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  IN HER NATURE

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, June 2004

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  PO Box 787

  Hudson, OH 44236-0787

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-881-2

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  IN HER NATURE © 2004 LORIE O’CLARE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Briana St. James.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  In Her Nature

  Lorie O’Clare

  Chapter One

  Tall field grass lay flattened from many tire tracks, leaving darkened, curvy trails across the open field. Several rows of cars had parked in the isolated area. The ground was damp, and the air too. Moisture clung to everything, weighing down scents, keeping them lingering longer than necessary. And it was cold, too damned cold.

  Simone DeBeaux climbed out of the backseat of the pale blue Suburban, searching the group of people who moved around the parked cars, congregating in the field with a quiet reluctance.

  None of us want to be here, she thought, sensing the silent acceptance that seemed to blanket everyone’s mood.

  The smell of coffee and exhaust clung to the cold air, trapped in the moist stillness of the late afternoon. Wet earth and leather mingled with the scents, and Simone gulped in the aromas as she took a deep breath and shut the car door.

  I dare any of you to confront me, she silently challenged the pack. The field was isolated, the forest thick around them, venting the cold air and the smell of pine. She didn’t know who owned the land, but guessed one of the Rousseaus had kept it in the family since their burial ground was here. Not good for humans to be lingering around a werewolf graveyard.

  Rich greens, muted by clouds into darker shades, spread out before her. British Columbia was a piece of heaven in its beauty, and she would have relished it, were it not for the somber reason that drew the pack together.

  There were familiar faces; she had anticipated that. She had grown up with these werewolves, and they were her pack, whether she liked any of them or not.

  But tradition ran deep in their blood. Tradition and respect for rank never dwindled, not among her kind, not among the lunewulf. Not among any werewolf pack.

  She moved slowly around the parked cars, in no hurry to mingle with the growing group that hovered over their coffee, poured from thermoses brought with them. Everyone here viewed her as one man’s slut, and she doubted any of her actions today would change that opinion. Werewolves were slow in changing their views.

  She stared at the man in front of her who strolled with calm confidence into the group ahead of them. Johann Rousseau didn’t acknowledge anyone as he passed pack members they had both grown up with. Simone stared at his backside. Long muscular legs, with blue jeans hugging them, and a perfectly hard ass once had been a distraction she couldn’t resist. Snakeskin cowboy boots added to his rugged appearance. His plaid, down jacket drew in around his waist, accenting broad shoulders. She let her gaze drift up him, to blond curls that fell to his collar. She knew firsthand how soft those curls were.

  If she didn’t stay with him, the group who parted to let him pass would close in around her. She would be left on the outer edge, alone among her pack members. Johann wouldn’t turn around to make sure she remained with him. He had probably forgotten all about her by now, even though he’d brought her with him to this Godforsaken event.

  His thoughts wouldn’t be focused on what the others thought of their presence here together today. He had a ceremony to conduct. She didn’t have that luxury. Her thoughts were free to wander since she was simply an idle spectator, here to give her last respects, of which she had none, to the deceased.

  “There she is,” someone said, and heads turned in her direction.

  Simone flinched, ready to stand her ground if confronted, until she realized that the group now surrounding her stared, and began pointing at something behind her.

  She watched Johann turn around, but like the others, he didn’t focus on her either. He did, however, turn his attention to the bitch standing next to him. Simone focused on her, too.

  Samantha Rousseau, Johann’s new mate, turned around slowly, her knitted cap pulled over her ears and bleached blonde hair sticking out around her neck. Her hand slid to her protruding belly, where Johann’s cub grew. The older bitches might question that Johann had taken Samantha out of honor and duty since she was obviously so pregnant, and the mating was new, but Simone knew Johann had mated with Samantha out of love. It showed in how they looked at each other.

  Even in her extra-large flannel shirt, Samantha looked beautiful, her face glowing from the cold air, and her long thin legs accented by her snug jeans. Her gaze was wary though, and Simone caught the worried glance she gave Johann.

  But Johann had already looked away. He left Samantha’s side and walked toward an approaching vehicle.

  “That’s her,” someone murmured next to Simone.

  “It’s the whole lot of them,” someone else said.

  “Well you know they would all turn out today.”

  Simone listened to the comments of the people around her, while the tension grew in the crowd. No one liked the old bitch.

  Several men opened the back of the Expedition, which had parked on the edge of the rows of cars in the field. And although she didn’t know all of the immediate family, she guessed they were all Rousseaus. Simone moved to stand next to Samantha, and the two of them watched the group of men lift a long, narrow coffin from the back of the sports utility vehicle. Others from the pack helped two older people out of the front of the car, but Simone didn’t focus on them.

  Four men carried the coffin toward the group, which parted to allow them to walk through the field. Simone gave each man her attention in turn. Johann was one of the men, his expression solemn. She didn’t know the other three men, but one of them stood taller than the rest, catching her eye.

  “Look at that hunk.” She nodded toward him, keeping her tone a soft whisper.

  “Are you talking about Johann?” Samantha glanced at her, before returning her attention to the solemn procession.

  “Fuck Johann.” Simone stared at the man who now passed by them. He stood a good six inches taller than Simone, yet she was pretty sure he was purebred, or he sure wouldn’t be here.

  “You better not fuck Johann,” Samantha whispered back.

  Simone glanced at Samantha. “You have nothing to worry about. Look at the guy in the back.” Simone knew her past experiences with Johann would always bother Samantha. But there was nothing she could do about it. “He’s head and shoulders taller than the other lunewulf.”

  “You know he wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t purebred.” Samantha turned her gaze to watch the men as they placed the coffin on to the platform that would lower it into the hole dug out below. “I wouldn’t be allowed here if I wasn’t Johann’s mate. I’m lucky no one has thrown a fit that I’m not pure lunewulf.”

  “If you want to call it luck.”

  Samantha nodded her agreement.

  Simone watched the men move to the side as the coffin was lowered into place. The strong scent of freshly dug dirt for the grave filled the air, mixed with the rich smell of the grass in the field, and the sweet odors filtering from the pines su
rrounding them. None of it could hide the tension that mingled around her. The smell of emotions was thick in the group of werewolves, and it made her uneasy.

  Although she couldn’t remember having been to a burial ceremony before, she knew what to expect, and moved with Samantha when the pack formed a circle around the burial site. A ring not to be broken, representing the strength of the pack.

  The man who had caught her eye stood to the side of the grave, and Simone noticed he didn’t appear to have a mate standing with him. Hopefully that meant he was single. She grinned inwardly, hardly paying attention to the ancient words that Johann uttered as the ceremony began.

  “As it was with our ancestors, and will be with our descendents.” Johann’s words garbled over his extended teeth, his body partially changed, showing respect in both of his forms, werewolf and human.

  Several elders stepped forward, each carrying a gold goblet. The man who had caught her eye helped carry a large cauldron into the middle of the circle. The elders dipped their goblets into the cauldron, the dark red fluid flowing from the base of the ornate chalice. An older woman, dressed like the natives of the surrounding timber country, in a thick corduroy dress with white wool stockings, approached with a sacramental cloth, and dried each goblet.

  “We drink from the blood of the heart, offering sanctuary to the soul of our departed, Kathryn Rousseau.” Johann’s voice rang crisp across the field, and Simone felt a chill from the breeze. “We create a road of blood for Grandmother Rousseau to travel.”

  The tall blond remained by the cauldron, and she took a moment to enjoy his perfectly sculpted body. He didn’t wear a coat, and his button-down flannel shirt was untucked from his jeans. He was obviously ready for the ceremony to end. She planned to enjoy the view of him stripping in the field when they all changed into their fur. She wanted to know if he was as fine-tuned as his stance suggested.

  “It better not be cold,” Samantha muttered, and the two of them turned their attention to the goblet that was being passed toward them. “I might puke if it is.”

  Simone stifled a chuckle, but agreed that cold blood tasted nasty. “I’m sure they drained a doe right before the ceremony,” she reassured her friend, and could already tell from its rich fragrance, as the cup drew nearer, that the blood was fresh.

  “Drink from the blood of the cauldron,” Johann was saying. “We unite as a pack, sharing our grief as we do our kill.”

  Simone doubted too many people grieved the death of their previous pack leader. She glanced toward the tall blond and realized he watched her. Or did he focus on Samantha? Simone knew her friend was quite the looker, even in her pregnant state. Not to mention that she was a curiosity since Johann, a native of the area, had just returned home to be pack leader with his new pregnant mate.

  But either way, the man looked in her direction, and Simone couldn’t help but offer a small grin. His jawbone flexed—a small smile appearing. He was looking at her, and she had never seen deeper pools of blue than she did when she stared into his eyes.

  She let her gaze graze over the man, taking in his thick broad shoulders, blond hair that curled with glimpses of red, and a close shaven beard. He seemed too tall, too big, too much werewolf to be lunewulf. Although Johann was a good-sized man, and several others in the pack were as well, this man stood several inches taller, built like a lumberjack. His shirt stretched across his chest, bulges rippling under the material.

  He would be an aggressive lover, Simone decided—her favorite kind. The man seemed to pin her with his gaze, pinning her so that she couldn’t move. Would he be the kind of werewolf who enjoyed capturing his lover like he would his prey? The cold air didn’t bother her any more, as yearning traveled through her, a smoldering beginning low in her gut, and growing in intensity as it moved between her legs.

  “Here,” Samantha whispered, nudging her.

  The sun moved slowly behind a cloud in the gray sky, the air growing chillier while she sipped the tepid blood from the goblet. The thick fluid ran smoothly down her throat, bringing the beast within her to life. The hairs prickled on her back as she passed the large cup to the person next to her. She would dance the dance of death tonight, under the warmth of the white moon.

  And would the tall stranger dance with her? She watched him help the others carry the large cauldron back toward the cars. The leftover blood would be drained later, and the cauldron cleaned. Simone watched muscles move under his shirt as he carried the heavy, oversized pot.

  The ache in her pussy grew hot. She wanted this man, but how to go about getting him when Johann had her under lock and key.

  “As it is written, so it shall be.” Johann read from a large book that one of the elder Rousseaus held open for him. “I claim leadership of the lunewulf pack, founded by the Rousseau family, who moved here with the development of Fort Saint James, and have hunted, worked, and raised cubs on this land for over a century. Does anyone challenge me as pack leader?”

  Simone glanced around the group, as the others did as well, waiting to see if anyone would challenge Johann as pack leader. The question was part of the ceremony, and she knew Johann wasn’t worried about being challenged.

  The tall, sexy stranger walked into the group, after having secured the cauldron next to the SUV. Several heads turned his direction, and Simone watched him too, his expression impossible to read with his short cut beard masking him, and the shadows from the late afternoon sun highlighting the contours of his face.

  The smell of tension drifted through the cool, damp air though, alerting her as it seemed to do those around her. Silence loomed throughout the field, the lingering scent of blood being replaced by another, more dominating scent. Hairs prickled down her neck, and then traced icy patterns along her back, mixing with the heated desire that staring at the stranger had brought on.

  Was there a challenger? She glanced at Samantha, and then over at Johann. Trepidation seemed to ripple through the group, and she wasn’t sure, but it seemed heads turned toward the tall sexy blond. He stood along the edge of the circle, staring at Johann, and either not noticing that more than several pack members had given him their attention, or not caring.

  The stranger didn’t speak, and crossed his arms over his massive chest, a silent indication that he feared no aggression, or that he had no intention of challenging Johann. She didn’t know for sure what his body language meant.

  Johann cleared his throat, gathering everyone’s attention back to him. He obviously interpreted the large man’s gesture as non-aggressive.

  “We bury our dead as our ancestors did,” Johann said. They had reached the end of the ceremony. Thank God.

  A stir began through the group assembled. Simone glanced up to see Johann shed his jacket, and then unbutton his shirt. She turned her head to search for the tall blond who had held her attention. He had stood along the edge of the group a second before, but now was gone.

  Her fingers stumbled over the buttons on her shirt while she turned to look for the stranger. Well hell. There might have been some pleasure to this boring funeral after all, had she been able to watch the tall, well-built blond strip.

  People around her took off their clothes, dropping to all fours when the change consumed them. The tension in the air changed, the stillness no longer thick with a sense of duty and boredom. Instinct took over, bones stretched, skin thickened to hides, and fur covered skin.

  Within minutes werewolves filled the field, a final tribute during a funeral, the beast within all of them surfacing.

  Simone strained to find the stranger, dismay clouding her senses when she couldn’t find him. She pulled her shirt off, the chilled air attacking her nipples painfully. The tightening surged through her and her human soul held on, preventing the change as denied lust consumed her. Disappointment ran through her when she realized the stranger had disappeared, and she dropped to all fours.

  White werewolves, their glossy coats the color of the moon, with thick heads and jowls that housed lon
g, pointy fangs, with sleek, red tongues, filled the remote field. A fearsome sight, had there been any humans present to see the transformation, but this was a private affair, and a tradition maintained through centuries. They honored their dead in human form, and then in their werewolf form.

  Samantha nudged against Simone, her middle protruding with her cub, and the swell of her nipples visible through the fur on her belly. Samantha was a brave bitch; she would give her that. Many here had strong convictions about mixed breed werewolves, and Samantha had been shunned before for not being purebred.

  The dark silver streaks in her white coat made her beautiful, Simone thought, and she kissed Samantha’s cheek, running her long tongue against her friend’s sleek coat. I won’t let them hurt you.

  But when she looked toward the group, ready for anyone who would challenge Samantha’s presence, she realized the two of them were not the focus of anyone’s attention. She spotted Johann immediately, not too far from them, as if he had been heading toward them, but he didn’t focus on them either.

  The lunewulf pack danced uneasily, moving around each other, nonverbally sending a message of ill ease. She glanced around, not understanding, wondering what kept the pack at a standstill when she had assumed they would begin a run.

  Then she spotted them. Behind her, staring warily at the rest of the group, were five very large werewolves. All of them had the glossy white coat of the lunewulf, but the group of them dwarfed the rest of the pack.

  Now why did that sexy hunk move behind her when he changed to a werewolf? At least he got an eyeful!

  Even in her fur, the air turned colder, giving her a chill as it breathed off the forest of pines. The sun seemed to disappear, leaving them in shadows. The foul scent of prejudice filled the air, and Samantha backed up behind her and sat down, obviously protecting her unborn cub. Simone paced in a circle in front of her friend, unsure of the history but keenly aware that for some reason, these five weren’t welcome.

  Johann turned his back to the five, an obvious statement in itself that he didn’t fear them. He paced back and forth in front of his pack, the pack that had just accepted him as leader, and then lunged, snapping at the paws of several of the werewolves in the group.