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Authors: Lorie O'Clare
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wouldn’t start with Moira.
35
Lorie O’Clare
She didn’t say anything, didn’t look away. Lust clogged the air between them with its rich, sweet smell. At the moment, he’d be damned whether he knew if he smelled her more than his own scent.
“Move,” she ordered through clenched teeth. Her heart pounded furiously against his chest and in her wrists. The rapid beat thumped through him, distracting him as badly as her smooth pussy did against the tip of his cock.
His cock thrust upward when she spoke.
“That’s not what I meant,” she growled.
For the first time she looked away from him, searching the room. Then he heard it too. Heard what had pulled her attention from him.
Lifting her quickly into his arms, he yanked them both away from the door.
It opened quickly, silently, and the tall werewolf who entered the room looked at the two of them and smiled. That way too charming of a grin had always been Juan’s trademark.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to mate with her if she was naked too?” Juan Anthony, his littermate, asked as his gaze drifted down Moira’s clothed body.
Moira had fooled him. Her thoughts had been an open book. Until now. There was no indication in her thoughts of her next move. She tore free from his embrace, changing with enough ferocity to send shreds of her dress flying from her body.
Muscles rippled through her, the change embracing her as her roar echoed in the small cabin. Tearing past the two surprised men, she bolted out the open door, disappearing into the night.
“Damn it.” Dante barely had the word out of his mouth before he released the beast within him. “Let’s get her.”
Juan began stripping but Dante didn’t wait for him. His heartbeat accelerated, thumping too hard for his human body to handle. Blood rushed in his veins while they hardened and stretched. Muscles grew. Bones popped and contorted as his body changed. Hair poked through his flesh while his spine altered its shape, no longer strong enough to hold him on two legs. He fell to the floor, arching his neck while his mouth transformed. Everything around him grew easier to see. Every sound—the boards creaking underneath his new weight, the breeze outside, leaves rustling in trees around the cabin—intensified and crackled with extreme clarity.
He ignored the biting pain that gripped his body, stealing his breath. It lasted moments, meant nothing. True freedom took over—the ability to see and hear better, smell everything around him and tackle it without hesitation. Tearing at rock and dirt with massive claws, he bounded past the running car that sat outside the cabin, the fumes and exhaust from it blocking his scent of her for only a moment. Leaping over large rocks, he tore up the mountain, following her rich scent as he gained speed on her.
Juan wasn’t far behind. She had to know there was no way she could outrun two male werewolves. And in their fur, primal instinct prevailed. He raced after the bitch 36
Living Extinct
that would be his. Moira would now be viewed as a member of their den, to be chased down and retrieved at any cost.
Werewolf laws predated time. No matter the pack, the race, what part of the world they came from, the nature of who they were, what they were, ran strong and true.
He’d laid his mark on her many years ago, had her sire’s blessing. Few knew the truth, but the fact remained. Moira was his and she wouldn’t escape.
Cold air soaked his nose but thick black hair covered his hide. Not that he gave a damn about the cold mountain air. Adrenaline pumped through him, stronger than what any human could experience. Emotions turned raw, instinct prevailed.
Moira would be hunted down, captured, claimed. She’d set those boundaries when she took on her fur. Every bit of him hurt just thinking about sinking deep inside her, feeling her muscles constrict around him. He’d waited a hell of a long time, respecting her sire’s wishes and allowing her to mature. The
35
Lorie O’Clare
She didn’t say anything, didn’t look away. Lust clogged the air between them with its rich, sweet smell. At the moment, he’d be damned whether he knew if he smelled her more than his own scent.
“Move,” she ordered through clenched teeth. Her heart pounded furiously against his chest and in her wrists. The rapid beat thumped through him, distracting him as badly as her smooth pussy did against the tip of his cock.
His cock thrust upward when she spoke.
“That’s not what I meant,” she growled.
For the first time she looked away from him, searching the room. Then he heard it too. Heard what had pulled her attention from him.
Lifting her quickly into his arms, he yanked them both away from the door.
It opened quickly, silently, and the tall werewolf who entered the room looked at the two of them and smiled. That way too charming of a grin had always been Juan’s trademark.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to mate with her if she was naked too?” Juan Anthony, his littermate, asked as his gaze drifted down Moira’s clothed body.
Moira had fooled him. Her thoughts had been an open book. Until now. There was no indication in her thoughts of her next move. She tore free from his embrace, changing with enough ferocity to send shreds of her dress flying from her body.
Muscles rippled through her, the change embracing her as her roar echoed in the small cabin. Tearing past the two surprised men, she bolted out the open door, disappearing into the night.
“Damn it.” Dante barely had the word out of his mouth before he released the beast within him. “Let’s get her.”
Juan began stripping but Dante didn’t wait for him. His heartbeat accelerated, thumping too hard for his human body to handle. Blood rushed in his veins while they hardened and stretched. Muscles grew. Bones popped and contorted as his body changed. Hair poked through his flesh while his spine altered its shape, no longer strong enough to hold him on two legs. He fell to the floor, arching his neck while his mouth transformed. Everything around him grew easier to see. Every sound—the boards creaking underneath his new weight, the breeze outside, leaves rustling in trees around the cabin—intensified and crackled with extreme clarity.
He ignored the biting pain that gripped his body, stealing his breath. It lasted moments, meant nothing. True freedom took over—the ability to see and hear better, smell everything around him and tackle it without hesitation. Tearing at rock and dirt with massive claws, he bounded past the running car that sat outside the cabin, the fumes and exhaust from it blocking his scent of her for only a moment. Leaping over large rocks, he tore up the mountain, following her rich scent as he gained speed on her.
Juan wasn’t far behind. She had to know there was no way she could outrun two male werewolves. And in their fur, primal instinct prevailed. He raced after the bitch 36
Living Extinct
that would be his. Moira would now be viewed as a member of their den, to be chased down and retrieved at any cost.
Werewolf laws predated time. No matter the pack, the race, what part of the world they came from, the nature of who they were, what they were, ran strong and true.
He’d laid his mark on her many years ago, had her sire’s blessing. Few knew the truth, but the fact remained. Moira was his and she wouldn’t escape.
Cold air soaked his nose but thick black hair covered his hide. Not that he gave a damn about the cold mountain air. Adrenaline pumped through him, stronger than what any human could experience. Emotions turned raw, instinct prevailed.
Moira would be hunted down, captured, claimed. She’d set those boundaries when she took on her fur. Every bit of him hurt just thinking about sinking deep inside her, feeling her muscles constrict around him. He’d waited a hell of a long time, respecting her sire’s wishes and allowing her to mature. The
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