Hungry Like a Wolf (The Others)

by Christine Warren

  She felt his fingers bite deeply into her hips, then he shifted, falling forward on top of her, his chest pressed tightly against her back, his hands coming down to pin hers to the rough wood. His hips continued to thrust against hers, his cock working a hard, regular rhythm inside her. She shivered wildly and the tremor passed from her flesh to his, making him growl softly right into her ear.

  “More.” His voice touched her like another hand, and abruptly Honor found that she wanted to give him more.

  Dropping her chest to the steps, she drew her knees in until the tops of her thighs were digging into the front of one of the stairs and lifted her hips higher. The change in position shifted his cock inside her, sliding him a fraction deeper when she’d thought that he already filled her to overflowing. Now she could feel him so deeply, she thought her heart might explode.

  Logan rumbled his approval and increased the speed and force of his thrusts. In her position, Honor had given up all of her leverage and now all she could do was kneel before her mate and take him, however hard and fast and deep he wanted to go. The knowledge of her position sent another shiver through her—one of delight—and she could have laughed at how positively unalpha she was in this moment. She couldn’t have cared less. She’d have cheerfully agreed to be omega at that point if it meant this man would never stop mating her.

  Whimpering with the impact of his thrusts, wanting to give him everything he needed, Honor reached up behind her, hesitated a moment, then swept her hair to the side and pulled it taut, exposing her back and the nape of her neck to the Silverback beta. She felt him freeze, hesitating as he stayed buried deep inside her. Then her ears rang with his roar as he nudged ever deeper inside her and claimed the right she had given him. His teeth sank deep into the tender exposed nape of her neck, definitely deep enough to leave a mark. That was the point. Honor had given this man permission to mark her as his mate, and she would deal with the consequences later.

  Right now, she operated on pure instinct, and her instincts told her she would never do anything more right than what she did in this moment.

  She felt the breaking of her skin, the warm, slow trickle of blood from the wound, and it made her clench around him. His shaft leaped inside her, as excited as he was by the dark eroticism of the moment. She felt the tightly coiled tension inside her begin to break, and all she could do was brace herself for the wave.

  It nearly dragged her under; the force of it caught her so strongly. She threw back her head and howled to the skies as she came and came and came beneath him. The climax seemed endless and painfully intense, shaking the foundations of her world. She felt him tense and explode as well, pulled along not by the force of her pleasure, but by the sweetly tight contractions of her body around his. He echoed her howl, the sound muffled against her neck, and poured himself into her body, quivering in ecstasy.

  The world slowed and blurred and the only stable point in the swirling riot became the place where his teeth joined to her flesh, making them one in a way even him buried inside her hadn’t been able to accomplish. As the tension of arousal and climax began to fade, they remained locked together, shivering with the faint ripples of aftershock. She bowed her head, feeling with acute awareness that faint trickle of blood against her skin, and she shivered again. This was joining, in the truest Lupine sense of the word. Logan had become her mate, and she had become his.

  And what fresh kind of hell had she just sentenced herself to?

  Ten

  She still hadn’t figured that out an hour later, when they were separated, cleaned, and clothed, and sitting in her father’s office, eyeing each other warily. Well, her gaze remained wary. Logan’s had gone all wicked and focused again as he stared intently at her neck, waiting for her to turn her head so he could admire his handiwork.

  Silence stretched between them for several long moments. Logan looked too self-satisfied to speak, and Honor wasn’t quite sure what to say. Were there rules of etiquette for handling this type of situation? Did Emily Post have a chapter on Postcoital Small Talk for the Modern Werewolf? If she didn’t, she really should.

  Honor shifted in her seat and tried to ignore the raw, liquid feeling between her legs. As hard as he’d just taken her, she ought to be screaming at him to never lay another hand on her as long as he lived, and here she was trying to keep him from noticing how damned horny she still felt. Was that in Emily Post?

  “You can relax, you know.” His drawling tone sounded sleepy and rough and sexy in the small cabin. Honor couldn’t suppress a shiver of reaction. “I’ll give you a couple of hours before I attack you again. I’m not entirely uncivilized.”

  She drew a deep breath. “See … about that ‘again’ thing…”

  He raised an eyebrow and settled into a deeper slouch. “You surely don’t intend to tell me, your mate, that I can’t touch you again, do you? You couldn’t be quite that foolish, honey. Tell me.”

  She scowled. “You know, I really hate those casual endearments. Ones like ‘honey.’ It always makes me wonder if you just can’t remember my name.”

  “Oh, I remember it. It just don’t think ‘Honor’ is something I can hear myself yelling out in a heated moment. It would be like yelling ‘Mother Teresa’ or something.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Now that’s just nasty.”

  “That’s what I thought. So you have two choices. You can have ‘honey,’ or you can have ‘Nora.’ Up to you.”

  “Those are my only choices?”

  He shrugged. “They are if ‘Honor’ is your only name.”

  She grumbled and crossed her arms over her chest.

  Logan cupped his hand to his ear and cocked his head to the side. “Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite catch it.”

  “Honor Strength.” She bit it out like a particularly vile curse and then glared, as if it were his fault. It was actually her father’s, but if she could have a few minutes to think, she’d find a way to make it Logan’s fault. She’d put it on his tab.

  He blinked. “Right. Those are your only choices.”

  She opened her mouth to protest, then caught herself and shook her head. “And that is so not important right now. We have other things we need to discuss at the moment.”

  “Not if those discussions are anything like the one you were about to start where you tell me I can’t touch my own mate anymore.”

  “Do you honestly think that what we just did has changed anything?”

  “I honestly do,” he snapped, eyes flashing gold. “I think it’s changed your status from my potential mate to my actual mate. You’re mine now, Honor, and don’t try to say anything different, because you gave yourself to me. If you’re feeling forgetful, try touching the back of your neck. It might jog your memory.”

  Honor tried not to flinch at the vicious sarcasm of that remark. As if she needed to touch the mating mark to remember it was there. She damned well couldn’t forget it, and she damned well couldn’t stop calling herself ten kinds of fool for giving in to the instinct that had prompted her to let him put it there. She could chalk it up to the heat of the moment, or to her own heat, which was getting harder to control with every passing moment, but blaming either of those things wouldn’t change the fact that she’d allowed him to mark her. Just like it wouldn’t change the fact that the question still hanging over their heads remained a choice between true or false. A hot fuck and a mating mark hadn’t miraculously opened door number three.

  Goddess, how she wished that it had, though. The wolf inside her had already begun to pace and whine in grief. It wanted to return the mating, to mark Logan as hers as surely and as visibly as she’d been marked by him. It wanted them to do whatever they had to, to run off to the woods, live in a cave, and get down to the serious business of making love and pups and a future together. Her human brain, though, knew that was impossible. She still had a pack to lead, or to die trying. Having a mate made not one iota of difference to that fact.

  She steeled her expression
and erected a wall around her cracking heart, all while the sounds of her wolf’s howl of despair echoed in her mind.

  “I haven’t forgotten anything,” she told him, keeping her voice even and emotionless. She had practiced that a lot lately. “I haven’t forgotten your mark, just like I haven’t forgotten that I haven’t marked you in turn, or that I have no plans to do so. I also haven’t forgotten that I have a pack to run, and that you have a decision to make. Mate or no mate.”

  His lip curled as he glared at her. “You insult me if you think that being my mate doesn’t mean that I would do anything and everything in my power to ensure your safety and your happiness. Damn you for thinking that poorly of me.”

  “Oh, so you’ve made your decision, then?” Her tone taunted him, the impulse to share a little of her own pain impossible to deny. “You’ve suddenly developed a burning desire to go from being the second most powerful wolf in one of the most powerful packs in the country to being my hunky piece of arm candy? Terrific. You can start by taking off your shirt. If I’m going to keep you as my little boy toy, I’ll want everyone to see exactly what you’re good for.”

  He crossed the desk in a single leap, spinning her chair to face him and bracing his hands on the arms, surrounding her with a looming shroud of furious, feral male. Honor choked back a gasp, but she couldn’t control the way her heartbeat took off like a scared rabbit in the face of a hunting wolf. For the first time in her life, she understood what it meant to be prey.

  “Don’t push me, little alpha.” The words came out like a spray of heated gravel, dark and rough and potentially damaging. “If I go over the edge, I’ll take you with me.”

  “And where will we go, Hunter, hm? Straight to hell?” Her fight-or-flight response had broken days ago. She had only one reaction left to threats now, the one that made her lip curl and her chin lift and her gaze lock defiantly with his. “I got here last week. Welcome to the neighborhood.”

  For a long moment he continued to stare at her, and she watched as his eyes shifted until all traces of brown disappeared behind the glow of liquid gold. Part of her was hypnotized by the visible signs of his internal battle, recognizing his struggle for control in his changing eyes and the sound of the fabric of the chair ripping where his claws lengthened and sliced into the cloth-covered arms.

  With a howl he tore his gaze from hers and jerked away, throwing his head back and howling at the ceiling, the sound echoing with fury and frustration in the small room. Hairs rose on her arms and the back of her neck, the skin there tingling and throbbing where his teeth had cut into flesh. Her throat clenched as she bit back the cry welling in her own chest. Her wolf would always respond to his this way. She knew it, and that made it even more important that she make sure she crushed any illusions he had of a future they could share. She needed him gone so she could mourn for their lost chances and learn to live with the pain of losing her mate, not to death, but to circumstance, whose deceptive blade cut even deeper.

  Honor watched, bleeding inside, while her mate—the mate she could never claim—struggled for control. She saw his skin ripple as the magic of the change moved through him, saw his muscles tense and clench as he fought to hold on to his human form. She saw him grimace and watched his canine teeth lengthen and sharpen into vicious fangs. She saw fur begin to sprout from his cheeks and throat, and saw the minute he lost the battle against his wolf.

  His head jerked to the side, golden wolf’s eyes pinning her to her seat, and the warning ripped from his throat even as his face began to stretch toward the shape of a muzzle.

  “This isn’t over,” he growled, the words barely intelligible as he lost the ability to speak as a man. As he surrendered his manhood to the magic in his blood. “You … mine. Mate. Ever.”

  Then the Logan shape was gone and a huge, dark wolf snarled at her once, spun toward the door, and disappeared into the woods, the tip of his tail flying behind him.

  * * *

  Honor had no idea how long she sat there, staring out the door, waiting for the blood from her heart to puddle on the floor beneath her chair. Of course, it never did, because all of her wounds were internal, metaphorical, the kind that couldn’t kill her, that could only make her wish she were dead.

  She wasn’t, though. Honor Tate still lived, still ran the White Paw Clan, and still had to deal with the fact that no matter what her heart or her mind or her gut wanted for her future, the only future she had was the same one she’d been staring in the face for the last week: she would rule, she would lead, and she would lock her protesting psyche away behind a wall of solid steel so thick, not even a werewolf could make a dent in it.

  She would go on.

  Soon. Just as soon as she could find the will for it.

  And so she sat in her chair and stared out into the woods where Logan had disappeared. She didn’t notice the time passing, or the afternoon shadows lengthening. She didn’t notice her stomach rumbling with hunger when she missed her second meal of the day, and she didn’t notice the cold that invaded the cabin through the open door, not even when her breath swirled around her head in a visible cloud of steam. She didn’t notice any of it until two figures stepped into the doorway and cut off her sight line.

  Honor blinked. It took a moment for the change to register, for her sluggish mind to claw its way out of the numbing hole of depression and start working again. She didn’t want to think; there was too great a chance that thoughts would lead to more feelings, and more feelings only meant more pain.

  She frowned. “What are you doing here?”

  “At the moment? Freezing our tails off, same as you.” Her uncle Hamish stepped into the cabin, followed by another of the pack elders. Barney Andrews drew the door closed behind them. “Pete’s sake, Honor, if you want to just give money to the electric company, wouldn’t it be easier to write a damned check? Be a hell of a lot more comfortable. It’s so damned cold in here, I don’t even want to take my jacket off.”

  “Maybe she was trying to let in some fresh air.” Barney took a deep breath and eyed Honor with speculation. “I’d say she definitely let in something.”

  Honor turned to glare at the old man, baring her teeth.

  “Down, girl,” Hamish advised, settling into a chair facing her desk and leaning back to study her. “Doesn’t do you any good to snap at a man for pointing out the obvious. We’re all pack here. It’s not like you can hide the smell of a new mating.”

  “If that’s what you came here to talk about, you can turn around and walk right out the door again.”

  Her uncle ignored the snarl. “It’s not, but it does have a thing or two to say to the matter.”

  “Exactly what matter is that?”

  “The one you can’t afford to not be thinking about, missy. You know, a little matter about how there’s a Howl scheduled for the day after tomorrow, one that could just decide not only whether you continue to lead this pack, but whether or not you continue to live. Ring any bells?”

  Her mouth tightened, but she kept silent. It was that or say something she would likely regret. She’d done enough of that for a while now.

  “It’s a serious matter,” Barney threw in, taking the other chair and fixing Honor with a gaze she felt certain he meant to be sobering. She found it more irritating. “One that was complicated enough before you threw caution to the wind and decided to mate with a wolf who isn’t even a member of this pack.”

  That made Honor want to laugh. Yeah, as if she had “decided” anything about this fiasco. The only decision she could remember making since the day her father died was what it would take for her to be able to look herself in the mirror when she dragged her ass out of bed every morning. And just look at how well that one had worked out for her.

  “Now’s not the time for casting blame.” Hamish frowned at the other man, and Barney subsided. Elder he might be, but Barney had always ranked below Hamish in the pack; he knew when to shut up.

  “Oh, why the hell not?” Honor aske
d with a snort. “Sounds like just what I need to top off my day.”

  “It’s not the time for self-pity, either. We’ve got plans to make, and important things to consider before the pack gathers.”

  Honor sighed. “What’s to consider, Uncle Hamish? The pack will meet. I’ll claim the title of alpha. One or more of the stupider males in the pack will challenge me. Either I’ll win, or I’ll die. The pack will hunt together, and life will go on. You know, for everyone who’s not dead. I don’t see much room for negotiation there, unless you’ve thought of a way to force the Silverback to decide in my favor once I’ve won the challenges.”

  “It’s not the challenges that I think you need to be worried about, sweetheart. There’re some stories flying around the pack this afternoon that say those males who were thinking of challenging you have changed their minds.”

  “Well, isn’t that good news?” Honor asked, ignoring the uneasy feeling gathering at the base of her spine. “No challenges means my place as alpha is uncontested. That will have to count for something with the Silverback. It shows the pack has confidence in me.”

  Barney snorted. “They aren’t giving up on the challenges because they’re behind you, little girl. They just think it would be more fun to fuck you than to kill you.”

  Hamish’s big hand flew before Honor could blink, catching the other man square on the jaw. “I told you that as an elder, you had a right to consult with the alpha on the matter, Andrews, not that you could flap your damned jaw like the idiot you are.”

  Barney winced and cradled his bruised chin, but he kept his mouth shut. He also lowered his gaze at the other man’s rumbled warning.

  Honor didn’t intervene, but she did hold up a hand and fix her relative with a hard stare. “What is he talking about, Uncle Ham?”