Jaded Temptations / Hot Shorts
My Secret Werewolf Lover
My Secret Lover Series, Vol. 2
An erotic short story…
Shawna is camping all alone in the woods when everything she knows gets turned upside down by an injured wolf that stumbles into her campsite. Pity for the poor creature is quickly transformed into hot, ready desire when the wolf disappears, leaving behind a naked man who is fiercely attractive—and as insatiably aroused as she is.
Genre: Paranormal Erotica
Length: Around 10,319 words
Copyright © 2011 by J. Rose Allister
First eBook Publication: April 2012
Cover design by J. Rose Allister
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by J. Rose Allister
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
ABOUT THE E-BOOK YOU HAVE PURCHASED: You do not have the right to distribute or resell this book without the prior written permission of the author. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred.
MY SECRET WEREWOLF LOVER
In retrospect, camping all alone in a desolate part of the woods had been a foolish and potentially dangerous impulse. Had I known the truth about what lurked out there beneath the full moon, I never would have set a single foot in those woods.
Thank God I hadn’t known.
Darkness had already fallen like a thick blanket by the time I’d finished setting up camp and gotten my fire going. The wood I’d gathered was slightly damp, so it cracked and popped loudly while I stuck a branch threaded with hot dogs into the flames. A weenie roast was perhaps a bit stereotypical, but the smell of them while fat sizzled in the fire really got my appetite going. Besides, I like the feel of a good wiener in my mouth, which in turn gets some other appetites going.
I glanced around at my handiwork as I sat on my folding canvas chair, holding my branch over the fire pit. The tent was a four-man wonder with a “bedroom” and an entry/living area that was high enough to stand up in. The camp stove was set up and ready for breakfast the following morning. Electric lanterns were lit and glowing with a fake flicker of flame that cast a golden luminance inside the tent. Inside, my bedroom would be snug and comfortable with the double-high air mattress and double sleeping bag with a fleece liner.
I knew I’d gone overboard for this trip. Just hauling all that shit out of the truck had exhausted me. All that work for one weekend was silly, but as I pulled my slightly charred, smoking weenies from the fire, I smiled tightly to myself. Camping was what my ex-boyfriend had said we weren’t allowed to do, so of course it was the first thing I did once I dumped his stuffed-shirt, self-important ass. So camping I went, and camping in style.
I stuck my branch into the dirt, twisting it back and forth until it sank in enough to hold itself upright while I grabbed a beer from my cooler and a hot dog bun from the food duffel.
“This, Shawna, is the life,” I told myself as I cracked the brew open and indulged a long sip. The bottle was still cold, and since the night was warm enough for a mere flannel shirt over a tank top, cold beer was good beer.
I slid a dog onto the bun and ate it plain, giving a deep sigh of satisfaction after I stuffed down a second one. An owl somewhere nearby hooted approval. The sounds of the woods enveloped me as I sat in that clearing, listening to cricket song and night birds and the faint rustle of a breeze through the trees. Overhead, an obscene number of stars dotted the midnight blue sky, though many along the edge of the tree line were doused by the brilliance of a bright, full moon. I could live out here easily. Much more easily, perhaps, than down in the unforgiving city, where a boring job and little joy would be my lot come Monday morning.
For several long moments, I lost myself in the whole nature thing, feeling like a vital part of the living, breathing woods rather than an intruder in it. Utter peace settled over me, and I sat perfectly still, staring into the undulating flames. I slumped down in my seat as the thrum of city tension drained from my limbs.
That was the last relaxing moment I would have all weekend.
A gunshot split the calm night wide open, scattering birds and startling me out of my drowsy trance. My heart was sputtering wildly as I sat there, wondering what the hell was going on. Hunting wasn’t allowed out here—I’d made sure to check before deciding on the location. And night hunting brought to mind all sorts of predators that I hadn’t really been thinking about when I’d decided to fuck my ex’s no-camping mandate.
That’s when I heard the frantic rustling sounds out in the woods. Something was coming. Fast.
I dropped my beer when it stumbled into the clearing, saliva dripping from its fangs and wild, golden eyes glowing almost as bright as my campfire. Erupting from my chair, I ignored the brew soaking into my shirt and pants while I watched the beast half-limp, half-run into my campsite. It was a wolf, as black and fierce and menacing as anything I had ever laid eyes on. It was also injured.
It saw me and stumbled over something, hitting the ground on its side. The animal contorted its body, whimpering in pain. Its rib cage heaved wildly from exertion as thick, red blood flowed freely from a wound near its shoulder.
There was no denying the swell of pity I felt for the poor creature, but there was no force on earth that was going to convince me to move toward it. Not until I heard the men out in the woods.
“Over here!” one shouted.
There was more rustling sounds headed my way, and I saw the wolf grimacing as it tried to get to its feet. Getting near a wild, injured animal would be suicide, I knew. Yet as the sounds of the wolf’s imminent demise drew nearer, I flew into action without thought.
“Come on,” I said in a quiet, urgent tone as I raced to the wolf’s side. “You have to get up.”
I leaned over the animal, whose muzzle lifted in surprise. Those fangs were close to my throat at this angle, and I jerked out of range, wondering when the hell I’d gone completely mental.
“Get up,” I said insistently, as though it could understand me. “You have to hide before they get here.”
A growl rumbled through its throat, but it hefted itself upright. I started forward and slapped my hand on my thigh, calling it forward.
“Come on,” I said like it was a pet dog. “This way.”
I disappeared into the opening of my tent, and when it followed me in with some difficulty, part of me was relieved. The rest was terrified. The sounds of the approaching men were clearly headed my way, however. I had to hurry.
“In here,” I said, parting the zippered flap to the bedroom section of the tent. The animal limped inside and, to my dismay, weakly hopped onto my nice, fluffy air mattress. Ugh.
“Now stay quiet,” I whispered, fully aware that I’d lost my mind for not only rescuing a deadly wolf, but talking to it. I zipped the bedroom flap shut and dashed out of the tent. I could see flashlights waving wildly in the trees not far off. My plan had been to sit in my chair like nothing had happened. Then I glanced at the spot where the wolf had fallen.
“Shit,” I muttered, and I snatched the hot dog branch from the ground. I rushed over and erased the wolf tracks from the dirt with the branch, effectively trashing my two remaining weenies. I kicked dirt over the small pool of blood the injured animal had left behind, too. I got back to my chair and stuck the ruined dogs into the flames in time to see a trio of gr
eat white hunters burst into the campsite.
They were typical sportsman types, right down to the camouflage suits, orange vests, and lethal-looking rifles. Guess I hadn’t been the only one burning a hole in my credit card over at Bass Pro Shop.
The men had the good grace to stop short and appear at least mildly remorseful that they’d trampled over my perfectly peaceful weekend.
“Where did it go, ma’am?” a tall, gangly man asked.
“Where did what go?” I asked innocently, pulling my now well-charred dogs out of the fire and stabbing the branch back into the dirt.
“The wolf.” This guy was so round and red-faced from the chase that I was shocked he’d managed to stay on his feet. “It must have come straight at you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I folded my arms. “Are you even supposed to be hunting animals out here?”
The third man was the scariest of the three. He had silver hair and sharp, narrow eyes. “This ain’t your normal animal we’re huntin’. Who’ve you got with you?”
My eyes flew wide for a moment, thinking at first that he’d heard something from inside the tent. Then I realized he was asking in general. And as the three men stared at me with their various-sized chests rising and falling in staggered, raspy breaths, I really didn’t feel like admitting I was out there alone.
“My boyfriend’s here,” I lied. “He just went out to take a leak and grab more firewood. He’s got a gun with him.” I added that last part just because it seemed like the thing to do.
“Shouldn’t be out here all alone,” the skinny one said. “Not with what hunts in these woods.”
I eyed the men pointedly and folded my arms. “So I see.”
“You’re sure you didn’t see that wolf come through here?” the fat one asked.
I lifted my arms. “Do I look like I just saw a wolf?”
The smart one nodded to the ground near my feet. “What happened to your beer?”
I glanced at the bottle lying in a puddle. Thankfully, a lie came quickly. “Some idiots ran in here waving their guns and made me drop it. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get on with enjoying another—and nature.”
I could see the sharp-eyed one scanning the ground for tracks. Thank God I’d had the sense to cover them up.
“Be careful now, you hear?” the skinny one said.
“Try not to send any stray bullets my way,” I snapped as they crossed through the camp. Rude bastards, cutting through my space without asking. As they passed the tent, I clenched my teeth and prayed the wolf wouldn’t make any sounds that would give it away. When the asshole hunters pushed through the woods on the far side, I waited a few beats while I contemplated my next brilliant move, eyeing the tent warily all the while.
What now? Maybe it had been too late to save the wolf, and it was lying dead on my mattress. Lovely. Or now that the hunters were gone, it would realize how hungry it was—right about the time I tried poking my head inside the tent.
What had I been thinking? The wolf had a bullet in it and was probably bleeding to death all over my sleeping bag. It was in pain, and I could do nothing for it. It would have been more humane of me to just let the hunters finish it off.
I heaved a sigh and wiped a hand over the beer-soaked thigh of my jeans. The front of my flannel shirt was wet, too, right through to the tank top clinging to my skin. If nothing else, I needed to change so I wouldn’t smell like a brewery. But that would involve going inside the tent. Maybe I could shuck off my wet things where I stood, scurry inside quickly, and return outdoors with my clothing duffel. The wolf was zippered into the bedroom compartment, so it wouldn’t be able to stroll right out—at least, not the normal way. Nylon wasn’t exactly a major obstacle for sharp teeth.
I kicked off my hiking boots and then wriggled out of my jeans. There was just enough chill in the air that peeling off my clothes would have been unpleasant if not for the crackling fire. Soon, I stood there in just my pale blue panties, ready to make a mad dash for the tent. Knowing what lurked inside froze me in place, though. Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hasty about stripping down while there were hunters running around. What if they came back while I stood there, afraid to sneak into my own tent?
That thought prodded me forward. I crept over to the opening, stopping for a moment to listen for any sounds. Nothing. I stepped in as silently as I could, and I had to stifle another curse when I glanced at the vacant spot where I had dropped the clothes duffel upon first putting up the tent. I forgot that I’d moved it into the sleeping compartment when I’d dug out the plaid shirt.
“Damn it,” I whispered, folding my arms over my bare breasts.
Now I had no choice. I either had to go outside and hope no one stumbled over me while I put my wet, smelly things back on, or I needed to get into the wolf-occupied section of the tent. I knew I probably should check on the creature, anyway. The silence was ominous, and chances were damn good that I now had a rapidly stiffening canine corpse to deal with. What a fucking idiot I’d been, practically dragging that thing into my tent!
By the time I reached for the zipper with shaking hands, I wasn’t sure which would be worse—finding the animal dead or still alive. The fact that I might not find the animal at all never occurred to me, so when I unzipped the nylon flap and peeked inside, my mouth fell open.
“What the hell?” I whispered.
A man was lying where the wolf had been. He was naked and unconscious on my air mattress, with his head dropped slightly over one end. A dark, wavy tangle of hair hung long over the edge of the bed, and his stretched-out body was tanned and smudged generously with dirt. His powerfully muscled chest glistened with sweat and bore an ugly, gaping hole near one shoulder. I’m ashamed to admit that I skimmed right over the wound to focus my attention below his waist. The biggest cock I’d ever had the privilege of seeing in my bed lay along a thickly corded thigh. The man was dirty, he was disheveled, and he was an utter mystery.
And he was magnificent.
He flinched as though he were having a vivid nightmare, and a shudder passed over him. The sight of rippling and very male flesh froze me like a statue, but when his eyes suddenly shot open, the eerie, golden glow in their depths shocked a scream out of me.
They were the wolf’s eyes.
My yell drew the man’s attention before I could slap a hand over my mouth, and his head whipped toward me. The way those eyes targeted the fact that I had practically nothing on shot my arms over my chest. My predicament had taken on a whole new level of danger that I hadn’t considered.
I started to back away, but with a speed that hardly seemed possible, he was on his feet—though staggering profoundly—and he grabbed me around the waist. I struggled while he shoved me onto the bed, climbed on top of me and lowered his head straight to my bare breasts.
Jesus, the man was warm. And hard—everywhere that counted. His desperate, wild hunger was obvious as he growled and sucked my nipple deep into his mouth. The flood of sexual current was sharp and immediate. So was my reaction. I shoved him away and slapped him across the face, hard.
“Get off of me,” I said, scrambling backward until I half-toppled off the mattress.
I was contemplating running naked into the woods, even though I knew he would no doubt catch me, when he gave me a look of genuine confusion and then winced in pain. He collapsed onto his back.
“I’m sorry,” he said with what appeared some difficulty as he clutched at his injured shoulder. His stiff cock, however, didn’t look a damn bit remorseful. “I thought you were offering yourself to me.”
I glanced away from his swollen meat. “Oh, really? Do most women give themselves up to you before they even know your name?”
He gritted his teeth as he tried moving his injured arm. A new trickle of blood flowed down his chest. “You were standing there naked. Of course I assumed you were trying to heal me with an offer of sex.”
I’d been standing in a semi-combat stance up until th
at point, but now I let out an indignant snort as I straightened, covering my breasts with my forearms. “I do have underwear on, you know. I was just coming in here for dry clothes. And are you serious? Sexual healing? This is a campsite, not a Marvin Gaye song.”
“What’s a ‘Marvin-Gaye’?”
He spoke with a deep tenor that struck a pleasant chord in my stomach, along with a slow deliberation that could have been because of the pain, but sounded more like he wasn’t used to talking much.
“Marvin Gaye makes music guys like to play when they want to get laid.” I cocked my head at him. “Who are you?”
“I’m Elijah,” he said. “Thank you for hiding me from the hunters. They would have succeeded in destroying me if not for your kindness. They knew me for what I am.”
I swallowed. “And what are you, exactly?”
He paused, and the jolt I felt when his searing, golden gaze met mine spiked heat through every inch of me. “I would answer if not for the fear in your eyes, beautiful though they are. So blue under that pale gold hair.”
That twisted happily in my stomach. Oh, no. Hot, Dirty Stranger was not trying to seduce me right in my own tent.
I blinked away some X-rated fantasies that thought conjured up. “You’re a werewolf,” I whispered, wishing my voice wasn’t so shaky.
He didn’t reply. His eyes were on the move again, sliding along every inch of my poorly-covered body. I suppose he had a point about why he’d assumed my intentions were naughty.
Against my better judgment, I slipped inside the sleeping compartment with him. I found the black duffel and stuffed a hand inside, yanking out the first garment my fingers closed around. I stuck my arms into the massively oversized, brown plaid shirt and secured the button over the center of my breasts first. That’s as far as I got before I heard Elijah’s bulk shift on the mattress. I spun around, afraid he was about to make another grab for me. Instead, I saw that his eyes were squeezed shut and his mouth was open in a silent scream while his fingers dug into the wound near his shoulder.
My Secret Werewolf Lover (My Secret Lover) Page 1
