Yeti! Were?

YETI! WERE?

CELIA KYLE

CONTENTS

Ice Cold Yeti

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Are We There, Yeti?

Yeti! Again?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Epilogue

Not Yeti!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Epilogue

About the Author

ICE COLD YETI

CHAPTER ONE

They met in a meat locker. Okay, honestly, it was an industrial deep freezer, but they all looked the same to Sela. Meat lockers, freezers, all were lined in metal and cold as hell, if hell was a frozen wasteland lined with meat.

Damn her alpha Royce and his misguided acceptance of everyone. He should have killed Ron, the weasel in wolf’s fur, long ago. But no, he was the alpha’s brother, he just needed understanding, a bit of counseling and massive doses of medication and he’d be fine. Whatever. Yeah, Ron was fine all right, so fine that he had to threaten death to get a female to rut with him. Of course, she hadn’t made it any better by telling him she’d rather die than fuck him. Too bad Ron took her up on her dare. And not one of her pack stepped forward to stop him. The cowards.

Then again, Ron always was an idiot. Sure, she’d be uncomfortable in the cold locker, but the man seemed to have forgotten that she was a wolf. Not only that, it was the night of shift, the midnight moon. The moon would rise, calling to her beast, and she’d have no choice but to shift or fuck through the frenzy in order to remain human.

Survival was as easy as shifting and settling in a corner until the pack-owned meat factory opened on Monday. Too bad the pack would have to trash all of the meat in the freezer. Hey, a girl’s got to pee sometime. She’d find a nice corner on the other side of the room to take care of personal business and settle on a few boxes to laze the weekend away.

Of course, those plans were thwarted the minute he was shoved through the door. He was what she’d consider a big, hulking, tall drink of water with a bit of rum mixed in for good measure. Scratch that, he appeared to be more rum than water.

His skin carried a deep beige tone that appeared to be natural and not sun induced, as if he was from a Middle Eastern country. But he didn’t look like any Middle Easterner she’d ever seen. He. Was. Huge. Like Incredible Hulk but not green, huge.

Dressed in tight fitting, faded blue jeans and a plain white T-shirt that showed every single bulge, dip and curve of muscle, the man wasn’t exactly dressed for a weekend in the freezer. Damn. She could last all weekend, but this guy? Nah, he wouldn’t make it through the night, no matter how many muscles the man boasted.

Those muscles were good for heavy lifting, but not for insulating against the cold. And he was such a prime specimen of manhood too. Sela supposed she’d have to figure out how to get them out of the metallic room for his sake more than hers. She might be a bitch, literally, but she wasn’t a bitch or deranged like Ron. She couldn’t sit idly by while a human froze to death in her presence.

Relaxing on a pallet of hamburgers, she watched as he pounded the solid doors with his ham-sized fists. The metal dented and bent under his constant barrage of blows. Impressive. She’d give it to the guy, he was wickedly strong. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed her presence yet, so she remained quiet, observing him from afar. At least she could stare at him for a while. Too bad it couldn’t be a long while.

Between the cold threatening his life and her increasing desire to shift or fuck, they had to get out of there. She would have been perfectly happy to stay in the freezer, locked up with the mystery man and fucking him cross-eyed, but he’d never survive the cold. And if they didn’t get out of the room soon, she’d become a lust-crazed fucking machine or would shift and chase the big man as if he were her next meal. Decisions, decisions. Sela checked her watch. Only eight. She still had a few hours until midnight and the full moon rise. She could resist the change and not have to fuck for a few hours yet.

The man began rubbing his palms together, blowing air from his lungs onto his clasped hands. Sela furrowed her brow. Sure, it was cold, but not that cold. He hadn’t even been in the room longer than a minute or two. Then he began hopping in place, stamping his mammoth-sized feet on the concrete floor. The man acted as if he’d been thrown out into the middle of a blizzard. She looked at her arms and legs. A few smatterings of goose bumps covered her cinnamon skin. Wiggling her perfectly French manicured toes wrapped in the tiny scraps of leather of her sandals, she realized her toes weren’t even cold. She’d been in the room for over half an hour and she didn’t seem to be as affected as this stranger. Curious.

The stranger continued alternating between hopping and stomping his big, leather boot covered feet on the ground, rubbing his hands and arms as he paced in front of the door. He was probably looking for the release mechanism. He wouldn’t find one. Not because it didn’t exist, but because the release was actually a long cord that normally hung from the ceiling. Pity Ron and his goons had dispensed with it when they shoved her in there. Sela couldn’t wait to be free so she could exact revenge on the mongrel. Brother of the alpha or not, he’d pay and then she’d go on the run and settle somewhere nice and quiet. She’d preferably like to settle in a place without a pack or other wolves to deal with.

Sela continued to stare at the man, following him from one side of the door to the other, his ass and thighs flexing and teasing her with each step. Damn, the pull of the moon felt strong tonight. Her wolf, normally passive and content to live a mostly dormant life within her soul, clawed and whined to fuck the stranger. Double damn, usually her wolf only wanted to snack on other people, not fuck them. What was wrong with her tonight?

What was wrong with him tonight? All he’d wanted to do was grab a bite to eat and continue on his way. Okay, maybe stopping at a place named The Den for dinner hadn’t been one of his brightest ideas, but how the hell was he supposed to know the kind of people who frequented there? Fucking wolves. Fucking gay wolves. Oh, the weaselly little wolf named Ron had claimed he wasn’t gay, that he was just asserting his dominance, but Yosi saw through his act. Ron wanted a piece of ass. Yosi’s to be exact. Ha! Not happening. Ever.

Yosi had gone into The Den and sidled up to the bar. He ordered a rare steak and cold beer. After driving for hours, he wanted something with a biting chill to take the edge off. The Georgia heat had been killing him. Even with the air conditioner on, he felt stifled by the humid air. After he’d finished his dinner, he relaxed against the bar, nursing his beer and taking in the sounds of the room. He could feel that something was brewing. The hairs on his neck stood on end as he waited for the idiot or idiots to step forward. It had only been one. Ron.

While the man barely crested Yosi’s shoulders and didn’t appear to be much of a threat, his goons held guns. Those that didn’t hold guns had fangs longer than Yosi’s thumb and looked plenty ready to use them to tear him apart. Motherfucking wolves. With the pack mentality so many of them had, they followed their pack’s leader—or the leader in the room.

Too bad he hadn’t made it to the mountains before stopping for food. At least up there, the cold would have been on his side. Here, still wrapped in the humid Georgia heat, he couldn’t defend himself against a pack of gun-toting, bloodthirsty wolves. Fucking perfect.

When he hadn’t dropped his pants, bent over and spread his ass for the weasel, they’d beat him. Not too bad, but enough to cause a few bruises. His kind didn’t exactly harm easily. Sure, a bullet would drop Yosi just like it would any other living thing. But an old-fashioned beat down? He snickered, he’d had those from his brothers all his life. Though, with them, it had been about having fun that eventually turned into wanting to draw blood.

That’s why he’d left the damned mountains so long ago. But noooo, his mother wanted her little boys around for his parents’ anniversary. So he’d come, and now it looked like he’d have to fight his way out of a damned freezer for his trouble.

Kicking the solid metal door just for the hell of it, he nearly jumped out of his skin when a sweet feminine voice called to him. There’s no use in kicking, unless of course you want to break a toe.

Sin. Pure, unadulterated sin and sex wrapped around him, her voice making his cock hard with every word she uttered. So. Not. Good. It was bad enough he’d be hairy and horny in a matter of minutes, but now he had an outlet for his desire. Yosi couldn’t tell if it was the impending emergence of his true self or the siren’s voice, but he wanted to fuck. Now.

Turning slowly, unsure if he really wanted to tempt himself further by looking at the woman the voice belonged to, he searched the cavernous room for its other occupant. There, on a pallet of… hamburgers, she sat. Dressed in a tiny