Authors: Bonnie Vanak
Mating Hunt
Book 2 in the Werewolves of Montana series
THE MATING HUNT- Copyright © 2013 by Bonnie Vanak
WARNING: This is a romance novel containing explicit sex.
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. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.
Published 2013 by Bonnie Vanak
Visit www.bonnievanak.com
Chapter 1
S
OMEONE WAS HAVING
sex in the bathroom of Spuds Saloon.
Arianna Sanders wriggled her Spanx-clad bottom on the hard wood seat. The musky scent drifted down the hallway, tickling her nostrils. Low groans and high squeals throbbed against her eardrums.
Bad enough to be a 19-year-old unmated Lupine werewolf ripe for breeding, but to hunger for sex was pure hell.
Pure hell when you were terrified of the very thing your body craved.
Pure hell when you emitted a cloud of pheromones so powerful, you attracted everything from male werewolves to Ogres.
“Blame your big butt,” Darius had told her. “From the back, you look like a female Ogre. Hubba hubba.”
The pack beta ended up sporting a black eye for that remark.
Sitting at a table against the brick wall, Arianna flexed her sore knuckles. Yeah, she had a fat ass. But she also had the best nose in the pack, other than Kyle, her guardian and partner in hunting. And if she and Kyle were to get a bead on three missing Lupine young, they needed information. Spuds was the place where cowboys traded gossip in Hancock, Montana.
Booted heels hooked over the barstool rungs; men lined up at the bar like cattle at a watering trough. Her nostrils flared at the stench of spilt beer and heavy cologne. A wailing country western song pounded against her temples. Damn, she hated bars, but vowed to find out what she could. The three little ones had vanished two weeks ago while hiking with their parents near Mitchell Mountain. The frantic parents contacted Amber Alert, pretending the young were Skins, the Lupine term for humans.
Her sensitive hearing picked up a few stray conversations. “Missing kids.” “Searched forest.” Arianna studied the crowd, looking for signs of nervousness as Kyle had taught her. Rugged bikers sitting at a corner table scowled at the crowd, but she scented nothing unusual.
Except at the bar. There.
Two men in sheepskin jackets studied their beer mugs as sweat oozed from their pores. Their hearts began to pound harder as talk centered on the missing young.
They knew something.
As she headed for the jukebox to eavesdrop, a woman screamed from the back room. “Oh God, oh God!”
Several cowboys snickered. “Damn, thought this was a bar, not a church,” one shouted out.
An embarrassed flush suffused Arianna’s body. She needed to get info and get the hell out.
Her boot heels clicked on the scuffed wood floor as she crossed the room. As she reached the jukebox, her targets pulled money from their wallets and tossed a handful of dollar bills on the bar. She strained to see their faces, but they turned and headed for the exit. Arianna followed.
A drunk staggered into her and grabbed her arm. “C’mere, honey, you smell good. That little lady back there ain’t gonna be the only one getting lucky tonight.”
Practically drooling, the Skin looked more woozy than threatening. Dryness coated her throat. She’d thought Skins couldn’t scent her approaching heat.
Guess not. Arianna pulled away and shook her head.
His mouth flattened. “With that fat ass, you’re lucky I’m interested. Should be honored, bitch.”
The insult stung. “With that ugly face, you’d be lucky to find a willing sheep.”
The drunk’s gaze darkened and narrowed. He grabbed her breast. “At least you have some tits.”
“Stop it,” she cried out, immediately snared in a dark memory.
Dark memories surged: greedy hands groping her nubile breasts. Not again. Never again.
Claws emerged from her fingertips as she danced out of reach. Suddenly the familiar scent of sharp, crushed pine and crisp, fallen snow flooded her senses. Then a quiet, deep voice spoke. “Leave the little lady alone. Or else.”
Relief filled her. Kyle.
Drunk guy sneered as Kyle slid out of the hallway shadows, zipping up his jeans. Arianna stiffened. Her guardian had caused the woman’s ecstatic screams.
Wide shouldered and leanly muscled, he stood well over six feet. In a plaid shirt, tight jeans and scuffed boots, he looked like just another tall, muscular cowboy, except for the distinctive Z slashing his left cheek. Despite the scar, females found Kyle irresistible. His beast emerged during the full moon, a savage sexuality resulting from his mixed blood.
Dark brown hair peeked beneath the brim of his black Stetson, hiding his mesmerizing green eyes. They could grow sharp with impatience one minute, hot with passion the next.
Or glacial, as they did now, as he tipped back his hat.
“Or else what?” The words barely fled the drunk’s mouth before Kyle’s fist smashed into it. The man staggered backward, vermillion trickling from his split lip. “That all you got?” the drunk sneered, and swung at Kyle.
Great. She groaned as the duo began to fight. Other patrons crowded around, cheering them on. Time to leave, before all the surging testosterone went turbo.
Arianna headed for the door as Kyle made dog food of the drunk, her attacker, but found it barricaded by five bulky cowboys with rapid pulses and lust-darkened gazes.
“Hey, darling,” one drawled. “You smell soooo good. Why don’t you come here and show us a good time?”
Her breathing ragged, Arianna fought panic. Breath fled out of her bellowing lungs. As they stalked toward her, a low growl ripped from her throat.
Oh please, not now, I can control this. Stay in Skin. I can defend myself.
This wasn’t the other time. Not chained and helpless, a scared 12-year-old facing the bad man who wanted to hurt her.
Breathing heavily as they circled, she reached for the switchblade in her back pocket. One rubbed the increasing bulge in his crotch and stalked forward. And then someone seized her from behind, forcing her to drop the knife, pinning her arms.
Logic fled, replaced by a surge of terror, triggering Lupine instinct. With a low snarl, she flung off her attacker, sending him crashing into a nearby table. Fur rippled along her arms. Her bones popped and snapped.
Go for the target.
The wolf loped toward the man’s groin as screams broke out.
Oh shit.
Kyle threw the drunk against the bar and turned to see a gray wolf growl at a cowboy. A large wet stain spread over the man’s crotch, triggering Kyle’s own Lupine instinct to attack. Unlike Arianna, he had control.
As the man stumbled backward and fell, the wolf snarled. Someone pulled a pistol from his holster and cocked the trigger. Double shit.
Vaulting over a table, Kyle tackled the wolf as she loped toward the terrified cowboy. He rolled, tussling with her, putting a hand over her nose.
Letting her scent him.
Instantly Arianna calmed, her body growing limp. He climbed off as she lowered her head between her paws. Something deep inside him broke.
Bar patrons stared, jaws dropping. A few took out their phones, and his guts clenched as he imagined the ensuing videos on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.
His gaze shot to Dell, the bar’s owner and a fellow Lupine. Dell nodded and pressed a button, scrambling all electronic communication.
Holding open the door, Kyle gestured. The wolf loped outside. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it, fishing out his cell phone. Didn’t need to get a signal for this particular call.
He hated this, but had no choice. Not with that little display before half the town’s male Skins.
Kyle pressed the speed dial, the OtherWorld equivalent of 9-1-1 as the wolf sat, her gaze fixed on him.
A long minute later, a dark-eyed man materialized. Clad in black leather pants, a wrinkled black shirt and doeskin boots, he looked pissed, as if someone had interrupted his dinner. Or something much more intimate, Kyle thought as he inhaled the musky fragrance of sex.
Tristan, the Silver Wizard, a member of the Brehon, the four powerful wizard judges of OtherWorlders. Few messed with him. Those who did ended up as a pile of gray ash.
“I need a mind cleanse. The Skins inside saw her Change.” Tensing, he watched the powerful sorcerer scowl. Wind lifted Tristan’s shoulder-length black hair, each strand tipped with silver, glinting like polished chrome beneath the moonlit night.
“Again. The second time in two months. This one, she’s become a real problem.”
“The Skins wanted to rape her.”
Tristan’s nostril’s flared. “She’s approaching her heat. Is she insane, walking into a Skin bar with enough pheromones to make a eunuch erect? Has no male claimed her yet? A mating will severely dilute her sexual allure.”
“She’s refused to mate.”
The wizard’s thoughtful gaze rested on Kyle.
Not going there, buddy.
His brand of sex was rough, hard and shattering. Give them enough orgasms to light up a city block and leave. Arianna needed a gentle male to arouse her passion and stick around for the long term.
He didn’t do long-term.
“Sometimes female Lupines must be forced.”
Kyle bristled. “Force her, and she’ll only turn more feral than she did tonight.”
“Then we have a little problem,” Tristan said softly.
The wizard’s dark eyes glowed ice blue. Kyle’s blood pressure plummeted as he sensed the gathering current of pure power. The wolf whimpered and lowered her head. Tristan wanted to fry Arianna right here, solving the problem.
Squatting down, Kyle hooked his arms in a protective gesture around the wolf, fingers tunneling through her thick, warm fur. “It’s not her fault. She can’t help it.”
Suddenly a warm, soft body replaced fur and muscle, and his hands cupped two generous breasts. His dick went instantly hard. Swearing under his breath, he pulled away, averting his gaze until Arianna clothed herself by magick. Kyle pulled her upward. Blond curls tumbled over his arm. He resisted the primal urge to lift one, inhale her delicate fragrance. Trembling, she faced the wizard, feet planted apart, defiance in her cornflower blue eyes.
It was like watching a spunky Chihuahua challenge an angry grizzly.
Hollowness speared his chest. Kyle yanked her backward, slid his arms around her waist and rested his chin atop her head.
“If you’re going to throw down, you’ll have to take us both,” he warned Tristan.
The wizard paused. His scowl could freeze flames, but the dangerous glow faded. “This is the last time, hunter. I’m not some fucking cleaning service you can call every time she shifts before Skins. Twice now.”
He held up two fingers, then another. “Three times, she strikes out. But I’m not waiting. Give your alpha this warning. Force Arianna to mate by the full moon, or I will destroy her.”
K
YLE INSISTED ON
driving her back to the ranch in his pickup. Later, someone would fetch her car. Jaw set like stone, he stared ahead at the serpentine road. Arianna felt the heavy weight of his silence like a boulder.
Inside the cab, his crisp masculine scent swirled in her nostrils, tangling with the beer he’d consumed and the musky smell of recent sex. Feelings stirred inside her, making her edgy and wanting. And warm. Whoa, it was hot in here. Her internal thermostat cranked up to volcanic. Arianna shrugged out of her jacket, recognizing the signs of her approaching fertile period. Always ruling her life with a bitchy hand.
“How’s Darius’ black eye?”
The ghost of a smile touched his wide mouth. “Healed, though he’s still sulking around.”
“Do you think I have a big butt?”
A vein ticked in his neck. “Pay no attention to him, little pint. He was teasing you.”
“About how my big butt tempts a legion of Ogres.”
“More than Ogres,” he muttered, rubbing the nape of his neck.
“How can guys ever find me attractive when I look like this?” Arianna’s throat tightened. “There’s too much junk in my trunk. I mean, it could fit an entire storage unit.”
Kyle sputtered.
“Look at it...” She twisted sideways and wriggled her bottom. “These aren’t skinny jeans. I can’t fit into skinny jeans even with Spanx.”