Dire Wolves Whiteout Read online

  Somehow she thought this might have been the first time he’d ever told anyone his story. The image of the man, alone in the frozen wilderness, crying out his grief to the mountains, touched her deeply. “I would go with you,” she told him. “I would go to the mountains with you and sing. I know I’m only a human, but if we sing together, you can teach me the words.”

  “I would like that.”

  It was a commitment, a promise, of sorts, that he would stay long enough to lay his demons to rest, and hers along with them. She tightened her arms around his chest and held him, as much for his comfort as her own.

  His touch wasn’t intended to be sensual, though that in and of itself made it so. Desire wove its way through her, spreading from every place their bodies touched until she felt herself wrapped in its cocoon.

  All her alarms should have been going off, telling her it was too much, too soon, wanting him like this, but she didn’t care. She’d been alone far, far too long, and he was everything she’d wanted, both as a man and a wolf. He’d loved, and lost, and sacrificed everything for that love. She could touch his heart again. She could heal him.

  His heart beat firm and steady under her ear, reassuring her that he was real and alive, not just some dream her exhausted mind had produced. She knew the moment he smelled her arousal, as if his heart stopped, just for a moment, then took up a new rhythm.

  “What do the wolves do after they sing?” she asked.

  “They mate.” With amazing ease -- she wasn’t a total lightweight -- Wolf pulled her into his arms and up against the heat of his cock, lifting her feet clean off the floor. “My wolf would mate with you, Zan. And your body tells me you have desires of your own. But I would not see you hurt again. I should leave now. I am healed, thanks to you. I can go back to life in the wild.”

  She hooked a leg around his waist, grinding her pussy against his hard length. “Is that what you want?”

  “No.” He didn’t seem to need time to think about it. “I know what I want. Wolf and I are in complete agreement. We both want you. But that doesn’t make it right.”

  “Doesn’t make it wrong, either,” she pointed out. And then, because further talking wasn’t going to get them anywhere, she kissed him.

  His mouth opened to her, and the need she’d felt him trying to hold in check took over. He devoured her, his hunger spilling over her like a wave she could drown in. His kisses rained down across her lips and chin, then along her jaw line, marking his way to the curve of her neck, branding the so-sensitive spot behind her ear with a slight scrape of his teeth.

  “You haven’t asked me what I want,” Zan managed, her voice breathy.

  He stopped, releasing the ear he’d been alternately nipping and sucking, straightening enough to see her face. “What do you want, Zan? Do you want me to stop? Do you want me to let you go?”

  “No,” she whispered against his lips. “I want you naked. I want your cock buried deep in my pussy. I want to watch you fuck me.”

  Wolf set her down and stepped back long enough to peel off the gray sweats. “Your turn,” he whispered, leaning in to brush his lips over her forehead.

  She’d lost weight, living alone and often as not eating the simple diet she prepared for the injured wolves. Not enough, but more than she’d ever managed dieting. And lord knew, she’d tried every diet out there, back in her younger years. Nothing really worked. If there was food in the house, she’d eat it.

  Now she was too tired to shop for more than the basic necessities, and she rarely had time to think about all the indulgences she’d once craved. After Steven left, the wolves took up too much of her time. She hadn’t even noticed she’d managed to drop a good many of those extra pounds, until her scrubs began to get a little too loose.

  Still, that didn’t mean she felt self-confident enough to stand naked before a man -- especially one as lean and fit as this man -- in broad daylight in her kitchen. “The bedroom’s just down the hall…”

  “Here. Now.”

  “I… the windows… someone might see…”

  “Who? There is no one to see. No one but me. Take off your clothes. I want to see you.”

  He had been an Alpha. She was sure of it. There was no arrogance in his tone. Just a calm self-assurance. Blushing to the roots of her hair, Zan turned away, fumbling with her top as she tried to pull it over her head.

  Strong, sure hands took the place of hers and pulled the shirt over her head. With the practiced move of a man who’d done so before, he reached behind her, unhooking her bra and sliding the straps down her shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against the heat of his body, while his kisses outlined her collar bone. “You smell so good.” His lips pressed against the curve of her neck. “Like ginger and vanilla and something fresh out of the oven.”

  Zan laughed. “First bacon, now bakery stuff -- I’m sensing a theme here.” She turned in his arms, winding her fingers through his hair. “My, grandma, what big teeth you have.”

  “The better to eat you with, my dear.” With one swift move he sat her on the edge of the kitchen counter, skimming her pants and panties down her legs to the floor.

  “I don’t think --”

  “Shhh.” His uncanny focus on her body was more than she was prepared for. “Beautiful,” he whispered at last. “Perfect.”

  Perfect? Her? She was still thirty pounds overweight, and a decade past her prime…

  “Perfect,” Wolf repeated.

  And because no one argued with the Alpha, she believed. If only for this moment in time, she was perfect. “You’re perfect,” she whispered instead. “You’re gorgeous. I cried for the wolf when I thought he was going to die. He was the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen. Until I saw you. As a man.”

  “Gorgeous?” He blinked. “Huh. I’m going to make love to a crazy lady.”

  He was. He stood well over six feet tall -- six-two? six-three? She wasn’t good at that sort of thing. His body was all hard planes, muscle tapering into more muscle. Dark hair dusted pale skin -- not as white as the skin beneath the wolf’s triple coat, but far lighter in tone than the local natives. Powerful thighs widened into sculpted hips and led the eye to the dark patch of curls which did little to disguise the thick girth of his cock.

  Zan raised her hands to his shoulders, tearing her gaze away from his magnificent cock for a moment to appreciate the face looking down on her. He’d cleaned up well. Without the beard, he looked younger than she’d expected. There were streaks of gray in his long, sable hair, but few lines around his eyes. She’d guess at somewhere near forty. His mouth was a soft, deep rose that begged kissing, so she did, pulling him close and wrapping her legs around his waist.

  It was a tender kiss, gentle, tasting, not demanding, belying the heat of his thick erection trapped between them, or the deep-seated ache that throbbed within her pussy. He pulled her lower lip into his mouth, tugging playfully, then swiped his tongue across her teeth. She nipped at him, not hard enough to hurt, enjoying the slow, sensual tangle of mouth on mouth, heat enfolding heat. Her heels tightened against his ass, pulling the hot length of his cock tighter against her pussy. She curled into him, rubbing her clit against the burning heat of its head. “I want to feel you inside me.”

  She felt his cock twitch against her at the invitation. “Not yet. Be patient.”

  Before she could ask why, his kisses trailed down to her breast, pulling the fat, puckered tip into his mouth, and all rational thought left her. “Oh, God!” The intense pleasure was almost too much. She twisted and squirmed, trying to get away, get closer, she wasn’t sure which. But neither was possible. He wrapped one arm around her, holding her exactly where he wanted her, and trailed his free hand up her inner thigh, spreading her pussy lips when he got to the top. His fingers dove in, while his thumb traced circles around her clit, teasing her with long, slow strokes.

  “Sing for me,” he ordered, coming up for air long enough to lavish his attentions on the other wanting
nipple.

  “Sing? Me?”

  He nipped gently, then shook his head, a pup worrying a chew toy. His fingers picked up their pace, pumping in and out of her in a mad, demanding dance.

  “Oh God,” Zan gasped. “I want you inside me! I’m going to come. Damn it, Wolf, fuck me!”

  He dropped lower, his arm sliding down to the small of her back, and he sucked her clit between his teeth, rasping his tongue over the head in broad, lavish strokes. Her hips bucked so hard she’d have fallen off the counter had he not been there to catch her. But he was, and he sucked again, unrelenting, pumping his fingers in and out of her throbbing cunt hard enough to shove her back on the countertop. “Oh God!” she moaned again. “Oh God, Oh God!” Her cunt jerked against his fingers in a wild, smashing rhythm, riding him for all she was worth. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing his mouth against her clit, needing, wanting… “Ahhhhhhhh!” she howled, breaking like shattering glass.

  His fingers slowed, clasped tight in her spasming pussy, easing her down as the waves of release washed over her. “Ohhhhhhh…” she moaned again. “That was…”

  Wolf stood, lapping her nipple on the way up. “Incredible,” he assured her. “You taste so good.”

  “Really? I thought women were supposed to taste like tuna fish or something.”

  He laughed. “Not if they bathe regularly.”

  He offered her his wet fingers, and she touched them with her tongue, tasting cautiously. His mouth joined hers, sliding into a kiss as they lapped up her juices. “Not tuna,” she managed as his fingers dropped away.

  “No. Only one way to describe what you taste like.”

  “Yeah?”

  “More.” With a laugh, he pulled her down off the counter, locking her legs around his waist.

  “Wait! I almost forgot. I’ve got condoms. Somewhere. Do condoms have an expiration date?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered with a note of amusement in his voice. “I’ve never used one.”

  “No?”

  “We’re naturally immune to human diseases, and wolves’, as well.”

  “What about pregnancy?”

  “That’s generally the reason we mate. Not that we don’t enjoy sex for the sake of the act itself. There is much joy in a mating, for any reason. But wolves have a strong instinct to produce pups.”

  She blinked, trying to get the full impact of what he was saying. “Are you trying to tell me I could get pregnant?”

  “Our numbers are so low, lone wolves are often forced to go outside the pack to mate. Our kind have been known to mate with humans. Condoms would be a reasonable precaution.”

  “Would they… would I have a human baby? Or wolf?”

  “Our pups would be like me. They would have the ability to choose which world to belong to.”

  And they would be hunted. Shot at. With silver bullets. Fear rippled through her. “I don’t think I’m quite ready to have a baby, much less a litter, just at the moment.”

  “I would not ask that of you,” he assured her. Sliding a hand under her bottom, he lifted her off the counter. “Where?”

  “Nightstand, next to the bed. Put me down. You’re going to put your back out.”

  “I will not. I’m not human, remember?”

  “How could I forget? Last night I held your heart in my fingers. Today you’re healthy enough to have sex. If I told other doctors that, they’d take my license away.”

  “Probably would anyway, if they found out you’d made love to one of my kind.” He set her down on the edge of the bed, and opened the drawer to rummage through it, only to pause a moment later. “I have no idea what I’m looking for.”

  Zan gently turned his face toward her. “Can you read?”

  His face flushed a bright red. “Yeah. Boston University, MA in Biochemistry. Vocabulary’s just a bit rusty. Wolves don’t really make for good conversation.”

  She blinked, and blinked again, as her view of the world shifted askew. “Boston University. You spent six plus years at Boston University and never used a condom.”

  He grinned. “I didn’t say I never had sex. Just never used a condom. Hey. It was the 60s. Nobody used condoms.”

  “The sixties? You don’t look anywhere near old enough to have been in college in the sixties.”

  “The early sixties, at that. Graduated in sixty-three. My kind… we’re a long lived race.”

  “Your kind. You said that before. What do you call yourself?”

  “My name was -- is -- John. John Michael Wolfe. With an e.” He shrugged. “As for my people, we’re wolves. Just more evolved wolves. Once we were known as the Ulfhednar -- the Wolfskinned. Some called us Odin’s men, or Berserkers. We were fighting men, the elite troops of the Scandinavian kings. But by the end of the Early Middle Ages, we were no longer needed. Europe became civilized again. Berserkers were outlawed under the Grágás, the medieval Icelandic code. The Wolfskinned passed into legend, much like the Fae, and all the other old races.”

  The Fae are real, too? Too much to process. She’d deal with that later. “John. I like that. You said… you said you and Wolf shared the same thoughts. That’s not quite right, is it? You’re remembering things. Things you couldn’t put into words a few hours ago.”

  He shook his head, as if trying to find the words to explain. “We share the same brain. We think… we process information differently. The wolf… for the wolf it’s always now. The wolf grieves, but then he moves on. He doesn’t have time to dwell on what’s lost to him.” He looked away again. “I didn’t want to think. So I went wolf.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to remember painful things.”

  “Some things should not be forgotten. A man has responsibilities.” He looked up again, smiling this time, and traced her cheek with the back of his finger. “And there are other things worth remembering. Like the feel of a woman’s skin beneath my touch. Not just any woman. I want to make new memories, with you.” He leaned in to kiss her, dropping a hand to her breast as he did so. She gasped into his kiss as he stroked her nipple with the pad of his thumb. “Teach me about condoms.”

  God bless a single-minded man. She’d been pretty sure she’d blown her one chance to get laid this century. She leaned past him to find the box of condoms in the back of the drawer. “Yup. They have an expiration date. April 2008. More than two years ago. Almost a full box, too. I wonder if they’ll still work.”

  “Let me see.” He took the packet she handed him and ripped it open. After a quick tug to test the latex’s elasticity, he held it to his lips and blew it up, like a balloon.

  A ribbed, phallus shaped balloon.

  “Well, it didn’t break,” she observed, trying not to giggle.

  He pinched the end shut. “Not much of a test. We expect this thing to withstand a certain amount of abuse. That calls for rigorous lab testing.” Another strong breath, and he held an enormous blow up sausage in his hands. With a quick move he tied it off and handed it to her. “Hold on to this for a moment.”

  “OK…” she agreed, still having a hard time keeping a straight face.

  In moments he’d blown up and tied off another one. With sure, swift moves he twisted them together, forming a small dog with a rather large cock.

  Zan couldn’t help herself. She shook with laughter, gasping for breath. “What is that?”

  “Research! Any good scientist knows research starts with a test model.” Turning the dog’s head her way, he made little yipping sounds and sent it chasing after her.

  Zan shrieked and rolled across the bed, pulling her knees up protectively. Did no good. He was fast! Before she could escape, the yappy little dog was tickling her ribs. And then as she writhed, the dog lost its footing, and bounced away. The only thing touching her was John. His hand skimmed from her waist to breast, collecting her, pulling her close, his knee between her thighs as he kissed her. The laughter died on her lips as his tongue slipped between her teeth, touching her more intimately
than any lovemaking had before, stroking, caressing, feasting on her like a man starved.

  Alien emotions washed over her. Need and want warred with give and accept. She ground her clit against the coarse hair of his thigh, the rekindled weight of their lust nearly overwhelming her. “John,” she gasped when he came up for air.

  “It’s been so long.”

  “Too long. Take me. Now.”

  “Testing, remember?” He rolled her to her back, his fingers stroking her labia, then gently tweaking her clit.

  “John!”

  He nipped at the tight bud of her nipple, and she arched against his hand. Another brush over her clit, a finger stroking through the moisture bathing her pussy, and he pulled his fingers back. She moaned in protest, twisting beneath his weight. He held her pinned, and she had no way to force him to do… anything.

  Then she heard the squeak of the balloons.

  Oh, no, he wasn’t… not with… “John!” she shrieked again.

  The blow up penis teased her entrance, then slid slowly in.

  “God, that thing’s huge! It’s never gonna…” The ribs each sent tiny electrical sparks shooting straight to her clit. She jerked against it spasmodically, not sure what scared her more, the idea of a giant balloon penis fucking her, or how good it felt.

  Or how much it was gonna hurt when the damn thing popped.

  A few fast strokes, accompanied by the brush of his thumb over her clit, and she was sobbing, humping the air when he took his thumb away.

  She heard another foil packet rip open. “My turn.”

  Chapter Four

  One glance told Zan playtime was over. Harsh need outlined his face, simmering in its intensity. His eyes glittered with feral hunger, their irises changing from summer sky blue to silver. He rose to his knees, turning her to face him, his magnificent body positioned between her open thighs.

  She’d admired the lines of the wolf, long and lean and fit, the body of a predator. The man shared the wolf’s build, strong, clean lines, well muscled, broad shoulders above a wide chest, tapering to a narrower waist and powerful thighs, his thick erection now cloaked in a thin protected sheath. How she wanted to reach out and pull it off, take away the barrier she didn’t want between her and his heat. She wanted to feel him, feel every inch of skin on skin, memories to savor once he was gone. But raising a litter of wolf pups on her own… well, she was already doing that, wasn’t she? Many times over. “John, I --”