Lunar Mates Volume Two: Books 4-6

by Loribelle Hunt

  He was a couple of inches over six feet tall. She’d always known he was thickly muscled under his clothes, but this was her first look. She planned to enjoy it. His shoulders were broad, rounded with muscle. His arms bulged, his pecs firm. Her gaze drifted down over a smooth, flat stomach, finally stopping when she got to his cock. He was long and thick. Erect.

  “Ellen, come here.” The command was more a moan. Oh, she liked that she could shake him like this.

  She had slip-on shoes and when she stepped toward him, left them by the door. Her bra stayed behind too, and in half a second, she was standing before him, watchful as she waited for his next move. Her jeans and underwear were gone in seconds, and then she lay under him. Skin-to-skin.

  Practically humming her satisfaction, she lifted her hands to his shoulders and squirmed her lower body until her legs were no longer pinned under his. Her thighs spread, gripped his, and she caught her breath at the feel of his cock pressed against her pussy. She rotated her hips up, wanting him to enter her. Take her.

  “Not yet,” he murmured.

  His gaze pinned hers, and what she saw there rocked her. So much passion. So much need. His lips touched hers briefly, gently, and then he was moving down. Down her throat, her chest. He paused at one nipple and sucked it into his mouth, biting down with just enough pressure to send sensation through her torso and straight to her pussy. She pushed her hands through his hair, trying to hold him in place, desperate for more of that pleasure, but he easily broke the hold and moved on.

  Light kisses on her ribs made her squirm and bite her bottom lip. He moved down after a moment of tickling her, swirled his tongue around her belly button before going on. He went slowly, kissing every piece of skin, leaving her hot and wet and wanting in a way she’d never known possible. She felt confined in her own skin.

  Finally, finally he was at her pelvis, blowing hot air over her sex before using the fingers of one hand to spread her lips for his inspection. She held her breath at the reverence on his face, and despite some embarrassment, her heart soared. This meant something more than just giving into his wolf’s needs. Every single thought fled her mind as he looked up and slowly inserted one finger into her channel. He thrust it in and out a couple of times before lifting his finger to his mouth and sucking it.

  “Mmm. Sweet. I want more.”

  God, yes. She wanted a hell of a lot more. He thrust his tongue into her, in and out, fast and slow. She got impossibly wetter and the inferno building inside her exploded without warning. She tried to move through the orgasm but he held her still. When he replaced his tongue with his fingers, he used it on her clit, and she wiped the word impossible from her vocabulary. Wetter. Hotter. Each successive orgasm more intense than the first.

  He took his time, as if indulging all ten years of pent up lust in one session. When she was sure she couldn’t come one more time, he withdrew his fingers, lapped lazily at her pussy for a moment, then lifted himself and moved up her body. His cock pushed at her entrance, but he held himself still.

  “You’re sure about this, Ellen?” he whispered, and she knew what he was asking. There would be no going back, no denying he was her mate, after he fucked her. There had never been any doubt in her mind she belonged to him.

  She lifted her hips. “No more waiting.”

  She hadn’t even completely spoken the whole sentence before he surged into her. There was a brief bite of pain, and he froze over her, propping up on his elbows. He gave her a look full of incredulity, followed quickly by regret. She wrapped her legs around his waist and held him to her. There was no way in hell he was leaving her now, wanting and only halfway there.

  “I was eighteen when you first felt this. I felt it too.” She answered the unspoken question. “There was never anyone else I wanted.”

  “Ellen,” he murmured, leaning down to nuzzle her neck as he moved inside her. He was sweet, his movements tender. It wasn’t what she wanted at all, and she bit back her protest, bit back the order to move, damn it. She wanted him hard and fast and out of control. She was so damned sick of Clint’s control.

  Her hands moved to grip his shoulders, and she slid them over to his back, scratching long trails down his spine. He nipped at her neck, and her fingernails dug deeper into his skin. Yes, she chanted in her mind. Anticipation and relief filled her. He was finally going to make this real, finally going to make them whole. His thrusts increased. Harder. Faster. Deeper. He was so deep inside her, she swore she could feel him to her soul. But he didn’t bite her.

  She didn’t worry about it as her body spiraled higher again. Each thrust hit her G-spot dead on as if he’d been practicing on her for years and the orgasm hit her all at once. Her sex convulsed around him, and he powered through the milking as if it were nothing. Her mind seemed to disintegrate. He came right after her, his face buried in the pillow instead of her neck and she wanted to scream.

  How was it possible, after fighting ten years of craving, that he could still deny it? She knew if he wasn’t going to claim her while he was buried in her, he never would. She tried to harden her heart, prepare herself for the inevitable separation.

  Five

  They lay next to each other, panting. Not speaking. Clint could feel her distancing herself from him, pulling away. A part of him thought it was about time, but mostly he was pissed. She didn’t get to do that.

  “You didn’t bite me,” she said softly, looking straight up at the ceiling.

  Her words snapped him out of his dangerous thinking. He’d been too close to losing control after touching her, tasting her. Too close to making a step that couldn’t be taken back.

  “No. And I won’t.”

  It was a vow to himself, harsh and final. Or at least he tried to convince himself it was. Denying her, denying himself, was getting harder and harder to do. He half expected her to demand an explanation, wondered if she’d caught the distinction he’d made—won’t, not can’t. Though, it really amounted to the same thing.

  She rolled out of the bed and got dressed, waves of pain and anger radiating from her. He deserved to feel the brunt of her rage, but when she turned to him, it was with sad eyes, and he realized she was angrier with herself than at him. She stared at him for several seconds before speaking, and when she did, the words were like a slap.

  “Find another room, Clint. You’re no longer welcome here.”

  He sat up to watch her leave, and when she was gone, swung his legs over the side of the bed and let his head fall into his hands. He shook with the need to go after her, to kiss her anger and despair away. To make her his in every way. Permanently.

  Knowing he’d crossed a line in his mind, he stood and made a choice he wasn’t ready to admit to yet—he grabbed his bag and unpacked. The dresser had four rows of drawers. The bottom was empty and he unpacked his bag into it. Indulging in a curiosity that only made him feel slightly ashamed, he opened the next drawer up. She was his mate, but he spent so much time trying to keep her at a distance he didn’t know nearly enough about her. And he wanted—needed—to know everything. There had to be something personal here, something treasured that would tell him more about her.

  There was nothing interesting in the two middle drawers. Sweats, jeans, and shirts. He held his breath as he opened the top drawer, knew what he would find it, knew he should feel sleazy looking through her underwear, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. Wasn’t this the place she’d hide her secrets?

  He pulled the handle and stared at the contents. Lots of black and red lacy things. He took a shaky breath and ignored them, shifting things around to see if anything was hidden in the back. His fingers closed over two objects and he pulled them out. One was a inexpensive gold chain he’d given her when she was a child. Must have been or tenth or eleventh birthday. He couldn’t believe she’d kept the necklace out of all the other gifts she must have received that year. She’d been a friendly sometimes too serious kid, and well loved by the pack. Hell, he’d loved her one way or the oth
er most of his life.

  The other object made his cock swell hard as a rock again. An oval plastic egg with a long cord connecting it to a small controller. He pushed the button and it buzzed to life. Another button and the speeds changed. He smiled and returned both items to the drawer. The necklace he would replace with something more appropriate for a sexy adult woman when he got the chance. The toy, however, he meant to put to use at the earliest opportunity. Of course, first he had to get back in her good graces and that might take some doing.

  Six

  Ellen was shaking, she was so mad. Careful not to slam it, she closed the door behind her and went downstairs. She found Anthony and the other hunters, Declan, Asa, and Zachary, hanging out in his office. He slowly rose to his feet when she entered. They’d known each other a long time, and she knew he sensed her anger. Her pain.

  “Get me out of here for a little while.”

  “He didn’t…?” Anthony didn’t have to finish the sentence. Her neck was clear for everyone to see, and they could smell the sex on her. It infuriated her that Clint’s disregard for her was so obvious to everyone in the room.

  “I need to drive, Anthony.”

  “Sure thing, babe.” He grinned and gestured toward her thin T-shirt. “Can’t go out like that though. There’s a jacket in the closet you can borrow.”

  She rolled her eyes. Anthony was a sneaky bastard. As usual, he was up to no good and planning to have a lot of fun at it. She went to the closet and pulled out the thick jacket he mentioned, shrugged into it, and waited while he found his keys. When they returned, his scent would be on her, over Clint’s. She didn’t even care that that would enrage Clint’s wolf. If he didn’t want her, he was going to have to get used to the idea of her with someone else. She was sick of being alone, of being lonely.

  Outside, they walked to Anthony’s car, a new, cherry red Mustang. She’d been begging to drive it for weeks and realized he was really worried about her when he clicked the unlock button on the fob and tossed the keys to her. They both climbed in. She revved the engine when she started it, smiling at the roar, and backed out of the parking space.

  “Where to?” she asked, driving down the lane to the road.

  “You’re driving.”

  She grinned, feeling better already. It had been impossible for years to stay comfortably in a house or building for long with Clint. It was good to be free, at least temporarily. She turned left outside the gate and decided to go wherever the mood took her.

  “Want to talk about it?”

  She bit her bottom lip. It was the only way to hold back the scream. She forced her breathing to even, her mind to settle, before answering. “Not much point. He’s determined. And really, if he’s this sure he doesn’t want me as his mate, it’s better that it not happen.”

  “Oh, he wants you.”

  She snorted. “You think? How do you know that?”

  “Because he looks at you the same way I do,” he said softly.

  She looked at him sharply, not sure if he was serious or not. He smiled. “You would have made me a magnificent mate, Ellen. And I would appreciate you.”

  She swallowed hard. Maybe this drive wasn’t such a great idea. She’d been thinking earlier about finding someone to indulge in an affair with, even finding someone who could be more, but never Anthony. She glanced at him then returned her attention to the road.

  She couldn’t deny he was seriously hot. His build was almost exactly the same as Clint’s. He had the same green eyes, the same short, black hair. But now that she’d felt what it was like to be held in Clint’s arms, to feel him possessing her, moving inside her, the idea of fucking anyone else didn’t do anything but leave her cold.

  She sighed and shook her head. “You know it’s impossible.”

  “I know. Even if he wasn’t your mate, I think he’d be the one you wanted.”

  He was right. She’d known Clint her whole life, had worshipped him as a child, and depended on him as a teenager when her mother and father had made their final break. A break that had ultimately led to her mother’s death. She’d never mated or married Brant, the last Appalachian alpha, but their long relationship was known throughout the were world. Once Ellen was in college, her mother had left the protection of the hunters. A Society rogue had found and murdered her shortly after. Ellen didn’t know the details, but she knew Clint was the one who’d found her mother’s murderer and executed him. With a scowl, she forced the memories away.

  “But he doesn’t want me. You know as well as I do, not all matings are happy,” she added before he could argue with her.

  “True. But babe, I don’t know what his problem is, but that’s not it.”

  Knowing there was really no point in arguing about it, she let it drop, and they rode in silence for another hour before she finally turned around and went back home. They were back to their old joking friendship by that time and walked into the house laughing. Clint was waiting for her, and for the first time in her life, she knew he was really pissed at her.

  *

  It went against Clint’s nature to wait, to not go after Ellen right away, but he was convinced she needed time to collect herself. He would give her a few minutes before he tracked her down. It was a difficult instinct to resist, however, and one he abandoned when he heard the front door open and shut and a car leave. He dressed quickly and hurried downstairs, anger growing as he moved. She’d left, and Anthony was not in his office to interrogate.

  He was pretty sure she’d gone somewhere with Anthony, and he grew angrier as he sought out the house’s other occupants. He found the three hunters eating in the dining room. The oldest of the three, Declan, nodded when he entered and kicked out the chair in front of him.

  “Where did she go?” he asked the man, not bothering to control the fury in his tone that made his voice nearly guttural.

  “For a drive. She’ll be back,” he said between bites of a rare steak.

  “Damn right she will.” He was in the grip of a jealous rage, and he didn’t care if everyone knew it. He got up and paced the room. And when she did return, he was going to make it clear who she belonged to. After he kicked Anthony’s ass.

  “You know, I just turned thirty-nine,” Declan continued laconically.

  Clint cocked an eyebrow, waiting to hear why that was relevant to the conversation. When Declan didn’t go on he asked, “So?”

  He set his fork down and looked up to meet Clint’s eyes before he spoke. His were hard, pissed off. “I’m still a hunter because I don’t have a mate. If I ever meet her, you can be damned sure I’m not gonna screw around and make her miserable for ten years.” His contempt was obvious. “That’s a precious gift you’re throwing away, Clint. One we’d all like to have.”

  Clint looked around the table, recognized the other two senior hunters, Zachary and Asa. No, they probably wouldn’t make his choice, but they hadn’t lived his life either.

  Asa met his eyes with a hard glare. “You need to leave. You’re making things worse for her and have no intention of fixing it. The four of us are more than capable of protecting her, and you know it.”

  “She’s mine. I’ll do the protecting,” he growled. His to cherish. His to love. His alone.

  Zachary leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t you think it’s dangerous to leave her unclaimed when she’s around so many single wolves? We can create it bond with anyone. Claim a mate that isn’t ours.”

  The wolf locked in his mind snarled its fury. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  Zachary shrugged. “I wouldn’t.”

  Left unspoken was that others might. It had been done before. In his own pack just a couple of years ago, a wolf named Wyatt had claimed a woman he knew wasn’t his. Chloe was now with her true mate, but that hadn’t been possible until the night Wyatt was killed.

  Clint tried to think through his instincts, through his animal emotions, but it was impossible. He shifted and went for a run, hoping to appea
se his wolf, to calm the beast. It didn’t work, and when he heard the car returning, he raced back, more furious than ever, beating them to the house and waiting for her when she entered the foyer. Whatever control he’d regained disappeared when she walked in, laughing up into another man’s face, especially when he caught that man’s scent mixed with hers.

  “Ellen,” he said harshly, not bothering to hide the wolf in his tone, not trying to fight the possessive frenzy that moved through him. She met his eyes with trepidation, and he didn’t care that he’d lost so much control she was wary of him. “We need to talk. Upstairs.”

  With a reluctant nod, she slipped out of the jacket she was wearing and handed it to Anthony. Then she smiled at him. Clint damn near lost his mind.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  He didn’t want to read any innuendo to that, knew she hadn’t let another man touch her, but Anthony’s scent was all over her. His wolf clawed the cage of his mind, desperate to be free.

  “Now, Ellen.” He followed the order with a low growl.

  She narrowed her eyes as she passed him at the bottom of the stairs and went up. He smelled fear on her, but more than enough anger to compensate. When she reached the landing and disappeared down the hall, he turned to face the four hunters standing in the foyer.

  “She’s mine. Don’t interfere again, Anthony.”

  The werewolf, his old friend and former boss, shrugged. “Quit making me.”

  Clint didn’t respond to that, just followed her upstairs. He was done waiting, done fighting. He wanted to claim what was his, but she was packing when he entered. Somehow he resisted the urge to roar.

  He took the bag from her hands and tossed it on top of the desk. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “Away from you,” she answered tartly.

  “Wrong answer.” He moved closer, caught Anthony’s scent, and smiled just this side of feral. “Shower first. Then we’ll talk.”

  She made an exasperated sound. “I’m sick of talking about this, Clint. Just go away.”