Longing for Her Wolves: A Reverse Harem Paranormal Romance (Hungry for Her Wolves Book 2)

by Tara West

“I wish I could return the favor,” she said, and remembered saying exactly the same thing to Luc.

  She heard the distinct sound of Hakon unzipping his jeans. “You can.” He grabbed her hand, and she grasped his cock, rubbing his pearly essence across the thick shaft while he pumped into her fist. His moans grew louder, then stilled, his seed spurting across his shirt. She held him for a long while he pulsed and twitched against her.

  Finally he pulled off his flannel shirt, revealing a tight undershirt that stretched across a broad chest. Balling the flannel in his hands, he used it to wipe them off before throwing it into the corner of the room.

  He stretched out beside her, his feet hanging off the end of the bed. He traced her lips. “Thank you, my love.”

  She giggled, draping a leg across his knees. “No, thank you.” She paused. “You feel better?” She hoped he understood she wasn’t just talking about the orgasms they’d shared.

  His grin was lopsided. “Much.”

  The twitch above his lip had subsided. Her heart warmed even as her eyelids suddenly felt heavy. “I’m tired.”

  He ran his fingers through her hair before kissing the tip of her nose. “You need rest.”

  “Will you stay with me?”

  “Always,” he murmured.

  He sounded far away, his voice ricocheting in her head like waves crashing on a distant shore.

  SHIELDING THEIR EYES against the glare from the setting sun, Rone and Luc trudged through the snow to the back fence. Snow had begun to fall again, and the sheep bleated their disapproval of the frigid weather from inside the barn. Only fools would be out in this weather, but they were in search of their brother. Rone knew Hakon would be angry when he found out they’d gone to Drasko, but it was time their brother was brought back into the fold. He’d been punished long enough.

  They found him under an overhang on one side of the barn, sitting on a rusty old chair and warming his hands over a fire pit. His eyes glowed gold as he searched the horizon for threats.

  He had to have scented them coming, but he didn’t turn in their direction.

  Hey, Luc said as he knelt beside Drasko, rubbing his hands together for warmth and edging closer to the fire.

  Hey, Drasko answered back, his stony features unreadable.

  Hey, Bro, Rone added as he flanked Drasko’s other side.

  Drasko looked at him with raised brows. Are you supposed to be out here talking to me?

  No. Rone shrugged. But I don’t give a damn. Father can’t banish us all.

  Drasko looked at Luc, who laughed nervously. Hakon will be angry.

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Rone blurted aloud before clamping his mouth shut and casting a cursory glance over his shoulder. Well, maybe he gave a small fuck.

  Anything unusual? Luc asked.

  Drasko shook his head. Nothing.

  We’re here to relieve you, Rone said, noticing for the first time how haggard Drasko looked. He appeared to have aged a decade in only four months. You can get some sleep.

  Drasko gazed into the fire, the flame’s embers casting eerie shadows across his face. I’m not tired.

  Rone didn’t believe him. You look tired.

  Drasko confirmed Rone’s suspicions when he didn’t answer.

  How have you been? Luc asked.

  Drasko continued to gaze into the fire, looking as if he’d lost something precious within the flame’s embers. Finally, he turned to them with a look so troubling, it made Rone’s breath catch in his throat.

  I lost my mate, my brothers, and my pride. How do you think I’ve been?

  Rone swallowed hard. He needed to be strong for Drasko’s sake, though inside he was dying. Drasko shouldn’t have been exiled, at least not for so long. A wave of shame washed over him for not reaching out to Drasko sooner. You haven’t lost us, he said. We know it was an accident.

  Drasko looked back at the fire, his eyes flinty. I don’t think Hakon agrees with you.

  He’ll come around, Rone said, infusing a note of cheer into his voice, though he felt anything but happy.

  Amara misses you, Luc added.

  Rone tensed, waiting for Drasko’s reaction. His heart caught in his throat when Drasko hung his head, a lone tear slipping from his eye.

  I know, Drasko murmured, and I hate myself for what I’ve put her through.

  It was an accident, Rone blurted. He refused to let his brother blame himself any longer. He was tired of the discord in his family. Amara would never forgive them if they didn’t heal the rift soon.

  The veil changed you, Luc added, reaching for Drasko’s arm, then pulling back when Drasko arched away. It changed all of us.

  Drasko shook his head. I don’t know if I can change back.

  Rone hated seeing how much this banishment had broken his spirit. He didn’t remember Drasko ever crying as an adult. In fact, he couldn’t recall a time in their childhood when he had either.

  Emotion overwhelmed him, and soon tears of solidarity flowed freely down his face. You will with Amara’s healing touch.

  Drasko scowled. We’re not even allowed to look at each other.

  Bro. Luc reached for Drasko again, this time patting his back, then retreating when Drasko flinched. Luc searched Drasko’s face. If we can find a way, we’ll help you.

  Drasko sniffled, wiping his eyes. You’d do that for me?

  Of course. Rone took a chance and grasped Drasko’s shoulder, pleased when he allowed it. You’re our brother.

  I’d hug you, but not out in the open.

  Rone nodded, patting him. Get some rest. His heart thudded to a halt when Luc jumped to his feet, nostrils flaring.

  Drasko stood, too, eyes narrowing on the horizon. What is it?

  Luc stiffened, then pointed to a long, winding road beyond the snow-covered field. “The Albescus are coming.”

  “HAKON, WAKE UP.” AMARA shook him, her voice laced with urgency.

  “What is it?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “The Stormwatchers and Albescus are here.”

  Hakon didn’t know how Amara knew but suspected the baby had shown her. He quickly strapped on his boots while she helped him into a new flannel shirt.

  “Stay in the house,” he said as he kissed her hard, clinging to her as if his life depended on it before rushing out of her room and taking the stairs two at a time.

  He barreled across the front porch and onto the snow-covered drive, joining his second alpha father, Skoll, who stood with his brothers. Amara’s grandfathers, fathers, and three brothers were there as well, staring down three other packs, one older group with gray hair, one around his fathers’ age, with white, thinning hair, and the youngest pack about Hakon’s age, with fuller heads of white hair.

  He recognized the pack about his father’s age. They were the unfriendly group Hakon and his brothers had had to relieve each night when guarding the Hoia Baciu. The gammas were missing, which meant they were at home with the women. Did the Albescus not value their women, that they wouldn’t leave protectors to watch over them?

  Though the Stormwatchers were nowhere in sight, Hakon scented them. There was movement beyond the trees flanking the field where their animals grazed. The Stormwatchers were observing them, no doubt keeping a safe distance because cowardice ran in their blood.

  “What are you doing on our land?” Klaus Lupescu thundered.

  The hair on the back of Hakon’s neck stood on end when Chieftain Obren nodded at him with a snarl. “Why are the Thunderfoots here?”

  Klaus folded his arms and turned up his chin in a challenging gesture. “That is none of your concern.”

  Obren’s alpha son, Atan, with stark white hair and a scar across his upper lip, stepped forward. “You dare speak to your chieftain that way?”

  “My grandson doesn’t wake, thanks to your son-in-law,” Klaus answered.

  Obren laid a hand on Atan’s shoulder, whispering in his ear. Atan stepped back, and Obren turned to Klaus, his arms spread wide. “My condolences to your
family. Have the Thunderfoots come for the burial?”

  Klaus eyed Obren with derision. “He’s not dead. Amara is healing him.”

  A wave of murmurs rose among his kin. “I didn’t know she was a healer.”

  Klaus grinned triumphantly. “Her powers are strengthening.”

  Obren’s look of shock was replaced with a scowl of disappointment. No doubt the chieftain had wanted Dimitri to die. Rarely did packs of three inherit the chiefdom, which meant the Lupescus wouldn’t have been a threat to the Albescu’s rule if Dimitri died.

  Obren widened his stance, his long gray hair blowing in the frigid breeze. “When your grandson is healed, the Thunderfoots must leave.”

  Klaus pulled back his shoulders with a snarl. “They will leave when they’re ready and not a moment before.”

  Collective growling from the Albescu packs ensued before Obren silenced them with a wave. “You would challenge my order?”

  Klaus locked gazes with his chieftain. “I would.”

  “Do you mean to start a war with the Albescus?” Obren asked ominously.

  Klaus raised his fists. “The Albescus declared war on us when your granddaughter’s mates tried to murder Dimitri.”

  Obren’s face fell for a second. “They tell me it was in self-defense.”

  “They lie. It was an act of cowardice. Dimitri’s back was turned!” Klaus hollered, his deep protector voice shaking the ground under Hakon’s feet and causing the icicles hanging from the eaves to rattle.

  Obren’s grin didn’t mask the vehemence in his eyes. “If Amara is a healer, as you say, then Dimitri will be well soon enough. I will make sure my grandchildren compensate him for his recovery time.”

  Low growls rose from the Lupescus. “Not enough,” Klaus snapped.

  The Albescu pack matched the Lupescus’ growls before Obren silenced them once again. Obren arched a brow. “What is enough?”

  Constantine stepped forward, whispering into his grandfather’s ear.

  Klaus nodded to his grandson before turning back to Obren. “When Dimitri is recovered, he will want revenge, a fair fight between my grandsons and yours.”

  Obren threw up his hands and stomped his feet like a toddler. “It will not be a fair fight. Your grandsons are younger and stronger.”

  Hakon chuckled under his breath. Amara’s brothers were stronger because they weren’t staggering drunks.

  “The Stormwatchers chose to pick a fight with my grandsons,” Klaus said stiffly, “and my grandsons will finish it.”

  Obren turned up his chin. “I will not allow it.”

  “You will dishonor your kin by letting them hide behind your title,” Klaus roared so loudly, the icicles fell and shattered on the porch. “If you stand in my grandsons’ way, the Lupescus will clear a path for them.”

  Hakon shared a look with Skoll before stepping forward. “So will the Thunderfoots.”

  Clenching his hands into fists, Obren said, “Then you declare war on the Albescus and all our tribe.”

  Klaus laughed. “The tribe will not back you, Obren. They know your time as chieftain is coming to an end.” He pointed at the road packed with dirty snow. “Now get off our land.”

  The Albescus piled into three different trucks, tires spinning and snow flying as they barreled out of the driveway.

  Klaus turned to his family. “Hakon, Skoll, I thank you for standing with us.”

  “This is as much our fight as it is yours,” Hakon answered evenly.

  Skoll rubbed his chin, which was covered with several days’ growth of beard. “We sent the Stormwatchers to you. This is the least we can do.”

  One of the trucks had stopped by the treeline, and the Stormwatchers piled in back, one of them with his arm in a sling and needing help. Why had they hung back? Did they fear retaliation from Amara’s family? Or were they scouting the perimeter of their property so they could prepare for an attack?

  Klaus eyed the trucks. “We must double our watch.”

  The others agreed with more growls and cursing. Hakon heaved a shaky breath. He wasn’t afraid to fight. He was afraid the women would get caught up in the bloodshed. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his mate and sister, or worse, his unborn child. He didn’t want a war with the Albescus, but Amara would never forgive him if he didn’t stand by her family. Besides, it was the right thing to do. The Romanian tribe was ruled by an incompetent chieftain. Before Tatiana moved to their country, he needed to ensure she was living in a stable society.

  He looked over at Drasko, a lone wolf standing to one side, his attention on the three trucks winding down the road. For the first time, Hakon appreciated having his second alpha there.

  Drasko, he called.

  When Drasko turned dark, haunted eyes on him, he did his best to hide his shock at the look on Drasko’s face.

  They will bring war to our doorstep, Hakon warned.

  Drasko’s lip pulled up in a feral snarl. I’ll be ready.

  Amara and Tatiana must be protected at all costs.

  Drasko laid a hand across his heart, eyes shifting from inky brown to a brilliant gold. I swear to you, brother, I will give my life to protect them.

  Good. Hakon nodded his approval. I’m holding you to it.

  Drasko’s eyes narrowed. I will not break my vow, brother.

  They shared a look of understanding before Hakon followed Skoll inside. Amara and Tatiana were waiting, nervously tapping their feet.

  “Well?” Amara said, her voice shaking as she protectively rubbed her belly. “What will happen now?”

  He crossed the distance between them, settling a hand on her protruding stomach, feeling the buzz of magic within. He swallowed hard while searching her eyes. “Now we prepare for war.”

  HAKON DIDN’T COME TO bed that night. Amara had a hard time falling asleep without her alpha, so she alternated between tossing, turning, and trembling in Rone’s arms. When morning broke, she rolled out of bed tired and irritable. Her mates were already gone, no doubt keeping watch after her bunic tripled the patrol.

  After a stoic and silent breakfast with her bunica and Tatiana, she tried to focus on healing Dimitri, but she was so upset and distracted by the impending war, she kept losing focus. She felt his forehead as he mumbled in his sleep. Despite the distractions, the color was returning to Dimitri’s cheeks and his jumbled thoughts were unraveling like knots loosening in an old ball of twine.

  Amara, Rone’s familiar voice rang in her ears.

  Was he calling her, was this a figment of her imagination, or was it a result of too many missed hours of sleep? She stood, stretching her sore back, and tiptoed to the bedroom window, careful not to wake Tatiana, who’d fallen asleep in the big chair by Dimitri’s bed.

  Using the sleeve of her thick sweater, she wiped the frost off the window and peered outside. Rone was standing by the barn, looking up at her.

  She rested her fingertips on the glass, smiling down at her gamma.

  Amara, Hakon has gone with your grandfather to inspect the perimeter. Drasko is resting in the barn. Now is your chance.

  Thank you, Rone, she breathed, hardly believing her good fortune.

  Dimitri and Tatiana were still asleep. As quietly as possible, she threw on a coat and put on her bedroom slippers. She’d wanted to wear her warm boots, but she couldn’t lace them by herself, so the slippers would have to do. She tiptoed out of the room and down the stairs, then sucked in a sharp breath when she saw her fathers were in the kitchen, sitting at the table with their heads bent together. Their bitch mate was sprawled at the other end of the table, giving them her usual scowl.

  Could she just slide her big, blimpy body through the front door without being seen? She cracked open the door, cursing under her breath when the hinges squeaked.

  “Where are you going, Amara?”

  She froze, turning to her alpha father, Boris.

  “I’m not going to lie.” She’d come so close. “I was sneaking off to see Drasko.”


  “You can’t go outside.” He steered her to the dining table. “It’s not safe.”

  She thought about begging him to reconsider, but she knew he wouldn’t relent. By the time she reached the table, tears streamed down her face. She didn’t want the stepmonster to see her cry, but she couldn’t help it. She missed Drasko.

  “Come here, fiică.” Her birth father, Marius, held his arms out to her. She sat on his knees, fearing she’d crush him, but he made no complaint as he pulled her close, kissing the top of her head.

  “I know you miss him,” he murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  His tenderness made her cry even harder. She loved her father, but she wished it was Drasko holding her.

  “It’s all my fault,” she said.

  “It’s not,” he soothed, rubbing her back. “You were not raised with our kind. You didn’t know.”

  There was a loud scraping of chairs, and she let out a blubbery sob when her other three fathers came to her side, taking turns hugging her.

  A loud bang made them jump and turn toward Katarina, who was glaring at them with such hatred in her eyes, Amara felt like a wilting flower.

  “Say one word, Katarina,” Boris said on a low rumble, “and you will regret it.”

  Katarina’s lower lip hung down in a staged pout. She ran out of the kitchen, flinging herself on the living room sofa in such an obvious performance, Amara almost felt sorry for her. Actually, not really.

  “If we had our choice, she wouldn’t be with us,” Boris said, rubbing Amara’s arms. “But we can’t burden our sons with her when they’re trying to win over Tatiana. Since her parents refuse her, and we are her mates, her care falls to us.”

  Her marriage had issues, but nothing like what they were going through. How cruel fate had been to pair them with such a heartless shrew.

  “But she was unfaithful,” she whispered, hoping Katarina couldn’t hear her. It’s not that she was afraid of her. She just didn’t want to start more trouble for her fathers.

  “I know, but so was I,” Marius said.

  “You were bewitched by the Ancients before your marriage.” Amara said sympathetically. “Katarina choose to run off with the Devoras after your marriage. If the Devoras had wanted to keep her, they would’ve tried to kill you. She had to have known this.” She no longer cared if Katarina heard her. In fact, she hoped the unfaithful bitch did hear.