Over the Moon Page 4

  Now, if only the current mess would end that well.

  “What can you tell me about Elena?”

  “Not much. I’ve just heard her address meetings of the Southern Clans a time or two,” Ray said, referring to the Dire-[ ]kind council that governed the southeastern werewolf clans. “She’s something of a rebel—wants to end some of the more medieval Chosen customs, which doesn’t go over well with the other aristocrats. I always figured she was a little too idealistic for her own good. Sounds like I was right.”

  Lucas frowned. “How much danger is she in, Ray?”

  “Not as much as you, son. Did I hear you say she’s in her Burning Moon?”

  “Far as I can tell. Every time I take a breath around her, I get a hard-on.”

  “Yep, that’s the Burning Moon, all right. Either way, you’d better keep it in your pants. She’s way out of your league. You lay one fuzzy hand on her, her daddy’ll cut it off.”

  Lucas flicked a look in his rearview mirror at the Ferrari, still trailing behind. “Yeah, I kinda figured that,” he said, and changed the subject. “You think you can find us somebody to officiate over the duel?”

  “I’ll give Don Jennings a call. In the meantime, keep it zipped, you hear me?”

  He snorted. “Believe me, I’m not dumb enough to do anything else.”

  Lucas pulled into the carport of his rented house and got out to watch Elena whip the Ferrari in behind him. Even stopped, the car looked as if it was speeding.

  Ray’s right—she’s definitely out of my league.

  Then she got out of the car, and it was all he could do not to moan. Long-legged and slim-hipped, with high, sweet breasts, her hair catching flame in the light of the setting sun, Elena Livingston looked like every dream of sex he’d ever had. Even the bruises on that pretty face made her more appealing, like a woman who needed saving. A woman he could actually touch.

  Now you really are dreaming. She’s Chosen. She’d never let you lay one peasant finger on that pure-blooded Dire-[ ]wolf body.

  Ray had told him all about the Chosen as part of his Dire-[ ]wolf indoctrination. They were the closest thing the Dire-[ ]kind had to aristocracy—direct descendents of the very first werewolves created by Merlin himself. Everybody else came from Bitten like him—poor bastards some Direwolf had fanged. Since the bite spread the spell called Merlin’s Curse, whoever got bitten soon got furry.

  The Chosen, on the other hand, considered themselves superior because their ancestors had been selected by Merlin. Proud of their bloodlines and highly secretive, they were bound by a web of complex traditions and blood relationships. They definitely did not mix with the likes of Lucas Rollings.

  Great. Just what he needed: a weekend of sexual frustration followed by a a fight to the death with a jealous Direwolf.

  As Lucas watched, Elena walked over and looked up into his eyes. Despite her apparent boldness, he thought he detected discomfort on her lovely face.

  “I guess you’re wondering what’s really going on,” she said softly. “Given that I couldn’t tell you the full story back at the department.”

  “The question has crossed my mind.” He gestured her ahead of him and tried not to inhale her luscious sex-and-sin scent.

  She preceded him toward the house’s entrance. “I need your help.”

  “And you’ll get it. Bradford’s already challenged me to a duel on Monday.” Lucas reached past her to open the kitchen door for her.

  “That’s only part of it. I need you to get me pregnant.”

  “What the hell kind of game are you playing with me, lady?” Lucas stopped dead in the carport and stared at her, his handsome face darkening with offended anger.

  Elena sighed. “I’m not playing, Lieutenant. Believe me, all of us are in deadly earnest.” She raked a frustrated hand through her hair. “Look, could we just go inside and talk?”

  He hesitated, then gave her a short, sharp nod. Well, at least he hadn’t ordered her off his property.

  Relieved, she stepped inside, finding herself in a small, sunny kitchen. For a moment she paused as the past several hours suddenly caught up to her. Her head ached, and her face throbbed. Her swollen eye was seriously throwing off her vision. She probed it delicately and winced.

  “Want to Change?” Lucas asked gruffly. “The explanation can wait until you heal.”

  “You don’t mind?” When he shook his head, Elena called her magic and threw her body into wolf form. No sooner was the transformation complete than she returned to human again.

  Her legs always felt rubbery after Changing so many times that close together. She staggered over to his kitchen table and fell into one of the seats with a sigh of weariness. Gingerly, she touched her face and found it healed.

  “Well, that looks a hell of a lot better,” Lucas said.

  She shrugged. “One of the mixed blessings of being a Chosen female. Our Alphas don’t think it counts if you can heal it with a quick transformation.”

  He frowned, leaning a lean hip on the butcher block countertop. “Do all the Chosen go in for domestic violence?”

  Elena grimaced. “Not all of them, but it is considered one of our ‘traditions.’”

  He curled a lip. “I thought the Direkind were supposed to be heroes.”

  “We are.”

  “Since when is there anything heroic in beating up somebody you outweigh by a hundred pounds?” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You want something? A Coke? A beer? I think I’ve got a couple of steaks…”

  “A Coke would be welcome.” Her stomach rumbled, reminding her just how long it had been since she’d eaten. “And I wouldn’t turn down a meal, either.”

  He nodded and turned to the refrigerator. She stood and joined him, reaching for the Coke he offered her.

  Their fingers touched. Just like that, awareness popped and crackled between them like an electric line gone suddenly live. Heat raced over her skin.

  Desire leaped in his gaze.

  She tore her eyes away, popped the top, and took a sip. “Want me to set the table?”

  Silence thrummed a moment, heavy with sexual awareness. “Sure.” Lucas turned to get two steaks out of the freezer, then popped them in the microwave to thaw. “Glasses and plates are in the cabinet over the sink. Silver-[ ]ware’s in the drawer by the dishwasher.”

  As she filled two glasses with ice, Elena decided to continue her explanation. It seemed wiser to give them both a chance to regain control. “For the record, the Chosen are the only members of the Direkind who are that patriarchal. Everybody else has pretty much the same attitude toward domestic violence as you do.”

  “So why are the Chosen the only ones still living in the Dark Ages?”

  “The usual—money, power, and the willingness of everybody else to look the other way.” She toasted him with her Coke. “But I mean to change all that—with your help.”

  He lifted a brow. “Which includes getting you knocked up?”

  “Actually…yes.”

  Another vibrating silence. She found herself staring at his lush mouth. He took a step toward her…

  The microwave dinged.

  As if jolted back to normal, Lucas turned to get out the steaks and transferred them onto a broiler. “What’s so important about having my baby?”

  Elena blew out a breath. “It’s complicated.”

  He shot her a dry look. “Anything to do with the Direkind usually is.”

  “Well, this is Direkind politics, which makes it even more convoluted. To begin with, the Chosen maintain seats on all the Clan councils, right on up to the Council of Clans for the entire planet. Which makes the laws we all have to abide by.”

  “Okay, I get that.” He reached up and loosened his tie, then unbuttoned his collar.

  Elena found herself staring at the hollow of his strong throat. With an effort, she dragged her attention back to business. “Well, unlike all the other officials, the Chosen’s representative on the Council of Clans isn’t
elected—the seat is hereditary. For the past fifteen hundred years it’s been held by a direct descendent of Wulfgar himself….”

  “The werewolf King Arthur?”

  “That’s him. Arthur and his knights were Celts; Wulfgar and his Direkind warriors were Saxon. It was Merlin’s way of making sure the two groups didn’t get too chummy.” Like the myths about werewolves, Arthurian legend bore little resemblance to reality. Merlin had turned Arthur and his people into the Magekind—vampires and witches sworn to protect humanity from itself. Apparently being a little paranoid, the immortal wizard had also created the Direkind and ordered them to make sure their cousins didn’t start abusing the very humans they’d been created to protect.

  “And you’re a descendent of this Wulfgar?” Interpreting her lifted brow, Lucas shrugged. “That’s what Stephen said, between warning me to keep my mongrel mitts to myself.”

  “Stephen always was a charmer. But he’s right. My father holds Wulfgar’s seat now, but he’s dying.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He frowned, studying her.

  “So am I, though we’ve never been particularly close, I’m afraid. I was always a great disappointment to Dad.”

  Lucas got down a couple of plates, then started forking the steaks onto them. “I can’t imagine you being a disappointment to anybody.”

  She gave him a crooked smile. “One too many X chromosomes.”

  “Wanted a boy that bad, did he?”

  “He had one. My brother didn’t make it through his first Change.” Elena shook her head, remembering the night she learned Robbie wouldn’t be coming home. His magic had run rogue during his first attempt to transform, burning him alive. He’d been only seventeen. Two years later, Elena successfully made her own transformation. “Dad never forgave me for surviving when Robbie didn’t.”

  “All of which means that when your father dies, you get his seat.”

  “Nope. Still too many X chromosomes.”

  Frowning, Lucas handed her a plate, then sat down with his own. “But women serve on the Council of Clans.”

  “Not in Wulfgar’s seat. I told you, we Chosen are big on tradition. The only way a woman could hold that seat is as a custodian for a minor son.”

  “And you want me to give him to you. How do you know you won’t have a girl?”

  “It doesn’t matter whether I do or not. Once I’m pregnant, I can legally declare myself emancipated from my father’s control in favor of the new bloodline I just started. And once I’m emancipated, I’m no longer considered female under the Traditions, because I’ll be the head of a household. Basically, an Alpha.”

  Lucas stared at her, a line of confusion between his straight dark brows. “That makes absolutely no sense.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the Traditions for you. Fifteen hundred years of accumulated rationalizations designed to benefit various people with a whole lot of money. Which, once I’m on the Council, I plan to methodically dismantle. Especially when it comes to the part about Chosen women being subordinate.” She picked up her knife and cut into her steak.

  “I hate to mention this, but there are eleven people on that council. What makes you think you can swing the votes to change anything?”

  “There is a coalition of female council members who think it’s time we abandon some of the Traditions. Or at least quit turning a blind eye to abuse. My father has always fought them, but if I took his place, I think we could get the rest of the council to go along.”

  “Bet your daddy would just love that. Does he know that’s what you intend?”

  Elena forked up a bite and chewed. It was surprisingly tender. “Oh, yeah. That’s why he’s so determined to marry me off to Stephen before he dies.” Gesturing with her fork, she explained, “See, if Stephen gets me pregnant, he can assume the seat. So they’re both determined Stephen’s going to get me pregnant.” She remembered the sadistic hunger in the man’s eyes. “Whether I like it or not.”

  A muscle flexed in Rollings’s jaw. “You saying he’d rape you?”

  “He tried. Earlier today.” She cut another bite. “I got away.”

  “I’m definitely killing that son of a bitch.”

  “Feel free.”

  “One thing I don’t get—why me? I mean, there must be plenty of Chosen men who’d…”

  “Be happy to take Wulfgar’s seat? Oh, yeah.”

  “But you’re not worried I will?” Comprehension dawned. “Because I’m Bitten.”

  Elena swallowed with effort, guilt turning the bite to sawdust in her mouth. “You’d have to be Chosen to hold it.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “So basically, I’m a bodyguard and dick in one easy-to-use package.”

  She swallowed, forcing herself not to flinch at the anger in his gaze. “You’re the only werewolf in the tri-state area who won’t look the other way while they do whatever the hell they want to me.”

  “Oh, I doubt I’m the only one. I know a lot of werewolves who aren’t assholes.” Lucas threw down his fork. “But I am single, nasty enough to kick Bradford’s ass, and here, so I guess I’ll have to do.”

  Elena’s muscles slowly uncoiled. “So you’ll do it?”

  “Fuck your brains out, knock you up, and fight a seven-[ ]foot werewolf on your behalf? Oh, hell, why not?” His smile was bitterly vicious. “I’m feeling chivalrous.”

  CHAPTER 5

  “For the record, I don’t like this either.” Elena leaned forward, those big, green eyes meeting Lucas’s earnestly. He wondered again if he was being suckered. “I realize I’m taking advantage of your decency, and I’m putting you in danger. But the Chosen can’t be allowed to simply go on acting like medieval lords with a legal right to beat the serfs.”

  Yeah, all that sounded like a cause he was willing to fight for. Maybe even die for. A childhood spent watching his mother dodge one fist after another had given him a serious hate for abusive pricks. Which was why he’d become a cop to begin with.

  But he hated being used.

  What really got him about all this, though, was the nagging sense of disappointment. Becoming a Direwolf had complicated the hell out of his life. The keen senses and increased strength came in handy in his line of work, but lying had become a way of life. He hadn’t been seriously involved with a woman since he’d been Bitten because, under Dire-[ ]kind law, werewolves only married other werewolves. If he fell in love with a human, he’d have to Bite her to give her Merlin’s Curse. Which was a hell of a way to treat someone you love. And he hadn’t met any Direkind females he wanted to get involved with.

  He’d been willing to put up with all that, though, because he’d believed the Direkind the good guys—protecting humanity behind the scenes. Finding out their aristocracy beat their wives shattered that happy illusion.

  “You know what I don’t understand?” he said, sitting back in his seat to study Elena. “How could you beat a woman you’re Spirit Linked to?” Ray had described the psychic link he had with his wife. They experienced one another’s emotions, shared each other’s pleasures. It had sounded damned tempting, even after Ray had told him the death of one partner would kill the other. “Seems like it would literally hurt you as much as it did her.”

  “It would. Which is why Chosen couples rarely link.” Elena grimaced. Even that expression looked good on her lovely face. “Our males consider it a sign of being henpecked. Besides, our marriages are usually born more of dynastic concerns than love.”

  “And who the hell would risk dying for somebody you married for her money?”

  “Exactly. I’ll admit, I always dreamed of Spirit Linking with my husband.” She smiled and dropped her head back, all that fiery hair shifting around her cameo face. “What would it be like, to know that kind of perfect love? I’d almost be willing to risk death to find out.”

  What would it be like to share that love with her? He shook off the thought. You’re a combination dick and bodyguard, remember? She’s not going to fall in love with you, moron. �
��How does the Spirit Link thing work, anyway?”

  Elena shrugged. “I gather you touch your partner as you Change, then blend your magic somehow. Apparently it strengthens your powers considerably.”

  Damn, it did sound tempting. “Not the kind of thing you’d do with somebody you didn’t love, though.”

  She gave a delicate little snort. “Hardly.”

  An unpleasant thought occurred to him, and he frowned. “Do Chosen males treat the kids as badly as they do their wives?”

  “Oddly enough, no. My father never lifted a hand to me until I became a Direwolf.” She sighed. “The taboo against child abuse has to be strong, because somebody like Stephen could do so much damage. Particularly since children can’t transform and heal.” The ability to shift only came at age seventeen or so—the Direkind version of puberty.

  “That taboo’s pretty strong in mainstream American culture too,” Lucas pointed out, “but that doesn’t stop anybody.”

  “But it’s not an automatic death sentence if they catch you at it. Which it is, among us. Our child mortality rate is appalling as it is, with a fifth of all kids not making it through their first Change. If we tolerated child abuse on top of that…well…”

  What kind of life had she lived? Lucas wondered suddenly. It was easy to picture her as a pampered little girl, treated like spun glass. Only to hit puberty, and find she meant nothing to the men around her but a walking womb. No wonder she was willing to do anything to change the system she was trapped in. “The transition from child to Dire-[ ]kind female must come as a shock.”

  “It’s that way for everybody.”

  “But especially for Chosen girls, I’ll bet. One day you’re Daddy’s little girl. The next, he’s coming after you with claws.”

  “Not every day. Not all the time.” Elena stood and moved to the window. Night had fallen while they’d talked. There was a thick stand of trees beyond the privacy fence that circled the yard, their leaves edged in moonlight. She found herself longing to Change and simply run. Lose herself in those dark woods. “Eleven months out of the year, he didn’t much care what I did. It was only during my Burning Moon that he got paranoid.” She shrugged. “‘We’ve got to keep the bloodline pure, Elena.’”