Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love (4 page)

Degrading ... or maybe you mean inhuman?”

He snarled at her startled expression. “Your face is a dead giveaway to your feelings.

How dare you try to place human labels on my behavior, on my expressions of love? Among our people, mated pairs mate. There is complete and secure freedom in a family’s den. Sires and dams mate in front of their cubs, yes. They love each other, and by not hiding that love, by celebrating it, they teach their cubs to honor and cherish the sacred oneness that exists between couples. There is no incest among our people, and no shame in our homes. Your frantic efforts to stop Blair from seeing you in my arms makes my love seem a shameful thing. It rips at my heart and at my pride.” He stopped, shook his head, and took a deep breath.

“I’m an Alpha wulf, the Alpha of San Francisco, but for the last three months, you’ve ruled my den and me. Why don’t you just put a leash around my damned dick and walk it around the block?”

Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love

15

His harsh words were like a battering ram, slamming at the portal of her heart. Melody shut her eyes on the pain. She’d never hurt this bad, not even when she’d been raped by Spenser. Throat so dry she had to try twice to swallow, she braced herself against the wall, forcing herself to meet his dulled gaze. The tears she’d fought earlier fell in torrents.

She hadn’t known. That was no excuse for what she’d done to him, but she hadn’t realized just how she had let outside pressures influence her thinking, her reactions.

It hurt to admit the truth of what she’d done, of the damage she’d caused to their bonding. Looking back, her mistakes were so obvious. How in hell had she missed noticing the toll on Hunter? She’d ignored his emotional needs, taken everything he’d offered her and given nothing in return. Just as he claimed, she had attacked his self-esteem -- based on nothing but her supposed primate genealogical high ground -- with every unthinking denial.

Worse, she’d lied to herself, telling herself any werewulf should be thankful for the scraps off a human’s table, when in reality, he deserved someone way better than her. At least Hunter had been honest with her from the first. He’d held nothing back -- offered her his loyalty and body, his total commitment. Hell, he’d even admitted to being seriously kinky, to needing more than a sedate fuck. He’d come right out and told her he craved chocolate, that vanilla left him cold.

Melody had understood exactly what he’d been saying. She’d been in the business, once-upon-a-time; no matter how much water ran under the bridge, it was still wet, still water when it emerged on the other side. Terminology simply didn’t change that much, so she’d known he was a booty-man from the rip.

Melody sobbed harder, understanding what she’d done to Hunter’s feelings, understanding how scorned he must have felt when she spouted opinions about his heritage 16 Camille Anthony

being less worthy than hers. After all, she was human. He was ... not human -- not even of Earth.

Did it come down to that? Was she truly the bigot he’d accused her of being that first night? Her soul writhed in self-disgust. Prejudice was reprehensible. She’d never condoned it and wouldn’t start now.

Okay, he ate flesh. She was no vegetarian, herself. So what if she let someone else kill her meat, and he killed his own? Who cared that she cooked her meat, and Hunter preferred his raw? She’d been a blind, ignorant fool not to appreciate what she had. Now, her heart stuttered as she saw how close she had come to losing everything.

Melody couldn’t stop the flood of tears. She didn’t even try. How many women would kill to have what she had? A male who loved her so much he’d killed for her. The man had accepted her son and treated Blair as if the boy had come from his own loins. More importantly, he went out of his way to fulfill her every fantasy, no matter how silly.

Her chin wobbled at the memory of Hunter standing in their living room, wide chest draped with a sheet as a toga, bare hairy legs exposed under the short hem as he pretended to be Julius Caesar to her Cleopatra. What other man would do something like that for his woman and enjoy it?

“Oh, god, Hunter,” she gasped as her tears and self-disgust increased, “I’m so ashamed!”

Looking perturbed, Hunter raised one hand as if to fend off her tears. “Melody, stop it.

You’ll make yourself sick.”

She couldn’t stop. Her body shuddered, shoulders jerking under the lashing of the emotional storm raging within. Her body slumped against the bathroom wall, limp as a rag doll. Choking on tears and sobs, she cried as if her heart would break -- had broken.

“I’m sorry!” Hunter cried, taking her in his arms and rocking her. “I take it all back --

only stop crying!” He’d lost his erection, and his bare skin stretched smooth and unblemished beneath her hand. The soft pelt of fur had receded, leaving him as human as he ever got.

Seeing Buford droop did something to her that no amount of yelling could do. It totally demoralized her.

From the first time she’d met him, Hunter had always sported an erection while in her presence. Even after sharing several orgasms, he only had to touch her, to cuddle with her under the covers, and Buford would rise in interest.

Gazing in sorrow at her lover’s limp cock, full of guilt, weighted down with the knowledge of her failure as a mate, Melody wailed ... and cried all the harder. “I’m the one who’s s-sorry. I hurt you! I n-n-never wanted to h-hurt you, H-h-hunter. How c-could I have been so b-blind?”

“Hush! Hush, beloved,” Hunter crooned, stroking her shoulders and rubbing his forehead along the bouncy curls at the side of her head. “It’s all right. I love you. I love you.”

Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love

17

“How c-can you?” she keened, averting her eyes, too shamed to meet his glance. “Why should you?”

He sighed. “I just do. I always will.” His shoulders shrugged under her cheek. “You know that old adage about not being able to teach an old dog new tricks? I guess I’m just your old faithful hound.”

Melody lifted tear-drenched sherry-colored eyes to his. “I don’t deserve you. But starting this moment, I promise to change that.” She reached a hand down toward his limp cock.

“Stop.”

Her hurt gaze flashed back up. “You don’t want ... me?” Her voice hitched on the last word.

A sharp laugh, almost a bark, broke from Hunter’s chest. “I’ll always want you, sweetness, but there’s a lot of unresolved anger seething in me. I don’t trust myself to take you right now. Even your enhanced, bioengineered pussy can’t handle an angry, out-of-control wulf in battle-form. Besides ...” He stepped away from her, giving her his back as he finished stripping off his shirt. “... anything you offer me right now is going to feel like pity or guilt. We’ve never had one of those fucks between us, and I don’t want to start now.”

Melody drew herself up, heart aching with rejected pride. “All those words mean the same thing, Hunter. You don’t want me.”

“Mel-o-dy!” Hunter’s long drawn-out sigh rasped her shredded nerves.

She held up a hand to halt his complaint, hurrying into speech over his continued muttering. “You don’t want me right now, and I understand your reasoning.” She gnawed at her bottom lip, compressing the plump flesh between her teeth. “I can’t blame you.” She lifted pleading, tear-filled eyes to his. “Only please tell me you’ll give me a chance to be a true mate to you.”

Hunter cupped her cheeks between his large hands and dropped a closed-mouth kiss on her swollen lips. “Are you going to get this upset every time we have an argument?”

She sniffed. “Only when you’re right, and I’ve been a stupid, stuck-up dirt monkey!”

Hunter’s gaze lightened more as he smiled over her use of his favorite derogatory term for humans. “Okay, you got me there. Guess I don’t have any high moral ground to stand on, either.” He kissed her.

This kiss was open-mouthed and potent. Gasping, Melody returned it with interest, going up on tiptoe to fit her curves to his chest and abdomen, her arms about his thick-hewn neck. When Buford twitched and rose to prod her belly, she sighed in thankfulness. Her mate still lusted after her.

He didn’t go any further than the kiss, though. Backing away, Hunter scooped up his discarded clothes and started for the door. Almost there, he paused and looked over his 18 Camille Anthony

shoulder at Melody. Eyes pleading, he held out his hand, silently asking her to accompany him without her usual demands he clothe his nakedness.

Gazes locked on each other, they stood there until she broke the tableau. Stepping forward, Melody placed her hand in his. Mouth kept determinately closed, she walked with Hunter out the door and into the hall. Still silent, they headed toward their bedroom.

Walking alongside Hunter, Melody couldn’t fathom what she had feared. Hell, it wasn’t so bad, Hunter stalking about his own den in his natural state. Even if Blair saw him, they were both males and shared the same equipment -- albeit Hunter’s was on a much more impressive scale. Blair would soon be potty training, and Hunter was the obvious choice to head up that operation. Besides -- didn’t most men’s bathrooms have open urinals?

Eventually, Blair was going to see what Hunter sported so boldly, as well as a whole lot more ... His first glimpse might as well be here in the loving security and protection of his own home.

Mel snuck a quick peek over at her mate and melted inside at the proud way Hunter paced the hall, his face wreathed in a broad smile. Had it truly taken so little to make him feel respected, a wulf in charge of his own den?

Another quick glance down at his loins showed her he was definitely in high spirits.

Buford had perked right up and was jutting out with a jaunty curve, heavy glans dripping pre-cum with each jarring step Hunter took. A deep sense of shame swept over her as she realized how controlling and prissy she’d become without even noticing. Thankfully, Hunter was the type of male who didn’t suffer abuse for long, and never in silence.

The master suite was the last set of rooms down the hall from the living room, but Melody had been bathing Blair in the front bathroom off the kitchen. She should have known they wouldn’t make it to the bedroom without incident.

Fortrayn swung out of the kitchen, his arms around his petite, brown-skinned wife, talking excitedly and laughing at something as they came around the corner of the dining room. Their laughter and conversation came to an abrupt halt when they caught sight of Hunter paused in the hallway bare of all but his natural splendor.

Rosa gasped and buried her face in her husband’s chest ... but not before taking a good long look at the huge assets on display before her.

“Yo, uncle, how’s it hanging? Never mind, I can see for myself.” Fortrayn hugged his wife, tried to pry her face out of his shirt. “Hey, it’s okay, Rosa -- Hunter is family. I told you our customs are more relaxed than those you humans espouse.”

“But ... he’s naked!” Rosa whispered, digging deeper into her mate’s embrace. “Por Dios, Fort, his co-- ahem -- he’s bigger than you!”

Melody bit back a laugh at Fortrayn’s disgruntled look. Hunter didn’t even try to keep his amusement hidden. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. “Yes, I am, Cousin Rosa ... family and bigger! Guess you got the short end of the family stick.”

Werewulf Journals 2: Trolling for Love

19

“Gracias el Señor,” Rosa murmured fervently after stealing another lightning peek at Hunter’s stick. She cast a wild-eyed glance at Melody.

“Don’t worry, Rosa.” Hunter winked, speaking up before the flustered woman could order her words. “Mel’s built to take me.”

“Hunter McCallum!” Melody’s cheeks burned with heat under Fort’s speculative glance and Hunter’s leering one. “That was unnecessary and entirely TMI!”

“Huh?” Hunter’s look of puzzlement only irritated her more.

“Too much information ... as in what you just gave to Rosa.”

While she was still fussing, Hunter drew her into his embrace and stole a kiss from her moving lips. His tongue dipped in and silenced her, brought her to her tiptoes as sudden lust burned along every inch of her body.

“Honey, Rosa was looking horrified on your behalf. I simply let her know you could handle me at any size.”

Fort soothed a hand down the rioting curls of his mate’s cinnamon-tinted hair, chuckling as she muffled her embarrassed groan against the placket of his shirt. “You hit it on the nail, uncle. I bet she was imagining you in mid-form and wondering how Auntie Mel could survive --”

Rosa punched him in the gut.

Fortrayn looked down at his mate, laughter glinting in his hazel eyes -- eyes very much like those of his cousin. He fluttered his lashes at her and said, “Ow! Ooh, baby, that hurt ...

do it again ... please!”

Rosa’s smile held a hard edge. “Keep it up, Fort, if you really want your Tio Hunter to see you get smacked down,” she warned him, a not quite teasing expression on her face.

Fortrayn guffawed, not the least intimidated by her threat. “Hell, baby, you’ve got a lot to learn about what goes on in the privacy of a wulf’s den. Why would I be embarrassed to have him watch us? Uncle Hunter used to administer my smack downs. He’d probably give you pointers and offer to hold me down.”

“That may be so,” Rosa admitted, “but this isn’t your den. It belongs to Hunter and Melody.”

Fort glanced toward his room. He’d moved out almost a month ago, going to live in Rosa’s small apartment over the gallery. Most of his things were still in his old room, though, as there was little space in the loft apartment. “Technically, it’s still my den, too. I haven’t officially moved out, yet.”

“Speaking of that, Fort ...” Hunter smiled and gestured toward the master suite. “I have something I want to give you. It’s in my wallet in the bedroom.”

The two men headed toward the room, leaving their mates to follow after them. Rosa leaned toward Melody and asked in a worried whisper, “Is he going to put some clothes on?

Andrea is in the study with Blair ...”

20 Camille Anthony

Melody watched the firm globes of her mate’s well-shaped rear undulate with the shifting of masculine muscles. Damn, he looked good. Suddenly, she couldn’t care less that Rosa could see that fine ass, too. Let her look and drool. That ass was private property, and no other woman would trespass on it while she drew breath.