Wolf's Choice

by Laura Taylor

  He shut off the water and dried himself off, avoiding looking in the mirror. Since John’s departure, he hadn’t been sleeping well, and he knew that the face in the mirror would show evidence of that, bags under his eyes, a grim frown etching creases into his skin, a hollow expression staring back at him.

  Not bothering to put any clothes on, Baron headed for the bed and lay down, the curtains still open, letting in the faint light of the moon. It was still early, but he was in sore need of catching up on some sleep, and he deliberately closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, determined to ignore the ache in his chest and get a decent night’s rest.

  It was heading for ten o’clock at night as Miller followed Skip up the grand staircase to the first floor landing, his heart thumping in his chest. They’d just spent the past hour wandering the rose gardens, fingers entwined, talking about everything and nothing, and sharing kisses that had become progressively more intense, until Skip had finally pulled back, looked up at Miller with a mischievous smile on her face, and asked if he’d like to come up to her room. He’d nodded and said “I’d love to.”

  Over the past two weeks, their interludes had become longer and more heated, and a few nights ago, Miller had dared to slide his hand beneath Skip’s shirt, stroking her skin with tentative fingers. She’d squirmed and giggled nervously, stating that she was ticklish, but then slid her own fingers beneath Miller’s shirt to return the favour. The feel of her small hands against his skin had made his muscles tighten and twitch, along with a corresponding tingle in another part of his body.

  And then, that same evening, Skip had suddenly and without prompting launched into a brief explanation of her childhood; her father, his friends, and the evil they had inflicted upon her. The revelations had been shocking, far worse than anything Miller had imagined based on the few scant details he knew of her past, and hearing it had made him feel sick, overwhelmed by his outrage at the men who had harmed her. He’d tried to stop her, told her that she didn’t need to tell him anything if she didn’t want to.

  “He’s not in control of my life any more,” she’d replied defiantly. “I’m not ashamed of who I am, or what I had to live through to get here. And it still hurts, but… not everyone is like him. He got to go to jail, and I got to become a magic wolf. This time around, I’d say karma did its job perfectly.”

  Her resilience and the positive outlook she maintained on life had awed him yet again, though the news had cooled his romantic interests for the evening, and the following night, he’d held back, deliberately letting her make the next move.

  But Skip had proved that she knew what she wanted, and truth be told, he was finding himself increasingly eager for their relationship to move to the next level. She was a beautiful woman, small and compact, yet strong, defined muscles on her arms, with dazzling hazel eyes that never failed to captivate him.

  Now, he followed her into her bedroom, reminding himself to take things slowly.

  But Skip had other ideas. After closing the door, she tugged him close and kissed him again, picking up right where they’d left off outside. Their bodies were pressed tightly together, the heat of her radiating through both their sets of clothing to leave him feeling flushed. A faint mew of pleasure escaped Skip’s throat, and he couldn’t help but smile against her lips. He’d slept with women before, but not for a long while, and none of them quite like the woman in his arms now, and it reassured him to realise that she was enjoying this as much as he was.

  When Skip finally pulled back, her cheeks were pink, and she was breathing fast.

  “Is it me, or is it hot in here?” Miller asked. His skin was glowing warmly, his own face flushed in a way that had little to do with the temperature.

  “If it’s too warm, then you should take your shirt off,” Skip said, with such nonchalance that Miller didn’t quite know how to respond. Not sure if she was joking or not, he reached for the hem of his t-shirt, lifting it slowly while keeping an eye on Skip, in case she changed her mind.

  But she was watching him intently, a shy but eager smile quirking at the edge of her lips, so he pulled the shirt up and over his head, dropping it carelessly to the floor.

  Her eyes were fixed on his chest, and he stood still, waiting for her verdict. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed softly. “Wild and strong, like a wolf.” She touched him tentatively, a soft brush of her fingertips over his abs, up his chest, around his waist, and he couldn’t help reaching for her in return, his hands stroking her hair, her neck and shoulders.

  “Do you want me to take my shirt off?” she asked, and Miller nodded, not really thinking the question through. She was captivating, beautiful, wild and courageous, and he was suddenly eager to see more of her.

  Skip stepped back and stripped off her t-shirt quickly, dropping it to the floor, and then she stood in the middle of the room with nothing but her bra covering her upper body… and suddenly seemed to freeze, her expression going blank, her body motionless, and Miller felt a rush of dread. This was clearly too much, too soon, and he turned away quickly, offering her a measure of privacy while trying to give her time to recover.

  “Sorry,” he apologised, not knowing what else to say. “Do you want me to get dressed?”

  No response, and he waited, holding his breath.

  “No,” came the whispered reply. “I just… I’m sorry…”

  “You don’t need to apologise,” he told her. “If you want to stop, that’s perfectly fine.”

  The sound of Skip suddenly bursting into tears had him spinning around in alarm. But rather than looking horrified, or running for the bathroom, Skip instead unexpectedly launched herself into his arms, and he caught her in an awkward hug, acutely aware of their naked torsos pressed against each other.

  “You would, wouldn’t you?” she asked, her voice shaky. “If I said stop, you would.”

  “Absolutely,” he murmured into her hair. “This is your choice. Every step of the way.”

  She pulled back and peered up at him, the tears already drying. “You’re a very strange man,” she told him frankly, and Miller had to smile at that.

  “Then it looks like I fit right in here,” he said wryly, which made Skip laugh. She glanced down at herself, to where her bra was still covering her chest. She was stroking his arms, seemingly unaware of her own actions for the moment.

  “I’m not…” she began, doubt filling her eyes.

  “You’re perfect,” he told her firmly. “Strong and fierce and powerful. Like a wolf should be.”

  She smiled at that, a blush turning her cheeks pink, and he couldn’t help but lean down to kiss her. She tilted her face up and kissed him back, and the embrace lasted for several long minutes, desire overcoming fear as her hands became bolder. He allowed himself to touch her more firmly, exploring the curve of her shoulders, the dip in her waist, the tantalising curve of her buttocks. And then her knee was suddenly insinuating itself between his thighs, and Miller felt himself swell inside his trousers.

  “You’re beautiful,” she told him, tracing the contours of his muscles with a fingertip. “I like your skin.”

  “I like every part of you,” he said, a mischievous finger tracing her breast along the edge of her bra.

  She grinned, half embarrassed, half pleased, and began coaxing him towards the bed. The backs of his knees hit the edge and he sat down, then wriggled back at her urging, until they were both sprawled on the bed.

  They continued for a while in the same manner, plenty of kisses, gentle touches that became heated strokes, and then there was a moment of awkward fumbling as Miller draped a leg over her thigh, and she immediately pushed it off again, avoiding his eyes and trying to look nonchalant about it.

  “Sorry,” he apologised again. He had to wait a moment for Skip to pull herself together.

  “Maybe…”

  “Do you want to stop?”

  “You’re kind of heavy,” she said, her voice sounding stilted, and Miller immediately shuffled back, giving
her more room. Let her stay on top, he counselled himself sharply, aware that there must have been plenty of times in the past when she felt overwhelmed by the force of a male body on top of hers. When she didn’t say anything more, he moved to get off the bed, but was stopped by Skip suddenly taking his hand.

  “I don’t want to stop. I just…” Her free hand fiddled with the blanket.

  “Take your time,” he said, perfectly willing to let her take the lead. She made an effort to smile, though it came out slightly wobbly.

  “My wolf is playing up,” she admitted awkwardly. “She’s very protective of me, and I think she just wants to assert her dominance a bit.” It wasn’t often that any of the shifters referred to their wolf side in third person, but Miller himself had felt the occasional surge of emotion from his animal half that seemed at odds with his instincts as a human, though he was aware of the importance of accepting the wolf’s demands as his own. In response, he lay down on the bed, much as a wolf might lie down to show its submission to a more dominant member of the pack, and then he watched as Skip’s head went up a fraction, her shoulders straightening, her expression altering so subtly that he couldn’t have described the change, but knew at an instinctive level that Skip had accepted his surrender and now felt more at ease with her own more dominant position. In the past week or two he’d been putting a fair amount of time into studying wolf behaviour, and was gratified to see the research paying off now.

  Her hand reached out again, tracing a line from his knee up to his hip, lingering at the waistband of his trousers, and he slowly edged his own hand over to explore her waist, her ribs… Her eyes met his, and he slowly, deliberately eased his hand higher to lightly cup one breast.

  Skip leaned into his touch, biting her lip. Her breathing quickened a fraction, her fingers digging into his skin, though he wasn’t sure she was aware of what she was doing. But then her hand slid downwards, brushing lightly over his groin… and then, when she saw him twitch, she did it again, firmer this time.

  He rolled over onto his back, tugging her with him, and she leaned down to kiss him, pressing her chest harder against his hand in the process. Their strokes became bolder, faint moans drifting out of the comfortable silence between them, until, long minutes later, Skip finally pulled back.

  “I like this,” she told him, with such sincerity that he had to laugh.

  “I’m glad. So do I.” His groin was throbbing, his heart beating fast, but he got the impression that Skip had had enough for the evening.

  “It’s getting late,” he said, sitting up and kissing her gently. “I should let you get some sleep.”

  Skip nodded, smiling shyly at him as she shimmied off the bed and reached for her t-shirt. She waited while he did the same, then stopped him at the door to kiss him again. “Sleep well,” she murmured, then opened the door, watching him go with eyes full of mischief and delight.

  Skip closed the door after Miller left, turning around to lean against the smooth wood with a sigh. A small, satisfied smile settled on her face. Miller’s body was beautiful; smooth, dark skin, defined muscles, the natural grace and litheness of his wolf side beginning to show up in his human form, and she blushed as she realised that she was already eagerly anticipating the next time they would try something like this. There had been a few moments when she’d become nervous, dark memories threatening to ruin the happy evening, but Miller had been so different from the other men. Patient, where they had been demanding. Gentle, where they had been harsh. And yet he had also been passionate and excited, but in a way that had made her feel important and valuable, rather than cheap and worthless.

  In the morning, she was going to have to call Nia and ask for some advice, a few questions in her mind that were creating a mild apprehension about some of the details of this new development in her life. Small steps, she reminded herself, knowing that this evening had been a huge leap forward for her, though it had probably been rather mundane for Miller. But next time, she might find the courage to go further, to take off her bra, perhaps, or maybe even her shorts. It would be a while before she felt comfortable taking off her underpants in front of him, but she was prepared to wait. Six months ago, she’d never even entertained the idea of sleeping with a man, and here she was, having let him see her in only her bra, and having explored his body in a way that had been tantalisingly exciting, seeing his pleasure and enjoying the power of knowing that he was holding back for her, waiting for her, because her opinion mattered to him.

  Small steps, she repeated, reaching for her pyjamas to get ready for bed. But she was looking forward to taking the next one.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Genna stepped into the tent in the Grey Watch’s camp, responding to Sempre’s shrill demand that she come at once. But when she saw what was on the table in the centre of the tent, she stopped dead in her tracks.

  It was a small bird cage, a tiny robin fluttering about inside, wild and terrified at its inexplicable captivity.

  “We have a new task for you to try,” Sempre said gleefully, moving to stand beside Lita, who was hovering near the bird. “So far you’ve only tried your magic on inanimate objects. Today we’d like you to try it on the bird.”

  Genna stepped forward, her heart beating fast as she stared at the tiny creature. “That’s crazy,” she stated flatly, knowing it would get her in serious trouble. “We have no idea what could happen. We’ve never tried this sort of thing on a living creature before. What if it dies?”

  “It’s just a bird,” Lita snapped impatiently. “It hardly matters if it dies or not. But that information will be invaluable to us. More secrets of the shifter magic laid bare before our eyes.”

  “I… But what… No!” Genna protested. “That’s just cruel.”

  The slap across her face was not unexpected, but it stung nonetheless. “You dare to defy me, you weak pup?” Sempre accused, her voice cold and cruel. “You think yourself so important that I would tolerate such a thing? Or do you honestly think you’re stronger than me?”

  “No, I don’t,” Genna said, backing up a step and searching for a way out of the corner she had been backed into. “I don’t mean any disrespect, it’s just… I was taught that we should live at peace with the natural world. To harm one of its creatures just seems wrong.”

  Sempre stepped forward, an expression of dark anger on her face. “You listen to me, girl,” she hissed, lowering her face until she was eye level with Genna. “You test the magic on that bird, or I will demote you to the rank of omega and lock you in a cage for a week.”

  Genna felt herself go cold at the threat. After all the time and effort she’d spent climbing the ranks, fighting for food, for the small privileges that came with status, such a huge step backwards would be agonising. And she knew from seeing it happen to others what life in the cage was like. No food, little water, no shelter from the rain. A life of misery for herself, or the life of one small bird. As much as she wanted to take the moral high ground, to protest against Sempre’s ever increasing cruelty and selfishness, she was barely holding her own in this camp as it was.

  Feeling sick, Genna walked over to the cage. Get it over and done with quickly, she told herself. If she was lucky, that would be it for the day. And if things went really well… who knows? Maybe the bird would survive. She reached out her hand and pressed it against the cage, focusing on the bird. A quick burst of electricity and the bird vanished.

  Heart in her throat, Genna turn to the side and brought the bird back, setting it down gently on the table…

  And closed her eyes, tears immediately springing up behind her eyelids. The bird was dead.

  “Disappointing,” Lita said coldly, and Genna forced herself to open her eyes, holding back her tears.

  “Is that all?” she asked, praying they were done with her.

  “Not quite,” Sempre said. She removed the bird cage, then set a large tray on the table. It was once again larger than anything Genna could make disappear… but then her h
eart sank when she saw that Lita had a second cage in hand. Another bird, larger than the first.

  “You’re aware that our magic can be enhanced with blood rituals?” Sempre said, as Lita took the bird out of the cage. “Lita is going to help you perform your first one. And then we’ll see if you have the power to move something that’s actually a useful size.”

  Genna felt numb as she watched Lita prepare for the ritual. She wanted to say no, wanted to protest any number of things that were wrong with this situation, but the terror of her long-awaited fears made real left her speechless. Incense was set up around the room and lit, fragrant smoke filling the small space. Muttered chanting grew gradually louder, as Lita wafted the smoke over the bird in her hand. And then she waved Genna closer, Sempre physically dragging her over to the tray when she didn’t move, and she pressed the bird to Genna’s forehead, reciting an incantation that Genna had heard her repeat on these sorts of occasions before, but the meaning of it was beyond her.

  Lita picked up a small knife. She slit the bird’s throat and held it over the tray, head thrown back, one arm held high.

  The first drop of blood hit the tray. A great swirl of static electricity filled the room, making Genna’s hair stand on end.

  And then Lita let out a loud cry, dropped the dying bird on the table, and collapsed to the ground, her skin a deathly grey, her body lifeless.

  Genna stood in the circle of shifters, watching the clouds creep over the moon, blocking out the faint light. Lita was dead. The funeral ceremony was nearly over, the required chants having been performed, Sempre giving a rousing speech about the woman’s devotion to her pack and encouraging, or rather demanding, that every other shifter present follow her example. Their individual needs and desires came second place to the welfare of the pack, she insisted, seemingly unmoved by the fact that her selfish demands for power and prestige had been the cause of Lita’s death, the blood rituals having slowly sucked the life out of her over the past decade.