by Lynde Lakes
Rick could scarcely breathe. He walked out on the terrace to look at the innocent-looking moon they claimed was a trigger to disaster. He took in a few gulps of air.
At the sounds of howls behind him, he turned. Hugh, Victoria, and Valerie were moaning and writhing on their pads. They seemed to be in terrible pain. He glanced at Lamont. “Isn’t there something we can do?”
“Just keep your eyes on Victoria. When she gets through this, she may try to take off. Be ready.”
Rick had never felt more helpless in his life. Victoria was sweating and the muscles throughout her body seemed to be jumping. She convulsed and writhed upon the exercise pad. Long claws sprung from her fingertips. She howled mournfully and raked her fingers through a wild, thickening, onyx mane. Her almond-shaped eyes glittered with savage intensity. The tears in her fierce gaze sent an arrow right to his heart. He took a step to go to her.
“Don’t,” Damon said. “See those incisors? While in pain, she’s likely to bite you.”
Dark hair was appearing all over her body. Good God, these people were werewolves! What the hell had he gotten himself into?
“There are two kinds of werewolves, Rick,” Damon said, as though talking about breeds of dogs. “Those who embrace wolf tendencies of their free will and those like my girls and Hugh who inherited the condition and are merely victims of their birth.”
Rick watched as the three suffering creatures stripped off their clothes with wild abandon. And, Lord help him, Lamont had told him not to take his eyes off of Victoria. He felt guilty staring at her—and totally enchanted. She had the figure of an Amazon goddess, fierce-looking ivory fangs, and glittering gold claws. Fire flooded Rick’s veins and he felt himself swell and grow hard.
Suddenly, the girls rose and rushed to the terrace.
“Grab them,” Damon shouted as they girls ran past the group and leapt over the railing. Hugh, now a huge black wolf, followed them. “Why are you just standing there, Rick? Don’t let Victoria out of your sight.”
Hell, he had no chance of catching Victoria on foot. And if he jumped off the terrace, he’d break his fool neck. He raced downstairs, grabbed his helmet from the cycle bars, and yanked it on. Once he lowered the helmet shield, he roared his Harley to life and headed in the direction he’d last seen the girls.
Am I insane? I’m chasing three werewolves for crap’s sake.
Eager for fun and games, Kat headed to the door of the classy-looking apartment. She straightened her tight black dress and rang the bell. She was late and the moon was already big and round in the sky. She and the brainy doctor were supposed to watch the sunset from his terrace together. Well, he’d just have to forgive her. Things happened. The guy who was supposed to pick Deeto up for their bachelor party got into a fender-bender and was late. And she didn’t dare leave until Deeto was safely on his way. Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something. She remembered Angela’s words. Just be careful, Kat. Something about Lazar gives me the creeps.
Well, the creeps wasn’t what he gave her. His slow, appraising glances almost set her panties on fire. She’d never felt quite this way before, apprehensive, maybe a little fearful, and excited at the same time.
Finally, he opened the door wearing a scanty bathing suit that left nothing to her imagination. His chest glistened with moisture.
“Looks like you’ve been swimming,” she said, feeling inept.
“Just exercising, but I love the water.” He grinned. “I’d about given up on you.” His deep voice sounded seductive and pained.
She glanced past him to the lone candle burning inside. “I’m sorry I’m late. Due to circumstances at home, I couldn’t call. And once on the road, I still couldn’t call because I signed a contract with Oprah that I wouldn’t use my cell while driving. So I decided to just get here as quickly as I could.” She forced a smile and said, “Forgive me?”
“In that slinky, black-sequined dress? A man would have to be blind and passionless not to forgive you anything and everything.”
She handed him the picnic basket with her old standby Lasagna and a loaf of French bread still hot from the bakery ovens. The aroma rose up and she’d forgotten until then that she’d skipped lunch. “You said you’d provide the wine and dessert.”
He placed the basket inside on a table and then drew her into the semi-darkened apartment and into his arms. “Honey, I’m ready, willing, and able to provide anything your heart desires.”
“Kinda lame,” she said, laughing. “I expected better from a brainy guy.”
“You want Shakespeare?” he asked. “I can do that.”
“Never mind. Hokey is okay.”
She caught the faint scent of whisky on his breath.
He looked at her neck, then bent and kissed it. His lips were hot and he nibbled at her suddenly flaming skin. His bare abs flexed against her as he pressed his throbbing maleness against her. “Did you find the twins well?” he murmured.
“Twins? Oh, sure, they’re fine. I didn’t stay at the mansion long.”
She felt dampness between her legs. Oh, crap. This conversation was insane considering how he was setting her on fire. She heard the faint whisper of her zipper.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured as her dress slipped to the floor, leaving her in her lacy black bra and panties. He bent and kissed her breasts.
She stroked his bulging biceps, feeling ridiculous and tempted, for the first time in her life, to slow things down. He nimbly unhooked her bra. She looked up into his eyes. “You still remind me of someone. And it bothers the hell out of me.”
He chuckled and nibbled at her neck again. “Perhaps we knew each other in past lives. Although, I doubt I’d ever forget you.” He shoved her against the wall and put her hands up over her head. Then he began kissing her until she was wild with wanting him.
The lone candle on the coffee table flickered and went out. He lifted her into his arms and headed through the darkness as though he could see. He lowered her to a bed, pounced on her. Then he took her so violently that it felt like rape.
The moon moved from behind a cloud and fell on Lazar’s face. In the shifting shadows, his open mouth and sharp fangs triggered a terrifying image of the night years ago when the werewolf crashed through her bedroom window, intent on tearing out her throat. That night, she had a guardian werewolf to save her. Tonight, she had no one.
Straddling his Harley, Rick poured on the speed, his eyes scanning the bushes for any sign of Victoria. Damn it. She seemed to have blended with the night. The wind whistled around him. For the first time in his life, he feared he might be in over his head. Then he saw her ahead on a boulder, howling at the moon. He exhaled in relief. Perhaps she’d believed that by slipping through the dark shadows and tangled bushes, she’d shaken him off of her tail. Thank God she was wrong. He slowed and cut the engine. Now what?
Even as half woman and half Amazon wolf, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Okay, enough lusting over the forbidden. His job was to protect her against her enemies and herself. And from him. He got off the bike and grabbed a rope from the storage compartment. Night sounds of crickets and distant howls sent prickles up his arms. He formed a loop in the rope and let the lasso fly. It dropped over her head and shoulders. He pulled it tight about her waist and as he ran toward her, she fought the taut line with everything wild within her.
She snapped into the air, raised the hackles around her neck and shoulders, then splayed her ears sideways to emphasize her increasing defiance. She issued a low, throaty growl. Her game of establishing superiority was a wolf routine he knew well from Indian Joe’s stories. She was trying to give the impression of increased size and dominant power. Unfortunately, she could win. With her sensitive ears and superior eyesight, she was holding all the cards.
Based upon the fierce way she was thrashing about on the rope, he doubted he could hold her long. Either the rope would snap or she’d wriggle loose. He spoke soothingly like Indian Joe had taught him t
o do when dealing with animals. When he reached Victoria, he inhaled her lupine pheromones to establish a psychic link with the wolf part of her. “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m here to take you home.”
She tilted her head and looked at him with turbulent brown eyes. She opened her mouth, curled her lips, and growled. Her incisors looked deadly. Joe had taught him that the wolf was an intelligent, shy animal that avoided interaction with humans. He saw nothing shy in her aggressive behavior. Werewolves apparently were a more ferocious species than regular lupines. He wondered if the other two wolves were close by, waiting to pounce on him.
Victoria had no fear of Rick, but she wasn’t ready to be dragged home on a leash like a naughty pup. She sucked in his seductive male scent mingled with something woodsy and wild along with the tangy scents of scrub brush and moon poppies. She tugged on the line, eager to bathe in the heat of the full moon. Its power could not be denied and no biker with a lasso could deprive her of this glorious freedom. She howled, leapt from the rock, and ran through the bushes, enjoying the damp earth beneath her paws as she dragged him along. Leave me free to embrace the night and drink in the feral sensations.
He clung to the rope, hand over hand, getting closer and slowing her. She inhaled his male scent again and remembered clinging to his bare torso, feeling his heat, his power. Fiery lust rose in her so quickly it stole her breath away. Suddenly, she no longer wanted to escape her pursuer—she wanted him. Her wolf soul craved sex, and right or wrong in her parents’ eyes, she wanted him now. Undoubtedly, Dad had proclaimed her off limits to her protector. That could heighten the excitement. Imagine, after she turned on the heat, the fun of testing this mere man’s willpower. Her charms had worked on the weak-livered hunter, but would they work on a man of integrity? Was she capable of being a great temptress, one that even a man like Rick couldn’t resist?
She grabbed a handful of moon poppies, jammed them in her mouth and devoured them. Then she started her lupine reversing technique of mind over matter. She’d have a better chance of seducing Rick if she were more womanly and less lupine. She concentrated, counted backwards, and processed each step in reverse as she had with the hunter. When she felt no change, she concentrated harder.
Time was running out. She leapt up on a table-boulder and lay on her back, exposing her breasts, stomach, and pubic area to the glow of the moon, undulating, writhing, and looking vulnerable, willing. He approached slowly. She heard his breathing accelerate. With satisfaction, she inhaled his pheromones of lustful excitement.
“I know what you’re doing, Victoria, and it won’t work.” His voice was low, and the guttural rumble told her he could barely contain his lustful rage. When he reached for her elbow, she slid off the boulder and into his arms. She locked her limbs around his shoulders and began nibbling on his neck and kissing him while rhythmically rubbing her nude body back and forth against his torso and the hot swell of passion in his jeans. “Stop that,” he growled, and pushed her away while wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand where she’d nicked him with her incisors.
She backed away four steps, dropped on all fours, and slinked toward him as she had done with the gullible hunter. Rick leapt forward onto her, taking her by surprise. Hey, now he was getting to it. The weight and heat of him as he rolled with her brought new waves of desire. She reveled in the coolness of the hilly grasses beneath her flaming skin and his muscles flexing against her bare belly. And his heat was—oh God, so hot, so overpowering.
He struggled, getting her in position, and she was ready to lose her virginity to this handsome biker. When he twisted her arm behind her back and pulled her to her feet, she felt like he’d thrown ice water on her sizzling skin.
“That’s enough, Victoria. We’re going home. And get this straight—as long I work for your Dad, this isn’t going to happen.”
Hmmm, she thought, that means I’ll just have to get you fired.
He maneuvered through the rough terrain slowly, forcing her to run behind the bike like an animal. Suddenly, she caught the scent of sweaty men—then her feral eyes detected the shapes of humans. It was the hunters! She couldn’t let Rick ride right into a trap and leave their freedom to chance. She ran and leapt onto the back of the bike, wrapped her limbs around his middle, and growled at him to hit the gas. Startled, he swerved and almost hit a barren grape vine. Then, as though he heard the approaching danger, he took off like white lightning toward the mansion.
Hugh let Valerie run free through the rough, hilly terrain for a while to get the wildness and call of the moon out of her system. It was a win-win situation because he was getting the wildness out of his system as well. He had to use extra care and run deep into the hills because Valerie’s snowy white coloring made her an easy target. Nothing would happen to his charge on his watch. He gave a low moan of satisfaction. The mountain’s lower foothills were dotted with a camouflage of low concealing brush and a scattering of rocky caves—a perfect refuge for romping werewolves. When he decided it was time to go back, she balked, so he used his bigger, stronger, and more dominant nature and little bites to the muzzle to persuade her.
Ahead, Hugh caught the oily smell of the hunters and took a distant path. When he and his charge finally entered the north boundary of the Lamont Mansion, he gave a sigh of relief.
It was short lived. When he caught the scent of perfume, sex, and death, every hair on his body stood on end. He recognized Kat’s fragrance and prayed he was wrong. As they got closer, he saw her sprawled on a table boulder, used and discarded, her throat torn out.
Hugh fought to hold back a mournful howl. He couldn’t chance the hunters hearing and spotting them. His sacred job was to keep Valerie safe. Valerie whined softly. With tear-filled eyes, he sent her a fierce look that demanded silence. He wished he could erase this ghastly image from her young mind.
Finding the mutilated body on the Lamont property meant one thing—someone was setting his brother up for trouble. If he wasn’t accused of murder outright, he’d be blamed for keeping wolves on his property and for not protecting the community. Or maybe someone knows about me or the girls and the blame would fall on us. The result would still be revenge on Damon.
Maybe he should just bury the body, wolf-style, and add another concealed tragedy to the growing chain of Lamont secrets.
Suddenly, a bullet zinged over their heads. No more time for indecision. His responsibility was to keep Valerie safe. He herded her toward the mansion through the heaviest underbrush with a speed accelerated by terror-driven fear of failure to perform his God-given duty.
Would Angela forgive him for leaving her friend to the cruel elements? Would he ever forgive himself?
Safely inside the mansion, Rick waited with Victoria for Damon Lamont to join them. Struggling to hold onto his dwindling control, he paced the floor, his head full of dangerous memories of her undulating and writhing on that boulder. Oh, dear lord, then when he rolled in the grass with her, for a moment, her strong etched face loomed over him, her lupine jaw set in determination. Sensual lips revealed terrifying protruding fangs. With her tongue, she touched those dagger-like incisors and growled low in her throat. It was insane, but he’d felt an exciting lust that came extremely close to making him blow his wad.
Now, her teeth were ivory white and perfectly even. He had to admit that, even with fangs, she’d looked sexy as hell. He couldn’t stop looking at her. Her high cheekbones were flushed a delightful rosy pink, and the gold flecks in her expressive almond-shaped eyes looked more enticing than ever. The savage intensity that had glistened in them earlier was gone. But he’d never forget the musky feral scent or his fight to overcome the attraction and demand for passion. With all his determination, he had fought the feral urge. Even now, God help him, he wanted her small waist between his hands, wanted to smooth his palms down those slightly flared hips, wanted to feel the curve of her breasts pressed against his chest.
As though Victoria felt his scrutiny, she glanced toward h
im and their gazes locked and heat shot through him. “You have to stop looking at me that way. I told you this can’t happen.” Somehow, this half-wild creature had totally beguiled him and he didn’t know what to do about it.
Now, with her almost totally morphed back, it was tempting to believe he’d merely experienced a nightmare. He wondered how she was able to morph back.
When Damon entered the room, Rick said, “Sir, maybe I’m not the man for this job. We almost got caught tonight.”
“But you didn’t and—”
Suddenly, Hugh entered with Valerie. Neither of them had morphed back. Remaining in the room with two fierce-looking wolves took some getting used to. Victoria had almost totally morphed back. Why hadn’t Valerie? She was whining softly and Hugh looked ready to kill. Something bad had happened. Hugh seemed determined to speak. But the only sound that escaped was a growl.
“What happened?” Damon asked. “Is someone dead?”
Hugh trotted over to a row of framed pictures. He grabbed one in his mouth and laid it at Damon’s feet. It was of a woman.
“Kat?”
Hugh moaned low in his throat.
Victoria gasped and her eyes pooled with tears.
Damon looked at Rick. “We’ll talk later. I have something to attend to.”
“Can I help, sir?”
“Stay with my girls and don’t let them out of the house, and don’t let anyone in.”
“Yes, sir.” Rick felt inept, but a deadly emergency had occurred and this wasn’t the time to let Lamont down. He looked at the two werewolves, one almost totally morphed and one still in her feral state. Two pairs of intense, tear-filled feral eyes stared back at him. If that wasn’t enough to unglue him, their thick, wild hair finished the job. How the hell was he going to keep these beautiful alpha she-wolves with him?
