Pawn Among Wolves

Gemma's phone beeped as they turned the corner into her road, and she twitched it out of her pocket while Bethan murmured wickedly, "Mmmmm-Mac?"

It was.

'Don't go back to the flat yet, I haven't cleared it.'

What?

Gemma stopped on the street and stared at the terse message, incredulous.

"What is it?" asked Bethan curiously, watching the flush mount slowly in her companion's cheeks.

Gemma's eyes were sparking anger as she looked up, before passing the phone to her friend. Her teeth were gritted too hard to actually speak. Yesterday he'd made her drool, plead, and beg - and then left. Complete goodbye, The End, cut-off, nada. Don't call me. You are not part of my life.

And now suddenly she wasn't allowed back into her own flat either, into her own life, because he hadn't cleared out of it yet. What, was he afraid she'd steal a t-shirt as a keepsake?

And was that itchy feeling between her shoulder blades, the ghostly sense of being watched, due to him, his lot?

I'll feel a lot better if that's all it is

, she admitted to herself.

She looked across at Bethan, who, having read the text, was watching her friend with a strange expression.

"Are you going to explain? I didn't realise that mind-blowing sex made you all submissive and obedient."

Delete. Delete. I am not thinking about that

. Despite her desperate internal evasion of certain memories, the flush in Gemma's cheeks flared a darker red. The images heating her blood wouldn't go away. Irritated, she unwound her jaw enough to mutter grittily, "I never said we had sex."

"No, you just turn scarlet whenever I mention Mac, or his gorgeous hair, or his eyes, his body, or ... um... the hearthrug..."

The hearthrug

.

Gemma's cheeks flared from scarlet to purple, and she had to stop moving and shut her eyes.

"It really

was

on the hearthrug?" exclaimed Bethan, incredulous. "Way to go, girl!"

It was getting beyond irritating. Gemma found that her eyes held an infuriating sheen of moisture when she reopened them, and she glowered back at Bethan, snapping back into a quick march up the road.

"Sorry, sorry." Her irreverent friend sighed as she caught up. "Oh, I'm sorry, Gemma, I just never expected it to be tr-, sorry. My big mouth." Then, abruptly, "And what does he mean, he hasn't cleared it yet, is he

leaving

?" This time it was Bethan who stopped dead. "But-."

They looked at each other. Dark eyes into dark eyes. A pause.

Bethan's eyes shifted to the fading purple marks of the healed wound on her friend's neck, then back to Gemma's shrouded eyes, and she asked carefully, "Do you want to talk about this?"

"Not right now, no," responded Gemma, glancing away, then back with a wry smile as they got moving again.

"Okay. Do you want to come around to ours for a cup of coffee? - I've even got some carrot cake left unless Kate's swiped it. Leave him time to clear out? Watch a few repeats? Finger painting?"

Thank god for friends.

Gemma smiled her thanks, then slowed to a snail pace up the road towards the flat, thinking. She hadn't been able to sit still in her room at her parents' after the conflagration with Mac in there yesterday, what with also being fully healed - she refused to dwell on just

how

she'd been healed. Refused. Totally. Refusing.

I am not thinking about it. You hear? No, no tongues allowed in my thoughts- no. No.

Damn

.

This was now Day Two of bouncing off the walls with frustrated sexual tension. She'd stubbornly placated her way through her Mom and Dad's arguments and counterarguments and eventually boarded a plane back home. Not so she'd be alone to think.

No

. And definitely not to find Mac.

No

. More, just striving to be normal. Whatever that was, now.

There was the other reason she'd hurried to be gone - she had wanted to avoid the next dressing change appointment with the nurse. Gemma had covered the faint mottling on her neck with a fresh gauze before her parents had returned, it would have been tricky finding plausible explanations as to how, within a few hours, the seeping, festering wound, which had flummoxed the doctors for days, had miraculously healed. It had been a relief to take the gauze off at the airport. No more pretence, no more wolves. Safe back in her own, normal life.

I hope.

She was growing more tense the closer to home she got. And the text message was not helping. Her eyes darkened further as she thought a bit more about the different meanings of the verb, "to clear". As in the police clearing an area – of enemies? What if that was what he meant?

What if the flat wasn't clear?

The memory of Nick stalking her around her bed trembled through her frame, and she gritted her teeth.

She could feel Bethan's eyes on her, and realised she couldn't go to her friends' home, because she didn't want to talk, or avoid talking, even with the best of friends.

"Tempting, thanks, but, I think I'll head into work," Gemma ignored the exasperated sigh from her companion, "My boss has been screaming at me for the results he needs for his presentation on Friday,"

"And is incapable of getting his own lily-white hands dirty," interjected Bethan grumpily.

Gemma grinned at her, continuing, "Besides, I've got some stuff of my own I'm dying to look into." Stuff that felt like it was burning a hole in her backpack.

Bethan rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Gem. I would've thought that of all the things to teach you that there's more to life than work, work, work, sex with Mac -

the

live erotic fantasy of the western world - would have finally done it." A pause, then, provocatively, "Or is he, after all, just packaging, with no substance?"

No substance?!?

Gemma swallowed against the sudden constriction in her throat, colour flooding her cheeks as her pulse speeded up and the blood began to shudder erratically through her veins. Her eyes lost focus and she faltered to a halt in the street as her brain plunged into erotic replay, her nipples tingling into hard, aching peaks inside her soft bra.

"Wow," Bethan murmured softly, a look of awe on her face as she surveyed the abrupt change in her friend's demeanour, the soft, rapid breaths and the deep flush of instant arousal.

Gemma looked at the ground, drawing deep breaths and hauling on her self-control like it was a recalcitrant heavy cover sliding off the bed that she was fighting to retrieve by her last faint grasp on one corner. Slowly mastering herself, she resumed her pace up the street, shuddering along in silence, dark thoughts whirling in the maelstrom of heat in her mind.

Then Bethan recalled that Gemma didn't want to talk about this, and leaped into the brooding silence with a staccato change of subject, "Did you hear Emma's plaint against Jason was called "completely unprofessional" by the judge?"

Friends, friends, friends. They may not be subtle but you have to love them for trying.

"Yeah, well, knowing Emma, she probably signed it 'LOL' with lots of hugs and kisses," Gemma responded thankfully.

Then continued in a rush, "He's moving out because we had great sex, but he thinks we can't possibly make anything together and that I should find somebody more my own - type - and I'm bloody furious with him for being such an arrogant, unyielding asshole."

Okay, maybe she'd missed out a few details, like that he was a werewolf - correction, wolf, and that she'd go mad if he bit and turned her -

although not as mad as when he sends my pulse spinning into orbit and then I'm not bloody well allowed to touch him

- and there was some wolf war on or something, so Nick had got him exiled somehow, but he was going back to his pack now, The End. Or along those lines. Mac hadn't exactly gone into details.

Bethan assimilated her companion's words as she eyed Gemma's heaving chest and the deep flush of arousal and anger colouring her skin, "Arrogant, unyielding, gorgeous asshole," she amended.

Gemma growled, "Damn right," and then stopped, pivoting on her heel and announcing abruptly, "I'm going to the lab." The pot of cream that Mac had used on her back was tucked in her rucksack, just waiting to give her some answers. At least she could work

something

out. The small phial he'd stripped from Nick had disappeared. She brooded a little on ulterior motives Mac may have had for protecting her. Not that she believed he'd not have protected her anyway, he was kind of stubborn that way - unyielding asshole - but it was soothing to rage at him internally for something.

"OK. Cool it, Gem. See you later. Come around when you're ready," Bethan replied, and they hugged briefly before they separated.

Late that evening, Bethan carefully slid the last tray of labelled test-tubes into the fridge, shut the door, and straightened, arching her back and rolling her shoulders to get rid of the crick in her neck. With any luck, one of those combinations would come up with the answer, and she'd know what that cream was made of tomorrow. One little step. One little piece of the puzzle. Piece of his world.

She knew it was irrelevant, really, but didn't want to, couldn't let go. Something kept tugging at her heart, calling her to try, try anything. Any connection.

She dismissed it from her mind, then lifted her head, swivelling it toward the side doorway leading out into the university park as she heard footsteps approaching. Despite knowing the level of security surrounding the campus, her heart jumped. Then she recognised the flat, heavy pace of the fat security guard who often took night watch. She sighed. Jim often stopped in for a chat on his rounds if he spotted the light on, he got bored of being on his own in the middle of the night. Whereas she liked to avoid him if possible, not liking his too smiling face and too exploratory eyes.

She quickly stripped off her gloves and grabbed a label pad so she could stick one on the fridge door, groping in her pocket for a pen. She didn't look up as the electronic lock beeped to let Jim in the side door, and his footsteps clumped in. Then he cleared his throat loudly, saying, slightly hoarsely, "Hi Gemma."

"Hi Ji-," the name died on her lips as she looked up and saw his companion. Frozen, stilled, her heart threatening to beat out of her chest.

Not again. Nick. What the hell is he

after

?

The dark-haired, elegant wolf was smiling a lopsided sneer of satisfaction as he loped swiftly towards her, and her hand clenched in convulsive reaction around a hard object in her pocket as she read the predatory expression in his eyes.

Not again.

Then an accusation speared out of her mind,

You promised he'd leave me alone

.

Phone!

the thought skittered across her brain, threading through the mixture of rising panic and fury engendered by the approaching wolf. Gemma slid a finger down the front of the keypad to press the call button as she backed away, eyes on Nick, praying, just praying, that Mac's message was still on the screen.

She just had time to draw a breath to scream before a crushing hand closed around her wrist and, in a confusing blur of movement, Nick spun her around with a brutal, swift yank, his other arm curling around her waist to pull her back against him, trapping her arms, while the palm of the first clamped suffocatingly over her mouth. He easily lifted her squirming body to hold her tightly against him, and Gemma stopped fighting abruptly when she realised that her movements were making his partially erect cock harden against her buttocks.

Jim just watched, eyes wide, with a slightly eager expression that revolted her.

"Thank-you, Mr. Forbes," Gemma could feel the words reverberating in the chest she was clamped against. "Your assistance was most helpful. This building really is difficult to penetrate," Gemma's muscles tightened in automatic rejection when her captor gently pressed the hardening bulge in his pants against the crack in her buttock cheeks, dipping his head to breathe the last word into her ear. He smirked and continued, "Without drawing unwelcome attention, due, no doubt, to your own excellent security staff." Nick nudged her buttocks a second time with his arousal.

Corny. Feeble

, Gemma scorned, determinedly holding onto her anger to keep the fear at bay.

The fat slime of a guard puffed out his chest slightly with a smirk, watching them with the querying, hopefully expression of a dog waiting for a reward. "Rest assured, the relationship we have built working here together will afford us both satisfaction," Nick answered the look, turning his head toward the main lab door as he spoke. Gemma's eyes couldn't help but follow, and she was puzzled as a young undergrad stepped in through the doorway, her toned, curved figure enticingly clothed in a short skirt, tight zip jacket and scarf, and long black boots. Her stance was wary and taut as she slid, eyes down, across the room toward them.

Oh-oh

.

There was something in the young girl's movements that made Gemma more edgy, it was as though she really didn't want to be here, was struggling internally, but had no choice. Gemma had heard of this level of control, but surely Nick wouldn't hurt her, not one of his own wolves. But then - she didn't know the girl's name, but had seen her before around the library, studying desperately, always with a slightly tense, nervous, hunted expression. The same expression the undergrad wore now, as she faltered to a halt in front of them. Prey. The poor kid completely ignored the hand over Gemma's mouth, and her captive, immobilised position, although her eyelids flickered. Jim licked his lips, eyes roaming over her curves as his eyes started to glisten.

"Is she suitable?" asked Nick softly, and the girl shivered as the fat guard nodded eagerly, eyes fixed on the small amount of cleavage shown by the tight jacket.

"Good," the cultured voice deepened with an echoing note of power, "Anne, you are to pleasure this man for the night in whichever ways he commands, although you may leave if he begins to cause irreparable damage. He has done me a valuable service, and I have promised him repayment. Say nothing of this to anyone."

The security guard was already reaching for the curvy figure frozen in front of them, and he started to breathe heavily with excitement as he pulled down the short zip on her jacket and began to squeeze her full breasts in his podgy hands. Gemma was repulsed, watching the hopelessness on the young girl's face as she stood with her head down, being mauled, making no protest as the man's fingers groped inside the lace covering her to squeeze her naked flesh.

"Tell me how you're feeling," the guard breathed eagerly down into the girl's face as the tears began to cloud her eyes, "and take off your bra." A whimper of pain escaped Anne when the man twisted her nipples, even while she obediently reached behind herself and undid the strap, pleading, "Please, please don't do this, don't make me, I don't want to. Please."

Gemma watched, transfixed and horrified, and then abruptly found Nick was stuffing his tie into her mouth, tying it in a gag, before she could react. He deftly flipped her across his shoulders with her wrists caught in one hand and her thighs immobilised with his other arm, and headed briskly for the side exit.

"Soon you also will obey my every command," he murmured to his captive as he caressed a palm over her buttocks, easily holding her when she struggled fiercely to avoid his intrusive touch, shifting his grip on her thighs. He laughed softly. "Then once I've got a litter on you and trained you, I'll sell you like this also. It's a most lucrative way of serving one's pack and I expect you'll be in great demand. Like Anne.

Nick dragged Gemma's wrists across his chest and captured them in his right hand so that he could swipe the security card hanging around her neck across the reader with his left, but Gemma barely noticed. She was haunted by the empty desolation in the face of the semi-naked girl, Anne, begging disjointedly for leniency, as she was forced to her knees in front of the guard and ordered to form a ring with her lips. "No, don't, please don't, don't, please don't make me," her cries, distorted by the ring of her grotesquely obedient lips, were choked off when Jim eagerly guided his throbbing cock into her waiting mouth and ordered her to suck. One begging eye was visible, blind with tears, around the thrusting, wobbling buttocks of her assailant, hollow despair echoing in the depths as she was choked repeatedly, held tightly by the hair for his deeply probing cock.

How often has she been made to do this?

Cold shivered in Gemma's veins as the door clicked shut behind them.

While Nick loped silently down the side of the building towards the park, he began to stroke the fingers of his free hand down across the front of her jeans and rub them against her pussy crack through the material. He laughed again, delighted, as the he girl carried across his shoulders heaved violently and tried ineffectually to yank an arm free. "The ones who struggle or beg are always the most popular," he drawled, then slid his fingers to the zipper and began to ease it down.

"It's so kind of MacKeld to leave you loose to wander so that I can also have you." Despite her desperate squirming, her zipper and waist button were soon open and the revolting wolf

pimp

slid his hand inside to finger her pussy slit through her panties.

Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. And damn Mac, he promised this wouldn't happen. So he'd better get here.

They reached the park trees and Nick abruptly up-ended her; Gemma gasped through the gag, disorientated, pressing her palms against the grass that was suddenly in her face as she collapsed downwards on her arms, feeling her jeans slithering off her legs, the cloth held by the grip Nick had around their ankles.

"It's so honourably wolfie to mate in the woods, don't you think? So sublime, so natural," he taunted, eyes gleaming down at the girl heaped at his feet as he rolled her over with a thrust of his foot.

Fuck you.

The elegant bastard prowled towards her with obviously malicious intent, and smiled slightly, acknowledging the anger on her face as she clenched her small fists.

"You've managed to heal enough to throw off the petrification, haven't you little manu? But don't worry; I'll instil it in you more thoroughly this time. You'll only be able to fight when I order you to."

Oh, you think so?

One raging thought Gemma was clear on. She was

never

going to obey this vile excuse for a life form.

A rumble of a snarl checked Nick's sinuous stalk towards her, and her would-be assailant tensed as he swung to face the sound. Gemma's heart leaped, and they both focused on the heavily muscled, tawny wolf sprinting towards them across the empty playing fields.

What-?

Gemma had clear memories of thick white fur brushing her skin when she'd lain under Mac, of the white wolf unconscious on the hearthrug, so who was this? To Gemma's acute dismay, Nick relaxed again.

"Well, well, well," rising to his full height, "Who would have thought that he'd send someone that valuable just to keep an eye on a human?" A gleaming eye slanted down at her. "Let's hope you're worth it."

A slight shimmer in the air around him, and the elegant figure was replaced by a towering grey wolf. Nick snarled in response to the rumbling from the approaching challenger as he snapped into a powerful run, launching himself straight at his opponent. They crashed into a tangle of snarling, biting bodies at the edge of the trees, weaving a vicious fight as they ripped hunks of fur off each other, barging shoulder to flank as each tried to topple his adversary and gain the upper hand.