Waking Up Were Read online

  Lots of years. Several, even.

  “Baby.” Declan grimaced and she mentally cursed when she realized even that was sexy.

  He pushed away from the doorjamb, and his easy strides brought him closer. Hell no, she couldn’t take that. Not now, not yet.

  Brenna held out a hand, palm raised in an attempt to ward him off. Of course, that didn’t work. Bastard.

  “Don’t baby me and answer the question.” She eased away, trying to retain the distance between them. Her little beastie did not like this new drama and nudged her to go to Declan already. Well, the bitch could wait a god damned minute.

  “Brenna…” His tone was soothing and sinful and…

  “My name is not an answer. You should say, ‘I didn’t drool after you because…’ There, I started it for you. Now, finish.”

  He sighed but didn’t halt. Jerk.

  Okay, well, she didn’t have teeth and claws to use against him, but she had a kitchen filled with crap she got from those late night As Seen on TV infomercials. Such as… She glanced at her utensil holder and snagged the first thing that caught her eye. She brandished her makeshift weapon, ready to whack him to death with… a potato masher.

  Really, Brenna, really?

  She’d purchased the thing two years ago and it’d seemed like a good idea at the time. The little grid wasn’t just a bunch of square or circular holes. Nope, they were shaped like hearts and butterflies and no one could resist the allure of star shaped mashed potatoes. She ignored the fact that once smashed, the potatoes did not retain their cute shapes.

  His seductive grin went from aching-clit-worthy right into damp-panties-town in an instant. “Put that down, baby, and let’s talk.”

  Brenna glanced at the juncture of his thighs, at the bulge pressing against the sweatpants he’d borrowed. She should have tried harder to find him clothes that fit. Ones that didn’t highlight his cock.

  She shook her head. “I don’t think you have talking on your mind.”

  “Baby…”

  “No. Talk first and then…” She narrowed her eyes. “Only talking. In the last twenty-four hours I’ve been dumped, drank myself into a stumbling stupor, attacked by a friggin’ werewolf, turned into a werewolf, found out my best friend is a werewolf, and now I’m supposedly your mate. I think I get my way for once today and that includes you telling me why the fuck you want me when you haven’t looked at me twice in the years we’ve known each other!” She ended her breathless tirade with a house-shaking yell and she sure as hell wasn’t going to apologize for it.

  Did he listen? No, he took another step forward. That shift of his body drew her attention back to his broad chest which led her down to his tight abs and then there was his drool-worthy package. Was it larger than before?

  Yes. The answer was yes.

  She was on fire for him, her wolf begging her to run into his arms and take his bite. Instead, she glanced at the potato masher in her hand and weighed its viability as a weapon. It truly wasn’t all that great, but she didn’t think anyone could look hot while ducking a friggin’ kitchen utensil. Decision made, she cocked her arm back and then snapped it forward, sending the piece of metal and plastic flying toward Declan’s head.

  He, of course, ducked, which had been expected.

  Unfortunately, the sudden movement made those bulging muscles bulge more and accentuated the strength of his thighs and then she was back to staring at his cloth-covered junk.

  Apparently a person could look hot when ducking a potato masher.

  Damn it.

  Before she could hunt another weapon, he was there, holding her tight, his grip capturing her arms, not allowing her to move. Didn’t mean she didn’t try, though. But even with her new wolf’s bit of enhanced strength, she was no match for him.

  “Damn it, Declan.”

  “Shh… I’ll answer your questions, baby. But I gotta hold you first.”

  Holding was bad. Holding led to forgiveness and she knew it was a hop, skip, and jump to the bedroom.

  But no matter how much she didn’t want him to touch her, to feel his skin on hers, another part of her begged for it. The part that knew no matter what he said, even if his next words pissed her the hell off, she wanted him like her next breath.

  Instead of snarling at him and demanding he release her, she gave in and leaned against him. The moment she relaxed he swung her into his arms and carried her through the house, striding down the small hallway and into the living room. He lowered onto her favorite chair, the cushions taking their combined weight with ease, and the familiar scent had her relaxing even further.

  One large hand stroked an exposed arm while the other slid along her outer thigh. The touch was calming instead of sexual. At least, she imagined that was his intent. Instead, it made her crave him more. Especially when evidence of his desire pressed against her ass.

  The animal inside her was in favor of spreading her thighs and screaming “do me now!”

  Brenna disagreed.

  Declan leaned down and nuzzled her neck, sliding his nose along the column of her throat and then pressing a kiss to that sweet spot just below her ear. Then he made it worse—better?—by nipping her earlobe. Okay, she was leaning toward agreeing with her fucking beast already.

  She jerked away from his touch, determined to get answers. Harper had been vague and she was ready for the nitty-gritty. “Quit it. I wanna know who, what, when, how, and any other word that leads back to ‘what the fuck.’”

  He sighed and slumped against her before pulling back. “A rogue werewolf. It’s… Lemme back up a little. At our core, werewolves are pack animals. We’re not content without the structure and presence of other wolves. Sometimes there are those who, for one reason or another, choose to go lone wolf. They exist without the support of an Alpha. They’re either strong enough to keep their wolf under control or they fall prey to their animal half and become uncontrollable. Those wolves go on a rampage, breaking our laws and destroying people in the process.” He stroked her arm, enjoying the feel of her beneath his palm as he exposed the underbelly of werewolf culture. These were the dirty parts of being were.

  “A different type is someone who’s too weak to control their beast. They have a pack, they have support, but that doesn’t mean the person’s human half is able to keep a stranglehold on that part of them. Those… are the most difficult to accept. A lone wolf knows the risks when he or she walks away. A weak human doesn’t realize the wolf is taking over until it’s too late. Sometimes, not even then.” He drew in a deep breath and released it slowly.

  “This rogue has been in my territory for a few weeks and has attacked six males. None of them were turned though. They were patched up and sent home with a warning to stay away from stray dogs. You”—Declan placed a finger beneath her chin and she allowed him to redirect her gaze—“I don’t know why your body accepted the change. Most rogues aren’t capable of infecting and transforming humans due to the disconnection between their two halves, but you… There’s something that makes you special, Brenna, and I refuse to let you go.”

  “Why though? You haven’t—”

  Declan leaned forward and pressed his lips to her, lapping at the seam of her mouth for the barest moment before pulling away. “I’ve stared at you, lusted after you, for years. But wolves can only mate wolves. Even if I tried to change you, there are only two outcomes and if I couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, I wasn’t prepared to take that chance.” He stroked her cheek, running his callused thumb over her skin. “I would have bitten you and if you became a were, I would have prayed you belonged to me. If you didn’t change, remained a human who knew of werewolves, I would’ve had to kill you. Our secret must remain intact.”

  “So… It was either bite, wolf, pray, maybe sexytimes, or bite, no wolf, six feet under.” Declan nodded and Brenna huffed. “I’m kinda glad it was this rogue guy then. At least his bite wouldn’t have ended in death if nothing happened.”

  “I hate that you wer
e in pain, I hate what you’re about to endure, but I can’t regret his success.”

  Brenna dropped her head back, exposing her throat and staring at the ceiling. “God, you guys really know how to fuck with someone’s life. You know that, right?”

  “Baby…”

  “I’m not your baby,” she snapped but there wasn’t much heat behind her words. Not when her new wolf assured Brenna she was, in fact, his mate and if he wanted to call her baby she needed to get over it already.

  Bitch.

  It agreed.

  Whore.

  It reminded her it was, but only for Declan.

  Then Declan reminded her by tracing her neck with his tongue and fangs. Yes, fangs, because they were sharper and longer than his human teeth. That didn’t scare her as much as it should’ve.

  “What else is there, Declan? What else do I need to know? I’ve got this wolf and she’s a bitchy thing, lemme tell ya. But what comes next?”

  He rumbled, a mixture of a purr and growl in one. “I make you mine.”

  Ha!

  “Try again. Knowing you for years and becoming yours for all time are way different things.”

  He snarled; she was not impressed.

  “But you’re mine.” He tightened his hold. “Mine.”

  Brenna glared at him. “I am my own person and in the event I become more, I will always be mine. Not yours. Mine. So get that through your furry head.”

  That had him sputtering and he looked so darned cute that she wanted to just snuggle into him. Instead, she placed her hands on his chest and pushed away from his body, straining against his hold.

  His touch, the heat of his skin against hers, was too much for her. Too much of his presence, too much information, just too much.

  “Lemme go, dammit.” She gave one last heaving shove and he released her. Of course, she couldn’t tumble from his arms gracefully. No, instead, she rolled across the carpet and landed on her back, legs spread and askew while her arms fought to keep her upright.

  She was so damned sexy it scared her.

  Not.

  Declan was quick to jump to his feet, hands reaching for her, and she rolled (sorta stumbled) to her feet. They were in a position similar to moments ago in the kitchen except she had no potato masher.

  At least this time Declan held his hands up to show he wasn’t going to come after her. Smart man.

  A wave of warmth rolled over her, skin tingling, and then it disappeared just as fast. Another came, stroking her. That was followed by a blanket of ice that stole her breath.

  Then she itched, everywhere. Every. Where. Warm and cool assaulted her at the same time, dry and itchy while also damp with sweat. She shivered with the cold and panted with the warmth and she wondered if she’d split in two.

  Concern was etched into Declan’s features, worry evident in the slow way he approached her once again. “Brenna?”

  She shook her head and backed up a step. Shit, that was a mistake. Her world tilted and wavered with the move and she stumbled to the wall, using it as support.

  “Brenna, what are you feeling?” That unease again.

  Yeah, well, she felt pretty uneasy herself. Because then trembles came. Not like the ones she’d experienced in the recent past—they were nerves and anxious worry. No, these came from her very bones, her marrow jarring her frame and traveling through her body. The wolf howled and pawed her with the tremors, seeming excited by the sudden shakes.

  Brenna was a hell of a lot less than enthused. She was scared and pissed and really scared and she didn’t give a flying fuck if she was repeating herself and there was Declan looking all nervous and worried and she knew—knew—this was his fault.

  A wave of heat enveloped her, slithering across her skin and burning. The warmth threatened to send her bursting into flames and she yanked at her shirt, fighting to rip it from her body.

  Hot. Hot. Hot.

  Another thing she didn’t give a flying fuck about. The burn pushed past her potential embarrassment at stripping before Declan. The asshole was supposedly her mate—her wolf snarled at the supposedly—so that meant he could see her in all her chubby glory. The top went first, shredding beneath her hands.

  Shredding?

  She glanced at her fingers and the sharpened tips that’d replaced her normally trimmed nails. Oh fuck.

  This was not discussed when she sat with Harper. There was talk of fur and mates and hierarchy. No mention of suddenly feeling like she’d been dumped in acid nor of aching to don fur in the immediate future. No time limit was mentioned and her friend sure as hell hadn’t discussed that she’d go from start to holy-fuck-finish within a few hours of their talk.

  Brenna’s shorts went next, wiggling her hips as she tugged the cloth down her legs while trying not to scratch herself.

  Come to think of it, the asshole before her hadn’t mentioned anything about the need to get naked because she was burning like a fucking furnace.

  “Shit. Baby, I’m really proud of you, but we gotta get you cooled down.”

  “Fuck you.” She spat the words and then realized she really did spit them because she suddenly had a lisp.

  “I know, I know.” He obviously did not care. Especially when she scratched at him and he merely grasped her wrists in one of his massive hands. He hauled her down the hallway, dragging her along as she fought his hold as well as the burning inside her. “Basthtard.”

  He didn’t chuckle at her mispronunciation, which was the only thing that saved his mangy hide.

  “I know, baby.” Okay, he was getting shredded for that patronizing tone.

  She yanked, trying to free herself, and yet her wolf pushed back, demanding she remain in his grip. Fuck her sideways. No, no fucking. Not when the scalding fire turned into piercing agony that assaulted her stomach. She didn’t try to tear free that time, she actually did. But instead of running, she doubled over with a snarling cry.

  Shit, she couldn’t breathe yet she was crying and a person couldn’t cry if there was no air and… Another round of agony had her dropping to the ground, curling into herself.

  “C’mon, Brenna. We need to get you cool.” His tone was placating and calm.

  Which enraged her.

  When human fingers stroked her sensitized skin, she struck out at him, batting away his touch. Then the coppery tang of blood reached her nose, the earthy scent tinged with Declan’s musk.

  That was also about the time she remembered her new claws.

  Forcing her lids open, biting her lip against the renewed prickle at the slow movement, she whined when she spotted the injury she’d caused. Four deep furrows married his forearm, blood seeping from the wounds.

  “Declan.” She pushed the word past her lips and then cursed herself for the attempt. It sent off another round of pulsing agony.

  “I know, baby, I know.” He crouched before her, bloodied hands outstretched but not connecting with her skin. “We need to get you cool and calm. The more you fight, the longer it’ll take. I’m so proud you held off, but it’s time to let go.”

  Let go? She hadn’t been holding onto anything but her sanity since she’d awoken that morning. Everything else in her life was floating on the wind. There was nothing to release.

  Her wolf snarled and shoved at Brenna, scraping her skin, and when she looked down at her body she realized the thought wasn’t a metaphor. No, her beast was truly scratching her flesh from inside out. Claw-tipped paws kneaded and pressed, stretching her skin and threatening to split her wide.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” The words came out as low grunts, the wolf’s fangs dropping into her mouth and displacing her human teeth.

  “I know, I know. She’s pushing hard. If we cool you off, it’ll slow her and make this more bearable. Lemme help you, Brenna.” His tone was coaxing. Placating.

  It pissed her off. “Fuck you.”

  More grunts, but his expression told her he got the point.

  “Damn it, woman,” he snarled and that caused he
r animal to shove even harder.

  Bastard.

  Another wave of burning pain assaulted her, legs convulsing with her beast’s attack. She trembled, muscles not responding to her mind’s demands and doing as they willed. She straightened them, back arching and tightening with the new spasms.

  “Fuck it.” Declan snatched her from the ground, seeming to ignore the screams that tore from her throat. He carried her through her home, her body roaring every place his skin came into contact with hers.

  He didn’t slow, though. If anything, he increased his speed, racing down the hallway and straight into her bathroom. It was obvious he’d explored her place. She’d bitch at him about snooping just as soon as she stopped wishing she were dead.

  Distantly, she recognized the sound of her shower curtain being shoved aside and then a clattering clang of metal on tile reached her. If he tore down her shower rod…

  More jostling, more pain, and then the stinging patter of water against her screaming skin. A squinty-eyed glance at her body revealed droplets of blood before they were swept away by the freezing water.

  She was bleeding, being torn apart by this thing inside her and she was just… done. The pain pounced on her without warning, without even a hint of what was to come, and she was over being a werewolf now.

  “Please…” Tears sprung to her eyes and the sting was nothing compared to the agony that grew with every beat of her heart. “Make it stop.”

  “I know, baby, I know.” He eased her further beneath the spray, covering her in the sharp, icy spray.

  “No.” She wriggled. At least, she thought she wriggled. In all honesty, it was probably no more than a quick spasm.

  “Yes.” His hold tightened, one arm remaining around her back while the other cupped her cheek. Or rather, what was left of her cheek. She wasn’t sure what he stroked, whether it was skin or fur. But she did know that whatever lingered there pressed and grew, parts of her snapping.