Eve Langlais - Claiming Her Geeks

The faintest rustle of foliage drifted on the night air, and she dropped lightning quick into a crouch. The soaring body, aimed at her back, missed her completely. Her attacker hit the ground on all four paws and skidded, his claws digging furrows into the dirt. Whirling, the hairy beast faced her, his upper lip pulled back in a snarl that revealed sharp teeth. As if that would intimidate her. Mine are bigger.

Shaking her head, just like she’d scold any misbehaving member of her pack, she approached him. “Seriously? Did you really think you’d take me unaware? I’m not some submissive bitch, eager to roll over and bare her belly, or spread her thighs for your cock. If you think to take me, you’ll have to do better than that.”

The furry form in front of her shifted into the familiar shape of Jeffrey, alpha and leader of the Ottawa pack. Decently built, with wide shoulders, muscles all over, and a firm cock nestled in a bush of dark hair, not for the first time, did Deena wish she could give in to him. Why can’t I just let him claim me as his mate? It would make life so much easier. Blessed with muscle, but without any sense, Jeffrey was the most powerful male she knew, and attractive she guessed, yet, he left her cold. Actually, worse than uninterested physically, he bored her. And I won’t spend my life with a man who makes me want to rip out his throat out because I can’t stop yawning.

“You know we’re meant to be together. With the combined strength of our packs, we’d rule all of Canada, and even some of the states south of us.”

A roll of her eyes didn’t wipe the fervent expression from his face. It probably didn’t help that all the blood in his body currently resided in his prick instead of his brain. Men really were at a disadvantage in that respect. “Ooh, now there’s a hot proposal. Marry you as some sort of business merger. Gee, talk about sweeping me off my feet.”

A growl emerged from him as he took a menacing step forward. “We are not hormonal teenagers, Deena. We are leaders, and as such, we need to look past silly things such as emotion and do what is best for our packs.”

“Best for you maybe. I already rule the biggest pack in Canada, while yours ranks a measly fifth. And while I’m not asking for flowers and poems, I’d like to think I could mate with a man because he wants me for me and not because I could kick the ass of anyone who opposes him.

“I fight my own battles.”

“Good for you. Then you won’t be offended when I say not in a million moons. When I mate, it will be with a male of my choosing whom I not only respect, but who at least has a semblance of affection for me.” She’d given up on love a long time ago. No male wanted to bind himself to a female who could break every bone in his body without breaking a sweat, and she’d yet to meet a strong man who made her heart flutter, or her inner bitch howl. Not that she’d admit her fantasy aloud or the fact that she still searched. Such a feminine notion didn’t own a place in her life as pack alpha, a life made harder because the lack of a cock between her legs forced her to constantly prove her strength to others. At least within her own pack, her people followed her with a fervent devotion, but as soon as she left her territory, the challengers swarmed—and left with scars and bitter words. She gave them one chance. The second time they thought to challenge her, they died.

“I didn’t want to have to do this,” he replied, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck, a pre-battle signal she knew all too well. “But you leave me no choice. If you won’t come willingly, then I’ll take you by force. Once I mark you, it won’t matter what you think or say.”

Oh really? Deena smiled as her rejected suitor rushed her. The fierce grin split her lips, a smile her enemies knew well and which in her past made more than one wolf piss itself in fear. Bracing herself, all six foot two inches of honed muscle, she held her hands at her side, her claws elongated and ready for action. She watched him come, blinded by his rage and lust. At the last moment, she stepped sideways, sticking her foot out to trip Jeffrey as he went barreling past, but such a simple move didn’t stop him. Recovering almost instantly from his stumble, he rotated with a snarl, only to find his face getting intimately acquainted with her fist. His head rocked back from the blow, but she didn’t let her small victory slow her. Aiming careful punches, she pummeled him, hitting him in the stomach and face. She didn’t emerge unscathed, not with an alpha of Jeffrey’s stature. He landed some blows, one shot to her jaw, making her teeth bite her inner cheek so that the salty tang of blood filled her mouth.

Deciding she’d played with him enough, Deena stepped up her pace, until Jeffrey stumbled back from her. His arms lifted to block her shots, but he couldn’t prevent the slash that opened his face from brow to chin, four lines that immediately turned red as blood filled them then rolled down his face. Oooh that’s going to scar. Most wounds her kind sustained healed without a trace, but Lycan to Lycan injuries didn’t, an odd trait of their species.

“Bitch,” he spat, when she finally relented.

“That’s Ms. Bitch to you,” she replied with a cool smile, licking the blood from a claw. Yummy. “Now that I’ve warmed up, shall we fight?” She did so enjoy a good workout.

But alas, like so many males before him, when faced with a female who could take care of herself, better than all the men she’d ever met, he ran, shifting into his wolf shape, which only missed his tail between his legs for a true victory.

Next time I’ll make him cry. Because she knew Jeffrey would never allow his humiliation to rest. Men could be so predictable that way.

A year later at a hotel lodge for Lycans in the Rocky Mountains…

The scent hit Deena like a shot to the gut, sucking the breath from her the moment she walked into the crowded auditorium, a faint whiff of soap and cologne that made her inner bitch stir with an excited whine. Scanning the crowd, she tried to pinpoint the location of the intriguing aroma, however, the mass of bodies made it impossible. Striding into the throng of Lycans, gathered for the upcoming eclipse, a magical moment for her kind that led to a stupid amount of births nine months later, she rotated her head from side to side, inhaling deep. She didn’t need to push or excuse herself to move through the dense bodies. As an alpha, her invisible power radiated before her, parting the crowd and allowing her to march the length of the room only to arrive at the other end stymied.

Given her bitch’s exuberant yipping in her head, she’d expected to find a male of importance, a beta at the very least, someone of consequence to explain why her nipples tightened and her sex moistened. Instead, she stopped before a nondescript fellow wearing glasses, a collared shirt and khakis. She eyed him up and down, from his diminutive height of five eleven, to his pale skin, which obviously didn’t see the sun often, to his slim build. Where were the muscles, the height and the power she’d expected? Why on earth did her canine—spinning in wild circles in her mind—find this male so interesting? And why oh why, did she want to throw him over her shoulder and drag him off to a corner to have wild, sweaty sex?

“Who are you?” she barked, vexed and not afraid to show it. To his credit, the nerd in front of her didn’t piss himself, or faint. Instead, he did the worst thing one of his weak nature could do. He ran.

And dammit it all, despite the lack of dignity, the turmoil in her head—and the carnal hunger she couldn’t explain—she chased him. To her credit, she managed curb her impulse to run. She didn’t need to, not when stalking would do the job.