Abby inhaled sharply, her fingers curling into his hair, holding his head tightly to her as he nipped and sucked.
Samuel shifted to the side, his hand seeking the silken heat of her sex. He pushed a finger between the slick folds, circling his thumb over her clit and loving every quiet hitch of her breath as the hunger built. He inserted a second digit inside her.
Abby’s back arched.
“So hot. So wet,” he murmured against her breast, swiping his tongue across the dampened tip. The only sounds in the dimly lit room were his loud uneven breaths and Abby’s soft pants.
Samuel thrust his fingers in and out of her tight sheath as she writhed beneath him. He held on to his control by a thread and reminded himself again that Abby wasn’t Ferwyn. He needed to be gentle, especially this first time.
He wasn’t sure if Abby understood all the Mating Dance entailed. If she genuinely believed he wasn’t Marking her to hide her heritage. And Samuel probably should admit he had no intention of the claiming being temporary. But his base nature told him none of that matter. She was his and nothing would change that.
“Abby.” Her heavy-lidded eyes were clouded with passion but focused on him. “Open wider for me.” Her pupils flared, the pale blue almost entirely obliterated by black. A blush colored her chest and neck, spread over her cheeks and the bridge of her pert nose. It was the prettiest thing Samuel had ever seen.
After a slight hesitation, she shyly yielded to him, her knees falling away from his waist. He grinned at her, heart full, and fastened their lips together once more.
Raising his hips, Samuel wrapped her calf around his back, opening her further. He pushed forward, sliding into her core in one smooth thrust. The breath exploded from his lungs as Abby pulsed around his cock in magnificent torture.
Buried to the hilt, he held himself still, allowing her time to adjust to his invasion.
“You okay?” he asked through canines that dropped into his mouth without permission.
Abby dipped her nose into the side of his neck and nodded. He felt the wisp of her lips grazing his Adam’s apple, her tongue darting out to taste his skin.
And just like that his control was gone.
Samuel palmed her butt, lifted her hips, and launched into a swift, steady rhythm. Abby met each thrust, tiny gasps of pleasure breaking free as he drove inside her, his pelvis grinding into her clit on every surging downstroke. Sweat gathered at the base of his spine as he pounded into her.
Lust consumed him, driving him hard.
His claws sprang free, and he yanked his hand away from her skin, afraid he might nick her in the mating frenzy. Samuel pressed his sharp nails into the mattress beside her head, slicing through the sheets. He forced his claws to retract with a strength he didn’t know he possessed. His blunted fingers returned to grasp her nape, gentling his hold so as not to bruise her.
Bodies fused, he sat on his haunches and brought Abby to sit astride his lap. Her nails dug into his broad shoulders, clinging to him. She was close to climaxing. Her head and torso thrown back in ecstasy, perfect breasts propelled forward by the elegant arch of her spine. The tips of her long hair grazed his thighs in a waterfall of white and gold. Her breaths came in short, rapid puffs as he rocked her against him.
So, fucking perfect.
He should turn her around to complete the ritual, but he wasn’t going to.
Ferwyn males usually made the first Mark from behind, the bite to the apex of the shoulder and neck a primitive act, more animal than human. But Samuel wanted to watch her come all over his cock. Have her sweet breath warming his neck as he sank his teeth into her tender flesh.
The images he conjured tested his tenuous restraint, and he couldn’t wait any longer to claim her.
Samuel’s grip tightened on her neck, pulling gently. She came to him gracefully, shoulders flowing back in an almost balletic dance. Her lashes lifted. Their gazes clashed.
Abby’s eyes were glassy, lips swollen and red from his kisses, face flushed with pleasure. He couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to. And he didn’t want to.
Samuel coiled his fingers in her hair, exerting mild pressure as he angled her neck.
The scent of her in his nose, the taste of her in his mouth, the silkiness of her skin, his cock filling her—all combined to drive him over the edge.
He pumped inside her roughly, unable to halt the powerful motion of his hips as the excitement of Marking her brought him close to bursting. His other hand grasped her hip.
“Not for the Clan. Not for the region.” His voice sounded like broken gravel. “I want you just for me, baby. For us.”
Abby bit her lip as he drove her on his hard length. She released her hold on his shoulders, her hands skating over his sweat-slicked skin until her elbows rested on his shoulders, bringing them heart to heart and stomach to stomach. Her fingers tunneled into his hair, tugging him to her bared shoulder.
Samuel growled in raw need, hips rolling upward until he was fully seated—and struck. Long fangs pierced her skin in the dip of her collarbone. A blast of magical heat so intense his gums felt singed ricocheted between them.
Abby drew in a harsh breath, her forehead dropping to the crook of his neck. His teeth bore down, and blood trickled into his mouth.
Although the taste of her life essence was welcome on his tongue, it was his teeth lodged in her throat throwing Samuel’s arousal into overdrive. He clamped down hard, canines buried deep.
Abby held her breath and shattered. Her core clutched him, her soft thighs shaking.
Samuel roared his release through clamped jaws, gliding his cock in and out until her tremors ceased. Gentling his strokes, he reluctantly retracted his teeth, releasing her with a small sucking sound. He licked the puncture wounds, healing the skin but leaving behind two half-moon shadows. His Mark. The symbol of their bond would remain visible until the next full moon. Or until he bit her again. And he would bite her again.
He set Abby down on the bed, sliding out of her warmth and rolling to the side, bringing her with him until she was on top. Then he wrapped his arms around her waist and reached out with his Ferwyn senses, flinging his net wide.
And there she was, the awareness stronger than he thought it’d be after one bite.
“Did I hurt you?”
She buried her face in his neck and shook her head.
“I’m glad.” He chuckled into her hair. “Because I plan on taking you again soon.”
“Um…”
“Sleep now.”
“Okay.” Abby pushed against his chest, trying to leave him. His hold tightened around her. “I need to…clean up.”
He drew her face up for a wet kiss before letting her go. She bent over and grabbed his t-shirt from the floor, his cock twitching at the lovely view of her shapely backside. She hurriedly pulled it on, covering herself.
That shit’s not happening.
He heard the sink run, the toilet flush, and several minutes later the bathroom door opened. Abby approached the bed nervously, yanking the extra-large shirt down her thighs. She slipped under the sheets and turned on her side. Away from him.
She squeaked when he stripped off the tee.
Tugging her close, Samuel tucked her against his heart, bare butt against his thighs. “Nothing between us while we’re in this bed, Abby.”
“Samuel, I can’t sleep naked.”
“You can.” This was something he wouldn’t budge on. Couldn’t. “I need to feel your skin on mine.”
He heard her huff in the dark, blow her bangs out of her eyes in exasperation.
“Is it a wolf thing?”
“You could say that.” It was a mate thing. Shifters needed the touch of their Ca’anam. It wasn’t a preference but essential to their well-being. And Samuel’s wolf was convinced Abby was his truemate.
“Okay, I’ll try.” Her body gradually softened.
“Thank you, darlin’.” He kissed the Mark on her shoulder, acknowledging her reluctant
capitulation.
“Stubborn Ferwyn,” Abby mumbled, drifting to sleep in his arms. Right where she belonged.
Chapter 20
“Choose wisely. Be picky.”
Bridget MacCarthy
Abby twisted her neck awkwardly to see the crescent-shaped bite on her left shoulder, stuck her nose in close, and sniffed. Nothing.
Well, not exactly nothing.
The lingering reek from the fragrant moisturizer she slathered on in a mini-panic before leaving the apartment was technically something. Applying the coconut and mango lotion hadn’t accomplished a thing beyond making her stink to high heaven. Every shifter (and probably vamp) would still smell the príoh’s Mark on her and know what they’d done that morning.
And again that afternoon.
Abby smacked the lobby button in the elevator harder than strictly necessary. An uncontrollable blush warmed her cheeks recalling the soft, wet kisses that woke her only hours earlier. They’d peppered the line of her throat, Samuel’s stubble chafing the side of her neck. The contrasting textures of sandpaper and velvet luring her slowly out of dreamless sleep.
“Abby…” His warm breath tickled her ear from behind.
“Hmm?”
He gently tugged on the hair curled in his fist, drawing her face around for a kiss, uniting their mouths as though determined to learn every line and curve of Abby’s lips with his tongue.
As he deepened the kiss, roughened fingertips traced a languid course from her breastbone to her bellybutton, a tide of heat following in their wake. Abby tilted her hips when they began to tease between her legs, rubbing mindlessly against the heel of his hand as wild need surged inside her.
Samuel removed his fingers from her aching core, splayed his palm low on her stomach and rocked her into his full arousal. His mouth left hers on a rasping exhale, dropping to the arc of her neck. His tongue lapped at the hollow of her clavicle where her pulse beat madly, Samuel’s Mark throbbing along in tempo. Abby’s breaths came in soft pants as liquid flame licked her skin.
He wedged her trembling thighs apart with his knee, and she felt the corded muscles of his leg flex and lift. Her breathing quickened as he pushed into her welcoming softness from behind, gliding in smoothly. Keeping his strokes maddeningly shallow, he tirelessly stoked the blaze with every roll of his hips.
Her pulse quickened, and her chest tightened at the gentle onslaught.
The smell of broken pine needles on a cold winter’s day suffused the air, the crisp scent she associated solely with Samuel’s wolf filling her lungs. The sharp points of his fangs abraded the outline of his previous bite, the scrape of teeth on the Marked flesh searing her veins.
“So sweet,” he murmured thickly.
“Samuel…” A rush of affection thickened her throat as she drove back urgently, encouraging him to go deeper. Move faster. Thrust harder. And help her forget this relationship was temporary.
He growled a warning. Nipped at her earlobe. Telling her without words that he wouldn’t be rushed.
Samuel hauled her against him with a hand pressed firmly between her hips, rendering them motionless. He slipped almost free from her throbbing center, leaving only the crown of his cock inside her. His canines pierced her skin as he slid slowly back in, teeth embedded in her shoulder while his swollen length advanced and withdrew, unhurriedly despite her plea.
The bite should have been painful. Instead, it set her afire. The sensual act was utterly dominating. A feral possession Abby should have feared, but didn’t. Samuel’s raw strength and size made her feel safe and protected, wrapped around her body as securely as he was quickly wrapping around her heart.
She let her fingers tangle in the unruly locks at his nape, anchoring him to her throat. Her walls clenched around his thick intrusion, and she splintered apart with a silent cry, her head flinging back over his broad shoulder.
Losing his restrained pace, he plunged into her with frenzied snaps of his pelvis. Abby met him thrust for thrust, their bodies in perfect sync.
He penetrated deep, bucked, and emptied inside her on a drawn-out groan. The inarticulate sound traveled the length of her torso, hardened her nipples into tight peaks, and sent shivers racing down her spine. Samuel continued to pump in and out with a tenderness that made Abby’s heart swell and her eyes brim with moisture.
His jaw was still locked in the crux of her neck as he trailed his hand up her side and caressed her breast, playing briefly with the beaded tip. She sighed as fingers skimmed over her clavicle and rose to her throat where they settled. They stayed in that position until his sex slipped away, and his fangs receded. She missed him already.
“Go to sleep,” he said, nibbling at the side of her throat. “It’s still early. I’ll meet you later tonight in the café.”
“I should get up. There’s so much we need to talk about.” So much.
“There’s time.” He kissed her temple. “Sleep now.”
Abby roused a few hours later to find Samuel gone and a master keycard atop a folded t-shirt on the pillow next to hers. She used both and scurried down the complex’s hallway barefoot while praying no one caught her returning to her suite wearing nothing but an oversized tee. Eternally grateful when she arrived unseen.
After showering, Abby took time drying her hair, dressing with care, and meticulously applying her makeup. She was stalling, the reality of carrying Samuel’s Mating Mark finally hitting her.
“It’s temporary,” she said firmly, reminding her heart. The danger hadn’t disappeared overnight. As long as Abby was out in the open, no one was safe. Not the other Na’fhuil who would be hunted if their existence was made known. Not the queen who didn’t understand how far the director would go to ensure all halfbloods worked for the US government and no one else. And not Samuel who owed his loyalty to the region and his Clan. A single Mating Mark wouldn’t change anything, no matter how much Abby may wish otherwise.
Her feet shifted nervously as the elevator dropped to the main floor. Clasping her shoulder, Abby covered the brand and wondered if Samuel would bite her every time they had sex. Not that she minded, but the queen hadn’t mentioned multiple bites beyond the assumption of renewing the Mark once a month if the relationship continued.
If Samuel still wanted her.
If Abby was still around.
Pulling at her collar, she fiddled with the pastel pink sleeveless for the millionth time, ineffectually hiding the distinguishing marks peeking out of the open v-neckline. Only the first of Samuel’s bites remained visible, his bottom teeth leaving a curved, bruise-looking stain in the dip above her left clavicle while his upper canines had sunk into the merge between shoulder and neck. The bluish-gray shadows in front would be impossible to hide unless she decided to button the shirt to the very top or determined a turtleneck was a reasonable fashion choice for a warm Southern night in June.
“Well, crap. You’re going to have to suck it up, aren’t you?” she groused, the double doors sliding open with a musical ping to reveal the foyer. The sharp tapping of her high-heeled sandals on marble was swiftly muffled as they met the carpeted hallway leading to the island’s most popular eatery.
Mere yards from the entrance of the Riverfront Café, she stumbled to an ungraceful halt, her heart racing. Then she almost tripped getting to the nearest wall, the whitewashed brick beneath her hand the only thing keeping her from falling flat on her face.
Abby could feel Samuel inside the restaurant.
It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. It was a tug at the edge of her mind, a tingle at the base of her spine, a knowing in her heart. All three sensations blended to make her aware of the commander’s presence nearby. It was wondrous—and freaking scary.
Abby forced air to flow in and out of her suddenly compressed lungs as she flopped against the wall. Would the connection die on the full moon or fade away slowly? Would the possible return to the facility cause it to break immediately? Could she bear it if it did? Samuel asked her to trust h
im. Could she?
She fussed with the buttons of her shirt again, legs wobbling like jelly.
And how would the pack react when they noticed their Alpha had Marked her? Would they consider her a short-term hookup or a potential Ca’anam? More importantly, would they know she had sex with Samuel twice?
Gah! She was acting ridiculous.
Wiping her damp palms on the gray fabric of her slacks, she painstakingly draped her hair over the left shoulder, covering the symbol of Samuel’s claim on her.
A minute later—or maybe five—Abby walked into the café with her shoulders back, chin high.
The restaurant was half-full, fifteen or so customers seated at the Fae Touched-friendly wood and aluminum tables. Some were sipping coffee, eating fresh salads and sandwiches. Others were gathered at the counter, waiting for to-go orders and chatting amicably with the person next in line. That was the nice thing about living on Blood Island: everyone knew everyone else and they enjoyed being sociable, especially the shifters with their pack mentality.
The homey smell of baking bread and milk chocolate welcomed her, and she took a tentative step inside. Her stomach gurgled in hunger. She couldn’t remember when she ate last.
Abby spotted Samuel right away. He was staring straight at her from a seat at the back, his amber eyes crinkling at the edges in amusement. A cat-got-the-cream grin was lighting up his face. He held his hand out, welcoming. Waiting.
Logically, if she was aware of him, then he was aware of her and had known how long it took her to brave coming inside. No wonder he looked about to bust out in a fit of laughter.
Stupid príoh.
Abby locked her knees and strode into the room.
The heads of every Ferwyn male lowered as she walked amid the tables, their eyes fixating on the tile floor. The previous chatter changed to uncomfortable silence and hushed whispers.
Abby’s breathing became shallow and labored. Her steps slowed. She gathered the open edges of blouse together, hiding the Mark. The desire to flee was enormous.
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