The Somerset Series: A Box Set: Books 2-4 Read online

  He could smell it on her.

  She was having sex. In her sleep.

  He watched her, transfixed by everything: the way her body moved, the sounds she would make, the way she looked. He wanted nothing more than to finish her off right there, wanted to feel her nails dig into his skin… He might have even been jealous, but he was almost certain she was dreaming about him. That and the fact he was mesmerized by everything about her.

  It would have been easier if he had taken her while she was asleep. Marcus knew that; there would be no struggle and since she seemed so consumed by her dream, it was highly unlikely that she would awaken. But… he had to wait. He had to watch her finish, no matter what it meant. Of course, he had seen her in his dreams, but that wasn't the same…

  And just like that, her hips bucked up, and if it was possible, her fingers gripped the covers even tighter. Her head tilted back as she twitched, fully experiencing the sensation of her climax even though she was sleeping deeply. She even moaned slightly, and Marcus had to restrain himself from climbing on the bed and causing her to feel such pleasure while she was awake. Sex could wait. First, he needed to get her back to the house.

  At that moment, however, Bridgette's eyes snapped open in Marcus's direction, as though she could sense his presence, as though she knew he was watching her. She didn’t appear frightened of him, for whatever reason. Instead, she merely stared at him, trying to wait to speak until the pleasure had subsided.

  She had dreamt of him. Again.

  And he had watched her body react to such a dream.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked him, her voice laced with husk. She sat up, which was quite an effort for her tired body.

  Again, Marcus had to restrain himself from forgetting about his mission and jumping on top of her in order to inflict the same pleasure on her in reality. Even the sound of her voice did things to his body he wasn't completely aware of but wanted nothing more than to figure out.

  "I'm here to take you home," he told her, and though his voice was rough, he wasn't angry, upset, or frustrated.

  "I am home," she told him firmly, though she, too, had yet to be upset over anything.

  "Our home," he said again, in a tone that told her there was no argument. "With me. With my pack."

  Bridgette narrowed her eyes, now fully awake. "That will never be my home," she told him through clenched teeth.

  Though Marcus didn't want to admit it, her words cut through him more than he expected, and something primal growled within. "I am making it your choice, but if need be, I will throw you over my shoulder and take you home with me."

  "Well, I'm not going," she said, her tone the same as his. "You'll have to force me and I guarantee I will struggle."

  Marcus cocked his lips up into an amused smirk that did not meet his eyes and shrugged his broad shoulders. "That'll make it more fun," he told her, and without warning, he reached out and grabbed Bridgette. Just like he promised, he tossed her over his shoulder with relative ease and proceeded to head out of her room. He made sure one of his hands was pressed tightly over her mouth in order to prevent her screams from being heard. Once he reached the safety of the wilderness, she could scream and shout as much as he wanted. He knew no one would bother him. His face was known throughout the city as the Alpha male of the Sterling pack, and no one would dare do anything to risk bodily harm to themselves. It also helped that his pack invested in a lot of the city’s businesses. He had more friends than enemies here.

  But that didn’t deter Bridgette. Just like she promised, she struggled – kicking and punching, wiggling and shaking - every inch of the way.

  10

  He probably should have taken a car.

  It was only after Marcus made it out of her apartment complex did he realize he didn't want to carry her back to the mansion. It took him two hours, and even as a werewolf – an Alpha – it required some effort. With her struggling, it would no doubt take longer. Though she had a fair amount of curves on her petite frame, she was relatively easy to carry, and he had no problem crossing the street, despite her fists pounding on one side of his back and her feet kicking at his chest.

  She was strong, he realized, even though her blows barely registered. Stronger than he had originally given her credit for.

  She would make a good wife.

  The thought traveled into his mind without Marcus's permission, and he immediately banished it. Yes, Marcus could admit that strength was a very admirable quality, especially when it came to finding his potential mate. But that did not mean he was going to marry her, or even wanted to.

  He glanced back and forth between the empty streets, trying to figure out what he should do at that moment while simultaneously trying to ignore Bridgette's struggles. A couple of cars littered the street. He supposed he could just steal one of those, and have a member of his pack return it sometime tomorrow. In fact, that was probably his best bet. Now Marcus turned, his eyes crisp, trying to figure out just which vehicle to take…

  The pounding Bridgette was attempting to inflict on him caused his thoughts to lapse temporarily. An annoyed frown touched his lips and he looked at her form sprawled out over his shoulder, continuing trying to physically dissuade him in hopes he might react favorably towards her. Ha. That was a laugh. Idly, he wondered just how tired she was. Being asleep and having such an erotic dream probably would have worn out anybody else, even a few males he knew. However, she still persisted, consistently hitting him and kicking him. He had to give it to her. She was quite stubborn.

  "You might as well just stop," he told her flatly, and due to the natural tone of his voice, it came out rougher than he intended.

  "I'm wearing you out, hmm?" Bridgette asked in a strained voice, as though she was focusing all of her energies on this one particular task. "I knew I would, sooner or later."

  Marcus rolled his eyes. "Hardly," he told her. He returned his eyes to the road, resuming his search. "I just thought I should tell you so you don't wear yourself out because there's no way in hell I'm carrying you into the house if you fall asleep on the ride to the mansion."

  "Maybe you should recall the fact that I don't want to go to your home or whatever it is," Bridgette said, temporarily stopping her ministrations so she could yell at him. "But no. You wolves are all the same. You come here and then toss me over your shoulder like you're some caveman and I'm your property or some shit like that and don't even bother to ask what I want."

  "I don't particularly care what you want," Marcus growled, shifting her weight on his shoulder so it was more comfortable.

  "Why am I not surprised?" Bridgette said; her voice softer than earlier.

  Marcus' sharp hearing picked up a subtle tone of sadness laced in her voice, but he chose to ignore it. Guilt started to prickle at his insides, and he forced it away. He had a mission to carry out, and couldn't be distracted because the woman wasn't satisfied with the way things turned out. It wasn’t like he was jumping up and down with joy at the situation either.

  "Did you think of how you’re even going to take me back to your place?" Bridgette asked, trying to get comfortable. She didn't like when her body was in limbo and too much blood was rushing into certain places while leaving other places all tingly and empty. "It doesn't appear to me that you have a car, Comrade. What now?"

  Though she had meant to be insulting, Marcus perked his ears, suddenly inspired by the woman. "I don't," he told her, and then tilted his head slightly so they locked eyes. "But you do."

  Bridgette was not pleased. Currently, she was imprisoned in her own car. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her lips were pursed into a pout. She didn't care that she was sulking, but to her, life just wasn't being fair right now. After he had all but tossed her off his shoulder, Marcus had practically threatened her to loan him her car and after she refused the first few times, he lunged at her and looked as though he was about to finish the job and completely transform her into a werewolf. She grudgingly agreed – if agreed me
ant being forced to do what Marcus said despite her wishes – but refused to tell him where the keys were in her apartment. It didn’t take him long to find them, however, and she led him to a nearby parking garage where her Ford Mustang was. He also made her promise not to escape – like she would really keep a promise to the wolf who was kidnapping her. So it was really no wonder why she was sulking. But her mind was working in overtime in order to try and formulate some kind of plan.

  She was getting tired. Really tired. Exhausted. And long car rides had always increased the probability that she would fall asleep…

  As Marcus had suspected, Bridgette fell asleep in a matter of minutes. He glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, and immediately noticed the prickles of goose bumps that scattered across her bare legs. It was hard to remember that she was only in a t-shirt and underwear while she had been yelling at him. In a quick instant, his worn leather jacket was off of his broad frame and wrapped around her petite body in hopes that it might warm her up. He didn't care, but…

  "Let's not analyze things, shall we?" he asked himself, bumping his fingers on the steering wheel, and instead, focused on just how everyone would take her as his potential wife. His hazel eyes stared back out the window, his thoughts trailing off. It shouldn't have mattered because, in all likelihood, the match wouldn't be approved, but…

  It did. It really, really did.

  The drive took at least an hour and Bridgette remained asleep the whole time. Occasionally Marcus would look over at her to see if she was having any interesting dreams, but from what he could see, that time had already passed.

  Oh well. He almost wished he had experienced this dream. If it was anything like the last one… It wasn't likely he would ever forget that night. Just the thought of it –

  Probably shouldn't think about it, a voice chided.

  The voice was probably right.

  He glanced out the window, watching as the city merged with forestry, and soon, only small cottages and bed and breakfasts were sparsely seen in patches of the trees. The serenity he always seemed to feel once he was back home calmed his nerves, eased the tension in his shoulders…

  His stomach still tumbled at the thought of his pack meeting Bridgette. She wasn’t exactly likable. She probably would be… But he wanted her to… He shook his head, concealing a growl. He couldn’t think about the decision. Not yet.

  They arrived at the manor just after three o'clock that morning. The night was still pitch black and the thick crescent moon hung low in the sky. One couldn't actually see what surrounded the home, but silhouettes of pine trees could be made out.

  When the car stopped, Bridgette jerked awake and her body tensed, as though she was preparing herself for any sort of attack that was or might take place. Marcus gave her a look, arching his brow as though whatever she thought was going to happen was definitely not going to happen.

  "Am I going to have to carry you?" he asked her though he had some sort of idea of the answer.

  "Like I'd choose to get out of this car and go with you in your house," she snapped, her arms still folded over her chest.

  Marcus sighed and then got out of the car, only to walk around, open her door and, after unbuckling her seatbelt, carried her in his arms, bridal-style. It was harder for her to struggle this way.

  However, her new position did not deter her from speaking her mind.

  "Fuck! Why can't you just take no for an answer?” Bridgette asked, clearly trying to offend him. She refused to look at the manor, the same manor where she first set eyes on Marcus, where he bit her, where two fellow agents lost their lives. "No. I don't want to be with you or your pack or whatever…" She continued to speak, even when Marcus entered the door, even when they passed a group of people who started to murmur to themselves upon seeing her, even when he began to head up the stairs.

  Down below, in the dining room, Thane and Razi sat next to each other and exchanged looks. Brandon and Ryan were also seated next to the Elders, having just come back from their surveillance shift. Julianne made a quick appearance from the kitchen, probably to see who was making so much goddamn noise at this hour.

  "She doesn't appear pleased to be here," Thane murmured to his mate, indicating the woman in Marcus's arms.

  "No, she does not," Razi said, unsurprised. Both pairs of eyes were fixed on the couple, as Marcus carried Bridgette up the stairs. They had been waiting for Marcus’ return, after a tense end to dinner. They didn’t expect him to bring her home with him, however, especially not like this. "Why would he choose a mate who clearly doesn't want to be part of this pack?"

  "Ah, well," Thane said, patting the woman's knee affectionately. "We can never really choose who we fall in love with, can we?"

  "Maybe not entirely," Razi agreed. "But for the pack's sake, you and I need to make a decision based not only Marcus's desires but on what will benefit our members. And as of right now, I don't see her as being what we need her to be, nor do I see her as someone we can look to in times of need."

  "Well," Thane said, still optimistic. "We'll see."

  Unbeknownst to the Elders, Julianne slipped back into the kitchen, a smirk on her pretty face.

  11

  Bridgette didn't get much sleep the rest of that short night. She wasn't sure why she was here, in the middle of a pack of werewolves, being kept alive besides the fact that it obviously had something to do with the bite on her neck. And she also had a feeling that Marcus wasn't exactly thrilled with having to humor his pack by bringing her here. What? Did he need to show them everyone he bit in his lifetime?

  How many people could werewolves actually bite anyways? Was it a one time, one person thing, or could a werewolf have multiple partners? Bridgette didn't want to think about it, so she didn't.

  That day, she slid in and out of an uneasy sleep, completely unaware a young woman, probably no more than eighteen, came in frequently to check on her.

  Though Bridgette was formally educated in the matter of werewolves, she didn't know the way pack members interacted on a more informal basis. She knew there was an Alpha male who was expected to get married and reproduce so that if anything happened to him, he would have his pups to reclaim his place when they were of age. Though werewolves seemed like a very patriarchal society, females were of equal or even greater importance. It was the female who bore the men their children, and for that reason, they were honored. Normally, males made no brash decisions without discussing it first with his mate. And in such a culture, the males weren't seen as being whipped, but rather considerate.

  She didn't know, of course, about bonding with someone completely. The physician spoke little of the actual side effects she would experience, especially concerning her logic and her emotions. He thoroughly told her about the science behind it, though, but to be honest, Bridgette didn't exactly care about that part. He told her that due to the strength of Marcus' venom, she would more than likely turn into a werewolf, but he couldn't tell her when.

  It was then that she realized humans didn't know very much about the werewolf culture even if they were educated about said culture. She couldn’t even ask her werewolf colleagues about it since most of them were lone wolves and didn’t know much about pack traditions themselves.

  It was all so complicated that Bridgette felt herself getting a headache.

  It was nearly four in the afternoon when she threw her legs over the bed and stood, stretching as she did so. She glanced straight across from the four-poster king size bed and found a full-length mirror. Gazing into it, she saw that she was still in her t-shirt and boy shorts, and she felt slightly relieved about this. Of course, something inside told her Marcus would never take advantage of her, but it was nice to know that nobody had come in and changed her. Her hair was messier than normal and she realized it would take a little longer to get through the knots that had accumulated while she slept. Everything else about her looked pretty normal; she didn't seem harmed in any way. There were no cuts, blood, or bruises. But…
>
  But there was that mark on the side of her neck.

  She hated the sight of it. It basically informed the entire world that she was his property and that she was taken, however beyond her will it was.

  Bridgette snapped her eyes to the square window on the adjacent wall, refusing to look at it anymore. Fall was surely here; for the forest surrounding the manor was devoid of any leaves, save for the blankets of color they made on the ground. The backdrop brought a grin to her face and her thoughts strayed, the mark momentarily forgotten. Bridgette had always preferred fall above every other season, preferably for scenery like this. Some might call it barren or dead, but she thought it was nothing short of beautiful.

  How wonderful it must be, a small voice inside of her murmured, to live here throughout all four seasons, and experience each one individually.

  Immediately, Bridgette shook her head to rid herself of the thought. Her finger reached up to play with the tresses of her messy hair. She wouldn't even deny the thought because she refused to think about it at all. Instead, she turned around and glanced at the bed she had slept in. Silk crimson sheets. A matching quilt she would no doubt need once winter came – if she was still there for that long. After an inspection, she found that there were two fully stocked wardrobes on either side of the full-length mirror, and a desk next to the window should she ever decide to write. When she turned around to check out the opposite wall, she found the entrance to the room and a large painting of two brown-grey wolves staring up at the night sky with a crescent moon. For a moment, Bridgette did nothing but stare at it, until a knock at the door startled her.