by Viola Rivard
How interesting.
Caim advanced on her. She cowered back. Stopping in front of her, he folded his arms across his chest, taking in her flushed face and dilated pupils. A curious sense of satisfaction began to take shape within him.
“Speak, human.”
* * *
God in Heaven.
Mila gaped up at him, stunned. She never imagined that beneath all that fur there was such an incredible man.
Illuminated by moonlight, he seemed almost alien, too surreal to be of this world. He towered above her, even taller than Asch. The hard planes of his chest were dusted with hair that curled over thick, corded muscles. She kept her eyes moving upward, too afraid of what she would see if she looked down.
Wild, black tresses came down to his shoulder blades, framing a face that was far too hard to ever be called beautiful. The bones of his face were sharp, angular panels, striking in their symmetry. Standing beneath the hulking male, Mila felt very small and insignificant.
Her mouth moved, opening and closing, but no words came out. She told herself that it was intimidation rendering her speechless, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with how the sight of him made her pulse race and her insides clench. Unbidden, the region between her legs began to throb as if preparing itself for him, which was totally insane because she was so not going there with him.
She did an about face, turning her back to him so she could get a grip on her raging hormones. She had come here to have a discussion with him. Well, no, he had dragged her here to have a discussion with him, and dammit, she was going to have that discussion as soon as she remembered what it was about.
“Do not show your back to me, human,” he said, his deep voice resonating in the spacious chamber.
“You’re naked,” she said. She raised cool hands to her cheeks. They were burning.
“Your arousal toward this form does not warrant such disrespect to an alpha,” he said, his tone maddeningly imperious.
Ticked off, she turned back to face him, hands on her hips. He was still Mr. Spectacular, but she remembered what an asshole he was, which helped her regain her focus. She didn’t bother dismissing his claims about her arousal and purposely sidestepped the subject.
“Look, I’ve already talked to Asch, but it’s important that I know where you stand on the whole, you know, mating thing.”
His lips flattened and he cocked his head to the side in what she could only presume was a speculative gesture. She found herself fidgeting under his hard gaze.
“I am not interested in taking a mate,” he finally said.
Mila breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s awesome. Brae made it sound like—”
“But by bringing you here, Asch has not given me much of a choice,” he went on. Her heart sank. “When the time comes, I will permit him to leave, but if he challenges me, I will have no choice but to spill his blood.”
His face was impassive as he spoke. He could have been talking about the weather or what he’d had for dinner, not killing his best friend. How in the hell was she supposed to get through to this caveman?
“Look,” she said, trying to keep her voice even. “You guys share in the responsibility of being alpha in every other aspect of your lives, so why not in this too?”
She was intentionally vague, unable to bring herself to say outright what she was proposing:
Being claimed by two men.
The idea of having even one of these men as a lover, Caim in particular, was very overwhelming. A week ago, a dominant alpha like Caim had been her deepest fantasy. His personality aside, the logistics of actually having sex with such a huge male would have been laughable if it wasn’t so scary to contemplate.
A morbid curiosity made her want to steal a glance between his legs, but she didn’t think she could do it without him noticing. His eyes were trained on her. She thought he looked amused.
“Tell me, human, how many times have you mediated between two alpha wolves in the mating thrall?”
Ignoring his condescending tone, she said, “Brae thinks that if you both imprint on me before the thrall it will make you less aggressive. Something about your scents mingling together to establish shared property.”
She winced when she remembered how she’d initially assumed the men could just take her in shifts, leaving the den while the other did his business. The whole idea had sounded pretty barbaric to her, but anything was preferable to them gutting one another on the cavern floor.
The reality of it, though, as Brae had explained, was that both males would smell the subtle changes in her body. A couple of days before a mate ovulated neither would leave the den. They would stay at her side, preening and posturing for her favor until she became fertile, at which point they would turn against one another. After a quick, decisive battle, one male would emerge victorious and immediately seek to mount his mate, oftentimes still covered in the blood of his foe.
If this was going to work, the alphas were going to have to be able to share her—at the same time. Rather than exciting her, the prospect was frightening. She was all for wild, passionate sex, but not for being caught between two extremely aggressive werewolves, each vying for a single small, delicate part of her body.
Caim seemed to consider her proposition, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over the stubble of his chin. The human gesture did nothing to detract from his overall wolfish appearance. She was relieved to see that he was at least thinking about it, which meant he wasn’t wholly committed to maiming his friend.
“Even if that would work, an imprinting such as the one you are referring to would require rutting.”
A fresh wave of blood suffused her cheeks. Brae had told her as much. Imprinting, or marking another with one’s scent, was essential among wolves. Most wolves naturally imprinted on one another through the daily routines of pack life: grooming, resting, and, as Brae had put it, coupling. It was their primary means of establishing a hierarchy within the pack. The wolves they imprinted on most frequently, be it their alpha, other betas, or lowly omegas, determined each individual’s standing.
As the she-wolf had delicately put it, if both alphas could get used to sharing her before she became fertile, then when the time came, the scent of their mutual imprinting would encourage them to be less aggressive toward one another—at least in theory, anyway.
“Yeah, well, I figure that’s kind of inevitable so …” She shifted uncomfortably but didn’t avert her gaze.
“That would be impossible,” he declared.
“What, why?”
“I do not find you appealing. It would be difficult for me to be aroused by you unless I was in the thrall.”
He might as well have slapped her. While she struggled to formulate a response that didn’t contain yelling or profanity, he continued talking as if oblivious to her outrage.
“I do not couple. I rut,” he explained, drawing a distinction. “Your body is small and frail. It is not built for the type of aggressive rutting I enjoy. My cock would be too large for you and I would have to mount you carefully and take you slowly. It would be dull. I do not think I could become aroused at the prospect.”
“Oh.”
She was glad that he’d clarified himself. She wasn’t a total knockout like Brae, but Mila knew she had her own unique appeal, and the thought of him outright rejecting her body had been upsetting. Once she got past that, though, what he’d said sunk in.
“Wait just one minute,” she said, her eyes narrowing. She raised a hand to jab a finger at his hard chest as she spoke. “If you are going to be so crazy during the thrall that you can’t even stop from killing your best friend, what’s to stop you from hurting me if you win and we do have sex?”
He frowned, catching her wrist in one large hand. He did it so quickly that she let out a small gasp. For such a big guy, he was surprisingly nimble.
“I hadn’t considered that,” he said, sounding genuinely bemused.
She really wanted to be angry—no, she total
ly should be angry with him—but she wasn’t. All of the starch left her spine as she stared up into his perplexed face. Okay, he was kind of endearing.
She said, “That’s exactly why we need to figure this out sooner rather than later. The three of us can sit down and discuss this— Ahhh!”
Mila let out a cry of alarm as Caim abruptly lifted her up by the waist. The next thing she knew, she was on her back with the giant alpha looming over her. His arms came down on either side of her, caging her beneath his hard chest.
“What the hell, Caim?” she growled, squirming to free herself from his prison of flesh. Moving one hand to her shoulder, he pinned her firmly to the ground.
“You are right,” he said nonchalantly as if he wasn’t in the process of assaulting her. “I should grow accustomed to your body before I claim you.”
“This was not what I was referring to,” she hotly retorted. She reached up to push against his chest. It was unyielding, but she flailed against him anyway, her heart pounding.
Ignoring her ineffectual thrashing, Caim lowered his head to her neck. She thought he might try to nuzzle her as Asch had earlier in the day. Instead, he clamped his teeth around the vulnerable flesh, gripping her in a bite that was firm but not painful. She stilled nonetheless, worried that her movements might cause him to inadvertently break her skin.
He kept her supine and controlled for a few moments, lying perfectly still on top of her. His grip had a strange, numbing effect on her body, and gradually, Mila’s pulse slowed and her breathing stabilized. When it became clear he wasn’t going to hurt her, some of the tension left her body, and she became acutely aware of him.
His flesh was like granite, but also warm, and seemed to radiate heat. He smelled like earth and pine and male.
Deep within the den, she no longer heard the other wolves, only the steady sounds of her own breathing and of his. The unwanted throbbing returned, and she felt herself grow damp. She knew he’d be able to smell it, but she wasn’t embarrassed, secure in the knowledge that the alpha wasn’t interested in reciprocating.
When he finally relinquished his hold on her throat, Caim pulled back, gazing down at her through slanted eyes.
“You should fear me,” he told her. “But not in this. I have no intention of rutting or otherwise mating with you tonight. I only wish to grow accustomed to your body. You will lie still and be unafraid while I do so.”
His command helped to ease the last of the tension from her body, and she relaxed against the pelts, lying supplicant before him. A sliver of disappointment she wasn’t prepared to examine wormed its way into her chest. She didn’t respond, just nodded.
“Good girl,” he said, lips curling upwards. He lowered his head to her collar before he could see her roll her eyes.
She drew in a sharp breath when his hot tongue began a leisurely trail up her clavicle to her neck. If a human man had tried to pull that on her, she might have been turned off. When Caim did it, it was as if he tasted her flesh, and she had to bite back a moan.
Coming to the top of her neck, he closed his teeth around the soft pad at the bottom of her ear, lightly nibbling while his tongue flicked at the sensitive flesh. Her breathing picked up again as the throbbing between her legs intensified, turning into an ache. She brought shaky hands up to his pectorals, pushing against him.
“I don’t think we should be doing this,” she said, even as her toes curled. She didn’t sound convincing to her own ears and wasn’t surprised when the wolf ignored her, bringing one of his big hands up to palm her breast.
He squeezed the soft mound, eliciting a moan from her. He gave her ear a final nip before drawing back, pulling her up into a sitting position. His implacable face giving no indication as to what he was thinking, the alpha hiked up her dress, pulling it up over her head.
“I really feel that we should talk to Asch first,” she babbled, lifting her arms up. “This whole imprinting thing is supposed to be a team effort.”
He tossed the dress behind him, quickly bringing his hands to her hips. She watched him, transfixed, as he ran his hands and his gaze up the length of her torso. He stopped at her breasts, cupping one in each palm.
“These please me,” he informed her.
Mila always did her best to be careful and sensible, just like her mother had taught her. Every now and then, though, she did something completely and totally impulsive. There was the time she’d stayed out all night drinking before her final exams. And the time she’d volunteered to become the mate of an alpha. And the time she offered to take off her bra for a werewolf.
“Do you want to see them?” She worried her bottom lip, anxious for his response.
Caim’s eyes darkened, and his gaze fixed on her chest. When he spoke, his voice had become throaty.
“Yes.”
6
Caim watched as the female reached behind her back and unfastened the lacy piece of cloth that separated him from her breasts. It was good that she had offered, otherwise, she might have been angered when he tore it off himself.
It had only been his intention to explore her. He doubted that her imprinting idea would work, but the very real possibility that he could harm her during the thrall disturbed him. If he was to lose Asch because of her, he should at least be able to reap the benefits of her fertile body without losing control and damaging her beyond repair.
He thought he would touch her, become accustomed to what pleased her and what did not. He would learn to be gentle with her now, so that when he was in the thrall his wolf would remember she was soft and delicate, nothing like the types of females he was used to.
She toyed with him, acting as though she did not want his attentions even while her body called out to him with the increasingly heavy scent of her arousal.
He heard the light click of metal as the hooks came apart. He watched as she pulled off the obtrusive piece of clothing, revealing a pair of voluptuous breasts. His hands moved to them immediately.
He was fascinated by the weight of them and the feel of them. The females of his kind were lean and taut, nothing like the human, whose flesh was curvaceous and pliable. Caim had never experienced a creature quite like her before.
Unable to resist, he dipped his head, taking one crested peak into his mouth and sucking hard. She let out a choked cry and her hands flew up to thread into his hair, urging him forward.
He hadn’t expected her to yield to him so quickly. He liked it when females denied him. It made the inevitable conquest all the more gratifying. If they did not tease him, did not put up a fight, he quickly lost interest.
Caim didn’t understand why the act of her spurring him on made his cock begin to swell. He felt himself grow harder, fuller, as he feasted on her plump little nipple.
Once she had turned pebble-hard in his mouth, he moved to the other breast, pushing her back down against the pelts. He worked her hungrily while his hands began to roam, seeking out more of her warm flesh. He lost himself in her and knew he would have to get his arousal in check very soon.
Soon, he realized, was a very vague concept.
Soon, his cock would swell to the point of pain, and he would have no choice but to renege on his pledge not to rut with her. Well, it was not as if he had made her any promises when he had said that. That was before she had bared her delicious breasts to him, before she had moaned and writhed beneath him.
Soon, he would not have to renege anyway, because she would be begging him to take her. He knew that she was wet and ready for him. He smelled it and heard her slippery folds move against one another as she rubbed her thighs together, desperate for friction.
Soon, she would be all his and only his, and her sweet, fertile body would be ripe for his seed. He would pour himself deep inside of her, filling her womb with his claim. Right after he slaughtered that mangy, domesticated, mutt of an alpha, Asch.
* * *
Caim reared his head back abruptly. Eyes wide, he let out a ragged breath and ran a hand through his thi
ck hair. He looked startled, and Mila instinctively responded. She sat up, placing a hand on one muscled shoulder. His flesh was covered in a thin sheen of perspiration, and she rubbed him coaxingly.
“Are you okay?” she asked, feeling a little unsure of herself. He was such a large and dominant male. It seemed so wrong to be soothing him.
Something was clearly wrong, though. One minute, he was devouring her, and the next, he was acting as if she’d burned him.
Caim considered her, his expression shifting from wariness to solemn resignation.
In a thick voice, he told her, “I will kill Asch for you.”
The breath left her. The arousal she’d felt so strongly just moments before seemed to dissipate, and she found herself moving her hands to cup his face. She didn’t know what she was doing; she just knew that he needed something only she could give him.
He must have been very close to the other alpha, close enough that he was able to cast aside his own innate alpha instincts and share in the leadership of their pack. She wondered for how long Caim had been arrogantly posturing, feigning indifference to the fact that he would soon have to war with his friend.
Because of me, she thought wretchedly.
“Hey, now,” she soothed. “You don’t know that. That’s why we’re doing this.”
Truthfully, she had no idea what the hell they were doing right now.
An hour ago, they had been at complete odds with each other. Now, aside from her panties, they were nude and entangled in each other. Despite the sudden shift in mood, they still breathed heavily.
His hands came up to cover her much smaller ones. Rather than pull her away, he pressed her hands closer to his face.
“I feel that if I could just be inside of you, nothing else would matter,” he informed her, apparently still feeling candid.
Mila’s face burned. “When did that happen?” she asked, trying to make light of his words as a fresh wave of desire washed over her.
Caim eased her back onto the pelts, his long body blanketing hers. She felt his swollen erection jut against her bare thigh. His amber eyes glowed, his face just inches away from hers.
