Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] (12 page)

Johann patted her knee and then got up, heading into the kitchen.

“And that’s another thing. You know so much about humans, but we know hardly anything about you.”

“Actually, that isn’t true. Humans have written about werewolves for centuries. You’ve just chosen to believe us as myths.”

Heather nodded, her mind swirling with everything she’d been told. “Well, as is the case with most stories passed down through history, the facts are distorted.”

“Well, we don’t howl at the moon, if that’s what you mean,” Samantha said, chuckling.

Her expression grew serious then, and she glanced toward the kitchen before returning her attention to Heather.

“I think you’ve earned this tonight. I’m going to allow you to go see Marc for a bit,” she said, and then added, “If you’d like that.”

Heather couldn’t stop the blush that spread over her cheeks. She smiled. “I think I might do that.”

“What?” Johann barged into the living room, his voice bellowing loud enough that the baby jumped in Samantha’s arms.

“She is a female. And I am queen bitch.” Samantha cuddled their son to her chest, and began rocking slowly.

“And she is not a werewolf, let alone a member of this pack.” Johann lowered his tone, but looked very pissed off.

Heather gathered her things and stood quickly. So did Samantha.

“Go. With my blessing,” she said to Heather.

Johann stormed down the hallway, slamming a door.

Heather licked her lips but Samantha came up to her and patted her arm. “I know you want to.”

“Thank you,” Heather whispered, and let herself out the door.

She didn’t understand the animosity she’d witnessed right before she left the pack leader’s house. For whatever reason, it seemed Johann didn’t want her seeing Marc. But that made no sense.

It was no more than a five-minute drive on the highway before she reached Marc’s house. She shut off the engine, staring at the dark house. It didn’t look like anyone was here.

Her tennis shoes crunched against the gravel in the drive as she walked up to the house, and then climbed the porch stairs to knock on the door. She knocked again, her heart swelling uncomfortably when there was no response.

She had to see Marc. It became imperative that she tell him about her interview tonight, what she had learned, how she was going to rewrite her article. It would mean so much to him. She knew that. And she had to tell him.

Not a floorboard squeaked as she paced the length of it once. Knocking one more time, this time harder, she stared at the solid structure around her. So much like Marc, strong and unyielding. Her surroundings smelled and breathed Marc McAllister. Just standing on the porch, she could feel him around her, imagine him touching her. The swelling ache in her heart quickly traveled to the rest of her body.

She had to see him.

Almost jumping off the porch, skipping the steps and hurrying through the dark yard, she gave little thought other than the fact that she had to find him.

She walked with purpose around the side of the house, wondering if maybe his clothes might be on the deck. If he’d gone for a run, by damned, she would sit and wait for him. Her mind grew obsessed with telling him about her evening. His expression would light up with pride when she told him she planned on rewriting the article.

Coming around the side of the house, she froze in her tracks.

There in the middle of the yard stood a werewolf, tall and powerful-looking. He dominated the night, his head held high, muscles protruding throughout his body. And almond-shaped, silver eyes pinned her in mid-pace, staring her down as if he were ready to leap at the intrusion.

And in the next moment, he did just that. Pouncing to life, his mouth opened, sharp fangs with severe pointed ends, grabbing her attention, scaring the living shit out of her. He sprang to life, moving so quickly there was no escaping his attack.

“Shit. No!” she screamed, her arms covering her face as she feebly attempted to avoid him hurting her.

Chapter Ten

Marc heard his brothers barking behind him, yelling at him to stop, but he ignored them. He hadn’t made it more than a minute in the past few days without thinking about Heather. No matter how he buried himself in work, ran until he dropped from exhaustion, she wouldn’t stay out of his head.

And now, here she was. Just standing there. The overcast sky, the deep darkness of the night, didn’t stop him from seeing her sweet petite figure, the unsureness that covered her expression, and she was no dream.

He would make damn sure of it. No matter the reason she was here. Heather was here, and he would make sure she remained.

Leaping through the air, he needed to grab her, have her, hold her before she got away. His mind focused on nothing else. Several days might as well have been years. And he’d died without her. Nothing else mattered right now other than ensuring that she didn’t turn around and leave.

Don’t jump on her. You’ll hurt her.

His brothers’ barking and growling didn’t sway him.

Heather shrieked, her scream tearing through the night as she lifted her arms, covering her face.

He reached her shirt, grabbing it with his teeth, needing her more than he needed to breathe.

Again she cried out. “Marc! It’s me. God. Don’t hurt me.”

Pain wrenched through him as he realized he needed to change. His muscles already contorted, bones popping while blood slowed through his veins with a treacherous effort.

Carnal instinct battled throughout him.

Make her mine.

“Heather,” he managed to cry out, when Gabe leapt on him.

Stone was right behind him.

Heather darted away from them. For a second he thought she would run away, escape him before he could get his brothers off of him.

But Heather ran onto his back deck, grabbing the broom leaning next to his back door.

“Get off of him,” she screamed, slicing the broom handle through the air like a deadly weapon.

She managed to crack the handle over Gabe’s back before he managed to change.

“See if I ever try to protect you again,” he muttered, ducking out of her way as he headed to the deck for his clothes.

“Oh, shit.” Heather stood there, her arms stretched out holding the broom handle like it was some science fiction laser beam weapon.

Marc straightened, honored that she fought to protect him. Carefully he removed the broom from her hands and tossed it to the ground. Heather simply stood there for a minute, staring at the three of them.

She must have realized at that second that she was staring at three naked men because she diverted her gaze, looking down quickly.

“Are you okay?” Marc whispered, wrapping his arms around her, drowning in her scent.

His cock raged to life, filling with blood at just the smell of her.

“You’re a dumb fuck to have leapt at her like that,” Stone muttered, always the one to condemn everyone else. Like he’d never pulled a stupid stunt in his life. “Not even I would try to filet my piece of ass.”

“That’s enough,” Marc barked, not caring that they’d just prevented him from hurting her. He wouldn’t be berated.

But Heather twisted in his arms. “Where in the hell have you been?” she cried out, surprising him when she suddenly beat his chest with her fists. “You think you can just ignore me until the next time you want to fuck?”

Gabe snickered but Marc ignored both of his brothers.

“Heather.” He grabbed her fists, pinning them as he pressed them against her breasts.

She looked up at him with fiery emerald eyes, her lips pursed together in anger.

“You’re a good little boy to behave and stay away from me because you think I’m some nasty human.”

Everything inside him hardened. The spicy smell of anger filled the air around them. Heather had a nasty temper when she was pissed. But he didn’t miss the fact that she was obviously hurt that he’d stayed away.

“There are things you don’t understand,” he told her through clenched teeth.

“I understand that you honor your pack over me.”

“Do you?” He almost lifted her when he turned her toward his deck, and then pushed her toward the back door.

It was getting damn cold out here now that he was in his skin.

Heather followed his brothers into his home. Neither had bothered turning on a light, but already Gabe was tossing a few logs into the fireplace.

“Samantha suggested that I come see you. So I guess I honor your pack, too.”

Both of his brothers stopped what they were doing and looked at her. Heather simply stared at the three of them, obviously not understanding what the implication of the queen bitch’s suggestion had meant.

Marc turned on the lamp in his living room, watching her as she looked from one of them to the other. If Samantha had told Heather to come over here, then it meant she approved of a mating. Of course, that would apply if Heather were a werewolf, which she wasn’t. He wondered what Johann’s reaction to his mate’s suggestion was.

“When did you talk to Samantha?” Marc asked, smelling her sudden nervousness as she stared at his brothers.

He let his gaze follow her hands when she adjusted her coat, and then rubbed her hips as if trying to dry her palms.

Gabe returned to building a fire. Stone simply watched her, indifferent to the fact that he stood before her in boxers. Marc knew what was on his younger brother’s mind. And he’d be damned if he would let his littermates put Heather ill at ease. He picked up his brother’s jeans and tossed them at him. Stone glared at him but didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t dare. It was Marc’s way of telling him that he had no intention of sharing.

“I just came from their house—from your pack leader’s house. Johann let me interview them.” Her entire expression lit up.

Obviously she was quite excited about her article—that damned article. Johann wasn’t a fool though. The pack leader would have watched what he told Heather.

“And you told them that you’re fucking our brother, so they said to please go over and take care of him?” Stone had never been good at tact. He let his gaze stroll down her, licking his lips hungrily.

Even in the dim light, Marc could see the pink blush spread over Heather’s cheeks. He moved to her, stroking the warmth of her face. Then reaching under her coat, he slid it from her shoulders and then down her arms. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“That’s enough, Stone,” he growled, giving his brother a threatening glare as he took Heather’s coat over to the closet.

“No. That isn’t what was said.” Heather’s tone turned defiant.

He would enjoy watching her take his brothers down a few notches.

“Forgive my brother.” Gabe smiled at her, his winning smile that had won the twins so many bitches in the past. “He doesn’t think with the head on his shoulders.”

“I thought that was just a human trait in men,” she snapped.

Marc fought a grin, wondering if she knew how she’d just insulted Stone.

“The way I understand it, we all have dicks.” Stone wasn’t daunted. He looked at Marc. “So, are you going to share her?”

Gabe smacked his brother on the side of the head. Marc simply shook his head, already seeing that Heather was more skittish than some of the deer they’d tracked on their runs.

“Actually, you were just leaving,” Marc informed him, his tone warning enough to have his brothers grabbing the rest of their clothes.

Gabe and Stone had never kept it a secret that they often shared their bitches, enjoying swapping places and seeing if the female could tell which one of them was which. If a female didn’t know the twins well, they wouldn’t notice the only difference in them being Gabe’s hint of strawberry blonde hair, a trait he’d inherited from their sire. But Heather wasn’t ready for anything like that. He didn’t have to ask her to know. Her unease with his younger littermates’ comments filled the room with its awkward smell.

Not to mention, he wasn’t sure he wanted to share her.

Heather crossed her arms over her chest, watching as the twins carried their clothes out to the deck. Marc followed them to the doorway while they stripped out of their boxers and wrapped their clothes in sacks they would tie to their necks. Gabe and Stone dropped to all fours as the change consumed them, then darted off the deck into the night.

“You didn’t have to chase them away on my account,” Heather said behind his back. He turned to see she’d turned her attention to the fire. “Why is he called Stone? Is that a family name, or something?”

Marc laughed. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “When he was a cub he always banged his head into everything and it never fazed him. So our mother said he had a head of stone. The name just stuck. His name is Frederic.”

Heather nodded while nervousness suddenly filled the air. She hesitated before glancing sideways at him.

“They are both good men.” He watched her, noting her conservative attire that she’d obviously donned to go over to the pack leader’s house. But even in jeans and a pullover sweater, she was hot as fucking hell. “If you noticed, they were ready to fight to protect you when I lunged at you.”