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SHE WAS BEAUTIFUL in the moonlight, her skin glowing like pale silk. He licked her arm, which felt warm and smooth against the roughness of his tongue. Her blond hair caught moonbeams in its golden net and her eyes mirrored the color of the midnight sky. His long tongue swirled over one dusky pink areola. The nipple in its center puckered into a tight little bud. He bathed it and her breast before trailing his tongue down the slight rise of her belly to find the tight nest of blond curls at the top of her thighs. He sniffed, drawing the rich, female scent of her into his lungs. The smell of her made him want to howl. Instead, he dipped his head between her thighs to run his tongue down the length of the folds surrounding her sex. He lapped at her, flicking the tip of his tongue against her clit before sinking it into her tight entrance. God, she tasted like heaven. Sweet. Rich like the finest cream but with a sprinkling of salt that was irresistible.
He growled when her hands fisted in the fur of his ruff and he nipped at her clit. She gasped, writhing against him. His tongue once again found the swollen lips of her sex and sank into its creamy heat. She writhed harder, pressing against him, panting and crying for her release. He urged her to roll over to her hands and knees. He mounted her, his hard, thick cock sliding into her wet core like it belonged there. His powerful haunches pumped, his cock gliding in and out of her slick channel. She was moaning now and pushing back against him to drive him deeper into her hot center. She shattered beneath him, her muscles contracting and milking him. He howled his release as his seed spurted into her. His. He claimed her for his own with a ringing howl.
HANNAH WOKE UP, a choked-off cry dying in her throat. She fought the sleeping bag and sat up, bracing against the tree at her back. Ohmygod, her mind whimpered. She’d just been fucked by a wolf. She gagged at the thought even as she shook her head back and forth, trying to clear the fog. No. No. It didn’t happen. Thank god, it was just a dream. She gulped in air to settle the nausea and then glanced over at Sergeant Major McIntire. His big chest rose and fell rhythmically as he slept. He wore a faint smile. She’d never seen him smile. Intrigued, she scrutinized him from head to toe. His dark auburn hair was close cropped, military style. Thick eyebrows punctuated his wide forehead with dark slashes. His eyes, she remembered, were a golden brown, like burnt honey, with amber lights glinting in their depths. His cheeks and jaw could have been sculpted by a Greek artisan and his mouth could give her grandmother a wet dream. She blinked. Those golden eyes were open, watching her.
“Problem, Major?”
“N-no,” she stammered. She cleared her throat, embarrassed she’d been caught staring and mortified when her voice cracked as she lied about it.
He cocked an eyebrow and shifted to a more comfortable position. She glanced down the length of him, and there was a whole lot of length to glance down. He was at least 6’4”, if not taller, and packed with hard muscle. Her gaze stopped about halfway and she cleared her throat again. That thick ridge stretching his pants couldn’t be him. Could it? She licked suddenly dry lips.
The sergeant major choked off a groan as the tip of her tongue traced her lips. He looked like he wanted to eat her even as he raised one knee to block her view. Then he looked like he wanted to laugh when he caught her still staring at his now-hidden groin. She wouldn’t mind eating him for dessert.
“Hey there, Little Red Riding Hood,” he growled.
She blinked, cleared her throat a third time and then finally glared at him. “Get your mind out of the gutter, soldier.” Embarrassed, she rasped out the order.
He grinned wider. “I don’t think where my mind is currently residing is the problem, Major. Where’s yours?”
Hannah turned away, guilty heat flooding her neck and face. The idea of making it with an animal was repulsive but where had that dream come from? She’d been turned on and excited by the wolf and that was just so sick she couldn’t even examine her motives. She jumped when McIntire’s hot breath tickled the back of her neck.
“I’ll huff and I’ll puff...”
A shiver skipped merrily down her spine like spidery fingers tripping over each vertebra. That was enough! She whirled around and faced the big man down, startled he was so close. They were all but nose-to-nose.
“Do I need to remind you that I’m the superior officer here?”
“You may outrank me, babe, but you ain’t my superior.”
The hard, feral look in the sergeant major’s eyes frightened her but she didn't back down. “Down, boy,” she barked, then added with a sneer, “What is it about you fuckin’ alpha males?”
He growled and forced his hands to remain at his sides. Mac wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and show her just what an alpha Wolf could do. Hot and bothered by his dream, he squashed the urge. He'd never fantasized about fucking a woman in his wolf form. Never. In his whole, long life. Ever. In fact, the idea sickened him. It was perverted but, if he was completely honest with himself, there was a part deep down inside the wolf that wanted to take this woman, and only this woman, precisely that way.
“We have a long day tomorrow, Major. I suggest you get some sleep.”
“Yeah, that goes for you, too, Sergeant Major.”
She retreated to her bedroll and pointedly turned her back to him. He grinned. God, but she fascinated him. Once this mission was over, he and the major were going to finish what that dream had started—only he’d do his loving as a man. He dropped back to sleep almost immediately.
MAC PLANNED TO let Hannah sleep past dawn this morning. There was no need to push today, regardless of what he’d told her last night. He wanted to reconnoiter and had set his internal clock to “butt crack of dawn” so he’d have time to reconnoiter. He packed his gear and stowed it in the branches of a tree, then his uniform joined the stash. Naked, he reached for the inner wolf. In moments, a big black timber wolf sniffed at the major’s hand.
She mumbled something and rolled over. The wolf sniffed her, liking what he smelled. The inner man reminded the wolf they had a job. With one last snuffle, the animal turned and trotted into the forest.
Without opening her eyes, Hannah rolled over onto her back and stretched. A couple of vertebrae popped as did an ankle and some toes. When she got home, she would deplete the whole tank of hot water while soaking in her whirlpool tub and then she planned to crawl into her space-age foam bed and sleep for a week.
God, but she hated the outdoors. Growing up on her parent’s ranch in Wyoming, all she’d ever wanted to do was move to the city, live in an apartment, and curse rush hour traffic. Graduating from college at nineteen, she couldn’t find a job. She stayed in school but even with an MBA, the job market was tight so she started her Ph.D. When an Army recruiter mentioned the military, she read the propaganda, did some research, and signed up. That was ten years and several tours ago. Along the way, she’d finished her doctoral degree at the Army’s expense, been promoted regularly and often, and was now assigned to one of the most metropolitan areas in the nation—Washington, D.C.
But where did she spend all of her fucking time? Deep sea diving with the damn SEALS. Prowling through the bowels of deep bunkers with the spooks at Area 51. And now? Now she was in the gawddamn mountains with a fucking Wolf who gave her nightmares. She hadn’t had a decent cup of coffee in over three days. Good and pissed now, she threw back her sleeping bag and sat up—only to discover she was alone.
“Sergeant Major?” Nothing. No reply. The grass was still flattened where his sleeping bag had been, but there was no sign of his gear or his big, muscular body. She pursed her lips and blew a tentative whistle, hoping he’d come if he were in wolf form. “Jeez.” She rolled her eyes. “He’s not a dog. He’s a freaking werewolf. He’s not going to come if I whistle.”
The more she thought about it, the more she decided the sorry sonavabitch had gone off and left her. She was so going to have his butt up on charges when she got back to civilization. And that was definitely when not if.
A branch snapped in the underbrush and she froze. Civilization, hell. She was in the middle of enemy territory, and there was more than one body moving through the woods. She gathered her gear and looked for a place to stash it out of sight. That’s when she saw McIntire’s kit balanced in the tree branches above her head. Taking a page from his book, she shoved her stuff into another tree and climbed up after it. She settled on a branch midway up the tree, fairly certain she was hidden unless whoever was skulking around looked up. A patrol of six men filtered along the faint trail she and Mac had followed the day before.
She’d been to SERE school. Survival. Evasion. Resistance. Escape. As a female, she’d been subjected to lewd suggestions meant to sexually terrorize her, along with the more mundane threats of starvation, torture, and execution. Taught to cooperate just enough to stay alive until another option presented itself, she watched the rough-looking men tramp into the clearing. Her options had just expired.
Two men stopped right beneath her. Holding her breath, she focused on her madly beating heart, positive the men could hear its pounding rhythm. She prayed they wouldn’t look up. She prayed that McIntire wouldn’t pick this moment to come back. Then she prayed he would. God, if they catch me, she thought then squelched the scenario in her imagination. Just please let Mac come rescue me.
The clock in her head ticked slowly. In all probability, only five or ten minutes passed, but it felt like an hour. The men finally moved off. To her dismay, all six of the intruders stopped about twenty feet away and it sure looked like they were going to make camp. They gestured and talked, but not loud enough she could hear them, no matter how much she strained her ears to do so.
She couldn’t believe her luck. They were going to cook freaking brunch. She wrapped her arms and legs tighter around the trunk of the tree and hoped her woodland camouflage would keep her hidden from sight.
MAC ENJOYED RUNNING wild. Never permanently settled by humans, these woods provided many scents and textures to intrigue his wolf. He spent more time than he should have simply indulging the beast. Finally back in scout mode and nose to ground, he quartered the area. He was working back toward their camp when his nose picked up the first hint of trouble.
Men. Seven of them. Carrying guns. He trailed their scent. The wolf growled. The men were headed in the general direction of his camp. Hannah! He couldn’t breathe. The wolf had one plan—go hunting. The man considered other options including getting Hannah out and away without being seen. The wolf was ready to kill the men if they’d harmed his mate.
Whoa. Mate? Where the hell had that thought come from? He wasn’t moonstruck. No chance to think about it at the moment. For the first time in what seemed forever, he was well and truly afraid. He’d been stupid to go off and leave her alone.
Maybe, just maybe, the trail would break off and lead away from Hannah but he heard the men’s voices up ahead. Damn. They were camped out in basically the same spot where he'd left the major. Mac tested the wind. He could smell Hannah but he couldn’t see or hear her. Had she managed to hide? He worked his way closer, crawling belly down or flitting through the underbrush as he circled the clearing. He still couldn’t find her so maybe she had managed to get under cover.
With infinite care, Hannah snapped open the flap on her holster. There was no way she could get to her M16 but she had her knife and the 9mm. The pistol had a full clip—fifteen bullets. The odds were six to one. She’d never fired at anything shooting back at her, but she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
A charcoal shadow caught her eye. Was that a wolf? Had Mac come back? God she hoped so. Intent on watching the shadow to see if it was real or her imagination, she almost fell out of the tree when a quiet voice called up to her in heavily accented English.
“You will come down now.”
She froze.
“Come see what I have caught,” the man called to his companions.
Shit. He spoke Bosnian to the others. This was so not good.
“Come down now.” His voice was hard, demanding. “Before I shoot you.” Back to English again.
Well, that certainly provided incentive. She stared down at him. He had a rifle in his hands and while not pointed directly at her, it was aimed in her general direction. Nothing on her uniform indicated she was American. Her dog tags had been left at the air base in Germany. She carried no form of ID. Reaching blindly with her left foot for a toehold, she considered her options. She spoke German fluently. And French. Her Russian was okay, as was her Turkish. She understood Bosnian but her accent sucked. She’d never be able to pull off the native routine.
Before she could get all the way to the ground, one of the men snagged her around the waist and yanked her. Instinctively, she grabbed a limb, wrapping her fingers around it. Her action only stalled the inevitable. The rough bark scraped her palms raw but she landed on her feet. Even though her hair was cut short, once the guy had his hands on her, he had no doubts about her sex. He giggled as he felt her up. Giggled! Seriously? She bit her lip to keep from saying or doing something stupid.
The man who’d discovered her walked around her, a nasty smile on his face. “Looks like we have caught a little American spy,” he told the others.
“How do you know she is American?” one of the men asked.
“The uniform,” he explained. “The cloth is too good to be from any place else.”
Shit. If she survived this, she would go a few rounds with the black ops planners. To be outed by the fucking quality of the material sucked.
Hannah was still stewing over that betrayal when one of the men grabbed her crotch. Her hand shot out and flattened his nose—a purely reflexive action. The man with the rifle backhanded her across the cheek, and stars burst behind her eyes. The blow drove her to her knees.
“American whore,” he sneered at her. “I will fuck you ’til you die.” His hands went to his belt, and he unbuckled it.
Hannah caught him with a leg sweep that sent him crashing to the ground. At the same time, she pulled the Beretta and popped off three rounds. The first two shots went wide, but the third found its mark. One man went down with a moan, a crimson stain blooming on his chest. She rolled away from a kick aimed at her head but didn't get completely clear. The blow caught her in the ribs. Struggling to catch her breath, she continued to roll and aim the Beretta. Before she could acquire another target, a black blur streaked in front of her. The wolf attacked one of the men.
Pandemonium erupted. The man screamed but the sound abruptly ceased when the huge wolf ripped out his throat. She watched in morbid fascination for a moment then saw a man aim his rifle at the animal. She took him out with a tight pattern grouped around his heart. The wolf attacked two other men in quick succession, and neither moved. The only man left standing disappeared into the woods. The big animal followed, intent on chasing him down.
Hannah pushed up onto her knees and stared straight into the barrel of an old WWII German Luger. She’d miscounted—seven men in all, not six. In a vague, detached way, she was sorry her life didn’t flash before her eyes. Maybe that meant she wasn’t going to die. Or maybe it meant there was nothing in her life worth remembering at the point of death. That thought really depressed her. Jeez but her life sucked.
Her breath caught in her chest as the man’s finger tightened on the trigger. Eyes wide, she watched his finger flex and pull, the whole thing blurring into slow motion. The pistol clicked on empty. Before she could recover, the wolf attacked. She crabbed backwards scurrying to get out of the way. After putting some distance between her body and the snarling wolf, she curled up in a tight little ball, her hands over her head and ears, trying to block out the man’s screams as the wolf savaged him.
After a long moment of silence, the wolf nosed the back of her hand. Hannah lifted her head, not realizing she was crying until the wolf licked her face. The big animal growled at her and she giggled, on the verge of hysteria. Oh god. She swore the wolf was telling her that everything would be okay. She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She tucked her head against them, and started rocking. She’d just killed a man. Maybe two. She’d seen a wolf that was really a man tear men to shreds. Nothing would never be okay again.
Mac changed into human form as quickly as he could. He grabbed his uniform out of the tree but only pulled on the pants. Hannah curled around her knees, rocking, and sobbing. He knelt beside her and drew her into his arms.
“Shh, baby. Don’t cry. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay.” She shoved feebly at his chest. “You went away and left me, you bastard. And those men found me. They were going to...they wanted to...and then I shot one. Oh, god. I killed that second man.” She balled up a fist and hit his bare chest. “You left me.”
“I know, babe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s okay now. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe.”
When Hannah shoved against his chest again, he loosened his grip and let her lean away. He looked at her, glad to see her anger battled the fear.
“Fuck you, McIntire. I’ll keep myself safe,” she snarled.
He grinned. Yeah, she was impressive all right. “Yes, ma’am,” he agreed. “I do believe you will.”
“Where the hell were you?”
“Scouting, ma’am. We’re about four hours from our rendezvous point and I wanted to get the lay of the land. Our intel didn’t indicate any patrols in this region.”
“Obviously our intel sucked.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mac had decided agreeing with her was the safest course of action, especially when she was right. She’d stopped crying and he was eternally grateful. One more sob would have torn him in two.
“You’re out of uniform.”
“Yes, ma’am, I am.”
Hannah pulled away from him and stood. She took about three steps then turned back to glare at him. “And that’s Major Babe to you, Sergeant Major.”
“Yes, ma’am, you most definitely are,” he agreed with her retreating back.
He dressed quickly then hauled the rest of their gear out of the trees. He checked each of the men to make sure they were dead. They were. He nodded with satisfaction over Hannah’s kills. One shot to the lung on the first and a tight three-shot grouping in the heart of the other. She was a hellava shooter. He’d been right. She could protect his flank.
All seven men were accounted for and he left them where they lay. There wasn’t time to bury them. The major was squatting next to her backpack when Mac approached. He reached down, grabbed her hand, and hauled her to her feet without saying a word. He snagged her pack and draped it over his shoulder.
“I am quite capable of carrying my own gear,” she snapped.
“Yes, ma’am, you are.”
She stared at him, waiting for him to give the pack back to her. Instead, he walked off, ignoring her. Not knowing what else to do, Hannah stuck out her tongue at his retreating back then grudgingly followed.
