by Mason Sabre
There were many spots like this around. Land that the Humans had used and moved on from. Houses and places that nature claimed back, and no one cared enough to rebuild them. ”I find these places fascinating,” Karl said as he took out a blanket for himself and wrapped it around his own shoulders. “Can you imagine the stories walls like these must know?” It was true. So many of the structures like this were from long ago wars, invasions of the earliest people.
“I bet there are some horrors, too,” Gemma said. She ran her fingers lightly across the top of the stones closest to her. It made Karl suck in a breath, momentarily wishing those fingers were on him. “Bloodshed, betrayal.”
“Good campfire tales then,” he joked, clearing his throat before leaning over the pit and lighting a match.
They didn't have clothes here. He hadn't thought to bring any, and they would have to shift to run that distance back to the main town, anyway. But the fire was nice, or it would be when it caught. He’d layered it with a couple of fire-lighters. He lit those and went to sit down next to Gemma.
“Did this evening go as you had expected?” she asked, settling herself down closer to the fire. She pulled the blanket around herself, holding it from the inside, but it dropped a little from one of her shoulders, exposing her milky skin to him. He wanted to lean into her and press his lips to her.
He pulled his gaze away, eyes on the small flame trying to take hold. “I’m not sure I expected anything. You? Did you enjoy it?”
He thought she wouldn't answer at first, but then she shifted her position and raised her eyes to meet his. She smiled. “Yes.”
The relief in Karl was almost big, bold. He tried not to let it show, not to let Gemma see he had opened himself up so much with this. More than even he had realised. He didn't want her to know he was wound up so tight … so fearful that she might not have gone through with it all. He poked a stick into the fire and pushed some wood into the flames. “I never really cared for those events before,” he admitted sheepishly. “My mum … my real mum, she liked those. She liked parties.”
Gemma gave him another smile, this one warmer, seeming to chase away some of the dark edges in her eyes. “Me either.” Despite herself, she laughed a little and that simple laugh was like a light inside her. He was sure he couldn't have been luckier than he was right then. As fast as it had all gone, and as rushed as it all was, he was sure that this was the right decision … not just for his family, but for him too.
She tucked her hair behind her ears and lifted her legs so that her blanket almost covered her entirely.
“Are you warm enough?”
The fire was at that stage where it was still trying to find its footing, but Gemma nodded. “Almost.” She went to reach for her own stick and she yawned, and her hand flew instinctively to her mouth to cover it. Her blanket slipped from her grasp and she shot to her knees, trying to gather her composure quickly. Karl grabbed for her too, holding her blanket in place to help her cover her dignity, but their eyes locked and they both paused, both up on their knees, her blanket at the mercy of his grasp, her small hands inside his. His stomach knotted with anticipation and time stopped, right then, along with his heart as he dared to pull her closer, using the blanket to guide her to him. He kissed her.
He felt her hands clench on him, clench against his and the fabric they held together. She kissed him back, gently, holding back from him as if she was scared to cross over that line, but when he pushed at her lips, pushed them open, she let him in. That slight movement only sent the need for her surging through him like raw energy that exploded inside. He wanted to hold onto it, to capture this moment so he could replay it again and again. Heartbeat in his throat, he let go a little of the fabric, testing it, testing her to see if she would scramble for it and break the moment. She didn’t. He wanted her to be willing, to come all the way across to his side. Flashes of the last time skated into his mind … that last moment when she had pulled back and he had let her.
Karl lowered himself back down a little, so he was sitting on his feet and Gemma had to rise above him, giving her the advantage, her the control. He angled his head back, and she didn’t break their kiss. Instead, she leant over him, moved with him. He opened his eyes to watch her, to look at her and found her staring back, so beautiful, so perfect.
“Sorry,” he murmured against her lips. “I just—”
She shook her head, only a small movement, but enough for him to see it, then she kissed him again, pressing her lips lightly to his mouth. He let go of her blanket, let her take control of it and then ran a hand around her back to hold her in place. He had his own blanket, holding it together with one hand at his chest. Their knuckles met in the middle as she did the same with hers. It was getting difficult to breathe, difficult to control himself when all he wanted to do was push her back and have her. Bringing his own hand back, he grabbed the edges of his blanket and then opened it, but used it to wrap around both of them, shielding them from the outside. She let him. She moved closer, kneeling in between his thighs and pressing against his bare chest so he could reach his blanket all the way around to cocoon them both. She was so warm against him, her scent so sweet and inviting.
Her eyes had that heavy, seduced look about them and her breathing hitched when he went back to kissing her, but this time, he kissed the edge of her chin, nibbling against it, biting gently along the strong structure of her jaw until he reached her neck. He fisted the corners of his blanket into one hand behind her back, freeing his other so he could bring it between them. She tensed, almost a knee jerk reaction when his hand found both of hers and daringly pushed against her grasp on the only barrier between their naked bodies. “Let go,” he said, murmuring his words against her neck.
The scent of her arousal at his words fuelled his own. She liked the command, he realised. She liked to be told what to do. Knowing this, he lifted his head to look at her and cat green eyes clashed with his own. “Let go,” he said again, this time, more demanding, pushing her over that line they needed to cross. She still didn’t move, though, and without taking his gaze from hers as he looked up at her, he pushed his fingers against the fabric, pushed against her hold, so she had to let go. She heaved in a shuddering breath when he let her blanket slip down, only seeming to push her breasts closer to him.
He feasted his eyes on them first, giving no shame to the hunger he knew was marring his expression. He wanted to kiss them, to take them into his mouth and enjoy every part of that luscious flesh. Gemma shivered, and she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, but he was too focused on her beauty to pay attention. Never before this had he ever really bothered to take it slowly, to care. But this was different. This was his mate who he had just vowed he would protect, love, cherish with every part of himself.
Running his fingers lightly between the valley of her breasts, there was something in the way she moved that begged to be satisfied. She murmured lightly as his hand slipped around her waist, and he pulled her even closer as he took her mouth once more in a hot, languorous kiss that made him feel so full up he could almost declare he was where he was supposed to be. He thought he might just be able to conquer the world. Slipping his hand from her back and up her body to capture one of her breasts, Karl felt Gemma as she held her breath, pausing. It only strengthened his arousal. He was so damn hard for her right then he almost threw caution out the window to bury himself inside, but he gave her breast a firm squeeze and grounded himself.
He went to dip his head down, so desperate to taste her, but her hand clamped on his shoulder, pushing him back. His heart was about ready to stop. It clenched in his chest as he readied himself for another refusal from her. “Let me have this one,” she said. “I need this one.” She didn’t give him time to answer as she pushed against him, forcing him back. She climbed onto his lap, straddling him. “You can have the one after. I just need this.”
The fierce determination in her gaze, in her words, gave him no choice. Pushing against him so he ha
d to lower his hand from her breast and rest it around at her hip, she pushed her body into his, and he could feel the hard taut tips of her nipples against his chest. His heart galloped. It was as if she was looking down at him with a hunger so deep it would threaten to devour them both and he was ready to give in. Ready to let her take what she needed. “Okay,” he said. He slid his hand up her back again, splaying his fingers out confidently in the centre but not so much that she wasn't free to make the movements she wanted.
She positioned herself, her legs clasped around his, the tip of him right at her entrance. She lowered herself, then, making Karl put his head back and a low, deep rumbling moan came from his throat as her body tightened around him and took him all the way in, filling her up. “Oh, God.” She felt so good, so right, so perfectly his. She slid into position, somehow moving her legs and locking them around his waist. He let the blankets go, let them fall and pool around them both as he cupped her buttocks in his hands. She moved against him, rocked on him, putting her head back and shoving her breasts forward so they were in suckable distance from his mouth. He caught one, clamping his teeth down over her nipple and bringing a gasp from her as her body clenched and unclenched again.
“No,” she said as his actions threatened to slow her. “After.” She was so tight, so hot against his body. He wanted her to slow down, needed her to, but she was doing the exact opposite, like she was hungry, starving for something that only this could give her. Her moans grew louder, and her movements grew harsher, like she was trying to push him so very deep inside. She wrapped her arms around his head and thrust her fingers through his hair, holding his face against the silky soft flesh of her breasts, but not giving him a chance to savour them, feast on them … make them his.
“Gemma …”
She shook her head. “Please,” she said as she dug one set of fingers into the back of his shoulders. She dug into his skin in a burst of need and want and pleasure. He could hardly breathe, hardly hold on as his own pleasure grew inside him. He was dangerously close. He needed her to slow, to give him a moment, and she did. Breathless, she let go of his hair and leant down to claim his mouth in a ravaging kiss. She needed something, wanted something, and right then, he was willing to give her anything she asked for. He was at her mercy.
Her face was damp and hot against his, and she moaned against his lips as she moved slower this time. “Gemma?” He wrapped an arm tight around her back, so she had to stop, so she had to look at him. Her eyes sparkled with the reflection of the fire, but they glistened.
She shook her head at him. “Please. Don’t stop.”
Wiping a thumb across her cheek, he went to move with her, to stop whatever this was, but she pressed herself into him again, pressed herself so tight that the tips of her breasts rubbed against the damn surface of his chest and sent his mind off in other directions. He wanted to hold them, to explore them. It was as if she was rubbing against him, inciting him, pleasing them both, but she was almost aggressive with it. She used her teeth on his lower lip when he seemed to hesitate, a warning for him not to stop, and he didn’t, but he bit back, sucking her lip into his mouth, nicking it with the sharp edge of his teeth. He tasted blood, and he froze when she pulled back enough to could lick her tongue over her lip, but she smiled, a wicked, sensual smile as she sucked the wound into her own mouth. “We don’t have to—,” he said, his voice deep, thick with arousal.
“I want to.” Something flicked across her eyes and he realised then that this wasn't Gemma fully in charge, no, this was her tiger … her animal seeking the need from his.
They locked gazes for a fraction of a second and Karl nodded and shuddered, a silent agreement passing between them. His hunger spiked, and he gripped her backside, drew the scent of her into his lungs and waited. She moved, lifting and then back down, taking him deep, making every nerve in his body go haywire. He nuzzled against her, tried to calm her rhythm down, but he gave in, gave into the overpowering scent of her, her control. A moment later, Gemma’s body tensed around his and she thrust her head back, her hands gripping him tightly as her orgasm exploded through her body. It sent his own pleasure crashing through him. It sent his mind to another place, and Gemma became his world, his universe, the very thing he knew he would give his life for.
Chapter 27
Cade
It was still dark outside—still night. Cade rolled onto his back and let out an annoyed snort. He hadn’t yet fallen asleep. His mind was awake, alive and refusing to free him of his thoughts, his torment, his sadness. It didn't matter how long he lay there, how long he fought to get to sleep. He couldn't get himself to cross over to that place people went to when they entered the land of dreams. He sucked in a frustrated breath and held onto the pot that was about to boil over in his mind. He pushed his hip into the mattress and thrust his hand under his pillow, trying to get some semblance of comfort.
For a brief, pleasing moment, Cade forgot the actions of the night before. His words, his promises and his pledge to a woman who wasn't Gemma were all blissfully absent from his mind … for a few seconds at least. Then he remembered like a wave crashing against the shore amid a storm. It churned up his heart until it was in pieces and lay him bare. Opening his eyes again, he stared at the vacant spot in the bed beside him and frowned. Natalie was supposed to be there. She had been there.
He reached out, splaying his fingers across the cool sheet and pressed his hand into the vacant dip of the bed where she had been just before he closed his eyes. Perhaps he had fallen asleep. Maybe his mind had taken him off somewhere. He leaned up on an elbow and squinted at the clock on Natalie’s nightstand. It was just after three in the morning. They had been in bed for five hours, and he’d been trying to sleep for three of them.
“Nat?” He sat himself up and listened for her. His wolf woke, going predatory still too, searching for its mate. The door to the bedroom was closed and dark. There was no faint glow around the edges of it to show she had turned on the landing light. He let himself lie back down and laced his hands across his chest. She’d probably gone to the bathroom. Yet, something inside him niggled and claws raked down his senses. Something wasn't right … didn't fit. His wolf nudged him, pushed him, and created a twist in his gut that sounded alarm bells in his head and urged him to move. He pushed himself up again, and this time he strained his ears. Something like a cough sounded a moment later; it echoed down the hallway. She was in the bathroom, but when the sound came again, Cade realised she wasn't coughing. No. She was unwell.
His jeans hung over the back of the chair in the corner of the room, and when Cade climbed out of bed, he pulled them on. They were dirty, muddy. He’d not bothered to put them back on after the pack run, but he hadn’t bothered to throw them in the laundry either. It didn't matter. He didn't care. He pulled them on to cover his nakedness and padded barefoot out of the room to go to the bathroom. The door was closed.
“Nat?” he said, knocking. “Are you okay?”
He heard movement on the other side of the door, but she didn't open it, didn't answer. The acrid scent of vomit filled the air. It was bitter, sharp, and it made him catch his breath.
“Natalie?” He grabbed the handle and turned it slowly, testing it to see if it was locked. It wasn't. The door opened a touch.
“Don’t come in,” she shot quickly, and the door slammed back into the frame and almost snapped his hand away. “Please.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “Go back to bed.”
“You’re sick.”
Another retch. “Too much wine, I think.”
They’d shared a bottle of wine after their run, after the pack had expected them to run off into the woods and consummate their union. It was what all mating couples did. Cade hadn’t. He could have made himself and pushed himself into it, and he would have if she’d been ready. Her mind had been on the day, on her hurt and all the things they hadn’t yet spoken about. Instead, they come back to the house, sat in
the garden and shared a bottle of wine. They had talked about anything and everything … except the huge white elephant standing between them, but maybe that helped. Maybe it helped to bring a closeness to them.
He gripped the handle and every part of him wanted to go in there and help her, rub her back or something. His wolf wanted its mate. He stayed outside, though, respecting her wishes. “Can I get you anything? Water?”
“No. Just go—” Whatever she was going to say, cut off with the sound of her retching, and a second later, the sound of whatever she was bringing up hitting the bottom of the toilet bowl. Cade gripped the door handle. She wanted privacy, to be alone, but his wolf wanted to go to her, wanted to comfort her and make sure she was okay. Maybe man and beast had separated in his mind, but the wolf recognised her as his, and he wanted to protect her.
The wolf saw both somehow—Gemma and Natalie. It had accepted them, not even as a second place for Natalie. It sought comfort in them, peace. But Cade … the man, his brain fought with his heart and told him it was impossible to love two women … that he could never feel an ounce of what he felt for Gemma, for someone else. Yet, standing on the other side of the door, listening to Natalie, he needed to go to her. Needed to in the same way he would do if it was Gemma. Perhaps if it was Gemma, he would have ignored her refusal for his help. The predator in him knowing exactly how he could push her.
Cade pushed at the door again, anyway, pushed it slowly.
“Don’t,” she sobbed from the other side, but she was too busy being sick to stop him this time. She was sitting on the floor, her legs out at her side. She leant against the side of the bath, shredded tissues in her hand. “Please.” She turned away from him, covered her face. “Don't see me like this.”
“Nat …”
“No.” She waved him away with one shaky hand.
