Desired by the Pack: Part Two: A BBW Paranormal Romance (4 page)

Halfway through the night shift, a bolt of lust shot through January’s nervous system. Her breath exploded from her chest and a wave of
need cramped her abdomen. She grabbed the handicap rail lining the nursing home’s north corridor and fought for composure. To her left, a patient’s door stood open. The Moon glowed bright through the open curtains hanging from the room’s only window.

“Goddess-damned,” she muttered to the pale white orb. She must have miscalculated the start of this cycle, so distracted by relief and disappointment over the negative pregnancy test that she’d lost her ability to count. “This is
not
a good time.”

No time was a good time for the lunar compulsion to mate. Without the ability to shift and become one with the pack in Luminesce, a werewolf was little more than a human with longevity and a sexual curse.

Curse. Yeah, that was the word for it. Physical imperative to fuck, no emotional connection to go with it. Her head was completely cold while her body surged into a high-gear production of lubricant and her inner muscles fluttered a rhythmic warm-up to orgasm. She had suffered through this three-day stretch of sexual hunger every single month of the twelve years since her first Heat cycle. It was beyond old now.

The squeaking wheels of a pharmaceuticals cart alerted her that someone was coming. Grinding her molars together so hard her jaw
ached, she locked her knees and forced her body upright. Her knuckles gleamed white on the handicap rail but she peeled her fingers off the support, one at a time, until she stood on the strength of her own willpower.                    

Prince Duvall, her housemate and the other nurse assigned graveyard that night, turned the corner on his way to delivering mid-shift medications. The sight of him almost knocked her worries right out of her head. January curled her toes hard against the insoles of her clogs. She hadn’t told him of her plan to move.
Hadn’t talked to him about much of anything in weeks. While Prince had returned to work after a few call-outs, they’d worked different floors, and then she was the one out for a time. Coming face to face with him now was awkward, and even more awkward because of the weirdness between them.

He stopped pushing the cart and pointed a
finger at her, like nothing had changed in their relationship. Like neither of them were keeping secrets where they’d never done so before. “You need to call them and go home to deal with this.”

He referred to Beck and the Guardians alpha pack, of course.

She focused on the v-neck of his skull-and-crossbones printed scrub top, hoping he wouldn’t see the longing she felt. “I’m fine. It just caught me by surprise. I lost track of the days.”

“Go home, Jan. You look like you’re going to collapse where you stand.” He didn’t pull any punches with his words, but his tone was kind.

But she didn’t need anybody’s kindness. She needed to survive the coming Heat spell with her dignity and her will intact. “I need to work. It distracts me.”

Nothing like the troubles of an understaffed, over-crowded nursing home to dampen the hormonal fire that would soon tear through her.

“If you don’t go home on your own, I will call them to come get you.” Prince started pushing the cart again. As he drew even with her he stopped again and added, “Do not be punched in when I finish this round.”

She finally met his eyes and saw the concern she dreaded. Worse, she saw hunger. That gave her pause. Prince had never responded to her hormonal shifts before. As a man without the ability to change, he was the equivalent of a supernatural eunuch. He was right. If he sensed her upheaval and responded, she had to remove herself. She wasn’t safe in her condition.

“Don’t call.” She swallowed. “I’ll go. Just don’t call.”

“You should deal with this the right way. It’ll help.”

Shaking her head, she made her muscles function well enough to head for the elevator. “It’ll only make things worse.”

“Beck--”

“Needs someone else,” she shot over her shoulder, cutting him off before he could say anything else. Prince sighed but didn’t correct her. What could he say, after all? She was not wrong. An alpha wolf needed a female who could lead alongside him and birth his heirs.

She wasn’t willing to risk her life to be that
female, even though her heart wanted exactly that.

Forty-five minutes later, after masturbating behind the steering wheel in order to take the edge off her need and ensure she wouldn’t accidentally drive herself into a tree on the way home, she stood outside the farm house she’d bought with a small inheritance. She and Prince had shared the big house for nearly three years. She didn’t want to sell it or disrupt Prince’s life, so money would be tight while she paid mortgage and rent from Colorado.

She would miss the house and the wide-open plot it sat upon. It had snowed while she was out of town. Now moonlight reflected off the ice covering a day-old layer of snow. January shivered as she spotted several sets of wolf tracks punching through the ice, a trail that started at the tree line and ended at the salted edge of her walkway.

“No,” she whispered.

At the foot of the steps that led up to the porch, she stopped and looked at the tracks again. That many prints meant more than the regular night guard had turned up, which meant they were here for more than watching her borders. One set pierced the snow apart from the rest, but didn’t come all the way to the house before it seemed to double back on itself. Frowning, she scanned the tree line, looking for a glimpse of Anders’ silver coat. She thought she saw a streak of something ghostly-white on the fringes of her vision but when she turned her head, the phantom was gone. Inexplicably, she had an urge to race across the snow, following the pale wisp of spirit. What she wouldn’t give for the chance to run with her wolf.

A rumble of masculine laughter rolled from the house and short-circuited January’s system, banishing the maudlin emotion. She turned away from the tracks, drawn to the men inside despite knowing she should get back in her car and go to a motel. The relief she’d bought herself ran out in a hurry as every cell in her body zeroed in on the promise of real, lasting satisfaction. Legs shaking, clinging to the bannister for balance, she mounted the porch and let herself into the house. Inside, she stood in the warmth of the kitchen and drew several deep, even breaths. The sounds of male voices and a television carried from the family
room at the front of the house.

While she stood there, the pitch of the conversation changed. January didn’t need a shifter’s senses to figure out the pack had caught wind of her arrival.  The voices were too low for her to name individual speakers but she knew who they were anyway.

A flush crawled across her chest, up her neck and settled to burn at her ears. She wanted to curse Prince, but the scent of grilled meat in the air told her the Guardians had arrived at her house before she’d felt the first punch of need. That made her nervous. If Beck hadn’t come in response to her Heat, why
had
he come? She thought they were all on the same page after meeting at the diner.

All of them except Anders, anyway.

Determined to find out before her orgasm-induced calm completely wore off, she walked out of the kitchen. The sight of the large, muscular man with smooth coffee skin and a shaved-smooth scalp leaning against the wall beside the entry to the living room gave her pause. She didn’t recognize him.

Frowning, January clutched the cross-body strap of her bag. The relief she’d bought with her fingers was rapidly wearing off and her hormones reacted to this guy in a big way. She wet her lips before asking, “Who are you?”

“Smoke.” His gaze followed the quick movement of her tongue and his nostrils flared. “You’re Beck’s woman.”

Her throat constricted. She gave a sharp shake of her head but Smoke’s tawny eyes watched her with unwavering knowledge.

“I’m my own woman.” Movement in the doorway drew her attention. A lean, rangy man with a shock of ginger hair strolled out of the living room. Despite the scene earlier in the diner, he wore an easy smile. January smiled back at him. “Mav.”

Mav
--Maverick--didn’t keep his distance the way Smoke did. Three short strides brought him close enough to touch. January slid her arms around his shoulders as he lifted her in a hug, not straining in the least despite her extra pounds. Mav buried his nose against the side of her neck and inhaled deeply. When he spoke, his voice was gravelly with desire. “Goddess, you smell good enough to fuck. If you don’t get your fine ass up to Beck, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.”

January glanced at Smoke, who now wore a stony expression and stared straight ahead at the wall behind her. His distance intrigued her. If she weren’t dealing with a testosterone invasion and a body crying out for relief, she might have investigated the mystery of this man, who must have been a new member of the Guardians’ pack.

But she was running out of time. Mav’s erection pressed against her belly, telling her just how much mating scent she was throwing out into the air. She pushed against Mav’s shoulders and he sat her on her feet. January cast one last look at Smoke, then she left the pack in the front room and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Not because she wanted to save herself for Beck--
she didn’t
, she told herself--but because he was the only one who could give the order for the Guardians to clean out and leave her be.  Some of her indignation returned on the upstairs landing. She stalked down the hall, past Prince’s closed door, not stopping until she reached the open door of her bedroom. There, she stood in the door fame and glared at the trespasser. Her big, bad wolf didn’t even try to disguise himself as grandma…and, Goddess help her, she couldn’t stop herself from drinking in the sight of him.

Coal-black in the dim light of the bedside lamp, his shaggy hair fell across his brow and curled at his ears. Regular trims obviously weren’t high on the alpha wolf’s list of priorities. Fingers curling with the urge to sink into his thick mane, grab handfuls and pull his mouth to hers, she dropped her gaze to his chest.

Even if she didn’t know about his Moon magic, she would think of him as a night creature. Some people shone in the bright of day but it was the dark that favored Beck. Shadows played in the ridges and hollows of his broad chest and flat stomach, somehow giving his muscles more definition than if he stood in the full light of the sun. 

And below his stomach….

Mouth dry, she plastered her back to the door and fought the pull to go to him. The moons patterned around his navel called to her body on a primal level. Her stomach muscles, marked the same, flexed in response.

Goddess, she wanted to know this man. She wanted to use her hands to memorize his hard angles and rippling muscles until
she  could identify him blindfolded in the dark.

But she couldn’t have him.

“January.” Beck unfolded his naked frame from her bed. Dark hair roughened his strong thighs and shadowed his flat stomach. A triangle of wiry curls cradled his thick cock. Despite the futility of the response, her body softened in immediate readiness.

Not speaking, she dropped her bag on the floor beside her dresser. Beck studied her tightly-bound brown hair, her thin-pressed lips and her bare collar bones, the only bit of skin visible above the boat neck of her scrub top.

"You stink like death," he said. He always said that.

"If you'd let me know you were coming, I might have made other arrangements."
Like leaving the state even sooner than planned.

Offering neither explanation nor excuse, Beck left the room. She followed him into the hall and watched him step into the bathroom. His muscular ass and broad back disappeared from view. The shower started seconds later.

Closing her eyes, January blew out a deep breath. Her nipples stabbed the cotton of her bra and heat flushed her skin. She could tell him no, send him away.

A growl from the bathroom signaled Beck’s impatience. She could refuse him but she didn’t want to. Stripping her top over her head and shoving her pants to the floor, she acknowledged the truth of his observation. She did stink of death. The nursing home where she worked dealt in decay. January didn’t often notice the odor. Beck’s wild, alive essence contrasted sharply with the stink and made her aware. Made her aware of a lot of things, like how much she wanted him even when her body wasn’t in the throes of Heat.

Eager to be clean--and to accept Beck’s mark--she finished undressing, grabbed the condoms he’d left behind, and padded after him. He waited in the shower, his powerful frame an indistinct blur behind the frosted glass doors.

She didn’t speak as she stepped into the shower, self-conscious at first as the water sprayed her heavy breasts. The fire in his gaze surged even hotter, and she released her body concerns. A man couldn’t fake that kind of appreciation.

Facing him, January stood beneath the spray and soaped her breasts and stomach. Beck fisted his cock with, slow tight strokes. They said women weren’t visual creatures when it came to sex, but the heavy throb between her legs proved otherwise.

She slid soapy fingers down her belly and found her folds already wet. The muscles in her thighs jumped as she twirled a fingertip around her clit. Needing a distraction, she asked
,  “Why is the whole pack here? Even the new guy.”