Dark Moon Gathering

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Dark Moon Gathering
Alison Paige

As a wolf, she was intoxicated by his scent, his strength and power.As a woman, she was overwhelmed by his passion and his beauty. But as the leader of her werewolf pack in the absence of a surviving alpha male, Mattie Bainbridge was required to select a mate at the next Dark Moon Gathering, and Anthony Ricci was just too risky a choice.Might he follow in his Purist father’s footsteps and force his domination upon all the females of her pack? Or would he mate with her alone, and respect the ways of her pack? Anthony was determined to convince Mattie to choose him…and when it came to seduction, he had a limitless bag of tricks.

Dark Moon Gathering

Alison Paige

www.spice-books.co.uk (http://www.spice-books.co.uk/)

Chapter One

I smelled the stale beer and chocolate cake long before the park pavilion emerged in dark relief from the blue-green shadows that surrounded it. I raised my muzzle, scenting the air.

Humans; hours ago, their perfumes, their body secretions, still lingered on the air, like the first tinge of meat going bad. They’d left their scent everywhere, like fingerprints. Not that I minded. I’m human too, most of the time.

It was late. The park was empty. I padded onward, eager to finish the game, my paws silent through the short, manicured grass. The pavilion’s floor was concrete and my claws tick-tacked as I crossed. My nose led the way to the cake, following the chocolate-scented footprints to the garbage can at the far end. There it was, a big slice, icing-side down, tread marks squishing the corner flat, the whole of it covered with ants. Gross.

I backed away, running my long tongue around my muzzle, over my nose, fighting the creepy-crawly feeling tickling under my fur. A hard snort shook my whole head and finally blasted my senses clean.

Damn, Mattie Banebridge, you are good. Nearly giddy with the win I gave a sharp yip of a bark, turned and took a running leap onto the wooden picnic table. I raised my head, filled my lungs with night air and sent a high, clear yowl up and out through my throat. The sound pierced the night, echoing off the wood rafters of the pavilion, filtering through the surrounding trees, traveling long and wide. The howl died as my lungs emptied.

God, it felt good, primal, natural. A heavy thud on the picnic table turned me around.

The large honey-blond wolf was double my weight and several inches taller. He moved in near silence. Scary for something so big and potentially deadly. But he was beautiful. A soft thick coat smelled of fresh air, forest and earth, with the faint hint of men’s cologne underneath. His eyes were an amazing shade of blue that looked almost violet in the moonlight. And even in wolf form his lean muscled body made a girl go warm and wet in all her special girl places.

He closed the small distance between us and licked the side of my face behind my eye to my ear, his tongue barely rough enough to feel through my fur. I leaned into him, nuzzling my head under his chin, running my body along his. As solid as a mountain, he didn’t budge, taking the full press of my weight so my fur stroked against him. When I reached his tail my nose tickled with a familiar scent. Arousal.

I dropped my snout; a quick peek between his back legs and my suspicions were confirmed. There, nestled among all that lush fur, wagged his stiff, glistening, pink penis. I wasn’t surprised. A late night run always made me horny as hell, too. But when I felt the cool wet nudge under my tail and then the sudden stroke of his tongue over my pussy and anus, I nearly jumped out of my fur.

Instinct spun me around, teeth bared, a hard snap clenching my mouth. Anthony yipped and jerked backward to avoid my bite. Not fast enough. I was spitting fur from my tongue as he tumbled off the table and landed with a clumsy grunt on the cement floor. His whole body twisted and spun to get his feet under him again. And when he stood I could’ve sworn he was laughing.

I shifted forms, fast and painless. I can shift at a run now, sensing the second before my hands and feet become paws so my stride remains unbroken. It had taken practice, and a lot of tripping ass over head.

Thirty seconds, maybe a minute later, I was sitting on my hip, my legs curled, my arms locked, bracing me. Anthony waited until I finished before he shifted and I couldn’t help watching that pink little penis grow and thicken into a fully erect human cock. It made my thighs cream. No matter how large a guy is, he’s bigger, much bigger, in human form. And Anthony was scary big as a wolf.

Fur receded as though pulled beneath tan, taut flesh until all that remained was a wavy butterscotch mop on his head that brushed his shoulders and the darker thatch that encircled his cock. The body of an athlete, long and lean, broad-shouldered and powerful.

“Not into the fur-on-fur scene, love?” he said the second he was able.

Anthony Ricci wasn’t British; he was Italian. But sometimes he slipped into this weird British accent. I don’t know why—I never asked. Besides, I thought it was kind of cute, sexy even. Most of the time.

“I don’t screw dogs,” I said, rolling onto my butt, shifting my hands to brace behind me on either side. Anthony moved toward me, using the picnic table bench to climb on.

He positioned his long, hard body over top of me, kneeling between my open legs, his hands next to mine, his bearded, scruffy face inches away. “But pet, you were a dog.”

I narrowed my eyes, forced a scowl I didn’t feel. “Do you want to fuck me or poke fun at my hang-ups?”

“Not hang-ups, sweet Mattie. Endearing quirks that make you even more irresistible.” His gaze dropped to my mouth and he leaned close like he’d kiss me. But he didn’t. His warm lips hovered a hairsbreadth from mine, waiting. Waiting for me to kiss him. It was one of those unspoken games we played. Who wanted whom more?

Anticipation tightened my nipples, pulling a light tingle through my breasts. Muscles in my sex flexed and a hot rush of liquid flooded between my thighs.

Screw that. I found the cake first. I already won.

“Right.” I sounded almost unaffected. Pretty good, considering. “Stop trying to charm me and start putting that thing to good use before you pass out from lack of blood flow.”

He glanced down his chest to his cock and I snuck a look. Lord, he was even thicker than he’d been when he’d shifted. Ropy veins twisted beneath the darker flesh, the fat head glistening with a small bead of come at the tip. I licked my lips on reflex, wanting to be filled by him in any way.

When he looked back he must’ve seen the need in my eyes and his expression heated to match. His lids sank low over those violet eyes, and his voice came deeper, resonating through my body like the strike of the lowest key on a piano, echoing forever inside me. “Winner’s choice. How do you want me?”

My breath shuddered. I couldn’t help it. Every muscle in my body tightened, heat thrumming through my veins and pooling wet and wanting between my thighs. “I wanna ride you.”

One brow lifted, a crooked smile slanting his mouth. “And so you shall, love.”

He shifted backward and sat, swinging his feet to the bench below, knees spread, cock thick and stiff like the pole of a carousel horse between his muscled thighs. He held out a hand to me. “All aboard.”

My hand in his, I found the bench with my feet and stood. My legs trembled as I shifted around him and placed a foot on the outside of his. He was watching me, our gazes locked, as I straddled him, my hands on his shoulders, fingers squeezing those hard round muscles beneath hot flesh.

His grip tightened on my hips, tugged lightly at my body, encouraging me to lower myself onto his shaft. I resisted. Winner’s choice. His face was chest level—perfect—and I arched my back, offering my breast to his mouth. He dropped his gaze and seemed only then to realize the treat at his lips. His mouth opened, eyes fluttering closed as though the taste and feel of me on his tongue was something to savor.

Hands slipped from my hips to the rounds of my ass; fingers squeezed, pulling me toward him until the damp hairs at my sex crushed against his chest. I knew he must feel my wetness on his skin. With my knees spread wide to accommodate his large lap, my pussy was open against him.

The low moan that vibrated through his chest rumbled into my groin, humming over my clit, and sent a quick shiver of delight racing through my veins. He suckled harder, tongue flicking over the sensitive nipple, teeth nipping and tugging, making my breath catch and my sex ache for the same attention. He released me and shifted to my other breast, lavishing it with the heat and suction of his mouth.

I couldn’t breathe, muscles squeezing throughout my body, tensing, wanting more. I sank my hand into his thick wealth of hair, fisted, letting the beast in me rise, rough and ready. A gentle tug and my breast fell from his lips, the night air tingling an erotic chill over the tight, moistened flesh. His gaze slid up to mine and I pulled harder on his hair, not to hurt—much—but to bend his neck back so his lips rose to mine.

What he’d done to my breast he now did to my mouth, suckling my tongue, my lips, exploring my mouth with his. My body lowered, and somewhere in the far recesses of my mind I knew my brain must’ve given permission, though I couldn’t think past the feel of him. The taut skin of his chest smoothed along the folds of my pussy, warm and hard. His hands wrapped around the back of my thighs, cupping my ass and guiding my body onto his.

Fat and round, velvet flesh over marble, his cock pressed into me, stretching me so I had to close my eyes, relax, to take him in. He was too big and just right all at once. The muscles inside me cleaved to him, fluttered as he pressed in, deeper and deeper. Pressure built as he filled me, tingling, electric sensation dancing through my body, humming over my skin. I had to hold my breath to withstand the barrage on my senses. I opened my legs wider, lowered my body, sent him deeper—and there was still more of him to come.

Even before my thighs pressed flat against his and his cock seemed to fill me up through to my chest, I knew he’d ruined me for lesser men. I didn’t care; my flesh hugged around him, milking his cock, coaxing it to harden and swell further. This wasn’t our first time, but his size made each encounter a delicious mix of pain and pleasure.

“You good?” he asked, breathless.

I swallowed and gave a weak nod. Then he lifted me, using my body to stroke his shaft and his shaft to send pleasure rippling through my body. Muscles snapped tight, tensing my legs, wanting more, wanting speed, needing friction. My fingers clenched on his shoulders, skin catching under my nails. I raised myself to the very tip of his cock then slammed down, impaling myself to his hilt.

Air whooshed out of me and I gasped for more, raising up to do it all again, and again. A fast rhythm set in, my hips rocking, his fingers gripping tight on the back of my thighs. Sensation swirled through me like a glittering river behind my eyes, tingling through my veins, sizzling over every nerve ending. Faster, deeper, harder—the pressure swelled, pushing up from my belly, squeezing through my chest, thick and tempting in my throat. Right there. Almost. A promise of ecstasy I couldn’t resist a moment longer.

Like a swollen river overflowing its banks, sensation crested then gushed, liquid hot, from my head, down my neck and chest, shuddering through my belly and legs and out my toes. My release quaked through every muscle, my sex pulsating around his cock until the stimulation grew too much for him to deny.

“Fuck…Mattie…yessss…” A burst of frantic thrusts sent my body cascading over into another release with Anthony trailing close behind.

I collapsed boneless against him, satiated. My breathing slowed, found a natural rhythm with the galloping beat of my heart. I rested my cheek on his shoulder and sighed. “Ready to go again?”

I wasn’t; I just liked freakin’ him out. Imagine my surprise when he tensed beneath me and his cock stirred between my walls.

“Gimme a minute,” he said low and breathy.

When I lifted my head to look at him, a set of bright, blinding lights glared in my eyes then traveled the edge of the pavilion and stopped. Headlights.

Public nudity. Lewd and lascivious behavior. Trespassing. And those were just the charges I could think of off the top of my head.

“Park security.” I didn’t bother to wait to see if I was right about the car idling in the parking lot above the pavilion. Adrenaline surged through my tired, aching limbs and I jumped to my feet. Two strides had me across the picnic table. I jumped, shifting before my feet hit concrete.

“Hey! Hold it! What is that?” Flashlights swept over me before I swerved and they lost me to the shadows.

“All’s I’m sayin’ is, if you don’t choose a mate by the end of the Gathering this weekend, they’ll choose one for you,” my mom said while she screwed the metal lid back on the sugar dispenser. I could see her slide it across the counter to the herd of filled jars from the corner of my eye. She reached for one of the empty containers and started the process all over again.

Two-thirty at the Banebridge Pop & Pup Diner was always slow. I loved the place, but after my dad was shot and killed three years ago by a farmer for poaching his sheep—he wasn’t—so much about the diner had changed. Nothing you could see though.

“They can choose all they want. Doesn’t mean I’ll take some wolf I hardly know as my mate. No matter what those animals think, we’re not living in the dark ages.” I shoved a stack of paper napkins into the spring-loaded dispenser and got my finger pinched in it—again.

“Mattie, honey, you’re in for a rude awakening. Most werewolf males aren’t like your father.” She loaded the filled sugar dispensers onto a plastic tray and walked around the counter to grab it from the other side. “Sometimes I think it was a mistake raising you the way we did, treating you the same as we did Donny.”

My brother Donny, the pup in “Pop & Pup,” first born and only male, apple of my parents’ eyes and dead at twenty-seven. T-boned by a driver who tried to make a yellow light. Stupid.

“Too late now,” I said. “I love ya, Mom, but I am who I am. I won’t be some cocky alpha’s subservient female. I can’t. I don’t care what they think. That’s why I stopped going to the Gatherings. It’s also why I’m not going this year.”

Mom’s whole body froze mid-stretch across a table, sugar dispenser in hand. “What do you mean you’re not going?” She straightened with a leashed hellfire look. “The Gathering’s the only time of year we’re all together. Packs are coming from all over. There’ll be food and games. You’ll be able to visit with friends and family you haven’t seen in years.”

“It’s a meat market, Mom.” I scooped the metal napkin holders into my arms and walked through the tables depositing them. “And this year will be worse than ever since I’m the meat du jour. Everyone knows I have to choose a mate or risk the pack being split by lesser males.”

She smiled, all caring and mom-like. “Well, honey, you’re a beautiful girl. Any man would feel lucky to have you. And you’re the highest-ranking member of a fairly large pack. A pack, thanks to Daddy, that’s financially secure.”

“Rich, you mean.”

“Yes. The point is we’ve got no males old enough or strong enough to take over as alpha and none of the females outrank you.”

“They’ve never tried.” Being the daughter of the strongest male and female made challenges for my position rare. But like any healthy wolf I was always up for a good fight.

“That’s beside the point. Since Donny passed away the pack falls to you and, as much as you might like to wish otherwise, a woman cannot hold a pack on her own. You must take a mate or one will take you, and the rest of us with you. Heaven help us if a Purist sets his sights on you.”

My stomach knotted at the thought. My dad was a modern werewolf, believing in women’s rights, partnership with his mate and a kind of democracy within the pack. Purists believed wolves like my dad would destroy our species by allowing women too free a hand and slowing down birthrates by giving them a choice in the matter. To call them chauvinists would be an insult to chauvinists.

“I won’t let that happen, Mom,” I said, looking her in the eye. “Promise.”

She smiled, but her lips trembled trying to hold it. She was scared and that scared me. I turned away, pretending that placing napkin dispensers required my full attention.

Mom had good reason to be scared. Wolves mate for life. But Purists chose to forgo the pesky limitations of a life mate and enforced pack polygamy. One of the first things a Purist would do, after fucking me, was stake his claim on every female in the pack, married or not—including my mother. To a Purist every pack member belonged to him and should carry his scent. He’d screw all the females and banish any males he saw as a threat.

Some women chose that lifestyle—at least that’s what they’d say if you asked. But usually they were seduced into it. They actually believed the guy when he told them they were special. Never mind that the Purist male says that to all the females in his pack. By the time they figure out the lie, it’s too late.

“I’m nobody’s possession and I’m certainly not gullible enough to believe a Purist’s line of bull,” I said. “No guy’s that good-looking or charming.”

The cowbell over the front door rang and Mom and I both looked. But I could already smell it was Anthony. The scent of fresh air, forest and wild hay swirled through the diner before him like an outstretched hand. My heart skipped, my body warmed with memories of last night and so many other nights we’d spent together over the past six months.

“Hello, Mattie.” His voice vibrated through my chest and straight on down to lower regions that went all warm and moist at the sound.

Okay. Problem. I’d accidentally on purpose forgotten to mention to Mom that I’d been seeing Anthony since the day after Donny’s funeral. Why? Two reasons. One, I was worried she’d remember him, go ape-shit, and forbid me to see him. And two, I was afraid he’d charm her into not remembering him, go ape-shit, and nag me to marry him. You see? A no-win situation. Trust me.

So I played dumb. “Hi. Welcome to Banebridge Pop & Pup Diner. Have a seat anywhere and I’ll be right with you.”

He opened his mouth like he’d say something, but read my narrow-eyed expression and changed his mind. Good boy. He went to the side wall lined with tall windows and red cushioned booths without a word and slid into the fourth booth from the front.

I put the last napkin holder on the counter and noticed Mom waving at me like she was landing a plane. I went the long way around so I could pass near to her. “What?”

“You know him? Smells familiar.”

I glanced at Anthony sitting with his back to us and shook my head. But it was hard lying to the woman who taught me how to sneak tampons into the bathroom so the sixth grade boys wouldn’t know. “I, ah, I don’t know. Maybe.”

“I think he’s alpha. Cute, too.” Her brows sprang up to her hairline and her voice slid higher at the end like she was asking a question.

I flicked my gaze back to him. “Cute’s the last thing on my list for potential mates,” I said and turned the bend at the end of the counter. Okay, maybe not the last thing, but when it came to Anthony Ricci, cute was about the only thing on my list he matched.

I couldn’t help a quick glance in the mirror that covered the top half of the back wall. I was a woman after all and checking hair and makeup before speaking to a good-looking man was like breathing.

I’d forgotten I’d pulled my hair into a ponytail and cringed when I saw the look of an athletic twelve–yea- old staring back at me. For half a heartbeat I considered yanking the elastic band out and letting my hair fall loose past my shoulders. But health codes and the fact he’d already seen me this way changed my mind. Instead, I pulled a few more of the lighter blond strands loose from my ponytail of caramel hair, and smoothed them in thin lines to frame my face. At least this way it looked like a style rather then the result of a bad scare.