Releasing The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm)

by Dianna Hardy

  “You’re going to be okay,” he soothed, and suddenly she didn’t care – didn’t care that he was a stranger; didn’t care about what had happened with Simon… Taylor smelled right, and no matter how crazy, one thing became very clear to her: when he took his hands off her, the pain got worse; when he put them back on, the pain got better. She’d tell it to her shrink tomorrow. Right now, she didn’t want that god-awful, fear inducing stabbing in her chest.

  She opened her legs for him with a “please!” tumbling from her lips, and she didn’t need to say anything else.

  He stroked her aching sex with his thumb, then slipped it inside her as deep as it would go, right to the knuckle. Her hips came off the floor in response, and she was acutely aware that if he wanted to bring her to orgasm it wouldn’t take very long at all.

  He pulled his thumb out of her and slid it up her folds towards her swollen clit, where he circled it, gently, a couple of times, before he brought his thumb up to his mouth and sucked on it hard.

  Holy fuck, how erotic!

  This man didn’t muster the same physical yearning in her that she had for Ryan, but what she did feel was an affection, almost like something she’d feel for an old friend, and somehow that intensified the eroticism of the moment.

  His low voice, heightened with desire, caressed her, starting at her feet and ending all the way at the roots of her hair. “Do you have any idea what your taste is doing to me?”

  He didn’t wait for her response. He grabbed her ankles, slid her down a few inches towards him, then pushed her legs up and open, with his hands firmly on the undersides of her thighs. When his tongue stroked the length of her she rose up to meet him, crying out, then sighing because it had the same effect as when he’d licked her rash – cooling. So wonderfully cooling … at least in one way. Not so cool was her sexual desire that bloomed under his ministrations. Bloomed, then burned as her body temperature soared and her fever finally peaked. It seemed to take on a life of its own, becoming some monster that needed to break out of her.

  The orgasm coiled within her belly, fast and furious. Some keening noise left her mouth as Taylor’s tongue teased her again and again, his touch both gentle, and torturous in its tenderness.

  Ryan would never be this gentle, taunted the voice in her head, and it aggravated the monster trying to break out of her. “More … harder … please…” she pleaded, and she didn’t care that she was begging. She wanted – needed – to feel her fever break and, irrationally, she knew this was the way to do it.

  Taylor shifted his weight, and she moaned at the loss of his touch when his hands left her thighs – her chest flaring for the smallest of moments – then almost sobbed in relief when she felt his fingers against her entrance. Impatiently, she thrust upwards.

  He took the hint, and slipped two – three? – digits inside her, reaching for that beautiful sweet spot that promised elation. “Come on, darling, you’re so close…” His voice was hoarse with his own need. It reached her heart amid all the crazy lust and she found herself wondering why on earth he was here—Oh, now you’re wondering, Lydia?—then his lips latched onto her centre again, teeth nibbling her clitoris, and she lost all notion of what she was thinking.

  “Oh, god, yes!” She brought her legs upwards, tightened them around him, drew him further into her, her fever now like an increasing wall of flames, swelling against her pores as it tried to find escape…

  Then everything slowed down.

  No… Not enough!

  She heard herself wail in crushing disappointment through the roar of the fire in her ears. Her head throbbed – odd to feel her cheeks damp with tears when there was so much heat everywhere else. The coiling in her belly from the anticipated climax was softening; fading…

  “No.” That was Taylor. “Look at me. Lydia – focus!”

  What?

  Oh, right – it was that slow motion fainting taking over her body again. It was funny all the things that registered larger than life when time slowed down: the unbuckling of a belt, a zipper, the rustling of clothes – all sounding strangely louder than it should – and … grief. It would never leave her would it? It was always there, ever since her mother died; every time she woke up… Maybe that’s why she’d noticed it in Taylor that first time – maybe that’s why she noticed it in him now as he leaned over her, pulled her tired legs up again, grazed her entrance with the tip of his cock…

  YES! She jolted awake. The ringing stopped, a wave of ‘cool’ washed over her, even as the heat consumed her once more, but this time it didn’t stop rising. Her brain buzzed with awareness; her next breath seemed to take in pure oxygen…

  Taylor entered her in one motion, his groan one of both desire and sorrow, and she knew – she knew – he was breaking a part of himself … for her.

  A sudden and strong compassion for her new … friend … enveloped her heart, and that, combined with her body’s renewed energy, took her over the edge.

  The orgasm coiled once more, then burst out of her, her cry of pleasure chasing it to the end, and finally – finally, thank-fucking-god – her fever broke. Sweat coated her skin in a shimmering sheen, the air that hit it, already cooling her, bringing instant respite to her long-suffering anguish – and it was only now, basking in bliss, that she realised how much anguish she’d been in.

  Taylor held her convulsing body to ground, pounding into her as he sought his own release… She clenched around him and—

  Oooo! Double orgasm!

  A long moan escaped her. She threw her head back, eyes squeezed shut…

  “Fuck!” he roared, one second before his body tightened and he came inside her, the warmth of his seed, not warm at all, but cool, like the air hitting her damp skin. She couldn’t decide if that was more odd than her entire day.

  But, god … it was so good to feel cool rather than scorching hot!

  They lay like that on the washroom floor for a minute of two, letting reality sink in…

  Reality bites.

  Lydia broke the silence first. “Hey,” she said, as softly as she could, not quite knowing why she felt the need to be gentle with him, but feeling it all the same. “I wasn’t with it at all, but I need to ask… You’re clean, right? And, erm, infertile?” She laughed nervously, but she was more worried about STDs. Her period was due imminently – it was pretty much clocked to the full moon every month – pregnancy was highly unlikely. “You didn’t mention it… Although, I’m not entirely certain I’d have been able to answer coherently, anyway…” She let out another little laugh to ease her awkward questions – things that really should have been discussed before two earth-shattering orgasms.

  He nuzzled her shoulder, tenderly, and then looked up to meet her eyes.

  The overwhelming sadness she saw in him crushed her a little, although she did note that the pain in her chest had been lifted. No – gone. It was completely gone.

  “Well, I am with you, of course.”

  Okay, weird answer, but still an affirmative. She let out a little sigh of relief. It would probably still be wise to get herself checked though. She wondered if she should try to fit that appointment in before or after seeing the shrink.

  In her mind, her great aunt shook her head at her in disbelief.

  She’d had a few one night stands before – she liked sex; sort of craved it really, to the point where she wondered if she was an addict – but she’d never found herself in a position quite like this before – she had never been careless…

  More silence.

  It was Taylor’s turn to break it. “Is your back all right? I mean – the floor…”

  “Oh, right. Yes it’s fine. I didn’t even feel it. The two orgasms helped,” she grinned.

  That brought a smile to his face – which looked so much better than the sadness – and she was almost upset when he rose onto his hands and pulled out of her. “You should be okay now, at least for a little while.”

  “Er … okay.” This conversation was just getti
ng stranger.

  “Do you dream about Ryan a lot?”

  Heck! That was just blurted right out. “Um…” What should she say? She’d been slightly pissed off at Brendan for bringing it up, but with Taylor… For some reason he was different. She didn’t find herself annoyed at his question. She shrugged. “Yeah, I do.”

  “We’ve been looking for him. Do your dreams show you where he is?”

  She stared at him as he pulled his pants on. “Are you for real?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, they’re dreams. They’re just dreams.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “You have been taught how unusual dream connections between mates are, haven’t you? It happens occasionally – and only with mates – but it’s so rare it’s even documented every time it does. How long have you been separated from your pack for?”

  Pack? Oh, shit, the sex cult!

  She’d totally forgotten. Holy crap, she’d been consumed by lust! Or whatever aphrodisiac they’d used to put the mojo on her. “Hey—”

  He stilled at her sharp tone.

  “—forget it. I’m not some lonely woman you can blind-side, okay? I don’t do cults.”

  “Cults?” He looked alarmed, and then angry. “Jesus Christ, is that how you view us? They really must have done a number on you – what happened to make you think that way?”

  She reached for her underwear and tights. “I heard that other guy talking to you; what he was saying about having a harem waiting for him.”

  “Harem?”

  “House full of women?”

  He frowned in confusion. “We only house three, and only during the full moon – they’re all unmated.” Then he added, dryly, “Lawrence has a knack for making everything sound more dramatic than it actually is. And I’m surprised you’re not working harder to find Ryan considering both your lives depend on it.”

  Our lives? The nerve! “Is that a threat?” Maybe she’d been wrong about him – his gentle exterior was probably a front. Yep, that was it. He was the one they used to lure innocent victims because of his trustworthy demeanour.

  “What?”

  Her anger rose, all feelings of tenderness for him disappearing. “Do you really think I’ll join your little sex cult if you threaten my life by using my dreams against me? Who told you?”

  “Lydia—”

  “Who told you about my dreams?” She ignored his baffled look. “Was it Brendan? Is this some kind of game he thinks is funny because I won’t go out with him?” That’s why Taylor didn’t bring up the protection issue – he already had the green light from Brendan. That bacon-frying arsehole!

  “Lydia—”

  “Well you can both fuck off!” She sprang to her feet and tugged her tights the rest of the way up as best she could in the state of fury she was in. She was going to kill Brendan. To think she’d trusted him enough to sleep with him, and then he goes and pulls this? “You know what? Next time you see him, you can tell him—”

  His expression stopped her mid-sentence. He looked horrified – at her. And pale … deathly pale.

  Despite herself, her anger faded a notch. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  His hushed voice trembled in reply. “You don’t know, do you? You have no bloody idea what you are. Dear god – you’ve been raised human.”

  Chapter Six

  Of all the things he’d expected, he hadn’t expected that. To abandon a female wolf was a shitty thing to do, but to do it so she knew nothing at all about her heritage – her biology – might as well be murder. They’d signed her death sentence.

  He knew it too well – remembered it like it had happened yesterday – the feelings that ripped you apart when you discovered what you were, that your life had changed beyond measure … that there was no going back.

  And now I have to be the one to tell her…

  Anger at whatever pack had done this to her made his eyes sting hot. “Lydia—”

  “Human?” Her tone was sarcastic at best, and devoid of any indication she was prepared to listen. “What trip are you on? I have to get home.”

  She went to barge past him, but he stepped in front of her and stood his ground, his actions, ironically, reminding him of Selena’s. “Lydia, you have to listen to me. One minute – please.”

  “One minute to explain why you’re a psycho? You sure it won’t take longer?”

  Funny. “One minute to explain why you’ve been feeling the way you have the past week, and every full moon since you hit puberty.”

  That pressed a button, as he knew it would. Her hard stare wavered, uncertainty crossing her features.

  “One minute, Lydia. You know I’m not going to hurt you – you know it.”

  With a stubbornness that would have been much more endearing had he not been on the receiving end of it, she reached down and set the timer on her wristwatch. “One minute.”

  Beeeeep.

  He exhaled sharply through his teeth – he hadn’t fucking meant it literally. Hard-headed female.

  “You’re wasting time,” she taunted.

  “Fine,” he muttered. “Let’s do this the hard way.” He dropped the shirt and jacket he was holding, undid his belt, then let his trousers and underwear fall to ground. She took it all in with a forced nonchalant expression. She wasn’t fooling him – he could smell her pheromones multiplying at the rate of knots, that mating scent already encircling him, already making him hard all over again. Not that it mattered. His dick would be the last thing on her mind five seconds from now.

  He took in a deep breath and straightened his back, preparing for the momentary, bone-crunching pain he knew was coming, and then he shifted.

  As soon as his front paws hit the floor, he glanced up anxiously at Lydia, only slightly disorientated with his changed form. Eight months and he still hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it.

  She stared at him with her jaw hanging loose.

  Tentatively, he took one step forward, which was clearly the wrong thing to do.

  She screamed bloody murder and flew at the door.

  As fast as he could, he de-shifted, groaning as his bones crunched into place. “Wait,” he called out to her, his voice muted from the energy used for those two, quick, successive changes; not that she’d have heard him anyway – she was rattling the door so hard, shouting so bloody loudly trying to get it open, he was surprised the fire brigade hadn’t turned up yet.

  “Lydia!” He grabbed her hands to still her, but with a strength he hadn’t predicted she spun around, shook him off, and whacked him in the face with her fist.

  “Christ! Will you just … argh…” His cheekbone smarted.

  Beeeeep.

  Everything froze except their breathing. They stood there staring at each other.

  Lydia’s eyes darkened a shade towards violet. “Your minute’s up, David Copperfield.”

  “That wasn’t a trick,” he growled.

  “The hell it wasn’t. You expect me to believe you just turned into a dog?”

  “Wolf.”

  “Whatever.” She banged the door with her fist. “Somebody open this damn door!”

  “Lawrence locked it.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.”

  “Lydia – you’re a wolf.”

  She let out a strangled laugh. “Hmmm, let me see: two arms, two legs, no fur … nope, not a wolf.”

  “You’re a werewolf.”

  “No – you’re insane. You’re a crazy, out-of-your-mind, sex cult member who’s a damn good magician.”

  Okay, she was trying his patience. “There’s no sex cult.”

  “Then how do you explain – ooo, let’s see – the sex?” she yelled, pointing at the floor. “And the way you smell, and you’re naked!”

  “The sex was necessary to keep you safe – the burn can kill on a full moon, especially with you so close to the change. The way I smell is nothing compared to the way you smell right now, believe me, but you’re on heat – that’s why you
can smell every little thing. And I’m naked because funnily enough, when we shift, our clothes don’t shift with us and just as well because wolves look stupid in shirts and dinner jackets.”

  She blinked once … twice … but just when he thought she might crack a smile, the curve of her lips halted. “‘The sex is necessary to keep you safe’ – every man’s erotic fantasy pick-up line.”

  He exhaled in frustration. “Don’t you give me that feminist crap—”

  “Lydia?” Some woman’s voice sounded from the other side of the door.

  Her eyes widened. “Lisa! The door’s locked. Have you got a key?”

  “Oh, my god! Are you all right? That jerk’s not in there with you, is he? I saw Mr Gunvald throw him out – please tell me you’re okay.”

  She raised her eyebrow at him. “Mr Gunvald?”

  “Lawrence,” he mouthed.

  “I’m okay. And no, Simon’s not in here.” She eyed him warily, refusing to let her eyes travel the length of his unclothed body, despite the fresh wave of pheromones coming off her. Their little impromptu tryst on the floor had given her a healthy dose of willpower back. “Can you please just go and get the keys?”

  A pause. “Okay…” came the uncertain reply, before he heard her striding away.

  He forced himself to calm down. There’s no way he could expect Lydia to come to terms with this in five minutes when it had taken him the best part of five months. “Look; I know you don’t believe me, but I also know there’s a part of you that wants to – that there’s a part of you that will.”

  “And how is it you know me so well?” she snapped.

  “Because I had to accept the fact that I was a werewolf eight months ago, and it almost killed me – in some ways it still does … every month.”

  Maybe it was the total sincerity in his tone, but her angry expression faltered and her defensiveness slipped. Her eyes filled with tears she didn’t bother hiding, and he almost wished he could take his words back, but that would be pointless. There was no going back – for either of them.

  His ears pricked at the sound of the other woman’s footsteps sounding down the hall – she wasn’t wasting any time.