by Rhea Regale
Mates. Perfectly chosen for one another. A brilliant accomplishment from the spirits themselves, and a wonderful gift for her.
Kasa slowly took one side of Slade’s sac into her mouth and rolled his balls. A spasm jolted his body, followed by sharp gasps.
“Damn! Fucking damn!” he breathed.
“Hmmmm,” she replied, sending a slew of vibration through his sac. She worked more of his balls into her mouth, massaging, rolling, sucking until his breathing came so fast and furious she thought he’d explode.
Kasa released him from her mouth and pressed up onto hands and knees. She crawled up his body, the tip of his cock leaving a cool, wet trail from between her swaying breasts down to her navel. Before her head came level with his, she sat back on her knees, straddling his waist. With a fist around his erection, she guided him back and forth over her clit. Her body reacted, set alive by the direct sensation of friction against nerves. Her legs weakened. Pleasure wound tighter and tighter in her womb. Her pussy throbbed and ached for him to plunge into her. The burning itch in her clit fired up, hotter, hotter…
Slade grabbed her hips roughly, stilling her for a long moment.
“Ride me, baby. Come around me, on me. Let me feel how your pussy reacts to my cock driving you to orgasm.”
Kasa handed over control, allowing Slade to thrust inside her. She moaned, loving how full she became when he sat himself to the hilt. He guided her hips above him, lifting her off his cock then plunging deep. She held onto his wrists for support, the fine-tuned humming in her pussy tensing.
“Oh yes, Slade. Faster,” she gasped. He quickened his tempo. Tighter, tighter, but it wasn’t enough. “More. I need more. Touch me, Slade. Make me come.”
“No, doll. Stroke your sweet little clit and I’ll watch.”
Kasa lowered her hand and separated the wet folds around her clit. Slade didn’t slow down, lifting her until his head was snug inside her, then impaling her on him. Hips smacked against hips, creating a sexy tune as they mated. She circled her nub, the jolts of pleasure shooting up, warming her from head to toe. Slade’s movements quickened. She matched his pace, stroking, rubbing, bringing herself to a crest that would ultimately shatter her being.
“Look at me, Kasa. I want to see the moment you come and I want you to be showing me just what this does to you.”
She hadn’t realized her eyes had closed until Slade’s rough voice filled her mind. A dark mist fogged her vision. She tried to focus on him, her fingers working faster. His pumps grew fiercer, more desperate.
Sparks erupted in front of her. The taut coils snapped and she catapulted into sheer ecstasy, crying out. Her body shook as her orgasm tore through her, melting her. Heat crashed through every vein, every organ, pleasure wracking her, all shooting out from her core.
A deep growl echoed in her mind. Fiery liquid filled her womb, holding her at the peak of her orgasm. Slade’s fingers dug into her hips, tremors taking over his body. She tried to focus on him but couldn’t. Growl turned to a guttural howl just before she collapsed over his chest.
Long, silent moments passed with only the furious thundering of Slade’s heart filling her ear and the combined gasps for breath filling the room. Every muscle in her body quivered with residual pleasure. Her clit thrummed, the rhythmic contractions in her pussy slowly subsiding. Slade’s arms wrapped around her, holding her close as they drifted down from the clouds.
Once she steadied her breath, Kasa turned her head into the crook of his neck. She inhaled the clean scent of his skin mixed with a tinge of salt. Slade kissed her brow.
“I loved the way I woke up,” she murmured against his throat. His honeyed chuckle warmed her.
“I loved the way I woke you up,” he said. Slade traced her spine, his fingers gliding over each bump with tender precision. After another short silence, he added, “I’ve loved watching you, learning everything about you. I admire your strength and courage.”
“And stubbornness.” Kasa tilted her head slightly, enough to catch him cast her a sideward glance. “I know you’re going to say it.”
“And stubbornness.” He rolled them onto their sides and slid out of her. Tucking her mussed hair behind her ear, he rested a soft kiss to her lips. “I haven’t found a single thing about you that I don’t admire. That I can’t love.”
Kasa traced his lips and smiled. “Why Slade Castrove, are you trying to tell me something?”
“Are you?” he countered. God, that sinful grin of his could undo her in an instant. His eyes sparked with mischievous playfulness, an attribute all his own that she found enticing and endearing. She curled a lock of his hair around her fingers, pondering the emotions that churned inside her. “We have all the time in the world, sweetness. I believe the spirits knew exactly what they were doing when they paired the males with their white females.”
She trailed her fingers down to the valley between his well-toned pecs and sighed. Either that, or the spirits paired her up with two of the most gorgeous men that could blow her away whenever they chose. Her heart fluttered, her fingertips absorbing and familiarizing her with her mate’s body.
“Micah’s not here,” she murmured. Slade nodded once, his grin fading.
“You knew he wouldn’t be here when you woke.”
She may have had suspicions, but she still hoped to wake and find them both with her. “A woman can wish, can’t she?”
“He’ll be at your side once they’ve gained control over the rebels.”
“Yes, of course.” Kasa pressed one last kiss to Slade’s mouth then climbed out of bed. “I’m going to hop into the shower, since you already took one.” She cast a passive look at the sex toys and oils spread over the bed. Warmth crept up her neck and into her face. “Then I should probably clean up the evidence.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Slade said. He rolled onto his back and stretched out. She stared at his lithe body, the dark hairs that dusted his chest and nestled around his half-erect cock. He propped his head on his arms and smiled. “Better get movin’, doll, before I keep you here for a while longer.”
She could definitely go for another round in the sack, but they both had more important things to attend to.
She had two men hunting on her behalf, and she wasn’t about to lose either one of them to a pack of maniacal weres.
* * * *
An air of victory pulsed through the tunnels. Eva listened as the melee of cheers, snarls, growls, and claws scraping rock approached the chamber and her current victim. The male cried silently on the metal table, wrists and ankles shackled. She clicked the silver collar around his neck one notch tighter. Thin streams of crimson streaked his flesh and dripped onto the table. His skin turned a sickly gray color. His face contorted with pain.
She loved the expressions of her victims. Each step closer to the final break was invigorating. She was an artist, breaking down these worthless weres and creating something magnificent from their old shells. This one was proving to be a promising candidate for her pack.
The entourage came to a stop outside the chamber. A deft knock resounded through the cavernous room.
“Come in.” Eva rounded the head of the table and cupped the man’s head in her hands. Spittle sieved between his teeth with each silent sob. She lifted her gaze from her newest canvas and observed Lilia upon her entrance. Some of her most magnificent pieces of work followed behind her. Huge, strong, powerful males she had enjoyed cracking until they blubbered like babes at her feet. Not one male dared meet her eyes, instead keeping their gazes adverted to the ground. Smart pups.
Lilia cast a sharp glance at the were on the table and scowled. “He’s crying.”
“Most do until the numbness sets in,” Eva said, unable to withhold a smile. “Tell me you’ve brought the white. It’ll make my day.”
“Sister, sister. I have a better surprise for you.”
Lilia stepped aside. Three weres pushed through the barrier of burly men at the door. They carried a feisty br
own wolf. Eva caught the pungent aroma of blood before she heard the liquid splatter over the ground. A dark spot stained the unusual hue of the brown’s coat above his shoulder.
Eva came around the table and met the men in the center of the room. The wolf snapped at her, his low rumbling growl vibrating through her blood. His lips quivered, a lethal light glinting in his eyes as he stared at her.
“Meet Jordan Jones. The white’s brother,” Lilia said. Eva looked over at her.
“What am I suppose to do with him?”
“You figure it out. But better do so quickly. It’s only a matter of time before your prized white comes, hunting for her dearest brother.”
Eva reached for the wolf’s coat. He snapped again. Her claws elongated and she swiped them across his face. Blood ran from the new wounds. He snorted, shaking his head, trying to dispense the pain.
She came around to his head, grabbed his snout in a fist to keep him from snapping again, and forced him to look at her. “My bite will leave you howling for your mama, dog.” She squeezed his snout until he whimpered but didn’t release him. “I can think of a few things to do. He’ll be a tough one to crack, but I’ll be delighted to try. I’m certain that after he witnesses what I have planned for his sister, he’ll be all ours. Or…” she drew her hand over his soft ear and pinched the tip, “…I’ll just throw him into the cage and watch what happens when the big bad brother wolf goes head to head with our men.”
Eva released her newest captive’s snout and flicked her wrist toward the door. The entourage marched out of the chamber, leaving her to face her young sister alone. Lilia beamed, her arms folded over her naked breasts and her chin held high. She noted the gun holster still attached to Lilia’s arm and groaned. The girl would never learn the true meaning of victory if she continued to depend on that piece of shit weapon.
“How many of ours were lost?” Eva asked.
“We’re missing six. I’ll send a scout back to find the bodies.”
“How many of them were lost?”
“One dead. Two were left in bad shape. Another,” Lilia lifted the arm with her gun, “I left with a little momento.”
“Why didn’t you put him down?” Eva growled. She spun on her heel and stalked back to the table. Picking up an iron poker from the tableside, she stabbed it into a bucket filled with smoldering coals. Her fingers gripped the weapon tightly, her knuckles aching and her nails biting into her palm. “Kill them, you foolish runt. You’re supposed to kill them.”
“I’m really getting sick of you calling me a fool, Eva. If not for me, you wouldn’t have the bait.”
“If not for you, I’d have my fucking white on this table, a silver poker stabbing into her body until she bled out.” Eva lifted the poker and held it over the man’s face. His eyes widened and his breaths sped up. He tried to struggle, but ceased when the teeth on the inside of the collar dug deeper into his flesh. “Prep the wolf in the antechamber. I’ll be done here soon.”
“The antechamber? He’s only just arrived and you plan to use one of your more advanced torture devices on him?”
Eva pressed the glowing orange poker tip against the man’s cheek. He screamed out, flesh sizzling as it melted from bone. An acrid scent of burnt skin, blood, and hot iron filled her nostrils. The howl of agonizing pain stroked her spirit. Ahh, just what she loved.
“He’s brother to a white. I plan on giving him the royal treatment during his stay.” She flashed her sister a dark smile. “And I intend to have you present each step along the way.”
Chapter Twelve
Micah stumbled into the cabin. The door bounced off the wall and hit him in the shoulder. Fire burned along his hip and ribs. The bullet had torn plenty of tissue, muscle, and possibly an organ along the way. Healing was taking too damn long, the pain more of an inconvenience than debilitating.
Slade appeared before him. His eyes went wide before he wove around Micah’s back, supporting him under his arms.
“What the fuck happened to you?” Slade asked.
Micah followed his brother to the table where he fell into a chair with a sharp hiss. He clenched his teeth until the pain subsided enough to leave his vision clear of dark spots. During the short, agony-induced moment, his brother somehow grabbed a bottle of peroxide and a clean washcloth.
“Where’d you find that?” he asked.
“It’s been sitting on the counter since I first arrived. So”—Slade wet the cloth and pressed it to Micah’s slow-closing wound—“tell me what the hell happened.”
Micah fisted one hand on his bare leg while the claws on his other hand dug mercilessly into the wooden tabletop. That irritating fire spurred to life as the peroxide fizzed beneath the cloth. He could feel the sting of bubbles creep into his wound.
“Where’s Kasa?” he demanded. Slade arched a brow. He ignored his brother’s inquisitive glance. “Bro, she said there’s no silver, but I’m certain there was something on that fucking bullet to stall the healing.”
“Could’ve been a number of concoctions that would imitate silver without the, well, lethal effects had it spread. Enough evading my question. Kasa’s in the shower so tell me what happened.”
“Jordan and the pack went hunting, trotting right into a trap set by the rebels. My suspicions are that the rebels planned an ambush, but weren’t expecting us to practically walk—Damn it, Slade! Don’t go digging your finger into my side!—into them.” Micah growled, ripping the cloth from his brother’s hand and shoving his arm away. “You sick son of a bitch. I’ll do it.”
Slade reclined in the chair. No humor lit his eyes. Micah scowled, flashing him his fangs.
“Your teeth don’t frighten me. You wouldn’t dare use them on me,” Slade said, his voice dipping dangerously low.
“The way I’m feeling right now, I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Micah shifted his attention to the bathroom door when the shower shut off. His heart double-paced with the onset of anxiety. He still had to relay the bad news to Kasa. He only hoped she wouldn’t hate him for failing to keep Jordan safe.
The front door burst open again. Stunning cold air blasted him. Snowflakes flew into the tiny entranceway, swirling around the two hulking figures that stormed into the cabin.
“You lying, worthless piece of mutt trash!” Luke bellowed. He lunged for Micah. Slade jumped to his feet, grabbed Luke’s throat, and hauled him into the wall. Brushing aside the pain, Micah leaped forward, ripping Nicco off Slade’s back and whipping the man into the closed door. He dodged a wicked swipe of claws, another cheap shot to his dick, before his patience ran out. He had had enough for one night and knew this night was far from over.
Micah slammed his fist into Nicco’s face. Bone cracked. Blood flowed from his nostrils. A pitiful yelp escaped the man’s lips, his hands slapping over his nose and mouth. Micah growled, slamming him into the door for good measure before releasing his throat and stumbling back to the chair. His wolf panted, begging for something more satisfying. A broken nose would have to pacify him for the time being. Once Jordan was back, he’d be sure to teach these wolves a lesson about fucking with him on an off day.
Kasa emerged from the bathroom, towel barely tucked around her damp body, hair tousled. Her eyes went wide with shock then darkened with anger in a split second. She rushed over to Slade and shoved him away from Luke.
“What is going on here?” she yelled. Micah couldn’t help but admire the way her cheeks flushed. Well, until those blazing amber eyes turned on him. “Where the hell…oh God, Micah.”
All anger melted away. The entire cabin grew quiet aside from panting breaths and the electric hum of unspent energy between the men. Micah shrugged a shoulder as Kasa took Slade’s unoccupied chair and began tenderly poking around his bullet wound. He swallowed the ache in her presence, refusing to show her just how badly he hurt.
“You’re shot.” She grabbed the cloth and peroxide off the table. Micah wondered if she momentarily forgot the brawl that had frozen in
position a short distance behind her. Three sets of eyes focused on them and it took every ounce of control to keep a smug smile from creeping over his mouth. After all, this night was a disaster, only to get worse. There was nothing smug, amusing, or even satisfying to be had until he delivered a safe, and alive, Jordan back to Kasa.
“It’ll heal soon,” Micah assured.
“That fucking furball should’ve never been included in our business! Your brother had it all set up and he comes in and botches it,” Luke snarled. Kasa’s shoulders stiffened slightly, but her attention remained focused on his wound. Slade growled, pulling back his lip from extended fangs. Luke mirrored his offensive stance. Neither moved to provoke a physical attack.
“From what I’ve gathered, your plan was botched from the beginning,” Slade insinuated.
“We had it under control until that bastard ran into the pack and decided to play hero.”
Kasa let out a deep breath. Her eyes lifted to his, then to the ceiling, before dropping to the cloth once again. Micah rested a hand over hers, stilling her from cleaning the wound.
“Listen, Luke’s pissed. Your brother was taken by the rebels. Luke was down for the count and Jordan told me to go to him. I was shot while trying to save him. By crippling me, your brother was left open,” Micah said. He braced himself for her reaction, holding his breath. Kasa dabbed at his wound despite his hand over hers. She added more peroxide to the cloth, scrutinized the swollen flesh, then went back to work without a word. His heart sank. “Kasa, I’m sorry—”
“He let your brother get shot. He’s with those fucking rabid dogs, and we’ve no idea where they are. Had he not busted in, Jordan and I could’ve handled them ourselves,” Luke finally spat out. His disgust was near palpable, lending an unfavorable flavor to the air. Micah shot Slade a sharp look when he caught his brother preparing to launch his right fist.
