Broken Pieces

by Deja Black

  “Our?” Remi tried to rise, but his movements were halted by his nelapsi’s power.

  Groaning with relish, the nelapsi sank further into Remi’s body, anchoring the flesh as he prepared to take his mate. The racing of Remi’s heart was like a symphony to him, the musical accompaniment to what would be his happiest moment for centuries to come.

  “Yes. Ours. We have waited for him to make his choice, and now he has. We have.”

  Remi sighed as Peter’s cock pushed inside him. Minutely at first, then with gentle thrusts.

  “I don’t understand what’s... Ugh.” The nelapsi began fucking him in earnest now, bottoming thrusts that made Remi cry out in pleasure-pain.

  “You are the mate that will tie us together,” he groaned as he took Remi, sinking inside his hot hole, again and again, reveling in the rush of blood in those veins, the appetizer before the meal.

  “We’ve been silent so long, unable to be heard, Peter’s need to protect his sanity a shroud to our existence. Now, we’ll each have a part of you and live.” The thrusts were sharper, targeting Remi’s core. “Accept us all, Remi.”

  * * * *

  Peter’s eyes sparkled, the fire in their depths as the creature sharing a soul with his lover asked him to accept them. Peter was in there, below the surface, and he needed him.

  Remi may not have identified the feeling growing within him as love, but he acknowledged the need he had to be with Peter. The absence of fear when faced with the creature who bore little resemblance to his lover, skin glazed in ice, eyes cold and brutal, was troubling.

  No. No matter the outward appearance, inside was Peter Romanoff, the man he loved, and he wouldn’t deny him. He opened and took him in.

  “I accept you, all of you.”

  Remi thought he knew pain. He didn’t. The white-hot piercing of Peter’s long fangs into the side of his throat? That was pain.

  And yet, when his blood started to flow into the mouth sucking on him? When his lover’s dick plunged into him further until Peter’s balls were slapping against his ass cheeks? The feeling was too much and then not enough. The glow around them brightened as the light grew white hot, moving and twisting, mirroring Peter taking Remi.

  “Ah,” he moaned at the sound of wet slurps along his skin. He lifted as Peter shoved and pushed while he drank. Remi was losing his mind. He was at Peter’s mercy assaulted by lights, pain and joy, Peter’s joy. He sighed and his arms fell to his sides, Peter’s tongue swiping along his neck, the touch hot at first then icy, the burn easing.

  “Now, mate. Now, you will drink from me. Taste and be fed.” Remi looked up, catching his breath when Peter took a long claw and ripped open his vein, the blood copious and flowing over the gash. Bending down toward him, he said, “Drink.” Remi turned away.

  He wouldn’t, but the draw was too imperious to deny, so he turned back with his mouth open. He tasted the blood and was overwhelmed by the robust flavor. Helpless, he opened and drank.

  There was one last thrust of Peter’s hard dick before he stuttered and came.

  “Thank you, sweet mate,” Remi heard before his mouth fell away from his lover’s neck, and he drifted off into a sea of darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Remi’s eyes opened slowly. The first thing he noticed was the throbbing between his legs, the sensual confirmation that he’d been fucked well and hard.

  “Yeah, with a two by four,” he mumbled, lifting his hips to test his radius of movement.

  “No, darling, just me.” He smiled when Peter’s silky voice caressed him, teasing him into wakefulness.

  “Oh, baby, there was more than just you there.” He stretched his arms, felt the tenderness of his worn muscles. “Any more workouts like that, and I won’t need a gym.”

  Peter’s laugh was happy, his movements fluid when he climbed over Remi, hair falling across Remi’s sensitized skin.

  “How are you, Detective,” he asked.

  Now Remi saw him fully, the wariness and worry hidden in those sparkling eyes.

  Remi’s smile was wicked as he wrapped his arms around his mate. “What’s wrong, beasty? Second thoughts about popping my sweet little cherry now?” His little favori, favorite, packed a punch. He’d feel it for at least a few days.

  He coughed when Peter leaped on him, agile, quick, and smooth as mercury.

  “Wolf,” Peter stated.

  “Oh, I guessed that from the ears, the height, and the fur. So, the wolves I saw earlier are family, huh?”

  Peter settled against him, his hand drifting over his chest, nails skating along his nipples. “No, not exactly.”

  “Not exactly? Oh, baby. You have to stop that. Mm.” Remi’s dick jumped, the connection from his nipples to his balls red hot. “What exactly is it then?”

  Peter breathed in. “Nelapsi.”

  “Ne... what?”

  “You call our weaker cousins vampire.”

  Remi thought back to the moment before his lights went out—the pain from the bite. Reaching up, he touched where he remembered lips sucking at him, drinking from him.

  “You won’t find anything there,” Peter murmured as he nuzzled at Remi’s jaw. “Whatever marks you’re looking for would never be noticed by the human eye. Any other creature within miles of you would sense the sign of our bond and question if death is worth the price of placing a fingertip on your skin.” Peter bent low, kissed Remi’s fingers then nudged them away from the spot with his mouth.

  Licking, then nipping the skin there, he teased it, little sparks dancing along Remi’s spine. The air from his mouth was hot as it tickled his earlobe. “Make no mistake, the moment you gave your word of acceptance to us, we claimed you and made you ours.”

  “Ours?” Remi hummed, enjoying the play of lips against his skin. “You’re a wolf and a nelapsi?” Remi sat up, careful to keep Peter in his arms. “I’ve never heard of anything like you. There’s no story my grandmother has ever told me, and she knows them all.”

  If he hadn’t witnessed the show for himself, hadn’t viewed his own lover huge, muscular, and wild, then shivered from the control of the other, trembled as his own blood nourished Peter’s creature, he would have wondered about Peter’s sanity or maybe his own.

  Remi sighed and shook his head. “Faith is taking the first step when you don’t see the whole staircase.”

  “Who said that?”

  “Martin Luther King Jr.”

  “Smart guy,” Peter said as he watched Remi closely.

  “He definitely had his awesome points.” Remi squeezed Peter tighter. “Let’s you and I take some steps together.”

  “Oh, let’s make those first steps on our way to the shower.”

  “Whatever your heart desires.”

  The kiss that followed was hot and savage, flavored with the coppery taste of Remi’s blood.

  “Oh, mon amour. Love to hear you growl.”

  After a shower, then another after that, it was a very relaxed Remi and Peter who walked into the Tolliver kitchen with interested looks following them both.

  “Feeling the heat here, Cher,” Remi said as Peter reached over, his hand drawing Remi close.

  “Don’t worry. They’ve never actually seen me with anyone here before.” Peter’s lips were soft on Remi’s, his hand holding him close while he tasted him again. “And we’re covered in each other’s scent. I’m sure that also has much to do with it.”

  Remi watched Peter walk to the refrigerator, his hair knotted on top of his head. The gunmetal blue silk shirt Peter wore, a sharp contrast to his pale beauty. Remi could stare at him forever. There was absolutely nothing shy about the lover that took him earlier in bed, then swallowed his cock deep with the water running over his face while he knelt before Remi later in the shower. Remi would be lucky if he had any energy to work today.

  Even more than that, it was the way Peter made him feel, the way he laughed with him and held him close. All of h
is life, he’d looked for someone who made him feel like he would never be alone, that saw everything about him—faults and all—and looked beyond them to see Remi.

  Peter saw him, and Remi wanted to bask in that, know that for the rest of his days Peter would be here for him. And, he wanted to be there for Peter, to keep him safe.

  He didn’t know how long he just looked at him, a smile on his lips before he glanced away and saw the knowing eyes of an elderly woman scanning him over.

  “Remi, meet Mrs. Dunham. While Jeremiah Tolliver may be Alpha, or leader here, it’s Mrs. Dunham who is the mistress,” Peter said before he drank orange juice from a small glass he’d secured.

  “Peter Romanoff, my boy. I have most missed you and am due a hug and a kiss.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Peter promptly allowed himself to be hugged and squeezed, and Mrs. Dunham giggled when instead of a kiss on the cheek, he dipped her low and kissed her on the lips.

  “Oh, Peter! Silly boy,” she said when Peter returned her right side up. “Now, I’ve cinnamon rolls cooking in the oven. Be a dear and take those out for me while your Remi and I have a look in the pantry.”

  Peter looked like he wanted to argue, but after a speaking glance from Mrs. Dunham, he turned toward the oven while a confused Remi was towed toward the pantry.

  Remi wasn’t stupid. Yes, there may have been something Mrs. Dunham wanted in this room, but Remi suspected there was more to it.

  While she called it a pantry, he bet a family of fifteen lived right here among the abundant shelves of seasonings, canned goods, breads, and more.

  How many people did this house feed?

  Judging by the look of what was in the pantry—military provision room—there wouldn’t be a need to visit a market, a grocery for months.

  Remi smiled as he faced Mrs. Dunham.

  “My boy seems to have chosen you then.”

  Well, that was quick. No beating around the bush for her which Remi appreciated.

  “Yes, he has.”

  “And you? Have you chosen him?” Her eyes searched his own, then fell on his neck. His skin heated, and he knew she’d found the mark his lover had left behind.

  “There isn’t a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice. What be your choice, young Remi?”

  Remi didn’t hesitate because the choice was made for him the day he met Peter Romanoff. “My choice is Peter.” It would always be Peter.

  “Well, then,” she said happily. “That has to be the best thing I’ve heard today.” She sighed. “We’ve been waiting for our boy to fall in love for some time now. It appears he has. The way he looks at you as if you brought the moon, none can miss it. And you? You shine. This is good.” She looked at him and smiled. “All righty, let’s get what we’ve come in for then.”

  Remi laughed. “You mean we actually did come in here for something.”

  Mrs. Dunham smiled. “Hush now and help me search, and while we’re in here you can tell me about yourself.”

  * * * *

  “So, what do you think she’s saying,” Shelly asked. Wife to Connor, she’d walked in carrying her babe as the little one laughed and giggled.

  “Well, I don’t know, gorgeous. What do you think she might be asking the only man I’ve ever brought home?” Peter responded.

  “I don’t know, and the not knowing is killing me.”

  “Well, flutter over there and find out.” She could. She knew it, so why ask him?

  “Like I’d be able to get away with it no matter how tiny I shrank. You know she sees everything,” she whispered conspiratorially.

  “Yes.”

  “What are you two on about?” Caleb asked walking into the room.

  “Mrs. Dunham has Remi in the pantry.”

  “Oh... The pantry.” It was well known a visit to the pantry was a cue for interrogation Mrs. Dunham style.

  They’d all had a visit to the pantry at some point or another, so it was with pins and needles they waited to see what became of Remi’s trip to the pantry.

  When Remi entered the kitchen, there was a laughing Mrs. Dunham on his right, the two of them burdened with canisters and bags of one sort or another.

  Remi’s pale cornflower blue t-shirt and the dark brown Levi’s made his skin just that much more desirable. Peter wanted to keep him to himself locked away in his home for his pleasure alone, but seeing the way he made Mrs. Dunham smile was worth sharing—for a while.

  Remi’s attention was captured by Mrs. Dunham who pulled him to the counter to show him a recipe appearing to involve vanilla, more flour, and bits of orange peel. Remi nodded while she spoke, the two of them in agreement over their ingredients.

  “Hmm, I likey. Cute and handy in the kitchen? Nicely done.” Shelly crooned. Peter quirked an eyebrow at one of his favorite women in the world.

  Shelley was a sprite, a spunky little vixen who had all the men, young and old wrapped around her scarlet red tipped finger. Today her hair was a feisty shade of pink with a stripe of blue falling over one ear. One bright red fingernail tapped against her lip as her kohl-rimmed eyes followed Remi’s movements.

  “You’re married, woman. And, he’s mine.”

  “Married, pregnant, but not blind, little man,” she said. “I do happen to like a nice ass just as much as any other creature, yours included.”

  Peter’s groan was followed by Shelly’s laugh. He sighed while he reached over to spin the curl of the healthy little child she held close.

  “Your mother is ever the wildflower, little one. There isn’t a chance you’ll slow her down, will you?”

  “And why should she? I like my woman’s spirit,” Conner said as he strode into the kitchen with another of their children atop his sturdy shoulders. “Any fool stupid enough to try something will regret it.”

  “Of course, love,” Shelly answered as her husband kissed her, the babe in her arms cooing.

  “Peter, nice to see you, and not alone, I might add.” The giant set his burden down and looked on lovingly as the little girl flew to Peter. Peter picked her up and tossed her in the air where she hovered longer than should have been possible and drifted down to his waiting arms like a feather.

  “Show off,” he said as she giggled, her red ringlets bouncing around her cheeks. “That was fast, wasn’t it?” he asked her mother.

  “Yes, it was. We’ll have to keep an eye on her,” Shelly answered, her eyes wary.

  “No worries. All of our babes are in the right place and safe,” Conner rumbled. He looked at Remi and back to his wife.

  Shelly smiled at her husband and then glanced over to Peter. “We’ll need pictures of the newest one, Peter.”

  He kissed the little girl’s warm cheek and responded, “That and the one on its way, of course. Will there be a moment when you’re not carrying a new one there, sprite?”

  An apple spun in the air a moment before deftly tapping Peter on his forehead. He caught it as it fell and set it on the table.

  “You are terrible, woman.”

  “You deserved it. You know very well the Alphas and their young, forever keeping the progeny going.” Yes, Connor would be Alpha someday, there was no doubt. As Jeremiah’s first son, he was in direct line to lead the pack when his father stepped down. Connor was an honorable man, a formidable wolf, and a soldier. He would do well.

  Peter looked up over the wriggling carrot top in his arms. Letting her down carefully, he stood and faced Shelly. “My love, I know how happy you are to have children of your own.”

  Shelly pointed her chin toward Remi. “How soon before you have one of your own?”

  “Shelly,” he warned.

  “I’m just saying. Knowing you, it may be a millennium. How do you feel about children, Remi?”

  Caleb who had been quietly typing away on his phone gagged on the glass of juice he held to his lips.

  Conner patted his back, the both of them snickering as Remi turned to Shel
ly shocked if the way his lover’s face kept doing that open fish mouth thing was any indication.

  “Shelly Tolliver,” Mrs. Dunham said. The tone said admonishment, but the twinkle in her eye was a hint she was just as curious herself. “Conner, I’ve prepared snacks for you and yours,” she added as she handed over an impressive basket of food to one of Conner’s wolves who entered the kitchen silently.

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Wife?” Conner smiled as he collected Shelly whose expression was completely unrepentant. Then he gathered two of his little ones. “We’ll pick up the others on the way.”

  Remi asked, “Others? How many children do they have?”

  There was laughter in the room. “The enforcer, who will someday be Alpha of the Iroquois Pack, and his mate have eight children,” Peter answered.

  “And counting,” Caleb said while swiping his phone closed, easing it into his pocket. “In fact, you met one of his children earlier during a game with Aiden, Dan, and the men. I heard it was a very interesting one. The boy’s name is Samuel.”

  Remi’s cough was suspicious, Caleb’s evil grin more so.

  “He’s met Samuel?” Peter asked. Samuel was well known for his need to play with humans.

  “Oh, yes. They’ve met,” Caleb responded.

  Before Caleb continued, Mrs. Dunham dropped a basket in his lap achingly close to his genital area.

  “That is for your Korol and his Supruga. Off with you and your trouble making.” To Remi, she said, “It was nice meeting you, Remi. We will see more of you, yes? We’ve missed our boy.” Bending low, Remi kissed her on the cheek.

  “He’ll be here, Mrs. D,” Remi said.

  “Mrs. D,” she said, leaning back as she looked up at him. Glancing over to Peter, she nodded. “I like your Supruga, Peter. Have a nice lunch in the garden.”

  On the way to the garden, Caleb walked ahead, a basket filled with food in his hand while Peter and Remi followed. When they arrived at the waterfall, Jeremiah’s most recent change to Sarai’s gardens, Caleb turned to face them both.