by Alison Aimes
The other females had led her to a tent made up of a patchwork of coverings sewn together. She had no trouble standing in the center, but the tallest female’s head skimmed the ceiling. Clothing and blankets had been pushed to the side to give them a small area in which to stand.
Talg would have beaten them for speaking to him as they had to Grif and the other males. These bold females had not only avoided punishment but gotten their way. She stood in awe of their courage and strength.
“Hungry?”
“No.”
The females exchanged a look, their lips pressed tight, creating the same kind of lines she had on the bridge of her nose. She wondered what she was doing wrong.
She was finally a part of something and she did not want to ruin it.
“I’m Britta. We’re here for you.” The tall female with hair the color of the reddest cliffs stepped forward, her expression kind. “To give you support in any way.”
Nayla nodded. She tried not to stare. It was all so different. The scents, the coverings, the way the people interacted. The red-haired Britta held herself in much the same way as the hunters in her pack. Like Lana, she did not appear to be afraid to take up space or speak her thoughts. It was extraordinary to see in a female, but also a little frightening.
More familiar was the quieter reticence of the dark-haired female named Cam.
Nayla nodded in greeting as each was introduced.
It was a shock to realize how clear the differences among the Others were to her now. In the past, they had all struck her as indistinguishable violent savages.
After time spent with Grif, that was no longer the case. Without prejudice to cloud her vision, she could see that the males and females were as varied in character and looks as those within her own pack.
It was fascinating. It was also hard. Because acknowledging their individuality meant recognizing what she’d done was so much worse than she’d initially realized. Raised on Talg’s lies, she’d been certain she was playing a part in wiping out the faceless vermin that threatened pack existence.
Now, it was hitting home that the females she’d taken were individuals with their own stories, ambitions, and personalities.
The guilt pressed in, making it hard to breathe.
Because of her, those females were in danger.
“You don’t need to be afraid.” The gentle observation from Lana jerked Nayla from her thoughts.
“We do not intend to pressure you in anyway.” The female named Cam used the same soothing tones Nayla did with Sharluff when her beast was upset.
They crowded closer.
Nayla fought not to run.
They were far from hostile, but there was something expectant in the air that made her nervous.
She swallowed hard. She could not think of the last time she’d had so many eyes on her. She was usually under her anazi, ignored by pack. Even Grif’s intense focus had felt different. He’d told her the rules up front. Been honest and clear about his intentions from the start.
She had no idea what these females wanted. She could feel old instincts clawing at her, the desperate need for approval welling within.
The sense that she was not enough pressed heavier and heavier against her skin, as if the anazi was still on her shoulders, smothering her, wiping away the strong part of her that Grif had helped her to see.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Lana, the female with rich brown curls that had spoken with such anger moved closer, her tone gentle. “You’re safe here. You can tell us anything.”
Nayla swallowed hard. She had no idea what they were so keen to discuss.
“I used to think Grif was so wonderful.” Lana’s lips pressed hard together. “I-I thought he was a real hero. The best of men.” Her expression crumpled. “I am so sorry.”
Nayla started. They wanted to discuss Grif? She had not expected that. “He not perfect…”
“Not perfect? Hah.” The red-haired Britta slammed her hands onto her hips. “Lana told us everything. You don’t have to pretend. H-he may look handsome and strong, but now we know. Inside, he’s a monster.”
“He traumatized you,” said Cam.
“He made you feel dirty and used,” added Lana. “He made you feel like you were nothing.”
Had he?
Never.
The opposite was true. Yes, she’d been scared of Grif at first. She’d also been terrified of the unwanted sensations he’d forced on her, but once the fear was gone, what she’d experienced was something altogether different.
She’d been seen. Listened to. Cared for. There had been awe at being touched and being able to touch in return. She’d felt connected to him in ways she’d never imagined were possible.
At the remembrance, the strange softness in her chest that was just for Grif expanded in depth and size, burning brighter.
“I will be reporting him to the commander once the mission is over and the missing females are safe.” Lana patted her shoulder. “I recognize that we live in an ugly, dangerous world, but we can’t become like them. We have to be better than the monsters.”
“There has to be some way you can be shielded from seeing your tormentor every rotation.” Cam crowded closer on her other side.
Not see Grif? Nayla’s stomach twisted. Said aloud, the idea horrified her. She’d gotten used to his touches, the intensity of his gaze, the way he cared for her. To have learned what she was missing and then be without it now would be a thousand times worse than before.
“Grif not bad one.” She wished her New English was better, but nerves made it even harder for her to find the right words. “He trying to do everything to save other females like you.”
Britta’s scowl deepened. “Yes, but—”
She didn’t let the female finish. “He care more than anyone what happens to females. In my pack, females less than males, and ones like me, next to nothing. Not to Grif. He do whatever it takes to save those he believe in danger. I-I think he is hero.”
Lana drew back, her eyes angry like Grif’s sometimes got. “Even after what he’s done to you?”
“Yes, even then. I wish I had someone fight for me like Grif do for missing females.”
Saying the words aloud only reinforced how badly she wanted Grif to continue to be the one who fought and cared for her, but how could he when she couldn’t even fit in with the females of his world?
“You don’t mean it.” Cam patted her arm this time. “You’re confused. Or maybe you think you owe him something because he brought you along rather than killing you? That’s not true.”
“How do you think to get females back without him?” Nayla did not like the suggestion that she was confused. She might not be full Other, but she knew her mind. “I would not have told location if he just ask nicely.” She gave them the truth. Not just for Grif, but for herself. She did not want their kindness under false pretense.
Shocked silence greeted her declaration. None of the females looked pleased.
Her stomach twisted. She knew the tips of her ears were twitching, her skin shimmering golden pink with emotion. She did not want to stay any longer.
She was used to asking for permission, to be told when she could depart, but Grif’s words flickered through her mind now. You always have the right to say what you want.
“I return to Grif now.” She pushed past, not waiting for a reply.
She was not one of them. She never would be.
33
“Nayla? Everything okay?” Grif’s heart thumped overtime at the look on her face.
He was where he’d been when she left. At the fire. Trying not to look like he was hovering. Or that he didn’t know what the hells to do with himself once he’d put up his tent and made sure Sharluff was tied up tight.
Malin had wanted to argue. Bain to discuss the merits of Pack versus Other. Zale to eat.
Grif hadn’t been interested in any of it.
But now he wanted to kill someone, namely whoever had made Nayla look
so sad.
She nodded, but didn’t speak.
He understood her reticence, but sometimes finding patience wasn’t easy. Especially when he wanted to fix whatever was bothering her as fast as possible.
Turning his back on the curious gazes of his teammates, he slung his arm around her and led her toward his tent. “Time to talk, wild thing.”
He held open the tent flap for her and tried not to wonder if pack dwellings were a hundred times nicer than his makeshift shelter as she ducked inside. They stared together at the meager pile of belongings in the corner: his pack, and little else.
The place he’d started building back at the settlement was a palace in comparison. He was handy—had to be growing up with the dad he’d had—so the bare bones were already looking good. He’d gotten sidetracked though by the mess with Ryker, imprisonment, and his hunt for Nayla.
Now, though, he was actually excited about crafting it into a real living space.
He wondered what Nayla liked in a home.
“I don’t belong here.”
Her words jerked him from his thoughts. He knew she wasn’t talking about the tent.
“Here.” He scooped up a skin of water from his pack and handed it to her. “You should drink.” He eyed his stash of bars. “It would be great if you ate something, too. You didn’t eat dinner.”
She did not take the bar. She did not drink the water.
He blew out a breath. “Did they say something mean to you?”
No answer.
He reminded himself that interrogators stayed in control. Leaders kept their cool and gathered intel. Those gunning to be second-in-command let logic rule.
She pressed her lips together and the lines at the bridge of her nose deepened.
“I’m going to talk to them.” He stalked toward the tent flap. “I trusted them to take care of you, and they did a shit job.”
“No. Wait.” The simple touch of her hand on his forearm stopped him cold. “They nice to me.” Her fangs flashed, tugging at her lower lip. “They say mean things about you.”
Ah, hells. He was so lost in this female.
He turned to face her, wrapping his hands around her shoulders. “I can handle a little criticism. It’s probably well deserved. As long as they’re nice and welcoming to you, I’m good.”
She shrugged. “I see enough anger with Talg. Such feelings only poison and twist. I don’t want that for you or them.” Her ears twitched. “I knew would be hard for me here. I didn’t realize hard for you, too.”
He ran his arms up and down the length of hers. “Everyone is just adjusting. Give them some time to catch up with us.”
She nodded, but shadows still darkened her gaze.
“What else is worrying you, wild thing?” He cradled her jaw between his hands. “We share our secrets, remember? Even when it’s hard.”
“I like when you push me,” she whispered the words. “I like when you hold me down and make me burn. Th-the brave females say I should not like what you did to me, but I did. I-I want it even now.”
Ah, fuck him. Nayla was finding her voice and coming into her own. Which was good. But it just might kill him in the process.
He brushed his thumbs across her cheekbones, soaking in as much of her courage as he could. “Whatever you feel is never wrong, so don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Your body likes what it likes and you’ve had too little pleasure in your life to feel bad about what makes you feel good.”
He swallowed hard. “It is true though that you haven’t had a lot of chances yet to judge what you like best. There…there could be other forms of touching you like better. Or,” he forced the words out, the monster in him roaring all the while, “even another male who—ˮ
“No.” She cut him off, thankfully putting him out of his misery. “You only. I know. I like your rules. Your strength. Your command. It…it feel right.”
His cock went rock hard beneath his covering. “It feels right to me, too.”
Her gaze never wavered from his. “I want to be brave like those other females. I want to say what I want.”
He was in so much trouble. “Good. You should.”
She nodded again, her tiny fangs chewing at her lip as she gathered her courage. “Then I want you touch me, like before. It made me feel so good.”
He was still recovering from that declaration when she pressed her hand to his chest, the same place she had the first time she’d touched him. “I want to touch you, too.”
“Done.” Lust a red roar in his brain, he squelched the whisper and doubts. He’d vowed to take care of her and this was what she wanted. He’d make her feel so fucking good. He’d make her forget there was ever a time she’d feared him. He’d make her forget that the mean things those females had said about him might not be so wrong.
“We begin?”
He hid a smile. For someone who said she liked his commands, she gave a lot of her own.
“We begin.” He slid one hand to the nape of her neck, the other to her ass, and drew her close.
She melted against him, her eyes fluttering shut.
But it was the soft, sweet sigh of surrender that whispered past her lips that got him worst of all. The sound wrapped around his soul like the finest of shibari rope, a web of connection he doubted he could ever unravel.
After all she’d been through, and after all he’d done, she still trusted him.
He tried his whole life to be a White Knight and obliterate the taint of his father from his veins, but he’d never felt more like the real thing than in this moment.
“What we have special.” She arched against him. “Not everyone have.”
“I know.” He swallowed hard, humbled that she saw it, too. “I never thought I’d feel as close to another soul.”
He’d thought taking care of Nayla would be solely about her, but it wasn’t working out that way.
With every touch, with every shared confession, his tie to her thickened and solidified, wrapping tighter and tighter around his chest.
The tips of his fingers skimmed across her skin, stroking her cheeks, the hollows of her clavicle. He teased her nipples to hard points, caressing each rib, the soft skin of her belly, until her breath came in pants and he dipped lower, circling the swollen pearl at her center. “I’m going to play with this sweet pussy until you’re begging me to let you come.”
“Y-yes.” She rubbed against him, her legs spreading wider to accommodate his hand.
“Tell me again you like my hands on you.”
“P-please.”
“Say it.” He pinched her clit. “Your body always tells me the truth, but I need to hear it from those lips.” Especially after tonight.
She moaned, fingernails digging into his skin.
He thrust a finger into her warm, slick heat. “Tell me.”
“Yes. I-I want.” She arched deeper into his touch.
Triumph surged through him. Her words were just as sweet as expected. “That’s my wild thing.”
With a soft moan, she rode his hand, her hips rising in time with his strokes, her nipples tight and hard and thrusting toward him, tits bouncing, a look of intense pleasure-pain gripping her features.
So gorgeous he could barely breathe.
The warmth of her skin, pure softness. The give beneath his touch, heady. His heart slammed in his chest, his cock hard as stone.
The slickness between her thighs coated his fingers, easing his way as he pushed inside and claimed her for his own. The scent of her filling his nostrils, making him crazed, as she cried out and arched deeper into his touch.
Even without his ropes, he’d never been so tied to another person.
Her hand slid beneath his covering and wrapped around his dick.
He shuddered, pushing deeper into her hold.
“If you put inside me, will hurt?”
He stilled. “Did it always hurt you before?”
She looked away. “Yes.”
He seized her chin, drew her
back to face him. “It won’t hurt, wild thing.” He nuzzled her nose with his. “I’ll make damn sure, but…” he cleared his throat. “We need to wait. I—I don’t have any way to protect you from pregnancy. We’ll need to return to the settlement for that.”
He expected her to frown. She smile instead. “We don’t need to wait. I make pack paste. Pack females take to control young numbers. It work well.”
Another wonder. “That’s amazing. The females back at the settlement will be excited to hear it.”
“I show you first.” Her expression turned coy. “After I show you what else I know.” She dragged her fist up the length of him.
“That feels good.” His voice was an embarrassing guttural rasp.
“We a team.”
“We are. So, rub up against me, beautiful. Right where you need it most.” Sliding his hands to her ass, he tilted her forward, dragging her slick pussy along the hard steel of his cock. “I’m going to make you feel so good. Trust me.”
“I do.”
Their eyes locked, every atom reaching for one another as the fire inside flared into a raging inferno.
He could barely believe he’d once sought her death. He no longer saw the shapeless, pelt-covered mass that had betrayed him and torn Melody and Hope from their mother. Now, he saw a female who’d suffered like his sister, but found a way to endure and survive. A fighter who looked delicate enough to snap in two but refused to break. An innocent who didn’t even know what pleasure was but came alive under his touch, greedy and desperate for more. A brave spirit who roused every ounce of dark desire and protectiveness in his blood and left him with zero detachment.
Every part of her was precious to him.
He would not allow anything to happen to her.
The very thought terrified him as nothing had in a long time.
Nayla shook as Grif gripped her tighter, his hold suddenly so strong she could barely breathe.
“You’re not going anywhere.” His voice was a near growl. He almost sounded lost.
“Nowhere else I want to be.” Thinking was hard. Logic had fled. All that was left was a pulsing ache between her thighs and the desperate need to be close to Grif in every way. It felt so good to hold him in her hands, and the way he touched her…it was a revelation each time.
