by L. L. Raand
“What are you afraid of?” Sylvan said.
Drake pushed up on the pillows, and Sylvan rolled to her side, bracing on an arm to watch her as they spoke. Drake’s eyes often told her even more than her words.
“What we saw out there in the Snowcrest territory—those abominations were sent to test our strength,” Drake said. “That can’t be the end of it.”
Sylvan gritted her teeth. “I know. But right now, the enemy is faceless, and all we can do is prepare.”
“The Snowcrest Pack is vulnerable,” Drake said. “They might be safer if we annexed them.”
“I thought of it, but Zora is a strong young Alpha and a capable leader. I know her and her imperator, Loris. He’s not a wartime general, but he will become a strong tactician with good advisors. I would rather see Snowcrest stronger and keep them as independent allies. If we annex them, even for their own safety, we will create enmity between our Packs and possibly reprisals from other Pack leaders.”
Drake sighed. “I agree with you, if we have time.”
“You forget that our two Packs have already begun to form alliances.” Sylvan smiled ruefully. “More than alliances. Ash and Jace are mated. One of them will have to choose.”
“Jace will never renounce her ties to the Timberwolves,” Drake said.
Sylvan’s eyes flashed gold and her canines gleamed. “Nor would I want her to.”
Drake leaned over and nipped at Sylvan’s lower lip. “You are possessive, Alpha.”
Sylvan grinned and ran her hand down the center of Drake’s body, closing between her legs. She squeezed and Drake’s eyes sparked, glittering silver and gold flecks dancing across the midnight. Drake readied again beneath Sylvan’s hand as she stroked her. Drake closed her eyes and arched her back, firm and full beneath Sylvan’s fingers.
“Again?” Sylvan whispered.
“Now,” Drake ordered and Sylvan squeezed. Drake emptied into her hand, and Sylvan’s belly tightened.
Drake turned swiftly and caught Sylvan by surprise, her bite on Sylvan’s chest arrowing through her so forcefully, Sylvan roared. Then Drake was between her thighs, mouth on her again, pulling her deep.
Sylvan pushed herself up on her elbows and watched while Drake sucked her until she emptied with a helpless howl. She fell back, panting, the mate bite throbbing to the beat of the blood pounding through her clitoris.
Drake looked up, smiling. “I’m somewhat possessive myself.”
Sylvan gasped, “I noticed.”
A wave of alarm, broadcast from the Pack, rolled through the room, and Sylvan alerted. Drake sat up.
“The centuri are coming.” Sylvan leapt from the bed and vaulted from the room.
Drake followed, pulling on pants and a T-shirt on the way outside. Jonathan and Dasha strode into the clearing.
“What is it?” Sylvan demanded.
“A portal opened outside our gates,” Dasha said with unusual formality. “A contingent of royal Fae guards bearing the Queen’s banner and a flag of peace requests an audience with the Alpha.”
Chapter Four
Snowcrest Training Yard
When the exercises ended and the cadets slowly dispersed from the field, Trent lingered along with Ash and Jace.
“Our cadets handled themselves well,” Ash said. “A few more weeks, and they’ll be combat ready.”
“We may not have weeks,” Jace said quietly. “And we do not have enough warriors to withstand even a moderate assault.”
“Then we’ll escalate the training schedule,” Ash said, her jaw tightening.
“We need to take them into the field,” Trent said, “in order to truly test their battle worthiness. Simulated combat is not enough.”
Ash folded her arms across her chest. “Are you suggesting simulated assaults on our Weres?”
Trent smiled, letting her canines show. Ash technically outranked her, but she had the advantage of being a veteran combat leader. She wouldn’t let a little dominance difference prevent her from getting the Snowcrest soldiers battle-ready. Alpha Mir would be disappointed if that happened. Worse, so would Zora. “No, I was suggesting actual assaults. Ambushes, attacks on multiple fronts, overwhelming odds. Your soldiers need to be shocked, stressed, faced with things they’ve never encountered before. One-on-one, they’re good fighters. Not yet as good as they need to be, but that’s not enough in the face of experienced opposition. They’ll break ranks and be overrun.”
Glowering, Ash glanced at Jace. Jace lifted her shoulder and nodded.
“The lieutenant makes a point,” Jace said. “Your soldiers are used to patrolling alone or in pairs on your frontier, or guarding your home territory. But they need to be able to work as cadres, in units, thinking and moving as one with a single leader in charge, and a clear chain of command. And not just that—they need to be confronted with challenges they’ve never faced before.”
Ash grunted. “We’re talking about Weres forced into situations where they will feel threatened and potentially dominated by strangers in their own territory. They’re going to become aggressive. We’re going to have challenges in the midst of battle fever.”
“If being confronted in the field unbalances them, affects their ability to reason, all the better,” Trent said. “Better it happens with us than with what we faced out there when the veil between the realms dissolved.”
“I’ll advise the Alpha.” Ash’s gravelly tone registered her unhappiness with the plan.
“Good.” At the mention of Zora Constantine, Trent’s gut tightened. Anticipation and an unexpected territorial surge of possessiveness burned through her like wildfire. Ash was the captain of Zora’s guard, second only to the imperator in the chain of command. She was close to Zora, a trusted advisor and confidant. Ash would be alone with the Alpha, and the Alpha’s call still rolled in the air. Trent growled, and Jace gave her a look.
Ignoring Trent’s attitude, Ash ran a hand down the back of Jace’s neck and squeezed lightly. “I’ll catch up to you in a little while.”
Jace stroked one hand down the center of Ash’s torso with the certainty of ownership. “Good. I’ll be waiting.”
As Ash strode away, Jace’s hungry gaze followed her.
Trent said, “I’ll be inside, working on the training plans.”
Still watching her mate, Jace said, “Whatever you’re thinking, you should rethink it.”
“I’m not thinking anything,” Trent said.
Jace pivoted, her blue eyes, laser like, flickering with the lingering shades of her wolf. “That’s my point. Your wolf is doing the thinking, and not much of that. Zora Constantine is the Alpha.”
Trent’s jaw ached as her canines throbbed, her wolf pushing to the surface, bristling at the challenge. “I know who she is.”
“Do you know what the senior wolves in this Pack would do to you if you tried to answer her call?”
“I’m not afraid of any of them.” Trent growled.
Jace rolled her eyes. “Of course you’re not. You’re a Timberwolf.”
Trent grinned, and Jace laughed, shaking her head. “You can’t take on half a dozen dominant wolves who aren’t going to want you anywhere near their Alpha.”
“That would be for her to say.”
“Then you’ll have to wait for an invitation. You know that, don’t you?”
Trent’s wolf bristled. She wasn’t passive, and she wasn’t fearful. “You don’t have to worry.”
Jace slung an arm around her shoulders. “I’m not worried, not about you. But Alpha Mir will not be happy if we start a diplomatic crisis in the midst of a coming war.”
“I know my duty.”
Jace jostled Trent with her shoulder as they walked. “I’m not questioning your duty. I’m questioning your judgment when you let your wolf lead you around by your glands.”
Trent chuckled. “You should know.”
“Believe me, I do.”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Trent asked. “I think your mate
was inviting you for a tangle.”
“Oh, she was,” Jace said, her voice dropping low. She paused in front of the dormitory. “And I plan to find her right now. Try not to get into any trouble.”
“I wouldn’t think of it.” Trent waited as Jace turned and loped across the commons in the direction where Ash had disappeared. Once Jace was out of sight, she altered direction away from the dormitory and toward the one-story building where Zora could usually be found when she was within Cresthome. No guards stood at the door or on the porch that wrapped around the front and one side of the unassuming L-shaped headquarters. No one took notice of her approach. The commons was fairly empty in the late morning, with those who resided there either on patrol or traveling throughout the territory on Pack business. Trent took the three stairs up to the porch in one bound and entered through the main door. The short stone-floored hallway inside branched immediately on the right down the long, narrow L portion of the building where the infirmary and meeting area were located. Off to the left, an archway led into a large common area occupying the entire front of the building. A huge stone fireplace on the far wall held a simmering fire. Three sofas arranged at right angles in a square sat in front of it, all empty at the moment. A door in the rear led to Zora’s office. Trent crossed the room and stepped into the doorway.
The Alpha was behind her desk, a stack of papers by her left hand and a computer on her right. She looked up, no hint of surprise in her face. She would have sensed Trent coming. She would have known anyone who approached by scent and sound.
“What is it?” Zora asked.
“Did Ash speak to you about field maneuvers?”
“No.”
“Then I should wait until she does.” Trent held as still as she was able under the barrage of pheromones battering her senses. Zora exuded so much power, Trent nearly choked on it. Her skin shimmered and her sex pounded painfully. She’d thought she was prepared for Zora’s call, but she’d been wrong.
“That’s not why you’re here.” Zora rose, circled the desk so quickly Trent didn’t see her move, and then she was inches away. “Is it, Lieutenant?”
Zora traced a single blunt fingertip along the edge of Trent’s jaw.
Shivering, Trent caught her breath. She’d never seen anyone except her own Alpha move that way. Faster than the eye could follow. Zora’s heat washed over her and her skin prickled. Her sex tightened, and she readied instantly. Already so close. She tilted her chin and exposed her throat.
“You know what you offer?” Zora growled.
“I know,” Trent said.
Zora reached past her, yanked the door closed, and pressed closer until Trent’s back struck the rough wooden planks. Zora’s thigh was between hers, Zora’s hands pressed flat against the door on either side of her shoulders, her breasts a firm weight against Trent’s. Trent panted, her instinct to clash and claim, to drag Zora down, to tear her clothes away and mark Zora as hers a white hot flame obliterating all thought. Zora’s mouth was on her throat, the brush of canines so piercingly sweet, she whimpered. Zora didn’t break the skin, didn’t bite her. But Trent wanted her to.
“Answer me,” Zora commanded. “Do you know what you’re offering?”
“Anything,” Trent murmured. “Everything.”
“No.” Zora slashed the button from Trent’s fly and ripped her pants open. The button rolled across the floor, the sound like thunder. Trent stiffened and her head banged back against the door. Zora slid a hand down her belly and between her thighs. She cupped her, hard and demanding, and Trent’s clitoris spasmed. Her hips bucked. Another tug of Zora’s fingers around her clitoris, and she would spend. Her chest heaved with every breath. Her wolf clawed at her insides. Canines throbbing, she held her wolf back.
Zora stroked her mercilessly, each firm, expert stroke massaging her glands and forcing her pheromones to pour through her blood.
“Zora,” Trent gasped. “I’m going to…”
“I know,” Zora murmured, threading her fingers through the hair at the back of Trent’s neck. Holding Trent’s head with her throat exposed, Zora claimed Trent’s mouth, her kiss deep and probing and powerful. Her breath was hot, her mouth a perfect fit as her canines grazed Trent’s lower lip.
Trent’s stomach turned to stone. Abruptly Zora relinquished her teasing grip on Trent’s clitoris and slid inside her. Trent bucked against her hand, releasing in shattering bursts of unbearable pleasure. Her trembling legs buckled, and Zora clasped her shoulder with her free arm as Trent slumped to the floor.
Trent stared up, wild to touch her. Zora loomed above her, eyes slashed with gold and canines gleaming. The bold, stark line of Zora’s jaw quivered as she strained for control. Trent wanted, needed to break Zora’s iron grip on her reason. She grasped Zora’s hips and jerked Zora tightly between her thighs. Her blood surged into her loins, every ounce of her essence rushing to fill her sex. All she needed was Zora’s bite for the ultimate release.
Zora held herself away, apart, her body poised on rigid arms above Trent’s, her face fierce and beautiful. Trent raked her blunt claws down Zora’s back, dragged her shirt free of her pants, and found skin. Zora rumbled, a sound of pleasure and need. Trent slid a hand between them, groped for Zora’s pants, and Zora pushed her hand away.
As quickly as Zora had taken her, she was gone. Trent scrambled to her feet and had to brace an arm against the wall when a wave of dizziness coursed through her. She was spent, emptied. And Zora had not finished.
“You can ride me until you release,” Trent said. “I won’t bite you.”
“I wouldn’t let you.”
“I know. Then take…”
“I did. I took you. You may go now.”
Trent bristled, pride and frustration warring with her instinctual need to obey an Alpha Were.
“As you will, Alpha.” Trent bit off the words, spun on her heel, and yanked open the door. She caught herself at the last second and closed it without slamming it. She had known what she was offering, and Zora had taken only that and no more. Zora had taken her with a quick tangle—satisfying the most basic of needs—to release tension and aggression and blunt the powerful storm of threat hormones. Any Were would have sufficed. Trent just happened to be there.
And that’s what burned in Trent’s gut as she reached the porch and leapt down into the commons, her shirt loose and her pants open to an inch over her groin where Zora had slashed them open. She had been convenient. She had been willing, yes, but she’d wanted more. She’d wanted Zora to need the way she had needed. She’d wanted…Zora.
* * *
Zora let out a long breath. Trent had left. Slumped in her chair, the tightness in her gut made it hard to breathe and her sex throbbed around her painfully tense clitoris. She’d held back her release, fearing that at the moment when her passion overrode reason, she would take Trent completely. She’d been so close to burying her canines in Trent’s throat, to tasting her, to filling her, sex to sex, and emptying over her again and again. She twisted a fist into her cramped stomach, trying to ease the coiled need that pounded through her loins. Body and blood burned with the relentless pressure in her glands until she dipped her hand inside her trousers and squeezed her sex. The instant agony of pleasure and pain shot down her thighs and forced her eyes closed. Grunting harshly, she massaged her sex, her stomach a tight board, her chest a vise preventing a full breath until her head was light. Relentlessly, she squeezed and stroked until with a swift jolt that wracked her body and brought a snarl to her lips, her clitoris spasmed. The series of tremors in her sex was a weak substitute for what she really needed, but the engorgement subsided enough that she could breathe again. Her wolf rebelled, slashing her with tooth and claw until sweat broke out on her neck and torso. Her wolf wanted more. She wanted more. Needed more. But that need would pass. Like always.
Sensing Ash approaching the door, she quickly straightened. “Come.”
“Alpha,” Ash said apologetically as she entered, stopping b
efore Zora’s desk. “Sorry to interrupt.”
“You’re not,” Zora said, ignoring the swift probing glance Ash cast over her face before looking to one side to avoid meeting her gaze directly. She’d known Ash since they were adolescents, testing their skills and strength against all comers, including each other. When Zora had stood challenge against the handful of Weres who did not accept her as her father’s heir, Ash had been the first to voice allegiance, even before Loris. Ash was the closest Were she had to a friend. But friendship was secondary to the needs of the Pack, to the order of rule, and Ash knew that. “What is it?”
Ash grimaced. “The Timberwolf lieutenant thinks our soldiers will panic in an actual firefight.”
Zora bristled. “Trent said that?”
“Not in so many words, but her meaning was clear.” Ash sucked in a breath. “Jace pointed out that our soldiers are not trained to defend against an organized assault. She agreed that our teams may fracture if challenged with overwhelming odds or if the kind of…things…we fought from the Otherworld appear again.”
Rising, Zora strode to the window and shoved it wide, letting the cool air quell some of the heat of her temper along with her lingering arousal. No Alpha wanted to hear an outsider like Trent—an emissary of a stronger, more powerful Pack—deem their Pack weak. Trent’s assessment was a threat to Snowcrest sovereignty, and by rights she should be expelled from Snowcrest territory. Loris would surely demand it.
“Who else heard the conversation?”
“No one.”
Zora faced her. “Your opinion.”
Ash hesitated.
“Captain?” Zora snapped.
“We haven’t had to develop the combat teams we need to fight the kind of enemies we faced recently. Our soldiers will fight valiantly, and they won’t panic.” Ash straightened her shoulders. “But we may incur unnecessary losses unless we prepare them.”
“Then that’s what we will do,” Zora said. “What did the Timberwolf suggest?”
Ash recited Trent’s recommendations, and calmer now, the lust and need tempered by her responsibilities, Zora listened. Trent was too arrogant for her own safety in suggesting that the Snowcrest Weres would fail in battle, but she was also right. They needed every advantage more experience could give them.
