The Mating Game

by Melissa Snark

“Zach?” Against her will, Theresa had called to him. She was furious with him but he owed her—an explanation at the very least, and an apology.

  Zach stopped, spine ramrod straight, and glanced back over his shoulder. With his face cast in shadow, Theresa found his expression unreadable, but she sensed his contained anger. His lashes swept his cheeks as he shut his eyes for a second, and when he opened them again, his implacable demeanor had not softened in the least. He continued inside without another word.

  Theresa’s stomach churned and she struggled to retain a grip on her emotions. She curbed the impulse to chase after him, to shout her anger and demand his attention. Donna didn’t matter. The bitch was insignificant, a bully and a loser.

  Charlaine’s hand on her shoulder brought Theresa back to herself. She blinked and looked at the Delta wolf. “Let him go,” Charlaine said. “He needs to blow off steam and you need to get your head in the game, especially if you want to keep it.”

  Theresa nodded. “Right, sorry. I guess I need to undress.”

  Charlaine’s dark eyes gleamed in the dim light. “Before we go any further, I need to ask—are you pregnant?”

  Theresa looked at her in astonishment. “What? No! Why do you ask?”

  Charlaine shook her head. “No reason, just wondering. Of course, you’re aware that you can’t risk yourself in a dominance battle if you are pregnant. In fact, if you even suspect that you might be pregnant, that’s reason enough to back out of the fight and allow a champion to fight on your behalf.”

  Abruptly, Theresa understood. Her surprise deepened to confusion. She and Charlaine weren’t enemies, but they were not exactly friends either. For the most part, they were little more than strangers who happened to be members of the same pack. “Oh. Are you offering?”

  Charlaine flashed a feral grin. “I’d love nothing better than an excuse to whip Donna Turnkill’s ass.”

  Theresa chuckled. “I’m sorry. I’m not pregnant. There’s not even a chance.”

  “Damn.” Charlaine snapped her fingers. Her manner implied easy-come-easy-go, but Theresa saw the disappointment in the Delta’s eyes. “Well, I guess you’ll be fighting your own battles then.”

  Theresa smiled. “Guess so. Sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Charlaine said. “It’ll be hard watching you fight, but if Zach can manage it then so can I. Okay, go ahead and take off your clothes. Let’s get this over with before Adam sends someone looking for us.”

  Theresa undressed with haste. She removed her top then kicked off her shoes to shimmy out of her blue jeans. “Why would it be hard for you to watch me fight?”

  “Let’s just put it this way. As a dominant, it’s tough standing by while others fight, especially sweet little mommy wolves. Your daughter is just darling.”

  Theresa heard Charlaine’s envy upon mention of Isabel. Her stomach twisted into a knot. “I’m not that sweet,” she said, blushing.

  Charlaine laughed. “And the sky ain’t blue.”

  “Where do you know Isabel from?”

  “I teach fourth grade at the elementary school.” Charlaine frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Theresa crossed her arms across her breasts. Her bra and panties covered as much as any bikini, but still she felt exposed. Her figure wasn’t the source of her shame. “It just occurred to me that I must have hurt the feelings of every woman in the pack who’s had trouble conceiving. I feel like a wretch.”

  “Well, don’t.” Unexpectedly, Charlaine hugged her. Following a pause due to surprise, Theresa returned the other woman’s embrace. She shed no tears but pressed her face into the crook of Charlaine’s throat and accepted the comfort offered.

  “I’m sorry,” Theresa said. “I wasn’t trying to make anyone feel bad.”

  “I want children,” Charlaine said. Her voice sounded tight and she squeezed Theresa hard. She spoke in the manner of one unaccustomed to intimacy. “But I haven’t tried and failed to conceive. I just haven’t tried.”

  Startled, Theresa drew back a bit. “Why not? If I went solely based on scent, I’d guess you’re fertile.”

  Charlaine regarded Theresa with a mixed expression—both hopeful and wary. “Do you think? I’ve never met anyone who claimed to be able to identify fertility with their nose.”

  Theresa held up her hands. “I’m not either—making claims. But I do smell things. I guess maybe I’m different, but honestly, it never occurred to me before today.”

  Charlaine caught Theresa’s raised hands and smiled. “Thank you. I’ll think about it. After I find a good man.”

  “But—you and Robert?”

  Charlaine laughed. “Robert? Good lord, no. He’s my cousin, and besides that, he’s like a brother.”

  “Oh.” Theresa’s cheeks heated again. “I’m sorry. I just thought— I mean, everyone assumes you and Robert have a thing.”

  Charlaine blew out her cheeks. Her expression grew provocative. “On account of we’re both black?”

  Theresa almost shrank and apologized again, but standing up to Donna and Simone, and even confronting Zach, had worked wonders for her courage. She snatched back her hands and put them on her hips, adopting an attitude.

  “Oh, don’t you dare! On account of you having come from Atlanta with him. On account of you going places with him all the time. On account of you not having challenged either Zach or Robert to obtain a higher rank in the pack when you’re every bit as dominant!”

  Charlaine rocked back on her heels and roared with laughter. “Wouldn’t old Tex just have himself a conniption fit if a she-wolf were to contest for leadership of the pack!”

  Theresa joined in the mirth and giggled so hard she grew short on breath. “He’d have kittens!”

  At long last, Charlaine stopped laughing and urged her along. “Aren’t you little Miss Dynamite? C’mon, get out of those under things and let’s get you changed. I can’t wait to watch you hand that bitch her ass.”

  Theresa shed her bra and panties. She endured Charlaine’s quick appraisal of her body with quiet pride. While she wasn’t model thin or athletic, she had nothing to be ashamed of. Her figure harkened more to Venus de Milo: generous breasts, trim waist, and full hips. Her ass was tight and round; her legs provided most of her height.

  “Take my hands,” Charlaine said, offering both of hers, which were already partially transformed to wolf claws.

  “How do you do that? I’d give anything to be able to change at will.” Grasping the Delta’s hands, Theresa bowed her head and breathed deep from her chest. It took an effort to channel the rush of nervous energy and anticipation that made her want to pace the floor.

  “It takes practice. Nurture your wolf.” The summoning came then, flowing from Charlaine and into Theresa. The dominant wolf called forth her beast and energy flowed across Theresa’s skin, signaling the start of her transformation.

  Theresa whimpered and then cried out as the painful change remodeled her body from human to wolf. Bones snapped, repositioned, and then mended. Muscles thickened and fur sprang up across her entire body, bursting through her skin. Her teeth grew to sharp points and the flat of her face pushed into a muzzle; a tail grew from the extension of her spine. Afterward, Theresa lay on her side panting, her head in Charlaine’s lap while the pain lessened. Charlaine remained human. Even her hands had reverted to normal.

  Charlaine proved to be a good dominant. She offered everything Theresa could have wanted or needed, except she wasn’t Zach. She felt his absence as a hole inside her, an empty space only he could fill. Without meaning to, she whimpered.

  “It’s okay,” Charlaine said, stroking Theresa’s head. “You’re okay.”

  Theresa lifted her head, feeling the pain receding and her strength returning. She climbed to her feet and turned to perform a quick inspection of her body. Her nose followed her tail. Thick red and black fur greeted her gaze. As a wolf, Theresa weighed somewhat more than she did as a woman, and measured five feet in length from nose to tail.

>   Charlaine stood. “Are you ready?”

  Gazing up at the dominant, Theresa barked in affirmation.

  “Let’s go.” Charlaine led the way through the patio door and into the house.

  ****

  Fury drove Zach’s every step. He performed a thorough search of the house and located Adam in the kitchen along with his enforcers and Becky.

  “Adam, can I have a word with you?” Zach asked.

  The Alpha looked up and greeted him with a knowing smile, giving the impression that he’d been expecting the visit. “Sure thing, Zach. Let’s step into my study.”

  After a moment’s delay, the enforcers started to follow until Zach stopped them with a look. “Alone.”

  The enforcers glanced at their Alpha for guidance, and Adam indicated for them to depart. He led the way from the kitchen down a long hallway to the downstairs office.

  Zach followed and held his tongue, jaw clenched in grim silence, until Adam shut the mahogany door. The Alpha strode the length of the room, stopping near his massive desk.

  “Have a seat,” Adam said, indicating a leather recliner.

  “I’ll stand,” Zach said, tone clipped.

  Adam smiled and crossed his arms. “Fair enough. I can see that something has got your tail over the line, son. Go ahead and tell me what’s eatin’ at you then.”

  Son. The smug bastard had the nerve to call him “son.” Zach’s mouth twisted at the corner and cold fury crashed over him, but he contained it with all of his will and shoved the anger down deep. Complete calm settled over him, a blanket of ice, which enabled him to put everything into perspective.

  “You put us out there to the females of the pack without telling me,” Zach said. “You showed me up in front of Theresa on purpose.”

  Adam chuckled. “Nah, Zach, you’ve misunderstood. It was just a bit of misdirection. I wanted everyone’s attention focused on romance. The competition isn’t important. My goal is to restore the pack’s bond and hand off leadership to a competent successor—namely you.”

  Zach opened his mouth to speak but cut off what he’d been about to say. He stared at Adam, realizing that he’d underestimated the Alpha. He needed to rethink his assumptions or the war was lost before the battle even began.

  The silence played to Adam’s great weakness—the man loved the sound of his own voice. The Alpha allowed no opportunity to talk to pass untaken. “Your little filly will get over it. Buy her some flowers and make sure she knows who’s in charge.”

  With a great effort, Zach retained a tight rein on his anger. “What exactly did you hope to gain then by making that declaration?”

  A gleam entered Adam’s eyes, lending him a wily air that served to reinforce Zach’s sense of caution even further. “I’ll admit, I had my doubts about you after our last meeting. I wanted to gauge whether you’d talked to Robert behind my back.”

  “I see.” Zach saw too well, and his cautiousness redoubled, especially since he fully intended to warn Robert about Adam’s intensions. Before Theresa’s confrontation with Donna had distracted him, he had planned to speak with the Beta wolf after the pack meeting.

  Without a doubt, Adam would turn on Zach if the Alpha thought that he’d been betrayed. There were other males further down the pack’s hierarchy that could be potential successors.

  With a great guffaw, Adam slapped Zach on the shoulder. “Don’t look so grim. It was obvious from Robert’s reaction that he hadn’t been warned. Now, I suggest you take advantage of the distraction I’ve provided. Use the opportunity to formulate your strategy and figure out how to gain an advantage over Robert.”

  “I’ll do that.” Zach would rather have bitten off his own tongue as thank Adam for his help. Hastily, he took his leave and got away from the Alpha as quickly as possible, before he lost control of his temper.

  He needed to be alone long enough to cool down, so Zach headed outside. He exited via the side door of the house and burst into the calm night air, moving faster than a walk, slower than a flat out run. He felt ready to explode, heart pounding, blood burning. Rage drove him into the woods and he instinctively plunged into the thickest growth, seeking to be clear of the pack to vent his emotions in private.

  Adam’s scheming made him furious. The Alpha had started off trying to include him in dirty politics, and made him a part of racist bigotry. That was bad enough.

  The moment that Adam started meddling in his relationship with Theresa, a line had been crossed. He could put up with Adam’s bullshit to a certain point. Theresa and Isabel were the closest thing Zach had to a family, and he regarded any threat to them with deadly seriousness.

  Worse than anything else, it infuriated him that Adam’s machinations had led Theresa to believe that Zach’s courtship was nothing more than a joke! An effin’ joke!

  A roar began in Zach’s throat and rumbled his entire chest, issuing as a primal challenge to the night. Every creature great and small, from the largest predator down to the most timid prey, trembled in fear. No further noise followed in its wake, and the night fell dead silent. Even the crickets ceased their relentless chirping. The night was a patchwork of dark greens, shades of gray, and midnight black. It promised sanctuary and redemption.

  Blindly, Zach struck out and grabbed hold of the first object in his path. His hands locked about the trunk of an adult redwood, four feet in diameter with thick branches that reached for the sky. Shoving forward, he pitted his strength against the tree, channeling all of his anger and frustration into the act of aggression.

  For a long moment, the tree held its own, providing Zach with an opportunity to work out his frustration. Energy moved across his skin, and the change to wolf threatened the very foundations of his control. He shoved harder, assaulting the tree with all of his strength, and inevitably, something snapped. With a powerful crack, the trunk tilted over and fell with a resounding crash. Roots tore free from the earth, turning up dirt clods, rocks, and a wealth of insect life.

  Zach leapt back to avoid the protruding root system, which destroyed the ground under his feet. He landed well clear of the mess and remained in place until the last echo died away. His energy remained high, his wolf kept on a short leash, his control tenuous at best.

  After an indeterminate time, a single flame flared to life, igniting the tip of a cigarette. Rumbling a warning, Zach turned his head in the direction of the intruder. His sides heaved and his nostrils flared as he drank in the aroma of nicotine. The underlying scent was that of his rival and friend. The flame of the lighter illuminated a male face in profile: Robert Blane.

  “Damn man, you sure showed that tree who’s boss.” Robert laughed, a throaty chuckle that diffused the tension and carried no challenge.

  “Yeah, well…” Zach rolled his shoulders in a shrug. Not his most eloquent retort, but it demonstrated that he retained enough self-control for speech.

  Robert puffed on his cigarette and stared. With a valiant effort, Zach calmed down. His breathing slowed and became regular. The golden glow left his eyes. He stared at Robert across the short span and took stock of the other male wolf even as he was considered in turn.

  Robert Blane measured within an inch of Zach’s six foot five and weighed about twenty pounds more. Though they’d never come to blows, it promised to be a vicious and brutal fight if and when it came to pass.

  Zach snorted and ran a hand from his forehead through his hair, wiping away sweat. If conflict were to occur between him and Robert, it would be a sanctioned combat with the pack to bear witness. Not some down and dirty brawl in the backwoods over a conflict orchestrated by Adam Teller.

  “Want a smoke?” Robert held up the pack to him.

  Zach hesitated, tempted but he’d quit years before.

  “It’s not like we can die of lung cancer,” Robert said, tone dry and to the point. Werewolves did not contract diseases. Most deaths were the result of violence, severe accidents, or suicide. A rare few succumbed to old age.

  “Theresa hate
s the smell,” Zach said.

  Robert rolled his eyes. “Man, that woman has you whipped and you’re not even properly mated.”

  Zach chuckled. Ultimately, temptation won out over prudence. “Thanks.”

  Robert shook the pack to free one of the cigarettes. Zach accepted, holding it between the index and middle fingers of his right hand. Robert struck the lighter again, and Zach bent to light the tip. He puffed to get it going and then inhaled a long draught, allowing the soothing effect of the nicotine to take hold. He and Robert stood in silence for a time, puffing and contemplating.

  Zach tossed the butt down and ground it out with his heel. The ritual of smoking had accomplished its purpose. He once again felt in control, and no longer possessed a raging desire to destroy everything in his path.

  It felt odd, standing there with Robert, his rival for leadership of the pack. Three years of Saturday morning golf games countered the competitive aspects of their relationship. They were friends, but only unusually strong blood ties allowed two intensely dominant males to coexist. Of course, they had both known all along that it might come down to them killing each other in the end.

  Robert cleared his throat, communicating a shared feeling of awkwardness. “Strange, huh? Who’d have thought three years of building up this pack together would result in a leadership competition based on a mating game.”

  Zach hesitated, but he saw no point in being circumspect. “That’s gotta be a hell of a thing for you.”

  Robert shot him a sharp glance, and Zach tensed. In the time he’d known Robert, certain things had become evident to him, but not discussed. It was the first time Zach had ever made an allusion to the other man’s sexual preferences. They stared at one another, and the moment for violence came and passed without incidence.

  Robert’s jaw worked. “You could use that to get me disqualified from this competition.”

  “But I won’t,” Zach said in clipped reply. “It wouldn’t be fair or right. Besides, who you shag is no one’s business but your own.”

  Robert’s brow drew tight and his lips compressed. “Adam would use it to throw me out of the pack.”