Lords of the Hill: BBW Werewolf Erotica (Smut-Shorties Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Do you like your Zombies sexy?

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Copyright 2014 Mina Carter

  Cover Art by Mina Carter

  Published by Blue Hedgehog Press: Oct 2014.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  EBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000 (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/).

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Author's note: All characters depicted in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older

  Chapter One

  Stone Wolves that came alive at night and became men… Yeah, right. And she was a catwalk model.

  Natalya Larkin huffed, and hitched her bag to a more comfortable position on her shoulder. Although small, it bulged with her camera kit, catching on the brambles as she worked her way through the overgrown gardens of the old manor.

  Another tentacle-like branch tried to wrap itself around her ankles, its prickles like razor-wire. She cursed under her breath and backed up with care. No sense trying to plunge forward, she’d only get tangled up and ripped to shreds by the vicious thorns.

  In fact, these weren’t normal brambles, she decided, they were super-brambles. The kind that had eaten the other vegetation, and maybe some snakes too. They certainly acted like it. Bastard things.

  She walked until the stone walls rose higher above her, majestic and forbidding. Langdon Manor wasn’t the sort of stately home seen in costume dramas on the television. There were no manicured lawns, and long drives. It didn’t sit nestled in a vista designed by a Victorian landscaper but on a hill facing the moors. A fortified house, its position had given it strategic importance. A moat, now drained, had given it a level of protection no other building in the area had owned. Local legend claimed its walls had never fallen to the enemy.

  She looked up as and sighed. Time had been the ultimate destroyer. The west side of the manor was in ruins. From this angle she could see daylight through the roof of the main hall, leaving the interior to the mercy of the elements. The north wing was still habitable and used by the family in the summer, but the rest had been left to nature. Disgust swept through her as she rounded the curve of the wall. It was a crying shame that anyone had let such a gorgeous building fall to ruin.

  Once clear of the brambles, she stepped onto the wide track up to the main gates. Rather than walk the long path that circled the hill, she’d cut across country and through what remained of the gardens. It was a quicker route, and she’d never shied away from exercise. She was staying with her grandmother, so with the huge, home-cooked meals every day, she needed it.

  The main gates came into view, and her steps slowed. Two massive stone wolves flanked either side. Almost as big as the gates themselves, the exquisite carving meant she could make out the details of their faces even from here. The one on the left was stoic, his face set in implacable lines, while the other was caught mid-snarl, teeth bared and expression vicious.

  The Langdon wolves… The alphas her village had once swore fealty to.

  She shivered, remembering her grandmothers warning. The Stone Wolves of Langdon were the last of the line, born centuries before and cursed by a witch to dwell in stone until they found their one true love. One. For both of them.

  Witches. Always had to have the last laugh. It was the reason she stayed the heck away from them. Despite the calls for those with non-human blood to stick together, Nat had never considered herself paranormal.

  Yeah, her passport said she was lycan, but her family had been human for… Well, forever. There were stories of a mad uncle who had ‘episodes’, but according to family legend the last true shifter had been her great-times-four-or-something-grandmother.

  Her steps took her closer to the gates, and their stone guardians. The closer she got, the harder it was to shake off the odd impression that both wolves watched her. She shivered, then shook her head and laughed at her own foolishness.

  “It’s just silly old stories, you know?” She addressed the stoic wolf. Its eyes were in darkness, a shadow cast by the heavy brow and the stonemason’s skill. “My gran said you guys come to life and carry off poor unsuspecting lycan women for nights of mad, passionate sex. Lucky bitches. A little passion in my life would be nice right now.”

  She sighed, patting the stone flanks as she passed by and headed through the main gates into the main part of the manor. If she was lucky, she’d be able to get some great shots of the interior before the light faded too much.

  *

  “She touched me! Dude…Dude, wake up! She touched me. She touched me!”

  Laverne jumped, yanked from sleep by the excited shouts of his fellow alpha right into his telepathic ‘ear’. With a groan, he tried to open his eyes and found that he couldn’t. A quick scan with his senses informed him it was a little before sundown. Way too early for Darrick to be getting so worked up.

  “Verne… Dude! Wake up! She’s here!”

  “No need to shout,” Verne grumbled, trying to stretch in his stone prison. He knew it was hopeless, but he tried anyway. Neither of them could move until the sun had disappeared below the horizon. “What’s got your knickers in a twist? Who’s here?”

  “She is!” Darrick, younger than Verne by twenty years, going on a thousand, almost shouted back. Verne winced. At this rate he’d be deaf before sundown. “Her. You know… The One!”

  The One.

  The words got Verne’s undivided attention. They’d been cursed years ago. Locked in stone by day and men by night. All because a witch-bitch had decided that if she couldn’t have him, then no one could. She’d decreed that only when a woman loved them both, would the curse be lifted. Both. What woman would be strong enough to take on two alphas?

  “Are you sure?” Verne stretched his limbs, straining his muscles to test his prison. There was the slightest hint of flex. The sun must be almost set by now. Other senses filtered back. There was someone in the manor. The light footsteps of a woman, then a female voice lifted in song.

  Verne winced. It was the most god-awful thing he’d ever heard. “Oh my god, she sings like…”

  “A duck with a cold,” Darrick finished, his voice echoing the pain that racked Verne. Both were accomplished musicians so to hear someone butcher music in such a way was painful.

  “Yeah…” The moment they’d both been waiting for arrived. The sun went down and their stone forms vanished with a loud ‘crack’ leaving them both on the pedestals either side of the manor’s main gates. Didn’t manner where they were when the sun rose, they always ended up on these damn pillars of rock. He hate
d them with a passion.

  Verne uncoiled himself inch by slow inch. The cold went all the way to his bones making his joints creak, but he stood, more or less gracefully. Darrick shot upright from a tiny ball and promptly fell off his pedestal.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Verne grumbled. “Don’t break anything.”

  He needn’t have worried. Darrick bounded to his feet with enthusiasm, crossing the distance between them. His face broke into a smile.

  “I don’t care that she can’t sing,” he admitted, a sparkle in his eyes for the first time in years. “Don’t even care what she looks like… Or if she likes pickles. I…” he paused, his expression slipping for a moment to show the misery within. “I just want someone to love.”

  “I know, mate.” Verne looped his arm over Darrick’s shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze. “How about we go find her?”

  The two turned and headed into the manor. Verne lifted his head as a delicious scent wrapped around him. He breathed in, holding his breath deep in his lungs just in case he never smelled it again. His body came alive, blood heating in an instant and his cock punching to full mast. Now that he had her scent he knew what Darrick meant.

  She was the one. Their mate had found them.

  At his side, Darrick moaned. A low, guttural sound of sensual pleasure. One Verne had heard before. As the ruling alphas in this area, they’d shared many a woman in hedonistic nights filled with carnal pleasures. But he’d never heard that level of pure need behind it.

  “She’s perfect, just perfect.”

  Verne’s lips quirked as he picked up the pace. Scent and sound made it easy to track their trespasser to the ante-chambers beyond the main hall. He stepped through the door, and slid into the gathering shadows to get his first look at her.

  She stood in the middle of the ruined room with her back to them. A mass of blonde curls tumbled down her back. Her shoulders were nicely set above a narrow waist that Verne itched to slide his hands around to see if it was as tiny as it looked. Then his gaze slid down and he had to bite back a moan. She had an ass on her that would tempt a damn monk. And neither of them were monks. The nearest either he or Darrick had gotten to religion was using a bible to steady a rocking table they’d fucked a maid on.

  Darrick caught his breath, and the soft sound must have gotten her attention because she spun around, lowering the camera to peer into the shadows that concealed them.

  This time Verne couldn’t hold back his groan. She was beautiful, with wide, violet eyes and a pair of lips made for kissing, or to be wrapped around his cock.

  Something he vowed to make happen very soon.

  Chapter Two

  For the last half an hour, Nat had had the oddest notion she was being watched. So much so that several times she’d lowered her camera and called out “Hello?” into the growing shadows. She wasn’t afraid of the dark. Never had been. Thanks to the latent lycan genes in their blood, all her family saw well at night so she was comfortable out here now that night had fallen.

  Still, to keep herself company, she’d resorted to singing. She didn’t sing well. In fact, she sang so badly she restricted her melodic outbursts to the car, the shower, or other places she knew she would be on her own. Like an abandoned manor in the middle of nowhere, in the dark. Alone.

  She fought back a shiver. Put that way, it sounded like a classic set up for a horror movie. The sort where the too-stupid-to-live heroine wandered off by herself. The usually blonde too-stupid-to-live heroine. She sighed and flicked her golden locks over a shoulder. Great. She was proving the stereotype.

  A sound behind her caught her attention. She whirled around, camera in hand, and froze. There, in the shadows behind her were two of the largest men she’d ever seen.

  “Hey there.”

  She managed a small smile, even though she wanted to run like hell. Something about the way they watched her and the set of their bodies, warned her not to. While she was a few generations removed from even the remnant of true lycan abilities, there was nothing wrong with her human survival instincts. Right now, they screamed that the two men in front of her were predators of the highest order.

  “I’m almost done, so I’ll be out of your hair in a jiffy.”

  Neither replied. Instead they just watched her. She couldn’t see their eyes, so her gaze wandered down bodies which wouldn’t look out of place in any gym. They were both naked to the waist, revealing acres of satiny skin over hard muscles that made her knees wobble.

  “Aren’t you guys cold?” she asked. Not that she was complaining. Despite the fact she often had a camera in her hands, delicious looking men did not feature amongst her models. On a normal day they were of the floral variety, or maybe a nice landscape. Perhaps she should switch to studio or fashion photography…

  The lighter haired one stepped forward into the light. Nat swallowed and tried to stop herself from drooling. He was gorgeous. Tall, blonde haired and blue eyed, his lips curled into the sexiest smile she’d ever seen. Crap, she needed new panties.

  “You’re here.”

  She lifted an eyebrow. Gorgeous. And dumb. Just her luck. Mind you, she didn’t have to have intelligent conversation with him. She could enjoy that wonderful body… Oh, who the hell was she trying to kid? Short and described as prettily plump, there was no way a hottie like this, or his hot companion lurking in the darkness by the door would find her attractive.

  “Yes, I’m sorry.” Another thought occurred to her and her eyes widened. Shit. Perhaps they were members of the family… In which case, was she trespassing? She dropped the camera onto the neck strap, and backed up a step toward the doorway behind her. “I’m very sorry if I’m trespassing. There weren’t any signs…”

  "Don’t need them." A deep, male voice rumbled by her ear, making her jump. The second guy had circled around behind her. "Everyone knows that this is our land. And what we do to trespassers."

  She should be scared. She was alone with two big men she didn't know, cornered in a derelict manor with no hope of help if she needed it. She wasn’t scared. There was something about them. They wouldn’t hurt her. It didn’t matter that there was no one around to hear her scream.

  Depended on her reasons for screaming, the little voice in the back of her head commented. She had to agree with it. There were a few scenarios with these two she could see herself cutting loose like that. Then reality intruded, brought her down to earth. She sighed. Not going to happen.

  He reached out and lifted a loose curl from her shoulder. She froze but not in fear. His expression as he rolled the stands of her hair between his fingers as if it were fine silk or gold thread fascinated her. As did his scent, wrapping her in its coils like a siren's melody. It wasn't the normal cologne scent. Woodsy and wild, it reminded her of the moors after the rain. And sex.

  She frowned. Why would his scent make her think of sex? Oh God, she hadn't had sex for so long she'd turned into a damn nymphomaniac. She leaned away, trying to pull her hair from his grasp without him realizing. His gaze flicked up to hers and she froze. He had amber eyes. The eyes of a wolf.

  Shit. She was on Langdon land… Those old stories couldn’t be true, could they?

  “No,” he chided, wrapping the lock around a strong finger and capturing her. “You’re not going anywhere.”

  A soft breath across the back of her neck made her freeze. The blonde guy was behind her, so close that the heat of his body warmed her back. Caught between two hot men. How many times had this fantasy dominated her dreams? Heat blasted through her body, even though this couldn’t be going where her sex-deprived brain thought it was. No doubt they were about to have her arrested or something.

  The warm lips pressing against the side of her neck made that possibility less than likely.

  “You’re ours.” Blondie rumbled, his voice far lower than it had been. It rasped with a wildness that struck a chord deep inside her. She turned her head. The eyes that had been blue were deep amber, verging on gold.

&n
bsp; “Now, hold on, let’s slow this train down.” She suggested, putting her hand out onto the bare chest of the man who held her hair captive, then mentally kicked herself. Really? She had two hot guys trying to pull her into their arms and she was trying to call a time out on it? What was wrong with her? Still, her mouth was operating without the intervention of her brain. Or her ovaries. “I mean… I don’t even know your names.”

  “I’m Verne, this is Darrick. Problem solved.” The dark-haired one moved her hand to the side, fingers twined with hers so he could move in. Her breath escaped her in a gasp as he yanked her up against his hard chest.

  A thrill shot through her, from her aching pussy outward through her whole body. The heat and need in his eyes pressed buttons deep inside her she didn’t know she had. A sudden urge to tilt her head to the side and expose her neck to him overwhelmed her and before she knew it, she’d moved. He growled, the sound between scary as hell and pleased, and then his lips were on her throat.

  Her moan of pleasure broke free this time, loud and proud in surrounding silence. He worked his way up to the soft spot behind her ear and her legs weakened beneath her.

  “We got you, love,” the one behind her, Darrick, murmured, his strong arms wrapping around her to pull her back against him. Something long and thick pressed against her ass. Oh my word, was that his cock… It was a damn flagpole in his pants.

  She bit her lip, then moaned again, arching her back when Verne’s hand closed over her breast under her jacket. He’d undone the buttons without her noticing. Clever wolf.

  “You like that, huh? Being touched by the two of us,” Darrick murmured, his hands not idle either. He pulled her jacket open, and yanked her top away from her waistband, his fingertips flirting with the soft skin. She tried to bat them away with her free hand, self-conscious of her rounded belly, but he caught her wrist. Pinned between the two of them, unable to defend herself.