Angela Knight - Over The Moon

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 Direkind 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 Direkind 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.'"

"You're twenty-seven," Lucas pointed out. "Why hasn't he already married you off?"

"After I graduated college, I figured out how to avoid drawing Daddy's attention. I moved out, I found a job, and I didn't get involved with anybody unsuitable. He was heavily involved in Direkind politics, so he let me go my own way." Elena pulled the curtain back farther, staring out into the darkness. "And my father's health has been good, up until this past year. He's seventy-six now, and his magic is beginning to go. Once you can't transform anymore…" She shrugged. Transformations tended to ward off the worst of the damage inflicted by age. But when the magic failed, a Direwolf's health tended to deteriorate fast.

"He must have been in his forties when you were born."

"Right. He was ten years older than my mother."

"What about your mother? You haven't mentioned her."

Because it still hurt. "Mom ran her convertible up under an eighteen wheeler at sixty miles an hour. The collision took her head off." There were some things even the Direkind couldn't heal. "It was right after Bobby died. I always wondered…" Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked fiercely.

He studied her with quiet sympathy. "Losing your mother and brother together like that must have been rough. How old were you?"

"Fifteen. That was right about the time Daddy started…" She gestured. "… pulling away." Her eyes started to fill in earnest. "Sorry. Burning Moon hormones." She blinked hard and reached up to rub her aching back.

"Shoulders hurt?"

Elena gave him a tired smile. "Being a werewolf isn't a protection against tension."

Lucas flashed her a dry smile and rose from the table. "Just the reverse, in fact." He reached for her. She started to pull back, but he took her gently by the arms and turned her around. "Allow me." Big, warm hands came to rest on her shoulders, fingers digging in gently. "You are tense. Some of these knots feel like Ping-Pong balls." He found a particularly tight one and went to work on it, thumbs circling and stroking.

Elena let her head fall back with a groan of pleasure. "You're good at that."

"Being a cop is pretty high-tension too. Which is why…" He leaned down to her ear and whispered, "… there's a hot tub on the back deck."

She looked around at him, intrigued. "Is there?"

Lucas shrugged. "When you spend your time wrestling bad-tempered bad guys into jail cells, sometimes you need a good soak."

Elena hesitated. "I don't have a swimsuit."

His smile turned wicked. "Would you believe me if I promised not to look?"

"Should I?"

He laughed, the sound rich and very male. "Probably not." She slitted her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his hands. "I think I'll risk it."

She'd touched him. Pissed as he'd been—and Lucas had been pretty pissed off—Elena Livingston had gotten to him.

Brooding, he stared out across the moonlit back yard toward the stand of trees beyond the house. He'd changed into his swim trunks while she went to clean up. Now he found himself wondering what the hell he was doing.

Well, other than waiting for hot sex with a woman who seriously turned him on.

And why not? Lucas was about to fight a duel over her with a murderous son of a bitch who'd been a werewolf a hell of a lot longer than he had. He'd be lucky if he didn't get his head handed to him on the end of a rusty pocket knife.

Hot sex was the least she owed him.

So he had no problem with the sex. It was the rest of it that gave him psychic whiplash.