Black Wolfe's Mate (Paranormal Shifter Romance) Read online

  He wanted to go to her now, but he couldn’t risk it. Not after his earlier debacle. No, it was best if he kept his distance. Let someone else handle it. Someone who hadn’t tasted her and wanted to do so again.

  “Silas, see to it that our guest is made aware of the peril she faces.”

  Silas’ eyes once again followed Derrick’s. “Does she not realize she will soon be cut off?” he asked thoughtfully.

  “Apparently not. Enlighten her, will you?”

  Silas gave a slight nod. “One must wonder what has captured her attention so that she fails to realize such grave danger,” he mused softly.

  Derrick cast him a warning glance, but Silas was already gone.

  Chapter 3

  The moon rose full and unchallenged in the cloudless sky. It caressed his fur, as glossy and black as the hair on his head in human form. Even now, it still bore her mark. He could feel her gentle but insistent fingers in it, although the sensation now carried across his entire body. He lifted his head and howled.

  He had run for miles and miles across the uninhabited side of the island. That section was strictly off limits to guests after dusk, so he and those like him could roam freely in their alternate forms without fear of being discovered. But this night, neither the lush tropical vegetation nor the powdery white sand, both painted silver by the moon, gave him the solace he so desired.

  Foolish woman. Muddled female. Crazy bitch. This was all her fault. Damn it all, but he had other things to think about. Important things. He could not allow himself to be distracted by a single, fragile human, no matter how much his beast was secretly — and inexplicably — drawn to her.

  His massive paws padded softly back toward the castle. He had exhausted himself, pushing himself to the limit in an effort to expel her scent from his lungs, her taste from his tongue. It had proven futile. If he managed to completely avoid her for the remainder of her stay, which could only be a couple of days at most given her meager means, he just might be able to retain some measure of sanity and—

  “Well, hello there.”

  He froze instantly at the sound of that voice. Her voice. She wasn’t supposed to be here! He had been so consumed with thoughts of avoiding her that he had unwittingly walked right into her. The irony was not lost on him. And he was not a big fan of irony. It had a tendency to bite him on the ass, and Derrick preferred to be the one doing any biting.

  She sat in the shadows of a massive palm, looking out over the crashing surf. Even in his wolf form, he towered above her. Sitting as she was, her head was barely level with his shoulder. Maybe therein lie his salvation.

  He stalked forward several steps, flattened his ears against his head, and gave her his best feral glare.

  She blinked, momentarily shuttering those brown-green-gold eyes made luminescent in the waxing moon. Such unusual eyes for a human. For a moment, he wondered if she had any shifter blood in her ancestry, then dismissed it. It mattered not.

  He curled his black lips back, revealing massive, glistening white fangs, and growled.

  Her eyes widened a bit; he scented her sudden fear on the light breeze. Good. Maybe it would rouse a healthy dose of common sense in her and get her the hell away from him.

  But she didn’t move, and he cursed himself. Stupid! He’d overdone it and now she was undoubtedly frozen in terror, afraid that any move would put her on the late night snack menu. Of course, he could always tone it down a bit, or better yet, just turn and lope away.

  “Well, get on with it then,” she said, startling him. It was his turn to blink. His ears perked up and he tilted his head slightly to the side, certain he had heard incorrectly. He had half a mind to turn around and see if she was talking to someone behind him, but his senses already told him there was not another sentient creature in the immediate vicinity.

  “If you’re going to kill me, go ahead and do it already. You’d be doing me a favor, actually.”

  He blinked again. And then she did the most amazing thing of all. She pushed back volumes of her golden hair — and it was not blonde, it was most definitely golden — and inclined her head, pulling down the collar of her top as she did so, revealing the creamy, perfect, unmarred flesh of her neck and throat to him.

  What the hell?

  He sat on his haunches, bemused, his head tilting further as he regarded her. Eyes closed, face resigned, fear wafted up from her very skin along with something else he hadn’t noticed before. Something incongruous with the rest of her. Something he could not easily identify. He closed his jaws and leaned forward, sniffing.

  One eye opened cautiously, then the other. When he made no move toward her, her hands dropped away. “Coward,” she mumbled, then sighed heavily. Derrick hadn’t realized he’d gotten so close until her hand was suddenly cupping his head again, scratching behind his ears. It was glorious! He moved his head this way and that so her blessed nails would reach other areas as well. A second hand joined the first and she laughed softly.

  It was the sweetest of music.

  But why wasn’t she running? She should be terrified. In this form, he was fierce, lethal.

  “You are so beautiful,” she whispered, stroking his fur appreciatively. Derrick had never allowed anyone such a privilege before. He wondered why he was doing so now.

  “No,” she corrected, “I take it back. Beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it. You are...magnificent.”

  Derrick’s muscled chest puffed out, the vanity of the wolf properly stroked as well as his coat. His intense blue eyes met hers. Once again, he was stricken by the unusual color. There were flecks of green and gold and brown, ever changing from one moment to the next.

  “Will you sit with me for a while?” she asked, running her small hand from his shoulder down to his haunches in a coaxing caress. “Or will you run from me, too?”

  Inwardly, he bristled at her words. Him? Run away from anything? Never! Yet, upon further reflection, he could see why she might think that. She had dared to kiss him, and like an untried pup, he had run away. It had been for good reason, of course, but he should have been able to exhibit more control than that. Something about this unusual woman was inciting uncharacteristic behavior on his part.

  He would not run this time.

  “Here,” she said, reaching for something on the other side of her. Derrick stiffened, ready to attack if need be, but there wasn’t. The moment she unwrapped the dark linen napkin, a familiar smell assaulted him. Derrick recognized it immediately as one of Antoine’s special pastries. “Dessert always tastes better if you have someone to share it with. Don’t you agree?”

  She broke the pastry in half and held it out to him. He briefly considered not taking it — he was not some mangy stray looking for scraps, after all — but he had the oddest notion that it would hurt her feelings if he refused. And Antoine did make a fine pastry.

  He let his ultra-sharp canines graze the pads of her fingers as he took what she offered, but she didn’t pull back like she should have. Then — and he really should have been completely ashamed of himself for this — he licked her fingers.

  “Good, huh?” she chuckled, spreading her fingers wider so he could get all the icing. “Here.” She held the other half out to him. She hadn’t even taken a bite.

  He didn’t accept it. Instead, he nudged her hand to push the pastry back toward her.

  “You want me to have it?” she asked, both surprised and amused. In answer, he panted softly and allowed his large pink tongue to loll out the side of his mouth. The smile she gave him was priceless, as if no one had ever done such a thing before.

  “Thank you,” she said softly, taking a bite. “This is good.” He watched her until she ate the whole thing. Several times, she tried to offer more to him, but he just pushed it back to her.

  “Such manners,” she murmured. “If only people treated each other as kindly.”

  What an odd thing to say, Derrick thought. Had someone been rude to her?

  It was yet another thing he
didn’t understand about this woman. How could anyone be rude to such an obviously gentle creature? Then he remembered how he had forcefully shoved her away only hours earlier. The sound her fragile bones had made against the solid rock made him wince inwardly. He glanced at her arms to see if there was any bruising, but her loose sleeves extended halfway down her forearms, preventing him from getting a good look.

  When she finished, Derrick dropped his head and gave her a solid nudge. He then lowered his body to the ground, crowding her. She watched, fascinated, until he swiveled his head back and pointedly lifted her hand with his snout. While the man in him would not allow such familiar contact, the beast wanted her to touch him.

  “More petting, huh?” she laughed. He chuffed softly in response.

  She obliged, her delicate hands burrowing into his fur. He lay his head in her lap, nuzzling close to her most private parts. She raised an eyebrow, but continued to pet him. “Well, at least one male doesn’t quiver in fear at the sight of me,” she said wryly. “You are a male, aren’t you?”

  Quiver in fear? A low, rumbling growl emanated from deep within, running the length of his body.

  “Yeah, I thought so.”

  He’d show her quivering. One massive paw slung across her hips while he used his tongue to lick the inside of her exposed leg from just above mid-thigh to the back of her knee. He realized his mistake almost immediately. Yes, she shuddered at the rasp of his wolf’s tongue upon her bared flesh, as was his intent, but he was once again reminded of just how tasty she was.

  He licked her again, more slowly this time. Tasting. Savoring.

  “Okay, okay, I get the point. Sorry I doubted you. You are most definitely male.”

  Another lick — this one a reward, not an admonishment.

  They remained like that for quite some time. His big, furry body pressed up against hers, warming her against the chill of the ocean breeze. Her hands tangled in his fur. For the first time in a very long time, his inner beast was quietly content.

  When the first rays of dawn appeared on the horizon, he gently prodded her awake. She had drifted off a few hours earlier and he hadn’t had the heart to wake her. In slumber, she looked so young, so tranquil. The fact that she held onto him like a much-loved teddy bear had absolutely nothing to do with it.

  “Still here, huh?” she mumbled sleepily, looking toward the brightening sky. She patted him affectionately on the head. “Thank you,” she whispered sincerely. “I haven’t slept like that in...well, a very long time.”

  Like what? At best, she had dozed for three hours, and it had been a fitful rest, at that. She had murmured in her sleep, but even with his excellent hearing, he hadn’t been able to make out the words. Once, he swore she whimpered.

  Why did she not sleep? Were her accommodations not acceptable? Were the people around her too loud? Surely Silas would have informed him if she had registered any complaints, but he made a mental note to inquire as soon as possible.

  She pushed herself up and stretched. Remembering he was in wolf form, he allowed himself to look his fill, something he could not afford to do as a man. She was on the short side, but very soft and curvy. The thin beach clothes she wore did absolutely nothing to hide that. Of course, after spending a fair portion of the night pressed up against all that lush softness, he didn’t need to see it to know it was there. It was already ingrained in his memory. He would never get her scent out of his lungs now.

  She leaned down — not too far, since his shoulders were at the same level as her hips — and pressed a kiss between his eyes, putting his snout right between her generous breasts. Unable to stop himself, his pink tongue made an appearance and licked her.

  She stood back, laughing. “Guess I asked for that one, huh?” His beast panted softly, unrepentant. He’d do it again in a second if she allowed it.

  “Maybe I’ll see you again tonight,” she said hopefully. He lowered his head. As much as he had enjoyed his time with her, allowing it to happen again would be ill-advised. The beast liked her too much. The man, at least, had the sense to leave her before things got out of hand. The beast didn’t care about things like that. It only knew that it liked her and wanted to be with her. Thankfully, even when one form was dominant, the other retained the ability to exhibit some control.

  She sighed. It was such a mournful sound, he immediately began to reconsider.

  “Hey,” she said softly, scratching lightly on the underside of his powerful jaws to get him to look at her. “It’s okay. I get it. Thanks for keeping me company.” She smiled as she turned to leave, but it was a very sad smile. “It’s probably better this way.”

  The words came to him on the wind, a mere whisper of sound. Had he not been in his animal form, he would have missed them entirely. As he watched her climb the path toward the back of the castle, he realized what it was he had scented on her. Sorrow. Soul deep sorrow.

  Chapter 4

  He would avoid her, that was all there was to it. He told himself that, over and over again, as he scrubbed himself in the shower. The soap he used was strongly fragranced, made specifically for his acute sense of smell, yet no matter how many times he rubbed it over his flesh, he could still scent her.

  Still feel her hands in his hair, on his skin.

  Still taste her on his tongue.

  He dressed casually in faded blue jeans and a long-sleeved cotton shirt rolled partially up his muscular forearms. He craved the softness of the material on his overly sensitive flesh, and he heeded the call. He would indulge all of his senses today. Anything to override the imprint she had unknowingly left upon them.

  Yet nothing pleased him. The well-worn, comfortable clothing chafed. Antoine’s five-star cuisine tasted like ash. The foul stench of expensive perfumes and colognes assaulted his nostrils. The sounds of haughty voices and shrill laughter grated against his nerves, and even the mirrored sunglasses he wore could not stop the dull, persistent ache deep within the recesses of his skull. It made him cranky.

  The fact that he had such unpleasantness to deal with did not improve his mood. Dieter and Niko arrived before noon with the remaining survivors from the Northern Tier Pack. Resembling human teenagers, the “kids” were considered adolescents in wolf culture. Full control over their lupine natures would come with maturity, still several years away.

  The boys were understandably sullen. Losing your pack was the same as having your entire family wiped out. Guilt lay heavily upon their shoulders. Had they not snuck away for a night of hellraising, they believed they may have been able to prevent some of the carnage.

  Derrick and his men would work with them in an attempt to identify and ultimately eliminate whomever had taken it upon themselves to target peaceful shifter communities, but so far, the boys had been unable to provide much in the way of useful information. Their sires, they told them, had been pack enforcers, and would have been the first line of defense against the attackers. Unfortunately, they were also among those missing and presumed dead.

  After assuring the boys, Erik, Oskar, and Markus, they would do everything possible to find those responsible, Derrick charged Dieter with setting them up in their own quarters. They would be adopted into his pack; his people took care of their own. He and his men would guide them through the difficult growing pains they would experience over the next few decades. When the boys reached maturity, they would have the option of remaining with his pack, moving on to another, or trying to rebuild their own, if one of them exhibited Alpha qualities.

  Afterward, all of his sentinels, Silas, Antoine, Niko, Steffen, Dieter, and Christophe, met to discuss this latest attack. Somebody, somewhere, was deliberately targeting Weres. There had been three raids over the last fifteen years alone. Considering the Were packs had been living under the radar for millennia without discovery, it was not a good sign.

  Thus far, they had been unable to determine who was behind the attacks or why, but there were some very disturbing theories. This latest attack was the first to leave
survivors behind and they hoped it would be the break they needed.

  Derrick rubbed at his neck as he left the castle, feeling more irritable than ever. He had taken several steps toward the breakers before he realized what he was doing. He had been heading there with the intent of sitting on the rocks with Angelica. He had come to feel an odd peace in her presence over the past few days, he realized. One he subconsciously craved after such a difficult morning.

  But he couldn’t do that, not after what happened yesterday. She would see it as a clear invitation to kiss him again, and that was simply unacceptable. He ignored the beast’s growling disagreement and turned away before she could see him. He would find his serenity elsewhere today and every day henceforth, until the torturous female was gone.

  Though, when he reached the far side of the castle, he could not help but look down to the rocks. It was intended to be a passing glance, but what he saw stopped him in his tracks. For the first time since she’d arrived on the island, Angelica was not there.

  Where the hell was she? Why was she not upon her favorite perch? Had Silas forbidden her from revisiting the spot when he had gone to her?

  Or perhaps she had taken ill? She had looked all right last night when she had been petting him so nicely, sharing her pastries with him, snuggling into his fur...

  He slammed a wall down on that train of thought when he felt his body stirring. Of course she was fine. There was no reason to worry just because she had altered her daily routine.

  He remembered the sorrow he had felt radiating from her when they’d parted ways. Perhaps she decided to spend the day doing something other than sitting alone on a rock. Maybe she would finally take advantage of some of the activities available on the island. Derrick prided himself on the vast number of pleasurable indulgences he offered his guests.