Omega Moon Rising (Toke Lobo & The Pack) (18 page)

She knew that. Intellectually she knew he was doing everything he could, demanding that his pack—his werewolf pack—protect not only her, but also her sister.

But he was an animal. How could an animal . . .?

She whimpered again.

“What? What did Granny tell you?” Luke perched on the edge of the mattress. Abby scooted as far away from him as she could get.

“France,” Abby squeaked. “FBI.”

“You already knew about the FBI.”

She nodded. “You used medicine to have sex with me.” At least she had her voice back. “Otherwise, because I’m not your . . . mate . . . you wouldn’t have been able to . . . get me pregnant.”

Luke’s face folded into a scowl. “I have human blood.”

“That’s why the meds worked.”

“I have human blood. I haven’t needed medication with you since the first night. In case you haven’t noticed.”

She couldn’t help herself. She looked. Nope, he didn’t need a pill. “Does this mean I’m your mate?”

“It does not.” He was adamant. “What else did Granny tell you?”

Abby cringed. “She had werewolf babies.”

“Twins. Dad and Aunt Macy. You might be pregnant with twins.” Luke’s mouth curved. “That would be wonderful.”

Abby wadded her hands into fist and pressed them against her abdomen. A shaky sob escaped her throat.

“Hey.” Luke knelt on the bed next to her. “I’m a man. Mostly homo lupus, but still a man. Our DNA is compatible. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be pregnant. My sex instinct is like any other man’s. Except, you know, sometimes I want to do wolf things.”

Abby flinched.

“Like lick you all over.” He reached for her. “Let’s get you out of that sweater.”

She didn’t know what to do. He terrified her. He was a wolf disguised as a man. He was . . . sexy with his blue eyes and mop of blond curls, his boyish grin. A wolf in hottie clothing. What did it say about her that she wanted him to lick her all over?

“Can I help you out of your sweater?” Luke whispered. He reached for the frayed hem. “Please? I’ve missed you so much, Abs.”

Abby nodded. She didn’t flinch when his fingers brushed her hips as he grasped the knit. His knuckles grazed her ribs as he pulled up the sweater. “You know I’ll never hurt you.” He yanked the sweater over her head.

Too late.

Static electricity crackled in her hair. “You’re hot.” Luke grinned. “Crackling hot.” He fit his mouth over hers.

He tasted the same as he always had, which was indefinable and addicting. He was also very good with a bra. No clumsy paws, but clever man hands that knew exactly how to tease.

She felt a little sick. “How does it work?” she asked. “The werewolf stuff. Why did you need to take pills to be with me?”

Luke flipped onto his back with a heavy sigh. Their bodies touched at shoulder and hip, his hot enough to sear her. “We’re not going to have sex tonight, are we?”

“No. I’m still creeped out by the werewolf thing. You’re lucky I’ve stopped screaming.” She inched away from him.

“You owe me some explanations, Luke Omega. Everyone kept telling me you were going to talk to me, but I figured they were talking about the FBI stuff, not—” She waved her hand. “Woo-woo.”

“Woo-woo?” Luke turned from gazing at the ceiling to gazing at her. “What is woo-woo?”

“Paranormal stuff. Like vampires and werewolves and zombies.”

“I don’t know if there is such a thing as a zombie and vampires are assholes in addition to smelling really bad.”

“Make me understand what’s going on.” She was trying. She really was.

Luke sighed. “Granny told you about France, right? And about her and Gramps?”

“Lowest of the low,” Abby intoned.

“The family name was Thibodaux. Tokarz’s grandfather took even that from us. Seven generations. Because of something the Ancient Ones decreed to be.”

“That’s not right.”

“No, it’s not. Rosie Dawn deserves a surname. The Thibodaux name.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?”

“Like what?” Luke sounded sullen.

“Petition the leader and point out it wasn’t anything your grandfather had control over?” Abby suggested. “What’s the worst that can happen? He says no?”

Luke rolled onto his side until he faced her.

“You simply accepted your fate?” Abby couldn’t believe it. Luke was one of the most forceful people she’d ever met. Even she had tried to do something about her intolerable situation, even if it was a pipedream of selling her poems to Toke Lobo. She’d tried to do something.

Luke, meekly accepting anything? There was definitely something wrong with that picture.

“Is this a werewolf thing? Not fighting back?”

“We’re a pack. There’s structure. Everyone has a place and a function. My family, the Thibodaux, was delta. Near the top of the hierarchy. Bernard Garnier knocked us back to Omega. The end. The bottom. The least of all. Not worthy of even a name.”

“Because Gramps fell in love with Granny.”

Luke shook his head. “Because the Ancient Ones mated Gramps with Granny. Love has nothing to do with mating. It has to do with who you are and what the other person brings to you. And it’s not even something you realize.”

And I fall short again.

“And you can’t be unfaithful to each other. Granny said something about—”

“Werewolf physiology. Yeah. Well. See, that’s how a male knows he’s met his mate. He gets aroused. And he
knows
. But I’m one quarter human, and I’ve always been fascinated by sex. I admit it. Werewolf boys don’t read
Playboy
, but I did. Everyone blamed my human genes. So I have this fascination with sex but can’t do anything about it. Or couldn’t. Not for lack of trying. I used to pick up girls in the bars where we played and tell ‘em I was diabetic to explain why I wasn’t drinking with them—werewolves are allergic to alcohol—”

“You’re kidding,” Abby interrupted. “But you guys own Moonsinger.”

“Yeah, and the Ancient Ones paired my grandparents and cost the family its status. I never said it all made sense. Anyway, I would tell the girls I was diabetic and might not be able to—well, get it up.” His mouth curved into a smile. “Not that they didn’t try. And I learned a lot about how to please a woman from them. I mean, that night by the lake, you were happy, right?”

Abby nodded. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So that really was your first time, too?”

“Yeah.”

“Because you took a pill.”

“Yeah. I saw you walking across the picnic grounds, carrying your guitar, and thought you were about the prettiest girl there.”

“I was an experiment.”

“No.” He cupped her cheek. “You were pretty. You looked like a valentine in your pink dress. I was attracted to you. Even if I hadn’t gotten my hands on the pill that day, I would have tried to pick you up.”

“And taken me to the lake.”

“Well, yeah.”

“Even though I’m human.”

“Abs, the only women I’ve ever been with are human. A werewolf female who isn’t my mate would rip my head off if I tried to explore sexuality with her.”

“Your Aunt Macy isn’t married.”

“Yeah. It’s more difficult for a mixed female than it is for a mixed male, especially with lycan—werewolf—males. Human males can’t handle lycan females.”

“What makes you think a werewolf can handle a human woman?”

Luke snorted. “Gramps and Gram. Tokarz and Delilah. Stoker and Lucy.”

“How about your mom and dad?”

Luke didn’t say anything for half a minute. “They’ve had their issues,” he admitted.

“And you want a werewolf wife.”

“Mate,” Luke corrected. “It’s different. And I have a wife. You.”

“I’m temporary. That’s what you’ve told me. Until after the baby is born, when you’ll try to cut me out of my child’s life and kick me to the curb.”

Luke winced. “No,” he said. Quickly. Too quickly. “You misunderstood.”

“Or rephrased, it makes you look bad.”

“Abs, please.”

“What? Explain it to me, because I still don’t get it.”

“You have to trust me. Things won’t be like that.”

“Why should I trust you? You neglected to tell me something as big as the fact that you’re not even human, so why should I believe anything you say, when what you don’t say is more important?”

“I didn’t think it was going to matter. Because once the baby was born, we’d go our separate ways.”

“You are such a jerk.”

“Hey!”

“Hey, nothing.” Abby climbed over him. Naked, aroused Luke. She wanted her nightgown. “Maybe you should find someplace else to sleep.”

“Wait a minute,” he said.

“No. I’m serious. I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“Well, you can forget about that.” He voice was low and rough enough to be considered a growl. Which made sense. He was seventy-five percent werewolf. “I’m not going anywhere. In case you’ve forgotten, someone tried to snatch your sister from my parents’ house tonight. Who’s to say they won’t try the same thing with you?”

“Why are you the only one who gets any say?” she asked. A week ago, she would have been too afraid to stand up for herself. But Luke said he’d never hurt her. Here was the test.

“Because you’re a stranger in a strange land.”

Well darn. She couldn’t refute that.

“You don’t know our ways, you don’t understand our culture.”

“I don’t understand your sex lives.”

“I’ll be more than happy to demonstrate.”

Abby couldn’t tell, but she thought Luke might have leered at her. Which was creepy, even if it was in jest.

“I’ve decided I’m going to follow your grandmother’s instructions.”

“What do you care?” Now his tone was snide. “It’s only a werewolf baby.”

He caught her wrist before her palm connected with his cheek. “No hitting,” he said. “I get cuffed all the time by everyone else in the band. In the pack. No more. I don’t hit you, and you shouldn’t be hitting me.”

He was right. “I’m sorry.” The apology came out stiff.

Luke released her wrist. She rubbed it, even though he hadn’t held it that tightly. He watched the action with narrowed eyes. Wolf eyes. As if he was going to pounce on her.

She huddled away from him again.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Give me an hour or two. Maybe by then I can get used to the fact that I’ve been having sex with an animal.” She clamped her hands over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that. Hadn’t meant to say anything that might provoke him. She had promises from him.

But he was a werewolf. And everything she knew about werewolves—which wasn’t much, other than they were supposed to be mythical—reminded her they were violent creatures. A bloodthirsty species.

“It hurts when you cower away from me,” he said. “I know you don’t understand, but Loup Garou is my normal. I was raised here. This is my heritage. Granny shared some of her human knowledge with me, with my dad and Aunt Macy, but ninety-nine percent of what I know is from my werewolf culture. I mean, when Tokarz first mated Delilah, she had a lot of adjusting to do. And we were on the road, stuck on the bus. So I picked up on some stuff then. But Abs, trying to think of everything you think you need to know—it isn’t possible. Until you live it. I can tell you a mate and offspring are the most precious things a lycan male can have, but you wouldn’t believe me because you’re not my mate.”

“Not precious.” She couldn’t help it. Her voice cracked. “Good enough for you to take a pill so you can have sex with me, but nothing more.”

“I’m part human. I can appreciate your beauty. Your sexiness.” Then he reacted to what she’d said. “Are you saying you wish you were my mate?”

“No.” All she wanted was someone to want her. Need her. Love her. She wanted to be important to someone.

She wanted to be more than a sex object. Now she knew the truth about him. She didn’t really need to confirm her suspicions, because her instincts told her she was right. “You didn’t find my picture on the Internet because you’re an FBI agent.” Maybe she was going to be sick. “You’re one of those people Gary pandered to. You like to frequent Internet porn sites.”

Luke flinched, but said nothing.

“You’re a pervert.”

“There’s nothing wrong with looking,” he said in a tight voice.

“Maybe some of the people posing wouldn’t agree with you.” Her voice shook.

“Not everyone is forced.”

“But do you know who is and who isn’t? I mean, Gary certainly didn’t hang a neon sign.”

“I get it. All right?”

Clearly her questioning was making him uncomfortable. She hated knowing he surfed the net looking at sex pictures for cheap thrills. That he’d used her as a substitute for her Internet presence. Okay, maybe not her photographs specifically, but some other poor girl who was coerced into posing for some sleaze ball. He’d seen her at the Moonsinger picnic and decided,
There’s something about her. Something nasty. That’s what I want.

She burst into tears. Not quiet, gentle, trying to hide ‘em tears, but great noisy gulping sobs. Hideous, soul-baring, agony-filled animal noise that stopped short of turning into howls. Which no one in Loup Garou would even notice, being werewolves and all.

“Abs?” Luke sounded concerned. “Abby?”

Oh, God, even a werewolf knew there was something inherently wrong with her.

She curled into herself, clasping her knees to her chest, hiding
her face against them.