Taming Heather [Cariboo Lunewulf 1] (2 page)

You’ve got enough research on these werewolves, and you damn well know you are pushing your luck.

But there was no way Heather could back out now.

A trickle of sweat dripped down between her breasts. She ached to reach under her shirt and wipe it away, but there was no way she’d move.

He’d see her. And she wasn’t sure what would happen if he did.

As terrified as she was, watching the beast saunter through the woods, move with more grace than she ever would have imagined a creature of that size doing, she didn’t want to lose him. There was no logic to it. She was scared to death, yet more excited than she’d ever been in her life.

Her nipples hardened against her sweater, and the seam of her jeans rubbed against her pussy, which was already soaked. It made no sense that a beast, a creature, a deformed wolf, would turn her on so damned much. It was sick, worse than perverted. A creature shouldn’t have her insides throbbing with more excitement than she’d ever experienced in her life.

But it couldn’t be sexual arousal. Heather Graham was a normal woman. And animals didn’t turn on normal women. An oversized, deformed wolf wasn’t going to make her ache to drop to all fours and be fucked. No. That wasn’t it at all. It was the excitement of finding him, of watching him move slowly through the woods, his muscles rippling under smooth fur with a cocky confidence.

Long fangs pressed against the fur under his mouth. Silver eyes were watchful of their surroundings. Shoulder blades glided up and down as he stepped without care, indifferent to the noise he made while he moved closer to where she stood at the edge of the parking lot, just at the edge of the woods outside Prince George. This creature owned the night.

Heather’s breath tangled somewhere between her lungs and her throat when he came nearer. She could smell the earth on him, hear him breathing. As a werewolf, she could almost look him dead on in the face.

And then he turned, his large face staring directly at her. The moonlight caught a bit of his fur, making it shine. Never had she seen a creature like him. So white, so tall and powerful. It made her weak in the knees.

She didn’t move. For the life of her, she couldn’t. Branches snapped underneath him when he moved closer. Heather wouldn’t dare think about the fact that he might have spotted her. An animal had stronger instincts. She should have thought of that. But in the excitement of following him, she had simply hurried into the night, still preoccupied after having been caught by him the night before. It still amazed her that she’d gotten away with her camcorder, and her sanity, intact.

If you were sane you’d be at home right now typing up the damn article, not out here gathering more research when you have more than enough.

The truth of the matter sank through her when he took that final step. His long tail swatted at the air behind him. And then his lips parted, his long red tongue moving slowly over dangerous-looking teeth.

Heather didn’t know whether she was going to throw up or pass out. Either way she couldn’t breathe, was too scared to make a sound. A low growl vibrated through him, rushing through her. Prickly chills rushed over her damp skin. The night air gave her a furious case of the shivers, and she fought to hold still. Her heart beat so hard it hurt.

And then he took a step closer. She was panting now, positive she was making enough noise with her nerve-racked breathing to wake the dead. Not to mention she shook so hard that she wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand there, before she turned and darted to the safety of her car. A whimper escaped her lips. Her mouth was so dry that she couldn’t cry out. Not that it would matter. No one would hear her way out here on the edge of town.

Damn fool. She was an idiot for following him this far out to the edge of town where they were so isolated.

She had a gun. The thought hit her and she fought to feel her fanny pack hanging around her waist. But her hands couldn’t move to prove it was still there. She was paralyzed, standing there like a frightened child.

A cry escaped her when his nose pressed against her face, his breath hot against her skin. Sweat covered her body making her shirt cling to her. And she shouldn’t be sweating. The night air was chilly enough, not to mention the temperature out here was probably close to freezing. It was as if she’d bathed with her clothes on.

He sniffed her. His hard nose moving to her neck. His dagger-like teeth brushed against her flesh.

Heather whimpered again, unable to control the tears that welled in her eyes. “Oh God,” she whispered hoarsely, her throat constricting and her mouth way too dry to scream for help.

She’d wanted this so bad. Years of research had led her to this point. All the talk of werewolves living among them had made her mad with the need to learn all about them. No matter that they could kill, were incredibly dangerous, lived by a code so different from humans. She’d been drawn to them, determined to write the story of a lifetime, prove fact from fiction.

Why couldn’t last night have been enough?
She was a damn fool not to settle with the live recording of humans turning into werewolves and performing such a private ceremony. Hell no. She had to be superwoman and go out and gather even more proof. Except now she didn’t even have her camcorder out. She simply stared eye to eye with a werewolf with no way of protecting herself.

The damn werewolf was probably learning a hell of a lot more about her at the moment than she was about him.

His mouth moved over her, his nose pressing between her breasts. Heather’s heart had to be racing fast enough to cause damage. Every inch of her shook. There for a moment, she swore everything was going black. She would pass out, fall flat on her face, terrified. More than likely wake up with pneumonia from being out in the cold all night. Everything around her began spinning.

She fought it though, having to live through this moment, endure the horror of possible death. Everything she’d worked for had brought her to this moment, and she wouldn’t let it go.

“Please don’t hurt me,” she whimpered, her voice cracking while she shook so hard she was positive her knees would give out underneath her.

The werewolf snorted, breathing in her scent as he sniffed her belly.

Heather managed to step backwards and instinctively grabbed her fanny pack where her cell phone and gun were. Those silver eyes gazed at her, showing more intelligence than any creature she’d ever laid eyes on before. They were almond-shaped, unblinking, watching with a wisdom she worried she couldn’t compete with.

For some reason it hadn’t crossed her mind that a werewolf might be more intelligent than she. That knowledge sent a wave of foolishness rushing through her. Why wouldn’t they be? She was far from the smartest human on the planet. Hell, anyone with a lick of sense wouldn’t be on the edge of the woods outside of town, too far from their car, and inches away from a creature capable of killing her with a single movement.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered, her face burning with embarrassment as she realized how ridiculous she sounded.

Like she could hurt him. What she should have said, begged, pleaded, was for him to not hurt her.

His gaze left her. Either he understood and didn’t care. Or he found her words completely preposterous. Maybe he couldn’t understand her in his beast form. Something told her he could though. Even with her mind in a whirl of confusion and fear, she remembered werewolves had heightened senses in their beast form. More than likely, he knew what she was thinking better than she did.

His nose pressed against her again, continuing to explore her body slowly. And then he lowered his face, pressing his nose into her crotch just like a dog would.

But this was no dog. He was a werewolf, a man.

“No.” She jumped backwards, this time losing her footing, stumbling, falling, before she could stop herself.

She sat on her ass, staring up at the ferocious-looking beast. Her entire backside stung from slapping the ground so hard. The werewolf lowered his head, large shoulder blades protruding above him like thick wings. He stepped closer as his mouth parted, long, shiny, pointed teeth glowing in the moonlight.

If Heather didn’t know better she would swear he was laughing at her. Somehow that curbed her fear, strengthened her frustration and allowed her to think more clearly. This was an intelligent creature who’d just managed to knock her off her feet by copping a sniff of her pussy.

The nerve!

She had half a mind to jump to her feet and tell him just what she thought of him. But something was happening. He was almost on top of her and he was changing.

“Oh my God!” she managed to whisper.

Heather watched in awe, unable to fathom a thought, while muscles contorted under his shiny coat. The length of his nose shortened and his ears seemed to fade into his skin. The shape of his skull changed, while he began growing, straightening, his shoulders changing and moving backwards. His front paws grew longer while his back legs straightened and supported him while he moved to stand on two feet. Flesh appeared where white fur had been. Muscles rippled and smoothed, corded under flesh that now glistened in the night.

Standing over her was a naked man, his eyes the last to change shape and color as they went from silver to a radiant blue.

“What are you doing out here?” His voice was gentle, yet demanding. It seemed just a bit garbled as if his teeth still didn’t quite fit his human mouth.

But his teeth were the last thing she was thinking about. She was sitting on her ass staring up at a naked man, and a damn good-looking naked man at that. If she straightened her head she was less than a foot away from a beautifully shaped cock. It took more than a little effort to focus on the upper half of this man hovering over her.

Blond and muscular with a light spread of chest hair, just the way she liked it, he looked like it didn’t bother him in the least that he stood naked before her. She stole a glance at his cock, relaxed and uninhibited, his shaft straight and thick and surrounded by downy thick hair just a bit darker than the rest of the hair on his body.

Dear Lord. He was fucking beautiful.

“I…I was taking a walk.” Heather blinked, hating how her voice sounded like a child caught doing something she shouldn’t be doing.

“In the middle of the night? In the woods?” He grinned.

He was mocking her. And she didn’t need to answer to him. They were on public property. The woods were part of the state park.

She diverted her gaze, unable to look at him and keep her sanity about her. It wasn’t often in a gal’s lifetime she had a gorgeous man hovering over her who was stark-naked—and a moment before had been a werewolf.

Heather’s legs almost wouldn’t hold her when she moved to stand. He grabbed her, stabilizing her jittery body with a solid grip that sent her insides into serious flip-flops.

“I think you were following me.” He was all man now, his tone deep and sensual.

A chill rushed over her. She was way too aware of the strength in his hand as he held her arm.

“I was not,” she babbled, unable to look at him.

Her heart still raced, but no longer from fear. Something else rushed through her, a nervous excitement she hesitated to label.

He pulled her toward him, and she fell into that rock-hard chest, feeling his chest hair tickle her skin. Heather’s shirt clung to her from the damp sweat that covered her body. And even though he was the one who was naked, she felt suddenly very vulnerable and exposed when he took hold of her.

“Then maybe you wished to be the prey,” he whispered, his arms capturing her, pinning her to him.

The strong steady beat of his heart pulsed through her, so unlike hers, which galloped to a furious beat. “And the excitement I smell on you is the thrill of being caught.”

Dear Lord. He was seducing her. This was not what she’d expected. He was a werewolf, not even human. And she was a reporter, an investigator. All he meant to her was a serious boost in her career, the break that every reporter dreamed of. It made no sense at all that he made her mouth too dry to swallow and her breath come in gasps. Not to mention the fact that her pussy swelled, throbbing to match her heartbeat when he pulled her into his arms.

After the funeral ceremony last night, and getting a good view of him, Heather had found him the next day, kept a distant watch on him, until he’d taken off after work at the police station—how interesting that a werewolf was on their city’s police force—and she’d followed him. It had all been in the name of the story.

“Let go of me.” She struggled, although the struggle was also with her mind.

It had been a long time since a man had held her, or talked to her like this. Work was all Heather lived for, and this was uncharted territory. She didn’t know how to react to the way he was making her feel.

Hell, how was he making her feel?

A wave of disappointment rushed through her when he did let go. And backed away—with her fanny pack in his hands.

Damned fucking fool!

He wasn’t holding her. He hadn’t been trying to seduce her.

He’d put his arms around her so that he could undo her fanny pack and take it from her. Anger took over.

“Give that back.” She held out her hand, palm up, and glared at him.