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The Red Wolf

The Odin

Book III

Olivia Barrington-Leigh

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2015

All rights reserved by the Author

## Smashwords Edition License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This ebook is licensed for your enjoyment only and remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, or distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

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## Chapter

## 1

He ran.

Not because he wanted to feel the air run like fingers through his fur or because running in his animal form offered a freedom one simply cannot experience as human, hell, not even for a little exercise. He was running for his life.

He veered left towards the sound of running water because it wasn't enough that his kind's oldest foe had newfound, superhuman strength; the motherfuckers had also started using dogs to help them hunt. It seemed like a little bit of a cheat, or betrayal, depending on how you looked at it. As soon as his paws hit soft sand he leapt, his big body hitting the stream dead center. Too bad it wasn't deep enough to fully submerge him, the cool waters flowing over the lower half of his hot and bloodied body was refreshing. Somehow he didn't think he could call a timeout and the sound of barking was not far enough behind him, so he kept moving.

Life sure as shit hadn't turned out like anything he ever dreamed of when he was a young man. In a time when the kilt he favored was what men wore on the regular and women wore dresses that were a deep breath away from a wardrobe malfunction. The youngest of four boys, he had absolutely no chance of taking his father's place in the "family business" so he'd been free to do as he pleased. He was welcomed in every bar, inn, whorehouse and family dwelling, not only because he was the king's son but because he never met a stranger and his attitude, his love of life, his love for damn near everything, was infectious. When the castle was overrun and his family slaughtered it wasn't the members of the aristocracy that saved him, it was the man too poor to have favor with the king. Paupers and common men held Wallace back from certain death when he tried to avenge his kin. It was barmaid, innkeeper, smith and prostitute that hid him, lied and yes, even died, to keep him safe when the dust had settled and the blood washed away and knowledge that the youngest had escaped came to light. He'd been smuggled out of his homeland like a rare and precious thing. It took a long time for joy to find him again. When he met Jean Rene he was just starting to find happiness again. He fought through the storm of loss and came out the better for it because he knew that tomorrow was not promised.

With the discovery of Maximus, aka Fenrir reincarnate, and his goddess, Josephine, their kind had also been gifted with Alfred 2.0. No one knew how it happened, or who did it (Lord knows Alfred was the last person in the world that needed _super_ anything) but for some reason, some god had given the man extra...oomph. The man now had the ability to put a real hurtin' on Wolfe and wolf. To add insult to injury he had also been gifted with super-soldiers, and while Wallace was always up for a good fight, facing-off with more than one or two of those big bastards was life-threatening. He had more holes in him than a damn pin cushion. Thank the gods the Robo-Wolfes had not been given super swords like their leader or Wallace would be dead instead of running. Not that the large broad swords and guns didn't do damage—just not damage Wallace couldn't recoup from given a chance...hence the running. He had to put some distance between him and the four _Executioners_ , Alfred's name for his band of slayers: The Wolfe Executioners.

In his bid to rid the world of the werewolf Alfred was killing any he could find: men, women and children. He'd been part of the legendary Wolfe Hunters, a group of extraordinary men whose purpose had been to hunt and kill werewolves. Fast forward five hundred years and the two lived in relative peace. There were always those who thought wolves needed to be but down, no question asked, regardless of time, evolution, or agreement made between man and wolf. After all, werewolves are pretty fucking powerful, but like the man said: "Can't we all just get along?"

Wallace cursed the gods for not giving the Sun Wolf's people any _real_ advantages. Yeah, having the ability to turn into wolf anytime day or night regardless of the shape of the moon was groovy but he would love to take half form and take to the trees like their Alpha, their King, Jean Rene, a werewolf over five hundred years old. He was the one who'd turned Wallace, and while he was also an alpha wolf, he had but two forms: human and animal. A thing he'd been happy with until eight months ago. But that's not when things started changing. Not really. When the little, suave, French bastard returned from the States is really when things started to get interesting. Jean Rene declared himself King of the wolves at the urging of his mate, the White Queen, a human and descendant of Geri and Freki.

Many moons ago, when people lived in mud huts and killed what they ate, the Norse god, Odin, brought his two beloved wolves to earth. Geri and Freki were a mated pair and Geri was in active labor when Fenrir broke the chains that had tied him in a courtyard for time out of mind, which led to him being...well...out of his mind. The three of them, Odin, Freki and Geri, were all oohing and aahing over the female pup when a young boy from a nearby village stumbled upon them, scaring the bejeesus out of Freki. Freki did what any father would do when an unknown threat comes within biting distance of his defenseless babe. He bit the shit out of him. Odin gave the pup human form, assigned the boy as her protector and that's pretty much how werewolves came to be. Afi and Cynric were the Adam and Eve of werewolves. And in other news...as it turns out Fenrir had been in love with Geri. To say that he didn't like that she'd picked Freki instead of him was an understatement on an unfathomable level. Talk about a fucked up love triangle. Fenrir hadn't kill Geri, Freki or Odin that day but he did eventually find freedom. Somehow he was implanted in the biggest, meanest fucker Wallace had ever met—Maximus. Who was sort of a gift from Alfred. The man had killed Maximus's parents and raised the pup, if daily torture counts as raising a kid, and set him loose to kill Jean Rene. But being away from Alfred had given the sociopathic serial killer a taste of freedom and Maximus soon left the tyrant. It was a good thing for Maximus, because being a slave sucked big, hairy, musty balls. Add torture to the mix and there wasn't a string of words in the King's English that could be pieced together to describe the injustice. Unfortunately, said recently freed slave had an addiction. He liked to kill. The icing on top of the shit cake that was his life was he also had what the _human_ medical profession called: split personality disorder. Too bad, his condition didn't just mean he lost time as one of his other selves took over his body. Maximus was a werewolf. A powerful one at that, and he had three forms. The man fought the urges, but there were two other contenders: Beast and Wolf. Wolf was pretty chilled, Beast—well Beast was a fucking killing machine. But wouldn't you know it, true love was all it took to get Maximus to fight the demons inside. Oh, he was still one big, bad wolf, had a habit of talking about himself in the third person, but love made him rein in his inner beasts. He mated with Josephine Baxter, another human, another descendant of Geri and Freki. If not for the new war Alfred had initiated all would be good.

The pain in his side bypassed stitch and felt like a fucking sewing factory with every inhale. The list of reasons why being a werewolf was long and right on top was heightened senses. Currently, Wallace could smell his own blood and his heartbeat was playing in surround sound in his ears. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been injured so badly. Of course, fighting a Hunter could hardly compared to fighting a mere human but fighting the new and improve was more like fighting one of his own kind. Preoccupied with tuning out the echo of his heart in order to better judge how far he'd left his enemy behind Wallace didn't see the woman until she was right on him. Calm determination on her face, almost silent in her approach, a fearsome opponent if he'd ever seen one. Her hands were over her head and between them—was that—a pitchfork?

Really?

He was almost a hundred and ten years old, had fought in countless battles with men trained to kill him and a human woman with a damn pitchfork was how it was going to go down. Her aim was true. Tines slid between ribs hitting his lungs, those that didn't cracked bone. As the darkness of unconsciousness (or death) took him, he thought: son of a bitch.

## Chapter

## 2

Wallace woke up feeling like he'd been beaten with a bag of bricks, ran through a meat grinder and tossed in a blender for good measure. Everything on him hurt.

"You're lucky to be alive." The Nonakris, his queen, sat next to him, her worried gaze looking him over like she could hardly believe he was still in the land of living.

"What...this... flesh wound," he said trying to sit up. He wouldn't be weak in front of the woman sitting on the edge of his bed. For her he'd slay dragons, he'd fight off death so that she may live. Just as soon as he felt like his guts weren't sitting on the outside of his body, twisted in knots, and on fire.

"Please," she said putting a hand on his bare shoulder, her power a warm current flowing from her palm through his body. "Be at ease, my wolf." She would never be anything but beautiful but fatigue had settled in; from the slight sag in her shoulders, to her wild hair that looked uncombed instead of it usual beaten into submission. How long had she been with him? How many others had she sat vigilance with?

"I'm fine. You should rest." Wallace voice was loud because it was the only volume he'd been born with.

"I think I will now that I know you're out of the woods." She stood, put her hands on her back and stretched. Her vertebrate sounded like machine gun fire. "I'll send food down." He opened his mouth to protest but stopped when she raised her eyebrow. Yeah, he outweighed her by a hundred plus pounds but when the queen of your race says jump...you know the rest.

"Thank you Nonakris." He dipped his head. The only show of respect he could manage lying flat on his back.

"I'll let the others know you're awake." She leaned forward and Wallace raised his head, tilting it slightly to the side to be kissed on the cheek, but instead of lips, hands landed on the bush covering his cheeks that he called a beard. When he saw where her lips were headed he closed his eyes. The exhale deflated his massive chest as her lips landed on his lids.

"Thank you," she whispered with her face still inches from his, her breath warming his skin. Her payment was better than gold.

"You are lucky she loves you so."

The man standing in the doorway was not large, he stood in Wallace's shadow, but next to Maximus he was the strongest werewolf Wallace had ever encountered. Curly black hair that fell just past his shoulders and today's attire is a three piece charcoal grey suit and baby blue tie with navy paisley and dark brown leather shoes. It didn't matter, weekday or weekend; the man was always dressed to the nines, as was the queen. She looked at her mate, her long, grey silk dress the exact same color as his wolf form, the small train making her look every bit as regal as she was.

"Mon Lupe," she said sliding into his open arms and offering her lips. It didn't matter who was around, they took public displays of affection to new levels. It was that way with all mated wolves, alphas being the worst of all. It didn't matter how many kisses she offered to her wolves, or where, she belonged to one man, he controlled her—literally. She was queen of wolves but her mate trumped even that. If the king threw down a command the queen had to obey. Not that he bossed her around.

"How are you?" Jean Rene asked. Wallace had his mouth open to answer but saw the king had eyes only for his queen.

"Fine...well."

"Go...rest. I'm sure your kisses have done more for Wallace than the doctor ever could."

"You've got that right," Wallace agreed.

Diana nodded before leaving her mate's embrace, they held hands until they had to separate.

Jean Rene waited until Diana was out of hearing distance, which meant he stood there almost a minute before speaking. Like all werewolves she made those bionic people seem deaf. "Alfred called a council meeting."

The Nonakris was not the only royal wolf fatigue had come to visit. Funny, he didn't look that way while Diana was standing there.

"And you're not telling Diana why?" Wallace asked.

"I'll tell her soon enough." He crossed the room and sat in a chair at the head of the bed. "She's running herself ragged visiting all the injured. I am hoping that Alfred will give us a few days peace while he prepares for the meeting."

Not much was known about the upgrades that suddenly happened eight months ago: the who's or whys, but they were grateful. Diana, who had a special connection with all wolves, natural and super-natural, could now heal her pack. It was not at a cost. It left her drained if she spent too much time doing it.

"The question is _what_ he's preparing. It could be another trap."

"He gave his word."

"And he's just so fucking trustworthy," Wallace growled.

Jean Rene gave a short laugh, "No, he is not, but he has to know we will be prepared for almost anything." The king looked at him long enough that Wallace was almost sure he was looking past the thin sheet covering his body and at the injuries below. "I am glad you made it."

How many times had that bitch stabbed him?

"I'm alright." The king nodded, but the look in his eyes made Wallace want to double check, maybe his insides really were knotted on the outside of his body, he hadn't checked under the sheet.

"Get some rest. We'll talk later." He gripped Wallace's shoulder. The queen's power was like being submerged in warm waters, the king's power as hotter and kind of fizzed along the skin, both were comforting touches, both a sign of their superiority.

"Milord," Wallace said dipping his head again. He was itching to get on his feet; this lying down thing was getting old. Pride kept him in the bed; he'd wait until he was alone before he tried standing. There was no way he'd stumble before the man standing next to him.

A small smile tilted the lips of the king before he turned to leave. "Do not think I missed the delicate undertone of sarcasm in your words."

True. Even with all that immense power, when Jean Rene turned the nine men who made up his pack he'd insisted that they were equal. It was all bullshit, that's not how a pack work, it was all about power and hierarchy. Jean Rene had been raised a gentleman, a nobleman, his speech soft, his manners impeccable, but none of the nine dared challenged the Frenchman. Even with all the constant reminders that they were brothers, not master and servant. They first respected Jean Rene and then they'd loved him. Wallace sat tall in his bed, put steel in his spine and said, "I serve you in all things my king...my Lycaon."

The king turned at the doorway, locking eyes with Wallace. "I am both pleased and honored. Rest, my wolf, for the fight is not over. I fear it is just beginning." With those words the king looked damn near used up and it wasn't weariness, it was worry that rode him. He and Diana ruled over the largest group of werewolves in the world. When they took over it wasn't about subjugation, it was about unification and they felt responsible for every life under their rule. But it wasn't the lives of the thousands they reigned over, but that of only four that worried the king: his mate and children. Wallace actually shuddered at the thought of the queen and children being in harm's way.

The room was immaculate, the best of everything—priceless too. Most of the furniture had been in the room for over half a millennium. The mattress was new, one of those pillow-top kind, the sheets were soft on his skin and the bedding a solid weight on his top. The room's temperature was pleasant. All were irritants. Wallace lifted the covers—no guts showing—but the large white bandage started at the middle of his stomach and he could feel the tape in the middle of his back. Man, she'd really gotten him good.

The worry he had for his new family made him think of his old one. While his family was being slaughtered Wallace had not been home, but news traveled fast, and soon he was being rushed out the back door of his favorite brothel by a group of regulars. They'd hidden in the woods for days until arrangements could be made for Wallace to be moved safely to a neighboring town. He was on the move for damn near a decade. The bounty on his head set too high for most people to ignore. With his entire family dead Wallace was the rightful king and the bastard who killed them wanted to make sure he never came knocking. But it was a title he never wanted and one he never held officially. The monarchy was eventually abolished but not before Wallace had his revenge. It was savage, a testament of the kind of man Wallace became after he'd been run from his home, the kind of animal. Jean Rene bite had given him the ability to turn wolf, but he was wild the second he was told his entire family was dead.

Throwing back the covers, he placed a hand over his abdomen. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and gritted his teeth against the pain that shot through his mid-section as he stood. After a wave of dizziness that threatened to put him on his ass passed, he made his way across the room and out the door.

The house had several hundred staff members: maids, butlers, footmen, scullery maids, cooks, valets, lady's maids—the whole shebang and they were like worker bees in a hive. Diana had forbidden anyone being called a servant. It was the only thing she was able to win when it came to the men and woman that served her. She gave up trying to get them to call her Diana and Wallace chuckled every time someone called her Milady or better still Queen. Diana had insisted her mate become king but she hadn't thought about all the fixin's that came with the title. American wolves and humans had only a vague concept of what living under the reign of a king or queen meant and the European wolves had no idea how not to. So when the last king had been killed and no one picked up the reins it had been bad. When Jean Rene took over it had been open season for Alfred, another few months and Wallace wouldn't have been surprised if the secret of their existence had come out and people were running through the streets with pitchforks and fucking torches. Oh, those were the days. Now Alfred was back on the war-path. And while Alfred was getting more and more soldiers, only the originals of Jean Rene's pack were affected. The hunt for the remaining pack mates became top priority.

His pace was slow as he headed for the stairs. He could feel his wound mending. It felt like shit, but he was no one's pussy, so he pushed on, headed for the great outdoors, for his den. His hand touched the smooth wood of the banister at the same time the scent hit him. Honey, and not just any honey, but the thick, amber colored sweetness straight from a bee's hive, with just a hint of something floral he couldn't put his finger on. It wouldn't have meant much to him, but he knew the smell. It was like the tune of a song he couldn't quite name the title of and he was powerless not to track it down.

"Can I be of assistance?"

John was a footman and an almost son to Diana. She'd taken him under her wing right after she and Jean Rene arrived. During Alfred's first failed attack John refused to leave. He had Wallace's respect.

"No...um...thank you, John,"

"Very well, sir."

Wallace continued down the hall taking deep breaths along the way until he came to a hidden stairwell. It led to the staff housing wing. He made a slow climb to the top. It was early morning, so everyone should have been downstairs, but Wallace's acute hearing picked up pacing from a room at the end of the hall on the left. Outside the door the scent was so thick it coated his tongue. He swallowed. He tried the knob but the door was locked. He could have tracked someone down for the key, but where was the fun in that? Besides, he needed in the room...now. He decided to put his shoulder into it. The door gave under his weight, flew out of his grip and banged against the wall before bouncing back. His large palm stopped it from slamming in his face.

"You!"

## Chapter

## 3

Freya was beautiful. It was not the boast of a merely pretty girl. She made every star or athlete on the cover of any magazine declaring them most beautiful look plain. Natural blond hair, big blue eyes, rosy cheeks, darker lips, six-three bare-foot, just enough breasts to not be flat-chested, washboard abs, hips and a nice tight ass on legs that went on and on. She'd been down-playing that beauty since she had to stab a foster father with a pair of scissors when she was ten.

She kept her blond hair short, and never wore makeup, she hid her figure beneath clothes several sizes too big and made for boys. Still, by the time she had aged out of the system she'd had to fight off three foster dads and five brothers. On the streets she'd had to fight off too many to count. Needless to say, Freya could hold her own in a brawl. Even with that shitty start in life, she didn't let it get her down. She'd found jobs and taken care of herself. Managed not to get raped or killed until one day while panhandling, instead of giving Freya change from her coffee a woman gave Freya a business card. The pristine white rectangle with embossed lettering said the woman's name was Micaela Free. She was with a local modeling agency. If it had been a man Freya would have thrown the card in the trash. But the woman was tall and elegant and beautiful. Freya had gone the next day to the address on the card and was signed on the spot. By week's end she had her first gig, it was only for a local boutique, but she was on her way to big things, or so Micaela and the very excited photographer told her. She kept her eye on him because he was keeping his on her. Her first check was enough to cover the airfare and food for a one week trip to the one place on earth Freya had always wanted to go but never dreamed she would be able to visit: Europe.

Every romance novel and movie say you could tour it with nothing but a backpack, so Freya stuffed her brand knew Swiss Army pack with a couple pairs of jeans, a few shirts, a single dress, toothbrush and deodorant. On her first day she met a nice girl named Marie. After several hours of easy conversation Marie invited Freya back to her place. She still lived with her parents out in the country. Freya agreed because, hey, why not. She'd been pleasantly surprised at how warm the family had been. Weren't the French supposed to hate Americans? Maria had two younger brothers and her parents had been grade school sweethearts. They offered food better than any restaurant and wine Freya graciously declined. She never drank or did drugs, couldn't fight off roaming hands inebriated. Every expectation was being met and exceeded when it came to dream vacations when all hell broke loose. She'd survived foster care and the streets of San Francisco only to come to France and be part of a mass homicide. She and Marie were upstairs in the girl's bedroom when the sound of the front door being thrown open echoed through the house. There was a lot of shouting, some screaming and what sound like swordplay. Marie, frantic, told Freya to climb out the window and run. She didn't have to be told twice. She was surprised when Marie wasn't right behind her but not surprised, or stupid, enough to go back.

She ran thinking she'd find a neighbor and call the cops but the woods were never ending. She decided to go back because it was the right thing to do. The men surrounding the house were fucking HUGE. She was tall, but every one of them had at least three or four inches on her and outweighed her by fifty or more pounds and it wasn't fat that made up the weight difference. She'd slipped into a barn behind the house, grabbed the first weapon she could get her hands on, a pitchfork, and snuck back into the woods to wait them out. Once they left she'd go back in the house and call the police. Yeah, it was a small chance they'd blame her but Marie and her family had been good people, it was wrong to leave them there. What if no one came to check on them?

It was bad...real bad...like a damn horror movie come to life bad. It had been swords Freya heard and Marie's parents had been run through, which was bad, but the beheading was worst. Freya had thrown up twice before she found the phone, which didn't work. Her backpack was where she left it, next to the door in the kitchen. She slung it on her shoulders, got a firm grip on the pitchfork and off she went. She couldn't find the keys to their car, okay, she didn't look for the keys to their car, so she walk out the way Marie had driven in, only off road. She didn't know what Marie and her family were into but the last thing she needed was to be caught walking from their house by the men who'd killed them.

She wasn't ordinarily a scary person but every sound was one of those men stalking her and she found herself swinging and brandishing her pitchfork every other second. The sounds of dogs in the distance made her almost cry in relief. Dogs meant civilization. Moments later she heard running, fast running and instincts told her to hide. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by a wild animal. She crouched behind a tree and almost swallowed her tongue when a big ass wolf came plowing through the woods. He was wounded; bleeding in several places and the fur on the lower half of his body was wet. Freya didn't second guess her decision, she was a survivor first, and she didn't need to worry about wolves chasing her ass. She decided to get rid of the one in front of her.

Running as fast as she could, she raised the pitchfork over her head and prayed to the tripping Gods that her feet wouldn't tangled. The tines of the fork went through his skin and muscle like butter. Breathing heavy, she pulled the weapon from the wolf's still body. That's when things started to get....weird. Freya brought the pitchfork up, ready to strike again, but was struck stupid as the hair started to recede, then its body started to reshape itself. She stood over the transforming animal, bug-eyed, opened-mouth, until before her was a man. Then she passed the fuck out. When she woke up she was in this bedroom. Two twin beds, two dressers and two old-timey jug and bowl deals in cream its only furnishing. There was nothing in the drawers or in the closets. The bathroom was similarly bare. The single window in the room looked out on grounds that were vast, landscaped to perfection and told her, without seeing the exterior of the house, that it was big, castle big.

Castle, grounds—fuck that—no one had the right to hold her against her will. She was a goddamn American citizen. She would have been scared if she wasn't so pissed off. When the doorknob turned she stopped pacing, faced it and was ready to give whoever opened the door an earful. The knob rattled a second before the door flew open, bounced off the wall and almost hit the man in the face. He was exactly how she remembered before she fainted: impossibly big with a head full of red dreadlocks and a big bushy beard that covered most of his face. His eyes, which she had not seen because they were closed, were emerald green. They were squinted and full of fury.

"You!" He bellowed.

Freya self defense reflexes had been on a hair trigger since she was ten. She'd spent the great majority of her life sleeping with one eye open. She grabbed the closest thing to her, one of the porcelain pitchers, and threw it. The man batted it away, but the bowl hit its mark and shattered. The gouge above his eye bled profusely but not enough for Freya, she needed him to pass out from blood lost or better yet, unconscious from blunt force trauma. She grabbed the lamp from the table between the beds, yanking the cord from the wall.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" He yelled at her, and man, his voice matched his body. It was big; a deep resonance that pounded her body like a bass line.

"I don't know!" she screamed back.

He stopped his advance. Freya kept her baseball stance. The words seemed to steal some of his anger, or maybe just confused the fuck out of him.

"What's going on here?"

Freya didn't take her eye off the prize but her peripheral vision picked up a man that looked too much like a few of the ones from Marie house. She was so fucked.

**-**

If he had been given a million years and a billion guesses Wallace never would have expected the woman who'd stabbed him to be behind the closed door. He also didn't expect to get brained by a damn flying bowl, but there you have it. She just kept getting the jump on him.

Wesley pulled him from the room where the woman was doing a spot on impression of a banshee. "What in the hell are you doing?" Wesley asked.

"Why is she here?" Wallace asked pointing at the door.

"She was lying on top of you when we found you."

"And so you brought her here, why?"

Wesley shrugged. "Low man on the totem pole," he said holding his hands up. "Don't rip my head off."

And Wallace certainly wanted to do some ripping. Now his side _and_ his head hurt.

"We think she was at the house the Executioners raided last night. It wasn't far from where we found the two of you."

Something hard hitting the door, followed by repeated hammering, then alternating pulling of the knob and kicking the door stopped the question and answer session. Wallace held the close to keep her contained in the room.

"What in the hell," Virginia said coming up the stairs, gun in hand, ready to rock and roll no doubt.

"Wallace decided to break in on our guest," Wesley answered his sister.

"If she's a guest why in the hell is she locked up?" Wallace asked holding the knob since he'd broken the damn door getting in.

"Why?" Virginia asked.

Wallace opened his mouth...then closed it.

"Let me out of here!" The woman screamed from the other side.

Virginia holstered her weapon and took a deep breath, pushing past her brother. When Wallace didn't open the door she looked at him. "Move."

"You sure you want to go in there alone?" Wallace asked. Blood was dripping in his eye and his beard. He could feel it on his chest.

Virginia knocked on the door, three solid raps. "Freya, my name's Virginia. I'm going to come in and we're going to talk about what's happening. I'm not going to hurt you if you don't try to hurt me. Will you step away from the door and let me enter?"

After a handful of moments she answered, "Alright."

Virginia waited on Wallace to open the door and then gave him the stank-eye when he didn't budge.

"She needs to go," he growled.

"And what do you suggest we do with her? Have Diana use mind-control to wipe her memory?"

Wallace had his mouth opened to reply. He cocked his head to one side. "Diana has mind-control?"

"Get out of the damn way," Virginia spit through gritted teeth.

He opened the door fully expecting the woman to rush out. He closed it firmly behind Virginia when she was inside. "Your sister's a little bit of a bitch," Wallace said.

"Don't let Constantine hear you say that," Wesley said, but he was grinning.

"Why, she's his bitch."

"You know I can hear you, right?" Virginia said from the other side.

Wallace smiled because despite everything that happened: the mystery woman on the other side of the door, the stabbing, the almost dying, he loved life. And as long as he drew breath, he knew only one way of living, and that was to have as most fun as possible. They may be long lived, but werewolves were not immortal and one day he too would die. He lived everyday like it was his last. He could find the silver lining in almost any cloud. This cloud was no different.

"But you love me," he said leaning his head on the door.

Virginia opened and slammed the door before he could move, hitting Wallace in the head and reopening his wound. "Of course I do. Now go get cleaned up."

"Come on," Wesley said lifting his arm in the direction of the staircase. Wallace let go of the knob and backed away before turning and following Wesley down the hall. "I'd hate for Virginia to let Freya out to finish what she started."

A voice floated down the hall. "Which time?"

They both stopped and looked at the door. It hadn't been Virginia that asked the question. Wallace's laugh was summer's storm, one that didn't bring tornados or flash floods, just a lot of noise in the way of thunder. He was still laughing when Virginia's opened the door. The woman was right behind her, looking over her shoulder.

"Is he alright?" she asked. She was still holding the lamp. It made Wallace laugh harder.

"He's Wallace," Virginia answered with a long sigh, shaking her head with a smile curving a corners of her mouth.

## Chapter

## 4

The woman was shorter than Freya but she recognized like. She may be small in stature but the woman could handle herself in a fight. Freya didn't put down the lamp.

"So, I bet you have a thousand questions," the woman, Virginia, said.

"Only one—when can I leave?"

"Well that depends."

"On?"

"What you saw."

Freya cocked her hip out, and gave the woman the bullshit lip. "Did I see a family slaughtered by men that looked an awful look like the man who came in after the redhead, or do you mean the large injured wolf that I stabbed turning into a man." She shrugged. "I must have been dreaming."

Virginia took a deep breath and sat on the bed furthest from Freya. "Look—"

"No—no look, I just want to get my backpack and head home. I'll cut my trip short and head back to the United States today. You can even escort me to the airport, no harm, no foul."

"You know it can't possibly be that easy."

"Why not," Freya asked.

Virginia frowned. "Well, because..."

Freya placed the lamp on the nightstand and sat across from Virginia. "Listen, I didn't actually see them killed by those guys—"

"The Executioners," Virginia said.

"Really? The Executioners."

Virginia nodded and stood, "There's someone who wants to speak to you. Since Wallace broke the damn door I'm going to ask you to go with me. We can't allow you to leave and if you try to run I'll have to subdue you, or shoot you in the back." Freya didn't think the woman was joking, even with the smile on her lips.

Virginia opened the door and two big ass dogs were sitting in the hallway—no, not dogs—wolves. One red, the other a grey, they stood when they saw Virginia. She petted each on the head as they took the lead as escorts.

It was a castle, one right out of a BBC documentary complete with bustling servants, waxing and dusting and sweeping. Freya tried not to stare but she was a tourist and while castles were not on the original itinerary she wasn't about to miss out. Virginia walked around like she owned the place and knocked at a door at least ten feet tall. She pushed it opened without waiting on a reply.

Freya stopped in her tracks in the doorway. There were six people in the room. A very handsome black haired man in a grey suit, the woman at his side was dressed exactly as you would think someone who lived in a castle should dress. Next to them a man related to those who'd killed Marie and her family. Sitting to his right was a woman with a scar running down the side of her face and onto her shoulder. There was a man dressed in black that was throwing off danger vibes clear across the room. His gaze was full of I'll-fuck-you-up-if-you-breathe-wrong. And last, but certainly not least, a man as beautiful as Freya. Small, dressed similarly to that one seated, he walked to Virginia and took her in his arms. None of this is what stopped Freya in her tracks. Her head moved slowly as she counted twelve wolves. Most were walking around the room looking more like flowing water than animals, two sat at the foot of the man and woman who were the closest to her.

"They're harmless," Virginia said.

"To you, maybe," Freya responded. And while the wolves didn't look aggressive per se, they were fucking wolves. Freya looked at Virginia and tried to convey with her eyes that she had better be right about them being harmless and stepped into the room.

"Freya, I'd like to introduce you to the King and Queen,"—the black haired man and woman stood—"Jean Rene and Diana. My parents, Thomas and Lillian Wolfe and behind them Rob and this man," she said looking into the eyes of the blond that seemed to be trying to climb into her skin even if his arm was loosely draped around her waist, "this is my husband, Constantine."

She wasn't up on current royal houses but she liked a good entertainment rag as well as the next girl and the couple standing before her had never graced the covers of any magazine she'd seen. But hey, when in Rome...she curtseyed to the couple.

"Please...sit down. Would you like anything to eat or drink," Jean Rene asked. Already her fear was turning into caution. She made her way across the room to a short couch or extra long chair in front of the king and queen. They sat when Freya was settled. A soft sound took her attention away from the man and woman in front of her. A section of the wall opened and Wallace stepped into the room. He took a spot next to an unlit fireplace, the grin on his face looked right at home. Oddly, she felt better that he was there.

"You must have questions," Diana said, "I know I had about a million when I first learned werewolves exist."

"No questions about werewolves, just about when I can leave."

"Freya, we know what you saw, and we're very appreciative that you are willing to keep our secret," Jean Rene said. "We are at war, and we need your help. The people killed were werewolves. Neighboring wolves say they were a very nice family. The men who killed them were once part of a group called the Wolfe Hunters, their purpose was to hunt and kill werewolves. Three hundred years ago a truce was made. One of these hunters has gone...rogue." At the pause Wallace's bark of laughter drew her attention back to him. The Queen turned. He looked almost ashamed—almost—he dipped his head in apology. Jean Rene continued once the Queen was facing front again. "He is killing every werewolf that he can find. I would like you to go and testify to what you saw."

Nervousness, fear or excitement, she couldn't finger which made her skin feel as if it was stretching tighter and tighter, or making her heart jackhammer in her chest, or suddenly make the air almost too thick to breath. Freya looked over the room before speaking. "How many of you are werewolves?"

"My wife and I," he answered, "Wallace, Constantine and Rob. That's all in this room, but there are many in the house."

She looked at the human man sitting next to his human wife. "You look like the men from Marie's. So did the man upstairs."

His wife took his hand and Freya didn't miss how he squeezed it a second before speaking. He kept his voice low, even, like she was a frighten animal about to either bolt or attack. "Most Wolfe Hunters favor each other. We can trace our lineage back five hundred years to the first Hunters, a father and his two sons. We are all direct descendants. The other man is my son, Wesley."

She laughed because it's what stress did her. She'd lived an entire lifetime fighting, just trying to survive. She'd bested men time and time again, fuck not getting raped, she'd stayed alive. She'd seen some pretty fucked up shit on the streets but nothing even remotely close to what she'd witnessed at Marie's. And yet, none of that mattered. The only thing that did was that a sweet girl and her nice family who'd been kind enough to welcome her in their home were dead.

"I'll do it."

"Just like that," Thomas asked looking a little surprised, as was the rest of the room.

She blew out a frustrated breath because it seemed that the unbelievable world she'd stumbled upon suffered the same woes as the rest of the fucked up world. Freya sat on the edge of her seat. "I didn't know Marie, I'd just met her, but she and her family didn't deserve what happened to them, so yeah, I'd like to see the people who did it held responsible."

"Thank you. You're very brave," Diana said.

Freya shook her head. "No, Marie was brave. She stayed behind with her family after I climbed out the window. She knew what was going on downstairs and making its way to her room, yet she refused to leave her family. I'm just doing what's right."

"There's bravery in that," Wallace said.

Freya looked at him. Yeah, she should have been cracking up at the newfound knowledge that werewolves existed, but none of them had slaughtered a houseful of innocent, unarmed people. For a matter of fact, no one had been anything but civil. The door opened and a young woman came in wearing the classic black and white maid's uniform.

"This is Serena; she'll show you to the room you'll be staying in while you're here. Your backpack is already there," Diana said. Freya stood up, as did the rest of the room. "I'm afraid we'll have to insist that a guard escort you if you leave the property.

"I can take care of myself," Freya said sounding more defensive than she intended. Sure, foster families had put a roof over her head, a few clothes on her back and made sure she han't starved but as far as she was concern she'd pretty much taken care of herself.

"Obviously," Constantine said.

Wallace growled behind him. Not made a noise that sounded like a growl but actually growled.

"Wallace," Diana warned.

"If the Executioners are like him,"—she said cocking her head in Wallace's direction—"I should be fine."

She left a roomful of slack-jawed werewolves and werewolf hunters behind as she followed Serena. There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask the woman and maybe she would later. After the shock of it all wore off, right now all she could do was try to keep her head from spinning in a circle from looking at the joint as they made their way up a staircase that seemed endless and then down a hall that seemed just as long. Serena opened a door to a room twice as big as her entire studio apartment. The bed was king size, wood and looked like it weighed a ton. The heavy drapes pulled back at the head were a light pea green with a gold design with fringe bordering the edges and big gold tassels gathering the middle. A spread with the same design was on the bed and overstuff pillows in gold lined the head of the massive thing. There was a fireplace on the opposite wall that was tall enough to stand in, a sitting area and a vanity. The rugs on the floor were old, as was the furnishing. It was breathtaking and almost as unbelievable as the rest of her vacation so far.

Serena went to a door next to the fireplace. "This is the close. You'll find your pack there. The clothes that were in it have been laundered and hung." She walked to the head of the bed. "If you need anything pull the cord here," She opened the door next to the bed. "This is the bathroom."

"Thank you," Freya said as the woman made her way to the door.

Serena dipped her head and knees, the same curtsey she'd given downstairs before leaving. Freya went to window and looked out onto foreign but still beautiful landscaped grounds. Next, she went to the bed and sat on the edge before allowing her body to fall backwards. It was like lying on clouds. She put her hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter bubbling up her core. This wasn't stressful it was goddamn insane. Werewolves, werewolf royalty, ancient werewolf hunters and a werewolf war to boot. It was almost too much.

As much as she'd been through, in her heart and soul she believe the world to be a good place—okay, that was a bit of a stretch—what she believed was the potential of the world being a good place. For every shitty foster father and brother there had to be a good one. Right? She'd met good people on the streets, even a handful of really nice people who were more fortunate than she. The ones that smiled instead of scowl in disgust or—gasp—stopped long enough to have a conversation with her because homelessness didn't mean she was less. Marie and her family had been those people that made Freya believe there was good in the world and the men that killed them, the Executioners, needed to pay. She wasn't a particularly violent person but she sure hoped being held responsible included a punishment that fit the crime. The memory of the bodies in the small country house made her hope the punishment included a lot of pain; she was even alright with death. More than alright. Frey took a deep breath and stood to give her room a more thorough inspection. The closest was half the size as the bedroom and good God, the bathroom. She stood gaping for at least a minute, maybe two. The shower stall was big enough for four people, the tub big enough for two, maybe three. Granite, gold plate, marble, it was...opulent. The bathtub looked inviting and she promised herself a dip when she had more time to truly enjoy it, right now she wanted to go outside, so shower it was.

She rubbed the front of her favorite pair of jeans, pulled the strap of her camisole up before shrugging on a jean jacket. From her window she could see a rose garden and a maze, and she bet the wooded area just beyond was still "the property." She wasn't afraid, but somewhere between jokingly insulting the redhead and her shower, she gotten a case of the jitters. She was in a house full of werewolves—strike that—a castle full of werewolves.

"Come on Freya, you're no punk," she said aloud. The pep-talk made her feel slightly calmer. How many others were there? Did that include the staff? Was Serena, the girl who showed her to this spectacular room? Straightening her shoulders, she walked to the door, opened it and screamed.

"Dammit, are you going to be stalking me the entire time I'm here?" She asked the large redhead. "Were you going to knock this time or just muscle your way in again," she asked.

"No reason to let them go to waste," he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Freya couldn't help herself, she laughed. He was the only one she knew for sure was a werewolf, even if he did look more like a big, snuggly teddy-bear as a human.

"Why are you here?" she asked once the silence hinted on too long and was becoming a little uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned on the door allowing her eyes to roam his body. She'd passed out pretty much as soon as his naked form took the place of his wolf's, but it was engraved in her head. She knew he was pretty damn impressive under the kilt and loose-sleeved shirt, his dreadlocks and bushy beard gave him a sexy, wild man vibe. His hair was pulled back and tied allowing more of his facial features to be seen. Well, at least his eyes. They were set deep in his head, crowded between his bushy eyebrows and the chaos of his beard. When he went grey he could definitely do Santa.

"Where are you going?" He eyed her suspiciously.

"Don't get your panties in a wad; I'm only going to look at the rose garden, maybe the maze. I'm not leaving the property," she said.

He looked up and down her body. She'd been ogled many a time in her short twenty-one years, ordinarily it pissed her off. Ordinarily. She let him have his look before pushing off the door. "If you would excuse me." She would have pushed past him but he looked about as movable as a mountain and for some reason she didn't want to touch him. Not that he was creepy or anything, more that she didn't want to know what her body felt like rubbing against his.

His eyes swept up her body, heat following its wake running up her body and spreading to her limbs. He moved just enough that their bodies didn't touch when she passed. He leaned down just as she cleared the threshold of the room; his lips so close to her ear she could feel the whispered words on her skin. "I don't wear panties. For a matter of fact, there's nothing under this kilt...Fleur."

Those hard r's, deliciously deep and low, the words almost growled. It was an open invitation for her to see for herself. Freya's head snapped to the side, and whoa-nelly, they were almost kissing. She licked her lips, saw his eyes dropped to her slightly open mouth and she fought the urge to lean forward. An inch was all it would take.

"Wallace!"

The word swung her head in a different direction. A man with the darkest skin Freya had ever seen was standing at the end of the hall. God, he must be seven feet tall.

"Yes."

The words were still low, still right in Freya's ear. His body wasn't touching hers but she could feel the heat of it on her back, like she was standing next to an open fire.

"Wallace," the man warned again and thank god, he was headed in their direction. Freya was feeling a little like a snared animal.

Wallace stepped back before the man reached them. "I'm not doing anything," he said, and Freya took a breath she didn't know she was holding when the heat of his body faded from her back.

"I am Alexis, you must be Freya," the dark man introduced himself. He looked at Freya while he spoke but eyes cut to Wallace before she could answer.

"Yes, I was just on my way to look at the gardens," she said once she could use her words again. He looked like some tribal chief carved from ebony. His skin was so smooth she wondered if he had pores. She found herself wanting to touch him. "It's very nice to meet you, Alexis." She looked back at Wallace before saying, "If you would excuse me."

Men had never done it for her. Neither had women, but there was something about Wallace that made her think about what she'd been missing. She didn't run, but she wasn't wasting time as she headed for the stairs. She needed distance between her and the redhead. She also needed fresh air. The scent of him clung to her skin.

## Chapter

## 5

Wallace watched the fine Miss Freya take off like hellhounds were on her heels.

"She's a guest and not to be used." Alexis said reminding him he wasn't alone.

"I don't use women," Wallace said. He tried to pull off looking wounded by the midnight man's word, but couldn't do it.

Alexis had been the only one that refused to leave their alpha's side when the pack was disbanded. He wasn't the most powerful of the nine, but had been their beta, their second, and still was. If anything happened to Jean Rene, he'd be their alpha; it wasn't a bad thing. Wallace would follow him. He was a good man and a good wolf.

"You are not to bed this one," Alexis said, really putting emphasis on each word.

Wallace had a reputation of being kind of a whoremonger but he didn't use women, he loved them. Loved everything about a woman, loved the smell of their skin, loved the soft contours of their bodies, and the sweet taste of them. He was honored each and every time one allowed him the pleasure of lying between their thighs.

"Why are you here?" Wallace asked instead of agreeing or objecting to Alexis's last comment.

"I live here."

"Not on this wing," Wallace said propping a shoulder on the doorjamb of their visitor's room.

"I was actually looking for you. I followed the scent of your blood."

Wallace growled at the light-hearted words. The teasing was not going to stop. In addition to being a whoremonger, Wallace was a warmonger. Tales of his battles were legendary. He knew because he was the one telling them. That he'd been stabbed and bashed in the skull by a woman that looked like an angel escaped from heaven was not going to be soon forgotten. His pack mates would make sure of it.

"We've a meeting with the king."

"About the upcoming council meeting?" Wallace asked pushing off the wall and following Alexis who'd already turned and began to walk away.

"Among other things."

Wallace didn't press the subject. He'd find out soon enough. Besides, he had other things to think about. And it smelled like honey and roses.

Instead of going to the library where they usually had what was turning into nothing short of a war council, they went to the bowels of the castle, to Alexis' office. Thomas, Constantine and Rob were already there with the king.

The king and Constantine looked nothing alike, one dark the other light, but each were dressed as if they were going to an office instead of staying in the house. Granted the house was a castle but still, who walked around in stiff, starched, three piece suits on a daily basis. Hell, Constantine probably had gloves in his pocket somewhere, along with the sword that always kind of appeared when needed. Wallace knew it was in a custom made sheath on his back that allowed the sword to hang upside-down on the man's back. All he had to do was unbutton his jacket, reach under his arm and grab the handle.

Wallace took a seat in a large, well-loved brown leather chair with brass tacks, throwing a leg over the wooden arm. He was more draped across it than sitting in it.

"Are we hiding," Thomas asked.

"Yes," Wallace said.

"Of course not," the king answered at the same time.

Wallace raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything.

"Okay," Thomas said taking a seat next to Alexis on a couch.

"As you all know, I have been looking for the other five. I have found four of our brothers." Alexis started.

"Who," Wallace asked sitting up in the chair.

When Jean Rene disbanded the pack they'd floated like dandelion seeds on the wind. Alexis started searching for his pack mate when Jean Rene and Diana had returned to claim the throne and had never stopped looking for those not found.

"Luka, the twins and..." Alexis looked at Wallace.

"Oh, hell, no!" Wallace shouted getting to his feet.

"I never understood how two people so alike didn't like each other," Constantine said.

"Really...seven fucking billion people on earth and you found his ass?"

"Well, when you put it like that it's a wonder Alexis found any of us," Constantine said turning away from the six and half foot redhead baby. "Have you spoken to anyone?"

"Only the twins, Luka I am close to contacting. He's on the move but I'm only about a week behind him."

"Are you sure it's not Tomas," Wallace asked.

"Yes, because Tomas so sounds like Furious," Rob said.

"Furious, fucking, Payne," Wallace growled.

"Really Wallace, the two of you are damn near mirror images. You're like some big burly version of the Lycaon and Constantine," Alexis said.

"Bite your tongue Alexis. You may be our second but I'll still kick your ass."

Alexis stood up and spread his arms wide. His seven foot body was honed down to nothing but solid muscle.

"Sit down Alexis. And Wallace please pretend to be an adult the duration of this meeting," Jean Rene said. The two men sat down. "Is there any chance anyone will arrive before the council meeting?"

"No," Alexis answered taking his eyes off Wallace. He shook his head when he saw the man stick his tongue out. "The twins have a personal issue they're taking care of. I have no phone number for Furious and the closest Hunter is dealing with the fallout from warring alphas. Furious recently moved, I did find an address and have mailed a letter to him urging him to return to the pack and to please contact me immediately."

"Luka will come," Rob said.

"Yes, if he stops moving long enough. I'm shocked that I found him and not Tomas," Alexis said leaning back in his chair.

"You need to turn more men," Wallace said.

"We have had this conversation and I will not," the king answered.

"You do realize we are just barely winning against the man, right," Wallace said. "And when I say barely I mean almost losing. He's attacking the weakest among us first, men and women that don't stand a chance against him, with little or no resources of relocating."

Nine men against god knows how many. No one liked a good fight more than Wallace, but fighting more than four or five of Alfred's men was fucking suicide. The only reason they were _almost_ losing and not just plain losing was because Alfred didn't have the numbers...yet. He'd gone out and recruited and some of them even stuck, but once you find yourself on the receiving end of some good old werewolf aggression it took a special kind of man not to shit his pants while running for the hills. But reports coming in from every post said the same thing. More and more of Alfred men were the super soldiers that'd first appeared eight months ago.

"Which is why we're offering shelter," Jean Rene said.

"And how many more can you take before the whole damn town is overrun with wolves? And how do you suppose you're going to feed that many wolves come full moon? Even if we have enough for this month, they'd wipe us out on the first night."

"Perhaps we haven't gotten that—" Constantine started.

"The hell you say," Wallace interrupted. "Soon our kind will be at near extinct numbers in Europe if Alfred is allowed to run free. Do you think he'll stop with Europe. He will hunt our brothers and sister across the ocean. He's a mad man. Or do you think once our land is wolf free he'll allow the rest of the wolves around the world to live in peace."

"You know I don't believe that," Constantine said.

"Well, I don't understand why the three of you are sitting on your damn hands while the answer to at least one prayer is sitting right in this room."

"Leave it alone, Wallace," Alexis said.

"Yeah, I'll leave it alone." His mouth was saying all the right things, his tone was full of: I don't think so.

"You assume the wolf you turned out to be is because of my bite. In truth you are that wolf because of the type of men you are. It took me years to find the nine of you. It was not coincidence that you are all alphas. Do you think our world is full of men strong enough to be an alpha wolf? Alfred has hundreds of followers, I would be lucky to find two to every ten of his soldiers, if that many. And once I find these men, then what? Do I attack in the black of night, become the thing that deserve to be put down. No, Wallace, I will not become something I am not. Never."

"Not even to save our race?"

"As long as there is Maximus and Josephine our race will go on."

"So that's it...to hell with the rest of us!" Wallace shouted.

"Enough!"

Wallace fell from his chair, his knees almost cracking the stone floor. He was an alpha, stronger than countless others but not his king. Jean Rene crossed the room and stood before him. Wallace could feel the raw power that made the man king of their kind. It wasn't like earlier, it didn't fizz along his skin, it crackled, like a live wire being run up and down his entire body. It wasn't comforting, it hurt. "We will find a way, just not that one." Wallace wasn't so sure but he was done challenging the king. Jean Rene laid his hand on the top of Wallace's head.

"Forgive me," Wallace said and meant it. Just as it was long before he became a wolf, he had no desire to rule. It had nothing to do with the fact that he stood about as much a chance in winning a challenge fight against Jean Rene as hell freezing over and everything to do with he didn't want that kind of responsibility. Hell, he didn't even want a mate. He'd already lived through letting down his birth family. He didn't have it in him to let down his adopted one, nor thousands of other families if he was king.

## Chapter

## 6

In the time it took her to escape Wallace and get downstairs and outside, men and women were pouring out of the back of the castle, breaking into group and starting military type drills. Who the in the hell were these people and what had she gotten herself into? She watched from the sidelines a few minutes when she saw a man waving at her. She lifted one hand in a return wave and the other to shield her eyes from the sun. As he approached she recognized him as the guy that had gotten her screaming earlier.

"Hey," he said smiling down at her. His dark hair was shaved low, his thick eyebrows was just shy of bushy atop a set of brown eyes laced by equally thick eyelashes. His nose was strong, which matched the rest of his face, and his lips were full and thick

"I'm really sorry about earlier," she said.

"I heard what you went through. I completely understand."

She started walking and he fell in step beside her, the sounds of mock-battle their back ground music.

"I'm sure it's already been said but I wanted to thank you for helping with my uncle," Wesley said.

Freya tripped over her feet. "Your uncle," she said, her mouth hanging open a little.

"Yeah, he's a real...," Wesley took a deep breath before finally settling on, "He's not a good guy." After a few seconds of silence to let it sink in he asked, "What are you doing for dinner?"

Freya shrugged, "Nothing, I guess."

"You should have dinner with me," he said and quickly added when Freya arched an eyebrow at him, "and some of the other recruits, of course. We eat in a different part of the house from the royal family."

"But aren't you part of the royal family? I mean, your dad and mom seemed pretty tight with them."

"They are, but I'm just a lowly trainee."

"So you don't fight?"

"Yeah, I fight; I'm just not high ranking...yet."

Freya didn't know what caught her fancy but she liked Wesley, even if he did favor evil incarnate. "Sure."

"Great, I'll meet you in the main foyer at seven," he said and started to run backwards, smiling until he almost tripped.

Freya watched the sparing men and women, wincing as they really gave it their all during their _practice_ fighting. She doubted if actual soldiers trained any harder. She turned and continued her trek. The air around rose garden was thick with the fragrance of the flowers. Freya didn't see a bruised bloom, each petal was perfect.

"Hello."

Freya screamed and spun around so fast she almost lost her footing. Even so, her fight or flight responses were online before the scream died or her body finished turning. The little girl was probably the cutest thing for miles around. Her dark brown hair was parted in the middle and tied in ponytails topped with fat, robin's egg blue ribbon that matched the trim on her dress exactly. The white dress stopped just above her ankles showing off bare feet that were caked with dirt, although her dress was free of any.

"Hi," Freya said looking for a parent or guardian. The rose garden was in the "back yard" but seemed miles and miles away from the great stone structure. "Are you out here alone?"

"You're not a wolf or like my mother."

Her mother...yes, the little girl was the daughter of the queen and king. She could see the resemblance now. Her skin was lighter than her mother's but she looked exactly like the regal woman sitting on the couch Freya had left an hour or so ago.

"No," Freya said. "Wait...what is your mother?"

The little girl didn't answer just looked at Freya long enough that the silence needed to be filled. "Let's get you back to the castle. You shouldn't be out here alone." She took a step in the direction of the girl when a large wolf entered the path. He stopped next to the girl, his back almost at the top of her head. Her arm went out and she stroked his fur almost absent-mindedly while staring at Freya with a set of eyes that belonged in a face much older.

"Why are you here?"

Where she'd been calm in a room full of werewolves and royalty, this girl...this little girl...was making her nervous.

"Your parents asked me to stay," she answered.

The girl continued to look at Freya as if she was a mildly interesting insect and she was deciding fates that included: plucking off its wings or burning to death with a magnifying glass.

"You're very pretty," she finally said and smiled. The smile made her look more her age. She stepped away from the wolf and Freya knelt as the child approached.

"Your hair is prettier than Constantine's," she said running her tiny fingers through Freya's short locks. "But don't tell him I said that."

"I won't," Freya said although she didn't know if she agreed, everything about the man was beautiful.

The girl's tiny palm rested on Freya's cheek, feverishly warm. She titled her head and now Freya felt not only judged but that the little girl was reading her as well. In that touch Freya was certain she was being tested. She wondered if she passed. She wanted to. She was surprised by the thought.

"Pretty," the little girl said again.

"Thank you." Freya's voice sounded far away. Was she hypnotized? When the girl leaned in and kissed Freya on the forehead she was convinced that she was. The child's hand dropped just as a ruckus sounded in the bushes directly behind her. The girl eyes went wild with excitement, a smile covered the entire bottom half of her face and to Freya's shock, she jumped on the wolf's back, grabbed twin fistfuls of fur as the wolf ran off before Freya had a chance to stand. Seconds later two little boys with miniature swords that looked very real came barreling out of the bush. They ran on either side of Freya as if she wasn't there. She stared off in the direction of the children and cataloged the incident with the rest of the weird shit that had happen to her since she'd arrived.

She got lost in the maze and ended up climbing through the thick hedges in at least three spots, trying very hard not to leave a perfect outline of her body as she panicked. She could have yelled for help, but embarrassment won that war. After her breathing was back to normal and she was no longer in danger of having a heart attack she decided to go for a walk in the nearby woods. Not too far, the last thing she needed was to get lost.

She took her jacket off and tied it around her waist. It was peaceful in a way she'd never known. The sunlight filtered through the branches of the trees giving the surroundings a magical feel. She stopped long enough to take off her shoes and continued. Her life had not been easy and nothing extraordinary had ever happened to her. She didn't even count Micaela with that business card telling her she could be the next Twiggy—a very tall Twigg,y but a super-model just the same. After a lifetime of having nothing of her own she finally had a nice place to live, food in the fridge. She'd kept every foster family at arm's length, even the ones that didn't have a touchy-feely foster father or brother. She never knew when she was going to have to knee someone in the nuts, or threatened them with a knife or was rejected by a wife because of how she looked; like it was her fault she was so pretty.

Murder and werewolves. She was still giving herself a pat on the back for not freaking out. Of course, after some of the shit she'd seen on the streets nothing much surprised her anymore. Lord knows the streets were filled with people that seemed inhuman.

Freya stopped at a tree that looked like something had hacked the shit out of it halfway up the trunk. She put her shoes on the ground and sat down, straddling a log and placing her hands behind her, she lifted her head and let the rays of sunshine that made it past the branches warm her face. The soft sounds in the woods around her were comforting. Rustling brought her head up. She'd only seen him for a moment...in the dark...while trying to kill him, but she knew it was Wallace. As the big creature came closer she swung her leg back over the tree. He was much bigger than the wolves that surrounded the king and queen. His coat was a sandy red and thick. His massive head was down as was his tail. He was trying not to frighten her.

"Come here, boy," she said patting her hands against her denim clad thighs. Wallace growled. She wished she had a treat to offer him. God, the thought was too funny. "Can't take a joke," she said, crossing her legs and cocking her head. "I thought werewolves only turned at night during the full moon."

Wallace shook his head, pawed the ground and ran towards her. Freya didn't have time to do much more than brace for impact. She fell hard, landing with her feet in the air and four hundred pounds of wild animal on her.

"Do you mind?" she asked when she could speak again.

Right before her eyes he began to shift, still on top of her, his wolf's head shortening, his hair receding, his teeth becoming blunt. Only his eyes remained the same, beautiful emerald green. As the last of his transformation changed him to human she was hard pressed not to notice that he was naked. That got her heart pumping. She fought the urge to push him off because that would mean looking at his naked body, not that she hadn't seen it before, but then he'd been unconscious. She tried to keep calm, but he was too close, too heavy. He immediately backed off, but remained kneeling so to not flash his man-bits.

"I didn't mean to frighten you."

Freya believed him. From his posture, to the look in those deep set, heavily browed eyes, said he was sorry. "That's okay," she said standing up, "I just don't like to be crowded."

"I saw you come out earlier, I came to get you for lunch," he said, shifting his weight.

She dusted off the seat of her pants and turned her back so that he could...change, cover himself with leaves?

"If you're going to come out here often you should know this is where I live."

Freya started to turn but swung back around. "In these woods?"

"Yeah, I like being free."

She knew the feeling. After she'd turned eighteen, even with nowhere to go, she felt relief at knowing no one controlled her, not the fake families, not the state. The short bark from behind made her turn. Wallace was a wolf again. She walked to the large animal, knelt and ran her hands down his side. His fur was soft. She could feel the muscled creature beneath his soft pelt. She buried her face in his neck, rubbed her face against him. Wolf and man smelled the same. Moving to the side of him she continued to run her hands thought his fur, slid it down the length of his tail. She rounded his big body, grabbing a fistful of fur, before stroking his back and sides again. She'd been uncomfortable with the man but with the wolf she felt completely relaxed. That was until a rough tongue licked her from shoulder to temple.

"Ewww," she said but laughed. "I don't know if that's gross or perverted. Wallace nudged her with his nose and barked once, then backed away.

"Alright, I'm coming," she said.

As they headed back to the castle he stayed close to her side, his fur brushing against her leg while she ran her hands through the fur on his back. The shock had worn off but she was hardly the kind of woman that got hysterical. She had come to terms with the curveball life had thrown her. She was safe in a house full of werewolves. She felt safest of all when she was with the wolf beside her, even if she had tried to kill him.

## Chapter

## 7

Wesley was standing at the bottom of the stairs waiting on her. She was so looking forward to hanging out with the underlings after lunch with the royal family. They were more her speed.

Wesley smiled and grabbed her hand. Before she could protest he was rushing them off down several hallways, a flight of stairs and finally a tunnel before they were dumped out into a dining room large enough to seat an army. Even so, it was packed tighter than a sardine can. The noise level was at mild hearing loss volume as the men and woman spoke over each other. The place settings were plain white, the forks stainless instead of silver, the cups heavy glass instead of crystal but all of it was still beautiful, still formal.

"So, tell me about yourself," Wesley said, filling his plate from a platter held by a man dressed in a tuxedo.

"Not much to tell, I was raised in the foster system and left when I turned eighteen," she said.

"And you've been alone since?"

Freya nodded, "Yeah."

"That must have been hard," Wesley said, filling her glass with wine.

"Not really," she answered while eyeing her glass. She'd never allowed herself to drink. She couldn't take that chance. Now, a million miles away from home, in a foreign land surrounded by complete strangers she thought: What the fuck, I'm on vacation, and took a sip. It was tart, bitter, room temperature, not completely unpleasant, but an acquired taste. She took another sip. "Do you have any other sisters or brothers besides Virginia?"

"My oldest brother, Tommy, was killed in battle."

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," she said, her hand covering her lips."Your parents must be crazy that you to fight too."

"It's what we do."

"And your sister, she fights too?"

His laugh was contagious. "Oh yeah, does she," he said. "But she has Constantine at her back. Not that it matters, wolves die every day too. Anytime she goes out and fight I think my dad has mini heart attacks."

"Who could blame him," Freya said taking a bite out of...what the hell was this? Didn't matter, it was a slice of heaven in her mouth. "God the food here is delicious," she said around a mouth full of the stuff.

"I know, right," Wesley said, chewing too. "There's also Lawrence. He's already been given assignment. He's been gone about three months now."

Three hours and just as many bottles of wine later Freya found herself drunk and happy that she'd decided to join Wesley. Dessert had been served, a lot of the crowd had cleared out but there were still enough to have to talk a little loud to be heard, or maybe it was the drinking. The sound of excited shouts interrupted the comfortable silence she and Wesley had been sitting in for the last minute or so.

"What's that?" She asked, looking over his shoulder where the noise was coming from.

"That...is...Wallace," Wesley said getting up and grabbing Freya's hand, looking like he was barely holding back one of those excited shouts. He led her down yet another hallway and out an open door. He shouldered his way through a crowd of people and they stopped at the front of a large circle formed around a fight.

People were cheering, fists were being pumped into the air and bets were being placed as Freya looked at the redhead being circled by four big ass men and a single female almost as tall as her but with about fifteen pounds of extra weight on her—all muscle.

"Are you kidding?" Freya screamed into Wesley's ear.

"No, he says it's good training," Wesley said laughing.

Freya didn't know why Wallace thought getting beat up was training but hey, who was she to disagree. Then three of the men went in at the same time and she knew it wasn't his training. It was theirs.

Wallace still wore his kilt but nothing else. His broad chest made his students look like pre-pubescent boys. The three danced around Wallace, landing hard punches that hit solid muscle sounding like someone punching a big slab of meat. Hell, he was the size of a cow, easy. His milky white skin turned red where fists landed but he didn't look fazed in the least. His big beefy fist took the wind out of one of his attackers with one shot. The man fell to the ground, backing away from Wallace on his hands and knees. A second one jumped on Wallace's back, while a third decided a straight up boxing approach was the way to go. Wrong. He threw a pretty impressive jab that landed on Wallace's beard covered jaw, and the man didn't even move his head an inch. He swung his thickly muscled right arm around, even with a man hanging on his back, and knocked the man in front of him out. Then he reached over his head and grabbed the monkey on his back at the neck and threw him about six feet across the circle. The girl was next and Freya saw she had skills, but not enough. Wallace didn't take mercy on her because she was a girl, he whooped her ass like the pro she was. The forth guy tapped out without even starting, seeing his fallen comrades was enough for him. Wallace raised his hands in triumph and roared, making everyone go crazy. Freya had to cover her ears.

"This is great!" Wesley screamed over the screaming.

"Has anyone ever beaten him?" Freya screamed back.

Wesley shook his head as Wallace bellowed, "Who else!"

Maybe it was all the excitement, more than likely it was all the wine, at any rate Freya found herself stepping out of the crowd, into the ring. There was a second were she could have heard a pin drop and then the shouts and screams were tripled what they had been. What the fuck was she doing? Freya knew she could fight, but never in her twenty-one years had she started the fight or fought someone so big, but the thrill of it was making her body hum. It was something about the man that just made her want to do things she'd never done before.

Wallace wasn't even breathing heavy from the previous fight as they circled each other. He charged like a bull and Freya side stepped, jumping up and slamming an elbow in his back. It was like trying to elbow a damn tank. She kicked out, her foot landing on the back of his knee. He went down and in a flash she brought both of her hands together and tried to take his head off. The vibration of the blow traveled up her arm. Was the man made of brick?

Reaching behind him, Wallace grabbed her calf and pulled. She landed hard on packed earth, the wind leaving her lungs in a whoosh, but she rolled over, feet over head and crouched low as Wallace mirrored her stance across from her.

"Lucky," he said, but nodding his approval of her fight so far.

"Come see how lucky I can stay old man," Freya said, a little out of breath but still in the fight.

Wallace had the strength but Freya had the speed. He rushed her again, she stood her ground and when he was within distance she kicked out, her foot landing solidly in his chest, stopping him cold, sending him back a single step. Fuck.

They fought for what could have been minutes, or maybe an hour, Wallace wasn't trying to hurt her even though she was giving it her all to take the giant down. She fought his ass like she was in a street fight. Her strength as waning and her lungs burned like she'd ran ten thousand miles but she wasn't about to quit. As if reading her mind and body Wallace bowed deep at the waist.

"A draw?" he said extending a hand. The crowd was shocked silent.

Freya took a step toward the outstretched hand. Wallace grabbed it and took her down easy. It was a lot like earlier, her on her back and way too much man on top of her but she didn't feel panicked this time.

"Never trust the enemy," he whispered in her face.

Freya, remembering the other low whispered words from that morning, brought her knee up. His sly smile was replaced with an O as the air left him from her attack on his uncovered nuts.

"I'll remember that," she said as he rolled off her and balled into the fetal position.

The crowd went crazy. Wesley ran to her and raised her hand in the air. She felt a little like Rocky and she pumped her fist in the air a couple times, screaming at the top of her lungs with the rest of the people cheering and clapping for her. Before she knew it she was on a pair of shoulders being carried around. This was the best vacation ever! She looked back at Wallace who was still holding his nuts and winked. He gave her the finger.

It took everything in Wallace not to roll around on the ground as he held his kneed jewels. The crowd was going wild, shouts of: Freya! Freya! Freya! were on repeat and a soundtrack he could live without right now. A few offered aid, but he waved them off. He couldn't get up if his life depended on it, his entire body felt like it was about to explode. God, what in the hell was her knee made out of? Wallace breathed deep, trying not to moan and failing when Rob's face filled his view.

"You are beginning to lose face with that one," he said hunkering down. "Do you need help getting up...old man?" He asked cocking an eyebrow.

"Fuck you," Wallace answered. It would have sounded a lot more menacing if it was above a whisper but ball shots always stole your breath.

"As you wish," Rob said and disappeared.

Trying to focus on anything other than the pain in his groin, he replayed the match. He'd had fun with her. She was a skilled fighter, and while he did take it easy on her, if she gained about ten pounds of muscle, she'd be as good as any of the Wolfe Hunters. Wallace slowly sat up, taking a knee before standing. He felt like his balls were somewhere under his lungs. When he finally stood he was alone—thank God, but it didn't stay that way. Freya came out with a full-of-herself smirk carrying a beer in one hand. The other was behind her back. She'd stabbed him with a pitchfork, brained him with a basin, and kneed him in the balls, he wasn't about to let his guard down around her again. His body tensed as she neared.

"Relax," Freya said taking a long hard pull from the bottle. He watched her throat work as she swallowed, his eye settling on the spot right were her neck and shoulder met. He licked his lips.

"Awwww," she said, smacking her lips and looking at the now drained bottle before looking at Wallace. "I brought you something."

"What?" he said, thankfully in his normal, rough, booming voice and not something an octave or two higher.

"A peace offering," she said pulling her hand from behind her back, she was holding a second beer. As she neared, Wallace prepared himself to be bashed over the head and stabbed with the pointed edges.

"I promise to play nice," she said.

"How about fair?" He said, extending his arm so she couldn't get too close.

"All's fair in love and war, besides, you should follow your own advice. It's excellent, you know."

He took the beer and fought the urge to take a step back from her. How had he, a werewolf, been bested not once, not twice, but three times by this human? Granted she was built like an Amazon, a beautiful one, but a warrior still.

"I'm sorry by the way," she said as Wallace followed her lead and drained the beer.

"For?" He asked holding the bottle by the neck...just in case.

"Hurting you."

"Which time?"

Freya laughed. A full belly, body shaking, loud laugh that Wallace could appreciate. It was the only way to laugh as far as he was concern.

"All," she finally said.

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"Really, I'm sorry...friends," she said holding her hand out.

Wallace eyed it as only one who's been burned one too many times could. Tightening his grip on the bottle and knowing he had no intentions of hitting her with it, he took her hand. They were a little damp and cold from the bottle she'd been holding. "Allies," Wallace said.

"Even better."

They stood in the courtyard, with the moon as their lighting, holding hands for way too long until she finally said, "Well, I guess I better get back before they come looking for me." She took a step back, stuck her hands in the back pockets of her jeans and walked backwards until she was at the door. "That was a lot of fun, we should do it again. Maybe not with a crowd next time, I don't want to keep embarrassing you."

He lunged as he growled and Freya squealed before making a run for it but Wallace stopped, confusion halting his next footstep. His beast had taken the step forward and really wanted to chase the girl. What the...

Wallace was a bachelor, lifelong and as far as he was concerned, would stay that way. Period. The thought of anything different gave him hives. He shook his big beefy body at the thought. He'd chased plenty of women, chased and caught, but his beast had never taken part in the festivities. As a matter of fact, when it came to control, he was second to Rob, who seemed to have control over even the parts he wasn't suppose to control: like breathing. If he ever decided to stop, he'd die. Wallace stretched his neck from side to side, rolled his shoulders—yep, that was his beast. So he ran...in the opposite direction.

**-**

Freya didn't know what she was thinking. Okay, she was drunk and that greatly compromised her thought process but still, was she really headed out into the wooded area in the early hours of the morning in search of Wallace? The new day was still dark, but had that color that announced the coming of the sun. Her sneakered feet barely made any noise as she stepped lightly in her hunt. How was she even supposed to find him?

She and Wesley and a group of his friends had had a blast, drinking and talking into the wee hours. Wesley had escorted her back to her room and they'd stood in the doorway for too many minutes until he'd finally worked up enough nerve to make a move to kiss her. His lips had been soft and warm and a little wet from the quick pass of his tongue right before his lips took hers. For a first kiss it had been nice, but it wasn't Wesley or the feel of his lips on hers that she thought about when she closed her eyes, it had been the redhead.

It wasn't long before she found herself in a moonlit field. Even in near darkness she could tell it was beautiful but it left her too exposed, still she stood just outside the dense tree-line she'd stepped from to admire the space. Flowers everywhere and their fragrance, soft and subtle, perfumed the night's air. No wonder Wallace liked to stay outside. As a street kid she'd lived outside a lot and while she had been beyond thrilled to get a place that offered shelter from weather and predators that walked on two legs instead of four, she could certainly see the appeal of this place. She was leaning against a tree when the sound of snapping whipped her head around.

The wolf wasn't Wallace. The animal walked slowly towards her and Freya wondered if it was a natural wolf or a werewolf. Didn't make a difference, she was swallowing her heart and her mind was racing for an escape or attack plan. It didn't look ready to pounce, which was good, but he didn't stop his slow approach, which was bad. Wasn't she supposed to show no fear, or was that with bears? She cursed herself for being so stupid. God, the man had made her lose her damn mind. If she lived through this she was definitely going to go back to her room and forget all about the redhead giant.

"Don't move."

Wallace's deep voice resonated through her body. She followed his instructions, what else was she going to do? Wallace's arm came around her waist and pulled her back into the solid wall of his chest, his thick thighs aligning with the back of hers and she tried very hard not to think about the hardened length pressed into her backside. Now she didn't know which was making her heart beat faster, the wolf in front of her, or the one at her back.

He leaned his head down, his beard brushing her bare shoulder sent shivers down her body. The vibration of the deep growl skipped along her skin like a current. The wolf in front of them bared his teeth before throwing his head back and howling, long, and beautiful, before running off. Freya was relieved but that didn't do a thing for her accelerated heart rate. She still had the matter of the wolf that was behind her, his arm still around her waist, his body still pressed to hers, his chin resting on her shoulder.

Freya tried to think of something to say but her words were lost; Wallace playing interference to the synapses of her brain, robbing her of her senses, common and all others. Everything about the man made her stupid.

"Why are you out here Fleur," he asked in a low voice, turning his head, burying his nose into her skin and inhaling deeply. Freya was weak in the knees.

"Looking for you," she answered just as low.

"Mmmmm." The sound was more purr than growl. He tightened his grip around her waist.

"Wallace?" she said, tilting her head, giving him better access to her neck. He pressed his nose harder into her skin and breathed deeply.

"Yes Fleur," he exhaled into her skin, his lips were as hot as her rest of him, his words somehow hotter.

"I...um..."

"Yes," he said, his nose traveling behind her ear, into her short hair, each exhaled heating her skin until she felt like she was baking.

"Can I see you?" she finally asked.

His body went hard...harder, and he stopped smelling her. "Are you sure you want that?" he asked, but his hold was already loosening around her waist.

She didn't answer, she took a step away from him and then another. She took a deep breath and turned around. She'd seen Wallace naked the day she'd stabbed him but he'd been covered in injuries, including the puncture wounds caused by the pitchfork she'd driven into his side. Even in those few seconds of consciousness she knew he was a big man, but she hadn't had the opportunity to really look at him.

Pre-dawn light allowed her to finally appreciate his frame. Built like a solid oak, not the defined muscles of someone who spent countless hours in the gym but the hard body of a worker. His long fuzzy dreadlocks were free of the tie and hung in thick ropes down to his waist. Her eyes traveled down his massive chest, down the smooth surface of his stomach. She stopped breathing when she got to his groin. Her eyes were glued to it for long moments until she forced her eyes downward, over thick thighs, calves...even his feet looked strong.

"You're beautiful."

Wallace had never felt so naked and it had nothing to do with him being the only one without clothes. She was amazing and that didn't have anything to do with how beautiful she was. No single woman had cornered the market on beauty. Wallace had slept with enough of them to know. There was beauty to be found in every woman. Freya's inspection of him left him laid bare in a way he'd never known and her whispered words left him awe struck. How could she think him beautiful? As if she didn't looked at something breathtaking each and every time she glanced at her reflection. Wallace knew what he looked like naked, his battle marked skin and physique was not as impressive as some, but he wasn't ashamed of his human body. He'd just never been called beautiful before—strong, solid, hard, hell, he'd even been called strapping, but never beautiful. Freya took a step closer and he fought every muscle to remain still.

A touch that was barely there ran from his shoulder to his wrist before she placed a hand on his chest. His head fell back and he exhaled until he was sure there was no air left in his lungs. When had touch felt this good? The sensation of arms being wrapped around his waist and then her cheek resting on his shoulder was almost his undoing. He'd never been held so tenderly. It soothed the man and the wolf, so simple an action, taming the wild that had always been him. Instantly he knew he would never hurt this woman, nor ever allow hurt to come to her if he could help it. God, he was in so much trouble.

His arms hung at his sides, he opened his eyes and looked to the heavens. How had this happened? Lowering his head, he buried his nose in hair soft as silk, took in the scent of honey and flowers, and knew that it was one he wanted mixed with his own. Man and wolf would not be happy until that soft smell also held a hint of the rich earthiness that was his.

"May I hold you?" He asked, remembering the smell of panic on her when he'd ambushed her as a wolf. He never wanted that smell to be associated with him again, ever.

"Yes, please."

A more right thing never existed for Wallace, holding each other, joined from head to toe, the light of a new day fresh on the horizon.

"You shouldn't have come out before sun up," he whispered, the need to protect already strong. "Things get messy during the hunt."

"Hunt?" She said shifting in his arms, bringing her head up to look at him. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than him. He'd only have to duck his head a little to kiss her.

"Werewolves like meat," he said winking at her, "The fresher the better."

"Oh," she said and wrinkled her nose and what do you know, it was the cutest damn thing Wallace had ever seen in his life. Without thinking, because even if he had he would have done it anyway, he planted a quick kiss on the tip of it.

"Let's get you back to the castle."

"But you're naked," she said, as if he'd forgotten.

"Fleur, I'm almost always naked," he answered, his body already shaking with laughter.

"I think I can make it back on my own, but I haven't done what I came out here to do?"

It was Wallace's turn to have a look, one of confusion with a dash of inquisitiveness. He cocked his head to one side. "And what was that?"

She rose on her toes, until their lips met. Electric current traveled from his mouth to the soles of his feet, his limbs tingled and his gut felt heavy. Every nerve ending was lit up from the simple kiss. Wallace was known for his sexual prowess, but even with his nose filled with the sweet scent of the woman in his arm, her lips pressed firmly against his, her body a perfect fit, he was grateful things down south were behaving.

"I'll see you at breakfast?" she said, her lips still on his. Wallace couldn't form words so he nodded. She smiled, took a step back, and turned. He watched her run in the direction of the castle, smooth and graceful, like a gazelle.

## Chapter

## 8

The knock at the door opened Freya's eyes and she rubbed them with her knuckles and almost growled her damn self. She had no idea what time it was, and the thick drapery blocking out the outside world didn't help her figure it out. The knock came again and she swung her legs off the bed. She hit her pinky toe on the massive pose. Cursing under her breath, she limped the rest of the way to the door. She grabbed the knob, preparing to unleash her wrath on the person on the others side. She swung the door opened. "What!" she yelled. Freya was not a morning person.

"Sorry," Wesley said, holding his hands up and taking a step back.

Freya looked at him through one squinted eye; the other was closed against the assault of the bright light in the hallway. "Yeah," she said. It was all she had until her brain came online. "Sorry." She yawned, left the door opened and turned and headed straight for the bed. She climbed in and pulled the covers up to her chin. Wesley closed the door behind him and opened the drapes. Freya pulled the covers over her head. "What time is it," she asked.

"One o'clock," he said, laughing at her.

She flipped the covers back. It was later than she thought. Of course she'd more passed out than fallen asleep. She'd left Wallace standing naked in the woods after kissing him and yeah, she could almost feel his lips on hers.

"Why aren't you training or something?" She was resigned to the idea of getting up, now she just had to talk that part of herself that was still hung over into the plan. "Or in the same shape as me?" she asked because Wesley had been as drunk as she was last night.

"I don't do hangovers," he said.

He was standing with his back to the rays of torturous sunlight. Freya propped herself on her elbows to look at him through squinted eyes. Man, his shoulders were big enough to land aircraft carriers on. His chest was broad, his jean clad legs were thick, and he looked unyielding. The men that made up the house were a force to be reckoned. Were there any in the house not hot? And when had she started noticing how hot men where?

"I don't mean to sound rude, or ruder, but why are you here?"

"Dad mentioned you weren't at breakfast or lunch," he said.

"Awww, aren't you sweet," she said.

"Are you hungry?" He asked, walking in the direction of the bathroom. She heard the sound of water running in the shower seconds later. When he came back out he was wiping his hands on a towel.

"Aren't you just making yourself right at home?" she asked, throwing the covers off her body and standing up. She'd fallen asleep with all her clothes on, something she hadn't done in months. After years of sleeping in layers—as a first line of defense from groping hands and from the elements while sleeping on the streets, when she'd finally had enough money to get a place she'd slept her first night naked and every night since.

"Let's get you fed," he said, throwing the towel at her, she caught it before it smacked her in the face.

"I'll meet you in ten minutes," she said, heading for the closet where her meager clothes took up a miniscule amount of space in.

"I'll be in the foyer," he said over his shoulder already headed for the door.

The floor to ceiling glass door was already steamy when Freya entered the bathroom. She dropped her clothes in a line on her way to the shower she'd fallen in love with the first time she'd laid eyes on it. She leaned her head back into the stream, closing her eyes, relishing the warm spray on her body. Smoothing her hands over her drenched hair she turned, placing her hands on the tiles in front of her and leaning forward to allow the pulsating spray to pound away some of the hangover. She'd switched to beer after her victory over Wallace, bypassing the hard stuff, but as a newbie she might as well have been drinking tequila shots. She opened her eyes, turned to grab the soap and saw him.

Wallace eyes almost fell out of his head. What in the hell had he been thinking, just barging into the bathroom with the shower running. He lived outside but he wasn't stupid. He knew what the sound of running water meant. But he'd seen Wesley leave a split second before he'd entered and thought she'd still be dressed. He was wrong. Oh, was he so very wrong. First he'd watched her stretch that long lean body and wet her hair. Her breasts high, her nipples the softest shade of pink he'd ever seen, tight, glistening, and so ready to be pulled between lips or licked with a flattened tongue. Then she turned with her head down so she hadn't seen him standing there and he was just as powerless to stop his eyes from dropping as he was getting his body to move from the spot. She was bare between her legs. She leaned forward, bracing herself on the wall. Her skin was fair, her body was toned. God, she was beautiful. He wasn't ogling; he was trapped in reverence of her body. He was a second from falling to his knees and worshiping it. He was so spellbound that he didn't see her grab the cake of soap from the dish and throw it with the force and accuracy of a professional baseball pitcher.

"Do you mind...little privacy," she said. She was facing him, her body wet and slick and Wallace was too afraid to move because he wasn't sure what direction his feet were going to carry him in.

She'd caught him looking at her naked body in the confines of her room, her shower and she showed no fear, didn't try to cover her body or scream for help. She was standing in front of him, fearless, strong. Last night's kiss after he'd run from her had changed him. Alexis had told him he couldn't bed the woman and he'd made a promise to wait until after the council meeting. But now he didn't know if he could wait the next second let alone the rest of the week.

"Go!" She yelled, pointing in the direction of the room outside the opened door. "Now!"

And man, the hint of pink coloring her skin from her rising anger was soooo an aphrodisiac. She threw a bottle of shampoo with the same accuracy as the soap. That finally got him moving. He closed the door to the bathroom but went no further than her bedroom. He'd be damn if he was going to run from the woman—the human woman—again. He waited for her to come out demanding an explanation of why he was in her room, to hell with that—why he was in her bathroom, but she was in there too long to be doing anything other than doing what a running shower suggested. Ten minutes later the door open and he stopped in his tracks from the pacing he'd been doing since she'd banished him from the bathroom.

"Are you going to keep doing this?" she asked. She'd stopped just inside the bedroom, only a towel wrapped around her body tucked in at the front. Her tall frame stopped the terry cloth mid thigh. She was covered, but Wallace had seen her not and in his mind's eye he saw her that way now. "Really?" she said when he didn't answer her. She walked towards him. He backed up because if he came within grabbing distance he didn't trust himself not to take her to the ground. She entered the closet and closed the door. "Do. Not. Come. In. Here."

He was on the far side of the room when she came out.

"What the fuck?" She hadn't yelled...but it was right there, on the edge, one wrong word, one wrong move and she was going to chew him a new one, not that he didn't deserve it.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't think you would be in the shower. I..."

"So why were you just standing there staring," she said crossing her arms across her chest. "I thought strays only followed people who were nice to them."

Wallace head swung around so fast he was slapped with his dreads. She'd cracked a joke. He hadn't expected that.

"I'm really sorry," he said again, because joke or not, she looked pissed, she was pissed...again, rightfully so.

"What do you want?" She asked waving away his apology. She sat in a chair and start putting on her shoes. She was...perplexing. When Wallace didn't say anything she looked up. "The whole peeping Tom act, you had a reason, or do you always sneak into visitors rooms and stare at them while they're in the shower?"

'No," he finally got out. "I was coming to see if you were hungry."

"Oh, she said standing up. "I'm starved, but Wesley beat you to the punch. I'm about to meet up with him right now for late lunch or early dinner—whatever it's called around these parts."

"Of course," he said heading to the door, feeling worse about her meeting up with Wesley than about violating her personal space and gawking at her in the shower. . He opened the door, already deciding a trip was just what his bruised ego called for. It needed a little stroking. And there would be some stroking going on, but mainly to other parts of his body. Yeah, that's exactly what he needed.

Wallace took a chauffeured car to the train station. He was looking for something in particular and his order would have been hard to fill close to the estate, for the pickings were indeed slim in the small town that surrounded the castle. Besides, didn't want to be close to home, close to the reason he was on this kind of hunt.

The women in the establishment were dressed in everything from Carolina Herrera and Louboutin, to Le Perla. Upstairs women walked around with only God's gift on their lovely form. The club was old, owned by a werewolf family for hundreds of years. Not many humans knew about the place, but a privileged few lounged around sipping thirty year old scotch in low, heavy crystal glasses or drinking wine that cost more than some people's cars in glasses as big as a baby's head. Wallace himself had a glass of bourbon from a bottle that cost ten grand. In his long life he'd traveled the world, and good bourbon was one thing America did right. Not seeing what he was looking for he headed for the second floor, dipping his head to the other men he passed and offering a smile to the women that didn't catch his fancy. Ordinarily he would have had a pair, maybe even a trio within ten feet of the door, but tonight he was looking for something special to take the edge off.

Halfway up the stairs the smell of arousal and countless releases was an assault on the olfactory nerve. It hung in the air like a fog, weightless yet thick. The lights were dimmed and the low music playing was not the tamed old world classical played downstairs but a wild and modern techno. Downstairs was for conversation, a meet-n-greet, a precursor for things to come or a few ending words shared between temporary lovers. There was no physical contact on that floor, save a kissed hand or cheek in greeting or farewell. Upstairs the music wasn't the only thing that was the polar opposite. Lavender black-light and flickering strobe-lights gave snatches of scenes like an old, choppy, movie reel of the happenings in the room. Here people didn't have to wait for a closed door to play. Here, even some of the men had already shucked their clothes and walked around unabashed looking for their next conquest. Panted breathing, soft and loud moans and the sound of skin striking skin was the perfect accompany for the music and the lights.

The room was filled with chaste lounges, groupings of piled pillows, even king size beds draped with cobweb delicate fabrics. It was impossible not to be pulled into the sensual games playing out in almost every inch of the place. He downed the rest of his bourbon and sat the glass on a table in passing. He was a long standing customer, a high paying one too. His payment came straight from an account he'd set up years ago and always for a full night and always the highest price because Wallace appetite for all things was large. He saw what he'd come in search for in the corner of the room, one of the few women that didn't have on platform stilettos that were meant to accentuate a woman's legs. Tall, lean, barefoot, with white blond hair, she was as close as he was going to get...for now. His gait was determined as was his gaze and he crossed the space in great strides, his thick body graceful. Their eyes remained locked on each other until he reached her and he sat down in the chair she'd been standing next to, spreading his thighs so that she could kneel between them. He didn't need to warm up; he'd been hard for at least a day. She ran her hands up and beneath the fabric of his kilt until her warm, soft palms grabbed his erection. He closed his eyes, tried to wipe clean the images that had hunted him since early afternoon.

His hips worked on their own as a warm, wet mouth took the blunt head of his erection between satin soft lips. He slid down further in the chair, placed his hand on the back of the woman's head and gently pushed. There was no way for her to take his full length but he hissed as what could fit went into her throat. She was talented for sure, just the right amount of suction, pressure, a tight squeeze at the root, a long lap from sac to tip, but the release he sought was playing hard to get so he upped the ante. He did love a good mouth but there was nothing like being buried inside a woman's body. Stopping her bobbing head with a hand on her shoulder she climbed his body with the grace of a feline until she straddled his lap. There were no rules, everything was allowed as long as your partner was willing. Wallace slid his erection between wet folds as he grabbed one of her breasts and took it in his mouth completely before releasing it and biting down on the taunt nipple. The woman's gasp was punctuated with a moan of pleasure and he repeated the process on the other. He hands were firm on her hips sliding her easily back and forth along the hard ridge of his cock as she held on to his shoulders. He sucked and bit and licked her nipples until they were cherry red before raising his head and taking her lips. His lycanthropy guaranteed he didn't catch diseases so he didn't think twice when he shifted his hands under her ass, lifted and impaled her in one brutal pull. She cried out at the invasion because like his appetite, and stature, Wallace's was not only long but thick and he stretched the woman to her limit as he entered her body. Her bruising tight hold on his shoulders didn't relax as he slammed into her, pulling her body to his over and over. She broke the kiss and threw her head back, her breasts jumping as she bucked and rode him. She placed her hands behind her; spread her legs wider and Wallace eyes zeroed in on where their bodies joined. With one hand he thumbed the top of her sex in hard tight circles until the woman vibrated from pleasure and the walls of her sex tightened around the girth buried deep in her body. Wallace gave her no reprieve, not because he had yet to find his own release but because he really did love being with a woman and even when he paid for the experience it was for her as much as it was for him. Money wasn't the only reason he was welled liked in the brothels he frequented, although it was nice. Some of the women he visited regular had been able to retire on his tips alone.

The woman jerked and writhed from his circling finger, panting out sounds of ecstasy until she climaxed. Wallace slid his hands around her body until they were under her and lifted her from his body. The chair's size was just shy of a loveseat and her feet were on either side of his hips when she stood. Placing his hands on the back of her thighs Wallace buried his face into her glistening sex, coating his tongue and swallowing the pleasure he'd just given her, covering his nose and wetting his beard as he ate her with the same urgency in which he'd just taken her. Even focused on the pleasure of the woman on his mouth he was aware of his surroundings, so he knew when they were joined even before their third took his glossy erection into her mouth.

On and on, into the morn, midday and next night, Wallace gorge himself on the flesh of countless beauties, nothing escaped nor sated his insatiable need and when he stepped out into the dimly lit day...

He was still hard.

## Chapter

## 9

Wallace was MIA but Freya didn't dare ask about him. No one seemed worried or commented on his absence. She spent most of her time with Wesley. Lunches and dinner had been in the dining room of the soldiers that trained and protected the castle, the rest of the time had been talking and getting to know each other. She spoke to a lot of the men and women who trained with Wesley, was awed by the history of their family. For five hundred years boys and girls swore an oath to protect mankind from werewolves. Times had changed and they no longer actively hunted the wolf, but acted as a police, many making friends with the people their great grandfathers would have killed on the spot. Hunter organizations were in Australia, North America and of course, Europe. When Freya asked about the rest of the world, she was told that other's policed those areas. It wasn't _what_ they said, it was how they said it that made her wonder what (not who) those others were. All in all, people were nice, more than nice, to the human woman that had bested the man who longed for battle like most people dreamed about vacations on warm sandy beaches. Freya had been asked and accepted an invitation to dine with Wesley again. Funny how it only took men that oozed honor like they did sex appeal to get her to completely relax around the opposite sex. Even with the shit Wallace had pulled she was willing to forgive him because she'd seen him naked—twice. She closed her eyes and could see him standing in moonlight, naked as the day he was born, while she'd had her fill. That he'd seen her naked wasn't a problem. It was how he'd gone about seeing her body. Disappointment was a physical thing. She was so sure that he was different, that they all were. He wasn't a bad guy, just not the guy for her.

She walked around the grand bedroom needing something to do to fill the hours before she met up with Wesley. He'd played hooky the day before but couldn't do it a second day and was right now on the back lawn training. She'd kept in shape, her body was strong, it had to be, but it felt like an eternity since she'd worked her muscles and she wondered if she could go out and join the hundred plus men and women. Figuring the timeless advice: you won't know until you asked, fit the situation, she changed into a pair of ankle long yoga pants and oversized t-shirt before putting on her sneakers. The trip to the bathroom was the same as it had been since she'd turned and saw Wallace standing in its doorway looking at her through the shower door. Never had a man seen her naked. Hell, never had one seen her in anything other than jeans and a t-shirt. She'd been at the receiving end of lust filled gazed for time out of mind but what she'd seen in Wallace's face was something she'd never seen before. Not a look that said he meant to have her and taking was not only an option, but a foregone conclusion but one filled with...longing.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself she entered the bright room, a chill running down her spine when she crossed the spot he'd stood in. She grabbed a hand towel from a stack and exited too fast to be doing anything but running from the memory. She headed for the back lawn hoping physical exertion was what she needed to rid her mind of the missing man.

Not sure who she should ask about joining in on the fun, she looked around for Wesley. It would have been so much easier if most of the tall, dark haired Wolfe men didn't look so much alike.

Wesley's shirt was off and his impressive physique was covered in sweat as he grappled with his opponent. The werewolf's physique was impressive, just as big and Freya knew way stronger than Wesley. He wasn't just avoiding and deflecting Wesley's attack like Wallace had done with her, he was kicking Wesley's ass. Not that the Wolfe man wasn't giving him a run for his money. There were no shouts and cheers, this was not fun and games, these men and woman were training to save or take lives. She watched as Wesley took a body shot that _she_ felt and then return the favor with a flurry of punches into a stomach that looked like ridges carved into stone before bringing his right up and chin checking him. The man wasn't fazed. He threw a left that swung Wesley's head to the side before going in for a shot to his kidney. The fight was savage and brutal and long before it ended Freya had changed her mind about sparring. Maybe they had a gym. When the fight ended Wesley smiled and waved. She tried not to wince. He was going to have a pretty good black eye, his lip was split and his body was already sporting bruises and red welts were he'd been hit.

"Hey," he said and she handed him her towel while wishing for cold compresses.

"Hi."

There was a beat of silence that wasn't uncomfortable as he stared at her. She was tall, only two inches shorter than his six foot five frame so they were pretty much eye to eye. Even with his bruised and bloody face he was handsome. For the first time since breakfast she thought of a man other than Wallace. Wesley had been her first kiss. Her only real kiss, the peck she gave Wallace didn't count. The man hadn't even kissed her back. But Wesley's kiss was soft and sweet, a good first kiss. He hadn't rushed it. He was easy to talk to and they had fun. Yesterday she'd shared more about herself than she had her entire life.

"I thought about joining but I think a weight room is more my speed," she finally said.

"I can show you," he said wiping blood from his mouth, smiling around the towel she'd handed him.

"Are you done for the day," she asked not wanting to impede on his training, God knew she never wanted to be the reason he slacked off resulting in him getting hurt out in the field.

"No, headed that way myself."

She wondered if that was true, what he needed was a couple of ice packs and a bed but she didn't question him as he led the way. They waved at a couple of people as they walked across the yard and he opened the door for her when they reached the castle. More hallways that were narrow enough to feel like tunnels before they reached a room the size of a commercial gym. The music playing at temporary hearing loss levels was no match for the sound of clanking free-weights, the rhythmic beat of countless feet on treadmills and constant swooshing of endless equipment.

"What's your poison," Wesley asked grabbing a bottle of water from a table holding a banquet's worth of protein bars, energy drinks and ice cold H2O. There was even a woman at the end whipping up smoothies for those that wanted them.

"Free weights," Freya said.

"Excellent...right this way."

Wesley could bench press an impressive three hundred pounds and power lift twice that. He spotted her until her arms felt like rubber and her legs quivered from exhaustion and he still looked like he could run a country mile.

"Had enough?" He asked. There was no teasing in his voice. He was an excellent trainer.

"Yeah," Freya said taking the offered water he held out to her. It was room temperature but was heaven in her mouth.

"Showers are over there and you'll find a change of clothes if you want to freshen up. I'm going to get early supper if you want to join me."

"Give me ten minutes."

"Meet you in front," he said, and she watched a pretty fine ass retreat in the direction of the men's locker room and showers. She went to the opening to the left and entered a spa worthy shower. Marble and glass gleamed bright and spotless. There were cubbies filled with scrubs in sizes large to double x. The women that walked around were in different degrees of undress, some walking around complete naked. Grabbing a pair of scrubs and a towel Freya headed for an open shower stall. There was no door or curtain, just a wall that came to the top of her shoulders. The built in shelving had shampoos, conditioners and soaps. She sat her haul on the bench behind her and turned on the water. The women parading around were competition built: strong arms, washboard abs and thick thighs. Freya felt flabby as she watched the woman go about their pre or post workout routine. Wesley was waiting on her when she exited and took her hand before heading out. Such a small thing, but he'd done it since their first dinner date. His hand was rough and calloused, strong yet gentle in its grip. She didn't know how she felt about him taking her hand but she didn't pull it from him as she walked beside him to the dining room. The room was full but not to capacity and early supper was what she would have call dinner but it took a lot of calories to maintain bodies that big. Freya opted for a salad because if she ate half of what was on Wesley's plate there was no way she was going to eat later. She had a good appetite but damn, the man was eating a whole chicken, a couple loaves of bread and what looked like a bushel of black beans.

"Are you headed back home after the council meeting," he asked, washing down his last mouthful of food with a long swig of water. Yesterday they'd talked their past; carefully dancing around the subject of what was next for Freya.

"Yeah, I'd just gotten signed by a modeling agency before my trip out here," Freya answered picking at the fresh greens coated in vinaigrette.

"Wow," he said, and she actually laughed at his expression; like he was sitting next to Helena Christensen or Linda Evangelista.

"What's funny?" he asked, "You are beautiful."

"Yeah," she said. "So I've been told." She forked a couple of strawberries and ate them while he cut into his chicken.

They talked about everything and nothing, joked and debated and laughed until hours had passed and early supper turned into dinner and then desert and finally drinking. It was easy being with him, and she enjoyed his company and those that joined them. Her vacation had turned out to be what her life should have been always like.

Drunk...again. They were laughing and giggling softly, trying not to wake the entire house. When they reached her door she more fell than leaned against it, her head hitting the solid wood loud enough to sound like a knock which started a fresh fit of laughter for both of them.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you," she whispered loudly, rubbing the back of her head before resting it with care this time on the door and watched as the last bit of his laughter faded into a whole lot of staring and silence filled with, _now what_. Freya licked her lips and took a deep breath but before she said a word Wesley bent his arms, closed the space that separated them and kissed her.

It wasn't the soft chaste kiss like the first but a deep sensual one that she felt in the arch of her feet. His tongue licked the crease of her mouth and she parted her lips to give him access. He took a step closer, his body centimeters from hers but still not touching as he increased the pressure of their fused mouths. Lips, teeth and tongues battled as he kissed her breathless. He was breathing just as heavily when he finally raised his head.

"I should go," she said, her eyes still closed, her mouth still tingling from the kiss. She turned the knob and ducked into the room, closing the door softly in his face. She rested her forehead on the door certain Wesley was doing the same thing on the other side. Stripping off her clothes she climbed into bed and fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

## Chapter

## 10

Wallace entered the dining room and was struck still by the blond sitting next to Lillian Wolfe. Usually it was bacon that he smelled, there was a mountain of it cooked each day, but all he could smell was honey and flowers as he got his feet moving again and went to sit in his usual spot between Rob and Alexis.

"We missed you yesterday," Diana said, offering him a smile that always made the day that much brighter. She was his queen but he gave his servitude freely, he loved her. Nothing romantic, of course, but like every man at the table, save Thomas, there was a bond formed with the descendant of the mother of their race.

"Honestly, I'm surprise to see you up and about so early," Constantine said.

Let the fun begin. Everyone knew after one of his absences Wallace usually had to recuperate from his extracurricular activities. A day of nothing but eating and sleeping since carnal pleasure was all that mattered when he visited a brothel. Wallace was up early because he hadn't slept. He'd returned from his trip to the city just as torn as he was when he left. He'd wandered hours in the woods surrounding the estate in both wolf and human form until he realized he was hiding.

"Did you have fun?" Constantine asked.

There was always light joking about his sexual prowess, hell, he'd retold countless tales sitting at this very table but he didn't feel much like it today and he tried very hard to pretend that it was not the fair haired women in the room that made him uncomfortable with spinning his tale of debauchery.

"You know me," was all he said.

"Well I'm sure you had a wonderful time," Lillian said, not being part of the light teasing but honestly wanting him to have had a nice time. It just kept getting worse.

"I am sure a wonderful time was had by all," Alexis said, joining in on the fun.

"Maybe next time you'd like to join me," Wallace said, giving the dark man squinted eye. Enough was enough.

"Now that sounds like fun," Constantine said sitting his coffee down and leaning forward in his chair. "And something I'd like to see."

It was something everyone wanted to see. Alexis hadn't been with a woman...ever, or at least the in the time he'd been with them, for all they knew the man was a damn virgin. No one knew his story and the one time someone asked the black giant had promptly closed the subject of his sex life by breaking the inquirers jaw. Wallace was walking a thin line by making the comment and Constantine a thinner one by seconding it.

"Alright, enough," Jean Rene said. Wallace could have kissed the king's feet he was so grateful, he but settled for a slight dip of his head to show his appreciation.

"I saw you yesterday in the gym," Virginia said. "Impressive."

Virginia was the only Wolfe hunter woman that didn't look like she was ready to grease her body and parade around a stage in a thong bikini.

"Thanks," Freya said cutting into a stack of pancakes so light and fluffy they threatened to take flight. "I thought about sparring until I saw Wesley fighting."

"Well word on the street is you took Wallace down," Thomas said.

"That she did," Rob said. " _That_ was impressive."

"How'd you like to go at it after breakfast," Freya asked Wallace.

Constantine spit in his cup and covered his laugh with a cough. Virginia was patting him on the back but not with any real intent behind it.

"Yeah, all right," Wallace said shifting in his seat. "We can do that."

"Then it's a date."

"Oh my," Jean Rene stood up, "Ma Lune..."

"Amant," Constantine said wiping his mouth with the linen napkin and standing. Virginia laughed but stood and followed her husband out the same door still open from the king and queen's exit. Rob and Alexis remained seated, Alexis was giving Wallace the evil-eye and Rob gave a long, deep, loud sigh like he'd finally gotten bored and was about to start killing people.

Freya had no idea what was going on and she didn't ask. She was excited about sparring with Wallace.

"An hour?" she asked, since he'd not touched the food on his plate. He nodded.

Freya left the rest of the group behind, taking the stairs two at a time until she had to stop or risk passing out from lack of oxygen. How many stairs were there? She should definitely work on her cardio. She went to her room and changed clothes and then had to count the minutes until she would face off with the bear of a man again.

**-**

Wallace had a cut on his cheek, his lip was swollen from an earlier head butt, his right calf had a charley-horse from the kick she'd delivered about three minutes ago, and he was pretty sure he had a few cracked ribs. He'd been assaulted with dirt, the handle of a mop—after she'd broken it over her knee like a pro—and beaten with the lid to a garbage can. She could make a weapon out of anything her hands landed on. It was impressive...and hot as hell.

He wasn't winded, he had stamina for days. Freya was crouched opposite him, her face the epitome of concentration, her body swaying ever so slightly side-to-side, her arms out from her body. She was breathing in and out through her mouth, winded. But he'd learned the hard way that tired didn't mean out of the game for her. She pushed herself hard in these fights. Four days had passed since the day she'd suggested they fight after breakfast, now it was something he looked forward to. Although they'd changed the time from after breakfast to before lunch. Like swimming, it wasn't a good thing to fight on a full stomach.

She was tall but she had speed on her side, Wallace was still not aiming to hurt her simply stop her advances. It surprised him how often she came out on top. He charged, dipping low and grabbed her around the hips, her joined hands came down on the back of his neck seconds before he slammed her into a wall, side-stepping her signature knee to the groin, and pressed his body tight to hers. He hissed when she dragged her nails down his back, probably drawing blood. She was like a goddamn honey bagger. He looked up and swung his head out of the way, narrowly missing the incoming head-butt. He was bitten instead, her blunt teeth and strong jaw clamping tight on his shoulder. He didn't know if he wanted to yell or come. Every day, every fight, he became more and more aroused. She wasn't like the rest of the women he'd been with, hell, she wasn't like any woman he'd ever met. He'd always put fighting right up there with fucking. They were his two favorite things to do but he'd kept the two separate, never once getting to rough with the women he slept with because once he over stepped a certain line, it was no going back. He wasn't all human, he couldn't chance his wolf coming out to play with a human woman and he sure as shit kept it away from wolf females because he wanted a mate about as much as he wanted limb removal.

She wrapped her legs around his thick waist and Wallace was so very glad that the thick material of his kilt kept him from feeling the heat of her core, already the smell of her sweat was driving his wolf to the brink. He was fighting the wolf just as hard as he was defending himself against Freya. He wanted out, and not just to play. Or at least not the play they were doing, but unlike Jean Rene or Maximus, Wallace didn't have a half form, he was man or animal. Not that he thought for one second she would allow him to touch her as a wolfman.

"Alright, alright," she yelled as he bear-hugged her. "I give." She tapped him on the shoulder. Since that first fight, with that lucky ball shot, she'd always been the one to tap out, Wallace was a quick study. She fought dirty. He let her go and jumped back. Good thing too because she tried to throw one last punch.

"Dammit," she said in between panted breaths. Sweat glistened her skin, her hair stuck to her temples, her skin flushed from exertion, Wallace had to look away she was so damn beautiful.

"We better hurry if we're going to be on time for lunch," he said, turning around looking at anything, as long as it wasn't her. It was beginning to be too much, even for the man, to keep his hands from that lovely body, from grabbing her up and kissing her hard, before taking her to the ground and, yeah, enough of that. Wallace went to the bench his shirt was laying on. He'd taken to wearing more clothes then his body had seen in a decade. He wore them like armor hoping less expose skin would dull his desire. It didn't work.

"About lunch," Freya said.

Wallace was ready to be disappointed when she announced she wasn't going. They always ate with the royal couple and the rest of the guard, but he still felt a little like they were on dates. He was pretty pathetic. "Yeah? He said, pulling his shirt over his head.

"I thought it could just be me and you." Serena appeared with a picnic basket with some good weight on it; the girl was carrying it with two hands.

"Alright," Wallace said, trying not to grin like a damn fool. He walked over and took the load. "My God, what's in this thing?"

"Two chickens, a few loaves of bread, a six pack of beer and a cake."

Wallace looked at her—just looked at her. She was fucking perfect.

"Chocolate?" He asked. She nodded.

What was better than perfect?

She took the lead and he followed her to the meadow where she'd first kissed him. She picked a spot right in the center and Wallace sat the basket down between them. Serena had provided plates and silverware, but after spreading the food out Freya grabbed the leg of the chicken and pulled it off like a Viking, offering it to him with a loaf of bread before popping the top from one of the beers and sitting it next to him.

"You're something else, you know that?" he said, taking a bite from his chicken.

"Who eats chicken legs with a fork?" she said, biting into her wing.

They ate in silence; both starving from their fight and Wallace had a new respect for the woman who ate with gusto beside him. Freya did use the plates and forks for the cake and grinned as she pulled out a bottle of ice cold milk.

"Woman, I think I may have to keep you," Wallace said before he could stop the words from spilling from his mouth. Freya had kissed him but that was all. No matter what the meals they spent together felt like to him, they were not dates. Freya was only there until she testified before the Wolfe Council and then she was going back to America. He didn't want her to start avoiding him. He was still grateful that she'd allowed him in her presence after the whole shower debacle. The council meeting was in three days and he wanted to spend every one of them with her.

Or maybe he was over-thinking the lighthearted comment.

"What makes you think you're man enough to keep me?" she asked, a mischievous smile on her face. His beast almost burst from his body at the challenge. Wallace shook from the effort it took to rein it in.

"Oh...I think I'm man enough," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

Freya put her plate down and crawled around the basket looking every bit the predator Wallace's other half was. She crawled into his lap and pushed him down in soft green grass. Their clothing may have kept him from feeling her body thoroughly, but there was nothing wrong with his sense of smell.

After years of fighting off men, she was giving herself to him, and it seemed right. It seemed more than right; it felt as if she'd saved herself just for him. She didn't know what the future held, couldn't think past this moment, but she did know she wanted to have sex with Wallace. She wanted it more than she wanted anything in her entire life. His great body offered no cushioning; it was like lying on a stone slab covered in cloth. She could feel his heart beat and it was as fast as hers, she knew he wanted her, knew he worked hard at not showing it, another reason she'd decided that it was right.

She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled; he moaned, placed his hand on the small of her back but kept eye contact, lids at half mass, full of desire, so sexy he could have been the photo next to the word in the dictionary.

She lowered her head until their lips met and still he didn't move, he let her control the kiss. Her tongue licked at the crease of his until he parted them for her, his hand held her tighter, and she felt him get hard beneath her. She rolled into his groin while she kissed the ever living shit out of him. He smelled of clean sweat and earth, it was now her favorite. Wallace's hand went lower until he palmed her ass and he pushed her into his erection. It was her turn to moan as the friction of her underwear and seam of her pants built a heat in her core that threatened to consume her. She broke free of the kiss and pulled her shirt over her head. He rubbed her thighs as she unhooked her bra and slid the straps from her shoulders. Wallace's body went tight as his eyes zeroed in on her breasts. He actually licked his lips and the thought of his tongue being on her body, on her breasts, made her ache all over. With hesitant hands, he ran his palms up her arms and then softly, slowly, ran his thumbs over her nipples. She watched his face even with her body humming. Saw the same look as when he'd watched her in the shower. He was breathing through his mouth in long, almost paced breaths. His body was hard but his touch was so soft, as if he was afraid he would hurt her or scare her, or maybe he was the one that was scared. The thought surprised her but all thought was lost when he sat up and his mouth latched onto one of her nipples while he rolled and pulled the other between his fingertips. Freya arched her back into his mouth and his hand, digging her nails into his shoulders as pleasure she'd never known assaulted her body.

"You smell incredible," he growled against her skin, kissing between her breasts, moving to the neglected nipple. He slowly rolled her underneath him, before lining her stomach with kisses that heated her to molten. Her hands were buried in his hair as he crawled down her body. He placed a leg over his shoulder, the other he held open while his mouth explored her covered sex. Freya had her first orgasm dressed from the waist down.

Wallace felt like he'd died and bypassed heaven for something way more glorious. Freya's sweet scent and the muskier scent of her arousal entered his nose and shot straight to his now diamond hard dick. The taste of her skin was nectar he'd never tire of drinking. As he kissed impossibly soft skin, his wolf was damn near crazed. When he nuzzled her covered core he thought he was going to lose his mind. It took everything in him not to rip her clothes off and devour her.

Grabbing her hips he pulled her hard, sucking her through the material of the stretchy black pants she wore, her arousal and his mouth wetting the material. She arched her back as she came and Wallace growled into her core as the scent of her climax shorted out his brain. He pulled the pants and her panties down as one, and then had to maneuver around the pants that couldn't come completely off because she still had on shoes. He had to taste her. Man and wolf demanded it. Her sex was smooth, the lips glistening with her release and Wallace growled, low in his throat. He split her lips with his tongue, the first taste was nothing short of liquid lightning and all control was shot. He grabbed her hips in a bruising grip and ravished her sex while she pulled his hair hard enough to rip it from his skull, but he didn't care, she could snatch his ass baldheaded. His flicked his tongue over the top of her sex, her body jerked and bucked beneath his assault, frustrated at the limited position from her feet being bound by her pants almost made him howl as he held her legs open and she fought to close them.

"Oh, God, Wallace," she panted, and he'd had enough, he had to be inside her now. He slipped a finger inside and the tight fit brought everything to a screeching halt.

It couldn't be.

Cold water, pictures of old women, thoughts of cute kittens, nothing put the brakes on his desire like what he was thinking.

"Are you untouched," he asked. He knew the words were not from this time but they were the first that came to mind and he wasn't much for thinking at the present.

"What?" Freya asked, her breathing hard and heavy.

Wallace rose to his knees. He tried again. "Have you ever lain with a man?"

She blushed, and looked away but shook her head. If there was a god to be cursed, Wallace cursed his ass. He felt like finding Maximus and beating his ass down. There was no way he was going to touch her. Not only because of his size—and it was definitely a thing to worry about, because well endowed was for other men—but because as he looked down at her, her flawless white skin, hair like corn silk; she was...pure. No way, no way in hell he would take that from her. He. Was. Not. Worthy.

"Let's get you back," Wallace said, trying not to swallow because the taste of her was in his mouth and while he wanted nothing more than for it to take the place of all future taste, he wished for a toothbrush, a bottle of original Listerine (the one developed as a cleaner) and a shot of whiskey to wash it away because between the taste and the scent caught in the hairs of his nose he thought he was going to go insane. He averted his eyes because to look at her made him what to weep.

"Wallace..."

"No, Fleur," he said holding his hand out, his head because he couldn't bear to look at her, not her face, not her breasts and heaven forbid. not the slick, hairless center of her. He heard the intake of breath, signaling she was about to say something and the transformation from man to wolf had never been so fast for him, his wolf bursting from his body like a damn supernova. His wolf was just as distraught and the first thing he did was throw his head back to curse the heavens with a howl that made Freya cover her ears.

God he wanted to run, he wanted to run until the pads of his paws were raw and bloody, he wanted to run until every muscle in his body was shaking from exhaustion, he wanted to run until he couldn't draw breath and his heart was a beat away from exploding but he couldn't move. Freya rose to her knees, her pants still around her ankles and crawled towards him. The man had looked away the wolf stood his ground and when she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, he took the small comfort from the woman that he wanted so badly that the sight of her had stolen all attempts to find pleasure in another woman's body.

"You can't hide from me forever," she said against his neck.

The wolf snorted his disagreement. Wallace was fully prepared to stay in the form forever, or at least until next week, but he was not—repeat—was not, going anywhere near her with a human penis. No way. No how.

## Chapter

## 11

Freya would have slammed the front door of the castle but the thing weighed too much, so she settled for stomping up the stairs. She did close her bedroom door with force, the solid wood giving off a satisfying boom when she pushed it with all her might. Childish. She knew. In all the ways she'd thought the day would end, Wallace rejecting her was not one she'd foreseen. For eleven years she'd fought men off with a stick, sometimes literally, and now the one she wanted didn't want her. It was like the sex gods were working against her. She sat in a chair, toed off her shoes and slung her arm over her eyes, blocking out the sun and the embarrassment, and yeah, the anger. The knock at the door was so what she didn't need.

"What!" She screamed at the door, her sexual frustration spilling over onto the unsuspecting person on the other side of the door. She heard the door open and close, heard the footfalls of a man crossing the room and her heart started fluttering in her chest at the thought that maybe Wallace had changed his mind and come to her after all.

"Are you alright?" Wesley asked.

She let her arm flop to her side. He had either just come from training or was on his way, because he was dressed in workout attire: T-shirt sculpted to his body and loose nylon shorts that came to his knees.

"Yeah," she said, pushing up and scooting back in the chair. "What's up?"

"What's with the slamming of doors?"

There was no way she was going to tell him what happened. She couldn't think up a lie mostly because she'd never had a reason to lie about anything before now but also it was way too personal and embarrassing and she knew that Wesley would give her what she wanted in a heartbeat. So she shrugged. "Nothing."

"My brother is coming back tonight and we're throwing him a party. I came to invite you."

A party was just what she needed. Wesley's brother, Lawrence, had already been given an assignment and lived in a village with a group of other guards. Their job started out making sure the new laws set by the king and queen were followed, now they were becoming the first line of defense against Alfred Wolfe's attacks. He was out there fighting his uncle. It was fucked up.

"I'd love to. What time?"

He'll be here soon, but my mom has to love on him for at least two or three hours before she lets him go, so I'm guessing after dinner. And I've been invited to eat with the royal family tonight so I'd love to escort you?"

Freya looked at the handsome man sitting on the edge of her bed. Yeah, he thought she was beautiful and wanted to sleep with her but he'd never ogled her body and the two kisses they'd shared had been nice. She didn't know what was drawing her to the redhead, but it was obvious he hadn't drunk the kool-aid, so she was going to stop obsessing over him.

"I'd like that."

"I'll be here at six-thirty," he said standing up. "And don't break anything."

"Yeah, yeah," she said. He winked at her before leaving.

Definitely the better choice.

**-**

Freya hadn't allowed him to escort her home. He could smell her anger, spicy, itching his nose. He'd followed behind her to make sure she made it back safe and then went to find Alexis. Their beta was in his office, he was in charge of overseeing the relocation of wolves to a more secure place after Alfred's attacks started.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" the dark man asked as Wallace collapsed in the chair across from him. He sat forward, made a steeple with his hands and put his fingers on his lips.

"I need something to do."

Wallace had never felt so antsy. He'd tried and failed to satisfy his hunger for Freya when he'd only seen her nude body. Now that he'd felt her skin, tasted her, he was damn near vibrating. He needed to rid himself of some of the excess energy. Sex had already proven fruitless maybe hard manual labor would do the trick.

"You want to help?" Alexis raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Wallace growled. He didn't need lip; he needed something to get his mind off Freya. Needed a distraction from the images playing on repeat in his head and the feelings he'd been plagued with since she'd touched him in the meadow.

"Alright, there's a family that we're moving today. If you leave now you should catch the convoy before they leave.

Wallace stood. "Thanks."

Alexis sat back and eyed Wallace. "Is everything alright? Is there something you want to talk about?"

Wallace was in a rare bad mood. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been in one. Alexis wasn't the friendliest among them, that he asked and offered an ear made Wallace take a deep breath.

"No, but thank you."

Alexis nodded. "If you change your mind, I'm here."

Jean Rene had not formed just a group of werewolves he'd created a brotherhood. The five not there were missing only because Alexis had not found them before. There was no doubt that if they had known they were needed they would be there; standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Constantine, Rob, and Alexis. He'd wondered if they were dead when Alexis hadn't found them right away and even with all the theatrics about Furious he respected the big burly bastard and recognized him as a brother.

"Thanks," Wallace said again and hot-footed it out of the man's office before he started bawling like a goddamn little girl.

He stopped long enough to grab a sword from the weapons room. It wasn't his, but the weight was a comfort on his hip. It was a rule that every man was armed when they went off of the castle grounds. He arrived just in time to jump in the last SUV.

The King had offered shelter to any wolf that asked for it. A dormitory was being built on the grounds to make additional room; the small village around the town was filling quicker than anyone would have guessed. At the last meeting Alexis said the town was now almost fifty-percent wolf. Extra guards had been put in place and natural wolves patrolled as well. Alfred's last attempt had failed but no one thought he'd stay away forever, not with his new army. If they could only figure out how Alfred had been healed and how his men were turned into super soldiers.

The SUV Wallace had jumped into was full of Wolfe Hunters. They didn't speak to him, picking up that his mood was off. Wallace was glad for it. Thankful for the silence and yet cursed it. His regular jovial self was MIA and he couldn't think of a thing to say to start a conversation or break the tension, so he looked out the window.

When the car came to a stop he was the first out and he quickly busied himself with the heavy lifting. He was carrying a refrigerator when the sound of fighting made him drop it and rush to the front door.

Wallace drew the sword from the sheath on his hip and joined the battle. As luck would have it the family they were moving didn't live in a completely secluded area. There were neighbors a half mile down the road. Human neighbors that would report gunshots, so the playing field was about even since guns were out of the question. Thank the gods that the family had already been shipped off because the men that fought on the front lawn were nothing more than stone-cold killers.

Wolf and Wolf Hunter fought side by side. In the wild, wolves hunted and attacked in packs, it was the same for their human cousins and Wallace joined a group of wolves fighting the new-and-improved soldiers. These were warriors, all tall and dark, all original Wolfe men. It hurt Wallace's heart a little to kill someone who looked so like many of the men and women he shared a home with but then one of the son of a bitches tried to run him through with a sword.

The clash of metal was almost as loud as gunshots but Wallace had little time to worry about discovery. His sword came up to deflect the incoming blow meant to behead him. His opponent was skilled and he danced away from Wallace, turning and bringing the sword around before Wallace could do more than brace for the next strike. His arms strained as the sword came precariously close to gutting him. Wallace jumped back, the blade missing his midsection by inches, maybe centimeters. Still off balance from the jump the man swung for Wallace's head. He dove on the ground, rolling over, swinging his own sword out. The man stopped the blade from cutting into his legs, the sword seconds away from meeting flesh. Wallace stood, done playing around, and advance. The clang of their swords deafened Wallace of the others around him; he was cut on the arm, his opponent on the thigh. They bared their teeth, grunted and growled at each other, it wasn't business, it was personal. Wallace swung with all his strength, sending the sword of his foe flying handle over blade. He dropped his own, ready for hand to hand. Finally, something to do with all that extra energy and sexual frustration.

He grabbed the man around the waist and threw him to the ground, a plum of dust puffing up around the man's form as he met the ground in a breath stealing thud. Wallace was on his ass before the vibration cleared the man's bones.

The Wolfe Hunters were legendary, a formidable group of men since the first. In the beginning they had been feared by wolves, in the end most had their respect. It took Alfred's antiquated view to make wolf and Wolfe enemies after three hundred years of truce. The battle in the yard was long and bloody. Not one Wolfe Hunter or wolf escaped without a scratch. Wallace was bloodied like the rest when the last Executioner fell.

Breathing hard he wiped blood from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. Moving had become clean up. Already men were grabbing the feet of the fallen and taking them in the house. Wallace went to the group leader. A young Hunter named, Marcus, who was already on a cell phone.

"None dead, but there are a few injuries that will require medical when we return. We need a cleanup crew." Marcus nodded, like the person on the other end could see him before saying, "Agreed." He put the phone in the holster on his hip. "Yes, sir," he addressed Wallace.

"What do you need me to do?"

The man looked flummoxed. Not only was a senior member of the King's Guard asking him a question, Wallace was allowing him to be point man of the operation. Wallace smiled. The first one since he'd left Freya.

"We're splitting up into two groups. One that will finish packing, the other will take the bodies in the house and wait on the cleanup crew. If you don't mind, could you scout the perimeter and make sure no hunters got away or are sneaking up on us."

"Of course." Wallace walked to the surrounding woods and almost wished he'd find someone lurking in the thick brush. He was nowhere near sated.

**-**

Wallace returned to the castle and went to the most level headed person he knew—Rob. Rob's current sex life was as big a mystery as Alexis but he remembered the man frequenting brothels in the past, for all anyone knew he could have been getting busy with hundreds of women. No one had the nerve to ask the man. Alexis had broken a man's jaw. Rob didn't hit people—he killed people.

The man was in his signature all black. His waterfall of hair ended at his waist and was pulled back and braided. There were no pleasantries exchanged, he stepped back and allowed Wallace in his private domain before heading for the bar he kept in his room. If Rob wasn't guarding the king and queen, he usually hung out in his room that was set up more like a studio apartment complete with a mini-fridge and hot plate.

He poured dark amber colored liquor in a glass and handed it over before making himself a drink similar in size. He went to a chair that had a twin on the opposite side of the window and sat down. Wallace followed. They drank about half their drinks before Wallace worked up the nerve to speak.

"She's a virgin," Wallace said, surprised that that was where he wanted to started. "Yeah...a virgin," he repeated.

"There's a bigger problem than that," Rob said.

Wallace looked at his pack mate, his brother. "No shit," he said, thinking about the size of what he sported beneath his kilt. Some women wanted it...some ran.

"You've found your mate."

Wallace almost dropped his drink. He stood up like lightning had goosed his ass. "What!"

Wallace had been born with one volume. Loud. So when he actually did raise his voice it was like a clap of thunder that threatened to shatter every window in the house. Rob stretched his neck to keep eye contact with him. He didn't speak, didn't argue his point. Wallace actions pretty much proved the man's point. "How did this happen?" Wallace asked, sitting back down and downing his drink all at once.

"Like so many things about us, it's a mystery." Rob said sipping his drink. "Make yourself another."

Wallace didn't have to be told twice, he refilled his glass and brought the bottle with him.

"What am I going to do?" He was sounding like a bitch. But he could actually see the endless streams of women he'd had sex with over his lifetime. The things he did and had done to him. Shit, the things he'd done not five days ago. He was beyond not worthy. He was...dirty. Freya was rough and tough but that was just window dressings, she was also young. A thing that he hadn't thought about until now, a baby compared to him. Well, lots of people were babies compared to him and the Nuntis pack but still, twenty one, Jesus Christ. Wallace started hyperventilating.

"Have you ever wondered why werewolves have such a difficult time having children?" Rob asked.

The question was so odd coming from Rob that it helped with his heavy breathing. "Not really."

"We are strong, long lived, immune to all diseases and hard to kill."

"Yeah?" Wallace said, not understanding where Rob was going with this.

"For those of us lucky enough to find our true mate, the one created only for us, it is as perfect a life as anyone will ever know. To look into the eyes of your soul-mate and know that truly, only death can separate you and a natural death is far off in the horizon, decades spent young."

Wallace may have been distraught but he didn't miss that Rob said us"

"Her name was Gretel, we only had three short years together, she died in child birth, she and my son."

Wallace felt sick to his stomach. He'd never had a girlfriend, had no children, but he loved Geri, Thomas and Alexis like his own, would die for them. He was half feral just thinking about something happening to them.

"I am so very sorry," he said.

Rob nodded. "It was a long time ago but I think about them every day. I see the happiness that should be mine every day."

Wallace was silent. Not sure what to say, there was no comfort for a person who'd lost the love of their life and their child. The thought was almost too much even for him. He could taste the bitterness of tears in his throat, so he washed it away with a long swig from the bottle in his hand.

"Jean Rene is five hundred and may live five hundred more, Maximus and his goddess are true immortals, but ask any of them if it's enough. Is a thousand, a hundred thousand, enough to spend in the arms of the woman you love? To see the smiling face of your child?" Wallace didn't have to ask. He was shaking his head because the answer was obvious. "You asked, how did this happen? I ask...does it matter? What you've done in the past is the past, for everyday you do not go to her is a day not spent in bliss, because God forbid something happens to her. All that is left is this," he said, raising his arms out to his side.

Rob rarely spoke, almost never laughed, he couldn't remember if he'd ever seen the man with a smile on his face, which was hard to do when you're laughing but he pulled it off. He was a ghost of a man, one living life in the shadow of the deaths of his mate and child.

And of course he was right. This kind of opportunity came but once in a lifetime, literally.

Rob said, "Go."

Wallace sat the bottle and glass down and stood, but instead of heading for the door he knelt before his brother. Taking a knife from his hip, he grabbed one of his dreadlocks and cut it off.

"I will never take their place, but know, you are not alone," Wallace said.

A brief flicker of emotion crossed the silent killer's face before he went completely still, as if he'd willed his body a statue. Wallace remained kneeled, and was prepared to do so until Rob took what he offered. A lock of hair was a symbol of love and devotion. It was not just a woman's gift to give, for Wallace loved Rob. Rob wasn't looking at Wallace but the lock of red hair held in his palm. With a steady hand he took the long rope. Wallace grunted his approval before standing.

## Chapter

## 12

Wesley arrived at her door at precisely six-thirty. There was another kiss shared, this time hands were involved. He'd wrapped her up in his arms, gently at first and then harder as the kiss grew into something almost hungry. He broke the kiss and backed away from Freya, but not before she felt the beginnings of an erection. She was breathing hard, and if not for dinner, would have seen where all the kissing would have led. Wallace had been the first she'd offered herself to, but Wesley wasn't a bad second choice. He liked her, she liked him. It made sense. When the image of Wallace filled her head while she was in Wesley's arms she pushed it aside and focused on the man whose arms she was in, but her body refused to forget or block out how it'd felt with Wallace between her legs. How his mouth and tongue and fingers felt.

She watched Wesley pace around the room, turning his back to her. She smiled as he muttered something under his breath. When he turned back around he had determination in his face and she almost backed up from him as he made his sure footed trek across the bedroom that felt entirely too small all of a sudden.

"Freya—"

She stopped him by placing a finger over his lips. "Let's talk later, when there's time."

He looked at her, narrowing his eyes, letting her know that whatever was on his mind was going to be discussed and she was not going to get out of it easily. He smiled, captured her hand, and kissed the tip of her finger, before saying, "Alright."

She felt like she'd dodged a bullet. How did one's sex life go from non-existent to complicate and she hadn't even had sex. He placed his hand on the small of her back instead of taking her hand. It felt a lot like he was staking claim.

Everyone was gathered in the sitting room for the usual pre-dinner get-together and Lillian was hovering around her returned son. Not that Freya could blame the woman, one son had already been lost and Lawrence was out in the thick of it. She still didn't know how the woman did it. It hurt Freya's heart and she barely knew these people.

Lawrence Wolfe looked like the rest of them. He was on the short side, a mere six feet, but his body was the same as the other Wolfe men. Perfect. His hair was long, shoulder length and curlier than the king's. He also had a beard, full and thick but not the free, bushy whiskers that covered Wallace's face. It was trimmed, each hair in place. His suit was dark grey, almost black and fit his body like a tailor made piece of art. His baby blue tie complimented his grey eyes. He was gorgeous.

Wesley hand had remained solidly on her back since they'd left her room. It felt a little possessive and while they'd kissed and she might even be willing to sleep with him, she didn't belong to anyone. She took a step away from that warm hand and reached for Lawrence's outstretched one as he approached.

"Hello Lawrence, I'm Freya."

"It's nice to meet you," he said, looking at her and then his brother. Yeah, it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the unspoken words passing between the two of them. Lawrence was pretty much letting his brother know he'd done good.

"Lawrence!"

Wallace entered the room and every face had a smile on it. Freya had learned in her short time that he was a sort of anchor for the group. No matter how tough shit got, Wallace would always be there to remind them that there was always something to be happy about, and if they couldn't find it on their own, he'd be more than happy to spread the joy that he wore like an extra set of clothes.

"Wallace, my man," Lawrence said, returning the bear hug Wallace had wrapped him up in.

Wesley had taken a step and was now back at Freya's side, his hand wasn't on her back but their bodies touched; his arm to hers. Freya willed herself not to step away. Wallace turned to Freya after releasing Lawrence.

"May I speak to you after dinner?"

Freya eyebrows went up, "Me...sure."

He nodded once, she caught his nostrils flaring and then he looked at Wesley before his eyes dropped and he looked at their touching arms. Now she really had to fight the step she wanted to take away from the man at her side. Wallace was probably going to explain why they couldn't be together, it was a conversation she was not looking forward to but she wasn't one to hide from anything, or anyone. She was just tough that way.

He walked off and she remained next to Wesley while he talked to his brother and parents. She was happy when Watson came in and announced dinner was served. Wesley pulled out her chair and wouldn't you know it, Wallace was on the other side of her. Perfect.

"I've heard what you've been through and it's a brave thing you're doing," Lawrence said from in front of her.

"Not brave, just the right thing to do," she said, placing her napkin in her lap.

"Still, you've had a lot to process; werewolves, werewolf hunters, an entire secret world and you've been thrown into the middle of the beginnings of a war. Not to mention, you'll be legend around here after besting Wallace in a fight."

"Hey now," Wallace said beside her. "I let her win."

"Sure you did," Alexis said.

Under the table Wesley's foot touched Freya's. She dipped her head to hide a smile.

"She's pretty impressive in the gym too," Virginia said, adding her two cents.

"Alright, now you all are just embarrassing me," Freya said.

"Admit it, you're wonderful," Wesley said leaning in and whispering the words in her ear. He also ran his hand down her arm.

"It may be my party but I'd like to give a toast...to Freya," Lawrence said, raising his glass, "And doing the right thing."

Everyone lifted their glasses and toasted her. There was a lot of tinkling crystal but Freya could hear Wallace's low growl beside her just fine.

**-**

She was starting to see a little bit of a habit forming. Freya had never been a drinker but it was her vacation, so she didn't feel too bad about being drunk...again. They were climbing the stairs, well, Wesley was climbing the stairs, Freya was riding his back and even good and drunk he carried her easily up the carpeted mountain. Instead of letting her down when they reached the top he carried her to her room, opening the door and closing it with his foot. He turned his back to the bed and Freya let go and fell with no grace whatsoever, her arms spread wide and her legs slightly apart.

"God, we have to stop doing this," she said. She'd closed her eyes but then had to open them because she felt like she was spinning. Not a good thing when one's stomach was stuffed with a feta cheese and spinach omelet. She was almost thrown in the air when Wesley landed next to her on his stomach.

"What are you complaining about, I have to be up in like an hour," he said closing his eyes just fine. Freya sat up, kicked off her shoes and started tugging at the size fifteen boots on Wesley's feet. "What are you doing?" he asked

"Taking your shoes off, it's like five miles back to your room, just crash here. It's only an hour."

They both climbed into the bed fully dressed and laid down on top of the covers, Freya's head resting on Wesley's shoulder, his arm around her waist. Wallace had asked to speak to her earlier and then changed his mind after dinner, right before the real party started. She wondered what he wanted and then felt bad about thinking about him while she was in the arms of another man. She'd successfully forgotten about the redhead while she was downstairs. Of course, it was hard to think about much when you were playing drinking games and losing. Now the room was dark and too quiet, she wished Wesley was a heavy breather, or better still, would fall asleep and snore. Wesley rolled onto his side, closing her in with his other arm and pulling her close to him. He kissed her. His lips were soft and warm, his tongue licked at her lips gently and she opened her mouth to give him access. She moved around until she was holding him and they brought their bodies together, tangling their legs as their lips locked and their tongues battled. Freya could feel Wesley's erection on her thigh. He slid his hand under her shirt, running a line from her waist to just under her arm.

"Stop," Freya said grabbing his hand before he palmed a breast. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about." Wesley said. Freya was happy that he put his arms back around her and pulled her close to his body. He rubbed her back in small circles and their legs remained in the same tangle until they fell asleep. Freya thought about Wallace until slumber stole her conscious thought. There was a lot to think about, some air that needed clearing before she went through with having sex with Wesley. He was a good guy, they both were and the last thing she wanted was beef between the two over her. No, she'd talk to Wallace and then Wesley before things got any more complicated.

Wesley was gone when Freya woke up. She went downstairs and grabbed a Big Gulp size cup of coffee in a travel mug. She waved at the hunters and werewolves as she passed them. In the short time she'd been there she'd made more friends than her previous twenty-one years and as she made her way to the woods she realized she was going to miss them, but her life was not here. She didn't have any family or friends in America, but what exactly was she going to do here? And it wasn't like anyone had asked her to stay? The cool of the shaded forest made her glad she'd worn a jacket. She didn't have a destination in mind when she'd set out but she wasn't surprise to find herself at the meadow she and Wallace had eaten lunch at.

"Fleur."

Freya turned, almost fell and was thankful that her cup had a lid on it. "How in the hell is someone your size, so quiet?"

"Advantages of being an animal," he said, standing in the shadows of the trees.

"What did you want to talk about?" she asked when the silence stretched on and on. She'd never felt anything but completely at ease around him, now she was nervous and awkward and she wished he was smiling or joking, but the look on his face was serious, there was no hint of a hidden smile waiting to break the surface. She didn't like the look on him.

It doesn't matter," he said, and he broke eye contact and looked over her shoulder. Why was he acting so strange?

"Where did you go, when you were missing?"

"A brothel," he answered.

The admission was startling. "You were at a brothel for an entire day?" she asked, blushing a color somewhere between barn and fire-truck. He nodded. "Do that often?"

"Often enough," he answered.

She took a step forward and saw his body tense, like he was going to run if she got too close. She stopped and took a deep breath. "Wallace..."

"Are you leaving...I mean, once you've spoken to the Council."

Freya nodded, "Yeah."

She was standing in the same spot they'd had their picnic, the same spot where he'd given her the first orgasm of her life. He wasn't much taller but was so much bigger—bigger than life. Everything about Wallace was thick and strong and solid. He stopped about a foot from her. His hair loose instead of tied back; he wore a kilt and shirt but no shoes.

"Fleur I want to kiss you."

Freya didn't know why wanting to kiss her made him look so lost, but she wanted him to. "Please," she said.

He took a single step to close the distance that separated them and put a hand on the back of her head as she leaned into him. When their lips touched, her whole body felt liquid and the warmth from just the meeting of their mouths traveled down her body until it reached her feet. She brought her arms up and around his neck. They sank to the ground and before she knew it, they were a knot of arms and legs as they held on to each other tight.

Wallace pushed her shirt up and groaned when he saw her naked breasts; he lowered his head and took her nipple in his mouth, drawing it hard between his lips, flicking it with his tongue. Freya shimmied out of her jacket and pulled the tank over her head all the while Wallace licked and kissed her breasts, her stomach; anywhere his lips could touch bare skin. She toed off her shoes and he unzipped her pants and pulled them off her hips and down her legs. Settling between her thighs he kissed the inside of one before draping it over his shoulder and she cried out when his mouth found her core.

"Oh God, Wallace," she moaned, grabbing a handful of his hair and tilting her hips up, holding him hard against her body as he took long laps of her. He didn't use his fingers only his tongue to bring her to orgasm and she was damn near blacked out from the pleasure. Her body twitched and jerked as he kissed her thighs before sitting up on his knees.

"Please," Freya begged.

Wallace had no idea how someone so pure could be such a seductress. "Freya, I can't." he said. He'd kiss her, he'd touch her, he'd give her pleasure with his mouth and tongue but he was not going to take her most sacred of gifts. "I'm...I'm not worthy," he said softly.

Freya shook her head, "You're the only one who is." She raised her head and kissed him, a soft kiss, more intimate than he'd ever known. He ended it all too soon, standing up. With hands that were a little shaky he unfastened the kilt, allowing it drop to the ground. His sex stood thick and proud out from his body, its bulbous head already weeping, so ready to be plunged into the wet, snug heat of her core.

Freya raised her hands, calling him to her, he fell to his knees, she opened hers and he couldn't help himself, he looked between her thighs, the nub at the top of her sex peeking out of those smooth wet folds was his undoing. He covered her body with his, shaking from anticipation and plain ol' nervousness.

"Please," Freya said, his face held firmly between her hands.

"I'll hurt you," he said. Every breath was fought for. The thought of hurting her even gave wolf pause.

"Yes...a little," she said, kissing him, just a peck before kissing his eyelids and cheeks.

"Fleur, there is nothing little about me."

"Your toes are a little _little_ " she said, smiling at him.

With the words, the easy teasing that went on between them, Wallace saw what their life could be like. "Are you sure?" He asked, because there was a point he was going to reach where there would be no going back. Already he could feel the heat of her core on his thigh, mixed with the heady aroma of her arousal and climax he was almost to the point of no return already.

"I'm sure Wallace." And to prove her point she shifted until his erection lay on her hot slippery sex.

"Wait," Wallace said, the words more breath than words. He was about to come, just being in the vicinity of her tight opening sending him to the very brink.

"I don't want to wait," she said rolling her hips, spreading her legs further apart.

"Must you always have the upper hand," he asked through gritted teeth. He held on to the top of her head, her hair too short to grab properly. He wanted it long, down to her waist, a curtain of blond silk that fell on his body while she rode him.

"Yes."

Dominance challenges were not made lightly among werewolves, they often led to death between men, and between mates...Jean Rene called it sweet torture, but his mate was a werewolf and the deep scratches and bites they gave each other weren't meant for humans.

"Fleur, please," he begged. His body was bow tight. Every beat of her heart echoed in his head. Settling his weight on one arm he grabbed the thick length of his erection and positioned it at her opening.

"Tell me when..."

"Really? Like you're pouring cream in my coffee," Freya said.

"Silence woman." Oh yeah, his wolf was fed up with her lip. He smiled down at her as she obeyed. His wolf nodded, damned right.

Tell me if I need to stop," he said, his heart now hammering in his chest. She nodded but remained silent.

Using more self restraint than he had in his entire life, he pushed his hips forward, the snug fit tightening the muscles in his back until he thought they'd snap his damn spine. A rush of air escaped Freya when just the head breached her body.

"Are you alright?"

She nodded.

What the fuck? He'd never done this before. His first had been a seasoned woman, and by seasoned, he meant hooker. Even as a young boy he'd been large. Did he go fast...slow? Freya answered by planting her feet and driving her hips up. She also dug her nails into his back and bit his chest to muffle the scream and he was right there with her, as he bit back a yell of his own.

Slowly her grip eased on his back and she relaxed her jaw and her head fell to the ground. Wallace smooth her short hair, looked into her beautiful blue eyes, bright with unshed tears.

"I'm so sorry Fleur," he said, and went to ease from her.

"No, don't stop now," she said, grabbing his shoulders. Her sex was a velvet glove wrapped around him. Gently, with the greatest of care, and as slow as humanly possible, he eased further into her and then out. He kissed her face, her chin, her neck, he rubbed her hair, her arm and leg, offered her small comforts to counter the invasion of her body until she started to moan.

"You are so amazing," he said against her skin, her hips now rocking with his, each upward thrust gripping him in the most intimate embrace. Wallace watched as pleasure washed over her. He licked her bottom lip and bit it lightly before doing the same to her neck.

"Wallace," Freya said, grabbing his arms and holding on tight, her body shaking with the onset of her orgasm.

"You feel so good, Freya," Wallace whispered in her ear. As her body began to quake beneath him she opened her eyes, and what little of himself and his wolf that he'd squirreled away to keep him from feeling anything but friendship towards her, joined the rest of his heart, mind and soul. Her climax triggered his own and he pulled out as it tightened his sac, locked his back and barreled though him, shooting in hard, hot pulses on her stomach while he took her lips in a kiss meant to show ownership. She was his, if only for right now. They kissed until their heartbeats were semi-normal and then he went between her legs. The taste of her climax, mingled with the saltiness of the blood from taking her maidenhead, and his scent covering her body stole any remaining control. He was damn near ready to grab her by the hair and drag her around by it. She'd tipped his axis from the first moment they'd met. He would never be the same. It remained to be seen if that was a good thing, or a bad one.

## Chapter

## 13

Diana entered her husband's study and knew how much was on his mind from the set of his shoulders. He'd grown quiet these last few months since Alfred's raids began. Sure she was the queen of wolves but they ruled together, she could not imagine a world where they didn't exist together. He looked up with her still half a room away and the look in his eyes was the same now as when they met those many years ago. It had the same effect, too. She felt...blessed. The first time she'd met him she'd wanted to touch him, and now that they were mated she was powerless against it. It would never get old and she was glad. Not that they would ever become an old couple, no she and her wolf, Mon Lupe, had many, many, many years in front of them. She had been human when they met, he a timeless werewolf, with their joining they found out her ancestry and she'd since stopped aging. They had three beautiful children and were surrounded by people who surpassed friendship eons ago. He held his hand out to her, a needless beckoning; nothing could keep her from him. As she took his hand he pulled her into his strong arms. It felt so good, she breathed in his scent, their bodies had been joined so many times, so often they now shared one scent, yet another tell of just how mated they truly were.

"You're worried," she said in a low voice, snuggling into his chest, taking the offered comfort of his tightened embrace.

"Thinking," he said, kissing the top of her head.

"I am your white wolf to call, I know when you lie to me," she said, straightening but keeping her arms around his waist. "Tell me, my love, what has your handsome brow so furrowed?"

"I fear what the future holds for us, our kind."

Diana dropped her arms but grabbed his hand and led him to his desk. He sat down and she sat in his lap. "Talk to me Mon lupe, do not shoulder this burden alone," she said, smoothing a lock of his hair behind his ear.

He smiled, and the sadness in it broke her heart a little. He had been alone for so long, different from those who were different, and hunted most of his life by the Wolfe Hunters and his own kind.

"This reminds me of a time I thought long gone, there's so much needless death, Ma lune."

"We should kill him at the council meeting," Diana said. .Jean Rene gasped, at the suggestion, or her suggesting it, she wasn't sure. "I'm serious, we should just shoot him between the eyes the minute he steps foot in chambers."

"You have learned well Ma lune," Jean Rene said, with a smile that had no sadness in it. She was glad she had taken that away.

"As I said, I am your white wolf to call."

Jean Rene was an alpha wolf, stronger than any other wolf, save Maximus and even Maximus could not make him bow down in submission. That power he had over Diana, any order he gave she had to obey. He'd only used that power once and it had almost killed her to sit by and let him fight. Of course, she was big and pregnant at the time.

"Marry me, Diana."

Her jaw dropped. Six years and a set of triples and they had never married. Being mated was a bond stronger than any paper saying they were lawfully married. The mark on her neck a more permanent sign that they belonged to each other than a ring. After he'd mated her she'd never given much thought to marriage. She was happy, how could she not be.

"Why?" she said, causing him to frown at her. "I mean, why now?"

"I want us joined in every way, even by human law."

"Are you worried something is going to happen?" she asked, reading between the lines. The thought made breathing harder and her chest feel tight.

"Be at ease, my wolf," Jean Rene said, stroking her back with one hand and her hair with the other.

"How can I?" Her voice already strained from tears building up, she could taste their saltiness in the back of her throat.

"Ma lune, I will move heaven and hell for you."

"I don't need heaven or hell. I need you here, on earth, by my side."

He smiled, one that made her feel warm all over. He was such a beautiful man, beast and wolf. That he was hers was still unfathomable. She may never know what hand of fate led them to each other; she was just so very glad that it had.

"Milord, Milady." Watson, head butler and the captain that really ran the ship that was their home entered.

"Yes Watson," they said together.

"Maximus and Josephine have arrived."

"What?" Jean Rene looked at Diana.

"You're not the only one keeping secrets, or worried. We have a king and a god. Who could stand against us?"

"Show them in please Watson" Jean Rene said, taking Diana in his arms. "What am I going to do with you?" he asked before kissing her breathless.

"Make an honest woman out of me," she said laughing.

"Diana...Jean Rene!"

Diana turned, clapped her hands and even jumped up and down a little. In the last eight months she and Josephine had become close and she was excited to see her sister. She too was a child of Geri and Freki. Diana had been born an only child and now she had two sisters, Lillian was the other.

"Oh my God you're so big," she said walking to Josephine. She was eight months pregnant. "I didn't know you were coming."

"You know my beast, he won't let me out of his sight, he's actually worse now," Josephine said, rubbing the large orb in front of her.

"They let you fly this far along?" Diana said placing her hand on Josephine's belly. She felt what could have been a hand or foot press against her palm. "I miss that," she said. "I loved how it felt to have life inside my body."

Jean Rene came up behind her, placed his lips on her ear. "Then we will work on that tonight Ma lune." Diana fought not to shake as the shiver ran down her body at the heated words.

"Your Nonakris called," Maximus said beside Josephine. He was still as intimidating as the first time they met. The man always looked ready to rip someone's head off and drink blood from their spouting neck.

"She is a wise queen," Jean Rene said.

"Tell me, have you settled in your new home," Diana asked Josephine, looping their arms together and leading the woman to a couch. She fluff pillows behind the woman's back and made she was comfortable before sitting next to her.

"New, is a stretch," Josephine said. "But renovations are almost done."

The house they lived in had been a dilapidated shack. Josephine had agreed to live there because it was in the middle of nowhere allowing them to hunt freely in their animal forms. She had insisted they fix the place up.

"And your parents, how are they?" Jean Rene asked. He was speaking to Josephine but looking at Maximus. He was every father's nightmare. The bad-boy fathers prayed their daughters stayed clear of.

"Beast would have eaten the man long ago but he never smells of fear."

The room was silent as they stared at Maximus. It wasn't a joke because as far as they knew Maximus didn't have a funny bone in his body.

"Well..."Diana said, "That's certainly something."

"Fathers find strength when it comes to his children." Jean Rene said.

"And mothers," Maximus said remembering his own. She'd died trying to protect him from Alfred.

"While I wish this was strictly a social visit, we're here to accompany you to the Council meeting," Josephine said.

Maximus growled. The wolves all whimpered and cowered wanting to come closer to Diana but she was too close to Maximus. Only Snow and Grey were brave enough to stand next to their masters in the presence of the mighty beast.

"Stop that," Josephine said to her mate. It was still a shock to Diana and Jean Rene that she had so much control over the man.

"I do not want you in the same room as Master."

"Alfred," Josephine corrected him.

Alfred had spent the majority of Maximus life using him as a guinea pig. He'd harvested organs, chopped off limbs; he'd done everything but decapitated Maximus. Little did he know, the pup he'd taken years before was not just a werewolf, a part of Fenrir rested in the soul of the baby. Maximus had found and mated with Josephine when Alfred showed up in the States to reclaim his most prized possession and kidnapped the woman. Maximus came to Jean Rene asking for help. He wasn't worried about his own well being, only that of Josephine's but as it turned out she didn't wait to be rescued she escaped on her own. She'd had a conversation with Odin and was brought to the meadow on the castle grounds by Geri.

"Alfred," Maximus growled.

"I'm not leaving you alone in the same room with that fucking monster," she growled right back.

"Goddess...please," Maximus said.

"Absolutely not, we will go to the council meeting together, or not go at all. Jean Rene and Diana need you. I don't want anything to happen to either of them."

"Thank you Josephine, but if Maximus feel so strongly about it then I am inclined to be on his side. He knows Alfred better than anyone and if things are too dangerous than perhaps we should take heed," Jean Rene said.

"But you'll allow Diana to go?" Josephine said heatedly. Her eyes had been brown before she mated with Maximus, now they were the same gold as her mate's, the twin orbs begin to glow and look like tiny suns in her head.

"Diana is queen of wolves. She represents every wolf she reigns over."

"And what am I...chopped liver. Diana blood-line is of Afi and her human mate. I am a daughter of Afi and Cynric, our mother and father."

"Josephine," Diana said placing a hand on the woman's arm.

"Maximus will not face that man alone. Not while I have breath in my body and am able to waddle my fat ass to that meeting."

"Your comfort and safety means more than your warped perception of my hurt feelings and mental well-being. I fear no man. Beast and Wolf ask that you waddle your fat ass to the bottom of this castle during the meeting. Beast will keep me safe from Mas—Alfred."

Jean Rene raised an eyebrow. Diana said, "Oh, my." Josephine stared daggers at Maximus long seconds before laughing. "It's not nice to call me fat ass." Maximus looked confused. "Come to me, my beast," she said holding her arms out and leaning forward.

Maximus's transition was as smooth as silk. Seated he was a seven foot wall of bulky muscle, by the time he'd slid to the ground on his knees in front of Josephine he was a ten foot tall mass of monster. Half-form for him was truly terrifying. No human features remained, atop his massive shoulders was a distorted wolf's head that looked as if it shared heritage with a dragon. The fur that covered his body was wiry and hard. He was way more animal than any other werewolf in half-form. Even his genitalia had the sheath of an animal.

Josephine stroked the sides of Beast's head and kissed his nose. "I worry about you, too. It wasn't just Maximus hurt. He hurt you too. You protected them both, you protect us all, but I'm here now and I love you. I love all of you."

Beast pulled his lips from his teeth, displaying canines as long as her forearms before shifting to Wolf. Wolf was so tall he had to lie down and still his head was eyelevel with Josephine. Inky black, he was the absence of color. He damn near look like a rip in the universe. Josephine hugged him around the neck. He closed his eyes and nuzzled her head before pushing his head into her crotch before resting his head on her lap. Only the very tip of his nose fit "We're a team," she said to Wolf, "And we take care of each other."

There was nothing to do but sit in awe of the four: Maximus, Beast, Wolf and Josephine.

Maximus was back, his clothes lying around him in tatters. "Goddess, nothing makes me weaker."

Josephine shook her head, "No darling, nothing makes you stronger."

"Deadlier," Diana said.

"Yes, I like that much better, deadlier," Josephine echoed.

"I don't understand all the worry, you're just as immortal" Jean Rene said.

"I may have spoken aloud when I wondered if our children would be immortal also."

"I think so, but I do not want to take that chance. Goddess may not die, but her body can be pierced, same as mine," Maximus said.

"Oh, I see," Jean Rene said.

"I'm afraid you do not. If anything happens to my children I'm not sure even Josephine will be able to stay my rage."

The power of the words made the air thick in the room. John Rene's beast was called and the seams of his suit were visible as his body began to shift. It was the same for Diana.

"Maximus," Josephine said, "Calm." She rubbed his head. "Easy."

"Goddess," he whispered.

"I'm here, right here," she said kissing him softly on the lips. "I am safe. You will keep me and all our children safe. We live because you do." He didn't look like he believed her but he nodded. The power dissipated saving Jean Rene's and Diana's clothes.

"Perhaps we should change the subject," Diana offered.

"Yes, please," Josephine said. "For a matter of fact, Maximus, why don't you and the Lycaon catch up while Diana and I go to the kitchen to make sure they have everything for me to cook dinner."

"You're cooking!" Diana said clapping before her brow wrinkled, "Are you sure you should be on your feet that long?"

"Thank you Nonakris," Maximus said.

"Not you too, I'm pregnant not handicapped. Besides, I can mix and stir sitting down. Bethany can help." Bethany was the house head cook. She had an army of help. Josephine gripped the edge of the couch and struggled for all of a second to get up before Maximus offered aid. He towered over her, naked, staring a hole through her upturned face. "I love you," she said laying a hand over his heart.

"Thank you," he said in return. She shook her head and raised to her toes, he leaned over so she could kiss him. She was married to a sociopath. He didn't understand emotion, it was as if Alfred had stolen his humanity, and when Odin freed the rest of Fenrir, it'd made him react to things more like an animal than a human although Wolf seemed to be the nicest of the three.

"Come on Diana," Josephine said taking the woman's hand and leading the way to the kitchen.

"Are you making cornbread?" Diana asked almost skipping next to the woman.

"You bet your sweet ass I am."

Maximus and Jean Rene watch the women leave arm in arm. Maximus turned to Jean Rene, "Why is it not nice for me to comment on Goddess's fat ass."

Jean Rene laughed. With any other man he would have slapped him on the back, with Maximus he put his hands in his pocket. "Come on; let's talk about the loveliest of our race."

## Chapter

## 14

Time was both a blur and stood still each and every time Wallace made love to her. They'd been together for hours and still she hadn't had her fill, neither had Wallace. It was as if he'd unlocked a beast in her that refused to be caged again. The pain of their first union soon dulled and now her body was immersed in pleasure so powerful that every inch of her skin felt sensitive, she swore she could feel the individual hairs on her body. She'd lost count of orgasms a long time ago but each time she had one, it was as strong as the first. Her back bowed as she panted through yet another and she fell into a boneless heap as Wallace continued to pump in and out of her. God, he felt so good. She was really happy she'd waited. She couldn't imagine it being this way with anyone else. As Wallace found his own release her breath was cut off as he held her in a bone crushing embrace while his hips jerked. His teeth locked on her shoulder momentary before he quickly moved his head, burying it in her neck, his heavy breathing misting her skin. He collapsed on his side pulling her into his arms.

"Are you alright?" he asked between heavy breathing. Marathon sex really took it out of you, even a werewolf.

"I'm better than alright," she said squeezing him. "God, you're amazing."

"And you've made us late for dinner," he said.

Freya punched him in the chest. Hard.

"Hey, I'm just saying..."

"I know what you're saying," she said sitting up. She placed a hand on his chest and lifted up to stare into his face. "Come on, I guess I'll feed you, but it doesn't mean I'm going to keep you," she teased. The look that flashed across his strong handsome face was gone before it fully formed. Her words hurt him.

"Hey," she said, her hands making slow lazy circles on his chest. "Don't."

"I won't," he said, pushing her gently from him and getting up to search for their clothes.

Freya tried to find something to say to lightened the mood but nothing came to her. They'd teased each other throughout their time together, but she knew that Wallace had feelings that she wasn't sure she was ready to hear it out loud. Yeah, the sex was good, and she wanted more, but past that...she didn't know.

He threw her pants, they landed on her head. She pulled her panties and pants on before crawling around in search for her bra and shirt. Freya looked up. Wallace was standing over her, blocking out the damn sun with all his big body and she licked her lips.

"Come on," he said, holding her bra on the end of a finger.

They walked back with Freya feeling deliciously stretched and worked over.

"So do you sleep outside every night?" She asked as they broke through the trees and into the grounds surrounding the castle.

"I do."

"Can I sleep with you tonight," she asked.

"Yes, I'd like that."

Rob was waiting on them, his nostrils flared and Freya realized he could smell what they'd been up to. She was almost scarlet. Wallace growled and Rob dipped his head at the two of them.

"Maximus and Josephine just arrived. Jean Rene has asked for all the men to join them."

"Do I have time to shower," Wallace asked.

Rob looked at him from head to toe, "Please, do." He turned to Freya, "I do not mean to offend; only the scent of mating will be a distraction for the other males in the room."

"Mating?" she said.

"The others who have women of their own," Rob said.

"Oh...Wallace and I...I mean...we were...we're not mated," she finally bit out.

It was her turn to get the inspection. His gaze traveled her body from head to foot. "Umm hmmm," he said. He turned and walked away before Freya could say anything.

"The women will probably be in Nonakris's sitting room, ask Serena were it is when you're ready, if you'd like to join them."

"I don't know," she said, "I don't want to impose."

"Nonsense, they'll be happy to have you. You can meet Goddess before dinner."

"Goddess?"

"Long story," Wallace said, and leaned in but stopped from what she knew was probably a kiss.

"I'll see you at dinner," she said, offering him a smile.

She'd just found a job that might make her a little bit of money as a model. Did she really want to get caught up in a relationship with a werewolf? Wasn't it best that she go back to America and forget about these people? The statement hung in the air over head a lot like a dunce cap. How would she ever be able to just forget about any of this? It wasn't exactly your run of the mill vacation. No, this trip would be with her for the rest of her life and she wouldn't be able to tell a soul, unless she was ready for people to think her crazy. Not that she wanted to tell anyone. Their secret was safe with her. And then there was Wallace. She didn't think anyone would touch her like he did. Not because she wouldn't let them, just that in his skilled hands she'd felt...revered. He worshiped her body.

Freya rushed to her room to shower and dress. She really wished she had something else to wear. Her clothes were fine to backpack through Europe with a pocket full of cash, but eating with royalty...she felt underdressed. Besides she had to go before the Council in two days to testify and she really didn't want to do that in her much love, but very worn and ragged jeans and a tank top. The nicest thing she'd packed was a vintage light jacket.

Stepping into the warm water of the shower her mind raced with flashbacks of the hours spent in the meadow. How Wallace's face looked as he made love to her and while she wanted to keep it simple and platonic it was not fucking, not sex, he made love to her, slowly and gently each stroke careful. Every soft kiss on her skin, every caress, every lap of his tongue, meant to bring her pleasure. Who could compete with that? And she did like him, she liked his sense of humor, liked how strong he was, liked that he took her shit up to a point. When he'd told her to be silent, the deep bass in his voice echoing through the trees, the flash of light in his eyes that said she had finally overstep some boundary and she needed to toe the line or he would put her in her place...well, didn't that just get her heart going. And that look. Freya shook her head. She didn't want to think about it, not right now. She'd go down to dinner and maybe they'd talk about it afterwards, tonight. She bathed quickly, picked out an outfit from the meager choices, and made a mental note to ask about a mall.

She called Serena as suggested, and the girl took her to Diana and the rest of the women. She recognized Josephine right off. Wallace had called her Goddess, and while Freya had no preconceived notion what one would look like, it certainly wasn't the woman was lying on the couch, her back against the arm rest, her shoes off. Even from where she stood Freya could see her ankles and feet were swollen. Made sense since the woman looked like she was carrying fifty extra pounds, all in her stomach. The dress she wore stopped at her knees and her big round belly looked ready to explode at any moment. How far along was she, thirteen months?

"Freya, please, come in and meet our Josephine," Diana said, waving her the rest of the way in the room.

"Diana has told me all about you, you're very brave to do what you're doing," Josephine said smiling up at her.

Freya was tired of saying she wasn't brave, it was beginning to sound a bit rude to not just accept the compliment. "Thank you."

"And so beautiful," the woman said, and then scented the room.

Freya could feel the tips of her ears warm. She'd bathed like six times, scrubbing her skin until it as a nice rosy color. She didn't want people all up in her business.

"Would you like something to drink or eat," Diana said, smiling and looking at Freya a little sideways. Great.

"No, thank you." Freya sat down, fighting the urge to run from the room.

The conversation resumed, the women included Freya. Josephine was from the South, the same as Diana, they talked about America, the restaurants Diana missed, the home cooking of her mother. Josephine talked about the finishing touches being done to the house that was actually the house Maximus, her mate, took her too after kidnapping her. Freya soon relaxed but was grateful when Watson came in and announced it was time for the women to join the men. She thought she could escape but Diana insisted that she join them.

Freya stopped in the threshold when she laid eyes on him. He was that scary. Her first thought was he was going to kill everyone in the room, possibly even his own mate, his pregnant mate.

"He's harmless," Josephine said, waddling back to Freya.

"Did she just say that," Wallace voice boomed, and Freya zeroed in on it like a life raft in choppy seas.

"Wallace, no one told me you'd mated," menacing giant said.

"What?" Everyone said and Freya would have been happy if the floor opened up and swallowed her whole or maybe if the giant had started killing people instead of making that comment.

"I've not mated," Wallace said.

"But she smells of you," he said, no confusion, a statement of fact. Freya dropped her head and put her hands over her face.

"Maximus!" Josephine scolded her mate. "Be quiet."

"They have been together, his scent is on her," he continued.

Freya started to laugh, it was that, or cry and she had never been one to cry. Besides, it was kind of funny. She was in a house full of werewolves with hypersensitive senses. There was no hiding what she and Wallace had done, and she was the only one embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," Freya said between stints of laughter, "Really." She couldn't stop laughing.

Wallace stood there mortified. He'd scent marked Freya. It was one step away from placing the mating mark on her shoulder. God, how had he missed that? He'd come so many times, always pulling from her body and spilling on her skin. He assumed that was why his smell was so prominent but Maximus was right, she did still smell of him. She deserved so much more than a room full of strangers knowing what she obviously didn't want them to. Her embarrassment could be smelled across the room and now she was laughing from the stress of it all.

"Enough!" Wallace shouted. Every head in the room snapped around.

Wallace was loud but he never raised his voice. Maximus looked at Wallace. He was like a damn new born pup. H, Josephine was the first and only person he'd ever had sex with and they were mated. He couldn't be mad at the man. And now wasn't the time for him to get his schooling. Maximus was an ally, it was yet to be seen if he was a friend. Everyone loved Josephine to pieces, but her mate... Wallace didn't lower his eyes, he was an alpha like all Jean Rene's wolves, he didn't give a shit about Maximus being a god, Wallace only concern was Freya. Her laughter had turned into a few bouts of chuckling. Just when Wallace thought he and Maximus were about to throw down, the man nodded his massive head. Wallace did the same and then looked at Freya.

She was wiping tears from her eyes and she mouthed, _I'm sorry_. He shook his head and held out his hand to her, palm up, a beckoning for her to come to him. Oh God, it was like the gift that kept on giving. She had already implied she didn't want something long term, and so far he'd scent marked her, was defending her from immortal gods, and now he was calling her to his side. If she didn't come he'd be as embarrassed as she. Her public rejection would be too much for his suddenly sensitive ego, but as soon as his hand was in the air she lowered her head and walked around the people who separated them. His wolf all but ripped from his skin. The woman crossing the room was strong, taller than any of the others, and a few of the men, her body that of a warrior but she came so submissively to him. She was his. Whether she knew it or not, wanted it or not, she belonged to Wallace. He wanted to touch her when she finally reached his side but held back, which was okay because she stood shoulder to shoulder, the bare skin of her arm on his.

"Forgive me if I misspoke," Maximus said.

"That's alright," Freya said.

"Well if we could get down to business," Jean Rene said. Wallace didn't miss the looks, quick peeks from the other wolf men in the room. He ignored them. Freya hadn't accepted him yet but he'd made a vow to protect her from harm while she was here and he always made good on his promises. But his mind was racing on how to make her accept him as a mate.

## Chapter

## 15

Dinner couldn't end quickly enough for Freya. It was something about sitting at a table with everyone knowing about your sex life that really took away your appetite. She'd been seated next to Josephine. Maximus had apologized again. Freya was sure at the urging of his mate. She skipped the after dinner sit in and headed for her room, unsure if she was going to meet Wallace tonight. Alright, who was she kidding, as soon as the sun went down she was totally sneaking out like some teenager meeting up with her boyfriend. The thought brought a smile to her face. She sniffed her arm, she'd done it about a million times, smelling herself, trying to smell Wallace on her, but all she got was the soft scent of the soap she'd used. She caught her reflection in the vanity next to the bed. Over the years she'd stopped looking at her face if she could help it. The beauty everyone else saw, she saw as a curse. If she had only been less attractive maybe she could have had a more ordinary childhood. Maybe a family would have kept her and she'd had a mother and father, a sister or brother instead of being alone. Being alone had never bothered her before but sitting there, waiting to sneak off to meet a man who was fast becoming something to her, even in this short time, her heart grew heavy. Yes, there was the possibility to make money, more money than she'd ever dreamed of if her modeling career took off, but then what? What would she do with all that money, no family, no friends and the only person she wanted to talk to a world away, across an ocean?

The soft knock on the door made her turn around. "Come in."

Lillian opened the door and peeked her head in. "I'm not disturbing you am I?"

"No, please," Freya said standing up.

Lillian's scar didn't take away from her beauty. Everyone said she was brave, but brave was standing in her doorway. The woman had been clawed by a wolf, and yet she lived in a house busting at the seams with werewolves. Freya sparred with Wallace but she didn't think she could go out and do battle against wolves. Not after seeing the size of Wallace's wolf.

"I'm sorry," Freya said, dropping her gaze after realizing she had been staring at the woman. "God I feel like a real ass. I hate when people stare at me."

The smile was motherly. "I'm sure you're use to unwanted attention."

Freya looked at Lillian, "Are you a hunter too, like your daughter?"

"No," she said and chuckled, "Thomas was the hunter that saved me and killed the wolf that attacked me."

Freya knees were weak. Would Wallace have attacked her if she hadn't struck first? This woman had been lucky, someone was there to protect her; Freya had been on her own. Lillian sat on a chaste lounge by the window. "I came to see how you were doing?"

"Me? I'm fine," Freya said, a little shocked by the announcement. She'd been having a blast since she arrived, other than the whole Wolfe Executioners and Wallace stabbing incident it was the best vacation ever.

"We've been at it for so long that it seems normal, but for you, an ordinary human, it must have been a shock."

Freya shook her head, her brow dropping as she tried to find the words. "I think the only time I was really shocked was when Wallace changed from a wolf to a man. When I woke up later all I could think about was getting out of here. Even when Wallace came busting through the door, my only thought was to defend myself. I was pretty pissed at being locked up."

Lillian nodded, "So what will happen when you go back home, to America? Is there a life waiting for you there...friends and family? I know you've been spending a lot of time with Wallace...and my son."

For the second time tonight she was mortified. The woman must think her some kind of slut.

"No, I was a foster kid and I don't make friends easy," she whispered, too embarrassed to speak much louder.

"So there's nothing stopping you from staying?"

Freya opened her mouth, and then closed it.

"Surely you must know your life will never be the same again. You know a great secret. No one here will stop you from leaving; we trust you not say anything, besides, who'd believe you. But it's nice to be around people who understand. It was hard when I first married Thomas. I couldn't exactly call up a girlfriend and tell her what a horrible day Thomas had at work; talk about stitching him up or the worries that I have each night he goes out on a hunt in search of rogue wolves."

"That's where we're different," Freya said, "I don't have anyone I want to call up and share details of my life with."

"But you could. Wallace is not a bad choice; he's a very honorable wolf, the Lycaon's personal guard." Freya opened her mouth to say that she and Wallace weren't headed in the direction everyone seemed to think, but Lillian raised her hand and cut her words off. "Sometimes life hands you exactly what you need, exactly when you need it. I wasn't expecting to find a husband the night I was attacked. I was walking home when the wolf attacked me. I was half blind from the blood in my eye, scared to death by the animal in front of me when Thomas showed up. So tall and strong, wielding a sword like a knight in shining armor from every fairy-tale ever read. He stayed with me until the ambulance came and then in the hospital. I was in love with him before I was discharged. I've given him four children, we've lost a son. Lots of women in our family have lost sons, but it is a cause that we believe in, or we'd stop fighting. What you're doing is a lot like what my husband and children do. You are standing up and fighting for a species right to survive. Thomas and his family began killing werewolves because they didn't understand them, and like so many people and so many other times in history man fear the unknown, now this mighty family is split, half stuck in the past, the other fighting for a future. There is war coming. We don't know how long it will last, or how many will be lost, but it's always nice to have one more on your team."

Freya opened her mouth and was truthful with the woman, "I don't know how I feel about Wallace."

"Forgive me if this is too personal thing to say, but I think even if your mind doesn't know, your heart does."

"Why would you say that?" Freya asked, meeting the woman's gaze.

"Back in the drawing room, Wallace held his hand out to you."

"Yeah," Freya said. Wallace had come to her rescue, she'd didn't miss the heated stare-off he had with Josephine's giant, killer husband.

"I'm not a werewolf, but it's my family business to know them. Wallace upturned hand was a show of dominance _and_ he's marked you as his mate."

"His smell," Freya said, her words barely a whisper.

"Yes, it's to tell other wolves that you belong to him."

"Oh, God," Freya said standing up and pacing the room. "I...I..." She couldn't finish. Her heart was somewhere behind her tongue, she was being choked to death by her own body. She felt a little faint and it was suddenly very hot in the room.

"Can you really see no future here with us, with Wallace?"

"I came here on vacation," Freya said, like that answered the woman's question. "I have a lot to think about," she said.

Lillian stood up, "Of course."

Freya ran her hands down the front of her face and focused on not passing the fuck out. "Wait," she called after Lillian. The woman already had the door open. She turned to look over her shoulder.

"Wesley..." she swallowed, "He's a really good man. I'm sorry."

Lillian smiled. "Thank you, I think we did well by our children. Just let him down gently. He knows he doesn't stand a chance with a mated wolf."

If that was supposed to make her feel better it didn't. She only felt guiltier. She was so going to use Wesley to get over Wallace. Maybe she was some kind of new-fangled oxymoron: the virgin slut.

Freya was still standing in the same spot minutes later, or was that hours. She cared about Wallace's well-being. Could she stay there and watch him go out and fight and not know if he was ever going to come back? And what if one day he came back...dead. She'd never been that emotionally attached to anyone in her life. Was he really the person she needed to start with? And did he really want her to be his mate? And what if he wanted her to be like him...did she want to be a werewolf? Well, if she was, she could help him fight. Too many questions, too much information, too much to think about. If she kept standing there she would miss out on the one thing she was not confused about at all.

It was pitch-black, but what do you know, there was a flashlight on the table by the door. She pinched the bridge of her nose at the thought of all the possible people who may have left it there for her. Every step she took towards the woods her legs wanted to take off in a sprint. Half way she gave up fighting the feeling and ran, she entered woods running full speed, pushing low hanging branches out of her way. The further in she got, the faster her heart raced, and with each step, she felt like she was—for the first time in her life—going home. Incredible, ridiculous, insane, but true.

Her breath was loud in her ears, competing with the sound of her heart as she raced to find him. The great bear of a man had stolen her heart without her even realizing it. Did she really think she was going to just walk away from what she'd learned in the last week or him? He made her feel safe and strong at the same time. He'd held her so softly while he made love to her, but wasn't afraid that she'd break when they sparred. His sense of humor was quick and sometimes a little dark, just like hers. He'd protect her, but also let her fight her battles if he was sure she could win. He was perfect for her.

She stopped when she reached their meadow. He wasn't there. Laying her palms on her knees to catch her breath and think about where else he may be. She wasn't above just screaming his name, which was a good idea since she had absolutely no idea where to find him. As soon as she had the breath she was going to start screaming at the top of her lungs. Hell, everyone already knew they were together. She smiled at the thought of her walking around bellowing his name while the house listened. It was funny...Right?

"Wallace!" The sound echoed and before the last of the sound left the evening sky she called to him again. Walking around the perimeter of the meadow she called him again and again and then added, "Come here boy!"

Wallace emerged from the trees in his human form but he'd been wolf because he was gloriously naked. He was on the opposite side from where Freya stood and she was halfway to him before she realized he wasn't pleased with the way she had called him. He broad shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath. Her step slowed. He growled. She stopped. He howled.

She ran.

Freya wasn't frightened, she was playing and didn't that just make Wallace and his wolf want to howl to the heavens. Fuck it, he did, and then he took off after the woman. She was fast and graceful, her feet barely touching the earth as she sprinted across the meadow. He had to catch her before she reached the tree line—too many weapons—and while he liked a good fight, that wasn't what he wanted. He caught her just before she reached the first of the trees, tackling her and turning them both so that his back took the punishing fall, but he rolled on top of her as soon as they stopped sliding on the grass and caught her rising, flashlight wielding hand before she brained him with the thing. His wolf was about to show her how it was going to be. She won only because he allowed it, she didn't have to obey another soul on earth... but for him, she would bow down in all things. Caveman, yes, but hey, he was a fucking wolf.

With her hands pinned above her head she fought to buck him off her, but he outweighed her and was stronger. It was futile and the fact that she still tried only made his wolf want to claim her more. She was a worthy mate and he knew if she'd been completely submissive his wolf wouldn't wanted her. He pried her legs open with a thigh, there were different ways to end a dominance challenge with a mate, but biting was off the table, so...

"Mine." The deep guttural word didn't sound human, even to him and Freya stopped struggling beneath him.

She looked up at him, the soft moonlight giving her an ethereal glow. Her blond hair almost white in the light, but he could still see the rosiness in her cheeks, the darker color of her lips. He reached down, grabbing the hem of her gown. She lifted her body so he could drag it across her head until he reached her hands and with quick efficient moves he bound them together. Keeping his hands on her bound wrist he shifted his weight, raising his upper body and looked at what she gifted him. Exquisite. He lowered his head, taking a nipple between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue before running it flat across the erect tip.

"Wallace," she begged.

"No Fleur, too late for that," he said releasing her breast and grabbing her leg behind the knee. Earlier he'd taken his time, made sure she was pleasured, tonight wasn't about her pleasure. It was about his claiming her.

"To be mated is forever. I will never want another, will never touch or be touched by another woman. My life, the very reason I live, will be to make sure you are safe and cared for, that every want and need is given to you and by my hand. I will protect you if you are in danger, feed you if you are hungry, warm you if you are cold and die if it means you will live." Every fiber of his being wanted to take her, but he couldn't, not without her understanding what it meant for him and for her. "You are not wolf; you can walk away from me at any time. "Do you understand Freya?" His heart was both happy that she'd come to him, and sad at the thought that it would be so easy for her to leave him.

"Yes," she said.

"Are you sure this is what you want? I'll kill any man that touches you, even if you give him consent. You will be mine in all ways, Freya."

Without hesitation she answered, "Yes."

And without hesitation he pushed his hips forward, burying the long thick length of him inside her in one single stroke. If it was possible she was tighter than the first time. He worked his hips slowly after the first brutal thrust. Freya had bitten his arm to muffle her scream. Funny, seeing how she'd been screaming her head off just minutes ago. Her head fell back and her mouth opened in a loud moan.

Wallace kissed her chin, her neck, his human teeth nipping at her skin, and then kissing the pain away. With each powerful stroke her body moved forward, he held her in place by placing a hand on the top of her head, he tightened the grip on her leg and opened her wider. Wanting to see where their bodies joined, he rose to his knees. He held her legs open by the shins, watched as he slid easy between her silken folds, he thumbed the top of her sex and she gasped as her body jerked. He watched her face as he pleasured her. Her eyes were on his while she climaxed. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. With his own release a promise, he lowered his body to cover hers, kissed her while his hands worked at freeing hers. As soon as she was free, she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly and he worked his arms around her to pick her up. Sitting back on his heels, he grabbed her hips as she held on to his shoulders. She planted her feet and rode him in with her eyes glued to his. He pushed and pulled her hips onto his thick length, but she worked hard too, opening her legs further, tilting her body until he was all the way seated, hilt deep in her sex. With his orgasm raging to be set free, he grabbed both her hips and jerked her body to his. He roared as he climaxed, his sex thickening, until he was sure he could no longer fit within her body. But she showed no pain, only mirrored pleasure as she came again, and the feel of the walls of her sex contracting, grabbing, milking him, made his climax damn near never ending as he filled her completely, with his length, his scent and his seed. When he was spent Freya fell forward, laying her head on his shoulder, her skin covered with sweat, her breast rubbing against his chest with each breath, hardening him even though he felt like he'd just spent ten minutes coming. Now he knew what the other males went through and the thought of how he'd almost missed it made him want to cry. God she felt so good, so right.

"Take me home," she said against his skin, "Show me where you sleep."

She was over six feet tall but her weight was nothing in his arms. He was a mated werewolf. He would be everything she needed, stronger if strength was needed, faster if speed was called for. He walked them the mile to his den and ducked into the hollowed out area he'd created from a grouping of fell trees. It offered no modern comforts, just moss covered straw to lay one's body. Not a single person, human or wolf, had been in his den. He lay Freya down and slid his body behind hers.

"It smells like you?"

"I can't wait until it smells of you too," he whispered against her hair.

"What do I smell like?" she asked while yawning.

"Like honey and flowers."

"Really?"

He nodded, pulling her closer to him,

Freya snuggled into his chest, "I love the way you smell."

Wallace stroked her arm, down her hip, and her leg. Her skin was as soft as the moss they lay on. He knew she was asleep. His mated ears picking up on her rhythmic breathing, her slow steady heartbeat, even her scent had changed. This was so out of left field. He didn't know how to be a good mate, only the primal basics from the natural animal and what he'd seen over the course of his lifetime, but not mating her was not an option. He kissed her softly on the shoulder and settled in to sleep.

Freya had a moment when she didn't remember where she was. Then the smell of cooking meat made it really not matter. She always woke up a little hungry and the smell drifting to her still waking mind was nothing short of mouthwatering. She rolled over, buried her face in the bedding beneath her body. It was a wonderful smell, mostly because it reminded her of Wallace. She rolled over and the moss under her body felt like a warm caress. If her bed and sheets at home felt like this she didn't think she would ever leave it.

"Fleur, come, eat."

Freya smiled at the sweet command. Mate with a guy ten seconds and he goes all caveman on you. She stretched and crawled to the opening of the den. The trees offered shade from brutal morning sunshine but there were spots where the ball in the sky penetrated the thick foliage telling her the day was bright. Sunbeams broke through the thick canopy giving the wooded area around the small fire Wallace was hunkered down next to a secret-garden vibe that Freya instantly fell in love with. When he looked up and their eyes met she wondered how she ever doubted, how she ever thought of anything other than being with him. The words he spoke last night, when he'd offered her a last chance to walk away from him, and the look in his face, were playing on repeat in her head.

"Smells delicious," she said, standing her full height and walking over to him. He lifted his hand to her and her heart skipped in her chest. After a lifetime of not belonging to anyone she now felt owed and didn't that just give her goose-bumps and butterflies.

She sat down cross-legged next to him. He eyed her up and down, checking to make sure he hadn't hurt her. He grunted, adding to the whole caveman vibe before turning his attention back to the fire. Taking the unidentifiable meat from the flames, he sat next to her and blew on it gently.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby. Who knew moss was better than memory foam," she said, stretching her arms over her head. The sound of running water could be heard close by, birds were the soundtrack of their morning. It was almost like a dream.

"Here," Wallace said, offering her a chunk of meat but when she tried to take it from his hand he pulled it away. "Eat."

Freya dropped her hands in her lap and stared into his eyes as he brought the morsel of food to her lips. It was romantic...and...erotic. Her lips closed over his fingers. "What is this," she asked. What she wanted to do was snatch the rest of the grilled meat from him and devour it like a savage. "It's delicious."

"Rabbit," he said, pulling another piece off and blowing it.

He fed her and she ate from his hand in silence. There was even water in a small wooden cup that she knew he'd made. When he'd pulled the last of the meat from the bone, he licked his fingers and didn't that just get Freya all hot and bothered. He'd done that last night; licked his fingers after bringing her pleasures previously unknown. The vivid images played in her head and she felt a stirring between her legs.

"Aren't you going to eat," she said low, a little breathless.

"Yes, Fleur, I am." The growled words made her quiver. He grabbed her legs, turning her body to face him, her butt sliding easily on the soft grass-carpeted ground. He pushed her down with his big dominating body and kissed her until she was breathless, before crawling down her body, headed straight between her legs.

"Not a breasts man," she said, a second before his mouth latched onto her sex stealing any other smart remark. His chuckle vibrated through her core, into her lower stomach and she was powerless to stop her hips from grinding into his mouth.

"Oh God," she moaned, grabbing two handfuls of hair and pulling him hard enough to fuse his face to her aching core. "Wallace," she panted, spreading her legs, planting her feet on each side of his massive shoulders and lifting her lower body from the ground. "Wallace." It was the last thing she said before he plunged two thick fingers in her while his tongue flicked her to ecstasy. Her scream sent birds into flight.

Her body was still writhing from her climax when he blocked out the view of the forest ceiling, she wrapped her legs around his hips and smooth as silk, he slid into her like he was custom made just for her.

"You taste incredible," he said between slow but powerful rolls of his hips. Bringing his mouth to hers, he kissed her first gently and then harder. As the kiss deepened, he moved faster, stealing her ability to breathe, to think, to do anything other than feel every glorious inch that filled her, her sex and her mouth. She clung to him, her arms tight around his neck, her legs wrapped around his hips and still she felt it wasn't enough. She wanted to climb into his skin and become one with him.

Seeming to sense what she wanted, what she needed, or maybe having the same wants and needs, Wallace pressed his full weight on her, held her hard in a crushing embrace until she didn't know if it was pleasure or just the sheer weight of him that made it hard to breathe, but each inhale was filled with the scent of the wild earthiness that was him. Each stroke was met with a moan, from her and a growl from him, but as his own climax neared he pulled from their kiss and looked into her eyes. She laid her hand on his cheek, the coarse hair in her palm yet another sensation added to the array, he tilted his pelvis downward, she tilted hers up and the change of position buried him further, a small gasp left her lips as he drove into her deep and hard, filling her, stretching her to the limits. Her head was thrown back from the pleasure ripping through her body, but Wallace forced her to look at him.

"No, I want to see the pleasure on your face," he said, his words strained.

Pulling back, until he almost cleared her body completely, he slammed into her. She cried out as her orgasm crashed through her; a damn tsunami of pleasure that completely consumed her. As she rode her own release, Wallace's hammering continued until his strokes became erratic, the muscles in his neck tightened and the already hard hold he had on her body was almost painful. She felt him thicken inside her as his own climax raced to the finish, and still he held her captive with his eyes. The sounds he made were guttural, primal, wild, and when she felt the first jerk and warm jets of his orgasm spill within her body he yelled out, thrusting his hips harder and harder until Freya had a second climax.

Spent, sated and breathing at near pass out levels, they both collapsed. Freya arms and legs falling to the ground useless, Wallace's body a comforting weight on top of her, the thick length of him still inside her jerking with every heartbeat. She could stay that way forever. She buried her nose into his hair and breathed deep. With every breath he took it made it harder for her to breath, he was a big man. What did it say about Freya that she would die happy, lying beneath him?

## Chapter

## 16

They walked hand and hand back to the meadow. She seemed comfortable in her nudity. She had the body for it. He looked at his mate, the claiming had calmed the man, the wolf wanted full ownership and Wallace didn't know what to think or do about that. While they were locked in the throes of passion, he had to focus on her face, her body, her breathing, her heartbeat, any and everything to keep him in human form because what he really wanted to do was to mark her with his teeth.

"It's a little late for second thoughts," Freya said, bumping into the side of him.

"What? I've no second thoughts, woman."

"Then what's that silent, serious thing you're doing?" she asked taking his hand.

"I want to bite you." The words were low, and it had nothing to do with the bass in his voice. He'd damned near whispered the words. He didn't even know he could whisper.

Freya stopped, pulling him to a halt. "You want to bite me?"

"My wolf does," he answered honestly.

"Your wolf...but not you?"

Wallace closed the distance between them until a deep breath would have made their bodies touch. He ran his finger across her forehead, down her cheek and under her jaw. "I want to make you happy. I don't want to force anything on you. I, the man, am happy that I am your mate."

"Does it hurt?"

Wallace nodded, "Yes, the first time, very much."

"Why only the first time?"

Wallace searched for the words, a way to explain how pleasure and pain walked hand and hand sometimes. "A true mated pair of wolves..."

"What do you mean _true_ , are you saying that we're not really mated," Freya interrupted.

"No," Wallace said, taken aback by the outburst and the emotion behind it. "We are mated but you're human so it's not the same as if you were wolf."

Freya took the last step that separated them, her breasts brushing his chest, her thighs touching his. "I want to belong to you completely." The words were spoken so sincerely, so reverently his couldn't breathe around the sudden wash of emotions. It stole his strength and he didn't even try to remain standing. He fell to his knees.

"What have I done to ever deserve these blessings," he asked, he didn't even have the strength to hold his head up. Freya's soft but strong hands cupped his lowered chin and lifted his head.

"You're a good man, Wallace, strong, and kind, funny and smart, why wouldn't you deserve happiness?"

"But this...you're...too much," he said, rubbing her arms.

"Yes," she said nodding, "I know." She laughed and the sound was one that Wallace wanted to hear for the rest of his life, no matter how long or short his remaining days were. Yes, man wanted her to be wolf, because werewolves, strong ones, lived a long time and he knew she would be a strong wolf.

"I want to bite you Freya," he said. This time the words were a growl, a warning.

Freya hand dropped. His nostrils flared as he scented for fear, or doubt. She nodded, took a step away from him, his body went tight. She took another, he growled, knowing what she was about to do.

"Don't you dare run from me, woman," he warned.

She shook her head once...twice...smiled...then the bitch ran.

Wallace's beast punched through his human form so fast, one second he'd been kneeling in the grass, the next he was standing on four legs. She was running as fast as she could, her hands fisted, her arms swinging, her legs almost a blur, every muscle tight, so beautiful running that Wallace's wolf didn't chase her down, he let her run. She looked over her shoulder with only excitement on her face before turning and finding a little something extra to quicken her already brutal pace. She cleared the tree line, ran into full sunlight and Wallace thought she looked like an angel freed from the heavens. His beast, while in agreement was tired of waiting, with a burst of speed he caught her before she reached the middle of the meadow and cut her off. She stopped, her chest pumping hard as she tried to catch her breath.

"You cheated!" she said, between gulps of air as she lowered to her knees and hugging him around the neck. "You smell so good," she said, still winded. Wallace walked forward until she fell on her butt and then licked her face, her neck. "I still don't know if this is gross or not," she said laughing.

Freya put her hands behind her and rested her weight on them. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as her breathing slowed. She sat up, crossed her legs and placed her hands in her lap. "You have to bite me while you're a wolf, right?"

Wallace nodded and scented the air around her again. Nope, still no fear.

"I'm ready," she said, her voice a little shaky. Not from fright but from knowing it wasn't going to be pleasant. She was so strong and brave, Wallace's wolf stood taller before her, letting her know he was worthy.

She tilted her head, exposing the spot high on her shoulder. The place where every woman was marked by the teeth of their mate, but Freya wasn't like any woman he'd ever known. He walked to her, her body tensed as she prepared to be bitten but he butted her with his head, pushing her down in green grass, the exact spot he had taken her virginity, yet another gift she had given him that he was going to show he deserved. He stood over her as she looked at him, her eyes full of trust. Taking a step back he nuzzled her neck.

She laughed and grabbed handfuls of his fur. "You're nose is cold."

He went lower, between her breasts, she held on to his coat, but not to stop him. Her heart was a hummingbird caught in her chest. "Wallace?" she said, a little breathless. He growled when he reached her stomach. Bestiality was never something he was into and Freya wasn't aroused but her scent was still amazing, she opened her legs to accommodate his body. Flat on the ground, her hands at her sides, her breathing fast, almost matching every beat of her heart, Wallace couldn't resist licking the spot he meant to bite: the inside of her thigh. The first hint of her arousal perfumed the air, halting all movement.

She'd fought off grown men, teenage boys, pimps, bums, handsome men and butt-ugly ones, but she was seriously hot for a damn wolf. It was disturbing on a whole new level. Wallace's tongue dragged across a spot high on the inside of her thigh and even his animal form didn't make her want him any less.

"Please," she begged, "Do it."

The bite bowed her back and she screamed until she thought her vocal cords would shatter in her throat. She sat up still screaming with his teeth still locked into her thigh. With all air expelled from her lungs, she took a gulping breath. "Fuck!" she yelled at the blinding white, hot pain shooting through her. His whimper as he released her thigh almost broke her heart. He raised his head and she forgot about the pain, well, no she didn't, that was impossible, but her need to comfort him was greater than even the pain of the bite. She hugged him around his furry neck. He let her for a moment and then lowered his head and started licking the bite. The first pass of his tongue made her body jump and she hissed. The second was better, by the third she was opening her legs so he could get better access, each pass dulled the pain. She watched his tongue lap at the wound, coated time and time again with blood. It wasn't the first time he'd had her blood, or his tongue had soothed an ache between her legs. He'd done it before, in his human form after taking her virginity. She fell back, spread her arms wide and closed her eyes.

The texture of the tongue changed and Freya could feel the shifting of Wallace's form until it was a man between her spread thighs instead of a wolf. He licked the bite a few more time, planted a soft kiss on it before lying beside her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice, his face full of worry.

"Are you shitting me? Have you seen the size of your teeth when you're a wolf? I'm so biting your ass back the first chance I get." The look on Wallace's face was priceless.

"Oh, Fleur," he said, his chest already pumping from the laughter building up in it. "You are amazing." He rolled over her and held his body off hers while he kissed her. "Mine," he said in his regular booming voice. He was way more peacock than wolf. He looked so proud that tears blurred her vision.

"Don't cry, my sweet," he said kissing her, a barely there brush of his lips. Of course she cried harder. She wasn't a crier, even after the first foster father incident Freya hadn't cried, she was a happy person, hadn't let her life fuck her up too bad, but she'd had to become hard and the man above her, his body hard and solid, offered her tenderness and devotion and absolutes that made her feel weak and exposed in ways that had nothing to do with her physical strength or the nakedness of her body.

"Mine," he whispered against her skin, kissing her neck, "Always," he said kissing further down, on her shoulder. "Mine to love," –he kissed the top of her breast— "Mine to protect," –he kissed a path to her stomach, each thigh, her calves, her feet then he kissed her hands and arms until he was back at her lips, all the while claiming her over and over. "Mine, in all ways," he finished.

Freya could only nod. She was still crying like a fucking baby but she wasn't embarrassed, didn't try to hide her tears because they were the only one's she'd ever cried and they were his too. He offered her soft caresses, comforting touches, feather light kisses until her crying eased to sniffles and then he kissed her long and deep before getting up and finding her gown.

Freya looked at the angry red bite on the inside of her thigh. "How in the hell am I suppose to walk with this thing?" she yelled after him. A great rumbling laugh was all the answer she got from him. She touched the perfect imprint of his teeth, it was tender but... Freya gasped and then ran her finger around the oval of his mark. Her body shuddered. "Oh man," she said.

How the fuck was she supposed to walk with the bite between her legs? Pain would have been better.

Freya's hand itched to make contact with the meaty flesh of her man. His barely contained laughter rolling around inside the vast expanse of his chest would have pissed her off if she hadn't thought the situation was kind of funny. She was doing her best impression of a bow-legged cowboy as they walked through the woods. Each and every time the slightest, whisper of a touch rubbed the bite inside her thigh she had to breathe through pleasure that threatened to take her to her knees.

"You better pray that this is not permanent," she said, stopping and putting her hand on her hip.

He straightened, wiped the grin off his face for about two seconds and laughed so hard that he actually fell to the ground and started rolling around. Freya smiled down at him. He was just so freakin' lovable. He sat up, lifting a knee and draping an arm across it, looking all Playgirl centerfold or maybe one of those racy calendars featuring hot naked mountain men. Okay, so she'd never seen the latter but she was so going to get herself one.

"I'm glad I exist to amuse you," she said.

"No Fleur, I exist only for you."

So she'd been in the castle long enough to see how the men loved their women. Even Thomas, who was human, love seemed supernatural for the woman who'd given Freya that gentle push in the right direction. It didn't stop her from blushing at his words. The man sitting at her feet didn't look like he possessed a romantic bone in his body, but nothing except the sweetest, most romantic things she'd ever heard kept spilling out of his mouth. And he was so attentive. For hours he'd walked her through the woods, showing her his different dens, picking berries and feeding them to her, showing her which greens could be eaten, what plant roots could be used when making rabbit stew. He stole touches as if he couldn't keep his hands off her but didn't want to become addicted to touching her. But he could always touch her. She craved it as much as he did. It was strange, he'd mentioned a bond and while the claiming the night before certainly connected them in a way, the bite gave her true understanding. She'd wanted to crawl into his skin and become one with him and now she felt like she was an extension of him. The decision to let him bite her had been quick, one made up in the heat of the moment, like everything about their short relationship, but every choice had led her to this moment. She was looking into the face of a man that worshiped her, would never hurt her, would die for her and it made her love him.

"I love you," she said.

His smile widened. His face, although not as handsome as some of the other men in the castle was beautiful in a way that made them seem plain. In their sharply pressed, expensive clothing, perfectly coifed hair and clean shaven faces, every man had an air of menace that even the hardest criminal would give pause before accosting them. It was in their eyes, their stance, hell, their walk, but in Wallace...there was no guessing, he looked like he'd kill them for fun. No one would be fool enough to try him.

"And I love you." He stood up, the every present smile curling his lip. "It's almost dinnertime. Let me wash and dress you."

She nodded and he took her hand. She'd forgotten about the bite, but not for long. Her long lean legs didn't call for her thighs to rub together, but it was like the gods were working against her and as they brushed together she shivered from head to toe and then had to fight the urge to punch Wallace in his stomach.

Freya almost came like...fifty two thousand times, while Wallace bathed her and actually did come three times, all without him entering her body. The sensitive bite was healing and that was helping but there was no way she could wear pants so Wallace left her naked and panting on the bed while he went in search of a dress. She had no idea where he was going to get one but she couldn't think about such things when just the brush of the fabric from putting on panties had her biting back an orgasm. Of course the sight of Wallace's big strong hands holding them, running them up her body didn't help.

He came back quicker than she expected holding the dress up like he'd just brought back a fresh kill after a long, hard winter where food had been scarce.

She got to her knees on the bed and raised her arms in the air as he slid the cool silk over her body. When he helped her from the bed, the dress stopped mid-calf. "Whose dress?" she asked. It was a little snug but not uncomfortable. She'd never worn silk and liked the way it felt on her body.

"It's one of Diana's, its new." he said.

She ran her hand up and down the front of the dress. Diana had the boobs to fill the plunging neckline; but even with her limited attributes the dress was still flattering, the end of the deep v was just below the swell of her small breasts.

"My God, you are beautiful." Freya had always thought her beauty a curse but to hear the sound of Wallace's voice she was pleased that he found her so attractive, glad that she was someone he would be proud to present to his king and family and friends, who all had gorgeous mates.

He took her hand in rough callous ones, hands that were used to build and destroy, hands that could defend and protect but also caress, coax, soothe. They walked together straight to the dining room having missed the before dinner conversation after taking too long getting dressed. Freya blushed at how the room would know the why's as soon as she cleared the doorway.

"I love that color on you," Wallace growled into her ear.

She looked down at the grey silk dress. Grey wasn't really her color but, hey... if he liked it she loved it.

"Not the dress, Fleur," he said, reading her mind. He touched her cheek, "This color."

He pushed the door open and the conversation died. There were only looks of approval, and happiness in their faces, well not Maximus and Rob, but then again she didn't know if their faces even had the muscles needed to form anything but—blank for Rob and scowl for Maximus. Wallace's grip tightened ever so slightly but she had a feeling what he really wanted to do was throw her over his shoulder or maybe drag her around by her hair. There were two spots open at the grand table and not together. After a final reassuring squeeze he dropped her hand and placed his hand firmly on her back guiding her to an empty seat. He pulled out the chair and to her surprised sat in it then pulled her into his lap.

"Congratulations," Lillian was the first to offer.

"Thank you," Freya said. She wasn't sure but Wallace seemed a wee bit bigger.

"You've made her wolf," Maximus asked.

"Yes," Wallace answered as a footman made his way to them. Wallace loaded his plate and then a fork and held it to Freya's mouth.

"Open bitch," Wallace growled. Constantine's sip of wine was sprayed across the table. "Freya," Wallace said, making her turn her head back to him. She opened her mouth and took the offered food.

"There's Ma Lune, Amant, and Goddess, how did I get Bitch?" she asked.

"Are you not my bitch?" Wallace said, holding the fork up again. Freya stared daggers at her man, her mate, opened her mouth and took the food, because yes... yes she was his bitch and how he made it sound like the sweetest of endearments was anyone's guess.

"Who would have thought Wallace would out do the rest of you," Thomas said.

"I knew," Diana answered, and smiled sweetly at the redhead.

"I'd like to buy something to wear for the council meeting," Freya said, glad that Wallace at least let her lift and drink from the glass sitting next to the plate.

"Shopping," Josephine said, her eyes lighting up, the man sitting beside her didn't look pleased. Freya only wanted to run in real quick and get something appropriate for the council meeting but Josephine eyes had hours of stores within those shiny pupils. As if she had eyes on the side of her head she held her hand up, a single finger pointing upwards, silencing the words about to come from the man sitting next to her. "I'm sure Jean Rene will provide a protection detail." Jean Rene nodded once.

"No mortal man can protect you as I can," he said, and Freya would have been afraid for the woman life except within all that pissed off, pinched face was what every mated man in the room carried for their woman and she knew Maximus would never hurt the woman.

"No mortal man can hurt me either," she said, leaning over and stroking his arm. He seemed to become...less intense. "Pleeeeease," she said, and poked out her bottom lip and gave him sad puppy dog eyes.

"I am glad there is no death for me for surely you would be the cause of it."

Freya raised an eyebrow to the statement but didn't question the man. She wasn't sure if she'd ever work up that kind of nerve.

"Well, it's settled, tomorrow morning, we leave right after breakfast," Josephine said.

"Would anyone else like to go?" Freya asked the rest of the women sitting at the table because there was no time like the present to get to know her new family.

"Alright," Diana said.

"I'm in," Virginia said.

"Yes," Lillian said.

"If Rob and Alexis are going than why can't I," Maximus asked, and while he would never have sad puppy dog eyes, or pouting lips, he did look wounded in his own scary way.

"Because no mates allowed," Josephine answered, "It's a girl trip. Nonakris is there a spa around."

'Whoa, wait, I don't have that kind of money," Freya said as the sound of cash registers started ringing in her ears.

"Yes you do," Wallace said, turning her attention back to him. "What's mine is yours, and baby, we're loaded."

"I don't know if I've ever seen you with money Wallace," Constantine said. "I thought you just armed wrestled for everything."

"Or give people that look until they give you what you want," Virginia added.

"Hey now," Wallace said, "I have money...somewhere."

## Chapter

## 17

They loaded up in two cars, Diana and Josephine in one with Rob and a big, mean son of a gun that Maximus handpicked and probably scared the bejeesus out of by promising him slow death if anything happened to his goddess while she was in his care. Lillian, Virginia and Freya were in a car with Alexis.

"I understand why the Nonakris and Lycaon have personal guards but why do you," Freya asked. "No offense," she added.

"Alexis is secretly sweet on my mom," Virginia whispered, but Alexis growled at the comment having heard.

"Alexis offered aid in time of battle," Lillian corrected her daughter.

"Ooookay," Freya said, still not getting it.

"You never know when a fight may pop off," Virginia said, wiggling her eyebrows. She looked like she wanted to rub her hands together. Freya wasn't quite as happy about the prospect of running into anyone capable of slaughtering an entire unarmed and seemingly peaceful family.

"So tell us about your mating," Virginia said. She may have been a Wolfe Hunter but she was still a young woman, still ready to have a girl's day out complete with juicy girl talk.

"Please don't," Alexis said. It took Freya a moment to realize the man was a, joking and b, referring to her giving explicit details of sex.

"I have your mother to thank; she came to speak to me last night. I was planning on going to see Wallace anyway but I was fighting the feelings I had for him," Freya said.

"Awww, playing cupid," Virginia said, looking at her mother.

"Cupid's arrow would have been misspent on those two," Lillian said.

They didn't go to a mall, thank goodness, the small town surrounding the castle had small boutiques that offered everything one desired. The car in front parked right in front where it was clearly marked as a no parking area. People passing slowed their roll as Rob exited the car and opened the back door for Diana. In the paranormal worlds she was a queen, in the human one she was the Marchioness d'Agneaux. Diana smiled as she entered the shop. The shopkeeper was a tiny woman dressed in a beautiful chartreuse silk wrap-dress. "Marchioness," she said and Freya could almost see her calculating today's profits. When Virginia approached Freya thought she'd pee her pants as she greeted Virginia with her formal title, Comtesse.

"This would look lovely on you," Diana said, holding up a gown similar in style to the one she was currently wearing. Freya agreed, if she was going to a ball. She had no idea how the woman pulled off looking like she was ready to be an extra in a period piece every single day.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind," she said.

"Will you and Wallace marry also?" Lillian asked.

"I hadn't really thought about it. It's not like we can divorce...is it?" she asked. It was so unlike her to jump head first into shallow water, but here she was newly mated to a damn werewolf and not knowing what it truly meant. Other than the things Wallace had said right before his claiming. But caught up in the heat of the moment, with him between her legs and her so ready for him she knew what it felt like for a thing to spontaneous combust, he could have been saying they had to cut their wrist and drink each other blood and she would have been down for it.

"Nothing but death separates a mated pair of wolves," Diana said, holding up a different dress. Freya shook her head. She also tried not to let the breath of relief rush out of her in a noisy exhalation. She and Wallace barely knew each other, what if he changed his mind and didn't want her as a mate. She didn't know any personal information about the man and he didn't know the baggage she carried. Her quiet sigh of relief turned into a full blown panic attack.

"Are you alright?" Lillian asked, putting the piece of clothing in her hands down and coming to Freya.

"May we get a glass of water," Virginia asked the shopkeeper as Lillian led Freya to a high back chair near the dressing rooms.

"Here you go darling," Lillian said, handing her the glass of ice cold water.

"Thank you." She drank the whole thing.

"It seems the shock of it all has finally caught up with you," Diana said, offering a kind smile.

"He doesn't know me," Freya blurted out, "What if he changes his mind?" Diana and Virginia shared a look and then started laughing. Freya looked between the two dumbfounded and a little pissed. What was so fucking amusing?

"I'm sorry," Virginia said, trying to put on a straight face and failing.

"Change his mind," Diana repeated holding her stomach. "Honey, he feeds you."

"And won't let you sit anywhere but his lap," Virginia said.

"And look," Lillian said dipping her head at the window behind Freya.

She leaned around the chair and Wallace was standing on the other side of the street, trying to look incognito but sticking out like the big red bear that he was. He was wearing a kilt for Christ's sake. Wasn't many of those around.

Diana knelt before her, smoothing her dress under her knees. "Do you love him?"

"Yes," Freya said without hesitation or doubt.

"Does it feel like you can't take a full breath without him," Virginia asked.

Freya nodded.

"Does the thought of being without him make you physically ill and you know no man on earth will ever be able to give you what he alone does," Lillian asked.

"Yes," Freya said, looking back out the window. Wallace had given up pretending like he hadn't just stalked her ass and waved. She lifted her hand and blew a kiss. He caught it and pressed it to his heart.

"Even without all the supernatural, paranormal, out of this world, fairy-tale your life has just become, you two are going to be just fine," Josephine said. Feeling better, Freya nodded. "The past doesn't matter; nothing you find out about each other will change how you feel. It will never make sense, how fast and hard you fell, it only matters that you caught each other."

"Welcome to the club," Virginia said. "Now let's find you a sensible pants suit."

It was as if he just needed to make sure she was alright because when they exited the store Wallace was nowhere to be found. They loaded back into the cars having been lucky enough to find something Freya liked. It wasn't a sensible pants suit, it wasn't a suit, or a dress, but she bought it because she thought Wallace might like it. Yeap, she was one of those girls. The cars pulled up at the front entrance of the castle and the men were right there to greet their women, each one looking like they'd waited a million years for his woman to return instead of the few hours they were gone. Constantine had Virginia in a one arm embrace whispering French to her. Jean Rene had both of Diana's hands kissing them one after the other. Thomas gave Lillian a hug that reminded her of Wallace's strong embrace. Maximus was on his knees, pressing his lips to Josephine's round belly. He said a few words to his unborn child before kissing Josephine on both sides of her neck and chin.

"It's a sign of submission," Rob said from beside her, "For a wolf to kiss the lower part of the face and neck and lower himself."

"But he's so..." Freya said. No word really accurately described Maximus.

"Yes," Rob said, without her finding the right word. "To see the most powerful being on this planet kneeling before anyone is a sight." He walked away before she had a chance to close her mouth and find her words and ask him what he meant by the statement.

Watson approached, clothes starched to stiffness, back ram-rod straight. Master Wallace asked that you join him at the den."

"Thank you, Watson,"

Excitement and curiosity had her almost running for the stairs. She went to the room she was staying in and found it empty of her belongings and a note on the pillow. Wallace had arranged for her things to be moved into his room in the castle. She held the note to her heart. It should have felt strange to be so emotionally attached to someone she barely knew but it only felt right. She couldn't wait to get back to him but first, she had to see Wesley.

She walked to the barracks taking her sweet time, not sure how to break the news to him. It was empty; the Hunters were outside sparing or in the gym working out. It seemed to be all they ever did. The realization of the life they lived suddenly felt so lonely to Freya where as a day ago it was exciting. She waved at a couple of hunters in the dining hall. She went outside and didn't find Wesley there either. She found him coming out of the gym. Freshly showered, his hair was still damp.

"Hey you," he said and Freya felt like breaking down in tears, while shouting the good news. "What's wrong." he said and his concerned look broke free the first tear. Thank god it was only one. She swiped at it with her hand.

"I've mated with Wallace," she blurted out. No reason to pussy-foot around the subject. It was like ripping a band-aid off a hairy arm.

Wesley's brow wrinkled, he frowned, signed and then ran his hand across his face. "That's...that's wonderful, Freya," he finally said.

"I'm so sorry." It felt wrong to apologize but it was all she had. Wesley really liked her, more than she knew from his reaction.

"No, hey, really, I'm happy for you...and Wallace."

"Wesley—"

"Hey, I got to catch up with some people," he said. "I'm really happy for you. Tell Wallace congratulation for me." He walked around her headed for the dining hall and never looked back.

Freya felt like a piece of shit. There was no way she'd risk running into him again, she walked the long way around back to a side entrance to hunt Wallace's room.

At the door the smell of hundreds of flowers attacked her before she had it all the way open. Roses, all white, in vases of all shapes and sizes. A gown laid out on the bed and a second note that instructed her to relax in the bath, dress and meet him at his den at twilight. She went to the bathroom where steam rose from a tub big enough to fit about five people filled with milky white waters with flower petals floating in it. Stripping off her clothes and thinking she was not going to be able to make it to twilight; she stepped in the warm water and lowered her body sighing all the way in until she was fully submerged. She bathed slowly, letting the water loosen stiff muscles while they tightened in anticipation for what waited for her not far from the castle doors.

Dried, she walked to the bed and ran her hand over the silk cloth draped across it. What she'd thought was a gown, was a robe, and when she pulled the bow and opened it, she first thought he meant for her to come to him naked with only the robe on, but no, there was a gown, the material was just so thin it was transparent. She picked up the tiny strapped garment and shook her head. Slipping it over her head she turned and looked at herself in the mirror. It looked as if she'd dusted her body with glitter, that's how see-through the gown was, yet it amazed her how beautiful something so plain and simple could be. Slipping on the robe she tied it closed and left the room, heading for her man.

The small open area around the den was lit with a thousand white candles, on tall stands, hanging from the trees, sitting on the forest floor. Wallace was standing front and center waiting on her, naked as the day he was born. She untied the robe and let it drop as she walked to him.

"Fleur," he said, taking her hand and kissing the palms. "I have something for you. In her palm he placed a beautiful silver broach. "I'd like you to wear it tomorrow."

"Yes, of course," she said. The small stones were the palest of lavender and softest of browns. The silver was old and blackened but that didn't take away from the beauty of the piece.

"Out of all of her jewelry, this was my mother's favorite, not gold or diamonds but citrine and amethyst.

"It's beautiful," she said, closing her hand and placing her fist over her heart. "Thank you."

"No, thank you," Wallace said kissing her softly, and way too quickly. "Come." He took her hand and walked them to their den. In the middle of it was a chest. "I may not carry paper money but this is never far from me." They knelt in front of the old wooden box, no more than a crate still covered in a thin layer of dirt. Freya damn near swallowed her tongue when he opened it. Who needed paper money? The thing had about a billion dollars worth of jewels in it.

"In a different time, a different world, I was a prince. These are the crown jewels of the House of Dunkeld. You are not an untitled woman at the table."

"That doesn't matter to me, I'm happy right here," She looked around the den that was warm and offered a soft place to lay her head and body and smelled of the man she loved. She didn't need diamonds or titles, she just needed Wallace.

Dinner was roast duck with wild greens. Dessert was fresh berries cooled in the stream. They ate with their hands, feeding each other and drank straight from the bottle of wine. Wallace made sweet slow love to her and then followed that with something that could only be described as wild and savage. The son of a bitch bit her again on her thigh, but in human form and while his fingers were deep inside her, pushing her over the edge giving her pleasures only he could. Then he loaded her body down with jewels and made love to her again. If life got any better she was going to start thinking she'd never woken up on that night she stabbed him with that pitch fork, because her life had certainly become more than a fairy-tale. It had become a dream.

## Chapter

## 18

It had been the right thing to do when she was a visiting tourist, it was the only thing to do now that she was part of the family that this Alfred Wolfe had started war with.

"You look beautiful," Wallace said leaning over and speaking directly in her ear. Too bad the only time he actually succeeded in whispering was during sex. The entire car heard his comment.

"For the love of God," Constantine said, rolling down his window and taking the handkerchief from his pocket. He started fanning in front of his face. "Do you mind, we are going to meet before the Council. There's war on the horizon, truly, can you not control yourself." Everyone in the back seat started laughing. "This is no laughing matter, I am very serious."

"We know you are, my love, but they're only just mated," Virginia came to their defense.

Wallace and Freya were throwing off mating heat like confetti when they were within seeing distance of each other. Even Freya could pick up on the smell, the pheromone a light scent riding their skin, permeating the air. It was bad in an open space, and it was damn bad in a closed up space. The icing on the cake was it also made every male werewolf within scenting distance want to mate. Wallace had reenacted many battles that started from the scent. They'd stayed up all night laughing and talking about their past, but Josephine and Lillian were right, it was their future that mattered.

It took a little over an hour to reach the spot the Council was going to convene: Alfred Wolfe's old residence. Freya had a feeling that was going to be a little like rubbing salt on an open wound for the already crazy man, but Thomas said the homes the Hunters lived in were property of the organization first and family homes second. He and Lillian had raised their children in a home that had been lived in by six generations but now his cousin, Lucas Wolfe lived in it. At least it stayed in the family.

The old house was light grey stone and looked grand even being miles and miles smaller than Jean Rene and Diana's castle. Wallace held his hand out for her and she had to laugh again at how nineteen-eighties couple match-y they were. She hadn't shown him her outfit wanting it to be a surprise and when she'd stepped out of the bedroom size closet he was standing across the room in a red and black plaid kilt the same shade and pattern as the pleated skirt she wore. They were even wearing white shirts and black shoes. God, they looked like a bad Christmas card.

"Fleur," he warned her. She'd asked him to change because she certainly couldn't, she didn't have anything else to wear but he insisted that it was cute.

After more than a week of living in a castle that was busting at the seams with security that also acted as a training facility for their kind's army Freya was still taken aback at the formality of the security when she stepped through the solid doors of the estate. As Alfred had already tried one takeover, the Council was wary of him and his antics. There were dozens of Hunters and werewolves station around the house and on the grounds. Natural wolves also patrolled the property. If Alfred attacked today it was because he was stupid in addition to crazy.

The large room the meeting was taking place in was a ballroom. One wall was made up entirely of floor to ceiling windows and doors leading out into a courtyard. The back wall was mirrored and hanging in the center of the ceiling was a chandelier that made up two of the big men in the room. Freya could imagine what it must look like with all the wall sconces lit, filled with people dressed more like the Lycaon and Nonakris instead of the soldiers. Long rectangular tables formed a square in the center of the room. There was a Hunter station in front of every window and one on each corner of the square. They stood at attention while introductions were made.

"Wallace, your mate is beautiful," an old black woman said winking at him. Her skin was dark, like chocolate opposed to Alexis's true black. Her hair was pulled back tight in a bun at the nape of her neck. She was still beautiful even at her advanced age which Freya had a hard time guessing.

"I couldn't wait forever for you Huntress," he said, bowing. "Freya, may I introduce, Huntress Odetta."

The woman extended her hand. "Always the flirt." Even with her dark skin Freya saw her blush. "You have a live one there."

Freya shook her hand, already liking her, smiling she answered "I'll train him soon enough," The comment made the woman laugh.

All the council members were retired hunters, in their seventies and eighties, and none of them looked past middle-aged. They were still fit and Freya had a feeling the swords they wore weren't for show. They'd fight if the situation called for it. The room went quiet and Freya knew the man of the hour had arrived.

He was tall, like all the Wolfe men, dark of hair, imposing in build, dominating in a way only warriors were and like every Wolfe there was something about him that demanded a certain level of fear. He was dressed in a tailored suit that probably cost more than the grand total of money Freya had ever spent on clothes in her life. Every other Wolfe had worn their fighting leathers. Freya thought maybe they had misjudged the man. Her group had brought a security detail, he walked in alone. Alfred went straight to the table and took a seat dead center. After a moment of looks that ranged from murderous to bored, the rest of the room joined him. Once everyone was settled Huntress Odetta called the meeting to order.

"Alfred, since you've asked for an audience..." she said, nodding in his direction.

Alfred took his time looking around the table giving each of them serious eye contact. His gaze lingered on her as he tried to figure out who she was and why she was there. Her heart was in her throat. Her first encounter with a Wolfe had been something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. Now she only saw the countless men and women she'd come to respect and like. She couldn't imagine anyone tearing a family that had been so close for so long apart. Wallace placed his hand on her thigh beneath the table and she laid hers on top of it. Alfred tilted his head and then continued his stare down with the rest of the table before he began.

"I am here to give the Council notice that the Wolfe family hunters have until the next hunt to rejoin our true calling or I will be force to disband the organization.

"What craziness are you babbling about now Alfred?" An older man sitting next to Huntress Odetta asked.

"Every Wolfe took a vow, an oath, to hunt werewolves until they were no more.

"Witches were also burned at the stakes and people were once slaves, times change. Can't you get that through your thick skull," Thomas said.

"Witches are not our business and slavery still exists...brother," Alfred said, making the word sound ugly and foul. "Werewolves have gone uncheck for hundreds of years, it is only a matter of time before we are overrun."

"You know that's a lie Alfred, why even speak of these things. The wolf was hunted almost to extinction before the treaty and births are low among the species." Constantine said.

"This one has three already," he said pointing to Diana, "that one looks like she's carrying a pack," he said pointing at Josephine. "You all have blinded yourselves to the many changes happening among the species."

"What changes," Huntress Odetta asked.

"The mutations," he said, looking between Jean Rene and Maximus.

"I assure you that nothing has changed on my physical body," Jean Rene said, opening his arms, "I have not....mutated."

"And that is the point. You are over five hundred years old and you look the same as when the original hunter stalked you.

"Yes, but in those five hundred years I have yet to find another like me."

"And you," Alfred said, turning his attention to Maximus. The man had not even moved when Alfred made the remark about Josephine carrying a pack, but there was bad blood between the two of them. Freya could almost see the hatred the big man had for Alfred.

"And what mutations has he suffered," A council hunter named Jacob asked, clearly ready to end the meeting, maybe catch the end of his favorite show, or just have tea while reading a book, anything other than entertaining a mad man.

Alfred crossed his legs and reclined a little in his chair. "Maximus cannot be killed."

"What," Most of the hunters asked all at once, with identical furrowed brows. "What do you mean, he cannot be killed?" Huntress Odetta asked once everyone had settled down.

"I mean he cannot die, or be hurt."

"He hurts," Josephine said with venom in her words, and Freya saw she was ready to put some hurting on Alfred. Maximus placed his hand over hers.

"But he heals." Alfred said.

"You should know," Maximus said, and Freya leaned closer to Wallace, he was same book, same page, he placed his arm around her shoulder. The power Maximus was throwing off was making the hair on her body stand up. She could almost hear it crackling in the air like a downed live electrical wire.

"I do know," Alfred said, looking straight at the man. Freya couldn't for the life of her figure out why he'd push the man. Maximus looked like he ate men the size of Alfred for breakfast, even in human form.

"And I know because I raised Maximus and I personally saw, with my own eyes, limbs cut off grow back, skin peeled away only to regenerate, organs harvested and magically reappear.

"Oh God." One of the men standing guard said. The rest of the room looked exactly how Freya felt: utterly and completely disgusted.

"You son of a bitch," Josephine said, standing up. And big round belly or not, she looked ready to strangle Alfred with her bare hands.

"No Madam, that would be your unborn son, if it is a male you carry."

"Alfred!"

"Enough!"

Shouts of disdain cancelled each other out as people got to their feet and looked ready to all jump the idiot still sitting so calmly.

"What is the matter with you?" Freya asked. She didn't speak loud but he turned to face her.

"With me?" he asked. "There are two immortals in this room, both mated, both their women were pregnant before their first turn as wolf even though birth rates among the wolves are low. How many more are out there like them, how many more are hiding and procreating a master race of wolves. I do not see the mating mark on you, but I'd guess the redhead next to you has claimed you from his posture. I am not like my cousin and have never called a wolf friend, tell me, what makes a human woman lay with an animal."

"Really Alfred, is that really called for," Hunter Jacob asked.

"I am newly mated but I'd sleep with countless animals before I'd ever let someone like you lay a finger on me. You're disgusting and a disgrace to the race you claim to protect."

"How many have to die Alfred," Lillian asked, she was standing with Virginia and Diana, who had all moved in a protective semi-circle around Josephine. "While you hunt werewolves, how many humans will die, already you are killing innocent people. Human's that have befriended the wolf or just those you suspect."

"Many Lillian, as many as it takes until their kind no longer walk the earth."

"And what of me," Maximus asked, "For I am not the same wolf I was when I was your slave. I am not merely wolf." The words crawled along her skin, pebbling it with goose-bumps. He was almost inanimate in his stillness but the power of who and what he was, was almost choking her. Even half a table away she could feel heat radiating from him.

"What?" Several of the hunters said at the same time again.

Alfred didn't say a word, but dipped his head ever so slightly in Maximus's direction. A shot rang out. Maximus's head rocked back. Josephine screamed. Chairs were thrown back as everyone came to their feet. Jean Rene, Josephine and Diana were all monsters straight out of a Hollywood feature film, complete with tattered clothes hanging from their bodies, clawed hands, elongated canines and fur covered bodies. A deep growl came from behind Freya. She turned slowly to look at Wallace.

His body had grown too large for his clothes so he was naked. Sandy colored fur covered his arms and legs, his teeth hung from lips too thin on a face that was no longer human, but not quite wolf. He was larger than every other half-wolf in the room, including the king.

"Calm him," Diana said to her, and Freya wanted to ask her exactly how she was supposed to do that? Besides, Maximus had just been shot by a sniper. She watched astonished as the man shook his head like someone had hit him hard with something other than a damn bullet. Swords and guns were drawn and still Alfred sat there like they were having nice dinner conversation.

"He's newly mated Freya and a threat is present. Unless you want a fight you need to calm Wallace," Jean Rene said through a mouthful of long and pointed teeth.

She looked at Alfred because hey, as far as she was concerned she totally wanted Wallace to fuck him up. He shrugged and raised his hands. Rob made a move towards them causing Wallace to push Freya behind his body. He roared.

The hunters holding the swords previously pointed at Alfred turned towards Wallace. The sound was earsplitting, thick ropes of saliva dripped from his teeth. His chest damn near doubled in size with every breath. Freya grabbed him around the waist from behind, and while he didn't stop growling and snarling, he didn't advance.

"Wallace, you're really not a shining example of why they shouldn't put you down," she said. Wallace turned, there was murder in those lovely emerald eyes.

"I think you've proven your point," Jean Rene said. He was already in human form again and looked spot on like Bruce Banner after the Hulk had been set free, he'd even busted out of his shoes.

"What fucking point is that," Huntress Odetta shouted. She too had her sword pulled and unlike the rest still had in pointed in Alfred's direction. The man was lucky she hadn't been sitting next to him. Freya was about ninety-eight percent sure the woman would have beheaded him.

"It is true that Diana and Josephine became pregnant right away, but my children are six. If I could, I would fill my house with our children but we have only been blessed with the three. So you see Alfred, we are not so different from the other wolves."

"I need to leave," Josephine interrupted, "Right, now." The words were low but almost panicked.

"Goddess," Maximus said. He didn't stand, simply turned his body towards her, but not before Freya saw the line of blood that ran from the center of his forehead. A perfect headshot and the man shook it off like a well placed punch.

"My darling," Josephine said, wiping the blood from his face with the bottom of her dress, tears in her eyes pooling until they spilled over onto her cheeks. "My love," she said, her words hitching as she fought not to cry. "It's time." Josephine nodded, silent tears streaming down her face. "Take me from this place. I can't have our children here."

Fuck, she was in labor. The room was in chaos for a different reason; all focus on the laboring woman. Except Freya, who was still holding Wallace. He seemed calm...calmer, but he was still in his half form.

"I ask you to allow me to take my family home until we meet again in battle. Your sniper may kill some of us but not before one reaches you and none can harm Maximus or his mate." Jean Rene said to Alfred.

"I didn't come here to fight," Alfred waved his hand, "Go."

Maximus picked Josephine up with care. When he reached the door he turned to Alfred. "I'm going to kill you." Then he disappeared.

"Really, that's the note he leaves us on," Freya said, as the rest of their group rushed from the room.

"Come, brother, your mate is safe." Rob said.

Wallace growled and pulled Freya into his side away from the windows, and snarled at the hunters as they passed. The best thing she could say about the whole thing was that between Maximus's words and Wallace's actions, the Hunters didn't try to kill them all right then and there. They were back in the cars and breaking speed limits within seconds.

"Wallace, baby, look at me," Freya said. The small space felt smaller with his new form taking up most of the back seat, she threw her leg over his thighs, straddled him and put her face right in close. Close enough that his breath blew her short hair from her temple.

"Look at you," she said, her hands resting on shoulders twice their regular size. God, he was HUGE. "You did good. I'm so proud of you." She felt like an idiot but she had to say something, do something to get him calm. She wasn't afraid of Wallace, she was afraid for him. It was as if little of the man who'd mated her was left inside this massive half-form. "You kept me safe, but I need to you to come back to me," she said.

"He's angry, not deaf," Rob yelled over his shoulder.

"Fuck you!" She screamed, which agitated Wallace. "I don't know what to do," she said a little lower.

"I always thought he was half feral," Rob said.

"What?" She said.

"He's wild, honey, in more ways than one."

Freya felt like hitting the man in the back of the head, but wasn't sure Wallace wouldn't finish the job and when he calmed down she didn't want him to feel bad about butchering his friend because she couldn't hold her shit together.

"You are wild," she said, rubbing the front of his chest. "Wild and free...strong and so many other things but you're also kind, and gentle and I love you and please Wallace, please, calm down and come back to me."

He tilted his head, "Bitch,"

Freya laughed, "Yeah, that's me."A thick dark smell wrinkled her nose.

"Really...Now?" Rob said from the front seat.

Freya caught up right around the time Wallace's sex thickened between the thighs straddling him. He meant to have her right there in the car, with Rob and Alexis sitting in the front seat.

"We can't stop, not with what went down at the meeting," Alexis said, rolling the window down while Rob turned the air conditioner up high and then rolled the windows down in the back as well.

"No, don't stop," Freya said, Rob and Alexis were guards. They were already not in the car with their charges. She wouldn't ask them to stop when danger was so close behind them.

"If it makes you feel any better, Rob and I both have seen many matings," Alexis said.

"Somehow it doesn't," Freya said, still stroking Wallace's chest, his face. He still looked a second away from ripping someone's head off. "No," she said, in a firm voice.

"Not a dog," Rob said.

"I'm going to kick your ass when we get home," she said.

"Mine," Wallace growled, his hands were already on her hips, he slid them up and popped the sides of her panties with his claws. She pulled them free of her body before he tried to punch through the crotch in his haste. He raised her hips, she ducked her head or would have been knocked unconscious when her head hit the ceiling and with a quick thrust he impaled her. Her breath was punched out of her body as if someone had...well...punched her, and she dug her nails in his shoulders, He pulled the top of her blouse, sending buttons pinging all over the interior and bit the shit out of her.

"They're pulling over." Someone said from the front seat.

The car slowed to a stop on the side of the road. The door next to them was thrown open and before she could catch her breath Wallace was out of the car. He slung her over his shoulder and ran into the woods they'd parked next to. She got a glimpse of Maximus carrying Josephine in his arms like a baby instead of over his shoulder like a Neanderthal.

## Chapter

## 19

Josephine thought she knew pain. She was wrong. The contraction almost stole her sanity and there she was in the damn woods about to have her babies. But it was better than the place that monster had once called home. Alfred hadn't lived there in six years but his evil sullied the place, seeped into the nooks and crannies of the estate like a bad odor.

"Goddess, what can I do?"

Josephine looked at Maximus, his body in constant flux he was so upset at her pain. A part of him was Fenrir a wolf as old as time, older than the stars, and the earth that lived within them, but he was also new. In so many ways Maximus was six years old. That's when he took his freedom.

"Hold my hand," she said. He looked at his hand, one changing from hand to claw. "I'm so proud of you," she said.

His head snapped up, "Why?"

"For not letting Alfred win."

"The fight has not begun," he said, tilting his head. The look of confusion was damn near comical.

"For you, it has my love. You could have killed him the moment he stepped in the room."

Maximus nodded. His features hardened, the dried blood on his face made him look that much more frightening, but this time it was not the blood of an enemy or an innocent that Alfred had ordered killed, it was his. She'd screamed because that's what you do when the reason you drew breath was shot in the head, but before her scream was finished she knew he'd be fine. Odin had given him not long life, but true immortality, nothing—no one, could kill Maximus because the part of him that had been Fenrir had also been tortured. He'd been chained in the back courtyard of Odin's castle for eons, time that humans couldn't fathom. But Odin loved Fenrir too, like the other two, Geri and Freki. He loved the beast that had been foretold would kill him. It was love that drove Fenrir mad and love that saved Maximus, an earthbound monster, and Fenrir, a heavenly one. Odin promised the same amount of time free with his true love. They would live until the sun the earth circle exploded and kill the planet and then they would live in Fenrir's realm the rest of their life.

Josephine took his clawed hand and pressed it to her lips, "You grow stronger every day and I am in awe of your power."

"Goddess, it is your power that allows such control. Only you command the beast that is me."

It was an old fight. She didn't want to control Maximus, after spending years a slave she wanted nothing but true freedom for her other half, but he'd knelt before her, made her his dominant. It was unheard of among the wolves, for a female to reign over a male.

Josephine belly harden as another contraction rippled through her, the pain just shy of unbearable. How did women do this more than once? The sound of rustling had Maximus turning and into his beast form. A roar that shook the leaves deafened her to every other sound. A great grey wolf came out, unafraid, tall, proud, regal—Geri.

Maximus sat back on his haunches, his back to Josephine so that he could keep an eye on Geri. As far as she knew this was the first time Geri and Fenrir had seen each other in eons. Josephine laid a hand on Maximus leg; it was the only thing she could reach.

Geri took slow steps, but the wolf the size of an elephant still made good time getting to them. Maximus body turned with the great wolf while she circled them, ending up on the other said of her beast. He was big, ten feet tall, but he could be so much bigger, unbelievably bigger.

Geri lowered her head.

"It's alright," Josephine said, her breath panted, her body in the throes of another contraction. Maximus snarled, threw in a growl for good measure. and sat down, his beast leaving like the tide going out until the human form was sitting beside her.

Geri lowered more, nuzzled Josephine's stomach. The pain eased. Josephine rubbed the wolf's nose with one hand and grabbed Maximus's with the other.

"Maximus?" A voice called out from the woods. It was Diana. Diana was a daughter of Afi's line from her human marriage. "I've brought things you'll need for Josephine and the baby."

"Please, come," Maximus said, the relief evident in the slight relaxing of his shoulders.

Diana stepped out of the woods looking truly the queen of wolves with her long flowing dress and wild hair down to her waist. "Oh," she said, "Geri." The great wolf nodded and Diana came forward. "There was a store nearby. I brought scissors and blankets," she said getting closer. Geri swung her massive head over and licked Diana, wetting the top of her dress and side of her face.

"Please...stay," Maximus said, and Josephine wanted to cry, not because of the pain but because he sounded so lost, so powerless in her pain.

"Of course." Diana went to Josephine's head and gently put it in her lap. "Jean Rene always tells me stories when I'm in pain."

"Does it help," Maximus asked, his always dark expression holding a hint of hope.

"It is the sound of his voice, the knowledge that he is with me that makes it bearable."

"I do not know any stories," he said, his mighty shoulders sagging.

"Then tell me of our future, my love. Tell me of your home, where we will live out our life together."

"I cannot speak of death with you in pain," he said. "I will tell you a story, one of a goddess that saved a beast." Josephine was temporarily blinded with tears; they were caught in big warm hands. "Goddess was so beautiful, so lovely that to look upon her face made him weak when no other thing could accomplish such a feat. Beast was frightened for the first time in his existence. He loved her and his most dreaded fear was losing her. "

"Never," Josephine said shaking her head.

Maximus story went on until their first child entered the world; a girl with inky black, curly hair and golden eyes that matched her parents. Josephine didn't miss the slight tremble in his hand as Diana handed him their daughter. But there was still one more to come and Diana was right there waiting. The second was identical to the first.

"Goddesses," Maximus said, before throwing his head back and howling in his human form. It was returned by the howls of the men standing guard and Geri.

Maximus and Josephine held their daughters up for the wolf. She gave each a small lap, a blessing placed upon their foreheads and stood to leave. That's when they saw Freki. He'd not come near and Josephine looked at Maximus. He was born on earth a human but carried Fenrir within him, and while he would have killed Geri because she refused to love him, it was Freki that he really hated. But man and beast simply tipped his head in the direction of the massive beast just beyond the clearing that had come to stand watch over his mate. The wolf returned the nod. Geri looked over her shoulder once and went to her mate. They disappeared in a flurry of golden swirls of light.

**-**

"Has Wallace and Freya returned," Diana asked once they were settled in the car.

"Non, Ma lune," Jean Rene said. "But Wallace will find his way back home. He would not want us to leave the children so unprotected."

Diana nodded, "I agree, but if they're not back by nightfall I want someone to come back."

"And do what? Get massacred by Wallace when we find him. He's damn feral," Thomas said.

"It is not battle Wallace seeks tonight," Jean Rene said smiling.

"Oh God, TMI," Thomas said, "To much information, man."

"What names have you for these precious babes," Jean Rene said, he was turned around almost kneeling in his seat. Diana's throat worked because she knew he wanted an army of children, and so did she, but so far they'd only had the three. The look on his face, so full of love, ready to hold them, to love them like he did all children, made her want to scream.

"Var, it means beloved and Gesemi, which mean precious one," Maximus answered.

"Norse Goddesses," Jean Rene said. "It suits them."

When they pulled into the front of the house every member of the household was waiting on Maximus and Josephine. Jean Rene and Diana were king and queen, the two stepping out of the car as new parents were god and goddess. The hundred plus staff lowered together to pay respects to the new arrivals.

Geri broke rank and ran straight for them. She had a crush on Maximus. She was the only other female who seemed to help calm his rages and Diana suspected she viewed his mating Josephine as a sharing of sorts. Hot on her heels were her brothers, Alexis and Thomas, both rushing to protect their sister from the beast. They were like miniature knights ready to save their tiny maiden. Geri, true to form threw herself at Maximus while feet away from him and like always, he caught her. Alexis and Thomas's actions were honorable, but having the love of Maximus offered her protection no one else could give her.

"Vie," her father scorned.

"Maximus," she said, completely ignoring her father.

"Geri," Maximus answered before looking at the two boys standing in front of him. He bowed at the waist with their sisters in his arm, "Alexis, Thomas." They tipped their heads.

"Babies, I want to see the babies," Geri said. Josephine had been trying to win over the little girl since she'd left, sending her packages with dresses and candy—so far, no luck. Maximus walked over to Josephine and held her over the twin bundles. Geri kissed each girl on the forehead before throwing her arms around Maximus neck. When Josephine saw Alexis walking over she bent over so that he could see the babies. He pulled the blanket of one down, just enough to get a better view of her face. He did the same to the second baby and whispered so low only Josephine heard, "Beautiful."

"Thank you, Alexis."

"Alright let them pass, they need to bond with their babies," Jean Rene said. Maximus placed Geri in her father's arms.

## Chapter

## 20

"Freya....Freya...wake up, Fleur."

Freya heard the deep comforting voice of her mate in her dreams. He'd carried her forever deep into the woods then built a quick den before lying her down and ravaging her body. It was the only word that fit. She'd thought their first time had been long. What had she been thinking?

"Bitch."

A command.

"Such sweet talk in the morning," she said, opening one eye and then the other when she saw the look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"I...I..."

Freya sat up, tried not to wince at the pain that plagued her entire body, including hair follicles and nail-beds.

"Look what I've done to you," he said, his eyes roaming her body.

She was naked and there were bites all over her body, on her breasts, between her thighs, the inside of her wrist, hell, her ankles sported his teeth marks.

"Are you sure you're not a vampire," she asked.

"How can you joke?" Freya stopped inspecting her body to look at him. He was angry...at himself. "I took you while I..." He let the words hang, not able to finish the sentence.

"Hey," Freya said crawling into his lap. His body stiffened and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I couldn't stop," he said low. "It was like I was possessed."

She wanted to comfort him, really she did, but already her body was alight with pleasure, each bite that touched his skin burning in erotic waves. She shifted in his lap so that the twin bites on her thighs rubbed against him and moaned.

"Freya," he said, his words full of shock.

"Do you think it's a bad thing to hear that you wanted me so badly that you couldn't stop; that how you feel for me makes you possessed," she said, still rocking her hips. She smelled of him, countless orgasms and blood. It was making her horny as hell.

"No Freya, it was not the man that claimed you last night and into the morn. I was powerless against the beast I became. I couldn't stop him."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"You cried," he said, holding her hips firmly to stop her slow ride to ecstasy. She looked at him. She hadn't been possessed. She remembered everything about the hours he'd spent between her legs, each stroke and every flick of his tongue, every push and pull of his fingers. He'd only brought her pleasure, even when it rode the coattails of pain. He misunderstood the tears. She was as helpless as he where those tears were concerned.

"Wallace, I have been alone my entire life. The people I lived with were never my family. I had nothing of my own. Now I do. Every time you touch me, say my name, feed me from your hand, I know that at last I have something of my own and belong to someone. I use to tell myself that it didn't matter, that I was fine on my own, and that was true, but it's so much better to have someone to share your life with. I cried because with you I feel complete for the first time in my life. I feel loved but even these words are not right, not big enough for how full you make my heart...my soul. Those tears are the only thing close to getting how I feel out right. Only you have ever made me cry and they are never sad tears, only tears of happiness and love."

Wallace grabbed her face and kissed her hard and then licked away the pain of the nip he'd given her lip. "Fleur," he whispered, his lips still pressed to hers. "You make me the happiest man in the world."

"Only because you make me the happiest woman," she said, hugging him tighter and laying her head on his shoulder.

"Let me take you home and bathe you."

"Yes, please." He stood with her in his arms and she moaned as he rose. "Wallace, you bit me on my ass."

"Fleur, be happy I did not pierce your pearl."

Freya took a moment to figure that one out and then was powerless at the orgasm that washed over her as the words made sense. Just the thought of his teeth and the effect of his bite on the sensitive bud between the lips of her sex was too much.

"Give me a second," she panted. His laughter called to the heavens.

"I'm so going to bite you, just as soon as I turn it's going to be the first thing I do."

"I look forward to it, Fleur," he said hugging her tight. "I so look forward to it.

They went back the way they came and halfway to the car was a duffle bag with clothes for Wallace and a robe made of the softest material that had ever touched her body.

"What is this," she asked, running her palm over the fabric.

"Cashmere," Wallace answered from his kneeled position. "Diana says it's the only thing she can stand next to her skin after she and Jean Rene mate."

Wallace stood and took her hand. They could see the car on the side of the road. The keys had been in the duffle. Wallace opened the door for Freya and gave her a kiss before shutting her in and rounding the car. She rested her head on the headrest and watched his profile while he drove.

"What is it?"

"I want to have your babies." Wallace mouth dropped open, the car swerved and then righted. "Lots and lots of babies," she said. She was wishing for new life to be growing in her body at that very second. She hadn't been on birth control because she'd never thought about having sex and Lord knows Wallace had come in her enough to impregnate her a hundred times over. She wondered when she would know.

"Yes, please," he said, smiling so big she could see every tooth in his head. He reached across the center console and took her hand. "You gave me my third form."

"What?"

"I didn't have a wolfman form before I mated with you."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"No, Wallace said, "Only the strongest of wolves have a half form and we are strongest in it."

"So you need to be stronger because you're mated?"

"Yes," he said, smiling and then frowned. "I just didn't realize how out of control I would be."

"Jean Rene said it was because you were newly mated."

"Yes, I went a little crazy when that shot rang out."

"So Maximus can't die?" she asked, remembering the sight of the blood running from his forehead.

"No, he and Josephine are gods."

"Excuse me," Freya said sitting up.

"Maximus is Fenrir, one of Odin wolves. Odin made him immortal and a god and because Josephine is his mate she is a goddess."

"Wow." That's all she had.

They'd made it in time for breakfast and that was a good thing because Freya was starving, sex was a workout with Wallace. A baby's cries and a roar that almost grayed her hair had them running in the direction of the sounds. Although Freya thought that maybe they should have been running in the opposite direction. At the top of the stairs they met the rest of the crew. They were all still in pajamas.

When Freya entered the room she had to swallow the scream before it breached her lips. Wallace had been scary looking, Maximus was truly a monster. His head brushed the ceiling which made him thirteen or fourteen feet tall, his thighs were the size of Wallace's body, long arms sported hands and claws as long as half of Freya's body. His face had lost all human features and was that of a wolf except his teeth. The teeth that hung from his snarling lips were as long as a person's arm.

"Petite loup," Jean Rene said. "Come to Papa,"

Freya head turned and standing in front of Josephine, baring fangs of his own, and in half form was Jean Rene and Diana's son, Alexis. What the fuck?

"Alexis!" his mother said, she was in her half form as well. Alexis looked at his mother and the fierce look on his face softened for a split second then disappeared. He turned back towards the fearsome creature in the room and continued his standoff with a beast that made him look like a flea on his body.

"What happened," Lillian said, holding the top of her rob closed at the throat with a trembling hand. It was too easy to see that Maximus was very upset with the child.

"I opened the door and Alexis was right there, he asked to see the babies. I turned around for a second and he bit Var."

"What!" Almost everyone in the room yelled and Maximus growled at the little wolfman, he growled right back, bending his knees, bringing his tiny clawed hands up and away from his sides. He meant to fight.

"Stop!" Jean Rene and Diana yelled together, just as the little wolfman jumped. But Josephine, just as calm as you please, while holding her screaming infant, grabbed the little boy by the scruff of his neck.

Thomas's laugh had them all turning their heads with whiplash like speed. Maximus growl was scarier. Freya felt it in her bones.

"He's mated with her," Thomas said, it earned him a deeper growl from Maximus, "Hey, father to father, you're never ready for your little girl to get married."

"But she's a baby," Virginia said stating the obvious.

"And you're still my baby," the father said to his daughter.

Alexis was growling and gnashing his teeth, trying to get out of Josephine's hold. "Can someone get Alexis please?" The boy was little but she really had to put some strength behind her hold on him.

Diana stepped forward. So did Maximus.

"Don't you dare," Josephine said, looking at her mate with squinted eyes. "Stay."

The command made Wallace and Freya both laugh, "Why doesn't that work for me?" She asked.

"Diana, please, come get your son."

Diana stepped forward and Freya could see it was taking great restraint for Jean Rene to stay where he was. But it wasn't much anyone could do with Maximus except Josephine. He could kill everyone in the room, immortal or no, he was just too fucking big. The baby was still screaming at the top of her lungs, surely fueling her father's rage.

"Maybe you should let Alexis lick the wound," Freya said, turning the attention of the room to her. "It helps with the pain." She added.

"This is going from bad to worse," Wallace said, but he had the light in his eyes and laughter in his voice that said he was really excited to see how things worked out. He didn't want anyone hurt, would fight to protect Alexis.

Josephine leaned over the crib, picked up the twin baby and went to the fourteen foot beast in the room and put the tiny bundle in his hand. She was the size of a large marble in that palm.

"Hold her and don't put her down." Josephine ordered and turned her back to death given form. A growling death. She walked over to Diana where Alexis was still giving dagger eyes to Maximus and knelt before the little boy. "Alexis, you've hurt Var and only you can make it better."

There was a rumble that vibrated the floorboards but at least he wasn't snarling or better still, roaring.

Moving his head, but keeping his eye on Maximus until he had to look down, Alexis slowly lowered his head and looked at Var. Freya and every woman in the room took a long deep breath and sighed. He was six and she wasn't even twenty four hours old but he loved her, and age was really nothing but a number when they saw that love and fierce protection the boy had for the small bundle. He leaned his face closer to her, took that long deep breath that every mated wolf took to commit her scent to memory and then he licked the bite he'd given her on her tiny shoulder. With every pass of his tongue she quieted until at last she was silent. Alexis took one last lick before kissing her sweetly on her lips.

"Mine."

**-**

Maximus was double fisting a set of twins like a couple of beers. After Alexis marking and then claiming of his newborn daughter, it was the only thing capable of stopping him from going insane. Still, his chest rose and fell from barely contained rage but he followed his mates order not to put his children down and it was hard to kill the little boy with both his hands full. Of course he could have just swallowed him whole but Josephine made sure to stay close to the little boy who was agitated at being away from his mate.

"I am not sure what to do," Jean Rene said.

They'd already tried to take Alexis away but he growled, snarled and then screamed and cried until they had to bring him back in, where he was still being held back from going to the baby girl.

"He's newly mated, he needs her to calm him down," Freya said. "What?" she asked when everyone looked at her. "That's what you said to me when Wallace went wolfman and she's obviously wants to be near him, I can hear her even over her father's huffing."

"We can't just allow...this?" Josephine said.

"I don't think you have a choice, Alexis has marked and claimed her, their bound together until one of them dies," Freya said, repeating what she'd been told. Maximus growled at her words. "Maybe Maximus will calm down if he knows Alexis is a suitable mate. You should let go of Alexis and see if Maximus hands her off."

"Are you insane," Constantine asked. Everyone's expression was pretty much the same shade of shocked at her words.

"Thomas, would you have allowed Virginia to mate with someone you felt was not up to your standards," she asked.

"Never," he answered without hesitation.

"And you Lycaon, will you allow Geri to mate with just anyone."

"Non," he said. "Let him go Diana, let us see if our new wolf is right, there is truth and logic in her words."

"Wait," Josephine said turning to her mate.

"No, Josephine, do not order him to do but what he will," Jean Rene said.

"Mon loup," Diana said, her eyes were crazy with worry. Hell he was sending his son to acceptance or certain death.

"Alexis has picked his mate and he must go to her. I know this feeling; I have it every waking moment."

"As do I," Constantine said, pulling Virginia into his side.

"Aye," Wallace agreed hugging Freya closer; his arms were wrapped around her shoulders.

"Me to," Thomas agreed. "I'm not a wolf but I know true love. Only death can keep me from her," he said kissing his wife on her scarred temple."

"It is safer now, with us all in the room to give our wolf a chance, for he will only keep coming to her. At least he has the numbers now."

Diana hugged the little boy tighter to her body, cradling his head in her shoulder, shaking her head. "No."

"He is a boy no more."

"He's a baby!" she screamed in his face. Her form thickened. Claws were suddenly holding on to her son.

"He's a wolf," Jean Rene said softly. "Let him go Ma lune."

"Never!" She moved quicker than man or wolf eyes could register, swiping her clawed hand out and dragging it across Jean Rene's face and neck. The four long marks were only scratches when they should have been gouges, ones that should have killed him.

"Ma lune," he said. It was low, full of understanding because it was his child too, but it was also a warning.

"Stay away from him," she said backing up. The people around her took steps away from her, to clear her way or from the fright, was anyone's guess.

"Non, Diana, give me my son."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. Freya was crying, so were the rest of the woman.

Rob stepped up behind Diana. "Do not take what she is not willing to give." The man warned. It was a challenge.

"I am your alpha and I order you to stand down," Jean Rene said.

Rob shook his head, and boy, Maximus was the monster in the room but Rob's cold stare was somehow scarier. "I am no longer your wolf to call."

Diana went straight to Rob, standing behind him, clutching her son.

"How'd this get so fucked up," Wallace asked and he actually scratched his head.

"Mummy, Maximus won't hurt Alexis." In all the excitement no one saw the other children enter. Geri stood in the doorway in a white gown with puffy sleeves trimmed in soft pink satin. Her hair was wild, just like her mother's. Thomas also had bed-head, standing next to his sister in pajamas with little trains on them. They were holding hands.

"How do you know Vie,' Diana asked, never taking her eyes off her mate.

"Because he loves his daughter and if he hurts her mate, it'll hurt her too."

"But she's too little to accept him as a mate." Rob said in a voice rarely heard: kind and gentle.

"She is a daughter of Geri and Freki and he is a son of Cynric, they were made for each other."

Well didn't that just shut them all up? Every adult jaw dropped at the truth spoken. Geri entered the room and pulled on her mother's robe until the woman fell to her knees, dropping like a stone in water. Geri rubbed her mother's hair, the child comforting the parent, coaxing her to make a hard decision, the right decision.

"Let me take him to his mate."

No one thought she would allow two of her children near the fuming beast but Maximus loved Geri and no one thought, for one second, he'd harm the little girl. Geri took her mother's hands from her brother's back and shoulder and grabbed his hand. Together they walked towards Maximus. Every breath stopped as they neared. Maximus lowered his mighty form to his knees and still towered over them. His fingers balled over the tiny bundles, trapping them within the cage of his hands.

Neither child looked afraid and as Alexis neared they saw him straightened his spine, steel his shoulders, puff up his chest. Showing he was worthy. Maximus growled in the little boy's face, one that stopped Freya's heart and scared her half to death but the little boy didn't flinch. Maximus snarled and snapped his teeth within inches of the child and still he stood motionless. A tiny cry came from Diana and she buried her face in Jean Rene's shoulder.

Maximus pushed his nose into Alexis's shirt front, ran it up his body, rocking the little boy on his feet as he tried to plant himself to the ground. Straightening, Maximus cocked his head and eyed the little boy and then brought his right and up and opened it.

"No," Alexis said. "She is there." He pointed to Maximus's other hand.

Maximus nodded and raised his left hand. Alexis held her to his chest and took a step back while Maximus at last calmed, changing back to his human form; still big, still so impressive in size and strength.

"Worship her for the goddess that she is," Maximus warned.

"Forever," the little boy said with just as much steel in his words and bowed to his mate's father. "I will defend her with my life."

## Chapter

## 21

Alexis stayed in Maximus and Josephine's room while they dressed for breakfast because while he didn't want to leave the baby girl, she'd cry even if he tried, so separating them was a no go. Now they were all eating in the main dining room. With everything that happened it was family time. The children were all seated at the large oval table.

"Do you think it'll dull with time?" Virginia asked. A bassinette had been brought in and sat between Alexis and Josephine.

"No," every mated male wolf, including Maximus, said together.

"I would ask that you allow me and my family to live here until arrangements can be made for housing of our own."

"What?" Josephine said, turning to her mate.

"As a mated wolf I cannot bear to think of what will happen to Alexis if we should try to take Var away from him. He is a boy, the pain would be too much. But I am also offering aid to the family that offered it to me when I lost you. Alfred Wolfe will be put down and I will be the one that kills him but until that time I would like to help protect our daughter's new family. She will not lose her mate before she gets a chance to know his bravery and strength."

"Our home is your home," Diana answered. "It will be nice to hear the cries of a baby in the house again," she said, sadness riding the smile she offered.

"Soon these great halls will be filled with the cries of young," Maximus said. "You are with child, I smell new life in your womb," he said, delivering the news with all the emotion of reading a book report.

"Glorieux!" Jean Rene said, hugging Diana.

People got up from their seats to go to their king and queen, including Freya and Wallace. Freya had been sitting in his lap, the only place he allowed, and that was fine with her because she too knew how the little girl felt. She wasn't whole without Wallace, hadn't been before she met him and sure as shit wasn't after. As they passed the seated god, he turned and his gaze stopped Freya in her tracks.

"You are with child also, more than one from your scent. Beast says two, Wolf says four."

Freya was standing there gawking at Maximus when Wallace went down. Her feet registered his big body making contact with the floor from the vibrations but she couldn't turn to offer him aid, too shocked to move, to do much of anything other than to work her throat so that she didn't drool.

Rob slapped him hard enough to snap her out of her shocked state and she turned and growled at the dark haired man who dared touch her sleeping giant. Wallace murmured something and she knelt beside him before being pulled on top of him. He hugged her tight, his body shaking. She knew he wasn't hurt, not many things could hurt him or any of the men in the room. He was crying. She soothed her mate, whispering comforting words into his ear as he buried his face in her shoulder. Her life had been looking brighter when she'd purchased her ticket for her vacation, now it rivaled the damn sun. She was mated and within her body grew his young. Two...maybe four.

**-**

Beverly Wolfe was old like the rest of the Wolfe Council and like Huntress Odetta was black, but that's where the similarities ended. Odetta's hair was long and pulled back in a bun, the style severe. Huntress Beverly's hair was cut short, her naturally curly hair cut too short to make a full curl. She had laugh lines at the corners of her mouth but other than that she'd pretty much kicked aging ass when she'd reached fifty or so from the looks of it. With a little dye she could have easily passed as forty-five, with make-up, forty. She was in her fighting leathers and no one could look anything but fierce in the Wolfe family fighting gear: Skin-tight leather pants and chest plate with the family crest of two crossed broad swords with a running wolf in the center. A longs sleeve shirt covered her arms to the wrist and thick soled black boots that laced up to just below the knee. She was one bad bitch; even so, she was handling the paper-thin china teacup like European aristocracy.

"Thank you for receiving me," she said sitting back with the cup of tea Diana had just poured her. The delicate porcelain looked strange with her current attire but her back was straight, her knees were together and a she'd placed a lace trimmed napkin in her lap.

"Allies are always welcomed," Jean Rene said, "I had always hoped that the need for the hunter would one day become obsolete."

"How many?" Thomas asked from his seat beside Lillian. Their sons Lawrence and Wesley were present as well. The huntress had made contacted two days after the council meeting offering both apologies for how things happened and congratulations on the birth of the twins. She'd shown up with twin rattles, pewter instead of silver, even though the silver thing wasn't true.

"Half, or at least that's what our count was as of last night. I think it is probably more."

"We should take the fight to Alfred," Wesley asked. "Cut the cancer out before it spreads anymore."

"That might have been possible before his ultimatum, but now he has the numbers," Beverly said. "It's our own fault. We should have done more sooner, after the fail attempt to take over six years ago."

"What of the council?" Lillian asked.

Beverly sat her cup and saucer on the table. "There is no more council. We'd already replaced more than half six years ago when four joined Alfred. This time Odetta, Pete and I have decided that there was no use starting over a second time—not now. Six years ago we lost almost half the hunters, those not siding with Alfred opting to join you," she said looking at Thomas.

"Beverly I can't apologize for that. Alfred talked about oaths and vows, I took the same one as every person gathered in that hall, so did my children, Tommy included. Jean Rene and Diana are good people. Any wolf in this castle would gladly give their life to protect my wife and daughter."

"I'm not disagreeing with you Thomas, and what happen to Tommy...well, that was unforgivable. There are two thousand men and women who can trace their line back to the originals. Hell, we have a directory issued every year with updated phone numbers and addresses. That's a lot of history, a lot of tradition that I never thought would come to an end."

"It doesn't need to be that way," Freya said.

Beverly looked at the young woman and shook her head. The smile playing on her lips was sad. "There are those of us who want to turn back the clock, not quite as far back as Alfred's but not as far _up_ as Thomas's. Every child born of the Wolfe line is accounted for. For five hundred years this family was the protector of mankind. The largest and oldest organized group of warriors this world will ever have. Do we need to cut down every wolf...no, calling wolves' friend is one thing, swearing fealty is entirely another," she turned to Thomas and then the king and queen and ended with, "no offense."

"You can't pick who you love, or your family," Lillian said taking Diana's hand.

"No, I suppose not."

"Have you met no wolf that you thought worthy of friendship?" Virginia asked.

"It's not about friendship, it's about duty. I like you all, and if things were different I can't say I wouldn't have called on you socially or perhaps had a wolf in my home but this...we are destroyed."

"That sounds awfully...final," Wallace said.

"Indeed," Beverly said standing. "Alfred took about a third six years ago, and Thomas your group took about half of that. Two days ago we were reduce drastically when the hunters remaining started running like rats from a sinking ship. I have to admit, between Maximus taking a bullet to the head and Wallace turning into something never seen before, I was hard pressed not to take Alfred's side. He is right—"

"Beverly—" Lillian said but the woman held her hand out to stop the protest.

"There is usually truth on both side of the battle field. There are changes taking place or things we've simply missed but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. If what Alfred said is true, and I have no reason to doubt him, then Maximus could have killed everyone in the room and there was absolutely nothing we could have done about it." She took a deep breath and for a second looked all of seventy."But here I am, dropping off a couple of baby presents." She laughed, but it was a hard sound. "If you're right," she said looking at Thomas, "then these phenomenal changes mean nothing. The question is, do I take that chance that those children won't grow up to kill my grandchildren or Odetta's or Pete's."

"I'm not saying all wolves are good, Beverly. I'm simply saying that all are not bad. Var and Gesemi have about as much chance growing up being bad adult as your grandchildren. They are from a good loving home. Their parents want the same thing for them that we want for our children: good health, a long life, and someone to share it with."

Huntress Beverly nodded. "Yes, I suppose that's right."

Freya had not had a chance to testify and now it didn't make a difference but she decided to tell the woman anyway. What could it hurt, if anything maybe it would give her a push in the right direction, or at least make her feel better about the dismantlement of her family and those that came to fight on their side.

"I wasn't in the country a full day before I met a nice girl who took me home and introduce me to her family, her parents and two younger brothers. She saved my life. I didn't know it at the time but they were a family of werewolves. I climbed out her window and waited in the woods until the Hunters that invaded their home left. It was a massacre. Everyone in the house was beheaded."

"I'm sorry that you had to see that, I am, but war is messy and it's not just the troops that die," she said."Thank you again for taking the time to speak with me."

"Beverly, is there nothing we can do for you?" Thomas asked. "Do you have somewhere safe to go at least? Alfred didn't say anything about a middle ground for those of you who don't want to join either side."

"I'll be damned if I let anyone drive me out of my home," she said and damned if she didn't look a little taller in her anger. "I am Beverly Wolfe, wife of Jonathon Wolfe, descendant of the great William Wolfe, son of the first Hunter. By blood and sword I live and die."

Thomas nodded. Lillian went to the woman and gave her a hug. They spoke briefly, good-byes between women who had married into an extraordinary family, living an unbelievable life that was coming to an unfathomable end. It was enough to make Freya cry.

"Lycaon, Nonakris, I was never on Alfred's side but nor did I thing uniting the wolves was going to end well. Now..." she hesitated, "now, you may be our only hope." She turned to Maximus and Josephine. "Congratulations on the birth of your children." She left the room with her shoulders back and her spine straight.

"Civil war," Thomas said.

"Once there were only three," Diana said.

"The wolf is not the only thing changing. Win or lose, this family will never be the same," Virginia said.

## Chapter

## 22

Two weeks since Maximus made the announcement that Freya and Diana were expecting. She was no queen, no daughter of mythological creatures who were the parents of werewolves but Wallace treated her like the earth revolved around her and the sun rose and set only to be pleasing to her eye. He wouldn't spar with her anymore and she was itching for her first change. She'd been running a low grade fever all day as her body prepared for it.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Virginia said, teasing Freya because she'd been eating basically the same thing for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a week.

"I thought sardines and strawberry syrup was bad," Thomas said.

"Oh God, I think I just threw up in my mouth a little, who in the hell ate that," Wallace asked.

Thomas pointed his fork in the direction of his wife and then took a bite out his steak. "I don't know why we didn't think of eating steak for breakfast before. So for that, I thank you Freya," he said.

"No problem, Big Tom." Freya cut into a piece of bloody meat that started out as big as the plate but had been reduced by half. Wallace was hunting and bringing her back small game like rabbits and possum. The rest came from a butcher. But it had to be same day kill, anything older and her suddenly highly sensitive sense of smell would make her throw up on the spot.

"I'm still not certain it's healthy," Lillian said, "shouldn't she be eating vegetables or at least a vitamin, maybe a piece of fruit."

"It's only been a week, I'm sure she's fine." Thomas said.

"How're the two newest love birds," Freya asked, looking across the table at Maximus and Josephine. They'd been moved to a room that had an adjoining nursery and Alexis had a bed in there.

"Inseparable, I'm still not sure how to explain it when my parents get here to visit."

"Don't worry about it. It's so damn cute to see them together who care about the why," Wallace said. And wasn't that the truth? Alexis rarely left the baby's side. She spent hours looking at him with too intelligent and too old eye's while he played next to her. He'd even stop play fighting with his brother or going out with the other boys. Every waking minute was devoted entirely to his mate.

"Well, I think we should start...weaning them off each other. He's a growing boy, he needs fresh air and sunshine and they have a whole lot of life to live before they can actually be together." Lillian said.

"You are right and I was thinking that maybe I would take Alexis out," Maximus said. Everyone's forks stopped, every head looked in his direction. Everyone kept waiting for Alexis to wear out his welcome but Maximus had been nothing but patient with the boy.

"Oh that sounds wonderful," Diana said.

"Wouldn't it have been fun if Thomas had mated with Semi," Virginia said. It earned her a look from Maximus. "Okay, okay, sorry," she said.

"Perhaps Jean Rene will have another son and he will mate with her, nothing wrong with an older woman and younger man," Thomas said and laughed when Maximus growled at him.

"How do you feel," Wallace asked Freya in a low voice while the table continued to tease Maximus, poking a lion with a stick through bars with the door open to the cage.

"I'm fine, I feel really good," He reached for a piece of meat on her plate. She stabbed him with her fork. "Put...it...down," she growled. Not a human sound but one made by an animal.

"You'd have to remove your fork from my hand, dear," he said. She picked the fork up but kept her eyes on him.

"She's going to be one vicious bitch," Rob said.

"Damn right," Wallace agreed.

After breakfast Wallace and Freya were leaving to live in his den for the duration of the full moon cycle. Wallace's new powers after he'd mated seemed to only manifest in a time of need. He hadn't turned into his wolfman form since the day of the council meeting. The rest of the Wolfe Hunters had until the end of the cycle to either join forces with Alfred or go to war with him. Alfred was still slaughtering any family he thought was a werewolf. The king's army, the Odin, had started offering self defense and combat training twice a day for those families interested in attending. It was always full.

Freya walked in front of Wallace picking the occasional flower making a bouquet. Her feet were bare and her favorite jeans were tight from stuffing herself at breakfast.

"Are you nervous?" Wallace asked, sounding like the nervous one.

"Actually, I'm not," she said, turning to smile at him for a second. "I never thought about children until you and now that I'm pregnant I can't wait to hold our children in my arms, nine months seems an eternity away."

"But four at once," Wallace said.

Freya stopped, turned to her mate and threw her hands around his neck as he hugged her around the waist. "You're going to be a great dad," she said kissing him on the tip of his nose.

"You sound so certain."

"That's because I am. What better parent than a werewolf. Alfred was going on and on about how werewolves are animals but I bet they don't abandon or abuse their children, or cheat on their wives."

"There are bad wolves, like there are bad people," Wallace said.

"I'm sure, but I bet the numbers are a lot lower than in the human world. I can't imagine Jean Rene or Constantine or ever Maximus laying a hand on their mates. And can you see either man walking out on their children, or letting them go without."

Wallace laughed, "No, absolutely not."

He released her, but held her hand until they reached the den. Freya ducked inside feeling like she was really home. She liked living in the castle but she loved spending time in the woods.

"Let's build something permanent out here, or at least expand on your den. It needs to be a little taller and we can put a few shelves in it over here. You can make something to keep the babies in before they arrive and we can put them right here," she said spreading her arms out wide in front of the spot. She looked at him and stopped talking. "What?"

"You want to live out here, in the woods, raise our children here?" he asked.

"Yes," she said dropping her arms. "Is something wrong with that," she said wrinkling her nose. "Maybe you should be worried about my parenting skills. I just thought..." She didn't finish because Wallace had taken her to the ground.

"Where have you been my whole life," he asked.

"San Fran." She answered, "So you don't mind that I want to live out here?"

"Hell no," he said kissing her.

Freya was burning up, achy, cramp-y and madder than hell. Wallace was working her damn nerves pacing and every time he tried to touch her she bared her teeth and growled in warning. The pain became worse, bowing her back. It felt like her skin was being peeled off with a rusty, dull knife. Her bones felt like taffy before she heard and felt them break. She screamed, curling into a ball only to straighten out as a streak of pain stole her breath, cutting her scream off.

"Fleur," Wallace said, and even in her pain-filled state she could see how upset he was and she really wanted to offer him some small comfort, allow him to rub her hair or sit close to her but if he got within snapping distance she was going to fuck his ass up.

Her face became hotter, if that was even possible. She felt like her eyes were going to either melt and run down her face or pop out of the sockets like popcorn. Then she felt her face shift. As it pulled out and stretched, her teeth grew long and hair grew where no woman should have hair. Her lower body was ahead of the game, her arms and legs already thinner, her breasts flattened. Hair covered her entire body. In a coherent second she saw the hair that covered it was black. She was a little sad she wasn't the same color as Wallace but it was a fleeting thought because her entire being, everything she was, was gripped in a pain so horrible that she prayed for death and for Wallace's for getting her in this mess, until suddenly, it was gone.

She stood up, shook her body, and looked at her mate. She growled low, lowered her body to the ground and lifted her lips at him.

"Fleur," Wallace said, unafraid but backing up. Freya took a slow step forward. "I asked if you were sure," he said.

Freya stopped, if wolves faces could display pissed off and exasperation she would have had it on her mug. She didn't give him a warning or head start she jumped him. They rolled out of the den, Wallace's arms strong and solid holding her around the waist as they rolled in the dirt and then holding her head away from his face as she snapped at him. He pushed her off him, sending her sliding across the small clearing and before she could find her footing to attack he stood before her a great sandy wolf. He was bigger and defiantly stronger but Freya threw herself at him. He jumped, met her half way, their bodies turning, twisting in mid-air. They rolled around, fur and teeth. The sounds were vicious as they fought hard as wolves. Soon enough she'd drawn blood from her mate and the taste of it in her mouth was nothing short of the best thing she'd ever tasted. He rolled her over standing above her, his fangs long, his growling terrifying. She lay on her back, snarling and growling too but she knew who was alpha. Wallace stood over her until she started to whimper, licking his chin and lips. She stood and he quickly mounted her. It was wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am and he was off running before Freya registered he'd left her. She caught up and together they found the rest of the pack. Constantine, also a great red wolf, Jean Rene, grey and larger than any wolf she'd ever seen, Diana's beautiful white coat was incandescent, Rob was black, big surprise. Then there was the sound of something big coming towards them. As Maximus and Josephine entered the small clearing Freya whimpered. Rob was black, but next to Maximus, he could have been as white as Diana. Josephine's coat was as white as Diana, but seemed purer, she almost glowed. There was no way they were going to be able to hunt anything with those two. They were just too big, it'd be like a stampede of elephants busting through the woods. Maximus was so tall he literally would be busting through the woods. He was heads and shoulders taller than the lowest hanging branches and Josephine was only slightly smaller. Besides, nothing short of a dinosaur was going to be more than something that stuck in between their teeth.

Jean Rene's short bark turned every wolf's attention to him. He was alpha of his pack and when he ran so did they. Freya ran next to Wallace, following his lead on everything. The pack split and the hunt was on. Freya was amazed at everything in her new form, the sounds of the woods, the smells, and her eye-sight. Wallace occasionally walked so close that their fur rubbed together or bumped his bigger body into hers. The sound of a howl echoed eerily in the previously quiet night followed by a second in a different location. Wallace howled and ran in the direction of the first. Signal howls were sent up until the pack circled a large bull moose. Wallace nudged her with his head. Everyone was waiting on her; allowing her to strike first, to bring down the large creature in front of her. With no fear, she attacked.

Freya lay stretched out, feeling like she was being given a preview of the months to come. Her belly was nice and tight and round from the feast of the hunt. She opened her eyes, the new day was still dark but she could feel morning's twilight on her skin. Around her waist was a human arm.

"You are a beautiful wolf," Wallace said, stroking the length of her long body. "Beautiful," he repeated rubbing his face into the fur at her neck. She turned and licked his face, rolling over so that he could rub her belly. He stared into her wolf's eyes, those green one's having the same effect on her in animal form. She loved him, woman and wolf, no matter her form or his. She jumped up and straddled his big body, her legs on each side of his body and growled playfully at him.

"I loved watching you take down dinner," he said, still rubbing her, across the top of her head, between her shoulders, down her back as far as his arm could reach. She hadn't forgotten her promise, and she meant to make good on it. She struck fast and hard. Her long canine's sliding easily into his skin. His scream was long and he held two handfuls of fur hard as she held onto his leg. As the sun breached the morning sky she felt her body change, not the slow agonizing breaking and re-knitting of bones, but a smooth transition that was pain free. Her body felt weightless and soon the teeth embedded in his skin were human. She released her jaw and licked the wound. In her pregnant state she craved the taste of blood, the texture of uncooked meat. Wallace's blood was an explosion in her mouth, better than any animal he'd brought her or the cooks prepared for her, she lapped greedily at it and strongly resisted the urge to bite him again. The sounds coming from Wallace had nothing to do with pain, as he writhed beneath her, his hand on her head, gently pushing it as she continued to lick the bite. She was drunk on his blood, her body humming and tingling and she held on to his thigh, digging her fingers into the flesh forcing more and more blood out of the wound.

"Fleur." His husky words were moaned and she looked up. His head was raised and he was watching her, his chest was working overtime and his erection was long and thick lying on his stomach. With each pass of her tongue it jerked. She ran her tongue along the inside of his thigh until she reached his scrotum.

Wallace's hissed and slammed his hands down on the ground at his sides, dug into the soft earth he lay on. She continued upward, running her tongue over the thick vein until she reached the bulbous head and she flicked her tongue over the ridge and across the head, collecting the clear drop on the tip. It had a similar effect as his blood. Sitting up she fisted his erection, lowered her head while their eyes remained locked on each other and slowly slid her lips over the tip. His moan was more growl, she rolled her tongue, circled the tip, sucked hard before taking him deep into her mouth.

"God, Freya," he said, his hands rising but not touching, "Your mouth..." That was all he said. Freya's lowered her head more, until she felt him at the back of her throat and still she didn't stop. Her breath was cut off as he filled her mouth and when she swallowed around all his girth he hissed again, but remained stilled. There was no way to take all of him, he was too big. Raising her head she worked her hands up and down as she bobbed her head, flicking her tongue across the ridge of the top and sweeping it across the slit until Wallace's hips began to move up and down.

"I'm coming Fleur." His voice was rough, she could hear the restraint in it. His sex kicked in her hands, she moved one to cup his great sac and then her mouth was filled with the thick saltiness of his climax in pulsing jets. She worked her throat, trying to swallow as he came in her mouth but it was too much, too fast and very long. As he growled and jerked beneath her she'd never felt more powerful. With a powerful lunge he was on her, she now on the bottom and his took her mouth in a hard kiss that drew blood.

"Oh, God," he said breaking away from the kiss. He was hard again, she could feel the steely length between her folds. "You taste of my blood and my seed," he said and he looked a lot like she felt: hungry for more. He crawled down her body and it was her turn to squirm and thrash, he gave as good as he got. His strong hands held her legs open easily as he plundered her sex. Each flick of his tongue driving her to the brink of orgasm, every suck of his lips robbing her of sane thought, when she came he remained relentless and he drank what her body offered only him and bit her inside her thigh, high, right next to her sex sending her into a second wave of pleasure that threatened unconsciousness. He lapped the bite and then returned to her core. The feeling was like none other and she couldn't wait to bite him again, pay back was a bitch. With her body still convulsing from her second orgasm he climbed her body and kissed her again. Both were growling, both cried out when he at lasted joined their body. There was no gentleness, no tenderness. She drew blood as he pushed the full length of him inside her, a brutal thrust followed by hard pumping, mindless and wild. She met his every stroke, rocking her hips, opening her legs wide, tilting her hips until he grabbed her behind one knee and brought it to their joined chest.

"Wallace," she said, already climbing towards another orgasm. He growled, possessively, a warning, he couldn't stop if he wanted to. He continued to pummel her core, ever stroke ending at the very end of her, over and over until it stole her breath, stopped and restarted her heart and there was nothing she could do but hold on as her mate claimed her and she wouldn't have it any other way. The guttural noises didn't sound human as he watched where their bodies joined, every muscle tight, the veins in his neck cords, sweat covering his body, his hair a waterfall of red tangles brushing her face, her neck, her breasts with every frenzied move. He looked powerful in the throes of passion and the sight made her come, the walls of her sex gripping him, milking his sex until he threw his head back and roared. Freya felt him thicken further. She fully expected to explode or implode, it was too much pleasure.

Wallace collapsed on top of her as her limbs went boneless. A lot of heavy breathing, a lot of residual moaning, a few low growls, from him and from her, his weight was great but she liked it, she loved it and when he finally found the strength to roll over she missed it.

"Will it always be this way," she asked more than a little breathless.

"Yes," he answered, just as out of breath. "You bit me, bitch."

"And I plan on doing it again," she said. They could hardly work up the energy to laugh, but they did.

She didn't laugh as they made their trek back to the castle, she couldn't. Wallace's thick thighs guaranteed the bite would be touched, and it brought him pleasure with each step he took. Too bad she hadn't counted on him taking her to the ground and relieving said pleasure. Three times she'd been tackled, thrown on her hands and knees and mounted. Always with his massive body curled over her back, once with her lying completely on the ground, his thighs pressing her legs together, and still his length filled her. It took them two hours to make a twenty minute walk.

They went to their room in the castle, bathed, mated, mated, dressed, mated and finally walked into the dining room just as plates were being taking up.

"You'll never guess what I stumbled across this morning when coming in from the hunt," Constantine said in his elegant cultured tone.

"I hope it wasn't those rutting animals that could be heard over the entire estate. You know they can be quite dangerous," Rob said.

"Indeed," Constantine said nodding, "But they were very preoccupied, completely consumed with their task."

The butler who always served them came forward with her plate of raw meat but Freya held up her hand. "Can I have some toast and a couple slices of bacon?"

"Of course."

"Over that craving?" Thomas asked.

"Maybe she had her fill of meat this morn," Constantine said.

Wallace's strong strokes on her back were comforting. He shifted his thigh, causing her bite to rub against her pants, she dropped her hands onto his leg, shifted her position until she rubbed his bite. Wallace didn't hold back a growl that was a lot groan.

"Open," he said, his voice low, running across her body not like silk or satin, something tougher but just as smooth, corduroy maybe. She opened her lips and Wallace bit his bottom lip while she took what he offered.

"You two are so much worse than the rest," Thomas said.

"I think it's sweet, and very romantic," Lillian said.

They could have been speaking Mandarin Chinese for all Freya knew, her eyes were on her mate. He had given her everything. He offered her everything. He nodded, as if he could read her thoughts. No longer would she be embarrassed by what they shared because there was only truth in the words. Wallace's love for her wasn't civilized or contained in any way. Breathing deeply she leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. Possession never felt so good.

## Chapter

## 23

The women were playing with the children and Maximus had been included in what Wallace was now calling: Operation Lost Wolf.

"You are aware that I will not keep this from Goddess," the behemoth said.

"Who invited him," Wallace said teasingly.

"Tomas is still not found, but the rest have been located. I've spoken to the twins and they will be here by week's end. I've sent a letter to Lucas who is living in a hotel in a small town not far from where Nonakris and Lycaon met. He's recently mated and his mate doesn't have a home phone and I've yet to get a cell number for her. I did procure a number for Furious but I've not been able to reach him. A Hunter from a neighboring state was finally able to reach New Orleans and Furious seems to be in a pissing contest with a big-time arms dealer," Alexis said.

"Even if they all come, that's still only eight," Wallace said, "Maximus count as at least...four, maybe five. You know what must be done." He looked at his king.

"Not again Wallace," Jean Rene said.

"Perhaps he's right Lycaon," Constantine said surprising Wallace

"Or maybe you'll do what our king refuses," Wallace said turning to Maximus.

"Which is..."

"Wallace thinks my bite creates super wolves and that I should turn more."

"Interesting concept," Maximus said. "And I am with the king on this."

"Well here's hoping that Alfred's fairy godmother doesn't start issuing those flaming blue swords to the mutant freaks that make up his army, because before we were fighting a bunch of supped-up novices. Now he has trained warriors that will have our strength and speed and close to our resilience."

"Lycaon, we don't have the numbers. One on one, the Hunters will be slaughtered," Constantine said looking at his father-in-law," I'm sorry."

"No," Thomas breathed deeply, "You're right."

"The Hunters will have to start going out in groups and with at least one wolf," Rob said.

"We're no longer Hunters. The men and women that came to this castle with me six years ago are the Lycaon's army, not Hunters, The Odin," Thomas said.

"I am sorry for what Alfred has done to your family," Maximus said taking everyone by complete shock.

"How can you say that after what Alfred did to you," Constantine asked.

"I was a monster before Alfred killed my parents, but I remembered the short time I was with my mother and father. They loved me, died protecting me. Fenrir knew love in Geri, Wolf and Beast found love in Goddess. There are things I thought I didn't know or understand because Alfred had cut, beaten or tortured it out of me but I do know loyalty and sacrifice. You are a great man; your sons are good men, your daughter, a worthy Hunter."

"Thank you, Maximus."

The phone rang and moments later Watson voice came over the intercom.

"Milord, a gentleman insists on speaking to Hunter Thomas. He says he works with Alfred Wolfe and has important information."

"Thank you Watson," Jean Rene said and nodded at Constantine who was sitting closest to the phone. The blond pressed a button putting the call on speaker.

"This is Thomas Wolfe."

"Alfred plans on attacking the Blood Moon Pack this weekend."

"What," Wallace said sitting straighter in his chair.

"Who is this?" Thomas asked.

"You don't know me. I'm not a Wolfe but I've been with your cousin since he formed the Executioners."

"Why call us?"

"Because I don't think what Alfred is doing is right. I am no longer...I'm different. I want to join you but I knew I didn't stand a chance without proving myself. He will take almost a hundred men with him."

"Will you be there?"

"Of course."

"You may die. What good does warning us do you?"

"I know, and none. I've done some horrible things. If I die in battle then it is nothing I don't deserve."

"You're either incredibly brave or really stupid." Wallace said.

"The Blood Moon pack of wolves is the oldest pack in the world, completely cut off from the modern world. They are not a threat to mankind. They don't deserve to be slaughtered."

"No, they don't, but neither did the ones you slaughtered before you saw the light," Wallace growled.

"You're right. All I ask is that if I survive the battle that you consider taking me."

"How will we know you?" Constantine asked.

"I'll find you," he said and hung up.

The men in the room looked at each other. After the shit Alfred had pulled there was no way they trusted the caller. Oh, there was no doubt Alfred was planning an attack and probably on the Blood Moon pack, but no one was going to take it a face value that one of his men had simply changed his mind. It was a trap.

"Alexis call the pack and warn them," Jean Rene said standing.

"I'll call and have the plane prepared for immediate departure," Constantine said.

"I'll figure out how many we can take with us and still have enough here at the castle should this just be a ploy to get us out of the castle," Thomas said.

"I'd like everyone ready in three hours." Jean Rene headed for the door.

**-**

Wallace could feel Freya's anxiety rolling off her in waves. He'd told her everything and in less than an hour they were leaving to fight maybe the toughest fight they'd ever been in. The mysterious caller said a hundred men, Wallace wouldn't be surprised if there was double that. Thomas had gone to pull Hunters but Wallace knew he wouldn't dare leave fewer than a hundred here at the castle. Diana and their women would be in the underground bunker but there were still hundreds of employees at the house that needed protecting.

"Okay," she said standing up and placing a hand on his cheek, they were softer than when she first arrived, like the rest of her body. Her stomach was no longer the washboard she'd arrived with and he placed the flat of his palm on it. Never in all his years had ever wanted out of a battle but this one was proving hard to get excited about. She straddled his thighs and hugged him tight around the neck. "I love you so much...come back to me," she whispered in his ear. "Come back to us."

Wallace swallowed hard and nodded before saying, "Aye." Pulling back from her he held her face. He'd mentioned that he wanted to see her in long hair and she promised to grow it out. He'd make it back just to see it long and flowing down her back. Maybe she would consider dreadlocks too. He brushed her bottom lip with his thumb and pulled her face in for a kiss. She responded by trying to climb into his body through his mouth which was fine with him. Wallace hadn't known fear in his human life and sure as shit hadn't feared anything as an alpha wolf. Not until now. Newly mated and she with four young in her belly. It was enough to make him rabid.

Freya wrapped her endless legs around him as he stood and walked them to the bed. Alfred had tried and failed twice to reach the castle, both times he'd made it to the forest surrounding it. Wallace would have taken chances out there on his own, with Freya he refused. So for the last week they'd been within the stone walls of the large estate. She was just as antsy as he was to get back to their den. Remodeling had been put on hold and probably would be for quite some time. He couldn't risk separating her and their unborn children from the numbers that could keep them safe. When Alexis had found him, he'd been happy but empty. No real goal, or drive, just day after day of getting drunk, getting laid and eating. Sure, most men would think it the perfect life, but he wasn't just a man, he was a warrior. He loved battle, and he knew a lot of it had to do with what happened to his family so many, many, years before. The guilt of it never left him. Of course, the people who hid him told him over and over that he would have been killed with his family if he'd been at the castle. But his brothers and father had died an honorable death, while he lay, safe, well fed and drunk between the legs of some woman he hadn't taken the time to learn name. It took years, decades to learn to live with himself. So when he lay his mate down and looked on her lovely face he was torn. Duty said he follow the king into battle, but his life was no longer that of the king's but belonged to the woman lying beneath him.

"I'll be fine," she said running her hands up and down the front of his chest. He'd fought her enough times to know that next to Virginia she was probably the most equipped of the mated women to take care of herself. The queen could, but it was brute strength that would keep her safe, Freya had the skills of a fighter. "You're the kings personal guard, if he goes, so must you."

He nodded because it made sense. Jean Rene could watch from the side-lines but he didn't rule from a guilded cage, he was always in the thick of it. Shit, he felt like he needed to form a fucking support group. A knock at the door made him growl and Freya laugh.

"Master Wallace," a butler said from the other side of the door."The king has asked for you and Lady. Freya."

"Of course, we'll be right here," Freya answered when Wallace only hugged her tighter and buried his face in her neck. He kissed her shoulder before a playful bite making her yelp and sending a tingle down her spine. "As much as I'd love to stay in bed with you, the king has called and I imagine the queen, not to mention a god and goddess as well."

"Ummmm,' he hummed into her shoulder and kissed it once more before sitting up. "Come, bitch," he said standing and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Wallace," she laughed as he headed for the stairway and then the library. He sat her on her feet at the closed door.

When he pushed open the door it was a lot like the first time she met the royal family. The wolves that followed the couple around were doing the weird flowing movement around the room that reminded Freya of water. Even with the déjà vu scene, so much had changed. She was no longer the outsider. She was family.

She sat next to Lillian while Wallace headed for the bar. She wasn't surprised when Lillian took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

"There's no reason to wait on Thomas. He filled me in before heading down to the barracks," Lillian said turning to Jean Rene. "How certain are you that this is a trap?"

"It's hard to say," he answered.

"Fifty-fifty," Wallace said standing behind the small couch the two women were sitting on.

"It could be less, maybe the caller was telling the truth," Diana said.

"Even so, they'll prepare for the worst," Freya said.

Thomas entered with his sons on his heels. Freya had never seen the man so angry. His sons wore mirror impressions on their faces. Lillian stood up and Freya knew that she was the peace-keeper, the referee and sometimes, even the big dog, or in their case, the big Wolfe.

"What's going on," she asked as the three men came to stand directly in front of her.

"I've instructed Wesley and Lawrence to stay at the castle... as first line of defense," he said when he boys both open their mouths to protest.

"You can't honestly expect us to stay behind while you and Virginia go out and fight the real battle," Lawrence said. "I've seen the Executioners fight first hand."

"Which is why we need you here, to protect the Nonakris, Josephine and Freya, not to mention your mother."

"You think anyone's going to make it through Alexis and Rob to reach that bunker?" Wesley said.

"I'm captain of the king's guard and you are soldiers. That means you follow my orders," Thomas said.

"And we would, if you were giving orders as our captain and not our father."

"You will do as I ask," Thomas said, barely containing his frustration.

"Mama," both boys said turning to their mother. It would have been comical if not for the very serious subject matter.

Freya expected Thomas to object, maybe even lay down the law by reminding them all that _he_ was the law, but he remained silent and looked at his wife. There was no frustration, no anger, just waiting for her to answer.

She reached up and rubbed her youngest son smooth cheek, followed by her middle's beard covered one before turning to her husband. He was tall, almost a foot taller than his wife, but he seem to shrink and it wasn't about being dominate or submissive, it was about him having a great respect for the woman he'd fallen in love with and shared a life with. A woman who'd given him children and sat on the sidelines when first her husband and then her children went out night after night to fight monsters.

"Mama," he said taking her hand. He leaned down and kissed the scarred cheek she offered him.

There was Ma Lune, Goddess, and Fleur. Thomas calling his wife Mama was the sweetest endearment as far as Freya was concerned. There was no mystical reason for them to be together, no daughter of this or son of that, that tied them together. These were just two extraordinary people who found each other in this great big world and against all odds had made a life.

She repeated Huntress Beverly words, "By blood and sword we live and die."

A great shuddering breath punched out his body and he seem to almost collapse but caught himself before more than just his great shoulders lowered. He nodded, his head hanging, but still he didn't object. Virginia left Constantine's side and joined the circle of her family. Her mother took her hands and held them both. "My beautiful, darling daughter, I love you. Keep your father and brothers out of trouble."

Virginia laughed and nodded. "I will."

Lillian looked past her daughter and held her hand out. Constantine came to her. He was as small as his wife, almost delicate. Lillian pulled him into a hard hug, holding him tight. "Mére loup," he said. Mother wolf her son-in-law called her. The woman was sending her entire family into battle. In that moment, Freya thought she was the bravest person she'd ever met.

**-**

Being the king and queen meant not having to be in the thick of things but that wasn't how they ruled. He should have listened to her, when she suggested they killed Alfred at the council meeting. He deserved to be put down like the animal he'd become. Alfred's pot-shot at Maximus should have ended with the man torn to pieces. They were not playing by man's rule, they were goddamn animals. His humanity had gotten in the way. Look what being the better man had gotten him.

He thought of Alexis, his second, and how things were left between them. He'd never seen him so angry but someone had to look after Diana if he did not make it back. He was five hundred years old, had lived through torture only Maximus could understand, but he was not immortal that he knew of and he didn't want to take a chance and leave Diana unprotected if he wasn't. He'd left most of the soldiers at the castle and hundreds more in staff that would fight to the death but he trusted only Alexis with his most precious possessions: Diana and his children. He choked on a sob at the thought of her being pregnant. Years of trying and failing, of holding her when she bled month after month when new life refused to take in her womb. The happy news now sat heavy on his heart at the thought of never meeting his children. Like the time before he knew...knew she held more than one within her. Two this time instead of three. The tiny flickering just picked up this morning. He remained silence because the new beat was so soft, so erratic, he wasn't sure if the unborn would live. He palmed his phone inside his pocket but didn't take it out. Now was not the time. Later. If later came

"Almost there." Constantine said. No one responded to the comment. They could feel that they were, anxious and nervous at what was about to happen.

The chance of survival for all was slim, but if one life could be saved it would be. The pack was old, but strong. It hadn't survived for hundreds of years by being anything but. Yet, they fought off the old enemy, when Wolfe had been mere men, not the super-ramped up machines that were almost as hard to wound and kill as the wolf. It almost seemed unfair. These people didn't pose a threat. They didn't leave the confines of their borders. They lived a peaceful, quiet life and Alfred was planning on killing man, woman and child. The power of Jean Rene's wolf pushed against his skin thickening the air in the car, calling his wolves.

"Damn right," Wallace said. His growled words were a threat to every Executioner unlucky enough to cross his path.

Jean Rene thought of Freya, beautiful Freya, brand new and pregnant as well. Wallace had been the wildest of the pack he'd made. If he'd lived to be a million, he never would have thought Wallace would have settled down. She was ethereal, her otherworldly beauty almost hard on the eye in its glory. If he'd thought it would have done any good he would have told Wallace to stay at home. He would have told the entire car and that in front of them the same. Every male, save Rob was mated.

It lightened his heart to think that Rob was back at the castle. Rob would move hell and high water if it meant Diana was safe. He was her wolf to call. That he'd stood against Jean Rene proved just how far the wolf was willing to go. He should have never been able to disobey him but somehow, the devotion, the love he had for Diana had broken the link that tied him to Jean Rene. Something so strong—that powerful—was a force to be reckoned with in and of itself.

A hand was placed on his shoulder and Jean Rene squeezed it without looking back—Thomas. Not a wolf but more, because even without a paranormal, supernatural, magical, mystical ability, he was linked to Jean Rene like the rest. It had nothing to do with gods or prophecies but friendship and brotherhood. He'd lost one son; his other two were in the car in front of him. So was Virginia

"Oh God." The words were whispered before he could cut them off.

"No," Thomas said just as low, thick with emotions. It was what they did, what they'd been born to do. Although now it was Wolfe and not wolf they went to slay.

The rustling in the back seat was Wallace offering Thomas comfort, a hand on his knee. A fleeting touch that held a prayer that his children be protected from the dangers that waited for them at their destination.

The mountain rising to their left reached the heavens and the cars stopped long before the crest that would let their presence be known. Jean Rene, when last here was given a tour by the pack alpha. He knew a back way in. The village made up entirely of born werewolves was protected on three sides by the mountain and the front protected by a fifty foot stone wall. The pact never counted on seclusion to be their only protection. Jean Rene wondered just how Alfred planned on breaching the village. Of course, nothing seemed to stop the man; his tenacity had to be admired. People spilled out of the caravan of cars and trucks. Fifty soldiers and his close group of family was all the aid he could offer. God, help him, he hoped it was enough. They'd already called ahead and warned the pack via the satellite phone Jean Rene insisted on the pack alpha keep once Alfred was made whole again.

The village was old when Jean Rene was born. He felt a kinship to them. Their oral histories were thorough but it was still hard to pinpoint exactly when the first of the pack moved to the valley. They did know the origin of the wolf, the alpha's grandmother first sharing the tale of Odin, Geri and Freki. It had seemed impossible but the wolves he and Diana had seen after the attack that almost claimed her life, made the story not entirely improbable. Any doubt was completely erased at the arrival of Fenrir and Josephine. The woman had even spoken to Odin.

The mountain had caves and tunnels, one that had been expanded to reach the other said. The entrance was hidden and to make sure no one got in a large boulder was pushed in front of it. Maximus took care of the boulder. The tunnel was so narrow that the men had to walk single file until it dumped into a circular opening with several tunnels branching off from the main one. Jean Rene didn't need to see the man clearly to know who it was, the pack's alpha, Adam.

"Lycaon," Adam said bowing at the waist. "The women and children have been moved to a secure location within the mountain. The men await your instruction."

"Adam, this pack for all intents and purposes is the epicenter of our kind. The men awaiting instructions are the sons of our forefathers. For that reason, I'm asking that you allow me and my men to handle this fight," Jean Rene said.

"With all due respect, my liege, the Blood Moon pack is more than capable of fighting their own battles."

"No one's saying you can't, but the men coming here tonight are no longer mere humans," Constantine said."

"And we are?" Adam countered before turning back to the king. "For a thousand years we've called this land our home. You can't expect the people in the village to just stand aside. It was hard enough to convince the women to go into hiding."

"Alpha Adam your people have been hidden away from the modern world. It has no natural foe or predator. Even if there had been, there's a fucking fifty foot wall and a ton of wood keeping people out," Wallace said.

The bark of laughter turned into something more appropriate in a comedy club. The alpha belly laugh echoed in the tunnel but the longer he laughed the deeper his voice became until he sounded a lot like the evil villain in a movie. If echoes and sinister laughter wasn't bad enough his power thickened the air making it hard to breath and calling the beast that lay within each of the wolves in the cave which should have been impossible.

"You think we built the walls to keep people out," Adam said, no trace of laughter in his voice, "How wrong you are. The forefathers built the walls to keep us in." Before their eyes Adam began to grow. Three men in the group could change form outside the full moon and two of those men stood in amazement. Adam spoke as his body became taller, thicker, stronger as he changed from man, to wolfman. "For a thousand years there has been no human birth in this pack. A thousand years and each generation we became more and more like the natural wolf and less and less like our human cousins. The great fathers moved us to protect mankind from our kind and they were right in doing so." Adam said, standing before Jean Rene and the rest in wolf-man form, his head dusting the ceiling his shoulders, the walls on either side of him. "Every man, woman and child born of this village has half form, every one stronger than any werewolf that has had their gene's watered down with human blood. We honor our king by allowing him to join in our battle...but in truth, we were looking forward to it."

"Well, Damn," Wallace said laughing loud enough to make dust fall around them and make more than a few of their crew nervous. "Looks like the odds are now in our favor."Wallace wondered if everyone else picked up that Adam called human's the cousin instead of the wolf.

The ride to the reclusive pack had been silent and somber. Now he had a renewed pep in his step. There were fifty men from the pack allowed to fight, all married, all with son's to carry on their line, and of the fifty fighting, there were a hundred and fifty more with the women and children. Men who were older, men who had not married or married men who had no sons and every male under the age of twenty-five, regardless of marital status of children born because the pack decided to draw the line somewhere on too young. Wallace couldn't wait to bring Freya here. It could be their first vacation. With fifty wolf-men _plus_ Maximus and the King, shit, Alfred was going to need three hundred men...at least.

The fifty men that were waiting for the hunters and wolves were all in half-form. Fifty wolf-men was an impressive site and the group that came with the king took a moment to take in the sight of them. That every person in the village had a half form was unheard of. It had almost become a myth even among them. Until Jean Rene, it had been hundreds of years since one had been seen. As Wallace looked over the fifty forms, all over seven feet, all heavily muscled and scary as hell even standing completely still, he thought of Alfred's words at the council meeting. He was worried about the evolution of the wolf and it seemed like he might be on to something after all. If they got lucky he'd meet his end tonight.

## Chapter

## 24

Alfred was bold. Bolder than anyone would have guessed given that every other attack was a surprise. Of course, he didn't know his arrival was anticipated or that the people he was coming to slaughter was the strongest of their kind. In short, Alfred and his army of Executioners were heard long before the battle cry that rang through the night. True to his word, mystery man was right. There were only a hundred men, but unlike the raids reported from all over the country every man that came with him was a trumped up soldier complete with flaming blue sword. That, they weren't expecting.

Wallace half form punched through his human skin like a mini-explosion. He'd been prepared to fight human. He ducked an Executioner's sword, dragging claws across the chest plate that was reinforced with metal. It left tattered claw marks across the chest but didn't do any harm to the hunter so Wallace reached around the man before he had a chance to turn and ripped out his throat.

He faced off against two hunters each taking turns coming in for the kill. His leg was cut down to the bone, and a gash was opened on his back before he grabbed the sword of one, slicing open his hands, pulling the hunter to him and biting down on his head with enough force to crush his skull. A blow to his back turned him around and before he could do much more than release the first fighter, a pack wolfman was right there twisting the hunters head, breaking his neck.

He barely had time to marvel at his rapidly healing wounds, he was in the middle of a goddamn massacre. He leaned back, out of the path of a sword that came inches from his face then ducked as the same sword tried a second time to decapitate his ass. He spun, kicked his leg out and swept the fighter of his feet. He was on top of the downed man before the dust settle from the fall. The fighting leathers they wore protected everything but hands and head. Wallace pinned the hunter's arms with his knees, held his head up and ripped out the man's windpipe. Blood and meat filled his mouth and he felt a little of his humanity slip. It was how werewolves went rogue, the taste of human flesh turning them to something closer to the natural wolf than human. With great reluctance he spit out the mouthful of Executioner and rejoined the rest of his battling brethren. None of the Blood Moon pack was worrying about becoming rogue. They were chewing while they fought. The Gods' had heard his prayer. They were going to win.

There was only one woman in battle and her cry was a siren for every wolf that came with Jean Rene. Naked and bloodied, Wallace ran as fast as he could to the sound of a woman who'd become a little sister. He skidded to a stop when he saw why she cried. He dropped to his knees, his breath hitching from the exertion of the run and from what lay five yards before him: Thomas Wolfe, motionless on the ground. Howls joined Virginia's cries for her downed father.

Wesley and Lawrence both fell beside their sister. Their fighting leathers covered in gore, ripped and sliced from the battle. Wesley was in shock and Lawrence had fat tears making clean lines on his dirty face.

"Virginia," Maximus said in a voice no one expected to hear coming from the man who turned into a beast scarier than any ever seen. "We need to take your father to your mother."

"No," Virginia said, but no one thought she was saying no about moving his body, only her disbelief that her father was truly gone. "Daddy, please."

"Virginia," Wesley said.

"No!" She screamed yanking her arm from her brother's grip.

"What happened?" Wallace asked stunned at the scene in front of him. Thomas was...indestructible.

"Virginia and I were separated," Constantine answered next to him, his voice low and thick with emotion, "I wasn't going to get to her in time. Thomas...he took the blow that would have killed Virginia."

Wallace shook his head because words just wouldn't past his lips. Thomas dying was bad, but Virginia... If she'd been the one lying on the ground, that would have driven most of the men crazy.

"Virginia," Maximus said kneeling next to the girl and laying a great palm on her shoulder.

"Maximus," the plea for the mighty beast to explain how this terrible thing had happened broke his heart a little.

"I have nothing to say that will make this any better, for that, I am sorry. Your father was an honorable man...strong and fierce in battle. He died a warrior and saved many wolves in this village. He will forever be in the history of the werewolf as a great champion for our kind. Be sad, morn, but celebrate these great accomplishments."

Virginia nodded and swallowed, wiping her face. She took her brother's offered hands and stood and then looked for her husband whom Wallace had a sneaking suspicion was hiding from his wife.

"Mon Amour," she said holding her hand out.

Constantine abandoned his spot behind Wallace—a pretty shitty hiding spot since he was on his knees and while the man was short he wasn't that short—and went to his wife. She didn't fall into his arms but hugged him tight for a second before nodding to Maximus who'd picked up Thomas. A path was cleared as the giant walked through hundreds of silent people.

"What of our mystery man," Wallace asked Jean Rene who looked much like Wallace felt.

"Either dead on this field or retreated with the few that escaped."

"And you're sure some got away?"

"Positive, Alfred's body has yet to be found." He paused taking in a long drag of breath. "We'll leave half of the men here to help clean up. You, Constantine, Maximus, Thomas's children and I will deliver his body home to his wife."

"Forgive me Milord," Adam said stepping up from his wife's side. The women and children had come from their hiding space, which could not have been very far away if the entire village had already reached them. "Allow us to clean our land of these invaders."

"Adam, I would not dare leave your beautiful valley in such a state," Jean Rene said.

"Yes, well, you may old but our ways are foreign to you. I'm afraid that the wolves you leave behind won't understand and the hunters may be...disturbed by our disposal of the bodies."

The pit of Wallace's stomach started to feel heavy and more than a little queasy.

"You eat them," Jean Rene said. Adam nodded. The king looked at the alpha of the pack long enough for Wallace to think he was going to disagree, maybe even be outraged. But the king nodded. "Then let us leave you to it."

Adam dropped to his knee. The rest of his pack did the same. Wallace wasn't sure but they hadn't lost many, maybe less than a dozen, which made the sting of losing Thomas that much worst, but not as bad as knowing that the people in the village probably didn't need their help. Adam had called man their cousins and he'd seen why during the battle. Or maybe what he called battle, they called dinner.

**-**

The doors to the castle were thrown open and an endless stream of people filed out of the double doors until the gravel drive was crowded. Jean Rene had called ahead and warned Diana of their loss. Wallace looked for two people, Freya and Lillian, but they were absent, as was Nonakris.

Watson came to them first, the spokesman for the house staff. He bowed long and deep from the waist, "Our deepest sympathy for you loss, Milord."

Wesley and Lawrence came around the SUV parked ahead of the one carrying their father's body followed by Constantine and Virginia. She'd cried when her father first fell, took comfort in her husband's arm a second and now she looked as strong as her brothers, more so. Wallace was worried. He recognized the look in her eyes. He'd seen it enough in the mirror after the death of his family.

Wallace could smell the grief of Lillian seconds before she spoke. It watered his eyes and closed his throat. "Thomas," she spoke from the front door.

Josephine and Diana bookended her but stood a step behind her as if she'd needed aid to make it to the door and then found strength to stand once she breached the castle's walls. Wallace had no idea how the woman stood under the crushing weight of loss so strong that even Diana's wolves were whimpering and walked around her feet like choppy waters, pausing, butting their heads on legs, rubbing their bodies along hers and then going to Diana whose hand offered them little comfort this time.

Lillian walked to the children who remained exactly where they'd stopped and beneath Lillian's grief was Wesley's and Lawrence's shame of not protecting their father and beneath that hatred so deep, so complete it called to Wallace's baser self. His wolf stirred, ready for another fight. One that would leave him and his enemy bloodied and half dead, he was going to speak to Constantine sooner, rather than later about his wife.

The four Wolfe's fell into each other arms, the big bodies of the boys folding around their mother, drawing some of the strength she had, Virginia held stiffly between them. The boys finally cried, wails that brought long sorrowful howls from Diana's wolves. When they broke their embrace Maximus came forward and dropped to his knees, his head bowed, his hands planted on the ground. The rest of the werewolves followed suit. Lillian looked at the lowered werewolf god long moments before resting her hand on his shoulder. A breath not unlike a great gust of wind left his lungs before he raised his head. He was so tall even kneeling he barely had to lift his head to plant the kiss on Lillian's chin.

Wallace didn't try to stop the stream of tears. Lillian, like everyone else who lived in the castle, was more than a little nervous around Maximus. He was a little bit sociopath, and a whole lot serial killer. He was an ally and a werewolf but no one fooled themselves into believing he was anything they'd ever come across save Geri and Freki, and only a chosen few had ever seen them. She put her arms around the giant and held him while he too mourned the falling of a man that everyone had great respect for and loved. Jean Rene was their king, Maximus their God. Thomas, years, decades younger had become their surrogate father: level-headed, fair, a pillar of strength and a wealth of knowledge.

"Thank you," she whispered, "For bringing Thomas back."

"No," Maximus choked, "I failed you."

Lillian shook her head and gently pushed the man back enough to see his face. She thumbed away tears from the corner of his eyes and Wallace stood in awe as she offered the man a comforting smile. "You brought him home to his family. You didn't fail me, Maximus."

Maximus golden eyes began to glow, under ordinary circumstances it was a bad sign. He lowered his head and whispered, "Thank you, Mother Wolf."

Wallace looked for Freya and found her rooted at the front opening. As if he'd called her name aloud she looked at him, her bottom lip quivering her arms tight around her midsection, comforting herself. The crushing weight of Lillian's grief lightened and he went to his mate. She buried her face in his neck.

"Come, Fleur," he whispered.

He mourned the loss of Thomas but Freya came first and foremost, especially in her condition. He walked her back into the house.

"No, take me home," she said.

They stopped only long enough to offer kisses to Lillian. The walk to the den was long, the woods eerily silent. They entered the den and lay down on the moss hugging each other close, comforting each other.

"I've wanted a family for so long. I only thought about the happy times I was missing out on. This hurts so much."

"Yes," Wallace agreed.

"I'm so glad you came back," she said breaking down into full sobs. "God, help me, I'm so glad you're here, even if it means someone else died."

"Do you think for one minute I would feel any differently," Wallace asked. "I'd wish the world dead, if it meant you and my children alive."

"Wallace, I just don't know if I can do this again," she said lifting away from him, "We were so worried. Even Josephine, which is weird seeing as Maximus is the only one that can't die."

"It's not death that worries her, it's the pain Maximus experience."

"She explained, but all I could think about was how...wrong, she was. It was like the rich bitching about their caviar being served in glass and not crystal. I feel horrible," she said.

"Rest, Fleur. Just let me hold you. I need to feel your body whole and safe."

"Safe," Freya mimicked and actually fell asleep in record time.

Wallace couldn't sleep; he rested his hand on the side of her stomach and couldn't wait for her to be waddling weight. He hoped she gained fifty pounds, if he was lucky eighty. He'd been like her, looking for family and now that he had it, the thought of losing her was terrifying.

**-**

Freya woke up with a big palm over her face. She opened her eyes to a very serious Wallace, whose face was so close she could feel his breath on her temple.

"Freya, there's someone in the woods. I need you to go back to the castle while I track."

He removed his hand and she whispered. "I'm not leaving you."

"You will do as I say, woman," he said through gritted teeth.

"No, don't do this to me. Not after Thomas. Don't leave me Wallace."

He took a deep breath, swallowed his heart and then tried to regulate said heart's beat and nodded once. "Stay behind me, if we seen anything I will order you away from me."

They climbed out of the den and Wallace took one deep breath and growled. The sound was so spooky that her skin pebbled and every hair on her body rose. Before she could say a word Wallace half-form punched through his human one and he disappeared into the woods. Freya ran after him. Even out of sight she followed, there was no stealth in the "tracking" he was like a bull in a china shop. She ran full speed, pushing low hanging branches out of her way, jumping over roots and ran right into a fight between two big ass bears.

The two beasts were standing on their hind legs locked up. The sounds were ferocious, their teeth as large as her fingers and claws as long as her forearm. They were massive. Freya looked around for a weapon, settled on a nearby branch that had fallen. She positioned it over her shoulder and waited for the right moment to swing. The bears released each other from the embrace and fell on all fours, huffing and roaring at each other, which is when Freya noticed the tall black woman on the opposite side of the fight. She wasn't looking the least bit freaked out about stumbling upon a bear fight. A bear fight were one of the bears was suppose to be a fucking werewolf. She refocused on the fight. The black bear was now on top of the brown one. Freya ran to the locked beasts and swung with all her might breaking the unfortunately rotten wood over the black bear's head. He turned, roaring in her face. Freya, who never, ever gave up in a fight or backed down, picked up a rock and threw it with all her might, smashing the bear in his face, drawing blood. The bear forgot all about Wallace. He stood before Freya at least eight feet tall. He took a single step and Wallace was there...in half-form, throwing the bear across the small clearing the fight was taken place in. The bear was up and charging before the sound of the splintering tree stop echoing in the woods. The two, wolfman and bear, collided and Freya almost cried when she saw wolves bursting through thick foliage.

"Holy shit," the black woman said beside Freya. Holy shit was right because Maximus had shown up and while Freya had seen him stand almost fourteen feet tall after Alexis had bitten Var. Now he made that version of Maximus look like a dwarf. His hulk like ability to get bigger the angrier he got was just one more thing thrown on the crazy pile that had become her life.

"Enough," the black woman yelled and the black bear instantly stopped fighting. Wallace did not. The great were-man opened the bear's chest with his claws.

"Why...you...mother—" the woman said making a move on Wallace.

Freya grabbed her by her hair pulling her back. The woman turned, raising her hand ready to slap, or more than likely, punch Freya but her hand was caught by a man. A very naked man, his hair and beard matched the fur of his bear.

"Now, lovely, women in your condition shouldn't be fighting." He kissed the knuckles on her still fisted hand.

"She started it," the woman said.

"Leontyne," he warned.

She pouted. "Fine."

"Who the fuck are you?" Freya asked the two of them.

"Furious Payne," Wallace growled.

"Really...Furious Payne," Freya said raising an eyebrow.

"Bitch," Wallace order called her to him. He was still in half-from and she half expected him to push her behind him or throw her over his shoulder and dash off into the woods.

"What did you call her," the woman—Leontyne—said and damn if she didn't look like she was ready to throw down in Freya's defense.

"It's a pet name, lovely" Furious said. Furious turned to Wallace; held his arms out wide and yell, "Brother!"

"Is it just me or have you noticed that every mythological creature is fine as hell," Leontyne whispered to Freya.

Freya nodded. "Even the human men are a ten," she said. She dipped her head in the direction of the half of dozen Odin soldiers in the room.

"You have a point," Leontyne said.

"So would you like to explain," Wallace asked. "And just so we're clear, I'm no brother of yours."

"Really, this old fight." Rob said. "You married the same goddamn woman," he said pointing to Leontyne and Freya. Both women looked at each other. One black, the other white but other than skin tone they really were very similar: both over six feet, both athletic in build, both fighters.

Virginia, Constantine, Lillian and Alexis were all missing. Maximus and Josephine were also missing. The giant had left the clearing the second he realized there was no real threat present. For some reason Freya wasn't entirely sure he wasn't digging a giant hole somewhere and putting his family plus the King and Queen's son in it.

"What in the fuck is going on," Wallace bellowed.

"Beserker," Leontyne said.

"What?" Wallace said, exasperation thick in his voice.

"Odin's army," Freya said. Wallace looked at her. She shrugged. "What, I can read, you know."

"Furious is a shape shifter bear and werewolf."

"Impossible," Wallace said.

"Very possible," Furious said crossing his leg ankle to knee. Freya averted her eyes because the man was still naked.

"Do you mind," Wallace seethed.

"You were never the modest one before, Wallace," Furious said. His voice was grating even for Freya, as he tried to bait her mate. "Besides, at least I'm sitting." The man had a point. Wallace was naked too.

"Oh, my, God," Rob said standing and going to a butler just entering the room with two robes. The only person big enough to have clothes that may fit was Wallace or Maximus. No one was asking Maximus and Wallace had already said no. So it was kind of his fault the man was still naked sitting in front of her flashing his naughty bits at her and the room. Rob threw a robe at Furious who caught it with one hand. He stood and took his sweet time putting it on. Freya tried not to smile. He reminded her so much of Wallace. Rob threw the next robe at Wallace.

"What in the hell are you smiling about," Wallace asked. He was...furious. She couldn't help it, she started laughing. "I'm warning you, Fleur."

"I know," she said still laughing. Harder.

"For once, I agree with Wallace, can you please explain what is going on Furious." Rob said.

"When I met Jean Rene I was already a shape-shifter. Of course most of my kind don't live on earth. But you know the story...a berserker meets a woman, falls in love, moves to earth. A few other followed suit and that's how our kind ended up here.

"So you let Jean Rene turn you," Freya asked. "Why?"

"Why not," Berserker have always known of werewolves, we existed before, some can take the shape of a wolf."

"Fascinating," Rob said.

"Indeed," Maximus said.

The room turned. Furious moved closer to Leontyne.

"Who is the woman you brought with you?" Maximus asked, his eyes glowing, the twin suns swirling, making the already menacing man look downright murderous.

"How do you know," Leontyne asked.

Rob stood, he didn't pull a weapon but he was suddenly on high alert as was the rest of the room.

"You mistake me for something that I am not," Maximus said.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Wallace sat down. He'd been pacing non-stop since they'd come back to the castle now. He flopped down on the couch next to Freya and smiled.

"You bring a woman and hide her presence from the people in this house. Our family has been through a lot in the last twenty four hours, your family has experience great loss. A brother has fallen in battle. We are facing an enemy the wolf has never seen before and you show up with a woman who has no scent"

"No scent," Freya said, "What does that mean."

"Everyone...everything has a scent," Wallace said sitting on the edge of his seat looking interested instead of amused.

"She also has no heartbeat."

"I'm confused...no heartbeat," Freya said, joining Wallace on the edge of the couch. "They brought a corpse with them?"

"No, she moves, but does not breathe, has no scent but of the two sitting there," Maximus said motioning towards the couple.

"Again, I say, what in the fuck is going on," Wallace said turning to Furious and Leontyne.

"My patience grows thin bear. Explain yourself or I will kill you, your mate and the woman. I will clean my teeth with the bones of the young resting in her belly."

"Is he serious," Leontyne asked putting a protective hand on her stomach. Freya didn't miss her other hand moved to her side. She'd bet all of Wallace's crown jewels it's where a weapon hid.

"How do you know where she is," Rob asked.

Maximus didn't break eye-contact. "I am a god. I know lots of things."

There was a second of complete silence then Wallace and Freya both laughed at the answer.

"Excuse me," Furious said.

"What..." Leontyne said.

"Maximus is Fenrir incarnate," Wallace clarified.

Furious stood, "Truly, one of the trio, here on earth. I didn't know."

"So you know," Freya asked.

"Of course, as I said, Berserker are older than the event that led to the creation of the heavenly wolf."

"Heavenly wolf," Wallace raised an eyebrow.

"A Norse god, materialize in a field from a beam of light from the heavens accompanied by two wolves. One wolf gives birth. He then gives a human boy the ability to turn into a wolf in order to offer protection for the child after giving the wolf pup a human form. So yes, the werewolf was named heavenly wolves long before any other name was given to them."

"Alright, I'll take that," Freya said.

"Quickly," Maximus said to Furious and he did that thing where he grew in size. His voice was lower, thicker, and dangerous. If his glowing eyes said anything at all, they said that Furious Payne had better hurry up with an explanation. One that satisfied the great growing beast in the room, or he was not going to survive.

## Chapter

## 25

Thomas had been alone that fateful night he'd saved her. She remembered it as if it was only yesterday. The sound of something crashing through the bush to her left as she made her way home from a night out with friends. She'd been a little tipsy, but not drunk. She'd been raised better than to go out alone, a single woman, and get drunk. She was still smiling at the conversation she'd just left about her being an old maid. She was far from old but the last of her friends still single. No potential husband in sight and to be honest, at the ripe old age of twenty-three she hadn't thought about getting married. She was fresh out of college and had plans of traveling the world, of seeing things her family and friends had never seen and making all the women green with envy, and maybe even a little jealously. They'd settled on marriage and family, she wanted more.

When the wolf broke through the bushes she'd been immobilized by not only fear but confusion, and even as her frightened mind recognized it as a wolf it was too big. It's back came to her chest. She was a small woman but not that small. She hadn't ran because she knew it'd give chase so she stood her ground hoping help would materialize out of thin air. Then the wolf attacked. She threw her arm up; the pad of its paw caught her arm, its claws, her face. She'd felt no pain, just the sensation of something wet on her face and chest. Then she was on the ground with the beast straddling her body. She knew she was as good as dead. She thought back on her short life. There was no regret; she'd been loved by her parents. Parents she was grateful were dead. No parent should outlive a child. That belief was proven true when her oldest died. She hadn't thought she would survive it, even with the family motto echoing in her head: By blood and sword I live and die. But in the years she'd been married to Thomas it was just that—a motto. The wolves in their tiny corner of the world were civilized. The one that had almost killed her had been a lone wolf passing through.

As she closed her eyes, resigned to her fate, the weight of the animal disappeared. She was blinded by her blood but the sound of battle was thick in her ears until at last a voice, deep, so deep it resonated in her bones told her she was going to be alright. She'd believed him, trusted him. He picked her up and carried her to a truck, laid her down with such tenderness and care all the while talking her through the shock that threatened her sanity. When she woke up in the hospital there he was, standing in all his six foot three inch glory. The most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Hair as black as a raven's wing, three days worth of beard, and if she had to guess, the same clothes he'd worn when he came to her rescue: Black leather, deeply gouged and covered in dried blood. She reached out for him, or tried, her arm weighed a ton. He took her hand and her heart. He'd apologized for not getting to her in time. She couldn't talk, the injuries to her face had been major. She was lucky to still have her eye. Her jaw had been wired, her face on fire from the stitches. He sat next to the bed, not speaking just looking. It was Thomas who gave her a mirror to let her see her ruin face for the first time. Thomas who held her as she cried because yes, vanity said she was no longer attractive, Thomas, who whispered over and over how beautiful she was. Now her Thomas was gone, both of them.

Her shaky hand squeezed excess water from the cloth and she wiped away the last of the blood from his face. It was unmarked. So handsome, even now it was hard to think him anything but asleep, but that was a fool's dream. Her husband, her life-mate was dead. The sob threatened to steal her soul. She bit down and swallowed the lump, afraid if she allowed the grief out it would consume her. Their son's passing had been hard on them but like everything else in the last thirty years they'd faced it together, holding each other as they mourned their lost child. What would she do now that her rock was gone? How could she ever recover from this loss? It was too much even for the spouse of a Wolf Hunter.

She washed the rag out again and moved lower, his neck. She cleaned his body a section at a time, looking one last time at the perfect specimen that had been her husband. She'd keep in touch with those friends that had teased her in the beginning, but time and Thomas's work pulled apart those friendships. She hadn't cared; she had a new life, a secret life. As it turned out, Thomas had been enough. She remembered when Tommy was born. How proud Thomas had been, it was there in the hospital, with Tommy in his father's arms that the conversation was had. Thomas offered her his resignation from the life he'd been groomed for since he was old enough to walk. She'd refused it. Since the attacked she'd met and befriended many of the wolves that lived in their small town. Never in a million years had she thought her life would end up here. A world away from the small Southern town she'd called home, an ocean away from the United States, living in a castle with a werewolf king and queen, Thomas and their children fighting their own family, her daughter a Countess and married to a man old enough to be a great grandfather, Tommy dead, Lawrence fighting every night and Wesley training to do the same.

The first tear escaped and threw open the gates. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to mute the cries but it was just a matter of time before her weakness was discovered. She had to be strong for her children. Virginia, the beautiful daughter who'd grown up to be as strong as her father and brothers held the weight of her father's death on her strong shoulders. The killing blow meant for her. She was sick with grief and damn near blind with hate. No, she didn't have time for a full meltdown. That's not how Wolfe women were put together.

"Daughter, mine."

The sound of the man's voice raised her head and before she had half a thought she put her body protectively over her husband's, her hand grabbing the sword that was next to his body. She wasn't a hunter but she was strong, she could fight if she needed to. In their kind of work it would be stupid not to.

The shadowy figure in the corner took a step that put him in the light. He wasn't a big man, but he wasn't as delicate as her son-in-law. He was built more like the king. So much so, she thought of Diana and Josephine. The man held his hands out to show he wasn't armed, and he didn't mean her harm.

"Who are you?" Lillian asked straightening from her hovered position. She kept the sword, tightened her grip.

The man looked down at Thomas. "He was a worthy mate. No, father could have disapproved."

"Who are you," Lillian repeated. She widened her stance, prepared to drop the questions and let Thomas's sword do the talking if she didn't start getting some answers.

"Afi was ours, Cynric, only mine."

"Freki," Lillian said. She knew the story of the wolf. Why was the wolf here? Had he called her daughter?

"Yes," he said looking back at Thomas. There was respect and mourning in his face. "I knew you were here when I came to witness the birth of my grandchildren. Your presence called me."

"I don't understand. How is this possible?"

"How could it not," he asked and Lillian realized that his lips were not moving. He was speaking directly in her head. "Cynric's people were among the first of what this world called _homo-sapiens_ , his blood flows in the veins of many of earth's inhabitants. His human mating did not produce many offspring. Any power passed between father and son was minimal; none at all was passed to the daughters. But I know my own," he paused. "I feel your pain. So strong, it called to me. I am sorry."

"Why?" she asked. The single syllable word choppy as the tears started again. "Why didn't you help them, like you help Diana and Jean Rene? If you knew I was one of yours, why did you save Diana and not my husband, my mate? Those were your grandchildren fighting tonight. Virginia, Wesley, Lawrence. They needed you too."

"Geri was here and I go where she goes. I protect my mate."

Lillian nodded. That she understood. It wasn't living in a house full of werewolves, it from being on the receiving end of love equally as strong, or having been, the thought of Thomas being gone stole her breath and she started to cry uncontrollably, dropping the sword, wrapping her arms around her middle. The hurt was immeasurable; she had no one to share it with, to lighten the burden.

"Mére loup," he whispered, now right beside her. She fell into his arms and found comfort in an ageless wolf in human form. "Be at ease, my wolf."

The words were spoken from worlds away, and even as Lillian fell into something that was not quite sleep she welcomed it. She had the rest of her life to learn to live without Thomas.

Freki lifted Lillian in his arms and carried her to the secret passage in the corner of the room. He knew the castle well. He'd been wandering it for months, first watching Jean Rene, and then Fenrir. He'd allowed Fenrir freedom and his life only because Geri begged him. It didn't mean that he trusted the great beast with their child. But he soon saw Maximus loved Josephine, no, he worshiped her, as it should be.

He and Geri were spending most of their time in earth's realm, watching over their grandchildren and their daughter, Afi. But Cynric took care of her, kept her safe, never leaving her side again once they found each other. He'd grown stronger as an adult. No human a threat. Freki stepped into the room Lillian and Thomas shared in the castle and placed her on their bed. He sat next to her and smoothed the wrinkle between her brow with his thumb, even in sleep she mourned. The arrival of Odin stirred his true form, he was still an animal, still had a master to serve. He leaned down and kissed Lillian's cheek, scarred from an attack that had been more a forced mating gone wrong. No child of Cynric and his human wife had really produced strong wolves but there was something in Lillian. Her wolf's scent was stronger. Fenrir would notice, now that her human mate was dead.

But there was another.

And he was on his way to claim his mate.

####
