Devany

Damsel in distress had never been my M.O. Foster kids grew up fast, and they found the safest way to live was to be self-reliant. Yet, somehow–in less than twenty-four hours–I'd not only been attacked and rescued by a walking wet dream, but I'd also fainted.

Fainted. As in full out dramatic eye roll into the back of the head before collapsing; however, I extended a little grace to myself considering the reason I fainted was sitting in the corner of the room watching me with disturbingly bright blue eyes.

Beckett–dear lord, he was actually a wolf–whined when I scooted back on the bed and drew my knees to my chest. The strained muscles and bruises covering my body protested the movement, but the pain bothered me less than the idea of being bitten by the giant gray and white wolf...man...wolf. Werewolf?

Get it together, Devany.

Hadn't I decided long ago that I believed in the supernatural? I knew there was something going on during the attack outside the bar, but it turned out seeing was a whole hell of a lot harder than believing.

"Can–can you turn back?" I asked in a whisper, hating the timidity in my voice.

Beckett cocked his head to the side, and with the same bone crunching transition as before, turned back into a man. Fur sloughed off him, gathering in a pile at his feet, and he brushed his arms to rid them of any remnants.

As my shock receded, I became all too aware of his human–and very naked–form. That black tattoo I'd glimpsed at the bar, wrapped around both arms all the way to his wrists, and extended across his sculpted chest. There were no traces of redness around the lines, but the black color had the intensity that only came with fresh ink.

The appropriate thing to do would have been to stop there, but werewolf or not, Beckett's effect on my hormones remained the same. Lust filled curiosity drove my eyes lower, and I clenched my thighs together in need–and maybe with a little anxiety–when I saw the large, erect cock jutting up between his legs.

I'd never gone all the way with a man before, but I'd given more than my fair share of blow jobs. Seeing the length and girth of his penis made my jaw ache. Imagining it inside of me was almost impossible.

"Like what you see?" he asked, his voice tight with restraint.

"Is that a wolf thing?" I blurted out.

"Is what a wolf thing?"

Beckett glanced down. He knew precisely what I meant, but he was going to make me say it.

"Y-your..." I gestured wildly, eyes bouncing between the ceiling and the topic of discussion. "Your cock is huge."

His nostrils flared, and his fingers flexed, as if he was holding himself back. From what? Touching it? Touching me?

"I'd say it's more of an...Alpha thing," he answered at last, pulling a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapping it around his hips. If he thought that would help me focus, he was wrong. All the blanket did was emphasize his belt of Adonis.

"As much as I'm enjoying this," he said, sitting on the end of the bed. "We need to talk."

"You're a wolf." He nodded. "And you said my parents were like you."

"I think so."

Not finding anything about this conversation funny anymore, I leaned forward, keenly interested in knowing more. "How do you know that?"

"Because you're one."

"Is being a wolf genetic? I thought you had to be bitten to turn into a werewolf, and I've never done anything remotely wolfy in my life."

He gave me a lopsided grin, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to laugh. "You're taking this much better than I thought you would."

"Inside I'm freaking out."

That sobered him a bit. "Yes, being a wolf is genetic. At least one of your parents had to carry the gene, and the biting bit is a kind of gray area. Every fully transitioned werewolf has venom, and that venom is what triggers the gene."

It was easy to connect the dots. "So, I've never been bitten."

"Correct."

"Why do you sound so concerned about that? Is that a bad thing?"

So many other questions raced through my mind. Like did I want to be bitten? Being a werewolf didn't seem like a terrible thing. Yet.

"Werewolf society is complex. I don't even know how to explain all of it to you, but the most important thing in a werewolf's life is their pack. For a hundred different reasons." Beckett growled and shoved his hand through his silver hair. "Fuck. I don't know how to say all this."

Emboldened, I moved closer to him and put my hand on his. "Just say it."

He stared at the point where our bodies touched, and I wondered if desire had flooded through him the moment we touched like it had me? This animal attraction between us was unreal, maybe even supernatural. If that was the case, I was going to put it as a plus in the pros list of becoming a werewolf.

"Packs are responsible for helping children through the transition. It's dangerous."

"How dangerous?"

Beckett wouldn't look me in the eye. "They administer the bite during puberty. For girls, that's after their first menstrual cycle. The idea is that their bodies are going through so much change already that their human side will surrender, welcoming the wolf as a natural part of growing up. But, in the rare cases where the timing is off, the risk of death increases tenfold. It's usually not risked if the child is older than sixteen."

"Death." I drew in a shuddering gasp, and reality settled over me. At twenty-three, I was far too old to attempt such a thing. "So, I guess I don't get to explore the wolf thing."

Eyes closed, he exhaled and shook his head. "It's more than that. Ability to shift or not, you're still a wolf. You fall under Council law, which states that all wolves must belong to a pack."

A pack. Another word for family. I didn't understand why Beckett was acting like it was a terrible thing. I'd spent most of my life searching for my family, and I was closer than ever at achieving it. Maybe even meeting some of my actual relatives, because surely they would belong to a pack.

"So, how do I join one? Like, is there a registration? A pack fair?" I nudged him with my elbow. He didn't laugh.

"Devany...You're a she-wolf."

"And?"

Jumping off the bed, he paced the room, gripping the edge of his blanket. "And only she-wolves can carry a wolf pup to full term. That makes you very valuable because we have so few she-wolves. Few girl babies make it full term."

I didn't like where this was going. "I'm worth more than just being a baby maker."

"I know that," he snarled, eyes flashing and teeth lengthening. "But Council law states that a packless she-wolf who has not shifted must be auctioned off to an unmated Alpha."

"Absolutely not." My stomach knotted. "No. There has to be another option."

"There are. You have three. To be claimed by an Alpha, to attempt the transition, or–" Beckett gathered himself. "Or to be executed as a Rogue. In the end, all but one of those end up with you dead."