by Rose, Callie
Amora surprised me when she found me outside the elder’s house after Sable rushed off and shoved a backpack into my arms. “For your girl,” she said with a shrug. “She can’t wear your clothes forever.”
“I like her in my clothes,” I pointed out.
Amora bared her teeth at me. “Women like their own clothes. It’s a gift. Say thank you and take it.”
“Thank you,” I said honestly, then I raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re surprisingly nonchalant about all of this.”
“Why not? You’re crazy enough for the both of us.” She grinned at me before growing serious. “We don’t have any control over the mating bond. You know it as well as I do.”
She was right—we’re both well aware.
For the longest time, the pack expected the two of us to imprint on one another and form a mating bond. When it never happened, we settled into our friendship comfortably and moved on with our lives, even as the elders bemoaned the situation. Amora is well-respected among the pack, and a mate-bond between us would’ve made perfect sense on paper. Plus, an alpha without a mate is a loose cannon, if you listen to all the old guys bitch.
“Anything I should do while you’re gone?” Amora asked. “I know the elders will run things in your stead, but anything they can’t handle?”
“Yeah. Keep an eye on Lawson,” I told her. “I don’t trust him.”
She gave me a perfunctory nod, her green eyes darkening. “You and me both.”
Even now with the wind in my fur and Sable on my back, I can’t stop thinking that leaving the pack right now is a huge fucking mistake. Lawson’s been waiting for his moment, and if he decides to do something stupid the elders won’t stand in his way. And they shouldn’t have to. It’s not their job to quell unruly members of the pack.
It’s mine.
I can only hope Amora will keep a sharp eye out for any threat he poses. Because I have no choice. The mating bond is our most sacred tradition, and we have to honor it. All of us—me, Trystan, and Archer. We have to figure out who belongs with Sable and let that bond forge. For the good of our packs and the continuation of our race.
God, what a fucking nightmare. Three of us and one of her. Regardless of tradition and honor and what’s good for the pack, the thought of one of them touching her makes my blood boil.
Having her this close to me is like pouring gasoline on a dying fire. Nothing separates us but my fur and the thin shorts and t-shirt of mine that still cover her body. The powerful way her thighs grip my shoulders inflame every instinct in me, and I’m fucking mindless with the need to shift back and claim her. Press her into the dirt right here on the side of the goddamned mountain and fill every inch of the sweetness between her legs with my cock.
But I don’t.
Because I shouldn’t.
Because when—if—Sable ever truly becomes mine, she’ll deserve the best I can give her. Not some desperate fuck by the side of the road.
Because as badly as I want her body, I want her soul more. I want her heart.
And it will take time to earn that.
So I focus on our surroundings like the damn alpha I’m supposed to be. We need to stay alert and on guard so we don’t get caught unawares by witches. Trystan and Archer are doing a damn fine job of it, while I’m in the middle with a raging metaphorical hard-on, imagining Sable naked in the dust.
Way to prove yourself fucking worthy of her, I admonish myself.
We follow the branded trees along our route, knowing that we’re somewhat safer if we remain within their boundaries. All three packs worked together on these routes of safe passage—the sigils burned into the trees keep the witches away and make it safer for us to travel over land. Though, to be fair, the last few violent deaths had happened well within our marked boundaries.
The witches were getting craftier, and that reminder fills me with guilt. Our meeting today should have been the first step in ensuring further safety for our people. But it was completely fucked by Lawson dragging Sable in like he had some kind of personal vendetta against her.
That fucking ass-hat. The moment I saw him manhandle her into the center of the room, every cell in my body cried for his total annihilation. The only thing that held me back was the look in Sable’s eyes.
I didn’t want her to ever look at me like that. With such fear. With such pure, abject terror.
And she would have, if I’d ripped my brother limb from limb right in front of her.
The sun is fully gone when we come to a steady halt outside the mating cabin. We’re about thirty miles from the North Pack village but still within shifter territory. We’re at the base of a mountain, deep within a thickly wooded area so far off the beaten path that there’s not a chance in hell anything could find us here, human or otherwise.
Safe. For now.
Sable slips off my back, her body sliding over mine like silk. I shudder as she rubs over me, her fingers trailing in my fur, and I know she feels the shiver wrack my body. I can smell arousal in her body too. Faint, but there. She knows—without knowing how she knows—exactly what I’m feeling. She hits the ground, knees nearly buckling, and digs her fingers into my fur to hold herself upright.
I call on my magic to shift back before she can let go of me. I want to feel her fingers on my bare skin. I want it so fucking bad it’s all I can think about, and I’m damn lucky I don’t shift back to human with a rock hard dick.
The magic fades, and Sable’s hands are on my bare chest, her satin fingers resting near my nipples.
Her eyes widen and her gaze drops between us to my nakedness. I realize too late that I probably should have warned her. All of us are so used to seeing our pack mates naked, it’s just a regular part of life. Something tells me Sable’s never seen a man’s cock before.
And her gaze on mine pulses blood directly to that body part.
She backs away quickly, clutching at the straps on her backpack as her eyes dart away. But Trystan and Archer have shifted back too, so when she turns her head she gets an eyeful of them instead.
She lets out a small squeak and a red hot flush rises up her pale neck, painting her cheeks. Then she whirls on her heel and sprints toward the cabin, racing inside as if she can’t get away from the three naked dudes fast enough.
I’m not entirely comfortable with her running into the cabin alone before one of us checks it for wild animals or interlopers, but she doesn’t immediately scream bloody murder, so I consider that proof the cabin is safe. I’ll do a more thorough check in a second, but first…
I step ahead of Trystan and Archer to stop them before they go inside.
“We need to make something clear,” I say, pitching my voice low so Sable doesn’t accidentally hear me.
Trystan crosses his arms, his face turning to stone. “What? You trying to make some kind of ‘I found her first’ claim? Tell that to my wolf. We each have an equal chance here, fuckface.”
I clench my fists against the urge to break his stupid nose. “No, jackass. About Sable’s state of mind.”
“She’s been hurt badly before. Physically and emotionally. I can tell.” Archer speaks up, adjusting his pack on his shoulders.
“She has. Anyone with eyes can see she’s traumatized.” I glance toward the cabin, seeing the network of scars on Sable’s pale flesh in my mind’s eye. “I don’t know the details, but we gotta be gentle with her. She’s not used to this. Any of it. Nobody push her beyond what she can handle.”
Archer nods. “It’s more important that we respect her trauma than it is to urge her wolf to come out. We have to let her do this at her own pace.”
Trystan scoffs. “Thank you, Doctor Phil.”
I jam a finger into the man’s broad chest. “Play. Fucking. Nice. This is your only warning. If you so much as give her a nightmare, I’ll eat your entrails and feed the rest to the vultures. Got it?”
Trystan’s jaw clenches so tight I think he might break a few teeth off. But he finally nods, taking a step away
from my finger. His eyes burn with annoyance as he glares at me, but his expression softens as he glances toward the small cabin. A hint of worry crosses his face, and he nods.
“Yeah. I got it.”
17
Sable
I press my forehead to the wall just inside the front door, letting all the weight of my body ooze against the cool wooden planks. My knees damn sure can’t hold me up anymore.
The cabin is dim and musty, as if the windows haven’t been opened for months. I’m in what seems to be a living room area, although I didn’t take much time to look at it when I walked in.
My skin is flushed and hot as if I have a fever, and I consider going to see if there’s a freezer I can shove my head in. Pressing my hands to my cheeks, I focus on taking a couple of deep breaths and calming the fluttering in my stomach.
I can’t seem to catch my breath, and I feel hot and achy all over in a way I’ve never experienced before. I can’t get the sight of Ridge’s body out of my mind. Every single part of him is etched in my memory, and the feeling curling between my legs begs me to keep replaying that memory over and over.
Even when I tried to look away, to drag my gaze away from him… there were Trystan and Archer, both just as magnificent and just as damn naked.
The one true string of luck I had in my miserable life was that my uncle never abused me sexually. Clint liked the power of hurting me physically—lording his strength over me with pain, keeping me quiet and pliant with threats of knives and lashes and “accidents.” Even his gross friends who came over every once in a while never hurt me like that. There was one man who got creepy with me a few times, and I lived in absolute terror that he might one day lose control and try to…
But he didn’t.
I know about sex, but I’ve never done it before. I’ve never even kissed anyone, and everything I know about the subject was gleaned from books and movies and unpleasant conversations between my uncle and his buddies that I wish I hadn’t heard.
But this?
I don’t know anything about this. I’m not familiar with the kind of need that seeps through my bones and makes every nerve-ending seem to come alive. So this aching, throbbing heat between my legs is as newly bizarre as it is decadent.
Jesus, the three of them were as perfect as pictures I’ve seen of Greek god statues. Every muscle might as well have been chiseled out of stone with an eye for perfection. Every curve of their bodies was powerful and strong, the way their waists tapered into their hips and their muscular legs…
Just recalling the image of the three of them standing together completely naked is turning me into a puddle of raw, sparking lust.
Okay. Breathe, I tell myself, dragging in two long, steady breaths and letting them out with the same care. Get a grip, Sable. You’re acting ridiculous. It’s just men’s bodies. Obviously, nudity isn’t a big deal to shifters.
Before I can get a handle on my emotions, the door opens and all three shifters pile into the small living room. I straighten and clutch my pack against my chest as if it might provide a real barrier between us.
Ridge reaches past Archer and finds the light switch on the wall. A bare bulb illuminates high over my head, casting light onto the three still naked men in front of me. I gape at them, too astonished to even recognize that a cabin in the middle of nowhere is clearly equipped with electricity. I guess mating pairs wanted to be able to see each other.
Naked.
Obviously.
Jesus, take the wheel.
Trystan steps ahead of the other two and comes closer to me. A cocky grin settles over his face and he gently takes my pack from my numb hands, tossing it over his own shoulder. It takes every ounce of my willpower to not look down. He’s so close I can smell his skin—something earthy, like incense, something darker than Ridge’s clear pine scent.
He’s the most arrogant of them, I think. The way he continues to stand there, holding my bag as if he’s doing me a favor, that crooked grin on his face like he knows I want to look at his body. Like he knows he’s a damn fine sight to see, and he wants me to partake.
I refuse to give in. No matter how badly I want to.
A hand clamps down onto Trystan’s shoulder, and Ridge rounds on him with a glare. “Did you forget already? Come on. Let’s get dressed.”
As the three men move off down the hallway, I sink against the wooden wall and struggle to get air back into my lungs. Their presence is insanely strong, as if I can drink in their essence just by being in the same room with them.
When I finally get my wits back, and I’ve given them ample time to cover up, I follow them down the hall. Since Trystan took my bag, I need to retrieve it from him in order to change out of Ridge’s dirty clothes. I’m covered in the dirt and dust that was kicked up during our run.
As luck would have it, all three men are dressed when I find them in the bedroom.
The only bedroom.
This cabin is a lot smaller than Ridge’s house, and although it looks like there’s a small kitchen as well as the living room, there are definitely no more bedrooms.
“Um, one bed?” I ask, tentatively moving into the room. Trystan has laid my bag on the bed atop the colorful quilt, and I squeeze around Archer to get to it.
Ridge tugs the hem of his shirt down and replies, “We’ll sleep in the living room. You can have the bed.”
Thank goodness for small mercies. I can’t even imagine trying to sleep next to all that… man.
Trystan makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like distaste, but Ridge shoves him toward the door. “Let’s make sure the cabin is stocked.”
As Archer passes me, he offers me a small, shy smile. “Take your time. We’ll be waiting for you when you’re ready.”
I spend an inordinately long time beneath a cold shower, wondering where the water came from this deep in the wild, and if the water could go even colder to wash away the desire that still burns through me with a vengeance.
Ridge’s friend Amora gave me a bag full of clothes, including comfy sweats and nightshirts. Right now, baggy cotton pants thick enough to hide all my curves seem like the safest bet, and I top them off with a long-sleeved nightshirt that hangs off me like a potato sack. I know I probably look ridiculous, but the less skin I have showing in their presence, the better.
For all of us.
The more I have to take off, the more likely I won’t give in to the insane desire to press my bare skin against theirs the way my palms pressed against Ridge’s chest.
When I walk into the small kitchen at the back of the house, my three companions are seated at a wooden table barely large enough for them with an array of food waiting. It’s more than I saw Ridge pack in one of the bags, which I guess isn’t that surprising. I recall him saying something about the cabin being stocked.
It appears to be a do-it-yourself sandwich assembly line. Though each man has an open soda sitting before them, none of them have helped themselves to the food yet. I can’t help but feel a little touched that they waited for me.
“Ladies first,” Trystan teases, motioning to the only empty chair.
After I pile my bread with cold cuts, cheese, and condiments, the guys dive in with gusto. My sandwich looks like a single bite compared to the towering monstrosities they make, and it occurs to me it probably takes a lot of fuel to power a shifter’s metabolism.
Spurred by the thought, I ask, “Do you guys have to eat more than regular people?”
It doesn’t occur to me until after the question is out of my mouth that it might be a little too intimate. Though we are in what amounts to a private sex cabin in the woods, so no question is likely off the table.
“We do.” Archer teeth flash white as he smiles. “Our bodies run hotter and faster, so we need more fuel than the average human.”
Their bodies certainly do run hotter, I can’t deny that. My cheeks flush again as I try desperately not to conjure up images of them without any clothes. It’s not really working, so I bl
urt out another question to distract myself.
“I never knew shifters even existed, but to be honest, my life was kinda… Well, I was shielded from a lot. Does the world know about you at all?”
Ridge sets his soda can down on the table with a clank. “No. They can’t know. For good reason.”
“What reason is that?”
Trystan shoves his hand into the bag of chips in the center of the table as he replies. “Shifters have existed for thousands of years. We learned early on that if humans find out about us, they inevitably try to hunt us to extinction.”
I gasp, horrified. “Hunt you?”
Ridge shoots a look of irritation at Trystan before turning to me. “Humans have a tendency to be fearful of things they can’t explain. Magic, shifters, the lot of it.”
“And where humans are fearful, there follows destruction,” Archer murmurs with a shake of his head.
Trystan snorts. “Ha. Humans are nothing compared to witches. Humans may hunt us because they fear us. Witches hunt us because they hate us.”
That statement brings forth a whole new slew of questions. I have a million to ask—if I’m stuck with these men for an indefinite amount of time, I would do well to learn about them and their culture. The good news is, they seem to like hearing me talk. Already, Ridge is looking at me expectantly, as if waiting for my next query.
“Archer told me a little bit about the witch problem. But could you tell me more?” I ask. “Why do they hate you so much?”
Trystan slouches in his chair, cradling his soda against his abdomen. “Don’t let the word fool you. Witches can be women and men. They use magic. To them, we’re an aberration.”
“Because you use magic to shift,” I say to clarify what I gleaned from Archer.
