by Celia Kyle
Cole’s pace stuttered for a moment, his body jerking and cock twitching inside her before he finally sealed their hips together. His warmth flooded her, and she trembled with renewed arousal. Her first orgasm had barely finished and she wanted more.
While she continued to ride the high of her orgasm, Cole struck. Teeth sank into flesh, sharp teeth cutting through skin and clamping onto Stella’s shoulder. He bit hard and deep—his first strike a clean claiming bite. She sensed the tie settling into place, their mating connecting them in a way nothing else could.
He released her wound slowly, careful when he withdrew his fangs and then lapped at the ragged flesh. Instead of rough passion, he gave her gentle healing, touches soft while he cleaned her skin of blood.
Finally he paused and pressed a soft kiss to her ragged shoulder. “Mine.”
Cole turned his head and rested his cheek on her arm, keeping her wound in sight. He lowered his weight onto her, pinning her with his bulk, and she welcomed the pressure. She welcomed the feel of his exhausted body atop her. She caressed his sweat-soaked skin, fingers trailing across his shoulders and teasing his neck.
He remained inside her, his hardness continuing even though they’d both found their pleasure. She wiggled her hips, and she smiled when he moaned in response.
“Woman. You’re gonna kill me,” he growled as if he were angry, and she turned her head and nipped his ear.
“As if little old me could kill you.”
“Mmm…It’d be fun trying. I can imagine my headstone: ‘Here lies Cole Turner. He died with a smile on his face and his dick in his mate.’” He chuckled. “I think that sounds fantastic.”
“I think you really want to die,” she drawled.
Stella placed one foot on the mattress and stroked his calf with the other, the need to caress him overwhelming her. That simple movement was enough to remind her of something. Something that hadn’t been important when lost in the desire for her mate. Now that her itch was scratched though…
“Hey, Cole?”
“Uh-huh.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder and lapped at her mating mark once more.
“Does Birch have other sheets?”
Cole froze and lifted away from her. Amber eyes met hers, and orange and black stripes slithered across his skin—emerging from his pores. “I have my dick in you.”
“Yeah.” It was kinda hard to miss. Big and thick and long and…delicious.
“Don’t say another man’s name while my dick is in you.” He eased his hips back and pushed them forward once more, beginning another round of overwhelming pleasure.
They could talk about Birch and his dirty bedsheets later.
Chapter Thirty-two
Stella woke slowly, body thrumming with the most deliciously wicked hum of pain. She moaned and stretched, legs straight and toes pointed while she lifted her arms until they met the headboard. Muscles she’d forgotten about now throbbed with their strained objection to movement. The skin between her thighs burned, proof that Cole had worshipped her pussy more than once during the night. She was torn between demanding he shave or just enjoying the scrape of his rough cheeks on her sensitive flesh.
Then there was her shoulder…Stella lowered her arms and relaxed her legs while she turned her head to the side. She tipped her head down, and her eyes sought out the scarring he’d caused. There it was, her pale skin now marred with the healing wound—lines and dots of red replacing the white. The pink and red would lessen throughout the day until her mating mark turned into white slivers of a scar.
Any shifter that looked at her—at that mark—would know she was taken.
Her lips twitched, and then the corners of her mouth rose to form a soft, sated smile. Her body had been well used, and she was sore for the most wonderful reasons ever. Life was good. Or as good as it could be while a psychopath and his insanely funded terrorist group remained free. Ugh. She pushed thoughts of those assholes—Unified Humanity—to the back of her mind. She didn’t need UH raining on her newly mated parade.
She rolled to her stomach and stretched again, a bit of her cat coming through as she sat back on her heels, arms extended in front of her. She wiggled and moaned, sinking into the stretch while letting memories from the previous night flood her. Images of when Cole had kissed her there and then nibbled her over there and that thing he’d done with his tongue…She moaned again, body heating with a now familiar craving for the big kitty. It was like one bite made her addicted to the tiger. Now that she’d had him once, she wanted him always.
Except…She opened one eye and then the other, turning her head to scan the room for other occupants. Occupants like a specific tiger she wanted to lick from head to toe. Unfortunately, said tiger—and his toes—weren’t in the bedroom. Bastard. Here she woke all achy and ready for another round and he’d wandered off. Just see if she lifted her tail for him again. Eh, who was she kidding? She’d totally take another ride on the tiger train. But not until she grumbled a bit about it first.
She closed her eyes and slumped onto the mattress into a boneless heap once again. Tipping her head, she listened to the rest of the cabin, searching for any sounds that might announce Cole’s location. At first she heard only the rustle of trees outside, along with the soft twitter of birds. The brush of leaves blown across the yard joined in and then the squeaking chitters of a squirrel came to her.
Lovely to listen to—nature’s early-morning music—but not the one she sought. Which meant, ugh, she’d actually have to get up and go find him. Then, because he hadn’t stayed in bed with her, nor did it sound like he was making her breakfast, she’d shove him into the kitchen and put him to work. Sure, there were probably men who said a woman’s place was in the kitchen, but they didn’t say that after they’d taken a bite out of that woman’s shoulder. His ass could scramble the eggs.
Stella rolled from the bed, grabbing a fistful of sheet and dragging it free of the pile as she stood. Another tug and pull and she somehow managed to drape it across her shoulders. A quick tuck and she had a toga—ish. Well, her pink bits weren’t exposed, at least. Sure, Grant had left them alone, but there was no telling when the big bad wolf would return.
Flashing him seemed unhealthy. For Grant, not her. Cole might glare at her for flashing his teammate, but he’d probably pop Grant’s eyes right out of his head for looking. That shouldn’t give her the warm fuzzies, but it did.
With the sheet dragging on the ground, Stella padded from the room, steps nearly silent on the hardwood flooring. Her movements carried her down the hallway, and she continued to scan her surroundings in search of Cole. At the top of the stairs, she paused and tilted her head once more. Eyes closed, she concentrated and sought any clue to her mate’s location. Her mate. She still couldn’t get over that.
The soft click—of a door opening? or closing?—and the slide of drawer glides reached her. Faint but present and somewhere downstairs. Opening her eyes, she continued on her trek, heading downstairs and pausing at their base.
Mmm…She hadn’t caught the scent upstairs, but now the roasted goodness of fresh coffee lured her onward. She still heard movement on the other side of the great room, a hallway and several bedrooms opposite her, but…coffee. She’d just snag one cup, and then she really would look for her mate. Really.
Stella went left, quickly entering the kitchen and snaring a clean mug off the drying rack. A near full pot of coffee sat on the coffeemaker, and it took her no time to fill her mug. She cradled the now hot ceramic between her palms and blew across the steaming liquid before taking a deep breath. Perfection.
She sipped at the hot coffee, careful not to burn her tongue while she savored the first jolt of caffeine. With a hum, she took another bit into her mouth, rolling the dark brew across her taste buds. She moved to the back entrance, French doors barring the entry, and peered into the backyard. A gust of wind blew a ripple across the lake, reminding her of a stone being tossed into the placid waters. A stone or a fully grown jaguar shifte
r—whatever was at hand.
The sounds from the other side of the house grew louder, a drawer slamming shut instead of merely gliding back into place. She turned, ready to hunt her mate now that she had liquid fortification, but drew up short. She stuttered to a stop and stared at what sat upon the kitchen table. A laptop computer rested on the oak table, the device open and unlocked, displaying the most recent message.
An e-mail.
With an address.
And a single name—Walters.
She glanced at the sender area and saw that it’d come from someone named Grant Bond. She didn’t believe that Grant’s last name was really Bond, but…But could she trust it enough to accept its contents at face value? Had Grant found Walters? Was that his address? Excitement bubbled in her chest, body already preparing for battle by releasing a sudden flood of adrenaline. She’d face off against the human who’d destroyed her family. The human who’d destroyed her life.
Well, first she’d find Cole and then she’d look for Walters. It wasn’t like she could do anything without the big kitty. This would be their first outing as a mated couple. She doubted most couples kicked off mated life with a hunt, followed by a (hopefully) bloody homicide, but she and Cole had met when Stella had a bomb between her tits. This seemed par for the course.
She took one last sip of her coffee and set it aside, leaving it behind as she continued to hunt for her mate. She drew a deep breath into her lungs and followed his scent and the sounds of his movement on the other side of the house. His steps were heavy now—hard. No longer the soft slap of bare feet on hardwood. There was another sound—fabric rustling.
He’d obviously gotten dressed, so he must have been up for a while. Up and preparing to leave. Eh, she could throw on some clothes and put her hair in a ponytail in a second if needed. She wouldn’t be too far behind him if he intended to leave soon.
This hallway was short—shorter than the one upstairs—and she soon found herself in an unfamiliar guest room. Guest room turned armory, anyway. The closet doors were spread wide to reveal a wonderful collection of things that went boom. Two gun safes, dark clothing arranged in a neat row, and body armor filled the space, along with just about any ammunition a gun whore would ever need.
And her mate stood in front of it all, black pants tucked into combat boots, leg holsters strapped on with guns secured. She watched as he reached for another weapon, this one a long blade, which he secured to his calf. Next he pulled on his shirt, thick muscles rippling beneath his skin as he tugged the stretchy fabric into place. He followed that with body armor and then another midnight shirt on top. Damn he was sexy.
Stella licked her lips and cleared her throat. “Hey.”
Cole didn’t stiffen or jolt. So he’d known she was watching. “Hey.”
“I missed waking up with you.” She moved toward him, not stopping until she reached her mate and pressed her front to his back. She expected a little loving. Maybe him turning around to give her a bit of snuggling. She hadn’t expected him to continue getting ready as if she weren’t even there.
“The team has an op.” Curt. Each word bitten off.
“Yeah, I know. I saw the e-mail from Grant.”
Cole froze in place, muscles tightening. “That wasn’t for your eyes.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t have left the laptop open and the e-mail on the screen.” She drew the words out, fighting not to respond to his level of dickdom with bitchville of her own. “How much time do we have? Who’s coming to pick us up?”
She almost asked if she’d get to be a badass secret agent in a helo, but held herself back. Barely. The only thing that kept her quiet was the increasing tension in her mate. With every word, more and more of his muscles knotted until he looked as stiff as a board.
“I have fifteen minutes before I’m being relieved.”
“I?” She furrowed her brow and stepped away, staring at his back. “You’re being relieved?”
He hadn’t even stopped to look at her. “Yes.”
“To be clear…” She couldn’t go to bitchville. They hadn’t been mated long, so she could consider this their first foray into communication. “You’re being relieved? As in, only you, and ‘relieved,’ like I’m a job of some sort?”
He paused and sighed, dropping his head forward while his shoulders fell. “Stella…”
He said her name in that weird condescending, annoyed, frustrated way. As if she was the one in the wrong, or an idiot or…something.
When he didn’t say anything for a while, she spoke up. “Yes?”
“You’re twisting my words.” He finally turned to face her, those blue eyes looking more like a stormy sea than bright skies. “I meant that…Remember, I was assigned to watch over you and…If I took you along, you’d be…”
He still hadn’t finished a complete sentence, but his half sentences were enough to annoy her.
Stella held up a hand. “We’ll move past the ‘relieved’ comment because we don’t have the time for that level of arguing.” Though all bets were off once Walters was handled. “Let’s, instead, focus on your misbelief that I’m staying here while you go off and do your secret agent thing.”
Cole’s frown remained in place. His lips didn’t even so much as twitch with her joke. “Walters is dangerous. You learned that over the weekend. There’s no way I’m going to let you—”
“Let?” Oh. Hell. No.
“Put yourself in danger by tagging along. I’ll handle this. Trust me.”
“Tagging along? Like I’m some little girl in pigtails and ruffled socks?” She shook her head. “Trust you? This isn’t about trust. This is about getting a piece of the asshole who ruined my family.”
“And I’ll do that for you. Walters is dangerous.”
“Life is dangerous. I’m not some weak woman who needs to be coddled. I’ve been taking care of myself since that asshole took my sister and my parents lost it. I snuck into that man’s house with C-4 strapped to my tits, for God’s sake.” She cupped said tits to emphasize her point. “I’m not an accountant attacking a thug with a ten-key calculator like Declan’s mate. I’m an adult. Treat me like one.”
Silence stretched between them, the endless quiet broken by the double honk of a vehicle’s horn.
“I gotta go.” Cole bent toward her, eyes on hers as he drew near. When he would have kissed her lips, she turned her head, accepting a kiss to her temple instead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He stomped toward the doorway, the echo of his boots thudding against the wood floor, giving her his location as he left the house. His pace remained solid and steady. There was no rushing for her mate. No, just fierce determination that led him from the cabin. She listened to the knob turn, the squeak of the hinges as he opened the door, and the thump as it slammed closed once more.
Stella stayed in place, not moving until the roar of an engine reached her, the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway. The rumble faded, Cole leaving her behind to, what? Wait. Worry.
She shook her head. That wasn’t her. She didn’t sit at home and wring her hands, hoping someone else would solve her problems. Cole could leave her behind, but that didn’t mean she’d stay where she was put.
She grabbed a handful of her sheet and swept it behind her as she spun in place. Back straight and filled with renewed determination, she retraced her path with determined strides. She had clothes in the cabin. She’d get dressed and—
The stomp of someone large and heavy climbing the stairs filled the cabin’s living room. She froze in place, gaze fixed on the entry. She held her breath and waited, senses heightened with the arrival of this newcomer.
“Yo, Stella? You here?”
She recognized that voice, though the last time she’d heard it she’d been surrounded by gunfire while trying to save a certain tiger’s ass. Now maybe he could help her kick a certain tiger’s ass.
“Yeah. I’m here. One sec,” she called out, and went to the door to let him in, except it sw
ung open to reveal Pike.
Stella stared at Pike. Pike stared at Stella. So she kept staring at Pike, narrowing her eyes the longer they kept their gazes locked, until finally Pike gave in with a roll of his eyes. He sighed, shoulders slumping and head bowing while he tucked his hands in his pockets.
“You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”
“Nope.”
“You’re gonna make me betray my brother-in-arms, aren’t you?”
“Yup.”
“He’s gonna want to kick my ass, isn’t he?”
“Oh yeah.” She grinned then, smile widening.
“Grant said you wouldn’t take Cole’s shit. And as much as I’m enjoying the view…” Pike leaned out the front door and retrieved a black bag. “He packed you a bag. Same shit the team wears, just smaller.” The wolf looked her up and down, his expression telling her that he was imagining her without the sheet. “And curvier. Sometimes the buckles can be a little confusing. Do you want some help?” His lips quirked in a little smirk, and he winked. “You know, one teammate helping another.”
Stella rolled her eyes. “Down, boy.”
Chapter Thirty-three
The darkness was a welcome partner, the shadows enveloping Cole in a concealing embrace. It hid the rest of the team, too. Each of them hunkered down, motionless among the trees and undergrowth. They surrounded the property, the sprawling ranch-style home dead center and enclosed by forest on three sides. Not the smartest hideaway for a human on the run from shifters. The feral parts of themselves called the untamed wilds home and found comfort in nature. This was their playground.
Cole remained motionless beneath the bushes, protected from the wet ground, dry leaves, and sticks by his dark clothing. Handgun snug against his palm, he was poised to shoot anyone who stood in their way. SHOC Team One had a mission. In truth, they had two missions—one handed down through SHOC’s hierarchy and another agreed upon between his teammates.
