Daughters of Artemis
A Storm Moon Press Anthology
Edited by S.L. Armstrong
Published by Storm Moon Press LLC at Smashwords
Copyright © 2011 by Storm Moon Press LLC
"The Fullness That Love Began" copyright © 2011 by Marie Carlson. "The Fire of Her Eyes" copyright © 2011 by K. Piet. "Luna's Mate" copyright © 2011 by Shashauna P. Thomas. "To Pierce the Sky" copyright © 2011 by Erik Moore. "Protect the Moon" copyright © 2011 by Della R. Buckland. "Sacrifices" copyright © 2011 by S.L. Armstrong. All rights reserved.
Publisher's Note
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of these authors.
Cover art by Nathie
http://www.creationwarrior.net/
Interior art by XonkArts
ISBN-13: 978-1-937058-28-9
ISBN-10: 1-937058-28-X
Table of Contents
Marie Carlson
K. Piet
Shashauna P. Thomas
Erik Moore
Della R. Buckland
S.L. Armstrong
The Fullness That Love Began
Fiona's fingers curled around my ankle.
My legs burned, thighs to calves, threaded with long red scratches. They would heal too fast—they were already healing as I stared down at her—but for a few minutes I had her marks on me, and I was thrilled.
"You look," she started to say, and twisted around to face me, but she didn't let go, "far too satisfied with yourself."
"What if I'm satisfied with you?"
"Well." Her lips were narrow and chapped, but I loved how they looked when she smirked. "That's different then, isn't it? In that case, you don't look nearly satisfied enough."
I stretched, pushed my hands high overhead, and arched my back. Her gaze dropped to my breasts, and I watched the heat of desire pass through her eyes like flash fire.
She skimmed her hand up to my knee and dug her thumb into a bruise forming just above it. I gasped and rocked my hips, pressing my thighs together for the pressure. Her grin grew wider, more wicked, and she bent down to press biting kisses against the curve of my stomach. Her scent was everywhere mixed with mine, seat and musk and the jojoba oil she put in her hair.
"Come here," I growled and pulled her up for a kiss. She settled between my legs, her hands fisted on either side of my head; I kissed her hard and sucked her lower lip into my mouth. She tasted like me, and I loved the way we mingled on her skin and her tongue.
She pressed her thigh to my cunt and rocked forward and back against me. I was so on edge, every bit of my body felt tight and ready, and if she kept it up, I was pretty sure I'd come just from that friction.
I grabbed her wrist and forced her hand down between us. "Fuck me," I ordered, shoving my hips up at her.
Fiona twisted her fingers against my pussy lips, spreading my wetness, teasing me. I snarled and squeezed her wrist, tiny reminders that, no matter how often we switched off topping each other, in the end, I was the one in charge.
She laughed, but obediently thrust her fingers inside, three at once. I held her hand in place and ground my body against hers, sparking every place we touched. She pinched my nipple, squeezed it tight, and spread her fingers wide inside me, stretching me until I throbbed.
Our alarm snapped on, too loud for our sensitive ears even at its lowest setting.
"Damn."
"Don't stop."
Another laugh and she pulsed her hand against me. "I have to get ready for work."
"Do not stop." I ground the words out through gritted teeth, so close to coming it hurt. I held my breath until my head spun from it, all my attention on my throbbing clit and full cunt, on the way I teetered closer to the edge with each passing second.
The alarm continued to blare. Fiona turned her arm a little until she could press her thumb against my clit in hard, sloppy circles. That was enough; that was exactly what I needed.
"Good girl," I gasped and came.
She worked me through it, twisting her fingers inside me. When I was done, sweaty and limp and sated, she slipped her hand free, casually wiped her fingers on the sheet, and smiled down at me.
"You're gorgeous like that." Fiona leaned forward, kissed my calf, and rolled off the bed, her body bending in inhuman ways. I tugged the comforter up and watched her cross to the en suite. I loved peaceful mornings like this, waking up with her and the sex we had, the way she looked stretched out in our bed. I couldn't decide if I liked her best right after she woke, post-sex, or her dark skin dewy and clean from her shower.
Not to mention every minute of the rest of the day.
Once the water started running, I headed downstairs to wash my hands. Our house was mostly windows, but I didn't worry about my nudity. We had a privacy fence, and plenty of bushes planted up against the walls, but I didn't actually care if the neighbors got a peek. They'd already seen everything we were.
We had a breakfast ritual. Fiona had lots of rituals I didn't share, but this was one I did. She was very particular about her food and ate the same thing every day: special cereal, yogurt, three scrambled eggs, a banana, and half an orange. I ate the other half, but the rest of my meal varied. I'd eat whatever was around, especially meat cooked rare.
The ritual, for me, was making sure everything was in its place. I poured her cereal, scrambled her eggs, cut up the orange, and grabbed some cheese and chicken from the fridge for me. Thawed, it only took a hot skillet and a couple minutes to make it warm and pink and perfect.
Fiona only bought yogurt in individual servings; less environmentally correct, but she swore it tasted better that way. I teased her about it frequently with the threat that she was the reason we would end up with no place to run, but she just laughed and pointed out all the ways she made our household, and the entire pack, go green. Each house had multiple recycling bins; we only bought recycled paper products, and just earlier this year, Fiona finally stopped the pack from buying Styrofoam cups and plates for our summer cook-outs, no matter how much cheaper and easier they were to use. She made sure we left no trash behind if we took anything into the woods with us, we adopted a stretch of highway to keep clean—as a human neighborhood, but it made me laugh every time someone thanked us for taking care of that part of the road, the humans with their gratitude not knowing what monsters lurked in their midst—and Fiona picked up litter whenever she saw it.
She was subtle about changing things. She didn't nag or order, just took her time and convinced us it was what we wanted to do all along, or at least what was the right thing for us to do, even if it was a pain sometimes. I controlled with strength and orders and a healthy dose of fear, but Fiona had her own charm.
I moved everything to the table and, when I heard the water shut off, added the milk to her cereal. She drank water, but I couldn't function without my soda.
Sometimes, I felt trapped by the patterns of our life, but the morning ritual was more often comforting than not.
She came downstairs naked, her dark skin slightly damp and a towel wrapped around her head. My stomach grumbled, and I shoved her toward her seat. She slammed her heel into my calf hard enough to raise a brief welt, but dropped into her chair and tore into her food. We ate fast, voracious. Wolves are always hungry, even when they don't need to hunt to survive.
After, Fiona went upstairs to put on unscented lotion and get dressed, and I did the dishes. If I left them sitting in the morning, by the time we got home at night, the stink of them would be too much.
"Walk me out?" she asked. She didn't look like herself when she went to work; I was used to her naked, or, at the most, wearing shorts and tank tops. Today, she wore pinstripe trousers and a long-sleeve black shirt, probably layered over a camisole. The long sleeves were for her human coworkers; when she shut herself up in her office, she would take it off. The building was always cold, the humans complained, and so she had to incorporate it into her outfits.
I threw on jean shorts and a sleeveless cotton shirt. All it had to do was keep me from being arrested for indecent exposure.
I didn't know how she stayed at her job, but she had worked there for years. She claimed she liked being around regular humans; they made her feel energized. She dealt with technology, new inventions, thousands of people, and dressed up every single day. I had to face down werewolves pissed off and frequently bordering on rabid and was naked most of the time. She loved her work, but I preferred mine.
Of course, her job came with a 401k, health insurance—not that we used it, between our rapid healing and being unable to let human doctors get their hands on our blood—and a retirement plan. If I was very, very lucky, when I retired, I'd get to stay alive.
I walked with her to the end of the block. We lived on a short street with a cul-de-sac and the shuttle bus her work provided picked her up on the corner.
"The Seattle wolves are coming into town," I told her. My flip flops made satisfying thwacking sounds against my feet. I walked silent so often that when I could make noise, I rejoiced in it. "I might be late."
"I'll call in delivery on my way home," she offered, and then, before I could remind her, "and I'll make sure to get extra, just in case."
"I'll try not to need it," I promised, and she grinned. She hated it when I brought my work home. I didn't blame her; she'd lost three coffee tables to it and a gorgeous wolf sculpture. I was still trying to find a suitable replacement.
Her ride was waiting, so she gave me a quick, chaste kiss. We weren't out to upset anyone, but I saw no reason at all we couldn't indulge in some of the same discrete public displays of affection that straight couples did.
After all, I wasn't humping her leg in the middle of the street. What more could they want?
I waited until the shuttle was out of sight, carrying her away from my world and into the human one, and then headed back to the house. The Seattle wolves weren't arriving until early afternoon, but that meant I had to compress an entire day's session into one morning to clear my schedule for them. I had a lot of audiences scheduled, too, just my luck.
Sometimes it was a pain in the ass—usually mine—to be pack leader.
The problems I resolved:
Kyle, who lived in the house next door on the right, wanted hunting rights for his extended family. He was having an anniversary party in January and needed to provide a hunt for his man's father, his own brother, and his woman's parents. Four extra
people might not seem like a lot, but four extra werewolves was a heavy load for any hunting grounds to handle.
Luckily, part of their visit fell over the full moon—the wolf moon, appropriately enough—so I invited them to join our run and agreed to talk to the pack leader across the border. If they all had valid passports, Canada was a good hunting option, and there was still time to make arrangements.
One of the things I liked best about Kyle was that he always planned ahead. It wasn't very wolf-like—I had worked hard and been groomed my whole life to be pack leader, but still slipped into think about now instead of planning for then—but it was much appreciated.
Dean, one of the weaker wolves just a couple years older than me, was accused of bringing human women around the neighborhood too close to the full moon. We'd just come off October's and I didn't remember smelling any strangers, but I assigned a couple wolves to look into it.
He didn't bother to keep a straight face while I questioned him. His grin was so wicked, I figured he was trying to rile me up. I wasn't easily shaken—one of the reasons I'd lasted so long as pack leader was that I could keep my temper—so his efforts were futile, but I still gave it some thought.
Possibly, he just wanted some time in the dungeon with me. We had scened together more when we were younger, before Fiona started sniffing around me and I got too busy with pack responsibilities, and if he was feeling abandoned, he might very well look to stir up trouble in order to make me mad enough to beat him again. Or maybe he was using it as terribly dangerous pick-up lines: Hey, baby, what's your sign? I was born under the sign of the wolf. Want to see what big teeth I have, the better for eating you with? Let's go howl at the moon. What's a pretty girl like you doing wearing such a bright red coat?
I made a note to pencil in some time with him just in case. If it turned out he was bringing humans around, whatever the reason, he was going to be in trouble, and his punishment would not be me binding and beating him, because he would enjoy the hell out of that. If he wasn't, though, we could have some fun.
Lily asked for her man to join the pack. It shocked the hell out of me, because I still thought of her as the twelve-year-old cub stumbling over her own two—or four—feet. She had grown sleek and predatory, and I could feel the power pulsing off her.
She was going to be trouble in a couple years, hunting for a higher spot in the pack hierarchy, maybe even for pack leader. I'd keep an eye on her. Maybe even groom her to be my successor, depending on how long she was willing to wait. I wasn't ready to step down, and the only way to force a leader out was a dangerous, often deadly, bloody fight, but if she could be patient, she might be the successor I needed. Her dad and my dad were good friends, even though my dad went off to join a different pack a few years ago when he found a new woman. I liked the pup—the full-grown wolf—even when she was an annoying, yappy thing chasing her own tail and tagging along with the older wolves.
She was a born wolf, too. That's probably part of why I liked her so much. Didn't mean I'd give her an inch if she challenged me, though.
Her man was quiet and let her do the talking. He had all his papers in order, recommendations from his pack leader and other alphas, and proof that he could contribute to my pack, both money and time.
I'd call to check the sources, but after I gave him a good sniff and watched the way they interacted, I was pretty sure he was in.
And then came the Seattle wolves.
They weren't at all what I expected. They had a fairly new pack leader, a strong wolf named Rafael. He'd only been in power here a couple years, and I'd never had the occasion to meet him. As geographically close as the two packs were, we did a good job of pretending the other didn't exist. Rafael was older, I smelled the age on him, but not so old he smelled weak. His skin was tough like leather, too much time working in the sun damaged even a wolf, and his hands were callused. He had a thin upper lip and stubble on his cheeks. His black hair was silvered at the temples, and his dark eyes were pretty, with startlingly long lashes.
I took in all of this very quickly, scenting him while his delegation approached, and I nearly squirmed in my seat at the combination. He was hot as fuck, and everyone in the room could smell my response. He tested the air as he approached, a natural thing for a wolf to do; I knew the moment he caught my scent, because his eyes darkened, and he smirked at me.
Hot as fuck, but I kept it professional. No visiting alpha was going to rattle me, not even one who made me want to throw him to the floor and mount him right there in front of both our packs.
Rafael brought me a complaint from the Seattle pack and a personal request. The Seattle wolves accused us of poaching on their hunting grounds north of the city. We hunt to the east and the south, leaving the north and the west to them. He had no proof it was us, of course, because none of my wolves would be so stupid.
Really, he had no proof it wasn't a natural animal, except that the carcasses were left, easy to find, the meat gnawed but not eaten. Sounded like a wolf message to me, even if wolves didn't normally waste their food, but Rafael swore he'd put his best bloodhounds on it—the wolves in a pack with the best noses—and they smelled wolves around the kills.
I listened to everything he had to say, and then I sat for a few minutes, silent and ponderous, perched in my chair at the head of the room. A long time ago, I learned that most wolves were like humans in a way, maybe because so many of them used to be human. People were uncomfortable with quiet spots in conversation; if you sat patiently enough, they would fill the silence.
Rafael crossed his arms over his chest and watched me watch him. I cocked an eyebrow, crossed one leg over the other, and smoothed my hands down my thighs. He dropped his gaze, watching me touch my own skin.
I wasn't the only alpha smelling like want. I bit hard on my tongue, hiding my smile.
Unfortunately, as fun as his desire for me was, my trick didn't work; he stood and silently regarded me.
"I'll put some bloodhounds on it," I said at last. He lifted his chin, showing his throat, a move that might have looked submissive if I couldn't see the confidence shining in his expression. He might want me, and he might blame my pack for the kills, but he wasn't scared of me one bit.
"And if you find anything? If you're truly innocent, will the Microsoft Monsters help me stop whoever is poaching on my hunting grounds?"
My lips twitched, but I managed to bite back my smile. Officially, we were the Eastside pack, but the Seattle wolves frequently called us the Microsoft Monsters even though only some of my wolves work there.
"When my bloodhounds find who is poaching, my hunters will help you stop it." I pushed confidence into my words, into my thoughts; my entire body needed to exude it, so if he looked at me, if he smelled me, he would see how much I believed in my wolves.
So my wolves would see it and smell it and hear it, too.
Most wolf packs worked alone, but we lived too close together to constantly avoid teamwork. We either formed our truces and found ways to get along, or one of us would have to move. The Seattle wolves were penned in more than we were, so either we would have to move out into our land or we would have to fight.
I didn't want to fight. I was pretty sure we would win, but the losses would be tremendous. A good leader knew when to stand her ground and when to compromise.
A good leader kept her people alive.
Besides, if someone was breaching their hunting grounds, ours might be next, and I didn't want strangers in my territory, either poachers or Rafael's wolves tracking the poachers. Better to take care of the problem before that happened. I maintained very strict rules about what animals could be taken from our hunting grounds and how frequently kills could be made.
Hunting grounds were special, and it was the pack leader's job to protect them.
Rafael's request—and it was Rafael's request, not a request from the Seattle pack—was interesting. His youngest son was looking for a mate, and one of my wolves had caught his eye. They weren't dating; I wasn't sure if they'd even spoken, but his son wanted permission to come to the Eastside to pursue my wolf. It wasn't all that unusual for a wolf to look outside his pack for a mate, but it was a little strange to look so close to home. Then again, most packs didn't live in each other's shadow.
The oddest thing of all was that Rafael had enough children to have a youngest. Female werewolves didn't get pregnant easily, and their pregnancies were difficult. Though we regulated biting, new wolves were far more likely to be created than born. When a family managed to have a born wolf, they usually only had one.
I agreed to allow Rafael's son to have restricted access to the pack for one month; I would review it at the end of the period, unless I had a complaint before then. Their interactions would be supervised, at least at first; though I didn't think this was an attempt to infiltrate and destroy my wolves one at a time, I wasn't going to let him walk right in and have unlimited access either.
The Seattle wolves were getting ready to leave when I got up and walked over to Rafael. I kept my voice low, not that I was trying to hide anything. Not that it would work even if I was, because everyone could hear me even if I whispered.
"Why don't you stay for dinner?" I offered.
"You can feed us all?"
"Of course I can." I lifted the corner of my mouth, the precursor to a full snarl. Was he questioning the prosperity of my pack? Maybe he wasn't so fucking hot after all.
"Of course," he echoed and shot me a half smile. He leaned a little closer, until I could feel the heat from his body. It was a practiced move, an offer to scent him, to test his sincerity. "I meant, you want all of us to stay?
I took his offer and breathed him in, making no move to hide it. Then I bared my teeth, almost but not quite a smile. He wanted me and now I knew it.
"I just want one of you," I teased and chose my words with care, "but two other wolves from each pack sounds fair."
He chuckled, and it was a dark sound that reminded me of clouds over the moon and fresh dirt beneath my paws.
"Dinner's good," he said and angled toward me closer still, "and dessert."
Fiona wasn't going to be happy about our guests, but I could make it up to her in the bedroom after. I wanted more time with Rafael, away from the prying, knowing eyes of my wolves. Wolf packs gossiped; some leaders wasted a lot of energy trying to shut them up, but the way I figured it, we had to keep so many secrets anyway, it was good to let them discuss the little things. My sex life, though, I preferred to keep somewhat private.
Rafael grinned at me, and I smirked back. I liked to flirt. Sometimes, that meant flirting with danger.
Dinner went well. The conversation after dinner went even better, so much so that we dismissed our bodyguards. They were loath to leave us, but when the pack leader tells you to go, you get gone.
I really didn't plan to take him to bed, despite our flirtation, but that's exactly what happened.
Fiona took a liking to him the minute she saw him. We didn't often have the same taste in men, and it was nice when our desires lined up. He wasn't bothered at all by the two of us living together, or by the both of us flirting with him. Sometimes, the older werewolves were quite conservative and either thought two women together were playing house until the right man came along or that we existed only to titillate them.
Rafael wasn't like that. He respected us; he was polite and friendly and told funny stories about trying to control werewolves in the middle of a city. He'd come to Seattle from the pack in Costa Rica, following a woman he loved. She had died shortly after he won pack leader. It was a sad story, but he was very matter-of-fact about it.
I liked that about him. That's why, when I refilled his coffee, I kissed him.
He knew how to kiss; the pressure was absolutely perfect, firm without being demanding. He didn't hesitate to touch me. He put one hand in my hair and the other on my hip, but he didn't push too fast, either.
I brushed my lips along his jaw, intrigued by the stubble, and then bit the side of his throat. The noise he made went straight through me, and I straddled his lap and did it again.
Fiona came up behind me and pressed herself against my back; she wasn't wearing a bra, and I could feel her nipples hard beneath her shirt. She kissed him over my shoulder, and her hands slid around between us, stroking my stomach and his.
"Upstairs?"
I nodded and moved to get off him, but he tightened his grip and pressed his mouth to mine again. Fiona worked her hands up under my shirt until she could cup my breasts and rub her palms against my nipples.
Rafael tugged gently on my hair until I tilted my head back, and then he kissed my throat. He worked his lips, teeth, and tongue across my skin, teasing me, tormenting me. It was too gentle one moment, too rough the next, and then he soothed the spot and moved on.
Fiona continued to touch me, press against me, and when she put her mouth on the other side of my throat and bit down, a bright, sharp pain, I started to shake. What they were doing felt so good.
"Upstairs," she said again, and that time it wasn't a question.
We made it to the bed, but only just. Fiona held my hand while we walked upstairs and reached back for Rafael with her other. He touched the small of my back, and I wanted to feel him against my skin, so I chucked my shirt before we'd even hit the hallway.
I turned when he was still on the top step and kissed him again while I tried to unbutton his jeans. They were annoying as hell, button-fly, and what kind of self-respecting werewolf wore something so difficult to remove?
My fingers shook, and Fiona pushed them out of the way.
I may be hard to rile up, but once I go, I'm gone. She was the calm one; while I kissed him, and practically humped his thigh, she worked all the buttons free, and then pulled me off so he could remove them.
She kissed my shoulder, and then ran her tongue down to my breast and around my nipple. I clutched at her with one hand and shoved my shorts down with the other. They were loose enough they slid off my waist and only stuck a bit on my hips; Rafael was right there to work them down my legs.
He knelt, helped me step out of them, and kissed the curve of my hip. One hand cupped my ass, the other pressed to my stomach, and then slid lower until he eased his fingers between my legs. I was wet already, and his growl was definitely appreciation.
I worked one hand free and grabbed his hair; I loved that moment, looking down at him, watching him touch me, and the way his scent was thick with want. He bit my stomach, just below my belly button and tilted his head until he could smirk up at me. I thrust my hips forward and bumped against him; he dug his nails into my ass.
I was perfectly happy to fuck right there in the hallway, but Fiona pushed me away from him and into our room. I tumbled over the end of the bed and sprawled across it. She stripped off her clothes and leaped to join me. Rafael finished undressing and crawled across the floor after us in a quick rush of movement that was more wolf than man.
He came at the bed from the side, and I launched myself into him when he jumped up, hitting him hard enough to tumble him beneath me. He landed on his back, and I rose up over him and straddled his hips. His dick was hard, his eyes dilated with lust, and a low, steady growl rumbled his chest.
I wanted, more than anything at that moment, to fuck him, so I lowered myself onto him. It had been awhile since I had anything of flesh and blood inside me; our strap-ons were wonderful, but couldn't match the heat of him, the slow burn that built as I rocked against him and blood rushed through both our bodies.
Fiona bent over his head, offering him her breasts. He had one hand on my thigh, clutching at me without trying to guide me, but with the other he touched her, stroked her hair, the curve of her cheek, the swell of her breast. He bumped his head against her breasts and breathed in, scenting her; beneath me, he shuddered, his dick throbbing inside me, and it was delicious.
She moaned when he bit her nipple, and my whole body tightened. I was on the edge of an orgasm.
I leaned back, shifted my weight to keep my balance and keep thrusting, and pressed my fingers to my clit, back and forth, quick movements that made me jerk in response. Rafael dragged his nails down my thigh, tearing open my flesh. The pain mixed with my pleasure and that was it; I'd been building toward this from the second I scented him when he walked into my pack business room. I clenched around his dick and came so hard my vision flashed black and white, the wolf in me rising up inside. I thought he'd come, too, but when I relaxed and rolled sideways off him so I wouldn't collapse on top of Fiona, he either hadn't or he was already hard again.
Fiona pulled away to kiss me, and he touched her, slid a hand up her thighs and pushed his fingers into her cunt. She cried out, and I swallowed the sound.
She leaned forward, bending me backward until I was on my back and she was on her hands and knees above me. I put my hands on her shoulders, dug my nails into her skin, and felt the exact moment Rafael rose up behind her and thrust inside.
I had set a hard pace, but he moved even faster with her, deeper thrusts, and his hands met mine on her back. I splayed my fingers over his, and then twisted myself until I could lick one of her nipples.
She grunted when he slammed inside, and then let out a cry that bordered on a howl. She was close, I could smell it, could feel the way her body shook against mine. I bit into her breast, hard enough to momentarily bruise, and moved a hand to her clit; I scraped one fingernail across it, and then the pad of my finger, circling hard and fast.
Her orgasm hit and she screamed so loud the neighbors would have come running if they weren't used to our noises. Rafael froze for a moment, a stutter in his driving rhythm, and then he came, too.
He tossed back his head and howled; I joined him, though I was sated, and then Fiona chimed in, too, a more soprano counter tone to ours.
She collapsed on top of me, and I worked my way out from beneath her. It would have been nice to have Rafael spend the night, sleep in a pile, wake to fuck again, but he was pack leader, and so was I. He couldn't stay without his people, and I had already pressed my luck by keeping only Fiona around.
I walked him to the door, collecting clothes as we went. He dressed, but I remained naked. I didn't have to go outside.
"I'll contact you when I send my bloodhounds," I said. "We'll track down whoever is breaching your borders."
He stared at me for a moment, his eyes more golden than before. He was riding close to his shift; I had a brief, visceral image of running with him through the woods and how well the three of us would hunt together.
"I'm looking forward to working with you," he said and kissed me. He was an inch shorter than me, maybe slightly less, and it was an easy thing to put my arms around him, to tangle my fingers in his hair.
We parted and were pack leaders again, formal and slightly distrustful of each other.
As a rule, I didn't fuck other pack leaders, but I regretted nothing as I watched him walk to the street where his bodyguards waited. I nodded to my two wolves who watched them and closed the door, shutting out the night and the politics and the tempered wildness of the wolves in human form.
Fiona waited for me upstairs, the covers turned back, my pillow cool and fluffed. I turned off the last of the lights and went to join her. I could feel the energy of the pack change when the Seattle wolves left our borders. We closed in on ourselves, metaphorically circling together in a den that spanned the neighborhood.
Fiona smiled at me when I crawled into bed with her. Her warmth was delicious, and I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer. She put her head on my shoulder and draped her arm across my chest.
I stroked her hair and let myself relax as much as I ever did.
The recommendations for Lily's man worked out, and I set people to planning his induction into the pack during the next full moon. Kyle's family had passports. The border wolves said they had plenty of prey, and for a set amount per kill, they'd let Kyle's family hunt. It was within our price range, so I had our lawyer—Fiona, actually—draw up a contract.
Not all packs have wolf lawyers, but I highly recommend it. We definitely had the advantage during negotiations and contract writing, and it just never hurt to keep a fine, upstanding citizen around, one active in local business, bar associations, and the boards of various nonprofit groups.
See? We wouldn't hurt anyone; we're good people. It was the modern day version of sheep's clothing, and it worked very well.
Dean's situation was another thing entirely. I had my second-in-command look into it—bringing humans near the pack around the full moon was serious business—in part because he was discrete.
Not discrete enough, and by the end of the week, even Fiona asked about it.
We were watching a movie, cuddled on the couch together. She leaned back into me so I could play with her hair and she could put her feet up on the arm. Her toes were a little swollen. I blamed the shoes she wore to look like the humans at work.
"Do you think Dean's really sneaking humans in?" she asked during a boring, talky part.
"That was quick." Though I knew how much my wolves loved to gossip, and I allowed them to do so, sometimes it still surprised me how fast information spread. Leaders who tried to keep an iron control and stop wolves from talking never lasted long.
I wouldn't confirm or deny, and she knew it, but that didn't stop her from asking.
"Who's he been scening with?" I asked instead.
She shrugged. "I don't know, he hasn't been to the last few play parties, or if he was, he left before we showed up."
"Huh." I twisted her hair around my fingers while I thought about that.
"You going to top him?" she asked. "If he's innocent?"
She was echoing my thoughts. When we first started sleeping together, I found it creepy. I didn't like that someone could read me so well. I was fighting my way up through the pack, and I was afraid she was sussing out my weaknesses.
Now it was just comforting.
"Maybe." I shrugged. "Would you mind if I took him downstairs?"
"Yes." My hand stilled in her hair. I hadn't expected that. We frequently played with others, especially when we both wanted to top. I only went submissive with her, and very rarely at that, so we frequently had to find other bottoms.
"Would you mind if I played with him at one of the parties?"
"Not at all." Fiona took a deep breath. "I don't want us bringing new people into the dungeon anymore. It doesn't feel..." but she trailed off.
"It doesn't feel what?" I prodded.
"Safe." She rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "It doesn't feel safe."
The hunt for the intruder—or intruders—into Seattle's north hunting grounds dragged on. I sent a team, and my bloodhounds agreed, yes, it was the work of a werewolf, but no one could agree on how many. That was a bad sign, and I needed to figure out what to do about it. For a single bloodhound not to be able to pinpoint whether there was one wolf or multiple wolves was unusual, but for five bloodhounds for two packs to fail, well, that started to look like sabotage.
I kept a close eye on my wolves.
Things at home continued apace. I did my work, Fiona did hers, we completed our rituals, shared and not. We put up new decorations for Thanksgiving, put away the Halloween stuff, and began to plan the pack's winter holidays celebration.
I thought, perhaps, we would invite Rafael.
And then, one morning, everything changed.
I was in the kitchen, going through the breakfast ritual, and Fiona was upstairs in the shower. The water switched off, and she took longer than normal to leave the bathroom, but that didn't warn me that anything was wrong.
When she started down the stairs, my head jerked up. Something had excited her. I couldn't smell fear, but I wasn't sure if she was happy, either. Mostly, I thought, she smelled like adrenaline, so whatever it was had surprised her, at least. Maybe it wasn't a flight or fight situation. Maybe it was.
My heartbeat picked up and I widened my stance, squatted toward the floor. I was already naked, I could shift in a breath and howl for help. The whole block was pack, they would hear, they would come running.
She turned the corner, biting her lower lip bloody, and my stomach growled at the smell. It took her a minute to notice me, though she knew I was there. My scent was everywhere, and I was so tall and broad I was hard to miss. Where else would I be, for that matter?
When she looked up, she bared her teeth. It was a smile, but twisted, crazed.
"I'm pregnant," she said, and my thoughts all crashed down.
She called into work, I canceled my meetings, and, for awhile, we sat together, saying nothing. Eventually her scent returned to normal. I knew mine was still agitated; it's hard to smell yourself, but I felt shaken to my core and knew I wasn't going to calm down any time soon.
Fiona knew it, too, I think, and asked me to take her downstairs. I did, even though I didn't feel like dungeon time. It was a mistake, I knew better, but my thoughts were scattered, my attention far away.
I leaned against our oldest free-standing St. Andrew's Cross; it had a thick main section, sturdy feet, and a variety of ways to bind a body to it. Fiona watched me for a moment, her eyes glinting in the dim light.
"It's your turn to top," she said and curled her fingers at me, beckoning me forward. "I'd like the cane."
I nodded, but didn't push away from the rack. "I'm feeling subby."
She smiled for a second, but it melted into a frown. "Don't lie."
It wasn't precisely a lie. I had hoped it would be true enough to get past her sense of smell. I didn't feel like being tied up and beat. What I wanted—what I needed—was someone to hold me and tell me everything would be fine.
Lie to me.
I couldn't accept it even if she tried.
"You want to talk about it?"
"Nothing to talk about."
"Andy."
She put so much disappointment into those two syllables it made me want to whine and crouch closer to the floor, alpha wolf or not. I hated upsetting her.
"I want to run." Needed to run was more like it. Fiona got it; she nodded and headed for the stairs. I followed her. The basement floor was cold against my bare feet. I had put down soft rubber mats around all the equipment, but maybe I should cover the whole floor. Maybe it wouldn't matter much longer. That thought hit me so hard I stumbled going up the stairs.
We each grabbed shirts and shorts from the basket by the door. Usually the sign above it—Don't Freak the Norms, Obey the Grandmother Rule—made me grin, but I was doing good to get through all the steps before I could run.
Clothes. Shoes. Hand the keys to Fiona. She started the car. Stopped for the red light. Used her turn signal.
If we got pulled over, if I had to wait one minute more, I feared I would tear out someone's throat.
We made it to the woods in time. If it had been night, we could have run right out from the cul-de-sac, but since it was daylight, even though the sun was hidden behind gray skies, we had to go farther out for privacy. The pack houses used to be at city limits, but the city grew around us. Not much, but enough to be a pain in my ass when I needed release.
I was out of the car and plunging down the trail before Fiona turned off the ignition. She would catch up. I peeled off my clothes and tossed them haphazardly toward a tree. The air was cool, but not cold enough. I wanted my brain to freeze. I wanted my thoughts to stop.
The shift came rough. I was agitated, or it would have been smooth, painless. It didn't hurt, precisely, but it didn't feel great, either. I needed it to feel spectacular.
I needed to run, and I did, into the shadows of the trees, away from civilization.
I ran in large circles for hours, but as soon as I shifted back, my fears were right there at the front of my thoughts. I threw myself down and yelped. Stupid rocks and their sharp edges sticking up to pierce my skin. Once I'd cleared a space, I stretched out and stared up at the sky. It was cloudy, and we wouldn't be able to see much of a sunset.
The moon was one week, three days, and ten hours from being full.
I thought I might go feral before I saw it again.
Fiona came and stood over me, her legs on either side of my hips. I loved her outdoors. It was the wolf, I think, which made her even more luscious when in nature, but part of it was probably my love. My favorite place to be was in the woods, and she my favorite wolf to share it with.
She looked like a goddess standing above me. Her hair was unbound after her shift, kinky and thick and dark. She looked very tall from my angle, as if she, like the trees, reached for the sky. Her breasts were small, her thighs heavy, her hips wide. Childbearing hips.
That stopped me cold, and I looked away, at the trees towering over us, spears piercing the sky. The lowest branches were probably ten feet up, but the thin trunks pressed around us like a living army. It was claustrophobic, but comforting at the same time. It was as much my home as our house.
If she died, it would be more so. I would stay a wolf in the woods and my humanity would never hurt me again.
That meant leaving the pack without an alpha. Guilt tugged at me, and the weight of being the leader settled hard on my shoulders. It didn't matter. Without her, I wasn't fit to lead anyway.
"It's going to be okay," she said and dropped to sit on my legs. "I'm going to be fine."
"You don't know that."
She put her hands on my stomach. "You don't know I won't."
I didn't want to think about it anymore. I wanted to bask in the joy of the run and the freedom of our woods and the weight of her body on top of mine. I was afraid to touch her; I knew better, but deep in my gut, I thought she would disintegrate beneath my fingers, leaving only blood and flesh and bone in pieces.
"Andy." She put her hands on my stomach. "Andrea. Please."
She was worked up, riding the adrenaline high from the shift and chasing me through the woods. I could smell her, could taste in the air how much she wanted me. I responded; I didn't have a choice in that, the way my stomach tightened, my nipples hardened, and I grew wet.
I couldn't help getting turned on by her, but I didn't have to give in to it. I didn't have to have sex.
I reached for her, put my hands on her hips, and then ran them up her sides. I wanted this, wanted her. She was strong still; I wasn't going to break her. She scooted forward to straddle my hips and walked her fingers up to my breasts. Her nails were long and sharp; she pinched my nipples hard enough I gasped and trembled beneath her.
"Good girl," she crooned and rocked her body against mine. I could feel her slick against me, and I surged up off the ground, frenzied from the feel and smell of her. I wanted to be in control, and though she fought, I slammed her into the ground, her legs bent up on either side of my body, her hands still on my breasts.
I bit her stomach, hard enough to bruise. The color was a flash, there and gone almost too quickly to be seen. If I wanted to mark her, I would have to try harder, but it wasn't necessary.
She pinched me, and then let go, dropping her hands to the ground. The dirt would stain her fingers, get beneath her nails when she clawed at the earth. I curled my tongue around her belly button to make her shriek with laughter; she was ticklish there, in a thin line straight down her stomach.
When I bit, she convulsed and slammed her knee into the side of my head.
I eased myself lower, nuzzling my cheek against her thigh. I hooked my arms around her hips, spread her legs wider, and lowered my face to her. That close, and she was all I could smell, she filled every breath.
"Please," she whimpered and lifted herself against my face. I pulled back, teasing her, pinning her into place, and when she groaned, I put my mouth on her, slid my tongue between her lips.
I knew right where to lick her, to glide my tongue across her flesh. Her clit was swollen, and she was warm and wet. I put my lips around her clit, gentle pressure, and then bared my teeth and bit down.
She cried out, and again, her hips lifting off the ground. She tore into the dirt, and I could smell crushed pine needles, sharp even through the scent of her arousal.
I worked a hand free so I could thrust one finger into her and a second, curling them toward me. It took a moment, but then I found her favorite spot, the flesh slightly raised, slightly spongy. I pressed my tongue firmly against her clit, matched the pressure from inside, and she rocked up, her body tense.
She was so close she shook; her body jerked with each flick of my tongue. I turned my head a little, sucked in a deep breath, and then set into her, tongue and fingers and lips and teeth.
She cried out and came; her scream became a howl, her entire body undulating with the pleasure. I could feel it rushing through her, rising from her skin, and I absolutely throbbed with want.
I rolled away from her, leaving her trembling, and thrust my right hand, still damp from her, between my legs. She gave a little whimper as she fell through the aftermath, coming down from her high, and it went straight through me.
I brushed my middle finger across my clit, once, twice, and then her hand was there, and her mouth on my collar bone, her breasts smashed against my arm. She gulped air and made little needy noises in my ear.
When I came I threw back my head and whined, scrabbling one hand across her back, the other still working with hers between my legs, forcing her to go at my pace.
It felt great, it always did, but today it was no release.
She collapsed against me, both of us panting, and the woods were silent around us, the smaller animals scared off by two large predators at play.
My back hurt; my hips ached. I was getting too old to fuck on the cold ground.
No, that wasn't it.
I was scared.
"You worry too much," Fiona said, but for the first time I heard a thread of fear in her voice, too. It was about damn time. She knew the risks almost as well as I did. She was ten years old when I was born, already a werewolf and old enough to know what was going on around her.
Fiona sat with the pack and listened to my mother's screams as she died.
Back at the house, I made dinner, two steaks cooked just long enough to take off the chill, to heat the blood. We had twice baked potatoes with it, covered in cheese, and fresh iced tea.
"We have to tell Rafael," Fiona said after we settled at the table with our food.
I busied myself cutting my meat into tiny bites. I could have managed larger ones—I could have practically swallowed it whole—but I needed the distraction.
"You're sure it's his?"
"Who else have I slept with, Andy?" I deserved that sharp tone. "You didn't get me pregnant."
"You're sure you're pregnant?"
"Yes!" She took a deep breath, a bite of meat, and then a drink of tea. "I'll go see the doctor tomorrow, but yes, I'm sure."
"You're on the pill."
She shrugged. "You know it's not one hundred percent effective for human women, and I'm something else."
I knew that. Still, it made my stomach churn.
"Will you get it done tomorrow, then?"
She stared at me, I could feel it, but I didn't look at her. I couldn't, and the wolf in me raged that I was presenting so submissive when I should have been the dominant one.
"Are you ordering me to get an abortion?"
I could do it. I was her pack leader, she either had to do what I say, fight me, or leave. I wouldn't do that to her. Maybe my time as leader was almost done, because I certainly seemed to be going weak.
"No." I met her eyes then. "I'm asking you to."
"I want a baby."
"And I want you to live!"
She set down her knife and fork. "Andy, you don't know I won't."
"I think I do," I said, and my voice had more than a bit of growl to it. "From pack history, and from personal experience." It would take me all the fingers of one hand and a couple on the other to count off the names of women I personally knew who died during childbirth, much less the ones I'd heard about. I didn't understand why they risked it. We all knew how hard it was for one of us to give birth, but still wolves wanted to risk it. Still Fiona wanted to risk it.
"Yes, sweetie, I know. I'm sad for you still; I wish you'd known your mother. But I want to be a mother. I think it's worth the risk. Besides," she said, and smiled at me, but I didn't return it, "it's been quite a few years. Maybe there are ways to make it easier. There are for human births."
"We're not human!" I was definitely growling, and the hair on the back of my neck and arms stood up. If I wasn't careful, I was going to shift right there at our kitchen table.
"I know that!" She repeated herself, softer. "I know that. I was once, remember. I didn't ask for this, and I certainly wasn't told that I would have to give up so much."
We rarely talked about it, but she was right. She'd been attacked by a rogue wolf who had kidnapped her and kept her, biting her every day until she was infected, until she turned into one of us. He had wanted a baby, too, and when his wife couldn't give him one, he went rogue, found a toddler, and took her away. He had thought — well, he had ignored all our careful rules, and he had thought he was giving two gifts: a child to his wife and the power of the wolf to Fiona.
His wife had killed him for hurting a child and breaking another mother's heart, but the damage was done and the pack couldn't send Fiona home. Nor, in the end, did the pack leader—my father, at the time—think it best to bite Fiona's human family. Frequently, once one member of the family became a wolf, many other members did, too. It was easier to keep our secret that way, and it made for stronger pack ties when families were protecting each other as well as the pack. But it was easier for a human family to accept a wolf when the transformation was by choice. Fiona lost a lot of things when her body succumbed to the infection. Her human family was one of those things. Maybe that's why she refused to accept trying to have a baby was a bad idea.
There were more made werewolves than born, but ninety-nine percent of them chose it and went in knowing all the risks, and every single one but Fiona was a consenting adult. Fiona hadn't been able to consent, even if he'd asked her before he'd bit her, and the fact that she thrived as a wolf was impressive.
I still didn't understand why she wanted to be a mother, but surely there was some other way to make her happy.
"We'll adopt," I said, my voice shaking. "A hundred kids, if that's what you want."
"Maybe," she said, "but I want to try this first."
I sniffed hard and stared at my plate. I wasn't going to cry, I wasn't — I was terrified of losing her and at the very edge of my control. "Why are you being so stubborn on this?" I asked.
"Why are you?"
"Because I don't want you to die!" And my tears started to fall. Crying didn't make me weak or anything stupid like that, but I hated to the way I felt when I cried, hated the way my eyes burned and my nose filled.
She shoved back her chair so hard it toppled over, and came around to crouch next to me. She put one hand on my thigh, the other on the back of my neck, and I looked at her, cursing myself for breaking down when I was trying to make a point, trying desperately to win this argument.
"I don't want to die either," she said, "and I promise, I'll have the doctor monitor it closely, and if things go wrong, I'll consider an abortion then. I didn't plan this, Andy, I swear, but it happened, despite all my precautions. Maybe it's meant to be."
I didn't believe in things like fate and karma, but she sure did. I sniffed and blinked, trying to drive away the tears. Fiona leaned into me, her body warm and soft against mine, and I sighed.
"Fine."
"Really?" She smiled at me, and it was a little like the sun coming out in July after months of gray skies and rain.
"Yes. We'll try." She surged up and kissed me; I could taste my tears on my lips, smearing onto hers through the kiss. Eventually, she pulled back, and returned to her seat, righting her chair and digging into her food.
"We have to tell Rafael," she said again.
"I know. I'll arrange a meeting." I twisted my fork across the plate; she winced at the noise, but didn't ask me to stop. "This could be a problem."