Book 3 in the Rutledge Werewolves series Dominic Rutledge was getting tired of playing the same endless sexual steps in the Mating Game. To relieve the boredom, he decides to throw himself into discovering the identity of a try-hard hacker intent on breaking into his brother's security company. But what he finds is a sexy redhead determined to seduce him. Mary Dennison has a soft spot in her heart for her 18-year-old cousin, Matthew. When Matthew, on a dare from him friends, hacks into the computers for Rutledge Security Company and gets caught, he turns to Mary to get him untangled and hopefully out of trouble. But Matthew isn't the one Dominic sets his sights on-Mary is! The game is on as Mary travels across the state to see this mysterious Dominic, the subject of an email she found while trying to help Matthew out of his hacking job. She wants to know if it is true, whether or not Dominic Rutledge is really a werewolf! As for Dominic, the Mating Game now seems like a great idea. He just hadn't realized how deeply it would snare him in the game of love.
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November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from The Mating Game by Elizabeth Lapthorne
Subject: Our brother--the budding writer!
Attach: (Untitled doc.)
Hey there, brothers mine.
Seems the youngest of us is trying to become a budding writer. I found this, left ever-so-stupidly, on an unsecured part of the computer while I was doing the routine security check on the work files.
See you tonight, wolf boy. Can't wait to start ribbing you about this. Just had to share with our loving family.
I feel her pull on me as She shines on my face through the open curtains. Even though it's the night before She is Full, She retains this immense hold over me. After all these years, I still can't figure out if Her hold on me is good or bad. She calls to me no matter how hard I try to hide. When I finally give in to her embrace I receive indescribable joy, passion, and freedom. I wonder again why I resist her call. Is it simply my desire to rule my own destiny? Or do I fight Her so hard each month simply from my own stubbornness? If so, then why would I always give in as She rises at dusk, full and rounded and far more beautiful than any woman I have ever come across?
Maybe my melancholy is from my weariness of the constant fucking. Seeing Artemais and William so sickeningly happy makes me wonder if there is more to women than simply bedding and shedding them the next morning. Yet the few times I tried forging deeper relationships they ended with female tears and recriminations. It makes one wonder what really does go on in the female mind.
The Mistress of the Moon I can understand. One night a month She compels my siblings and I, along with our pack, for her devotion, to worship her. Merely sitting here and thinking of the freedom, the scents, the hunt, and wild runs in the forest is enough to make my meat stand up at attention. While I might fuck in my other form occasionally, this boner isn't a sexual one, it's more standing to attention in respect for the One whom I must follow, the One whom I can't resist. Why can't I meet a woman like that? One I truly can't resist.
Goddess knows I enjoy women. I love their hair, their scent, a million small things about them from their taste to their texture. Yet when I look at my mated brothers, have I ever truly felt that level of devotion, of adoration to anyone except the moon? It must be thoughts like this that make me wake restless and frustrated next to forgettable women each and every night. The eternal question, "Would I be upset if I never saw this woman again?" rocks around my head.
Both Art and Wills have told me separately that they would die a million deaths if anything happened to their mates. The fact I can wallow and momentarily forget my frustration in my casual women doesn't answer the fact that they are all the same to me. All forgettable.
I care about them; I care that they reach their pleasure and enjoy their short time with me. But there have been so very many that they blur, much like those few seconds when I change from man to wolf.
I'm waiting for the punch line--when I wake up one morning beside a woman I realize I couldn't possibly leave or let go of. Much like, resist as I do the desirable, full moon, I feel a constant ache in my heart when She finally falls beyond the horizon and dawn breaks, and I am once again left alone, to my endless fucking and searching. Tending to my rampant cock alone merely exasperates this loneliness, this frustration. As I pump myself to a heady release, the loss and frustration levels inside me mount.
I can tell it is the night before the full moon because I feel so melancholy tonight. My desire, even after spending three hours with the lusty brunette in my bed, Shawna I think her name is...even now, minutes after the attention of my own hand, my rampant cock is aroused again merely from the thoughts of tomorrow night, when I can run wild and free. Maybe I should go back to Shawna and--
Mary snapped back to attention. She turned quickly to double check her young cousin, Matthew, still paced on the other side of the room by the large window, and wasn't reading the incredibly sexy, erotic, private thoughts she had stumbled onto over her shoulder.
Noting her attention on him, he halted a moment. "Have you untangled me yet?"
Typing a few quick keystrokes, Mary closed the email she had accidentally opened. Thinking it one of the portal exits she was searching for, she had at first been surprised to realize it was a saved email. Initially confused, she had quickly begun to scan the email. The depth of feeling in the emails words, the true and uncensored thoughts of the man who had written them had instantly snared her attention, capturing her as securely as her young cousin had been caught in the tricky trap laid out by the Security Company.
Thankfully, before she invaded Dominic Rutledge's privacy too much, she had been recalled to her surroundings. She was not in some decadent bedroom, listening to that man whisper his secrets in her ear. She was here in her home office, trying to untangle her wretched cousin from his idiocy.