Releasing the Wolf (6 page)

“Your genes and my genes don’t mix.”

The female smiled. Something inside him shrivelled and he wished the same would happen with the damn erection she had in her hands, but his biology was ruled by the pull of the moon, and he could feel it bearing down on him like a crushing weight. He wanted to shift; he wanted to run; he wanted to mate…

The silver wrapped around him ensured the first two options were out. According to his dick, he was still capable of the third.

She stepped in closer to him, pressing the tips of her breasts against his chest. At least she was dressed… “We have found a way to merge our DNA with yours. When they merge, our genetic code overpowers yours. The end result: werewolf becomes Trident.”

He shook his head as the horror of what she was saying filtered into him. “No…”

“Yes.” She released his base and began to stroke him again, higher up this time, near the tip.

He gritted his teeth, willing his cock to go soft. It did the opposite and grew harder instead. His seed surged up inside … and then she squeezed his base again. He threw his head up and bit his tongue to keep from making any sound – he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“Tell me where your pack is located.”

Yeah, right. “No.”

“You have the fertility we need, and we now have a way to instigate a bonding with you. There is a storm coming in the early hours of the morning. It will be done then. You and I will merge our genetic codes, mine will take over yours, and you will become a Trident and my mate.
Then
you will tell me where your pack is.”

“Over. My. Dead. Body,” he growled, throwing his hatred of her into every syllable.

Her lips curved upwards, as she started to tease his crown again. “I was going to let you orgasm tonight. Poor little puppy – the moon must be killing you, unmated as you are, and so old too; at death’s door, ready to have me save you… Tell me who Lydia is.”

He panted, trying to ignore the burning between his legs; the need to release… “She doesn’t exist.”

“Hmmm…” She pressed her thumb into his slit. He couldn’t help it – his hips jerked forward and he let out a groan.

“For someone who doesn’t exist, she’s very good at arousing you. Here is what I think: I think she is the one you’ve been looking for, that you haven’t met yet, except in your dreams. Dream connections are rare, are they not? I suspect she must be nearby judging by the frequency of your dreams. Maybe she moved here recently because of her pull to you – you would have found each other earlier otherwise – you must have a strong bond, even if it has not been consummated.” She leaned right into him and spoke in his ear. “But no more. Lydia is an unusual name – there can’t be many of the right mating age around this area, and if there are, it’ll be easy to sniff out which one’s the wolf. Once I have her, do you know what I’m going to do?” He felt her smile against his cheek. “I’m going to bring her here and make her watch as I take this hard cock of yours in my cunt; I’m going to make her watch your face in ecstatic bliss as you spill your seed inside me, and then, I’m sure one of the males would love a new bitch to play with.”

He shifted – or at least, he half-shifted. Despite the silver weakening him and flaying him alive, his vision grew sharper, his canines emerged, and he roared as he swung his head to the right and butted the female straight in the middle of her face.

Something cracked.

She screamed in pain and outrage, finally releasing his dick for the sake of her bloody nose. She turned away furiously, striding off, but was back in mere seconds with something in her hands. A water hose. A jet-powered water hose.

She set it up on its stand and aimed it at his crotch.

Oh, fuck.
He clenched his jaw, muscles already tensing at what was to come.

“You’ve also been asking for water in your sleep,” she spat out, her words slightly muffled from her damaged sinuses. He took some satisfaction in that.

Then she turned on the hose.

His scream of agony filled the darkness.

Chapter Five

Of course, it was the heat – the fever – that she became aware of first, closely followed by the pain in her chest … followed by that green smell that shot desire through her faster than Cupid’s arrow. She abruptly imagined an evil little Cupid, complete with horns, firing arrows of lust through her heart. She groaned and squeezed her legs shut to try and ease the ache there.

What had woken her? She had the sense that she’d cried out … something was taken from her …
Ryan
…

“Ryan.” She felt her throat working to get the word out, but wasn’t sure she made any sound at all. In her head, she was screaming his name.

A warehouse.

Chains.

She’d seen him. She wished she could remember what he looked like.

She moaned as the burning consumed her again, and this time, the burning between her thighs was just as bad as the one in her chest. And everywhere, damn it. She was burning
everywhere.

Muffled voices.

An annoyed one, tinged with desperation. “Hold her still.”

A cool one that gave nothing away at all. “I am.”

“I can’t treat her burns if she’s fidgeting so much.”

“She needs release. Get your dick out for once and it won’t be a problem… Which reminds me, I have to get back to the pack.”

The pack? Pack of what?
Whatever that meant, she wasn’t sure it sounded good …
Where the hell am I anyway?
But she couldn’t quite get her eyelids open.

“You’re going?”

“I have to. There’s a house full of women waiting for me. The sun’s already down. I shouldn’t be out at all. If it wasn’t for that compulsory dinner for the sake of appearances—”

“You’d never have met her,” snapped the first voice – Mr Annoyed.

“True,” agreed Mr Cool. “She’s … interesting.”

“Interesting? She been calling Ryan’s name out over and over—”

Damn! Again? Must everyone get to hear my sex dreams?

“Which is exactly why you need to service her, Taylor – no fucking around this time unless you’re actually
going
to fuck her.”

Taylor…

That was met with a heavy silence and no verbal response.

Lydia heard a door close shut and… Oh, my god! Was that the lock turning? Her mind yelled at her to wake up and high-tail out of there as fast as she could. Unfortunately, her body seemed to like the idea of getting laid because she suddenly realised she was trying to get closer to …
Taylor
… and his irresistible scent.

Shit – get a grip, Lydia!

She fought against the haziness that had taken her over and with a ridiculous amount of effort, forced her eyes open.

The toilets. She was on the floor of toilets of the theatre restaurant where she had been with Lisa earlier. Eeew. Thankfully the tiles smelled like lemons, which meant they’d been recently cleaned. Taylor leaned over her, swabbing the hot patches of red rash that the silver had inflicted on her, with his wet shirt which he’d obviously stripped from himself and doused in cold water.

He had a nice chest. Not wide like Ryan’s, but slim and still muscled – lean – the physique of a cyclist rather than Rambo.

Lydia, his torso, no matter how fine, is not what you should be focusing on.

As if to taunt her, his scent wafted around her once more.

Moisture spread between her legs.

This had
not
been her intention upon opening her eyes.

He looked up from treating her and met her gaze. “Don’t worry,” he smiled, although his smile was tight. “I’ll take care of you.”

And then she remembered Simon.

Holy fuck!

She struggled to sit up, but Taylor placed a hand on her stomach and held her down. “It’s okay, I’m almost done.”

Because her fever had her exhausted, she sank back down to the floor. “What happened to that dickhead?”

His smile eased and grew wider. “You’re very direct. Lawrence found him attacking you. He won’t be doing that again. He’s been fired. We stopped short of calling the police, because … well, in some ways he was intoxicated – not in his right mind – although if you want to press charges, Lawrence will back you up all the way. He sort of felt a little responsible for putting you in that position in the first place.”

What position?
“Who’s Lawrence?”

“He owns this building. Tall, blond, eyes like sabres – not easy to forget.”

Ah … yes. “The guy who smells like you,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. Whatever. She was ill – really fucking ill. And she’d been attacked. She was going to excuse herself for saying stupid things for once.

Taylor looked at her, amused, and his stare held something she hadn’t seen there before: heat. And it did funny things to her – funny, Ryan-type things. And she really needed to stop thinking about Ryan as a real person – that had become a habit of late.

“Yes,” he said simply. Then he did something she didn’t see coming at all. He bent down and
licked
her rash, concentrating on an area at the hollow of her throat.

The effect on her was sudden, and impossible not to react to. The burn of the rash immediately cooled under his tongue, but it was the new, sudden rush of liquid fire to her core that made her twine her fingers in his hair and push herself into him. A moan escaped her, and he let out some low rumbling noise himself that vibrated against her skin – her skin which seemed to have become highly sensitised to anything and everything it touched. Which would be Taylor. She also had the urge to rip her clothes off her body; they suddenly felt too rough; too coarse…

Whore
, chided her great aunt.

Oh, god – she was.
What the hell am I doing?

She opened her mouth, ready to demand he get off her. Instead a whimper left her lips when his tongue swept over the throat again. He nibbled his was up her neck and jawline, and stopped just below her ear. “I don’t know how far I can go, but it’ll feel good, I promise.”

Oh, this had to be wrong – this
had
to be wrong! She’d almost been raped for god’s sake – this was
not
the reaction she should be having to some stranger throwing himself on her, but another hot flush had her thrusting into him instead of pushing him away, the smell of him permeating her senses… Maybe he was wearing some kind of aphrodisiac cologne. That must be it! The other guy had mentioned ‘the pack’ – maybe that was another term for a cult, or something.
A sex cult!
Warning bells sounded all around her head. Unfortunately, they quickly disappeared when he cupped her between her legs with the palm of his hand.

“Oh, Christ!” she gasped, which spurred him on. He reached up under her skirt and tugged her tights down…

No, no, no! Remember, Lydia? Alarm bells? This isn’t right!

The war continued between her mind and body for a brief second, and then, somehow, she found the strength to push him off her, and she did it quickly, with force, before her body took control again.

He backed off straight away and looked at her in surprise, his green eyes gloriously dark from lustful hunger… Wow – they seemed to glimmer even—

“Ow!
Ouch!
God!” Unexpected shooting pains stabbed her in the chest.
What the
—

She went down heavily onto her side, curling herself up into a ball in an attempt to relieve it.

Heart attack!

Fear gripped her. Heart attack? But her heart thumped loudly in her ears, its rate high and erratic. Shouldn’t there be no thumping at all if she was having a heart attack?

She heard Taylor curse, and then he was on her again, working her tights down, right along with her underwear, his hands on her skin… The pain lessened.

“Let me help you, Lydia… You can trust me.”

He yanked her shoes off, she felt her tights and knickers slip off her feet and she careened in agony when his hands left her to dispose of them, and then they were on her again, stroking her inner thighs, and once more, the pain centred on her heart faded so she could breathe. She took in great big gulps of air.

“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.