Winter of the Wolf Read online

  Oookay. Her stomach tightened. “I’m not totaly inexperienced, guys.” And thank goodness she’d had sex a few times before being raped. “I remember how it goes. A man meets a woman. They like each other. They make love

  —or mate. Right?”

  “Not exactly.” Shay joined her on the couch. His weight compressed the cushions, sliding her until her hip bumped compressed the cushions, sliding her until her hip bumped against his. “By Herne’s antlers, this is hard to explain.”

  “Bree.” Zeb’s gaze captured hers. “Each ful moon, fertile Daonain females come into heat.”

  Heat. “Like a dog or cat comes into h-heat?” Zeb nodded. With a glance, he tossed the conversation back to Shay.

  Shay’s warm hand closed around Bree’s icy fingers. “The ful moon is tonight, and your body wil want to mate with a male. Wil require a male.”

  A bitter laugh broke from her. “Wouldn’t that be a change? That’s not—”

  “Before, you only had humans around,” Zeb said.

  Shay agreed. “Daonain aren’t attracted to humans.” The idea derailed her growing anxiety for a second.

  “That’s why I never wanted a guy? Because I’m a shifter?

  That’s why with you two, I—” Oh God, what had she almost said?

  Darn Zeb for that slashing grin. “That’s why.”

  “Conceited creepazoid,” she muttered to her hands. “So I’m going to get al horny tonight and might jump one of you?”

  “Not that easy,” Zeb muttered.

  “By Daonain law, each territory holds a Gathering at ful moon,” Shay said. “There, each female mates with the males she chooses.”

  she chooses.”

  You’ve got to be joking. Bree swalowed. “What if no one suits me?”

  “Your body wil choose. Your head wil not.” Zeb’s voice was deep, firm. “And your body wil choose more than once.”

  She yanked free and rose. Her heart hammered inside her chest so hard her lungs couldn’t get air. She gasped in a breath. “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Easy, a leannan.” Shay stood, obviously hoping to calm her. “The Law requires only that the unmated spend the night at the Gathering. If you don’t want to mate, no one can force you.”

  “Yeah?” Bree started to breathe again. She could just hang out quietly. Let them have their orgy without her. “Okay then. But I want you to know—this sucks.”

  “Does, doesn’t it?” Shay ran his hands up and down her chiled arms. “Being able to trawsfur into a wolf is a wondrous thing. And the animal nature has benefits—an extra forty years of life, improved healing, better senses and strength. But it also has drawbacks.”

  “So what’s with the law stuff?”

  “Our traditions and laws ensure Daonain survival. Our fertility is much lower than humans’, and five times more males are born to us than females. The only thing that saves us is that most births are twins or triplets. And the Gatherings.”

  Gatherings.”

  His matter-of-fact voice soothed. Bree rested her hip on the table. “Am I going to run into more weird laws at this Gathering?”

  Zeb thought for a second. “No possessive behavior is alowed.” He gave her his half-smile. “Any other time, however—al bets are off.”

  Shay continued. “Males may fight to win a female’s favor, but the Law forbids kiling or maiming. The penalty is being cast out.”

  Was that why Thyra had stopped? “Cast out means you have to leave the territory?”

  “Worse.” Zeb’s voice roughened. “No Daonain wil see him, hear him, or speak to him.”

  She shrugged. “So he’d move somewhere else where no one knew him.”

  “The Cosantir slashes them.” Zeb curved his fingers and drew them across his cheek. “Herne turns the scars black.” Shay added, “If the Mother eventualy forgives the crime, the scars turn white, and the shifter can return.” Cold fingers closed on Bree’s spine as she imagined wandering a world of people who didn’t acknowledge her existence. “That’s horrible.”

  “Many die,” Zeb agreed softly.

  “Enough of this.” Shay rubbed his forehead against hers.

  “You won’t be fighting, little wolf. Tonight is for mating.”

  “You won’t be fighting, little wolf. Tonight is for mating.” I’d rather fight.

  Zeb’s gaze met hers in perfect understanding.

  “The moon rises in two hours,” Shay said. “Let’s clean up and eat. We’l walk to the tavern together.” She couldn’t move. The men there would pressure her to have sex. She knew it. I can’t do this.

  “Little female,” Zeb snapped. “A male does not bother a female who is uninterested.” A crease appeared on his cheek, and his gaze warmed. “I showed you how we know.” She stared at him, remembering the day outside the cabin when he’d held her wrist, inhaling the scent. A lick of heat flared in her bely.

  The corner of his lip puled up. “Exactly.” Wel, okay. She wasn’t interested in any guy, so no one would bother her. It’ll probably be like Amelia’s bachelorette party at the strip joint. Lots of drunken horny woman and happy men. I’ll sit at the bar and watch.

  * * *

  Bree stil held strong a couple of hours later as she and the men walked up to the tavern.

  Ignoring the “CLOSED FOR PRIVATE PARTY” sign, Shay opened the door and shooed her before him.

  Shay opened the door and shooed her before him.

  One step inside, she stopped. Welcome to Cold Creek’s meat market. Women and so many, many men. Turning in a circle, she gawked. One guy wore skin-tight jeans that cupped his ass. A tal blond had skipped a shirt and wore only a vest over a muscular chest. One had a trimmed beard, another a five-o’clock-shadow that her fingers tingled to touch.

  The scents were overwhelming. Zeb was right. She could smel arousal. Testosterone had a scent too. Dark and musky. Every inhalation warmed her until she felt as if she’d lowered herself into a hot tub. Her skin felt odd, as if sunburned and sensitive. When she moved, her clothes teased her with new sensations. Her bra rubbed until her nipples tightened painfuly.

  She tried to ignore it al. Jeez, she wasn’t an animal to be ruled by hormones.

  “Give me your coat, lass.” Shay puled her jacket off with a smooth tug.

  Mmmh, his eyes were steely blue, so intent, and… Get a grip, dummy. “Um.” Her voice came out disconcertingly breathy, as if she’d jogged over a mountain. “How about a beer?”

  Because, darn it, she needed alcohol. Or ice water. Calum must have set the furnace thermostat at ninety degrees. “How long do we have to stay, anyway?”

  long do we have to stay, anyway?”

  Shay chuckled. “Long enough to at least get inside the room.”

  Snorting in agreement, Zeb set his hand on the holow of her back and pushed her farther into the room. The heat from his palm, the very feel of his hand was as if he was reaching inside her and stroking her to arousal. Oh heavens, what is happening to me?

  With a grave look, Zeb studied her.

  Bree stared up at him. His hard jaw was incredibly masculine, slightly darker than the rest of his face even though he’d shaved. His lips curved. She remembered the feel of his mouth on hers and wanted it again. She ran her fingers down his chest, savoring the hard bunching muscles.

  He made a rumbling noise, and his hand closed around her wrist. He lifted it to his face. Inhaled. “Little female, I don’t think you’re going to manage to leave.”

  The sound of his deep, grating voice dragged on her nerves, and she swayed toward him. Then her mind untangled the words. “Leave? Yes, I’m leaving. I’m not staying here, Zeb.”

  He pressed a kiss to her wrist, sending her senses spinning with the feathery touch, the wash of warm breath. She inched closer to him.

  “Good to know.” He glanced at Shay. “Commandeer a corner?”

  corner?”

  “That’s the plan. Gonna be harder than I thought though.” Shay’s low voice was a smooth
stroke of hot silk, puling her to him as if he’d tugged on a leash.

  She stepped closer, breathing the fresh icy scent that was his alone. He smeled like a man. Al man. His chest was twice as broad as hers, his shoulders blocked out the room.

  His unrelenting stare made her knees weak. “Breanne, come with us.”

  River rock. Zeb’s voice was jagged granite, Shay’s was like river rock, al round and smooth, but stil hard.

  “Breanne?”

  “Oh.” She blinked, shook her head. “The corner. Sure. I keep getting…sidetracked or something.” Every nerve in her body was firing ful-time. “Sensory overload, I guess?” Shay’s fingers curled around her bare upper arm. The abrasion of his caluses was heady, and she moved closer.

  “You’re kiling me here, a leannan,” he murmured. As they threaded through the crowd, she caught more scents. Men.

  Everywhere. They stared at her, their gazes like fiery tickles against her skin.

  In the front corner by the fireplace, Zeb shoved tables around to create a blocked off area with a smal entrance.

  “You sure, Shay? Make her start with a stranger?”

  “By Herne’s antlers, I’m not sure of anything. I just know that if one of us tries and she panics, she’l feel we betrayed her, and she won’t have anyone here she trusts.” Shay her, and she won’t have anyone here she trusts.” Shay sighed. “If she can handle one or two males, we’l see if she’s stil interested in two rough cahirs.”

  “Good enough.”

  Bree heard their conversation, but their words flowed like water, slipping past her understanding. Yet lovely. Like with wolf song, their voices wove around each other, creating a beautiful pattern.

  Zeb stepped closer. He cupped her chin to tip her face up, caught her gaze, and she fel forward into eyes the color of the night sky.

  “Fuck.” He growled, and the sound shivered through her, making her want. Need.

  “Bree, listen.”

  She blinked. “Got it. I mean, I’m listening.”

  “Shifters wil come over. Nice males. Short males. If you like one, he’l take you upstairs and—ah—kiss you.”

  “Okay.” She leaned forward and rubbed her breasts against him.

  “Fuck.” His low growl made her pussy tingle, but then he sat her in a chair.

  A chair? She started to get up.

  “Stay there, lass.” Shay’s gaze compeled obedience. “The men wil come to you.”

  As the two men moved away, the air temperature decreased, and her head cleared. Slightly. Taking positions decreased, and her head cleared. Slightly. Taking positions on each side of the barricaded entrance, they waved off man after man until two shorter ones approached. Not smal, barely under six feet.

  One was lean and rugged-looking with gorgeous turquoise-colored eyes. The other seemed less tough.

  Sweeter. Not as interesting. After Shay talked with them, they walked into her corner.

  “I’m Wayne.” The sweet-looking one knelt on her right.

  His blonde hair gleamed in the light from the wal sconces.

  “My name is Evan. I’m from over the border.” Taking a knee to her left, the lean one was darkly tanned, his grin almost as bright as Zeb’s.

  Zeb. She stared at him, at Shay. Why didn’t they come to her? She caught Zeb’s gaze.

  He stepped toward her, then his lips tightened, and he turned his back. When Shay did the same, it felt like a connection snapped.

  A hand stroked down her thigh, and she jumped.

  “What’s your name, pretty one?” Evan asked in a voice that puled at her, gentle but with a firm base underneath.

  “Bree.” His face was al angles, cheekbones high and tight.

  His mustache was the rich brown of his hair and silky soft under her fingers. She traced it twice, marveling at how neatly it curved around the slope of his mouth. “I’ve never kissed anyone with a mustache,” she murmured. Would it tickle?

  anyone with a mustache,” she murmured. Would it tickle?

  How would it feel against her?

  “Do you want to kiss me, pretty one?” He took her hand.

  His palm was hard, rough, and wonderful, and as he kissed her fingers, his lips were petal-soft in contrast. The mustache tickled her knuckles. When his mouth closed over her fingertips, the wetness of his tongue made her moan. Heat flared into an oven fire inside her, and she leaned toward him.

  He pressed a kiss to her wrist, inhaled, and stood, puling her up with him and against his side. His arm curved around her waist. “Let’s go upstairs where it’s not so noisy,” he murmured. His warm breath brushed her cheek, and she nodded. “Sorry, Wayne,” he said.

  Had there been someone else beside her? She’d been rude. She tried to turn, but when Evan eased his fingers under her shirt to find bare skin, a rising fire burned the thoughts right out of her head. A pulse throbbed low in her body between her legs.

  Somehow, Evan led her up the stairs, but she didn’t notice much, never getting past the feel of his hands—one teasing her fingers, the other on her waist. He steered her into a tiny room. In wal scones, candles flickered with yelow light.

  Pilows were scattered across a cushioned floor.

  Her legs buckled as she realized what the room was for.

  As she landed up on her hands and knees, a quiver of fear ran through her.

  ran through her.

  Evan dropped down beside her. “It’s okay, pretty one.

  The cahirs said this is new to you. We’l just sit for a bit, eh?” His smile was the nicest thing about him, she thought, until he took her hand. Why did the abrasion of his palm make her lower half melt—and flame at the same time.

  Watching her with blue-green eyes, he licked her fingers, one, then the next and the next. His tongue was hot and soft but with a little roughness, so different from his mouth.

  His mouth. Her gaze fixed on it, how smooth it looked under that silky brown mustache. His lips curved into a satisfied smile.

  “C’mere, and you can see if the mustache tickles,” he invited, tugging her closer. As she leaned into him, he kissed her gently. The brush of his lips and mustache sent heat streaking through her and tightened her nipples. “Oh, yes,” he murmured. “You’re a sweet one. We won’t hurry.” He kissed her, over and over, nibbling on her lips, sliding his tongue across her mouth until she opened to his demand.

  He tasted of apples and cinnamon, and when his tongue plunged deep, she needed him so badly that she took his hands and slid them onto her breasts.

  As he plucked at her nipples, she whimpered. He cupped her breasts and kissed her more deeply, and the mixture of sensations made her head whirl. Laughing, he rose to his feet to unbutton his shirt and pul it off. As he stepped closer, he to unbutton his shirt and pul it off. As he stepped closer, he loomed over her, a huge shadow backlit by the candles. “I’l

  —”

  “No!” Choking on fear, she scrambled away from him.

  No, no, no.

  “Bree. Wait.” He stopped, motionless as a predator, shirt stil in one hand. His nostrils flared. “By the God, you’re terrified.”

  Trapped in the corner, she panted and tried to draw in enough air to speak, to scream, to fight. Instead, her chest tightened until she couldn’t breathe.

  He took a step back. “Relax, pretty female. Nothing happens if you’re not into it—and, right now, you realy aren’t.”

  When he puled his shirt on, she managed to get a ful breath. She stared at him, stomach in knots.

  After studying her for a second, he backed farther, al the way to the door.

  Evan wasn’t going to do anything. He’d only been nice.

  Shame made her want to hang her head, courage kept it up.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I am too. You’re very sweet.” His grin was stil nice, especialy from a distance. “Let me take you back downstairs.”

  Face al those men. Again? “Can I stay here for a minute?

  Settle down
a bit?”

  He nodded. “I’l wait outside and escort you down.” He nodded. “I’l wait outside and escort you down.” Have him lurking in the hal? A tremor ran up her spine.

  “I’l do better alone. I realy am sorry.”

  He looked as if he wanted to come forward and reassure her, but he stayed there. “No worries, Bree. I’l be back in the States next fal. If you want, we’l try again, eh?” He stepped out into the shadowy halway. As the door closed, she heard someone speak to him.

  She was alone. Resting her forehead on her knees, she shuddered. How had she gone from desire to panic so quickly? What was she going to do? She rubbed sweaty hands on her jeans. As her heart rate dropped to normal, the heat inside her grew. Her skin started to tingle, her breasts—

  The door opened and she looked up. “Evan?” Not Evan. Klaus. A blade of fear stabbed into her chest.

  He closed the door behind him. “Wel, if it isn’t the rabbit.

  Having problems?”

  “Go away.” Her voice sounded thin and weak. As she pushed to her feet, the cushioned floor sank under her weight, and she staggered sideways.

  “Nah, I don’t think so. Got something to finish.” His smile distorted his meaty features into evil. “Not fucking you. But no bitch busts my nose and lives to boast of it.” Her brain froze with the memory of her nightmarish fal, his threats, his fists. She instinctively stepped back. Her lips trembled in spite of her attempt to firm them.

  trembled in spite of her attempt to firm them.

  He saw and then slowly inhaled. “Oh, you’re scared now.” Satisfaction thickened his voice, and his heavy-lidded eyes gleamed with cruelty as he moved toward her.

  Terror grew, until she gasped for air, unable to scream.

  She’d barely fought off one panic attack and had no reserves to handle another. Her fingers went cold. Numb. As her heart ricocheted painfuly in her chest, she struggled against the darkness edging her vision. No, Bree. Must fight.

  He swung, and she ducked, then blocked his folow-up punch. Her return blow to his bely was weak.

  His fist hit her cheekbone with an explosion of pain, knocking her back. Her shoulders crashed into the wal, and her senses spun. Leaning on the boards for balance, she front-kicked right into his stomach.