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Authors: Lorie O'Clare
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side door, almost yanking it from its hinges.
“I’m driving,” he barked, his voice still too husky to clearly form the words. He reached inside and slammed the vehicle into park.
Moira shot to the passenger side, letting out a squeal when Juan opened that door.
“It would be nice if you’d allow me time to get my clothes.” His usual charm had a hard edge to it.
Moira swallowed a scream, turning the sound that escaped her lips into a frustrated grunt. She had a damn good view of Juan’s cock as he straightened, leaving the passenger door open. He gave her a nice ass shot when he walked to the open door of the cabin.
38
Living Extinct
She was either too stunned to fight, or the realization that escape was futile had finally sunk in. There was no resistance when Dante took her wrist, pulling her naked body to his and yanking her out of the car. He was a bit too rough when he opened the back door and shoved her onto the seat, sliding in next to her. She’d learn real damn fast that he could be pushed only so far. Had she succeeded in leaving him on the side of the mountain, it wouldn’t have been pretty when he caught up with her.
Juan didn’t waste time dressing then shut the passenger door before sliding behind the driver’s seat. “You two don’t do anything back there that I wouldn’t do.” His usual teasing nature had returned. “And Dante, damn, man. A new hood for this thing is going to cost a pretty penny.”
Moira froze. The car pulled away from the small cabin. Dante didn’t let go of her and she didn’t resist him. Sensing an overwhelming sadness creeping from her pores usually would have had an impact on him, but the carnal side of him hadn’t faded yet.
Anger, need and primal, determined lust spawned by a hard run in his fur dominated the air around them. Whether she could climb into his mind or not, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in him that she smelled his emotions.
At the moment, he couldn’t have cared less.
39
Lorie O’Clare
Chapter Four
Stale coffee and the aging smell of flour, sugar and fried oil hung heavily as the afternoon wore on. Two more weeks and Rose Silverman’s thirty-day notice would be up. She’d served her time and diligently entered data for Werewolf Affairs for over five years. A change was needed. Time to raise her cubs instead of letting some day care service do it.
The mountains beckoned to her as she stared out the window at the end of the narrow office—an office she’d grown to think of as a caged pen. No more artificial air.
No more stale smells that lingered day after day in the busy office. Rose couldn’t wait to run in the meadows, get more involved with her pack, lay her kill at her mate’s feet.
Her computer beeped, indicating she had mail. Rose glanced at it then focused on the clock on the wall that ticked endlessly. No more watching the clock, aching for five o’clock to come around. No more responding to tedious e-mails.
The phone rang. Mattie Wilson, one of the younger bitches in the office, grabbed it.
Not a problem. Rose didn’t mind letting the others at Werewolf Affairs fight to work their way up the ladder. She was so close to being out of there.
“WA,” Mattie said in a cheerful voice.
Rose remembered the time one of the younger secretaries answered the phone, saying, “Werewolf Affairs.” A big no-no. Even though humans, for the most part, tolerated the packs in their cities didn’t mean that they wanted to hear about werewolves. One wrong number dialed and they’d have headaches for weeks. Very few humans knew about this particular branch of the FBI.
The doors opened into the lobby just past the secretarial pool. For a brief moment Rose smelled the outdoors, the hint of rain coming off the mountains, the many scents carried in on the cool afternoon breeze. The smells faded quickly, aftershave and the thick odor of werewolves taking over. Their masculine scents grew. Rose glanced toward them, noticing two
“I’m driving,” he barked, his voice still too husky to clearly form the words. He reached inside and slammed the vehicle into park.
Moira shot to the passenger side, letting out a squeal when Juan opened that door.
“It would be nice if you’d allow me time to get my clothes.” His usual charm had a hard edge to it.
Moira swallowed a scream, turning the sound that escaped her lips into a frustrated grunt. She had a damn good view of Juan’s cock as he straightened, leaving the passenger door open. He gave her a nice ass shot when he walked to the open door of the cabin.
38
Living Extinct
She was either too stunned to fight, or the realization that escape was futile had finally sunk in. There was no resistance when Dante took her wrist, pulling her naked body to his and yanking her out of the car. He was a bit too rough when he opened the back door and shoved her onto the seat, sliding in next to her. She’d learn real damn fast that he could be pushed only so far. Had she succeeded in leaving him on the side of the mountain, it wouldn’t have been pretty when he caught up with her.
Juan didn’t waste time dressing then shut the passenger door before sliding behind the driver’s seat. “You two don’t do anything back there that I wouldn’t do.” His usual teasing nature had returned. “And Dante, damn, man. A new hood for this thing is going to cost a pretty penny.”
Moira froze. The car pulled away from the small cabin. Dante didn’t let go of her and she didn’t resist him. Sensing an overwhelming sadness creeping from her pores usually would have had an impact on him, but the carnal side of him hadn’t faded yet.
Anger, need and primal, determined lust spawned by a hard run in his fur dominated the air around them. Whether she could climb into his mind or not, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in him that she smelled his emotions.
At the moment, he couldn’t have cared less.
39
Lorie O’Clare
Chapter Four
Stale coffee and the aging smell of flour, sugar and fried oil hung heavily as the afternoon wore on. Two more weeks and Rose Silverman’s thirty-day notice would be up. She’d served her time and diligently entered data for Werewolf Affairs for over five years. A change was needed. Time to raise her cubs instead of letting some day care service do it.
The mountains beckoned to her as she stared out the window at the end of the narrow office—an office she’d grown to think of as a caged pen. No more artificial air.
No more stale smells that lingered day after day in the busy office. Rose couldn’t wait to run in the meadows, get more involved with her pack, lay her kill at her mate’s feet.
Her computer beeped, indicating she had mail. Rose glanced at it then focused on the clock on the wall that ticked endlessly. No more watching the clock, aching for five o’clock to come around. No more responding to tedious e-mails.
The phone rang. Mattie Wilson, one of the younger bitches in the office, grabbed it.
Not a problem. Rose didn’t mind letting the others at Werewolf Affairs fight to work their way up the ladder. She was so close to being out of there.
“WA,” Mattie said in a cheerful voice.
Rose remembered the time one of the younger secretaries answered the phone, saying, “Werewolf Affairs.” A big no-no. Even though humans, for the most part, tolerated the packs in their cities didn’t mean that they wanted to hear about werewolves. One wrong number dialed and they’d have headaches for weeks. Very few humans knew about this particular branch of the FBI.
The doors opened into the lobby just past the secretarial pool. For a brief moment Rose smelled the outdoors, the hint of rain coming off the mountains, the many scents carried in on the cool afternoon breeze. The smells faded quickly, aftershave and the thick odor of werewolves taking over. Their masculine scents grew. Rose glanced toward them, noticing two
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