Playing Lycan Games

  Playing Lycan Games

  Anh Leod

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Playing Lycan Games

  COPYRIGHT © 2009 Anh Leod

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Angela Anderson

  The Wild Rose Press

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com

  Publishing History

  First Scarlet Rose Edition, May 2009

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  For Leander

  Chapter One

  Under the waning moon, the wolf sniffed the evening air. He smelled green shrubs and purple grapes, car exhaust, warm bodies, and wine from his position outside a square cedar-planked building full of humans. All were enticing, familiar aromas, though he wasn’t sure what had brought him into civilization tonight.

  He tilted his head this way and that, until he caught a scent, much fainter now, on the wind. He recognized the female. His female? The thought triggered some indefinable change deep inside and the wolf panicked, scraping the dry dirt with his paws in preparation to run. Should he flee back into the hills, the woods? No, the compulsion, the pull of the woman, was too great. The great creature blinked then began to transform.

  First, the fur receded from his body. His bones changed painfully, remolding into shapes meant for a different musculature. The elegance was still there, but the form was new. Claws became nails, paws became hands, ears changed position on his head. Now, he stood upright.

  When the wolf was man, strong yet vulnerable, he reached for the pack the wolf had held in his teeth during his long journey and unzipped it to find clothes—a gray suit and white shirt, not so different from the coloring of the wolf. Who had packed it? He pushed sockless feet into soft dark shoes that somehow matched the suit. Then, standing, he pulled one last small item from the pack and tossed the empty bag behind a dumpster.

  The wallet opened and he squinted at it in the moonlight, finding an Oregon driver’s license. Was that his name—Jem Valentine? The face was thirtysomething.

  He had a cleft in his chin, five-o’clock shadow, long, chocolate-colored sideburns, and a fringe of unruly curls on his forehead. Fingering his chin, Jem found the cleft. Scattered details of his life before the wolf flashed by. He blinked in his human form now, as his brain slowly began to process human thought. Jem wondered how he could forget his human life so quickly once he became the wolf.

  His lungs expanded with the scent of the night, but he could no longer say what the wolf found memorable. He folded the wallet and placed it in the inside jacket pocket.

  His woman waited for him. He went in search of the building’s entrance.

  —

  Catee tucked her camera into the voluminous shoulder bag she always carried and accepted a tasting glass from a waiter. Technically, she was here to shoot photos for an updated brochure the Columbia Hood Winery had commissioned, as they did every August, but she wasn’t about to say no to a fine glass of merlot. Besides, it might relax her for the sensual game she had planned for later.

  “Thanks.” She smiled until the man moved on, then gently swirled the glass and breathed in the fragrance of the grapes, watching a crowd of two dozen tourists mill around the room’s tasting stations. The chattering melted away as she took her first velvety sip of wine and thought vaguely of photographing the tasting party. The merlot slid smoothly across her tongue. She could drink the entire half glass without noticing, especially if she started talking to someone.

  Catee hadn’t eaten that day and didn’t have much of a head for wine, so she glanced around, searching for munchies. There was a crudités platter on a table in the center of the room, but it was already down to the last wilted inch of celery. All that remained was a glass bowl of cellophanewrapped fortune cookies, so she shrugged and grabbed one before the tourists gobbled them up as well. She couldn’t leave in search of food right now.

  Hungry, she unwrapped it quickly. When she had downed half the cookie, she glanced at the fortune peeping out of the other half. The message was intriguing, to say the least.

  A romantic mystery will add interest to your life.

  She smiled. A romantic mystery, well if that wasn’t the absolute definition of—

  A man entered through French doors that opened onto a patio. His face had strong planes, as if the same sculptor who’d carved the south hillside along the Columbia River had chiseled him too. To her photographer’s eye, the hills looked unfinished, like the sculptor had found another project and drifted away. But this man’s face suited his expression, body, and clothing perfectly. He looked strong, cool and collected…and enticing. Eyes of dark coal danced above a long, firm rose-colored mouth, which quirked when he caught her staring.

  “See something you like?” he asked, walking over.

  Catee drank in the sight of him for one long moment, then handed him her fortune. “I was just thinking you looked like a romantic mystery.”

  His smile widened as he glanced at the slip of paper. He had large, square white teeth. She thought of Little Red Riding Hood. Maybe he wanted to gobble her up. A pleasant shiver ran down her spine at the thought.

  “A touch of whimsy. I like that in a woman.”

  He was sinfully gorgeous, from the mussed hair right down to the dusty shoes. His mere presence made her skin tingle. Her nipples were tightening under her business-like blouse and she could tell he’d noticed. Maybe she’d suggest they leave together now and not waste any time with their usual games. She tilted her head flirtatiously, thinking about how he might nibble her neck with those teeth. The sensitive skin on her neck sent messages straight to her pussy when it was teased.

  Welcoming messages. Sex messages.

  The tasting room manager sidled up to them and plucked the last bit of wilted celery from the tray, tucking it into the pocket of her apron. “Can I get you a glass of wine, sir? I believe you just arrived?”

  “What do you have available this evening?” The man kept his eyes on Catee while he spoke to the manager.

  “You might like the Sangiovese,” she said, touching a curl of bright hair resting on her shoulder. “It’s rich, earthy, and spicy with a taste of fruit.”

  “Very good,” he said in an intimate tone that left Catee wondering what he meant. He was focused on her as if she was the only woman in the room.

  As her breath caught in her throat, she deduced he was a man so used to having subordinates that he barely noticed them. Did he have employees? A company? She suspected he did. How had he remained so mysterious?

  “Tell me about yourself,” she suggested, taking another sip of wine.

  The overhead lights added a sheen to his lower lip. “I don’t have much to tell. Besides, you’re more interesting.”

  Her stomach tightened, whether from pique or a lack of food she wasn’t sure. Mystery was a less appealing part of the game tonight, though she wasn’t sure why. “That isn’t true.”

  He gestured to the camera hanging at her side.

  “Working?”

  “Whenever someone will pay the bill,” she said lightly. Not that getting her bills paid was a problem these days, but it had been another matter eight year
s ago when she was just starting out. This job at the winery had been an important anchor for her career. “But I have the rest of the weekend to myself.”

  “Are you staying around here?”

  She nodded, playing along. “At the Damview Hotel.”

  “Nice views,” the man commented. His teeth flashed. “At the hotel, I mean.”

  The corners of her mouth tilted up at his joke.

  “Been there before?” she teased.

  She watched the man’s slow blink, could almost see his brain processing. The low hum of voices in the room increased as someone told a joke and a group of people laughed.

  “I believe so.”

  “I’m only here a couple times a year,” she said, as if that was new information. “Once to do the winery brochure update and once for the holiday greeting card.”

  He pushed his hands into the pockets of his suit pants and rocked his pelvis forward.

  She couldn’t help but notice the bulge in his pants. Her fingers clasped then unclasped in response to the impressive bump noticeable through the fine gray fabric. She wanted to touch, to mold the contours of his flesh in her hand.

  “Do you have friends in the area?” he asked.

  “How did you get the job?”

  She’d never been entirely clear on the details herself. “The owner offered me the job.”

  “You know the owner?” the tasting room manager asked, frankly curious, as she returned just in time to hear Catee’s comment and brought the man his wine. “I’ve never even seen him. He only communicates by email.”

  Catee glanced at the man, but he said nothing.

  “He’s elusive.”

  The woman touched her hair again. “I’ve heard he’s rich. Think he’s single?”

  Catee smiled at the woman’s eager question. “I couldn’t say. Just emails for me too.”

  “I’d sure love some Prince Charming to snap me up,” the woman commented wistfully. Every part of her was tiny, doll-like, and perfect, as if painstakingly molded into the physical standard of a fairy book princess. Catee hadn’t seen her here before. She’d probably taken the job to meet a rich tourist.

  “I’m Catee,” she said, holding out her hand.

  “You’re new?”

  “Briana,” the woman said, taking Catee’s hand and shaking it. “I’ve only been here since May.”

  “Thank you for the wine. We have everything we need now,” the man said, dismissing Briana as he raised the glass to his lips and drank deeply.

  Catee thought he was being rude and Briana picked up his vibe too. The woman’s skin flushed.

  “Enjoy your wine,” she said in a brittle tone, then moved back behind a tasting table, her perfect perky butt tilting with each step.

  “You don’t find her attractive?” Catee asked.

  “She’s exquisite.”

  “Not my type.” He put a finger under Catee’s chin, tilting her head up for his perusal. “You, on the other hand, are exactly my type.”

  “Tall?” Catee felt her cheeks heat under his gaze. The rest of the blood in her body pooled south.

  She spread her legs slightly.

  “Athletic.”

  “Oh. Well, I do keep active.” A vision of bodies thrashing on sheets flashed through her mind. But that didn’t happen nearly often enough.

  “Want to get out of here?” the man asked, setting the empty glass and her paper fortune on a tray.

  “No more verbal foreplay?” Catee asked as he released her chin. “No more charm? No seductive moves?”

  His nostrils flared. “I can smell your heat.”

  She had been trying to ignore the moist warmth building in her pussy, the way she responded to his untamed scent, but noticed a growing thickness in his pants as well. What was it about her that aroused him? What was it about him that aroused her? She felt like she could crawl right out of her skin. Was it simple animal magnetism? He had plenty.

  “It is August,” she countered, hoping to prolong their dance. “Maybe it’s sweat.”

  He glanced around them, then took a step toward her, inexorably moving her backward until she could feel cool glass behind her back. He blocked her from view and then, before she could protest, his thick fingers pinched her left nipple through her silk blouse.

  Her mouth opened in shock. A dagger of delight bit into her belly and her clit tightened into a strung out bundle of nerves. She was outraged, she was excited. His move might be more blatant than seductive, but it was also exactly what her body craved. What it always craved when she came here.

  “It was pouting for me,” the man said.

  “We’re in public,” she protested. Not that it wasn’t a turn on to think people might be watching.

  But the hum in the room hadn’t increased again.

  She glanced over his broad shoulder, saw Briana watching them, hunger in her eyes. As the women’s glances caught, the manager turned away.

  “Maybe if you’d worn underclothes, I wouldn’t be so tempted.” He moved his shoulders sinuously, his jacket hugging his well-developed upper body.

  Was it that obvious? She folded her arms over her chest and assumed a snotty tone. “It’s hot. That doesn’t mean I want to be pounced on.”

  His expression was the smile of a predator sensing his prey was close. “Stop pretending you aren’t drenched in lust for me.”

  “You aren’t that breathtakingly gorgeous,” she blurted, then put her hand to her mouth. Only a half glass of wine and she had already lost her inhibitions.

  Perhaps sensing she had more inhibitions to lose, the man raised a finger to the tasting room manager and Briana arrived with two tasting-size glasses of marionberry port.

  “You’ll love this,” she gushed as if they were complete strangers again. “It’s sweet yet tart, very rich and refreshing.”

  The man took the glasses and turned away, shutting her out of the conversation. Catee was too turned on to care now. Her pussy was vibrating and it wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge. If he touched her again she might even moan aloud.

  She took a glass from him. Her mouth was dry, probably because all the moisture in her body was ripening her for him. His self-assurance was so damn irresistible, and she hadn’t been with a man since last October. Catee couldn’t wait much longer.

  Her nerve endings, especially those in her pussy, were tingling wildly. She needed to stop and think rationally, but what the hell. This was what she wanted. Dinner first might have been sensible, an extension of their pretense, but fast, hot sex now was better.

  She drained the glass, barely tasting the expensive contents. He raised his bulky eyebrows at her action, then saluted her with his glass and drank it down.

  “Let’s go,” she said, taking the glass from his hand and setting it on a tray.

  “No more foreplay?” He was teasing her now, and she knew it.

  “As if you need it. I can tell you’re a man of action.” She touched his biceps, felt the muscles flex in response.

  “I hope you’ve taken proper precautions.”

  “Such as?” Her fingers trailed up his arm and grazed his earlobe. The diamond chip from a ring on her right hand sparkled.

  “How do you know I’m safe?” His eyes glowed, caught by the same light as her ring.

  Her stiletto heels left the ground as she rose, placing her mouth at his ear. “I know you aren’t.”

  She winked at the staring Briana as she tucked her hand around his bicep and pulled him toward the door.

  The French doors he’d entered through were the nearest exit, right next to the window where they stood. She opened them and felt a gentle warm breeze from the river rush over her, cooling her skin, if not her pussy. Her hand released his arm as she delighted in the wind.

  Beyond was a concrete terrace lit with floodlights. She remembered the parking lot was around the other side so she walked toward the east side of the building. It would offer privacy from prying eyes.

  A strong ha
nd on her arm stopped her. “Where are you going? It’s dark over there.”

  She slid her arm around his waist, pulling him near. “Maybe I want darkness.”

  Another step brought them to the edge of the concrete. “The dumpster is in that direction,” he said.

  She wrinkled her nose and turned. “We’ll go the other way.”

  His chuckle mingled with the breeze from the river and swelled around her, mysterious but very romantic all the same. The jacket under her arm covered firm, warm flesh.

  “I love August,” she said, stopping to inhale.

  “The air is so soft and silky. It’s almost like being indoors, but there’s a sense of possibility.”

  “What could you possibly do outdoors in August?” he asked, a hint of seduction in his growl.

  Her camera bag and purse dropped to the ground as she leaned against the wall of the winery, away from the windows. She arched her back and relaxed into the dark. The river was a black surface beyond. “Bet you can guess.”

  His hand moved down to cup her ass. She heard his jacket sleeve scrape the wall behind her. “I don’t need to guess. I already know the answer.”

  His fingers tightened and momentary fear rushed through her as his nails bit into her tender flesh. The grip was intimate, but she wished his hand would slide in the other direction and find a place to make contact. Her first orgasm would come hard and fast, but it would be far from the last one she’d experience tonight. She knew he’d make sure of that. His scent had changed now, underscored with a hint of aroused male musk. Her tongue tingled in her mouth, longing to taste him.

  She hooked her foot around the back of his leg and pulled him close, using her arms to bring her body against his. The heat of his erection radiated against her belly. Their wine-soaked breath mingled.

  His fingers rubbed against the cleft of her ass. Her cheeks clenched instinctively.

  Forget dinner. He was running those hard, clever fingers along her hips in little circles that excited her nerve endings. Almost without thought, her feet spread, the stance allowing her to fit one of his thick thighs between her legs. He chuckled again and moved his hands back to her ass, encouraging her to rub against him. The intimate connection made her nerves sing, but she wanted to feel his raw skin against hers.