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and
private location. Members of the tribe used it when the need to run as a wolf
overwhelmed them, but usually no more than a handful of lycanosapiens attended
at a time. The place hadn’t seen these kinds of numbers since the last cull
during the time of the Great Depression.
    Most of the tribe members—natural borne and culled—would spend the
week naked, changing back and forth from two legs to four legs at their
pleasure. His kind was very comfortable with both their forms. In that sense,
the woman’s nakedness didn’t surprise Braden. His visceral reaction to her—that
was another story.
    When she reached for the sky, clasped her hands, and twisted her
torso to Braden, his breath caught in his throat. Her lush breasts swayed with
the movement. Brazenly, she held his gaze as she dropped her arms to her sides,
her fingers sliding over her ample hips in mild reproach.
    His cock jerked, making him glad he’d put on jeans after his
earlier run. Otherwise, the proof of his desire would be pointedly obvious and
hard to hide. He smiled when she winked. What
a woman!
    Braden had been born in the late sixties, a son of two first
generation lycanosapiens or natural borns. His people had been culling human’s
to create more of their kind for thousands of years. They usually waited for
times of great disaster. He’d heard the stories from his parents and
grandparents, and from the tribal elders, but actually watching a cull take
place, being a part of the process, had been an eye opening experience for
Braden.
    The invited were usually people in desperate circumstances: the
destitute, the terminally ill, and the desperate. Which category did the
enticing woman belong? Whichever, she certainly looked happy and healthy now.
    She went up on the balls of her feet. Her breasts gave a slight
bounce as she dropped back on her heels. Braden grinned. Very healthy .
    The woman put her hands on her hips and sauntered over. She looked
Braden up and down while tugging the side of her lower lip into her mouth.
Finally, after a moment’s assessment, she asked, “Are you okay? You look like
you swallowed a bug.”
    Oh, man. She had a sweet, southern accent, but not so Deep South
he’d need a dentist. Some of the newly culled were shy about their bodies, but
not this beauty. She acted completely unaware of her nakedness. “I’m Braden,”
he said.
    The charming brunette held out her hand. “Eve. Eve Taylor.” A
pulse of energy washed into Braden as she shook his hand with friendly
enthusiasm. “Nice to meet you, Branden.”
    Braden inwardly groaned. It was never a good sign when a woman
couldn’t get your name right. “It’s Braden,” he said again.
    “All right,” Eve smiled. She hadn’t let go of his hand. “Braden.”
    “Eve!” a man shouted. Braden and Eve both looked. Tom Ellis, a
first generation, stood outside the den where Eve had emerged. He was a broad
man, built like a heavy weight boxer.
    Braden ground his teeth as an unnatural fury surfaced. His
fingernails turned to claws and cut through his fisted palms. Had Tom and Eve
shared a den? The thought made him sick to his stomach. Tom worked in law
enforcement in the human world—no stranger to violence and death. Braden was a
teacher. Ellis had a reputation for getting exactly what he wanted when he
wanted it. What chance did Braden stand up against such a hardcore beast?
    “I guess I better go,” Eve said, looking over her shoulder to Tom.
    With surprising speed, Braden grabbed her wrist before she could
leave. “Are you mated to him?” He punctuated his question with a growl. He
should have sensed her as claimed or mated, but she didn’t feel tethered… to
anyone.
    Eve narrowed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
    “Ellis.” Braden could barely control his reaction. Fuck! He could
feel Ellis’s glare almost burning his skin, but he couldn’t stop himself. He
wanted Eve—wanted her to the point of stupidity. He had to know if he had any
chance