by Bella Jacobs
“Penny for your thoughts,” Wren murmurs from the pillow beside me.
We’re both sitting cross-legged, waiting for Kite and the men of the tribe to take the floor for their performance. She has a half pint of beer in her hand—her first drink ever she confessed to me earlier—and her cheeks are flushed a healthy pink. It looks like tribe life definitely agrees with her so far.
“Just thinking about bears,” I lie, not wanting to make her suspicious of Luke unless I have to. But even as I focus on the raven-haired lovely next to me, I’m keeping tabs on that wolf out of the corner of my eye. “A pack of them are called a sloth.”
Wren tilts her head as she considers this information. “That’s kind of odd, isn’t it? Bears aren’t slow. I mean, unless they’re hibernating, I guess.”
“Some resources say it’s actually a ‘sleuth’ of bears,” I admit. “But I don’t think of bears as an investigative lot, either. Unless they’re tracking down clues to find out where the food’s hidden.”
Wren grins, casting a pointed look to the little girl in front of us, who is on at least her fourth or fifth serving of berries and cream. “You might have something there.”
“Maybe, but until tonight I’ve never actually seen a group of bears. Real bears are like lynx. Aside from mamas and their babies, they tend to live solitary lives.”
“And what about you?” Wren nudges my shoulder. “Are you a solitary creature, Creedence? Or do you like company?”
My lips curve as I bat my lashes. “Why, are you flirting with me, Miss Wren?”
She blushes as anticipated—the girl is adorably easy to embarrass—but she doesn’t cast her gaze to the floor the way she would have even a day ago. “Not this time, buddy. I really want answers. What were you doing with your life before all this? Did you have a roommate? Family you lived with?” She shrugs as she swirls her beer in a way I’m sure she means to be casual but isn’t. “A girlfriend?”
I shake my head, my smile fading. “No girlfriend. Not for over a year.”
“What happened?” Wren asks.
“She left when she realized I was always going to be an asshole.”
Wren’s forehead wrinkles. “You don’t seem like an asshole.”
“Wait until you get to know me better,” I say, though I know I shouldn’t. I should be giving her reasons to like me, helping to make this transition from friends to something more as easy for her as possible. But my people are contrary as fuck sometimes, too, so I add, “I’m completely emotionally unavailable. I had shitty role models who—aside from insisting I share fifty-fifty with an accomplice—taught me jack shit about how to be a good romantic partner. And I leave the toilet seat up.”
“But will you take out the trash?” she asks in a serious voice. “That’s what I’m really looking for in a relationship.”
I grunt. “Oh yeah? That’s all?”
Her nose wrinkles and a cute-as-hell grin splits her face. “No, I’m kidding. I actually have no idea what I’m looking for in a relationship. Except a guy who’s not afraid to buy me tampons when I need them. My friend Carrie insists that’s how you can tell a loser from a keeper.” She breaks into giggles as she reaches out to squeeze my knee. “Sorry. I can’t believe I said that. I think I’m drunk.”
“Off a half pint of beer?” I ask, laughing with her.
“Yes!” She leans her head against my shoulder as she giggles harder. “I guess I’m a lightweight.”
“A featherweight is more like it. Give me that,” I say with faux sternness as I confiscate her glass. “You’re setting a bad example for the children.”
The little girl in front of us turns around, shooting us a berry-stained smile as she announces, “No she’s not. All the grown-ups have too much beer on party night.”
“Were you eavesdropping on us, you sneaky squirrel?” I ask with an over-the-top glare that earns the desired giggle from our third wheel.
“I’m not a squirrel, I’m a bear,” she says. “What are you?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I tease.
“My sister said you smell like candy, so you must be a kitty cat,” she offers, earning a sharp jab in the ribs from the older girl next to her. “Ow!”
“Shut up, Helena,” the sister hisses, casting an embarrassed glance over her shoulder. “Sorry, she never knows when to keep her mouth shut.”
“I do, too!” Helena protests.
“No worries,” I assure them, not wanting to be the source of a sibling meltdown. “It’s no big deal. And yes, I am a cat.”
“A very pretty cat,” Wren offers.
I glance over to see her watching the exchange with an affection that confuses me until she adds, “You’re good with kids.”
“I’m not a kid, I’m nine, and that’s almost a pre-teen,” Helena offers, earning an eye roll from her sister.
“My apologies,” Wren says, patting my thigh as she amends, “you’re good with pre-teens is what I meant.”
“Never grew up myself. It helps,” I say, uncomfortable with her praise. If she only knew how I’ve failed the kids in my life, her eyes wouldn’t be shining the way they are right now. I haven’t seen my nieces or nephews in so long I’m sure they’ve forgotten they have an Uncle Cree.
But I never really learned how to do family. It’s hard to commit to maintaining bonds when half your relatives are in jail and the other half are up to their ears in their present con or on the run from the last people they screwed over.
“Why do cats smell like candy?” Helena asks while her sister buries her face in her hands with a soft groan, her mortification apparently complete.
“I don’t know about other cats,” Wren says, hooking her arm through mine, “but Creedence smells like candy because he’s so sweet.”
I force a smile and bat my lashes dramatically, making Helena laugh again.
But this isn’t fun anymore because I know the truth. I’m not sweet, and the fact that Wren has so readily accepted my charm at face value is troubling. Not because I’m planning to betray her, but because there are so many seemingly “sweet” people in the world who will—without missing a beat.
The thought sends my gaze sliding to the right to find the place where Luke was leaning against the wall empty. A quick scan of the room reveals no sign of the wolf. I dropped my guard for five minutes, and he slipped away. It’s enough to make me think he knew I was watching him and exactly when to make his move to avoid detection.
As the lights dim and the show begins, I lean closer to Wren, whispering in her ear as the drums start to pound, “Gotta get up. Save my seat.”
“Okay.” She turns to face me, her breath catching as our noses brush. But I don’t give her space the way I would have even yesterday. “Wh-where are you going?” she whispers, clearly flustered by the less than two inches between us.
“To see a man about a horse.” I angle my head to the right, clearing the path to her lips. “And for future reference, I’m not sweet, Slim. Not even close.” Before she can respond, I thread my fingers into her hair and guide her lips to mine, laying claim to her mouth the way I would the mouth of any woman who belongs to me, making no allowances for how inexperienced she is.
Her lips part with a soft sound of surprise, and I stroke between them. I go deep, fucking her mouth with my tongue, tasting the orange peel and hops of the beer she drank and a more complex flavor that is Wren alone. She’s spice and wild honey, sea grass and a salt breeze, and so fucking delicious I know I’m going to crave another taste as soon as my mouth leaves hers.
Slowly her surprise gives way to curiosity—her tongue dancing with mine and her hands coming to clutch my shirt as I fist a hand in her hair—and I realize she isn’t exactly what she appears to be, either.
Yes, she’s sweet and innocent. But she’s also hungry, aching, and desperate to make up for lost time. For years, drugs kept her weak and frail, trapped in limbo between the girl she was and the woman she longed to become.
; But now she’s out of her cage.
Running free and ready to see what the world has to offer.
It’s going to show her pain, I have no doubt of that—that’s the nature of the world, and her path is going to be darker and more dangerous than most. But there will also be pleasure along the way.
I’m going to make damned sure of it.
Finally, after the kiss has gone on far too long for polite company, I drag my mouth from hers and whisper against her warm lips, “I want you under me, Slim. Under me and begging me to take you. How’s that for sweet?”
Her breath rushes out, and her lashes flutter. “I…I’m…” Her tongue sweeps across her lips as her gaze lifts to mine, her blue eyes focusing with an intensity that makes my heart beat faster. “I’m a virgin,” she whispers too softly for anyone but me to hear.
“That’s okay,” I murmur, fingers playing in her hair. “I can take care of that for you anytime you like. Or you can get one of the others to take care of it and come see me when you’re ready to color outside the lines.”
“You don’t mind sharing?” she asks, brow furrowing lightly. “You don’t think it’s…strange?”
“Sharing is part of what we’re going to be to each other. I knew that from the beginning, Slim. But it doesn’t bother me. You know why?” She shakes her head, and I add in a rough whisper, “Because when you’re naked with me, you won’t remember their names. If I do my job right, you won’t even remember yours.”
She bites down on her bottom lip, the sight of her white teeth on her swollen flesh enough to make the uncomfortable situation below my belt even more…pressing.
“I can’t wait to make you come,” I murmur, surprised by how hard it is to force my hand from her hair and lean away from her sweet mouth. “But first things first. My seat. Save it.”
“Will do.” Anxiety flickers across her face as I slip away, and she glances over her shoulder. But we’re seated in the last row, and the people standing against the wall behind us are too focused on the dancers spinning in circles in the center of the room to care about two strangers making out in public.
And we aren’t the only ones feeling the influence of too much drink and those pulsing drums. As I make my way to the exit, I see several other couples taking advantage of the near darkness.
Outside, the amorous mood continues. As I search for Luke, I interrupt not one, but four pairs of lovers seeking privacy from prying eyes.
I make my apologies and continue on my rounds, but Luke is nowhere to be found. The wolf has seemingly vanished off the face of the earth, and now I have to decide what to do about it—find Dust and sound the alarm, or trust that Luke just needed some “me time” and will be back once he’s had his fill.
“Fuck that,” I mutter, circling back to the longhouse to find Dust.
I wasn’t inclined to take chances with Wren’s safety before, but after that kiss, I’m finding strange and powerful protective instincts rising inside me. Cats are not known for their romantic nature, and nothing in my personal history would indicate a likelihood to fall for a sheltered virgin at first kiss.
And I’m not in love with Slim—I like her, and I want to fuck her way more than I anticipated before my lips met hers—but there is something new growing inside me. Respect and affection mixed with a meant-to-be feeling swelling so large it can’t be denied, no matter how much my inner cynic insists fate is bullshit and forming a mate bond with Wren is something I’ll have to make the best of, not something I’m going to enjoy.
Certainly not something I would choose of my own free will if that were still an option…
Right?
Honestly, I don’t know, but I know I’m not going to let anyone hurt her. Especially not a rogue wolf without the sense to realize you don’t bite the hand that’s freed you.
Chapter 29
Wren
Kite is an incredible dancer—strong, powerful, and so passionately focused on the story he’s helping tell with his body that I can’t pull my eyes away from him. But even though my gaze is fixed on the first man to ever kiss me like he meant it, my thoughts keep drifting to the second one.
My lips are tingling from that unexpected kiss, and my panties are…wet.
Wet, from nothing but a kiss and a few frank words from a man I barely know and who, until a few minutes ago, I’d considered just a friend.
But there was nothing friendly about the hunger that roared inside me as Creedence laid claim to my mouth. He wasn’t gentle or careful like Kite is, and I know that he isn’t in love with me or me with him. But in the moment, that didn’t matter. I still wanted him, ached for him, and even now, with Kite fixed in my sights and my plan to ask him to come to my bed tonight at the front of my mind, I can’t stop thinking about Creedence, too.
About the things I would like to do to him…
About the things I want him to do to me…
A vivid image of his golden head bent over my breast as he draws my nipple into his mouth while his fingers slip down the front of my panties flashes on my mental screen, intensifying the throbbing between my legs. With every passing day, every hour, the desire building inside of me grows more intense. I have so many more dire things to worry about, but more and more often my thoughts turn to one of the men in my company and what it might be like to have them in my bed. Either that, or I find myself replaying every second of my time in the grass with Kite until I’m swollen and dying for something to take the edge off.
Now I’ll be replaying that kiss with Creedence, too, and know that I’ll never look at him the same way again. He’s funny and kind, yes, but he’s also the sort of man who believes in taking what he wants—no apologies.
And he wants you.
I swallow hard. It’s hard to believe a man as experienced as Creedence would be turned on by an almost complete newbie like me, but the hunger in his eyes had burned every bit as hot as the heat he summoned to life inside me. And his offer to “take care” of my virginity seemed sincere.
I’ve always thought of my virginity as something to be thoughtfully given to the right man—not a burden to bear until it could be “taken care” of—but the higher the flames of desire rise, the more my inexperienced state seems like a road block standing in the way of my purpose.
My purpose is to form strong mate bonds with these men, bonds that will strengthen and protect all of us. And though the lingering prudish voice inside me insists that intimacy is meant to be between one man and one woman—the voice that sounds like my Sunday school teacher from sixth grade, the year we were taught the bare bones info that passes for sex ed in the Church of Humanity movement—I know sex is going to be part of that bond. It has to be.
And I’m starting to think I want it to be.
That maybe I want that a lot.
Nearly a half hour later, after the dancing is over and Kite and I wander out on the longhouse deck overlooking the waves rolling into shore under the nearly full moon, I’m still buzzing, humming, longing for something more than his arm around my waist or the relatively chaste kiss he steals as soon as we’re safe in the shadows.
I want his skin hot against mine and his hands everywhere and the part of him I can feel growing thick and hard against my belly pushing between my legs, banishing the horrible emptiness that’s gnawing at me from the inside out.
“Can we go back to the house?” I whisper against his lips, nails digging into his shoulders. “Or somewhere we can be alone?”
“Are you sure?” he asks, seeming to sense that I want more than we shared the last time we were alone. That I want everything, all of him. “Once we’re together like that, there’s no going back on the mate bond, Wren. Even if you decide you hate me, I’ll still be yours and you’ll be mine, our kin forms tethered together until death do us part.”
“I could never hate you.” I pause, gathering the courage to confess, “I love you, Kite. I’ve loved you since your first week at the shelter, when you proved you were as patient and kin
d as you were beautiful to look at.”
His breath rushes out as his hands skim down my back. “I love you, too, Bird Girl. Since the first time you hugged me goodbye on the walk home. I pulled you into my arms, and I never wanted to let you go.”
“Me either,” I slide my fingers into his hair. “That’s why I want you to be my first.”
“God, Wren, I want that so much. But we don’t have to rush. Truly. We have time.” His palms cup my ass, pulling me closer to where he’s so hard it makes me dizzy with desire. Feeling how much he wants me, how electric it is just to be pressed against him through our clothes, makes me even more positive that this is right and that it’s crazy to wait any longer.
“I don’t want to wait.” I press onto tiptoe, murmuring my next words against his lips. “I want you to make love to me, Kite. Now. Right now.”
With a groan, he presses his lips to mine, kissing me with an abandon that makes it clear I’m going to get what I want, what I need. He kisses me until my body is singing then stinging then burning with the need to have more than his lips bare against mine. By the time he finally pulls away, taking my hand tight in his and pulling me toward the steps leading off the deck and into the dark, I don’t hesitate to follow.
I run after him, beside him, racing him across the village to a place where we can finally be alone.
We tumble into the house and kiss our way down the hall and into my room, where the door slams shut, and our clothes start to fly, and soon I am wearing nothing but panties Kite drags off my legs as he guides me back onto the bed.
Chapter 30
Kite
I want to go slow, to savor every second of this first time with her, but she’s so responsive, so wild and completely stunning, naked in the moonlight streaming through the window. And then I feel how wet she is, her molten slickness coating my skin as I glide two fingers inside her, and I know taking my sweet time is a lost cause.
