The Final Insult Ch. 01

Six years earlier

She was suckling their latest child - their seventh from her 4th pregnancy. Devon watched her with a smile on his face. He softly touched his daughter's head, the light covering of hair, and kissed his wife. It was 12 years after the edict had been called, since she had been brought into his pack. The problems of the women dying seemed to be abated. The only reports now of deaths had fallen back to the usual. The old, the injured, occasional deaths in childbirth. His grandmother, Ivy, had died two years ago. Devon and Duncan were now the eldest members of the pack.

Anne smiled at him. "How long do we have together?"

"Decades."

"Devon?"

"Yes, love?"

"I've never asked you, how old are you?" He touched the side of her face, stroked down to her chin. She took his hand and kissed it. He looked like he was in his thirties, as she did. Many of the pack members hadn't changed much since she had first met them. The young ones, of course, changed the most. He smiled at her. "What? Are you robbing the cradle? Or am I?"

"Summer has come 62 times since I was born."

Her mouth dropped open. "Uh, wow."

He stood and posed. "Pretty well preserved for an old man, aren't I?"

He sat back down beside her. She was still looking at him, as if she couldn't quite believe it. The baby was about done, starting to fall asleep. Anne generally went topless when she was nursing their children, completely clothed at other times as that's what she was used to. And she now typically wore a deerskin skirt, her other clothes long since fallen to pieces. "Decades, my love. Years and years." He cupped her other breast, rubbing the nipple with his thumb until it stood at attention for him. He then dropped his head, suckling, tasting her milk. His other hand was on her thigh, and moving upward. "Mmm, good."

He'd found her curls, and rubbed along her lower lips. Her head tipped and her chest began to heave but her free hand clutched at him. "Devon, stop. It's only been three weeks; I'm not healed yet."

"And longer than that since I've been able to taste you. Just a taste, Anne, that's all I want. I know we can't do anything else." He continued to stroke and touch her, building the tension in her, the ache beginning to build in her belly. Wet, wet, she was getting so wet. He laid her back on the skin, hearing no further complaints from her, and the baby moved into the crook of her mother's arm. He moved between her legs, and flipped her skirt up onto her belly, as he continued to stroke her. His finger transferred some of her slickness to the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of her folds. There was no sign of blood as the fluids seeped from her, so she was healing well. But he smelled her arousal now, as well as her juices. And he practically drooled at the thought of licking them from her. "Does anything hurt?" She shook her head, her eyes closed, as her breathing deepened. He raised her knees and wrapped his arms around her legs, opening her to him. The lips of her pussy opened like the petals of a pink flower. He blew lightly on them and they pulsed.

She growled lightly at him, her pussy throbbing. "Gods, Devon, you started this, don't leave me out here like this."

He smiled again. He gave in and licked her, once. She moaned. He pulled back, briefly, and she whimpered. He savored the taste of her on his tongue, teased her a bit more with his fingers. She started to squirm. "Would you like an orgasm, my sweet?"

She grabbed his hair with her free hand and dragged him towards her. "Yes!"

He chuckled, holding back again, and she growled at him again. "Devon.."

He dipped his head and left a wet trail from her knee to the edge of her folds as she sucked in a breath. Then, he repeated the action on the other side. Her hands clenched and he watched the flow of her juices increase, leaking out of her and onto the skin, puddling there. He moved closer, his fingers holding her open for him. She squirmed but he took a firmer hold of her and took a deep breath, taking in the scent of her and her arousal. Spicy, and sweet underneath. Her hand reached out for him again and he dodged her fingers. The tip of his tongue now circled her clitoris. "Ooh!" And her hips tried to rise from the skin but he was holding her down. Emma shifted a little in her arms and her attention shifted to the baby until she felt his tongue sweeping over her.

Her chest was now heaving, and her body was filmed with sweat. "Mmm, sweet. I could do this all day long." He returned to what he was doing, barely touching her clitoris as he swept up her juices.

Her voice was low, husky. "Don't. You. Dare." Her legs began to shake with the tension. Emma sighed, and whimpered slightly. He realized that he'd best finish her off soon, or she'd begin thrashing. He licked at her a bit faster, then flicked his tongue over her sensitive bud. "EEeeee!" Her hips tried to buck as she was swept into an intense orgasm. He held her tightly, to keep her from rolling over, or trying to get out of his grasp. She sucked in air as if she'd run for miles. He took one last taste, and she tensed again. As she started to relax he loosened his hold on her. Moving up to her side, he curled up beside her, throwing his arm across her chest to touch their daughter.

"Well, Emma. See what your mother drives me to?"

She turned to look at him, at a loss for words, for once. "You.. You.."

He grinned at her, licking his lips. "Wolf?"

The pack had grown and was at thirty members now. While the other packs may have gone about making their women endure as many pregnancies as possible, Devon McKenna had, with input from the women, agreed that a recovery period of at least two years was better for their health and that of succeeding children they would bear. Some of the other packs had had several of their young ones die, were now overrun with children, and having difficulty feeding everyone.

Callum was becoming quite the little Alpha, although his older sisters would have none of it. Anne had delivered a set of twins between Edmund and Emma, two girls, Shawna and Sandra. Duncan still had no mate; he'd not been able to produce a child with either Amanda or Temperance. Amanda had ended up with Alex and they had three children, Sean, Grace, and Ella. Temperance, who had been with them now for 11 years, had mated Marcus and they had two, Lea and Henry.

Valerie and William now had three, Wesley, Aidan, and Elizabeth. Beth was expecting her third, after Emily and Devon. Jen had endured a couple of miscarriages between delivering her two children. Unfortunately, her pregnancies had always been problematic and she had died giving birth to her daughter, whom Kevin named Jen. While both Anne and Beth were nursing at the time, Beth took the little one, as Anne was dealing with her twins. After about a month of watching his daughter being suckled by another woman and grieving the loss of his wife, Kevin had kissed both of his children and gone off into the woods. He had not returned. They had found no trace of him.

There would not be another mating ceremony in the McKenna pack until Alana and Wesley's. Joy mated into the Cole pack.

Life went on for the packs. More children were born, over time. They worked and grew, struggled and loved. There were matings, births, and deaths to report. They enjoyed the woods and hills in the summer, and retreated to their compounds for the winter. And, still, they were far enough away that the humans had yet to encroach on their territory.

The council meetings went on as usual, but they began to report an increase in deaths for the males. Certainly there were more older males than females as a result of the virus, and this was assumed to be the reason. So, no one took much notice.

The council requested additional information of the packs as the reported deaths continued to come in. A couple of the older Alphas died. Certainly they were older, but not past their prime. The ages of the dying men got younger.

Anne listened to the reports, keeping much of her speculation to herself, but she feared for the McKenna brothers. Devon cornered her one night, after the latest reports from the council, seeing her distraction. "Anne, something's wrong. Tell me what you're thinking."

She took her husband's arms and looked up at him. He was still as handsome as he'd always been, strong, virile. She loved him. "Devon." She swallowed. "I want us to stop sending someone to the council meetings. I want us to stop mingling with the other packs at all."

"What? What are you talking about? Why should we stay away from the others?" He took her shoulders, saw fear in those brown eyes. "Anne!"

"It hasn't come here yet. Maybe, if we stay away, it won't."

He pulled her close and lowered his voice. Her pulse had sped up, she was really afraid of something. "I'm not following, love. Tell me what you're thinking."

"I love you, Devon."

"I love you too, my wife. Don't shut me out. What are you afraid of?"

She took a deep breath, her eyes wet. "I think your virus has mutated. I think it's killing the men now. I don't want you to be one of them."

It wasn't until Marcus fell ill that the council realized the gravity of the situation.

Anne asked for, and was given access to, the older pack records. She started looking back, trying to determine when the virus started killing the women versus when the men who were now dying were born. Joy got her records from the Cole pack. When they heard about what she was doing, Riordan pack sent theirs as well.

She worked through the statistics, and found a positive correlation between female fertility and a fatal outcome from contracting the virus. Women in their childbearing years, and young women shortly after attaining puberty, were the ones who succumbed most often. There was some evidence that the woman's mate may have contributed to the lack of female pups. Unfortunately, the sex of the babies the pregnant women were carrying was unknown after they died.

Therefore, it was about 40 to 45 years ago that the virus had begun its insidious destruction of the werewolf population. And, while it killed many of the fertile women, it seemed that the men had contracted it as well, but they were simply carriers. Until now.

Men born after their mothers had likely contracted the virus appeared to be resistant. If it was related to reproductive capabilities, it was far worse for the men, as they maintained their fertility throughout their entire adult lives.

And there was no knowing if the sons and daughters born to the made were women would be subject to it.

When Marcus died Anne took off into the woods and was gone most of the day. Devon buried his youngest brother and went off in search of her. She hadn't gone very far. He found her, huddled in a circle of mushrooms under an oak, sobbing inconsolably. He sat beside her, put his arms around her, and pulled her into his lap. He held her as she cried as though her heart would break. There were no words he could use to comfort her. No false promises would dry her tears. There was nothing that any of them could do but wait. The virus would come for them, or not.

The previous month

She came around the corner and saw her husband, outside, with the two eldest boys. She started an exaggerated swaying of her hips as she sashayed by them.

He lost his train of thought as he watched her go by, taking a deep whiff to smell her. The boys looked at each other and rolled their eyes. Mom and Dad were at it again. The boys held their places knowing the lesson was about to end abruptly. Their father wouldn't be able to resist what their mother was about to do to him.

Sure enough, her hands went to the bottom of the shirt she was wearing and, with a backward glance to him, she pulled it over her head and dropped it. He shifted and launched himself at her. She was already shifting and had been far enough away that he couldn't get to her soon enough. And she was fast.

The Chase. It was a game they played from time to time. He had to catch her, but he had to catch her for real. It was rare that she ran slowly enough that he could catch her easily.

They were in a little glade, one of their favorite places, when he tumbled her. She came up and stood across the glade from him, ready to take off again. Devon was feeling a bit out of sorts and was irritated now. He shifted and headed for her. She skipped away and shifted. "Dammit, woman, submit!" This wasn't normal, it sounded like he was mad at her.

She stopped. "Devon, what's wrong?"

He reached for her and stumbled slightly. She took in the look of consternation on his face and her legs buckled. She fell to the ground, the world swirling around her. "Oh, gods, Devon. No."

He dropped to the ground beside her, took her in his arms and raised her face to him. "Duncan's been gone this past year. We had to assume it would come for me too." She buried her face against his chest and he felt the tears start to fall.

He held her like that for a time, then took her face and kissed her. "Anne. All the time we have together is now. Let's enjoy now, my love." His hands slid down her body, tracing her curves, her waist, her hips, his fingers climbing up her back. He brought her to him, crushed her chest against his, and her breath left her. He wrapped her legs around his waist and traced her shoulders, down to her behind. Lifting her slightly, his mouth started on hers, dropped to her neck, her throat, one of her breasts as his arms cradled her to him. He nipped at a stiffened nipple, and she arched backward. "Oohh."

Her hands caressed his chest, and she dragged her nails down his belly, and he groaned. She grasped his shaft, squeezing lightly, as she worked one thumb over the tip, feeling the precum collected there, spreading it. She stroked him, using both hands between their bodies, and his head tipped back. She kissed the side of his neck, and set her teeth against it. She couldn't really do any damage, in her human form, but she closed them, catching a tiny bit of skin between her incisors and he jerked in her hands.

Her juices were coating the bottom of his cock and trailing down his balls. He tipped her backwards and raised that warm, wet, oozing flesh to his mouth. He took a deep breath, inhaling the rich scent of her arousal, and the smell of her. Her scent had peaked again and she had always been hard to resist at this time.