Rutledge Werewolves 1: Scent of Passion by Elizabeth Lapthorne Page B

were rules on how to tell a woman one was a werewolf, he faltered a minute. When doubt and concern started appearing in Sophie’s eyes, he cursed himself.
    Who needs tact? he decided.
    “I’m a werewolf,” he stated. “My brothers and I are the only remaining offspring of the Alpha male and female of the local pack. You’re carrying my baby, who will inherit the title and someday rule the pack. You’re my mate and the only woman who could possibly be mine in every way.”
    Artemais stopped as Sophie howled in laughter. The vibrations of her laughter echoed through him, and he wondered briefly if he should feel offended.
    As Sophie continued laughing at him, starting up again each time she caught her breath and looked at him, Artemais sighed.
    Finally, Sophie rolled off his chest to sit primly on the mossy bank. Her laughter had almost subsided; she now only hiccupped and giggled when she looked at his serious face.
    He waited while she wiped the tears that streamed down her face. While a part of him felt quite offended at her laughter, the rational part of his brain couldn’t really conjure up any anger.
    He didn’t have many close friends, other than his brothers, and so between them and the other few pack members, he had never needed to tell anyone about his moonlit romps and monthly changings.
    In the back of his mind he had expected anger, disgust, many reactions, but laughter?
    After a few more minutes, Sophie caught her breath, to see his slightly grumpy, slightly bewildered look. She finally shook herself slightly and flicked her curls from her eyes, completely unaware of the gloriously naked picture she made.
    “You think you’re serious, don’t you? I must admit, I thought I’d heard every male excuse for not bringing condoms, but yours certainly is the most original I’ve heard.”
    From the choking noises coming from the back of her throat, Artemais would bet money she was trying hard not to dissolve into another fit of giggles. He sighed.
    “I am serious. Do you really think I’d make something like this up, Sophie?”
    Her brows crinkled in thought. “Well, it is kind of dumb. I mean, if there really were werewolves running around, surely we’d know?”
    He sat up and leaned back.
    “How?” he challenged her.
    “Well,” she thought a moment, “it’s not like wolves are hugely populating the area. And if a stack of men really were changing into furry wolves on the night of the full moon,” she choked down more laughter, desperately trying to be serious, “wouldn’t we poor humans notice the great influx of wolves?”
    Artemais shook his head.
    “It’s not like there’s hundreds of us. Twenty-five years ago, my pack suffered a huge culling, killing more than half of us. There’s only a dozen or so of us left, most of them elderly Beta men and women.”
    Instantly, he saw the concern and sorrow in her eyes.
    “You were culled?”
    “My parents, and grandmother were among them. Many old friends died too.”
    “Oh Artemais, I’m sorry.” Sophie blinked when she realized what her words meant. Doubt and worry clouded her gaze.
    “When is the next full moon?” she queried.
    “Friday.”
    Sophie searched his face. He could tell she didn’t know what to believe. Evidently she thought he believed what he said, but she wasn’t convinced. Not that he could blame her.
    “Is it…? Are you…? I mean…”
    “I’d never be a danger to you, love. Surely you know that? You’re my mate and I would protect you with my life.” Dragging her close, he hugged her tight. He needed her to believe that much at least. When she sighed and snuggled trustingly into his chest, he hoped half the fight of her belief in him was won.
    If he had really wanted to, he could have changed into a wolf there and then for her, but he thought he had pressed his luck as much as he could today. He knew the conversation held a lot for her to take in, and even though she only half believed him, the worst parts for