Claimed By The Wolf (Werewolf Fever #2) Read online

  CLAIMED BY THE WOLF

  BY JUNO BLAKE

  © 2017 All Rights Reserved

  CHAPTER 1

  All the world was forest, and the forest was the world. Lucy ran through the trees on a carpet of fallen pine needles, her heart singing.

  Above her, the moon blazed silver. Shafts of white light cut through the branches, crosshatching the forest floor.

  Lucy ran—and the wolf followed.

  She ran, the cold night air whipping past her face, and the wolf chased her, as it did every night.

  It was a dream. Even now, driving her toes into the damp forest floor with every stride, she knew it was a dream.

  And she knew who the wolf was. His name was already on her lips. Ciaran.

  Ciaran Mallory, the coldly passionate Scottish werewolf. She’d spent one single night in his castle as his captive, prey to his every sexual whim.

  He’d tormented her, forcing pleasure from her body in ways she never thought possible. And every night since she had escaped his castle, she’d found herself here: in the forest, running from the wolf.

  Running from Ciaran.

  Lucy’s breath burned in her lungs, but her dreaming body thrilled at the hunt. She could feel him behind her, his golden eyes raking over her body as he chased her.

  He was getting closer. With every step, he gained on her, his powerful strides longer and faster than Lucy’s. He was bigger than her. Stronger than her. He could overpower her as easily as swatting a fly.

  All he had to do was catch her.

  And when he did…

  Lucy groaned. For six weeks she’d had this dream. Each night, she’d run until her lungs burned and her feet were cut and bleeding. Ciaran had gotten closer, and closer—but she’d always woken up before he caught her.

  She had sworn to herself that she would never let Ciaran dominate her again.

  But this isn’t real life. It’s a dream. It’s not real…

  But her feelings were. Why else would I dream about this every night?

  Lucy’s whole body throbbed with desire as she heard Ciaran’s heavy footsteps on the forest floor grow closer. She could keep running. Do the same thing she’d done every night since she escaped, and run until she woke up, hot and sweating and frustrated. Or…

  She could give in to him.

  Her breath caught in her throat. Give in—and give up her body to the werewolf.

  Her brain rebelled at the thought, but her body thrilled at it. Give in to his strength, his rough, violent passion. Lose herself in her own body’s shameful pleasure.

  Lucy’s foot caught on a root and she stumbled, throwing her hands out to stop her fall. She rolled over, scrambling in the needle-covered dirt.

  A shadow moved through the trees, so fast she only got glimpses of it: long, hairy arms tipped with claws. A muscular torso. Sharp fangs gleaming in the moonlight.

  Lucy pushed herself up onto her elbows, heart in her throat. He was so close, there was no chance she would be able to get up before he was on top of her.

  Is this what I want? Time seemed to slow down. Is this what I’ve always wanted? To be completely in Ciaran’s power?

  Lucy told herself it couldn’t be true. She had been terrified and confused every moment of her captivity in the castle. In all her life she’d never been so helpless—or so aroused.

  Maybe that was what had terrified her so much. Everything Ciaran had done to her… she’d enjoyed it. And she wanted more. Even if she could only admit it in her dreams.

  Ciaran bust out from the trees. He was in his full-moon form, his body still human-shaped but over seven feet tall with rippling muscles. His hands were huge, with a claw-like nail at the end of each long finger. His face was fierce, inhuman, fangs bursting through his lips and heavy brows shadowing his eyes.

  And his eyes…

  Lucy went limp, drowning in the golden blaze of Ciaran’s wolf eyes.

  “Hello, Lucy,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. She whimpered as he tore her shirt from her body, exposing her bare skin to the cold night air and his lustful gaze. He reached for her…

  …And Lucy woke up.

  She stared at the peeling paint on the ceiling, panting. Bedsheets were strewn around her, knotted around her legs. Her whole body was slick with cold sweat.

  For a moment, Lucy couldn’t remember where she was. The forest still pressed in on her mind, long branches stretching like arms towards the moon. She closed her eyes, desperate to bring it back. Just one more moment, she begged. Just to feel his touch…

  It was no use. She was awake, in her cramped, damp London flat.

  Safe.

  Hundreds of miles from Ciaran Mallory in his silver-walled castle.

  She should have been glad. Instead, she was so frustrated she could feel tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

  Lucy couldn’t hide the truth from herself any longer. Ciaran Mallory terrified her. If she hadn’t escaped, he might have ended up killing her. At the very least, he would have used her, again and again, forcing himself on her regardless of her cries for mercy.

  And Lucy wanted more. Her dreams, the thrill of desire that rushed through her whenever she remembered Ciaran’s assaults on her body… It made her sick, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. Ciaran Mallory had taken her, body and soul, and she would never be satisfied by another man.

  Tears squeezed out of Lucy’s eyes as she shut them tight. She had thought she could leave what happened in the castle behind her, like a nightmare that would disappear in the light of day.

  Instead, it was going to haunt her forever.

  She groaned and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the narrow single bed. Haunted or not, I have to get on with my life, she thought, gritting her teeth. What’s left of it, at least.

  Before she met Ciaran Mallory, Lucy had her life all figured out. Her career as a photographer was just taking off. She had saved for years to fund her travels through Europe, excited by the prospect of adventure and life on the road—and the chance to take more of the sorts of atmospheric landscape photos she’d made her name with.

  All that had changed in one night. Lucy had been forced to leave behind most of her belongings when she fled from Ciaran and his brutal demands—including her passport and wallet.

  No passport. Barely any money. Worst of all, no camera. All that work, lost.

  Lucy had fled on her motorbike as far as she could, begging and stealing food and fuel until she found herself in London. She’d sold her bike, planning to hide in the city until she could raise the money for a ticket back home to America.

  Today was an important day. The process of getting her passport replaced had been long and aggravating, but today the Embassy was finally going to hand it over. By this evening, she would be one step closer to putting an ocean between herself and Ciaran Mallory.

  But first… she needed a cold shower.

  Lucy hurried through to the flat’s cramped bathroom. Luckily, none of the other people who were living in the over-crowded house were using it. She stepped into the shower, hissing at the cold water.

  The house was so run-down, it didn’t have hot water. Most of Lucy’s housemates grumbled about it, but Lucy was grateful. Nothing else helped to dampen down her body’s shameful lust for the werewolf whose clutches she’d fled from.

  She stood under the icy water, shivering as it trickled over her breasts and belly. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still see Ciaran’s gaze, pinning her to the ground.

  The bruises from her night in the castle had faded weeks ago, but sometimes, Lucy still thought she could feel Ciaran’s hands on her body. His firm, entitled touch as he squeez
ed her breasts and raked his claws across her sides. The pressure of his fingers on her waist as he pulled her towards him…

  Someone knocked on the bathroom door, shocking Lucy out of her memories. She gasped and splashed cold water over her face.

  “What?” she yelled over the sound of the shower.

  “Can you hurry up? I’ve got to get to work!”

  Lucy recognized the voice as that of Sibby, one of her housemates. Sighing, she turned off the shower and wrapped herself in a threadbare towel.

  “It’s all yours,” she told Sibby as she pushed past her and scurried back to her bedroom.

  “Thanks!” Sibby called over her shoulder. Lucy smiled at her as she wedged her bedroom door shut. Sibby was the same age as Lucy, although sometimes Lucy felt a lot older than her. She was a fresh-faced new graduate who’d only just moved from her small village to London. Everything in the city seemed to amaze and delight her… even the rats that crept into their flat’s poky kitchen at night.

  Some days, Lucy wished she was still as innocent about the world as Sibby was.

  The door to her bedroom was skewed, and only closed properly if Lucy threw her whole weight against it. Whoever had installed it couldn’t have been a real builder. In fact, Lucy suspected that the landlord had just nailed new doorways in front of every nook and cranny in the building, creating new “bedrooms” in spaces that had previously been closets, pantries, the ends of corridors and anywhere else he could fit in an extra closet-sized room.

  As a result, Lucy’s room was just big enough to fit her single bed and a small cupboard where she kept the few possessions she’d been able to gather together since she made her way to London. The most important of these were her second-hand laptop and camera.

  She’d spent most of the money from selling her motorbike on these two items. It was foolish and frivolous, but Lucy didn’t really feel whole without a camera, even a cheap second-hand one. It was nothing compared to the DSLR she had lost at Ciaran’s castle, but it was something, at least.

  Besides, it was a practical purchase. Lucy had made a living as a photographer before, and she intended to do so again. She’d already done a few small jobs since she arrived in London, mainly taking cutesy photos of people’s children and pets. It wasn’t much money—but it was a start.

  And it was less humiliating than waiting tables. At least puppies didn’t try to pinch her ass as she walked by.

  Lucy dried herself off quickly and got dressed. Her appointment at the Embassy wasn’t for another few hours, and she needed to find some way to keep her mind occupied. Work would distract her from the glowing golden eyes in her imagination.

  She grabbed her laptop and sat back on her bed, waiting for it to boot up.

  Her eyes roamed around the bare walls as she waited, lingering on the mysterious stain that had started getting bigger ever since the last big downpour.

  Ew. At least the castle didn’t have black mold…

  Lucy shook herself. Don’t even joke about that. Focus on what you need to do to get home. And fast.

  She still found it difficult to accept that everything she owned fit in this tiny room. Just a few changes of clothes, a pair of boots, and her laptop, camera and phone.

  Not for long, she told herself firmly. Today, you’ll get your passport back. After that, all you need to do is save another few hundred pounds to get a ticket back home.

  At last her laptop finished booting. Lucy logged onto her email, idling scrolling past spam messages and social media notifications to find any new work emails. She wasn’t expecting anything, but something caught her eye:

  Blackpaw Pack: An Exclusive Invitation.

  CHAPTER 2

  A shiver went down Lucy’s spine.

  Blackpaw Pack? Lucy had never heard of them. But she knew what they must be. A werewolf pack.

  Her cursor hovered over the email. It’s probably just spam, she told herself, biting her lip. Junk mail.

  But if it wasn’t…

  Lucy hadn’t known about werewolf pack-meets before she met Ciaran, but in the weeks since then she’d done her research. Werewolf Packs were territorial, and one of the only times different Packs came together was for special ceremonies during which the unattached wolves would choose mates.

  Ceremonies? That makes it sound way too formal, Lucy thought. The truth—at least, what the forums Lucy had read claimed was the truth—was far more twisted. Human women applied to attend the parties, and if their applications were successful…

  Lucy gulped. Any woman who attended these parties was shared among the werewolves until one or more of the wolves decided to claim her as theirs alone.

  She didn’t know what pack Ciaran was from. Could it be Blackpaw Pack? Was this message from him?

  Her fingers itched.

  If the message was from him, she should delete it straight away. Submitting to him in her dreams was one thing, but in real life? She couldn’t risk ever meeting him in person again. She didn’t know what he would do to her. Or what she would let him do.

  Lucy held her breath and opened the email.

  Dear Ms. Abbotsford, the message began.

  As a long-time admirer of your work, I would like to invite you to act as events photographer for an upcoming soiree to be hosted by the Blackpaw Pack…

  She skipped to the end. The email was signed Katelyn Moir.

  Lucy closed her eyes, sighing. It wasn’t Ciaran, after all.

  But it was a job.

  She read the email again. Katelyn Moir introduced herself as the assistant to the Alpha, Bruce Blackpaw. Apparently, the Alpha and his wife had seen some of Lucy’s work at an exhibition back in the States the year before. When they’d seen she was now working at London, the Alpha had ordered his assistant to hire her for his event—at any cost.

  Lucy gulped. The email said she should name her price.

  Katelyn had given a phone number for her to call. Lucy grabbed her phone from under her pillow. Her fingers twitched over the Call button. This could be the solution to all of her money problems. All she had to do was attend one of the infamous werewolf parties.

  As a photographer, she reminded herself. Not as one of the women on the menu.

  Before she could change her mind, she tapped in Katelyn Moir’s number and hit Call.

  “Blackpaw Pack headquarters, you’re speaking to Katelyn.” Katelyn Moir had a soft Scottish burr that reminded Lucy of Ciaran’s voice.

  “Ms. Moir? My name is Lucy Abbotsford—”

  “Lucy! I’m so glad you called. You got my email?”

  “Yes,” Lucy said slowly. “I just had a few questions…”

  “Of course. Go ahead,” Katelyn said at once.

  Lucy opened her mouth—and paused. She had so many questions—but she didn’t want to seem ignorant or unprofessional by blurting them out all at once. She cleared her throat.

  “This will be the first time I have attended—er—a werewolf event,” she said, picking her words carefully. “Not my first cocktail evening, of course, but if there is anything in particular I should be aware of in advance…”

  “Certainly. As staff, you will be exempted from the duties required by other human women attending the evening’s festivities.”

  Lucy’s mouth went dry as she imagined what the festivities would involve.

  Katelyn went on, her voice crisp and professional. “However, please ensure you wear all black, to visually differentiate yourself from the packchasers. Some of the bachelors can be… inobservant.”

  Lucy licked her lips. “I’ll keep that in mind. And what would the Alpha and his wife prefer I—er—focus on… in the photographs?”

  “Oh—nothing risqué, don’t worry!” Katelyn gave a tinkling laugh. “You will remain in the main hall and pavilion, where things remain—ah—relatively discreet. Our bachelors expect a level of privacy in the gardens which we are happy to provide.”

  “That sounds great,” Lucy said, hoping she didn’t sound as relieved
as she felt. “What time should I arrive?”

  She hashed out the details with Katelyn. When Ms. Moir asked her to confirm her fees, Lucy crossed her fingers and named a number triple her usual. The Blackpaws’ PA agreed without hesitation.

  Lucy bit her lips shut over a final question. How do you find out what Pack a werewolf is from?

  She forced herself to say her goodbyes politely, without letting the question slip out.

  Afterwards, Lucy dropped the phone and stared up at the ceiling. The money she was going to get for this job was going to solve all her problems, and more. She could fly back to America, buy a full new set of gear… re-start her life.

  But that wasn’t all.

  Lucy let her breath out slowly. Six weeks ago, she hadn’t known anything about werewolves. After what Ciaran had done to her, she should feel too scared of wolves to attend a party, no matter how much she was being paid.

  Instead, she was excited. And that was what frightened her.

  CHAPTER 3

  A week later, Lucy stepped out of a taxi in front of a grand mansion. The Blackpaw stately home wasn’t near any train or bus lines, and the taxi bill had emptied her wallet, but she was trying not to worry about that. As soon as she received her pay for tonight’s work, all of her money problems would be over.

  Including the debt she had racked up buying a higher-quality camera on credit. Her fingers tightened around it.

  It was a sensible purchase, she reminded herself. You can’t take photos at a fancy soiree with a shitty digital camera. They’d throw you out without a second thought.

  The taxi took off so fast its brakes squealed. Lucy watched it go, then turned to look at the mansion.

  The Blackpaw Pack mansion sat in the middle of an ancient estate an hour’s drive out of London. It was built of pale brown stone. If she hadn’t known it belonged to a Pack, Lucy would have assumed it belonged to the National Trust or a similar heritage establishment.

  There weren’t any photos of the estate online. Lucy could only imagine the lawsuits that had taken. The absence of any images of the place had intrigued her.