5: Hood - Pack Trust

by Carys Weldon

  I had to block my sudden worry for Jack’s safety. Surely Hood wouldn’t kill a man that both Fera and I loved?

  Yes, in a way, I loved Jack. And, briefly, that flashed through my mind.

  He’d been the one soul at Lobos that I’d connected with. Besides Hood. Maybe that’s because we’d both been bitten. Or maybe it’s because we’d had a marathon sex session and hours and hours of conversation. Real talk. He’d let me help him understand things. He’d let me take care of him. He’d looked at me with gratitude, total, grateful appreciation. Forget the fact that he’d been somewhat paralyzed and scared. But he’d been there for a long time, being integrated into the pack, before he ran off with Fera. I’d had plenty of time to get to know him.

  “Watch me,” Hood said.

  I turned the video off. I couldn’t stand to watch Jack, unable to move. He’d been a tri-athlete, clever, funny even, and Hood had brought him down from that, made him dead to the world. All but Fera and me.

  Maybe that made me reckless, my irritation. I said, “I would have gladly had his children.” We would have had beautiful human babies.

  “I know.”

  I had to ask. “Who’s next?”

  Chapter Five

  “You want me to hook you up with someone?” Hood looked at me. There was nothing in his eyes. No feeling. No life.

  I knew exactly how he felt, or thought I did. Saying the words killed me. I admitted, “I don’t think I’ll ever be happy with anyone else. So, you could just pick anyone. I’ll roll over.” That’s a dog term. It means...give in.

  But I was thinking, And then I’ll kill myself.

  I thought I saw him flinch, but that had to be my imagination.

  “Frankly, I’m surprised you’re moving so slow on that. I know the database is full of DNA confirmed matches.” He’d explained that all to me so I could grasp what he was trying to do, and come to terms with the fact that they needed me. That the only way out of the program was death, really.

  Thinking to hasten my own demise, I said, “You want me to pick somebody?”

  The next thing I knew, he had me on the floor, flat on my back. His anger was a palpable thing. But he wasn’t talking. Not English, anyway. Some grunts, straight from feral alley.

  Crudely, he handled me. Not hurting me, just--possessively all over me at once. But it wasn’t Hood, the man, I was looking up at. It was a crinos wolf. He ripped my shirt with one yanking grip, then the bra, exposing my breasts to his gaze.

  In a guttural voice, he promised me, “I’ll do the picking.”

  I should have been afraid, shaking beneath him, but I liked pushing him to rage. I knew what it felt like to go crinos. Although I only shift at the full moon, it’s a release of emotion that you can’t get anyway else. Inhibitions are gone. For Hood to crinos on me like that, I knew he was actually feeling something. Fury, maybe, over something I said--but emotion, any emotion, was an improvement over the controlled man I dealt with all the time.

  Maybe it didn’t seem like control, the way he screwed me--whenever he wanted to--but that was sex, nothing more, if you understand what I mean. This...this was raw, honest. I could feel his anger. I’d have to re-examine that conversation that brought it on--later.

  Provoking him more, I shrugged and affected an air of tediousness. “Suit yourself. Just do it quick. I’m getting tired of Lobos.” And playing this game with you.

  Putting his face nose to nose with mine, he asked, “You’re bored?” Before I could answer, he assured me, “This isn’t a game, Giselle.”

  “Bet me.”

  Hood curled his lips back, showed me the fangs that had ripped more people apart than I could ever guess, and let out a full, roaring howl.

  Yeah. That usually precedes murder.

  In my mind, I taunted, Go ahead, kill me. Put us both out of our misery.

  His ears perked and a little sadly, he pulled himself together and put my shirt back over my breasts. Not that he could actually fix it.

  As quick as it had come on him, the crinos vanished. Now, I have to mention this...it’s a mark of amazing breeding that he could do it without a bone grinding, ligament stretching, painful ordeal. That fact that he could do it in a blink of an eye testifies that he is the top of the garou bloodlines.

  My own transformation doesn’t go nearly as quickly, nor as painlessly. Watching him do it is a marvel, made me appreciate him and his control. Another crinos would have probably gone with the emotion that had helped him shift.

  “I can bet you one thing, Giselle.” He wasn’t moving. Nope. He was sitting on top of me, staring at my shirt. “When you find Jack, Fera won’t give him up.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I just know.”

  “We’ll see.”

  His fingers gently trailed over the ripped front of my blouse. The tenderness there made me ask, “Hood?”

  “Hm?” He didn’t look me in the eye.

  “Would you make love to me now?”

  That got eye contact. I saw distrust there.

  And that hurt.

  “If you want.”

  He was always ready to go around me, but it was a little funny the way he said that, like he didn’t really care to. I had to grin up at him, and let out a huffy little chuckle. “I want, or I wouldn’t have asked.”

  I reached up to him and he met me halfway, kissing me. Like it always was, he put a lot into it. You could never leave his embrace without feeling like he’d given you half his attention.

  But his intensity changed pretty quick, and that made me frown up at the ceiling. When his lips left mine and danced a skip over my cheek and jaw, down my throat, it felt too--calculated? Controlled? Before long, he scooted his attentions lower and pushed my blouse aside. Tender flicks of his tongue ministered to my breasts and nipples and I wondered...what was he doing?

  Usually, Hood devoured me. Made me feel like he couldn’t get enough, fast enough. This change bothered me immensely. It was the flipside to the coin I craved. When he slid even lower and dropped his cheek to my breast and went still, it hit me.

  Déjà vu to my last time with Brett Burkett.

  I couldn’t move. Especially when he finally asked, “What do you want, Giselle? A pretty little house in a quiet town where people don’t know about the big bad wolves at the door?”

  What could I say?

  I wanted to push him off of me, and crawl away--scramble for a place to lick my wounds, and my pride. A place where he couldn’t watch, and see what he was doing to me. Worse--I didn’t want that--fantasy of Brett’s.

  Sure, I pondered it from time to time, wondered what it would have been like if I hadn’t left his house that night. But I know now that Hood was there already. That there had never been a choice for me.

  He let me think about his words for several minutes before he lifted his head and said, “The wolves aren’t outside the door, Giselle.”

  I knew that. They were inside. In my heart. In my head. Like he’d been inside Brett’s house that night, watching us. Always watching, waiting.

  Twisting my lips in the semblance of a smile, I said, “Life’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

  Now you know who coined that phrase. Garou.

  His return smile had a hint of sadness in it, but he agreed. “Yeah.” He dropped a kiss on my chin and asked, “You mind if I continue what I started?”

  That dragged another little harrumph of a chuckle from me. In my head, I thought, What? Trying to piss me off? But out loud, I said, “Do your best. Who am I to stop you? It’s not like it’s a full moon, is it?”

  Hood thought that was funny. Ducking his head, he said, “No, it’s not.”

  Then I got the full, honest, treatment I was used to. Pushing both breasts together, he laved one nipple and then the other, sucked them both into his mouth at one time. Wolf suction will drive you wild. Remember, their tongues roll.

  In fact, their tongues are magnificent muscles designed for a lot of things. Mostly t
o stimulate, if you ask me. He had me squeaking and squirming beneath him in no time. So much so that I asked, “Go down on me?”

  “I was working up to that.” He didn’t hesitate, though, before he was taking my lower garments down and off me and sliding his tongue up the side of my clit.

  It was good--real good. Garou have long tongues. They can reach up and find those hard to reach spots that have you writhing and clinging when they’re touched. And they know how to use their jaw to stimulate the outside. He brought me to a climax more than once before he rose up above me, stripping his own clothes. I didn’t argue the point. I wanted him to slide into my wetness.

  Here’s the thing, though. He read my mind. I could tell by the fast way he peeled his pants, the minute the idea flitted through my mind that I was wet enough to really get him going. Remember, he was trying to please me--fill my request. Maybe make amends for the shirt. Who knows?

  It’s all a head game. I had to stop him. “No. Hold up.”

  He had just tossed the slacks and was about to settle back between my legs. I scrambled up and away, licking my lips.

  Again, he gave me that distrusting eye. “What are you doing?” There was a grin on his face, but he wasn’t real happy with me. Okay, I’ll admit, I’d left him--hanging--before.

  Well, panting, anyway.

  Maybe that’s why he kept coming back? I think every other bitch just backed up for him, and let him have whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. He wasn’t used to the tease and taunt of foreplay and after-play that I gave him.

  I didn’t answer his question. I just got up and walked into the other room, knowing he’d come after me. Usually when I did that, he backed me up against a wall and showed me the hard and furious side of his personality.

  But I was ready to surprise him. With all those hours staring at the screen, looking for familiar names, I had plenty of time to think up scenarios to intrigue or mess with Hood by. Yes. I’m good at multi-tasking.

  The minute he came through the door, I demanded, “Lie on the bed.”

  So, Hood doesn’t take orders. Ever. From anybody. This was totally new to him. He immediately hesitated, obviously letting his mistrust and his true nature--of being the alpha in charge--move to the fore. He shook his head, “I don’t think so.”

  At an impasse, we both had our feet planted wide, facing each other. Staring into one another’s eyes, clashing wills.

  He read my mind again. I’d been going to service him.

  I can always tell when I surprise him. He narrows his gaze--just for an instant. Then there’s a minute bit of wonder or appreciation that zips over his expression, but he’s careful not to say too much.

  I licked my lips with a smile, letting my eyes flash a little triumph. “Shame,” I said. “You let your pride get in the way of a lot of things, Hood.”

  He conceded that with the slightest of nods.

  When he didn’t move or say anything else in response, I asked, “What are you thinking now?”

  A devilish grin slipped onto his face. “I was wondering how you’d react if I said--”

  I got laughing, interrupted him with, “Oh, please don’t say ‘on your knees, bitch’.”

  So, okay, he didn’t. But that had been exactly what he’d been about to say. He asked, “You think that’s funny?”

  “Well...yeah.” Dogs and men are so predictable sometimes.

  He chewed on his lower lip, trying to figure me out. “I don’t get you.”

  I scooted on over to him. “Why’s that?”

  “You were going to--”

  Stepping closer, tweaking his manhood with a quick grab, I asked, “What?”

  To his credit, he didn’t jump.

  “You’re a fucking tease.”

  “You just noticed?”

  “I just realized that you knew I would read your thoughts.”

  “Hm.” I yanked. Not hard. Just enough to make him jerk a little--you know, defensive worry setting in.

  “Stop that.”

  Offering a pout, I asked, “You don’t really want me to, do you?”

  “I want you to get serious.”

  Always so serious.

  Slipping around behind him, I tiptoed so I could whisper in his ear. “I am serious, Hood.” I let my fingers glide from his manhood, over his hip, across his buttocks, reached lower....

  Amazing how quick he can turn--in a flash, he snagged me by the wrist, pulled me around in front of him and said, “What are you playing at?”

  Chapter Six

  Feigning innocence, I asked, “Whatever do you mean?”

  Hood didn’t answer. Not out loud, anyway. In my head, I heard, be careful, Giselle.

  “Or what?” You’ll hurt me?

  Don’t tempt me.

  I tugged free. I didn’t want to tempt him. I wanted to send him over the frigging edge. Instead of thinking that at that moment, though, I simply dropped to my knees in front of him. Shocking the hell out of him, I grabbed his cock, looked up at him--my mouth poised over the knob--and asked, “What happens if I tempt you?”

  Not waiting for a response, I went down on him, swallowed him whole. That made him gasp, reach for my head with both hands and groan, “Ah, Giselle.”

  There was definite satisfaction in knowing that he hadn’t really been expecting it, and that, once again, I’d won the round. I mean, he got pleasured, but I got true satisfaction, because in nothing more than seconds, he was out of his mind with what I was doing to him.

  He’d be going over that conversational foreplay for a long time.

  But true to my wicked ways, I got him right there, to the edge of the precipice he wanted to reach, and...stopped. My lips were swollen from my efforts, I knew. I could feel how puffy they’d gotten.

  It took him a second to get it, before he looked down at me. I mean, he’d been watching me most of the time--or what he could. My hair is layered, full, and I’m pretty sure that it blocked his view much of the time. I’d only stopped momentarily from time to time to push it out of the way and glance up, get a breath.

  Some of the time, he’d had his head up to the ceiling, and I knew he wanted to howl for how good it felt. He just had that werewolf pose, you know? Head up, knees buckled, shoulders hunched, trying to get more, afraid to move for fear I’d quit...?

  He gutturally insisted, “Don’t stop.” And he looked down at me, his dark eyes even blacker than normal. “For Gaia’s sake, don’t stop now.”

  So, that prompted a small smile from me. “Why, Hood...are you begging?”

  There was a long pause between us before he got some self-control together, let go of my face--his fingers were wrapped up, a little, in my hair--pulled himself from my hand, and backed up. “No, Giselle,” he said.

  Tongue in cheek, I waited for him to withdraw completely--because he and I knew this was really a test of all that he was. I could see admiration in his eyes--for the fact that I’d brought him almost to that point.

  I rolled my shoulders in an easy shrug. “Shame. Like I said, Hood, you cheat yourself out of a lot.”

  Squeezing himself, he beat off in front of me. He was not happy with me. He said, “Wrong, Giselle. You cheat me.”

  Okay. That felt like a hard slap. One more mistake to put on the record book.

  Watching him spurt onto the floor, I tried not to think, not to give him the satisfaction of knowing that I hated myself at that moment. Always trying to outthink him, to be clever. Always losing.

  I had to close my eyes.

  Unbidden, I thought of Jack. How he’d made me laugh, and never made me feel less than what I was.

  Bastard read my mind. I know because Hood said, “Fuck that,” and he stomped into the shower.

  I cried. Not for long, just a few tears, and then I got up, swiped them away and stepped over the mess he’d made. Get one of your other bitches to clean up after you. I’m out of here.

  I dressed fast, and got out quick. I don’t think he really believed I’d be
gone. I mean, usually that was his trick. Leave before the next round, get a little distance. Make me think about what I’d done.

  You know what, though? I was tired of thinking about everything. I pretty much figured it was a lost cause.

  And I’d considered things a long time--ever since Jack and Fera took off--and thought, I can pull a Jack. I mean, he made it look easy. Disappearing into the sunset.

  Suddenly, that sounded way too good to me. I had to get out.

  The elevators at Lobos are silent, speedy. I was in the foyer in seconds flat, crossing the expanse with purpose before I noticed the security guard on the phone, his gaze on the elevators--me. I knew Hood had called down, given orders to detain me. Damn me for not thinking of this a day earlier, while he’d been gone. I changed directions, but the security team headed me off. Turning again, I went back to the elevators. I could see the executive lift lights racing downward. I knew he was coming for me.

  Hitting the button to go up, I jumped into the first elevator that opened.

  What do you think you’re doing?

  Get out of my head.

  Giselle, calm down. Wait for me.

  Some frigging mind-talking psychic garou in the foyer had volunteered what I was doing, I’m sure. It’s like they’re all in a ‘Borg connection or something. Only, usually, Hood can filter his thoughts so they aren’t all in the middle of his business--but I honestly think that’s how he keeps them in line. They can’t do squat without his knowing about it.

  I hit a couple buttons so he wouldn’t be sure which floor I got off on, though I figured he’d have guards looking on every floor in no time. And someone else in security central giving a playby. I could only hope that the loser there was an unnatural on my side that would enjoy watching the big boss hunt and peck a little bit. Not that I’d get away with running for long.

  There was one place I could hide, that he’d never expect, though. I slipped off on the habitat level and disappeared in the foliage. Habitat is a full floor level that’s made to look like a natural wolf reserve. There’s fresh water running in waterfall and creek, real trees growing--including nut and fruit trees. I wouldn’t starve. All I had to do was bide some time, stay where no one could smell me. There were garou in there at all times, I think. So, I had to be smart about it.