by Leigh Kelsey
I leant across the few inches between our faces to lay a kiss on his jaw, then his lips, and was so damn glad that shifting had wrecked our clothes and brought us back naked as I lowered myself gradually, carefully—I’d seen what sort of weapon he was packing and there was no way I could rush this—onto his length.
The growl that came out of him as the head slipped in … I shuddered hard, clinging to him, my eyes mashed shut at the feeling of being filled, as I waited for my pussy to adjust.
“Lyra,” he groaned, thumbs rubbing tender circles on my thighs. “Lyra, fuck—”
I pushed down a little further, still going slowly, until a few inches were inside me. He was nowhere near in but already my eyes wanted to roll back, already every inch of my body had lit on fire. My stomach expanded with a breath as I used my grip around Jack’s neck, and his hands on my thighs, to lift myself off him and plunge back down.
My breath shot out of my lungs as he slid further inside, his hands digging into my thighs, right over the tattoo I had of a full moon and four silhouetted wolves—my pack. Now, me and my mates.
I blinked open my eyes to look into his deep brown irises and I had to kiss him—it was a need, so strong I had no chance to fight it. He was my mate, my Jack, and I was going to spontaneously combust if I didn’t kiss him. So I did, my fingers interlocked behind his neck as he used his grip on my thighs to move me up and down his cock.
His breathing hitched as we kissed and I felt it, felt his stomach jump against mine, hard muscle skimming my lithe curves.
“Lyra,” he warned, fingers digging into my thighs as I bounced faster up and down his dick. I was so wet now that he slid fully inside and I paused, just for a second, to feel it—that connection, the way we were one being, utterly bonded. I knew he could feel it too because I sensed his shock, then his wonder. The velvet touch of his bond slid around me, warm in my chest.
I kissed him long and hard, moving faster as that bond filled my chest until it felt full to bursting. Gasping into the kiss, I dug my nails into Jack’s muscled shoulders as orgasm built low in my belly.
“I can feel it,” he said, somewhere between a gasp and a pleased growl. “I can feel you.”
My breathing broke the closer I got; I just held him tighter and writhed against him, the tip of his cock so deep inside me it was an unreal, unexplainable sensation I’d never felt before.
“Still okay holding me up?” I asked, breathy.
“Fine,” he bit out, and I knew he was close too, maybe because of my own climax barrelling down on me. “I won’t let you go, Lyra.”
That sounded as much a vow as it was a reassurance that he wouldn’t drop me into the waterfall’s pool. My heart stuttered. I dropped my head onto his shoulder, losing control of my hips and my breathing as climax raced for me. It wasn’t the forceful crash of pleasure that I’d had with Gray but something much, much longer that burned like fire in my body. My back bowed, and only Jack’s grip on my legs kept them locked around him, kept me plunging down on his throbbing cock as I fell apart.
“Lyra,” Jack barked out, and then I felt the rush of his pleasure through the mate bond, wringing another throb from my sensitised pussy as I sagged against him.
True to his word, he didn’t let me fall, but when we’d caught our breaths, he slowly, gently set me down. My bare feet brushed cool stone under the water but my legs gave out and I ended up slumping anyway—right into Cas’s arms as he swept me up.
“Um,” I said, thoroughly dazed. “Cas, I don’t think—”
His deep chuckle cut me off. “I know, Lyra.”
I laid my head against his chest and sighed, cracking my eyes open to check Jack’s legs hadn’t given out too. He was okay, wilted against the curved stone wall a few paces away.
“But—”
“Home,” Cas growled, and it had the ring of an alpha command to it.
I didn’t fight him one bit as he held me against him and carried me to the portal.
NICO
I paced the ridge overlooking the aptly named Bloody Beck near Ravenscar, watching as my Lord met with another shifter Lord—a rare fox judging by the scent coming off him, wet fur, blood, and smoking fire pits. Unlike werewolves, shifters like him could transform at will.
Branches bit into my face, my hands, and tangled in my long, pale hair as I bent my head to watch the two Lords but I didn’t care. I wanted to storm down the incline and let my natural power roll over me, wanted to tear out my Lord’s throat with sharp, canine teeth. These men threatened everything I lived for, every legacy I had ever built, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. The grip of black magic around my chest drew tighter just at the thought of hurting him and I staggered, cutting my palm open on a tree as I grabbed for it to keep my footing.
He knew I was here, listening. He didn’t care. I was bound. Useless. The once great Nicodemus Ashmore, ruined. A slave to a master who’d killed my family, savaged my people, and desecrated my home.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do about it,” my Lord snapped at the other, down in the beck. Light glinted off his shiny black hair as he paced, phantom wings fluttering down his back as his anger corrupted him. “I sent two wolves to claim her and they’ve both gone missing. So the bitch mated herself, so what? How does this change anything? I’ll send more after her.”
“It changes everything,” the other Lord seethed, a quiet voice that chilled me, blood and bone. “She has three mates who will do anything to protect her, and if your spies are telling the truth about the three of them and the shields on their house—”
“You dare to insinuate—”
“Then reaching her physically will not be an option. But I have other means in mind.”
Other means? I held my breath, listening.
They were talking about the Russian wolf—the female whose scent had stunned us days ago. The female whose scent I couldn’t get out of my nose, bergamot and grave dirt. My heart responded at the memory, racing as sweat pricked down my spine. Had I not been bound, I would have responded to that summons, instinct buried deep down answering the call of one so much more important than me, one who needed protecting like rare treasure. Because she was rare treasure, the kind we had not seen in centuries. Even in the two hundred years I’d lived, I’d never known one such as her. And neither had my Lord, or the other shifters.
Precious, I had known. But valuable, others would think. Useful. A tool to be used instead of a woman to be worshipped. Some days it felt like I was the only shifter alive who knew the old ways, who still respected them.
I flexed my hands as the scratches on my face healed, glaring into the beck at the two figures facing one another. They would misuse her the way my sister had been misused. They would manipulate her the way I had been manipulated. Maybe they would trap her and her mates the way I’d been bound by power so dark it didn’t have a name.
“I’m listening,” my Lord said, a sick smile in his voice.
“You still have spies in Whitby, do you not?”
“You know I do, Claudius.”
Claudius. I tucked that name away—any scraps I could find, I collected. My tiny hope at getting free, using their own clever game against them. Next time, I would not be the one tricked and caged. I would hold all the cards, know every secret. Next time I would be the one with the key, and my Lord the one behind bars in his own mind.
Claudius removed something from his jacket pocket. “Deliver this to the bitch. Make sure she wears it for at least a week. And then send your best liar to join her pack. It will make her … compliant.”
My Lord thought about it for a second. “Fine,” he decided. “I will send Stefan.”
No. He wouldn’t. That brute was getting nowhere near the female.
But I didn’t contradict him; I just followed the velvet box exchanging possession with my eyes, marking the crescent moon embossed on its lid. I’d done a good enough job convincing my Lord that I was broken, and lately I’d been doing anyth
ing to please him, carefully weaving the image I wanted him to see: a man desperate for approval and a higher rank among my Lord’s shifter thralls.
Now, an opportunity to move another piece in our game had fallen into my lap. I’d known it would eventually—that’s why I’d been following him.
I would steal the velvet box and deliver it to the female. My Lord would think I was doing it to gain his approval, because I was needy and broken. That would buy me time to work around the black power inside my blood. He’d never know it for the betrayal it was. While the shifter Lords plotted to weaken their enemy, I built my own plan to strengthen her.
LYRA
I recovered my wits as I walked back to the cottage—well, as I was carried to the cottage—the brisk sea wind shaking me out of the pleasure daze I’d fallen into. I couldn’t stop grinning, though. I kept looking at them and thinking, these are my mates. They’re all my mates. Jack—Gray—Cas.
“I can’t believe I laughed at you when you suggested this,” I said in the dark hours of morning, stretching out in bed. His bed. Hazy yellow lamplight bathed his tidy furniture, his neat bed, and the stacks of clothes on shelves opposite us. The whole space smelled of Cas and had me in a cosy, relaxed state. “This is the best idea you’ve ever had.”
“I try,” he replied with a quicksilver grin, a flash that was there and gone. It made my stomach flip to see it. I felt … giddy.
“Come here,” I said, holding out my hands. Cas’s eyes softened as he crawled across the bed but I reached out and plucked the plate from his hands. He barked a surprised laugh. “The cake, Casimir. The cake.”
If anything, his silver eyes just got softer. He settled in beside me, pulling the covers over himself. Pyjamas—Cas slept in pyjamas. Well pyjama pants, a deep maroon check pattern in the softest brushed cotton. It was freaking adorable. He was huge, barrel chested, and with his tattoos and alpha-ness, he gave off serious don’t fuck with me vibes. But even with his chest bare, he looked so normal right now, so soft and cuddly. Like the polar bear I often compared him to.
I sighed as I dug into the huge slice of triple chocolate cake with a fork, moaning in bliss as it met my tongue.
“If you make noise like this,” Cas said in a low voice, “I will not control myself. You will not finish cake.”
I was sorely tempted to moan outrageously with the next bite but I couldn’t risk losing the cake. Even after the meal we’d eaten when we got back sometime after two a.m., I was still hungry. I guess that’s what happened when you hunted three wolves and had crazy-good sex with two of your mates. I devoured the rest of the outrageously chocolatey slice in silence, set the plate aside, and snuggled into the pillows.
Sex was one thing but this … this was something else. I turned to the side to just look at Cas, that grin fixing itself to my lips again. His icy-blond hair was rumpled, the sides needing shaving again—but finding time for that between fighting rogues, running the Moonlight, and taking care of us would be nigh on impossible. I met his liquid silver eyes and—frowned. Creases and shadows circled them. I lifted a hand to gently trace those shadows, my heart melting when his eyes drifted shut.
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
“Three hours,” he replied. His voice … I’d never heard him sound like this. It was a quiet, night-time voice, any masks and strength stripped away. It felt a lot like something private, and that he was showing me this side of him … it was a gift. “I’m fine, Lyra.”
“You’re exhausted,” I sighed. “You should have had some of my cake. The sugar wouldn’t hurt.”
He smiled, his eyes opening. “You are worried.”
“Yeah,” I said, laughing through my nose. “No shit.”
He shook his head, hair ruffling on his pillow. “You are rude.”
“Yup.” I shrugged, smiling wide. “You’re stuck with me now. Mate bond—no take backs.”
His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me in close. His scent—pines and oak trees and wolf fur—curled around my senses and I sighed, relaxing into his chest. “I am stuck with you and happy.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Me too.”
We were quiet for a while, but a good quiet—a restful, mutual kind.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his arms loose around me as his fingertips mapped my bare shoulder.
I took a breath, letting my thoughts run and trying to find the answer among them. “Yeah? I mean, I think so. I’m fine with the mating bonds, and all of this. I just … I’m still pissed about the red pulse and the lone wolves.”
“Still scared,” Cas corrected.
“Both,” I conceded, tipping my head up to look at him and propping my chin on his chest. “What about you? Other than being exhausted, how are you?”
His thumb came up to brush the delicate skin of my cheekbone. “Happy. Relieved.” His eyes flickered. “Angry. I want to know why they hunt you.” He met my eyes, his hand cupping my jaw. “I am happy, Lyra. You are meant to be my mate.”
“Right? We should have mated months ago.” I glanced away. “I’ve wanted to for a while.”
“A while?” he repeated.
“Fine,” I spat. “For a year. Maybe two. It’s fine, don’t dwell on it.”
His laugh warmed me, a long, rolling chuckle. “I felt same. My wolf tells me to claim you.”
“Maybe you should have listened,” I grumbled, shoving his shoulder.
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes on me incredibly soft. “It was meant to be this way. Stara miłość nie rdzewieje.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “And for those of us who don’t speak Polish…”
His lips curled on the edges, the gentlest smile I’d ever seen on his face. “Old love does not rust. This love is … stuck, always, with no end.” The little scrunch between his eyebrows told me he was struggling for a word.
“Permanent?”
“Yes.” His eyes lit up. “Yes, Lyra. My love is permanent. Waiting, it did not change it, make it less.” He skimmed my jaw with the pad of his thumb, his other arm still holding me close. “But waiting … I think maybe was planned.”
“By your god?” I asked. Unlike me, with my hazy belief in a higher power, Cas was staunchly religious, and his faith was unshakeable.
“By my god,” he agreed. “Things happen the way they happen.”
I nodded, setting my head down on his chest. “For a reason.”
“Yes.”
“You think I was always supposed to mate you three, at once?” I shivered at the feeling of his hands brushing through my hair. So, fucking, good.
“I do.”
“Hmm.” I wasn’t sure what to believe, but I wasn’t complaining about the current state of my love life. “I guess all that matters is it did happen.”
“Yes.” He paused. “That’s wise. Strange, for you.”
I poked him in the ribs. “Now you are rude.”
His deep rumble of a laugh made my belly fill with butterflies. I felt, again, like I was seeing a side of him that very few did. “Sorry, my Lyra.”
I could stand to hear that again a few million times. My Lyra. I propped myself up on my elbows, smirking down at him. “Yours, huh?”
“Yes.” His voice brooked no argument.
“Alright then, alpha. Why don’t you prove it?” We still had to consummate the bond between us. It had been in the back of my mind for the past hour or so, distracting me even from my giant plate of food, if not the cake.
He moved so fast I shrieked, rolling me under him and pinning me to the bed with his considerable strength. I gasped, grinning.
“Do not challenge me, Lyra,” he warned, dipping down to speak into my ear. “You are mine now.” His hand slid down my waist to grab my hip. “I will make world black out around you.”
Holy fucking shit.
I was so breathless, I couldn’t respond.
LYRA
Our first full day of being mated went without incident, if you didn’t count Cas fucking my
brains out an incident. No—fucking wasn’t the right word for it. The whole time, he’d kissed me or kept eye contact or whispered words of adoration, his hands placing reverent touches on my face, my breasts, my stomach as he thrust slow and deep into me.
He made love to me, and I’d never, in my life, had an orgasm quite like it. Less physical than a kiss laid on my soul. My breathing had shattered, my body twitching as pleasure tore through me … and I’d cried. And immediately sworn Cas to secrecy about it, even as he kissed the tears away and murmured to me in a languid mix of Polish and English.
I definitely classed that as an incident. But today? No attacks, no lone wolves, nothing out of the ordinary. So maybe there was something to Cas’s theory that having three mates would keep me safe.
I wasn’t holding my breath.
I’d curled up on the couch with my mates for most of the day, Jack holding me from behind, my feet on Gray’s lap, and Cas sat on the floor where I could run my fingers through his hair while we watched Netflix. This was new, but it was instinct to be close to them, touching and showing affection. This was what wolves did.
I’d spent the second half of the day crammed into a tiny basement room with fifty other people, watching Screaming Cerberus howl through a set-list. The Cellar stank of stale beer and smoke-machine fog and the sound was a bit dodgy, but it felt a lot like home in the same way the Moonlight did.
Or maybe that was the music, vibrating through my ribcage as Rhiannon, their lead singer, howled about injustice and love. Mostly in separate songs but sometimes all at once. I sipped a JD and Coke, watching Gray beat the shit out of his drum kit, his face drenched in sweat and his hair tied in a knot on the back of his head. Ever since we’d mated, my emotions kept doing unexpected things. As I watched Gray, I felt a surge of pride at my man.
