Page 6 of Taken By the Stone Wolves

She whimpered, the pleasure so great she toppled over into darkness, her last memory that of Verne’s soft kiss on the back of her neck.

“Do you think she’ll come back?”

The two stone wolves stood proud, as they always did, guarding the entrance to the remains of Langdon Manor. The sun was high in the sky, locking them into their stone prisons, but neither man had succumbed to slumber. Instead, they watched the retreating figure of their mate as she walked down the path to the village, her blonde hair a bright beacon of hope.

“She will,” Verne said, not taking his eyes from Natalya. She reached the turn in the path and looked back. For a moment she stood still, then slowly lifted her hand and waved.

“She knows it wasn’t a dream… She’ll be back for us. And we’ll be ready.”

Chapter 5

She shouldn’t be here.

Anticipation and nervous excitement stole Natalya Larkin’s breath as she moved hesitantly through the darkness toward the ruined Langdon Manor. She shouldn’t be here, but she hadn’t been able to stay away. The temptation had eaten away at her ever since that night a week ago. The night she’d passed out and had the most erotic dream of her life. She could still see the details in full, glorious high definition as soon as she closed her eyes, tormenting her every night when she tried to sleep.

But it couldn’t have been real. Could it?

She shook her head at her own foolishness. Men who appeared out of the darkness at an abandoned manor to find a sexually frustrated, and very willing “victim”…it was the stuff of bad romance novels and porn films.

Sighing to herself, she carried on anyway. Even if she had been reading too much of the former, the dream would have gotten under her skin. Darrick and Verne. She’d even given her dream men names, for pity’s sake. That had to show she was touched in the head. Still, she argued with herself, if she walked around the manor then she might be able to convince her overactive imagination it had been just a dream. Perhaps that would allow her to finally get some sleep.

Shivering, but not from the cold, she reached the main gate of the manor. The sun had set long since, but the darkness didn’t bother her; she could see well in low light, a gift from her long ago lycan ancestors. She might not get her furry on every month, or have inherited the cool amber eyes of a wolf, but she didn’t need carrots to see in the dark.

Which meant she clearly saw the two massive wolf statues that had sat either side of the main gates on her last visit were gone.

“What…” Her lips pursed in confusion, she ran a hand over the nearest pillar. The top was smooth with no rough edges to show the statue had been removed. There wasn’t even a residual ring of grime and weathering that would indicate where it had sat. It was as if the creature had come alive and walked off the pedestal.

She rushed to the other one. It was as smooth as the first. Her brow furrowed. “How on earth?”

Okay, not something she could puzzle over, not without dropping into myth and legend. That way led to believing her dream had been real, and her sanity depended on it not being. Her logical brain kicked in. The manor’s owners probably had the wolves removed for restoration, and the pillars had been finished, now waiting for their occupants. Yes, that had to be it. Those repair guys could do awesome things these days, so that would be why she couldn’t feel anything.

Satisfaction filled her and she walked through the gates with confidence. Like the statues, there was a logical explanation for everything. Her dream was just that, a dream.

The walls rose around her, tall, forbidding sentinels in the night, but she didn’t feel threatened. Instead, she felt comfortable, as though this was where she belonged. After a lifetime of searching, trying to fit in and never quite managing, she’d finally found a place she felt at home.

Her nose wrinkled as she looked around. As much as she wanted, she had no hope of buying this place. It was probably owned by some trust, the inhabitable portion out of her league even to rent.

She brightened. On the plus side, having moved closer meant she could still spend a part of her weekends here with a camera. Already she could see the shot she wanted of the sunset through the ruins. A print in a nice frame, just the sight of it might bring that sense of belonging to her home.

Happy with her plan, she hummed softly in the back of her throat, reaching out to run her fingertips lightly over the top of a partially tumbled-down wall. Wide, it was about waist height, and a little chilly as the warmth of the sun retreated from the stone.

“You came back.” The voice was low, male, and behind her.

She turned with a gasp to find Verne. Greedily, her eyes drank in the sight of him. The dark, tousled hair, broad shoulders and chest, narrow hips. He was naked to the waist, and the lingering light allowed her to ogle the chiseled perfection of his abs as well as the prominent bulge in his pants. Instantly, heat rushed to dampen her panties.

Verne’s chuckle rumbled in the darkness and he stepped forward. “Smells like you’ve been looking forward to coming back. Emphasis on coming.”

“But… You’re real,” she managed as he closed the gap between them. She backed half a step when he invaded her personal space but found herself trapped between his hard body and the wall. He lifted a hand and stroked her cheek.

“Of course I’m real. Why? What did you think I was?”

His eyes glittered with warmth, the amber color washed out by the darkness. She opened her mouth, then closed it as she marshalled her thoughts, then spoke again. “I thought you were a dream. Both of you.”

His smile was wickedness personified. “Not a dream, love.” He reached for her hand, pulling it down over his groin. “Does this feel like a dream?”

It felt like an awesome dream. Best freaking dream she ever had. His cock was hard as a staff. A bolt of lust found her clit and licked around it. The memory of how his cock filled her pushed to the front of her mind and she bit her lip, holding in the moan.

“No,” he said, his voice hard. “No hiding. Let me hear it. The little sounds you make, the moans and whimpers…they turn me on.”

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