Shifters Forever Worlds Mega Box- Volume 3

by Elle Thorne

  She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him back. “It is a yes. But I had hoped to travel. Some.”

  “Where to?”

  “No laughing. No judging.”

  “Cross my heart.” He leaned back and made the symbol over his chest.

  “I’d like to see Bear Canyon Valley.”

  “Cool place.” He could get onboard with that.

  “I’d like to meet Mae.”

  “Cool lady.”

  “And I’d like to meet Lucia. And learn more about Quake.”

  “I have a feeling he doesn’t want people to get to know more about him.”

  She nodded. “I get the same feeling. But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to.”

  Shit. This woman would get him into all kinds of trouble, he could see that. At the same time, he couldn’t imagine anything else he’d rather do than be with her, getting into and out of trouble. “Bear Canyon Valley, it is. Maybe you’ll get to meet Griz.”

  “Griz? Is that like…” She made a face. “I don’t even want to know what that could be. It sounds like a pet’s name. Or a bear’s name.”

  He laughed, the sound breaking the silence in the forest. Max barked as though he wanted to be in the merriment as well.

  “No. Griz is far from anyone’s pet. But he is a grizzly bear shifter. One of legendary status, it seems, though he doesn’t brag on himself. And like Quake, he doesn’t like to impart much information about himself.”

  “Ohhh, sounds perfectly mysterious. I’ll need a tour guide.” She trailed her finger along his jawline. “I’m taking applications.”

  He raised a brow and pressed her harder against the tree. “I hope you’re only taking one application,” he informed her as he leaned in, his lips seeking hers.

  “Only one.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  A bark pulled Symone from a deep sleep. She nuzzled the warm pillow next to her.

  Wait. What? Warm? Pillow?

  Not soft enough to be a pillow. Not furry enough to be Max. Her eyes flew open.

  There, next to her, sitting on her bed, a hard thigh against her cheek, was a gorgeous man. That’s a sight she didn’t see often. Actually, ever, it seemed.

  Symone pulled back and studied him. “Marco.” She gave him a sleepy smile. “Hold on. What are you doing here?”

  He’d spent the last two nights on her couch, insisting that he wanted to be a gentleman and not rush anything until she was ready. Symone would have argued the point—and God knew, her body wanted her to argue the point—but she didn’t.

  Every evening, she’d lain in her bed wondering why she’d let him take the lead on that. Then again, she appreciated a guy that didn’t immediately try to get in her pants. Though if there was a guy she’d gladly—

  She pushed that thought away.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.” He pushed a lock of her hair off her cheek. “You were talking in your sleep.”

  She felt a warmth flowing to her cheeks. “Hopefully, nothing incriminating.”

  “You did scream my name and moan a few times.”

  She jerked upright, sheet clutched over her tank top. “I did not!” Though she wondered if she had.

  He laughed. “You didn’t.” Then he reached behind him and brought forward a coffee mug.

  “Oh, I could so get used to this.” Yesterday, he’d had it ready on the table when she’d walked into the kitchen.

  He handed Symone her cell. “This was buzzing.”

  She took the phone. “The Circle wants to meet with me. And you.” A sense of foreboding coursed through her. She’d stepped away from the Circle. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Then that made her wonder if they wanted to take issue with something she’d done before stepping down. Had something else come up?

  “Hey. Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  “It’s all over your face. You’re worried.”

  She laughed softly. “True. I am. A bit.”

  “Looks like more than that.”

  She shrugged. “I’ve spent too many years answering to the Circle. And too many years before that being groomed for the position I held. It’s not easy to switch tracks.” She chewed on her lip. “Why do they want to talk to us at the same time?”

  He shrugged. “Think they have a problem with this?” He pointed to her, then to himself.

  “What is this?” she ventured, curious to see what his reply would be.

  He raised a brow, as though he knew where she was going with her line of questioning. “This is me and you.”

  “Me and you what?” Symone pushed with a smile.

  “Me and you in love. That’s what.”

  It was her turn to arch her eyebrow. “Is that what this is?”

  “What would you call it?”

  She laughed. “What about lust?” Then she clamped her lips shut, not believing she just went there. But, oh yes, she did. She absolutely went there.

  “What’s wrong with lust?” The tone in his voice made her look into his eyes.

  “You never said what you would call this.”

  The signal that the amber glow in his eyes gave off told her what he’d call it. It also told her what the word lust had done to him.

  His tongue ran deftly over his lips while a growl came from deep within his chest. Marco took the phone and coffee from her and set them on the bedside table, then leaned into her.

  When he licked his lips again, her chest tightened. A course of electricity ran throughout her body. In the kitchen, the sound of metal clinking against metal made her cringe.

  Marco raised his head. “What the hell was that?”

  She shrugged, but he gave her a look.

  “Symone? Do you know what that was? Sounded like forks banging into one another.”

  “Probably what it was.”

  He studied her face. “Do you know why it happened?”

  “Witchcraft,” she whispered.

  Marco took her hand in his, turned it over and kissed her palm. “What kind of witchcraft?”

  “The same kind that made the snake out of sand that day.”

  “Are you making a snake of forks?” he teased.

  “Marco!” She tried to snatch her hand from his but he held it tightly.

  “So, it’s not a snake of forks. Then what is it?”

  “I was trying to tell you it’s the same principle as the sand snake. I can pull items together…” Symone wanted to tear her eyes away from his face, away from those lips and hypnotic eyes, but hell if she could.

  Marco closed the distance between them again, his face lowering again. “I’m not in any danger, am I?” His tone had a measure of amusement.

  “No.” Her lips parted in anticipation, his breath warm. Kiss me already. Kiss me already. Kiss me, damn it. The words ran rampant through her mind.

  Before she could plan or react, his lips claimed hers. His tongue dove into her mouth, owning her. His heartbeat synchronized with hers, keeping a rhythm that pounded in her ears, making her think of the surf on this island she’d come to love so much.

  He pulled back, leaving her feeling empty. His eyes studying her.

  A low moan escaped her. No man had ever touched her the way he’d touched her heart. And it was much more than that. It was like being in the middle of a whirlpool. She kept falling farther and farther.

  His lips swooped in for the kill again, taking her prisoner. His mouth owned hers. He released a growl that wasn’t entirely human. She paused. Was that his panther? Then she heard a tearing sound, like something was being ripped.

  Oh, God. She felt them. His panther teeth—like fangs. Her tongue traced his extended canines, relishing the shifter part of him, though at the same time, it brought out fear along with desire.

  In the other room, she heard metal clinking against metal. She tried to tune out her witch side, tried to keep from creating a metal storm.

  Marco slid large hands down her back, pulling her closer, cupping her ass. His kiss grew deeper as
he plunged the depths of her mouth.

  She jerked him in closer. Between them, his erection signaled the need he had for her. A yearning she felt as deeply as he did.

  His hands on her body, his lips on her mouth, her breath trapped in burning lungs, all of it was amazing. Her nipples stiffened against her cotton top, throbbing to be touched, aching to be released. She lost herself in Marco and gasped for air.

  She placed her lips against the chiseled jaw and ran her fingers into his hair.

  “Mine,” he groaned.

  In seconds, Marco had her stripped. He cupped her breasts, lifting the weight as if testing them, she enjoyed the way they filled his hand. She moaned, and could tell from the way he groaned she was throwing him over the edge. She pushed closer to him, her need equally driven. He lowered his head closer to her chest and took a hard nipple into his mouth. Her hands, already tangled in his hair, pushed him lower while he sucked on a rosy tip. He lowered his other hand, slowly, over her belly, then touched the top of her mound.

  She caught her breath anticipating his touch on her clit.

  “Marco,” she whispered, almost begging him to touch her.

  His finger glided along the slit, still not touching her center of pleasure. He lowered his hand, more and more. “So wet.” His words were a growl, fueled by lust.

  He thrust in a finger. With a gasp, she took it in, her muscles tightening, her body pushing forward to take more.

  He pulled it out, then in again, watching her expression. She wondered if lust traveled across her face as it was his. He added another finger, and she writhed against him, her wetness dripping out.

  His lips let go of her nipple with a popping sound. She leaned in, wanting him more.

  “I want to taste that sweetness.”

  “I need you. God, Marco. Now.”

  That’s all it took. He undressed, his clothing slid to the floor with a whisking sound.

  Hands flat on his chest, she ran them lower. His abs tightened beneath her fingers. Pulling her closer, trapping her hands between their bodies, he swept his tongue into her mouth, seeking, probing, claiming.

  Head thrown back, she yielded to him, her leg wrapped around his waist. He pulled her leg away and lowered his head. She felt his breath on her sensitive pussy lips. She heard him inhale, and found herself pushed to greater heights. He slipped a hand beneath her, his thumb slipping between her wet lips.

  She squirmed, wanting him more and more. His thumb went in deeper while he pressed downward, applying pressure, making her want to come undone.

  He lowered his head even closer and blew a gentle cooling breath on her heated flesh.

  Symone almost screamed from a burning desire. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  He ran his finger upward toward her swollen clit, stroked it softly. Her hips arch up, a moan slipping out.

  His breath still hot on her pussy, he teased her clit.

  Symone panted, her chest heaving with every breath, matching his rhythm.

  While his thumb ministered to her clit, his middle finger slid closer toward her hot sheath, playing near the entrance. Teasing her until he lowered his head fully and ate her pussy with reckless hunger. He spread her lips farther, sucking on her lips, pushing his tongue in and out, diving into her slowly at first.

  He groaned while she bucked against his mouth.

  “Marco…” She gasped. “Marco!” She raised, almost to a sit. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, her head flew backward.

  He pushed her back.

  She gasped when he’d filled her and stretched her to accommodate his size. He went in deep, and pulled back, then deep again while she scored his flesh with sharp nails.

  “Exquisite,” he groaned against her mouth. “Unbelievably exquisite.”

  He slammed into her with a fervor that showed her his need.

  Symone met every thrust with a passion that matched his.

  Marco placed a hand behind her neck and pulled her in close for a kiss.

  Seconds later, her head snapped back again, and she opened her mouth to release her climax with a scream.

  He locked onto her mouth, swallowing her passion as her muscles clenched around him over and over again in orgasm.

  Marco grunted and with a groan, came undone, holding her as he released his passion.

  She collapsed against him.

  Complete.

  * * *

  Marco nuzzled her neck. “So you never said. Do you think they have a problem with this? With us?”

  “Kind of late for that? Now. Isn’t it?” Symone laughed, admiring his beautiful body.

  “They don’t know what happened here.”

  She blushed.

  “Well?”

  Symone shrugged. “Not sure if they do. And not sure why they would.”

  “Who sent the text?”

  “Cedric.” She kissed his lips. “Guess I should get ready for this meeting.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “What’s this,” he whispered in the dimly lit, quiet stairway in front of the huge door made of metal that had been behind stone which Symone opened with her magic. The burnished door was down the same stone stair path toward the Library of Archives, but they’d taken a left turn instead of a right.

  “The Circle’s assembly room.”

  “Do you need to knock or something? To let them know we’re here?”

  Her smile was cryptic. “They know we’re here.”

  He nodded. “Got it. Magic and all that, right?”

  “Magic,” she agreed.

  Seconds later, the door slid to the side, and a being appeared at the threshold. Marco couldn’t have spoken to the gender of whoever it was as they were covered in a black cloak, up to and including a hood that hung low over his—or her—head.

  “Enter,” the cloaked one said. The voice was ethereal, and though the word had not been much more than a murmur, it seemed to reverberate about them.

  Marco followed Symone inside, both behind the one in the cloak. Small and lit by candles, the room’s walls, the darkest black, were sleek and shiny, void of shelves and decorations. The second he was in the room, Marco felt the power of magic surrounding him.

  Symone moved to take a seat at a table that could have been identical to the one in the Archives, age marks and scuffings included. Marco held a chair for her, then took the one next to Symone.

  The cloaked one pulled the cowl back revealing a woman with shock-white hair and startling eyes of a brilliant emerald hue ringed in yellow. “Marco, Symone. Welcome. The Circle welcomes you, though not all are in attendance today.”

  Another figure stepped from the shadow. Also cloaked, this one’s head was not covered. It was a man, his head bald, two earrings in each lobe glinted in the light from candles on the table. “Yes, welcome to both of you,” he said with a deep timbre in his voice.

  His skin was light, unlike the emerald-eyed woman’s, which was a dusky color, a shade or two darker than Symone’s.

  “Thank you,” Symone muttered.

  Marco nodded his agreement. “Yes, thank you.” Though he wasn’t quite sure what he was thanking them for. It’s not like they’d told him what they wanted him for yet. But when they did, he’d put on an award-winning performance to keep up the farce that he was ignorant. That he had no awareness of why he was there. Though, he would be careful not to oversell it.

  The two Circle members took a seat across from Symone.

  The woman cleared her throat slightly. “We have witnessed many changes with our kind in the last few days. And we believe there will be many more to come.”

  The man nodded. “Indeed. And we would like to call on your special skills to assist us with transitions and objectives.”

  Marco cocked his head. “What transitions? What objectives? And which special skills, specifically.”

  The man’s smile gleamed in the dimness. “Your particular skillset with elementals. The experience you have with what it is like to live with
one, and then to live without one.”

  “Yes,” Emerald Eyes took over from him. “As you are aware, we have provided the island to the Zimoshi people. We are hoping to forge a working relationship with these people from long ago. The island can now be accessed by boat from this island, but is not visible on any modern technology tracking methods.”

  “Precisely,” the man stepped in. “The Circle is willing to put you on retainer, Marco, indefinitely, until all the matters with the Zimoshi have been settled and all have been brought here that wish to be. Of course, we will need you to work with the ones that have no wish to come. There might be some conflict.”

  Great, Marco thought. Just want he wanted. Conflict. Cedric hadn’t mentioned conflict specifically. Though he figured he could handle whatever was dished out.

  “I won’t try to force anyone to come who doesn’t want to.” Marco wanted that clear.

  “Of course not. Would you consider the position?” Emerald Eyes asked.

  “When would I need to start?” Marco asked.

  “Soon?” The man’s eyes gleamed.

  “I’d like two weeks off, to put some things in order. I’ll need to see Jaron and Alara—”

  “That’s already been arranged,” Emerald Eyes interjected.

  “And I’d like access to an airplane. Whenever I need it. I don’t want to hassle with commercial flights.” Marco felt Symone’s eyes on him. “Well, we are taking Max, right?”

  “We?” she mouthed the word, a gleam in her eyes.

  “Naturally,” he mouthed back.

  A throat clearing pulled his attention back to the other two.

  “Apologies.”

  “No problem,” the man said. “And as for Symone.”

  Symone stiffened and sat up a little straighter. “Yes?”

  “We would like you to be able—if available—to offer counsel to Marco, should he need it.”

  Marco looked at Symone. Really looked at her. A woman who’d in such a short time become so much to him.