Wicked Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Wicked

  ISBN 9781419922794

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Wicked Copyright © 2008 Lorie O’Clare

  Cover art by Syneca

  Electronic book Publication June 2009

  The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.

  With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

  Wicked

  Lorie O’Clare

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Dumpster: Dempster Brothers, Inc.

  Expedition: Ford Motor Company

  Chapter One

  Mist soaked through his shirt, hung on his eyelashes, mixed with the sweat clinging to his spine. A perfect night for a good chase. He picked up the pace. Damned asshole ran faster than most mixed breeds.

  That’s it, fucking mutt, feel the triumph pump through your veins. You’ve met your match tonight. The punk’s excitement that he’d gotten away with his crime drifted through the air. A blind man could have tracked him.

  Perry Roth gritted his teeth, energy from his pure bloodline pumping through him as he raced around the corner. The street was quiet. Humans all tucked away in their beds.

  His night vision sharpened, instinct demanding control. The dark figure ran hard and fast, gaining distance. There were several blocks between them now.

  Sirens wailed blocks away. The gap between them lessened. Hesitation. Fear attacking rational thought. Let the mutt wonder if he’d pulled the law into this. Like Perry needed the help of humans.

  Damp pavement mixed with garbage from Dumpsters and the ever-present human scent that clung to the brick buildings created a nauseating mixture of smells. The smell of the creep was actually stronger than all the human scents clinging to the moist air, making the jerk an easy target.

  Within minutes they’d be at the edge of town, the highway not too far. Open ground, free of humans, would make the change possible.

  We can play in our skin, or in our fur. Your call, motherfucker.

  The smells in the air changed quickly. He spotted the second figure immediately. Johann Rousseau wouldn’t have sent backup. He wouldn’t humiliate Perry like that. His pack leader had called him, and knew Perry would do the job. So who the hell was darting down the opposite side of the street?

  “Steve. No! You idiot!”

  The female’s screams echoed off the buildings, violating the night. Attention would be drawn soon. The police called. Not good.

  Time to end this game. Damn it. He would have enjoyed tearing at the creep’s neck. There would have been a hell of a lot more pleasure in taking down the lawbreaking werewolf in his more pure form.

  Perry’s heart pounded through his head, his shoes hitting the pavement just as hard. As fast as he ran, faster than any human, the female across the street managed to match his pace. A lunewulf. And chasing down a mutt. Made no sense but not his problem.

  He gained on the werewolf who’d attacked the unmated female at Howley’s, outrage replaced guilt in the air around him.

  “You are such a jerk,” the female yelled, crossing the street and obviously trying to beat him to his target.

  Long blonde hair fanned around her thin, petite body. In jeans and a pullover shirt, the simple clothes hugged the body of a goddess. Perfect curves, tight and fit, with the agility her breed was known for. Fuck. She chased after a rapist. A werewolf who probably would view her as icing on the cake.

  Steve, the jerk, turned to look at her, and then glanced back toward Perry. He had him now.

  “Show’s over,” he growled, leaping through the air.

  Hard pavement tore at both of them as Perry took the asshole down. The scumbag wanted to fight, but obviously had no clue what he was doing.

  He swung at air, twisting underneath Perry. “Get off me, motherfucker.”

  “Not a problem,” Perry hissed in his ear, the stench of sweat and anger rolling off the guy’s flesh.

  Yanking him by the shoulder, Perry lifted him off the ground, reaching for his wrist and hiking it up his back.

  “What are you doing? His den wants retribution!” The woman leapt on Perry, her body firm, yet light enough to toss across the street.

  Except throwing a female wasn’t acceptable—unless he planned on getting his dick wet.

  Not many could control their actions quickly when attacked from behind. Every muscle inside him spasmed when he fought the urge to throw her. No way would he send a female flying.

  “Stay out of this,” he growled. He took a minute to glare at her, letting her know he meant business.

  Her features were mind-blowing. Where the hell had this little lunewulf bitch come from?

  Dark blue eyes glowed in the darkness. “Like hell I will. Turn Steve over to me. His mate and her den will see to his punishment.”

  Defiance glowed in blue eyes so pure they were like rare sapphires. He’d never witnessed such an intense shade.

  “Not how it works.” He shoved Steve forward, deciding a bit of distance from where he’d taken him down would be best. Just in case any nosy humans were up at this hour.

  Then he’d call Johann.

  There was no way Jaynie Rousseau could just walk away. If it weren’t for her cousin, Wendy Amyx, she’d let this Cariboo lunewulf tear the life out of Steve. Wendy might end up a widow. But with Steve as her mate she would sooner or later anyway.

  Steve did his best to look at her. “You go tell Wendy I’ve been set up. Have her sire—”

  “Shut up.” The Cariboo tightened his grip around Steve’s neck, making his eyes bulge. He almost had his feet off the ground.

  Steve looked like a cub in the Cariboo’s grasp. Dear God. She’d never laid eyes on a werewolf so large. Sure, the Cariboo lunewulf were one of the largest breeds of werewolves on earth. But still…this one was a giant. At least six and a half feet tall, with arms as thick as tree trunks. And damn, the roped muscle that rippled underneath his jeans. He was so fucking huge. If he was going to break Steve’s neck, Jaynie would enjoy watching. For all the grief he gave his mate, her youngest cousin, he deserved the worst of deaths.

  They hurried down the street, on the edge of the industrial side of Prince George. She had no idea where they headed. There hadn’t been time since she got here to learn pack territory. The Cariboo didn’t tell her to leave, and this was more excitement than she’d had all evening—hell, all month. The quick agility of the giant Cariboo stole her breath.

  At the end of the block they paused. Rolling hills covered with evergreens sprawled out ahead of them. The mist held thei
r scent in the air, and Jaynie filled her lungs with it. Damn, she’d wanted to get a good run in tonight.

  Single bitches don’t run by themselves.

  Until she managed to establish a relationship with the queen bitch, she couldn’t just prance around doing as she wished. Werewolves were annoyingly antiquated at times. And there was no changing it.

  “You make one attempt to run and I’ll break your fucking neck. Understood?” the Cariboo growled.

  Steve muttered something incoherent under his breath and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He was just about the most stupid mutt she’d ever met, but even he had enough sense to know he didn’t stand a prayer against this brute of a Cariboo.

  “Are you here for a reason?” Perry asked.

  Jaynie looked up at the Cariboo. And she had to look up. Standing a foot or so away from him, the top of her head barely reached his broad, packed shoulders. Blond curls hung almost to his shoulders. Blue eyes laced with silver—like lightning shooting across a clear sky. Dangerous. Deadly. And…oh my God…breathtaking. Her mouth went so dry staring at him that her tongue almost stuck to the top of her mouth.

  She cleared her throat. “His mate is my cousin.”

  “You’re standing as his defense?” His lip curled, his disgust apparent.

  God. He looked dangerous as hell. All those stacked muscles, barely contained by the T-shirt that struggled to stretch over them, clinging to every bulge, damp from the mist and sweat.

  Appreciating how well he was built at the moment wouldn’t put her in this brute’s good graces. She managed her best no-nonsense expression.

  “He stands on his own defense. I’m part of his den who wants their name cleared from his disgrace. We would love the right to see to his punishment.” And no matter what this Cariboo thought of her, she knew she could kick Steve’s tail until he begged for mercy.

  The Cariboo grunted and didn’t give her another moment of his time. Flipping open a cell phone, he muttered a few words and then grabbed Steve by the back of his neck, pushing him toward the edge of town.

  Her gaze got stuck on buns of steel. Thick, corded muscles rippled as he moved. And if those weren’t the longest, most powerful-looking legs she’d ever seen. Having a reputation for being a bit more on the wild side, more reclusive, a mountain breed, Cariboo lunewulf weren’t a breed she’d spent a lot of time associating with. But damn, a dangerous excitement rushed through her at the thought of getting to know this one a bit better.

  If she weren’t careful, the damp air would soon be full of the smell of her lust.

  Keeping a step behind, not so she could enjoy the scenery, but to keep from being growled at further, every breath she inhaled was full of his scent. Inhaling him gave her the chills.

  Determination stronger than anything she’d ever sensed radiated from him. Anger, focused and powerful, mixed in with other scents. A strong male, never doubting his next move, a creature at the top of the food chain. This Cariboo feared nothing. It wouldn’t surprise her if he’d never experienced the emotion. That made him a werewolf to be damn wary of.

  Her gut twisted with excitement. Brutal and demanding, he’d be more aggressive than most. And rough. God. She almost tripped. Her thoughts already had his hands on her, ripping clothes while telling her what she’d do for him.

  She exhaled, fighting her rapidly beating heart. This was ridiculous. Absolutely insane. Cariboo lunewulf were trouble. The brute probably had this job because he loved to kill—to mutilate and maim. Steve was a wuss and Jaynie saw the grief he put Wendy through. Like she needed some werewolf in her life who would be as intimidating and brutal. She’d seen the hell her cousin endured. No way Jaynie would allow any werewolf to chain her down like that. She’d be miserable.

  All those muscles flexing in front of her looked like they would do anything but make her miserable.

  At the curb a truck pulled up, tires grinding against gravel on the road while exhaust clouded the scent that had been driving her crazy. The driver was another Cariboo. Figures. Spending most of her time with her cousin in the six months she’d been here, she didn’t know much of the pack. Loneliness didn’t eat at her. She wouldn’t let it. But she had no idea that so many of the larger, more reclusive breed of lunewulf roamed the streets at night. She definitely needed to find a reason to get out more.

  And she wasn’t drooling simply because she hadn’t been around a virile werewolf in a while. Most of them were just trouble anyway. Something unique beat through this werewolf. A tracker, a werewolf who brought in the derelicts of their breeds. He sought out trouble, embraced it and forced it to belly-up.

  There was a small backseat and again her gaze was trapped when his arm muscles bulged as he pulled the front seat forward.

  “Climb in,” he told Steve. Then turned to look at her as if he’d just remembered she was with them. He studied her for a moment. “Get up front,” he finally said, stepping aside so she could scoot in.

  Jaynie found herself scrunched between two very large Cariboo. Damn.

  When they parked and opened the truck doors, evergreens sweetened the air, almost drowning all emotions in the cab.

  The Cariboo lunewulf got out on either side of her. For a moment Jaynie hesitated on which side to get out on.

  “Go greet the queen bitch,” the large Cariboo who’d brought her here growled at her.

  She’d just been excused from witnessing any action that would take place with Steve. Had he doubted her reason for wanting to accompany them all along?

  Her feet hit the ground and she straightened then dodged around him when he almost trapped her with virile arms as he moved to grab Steve out of the back.

  “Perry. This is the instigator?” a lunewulf bellowed from behind her.

  Johann Rousseau, pack leader and distant cousin of some sort, walked with a determined gait to the truck. Jaynie doubted he recognized her. She had to be from one of the largest dens in all of North America, and there was some vague memory of seeing him a few times as a cub. Keeping up with her den was an impossible task.

  Walking away from this intense showdown of testosterone and muscle proved even more of a challenge.

  “Yup. Caught him heading out of town.” Perry grabbed Steve by his collar and threw him at Johann.

  He stumbled but caught his footing quickly. Johann didn’t move, but squared his shoulders when Steve almost slid into him. He made a show of straightening his clothes and glanced over his shoulder at the Cariboo before focusing on their pack leader.

  Things didn’t look good for Steve.

  It was about time someone took him down. And she had a right to witness this after holding Wendy night after night while her cousin cried. The werewolf deserved the worst of deaths. Hovering against the front hood of the truck, the shadows hid her somewhat. Hopefully the warm engine would drown any smell of excitement or anticipation coming off her.

  “Her den is on their way,” Johann said, his emotions under check. She didn’t smell a thing off him.

  Steve’s nervousness plummeted through the air though, quickly turning to fright. He straightened, a defiant sneer working over his expression. Like he could hide his fear from any of them.

  “That bitch begged for everything I gave her,” he lied, the smell of it turning Jaynie’s stomach.

  “You raped a virgin, an unmated bitch,” Johann accused, his tone too calm. “The law on this matter is cut-and-dry. Her den will have their revenge on you.”

  And Steve wouldn’t live through the night.

  “Anything else you need from me?” Perry asked, muscles bulging in his arms when he flexed them. He looked like he ached to rip Steve’s throat out himself.

  “Nope. Appreciate your help.” Johann walked past Steve, obviously satisfied that the lunewulf wouldn’t try to run.

  “Call me anytime you need me,” the Cariboo offered.

  Johann nodded, pulling his wallet from his back pocket. He laid a few bills in Perry’s hand. The Cariboo nodded, shov
ing the money in his jeans pocket, and then turned toward her.

  But he walked past her, past the truck, and Johann returned to Steve, mumbling something profane under his breath and shoving him in the back to make him move toward the other side of the house.

  She was left behind. Forgotten. The pack leader hadn’t given her a thought, too pissed off at what Steve had done to a member of his pack. And Perry, the Cariboo who’d hauled her out here, obviously didn’t see any reason to look after her either.

  Perry’s shadow faded quickly among the trees, dense foliage and darkness making it too hard to pinpoint him with her human eyes. Something about him compelled her. His scent called out to her. Running with him would be the only way to learn why he distracted her so strongly.

  Chapter Two

  Good little bitches don’t run by themselves at night.

  Shut up, Grandmother Rousseau.

  Jaynie scowled as the old woman, who’d hovered over her whenever she’d had a chance as a cub, spoke in her thoughts. Shoving the unpleasant memory of her long-dead relative out of her head, she noted the pack leader’s den was barely visible now through the trees.

  And Perry, the Cariboo with way too many muscles for his own good, was gaining distance on her quickly. Well, he might be almost twice her size, but he didn’t have twice her speed. The cold October air hit her like a brick wall when she stripped out of her clothes, almost tripping over her jeans and stumbling on the lace of her shoes.

  God. Freezing and nervous made a bad combination. She shook worse than bare branches during a hard storm while twisting her clothes and then securing them around her waist.

  Nervous energy leapt through her like a wildfire. Cold on the outside and burning alive inside. Is that why she wanted to chase after this Cariboo? Did going after some strange tail sound so appealing that she’d risk the wrath of the pack if they found her running alone?