Teeth, Claws, Lipstick

Chapter one

I’d been no longer able to keep the company of Keegan. It’s not that he’s boring or anything as stupid as that. Hell no, he’s plenty interesting. If you’re into the whole ‘man-whore’ kind of guy. Because let’s be honest – that’s all he is. In class, despite the fact that we’re betrothed, I often see some slut covering every inch of him. Does it really bother me? Obviously a little but nowhere near as much as it should.

So here I am, running top speed through the woods, my wolf ready to burst free...

“Mutt!” The roars stops me in my tracks and I whirl around to try and locate the voice. “Rogue wolves are not tolerated in our territory!”

I soon find the source – a small clearing filled with people. Well – they’re not exactly what you’d call people. They’re werewolves, just like myself. Normally within one territory there’s only one pack. But Thorntail and Swiftmoon pack have had a truce for generations that they share the same woods – and in return they look out for one another.

Souka, the Alpha of Thorntail pack stands surrounded by the men of his pack, some still teenagers. All of them are circling one boy who appears no older than me.

As soon as my eyes rest on him, everything jerks to a stop. I can hear my heartbeat and nothing else; despite the fact that Souka’s mouth continues to move. All I can see is the profile of his face, the curve of his nose, cheeks, lips... all gorgeous perfection. Just beneath the surface I can hear my wolf whining.

He stands there, surrounded by these big burly wolves – his own body seeming more lean and wiry than buff – and he seems completely calm and in control of the situation, completely uncaring.

“You can try to get rid of me. I can’t really guarantee you’ll succeed.” Even his voice is completely composed, unruffled. His posture is relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Wanna bet kid?” A pack member snarls. I can see his wolf beginning to show, the slight curling of the lips, the way his jaw shifts, his hands beginning to gradually change.

He doesn’t respond, instead he smiles slightly as if mocking them, daring them – an evident challenge.

“Get him!” Souka’s lip peels back to reveal elongated canines.

All at once they rush at him, each of their wolves beginning to peak out from beneath the surface of their skin. I watch in admiration as he moves gracefully with such poise. He deflects, dodges and moves with ease whilst they lumber almost awkwardly – despite how quick their wolves are, he is quicker.

None of them get the chance to make the full change to wolf because no matter how hard they strike or how many of them strike at once, they never hit him. He’s quick as lightning, as elegant as anything I’ve ever seen before. It’s as if his body is a liquid that he controls.

I don’t know how long until it’s all finally over. A few minutes at the most. Not a large amount of time. He took them all down – six fully grown wolves – with no difficulty at all.

Sprawled across the floor they lie, either groaning in agony or unconscious. He steps towards Souka who has managed to pull himself into a slightly upright position against a tree. He flinches when the boy leans towards him.

He grabs him by the front of his shirt and despite his size he lifts him to his feet with ease.

“Next time I decide to take a stroll through the woods... make the right move, okay?” His voice is low, dangerous.

Souka nods his head, just slightly at first but more vigorously when the boy shakes him. “Alright, alright!”

“Now get lost – and take your dogs with you.” He barks.

All at once he lets him go. I watch as Souka scrambles around, waking those that will awaken and making his pack get to their feet. As soon as they’re able, they leave.

The clearing is empty within less than two minutes.

I still stand there – frozen almost. Unable to take my eyes from him, a strange warmth seeping through my body. I watch every movement he makes, the way he reaches his hand up and ruffles his hair absently, scratches the back of his neck. The way the lean muscles in his arms work whenever he moves.

He’s dressed quite simply. A white tank top, black trousers that are slightly baggy and hang low on his hips... and no shoes nor socks. His feet are completely bare.

“You can come out now.” He states, his voice controlled. It’s as if he knows he has no need to shout. “I can smell you from here.” I almost don’t hear those words they’re so quietly spoken.

I stumble forward, clumsier than ever before. I’ve always been quite agile when I move – one of the reasons I’m so good at sport – but after watching him, I feel pathetic and useless, my strength and speed meaningless in comparison to his.

As soon as he turns to face me, his eyes widen slightly as do mine... because eye contact makes something shoot between us, something hot and uncontrolled, wild... it makes a shiver shoot through me, from the tip of my toes right up to top of my head.

I finally get to see his face, his gorgeous face. High cheekbones, darkly tanned skin, perfectly curved lips... dark brown eyes that are cool at first and begin to warm the longer I look into them, with lashes that any sane girl would kill for. Scruffy dark hair and ears that stick out just slightly.

But none of that is what stands out about him. It’s not just his insanely God-like appearance that startles me. It’s the deep, long scar that starts from the right side of his forehead and curves over his brow and dips down his cheek, just stopping above his lips.

Before I can stop myself I take another step forward again and my hand reaches up involuntarily. I start at the top, brushing my fingers against the old scar. It feels slightly puckered but it’s old.

His hand reaches up quickly, before I can pass over his eyes and stops my hand. I watch the way his throat works as he struggles to swallow.

“Who are you?” He asks; his voice husky.

I watch the way his lips move, slightly dried. I hate it when people have dry lips, I literally want to scream at them to just hurry up and lick their lips! Instead, right now, I want to do it for him.

Instead my own tongue darts out to wet my lips. My wolf growls slightly, straining against invisible bonds. I find it completely and utterly impossible to speak.

“I know that you are Loup-Garou.” His hand trails up to rest on my bare shoulder, warm tendrils of electricity shooting from his skin into mine.

“Little Wolf, you are not answering me.” He growls, voice low and demanding.

For just a second more I concrentrate on his touch and nothing more, his touch that singes me, burns me in a way tat I’ve never felt before. I feel wild and hungry, just slightly sick at the same time. Then I find my voice.

“I – I am Lyra. Lyra of the Swiftmoon Pack.” My voice is a weak, breathless whisper.

“Ah, so you do belong to a pack.” He sounds disappointed, his eyes refusing to budge from mine.

“Yes, don’t you?” Then I remember the previous words shouted from Souka’s foaming mouth. Mutt. Rogue Wolf.

Rogues are to be killed on sigh in a packs territory. They’re unwelcome because they prefer to do things their way, mostly meaning the ‘fun’ way.

He laughs, low and deep. “No, I don’t. I belong to myself – I am my own Alpha.”

The thought is both deliciously dark and incredibly dangerous. To be your own Alpha, to live on the wild side – to let your wolf control your decisions and not the weaker human side... it’s all too much to even bear a thought for.

Once more I lose my voice as I continue to look up into those gorgeous eyes of his. He leans towards me, as if – like me – he feels some strong connection, a pull between us.

A second later and those sinful, delicious lips are pressed against mine. Chaste at first, soft and warm... but then rough, possessive almost. Controlling and demanding.

I feel a weakness in my very being. It’s as if a dam has burst inside of me and my arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to my body, pressing every line of mine against his.

All throughout my body I feel a strange heat take over, beginning to control me. He growls low in his throat, his wolf responding to mine. I can feel it beneath his warm skin as I move my hand beneath his shirt and over his stomach.

My own wolf leaps and bounds, clawing at invisible bounds, howling to be free.

His tongue snakes inside my mouth and presses against mine; warm and wet, wickedly luscious. At first he tries to be in control, bossing my tongue around, but then, slowly but surely, I begin to get the upper hand, my hands tightly fisted in his hair, tugging slightly when he misbehaves.

Even when I have to pull back to breathe his lips continue their assault, moving down my chin to my throat, tilting it back to expose it. He makes a sound like distant thunder and I have to fight the urge to growl back.

I feel his teeth scraping against my skin and I shudder, my body trembling with the height of pleasure. My whole body seems to respond so perfectly to his.

His lips move against my flushed skin, flicking his tongue out and nipping with teeth at certain times – until he finally finds The Spot. Where my legs almost give out from beneath me.

It’s then that he bites down. Really bites down. His teeth pierces my skin and I feel my blood gushing from my body into his mouth. He makes a low noise of pleasure as he clings to me, arms tight around me, constricting. I moan and try to push myself closer to him, the pleasure rising and crashing over my body.

He has to hold me up, his arms rock solid around me. I don’t ever want him to stop.

But suddenly he does, almost dropping me in the process. He looks down at me, a mixture of emotions flitting across his face. Feeling shaky and faint, it’s an effort to keep my eyes open. Then it dawns on me.

“You Marked me.” I whisper, my voice feeble.

He doesn’t say anything, only swallows. He looks as if he’s in shock. I feel in shock myself.

I try to yank myself out his arms, my face hot and flushed suddenly. I don’t act like this. Never. I’m no slut!

He doesn’t let me go; instead his eyes lose their shock, gain their warmth as he pulls me closer and whispers one word in my ear. “Mine.”

That one word makes a tremor run through me. But then I think of Keegan – a certain Wolf I’m betrothed to.

“I – I can’t be doing this!” I cry and this time, although reluctantly, he lets me go when I jerk myself away.

“And why not?” His tongue darts out to touch his lower lips that juts out in the perfect pout.

“Because I’m supposed to marry the Alpha’s son!” I almost shout the words.

“A Beta Wolf. Just my luck really, should have guessed.” He laughs, his voice amused.

“I – I have to go. I shouldn’t have done this.” I press a hand to my neck. I look down at my fingers to see them coated in my blood.

When I look back up, he’s directly in front of me. He clasps my hand in his, brings it up and licks the blood from one of my fingers. I rip my hand back, eyes wide and wild. Not because I’m disgusted, more because I just plain don’t trust myself with him.

“It’s all good. Rebellion can be a lot of fun.”

“I have to go. I really do. I’m sorry.” My eyebrows draw together.

“This won’t be the last time we meet.” He promises darkly.

I allow my eyes to touch his just one more before I turn and flee; my heart racing.

Damn. What the hell just happened?