Lycan Christmas

Chapter Eight

Lorent charged through the woods like a bull charging a matador’s bright red cape. Melony had kissed him, a brushing of the lips, really, but a kiss nonetheless. He could have never imagined the fire that simple touch would light in him. He burned. Every cell inside his body flamed in bright inferno, and he was positive that if he touched any of the trees, they would ignite, and the whole forest would go up like tinder to a match.

How would he stand to be around her now? He’d no longer be able to look at her longingly and wonder how she’d taste. He knew firsthand, and from this day on, every time they were near one another, he’d remember her sweetness, yearn to taste her again and again. Hell, he’d yearn for that while he was alone, but wondering how her lips would feel against his own and knowing were two entirely different things.

Now that he’d had her mouth against his, the wolf in him paced and howled for its mate, while the man fought to control the urges that had been imprinted on him since birth. The need to claim her, to make her his was like a cancer that would grow and eat away at him until he gave in. She was the one thing that could cure him. Without her, he’d slowly die. Maybe not in the physical sense, but his heart, his soul would shrivel into a black void of turmoil, anger, and pain if he refused the one thing it craved, the one thing that would sustain them . . . Melony.

If he’d never met her, never known his mate, he could have gone on intact. He would have always felt as if something was missing, but he’d have coped. Now that he knew her, that kind of blind luxury was no longer an option.

Maybe he should just throw caution to the wind and approach Knox, let him know Melony was his, but fear of his claim for her being rejected stayed him from doing so. Knox was a fair man, all of the members of Sanctuary were, but the fact remained that he’d not completed his training. Rules of Sanctuary were clear. No rogue was allowed to claim his mate until he’d gone through the complete reformation program.

He thought he’d been finished, but obviously, he’d bitten himself in his own ass on this one. His incapability, rather his unwillingness, to be more open with the others gave them reservations about him. He was certain they trusted him, knew he’d never go rogue again, but he was no fool. To truly be part of a pack was not just a physical commitment. It was an emotional commitment as well. No, they didn’t expect him to pour his heart out to everyone, but he understood that he should be comfortable with communication. He was also aware that it was a bit peculiar for a lycan to shy away from group get-togethers.

Lycans naturally thrived in packs, and for one to be a loner was not the norm. It happened. It didn’t make him a freak of nature—although sometimes he felt that way—but he got that he at least needed to be able to view group gatherings such as Thanksgiving, Christmas, and meetings without feeling as if he were going to be sick. He liked everyone just fine, but his past had taught him to keep a distance from people, especially groups. He either had to find a way to get over his insecurities or forget about a life with Melony.

Forgetting about Melony wasn’t going to happen, but how was he going to figure out how to get over his aversion to groups? He growled and punched the next tree he passed hard enough to shake it and send pain up his arm.

“Hey, Lorent?”

Lorent spun around to find Reid and Reilly Shelton smiling at him. The two were twins and nearly impossible to tell apart by looks. Fortunately, even though identical on the outside, each carried his own unique scent. Also, Reilly was a bit thinner built than Reid’s bodybuilder physique, not that Reilly was lacking any in the muscle area. Both had short dark auburn hair and green eyes that always held a spark of mischief as if they were up to something, and they usually were.

“Hi.” Lorent frowned. “What are you two doing on this side of Sanctuary?”

“Whoa. We’re legit.” Reid held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Yeah, Brent asked us to bring some of the Christmas decorations over that were stored in one of the sheds by our cabins.” Reilly glared at Lorent as if challenging him to question their explanation.

Reid and Reilly were only a couple years younger than him, but those couple of years said a lot for maturity. Lorent liked Reid and Reilly just fine, felt them to be genuine in their wishes to reform, but both were troublemakers. Not so much in an unkind, dangerous way, but in a punk-ass-need-a-kick-in-the-shorts sort of way. They were what he thought having two younger siblings might be like. Overall good kids, but obnoxious pains—

always showing up at the wrong time and wrong place. Kind of like right now.

“I wasn’t questioning your legitimacy, only wondering what you were up to.” Lorent had no reason to doubt them.

“But since we ran into you, maybe you’d like to help us with a project.”

Reid’s lips turned up in a devilish grin.

Lorent was sure he wasn’t going to like what they had planned, much less want be a part of it. He sighed, thankful that at least their appearance had taken his mind off of his turmoil over Melony, even if only for a few moments.

“What project might that be?”

Reid glanced at Reilly and nodded before they both stepped closer. Both leaned in before Reilly started talking in a low voice.

“You see, we thought that it might be funny to pull a prank on Brent,

’cause, you know, he’s always on our ass and all. I mean, don’t get us wrong, we like the guy. We just wanted to put one over on him.”

“What is it that you two are planning?” Lorent frowned.

Reid filled Lorent in on their plan, and while Lorent found it childish, doubted it would work, it was completely harmless. He also didn’t want to be any part of it. He wouldn’t do anything that might jeopardize him finishing his training. He wished the two luck—they’d need lots of it—and they disappeared into the woods.

He grinned while thinking about how funny it would be if they actually managed to pull it off, and nearly chuckled when he thought about how entertaining it would be to watch Brent kick their asses if they got one over on him. Brent was a great guy. Lorent trusted him to be fair, as he did Anthony, Knox, Raze, and Piers. No major repercussions would befall Reid or Reilly, and he was certain Brent would be a good sport—after he knocked their two skulls together.

Lorent went deeper into the forest and made his way toward his secret place. At least it was secret so far, as he’d never smelled another lycan’s presence in it. Of course, that could change at any time.

The forest was for anyone’s use at Sanctuary, but for now, it was his. The darkening sky cast deep shadows over the ground as he picked his way through the brush, thick even though nearly stripped clean of its leaves by fall. Finally, he stepped through to a clearing with a small pool that was fed from the stream that ran through most of the grounds.

The rising moon reflected off the pool’s surface, and he breathed deep.

He’d found this place a few months after he’d arrived at Sanctuary and came here often to read, be alone, or just think.

Sometimes he bathed in the small pool and let its coolness soothe his muscles. He wouldn’t do so tonight, but not because it was too cold. With his lycan temperature, he could go into the water as long as it wasn’t iced over and not freeze to death, but he didn’t want to be gone too long with the holiday quickly approaching. He might be needed to do some last-minute tasks, and he didn’t want to be questioned if he was missed.

A smile tugged at his lips as the sound of the gently moving water eased his inner turmoil. But that comfort disappeared just as quickly when a pair of plump pink lips and chocolate brown eyes came to mind. As he sat on a fallen tree, he touched his lips with his fingers, recalling the brush of her mouth against his. He scoffed, picked up a small pebble, and flicked it across the pool, where it skipped across the still surface several times before sinking.

He thought back on the years he’d spent with rogues, of all the potential mates he’d witnessed being abused or worse. The naïveté, stupidity, and sheer refusal to learn about lycan laws were killing his race, and he would have never known had fate not led him here. How had he come to find his mate when he’d done nothing to save the mates of countless others? He didn’t deserve her, but she was his nonetheless. Then another problem occurred to him.

Problem? He snorted. More like a maelstrom of disaster. How could he ever expect to claim Melony when he had no idea how to love her? No one had ever loved him, and he’d never been close with anyone. He cared about the people at Sanctuary, knew they cared about him, but was that love? He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he’d recognize such an emotion . He picked up another rock and threw it across the pool with more force. This time it skipped the width of the water, smacked into a tree on the other side, and bounced into the forest.

He stood and paced back and forth. Good God. He’d never be able to give her what she needed. At the very least, she deserved a man who could love her, and he couldn’t guarantee he’d be able to do that. He’d cherish her, protect her, try his best to make her happy, but would that be enough? The selfish side of him swelled with pride at the thought that she might grow to love him. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like if she loved him, only him, above all others, but it wouldn’t be fair of him to expect that from her when he might not be able to reciprocate.

It wasn’t honorable of him to claim her, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep from doing so in the end. She was made for him, and he was made for her. But why would fate give such a bum deal to Melony? She was beautiful, feminine, caring, sexy, and should be with a man who could love her with a fiery passion that he was sure she was capable of giving in return.

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, thinking about having all of that fiery passion burning under him as he took her.

A small voice in the back of his brain asked when he’d ever considered himself honorable. True, he hadn’t been in the past, but since he’d dedicated himself to reformation, he liked to believe he’d become honorable. An honorable man would love his mate, give her his heart and soul. He had no problem doing the second two. It was the love thing again. Hell, if he were honest, she already held his heart and soul in her tiny palm. She had the power to crush him if she so chose, but he didn’t believe she’d ever hurt him intentionally. He’d never hurt her intentionally. It was the unintentional part that had him worried.

He stood and smoothed his jeans down his legs. He had to do the decent thing, the right thing, and keep his hands off her. He started back to his cabin. Tonight he would shift and run until exhaustion wrung every last thought of claiming Melony from his brain, although at this point, he wasn’t sure even death could do that.

This time fate had made a mistake. He couldn’t allow anyone to know she was his, or he’d be expected to claim her. He had a duty to his race to make her his, have sons with her, raise their young to respect lycan rules, and help them become good men, men who would be part of the next generation who would fight for the survival of their species.

But none of it mattered. Whatever obligations may be expected of him, he could not subject Melony to a loveless union. He knew firsthand what it was like to always feel disposable, to never be loved, and she deserved better.

The wolf in him howled in pain, and he hung his head in sadness, regret, and frustration. After he got home, he stripped off his clothes in the bathroom, turned on the shower, and stepped under the hot water.

He propped his hands against the shower wall and leaned under the spray, letting it plaster his hair to his head as it ran in rivulets over his body.

He’d been through a bunch of shit in his short life—a short life that seemed to stretch forever under the circumstances he’d existed in—and knew without a doubt, the war he was about to wage against himself where Melony was concerned was going to be the biggest battle of his life, one he’d probably lose.

The memory of her kiss assailed him once again. Son of a bitch. He reached up and flipped off the hot tap and hoped like hell the cold water would curtail his sudden hard-on.