2: Leer - Pack Takeover Read Free Page B

screw. That fact was undeniable. He cared whether or not I thought he was good-looking.
     
     
    That knowledge, when it came to me, sort of empowered me. Perhaps it is the kin in me speaking. If he was this good--what were the rest of the relatives like?
     
     
    The thought was fleeting. My interest was piqued.
     
     
    And the minute it flitted through my brain, he knew it. His fingers bit into me. Not on purpose, mind you. He couldn’t help it. Garou are fiercely possessive of their bitches--and vice versa. But the bottom line is, when something better comes along, they trade up.
     
     
    But kin--we’re the top of the line, so to speak. And I was prime. I didn’t know it, but my tall, leggy build, my superior intelligence… I had pretty much everything a garou wants. And oh my heavens, I don’t know what had kicked in my pheromone regulator--probably him--or the close proximity to him when he prowled my city looking for me--but when it kicked in, it kicked in in high gear . I was a freaking bitch in heat.
     
     
    I was all over him. Touching every contour of his body, sniffing.
     
     
    Driving him crazy. Talk about your turn-ons.
     
     
    He had scars. Gash marks on his ribs and back. One set, on his side, looked like a bear had slashed at him--and drawn blood. My fingers trailed over each mark, softly tickling his sensitized skin. He squared his shoulders and turned his head to the ceiling. He probably wanted to howl or something. In agony. The wait was torturing him.
     
     
    But I had to see. I had to feel. To smell. To explore. I circled him, never letting go, never losing contact.
     
     
    I’d forgotten the conversation. He said, “They told me that I’d be able to find you--by your scent.” He laughed again. “But I had no idea what it would do to me.”
     
     
    He didn’t tell me then that there were others… sniffing for me. That would come. That he would fight.
     
     
    When I was in front of him again, I paused with my fingers at the top of his jeans. Tipping my head back, swishing my hair over my shoulders, I asked, “What’s it do to you?”
     
     
    Another wolfish grin. He shook his head. “You don’t wanna know.”
     
     
    I lifted my hands from his pants, like maybe I was done. He grabbed them quick, drew me closer, helped me lay them flat on his body. He whispered--well, he begged, “Don’t stop touching me.”
     
     
    “So, you found me by smell?” That didn’t sound very flattering. I frowned.
     
     
    Leer’s fingers rubbed across the backs of my hands. “I love the way you smell.”
     
     
    I swooned against him, pressed my lips to his sternum, closed my eyes and tried not to die right there. His voice was so--resonant. It’s hard to explain. It’s like every word is dragged up from down in his solar plexus, packed with restrained emotion--and there’s a hint of insecurity, subservience. It didn’t make sense.
     
     
    It made my toes curl and my belly twirl. I mean… one of those spiraling feelings that goes right down into your crotch. Makes your legs--your whole body--feel energized.
     
     
    I don’t know when it occurred to me that I probably had been waiting for him. For some time, too--actually. For weeks? Months? I’d been looking over my shoulder. Spending more time outdoors. Taking walks in the park. Excursions to the woods outside of town. And that was just plain crazy. I was born and bred in the city. A downtown girl.
     
     
    It wasn’t conscious thought that drew my tongue from my mouth for a lick. I didn’t even think about it. Didn’t realize it. At least, not until he groaned my name.
     
     
    “Ah, Kayty. You’re going to unman me.”
     
     
    Now, there’s more than one meaning to that phrase. Three that apply to werewolves. He was ready to explode, literally, into the feral beast that lurks beneath the surface at all times--not just when the moon is full. Whoever wrote that bullshit should be shot. The real garou--they change at will.