by J. K Harper
He stood unmoving, his sexy dark beard contrasting perfectly with the cobalt of his eyes that, even as they darkened, were still brighter than any blue eyes she'd ever seen in her life.
"And then I was standing there with you, wrapped in your arms, being kissed like I've never been kissed before—"
Wyatt's scent deepened into something wild and hot that was beginning to make her dizzy. In a very good way.
"—and then suddenly I leaped ahead and could see what was going to happen.” She paused to swallow hard before going on. “You were going to lead me to your home, to this place actually, and take me to bed. It was going to blow my fucking socks off." She could hear her own voice dropping as she spoke, could feel the delicious chills of anticipation billowing through her now even as she shared her vision of what had been going to happen but that she had stopped so that it never existed.
Yet, that is.
"I saw every single second of it. It was the most amazing connection of my life. A bond between us.” She knew she sounded startled, though her voice stayed soft. “Then you—you bit me. On my neck. By my tattoo.” She reached up and felt her tattoo, even though she couldn't really feel it. Then, shocked, she yanked her hand away.
The skin on her left shoulder throbbed and heated with something so intense, so alive, that she gasped. Wyatt's eyes darted to where her hand had strayed, then snapped back to her face. He looked like a smoldering volcano, ready to erupt with the same deep, heated passion she felt stirring in her.
Swallowing a few times against her suddenly dry throat, she went on. “I knew it had something to do with you being a wolfen and me being your mate, and I understood that because you explained that concept to me years ago. Of course back then you weren't talking about us. And then—" she broke off as the memory of the future that had not happened suddenly became ugly and tainted.
Wyatt spoke, his voice low and gravelly and brimming with the molten heat. That, and an emotion she couldn't quite pinpoint. "You're safe here. Whatever it is, we won't let it happen. Tell me."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. She blinked once but still didn't take her gaze from him. "And then, I had a sensation of something awful. Something huge and burning, raging hot. Horrible hot, the kind of hot that burns your skin off, melts your eyes.” She shuddered. “And the smell," she wrinkled her nose even now. "The smell was terrible. It smelled of death, of destruction, of such vile nastiness. Then I was suddenly covered in blood. My blood," she added very quietly. "It was my blood. All over me. I could feel my heart slowing, my body getting cold. I was dying, Wyatt," she said simply, her voice barely above a whisper.
She had been dying, and she could feel every moment of it in her future vision-reality.
“It startled me so badly I just pulled away and ran from you. I'm so sorry I did that,” she added, meaning it. “I wasn't afraid of dying, necessarily," she went on slowly, feeling her way through the emotions she'd had during her vision. "But that doesn't mean I'm ready to die yet. I still have a lot of living left to do." She paused. "I've been trapped here for the last many months, recuperating, feeling like I'm in a cage, and slowly…" She paused again, uncertain about saying this part.
Wyatt just looked at her, silently encouraging her by his solid, strong presence.
She took a breath and tried. "Slowly going crazy, maybe. Every now and then I hear this ugly little voice in my head saying mean, nasty things.” She frowned as a small shudder traveled down her spine. “And I've had the weirdest feeling about not being connected to my body as much as I used to be." She glanced down at her now whole, healed leg. "I've always been very aware of my body space. Of what I'm doing. It's less so, lately. Ever since I came back to Serenity."
Wyatt nodded, suddenly smiling again. "You were always athletically gifted as a kid. It was amazing, Bry.” The sheer admiration in his voice made her feel suddenly flustered. “You could ride a bike, dribble a ball, go climbing up the quarry, play cops and robbers in an abandoned house or in the woods, and you picked everything up like you'd been born knowing how to do it. Nobody had to teach you anything." He shook his head as if still stunned by it. Then his voice lowered. "As it turns out, you all have a special ability. When we were catching up the other night I should have realized that. But I didn't think about it at all. A one true mate was something I never thought existed, let alone something I thought I might have myself."
Puzzled, Bryony cocked her head at him. "A one true mate? What does that mean?"
He abruptly looked somewhat nervous, an incongruous expression on his naturally bold, self-assured features. She pounced. Time to turn the tables back on him. "Aha. Now we go back to what you have not told me. What you need to tell me. I told you what happened that night. Now it's your turn. Tell me we're doing here in your house right now, guarded by Mac and that kid out there. Out with it, World Wide Web." She let a smile curve up one side of her mouth. She hadn't thought about his silly old nickname for years now, but just saying it made her feel oddly comforted.
As if she had truly come home.
Which was a crazy thought.
Wyatt swallowed hard but nodded. "One true mate. For the shiften.” The words seemed to resonate in the room for a brief second. “There was an angel, Bryony. An angel who fathered hundreds, I don't know, maybe thousands, of one true mates all around the world. Your sisters,” he added, looking at her carefully.
Sisters? Something in her jolted with excitement at the thought. She'd always wanted a sister, actually.
Carefully, still watching her, he continued. “Mates for the shiften males who are left. To ensure that we will have children. To ensure that we will continue to exist.”
His voice was rough and soft at once as he said that part. She felt a shiver down her spine at the weight of those words. But his next words were the ones that truly shook her.
“I think you're one of them, Bryony. I think you're a one true mate. There's a prophecy, and this is what it says.” His voice now taking on the cadence of one who has something well memorized, he easily launched into words she'd never before heard.
In twenty-five years, half-angel, half-human mates will be discovered living among you.
This is how you will rebuild.
Warriors, all, with names like flora.
Save them from themselves, for they will not know their foreordination.
They will not be bound by shiften law, but their destinies entwine so strongly with their fated mates, that any not mated by their 30th year will be moonstruck. Those who are lost may be dangerous.
A pledged female will have free will that shiften know not. Never forget this or it will cause grave trouble.
Her body may respond to any, until she is mated in a ceremony of her choosing, then she will acknowledge only one male, as he becomes her one true mate, and she, his one true mate. He shall be sworn to her in her life’s purpose, to rebuild the shiften race, so that they may fight the evil Matchitehew and protect the humans from him, until the day he draws his last breath.
His low voice rumbled through her as she listened, soaking in his words with a feeling that was a mixture between a wild, deep knowing that they were true and a shattering sadness that they were not.
Sadness. Bryony started. Sadness? Yes. The thought of not being his one true mate made her feel genuine sorrow. What on earth did that mean? She was still Bryony, badass adventure guide, independent woman, about to get out of Serenity and run full tilt at life again. Wasn't she?
Then how come she was suddenly feeling an enormous, see-sawing pull yanking her in two different directions?
A sudden realization rocked her enough to shove the see-sawing right out of her head for a moment. She looked at Wyatt in more dazed wonderment. "Wait. An angel for a father." The truth surged up at her, so strongly that she blinked. "You're saying an angel fathered the one true mates?"
Wyatt's jaw worked in sudden understanding. "Oh. Right. You already have a father." His voice was flat. "You can't be one
of them.”
The hope she'd sensed in him deflated so suddenly it hurt her. As if she could feel his pain herself. So softly she almost couldn't hear her own voice, she said, “But he's not my biological father, Wyatt.”
Thunderous silence descended, so loud it made her ears ring. Wyatt stared at her with mingled shock and hope leaping back onto his face.
She nodded, slowly smiling. “I found out in high school. You were already gone, moved away, and we'd lost touch. They told me—my mom and dad, I mean—they told me that my mom was already pregnant when she'd met my dad. She was always sort of secretive about who my bio dad was. She just told me he was a one-time thing and that I was his gift.” Bryony laughed, suddenly delighted. “She always said he looked like an angel. I wonder if she possibly knew?”
Wyatt's bright blue eyes danced with sudden mirth and something she thought might be joy. “Could be your mom was keeping a lot of secrets.” Before she could say anything, he added in a low voice that was almost rough with its certainty, “I know one thing is true, Bry.”
Feeling weirdly breathless, she looked back at him. The zap of electric tension sizzled between them, making her skin tingle.
“You're my mate. I know that in my bones.” His eyes bored into hers. Branding her already, claiming her already, although she still barely knew what it really meant. “There's one more thing I know for sure."
She swallowed at the sudden darkness on his face. “What's that?” she whispered.
He took a short step toward her. Close enough that she could almost feel the heat radiating off his body. "That there's another part of your vision that scares you. Scares you more than anything else."
His hungry expression almost took her breath away. “Which part of my vision?” Her voice was unsteady.
“The part,” he closed the last bit of distance between them, “where I bit you and claimed you as mine.”
Then he caught her chin in his big hand, tipped her head back, and kissed her like a drowning man who'd just found salvation.
7
Everything in Bryony's body hummed with a deep knowing that this was right. That this was what she wanted. Oh, this man. This sexy, hot wolfen. And this kiss. He pulled back, looking at her hard, a question in his eyes.
Still mesmerized by his brilliant gaze, dazed by the kiss she could feel all throughout her body, she silently nodded. Without another word, Wyatt growled, reached forward, and scooped her up in his strong arms. She couldn't stop the girlish squeal of first startlement, then appreciation at how incredibly strong he was. Geez, what a girl she was being.
Geez, how she didn't care about that right now.
Holding her tightly to his chest, he took swift steps toward his large bed. Gently setting her down, he stepped back to look down at her in sheer worship. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life, Bryony.” His words were said with such truthful devotion that all girlish squeals died in her throat as she stared up at him with wide eyes. Without even a moment's hesitation, he added into the hush, "I'm going to show you right now how beautiful you are. Every single inch of you. I've been dying to do this ever since our last kiss."
Bryony gaped at him, feeling the warm hum of anticipation skitter through her entire body. In her head, she flashed right on the images of exactly what he was going to do to her. Do with her. And what she would do with him.
The foreknowledge, the decadent vision, made her blush so hard in mingled excitement and awe that Wyatt's sensual mouth curved into a grin. “Really? It'll be that good? Excellent,” he murmured. A hungry gaze took over his face now.
Bryony managed to nod. “Yes,” she whispered, looking back at him with the same amount of hunger.
Yes, this was exactly what she wanted right now. No more talk about demons, visions of blood, being hunted, or thoughts of a permanent future. Just—this. With Wyatt, right now.
“Come here to me.” She reached her arms up to him as excitement shivered through her.
“As you wish, my sweet little sexpot.” His grin now edged with a feral arousal, her wild, sexy Wyatt obeyed her so quickly she breathed laughter.
The bed creaked slightly as he settled onto it, his weight a welcome feeling against her every nerve ending. “Too many clothes. Off now.” His voice was a focused mutter as he reached down to tug off her shirt, then help her shimmy out of her jeans.
She helped him as much as she could, wiggling and shifting and lifting her butt off the bed. When he momentarily lost his concentration as she thrust her hips up off the bed, it was so flat out sexy her breath caught in her throat.
Wyatt was her man. Her wolfen.
Her mate.
Or not quite yet. For that to happen, he had to officially claim her. Just the thought of that, of what it meant, sent pleasure skittering up and down her spine, radiating out through her limbs in a tingling shot of excitement.
Pleasure, and another frisson of concern. Was it what she really wanted? What would it really mean?
Right now, she decided as she looked into the smoked depth of his eyes, that didn't matter. She didn't want to think about tomorrow, but right now, the word mate just felt right. All that did matter was that she wanted to connect with him. Right now, in every way possible.
She'd thought about this moment off and on for years, subconsciously using Wyatt as the perfect fantasy man to whom no others could hold a candle. She could admit it now. Especially now. The breathless reality of the moment was even more thrilling than she'd ever imagined possible.
"I've pictured this for a long time." Wyatt's voice crackled with desire. "It's shaping up to be even better than I ever dreamed."
Bryony huffed out a laugh, her entire body feeling alive as she watched the edgy, gorgeous man above her quickly stripping off his clothes. "I was literally just thinking the same thing. I guess that means it was fated to be." She said the last part somewhat teasingly, lips curved into a smile. But Wyatt's expression turned serious, although it didn't lose any of the hunger.
"Yes." His voice was slightly hoarse. "I never thought it could be, but yes."
She felt a ripple of something deep and powerful inside her as he said that. It was like every cell in her body yearned toward him, urging her to get close to him. She didn't examine it too closely. It was very slightly frightening. Instead, she pushed it away for now. For now, she just wanted to be with him.
"Come here." Her voice edged into a low hoarseness also as she lifted her arms to him, urging him to join her.
He wasted no time, kicking off his pants and surging toward her.
"Wait. Wow." She eyed him in all his naked glory, stunned once again. It was like looking at the most perfect male specimen ever. Every muscle in his body was chiseled, from washboard abs to muscular thighs. But the most important, most exciting thing to her, was that he was Wyatt. Her Wyatt. Knowing she was with him turned her on more than she ever had been in her life.
He stood still for her inspection for mere moments before shaking his head. "Enough. If I don't touch you right now I might explode." With that, he closed the last distance to her on the bed, half nestling with her and half hovering over her, supporting his upper body on his forearms.
"I need to kiss you," he said so softly it felt like butterfly wings across her skin.
He did exactly that, his mouth claiming hers with a strength that was as tender as it was fierce, as wondering and exploring as it was also oddly knowing and familiar. It was as if they'd been doing this their whole lives, yet it was also so stunningly new that Bryony's body broke into a deep shiver. Wyatt abruptly broke off the kiss, pulling back to study her.
"Is this okay? Am I being too rough?" He sounded genuinely concerned, but she sensed the longing as well.
She shook her head, lifting a hand to rub his face, reveling in the feel of his beard. “No," she whispered. "I love it. Kiss me again, harder. I want to feel your beard scratching on my face."
With a groan, he complied. His long, hard body stretc
hed out on top of hers, sinking onto her more. He fisted one hand in her hair, gently holding her head on the pillow. His other hand cupped the side of her face and neck. He kissed her so long, so deep, it seemed as if she could feel their souls joining already.
"Damn, you taste incredible," he murmured against her face, turning his head to kiss his way down her cheekbone.
She pushed her head into the pillow, running one hand along his back and pushing into him as his lips traveled to her collarbone, then down one breast. He caught the nipple between his lips, sucking and gently biting, then moved to the other one. She cried out, pushing her breasts into his mouth and shamelessly shoving her pelvis against his. Lightly moving his mouth on her softness, his tongue came out to swirl around the rock hard nipples, back and forth from one to the other.
"Wyatt," she gasped, the sound of it bouncing around the little room.
In answer, he gently disentangled his other hand from her hair and let it travel down her side, stroking down her ribs, curving over her breast. Then he spread his fingers across her soft belly, stroking her. Slowly, he curved his hand down, then let a finger travel to explore her soft, wet center. Bryony cried out as he gently pushed one thick, broad digit inside, gently swirling around in her wetness.
"I've been dreaming about this nonstop for the past week." His voice vibrated through her body.
Feeling half dazed by the building ecstasy, she just nodded. Driven by some deep, primal urging she didn't understand but felt was right, she leaned forward to kiss him, hard, at the spot where his neck met his shoulder. He sharply inhaled, the vibration from it seeming to rattle down his spine beneath her fingertips.
"Inside," she commanded in a low gasp, more sure of this than anything in her life. "I want you inside me, Wyatt. Now."
