Greyriver Shifters

by Kristina Weaver

  “Not cool, Brig.”

  “Totally cool,” he mumbles, rising to his feet slowly. “You’ll understand soon, Bee.”

  “I don’t understand now, you bastard! Dammit Brig, don’t do this to me. Don’t walk in here again, say soft words and express regret, and leave me feeling alone. I don’t want to be alone!” I yell, rising to my feet and lunging at him.

  I hit his chest with a yell, my fists pummelling him, my breath gasping out in sobs, as I slap and hit and try to work out all of my anger on him. I want to hurt him so much, just a little, so he can feel what I feel right now, but nothing I do makes a difference.

  He’s big and muscular and every hit feels like I’m slapping and punching at a brick wall.

  I keep hitting though, panting hard, crying nonsensical words that make no sense and serve no purpose other than to show how weak I am. Crying out my frustration, I feel myself slow and weaken, my hands falling against his chest when I slump, crying tiredly.

  “I hate you. Why couldn’t you just be different? Why couldn’t you love me back and save me, Brig? I don’t care if I’m not your Fated. I’m good enough. I would have loved you enough to make that not mean a thing. It would have not…meant a thing,” I moan, falling into him when all the energy in me flags and disappears.

  “God help me! I do!” he says and groans, his alcohol soaked breath touching my lips, the heat and desperation I feel holding me still when he kisses me, pulling me up and into his body. “I do. I love you so much I’m crazy with it!”

  I should fight him, slap him, push him away because he’s hurting me again, taking me and making me crave more. I don’t though. I can’t. I want just one more moment with Brig before I have to let him go.

  It is wrong. I know it’s wrong, but it feels so right when I close my lips over his and thrust my tongue into his mouth. I taste the liquor on his breath, that sweet flavor that only seems to happen with Brig, and right now that is all I will let myself know.

  Kissing him harder, deeper, I ignore the stillness in him and take what I want, not caring that he’s not kissing me back, even when my cougar snarls a sound of pain.

  My tongue tingles where it strokes against his, the wet slide making me pulse, the arousal I know from just one touch blasting through me and setting my pulse alight as my sex gets hot and wet.

  Once more. Just once more, I think pressing my breasts against him and saliently begging him to kiss me back, feel me, smell me, want me.

  Please. Please Brig, just want me one more time.

  Chapter Twenty

  Brig

  I’m frozen in place, my mind reeling with shock, even as my body thunders to life and everything inside me roars victory, success, possession.

  I should not, absolutely should not, kiss Beebee back or take her ass in my hands and rub her sex against my achingly hard cock. I shouldn’t shove my tongue into her mouth and suck on hers. I shouldn’t twist her hips at a slight angle so that I can stroke my cockhead over her clit, but that is exactly what I do when she starts grinding all over me, whimpering and begging me with her body to touch her.

  Oh, sweet Jesus, have mercy on me, please, I beg when I pin her against the wall and keep devouring her mouth, the heated musk of her sex rising and filling the air around us with her scent.

  I draw it into my lungs, snarling when the sweet taste her mouth gives off invades my senses, mixing with the scent to make me harder, the tip of my cock leaking cum into my boxers.

  “Hhhmm, Brig. Please.”

  I swallow her moans, shoving my tongue back into her mouth, sucking her tongue harder because I can’t not do it. I want that taste, her very essence inside me, part of her blending into my blood even if it’s just the taste of her.

  Grunting, I squeeze her ass, pulling her legs open even more so that I can grind down harder, get closer, feel her heat pulse into me through our clothes.

  My dick is so hard now, so desperate for contact with her silky skin, that I can’t wait anymore. Hoisting her legs higher, I drop to my knees and twist, laying her on the blankets.

  The move rubs us up against each other and makes her moan, her mouth opening wider, kissing harder against mine. I need to calm, stop, think, but all I can do when she licks and sucks at me is give her more.

  I want it all right now, just once more with Beebee, just once more before she knows for certain that I’m a liar and hates me even more. I pull my mouth away despite her protests and the sharp dig of her nails in my scalp.

  Moving down, I latch onto her neck, right where it meets her shoulder and lick over the almost non-existent mark, aching to make it deeper, so deep that everyone will see it the moment they look at her and know that she is mine. Always.

  I groan when she gasps and the smell of her reaches me, her arousal growing stronger and thicker in the very air I breathe. I want to immerse myself in her, drown in her, carry her all over my body and be covered so that I don’t ever lose her completely.

  That’s not possible. Maybe I won’t ever have this again, but I can have this time out of time, and so I give it my all, using my hands to undress her, the darkness hindering my sight of her and yet making it more because now I feel her.

  Running my hands up from her feet, I skim her smooth legs, up and over her thighs, forcing myself to bypass her sex and move on to her belly, where I stop to stroke her navel.

  Beebee tenses, her muscles going tight, and gasps when I lean down to press my mouth to her skin. I doubt she knows why I pay homage, but for me it’s enough to spend a moment acknowledging the young that already means so much to me.

  “Brig.”

  Moving up with a smile, I close my hands around her breasts, my own groan muffled in my chest when I feel the slight change there in their size. I want to see her nipples so badly, very badly, to inspect the color and size.

  I use my mouth instead and feel her go hard and tight at the tips, her moan moving through me. I suckle there, taking her into my mouth, licking and biting softly when she groans and runs her hands through my hair, pressing me closer while her legs part, opening her body in invitation.

  “Please, Brig! Oh God, stop teasing me. Please touch me!” she pleads, her cries falling on me like hammer blows.

  I’ll give her what she wants. God, I always want to give her what she wants. My hand moves down, pushing through the humid heat of her sex, sliding over her bud, her soft skin, down to her entrance where she is ‘mella’, drenched with her own need.

  In our old language, it is an honor, a miracle, to find a female who soaks you with her arousal, and I am honored, almost crazed with it, as I pull away and fall between her legs to lick her, my own growls echoing around us when her taste fills me and coats my cheeks, bathing me in her juices.

  “Oh. Yes. There. Please. Suck me!” she gasps, pressing her sex tight against me.

  I obey, using my mouth to lick, suck, eat at her the way I would a delicious treat. God, she’s delicious. When she’s writhing against me and trying to smother me with her sex, I lick down and up, shoving my tongue into her as deep as I can go, groaning when she tightens on the muscle and her taste bursts even stronger on my tongue.

  Oh Christ, I want to do this, savor her, but my cock is already so hard and painful I don’t think I can do—

  “Take me! Oh! Do it! Now!”

  Her yells are like a provocation I can’t ignore, and before I know it, I’m up and over her, pushing every inch of me into the wettest sheath I have ever felt.

  Oh Christ. Fuck. Hell.

  Gritting my teeth, I try to slow myself, wanting to stop and feel her clenching around me. I can’t though, not when she moans her enjoyment and pulls her legs higher, sending me into her at an angle that has me seeing stars.

  I thrust, hard, fast, in and out in a rhythm that is brutal and so sweet I feel my balls go hard and tight with impending release.

  No, Brig. Hold off. Let her go first.

  Her sex is molten, hotter than normal, and a sign of her pregnan
cy that drives me wild with lust. I want to fuck, make love, devour her. I want to thrust and stroke into this tight heat, feel her wetness covering me all over and come so deep inside her she’ll scent of me for days.

  Fuck!

  I pull out as soon as the thought hits me, my body screaming when her heat is gone and no longer sucking at my length.

  “Brig!”

  I can’t leave my scent in her. It’s all I can manage to think while I try to calm myself and stop from going back in, the thick length dripping with her. I want nothing more than to push back in and thrust until she comes around me and I blow, letting off jet after jet of my release in my female, leaving my mark and scent where it belongs.

  I can’t though. If I come in Bee, they will smell it immediately, and I can’t risk that. Just another day, I tell myself, as I lean down and press my length to her slit, using the shaft to rub against her in a mockery of what I really want to do.

  She moans, clutching at me, sliding herself against my length as I kiss her to stop the flow of pleas I know I won’t be able to resist. Pushing close, I almost come when I feel her pulse against the root of my dick, the opening of her sex trying to suck me in again.

  I can’t, but Jesus, how I want to.

  Thrusting faster, harder, I focus on her clit and almost roar my sense of loss when she bows up beneath me and orgasms, her sex gushing liquid heat against my root that I would give anything to have felt around my shaft.

  Her orgasm triggers my own, and I pull away, latching my mouth to her as I keep my cock far away and come on the blankets while I drink her pleasure down.

  The climax is strong, hard, and goes on for as long as it takes for me to lick Beebee clean and fall against her, my cheek pressed to her mound while we both pant and try to breathe again.

  I want to stay here forever, my face pressed to her, my body replete, but I know it isn’t meant to be when she runs gentle hands through my hair, stroking me in ways that are bound to break down the walls I still have to keep in place.

  Christ, I want to stay and let her love on me some more, but to do so would lead to more, so much more than I can give right now.

  “This was a mistake. I didn’t mean to do this when I came down here.”

  I intended to think the words but find them tumbling out of my mouth, making Bee stiffen and shove at me, her body rolling free of mine so fast my head hits the floor with a thud.

  I can feel her anger, the bitter scent creeping out to mingle with her own scent, pushing out the arousal that’s clouded my mind and replacing it with regret.

  “Bee—”

  “Get out of here, Brigger,” she says through gritted teeth, shuffling to the furthest corner when I come to my feet and reach out.

  Her rejection cuts me deep, makes my chest go hot and tight.

  “Beebee—”

  “Oh God, just get out! Get out of here! Get out. Please just go!” she screams, the moan of despair I hear so strong that I go still and stay where I am, swallowing the bitter taste of regret that fills my mouth.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  “You didn’t this, you didn’t that. I didn’t… Blah, blah, blah. It’s all the same shit with you, Brig. You burn hot and then freeze up the minute you realize what you’re doing. It’s been this way since we were kids! Kind one minute, mean as a snake the next when those friends of yours were around to see it. You want me, and then you don’t. You touch me, and then you push me away. It’s all the same, and you know what, I’m done. I have a trial to mentally prepare for!” she yells and then snorts sarcastically, her voice laced with bitterness. “Just leave me alone. Go upstairs, plot some more ways to hurt people with that friend of yours and just leave me in peace to reconcile myself to death,” she says tiredly.

  “You aren’t—”

  “I said go. Go away! You’re not my friend; you’re my enemy; and it’s time I fucking started remembering that.”

  The words pierce me, hurt in ways I cannot describe fully, and instead of saying the words that are burning on my tongue, I turn away and leave her cell, clicking the lock back into place as I harden myself and leave a part of me in there with her.

  So close, Brigger. Don’t fuck this up now.

  # # # #

  Beebee

  The tears fall as soon as I hear him walk away from the door, the pain that is festering deep inside me bursting forth in shaking streams of bitter pain. I don’t make a sound though; I don’t think I have enough air to do it, but I do crumble to my knees, my legs giving out as hurt engulfs me.

  Jesus, I am so stupid, so foolish and needy that I convinced myself for a few moments that this is exactly what I want and need. In truth, the more I have of Brig, the less sure I am of anything anymore, so how would I know what I want or need.

  If things were ideal, I would want and need him to be with me always. That’s just what happens when you love a male and your heart belongs to him.

  What I need is for him to love me back and not come down here out of guilt to drink and make me feel sorry for him when I should hate him. I should not tell myself that he can’t turn back now, that he’s as much a victim as I am.

  I can’t justify his betrayal and tell myself that if he could he’d make a different decision. I should be telling myself that he could have told me the truth and chosen not to do this to me.

  I have to tell myself that he’s a bad guy, the enemy, because this ache in me, knowing I am done, will kill me long before that council does if I’m not careful.

  “That was not the smartest thing I have ever heard you do, Barbie, and I’ve listened to you talk about canning for hours.”

  I hear Scarlet as she shuffles closer to the wall where I have my blankets and push myself towards them and my clothes, my head pounding from holding in my sobs.

  Grabbing my clothes, I manage to get into them in the dark and fall onto my back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

  “It was dumb,” I concede, not knowing what else to say because it’s true.

  There’s no excuse that could ever make me feel better about almost sleeping with a male who betrayed me and will march me to my own death in a matter of hours.

  “Why not though, right? If you’re gonna bite the big one and be toes up in a few you may as well get what you can out of it,” she mumbles, making me smirk.

  “You telling me you’d ride a Jock and save a cowboy if he came down here and tried to sex you up?”

  “Pfft! I’d probably still try to kill him, knowing me. Nuh, I’m way to self-destructive to be prosaic about things, even after three months in this hole. But I get it, okay? So…you can stop killing yourself with regret. Sometimes you just have to give in and take what you can.”

  Yeah, I think, sometimes you just have to give in. The whole time I’ve been in this mess I kept telling myself that I accept responsibility and that I can’t blame anyone but myself for this mess.

  I kept telling myself that I get it, I understand some of it, and that I am okay. That if I die it’ll be okay because at least I did something. The truth is that I haven’t accepted shit because I can’t just give up and die. It isn’t in me.

  But it has to be because I can’t fight this anymore. I’m exhausted and heart broken and it’s just not going to happen, I am not getting out of this. I have two males who will deliver me to my executioners soon, one of them the love of my life and a male I know doesn’t want this but will do it anyway because he’s already chosen his path.

  There are seven males who rule with evil intent, no matter what they tell themselves, who are more than willing—eager even—to end me and move on to bigger and better things.

  There is no one out there who can save me, and even if they could, I won’t ask them to come here—even if I did know where here is—because I can’t let my mistakes hurt them. Maybe get them killed.

  So yeah, I am all alone, and it’s about time that I stopped fucking around with hope and just cut myself some slack and accept this. Truly acc
ept this. I’m done.

  Laying back, I blink away tears and focus on what I want to say to my family and friends, if I ever would have had the chance to say it again.

  To Mama, I love you, and I am so grateful that I got to have you as mine because you are the absolute best mother in the universe.

  To Daddy, I thank you for being there for me always. When I fell, you picked me up. When I cried you made me laugh. When I got my first period, you made me laugh harder by screaming like a girl and running away. You’ve been my rock, my friend, my greatest fan, and I love you.

  To Logan, my irascible friend and the only male who knows my secret love for salted fish. Keep loving, laughing, and being a total asshole because you’re mated to Hannah and you can’t afford to go soft. She’ll kill you.

  To Meek, Bear, and all the Silvertons, I do not envy you guys, the pack is not easy to lead. Especially not the elite bigots we all wish would contract the plague and die.

  To myself—

  Hey! What about me? Jesus, I hang around with your lame ass all the time without complaining once and you give me one heads up without mentioning any of my finer qualities?

  Hannah, for Christ’s sake! I’m trying to eulogize myself here. Go away.

  Hell no! I’m getting a mention, even if I have to do it myself. To Hannah, you have been my rock, my pal, the very essence of my survival, and the only person alive who understands me and still likes me. I love you best because you make me laugh, you are so super-smart, and you are the epitome of what a female should be. I will miss you most of all because you are awesome, and I wanted to be you when I grew up! There. Done. Perfect. FYI, stop with the maudlin already. I told you, you’re not dying. *dramatic sigh of exasperation*

  You don’t know that. And you’re not awesome. You’re a little cool. A smidge. An atom’s worth.

  I’m a planet’s worth of awesome, and we both know it. But that is beside the point. Listen, Beeber. Just listen to me. For once. Please. You are not dying! Brig won’t let you die because he loves you.