by Vella Day
The men must have communicated because Trax pulled out while Dante held still. As soon as he plowed back in, Dante withdrew. Their slow easy pace allowed her to accommodate their size, but as her climax built, she wanted them to go faster. She tried to press her hips back, but Dante wouldn’t let her move.
Trax must have sensed her urgency and drove his cock upward. Her stomach tightened as flames of desire licked her body. The molten heat built as they each seesawed in her. She couldn’t contain her moans any longer, and soon both men’s grunts and growls grew louder. Sweat beaded on her forehead as they forged their way in and out.
She must have signaled them because instead of alternating, they drove in at the same time, and her body almost exploded. Dante twisted her nipples and her mouth gaped. To hell with keeping quiet. She wanted them to know she was so close to taking off and never returning to earth.
“I’m going to come, dammit.”
Trax pulled down her head and kissed her with more passion that she believed existed. His lips tasted salty, but his breath was minty fresh. Their tongues sparred. When they broke for air, Dante’s fingers dug into her butt cheeks, and he shot his hot cum into her ass so hard, she would have jettisoned forward had Trax not held her steady. Dante leaned over and sank his fangs into her neck, but the quick prick only stung for a second.
“Sugar. You are mine. Forever.” He licked her neck where he’d sunk his fangs.
His words seeped into her soul. Realizing she was now part of their family made her eyes water and her pulse race.
She was paying so much attention to Dante’s pulsating cock and his loving words that when Trax sat up, his cock hit different nerves, and she lost all thought. Stars burst in the back of her lids as fire raced through her veins. Wave upon wave of the wildest climax shook her. Right in the middle of the biggest release she’d ever had, Trax’s seed blew into her. He then leaned forward and sank his fangs into her shoulder on the other side.
“I love you, Liz Wharton. I forever will protect you with my life.”
She choked out a sob.
Her pussy stretched and pulsed and her heart lodged in her throat as she accepted the magnitude of what just happened. She was finally with her men in every sense.
Her body throbbed as she dropped on top of Trax. He wrapped his arms around her and tightened his hold. He kissed her shoulder and nipped the skin. She belonged to them and couldn’t be happier.
* * *
Three weeks later
“Okay, light her up.” Liz hadn’t bothered to put up a Christmas tree in years. She’d asked her mom if she wanted one last year, but she said it reminded her of the good times that would never come again.
“Ready?” Dante plugged in the tree.
She clapped her hands. “It’s beautiful.”
Dante moved behind her and pulled her into an embrace. “Not as beautiful as you.”
“Aw.”
He spun her and then kissed her. When one hand cupped her ass and the other her breast, she stepped back. “We can’t. The guests will be here any minute.”
“Fuck the guests.” Dante returned her to his arms and ran his tongue down her neck and across to her throat.
She allowed her head to fall back slightly and laughed. “Trax, come save me. Dante is getting horny.”
“Getting horny, sugar? When I’m around you, I also want you.”
Trax was eight feet away in the kitchen making the final preparations. “Why don’t you give him a blow job and then stop when the first guest arrives? That way he’ll be frustrated all night long. He’ll have to wait until the party is over to have you.”
Dante stepped back. “You really know how to get to a guy, bro.”
Before she had the chance to try Trax’s suggestion, the downstairs bell rang. The surveillance camera showed it was Chelsea.
Her friend was dying to meet not only Liz’s men, but the other Pack members Liz had told her about. She also wanted to see what a werewolf looked like up close. Liz rushed downstairs to greet her. Trax unlocked the door from their loft, and Liz rushed down to escort Chelsea upstairs.
“Hey. You made it.” Liz hugged her tight, careful of the platter full of cookies Chelsea held. “You didn’t have to make anything.”
“I didn’t want to come empty-handed.”
“Come meet my men.” After all that had happened, there hadn’t been a good time for them to get together. Chelsea had straightened her long auburn hair and wore a mega sexy, red top. “Nice boobs by the way.”
Her friend’s face pinkened. “Do you think it’s too much?”
“Hell, no. I can see it now. All night long, the rest of the wolves will be after Little Red Riding Hood.”
Chelsea laughed and ran a hand along her collar. “I’m not wearing a hood.”
“The men will overlook that flaw,” Liz said. “Come upstairs.”
For some reason, Liz’s palms were sweating. She wanted—no needed—her friend to see how amazing Trax and Dante were.
“Guys, come meet Chelsea.”
They shook her hands. “It’s nice to meet a friend of Liz’s.” Dante lifted the tray from Chelsea’s hands. “I’ll put it on the island.”
As soon as they stepped away, Chelsea pivoted so her back was to the men. “Oh. My. God. They are incredible.”
Excitement raced through Liz. “I know.”
“I can’t believe you even considered leaving them. I wouldn’t care if they turned into cockroaches at night if they look like that during the day.”
“Ew. That’s nasty.”
Chelsea waved a hand. “You know what I mean.”
The bell rang again, and Trax headed over and pressed the button. The four men who’d helped capture Couch came upstairs. Drake Stanton and Kurt Wendlick entered first, followed by Clay Demmers and Dirk Tilton. The second team headed straight for the food, but Drake and Kurt lingered, repeatedly glancing at Chelsea. It was probably the glow from the Christmas tree lights, but it looked as if their eyes turned a pretty shade of amber, the same color her men’s turned when in the throes of making love.
Liz grabbed Chelsea’s hand and led her over to the two men. “Drake and Kurt. I want you to meet my best friend, Chelsea Wilson. Chelsea this clean cut man is Kurt Wendlick, and his sidekick, who always seems to forget to shave, is Drake Stanton.”
Drake rubbed his jaw. “Hey. I’ll have you know it takes work to look like this.”
The bell rang again. Chelsea ran a hand up Liz’s arm. “Go greet your guests. I’ll be fine.”
Drake winked. “Yes, please go greet the other guests. I’ll make sure Chelsea gets something to drink and is well taken care of.”
Oh, boy. With the way they were salivating, Chelsea had no chance of leaving here alone. Liz bet as the night progressed, Chelsea might even spot a fang or two from those two.
Trax introduced her to the next two men. During the last three weeks, she’d met a lot of his Pack, and it was hard to keep their names straight. Trax had even taken her to the werewolf prison and shown her all the security features. It made her feel like she really belonged.
He’d asked if she needed to speak with Couch to find the closure she’d once wanted, but she never wanted to set eyes on that bastard again. She’d asked if she could go to headquarters, but both men felt it would be safer if she didn’t know much about it. They didn’t have to explain why.
Chelsea came up to her and grabbed her arm. “Oh my gawd.”
“What?”
“Those men.”
She had to think which men she was referring to. “You mean those hunks, Kurt and Drake, or have you set your sights on Dirk and Clay?” With Chelsea, she couldn’t be sure what type of man she found attractive.
“Kurt and Drake. There’s something so manly about them.” Chelsea leaned in closer. “I bet they like to tie up their women.”
Liz laughed. “I have absolutely no knowledge of that aspect of their lives, but they are heroes.”
Che
lsea giggled, something she never did. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“They both asked me out.”
“That’s fantastic.”
“Oh. Before I forget, our boss commented about you still being on sick leave.” Chelsea stood back and ran a gaze up and down her. “You look great to me.”
She teetered her hand back and forth then tapped her forehead. “I’ll start back up after the first of the year. The men have been keeping me kind of busy.” She held out her hand to show Chelsea the massive diamond ring the men had given her last night.
Her face heated as she remembered the wonderful time they’d had in the playroom.
“Oh, Liz.” Chelsea gave her a hug. “That’s fabulous.” Her face sobered. “What about children?”
“All three of us want a ton.”
“No, I mean, won’t they be, you know?
“Werewolves? You can say the word here. Everyone but you is completely aware of what this shifter stuff is all about.”
“Fine, but what about the kids?”
“If I have a girl, she’ll be just like us. Women have no powers and don’t shift.”
“Well, that sucks. I want to live in a world where women have the upper hand.”
Liz smiled. “So you’d like to be transported to the world of Zena and the warrior women?”
“Maybe.”
A cell phone rang, and when Trax extracted the phone from his pocket and looked at the screen, her stomach flipped at his stern reaction. He turned his back to the crowd, and his shoulders pressed forward. He whispered into the phone and then disconnected and turned around.
“Excuse me, all.” His jaw twitched. Oh, God, this wasn’t good. He couldn’t even glance her way.
“Is it about Elena Sanchez?” Liz asked. That was the woman who had been Couch’s secretary.
He turned toward her and shook his head. The Pack had their best men looking for her, but so far there hadn’t been any word on her whereabouts. Liz edged closer to Trax. Her mind reeled, wondering what the call had been about.
The crowd wasn’t quieting.
He rapped the saltshaker on the granite counter. “May I have everyone’s attention?”
Her heart tripped.
It took a few seconds for the room to quiet. She hoped he and the rest of the men didn’t have to leave the party and go on a hunt for some stupid Colter.
Dante made his way through the living room. “Bro, what is it?”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Harvey Couch has escaped from jail.”
It only took two seconds for Liz’s world to turn black.
THE END
Claiming Their Mate
Pack Wars (Book 2)
Vella Day
Chapter One
Halfway down the stairs of the home Chelsea Wilson planned to show, scratching noises echoed from the back of the house.
She leaned over the railing and shouted, “Hello?”
When she didn’t receive a response, she shrugged and headed to the foyer, where the sound continued. She called out again but received no response this time either. Someone had to be here. Or had an animal snuck in the rear door?
As she walked through the dining room, she made a mental note to inform her clients about the white wainscoting on the walls and the rich blue and white wallpaper accent wall. They’d been looking for something like this.
She moved from the dining room to the living room, toward the back of the house to find the source of the annoying scratching. Her gaze was so focused on her destination that she tripped when her foot hit something hard. “What the fuck?”
She looked down. “Jesus Christ.” Her heart shot straight to her throat and her muscles locked.
A human leg.
She swallowed the moisture in her mouth and slapped a hand on her chest. It was Jeffrey Wendlick, one of the realtors at her company. “Jeffrey?” Her breath whooshed out.
Chelsea dropped to her knees to check for a pulse though she feared it was too late. He was positioned chest down, his head turned to the side. His mouth was agape and his eyes were wide open, confirming he was already be dead. Her own pulse reached the danger zone.
Only now did the unpleasant metallic smell of blood reach her. A smashed cell phone lay in the fresh pool of blood next to his hand. As she reached for his throat to check his pulse, hoping that by some miracle he was still alive, she spotted the huge gash across his throat. “Oh, my God.” His throat had been ripped open. Bile raced to her mouth, and she crab-walked backward.
Regaining her balance, she stood and rushed away from Jeffrey’s corpse. She kept her gaze on him, hoping if she looked hard enough, he’d move.
Nails scratching the tile in the back broke through her reeling thoughts.
Get the hell out of here.
If she didn’t, she might end up like Jeffrey. Blanking her mind to his gruesome death, she sped toward the front. A back door banged shut. That couldn’t be a dog. Panic clawed through her body. She reached the main entrance and rushed outside, then hustled down the steps. Damned high heels made moving quickly impossible. She kicked off her shoes, picked them up, and ran. Her mind spun.
Damn. She’d forgotten to call 9-1-1. Once she was safely locked in her car and out of there, she’d advise the cops about the murder.
Her car was parked nearby, across and down the street. She glanced slightly behind her to see if any vehicles were coming. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a man running from behind the house. All she could think was that this was the guy who’d murdered poor Jeffrey.
“Hey, bitch!” he shouted.
Her body froze. She spun to judge how far away the threat was. The man stood a good thirty feet from her.
Remember what he looks like so I can tell the cops.
Under six feet, dark hair, fairly dark skin. Shit. That wasn’t good enough. She dragged her gaze down his body and spotted the gun in his hand.
No!
Adrenaline swamped her. Her eyes hurt and her mouth turned sand dry. She forced her feet to move, but sludge had replaced her blood. I have to go.
Just as she twisted to run for the car, a painfully hot sensation pierced her arm. Red oozed up from a hole in her forearm and bile tinged her mouth. Holy fuck. The bastard shot her. She stole a quick glance at her assailant, who was heading straight at her.
Too many options confronted her and yet not one seemed plausible. Knowing she’d never make it to her car before he caught her, she ran the other way. She headed behind the house and prayed for either a way out or a weapon to bash in his head if he tried to attack her again. Her arm throbbed and her thoughts splintered.
Go!
She dropped her shoes and made it to the backyard, hoping he wouldn’t follow her.
Right, and I own this week’s winning lottery ticket.
Think. A small shed sat in a fenced area in the far back corner. It would be stupid to hide in there. Too obvious.
“I’m coming for you. You can’t escape.” His singsong voice rattled in her brain.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
No one was around to help her. As she gulped in mouthfuls of air, all she could think to do was race to the other side of the house and hope to emerge behind him. With each step, her legs felt like she was lifting iron. The image of Jeffrey’s ripped throat reminded her how much danger she was in. She immediately clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her scream. Her nostrils flared.
Once she made it to the east side of the house, her gaze bounced between a tree she might hide behind and the hedge nestled against the house. The man’s thrashing and obnoxious chants told her he was nearby. Her arm hurt and her stomach roiled, threatening to erupt. Quick. Just hide. She ducked behind the thorny bush, scrunched low, and labored to control her loud breathing.
“You can’t hide from me, chica.”
Tears streamed down her cheeks. A hiccup emanated from her throat. She ducked her head and prayed he hadn’t heard her.
>
The blood pounding behind her eyes prevented her from figuring out his location. His feet passed within inches from her hiding place, and she swallowed a sob. Now there was no way she could call 9-1-1. Just speaking to the operator would give away her position.
His footstep returned close to her hiding spot, and her heart slammed against her chest. Cars rumbled by. Why didn’t anyone stop to question this creep? Damned “For Sale” sign.
She peeked through the bushes to find him, but leaves and stems blocked her vision. Only flashes of color appeared every once in a while, as if he was taunting her, waiting for her to come out on her own. She clasped her hand over her wound to prevent the blood from getting everywhere and leaving a trail for him to follow.
Oh, shit. Her vision darkened for a moment as if her mind was trying to protect her.
Except for an occasional vehicle passing down the street and a bird chirping, only her own pounding heart sounded. She wanted to run, but her body refused to move.
Don’t do anything stupid. The urge to jump up, wave, and scream for help almost won out, but if she failed to attract someone’s attention, he’d kill her.
For the moment, no footsteps sounded and no leaves crunched. Dare she hope he’d given up and driven away? She couldn’t be that lucky.
How long should she wait before she tried to get help? Her arm hurt like a bitch, and with each passing minute, she grew weaker. Her legs cramped something fierce from squatting so long. Her brain fogged, and for a moment, she almost believed he’d left.
She lifted her head above the bush for a quick look, and a twig cracked nearby. Damn. She ducked.
Footsteps sounded. “Game’s over, chica. I’m gonna git you. I can smell you.” She swore he growled after he chuckled.
A flash of blue appeared between the branches. Oh God.
An unusually hairy hand snaked into the bush, and when he latched on to her wounded arm, she yelped.
“I got you now, little lady.”
He pulled her through the brambles, slicing her face and limbs. Once she was free from the bush, he glared at her. His gun wasn’t in his hand, but she knew he must still have it. If she lived through this ordeal, she wanted to remember everything about him. Too bad all she could see was a watery gray eye that seemed unfocused.
