To Wed a Werewolf

by Kryssie Fortune

  “Keep the pressure on your clit whilst I enjoy the best meal of my life.”

  Her back arched, her hips writhed, and her shriek of pure pleasure delighted him. He rewarded her with a flick of his tongue. “That’s it, sweetness. Come for me now.”

  He laved the wet cream of her orgasm, sucking and caressing until she panted and thrashed. He didn’t deserve her, not after the way he’d treated her back in his tower, but her eager response fed his deepest needs. His natural wolf howled with delight, while his human form craved an emotional connection he wasn’t certain she could give. He prayed his arrogance hadn’t destroyed the connection between them—not that his primal wolf cared. It growled with pleasure, buried its snout in her pussy, and fed on her liquid honey.

  “Come for me again, sweetness,” he commanded, and her body shuddered into a second orgasm. All the while, her fingers stroked and rubbed her clit, and when she looked down, his dick waved like a tree trunk in a breeze.

  “Turn around and kiss me, but don’t let up on your clit. When you think you’re ready, sink one finger inside and see if you can hit your G-spot.”

  Again she obeyed him, opening her lips to his clever tongue and wriggling her wet cunt against his erection; then she slid one finger inside her pussy.

  “Put in a second,” he ordered. “And when you’re ready, a third.”

  She took her time, savoring the way his tongue swept into her mouth, but gradually she rocked back and forth, three of her fingers inside her.

  Caleb kissed her like a starving man, but he held his breath when she pulled out her fingers and positioned herself over his cock. Another jiggle of her hips, and he slid his tip inside her, then waited until she relaxed and expanded around him. Drenched in her damp heat, he fought the urge to thrust and claim. “Steady, sweetness, take it slow.”

  She inched down his shaft, moaning as she let him farther inside.

  Was that moan pain or pleasure? Willing to die beneath Ron’s knife rather than rip through her flesh, he jerked back and commanded, “Stop. No way will I fit inside you.”

  She nodded as if she’d obey him, then slammed her hips down and impaled herself on his cock. Her pained gasp almost destroyed him, but he needed her to come as her pussy throbbed around his dick. He needed to pump and thrust inside her so badly it hurt, but she was still tight and tender inside. His muscles tensed, and his temperature soared beneath his fur, but whatever the personal consequences, he’d lie still and steady while her body acclimated to his.

  When Sylvie finally exhaled, her hips ground a tentative circle against him. He wanted to touch her face or stroke her soft breasts, but thanks to his chains, he could only thrust his hips upward and send her spiraling over the edge.

  Heaven. She showed him a glimpse of heaven. Even trapped as they were, he’d given her pleasure. His primal beast growled its delight and thrust one final time. His cramped limbs shook as sperm exploded from his cock. He came longer and harder than he ever had before. Because of her. His true-mate.

  “Sweetness,” Caleb growled softly, “are you all right?”

  Sylvie collapsed on his chest and sobbed. “I’ve just forced myself on you, and I still can’t touch my powers.”

  SHE PULLED HERSELF upright and took a step back from her beautiful primal wolf. God, she was sore inside, but even if she’d hadn’t managed to touch her powers, she’d love her arrogant Lykae anytime she could—only he hadn’t really let her. Back in his tower, he’d made her burn for him, but before he’d bedded her, he’d cut her loose and given her a choice. Now, when he’d ordered her to stop, she’d roused his desires and used his body like a sex toy—and she still hadn’t touched her magic.

  Just like always—second-class magic, second-class life. When she’d seen those curvaceous Lykae babes come on to Caleb, she’d known she’d struck out again. Eyes closed so he couldn’t see her tears, she reached deep inside and hunted for any dregs of power.

  It was there! Hidden somewhere between her cunt and her heart, and now that she’d found it, it unfurled in thick, silken strands. It was stronger, more substantial than last time, like a complex spider’s web that wrapped around her human doubts and insecurities. Her Fae blood pounded through her, full of gossamer strength and true power as her universe expanded and grew.

  Whammo! Lightning strike. Magic shot from her fingers and shattered Caleb’s chains. She dropped to the floor in an instant, unwinding them from his ankles and freeing his hands. The primal wolf threw back his head and howled as he transformed into human form.

  “That’s some power my fairy princess wields.” He leaped to his feet and pulled her against his chest. “And when this is over, I’ll show you just how grateful a Lykae can be.”

  Sylvie breathed in his forest-fresh essence. “I did it, I really did it, but oh God, just look at your wrists.”

  He’d blistered and oozed where the chains had dug into his flesh.

  “When I transformed, it fixed my broken ribs, but silver burns me in any form, so these”—he flicked his wrists and showed her the matching brands around his ankles—“will take time to fix.”

  “Those would be the broken ribs you didn’t mention when I threw myself on your chest.” Sylvie winced. “Caleb, I must have hurt you, and you were already in so much pain.”

  “Some pain’s worth the cost, sweetness, and you can throw yourself at me anytime you want. I’ve always relied on speed and strength, but when those bastards chained me, I relied on you. You’re one amazing woman.” He pulled her against him and stroked her hair; then his lips were all over her, nibbling and licking her bare flesh.

  “Not fair.” She giggled as he tongued her sensitive nipples. “You transform with clothes, and I’m still naked.”

  “Just the way I like my women,” he teased.

  Sylvie froze, her eager response withering like a rose in winter. Caleb had women—plural—when she wanted to be his one and only. Just once, she wanted to matter, but she’d never been more than a brief fling to this magnificent Lykae male.

  Even in her brother’s isolated court, people told tales of Caleb the Cold. Some mentioned his strength and bravery. Most were about how he went through women like a machine gun through bullets, then left them weeping and heartbroken when he moved on to the next.

  She was just another notch on his bedpost, a stupid fairy so desperate for it, she’d begged. Then when she’d had the chance, she’d all but forced herself on him. Frost crept over her emotions, a temporary anesthetic that numbed her pain, but she needed out of his arms and into her clothes.

  “Let go.” She tried to wriggle away, but his arms locked around her like a vise. “And let me get dressed.”

  She wanted Caleb to hold her forever and love away her pain, but gradually his grip loosened, and his arms fell back to his sides. “Okay, but move out the way whilst I get us out of here.”

  The six-foot width across the cage felt like a six-mile trudge, but she gathered her clothes and moved as far from him as the bars allowed. Their square prison was too low for him to stand, so Caleb resumed his primal form, knelt, and closed his ham-hock paws around the bars. Free to flex his mammoth muscles, he pulled them apart as easily as he’d open a pair of curtains.

  “Okay, sweetness.” He grinned at her over his shoulder—wicked, wolfish Lykae, looking at me like that. “We’re out.”

  Once dressed, Sylvie ignored his outstretched hand and stepped through the makeshift opening, all haughty princess and fixed smile. “I’m a big girl. I can do it myself.”

  She wanted to bury her hands in his fur and pull him so close she lost herself in his masculine presence. Caleb was the protector and guardian of the Lykae Nation, never meant for a half blood like her. She blushed when he stepped back and looked her over like he owned her, but he had women, for Christ’s sake—and no way could her skinny body and boring librarian chic match up with a wolfy harem overflowing with buxom curves.

  “Sweetness.” The tips of Caleb’s tufted ears twi
tched. “How much power have you got left? I hear a car heading toward us, and tonight’s a full moon. My people prefer to run, so it’s probably Ron and his band of merry murderers. I don’t want you underfoot, so if you’re strong enough, you should flash back to your brother’s court.”

  She nodded in silent misery, but as hard as she listened, there was nothing to hear. Her womanizer king banished her back to the Fae realm when she wanted to stay at his side. With a small, sad sigh, she lifted her head, gathered her powers, and met his gaze.

  “Good-bye, King Caleb.”

  There were no dramatics this time, just a slight pop as air rushed to fill the vacuum she’d created. She smiled to conceal her pain and flashed away from the man she loved.

  Chapter Ten

  Sylvie’s good-bye sounded far too final to Caleb. He’d wanted her tucked up safely in his home, but she couldn’t flash somewhere she hadn’t been. Tonight, he’d planned to show her his forest under the light of the full moon, then feel the wind in his fur as they ran and ran. Afterward he’d claim her with fangs and multiple orgasms. He’d mark her so damn hard the entire otherworld knew she was his—and he was hers. He hated the humans for spoiling his perfect night with Sylvie, but once he’d dealt with the hunters, he’d do whatever it took to win her back to his side.

  She’d left with only the briefest of farewells—and he hated that—only the humans were coming closer, and he’d refused to put her in danger again. He transformed seamlessly into his four-legged true wolf form and loped into the woods. His natural wolf was a tracker beyond compare, and for once he hunted human prey.

  Ron staggered out of their van, pulled on earmuffs, and took a swig from a half-empty whiskey bottle. “That bitch is gonna suffer.”

  “And”—his passenger made a grab for the whiskey—“when we’ve reintroduced wolf-man to our Tasers, we’ll kick the shit out of him.”

  Caleb growled, but he laid his head on his paws and listened intently. The second van wasn’t far behind, and while he already had his former captor’s scents, he needed to count manpower and Tasers. The second van disgorged its passengers. Still five of them then, all armed with a Taser and half-drunk on whiskey. And wait for it…

  “The bastard’s gone, and he’s taken the woman with him.”

  Yeah, Caleb thought, Ron’s real quick on the uptake, but he still hasn’t the sense to run. That boy really is too stupid to live.

  “Damn it, Ron.” His passenger staggered outside and scanned the woods. “I was going to fuck her.”

  And that one with the loud mouth and overactive libido moved straight to the top of Caleb’s death list.

  The one with long hair and glasses rubbed his hand over his groin and felt for his cock. “They can’t have gone far. I’ll screw her senseless after what she did to my nose. The doctor cauterized it, but it still hurts like hell.”

  “And whoever finds them first gets first dibs on the girl.”

  Caleb’s primal wolf wanted to bathe in the blood of these stupid humans who dared threaten its mate. His natural wolf wrinkled its snout in disgust. That last one stank of alcohol and piss—and Caleb’s natural wolf would recognize his scent anywhere.

  The one with the girlie giggle swigged more whiskey but shook his head. “Hang on. The wolf’s an abomination, but I’m not standing by while you gang-rape the girl.”

  For that, Caleb decided, the giggler can live.

  Except Ron and his half-drunken mates didn’t feel the same. An exchange of angry glances, a flurry of fists, and a bullet to the brain brought down one of their own.

  They dragged their victim inside, but Caleb still waited in his woodland domain. Rather than spread out and search a wider area, the four hunters marched into the woods in single file. Each one carried a Taser, a flashlight, and a whiskey bottle. They ambled in a haphazard column that soon spread out over a hundred yards.

  Caleb stayed in the shelter of the trees as he loped after them—a silent assassin completely at home in the forest. He tensed his powerful haunches, leaped, and brought Overactive Libido down. A strangled scream. A snap of teeth. A torn-out throat. Blood spurting in a waterfall. First blood to the wolf.

  Caleb shook violently, sending droplets of blood flying off his fur. A quick stalk forward, another leap, and blood pumped from Alcohol and Piss’s throat. Torn muscles twitched their death throes, and freshly spilled blood smeared human flesh. One murdered by his companions, two downed by the wolf—but now Caleb wanted captives, not corpses.

  Ron and Long Hair and Glasses would suffer for everything they’d put Sylvie through. Then, if they answered his questions, he’d make their deaths quick…maybe.

  Ron stumbled on, Long Hair and Glasses by his side. Even drunk, they clutched their Tasers like their lives depended on them. They could still take him down if he messed up. Better to separate them before he attacked. He circled ahead, careful not to alert them to his presence. Not that they’d notice. They still hadn’t even missed Alcohol and Piss or Overactive Libido.

  Caleb transformed into primal form, stood in a moonlight clearing, and threw back his golden head. His howl reverberated with the longing he felt to claim and protect his true-mate.

  “They’re up ahead,” Ron whispered. He brandished his Taser like a shield. “And they haven’t a clue we’re close.”

  Long Hair and Glasses was overeager, shoving his Taser into his pocket and setting off at a run. “Yeah. Race you to get to the girl.”

  Caleb deliberately let them glimpse his golden fur before he disappeared into the woods.

  Ron started forward, but Long Hair and Glasses sprinted past him, unaware that Caleb tempted him into the deepest part of the forest. A five-minute jog later, he’d dropped the whiskey and pulled the Taser from his pocket. He leaned against a tree trunk, breathless and spent. Caleb landed on his shoulders, his two-eighty pounds of solid muscle slamming his victim into the ground. Caleb heard his victim’s shoulder blades shatter; then the idiot dropped the Taser.

  In a move too fast for Long Hair and Glasses to follow, Caleb had it in his hand. He shot the would-be rapist square in the chest, then laughed as he writhed on the ground. Caleb used the prisoner’s belt and bandanna to bind him hand and foot. His primal wolf reveled in the way its captive screamed when the bonds forced his broken shoulder blades into an unnatural position. His shriek cut off abruptly when Caleb clawed the shirt off his prisoner’s chest and stuffed the remnants in his mouth.

  “What’s wrong, dickhead? Did you think I’d let you threaten my mate and live? I’ll be back to finish this later, but I‘ve still got to deal with Ron.”

  He loped back toward the log cabin, but his tangible menace mingled with the stench of violence and death. Birds took flight. Rabbits cowered in their burrows. The crickets stopped chirping. Even the wind dropped and the trees stopped rustling.

  Ron took another swig of whiskey; then he looked around for his mates. “Hey, where is everyone?”

  Caleb strolled into view, his human form still wearing his tux. “I’m here.” He leaned against a tree, legs crossed, hands in his pockets. “But I’m afraid your friends are either dead or tied up.”

  Ron stepped back, his hand shaking as he pointed his Taser at Caleb’s chest. “Don’t come any closer. I’ve got a Taser.”

  “So’ve I.” Caleb spun it around his trigger finger, cowboy-style. “In fact I used it on one of your friends.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Ron took another step back.

  Caleb stood there as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Please yourself. I thought after all that’s happened, you and me could lay down our weapons and go at it, man on man.”

  “Get real,” Ron snapped. “You’ll turn into a giant wolf and eat me.”

  “That really wasn’t my intent.” Caleb shrugged. “But now you mention it, it sounds like a plan.”

  He stared over Ron’s shoulder, raised his eyebrows, and shook his head.

  Ron spun in a panicked circle. “What is it?
What did you see?”

  “It’s Sylvie,” Caleb lied, but Elves’ blood, he missed her already, “and she’s pissed at you. Come on, sweetness, put the rock down and let me have him.”

  Ron turned again, obviously puzzled. Too late. Caleb’s right hook sent blood pouring from Ron’s already tender nose. Fangs and claws elongating into razor-sharp points, Caleb ripped deep furrows in Ron’s chest, then slammed a full-on kick into his solar plexus. Caleb’s primal wolf tried to tear its way to the surface. His natural wolf snarled and wanted Ron’s throat, but Caleb needed to stay human and savor the moment.

  Ron twitched on the ground. He lay on his side and puked up half-digested burgers and a puddle of whiskey—but he kept a tight grasp on his Taser. Before he pulled the trigger, Caleb’s well-aimed kick sent it spinning from his hand.

  “Welcome to my family.” Caleb bared his fangs. “I guess this makes you the official black sheep—and mutton always was my favorite meat.”

  Ron had lost everything: his men, his captives, and the battle that could cost his life. When Caleb stepped closer, he peed his pants and passed out with fear.

  Back in primal wolf, Caleb collected his captives, hoisted one over each shoulder, and flashed to the Wolves’ Great Hall. The rustic interior with visible bricks and rough-hewn benches appealed to the animal in him, but way down at the other end—on a dainty Fae table—a rolled parchment dripped red sealing wax like blood.

  Damn it, the last thing he needed was a declaration of war.

  * * * *

  “About time you learned to do that,” King Leonidas greeted his half sister as she flashed into his bustling throne room. He tossed his half-wild wyvern more meat, then elbowed his way through a throng of courtiers to reach Sylvie’s side. “Stand back, you fools. Give her room to breathe.”

  “Thank you.” She shivered as the Fae backed off. Her excitement at using her magic faded, and reaction set in. She wished her brother would use his powers to heat this vaulted stone hall. Maybe he didn’t feel the cold, but her human half certainly did. She glanced around at heaps of weapons piled against the tapestry-covered walls, then realized the warriors wore dark armor, not their normal peacock-shaded clothes. “What’s going on here?”