by Lynn Hagen
Slipping from his chair, Omar crawled into Freedman’s lap and settled back, resting his head on Freedman’s broad shoulder. “But you can’t go through life shielding your heart, Freedman. You have to take a risk or none of us will be truly happy.”
His mate ran his hands up and down Omar’s arms. “I’ll try to learn how to let go.”
That was all Omar was asking. “Shouldn’t Salvador be awake by now?”
“Beats me. I’ve never had to nurse a vampire out of unconsciousness before.”
He wished he could get his hands on the Soul Reapers. Omar would teach them a lesson.
Okay, maybe not. But Omar was fuming mad that Salvador had been hurt. What was Kraven thinking linking Salvador to those vile creatures? Omar wanted to smack the man. All that mattered now was stopping the psycho son of a bitch.
Omar prayed like hell Salvador got his strength back and beat the snot out of Kraven. Maybe with the idiot dead, the Soul Reapers would just go away.
Then his thoughts shifted to what had happened in the truck before Kraven showed up. Omar shuddered. How in the hell had he shifted into two breeds at once? That was unheard of. And to become a predator and prey at the same time was conflicting. Omar hated who he had become. He was a freak of nature now. He couldn’t even say his werewolf was his base breed. There was no longer a clear picture inside of him.
Freedman tapped Omar on his shoulder. “Why the sad look? Salvador will pull through.”
Shaking his head, Omar sat a little straighter. “How many breeds do you think will form inside of me?”
“Form?”
“I think that’s the reason I’m in so much pain when a new breed comes out. They are being born inside of me from whatever Formente has done to me. How many more do you think will emerge?”
Freedman bent his head and rubbed his cheek on Omar’s hair. “I can’t honestly tell you, Omar. No one knows what Formente did to you. As much as you don’t want to hear this, it’s pretty much a wait and see game.”
No, Omar really didn’t want to hear that. He now had four breeds inside of him, one of which was a fucking fluffy, cute deer.
Omar was not fluffy and cute. He was a predator. Although he may lack the skills to be an excellent fighter, he was not going to be on anyone’s menu. “I don’t want to wait and see. I’m a damn freak.”
Freedman glared at Omar, his light-blue eyes flashing like frigid ice. “You are not a damn freak, Omar.”
“Name another changeling who has more than two breeds inside of him!”
“Edward.” One name, but it reminded Omar that he was not alone. Edward was the rat king, with cougar and vampire in him as well.
Omar sat back, pressing his back into Freedman’s chest.
“Rick and Sasha are half breeds. Do you look at your alpha any different knowing he isn’t fully werewolf?”
Omar shot forward. “God, no! He is still the same strong leader I’ve known for four years. He didn’t choose to be half human.”
“And you didn’t choose to be injected. I’m finding that there are more and more mixed blood changelings in existence. What’s so bad about that?”
Omar had to remember that Freedman was human. He had no clue about the changeling laws. “Being a half breed is bad in our species. We are ostracized. No half breed can own land or become alpha. We live on the outskirts of our pack, never fully accepted.”
Freedman curled his lip. “That’s just fucking stupid. Just because you can change into more than one animal does not make you any less a person than a full-blooded breed. I wish other changelings would say something to you. I’ll beat the shit out of them.”
Omar blinked up at Freedman, feeling the tears prickling at his eyes. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” The sad truth was, Omar wasn’t lying. It wasn’t like his parents were nurturing. He had no one in his life who would stand up for him the way Freedman just proclaimed. Sure, he had Rick and the dominant males in the pack to protect him from physical harm, but it wasn’t their job to protect Omar from hurtful words.
Not like Freedman was doing.
He was getting hard at the fierce way Freedman’s nostrils were flaring and the whole bang-on-his-chest manner in which he was acting. He had never had anyone say they would kick someone’s ass for him.
Omar shrugged his shoulders, a small chuckle falling from his lips when Freedman began to nibble at his ear. “That tickles.”
“We can find the bedroom section and I can see just how ticklish you are.” Freedman’s hand tightened on Omar’s hip, and Omar could feel something hard and long beneath him. What he wouldn’t give to feel that steel cock pounding into him, but they needed to make sure Salvador was—Omar gasped when he felt Salvador in his mind, giving him wicked, wicked thoughts.
So, the man knew what he and Freedman were feeling. Normally Omar would bristle at anyone messing around inside of him, but he was relieved to know Salvador was finally coming back to them.
Mentally, Omar batted Salvador’s hands away. “Stop it before you have me writhing like a harlot in front of everyone,” he said in a low hiss.
“I like what he is thinking.” Freedman’s hands wandered to the bulge in Omar’s jeans. How the hell was he supposed to keep both men away? Salvador was seducing him mentally, Freedman physically. The barrage was going to make Omar come in his pants.
“I am well, my destiny. I just need nourishment and rest.”
Omar swallowed and nodded, and then realized that Salvador couldn’t see him. “Just make sure you get your strength back. I don’t like seeing you this way.”
“Neither do I,” Freedman added.
“As I rest, I will try to come up with a solution to the Soul Reapers.”
Omar curled tighter into Freedman’s side, shivering as he thought of how Salvador had suffered through the battle. He hated the fact that the vampire felt every blow, every slice that was inflicted on the abominations—Salvador’s word, not his.
“You just get well,” Freedman said out loud, but both of them were speaking to Salvador. “We’ll hold down the fort.”
“Do not attack the labs until I am well. You will need all the help you can get. I will not have my mates in harm’s way.”
“Buddy, I live in harm’s way,” Freedman said with conviction. “But we’ll wait.”
“Thank you.” Salvador grew quiet.
“I better go tell Rick that Salvador wants everyone to wait for him.” Omar stood, his erection gone since thinking of how hurt his mate was. Crossing over to the other aisle, Omar found Rick looking over the fishing equipment.
“I’ve always wanted to go fishing, but could never find the time,” Rick murmured as he stared at a fishing rod singled out in a display case. It looked like it cost a mint. The alpha shook his head. “There were so many things I wanted to try out. I was just so busy working, creating a place for our pack in the human world that my driving need began to smother out my wants.”
Omar stood next to Rick. “Who’s to say you can’t do them all once this war is over? I think we all are going to have to find a new place we fit in. Nothing will be the same anymore.”
Rick turned and pierced Omar with his light-grey eyes. They were heavy with sadness. “Isn’t that the truth.”
“Are you going to remain our alpha?” Omar hadn’t thought about that. To him, Rick would always be his leader. There was no one else he would want to rule the werewolf changeling pack.
Rick chucked Omar lightly on the chin. “The more important question is, will you still remain in America once this is over?”
Chapter Twenty
“Where are we going?” Dorian asked as Rick pulled him through the outlet store. As Rick walked by one of the end caps, he grabbed a bottle of olive oil.
“Three guesses, but I’m praying like hell you only need one.” Rick bounced his eyebrows. “If you need more than one, I think we need to have a serious talk.”
“Hmm, olive oil, rushing me to a sec
luded area, and your eyes are glowing with flecks of yellow.” Dorian tapped his chin. “Cooking lessons?”
Rick growled. “I’m going to dip my sausage in olive oil and place it in your bun. Nothing fancy, no stove required.” Rick fought the chuckle when Dorian gaped at him. Even after being together for over a year, he could still shock his mate.
Yeah, baby. He still had it.
Rick spotted the perfect aisle. No one would look for them in the pet section. He grabbed a fifty-pound bag of dog food and tossed it on the floor. He did that three more times until he had a small, semi-comfortable spot for Dorian to get on all fours.
His cock pulsed at the image already forming in his head. “Drop your pants and then get on your knees.”
Dorian glared at him. “What, we’re an old fuddy-duddy couple now so you don’t have to romance me any longer?” He crossed his arms over his lean chest and leaned against the shelf. “I don’t think so, Mr. Marcelo.” Dorian’s voice had dropped, going all wolf on Rick.
Ooh, Dorian was pissed.
Rick was turned on.
Placing the oil on a shelf, Rick moved close to Dorian, putting a hand on either side of the man’s head. “My gatito wants romance?” Rick dipped his head, placing a light kiss on Dorian’s temple. “Am I neglecting you?”
Dorian’s Peruvian-brown eyes fluttered closed as Rick swept his hand down to cup his mate’s ass. He rubbed his stubble jaw over Dorian’s cheek, feeling the hairs rasp over his mate’s smooth skin. “Have I forgotten what you mean to me, what I would die to protect?” His own voice was a fierce whisper as he touched his fingertips to Dorian’s chin.
“N–No,” Dorian said softly. “But I don’t want this to become just an act to sate your lust.”
“If I ever”—Rick paused, glanced right into Dorian’s eyes—“then you can hand me my ass on a silver platter.” Using his index finger and thumb, Rick gave a small tug. “You are every fantasy come true to me. My own personal wet dream. I get so excited to have you sometimes that I snap the command, praying I don’t come before I even get inside you.”
Dorian eyebrows shot up as he glanced at Rick and then the pallet Rick had made. “Really?”
Rick brushed his hands down Dorian’s sides. “Hell yeah.” He licked a long path from Dorian’s chin to his ear, pressing his lips against the soft shell. “And I’m dying to bury my ten-inch cock inside your tight little ass. So shut the fuck up, drop your goddamn pants, and bend over.”
Dorian slapped Rick’s chest, but there was a grin on his face from ear to ear. “That’s more like it.”
The man confused the hell out of Rick most days. Hadn’t he said that to begin with? Shaking his head, Rick turned to watch Dorian drop his pants. His mouth watered at the sight of his mate’s twin globes. Rick had a sudden urge to bite.
“I know that look, Rick. If you bite my ass, I’m going to kick you in your balls.”
Rick chuckled as Dorian dropped to his knees, grimaced as he tried to settle on the bags of dog food, and then wiggled his ass. “But you can fuck it.”
“Oh, I definitely plan on doing that.” Rick grabbed the bottle of oil and handed it to Dorian. “But first, I want to watch you get ready.”
Resting his arm on a shelf, Rick jumped and cursed when a squeak toy broke the silence. Dorian began to laugh. Rick took the toy and threw it across the aisle. Damn thing.
“I like toys, but I’m pretty sure that isn’t going to work,” he teased Rick. “You’re not coming near me with that plastic bone.”
Rick narrowed his eyes. “Less talk and more stretching. I have a real hard bone waiting for you.”
Dorian bit his lower lip and batted his eyes at Rick. “You are so damn corny.” Dorian laughed. A low, wicked sound that had Rick’s stomach clenching with a tight, hard punch of sensation. “But I’ll shut up and shove my fingers clear up my ass.”
Good god, the man was out to kill him. He had to forcefully restrain himself from tackling his mate and mounting him. But oddly enough, all Rick wanted from Dorian was his touch. Stroking his mate, hearing the soft sensual sounds of Dorian’s pleasure was worth every damn thing Rick had to go through in this war, with Dorian’s meltdown, and his own insecurities.
Before Dorian could use the oil, Rick batted the man’s hand aside.
“Let me show you how romantic I can be.”
Rick nuzzled his neck, inhaling Dorian’s scent like the man was trying to get air into starving lungs. Dorian could feel his hole quivering as his mate nibbled at the tender flesh of his neck. Before Dorian could stop the sounds from leaving his lips, he moaned and whined at the same time. God, he was so fucking needy. It seemed like Rick was out to tease him into insanity.
“You are one fucking gorgeous man,” Rick murmured into his ear, his warm breath tickling Dorian’s flesh.
Dorian felt his entire body flush at Rick’s words. He had never had anyone think of him that way. Rick was the first and Dorian knew no one could hold a candle to the man. His confession that Dorian was his own personal wet dream felt so surreal. He knew how his mate felt about him, but to hear those words still touched a part of him that would always wonder why Rick chose him.
One big hand rubbed the round globes of his ass and Dorian damn near came unglued. Just the lightest touch and his soul seemed to merge with Rick’s. It was insane, but true. The bond between them had grown so deep, that even when Dorian had felt like his life was falling apart, he knew he couldn’t leave Rick. Just the thought of never seeing the handsome man’s face again hurt like hell.
Dorian bit his lip to hold back any further pleas that were struggling to tear from his lips. He loved hearing Rick talk to him like he was the center of the guy’s universe.
“I’m going to fuck you until your legs no longer work and your back is bent.” Rick murmured the dark and heated words.
Hell, Rick could have Dorian any way he wanted him. His dick was pulsing out a beat, and Dorian knew he was close already. “Anytime, big boy.”
Dorian’s eyelids fluttered closed. Having Rick choose him as a mate still stumped Dorian at times—like now. Why would someone who looked like Rick want him? Dorian was plain, small for a wolf, and not someone who Rick should have picked as a mate.
No, someone like Rick should be with a model or something. Not with a man who—wait, why was he doubting himself?
Rick continued to nuzzle at Dorian’s neck as he blanketed him from nape to thighs, slowly grinding his denim-covered cock into Dorian’s ass. The rush of sensation was like a high for Dorian—a good one, though. He loved the natural scent of his mate. Rick smelled so freaking manly that Dorian’s teeth began to ache. He wanted to eat the man up.
He damn near chewed his bottom lip off when Rick’s hand reached under him and began to stroke Dorian’s cock. “Are you mine, Dorian?”
There went that deep voice again. As long as the man continued to talk to him in that husky, I’m-gonna-fuck-you tone, Dorian would be whatever the man wanted him to be. “Yes.”
Rick’s hand slid down Dorian’s back, gripping his ass as he pressed his cock harder into Dorian’s ass, and then his mate slid not only his jeans down, but his boxers as well. All Dorian could do was stare at perfection. From the light smattering of hair on Rick’s chest to his well-toned thighs, the man was a god.
And the thick cock jutting out from a nest of black curls was priceless to look at.
Dorian yelped when Rick dropped to his knees and stuck his nose in Dorian’s ass. He had no idea what the man was doing, but Dorian’s damn legs were shaking as he waited in anticipation.
All of a sudden, a wet tongue laved at his puckered hole, rimming around the tight muscle as if Rick were making love with the appendage. Never having been rimmed except by this expert, Dorian knew he was addicted to Rick’s tongue as he fought back the cry that would beg Rick to fuck him. He laid his chest on the bags then reached behind him to spread his cheeks apart.
“Oh, hell, gatito. You look so tempting,
so edible.”
“Glad you think so,” he stuttered, fighting for air. Dorian was becoming mindless.
“And I’m going to show you.” Confidence and power filled Rick’s voice, making Dorian quiver.
He rocked his hips up and down as Rick bathed his rear end in moisture. His cockhead thumped the bags with his motions, leaving a wet trail on the dog food. He sure as hell hoped no one bought this bag. Maybe taking the bag outside and dumping the food out would be a good idea. Strays could eat and the bag—again with the damn random thoughts.
Dorian quickly forgot what he was thinking as Rick licked harder at his hole. Dorian’s fingers now itched to touch, to trace the contours of the man who had him pinned to the floor.
A wild moan escaped when wet fingers played at his entrance then slid inside his tight muscles, his ass sucking at Rick’s fingers in a greedy fashion.
“I want to feel my cock sliding in here.”
“God, yes!” He was begging. So damn what.
Rick’s hand lay squarely between Dorian’s shoulder blades, keeping him from moving as he fucked Dorian with the one, thick finger. Dorian’s body shivered as he felt the finger graze over his gland, bringing him pleasure from just that lone finger.
“You ready for more?”
Was his mate crazy? Of course Dorian wanted more. He lay there panting, his cock growing impossibly harder as he fought to breathe. Dorian wasn’t sure what Rick was doing, but fuck if he wasn’t about to pass out.
His mate turned him over and engulfed his cock in one fell swoop. Dorian screamed, bucking his hips and fucking Rick’s mouth. The man was sucking him like a wet dream.
Rick nipped his balls then ran his tongue over the sting to soothe it. Again and again he did this. Dorian was babbling like an idiot as the moist heat from Rick’s mouth threatened to melt him on the fucking aisle floor.
His mate continued to shove Dorian’s cock in and out of his mouth, clamping a tight seal to draw the pre-cum out of his dick. Dorian slapped his palms onto the floor, giving him momentum to fuck Rick’s face. He could feel it, his balls drawing tighter, the familiar tingle beginning to climb its way forward. It pooled at his spine, and then inched its way up until his entire groin was dangling over the edge of the abyss.
