Mistress of Wolves Read online

  She nodded, dropping her head back with a sigh of pleasure as he kissed along her neck.

  “That’s easy,” he said between kisses and each brush of his lips marked another thrust. “You’re a woman who needs to be loved…To be worshiped and adored by touch and caress.”

  His words stole the last of her ability to think. She closed her eyes, holding on and moving with him. Her body tightened around his, and he upped the pace with a grunt.

  “Fuck, you’re hot,” he groaned, shifting again to pull her from the wall, supporting her weight in the cage of his arms as he impaled her on his cock. His strength was impressive, even for a wolf, and she gave herself over to him.

  “That’s it,” he crooned, words soft puffs against the delicate skin of her throat. “Tighten that sweet little cunt around my cock. Stroke me, milk me… Make me come with your tight body.”

  The filthy words, spoken so soon after the eloquent, sensual ones broke the spell holding her release. She threw her head back, a scream on her lips she came hard and fast. Shattering apart, her body became a vice around his cock as her release tumbled her into ecstasy.

  He growled, pushed forward to brace her against the wall. His thrusts became harder, faster…feral in their intensity. She reveled in it, and dug her fingernails into his shoulders to drive him on. Used his need to feed her own release as he drove into her time and time again. Then, he thrust one final time and his body stiffened, cock buried deep inside her and he swore as he came.

  Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she threaded her fingers through his hair. Gentling him as his cock jerked and pulsed deep within her, bathing her womb in his white-hot seed. Long pulses, short jerks, as he rested his head against her shoulder and tried to catch his breath.

  “Fuck me,” he said, lifting up to look into her eyes. A small smile played on his lips. “After that, perhaps introductions are in order. I’m Archer.”

  He lifted an eyebrow in curiosity, waiting for her answer. She hesitated for a moment, debating whether to give a false name and slip away into the darkness. But she didn’t want them parting on false pretenses. Not after what they’d shared.

  “Reena.” She felt more than saw his surprise: a slight gasp, and the widening of his eyes. “I’m—”

  “I just fucked the Mistress of the City.” His voice was flat, his eyes assessing. Calculating, but not in a bad way.

  “Yeah.” She reached up to tease along his lower lip. “And I’m kind of hoping you fancy doing it again… What do you say, handsome?”

  His grin was swift and immediate. “Thought you’d never ask.”

  Tamed by the Mistress

  Chapter 1

  As soon as Reena set foot into the Griffin pack house, she knew something was wrong. The air stank of deceit and desperation. A scent so strong, she tasted it in the back of her throat.

  “What the hell is going on here?” she demanded, her voice pitched to carry. She didn’t care that she had just arrived or this was not her house. As Mistress of the City and overlord of all lycans, all pack houses were her territory. And right now, all the hairs on the back of her neck told her this one was in trouble.

  “My lady…I’m so sorry, we weren’t informed you would be visiting today,” the young woman who’d opened the door said, bowing and refusing to look Reena or her companion in the eye. Her skin was pale, pulse elevated…

  Reena frowned, exchanging a glance with Isla, her captain of the guard. The taller woman shrugged, her expression saying clearly I got nothing.

  “It’s not a problem, I often drop into pack houses unannounced. No blame will be attached to you,” she promised. And it wouldn’t. She might have a reputation as a cast-iron bitch birthed from a hellhound itself, but she’d never lift a hand or claw to an innocent. “If you’d fetch the Alpha for me.”

  The girl began to quake, but she didn’t get a chance to answer. Instead, a roar rang through the house, one so loud it made even Reena wince. It was a sound of pain and anger, of torment and fury. A wolf in agony.

  Her head snapped around to the girl, and she put a hand under her chin to make her look up. “Who is that?” Reena’s voice was deadly calm, one that plainly said she would not accept a lie for an answer.

  The girl’s eyes filled with tears. “I-it’s Master Archer, ma’am. He’s…was human.”

  Archer. Reena dropped her hold on the girl’s jaw like she’d been stung. Archer Griffin, who’d shared her bed not three nights past. The Midwinter Offering who disappeared before she awoke.

  Human? There had to be some mistake. He’d been alpha through and through at the ball.

  Another bellow rang through the mansion, rattling windows. A small glass figurine on the cabinet fell to the left and shattered.

  Whatever he was, he was in pain. And if he’d been human…a horrible suspicion formed in her mind.

  “Where?” she demanded, her voice harsh. The command hung in the air.

  The girl jerked as though she’d been hit. “The basement.”

  The small turn of her head was all the information Reena needed. Her wolf snarled within, echoing the sounds of torment that filled the halls, and she set off. Her heels clicked on the stone flooring, Isla’s boots silent in contrast, as the two followed the sounds through the house until they found the basement’s entrance.

  The scent hit them as soon as Reena opened the door. Wolf. Male. Virile. In need.

  Isla coughed, biting back a choke. “Fuck me. Smells like someone needs to get laid. Bad.”

  “Yeah. No kidding.” Reena didn’t delay, heading down the steps toward the deafening bellows. It was easy to find the source of the pain and within minutes she stood in a doorway looking into what could only be described as a containment cell.

  Archer was chained to a wall. Naked to the waist, he thrashed and pulled at his bonds, the muscles in his body straining as he tried to break free. In frustration he threw back his head and howled. A sound no human could make.

  “Archer, please,” the woman in front of him sobbed. “You have to calm down, you’ll make yourself worse.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Reena demanded, striding into the room. All eyes turned to her. As well as Archer and the woman, she recognized an older man.

  “Johnathon,” she nodded at the Griffin pack alpha, keeping her shock at his frail appearance off her face. The last time she’d seen Alpha Griffin, he’d been in good health, and although a wolf with more years than most, he had still been formidable. Now he just looked old.

  “What’s the matter with him?” She nodded toward Archer. “Is he feral?”

  “No…no, he’s not feeling well,” the woman insisted, turning to look at Reena through teary eyes. Her face paled, and she stuttered, looking down. “My lady, I’m sorry…I didn’t realize it was you.”

  “No problem.” Reena waved dismissively and switched her attention to the man chained to the wall. Instantly her body responded, remembering their night together. Her wolf whimpered with need. Soothing the animal, she put her own needs to the side to consider the situation in front of her.

  Archer had stopped howling. Instead, he watched her steadily. Intently. His eyes were bright amber, a sign his predator was just under the skin. The concrete walls behind him were gashed with deep gouges. She flicked a glance to his hands. Blood dripped from the torn skin at the ends of his fingers.

  “How long has he been like this?” she asked, looking at Johnathon. The woman looked up and Reena blinked in surprise. She had Archer’s features, but softer, and more feminine. She was everything prized in lycan society; tall and slender with a delicate beauty. Quite unlike Reena’s shorter, curvier build. Made no difference what her human form looked like, though. As a she-wolf, she was big and just plain mean. “You’re his mother?”

  She nodded, her hand wavering as though she couldn’t decide whether to cover her throat or her mouth. Fear rolled from her pores at being faced with the big bad. Reena suppressed her sigh. She’d long ago come to
terms with the fact that people were more than ready to believe she really was a monster.

  “A couple of days,” Johnathon answered, taking his wife’s hand and pulling her against his side. Not to protect her from Reena, but more for reassurance, if the hand rubbing her shoulder was any indication. “We think he deliberately infected himself to attend the Choosing.”

  Reena’s brows snapped together and she ignored Archer trying to get into her field of vision in favor of looking at his…parents? The woman was definitely his mother, but she was sure Johnathon had only one son. One a lot younger than Archer.

  “Crap,” she muttered, as the pieces fit into place. Griffin was a very small pack. “How old is your son…” She paused to search her memory, flicking a glance toward Archer when he started to growl. As soon as she looked at him, he stopped and watched her. “Seth. How old is Seth now?”

  “Sixteen. Just mastered his part-shift,” Johnathon said proudly. “He’ll be a true alpha.”

  Sixteen. An adult in their world. Her gaze shifted to Archer and she took a step forward. Chains rattled as he tried to meet her halfway. A snarl rumbled from his chest, his lips curling back as he yanked on his bonds.

  “Looks like you’ve got more than one alpha in the family.” Keeping her eyes on him, she spoke over her shoulder. At the sound of her voice Archer stopped struggling and focused on her again. “He was at the choosing in place of Seth. Told me his pack was Griffin.”

  “But…how?” Johnathon’s voice was confused. “He was human.”

  “Was.” She kept her voice low and took another step forward.

  The sharp intake of breath behind her told her Isla wasn’t happy about the situation. Reena didn’t blame her. As captain of the guard, Isla’s job was to make sure Reena came to no harm. Which was a bit of a shitty position if anyone stopped to consider it. If someone wanted to kill Reena, they’d have to be loaded for wolf, bear, and possibly tyrannosaurus rex to boot.

  Reena waved her off, her raised hand indicating she knew what she was doing. She did. Honestly. Well.... Archer was a wolf, that much was evident, but he still wasn’t through the conversion madness which meant he could turn on anyone, even family and those he loved, without warning. She didn’t blame them for locking him up. A wolf was never as strong or as deadly after the conversion madness.

  To display a full alpha scent mere hours after infection… She shivered as a thrill chased over her skin. That meant he was going to be an alpha the likes of which came along once in a lifetime. A true bitten alpha. A man to match her.

  If he survived the conversion. Not everyone did.

  But there was a way to help…

  “Out.” Her order rang in the close confines of the basement. “All of you. Out. Now.”

  Isla stepped forward. “My lady…it’s too dangerous.”

  “Why?” Archer’s mother broke in, confusion written on her features. “What’s she going to do?”

  “Come along, dear.” Johnathon urged her toward the door, but she resisted, looking at Reena. “She’s not going to hurt him, is she?”

  Reena turned to look the other woman directly in the eye, her own expression hard and unrelenting. “No, I’m not going to hurt him; I just might save him.”

  The others filed out, leaving her alone with the man chained to the wall. Her heart sped, pounding in her throat as she finally allowed herself to study him.

  Tall and broad-shouldered, his frame was packed with muscle. Way more than most wolves when they were human, and that difference made her mouth water and her fingers itch to explore again. The night of the ball seemed decades…centuries ago and she ached to touch him. She resisted, barely, and carried on her inspection. His smooth, tanned skin was marked here and there with scars, more evidence he hadn’t been born a wolf. Wolves hardly ever scarred, not without significant or sustained damage.

  He stared back as she looked at him, eyes still bright amber. A predator watching his prey. This was the most dangerous part of the conversion process—when man and beast fought for supremacy. And it was more dangerous for men than women. Way more dangerous. On the whole, women were more grounded, less aggressive. They dealt with the violent tendencies of their wolf easier, could counter-balance the feral side with a calming, nurturing one.

  Men…they could fall victim to the primal side of both man and beast. If that happened, they were lost. Mad. The only way to deal with them was to put them down. Permanently.

  Their gazes locked for a few seconds, then she took a half step forward. He burst into movement, surging forward until the chains jerked him. Arms chained behind him, his body stretched in an arc of hard, muscle-corded masculinity. His breath washed over the skin of her neck, his lips mere inches away. If he wanted, he could close that little distance and bury his teeth into the soft flesh.

  She froze. Waiting.

  Slowly, he breathed in, inhaling her scent. A low rumble emanated from the broad expanse of his chest. He didn’t seem inclined to rip her throat out. Careful with her movements, she lifted her hand to touch his chest. He stilled, head up as he looked down at her. Even chained to the wall he towered over her, but she didn’t care.

  “You’re not going to hurt me, are you, Archer?” she murmured, stepping forward. Even in high heels she had to lift on her toes to reach his mouth, pausing for a moment to search his eyes. “You remember me, remember my scent…remember what we shared.”

  Then she kissed him.

  Chapter 2

  There had been too many people and too much noise, but they’d all gone now, leaving Archer alone with the little female who smelled delicious enough to eat. Good. Their talking, the words nonsensical and sharp, had hurt his ears and the fury—this snarling, rabid thing within him—surged to the fore. A demon beneath his flesh, it urged him to bite and tear, to claw and rend gobbets of flesh from their bodies so he could feast. It wanted to taste the heat of their blood as it slipped down his throat to assuage the thirst within him.

  He’d almost done it, as well, but they’d clapped him in irons and bound him to the wall. It had taken six of them and a Taser before they managed to subdue him. Why, he didn’t know. He should, he knew he should, but the knowledge lay stubbornly out of reach, as if hidden behind a veil he couldn’t pierce. It didn’t matter now. He shrugged the feeling away and concentrated on the woman in front of him. She was here, and she smelled good…

  He frowned when she spoke, the words going over his head as his gaze riveted on her lips. They were curved and soft. Tempting and somehow familiar. Another question with the answer hidden behind the fuzziness in his mind. He let that slide when she lifted on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his.

  Lust and heat slammed into him with the force of a freight train. He growled, the rumble in the back of his throat almost feral, and he yanked against his bonds. Anything to get closer. To touch. His hands clenched and unclenched, straining toward her. But they were bound, his body curved forward as far as possible. He couldn’t touch her, except with his lips.

  So he did. Bending his head, he claimed her mouth with the full fury of the need rolling through him. His lips on hers, he explored, learning the shape of her mouth and demanding her response. She pressed closer to him, all the soft curves of her body against the hardened plains of his, and the embrace turned torrid. It was a softness he ached to claim, ached to pin under him and drive into again and again.

  Parting his lips, he flicked his tongue against her upper lip and urged her to open for him. The little gasp she gave when she did was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard, and... familiar.

  Driving inside, he sought the sweetness within. Her taste and scent exploded on his tongue and he groaned, his cock impossibly hard where it was pressed between them. She was moonlight and wildness, instantly transporting him to a wilder time where the beast within him wasn’t caged.

  Her surrender wasn’t complete though. Instead, she challenged him, teased him by evading him, not letting him dominate the kiss. With
a growl he warned her, but the sharp bite of her little nails against his chest had him sucking a breath in and broke his concentration. She pulled away, her lips a torment against his jaw and neck.

  “You won’t hurt me, will you?” she murmured, small hands on his cheeks making him back up a step. The chains on his wrists slackened and he could pull them forward a little. Nearer. Nearer was good. Then her words sank in and he shook his head.

  “No.” He frowned, words were difficult, like his mouth was no longer used to forming them. Why the fuck was that? The anger rose again until she stroked her fingertips over his jaw and made him look at her. Understanding swirled in her dark eyes.

  “Don’t think, Archer. Just feel. Feel me. Touch me,” she whispered and pushed him against the wall with a strength her petite frame shouldn’t have.

  He gasped as his flesh hit the rough concrete, but in the same moment, he was already reaching for her. With a growl, he wrapped her up in his arms and pulled her hard against his body. She went easily, parting her lips for him to slide within as soon as he kissed her, surrendering to the dominance. With a rumble of approval, he turned to press her against the wall in a lightning fast movement.

  She whimpered, the sound lost in his mouth, and rubbed against him. Her curves called to him and he ran a hand down them, the chains clanking softly. She didn’t seem to care, arching in blatant invitation. Fabric met his questing touch and he broke the kiss to snarl in disapproval. His fingers dug into the material and the sound of tearing filled the space. Her moan hung in the air like a symphony for his ears alone.

  “Soft…nice,” he whispered, and rubbed his cheek against the side of her neck. Her scent intrigued him. A siren’s call to the burning within him… Calming it, and feeding his lust rather than his rage. He pulled the remnants of her dress free, clearing access for his hands over her skin.