Pawn Among Wolves Ch 13

Gemma lay in lycan form along the tree branch, silently watching the huge white wolf running past underneath her. She was shivering in eagerness, and felt a quick surge of excitement pulse through her as she watched his intent chase. But however beautiful the powerful, rhythmic footfalls, the damn wolf wasn't sprinting nose-to-ground at anything like full pace, which told her he was thinking about her trail more carefully than he was supposed to. Considering how aroused she was with all this tearing around trying to evade him, he was supposed to be more fuddled than this by her mating scent.

Typical. Some annoying Alphas were

disappointingly

good at controlling themselves.

Gemma smiled to herself, liquid want seeping between her thighs as her mate disappeared again amongst the dense trees.

However controlled he is, Mr Alpha didn't notice me above him

, she thought smugly to herself. Thanks to the imperfect scent-masking drug she was wearing.

He'd probably guessed that she'd use it, though, her wolf wasn't stupid, and he knew she could disguise her scent for a few seconds.

The werewolf felt a little fuzzy-headed, disorientated when she slithered down from the tree, but couldn't work out whether it was an unknown side-effect of the drug, or the very well-known effect of the delicious scent of her aroused Alpha, which almost knocked her over when she landed silently on the springy turf.

Triumph shot through her; the scent was richer than she'd smelt it in weeks, since he'd started exhausting himself chasing down the ex-Grey wolves. She bit back a whimper of anticipation.

Gemma stiffened the suddenly intensely wobbly limbs which just wanted to fold to the ground and wait for him to come back and find her-

Not helping!

, and made a mental note-to-self as she swayed, fighting the desire. If she wanted to keep a clear head on the run,

avoid his musk

. Her blood pulsed in excitement, the arousal knotting her belly tighter.

What was the point in running? He would catch her soon anyway.

Um... the longer the chase, the more heated the mating?

Her feet started to stubble along the ground, driven by the urgent nudges from the still slightly in control corner of her mind.

Just imagine him even more aroused than this!

Her legs started moving faster, slightly more enthusiastically.

Yum yum yum.

Gemma shivered in the voracious hunger, but managed to force her limbs back to full pace - she was learning which arguments the wolf within understood too. Although actually it was hard to tell right now which part of her wanted to run away from him (

none

), and which part wanted to run after him (

all

); reason was only an occasional wisp flirting through the huge swirl of lust roaring through her.

Hauling herself away from him felt like pulling a steam train uphill, and she was panting hard when her brain finally resurfaced, trembling as she ran slowly through the trees, back-trailing her scent. And his.

Wrong direction. Wrong wrong wrong.

He's a wolf. He

likes

hunting.

The wild shiver in her blood settled into an intense, bone-deep tremor at that thought, less uncontrollable, but richer, and she finally managed to break into a sprint on all four paws, careering toward her next planned trick-point, scrabbling internally to hold a lid on the stubborn surges of lust which were still urging her to just turn around and

follow

this delicious, rich musk trail. Pounce on him. Tie him up again.

No Argen rope.

As she ran, suddenly she caught the scent of him overhauling her rapidly, and the excitement flared through her, a jolt of pleasure mixed with annoyance when she realised just how little time her mate had wasted on that false trail.

Damn Alpha.

Yippee!

Now she was

really

running flat out.

Chase me, chase me.

The excitement was coursing higher, higher; competitiveness churning in her heated blood. The beauty was, she could run

as fast as she could

, because she knew he would still catch her.

Eventually.

Gemma dashed out of the trees at the foot of a tall sandstone cliff which was basking in the late evening sun, following her own earlier trail, with Mac's scent overlaying it. This was the only other place she'd used the scent-mask, a minuscule portion of it, while she'd scrambled scentless up the rock face earlier, to quickly arrange the rope over a handy tree protruding from a crack half way up, before she had leapt back down again onto the same spot.

Gemma could hear her mate's excited breathing as he burst from the trees behind her and she bounded on winged paws up the brief, steep incline of short, bare grass to the foot of the rock wall. Flashing lycan, she yanked down the loose tail of the rope she'd hidden, twirled it securely, multiple times around her furry right wrist and clamped it tight in her fist. Her stomach was jumping in a strange mixture of excitement and nervous squirming when she heard claws scraping on the large boulder directly below her, just as she slashed the cord holding the rock-bearing end of the rope secure with her own left hand. Trembling with arousal, the slight wereem was jerked up into the air when the released counterweight dropped free, and instinctively swept her legs wide, almost horizontal, to evade the wild, magnificent pounce of her mate as he leapt to catch her.

Her eyes gleamed down into his, laughter in the warm brown depths, when, at the top of his leap, twisting lycan in mid-air, Mac just missed getting hold of her. His fingers at full extent, claws sheathed, just managed to stroke lightly along the inside of her thigh while he missed his catch. But the gentle glide of his fingertips along the sensitive, naked skin of inner thigh, brushing over her wet pussy, made Gemma's eyes glaze over, and she gasped in a harsh breath, vision blurring as her aroused juices pulsed out in a short burst of pleasure.

Her eyes jerked back into focus at the burst of fire that suddenly ignited in the green-flecked black orbs holding hers at her intensely aroused scent, and Mac let out an involuntary howl of frustration as his delicious, wanton mate was towed further out of reach by her makeshift lift while he fell back to earth. He landed back as a wolf on all fours, clawing the turf in intense need, glaring want up at her, while Gemma's eyes were held, mesmerised by the inferno burning in his. She was dimly aware that she'd halted at the top of her lift, more aware of the deep tremble beginning to shake her outer limbs.

They stared at each other.

Both panting short breaths of lust.

Gemma felt a little tingle of mixed pride and almost fearful excitement as Mac slowly licked her errant pussy juice off his lips where the drops had fallen, his amused, hot eyes burning higher, promise of retribution trembling through every alert hair on his shoulders.

That was unintentional; you stroked me,

she conveyed on a whisper, her spine creasing in a ripple of pleasure again as she relived the sensation of his touch.

Her mate didn't answer, but instead burst in a leap toward the rock tied to the rope holding her aloft. Gemma heart pulsed and she spun and clenched her clawed fist around the tree just as the weight holding her up fell off the other end of the rope. She began to haul her way quickly up the easy rock-face, desperate to get to the top and get away before her mate caught her, excitement shuddering in her veins.

She knew he would

torture

her with pleasure after that one.

A little bubble of glee clouded her mind, and she blinked, shaking her head to clear the lust.

Then she realised that she'd stopped moving, just clinging, heaving for breaths and panting, staring blankly into a deep crack in the stone while she trembled, trying to clear the fog of lust in her mind.

Her mate had disappeared from beneath her.

She shuddered again against the want, looked up, looked down, shook her head to try to clear it, judged the distances, and decided that she still had a better chance of reaching the top and carrying on than escaping if she headed back down, so lurched shakily back into a series of smooth, hurried moves up the slab. Maybe rock-climbing on the rut wasn't such a good idea. Her limbs seemed to have partially melted, and she was glad when she eventually rolled over the edge.

Running as fast as she could through the forest again on four paws, she knew she was making a racket, and her rich scent was leaving a trail a mile wide, but she couldn't help it, her blood was beating so wildly in excitement that she could barely hear, barely see, stumbling clumsily along the short grass under the trees. The anticipation pulsed higher and higher as she raced along, mind teeming almost incoherently through images of what was coming.

He

was coming

.

Think!

The rebuke- to-self shot into her head, and Gemma shuddered, swerving toward the deep river gully, blinking back into memory the only other trick she had left. A brief, coherent wisp pondered: how the hell was she supposed to do this when in heat, when his musk would make her even less capable of retaining a smidgeon of intelligence?

Mac footfalls were heavy behind her, she could hear him racing through the first fallen leaves in pursuit. Her spine was tingling at the noise, blood growing, impossibly, hotter.

Astonished. He never usually made any noise at all. But she could clearly hear him, getting nearer, nearer.

Slowly.

Her blood was thundering in her veins at the crisp crackle of the leaves under heavy, soft footfalls; the quiet, heavy breathing steadily gaining on her from behind, slowly, inexorably.

Dammit, he could run much faster than that, too, the thought surfaced through the racing excitement.

Realised.

Her mind blanked on a new surge of exhilaration and tingling trepidation as she recognised that her mate was

purposefully

running slowly, noisily. Overhauling her very, very gradually.

Letting her hear.

Letting her stay ahead.

For now.

Letting her

know

he could catch her whenever he wished.

Gemma collapsed into a roll, her legs giving out underneath her at the shattering excitement, the realisation of the futility of trying to outrun him pulsing through her veins. She sensed her mate pounce, gleefully; but a last, desperate surge of stubbornness shot through her, driving her roll to power back to her feet, then to dodge around a tree and tumble into an ungainly, uncoordinated sprint for the trunk of the fallen tree across the gorge. She tore across it at full stretch before turning at bay on the far side, rising to her feet as a lycan eyes glowing. A different, hotter fire melting her blood, stiffening her trembling limbs.

There was no other way off this grassy little plateau perched above the stream bed, apart from climbing further up the sheer hillside, which would take time, or climbing down into the ten-foot wide cleft the water had carved. Which would take her closer to him.

All right. Time to fight.

She was lightly swaying on her feet, blood pulsing, eyes gleaming, as she waited for him to try to reach her side of the gully. Guarding the tree-trunk bridge over the fifteen foot drop into the shallow, rocky streambed.

Panting, blood seething with want.

Mac halted on the opposite bank, drawing himself up to full height, lycan, eyes burning back into hers. Her eyes stroked over the rich colours of the tawny pelt; the strong, proud frame. God, he looked magnificent. Then his scent drifted across to her, and she shuddered, eyes losing focus for a moment.

It was a good job she was a bit stubborn too, or she'd just lie down right now in an enticing pose. Maybe on one side, with the curve of her hip clearly visible, one leg drawn up so that --

Concentrate!

she cursed herself, and refocused on the aroused, gleaming eyes of her mate burning into hers across the narrow expanse separating them while he stepped closer, to the very edge of the log.

Caught you,

he sent, in quiet satisfaction.

Glee simmered in her veins. Yes, he had cornered her. Caught her? Maybe. Maybe not.

So come and get me,

she growled back. Daring him.

His eyes burned higher as he stepped slowly onto the log, still holding hers.

Another slow, meaningful step, those eyes gleaming hotter, hotter.

Don't be so sure of yourself, Mr Wolf.

When he was a third of the way across, Gemma bent and heaved the large rock lying at the edge of the gully over the side, watching as it snapped straight the thick cord she had tied securely to one of the sturdy branches, about a meter out from where it protruded from the side of the trunk.

The heavy weight swinging like a pendulum underneath the log began to twist it in a roll, and she looked up, her eyes burning smug, amused triumph at her Alpha across the gap between them.

What was that about having caught me? Bet I can climb off this shelf faster than you can climb out of that gully

, she taunted.

Mac's eyes flashed as he exploded into a full-out sprint I wolf form up the falling log towards her, swift as an arrow, claws shredding the wood for purchase. The trunk was twisting as its downward momentum increased, but his paws kept pace effortlessly with the turning footing, eyes holding hers.

I knew you'd be up to something

, he retorted, unfazed.

Gemma's blood pulsed, her own smugness faltering under an aroused jolt of trepidation, and her foot swept out to shove hard at the end of the log still rolling off this bank, pushing it over the edge in a surge of ridiculous panic as he swept nearer.

Then she leapt sideways and backwards, claws springing unnoticed from her fingers as she dodged the last, powerful leap of her Alpha, Mac springing faultlessly from the top of the falling trunk to land and roll across the grass at her feet, uncurling upright onto two legs in front of her, grinning at her.

His eyes were alight with pride and lust. Some of the pride, she realised, was in her.

Although the smug gleam at the back of his eyes was for himself, dammit.

Her blood was singing while she pounced at him, determined to wipe that smile off his face. She wasn't going to allow anyone that smug to mate her.

God, it was

humiliating

fighting him, she thought a few seconds later, a strange blend of frustration, pride and arousal churning through her each time she failed to dodge. Or connect.

The damn wolf kept kissing her.

She couldn't land a claw on him. Each time she launched an attack he evaded her effortlessly, then sneaked past her defences while she was still trying to work out where he'd gone. Alright, so he then gave her a good indication of where he was by the heated brush of his lips over her hyper-sensitive skin, but by the time she swiped for him again, he was standing back out of reach, his eyes gleaming, laughing at her, scorching her with ever greater smugness each time he paused to let her re-focus on him.

Her lips were burning with his kisses. Increasingly deep kisses. And the tremble in her limbs was growing to the light nips and suckling bites he also pressed to other parts of her body. She shuddered, trying not to melt under this onslaught. Tried to land another swipe on him while he kissed her deeply on the mouth, thrusting his tongue inside, but it took a second to break out of the fog of lust. Then he nibbled on her collar bone. Kissed her shoulder. Jawline. Stomach. Underneath her ear. Inner thigh.

Damn him!

Warm lips brushed over her palm, infuriatingly, millimetres from her deadly, purposeful claws.

Oh!

She was burning with frustration. Both kinds.

And the kisses were getting harder. More sensual.

Her mind was beginning to swirl, losing to the lust.

"Nose," the husky, aroused voice drifted quietly into the air tingling against her skin.

While her fogged brain deciphered what he'd said, the melting wereem reeled backward from the feather-light kiss, exactly where he'd warned, and her eyes lit with a sudden surge of wrath that her mate was so damn

smug

.

She was in the air without thought, and her arms wrapped around his head as her powerful legs twined around his chest, trapping his right arm to his side when she landed on his back from behind. Her elbow was tight locked across his mouth, and she bent over to nip hard into his earlobe. The taste of him sent a little shiver of aroused possessiveness up her spine.

Mac was leaping and spinning even before she landed, the whirl so fast her head blurred, and even as her teeth closed on his earlobe she found that her legs were flying loose in the dizzying force, then she lost the grip on his head, then was held only by his arm cradled protectively across her back before she landed dazedly with her back against a tree, breath heaving one gulp of air before it was taken from her by the skilful, deep kiss of a lustfully hungry Alpha. His tongue was fencing with hers, forcing an entry, teasing around her mouth.

Her mind sunk in the pleasure of it, a wave of passion swamping her body when he began to thrust his stiff tongue down her throat, possessively, imitating his immediate intentions. The smothering lust was cut through by a flash of temper that he was so sure of himself, and Gemma's claws raked the air where he had been seconds before. She followed his swift retreat making furious, ineffectual swipes, growling in dissatisfaction before halting abruptly. This wasn't working.

Mac's eyes were gleaming with playful delight and he stood licking his lips, quivering in anticipation just outside of her reach. Then he leapt in again and immobilised her wrists, sweeping her legs out from underneath her with one of his, and twisting her to lower her face down against the soft turf, pinning her down with his weight atop her. He nudged his surging erection against the mound of her soft buttock, breathing hot excitement in her ear, and Gemma was washed over with a second surge of aching lust through which she heard the soft words against her hair: "Surrender to me." The wereem bucked in anger, snarling, wrenching free of his slackened hold as he sprang back to his feet and out of range, laughing.

Her legs were trembling as she rolled back to her feet, and she could feel the moisture pooling between her thighs.

Damn

she wanted him.

But first she had to show him he wasn't boss. Bite him properly for

being so smug

.

She leapt again, this time aiming for his stomach, but found herself rolled onto her back, her wrists pinned beside her head, her bent legs held down beside her waist, feet almost touching her buttocks, stretched achingly wide by his weight as Mac leaned his weight against her thighs.

Her slit was completely exposed, stretched open beneath him. Her stomach clenched, the knot of desire cramping in a rush of excitement as a pulse of liquid surged urgently to moisten it further.

His heavy, throbbing cock was exuding heat and hunger just above her gaping, wide pussy lips. Every hair on her body tingled to alert and her eyes glazed over again as his scent thickened. The sense of complete immobilisation bowled her over. "You know you want to," he murmured gently. The anger flashed back and she blinked out the lust to glare back up into his burning eyes.

Mac held her gaze, his black eyes glittering with passion, and gently, oh so softly, slid the tip of his cock along the length of her aching, empty slit. He watched in deep pleasure as her eyes fluttered closed, an agony of craving washing across her face.

Then he laughed as they flashed open again, black frustrated anger glittering in the depths, and he leapt backwards off her as her long teeth snapped up into his face.