mac narrowed his eyes. “Cam won’t touch her.” He growled, clearly unhappy with her lower region viewing. “He’ll take care of it himself.”

  Take care of it him . . . Oh. Ah. No need for further explanation there.

  “Your sister will be fine for the next few hours while we . . . talk.”

  Talk talk? Or talk without words, lots of hands, lips, tongues and panting talk? Sela was definitely on board with the latter. She’d prefer not to go with the former.

  Mac turned the key and opened the door. He shifted sideways to get them through the door without hitting heads or feet on the frame. Her head and her feet.

  Mac kicked the door shut, crossed the few feet to the queen sized bed and dropped Sela on top. She bounced, gasped then gasped again, as nearly three hundred pounds of werewolf settled on top of her.

  The nearly three hundred pounds grabbed her wrists and raised her hands over her head, kneed apart her legs and settled between them.

  Mac totally surrounded her, held her immobilized and to top it off, he leaned down until their noses almost touched and growled softly.

  She knew what he was up to and she could do nothing about it. Caught, laid out before him like a lamb before a wolf, emotions poured through her. He wanted to intimidate her and he had centuries to figure out how to do it just right.

  Vulnerable, nervous, slightly scared and excited – Sela felt it all. She couldn’t help it. Anytime Mac Came near her, her body reacted. Her heart sped up, her pulse raced. She had to concentrate on breathing.

  Even now, when she knew he was angry, she responded to him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her physically, he might growl and roar, but he wouldn’t harm her.

  The only harm he could inflict would be emotional. And if he had decided she was not the mate for him . . . that would devastate her. Not curl-up-in-a-ball-and-cry-for-weeks devastate but curl-up-in-a-ball-and-never-recover devastate.

  Sela held her breath. She couldn’t stop the fine trembles running through her body. She turned her head to the side.

  “Now, explain to me why you are here and not safe in my house.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mac doubted Sela even understood the significance of exposing her neck to him. She might be thinking in human terms and simply wanted to avoid looking at him, but Mac responded in werewolf terms.

  She submitted to him.

  He released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. She’d put herself in danger, completely ignored his orders and failed to show him any trust. Again.

  But she still submitted to him.

  The soft curve of her neck and throat vulnerable to him. He could ravage her, or pin her and take her. In this position, it became his choice. Her show of submission, understood or not, eased a great deal of his anger.

  From the moment Kevin called with the news of Sela’s escape, Mac had been on edge. Hell, on edge didn’t begin to express his state of mind. His mate had left the safety of his house, alone and vulnerable. He didn’t know where she was or if she was safe.

  Forget the MIB bastards, there were way too many sick fucks in the world who enjoyed preying on vulnerable women. Mac didn’t care how tough or street savvy Sela might be. One on one, a woman didn’t stand a chance physically against a man.

  The fear for her clawed at him, knowing she had survived this long on her own made no difference. She was his mate now, her safety now his responsibility. To top it off, Cam and Roc forced him to stay in their borrowed truck because he couldn’t keep his claws and fangs from emerging. He hadn’t been able to release even a little frustration in action, when they were gathering information.

&
nbsp; Only the hope that Sela had left his home to find her sister, kept Mac from turning completely. He knew Sela hadn’t come to terms with being his mate. She could have simply left him.

  He quickly changed his grip on her wrists so his claws would not cut her. His muscles shifted beneath his skin, lengthening and broadening, his beast demanding release.

  Mac inhaled, drawing in Sela’s scent, the sweet fig and rainstorm combination that called to him. He stared at the curve of her throat, soft and exposed. She was safe. She hadn’t left him.

  Stay down. We have her where we want her.

  He shuddered under the grip of his beast. Strong, demanding, very much the wolf – his beast fought back. The worry and fear drove him, pushed him to act. To mate.

  His mate trembled beneath him, his beast wanted to take her.

  Mac growled at her throat. The recent battle didn’t help. And the full moon still held sway. He couldn’t stop the change. Suddenly, he didn’t want to stop the change. A werewolf for centuries, dominant and powerful, Mac needed to reassure himself and his beast of her in the most basic way possible.

  He let his beast loose.

  His muscles expanded, bones reshaped themselves and thick dark fur blanketed his skin. He ran his tongue over the tips of his fangs.

  Sela turned her head to face him. She gasped, eyes widening in shock and Mac knew his eyes were glowing back at her.

  Mac held her gaze with his. He leaned down and lapped her throat. Starting at the base, he drew his tongue up under her chin and then back down, swirling around the soft indention at the base of her throat.

  Sela arched her neck to allow him better access. Mac breathed in her excitement, her burgeoning arousal brushing along his sensitive nose.

  Excitement, desire and - Mac inhaled just to be certain – a little caution, but no outright fear.

  Perfect. Sela was perfect for him.

  Mac licked her throat again in appreciation, then he drew back and flipped her.