Darlings, I am SO GRATEFUL for the overwhelming response to "Her Alphas" - Book 2 in my Wolf's Mark series! Thank you for making this book an INSTANT BESTSELLER!
I'm pleased to offer the complete first chapter and hope you'll be titillated enough to see what happens next.
Sending love and gratitude from beautiful Northern California...
Chapter One
Jenny tilted her face to the full moon and breathed in the
cool forest air. Her nose twitched as she detected pine needles, rotting leaves
and the musk of living creatures. Each scent brought with it an image, creating
a flickering mental slideshow.
In the months since her change, Jenny’s senses had grown almost
unbearably acute. It was as if she were experiencing the world for the first
time and her mind raced to take it all in.
She could get lost in the complex flavors of fresh fruit—or
raw meat—and the glitter of sunlight on the lake took her breath away. This new
reality was a better high than she could get from any drug—and she’d tried them
all.
A light breeze swirled through the clearing, and when her
long blonde hair brushed over her bare skin, she shivered. Every nerve ending
seemed to bloom at the slightest touch and she’d begun chasing the feast of new
sensations.
Sex used to be the currency she’d traded to survive, but now
it fed her ever-growing power. Right up until the night she’d been bitten,
Jenny had used her tight little body to get what she needed—food, drugs, a
place to crash. She’d coasted from one meaningless business transaction to the
next—fucking rich old men in limousines and B-list rock stars on tour busses.
Jenny had never told her new lover about the things she’d
had to do to. That woman was dead. She’d been reborn into a new world where her
past meant nothing and she could create the future she knew she deserved.
The moment she’d laid eyes on Sergei Markov on her first
night in Talbot, she’d known he was her ticket out of life as a drifter. She
hadn’t counted on him being able to transport her mind and body with his big
cock and the magic of the moon.
She didn’t know if he loved her—and that didn’t matter—she
was pretty sure she didn’t love him. One thing was clear—he wanted her desperately—and
that was something she could work with.
Just walking naked with him to the clearing—their
clearing—was enough to drive her mad. The anticipation of the mystical energy
they were about to share made her pussy throb. She knew that when they were done,
her body would be wrecked, but she would have stolen some of his strength for
her own.
Even as Jenny wondered at the limits of her potential power,
she felt her body ripple and contort as the shift overcame her. The howl burst
from her chest as she smelled his musk and felt his hot erection press into the
small of her back.
So small. So wild.
Sergei stood back on the path, watching Jenny lift her face
to the blazing moon. She seemed to be pulling at its energy. The rays turned
her silky hair nearly white and he followed the curve of her back past the
narrow waist to her tight, round ass.
He tried to probe her mind but was met with static—like a
radio that had been tuned between stations. Early on, he’d wondered if she’d
been shielding her thoughts, but knew that was impossible for one so freshly
turned.
It took years of experience to put up such psychic walls,
especially against one as skilled as he was. He had been pack alpha not so long
ago. Reading the minds of his lessers and making them cower beneath his
crushing strength had been a benefit of his position. But this one… this one
was different.
From the moment she’d stumbled into Talbot—like so many
did—freshly bitten and full of anxiety, he’d wanted her. Perhaps it was simply
that he’d been alone for so long. Or maybe he was seeking a fresh start.
Jenny was so willing—that was part of her attraction. He’d
made a vow that he would never take a female by force.
Once, in a moment of weakness, he’d almost done the
unthinkable. He had been frantically clutching to his place as alpha and driven
by moon lust when he’d tried to claim the human consort, Gwen Chaney, as his
own.
An inexplicable fear had overwhelmed him that night and
Sergei had felt an instinctive need to crush the threat he perceived in Gwen.
He would never understand what had happened to him—what had fueled his rage—but
he would die before he let it happen again. Though he’d been pardoned for that
transgression, the shame of it haunted him.
Sergei shook away the memory and focused again on Jenny’s
lithe body. It seemed to vibrate with her volatile energy. She was willful,
untamed and unpredictable—fueling his frustration and his desire.
His attention was drawn to her beautiful backside. Saliva
flooded his mouth as her willowy limbs stretched and the muscles became
hyper-defined. Her delicate fingers morphed into claws and fine golden fur
erupted through her creamy skin.
Jenny widened her stance, trembling as her feet elongated,
the heels sliding up the back of her legs until she balanced on wolfen paws.
The marriage of woman and beast was exquisite.
When Jenny threw back her head and howled, Sergei’s own
transformation was instant and her human shortcomings were extinguished by his
desire. In two long strides the man-beast was pressed against her back, his own
moon cry mingling with hers.
Sergei sank his teeth into her shoulder—not with full
force—but hard enough to sting. The howl ripped from Jenny’s throat and even
now, six months after her change, the savageness of it still surprised her.
“Does it please you, little one?” Sergei growled. His muzzle
was at her ear and his hot breath ruffled her golden fur.
“Yes, baby, it pleases me,” she panted. She dug her claws
into the mossy soil at the edge of the clearing, bracing herself against his
assault. The enormous werewolf curled his elongated fingers around her hipbones
and rammed into her again.
His thick cock filled her completely, stretching her to the
limit between pleasure and pain. As a man, the big Russian had been a
professional basketball player and, after his change, his supernatural strength
was only enhanced by his athleticism.
During moon week, he could fuck her for hours. And he did.
Jenny’s own strength and stamina had increased to degrees she couldn’t have
imagined before, yet these sessions often left her so weak that her mate had to
carry her back to the house.
Before he’d taken her from behind, Sergei had made her come
over and over again. He’d plunged his fingers into her wet pussy and snaked his
long tongue deep inside. He always made sure she was satisfied before entering
her because, once he did, there was no turning back. When they were sexually
joined, a shifted pair fit together like lock and key and couldn’t be separated
until the male reached his climax. The mystical bonding was as real and
unbreakable as a physical one would be.
Alex—their alpha—explained that this love-tie occurred in all
wolves. Canids he called them. He’d been a veterinarian before becoming a big
TV star and he always used words like that. It was just one of the many ways
Alex made sure everyone in the pack knew their place. Sergei had been pack
master once and, as far as Jenny was concerned, he still should be.
Steam rose from their sweaty bodies in the cool autumn
night. The fur between Jenny’s lean thighs was already matted with wetness when
he flipped her onto all fours. As ready as she was for him, she still ground
her teeth when he pressed his huge shaft inside.
Every sense was heightened and each time he grazed her
engorged clit, shockwaves radiated from her core and sent fresh juices flowing.
No drug could rival the high she felt during moon week.
Jenny’s slick inner walls registered every steely inch of
him. It was as if she could even decipher every thick vein. His hot breath on
her neck and the musky smell of him flooded her consciousness.
Her muscles quivered and ached and just when she thought she
couldn’t take any more, she lifted her head and focused on the full moon
hovering over the pines. For so many months she’d had to look at it through
iron bars. She’d been locked in the fledgling cave every night of her first
four moon weeks. Bathing in its light out here in the open—with Sergei buried
deep inside of her—was a rush like none other.
The lunar rays washed over her and sent energy coursing
through her cells. Jenny pushed her ass backward to meet Sergei’s animalistic
thrusts. She contracted her inner muscles, squeezing down hard and enhancing
the already snug fit. His pace quickened and his heavy balls slapped at her
engorged clit. The sensation was magical and she feltherself climbing again.
Staring at the huge white orb in the sky, Jenny gave herself over to its power
and let it rip the orgasm from her lithe body. She howled and panted in
release.
The rippling spasms shook her so violently that she barely
noticed that Sergei too was reaching climax. It wasn’t until she felt the hot
jets of cum spurt into her and she heard his feral snarls that she understood.
The supernatural tie that had bound them slowly unraveled and Sergei’s cock
slid from her bruised and aching pussy. He flopped on his back and pulled her
against his broad chest. Jenny lightly brushed her claws over his hard muscles.
“You are so fucking strong,” she whispered.
“And you are so beautiful,” he replied.
Jenny listened to his breathing slow and become deep and
even. Looking up into his face, then down his ripped torso and powerful legs,
she watched as he shifted back to human form. The moonlight illuminated his
massive body, casting shadows in the valleys between his defined abs. Yes. You
are the strongest and I am the hottest. We should be this pack’s alphas.
* * * * *
Gwen Chaney tossed the magazine on the coffee table then
stared at the riot of fall colors on the trees outside the cabin window. After
rereading the first paragraph of the same article four times, she still didn’t
know what it was about. She was too distracted to read—or for that matter—think
straight. It had been six months since Gwen had asked Alex to change her and
she was still waiting. He’d assured her that it wasn’t impossible…
But…
The pack needed her. She understood it was complicated, but
her impatience was growing. In her role as legacy consort, it was Gwen’s
birthright—no, her birth-obligation—to usher new werewolves through the early
days of their transformation. The pack held her in the highest esteem, and she
was safer among them than any human walking the earth. She was untouchable.
Even so, she couldn’t help but think that her status was nothing more than an
antiquated designation.
She didn’t really do anything. The newly turned were handed
over to her care, but she thought anyone with half a brain could march the
destined—or the doomed, as it were—through the underground tunnel to the
ancient cell, lock the door then look on as they transformed.
After seeing three newborn werewolves through their trials,
as far as she could tell her only real function was to sit outside the thick
iron bars and watch as the change overtook them. Gwen neither interfered with,
nor facilitated, the process. She merely sat on the creaky old rocking chair
and looked on as human became beast. It seemed to her that the pack could have
employed some minimum-wage short-order cook to do the same.
The one thing Gwen was sure of was that she wanted to be on
the other side of the cell door. As violent as the transformations appeared to
be and as wild and uncontrolled as the creatures became, she longed to
experience the magic for herself. Before coming to Talbot, Gwen had never
considered herself the adventurous type, but this place had changed her. She
had seen things that she couldn’t have dreamed existed and now that her eyes
had been opened to the new world, she understood that she was born to be a part
of it. Looking in from the outside was no longer enough.
* * * * *
Six Months Earlier
The last fledgling she’d overseen had been Jenny—the
waiflike neo-flower-child who had been bitten while attending an outdoor
concert in northern Wisconsin. Jenny had made her way to the pack just two days
before moon week and was both frightened and confused to find herself in such
an unbelievable predicament.
By the time the two women had retired to the underground
cell, Jenny had enthusiastically embraced the adventure.
“This is better than tripping on acid,” Jenny had said. Gwen
supposed that the little blonde’s experience with psychotropic drugs had helped
eased the transition.
Jenny and the pack’s former alpha, Sergei Markov, had made
an instant connection and—with Alex’s blessing—were paired as life-mates.
Alex had come to Gwen that night as Jenny lay on the cot,
panting and whining in her sleep. He’d pulled Gwen into the shadows and wrung
every last bit of passion from her body. The session had left her aching and
exhausted. The next morning, she’d asked Alex to let her drink the potion that
would make her like him, but he’d refused.
“The pack needs you, Gwen,” he’d said. “We’ll look for a
replacement, but it won’t be easy. It’s not like I’ve got a file folder stuffed
with resumés for consorts.”
Gwen had lost it. “What’s the difference who does it? A
trained monkey could sit in that fucking rocking chair and do nothing while the
newbies storm around the cell doing their thing! Why do you even need anyone
there? Couldn’t you just lock the door, hide the key and let them change? It’s
not like they’re going to escape and go on a killing spree!”
She could still remember the look of disbelief on his face
when she’d said that. “Gwen, I assumed you understood. Didn’t your grandfather’s
notes explain why it has to be you?”
Gwen stared at the wooden box that lay on the coffee table
beside her unread magazine. The symbol of the werewolf—a spiral within an
inverted triangle—was carved on the lid. The box held her late-grandfather’s pipes
and tobacco and—in a secret compartment—the journal. The thick leather-bound
volume was a handbook of sorts, passed down through generations of human
consorts and filled with notes from those who had held the position before her.
The earliest entries were made in elegant script, dotted
with splotches of ink as if written with a quill. Others were in pencil and
ballpoint. The most recent were from her grandfather. She recognized his small,
neat printing in the blue felt-tip he favored. Gwen had received countless
birthday cards and letters from John Chaney and the sight of his handwriting
always made her miss him.
Since discovering the journal, Gwen had pored over the
pages, trying to make sense of her strange predicament. Some entries were
devoted to what pack elders called ”the mystery”. They believed that though
werewolves came from every walk of life, they were not chosen at random. The
Moon People tradition taught that the moment man and beast met was preordained.
Neither could foresee it.
Neither could control it. Neither was to blame.
There were instructions on how to calm the newly bitten and
what to feed them in preparation for the physical demands of the changes they
would endure—lots of high-fat protein and plenty of water.
There was a crude
map to the hidden cave and a faded drawing of the amulet the consort was to
wear while on duty. Several of the entries stressed the importance of staying
away from the cell bars, well out of the werewolves’ reach.
There were plenty of instructions on what to do and what not
to do, but no insight regarding why.
When Gwen had told Alex that, he’d sat her
down to explain.
“Keeping humans safe is one reason for locking up the
fledglings, but that’s only part of the equation, Gwen. You’re also keeping the
new werewolves safe from us. Our behavior is complicated and instinctive. We’re
hardwired to maintain the status quo and part of that is keeping outsiders out
of the pack. Until they’re fully initiated, we see them as a threat and we’re
compelled to…well…destroy them.”
“Like I could stop a werewolf who wanted to get into that
cell? I’ve seen the kind of speed and strength you all have!”
Alex had shaken his head. “No. You’re right. You could never
stop us—physically. But as a human consort you have two things that make you
invincible. One, you wear the amulet in the cave and—two, your bloodline makes
you untouchable. One doesn’t work without the other, but in combination those
things keep you—and the fledglings—safe.”
She had searched her memory for the first time Alex had told
her that her bloodline protected her. “But you told me before that my lineage
made me off-limits to attack. You never said anything about the amulet.”
“You misunderstood,” Alex had said. “I told you that the
pack members are not allowed to touch you because you’re a legacy consort. It’s
the law, but laws can be broken and if they are, the penalties are severe.
However, if you’re in the confines of the sacred space—the cave— and you’re
wearing the necklace, nothing can harm you. It’s physically impossible—like
you’re in a force field.”
Gwen had thought back to the way he’d taken her in the cave
while Jenny slept in the cell just a few yards away. “Well I seem to remember
my ‘force field’ didn’t stop you the night Jenny was changed and I’m pretty
sure I was wearing the amulet.”
“I didn’t harm you, did I?”
Alex had brought her from one orgasm to another and left her
spent and satisfied, but no, he hadn’t harmed her.
* * * * *
Present
With the memory of that night still fresh in her mind, Gwen
rose from the couch and walked to the little side table near the front door.
She opened the drawer and pulled out the thick silver chain. She ran her
fingers over the heavy pendant, tracing each line and curve of the werewolf symbol.
Alex’s explanation had answered her questions but raised
new—and devastating—problems. It would be easy enough to hand off the amulet to
another person—if the pack could find someone willing to take on the
responsibility. It would be another thing entirely to find someone who shared
her DNA.
Following her grandfather’s death, Gwen had become the last of the
Chaney line.
As soon as Gwen walked toward the front door, her golden
retriever, Jezebel, struggled to her feet with a groan and waddled across the room,
tail wagging. Alex’s black Lab, Bob, was right behind her.
Gwen dropped the amulet back into the drawer and slid it
shut. “Feel like a walk, you two furry idiots? I think we could all use some
fresh air.”
Jezebel’s long, fringed tail—and Bob’s sleek one—thumped
against Gwen’s knees. She reached down and scratched both dogs’ heads. “I’ll
take that as a yes.”
The three stepped off the front porch and headed toward the
trailhead between the tall pines at the edge of the side yard. Bob ran ahead,
pausing occasionally to sniff and pee. She lost sight of him a couple of times
and wished she had Alex’s powers. The star of the hit TV show The Dog Talker
had a secret to his success. He could solve canine behavior problems not
because of his background in veterinary medicine and animal behavior, but
because he could literally talk to the animals. He could hear their thoughts
and they could comprehend his.
Alex had explained that it wasn’t so much a conversation as
an understanding. Dogs, he’d told her, thought in emotions and their primary
motivations were food, sex and safety. Alex was able to “fix” them by
deciphering what it was that was upsetting that balance. It was all a mystery
to Gwen. As far as she could tell, Bob’s only current motivation was
identifying the ideal spot to urinate.
Jezebel stayed close to her mistress. It had been a year
since the cougar attack that had nearly killed Jez and she still seemed
skittish when they ventured into the forest. The encounter had shaken Gwen too.
Since then, she never ventured out after dark and always stayed on the trail.
Knowing that she lived smack dab in the middle of a werewolf enclave also gave
her pause.
Though Alex had assured her that her supernatural neighbors
were bound by pack law to protect—not harm—Gwen, it wasn’t the law-abiders she
was worried about.
She’d seen them at their worst—during the first nights of
their change. Without exception they’d thrown themselves against the cell bars
and snapped and snarled at her, spewing out animalistic threats about how
they’d rip out her throat at the first possible opportunity. They didn’t seem
at all like model citizens concerned with upholding the mores of polite
society.
Gwen pulled the crisp autumn air into her lungs and
concentrated on the crunch of the colorful fall leaves under her boots. She’d
hiked this trail a hundred times as a child. Grandpa Chaney had walked by her
side, teaching her how to tell the difference between a red oak and a white.
“The red oak leaf is pointed—like an arrow,” he’d said. “If
you pricked your finger with an arrow, you’d bleed red. The white oak is smooth
and round like a river rock. If you put your hand in the cold stream to pluck
out a rock, your fingertips would turn white. That’s how you remember which is
which.”
He’d taught her the difference between the whistle of a
cardinal and the chirp of a robin. Before she could recite the alphabet she’d
known how to identify poison ivy. A cozy blanket of nostalgia wrapped around
Gwen and she wondered how she’d let herself drift so far from the love of
nature that John Chaney had instilled in her.
He’d been preparing me even then, she realized. Though he
couldn’t reveal to her what strange things her future held, he’d been quietly
laying the groundwork.
Rounding a switchback in the path, Gwen spied Old Mossy—the
enormous glacial boulder that marked the halfway point of the trail. The soft
green carpet that covered its surface looked the same as it had when she was a
kid, but she knew it was very different.
She remembered the day John had pulled a magnifying glass
from his pocket and passed it to her. “Look closely now, Gwenny. See how the
moss isn’t just one big plant but lots of little ones? Every one of them has
tiny roots that work their way into the rock and break it up. Can you imagine
such a thing? Those soft little plants can turn a great big boulder—millions of
years old—into dust.”
It wasn’t until that moment that Gwen understood the lesson.
It wasn’t about the erosion of some rock in the forest—it spoke to the
thousands of things that could slowly destroy a relationship. She was letting
this thing with Alex eat away at her. A year ago she hadn’t even known
werewolves existed and now she was willing to risk what she and Alex had
because she was intent on becoming one.
What they had was an attraction like nothing she’d ever
experienced before. She was drawn to Alex’s sexual energy and it was clear that
he hungered for her. Though Alex met all of her physical needs, the two were
separated by their realities. Gwen wondered if they would have found each other
in the real world. She doubted it.
Stepping over a rotting log on the path, Gwen thought about
how the march of time would separate them even further. If she remained human,
Alex would live for many lifetimes long after she was gone.
Pack laws regarding her bloodline protected her from the
bite that would bring about the change. Only the potion that had changed Alex
could make her like him. In that little packet of magical tea, he held her
future.
Gwen longed to learn what it would be like if they were
equals. More than that, she needed to discover her own potential.
It’ll happen when it happens, she decided.
The winding trail sloped downhill and Gwen knew that a wide,
circular clearing was just around the bend. They’d stop there for a few
minutes—as they always did—and give Jezebel a chance to catch her breath. Even
in the cool air, the dog was already panting and foaming at the mouth.
The golden retriever picked up the pace—surging ahead on the
trail—no doubt looking forward to a cool drink and some tummy rubs before they
continued. When Gwen caught up with the dogs, both had stopped at the edge of
the clearing. The fur along their spines was on end, their heads were lowered
and their ears were flattened against their broad heads. But it was the low,
rumbling growl from the dogs’ chests that caused Gwen’s blood to run cold.
####
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