Her Wolf’s Demands by Rachel Medhurst

Chapter Ten

 

“What is it?” Malone asked.

I leant on the dining table, grateful that the others had left. The painting in front of me was small, only the size of a portrait. Drake’s brush strokes were distinguishable to me, instantly recognisable.

“It’s full of Drake’s magic,” I said, frowning as I shook my head, “I don’t understand why.”

“It’s the standing stones again. He was rather cryptic about it when we visited him,” Malone added.

Sighing, I nodded, slumping as the remainder of my energy left me. No doubt I’d get a lecture about how reckless it was going to the coven’s headquarters without him. Was there a nice way to tell the mate who had rescued me to F off? I just needed sleep.

“Thank you,” I muttered instead, resigning myself to the berating I was about to receive. “For being my wolf in shining armour.”

Stepping close to me, he ran a finger down the back of my arm. It was the simplest of gestures, and yet, a shudder slipped through me. Just his presence was enough to fire up my insides. Ah, sleep was underrated.

“Why didn’t you trust me enough to ask me to come?” Frowning, he fiddled with a strand of my hair. “And Rochelle? How was she there with you?”

Bohdi stretched by the fire, clearly knowing that we were talking about his rescue. He had settled in quickly, ignoring the wolves as he’d explored his new home, apparently unfazed by his catnapping… nope, that didn’t work.

Turning my head to look up at Malone, I smiled. “We’re BFFs now. And I knew you wouldn’t let me go. Ertha wants me dead, you want me alive. I couldn’t see my request being granted. Plus, I had mentioned it to you. You weren’t keen.”

Opening his mouth to protest, he froze, unable to deny my accusation. Instead, he rolled his eyes and put an arm over my shoulder, inspecting the painting. The standing stones were painted cream with dirt marks and a – shit, wait, was that a pentagram on it?

“Look,” I said, “this is the mark the witches use to channel power. We know that the Brighton Coven visit the stones for their rituals, but I think…” Frowning, I traced the star within the circle, cringing when a spark of sharp magic pricked my skin.

“Tell me.” Malone’s voice was tight as he squeezed my shoulder.

The standing stones were on Malone’s pack lands. It was no wonder they had been miffed that the witches refused to obey the treaty. The wolves could change at any time, but on the full moon, they had less control of their senses and were always forced to shift against their will.

“What was it like…” I asked, curiosity taking over, “…when you found out that you could turn into a wolf? I mean, it was hard enough for me to learn that I was different from those in school. That I had the gift of magic. I was never very good at it, but hiding it from people, and having the power to hurt others in a way that couldn’t be understood by humans always made me feel afraid.”

Huffing, Malone pulled out an intricately carved chair and sat, indicating that I do the same. Reluctantly ignoring the call of the bed, I lowered myself, staring at the painting again.

“It first happens when you’re sixteen. It’s a coming of age process, the shift being your key to adulthood. If you survive it well, you are respected. Others struggle with it, taking several goes before it becomes natural.”

“I bet you were a pro straight away,” I quipped, laughing gently.

His jaw tightened and his gaze dipped to the wooden surface of the table. “Actually, I wasn’t. It took me five times to get the hang of it. My father had thrown a first shift party for me, in the hope of proving that I was a worthy heir.”

“Oh, bloody hell. Don’t tell me, the pressure was too much? I would’ve crumbled, not able to perform my magic if anyone wanted to show me off.”

Tilting his head to the side, he regarded me. “It’s like you know me already. I probably don’t need to tell you the story.”

I took his hand and held it between mine, squeezing gently. “I want to hear.”

“Alright.” His shoulders straightened as he looked at me, his eyes glazing over. “The whole pack were there, including my sister and her boyfriend, who was one of the boys about to go through the shift with me. My father shouted at everyone, inviting them to watch the first ever shift by the future alpha.”

I didn’t need to roll my eyes, the former alpha had been a prick. I wouldn’t say that to Malone, although I had no doubt he would agree. Were there any good fathers out there?

“Of course, most people gathered around me, sending me good wishes. My father silenced them and forced me to get on my hands and knees to wait. I was there for thirty minutes, my muscles straining, before the shift started. I hold my hands up,” he said, doing just that, “I cried at the pain. I couldn’t handle it. Rather than let the shift lead, I tried to control it, which prolonged the agony.”

His cringe made me stay quiet. I didn’t want to interrupt him, especially when he was telling a particularly sensitive story about his life. One that made me want to snuggle his gruff head into my chest, just to soothe him.

“He was so embarrassed by how long it took me that when I finally finished my shift into a wolf, he kicked me repeatedly, shouting that I was weak. The onlookers slowly moved away, marvelling at the speed of my sister’s boyfriend’s shift.” Shaking his head, he blinked slowly. “He took to it like a dog to fox shit.”

“Ew, you don’t roll in shit, do you?”

The corner of his lip lifted into his cheek, amusement breaking the tension that held his muscles firm. “No, I can’t say I do.”

“Go on,” I urged.

“Manual – yes, he was the son-of-a-bitch who showed me up – became my beta. My father insisted that he break up with my sister and work with me to perfect my shift.”

Shaking my head, I frowned. “Your poor sister.”

“Poor sister?” he almost spat, a blast of laughter shooting from him. “She wasn’t the one who was humiliated by both our father and my now best friend.”

His hilarity doused, leaving him with a dour expression. I stifled my own chuckle, stuffing it deep down. It was amazing how self-occupied these alphas were, with their puffed chests and woe is me attitude. Maybe it was time for a change.

“Anyway…” He huffed. “Every time I failed at shifting swiftly, my father burnt an F into my arm, branding me a failure.”

“Fuck.”

Shrugging, he sat back, taking his hands out of mine. “You know what?” He glanced over to the flickering flames in the hearth. “I need to let it go.” Looking back at me, he smiled woefully. “So, to answer your question, it was a fucking nightmare to find out that I had no choice but to change into a wolf.”

“Yes,” I breathed, ignoring the pang that made my throat close.

“I suppose…” He paused, his gaze searching mine, “…you know how that feels now. Because of me.”

The heaviness spread from him, permeating the kitchen. I reached forward and clasped his head in my hands, keeping him still as he closed his eyes.

“I do know how it feels.” Leaning closer, I kissed his closed eyelids. “And I know how this feels.” My insides quivered as he lifted his head, his hooded eyes gazing into mine. The rhythm of my heart tripled, making me breathless.

“We’re really in the shit, aren’t we?” Sitting up, Malone grabbed my arms and dragged me onto his lap, spreading my legs either side of his waist.

I went willingly, wrapping my arms around his neck and looking down at him. “You’ve got to decide what type of alpha you want to be,” I whispered. “A hard bastard, like your father, never forgiving. Or a pushover, which, quite frankly, I wouldn’t be attracted to…”

Raising his eyebrows, he squeezed my arse cheeks, hard.

“Or…” My breath became heavy as he pressed his lips on the top of my breast, where it bulged from my crop top. “… a modern man, leading with a firm, but sensitive, hand. Connected to your emotions at the same time as standing proud and dominant.”

“Sounds like a fantasy male written by a female writer in a romance novel.”

“Exactly.” I stared into his eyes. “Are you brave enough to find out who you are?”

Chuckling, he ran his tongue across the bottom of his top teeth. “And how do I do that, exactly?”

Warmth radiated from me as I stroked his stubbly cheek. Usually, a man would challenge a woman’s idea of how a male should be, but not him. He had listened and even asked my advice. Shit, my feelings for the alpha may well have just tipped over the edge of the highest rollercoaster point, plummeting to the point of no return and ending up in the bedroom. Great, that didn’t bode well for my binding plan.

“And the painting?” he asked, nodding his head at the square of canvas on the table.

Looking at it, I sighed as I was brought back to my current dilemma… or one of them, anyway. “The pentagram is used to channel magic. It would take a powerful witch to be able to handle the magic of the standing stones, hence why no one has ever done it before. I can’t quite understand why Drake is involved or why his magic is imbued in the painting.”

“Another mystery to solve.” His husky voice danced across my nerves. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” I muttered, reversing off his lap before he could distract me. “It’s the full moon ritual.”

Almost tripping to the sink, I ran the tap, filling a glass with water before gulping it down. Looking out the window, I stayed facing away from Malone, staring at the red embers of the fire in the centre of the camp. I had been pretty blasé about the ceremony, too busy worrying about Bohdi. Now that my familiar was safe, fear gripped my muscles, making them shake.

“W-we hardly know each other,” I stuttered. “I know this is the packs’ way of accepting me, but it’s a pretty gigantic fucking commitment. Plus, what do I do about Drake when he’s recovered?”

There, I’d asked him the question that had plagued me since I’d started spending more time with the pack.

A sigh ripped from Malone’s throat. “He can stay at my apartment until we’ve made peace with the witches. As for the ritual…” Rubbing a hand over his face, he blinked wearily. “… We’ll deal with that tomorrow, too.”

The chair scraped as he stood and came to me, pushing his body into my back. Heat blasted every inch of my skin as the bulge in his jeans poked my spine. I appreciated his commitment to keeping my brother safe, but if he believed there’d be peace the whole time we were alive, he was sorely mistaken.

Witches were ruthless when they deemed one of their own unfit to live. The Brighton Pack might be closer to allowing me to keep my life, but the witches wouldn’t stop until both Drake and I were dead.

“You were very naughty, leaving me behind.” A growl rose up his throat as he bent his shaven head, moved my hair off my shoulder and nipped my ear.

A zap of heat shot through me, instantly making me wet. Just his desire was enough to push all other thoughts out of my mind, despite the fact I had been on the verge of panic only two seconds before.

“I’ve been waiting for my telling off. Are you going to punish me?”

The chuckle that hummed in his chest surprised me. “Not now.”

Resting my head to the side, I closed my eyes as his lips traced the top of my shoulder, ascending to the sensitive spot behind my ear. A low hum vibrated in my chest as his hands came around to my front, one spreading on my stomach and the other rising to cup my breast.

A gorgeous zip of pleasure hit my core as he pinched my nipple between his thumb and forefinger, licking my ear at the same time. I melted against him, urging him to hold me up as I lost myself to his touch.

“I owe you… this,” he whispered, digging his free hand down into my leggings and pressing me through my underwear.

Gasping, I grasped his wrist as warmth exploded where he touched. I held him steady as he rubbed me, desperate for him to touch my skin.

“Please,” I begged unashamedly. “I need it.”

A gruff chuckle moved his chest against my back. I pressed my butt into him, grinding as he slipped two fingers under the material of my underwear and flicked them straight over my sensitive nub. Tingles spread instantly, making me gasp as I clung to his arm. “Yes,” I breathed, “right there.”

His lips sucked at the skin on my neck, heightening the sensations that were merging together and quickening my breath.

“You want a release?” he whispered in my ear.

Turning my head to look at him, I bit my lip and nodded. He smiled, the grin spreading and almost tipping me over the edge. He loved having control over me. And I quite liked it, too. Who was I kidding? I fucking loved having a man want to take care of me. I was an independent woman, yes, but it was wonderful to have a partner to lean on sometimes.

His fingers started to swirl faster, one dipping lower and entering me. Circling my entrance at the same time as flicking my C, he held me against him with his other arm, stroking my stomach and kneading my breast.

“Please…” My voice was tight, pleading.

He kissed my neck, burying his head under my hair. “Come for me, sweet Della,” he hissed. “Now.”

His command was followed by his teeth gently clamping down on the back of my neck. The pressure of his fingers intensified, going faster and faster. The slight twinge of his bite mixed with the skilful twirl of his finger sent a fierce shot of desire through me. The tingling pleasure built, hovering on the top of the rollercoaster.

“Now,” he whispered, kissing my neck where his teeth had been.

My knees gave out and I moaned loudly as my orgasm crescendo. The burst of ecstasy was sweet as it pulsed outwards, engulfing my whole body. Shuddering, I clenched my eyes closed, revelling in the waves of deliciousness.

“That’s it.” Malone’s breath fanned my face as the release faded, leaving me limp in his arms.

Taking his hands away, he scooped me up and cradled me against his chest. I snuggled into him, sniffing the heady scent of pine, sweat and blood. Shit, he hadn’t even had a chance to shower since the rescue.

“Once we’re clean,” I said, running a hand down the ridges of his muscles. “I’m going to return the favour. With my mouth.”

A bark of laughter shot from him as he carried me to the bedroom. I waved to Bohdi, who was flat out on the soft rug in front of the fire. My familiar had been through a terrible ordeal.

“I’ve already had my turn tonight, remember? It’s time to sleep.”

Lowering me on the bed, he stopped me when I went to sit up. “You’re exhausted. Let me.”

His fingers dug into the waistband of my leggings, tugging them down my legs. A gasp escaped me when he looked up my figure, his gaze lingering on my still pulsing core.

“I’ve never had someone undress me before,” I squeaked, almost ready to cover my vulnerability.

When his smile remained compassionate, I relaxed, allowing him to sit me up and strip off my crop top and bra. His touch was so soft, I almost didn’t feel it.

“I’ve told you more about me tonight. Tell me something about you.”

I shivered as he lifted me, barely flinching as he carried me into the bathroom and deposited me in the shower. With a wink, he leant against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched me.

Turning on the water, I submerged myself, hiding in order to gather my thoughts and calm my erratic heartbeat. He had been vulnerable to me. He wanted to know me as much as I wanted to know him.

“Well,” I muttered when I stuck my head out of the water. “I love burgers, American rock music and Netflix, especially a good historical drama.”

“And?”

He raised his eyebrows and the effect was breath-taking. Hot man with dark stubble on both his head and chin with flecked brown eyes and a strong square jaw. And… He was delving into my soul, trying to find the real me. And yet, I no longer knew who I was, let alone, who I had been.

“And I’m afraid that if I allow my wolf spirit free, I’ll never be who I was before.” Shit, talk about blurt the truth.

It was as if a witch had given me a truth serum. But, they hadn’t. I’d felt safe enough to tell Malone that I was losing myself in my new identity. And my old identity was the sister who had always cared for a brother. That wasn’t a part of myself that I was prepared to let go of. I would always be there for him, we came as a pair. Yet, here I was. With Malone and his pack.

A sob wrenched from my throat as an image of my brother and lover came into my mind. They’d hit it off instantly, gaining respect of the other within moments.

Releasing his arms, Malone tugged his shirt over his head and stepped out of his jeans. As he came into the shower, he pulled me into his arms and stroked my spine. I rested my head on his solid chest and sobbed again, swallowing when the tears appeared.

“We all felt that when we first shifted,” he said, holding me tight, “but I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. You were a witch and that part of you hasn’t gone. In fact, you’re more powerful than ever. Just see your wolf as an extension of who you are, rather than changing you completely. If you allow your wolf spirit to lead the way, she’ll meld within you, giving you nothing but strength.”

I clung to him, stifling the urge to ugly cry. He was soothing and practical, unlike most men. And yet, I knew he spoke the truth. There was nothing to fear but fear itself, as some random person once said.

“I have to save my brother,” I muttered, leaning my head back to look up at him. “That’s my number one priority.”

The water cascaded over his head, running down his face like a waterfall. He smiled, dropping his head to kiss me gently.

“Very well.” His shoulders relaxed as I calmed. “Tomorrow, we’ll visit my witch friend to see what’s so significant with the painting. Maybe between the two of you, you can figure out why Ertha so desperately wants Drake dead.”

“Thank you,” I said, unsure whether to be excited or anxious about meeting another witch.

“After we’ve solved that,” Malone said, interrupting my thoughts, “we’ll see about making amends with a few wolves my father pissed off.”

Nodding, I agreed, willing to help him to return his pack to its former glory. I just hoped it wasn’t too late.