Read The Wolf Wants Curves Online

Authors: Arwen Rich

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The Wolf Wants Curves

BOOK: The Wolf Wants Curves
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The Wolf Wants Curves (BBW & Werewolf Paranormal Erotic Romance)

by Arwen Rich

Published by Arwen Rich, 2013.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

THE WOLF WANTS CURVES (BBW & WEREWOLF PARANORMAL EROTIC ROMANCE)

First edition. July 12, 2013.

Copyright © 2013 Arwen Rich.

Written by Arwen Rich.

Table of Contents

The Wolf Wants Curves

The Wolf Wants Curves

I felt something powerful the first time I saw him. Some deep longing unfurled like a flower inside me. I had felt this kind of attraction before, but I had always stifled the feeling before it could grow. For my own protection.

But this time, it was unstoppable.

I was standing at the edge of the man's property, which was adjacent to the national park that I was visiting for my photography work. He was cutting wood outside a small, quaint cottage, repeatedly slamming the ax down, slicing through the logs like butter. He was shirtless, and his tall, muscular body glowed golden in the afternoon light. With each swing of his ax, the bronzed muscles of his abdomen would contract, bunching into a six-pack that made me weak at the knees.

I was mesmerized.

The reason I usually quench such attraction as it dawns inside me is simple: men this handsome never seem to return the sentiment. Sure, I have a pretty face, but not the stick-thin body type that's so popular. Men like this simply don't seem to
see
me. I had learned to ignore my feelings.

But this time was different. For once, I couldn't push the attraction away. I couldn't swallow it down inside myself.

The man paused before swinging his ax again, and then turned deliberately to look at me, as if he had been aware of my presence the whole time. I felt a flush fill my cheeks.
I must look like a pervert
, I thought.
How embarrassing
. I waved awkwardly, then made my way over to him.

As his facial features became more apparent, the feeling inside me grew. He had tanned, olive skin, and bright, intense eyes that seemed almost
golden.
His jaw was strong and peppered with stubble. A scar ran from behind his ear, down into the stubble on his neck. Goose bumps pricked up on my skin as I took in his beautiful features. As I walked towards him, I felt like a magnet drawn to steel. My legs seemed to move of their own volition towards the muscled stranger.

What was happening inside me?

“Hi,” I said, uncertainly. The man lay down his ax and looked at me calmly. My heart beat nervously in my chest, directly opposing the stillness that emanated out from him. He examined me for a moment before replying. His rippling body was coated in a thin layer of sweat, which ran in rivulets down his abdomen. I struggled to keep my eyes on his face.

“Can I help you?” There seemed to be a hint of suspicion in his deep, husky voice.

“Um, I'm just here to visit the national park,” I said, my high-pitched tone betraying my nerves. My tongue seemed to be tying into knots in my mouth as I struggled to continue. I felt weighted down by his blazing, golden gaze.

“I'm a photographer.” I said. I lifted the camera around my neck as I spoke. “I'm hiking up onto the mountain to take some photos of the moon tonight. I work for a nature magazine.” The moon was in its closest position to the Earth for the entire year tonight – and this event was coinciding with a full moon. It was going to look enormous in the sky.

The man's face darkened as I spoke. His jaw clenched, and the scar on his neck tightened.

“You want to stay the night there?” he asked.

I nodded, uncertain. I could sense power emanating from the man; it was palpable. Amidst the attraction that I felt, a hint of fear swirled. Was he dangerous?

I motioned to the bag on my back, which contained my tent. “I'm going to set up camp out on the mountain.”

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” the man said softly. “It's dangerous out there.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled as he spoke.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “What's dangerous?”

“The animals,” he said. “Wolves.”

“I've done my research,” I told him. “They stay away from people. And I have a can of bear repellent. I'll be fine. Who are you, anyway?” I asked, a little indignant.

“I'm the park ranger,” he said. “My name's Mark.” His face softened as he spoke. “Look,” he continued. “I'm not trying to tell you what to do, just warning you. There are dangerous animals out there. If you're trying to get photos of the moon, you should probably go back into town; there's a satellite tower there. I know the mayor, and I could get access for you.” He smiled at me, revealing white, perfect teeth.

But I shook my head, resolved.

“I'm sorry, Mark,” I told him, “but I've been given orders by my employer to take my photos from the mountain. I want to get the landscape in my shots. I appreciate the offer, though. I'm Helen.” I extended my hand and he took it. His grip was firm, and his hand was
hot.
I nearly jumped when I felt the heat of his palm.

Mark sighed.

“There's nothing I can do to stop you,” he said. “But just remember to be careful.” His words seemed genuine – he really seemed to care about my well-being. His gaze was intense as he spoke; his eyes were hypnotic. I felt a hot, pulsing need inside me. My hand longed to reach out and touch his sweaty abdomen...

“I'll be fine,” I said.

“Remember to light a fire,” he said. “It scares away the animals.” He picked up his ax from the ground, and arranged a log in front of him.

I nodded, and began to turn away from him, back toward the road that led into the national park. But then I stopped. I couldn't ignore the feeling inside me any more. My heart drummed in my chest as I spoke once more.

“Mark?” I said.

He stopped his ax mid swing and turned to look at me again.

“When I get back, tomorrow,” I began. “Would you like to show me around the town?” I felt weak, almost dizzy with nervousness as I spoke. I had never asked a man out before.

His face broke out into a grin, showing those immaculate white teeth again. My heart melted at his expression, and then instantly froze with anticipation, as I awaited his answer.

“Sure,” he said.

I continued along the road towards the national park, giddy with joy.

What had come over me? I'd never been able to ask out a guy before. The attraction had just been too powerful to resist. As Mark's house fell further and further behind me, I turned around to get one last glimpse of him.

He was still standing in the same place, leaning on his ax, his torso gleaming in the sun, as he watched me go. A shiver of anticipation ran down my spine. I was going to see him again. Tomorrow.

The air grew chill as I hiked into the national park. But it was beautiful. I was surrounded by immense pine trees, through which fog swirled and golden sunshine flowed. The air was fresh with the scent of pine as I reached the path that climbed the mountain.

The mountain looked immense from the foot of it, but I knew that I would reach my pre-arranged vantage point within a few hours. I had a detailed map, which my project manager had given to me. I was used to navigating through places like this, having worked in nature photography for the past few years.

But as I made my way up the mountain, a strange feeling began to unsettle me. And then I realized what it was:

The silence.

The forest was too quiet. Usually places like this are teeming with the subtle sounds of life – bird calls especially. But here there was nothing. Like the calm before a storm. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up again. I began to feel as if I was being followed. Fear swirled darkly inside me. I kept getting the urge to turn and look behind me. Each time there was nothing.

The way up the mountain became more difficult, steeper than before, and I soon became absorbed in struggling up it. I tried to push away the unsettling sense of being followed, tried to forget it. But still it persisted, niggling in the back of my mind.

The shadows grew longer, reached out to me from the pine trees. The moon began to rise as I arrived at the grassy knoll halfway up the mountain, where I was to camp. The moon was enormous and brilliant as it ascended from the swaying wall of pine trees. After setting up camp and lighting a fire, as Mark had instructed, I took out my camera and started snapping photos of the moon – but none of them were satisfying. Something was wrong.

And then the howling began.

Long, chilling howls that swept across the valley, and echoed all around me. They were horrifying, like the screams of dying animals. Suddenly, I felt more alone than ever. Once again, the hair on my neck was standing up. I placed more wood on the fire, until it was roaring, and continued to snap photos of the ascending moon. The pictures became blurry as my hands shook with fear. The night was alive with howls now – more and more continued to resound.

I put my camera away in my bag, and took out my bear repellent. I huddled near the fire, continuously adding more fuel.

And then, through the flickering flames, I saw a big yellow pair of eyes staring back at me. Terror flooded through me. I stood up, and watched the beast advance from the darkness and into the light.

A wolf.

It was enormous, twice as large as a normal wolf, and its fur was dark as coal. Its teeth were bared as it came closer – razor sharp, dripping with saliva. Its yellow eyes were alight with a cold, calculating intelligence.

And from behind it, another identical wolf emerged.

I tried to scream, but my vocal cords refused to work. The bear repellent was clutched in my hand, but my arm refused to work, refused to raise and spray the animals as they padded towards me. Deep growls emanated from their throats. I closed my eyes, petrified.

A new sound erupted in the darkness behind my eyelids. The pounding approach of another animal, smashing through the foliage. I opened my eyes in time to see a huge white shape explode from the night and into the firelight. Shocked, I fell back onto the grass.

It was another wolf, larger than the first two, snapping viciously at the darker wolves as it came, its golden eyes fiery with rage. A scar on the white wolf's neck was lit suddenly by the flames of the fire. Something, beneath the fear flooding my veins, caught my attention on that scar. It seemed familiar somehow. But then the thought was gone, drowned with black terror.

The two darker wolves turned away from me to face this new interloper. The three of them circled around, until the huge white wolf was between me and the others. The way that it took position before me, and stood growling at the other wolves, made it seem almost as if it was
protecting
me.

I heard myself sobbing as I lay on the ground. Consumed with fear, all I could do was watch as the giant wolves growled and snapped at each other. They looked like demons, dancing furiously around the orange flames.

Suddenly the huge white wolf leaped forward and sank its teeth into the neck of one of the smaller, darker wolves. The sound of bones crunching filled my ears. The darker wolf shrieked in agony, and, tearing its neck free from the white wolf, it jumped away to safety.

As the white wolf came after it, he was attacked from the side by the other dark wolf, which closed its jaw around the white wolf's leg and latched on. The white wolf roared in pain, its face a mask of fury, and then descended upon this second wolf, biting down on the back of its neck and shaking it viciously from side to side.

The darker wolf yelped and wriggled free from the white wolf's powerful jaws, then too leaped away,  beside the other dark wolf. The pair were on the other side of the fire now, their yellow eyes flickering behind the flames, as they snarled at the white wolf.

The white wolf reclaimed its place in front of me and stood its ground, lifting its injured leg and staring defiantly into the faces of the other two. After a moment, the two darker wolves slunk away and melted into the shadows. I heard them crashing through the underbrush as they fled.

The giant white wolf turned to look at me then, peering searchingly into my face with its golden eyes.

When I saw those eyes, my fear suddenly began to ease. They contained no hint of malice.

The white wolf took a limping step towards me. Its leg was badly torn, and its fur was matted with blood. The wolf collapsed beside me, and my heart flooded with sadness at seeing such a majestic creature in agony.

As the wolf settled, I caught a glimpse again of the long scar that ran from behind its ear, down its neck. Again, the scar caused a confusing sense of familiarity to stir inside me.

And then I realized.

The memory came flooding back at once, now that my terror was gone, and I knew where I had seen that scar.

Mark.

I cried out as the truth came to me, and clutched at the giant wolf's shaggy neck. He looked up at me knowingly, his golden eyes piercing mine.

And as I held him, he began to change.

BOOK: The Wolf Wants Curves
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