Pleasured By The Dark & Damaged by Naughty Novels Publishing Page B

me as his mate. Before that, I lived in different parts of that city with my mother and uncle.”
    “You split off from the pack?”
    “My mother wanted to return to North Dakota. She and my uncle died before we could go though. For some reason, I never caught the disease.”
    We arrived at the Bourbon Street Hotel a few minutes later. Several men dressed in black suits stood outside. Though they possessed an uncanny resemblance to secret service agents, these werewolves served as Morte’s personal guard. They were handpicked by the Alpha.
    Dean and I were rushed inside and into the elevator. Morte resided in the presidential suite, and once we reached the top floor, the guards led us in.
    The room was luxurious. Expensive tapestries hung from the walls and soft, shag carpeting lay underfoot. The full service kitchen stood off to the right and the bedroom off to the left.
    Alpha Morte stood at the center of the room. Dressed in a silk robe, black hair combed back and carrying a brandy snifter, he looked more like Hugh Hefner than a ferocious leader. I found it difficult to believe that such a man could order executions at the snap of his fingers. But, personal experience contradicted that.
    Morte beckoned Dean forward. My savior knelt at the Alpha’s feet, his head bowed.
    Morte took a sip of Brandy and said. “Report.”
    “Like I said earlier, Sir, it’s the Red Eyes. Apparently, the plague that struck us last year has also affected them. They are without fertile females.”
    “So, they try to steal mine. How did they find out about her?”
    “I believe we have a traitor in our midst.”
    “A spy?”
    Dean nodded.
    Morte circled the guardian as he swirled the brandy in his glass.
    He glanced up at the men standing near the door. “Leave.”
    Without a word the men exited. Morte turned back to Dean.
    “Dean, I’m commissioning you as one of my personal guardsmen.”
    “Thank you, Sir.”
    “Your first task is to protect my future mate—the Alpha Female.” He gestured toward me. “I apologize for such making such an abrupt and unromantic proposal, my dear. But, I have little time for such pleasantries now.”
    Dean met my eyes. I slowly pulled away from his gaze, my heart pounding painfully, and looked up.
    “I understand, my Alpha.”
    He turned back to Dean. “You told me that the Red Eyes are suffering from Blood Fever?”
    “They are. All of the ones we caught and killed tonight stood upright like humans.”
    “We’ll have to wipe them all out.”
    “Sir, I’ve heard that some werewolves have developed an immunity to the disease. Couldn’t we spare their lives? Dr. Claudius has been working on an anti-virus that would destroy that plague once and for all, and he could use the subjects. Then—”
    Morte held up a hand. “They’re too dangerous. If they passed the disease to a human we would have an epidemic on our hands. It would be worse than the one we just came through. This isn’t your worry, Dean. All you need do is protect my fiancée.”
    Morte held a hand out to me and I came forward to kneel. Pulling me up before I could do so, he said, “No, my dear. The Alpha Female does not bow to her mate.”
    He squeezed my hand and I caught his scent for the first time.
    He smelled like shit.
    Acid churned in my stomach, saliva collected at the back of my throat and I was filled with an urgent need to puke. Every second that Morte touched me seemed a second too long. I would have spewed my guts over him if he hadn’t released me.
    I staggered back as the nausea subsided and blotted my hand on my trouser leg.
    “Are you alright, my dear?”
    “One of the Red Eyes broke her back. She’s healed, but I think she should see a doctor.”
    “She can see Claudius before you two leave town. I want you to take her back to Baton Rouge and hide her there.” He turned and grasped hold of my shoulders. It wasn’t as bad when he touched me through my clothing, but the nausea was still there.
    “I must