Pawn Among Wolves Ch. 06

Gemma tilted her head and grinned down at Jasmine on a lower branch. The Indian girl was shaking her own head and rolling her eyes after the retreating figure.

"Told you," the wolf girl snorted. "When they're this heated, it's like playing hide and seek with a toddler." She paused for a second, eyes slightly unfocussed as she scented the breeze, then continued, "OK, he's out of range. We can get moving, find you some food. You'll need refuelling, Mac can't be far now." Her eyes gleamed naughtily up at her human companion. Gemma's skin felt brittle, taut with lust and she felt a flush run across her cheekbones with the heat reviving in her blood. Energy. Mac. Mmm.

She ignored the taunt, excited by a sudden idea, "Can you talk to Mac? I mean, convey, whatever?"

"Sorry, no can do, little human." Jasmine began to swing down through the branches with lithe, unconscious grace.

Damn. And little was a bit rich, coming from a girl three years younger than herself. Even if she was a bit taller. Like everyone else on the planet over the age of ten.

"I'm petite," corrected Gemma haughtily, "so I believe the correct phrase is, 'elegantly petite manu', you will find, oh unable-to-communicate-clearly sjeste." Along with rut evasion, she'd been having wolf language lessons while they travelled through the wooded hills. A sjeste was a young female wolf, or sjeste were several young females wolves - Gemma had commented on the similarity between sjeste and sheep, there being no difference between the term for one or several, and been pushed into the stream. Manu was slang for a human.

Gemma began to lower herself through the branches after the younger girl, grinning at the snort from her new friend, and Jasmine crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue when Gemma landed carefully on the ground under their tree.

"No, I believe the correct phrase is cheeky manu," the wolf girl retorted. "I can't convey to Mac because I'm not an Alfamme yet. Not reached that level. Nor am I in his pack. And he's too focussed on hunting you - and too furious - to respond to Dad, so we can't do relay either. C'mon, cheeky manu."

Gemma sighed as she scuffed the grass with her toes. Jasmine was already off, weaving between the trees with her steady, effortless lope. OK, so Gemma's feet didn't hurt any more but OW she was sick of running. She stuck her hands on her hips and scowled after her companion.

"I'll only run if you tell me what picchu means," she called stubbornly.

Jasmine spun on the spot, grinning again, a cheerful, taunting grin as she halted. "So walk, cheeky little manu. I told you, you have to ask Mac. It's not a word I use." Gemma growled under her breath and lurched into slow movement, grumbling to herself. What did that mean?

"And there are no threats in scent range so we can go at your snail pace anyway," Jasmine continued sunnily as she waited.

Gemma stalked past her.

"How do you know which way to go, anyway?" she grumbled as Jasmine began to guide them further up the slope out of the valley, angling slowly towards the craggy peaks just visible beyond the rolling, thickly-forested hills. Anything to distract herself, stop her mind from sinking further into lurid, lustful fantasies.

"Well, Mac's ignored Dad's offer of a lift from Sandby," replied Jasmine. Gemma gave her a look, and the wolf girl grinned and explained, "The nearest wolf airfield."

Wolf airfield? An image of a wolf in a world war one flying helmet with goggles perched on his long, furry nose darted into Gemma's mind.

".. and this is the fastest route through the Cappachians - he can probably even beat car speed as he doesn't have to go round via Denby pass, and can swim across the narrow point of lake Armande."

He was coming on foot? Slow! "You're sure he hasn't caught a cab round?" questioned Gemma grouchily. Her skin was aching, seared to stretched tenderness with the desire to be touched, and it was rubbing off on her mood.

"A human cab?" responded Jasmine incredulously. Then added strongly, "Positive."

"Why not?" growled Gemma.

"Because the petrochemical stench makes us ill. He'd be incapacitated, and it takes forever to get it out of the fur. We keep them off wolf territory as far as possible." Jasmine slanted a teasing eye across at Gemma, "You might be a little disappointed if he just lay around groaning and vomiting. And you can bet that's not what he wants to do either."

What Mac wanted. Mmmmm. Cool it. Cool it! Think of something coherent. Anything. Anything!

"I rode in a car with Madam," Gemma's voice had risen to a high pitch, but she managed to breathe out the whole sentence, and even to drawl the last word in slightly squeaky sarcasm. She focussed desperately on memories of that silent, brooding drive. Just hanging in there.

"Electric," responded Jasmine succinctly. "With solar panels. Every range has a few, but wolves mainly go everywhere on foot. Unless it's really long distance or urgent. The Louse, of course, likes the ostentation of rolling around in her Rolls."

"Plane?" Gemma squeaked. She wished it was the steep wooded incline they were walking up that was making her so breathless. It was, she assured herself, dragging her stubborn mind away from indulging in memories of other times her breath had been particularly short. Absent. Caught in her throat as he surged a heavy thrust up her passage. Jasmine's answer filtered slowly through her burning, molten preoccupation.

"..some kind of fuel cells - I think it's very explosive, can't remember. Just not the stinky stuff you lot use." The wolf girl wrinkled her nose. "But we know he ordered a plane from Huxley to Sandby, so to get to Sidville from Snake pass," Jasmine indicated a gap between two of the jagged peaks with her hand, "he's got three valleys he can follow - we've crossed two now and the next - the valley of Lake Manitree, well it's the most direct anyway. We haven't crossed his trail."

Next valley.

Gemma's stomach started doing cartwheels while her limbs trembled, and she quickened her pace.

"Ah - knew you could go faster," scoffed her companion quietly.

Shortly afterwards, they reached the stony crest of the ridge and paused together, looking down across the grassy slope to the tree-lined borders of a wide expanse of glittering blue water. Hills in the distance lifted on the other side of the lake; spruces, pines and birch basking together in the warm sunshine. Mountains closed the end of the wide valley, the green, tree-lined slopes falling away to craggy summits.

Jasmine's nose twitched. She lifted it gently, scenting the breeze as she slowly straightened to her full height. Gemma watched her. The black eyes glittered. A delicate flush spread across Jasmine's cheekbones, and a shiver ran through her slender frame as her lips parted slightly.

The glittering gaze turned to Gemma. Jasmine was breathing in short, gentle pants, wide-eyed. Then she swallowed and softly murmured, "Wow." There was a touch of envy, of almost challenge in the black gaze as she met the human's eyes.

A gust of warm, scent-laden breeze swirled around them and Gemma tensed, fingers curling into claws as she caught his musk. She snarled viciously at her companion, leaning forward challengingly, then blinked, stopped, and clapped her hands to her mouth, horrified.

But she could feel her nails biting into her cheeks as she snarled even more ferociously past her palms, advancing an aggressive step towards her new friend.

Who wasn't there. Jasmine whisked around with a snort of laughter and a furry golden and grey back bounded off down the hillside, streaking downwind, away. Gemma caught the words, "I'm gone!" floating across the empty space in front of her, as her fighting blood sank and was smothered in the lust that exploded through her, consuming every pore.

The fury also rose again in her mind - she was accustomed to the pull now, but this time they were both pulling together, and it was unstoppable. The ache in her nipples intensified to a tingling fire and she felt a surge of hot, liquid tension melting and cramping in waves of lust between her thighs as she climbed a panting plateau of excitement, almost peaking just from his musk, and the knowledge that he was here. She began a fast trot down the hillside, aching, burning, fuming.

He was here!

He was late.

The tension of the hours since she first scented the boy, the aching, unceasing torment of her own arousal, the urgency of the chase, the furious fights, the internal struggle- the tumult of feelings all intensified the anger in her mind and her blood. She was seething, melting in a furnace of furious lust as she bounded over the coarse grass, tugging off the small ring on her pinkie and stowing it away inside her fleece pocket.

He wasn't getting her that easily.

Make him earn it.

Gemma halted, trembling with harshly controlled lust on a lower crest and surveyed the lush landscape below her where the forest spread up from the lake shore. Her breath caught a little at the speed of the white fur streaking through the trees at the foot of the hill, weaving an effortless, breathtakingly fast course beside the water towards her hill. He was so beautiful, so in tune with his surroundings. So powerful. Her blood pulsed.

He still had to earn it.

He'd better.

Gemma's eyes narrowed as she spotted a good ambush point and she broke into her own run, bounding joyfully down the hill, the clarity of the heat in her mind, the simmer in her blood and on her skin all drawing her, pulling together to intercept him, weariness forgotten.

Mac jerked his head up, sniffing sharply, and swerved to a skidding halt on a flat hollow of sandy earth wedged between the lake shore and a tall scar of rock just as Gemma landed lightly on the curved smooth summit of the sandstone slab above him. She grabbed an overhanging tree branch to steady herself as she stood at the edge, staring down at his sleek, huge form. Her feet had loosed a light shower of sand and small stones, which scattered on the white fur head even as in one graceful, urgent lunge, Mac surged onto two feet, into lycan form, and leaped up against the smooth rock face, reaching for her with a straining right arm. Gemma quickly drew her left ankle back further out of reach, her eyes glittering down as she glared at him, hand on her hip, while he landed back at the base of her rock.

"You're late!" she growled accusingly, and kicked off her abused trainers. Her feet were planted hip width apart and she could feel the lust pooling, crashing through her as his hot male scent broke over her. Hot, hot, and oh so male. Liquid seeped down between her thighs and she growled again as the male musk curled around, melting her. Her skin tightened as he looked up and she caught the black glitter of answering lust in his eyes, the black spreading, obliterating the last remaining glimmers of green in his gaze as her own doft melted into him. The air shimmered between them.

Mac half-whined, half-snarled as he gathered himself and leaped against the rock again, his powerful lunge aided with urgent, surging, perfectly-timed pulls of his arms. Impossibly, his momentum and fierce determination powered him all the way up the long, smooth slab. Gemma's breath caught in her throat and her heart jumped in fierce pleasure at his triumph, his impossible feat, when his face appeared over the top of her rock, eyes burning intent into her. Then anger spiked and she lifted a dusty foot and nudged it sharply against his forehead, pushing him back as his balance wavered on the brink. Her heart skipped again and she had to jump to evade the swift swipe of his hand grabbing for her ankle even as he tumbled back down to the bottom and rolled smoothly to all fours.

Not that easy. She glared at him, challengingly as she slowly undid the haphazard bits of cloth holding together her jeans, dropped them to her ankles, and kicked them aside.

A wide, ferociously answering grin split Mac's face as he met the challenge in her angry gaze. There was a flash of white fur and the white wolf streaked to disappear silently around the side of the slab, seeking another way up.

Damn, he moved fast.

Gemma's blood pulsed again in hot excitement, and she swiftly tossed aside her fleece and dove off her rock at a shallow angle into the calm blue waters of the lake. The cool liquid seemed to part effortlessly, evaporating away from the burn of her skin as she powered into a fast crawl towards the cliff of the opposite shore.

She heard a second splash behind her, and could feel her skin tightening further, further, at the knowledge that he was chasing. On her tail. Mmm.

Catch me if you can. Damn you.

She accelerated, speeding gracefully away from him in her favourite crawl, sure that she could out-swim a wolf in the water. Far out, she glanced back and a pulse of urgent arousal slammed through her, fracturing her stroke when saw how close he was behind her. Her breath caught and she spluttered at the mouthful of water. Damn. The lycan could swim. Fast. As she desperately broke into a faster stroke, the memory of that glimpse of the power of him chasing after her melted into her already overheated blood and she lost way, her limbs tangling in flustered excitement.

Double damn. She glanced back again. Closer. Still closer. Then the furious burn echoed in her head - make him work - and she centred herself and powered back to full speed, extending herself into a challenging, all-out stroke.

He's still going to catch you before you reach the opposite cliff. The excitement pulsed again, momentarily clouding her eyes. Her skin tightened with anticipation of him reaching her, and the burn drove her to curve her path urgently towards a small wooded island near at hand to their right. Mac closed the distance rapidly as he cut the corner, and she could heard him a breathtakingly short distance behind her as she splashed into the thigh-deep shallows, scrambling to heave herself onto the grassy bank. His hoarse, heavily excited breathing was gaining swiftly as she rolled across the soft green carpet towards a tall Scots pine.

Too close.

Gemma finished her roll with a swing to her feet, grabbing up a wrist-thick branch the length of her forearm and a handful of sandy earth as she swung to face him.

Mac rose to his full height two metres away in the thigh deep water, breathing harshly. The shimmer of the sunlight reflecting across his form and dancing off the water surrounding him blurred the detail of his trembling frame, but the fire in the eyes burning into hers captured her breath, holding her still.

There was a prickle across her skin, a light rake of unsettled feeling across her senses. Mac seemed larger. He was larger, the sleek fur plastered to his shoulders and upper arms beginning to bulk his form as the water ran out of it. He was more densely packed, coiled into a rougher, more solid, aggressive, fighting form - the leashed power of him stirring the air between them and trembling across her skin as he waded smoothly forward.

The shade of a tree fell across him, and her breath caught audibly as she bit her lip, frozen in place as her wide eyes adjusted to the softer light and she stared at him. He stopped.

Bloody hell.

He was a monster - a raw, feral fighting machine, packed tight into the looming, heavy frame, breathing power. A vicious, wild, untamed version of her laidback, laughing flatmate. Her gaze traced over him, the shimmer in her blood tightening as the wariness melted into appreciation. A beautiful monster.

The features were broadly the same, lightly dusted with very short fur the gorgeous colour of his human hair. The flecks of green rising in the black gaze warmed her, and she dropped her gaze to trace over the well-known, strong nose and the blunt chin.

He needed a shave. Everywhere.

Were his ears slightly more pointed? His jaw slightly heavier? Or did the fur just make them seem so, blurring the outlines. The beautiful, sleek pelt moulded to his powerful frame was lifting, fluffing out in the warm breeze. That tawny gold swirled with streaks of dark and light - clean, healthy soft hairs that her fingers longed to tease, to stroke through. The fur was longer on his back and upper arms, reaching almost two inches across his shoulders while shorter hairs defined his forearms and heavily muscled chest. An arrow of longer hairs curved down from his chest across his belly, ridging through the very fine, almost invisible, tiny hairs covering his abdominal muscles before fading at his groin, which was hairless.

Her eyes lingered briefly on the slightly swollen, small blue PVC patch taped tightly to his stomach across the wound, but then they were drawn, inexorably, to the right, to the swollen, moist, proud head of his taut, throbbing erection. It swelled larger as her eyes lingered, widening, and she moistened suddenly dry lips.

Was he bigger there too?

Mac trembled as her gaze traced over him, but made no attempt to advance nearer. His fists were clenching and unclenching against his thighs, and Gemma noticed that the nails were black, standing out starkly against the tawny fur of his fingers. They didn't look to be longer than usual.

He was beautiful. Powerful and sleek.

Her breath was short, chest rising and falling in light pants as her eyes lifted again, tracing slowly over the sculpted lines of his chest to meet his gaze. The green swirl in the black melted into her and she felt a drench of liquid warmth pulsing, melting through her body, soothing down the tension in her spine.

He was still Mac.

Mac lifted an eyebrow questioningly.

"Scared?"

His voice was deeper, coming from that huge barrel of muscle. Huskier. Or maybe that was because of her. Her scent. Gemma tilted her head slightly to one side, raising both eyebrows in return as she pretended to ponder the question. Trembling lightly in turn. Respite over. Goody.

"Of you?" her tone was softly sarcastic, derisive, and her lips twitched at the sudden spark in the green-black eyes at her taunting tone.

Mac grinned and dove for her, exploding into movement so suddenly that her heart slammed against her ribs and the fire in her belly roared in satisfaction. The fire fuelled the anger but it was cooler, quieter now.

She was supposed to fight.

He was supposed to win.

But not that easily.

She had already dropped into a light stance and swung the heavily branch at him, striving to make him swerve backwards.

But Mac grabbed the weapon too swiftly for her to see, and abruptly she was in the air, swinging towards him by her own weight and her grip on the wood as he lifted it above his head. She dropped and landed eight inches from him, the heat of his smoothly muscled, harshly panting body tingling along the wet surface of her aching skin, lust burning demandingly through every particle. Then she flung the handful of dusty earth and dry pine needle into that intent, demanding grin even as he reached for her.

"You were LATE!" she snarled, springing for the tree as he reared back, coughing and swiping his hand over his dusty mouth, eyes closed.

Not that easy!

She was leaping to reach for the third tier of branches, hauling herself further up towards the smaller twigs where he couldn't follow, when she heard him stop coughing and chuckle huskily. The tree swayed as he leaped into the lowest branches.

Glancing down, Gemma was mesmerised by the molten black maelstrom in his eyes, and her breath caught as she was drawn into that heat, melting, feeling the burn of it igniting her skin as her own senses faded into nothing but awareness of him.