"Fang?"
Fang froze as he heard the seductive voice of what had to be the sexiest wolfswan in their pack. Petra. Tall, sultry, and stacked like a brick house, she stirred the hormones of every wolfswain who saw her. He'd never been an exception to that.
Until tonight.
He frowned as she closed the distance between them and rubbed herself against his side. Reaching up, she grabbed a handful of his hair and tugged at it.
She purred in his ear. "I'm in heat, baby. You want to help me out?"
Was that a trick question or what? Fang nuzzled his face against her neck, inhaling her scent. Normally that would have been more than enough to flame his lust to the point he'd be more than able to accommodate her.
C'mon, body, wake up.
But he only stirred a little bit.
What the hell?
She reached down to cup him like a pro. "Is something wrong?"
"No."
She pulled back to grimace up at him when he didn't get instantly hard. "You haven't mated, have you?" That would be the natural assumption since the moment a wolf mated he could only be enticed by his mated female and never again by another. Something that seriously sucked. It was why he was in no hurry to find a mate. Too much like eating the same meal every night. Who wanted that?
Petra jerked at his hands, looking for the mark that always signaled them when the Fates had chosen their significant other. It was a mark that only appeared on their palms after they'd had sex.
Problem was, he hadn't touched anyone in the last three weeks. Not since he'd seen Aimee.
He pulled his hands away from her. "I'm not mated."
Relief lightened her expression as she reached for his fly. "Then what are you waiting for?"
Inspiration . . . and an erection would definitely help. His cock twitched as she skimmed it with her nails, but didn't do much more than that. Not even her groping was helping.
Fang kissed her and she attacked him.
Still he was cold. Empty. Where was the usual fire he felt? The driving need to be inside her.
He just felt . . .
Nothing.
She sank her hand deeper inside his jeans to cup him as she breathed in his ear. That sent chills over him, but he still had no desire to touch her.
Nipping his ear hard, she pulled back with a curse and slammed her fists into his chest. "What is wrong with you?"
Fang looked at her blankly, wishing he had an answer. Instead, he could only think of one thing. "Parvo."
She screwed her face up in disgust. "Parvo, my ass. C'mon, Fang. I don't want to mate with the rest of these losers. You're the only one I want."
"The mind is right there with you, baby, but the body . . ."
She slapped him. Hard. "You suck!"
Fang wiped the blood from his lips with a grimace. That was the biggest problem with wolfswans. When their hormones took over, they were brutal bitches. Come to think of it, the last time they'd had sex, Petra had bitten his shoulder so hard it'd bled. He even had a permanent scar from it.
She grabbed his hair and kissed him again.
Now his own anger snapping, he pushed her back. "Go slap someone else. I'm not in the mood to be bitten and clawed tonight."
She wrenched at his hair hard enough to pull a handful of it out. "It figures. You would have PMS when I'm in heat." She growled at him. "Fine. I'll go find Fury."
And may you both be mates for all eternity . . .
In hell.
It was what they deserved. Brushing his lips, which were still stinging from her blow, he zipped his pants, then sank down to the ground. He lay on his back to stare up at the dark sky, trying to find some kind of solace.
He heard a scuffle in camp where Petra must have spread her scent around to incite the others. Most likely they'd fight and the winner would take her.
But pleasing a wolfswan in heat was no easy matter. It often took a whole night and sometimes two or three others would be needed to sate her. Of course that all changed once a female mated. Then she was off-limits to any except her chosen male.
Fang couldn't believe he'd had to turn her down. Even hostile and hormonal, she was one fine piece of . . .
"What is wrong with me?"
Maybe he did have parvo or rabies. Could a Were-Hunter get that? He'd never heard of anyone contracting it, but . . .
Something had to be seriously wrong with him. The scent of a prime female in heat had never failed to stir him before. He should be in there right now, pawing it out to be the one who mounted her.
But as he contemplated that, his thoughts turned to Aimee. The way she'd looked bringing his food out to where he'd been sitting by the bikes. The way his jacket had swallowed her whole as she wore it and smiled up at him.
She'd been beautiful and kind. Gentle and sweet. Even when she'd yelled at him, she'd been . . .
Bingo. He was hard as a rock now.
Fang let out a grateful sigh. Thank the gods. At least he wasn't broken. He still worked.
Just not for Petra.
That thought made him physically ill. Oh, gah, I was better off having parvo.
"What are you doing here?"
He tilted his head back to see Vane standing a few feet away, looking puzzled by Fang's pose. "Nothing."
"Why aren't you with Petra?"
"Why aren't you?"
Vane sat down beside him. "I can't stand her. She claws like a cat. However, that's never stopped you before."
Fang shrugged as he tucked his hands under his head. "There's more to life than sex."
Vane scowled at him. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"
Fang gave him a droll stare. "Don't be an asshole."
"All right. I'll leave you alone. But in all seriousness, are you okay?"
"When have I ever been okay?"
Vane laughed. "Good point. I still think it comes from Anya pushing you down that ravine when you were a pup. Definite head injury that screwed you up for life."
"I think it was from you always sleeping on my head when we were pups. Years of nightly oxygen dep do take a toll."
Vane laughed. "Yeah, I probably killed all six of your brain cells before you even reached puberty."
"Probably so. Explains so much, doesn't it?"
His expression sobering, Vane stood up. "By the way, I overheard Markus last night. He was talking about replacing us as his heirs."
No big surprise given his hatred of them. But even so, Markus had always been careful in the past about breaking the clan up with an all-out confrontation. "Why?"
"Because neither of us has mated. He thinks it's a sign that we can't. That we're genetically deficient and therefore unworthy to be Regis."
Fang felt the heat of anger rush through him. He hated his father with a passion so strong, he wasn't sure how he kept from lashing out. "I really wish you'd let me challenge him. Then he'd see just how genetically deficient I am . . . not."
"Don't get so upset. Look on the bright side, at least we're not impotent."
Maybe Vane wasn't, but Fang . . .
"Little consolation," Fang groused as he refused to think about Aimee's hold on him. "Tasting his blood, however, would appease me to no end." He shifted his head to get more comfortable. "So who's he looking at as our replacements?"
"Stefan, who else?"
It just got better and better. Why did he even bother asking? He should have known the answer. "I'm sure Stefan's not championing our cause."
"Nope."
"One day I'm going to rip out his throat and you won't be there to stop me."
Vane froze as he heard the raw animus in Fang's tone. And the anguish. He knew how hard it was for his brother to rein in his fury. How hard it was for Fang to stand down and be subservient to him or anyone else.
It was against everything in Fang's genetic code. And it made him wonder what Fang would have been like had Vane not switched to Arcadian during puberty.
Gods, how terrifying that had been. It'd taken him weeks to even understand what was happening to his body and then once he was sure . . .
Telling Fang had been the hardest part of all. Even though they'd been littermates, a part of him had feared that his brother would attack and kill him for it. Who could've blamed him? The Arcadians were forever attacking them.
And they had killed the only woman Fang had ever cared for.
Instead, Fang had accepted it calmly and vowed his eternal protection. Loyal as a wolf . . . and a brother . . . to the end.
It was a protection that never wavered. Fang tried to hide it from Vane, but he wasn't stupid. He knew how many times his brother stayed awake at night, guarding his secret. How many times Fang had walked away from a fight even though it galled him to do so, so that Vane wouldn't be questioned or outed.
He was his brother's weakness and he hated himself for that.
"I'm sorry, Fang."
"For what?"
For everything. For robbing him of his birthright. Robbing him of his ability to challenge Stefan and Markus.
Most of all he was sorry that his brother had no idea just how much respect he had for him. But it wasn't in their natures to speak of such things.
"For being the thorn in your ass that prevents you from challenging him."
Fang returned to looking up at the dark sky. "Don't worry about it. It is what it is."
Perhaps, but the real question was, what could it be if Vane wasn't around to pull him down? But as Fang had said, it was what it was. There was no changing the fact that he was human and his brother was a wolf.
Sighing, he headed toward his sister.
Fang didn't move until Vane was gone. He lay there listening to the sounds of the insects and wolves while watching the sky above him. The Dark-Hunters had warned them earlier today that there was an enemy pack of Arcadian wolves in town and a group of Daimons who might be looking to augment their life spans by eating a couple of wolves. Their pregnant females were prime Daimon bait.
But Fang didn't fear them. He could hold his own in a fight and he pitied anyone dumb enough to call him out.
If only his father and Stefan would get head injuries that made them even dumber than normal. Oh, to fight them . . .
Closing his eyes, he returned to his wolf form. This was what he needed. It was the only thing that really comforted him.
But as he lay there, he thought of something else comforted him.
The scent and taste of an ethereal bear.
Put her out of your thoughts. She was as off-limits as anything could be. His father hated him enough. If he ever found out Fang was turned on by a bear . . .
They'd call out a hunt and he'd be slaughtered.