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in an enclave in the
Catskill Mountains. The pack was facing a dilemma. They had not one, but two
legacy consorts—identical twin brothers who were both heirs apparent to the
role. Jeremiah solved the problem by offering to take the second-born, Mathias
Chaney, with him to settle a new pack in the west. Setting out on horseback,
Jeremiah and Mathias rounded the tip of Lake Michigan then headed north. They had
traveled until an early fall blizzard stranded them in a wild region among the
pines. Jeremiah named the town Talbot—after a favorite uncle—then built a log
cabin and staked claim to the five thousand acres surrounding it. The following
spring, the men built a cabin for Mathias and the two waited for the werewolves
they knew would eventually come.
     
    Jenny hadn’t done well in school, but as they neared the
shaman’s cabin the night of her induction, she got chills thinking about how
the dwelling was older than the United States. She would have thought a
werewolf as old and powerful as Jeremiah would have torn down this old place
and built something more modern, but it was as if she’d stepped into one of
those old pioneer towns she’d seen in movies.
    Sergei and Jenny walked into the cabin without knocking and
found Jeremiah sitting at the table wearing a white ceremonial robe and smoking
a foot-long pipe. It was just one big room without electricity or running
water. She couldn’t believe he’d chosen to live this way for hundreds of years.
    Sergei made a little bow and when he squeezed Jenny’s hand,
she did the same. “Shaman, I have brought you the fledgling. She is also my
mate.”
    The man blew a smoke ring toward the ceiling, then turned
his pipe bowl upside down in the ashtray and stood. Jenny was used to men
checking her out, but the way Jeremiah studied her was unnerving. As soon as he
approached, Sergei stepped aside.
    Jeremiah made a complete circuit around Jenny, and even when
he was behind her, she could feel the heat of his gaze. “Nice, Sergei. Very nice.
She smells wonderful…wild.”
    “Thank you, Shaman,” Sergei said.
    Jenny could hear the strain in her mate’s voice.
    Once he was standing directly in front of Jenny, Jeremiah
bent at the waist and touched his nose to her crotch. He sniffed loudly. “She’s
willing too. It should make for an interesting ceremony.”
    Jenny expected Sergei to slap the perverted old fuck across
the room. Instead the big Russian just muttered another weak thanks . The
shaman’s inspection humiliated Jenny—and Sergei’s deference to it disgusted
her. And yet the whole revolting scene turned her on. Her body thrummed with
sexual energy and it was all she could do not to reach into her jeans and rub
herself.
    A gush of wetness flowed out of her and she could smell her
own musk. She was certain the men could smell it too and was glad for it. Deep
in her core a primal feeling built. A tug of instinct made her want to wheel
around and present her ass to them to invite a sound fucking.
    Jeremiah threw back his head and laughed. “Oh yes, friend,
your little mate is wet and ready. I suggest we take her below and start the
ceremony before the mood passes.”
    The shaman turned and walked toward the big potbelly stove
in the corner of the cabin. Jenny could see that the braided rug had been
pushed aside to reveal a hatch in the floor. He glanced at Jenny. “As you were
made, fledgling.”
    Though she didn’t entirely understand his words, the meaning
was clear. Jenny stripped naked and dropped her clothes in a pile at her feet.
Jeremiah yanked on the iron ring inset in the hatch and hefted it open. He
nodded at Sergei, and once her mate had descended the stairs, Jeremiah looped
his wiry arm around Jenny’s waist and tugged her close. He laid his nose
against the side of her neck and breathed deeply before moving his lips to her
ear. “I can read your intent, fledgling,” he hissed. “Just be certain you know
the risks before you seek your