Worshipped

ONE

Maurice

Heat spikes through my body, sharpening my claws and making my fangs drip with saliva. It's fucking mission impossible retaining my human shape at this time of the month, but this full moon seems worse than last. And that one was worse than the one before.

It's been too long.

Been too long since I did anything but try to cage the beast that lives inside me. He needs to run. Needs to stalk something tasty through the dim light of the forest, howl to the moon and push her into the damp leaves and rut her until she screams for mercy.

That's not me, though. That's the beast.

Human me is appalled at the thought.

Human me would much rather be pushed into the soft leaves myself. Mounted and ridden hard until all I see are the stars in the night sky framing her perfect face and the curves I'll beg to touch.

But who can tame a werewolf? Especially at this time of month.

Another flash of heat takes me to my feet. I stumble through my apartment, crashing into the coffee table, knocking a cup from the kitchen counter as I catch my balance with a hand on the cool granite. The outsides of my vision blur red and black. My spine cracks as the wolf rises to the surface and my body shifts. Claws lengthen. Teeth sharpen. Fur sprouts over my body and my body swells and bulges and aches for release. I burst onto the balcony and the night air caresses me, a phantom tease instead of real hands on me. Stroking me. Soothing me. Calming my racing heart.

The howl tears from me. I throw my head back and let it go, unable to stop it. My pain, my frustration. My loneliness. The moon hears it all and regards me impassively.

My body grows larger still. My shirt rips. Another good shirt destroyed because I'm too useless to undress myself once it takes hold.

You'd think I'd be used to it by now. After four years of being cursed. Every damn time it creeps up on me, hitting me harder, socking me in the balls with raw hunger.

How did I forget how bad this feels?

I'm wrenched forward onto my hands and knees until the transformation is complete. My muzzle stretches, long teeth filling my jaw, my senses sharpened further. Fur covers my body and my tail twitches against the seam of my trousers. I pull at them with clawed hands until it's free.

I draw a burning breath as another convulsion seizes me and then I freeze.

A scent--luscious, rich, smokey and delicious--takes me by the snout and points my face in the direction of the city below.

Who is she?

My God, she smells like running through the woods naked. She smells like candlewax and witchcraft and enchantment.

Where is she?

I dash back through the apartment, burst out the door and I'm on the street in moments. I part my mouth, taste the air.

There!

The street is busy. People are everywhere. Their muddy, flat scents buffet my nose. A woman with a pale face and cloying perfume scrambles out of my way as I run toward her. My vision is blurry again.

A car beeps as I dart into the road.I slam my fist into the bonnet and vault over the roof of another going in the other direction.

A scream from behind makes the fur bristle on the back of my neck. It feels good to move, but it strengthens the beast. My fangs drip with saliva. My feet fly over the pavement.

A kid on a skateboard darts out of my way and I'm tempted to chase him. Run him down and sink my fangs into young flesh. I don't want to hurt him. Not really. Just catch him. Why is he running from me?

Then I get her scent again.

My head snaps forward. I forget the kid.

I'm running. I build speed. I push past a man who shouts after me.

I ignore him.

I'm gaining on her. The scent is stronger. Its flavor on my tongue makes the red recede from the corners of my vision. Her scent in my nostrils has me on all fours. My shape is not fully wolf. It's a distorted blending of wolf and man. Much bigger than either animal. Much more ferocious. Wilder.

My tongue lolls from my lips as I bound around a corner and my vision narrows on a woman on the street ahead. She wears all black. A tight dress that hugs a slender yet curvy figure. Long sleeves of pretty tattoos cover each arm. High black heeled boots give her walk a strut that shakes her ass in a way that mesmerizes me.

God that ass!

I need to sink my fangs into it.

She's walking away from me. I can't see her face. All I can see is the long black hair which cascades over her shoulders and trails down her back and makes my claws itch to grab it.

A low growl rumbles through my chest.

Mine!

I hardly notice the other people in my way. They quickly get out of it anyway. Not stupid enough to think twice about messing with a werewolf in heat.

My paws carry me to her in a few short bounds. She doesn't even turn. Doesn't flinch. I rear onto my hind legs. I part my jaws ready to bite the succulent flesh of her bare shoulder. Claws reach to grab her.

"Don't." Her cool voice cuts through the heat and freezes me in my tracks.

My ears prick up. My tail does too.

Her scent already has my cock at half-mast and all my nerves on fire.

She turns and I drop to my haunches in front of her. Lush red lips are pursed in disapproval. Black lined eyes bore into mine and her nose ring glints in the streetlights. "Don't even think about biting me."

I growl. My fur fluffs. I couldn't look away from her steely blue gaze if I tried.

She lifts a brow. "You wouldn't dare."

I huff. How does she know?

I've stalked her through the darkness like a beast, but she might as well have read my soul like a book.

"Heel." With that final word, she spins and gives me her back. She walks away! Not runs, walks. Struts!

I follow like she's leashed me.

My paws trot after her long strides and my nose lifts to draw her scent in deeper.

God she is alpha.

Fools might try to tell you that all wolves need an alpha male. Those fools never met a woman like this one.

She leads me around a corner onto a bigger street. I can tell by her scent she's backtracking. The fresh temptation of its richness overlaps something older, slightly less potent. I shake my head, trying to work out what she's about.

Instead of screaming and running, people are staring now. Can't blame 'em.

I'm a fucking monster. They might be used to supes being out after two years, but that doesn't mean your average human is prepared to see a changed werewolf roaming the streets.

I've a sneaking suspicion as many people are watching her as are watching me, though. Of course they are. She's fucking stunning.

The woman stops in front of the entry to a building. I scent people coming and going. Traffic in and out of the doors all day.

She spins and glares at me. "You're a danger to yourself and others like this. No pack, no mate, no mistress."

I whimper. It's all I can do to stop myself lowering my head to lick her polished black boots.

She's named it exactly. I'm a lone wolf and a lone wolf is never safe.

She rolls her eyes. "Follow me. But don't you forget for a minute who's in charge here."

I whine.

She grips my jaw fearlessly with one small hand and forces my muzzle up so I'm looking right into her fierce glare. "Tell me."

I lick my lips. Talking is hard when my brain's all scrambled like this.

"Tell me or I release you and you're on your own." She begins to straighten.

"Y-you." My voice is low and gravelly and it scrapes against my voicebox like gravel on tired paws. It comes out more like a bark. "You."

"Good boy."

Fucking dig my grave and bury me now.

Those two words have my tail wagging instantly.

She looks down at it and sneers, but I see the smile that lifts the corner of her red lips. "Yeah, I thought so. Come on." She turns and walks into the building and I follow on her heels like an obedient dog.

The wolf is panting for her. Longing to roll onto my back and beg her to rub my belly.

The man isn't too far behind.

***

TWO

Caitlyn

I knew it from the minute I sensed him he was trouble. I just thought he was the kind of trouble I'm already running from. Turns out he's a whole different cauldron of hell-broth.

Well, double, double muthafuckers. Bring it. How much worse could things possibly be?

I laugh silently at my own joke. Goddess, [name], the head of my old coven would be spewing if she knew I was quoting that shit, if only in my head. Bad enough that idiots still think it's true four hundred years on. Too bad it's actually quite catchy.

I stalk through the hotel lobby, the werewolf's hot breath on the back of my bare legs telling me he's following just like I knew he would. I jab the button until the light finally comes on and the elevator bings as the doors open. The lady at reception gives me an icy glare which I ignore.

I've got places to be. Things to do.

But I couldn't leave him out there like this.

The werewolf gets into the elevator and the doors are closing when bitchy reception lady rushes over. "You can't take that thing up--"

She's cut off by a snarl from my new friend. He feints forward, gnashing sharp teeth in her direction and Karen jumps back with a shriek.

I'm still laughing when he bumps back against me and the doors close. I reach out and ruffle the fur between his big pointy ears. "You tell her."

He surprises me by twisting his large head and licking my hand before I can snatch it away.

"Eeeewww." I wipe my dripping hand in his fur. "You can cut that out."

The werewolf bares sharp teeth in what I can only describe as a doggy grin. I shake my head. Definitely trouble. Too bad my body betrays me with a little flutter low in my core. I squash that shit right away. I do not need a flirtacious werewolf adding to my list of problems.

The elevator arrives at level six and I step out, leading him to my room. When we're inside, I point to a spot in the middle of the room where he should be fairly safe from knocking anything over. His damn tail is big enough to sweep half my shit off the beside table and I feel like his shoulders take up half the room!

Trying not to think about the raw power in his transformed shape, I hurry to the nightstand and fish in the drawer until I find what I'm looking for. "What's your name?"

"Rrrrrice." The word comes out sounding more like a growl than speech, but it's clear enough.

"Reece?"

Reece huffs and I figure I've got it close enough. He's still breathing heavily and the fur along his back is bristled. Going to the window, I close the curtains and switch on the lamp. Reece watches me. When the curtains are closed and the moonlight is no longer on him, his breathing slows a little. Good.

"You?"

I consider. I can't give him my real name. Why do I even want to? I'll probably never see him again. "Lyn."

I hold up the silver necklace I fetched from the drawer. Instantly his lip curls and a low rumble of warning shivers down my spine. I ignore it. "Don't be a baby. You need restraining and this is the best I've got."

He still shrinks from me, cowering into the smallest shape a creature of his size can make when I step closer. I sigh.

"I can't stay. I have an appointment."

Reece whines. That should not make me feel half as sorry for him as it does.

Damn it!

Hurrying to my bag, I pull out a long silk scarf. "Here. I'll put this on your skin. The chain will go over it. It won't touch you. I promise."

He eyes me for another moment. Then he lowers his head and presents his neck to me. Slowly, I step close enough to wind the scarf around him. He shudders as the silver goes on top. I use the clasp the fix the chain around his neck and the right length so it won't touch him just like I promised. "I'll be back later to let you out. Don't go anywhere."

As soon as I turn to go, an agonized howl freezes me in my tracks. "Don't gooooo!"

"I have to."

I take one more step toward the door. Reece roars so loudly I have to hold my ears. When I spin it's to see him tear the necklace from his neck, snapping it and dropping it to the floor in front of him. He's eight foot something of enraged werewolf, chest heaving and fangs bared.

Bastard just broke my good silver chain. There goes plan A.

I glare at him. "You are going to regret that."

He growls.

I step closer. "I said, you're going to regret that." There are two ways to subdue a werewolf in heat. I'm suddenly grateful for the lessons in supernatural lore that [name] drilled into me years ago. Doesn't change the fact that the second way should be totally and completely off limits.

Silver works a charm. The only other way to subdue a werewolf at full moon is by triggering their rut. Which I absolutely should not do. Oh it's not that I don't think I can handle him. I know I can. But rutting with a werewolf is akin to mating. They tend to get attached. And I can't afford to be attached to anyone or anything. Not when I'm on the run.

I hold his stare for another few seconds while the air between us seems to crackle. I'm furious. He's cost me the appointment at Monstrous Deals, the work I was hoping to find and probably any chance of actually eating this week.

I could have walked away. Could have sent him off with his tail between his legs. I'm sure I could. But no. I had to get involved. Well now he's my problem. Damned if I'm going to let him hurt himself or someone else in an uncontrolled heat.

I thrust my finger toward the corner of the room. "Get on the bed."

Reece's ears prick up. He scents the air.

I step forward and bend to pick up the silver chain. "Get on the bed unless you want to taste this silver on your skin."

His ears go back. He takes a step back toward the bed. "Need to run. Need to hunt."

I shake my head. "No. I know what you need."

I thrust the silver toward him. He dodges and gets onto the bed.

I have to be smart about how I handle the next part. I need to tip him into rut. But first I need his consent.

"What are you doing?" He watches me with baleful eyes.

Hooking the chain around my neck with the ends dangling between my breasts, I pull the dress down over my arms and drop it to the floor.

Reece is instantly on alert. His tail goes up. His ears go up. His mouth parts.

"Stay." I hold my hand out in front of me. I'm playing with fire now, but it's too late to turn back. My breasts are small and I don't often bother with a bra. Now my nipples harden as he continues to look at me like a starved animal.

Well isn't that the truth of it?

Poor guy looks like he hasn't had anyone take care of him for a very long time. He's wearing the ruined shreds of his clothing, including a pair of trousers that are doing nothing to conceal the large bulge where his cock presses against the seam.

"Take those off." I indicate the pants with a nod of my head.

He scowls. "Can't." He holds up his hands and I instantly see why. His sharp claws are no good for working the button or fly without destroying the trousers.

I frown. "I don't like being disobeyed."

His tail drops. "Help, please."

"Better. No touching."

When he nods, I go to him. Making quick work of the button, I undo the fly and pull the trousers down over his lean hips. My mouth goes dry when they slide down past an inguinal crease that looks like it was cut with a knife and over a snail trail of thick fur that leads to the base of a very thick cock.

Gracious goddess, have I bitten off more than I can chew? Is it too late to turn back?

I swallow and tell myself to grow some ovaries. I can handle this.

Just got to wear him out. Which has never been a problem for me in the past. Then again, I've never been with anyone quite so... quite so...

Thoughts desert me as I pull the trousers down further and an enormous veiny cock springs free, almost slapping me in the face. Still, it's not quite as bad as I thought. The base is larger than the shaft, though the head is red and angry and swollen. If my lore serves me right, that thick base will swell even more as he cums to become a knot designed to lock a female in place for breeding.

Luckily I have an IUD and no intention of being knotted and bred.

***

THREE

Maurice

My cock bursts from the constraints of my ruined trousers as she pulls them over my hips. Christ does that feel good. It throbs and aches and drips for her. Being so close and yet so far from those tempting red lips is fucking torture.

But she didn't tell me I could touch her.

A flash of heat. I buckle. My body quivers. My jaw locks.

When the worst of it passes I look up to see her watching me.

I force the words past lips that would rather snarl. "D-don't leave me like this."

"Lay down."

It's not a promise, but I can see it's the best I'm going to get. I force my awkward body onto the bed. It creaks and groans at my weight, but it holds. My tail feels odd, tucked between my legs so I can lay on my back. My cock jutts up, jerking as she moves to stand beside the bed.

I whimper. "Please."

"Stroke it for me." She stands over me, hands on hips, cool blue gaze regarding me.

I grip my cock with one clawed hand and do my best to obey her. My fist is hugely swollen. My sharp claws protrude so far it's hard to wrap my hand around my shaft without doing damage. I rub a palm awkwardly down the base.

She sighs. Crawling onto the bed and batting my hand away, she replaces it with her own. Instantly pleasure spikes. I groan.

The head of my cock beads with moisture. The foreskin is already stretched and pulled so far back that the whole of the angry red crown is exposed. It's sensitive. Even the feel of the air on my skin has me writhing tonight. With her hand on my cock it's a hundred times worse.

She grips me firmly, rubs her thumb across the head and right into the slit.

I let loose a roar. My back bows off the bed.

My mistress only laughs. "Concentrate. Don't you spill yet."

I could howl with frustration. She wants to edge me now? I was ready to come at the first touch of her hand. But I grit my teeth and force it back because more than anything I do not want her to stop.

Her red lips curve into a devious smile and she strokes me slowly down and then all the way back squeezing the head of my cock as she reaches the top.

"Who are you?" I gasp the words.

My claws pierce the mattress as she strokes me again.

"Right now I'm your mistress. Concentrate." Her hand moves faster now.

It's all I can do to breathe through the intense feeling. Every breath draws in her scent. Each one paints a vivid picture of her growing arousal. Beneath her dress, the secret valley of her cunt grows moist with dew that I long to taste.

Doing this to me brings her pleasure? The thought of that gives me renewed drive to force my body under my control. No, not my control. Hers.

She pumps her fist over my swollen cock. She works me forcefully. Takes possession of my body until my awareness boils down to my flesh in her palm, my heart pounding in time with her relentless rhythm.

Then she stops.

I bite back a whine.

I know better than to protest anything she chooses to do at this point.

Sitting up on her knees, she pulls the hem of her dress higher and higher until the hint of lacy black underwear makes my mouth water.

Yes, yes! Please!

I'm panting, chest heaving.

She draws the material higher. Slowly. So slowly my pores ache she undresses.

Holy fucking Christ. She's got nothing on beneath the dress except those panties. Both her small pink nipples are pierced with a silver bar. Right now that would do nothing to stop me from flicking both of them with my tongue. I'd risk the burn--relish it. She has me fixed with that glare again, though.

Then she reaches beneath the fabric of her panties and the noise of her fingers sliding through wet folds makes my mouth drop open.

Fuck me!

"You want a taste of this honey?" She lifts one dark brow.