“Why? What kind of wolf would do such a thing?” Elena’s voice shook with outrage. “You’ve let it be known that any rogue is welcome to join us if they swear allegiance to the Pack. They don’t have to live like feral cats.”
“I don’t know,” Sylvan said grimly. “But I’ll find out.” Sylvan knelt on the flagstone floor by Misha’s bed and rested her forehead against Misha’s. Closing her eyes, she murmured, “Sleep, little one. Sleep and heal. All is well.” Misha whined contentedly in her sleep and nuzzled Sylvan’s cheek. Sylvan rose and, feeling Elena’s worried gaze on her face, stroked Elena’s ebony hair. “Don’t worry for me.”
“If I don’t, who else will you allow?” Elena caught Sylvan’s hand and entwined their fingers. “You should at least take a lover.”
“Elena, don’t push me,” Sylvan warned, her tone turning Alpha.
“I’m the Pack medicus. It’s my responsibility to attend to your well-being,” Elena insisted.
“My well-being is fine.”
“Your wolf runs close to the skin. She needs calming. So do you.” Elena gave Sylvan’s fingers a squeeze. “Rena would tangle willingly. So would Anya or Lara.”
“Lara is one of my centuri,” Sylvan protested. Her guards swore a blood oath to her, and she to them, a bond as unbreakable as a mating bond. For her to take one of them as her lover would disrupt the unity of their cadre. Any hesitation, any uncertainty in rank or order, would leave them all vulnerable in a fight. Sylvan’s voice dropped dangerously low. “You would have me risk their lives for empty pleasure?”
“Pleasure is never empty when there is caring, and they love you. We all love you.”
“I know,” Sylvan whispered, skimming her lips over Elena’s knuckles.
“Your father was centuri to your mother,” Elena pointed out. “That did not stop her, why should it stop you?”
“We will not speak of them,” Sylvan said, and this time it was a command. “My centuri are not my bed partners.”
“As you wish, Alpha,” Elena said, “but Rena is not even a soldier. She has the look of a mater through and through. She would set your bed afire and give you strong, sturdy pups.”
“Ever since you and Roger mated, you’ve become an incorrigible matchmaker,” Sylvan teased, hoping to deflect Elena from a topic she had been trying to ignore. She hadn’t tangled with anyone for weeks, and for a Were, more than a few days was a very long time. Physical contact—touch, sexual release—was essential to Were physical and emotional well-being, and the more dominant the Were, the greater the need. Without a physical outlet for their intrinsically high levels of endorphins and adrenergic hormones, especially if augmented by stress, the delicate balance between beast and reason broke down. Unrelenting sex frenzy could push Weres to become feral, and going feral was a death sentence.
As a natural counterbalance, all Weres were highly sexual, and since there were no social sanctions against casual sexual encounters, unmated Weres often had multiple partners of both sexes simultaneously.
Abstinence for an Alpha was unheard of. Their innate super-aggression heightened their sex drive, and without frequent venting, their untamable wolves pressed for dominance. Sylvan’s wolf had been riding her hard the last few weeks, enraged by the escalating dangers threatening the Pack, demanding the freedom to hunt and destroy their enemies. Sylvan knew she was walking a dangerous path. She needed all her control at the best of times to keep her wolf in check. Negotiating with the human politicians, containing the constant infighting among the Praetern alliance members, and providing stability for her Pack strained her reserves to the breaking point. She was agitated, sleepless, hypersexual. But every time she thought she had to take a female for a night or surrender to wolf madness, she resisted, knowing she would remain unsatisfied. Her body craved sex, her wolf craved a fight, but her heart, despite all of her attempts to deny it, craved a connection. So she denied herself the sex, denied her wolf the release, and refused to acknowledge what she really wanted.
“Rena wants a mate,” Sylvan grunted.
“And you need to release before you find yourself in full frenzy.” Elena pointed a finger, stopping Sylvan’s protest. “Even I can feel your call, and I have a mate who satisfies me quite nicely. If my urges are triggered this much, before long, you’ll throw the females into heat—”
“I won’t let that happen.” An entire Pack of females in heat would drive the dominant males and females crazy. They’d have chaos as the dominants fought for bedding rights. If Sylvan couldn’t dampen her pheromones enough to prevent the females from cycling to her, she’d need to have sex just to settle the Pack. “I’ve got it under control.”
“For now,” Elena sighed. “Stubborn wolf.”
“I must go.” Sylvan kissed Elena on the mouth, a brief brush of lips. “I need to double the border guards on the Compound, and we have unmated females in the community who need to be warned and protected. Call me if there’s any change with Misha.”
“Promise me you’ll sleep at least.”
“I’ll sleep,” Sylvan said as she closed the door to the sickroom behind her. She would sleep when her enemies were dead and her Pack was safe.
She loped through the empty halls of the Compound and out through the massive double wooden doors onto the deck that wrapped around three sides of the building. The moon was well past its zenith now, and storm clouds slashed across her face. Sylvan breathed deeply, sniffing rain in the air and the scent of deer moving through the trees.
She sent a silent message to Callan, the captain of her sentries.
Reinforce our outer borders. Double the guards on the inner perimeter. Give no one safe passage on Pack land.
She pulled off her T-shirt, unzipped her jeans and pushed them off, and left the clothes in a pile at the top of the wide stone stairs.
Running naked toward the trees, she shifted in motion, gliding into the forest as invisibly as a wraith. She lifted her face to the moon and howled, the pull in her loins and the longing in her heart for a mate to run with her under the night sky so strong she ached. Scenting another wolf following her, she circled back on her own trail and crouched in the underbrush, waiting until the sleek red-gray wolf drew near. Then, as silent as a ghost, she exploded from her hiding place and caught the wolf’s neck in her jaws, dragging her down. The she-wolf snapped at her, closing her powerful jaws millimeters from Sylvan’s foreleg. Sylvan growled and shook her powerful shoulders, forcing the gray onto her back. She pressed down, belly to belly, then let her go. The gray jumped up, snarled, and they circled one another, lunging and snapping, rolling and thrashing. Eventually when the gray began to slow the slightest bit, Sylvan caught the other wolf’s muzzle in her jaws. The wolf went limp, allowing Sylvan to mount her. Sylvan clasped the wolf between her legs and growled. When the wolf whined and licked her face, Sylvan released her and settled on the ground. Panting, the gray wolf inched closer until their shoulders touched. She rested her head on her paws and gazed at Sylvan.
Elena sent you, didn’t she?
Niki rubbed her nose under Sylvan’s jaw.
Did she tell you I needed a tussle?
Niki flashed a wolfie grin.
Sylvan sighed. Come, hunt with me. If you can keep up.
Surrendering to her wolf, Sylvan jumped up and tore off into the woods, Niki hard at her shoulder. Sylvan loved Niki, loved running with Niki at her side, but still her heart ached.