Chelo finished her sandwich and carefully wiped her lips. She took another small sip of the drink Elle had fixed for her. She’d been careful not to drink too much of it too fast, but she appreciated the calming effect of just a little alcohol.
She wasn’t holding Trak’s hand any longer, but her hands had stopped shaking. She glanced at him, tilting her head, catching his profile in her peripheral vision. He was talking to Elle, something about a wolf cub one of the men had raised when the mother was killed, how she was now a mother herself.
It was like Chelo had moved to another planet. One where people were good to one another, where no one was afraid.
She’d forgotten what it felt like, to live without fear.
“Chelo?”
She sucked in a quick breath. Trak was looking at her. Smiling, though. At least he was smiling. “What?”
“What’s your story? Why is a lovely young woman like yourself a rogue? Can you tell us?”
She nodded. “I can. I told Elle earlier and she said I would need to tell you why I’m here. Why I’m never going back to the Rainy Lake pack.”
“No one is going to make you go anywhere. I know it’s not easy, but please. Trust us.”
“I do, but it’s a strange feeling. I haven’t felt as if I could trust anyone since I was taken. I was born in 1903 in a little village on the Canadian side of the border. My father had emigrated from Spain; my mother was mostly Minnesota Chippewa. She was raised in a farming community and moved to Canada when she married my father. She didn’t speak about her childhood much, but she and my father were good parents. I met a Frenchman when I was in my midtwenties; we fell in love and we were married in 1929. I had just turned twenty-six.” She smiled at Elle. “I was already considered an old maid, but I was picky, and Henri Fournier was very handsome.”
She glanced away when she felt her eyes prickling with tears. After a moment she took a deep breath and gathered what composure she could. This was so hard to tell. The telling brought it back, made it hurt as if it happened yesterday. “I was pregnant with our first child, not very far along, when the wolves came. There were two of them. They attacked Henri in the yard and he was dead before I knew we were even in danger. They broke into the house and I ran for the loft. I figured they couldn’t come up the ladder, but they turned into men and caught me. I thought they were monsters. I was right. They were.”
Trak handed her a clean handkerchief. She hadn’t realized the tears were already flowing, but she wiped her eyes. Barely whispering now, so caught up in those horrific memories, she went on. She spoke in a monotone. That was the only way to get the words out. It was almost as painful as when Jorge was beating her—telling these nice people just how awful it had been.
“They took me away. The bigger one threw me over his shoulder and ran into the forest. They never seemed to grow tired, but the pain was horrible and I knew I was losing the baby. I screamed at them. I screamed at God. They laughed.”
She paused, took a deep breath, and whispered, “I think God wept.” Pausing again, she gathered her thoughts and moved forward. She had to tell her story. It was time. Maybe now she would finally find help.
“I must have passed out, because the next thing I remember was waking up in a cave. There was a fire burning and the men were arguing. They were drunk and I remember the stench of their unwashed bodies. There was so much blood. I knew then my baby had died. When the men realized I was awake, they took turns raping me. By then it didn’t matter. I only wanted to die.”
Elle’s arms wrapped around her, pulled her close, and snuggled her against her big breasts as if she were nothing more than a babe. Chelo hadn’t even been aware of Elle getting up and walking around the table, of taking the chair beside her. Trak had hold of her hand once again, and Tuck? Big, strong Tuck sat across from her, openly weeping.
For whatever reason, his tears made her strong. She sat up. “Thank you. I can do this,” she said. Elle smiled and nodded encouragement when Chelo moved away from her embrace, but Chelo didn’t let go of Trak’s hand. “I passed out at some point, and the men must have fought again, because the one who became my brother-in-law was lying against a wall of the cave, his arm broken. His name is Rube. The one who mated me, Jorge, turned into a wolf again and I thought he was going to kill me. He bit me and the pain was excruciating. Once again I fell unconscious. When I awoke, I was like you. I could become a wolf. My injuries had healed, and I felt strong, healthier than I could remember.
“I ran away. Jorge caught me and beat me, but he didn’t kill me. I ran away again, and again, but each time he was able to find me. Each time he beat me. He knew just how many bones he could break, how much he could hurt me without killing me. That went on until a little over ten years ago when he was killed in a bar fight in Minnesota. His brother was badly hurt, and that time when I ran no one came after me. I ended up in Washington State, where I opened a flower shop, but I was stupid and used my maiden name.” She took a deep breath, let it out. “Rube found me. I barely got away.”
“Rube? Your dead mate’s brother?” Trak held her hands in both of his and his gaze was hypnotic. She wanted to fall into those dark eyes, into depths filled with compassion.
“He said that I was supposed to be his mate the night they took me, that Jorge changed his mind and beat him up when he was sleeping off the booze, but now that his brother was dead, Rube wanted me. He wants to breed me. I told him I don’t think I can have babies anymore. After my baby died, I didn’t get pregnant again.” She shrugged. “Maybe I did, but if so, the constant beatings must have ended the pregnancies. Rube is even worse than Jorge. I will kill myself before I let him take me.”
“If he comes for you, I will kill him myself.” Trak stood, still holding on to Chelo’s hand. “Tuck? Elle? Will you bear witness?”
“Damn right.” Tuck was on his feet immediately.
“Of course.”
Confused, Chelo watched as both of them stood beside her.
“Kentucky Jones, Elle Marcel? As members in good standing of the Trinity Alps pack, will you act as sponsors for one Consuela de los Lobos, rogue wolf, once a member of the Rainy Lake pack, now offered provisional entrance into the Trinity Alps pack?”
Elle and Tuck glanced at each other and together said, “We will.”
Wide-eyed, Chelo stared at Trak.
“Do you, Consuela de los Lobos, accept provisional membership into the Trinity Alps pack? Full membership to come with the vote of all members in good standing?”
“I do.”
“With the power vested in me by virtue of my status as alpha of the Trinity Alps pack, I offer you provisional membership into this pack, with a full vote to come as soon as the members have had a chance to get to know you.”
He pulled her close and hugged her. “The vote is merely a formality, Chelo. Welcome. I think you’re going to love it here.”
* * *
Darnell walked out of the shower wrapped in a towel that was obviously designed with a man Evan’s size in mind. She was practically lost in its soft, absorbent folds, one hand clasping the thick terry close above her breasts. She stood in the doorway to the small bathroom, watching Evan. Lying stretched out on the bed with his nose buried in a book, he wore a clean but ragged-looking pair of sweatpants and nothing else. His chest was bare, showing off the glorious tattoo, a full sleeve design on his left arm that spread across his upper back and shoulders and all the way around to his right side.
She’d first seen it when she stayed at Feral Passions as a guest. He’d been working in the garden beside the lodge wearing faded cutoffs and hiking boots, the muscles on his back rippling beneath all that color as he turned the damp earth. She’d thought then it was absolutely beautiful, a twisting, swirling design of leaves and vines with birds and lizards, even a tiny frog peeking out of the intricately worked ink. It was the perfect accent to Evan’s powerful body; almost whimsical, it told her there was more to the man than most people knew. Now, after four months of fantasizing about Evan and his tattoo, her fingers practically itched to touch it. To touch him.
He carefully marked his place between the pages, set the book aside, and only then did he raise his head and look her way. “All clean?” he said, and winked. Then he rolled smoothly to his feet and walked across the room almost as if he were a predator and she was a tasty-looking rabbit. She loved the way he walked, all smooth sexual power hidden beneath a truly sweet and kind nature. There was nothing cocky about him, none of the arrogance she’d long associated with men his size. Men who looked as if they’d stepped off the cover of a magazine.
He locked his gray-eyed gaze to hers and focused on her until he stopped directly in front of her. Raising his big hands to her shoulders, he took a deep breath, glanced from her face to her toes and back again. Then he wrapped his powerful arms around her, nuzzled close against the sensitive dip where her throat and collarbones met, and inhaled deeply.
Shivers raced across her entire body, puckered her nipples, and left her a quivering, needy statue unable to move with Evan so close. He surrounded her, blanketed her in his warmth and strength, in the steady tempo of his heartbeat. His scent.
“I never realized how sexy this would be,” he whispered, his breath teasing her jaw, his lips taking quick little nips along her throat. “I love smelling my favorite soap on your body.”
She held her breath as he ran a fingertip along the side of her throat, across her shoulder, down her arm. “Do you really think you need the towel?” he asked. “It’s such a warm night.”
Darnell didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her words had lodged somewhere in her chest, held captive by the pounding thunder of her heart. She was so not accustomed to this, to a sexy man watching her through half-lidded eyes, the way his simple touch left her heart racing and her entire body yearning for more.
“We hardly kissed when you were here before. Do you have any idea how many nights I lay awake in this room, imagining your kisses? The way your lips would feel, how you would taste?”
He swallowed, audibly, and the sound made her smile. He wasn’t nearly as calm as his steady voice indicated. No, not at all. That sense of vulnerability, the fact that he wasn’t totally in control of his feelings, gave her the strength to release her frantic grip on the towel.
Of course, it didn’t fall in the sensual way she’d hoped, mainly because she’d been so freaked out about what Evan might be thinking that she’d wrapped it around herself really tight and, with Evan holding her close, it stuck there, in place. She raised her arms and held on to his broad shoulders, lifted herself against him.
She heard the quick intake of his breath, knew realization had finally hit that she was no longer holding on to the towel. He slipped his hands beneath the soft terry, cupped his palms under her bare bottom, and lifted her even higher, pushing the towel out of the way, managing to stroke her hips and thighs with one hand while holding her entire weight with the other.
He was chuckling by the time he freed her of the towel, untangling it first from around her breasts, pausing to enjoy the view until she felt herself growing languid beneath his intense gaze. Then he tugged the towel down her legs, though it still hung off her left foot. “Next time,” he said, “I’m giving you a smaller towel.”
Laughing, she wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed herself close to his flat stomach. Evan actually groaned when she rubbed herself against the line of dark hair running from his navel to the waistband of his sweats. He turned, holding her close, still dragging the towel behind them, and stopped beside the bed. Gently, he leaned over and deposited her right in the middle of the sleek down comforter.
The towel was still tangled around her foot.
“This has got to go!” Laughing, he tugged the towel out from under her foot and dropped it unceremoniously on the floor. Then he straightened and slipped the sweats down over his hips. Kicked them off and to one side.
Darnell feasted her eyes on the body she’d not seen before. There was no denying the facts—he took her breath. Tall and strong, shoulders broad and muscular, the thickness of his thighs emphasizing the lean hips and the dark mat of hair at his groin. His cock was absolutely perfect, fully erect, curving out and up, larger than any she’d ever seen.
Not that she’d seen all that many. She almost laughed, thinking of where she was now after her nerves this morning about actually coming, uninvited, to chase this man down. She couldn’t have imagined a better outcome to her day.
Raising her arms as Evan bent over her, Darnell stroked his broad shoulders. He studied her so intently, his expression one of need and something that made her feel warm and liquid and oh, so wanted by such a sexy, beautiful man.
He planted his knee on the bed beside her. “I want you, Darnell. You and only you. There were so many women who came through as guests this year, and none of them were you. I’ve been wanting to call, to beg you to come back, but I didn’t think you felt the same way. I’m hoping this means you do. I’m so glad you’re here.”
Warmth blossomed inside. “I’m here, and you’re going to have to physically remove me from the property if you don’t want me around. I’ve never missed a man before, Evan. Never cared enough about any man to miss him the way I’ve missed you.” She laughed, but it was a soggy laugh and she really didn’t want to cry. Not now. She ran her fingers over his cheek, traced the line of his jaw.
He came fully onto the bed, kneeling between her legs and then sitting back on his heels.
She ran her fingers along his sides, touching the sharp jut of ribs. “All I kept thinking was that if I hadn’t been so insistent that I had to have that stupid drink, we might have spent the night discovering what we felt, might have spent the whole summer together.”
His soft smile warmed her. His words made her hot.
“I can tell you now, girl. I want more than just a summer. I think I’m going to want a whole lot of summers.” He leaned forward, dipped his head, and tongued her left nipple, then the right.
She arched into him, pressed her pubes against the thick length of him, and shivered with need. “I want you. Now, Evan.”
“No.” He sat back on his heels again, grinning broadly. “Not yet.”
Before she had a chance to complain, he was sliding back between her legs, leaning close and nibbling at her inner thighs. Her breath caught as he moved closer, his tongue trailing between her legs, carefully separating the petals of her sex and using his lips to pull and tug at the sensitive folds. He grasped her nipples, tugging them almost to the point of pain, sending jolts of pleasure directly to her clit.
Writhing against him, whimpering with the need he built with each flick of his tongue, each tug on her swollen nipples, she arched her back, lifting herself closer to his mouth. He took her thrusting hips as an open invitation, it appeared. With fingers and tongue, teeth and lips, he kept her hanging over a chasm promising untold pleasure.
Perspiration covered her body. She twisted, pressing against his mouth, pleading her frustration, laughing when he teased and took her just a bit closer. Then he ran his tongue around her clit and sucked that bundle of nerves between his lips, thrusting two large fingers deep into her moist channel. When he curled them forward, her body froze in mid-twist and a single low cry escaped her lips. For a moment she actually wondered where the sound had come from.
Planting her feet on the bed, Darnell lifted herself to his mouth, grasping the soft down comforter in her hands, twisting, gasping short, sharp sounds as he launched her into that chasm. She wasn’t afraid—Evan was there when she landed, holding her in his arms, bringing her back, showing her with hands and lips and his beating heart just how very much she meant to him.
He laid her back against the tangled comforter, sheathed himself, and slowly, carefully, entered her. He was thick and long and bigger than any man she’d ever been with, but he filled her perfectly as her feminine muscles tightened around him, pulled him deeper.
She sighed when the coarse hair at his groin pressed against her pubes, when the thick head of his cock rolled over the mouth of her cervix, amazed that he actually fit so well.
Almost as if they’d been created for each other. She looked up at him, at the face she’d seen in her dreams for four long months, and realized that she hadn’t been wrong. This man was hers, and she wasn’t letting him go.
* * *
Darnell slept so soundly that when Evan picked her up to put her under the comforter she didn’t even stir. He’d lost track of how many times they’d made love. He was going to have to stock up on condoms if they kept up like this, and he wondered how long he’d have to wait before asking her to be his.
She looked exactly the way he’d imagined she would, lying in his bed, her lips pursed in sleep. He wanted to kick his own ass for not going after her when she’d left so many months ago.
But maybe this was better. Maybe the separation helped chase away any questions that might have lingered in either of their minds, if they’d not had the chance to think about what almost might have been. But now it was, and it felt absolutely right.
Somehow, during the time they’d been making love, the sun had disappeared behind the mountains and night had fallen. He went into the bathroom and got a quick shower, dried himself off, and crawled into bed beside Darnell. He’d almost called her Nellie tonight.
That was probably something he’d have to spring on her when she was ready to hear exactly how much she meant to him. And how he truly hoped to make her his—quite literally—forever.