Shifter's Magic (The Wolvers Book 8)

by Jacqueline Rhoades

  Hungry. The way he said it made her knees grow weak. He tugged at her hand and broke into a run. How she managed to keep her legs beneath her, she never knew. Two of her steps to every one of his, she ran behind him with no thought of where they were going but infused with his urgency to get there.

  There, was White Owl pond, and the small pavilion they called a shelterhouse that stood beside it. One end was a solid wall of stone with a huge fireplace at its center. Half walls of stone, open to the air above, formed the other three. The pavilion was old, had been there forever, and while the four stone corner posts still stood, the rafters and roof they supported were mostly gone. No one had used it in a long, long time.

  Breathless from their final sprint, Livvy had no time to recover before Brad lifted her off her feet. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her legs around his waist, and his mouth crushed down on hers. Their kiss wasn't long and deep. It was hard and brutal, devouring. Teeth clashed, tongues collided in battle. They broke apart and came together, again and again, in short skirmishes of power and need.

  Hunger. Always before, the heat of it had built slowly from the first gentle kiss, the warmth of his lips spreading through her body, the intensity building with each coming together of lips and tongue. Tracing the outlines of the cords of his neck with her tongue, tasting the lobes of his ears, burying her face into the strength of his chest had fed the need to touch and be touched.

  Hunger. Now, the need for him, so long suppressed by worry, fear, and lack of privacy exploded. There was no soft and gentle build up. Her body was on fire. Her need to consume him in that fire was overwhelming, and fed to greater heights by his need to consume her in his.

  Hunger. Clothes flew as fumbling and tearing, they vied with each other to strip away all barriers between them. Breast to chest, his erection searing a line against her belly, it wasn't enough. Flames of desire pooled between her legs, her passion almost painful.

  They fell to the ground, no bed of soft grass, but rough, cold stone. Neither noticed or cared. They rolled, twisted, and turned in a torrid frenzy of need.

  Livvy gave no thought to comfort or decency. Emotion ruled as her mouth sought out every fading scar, every spot on his body that had once given evidence of his brutal beating. It was as if her eyes and ears were useless. She needed the touch of her fingers and hands and lips to prove to herself that Brad was indeed alive, that she would not wake up to find it all a cruel nightmare of her fears. She felt no shame as she took his erection into her mouth, thought nothing of her lack of experience as she rolled her tongue around it, licking, kissing, sucking. The pleasure of his moans increased her ardor.

  Hunger. He pinned her shoulders to the ground, first nuzzling his face between her breasts, then attacking each in turn, kneading her flesh and sucking her taut nipple into his mouth so deeply she felt as if he was, in fact, intent on devouring her. Her body arched to meet his mouth, a willing victim to his need.

  She wove her fingers into his hair as his mouth traveled downward. Her hips rose, wantonly offering him the center of her desire. His tongue seared her core. Her spirit rose like a phoenix engulfed in a tower of flame. Her body went rigid with the exquisite sensation and then she lay still.

  Sated, she opened her eyes to Brad looming over her, watching and waiting for her attention.

  "Are you ready, baby?" His voice was a gravelly whisper, tightly controlled.

  Still overwhelmed, Livvy couldn't put voice to her thoughts. She drew his head down and kissed him instead, and wrapped her legs around his hips to show him she was ready for everything he had to offer.

  He entered her slowly, gently, one stroke and then two, filling her with his width and length, over and over, and the burning hunger rose again. He pounded into her, driving her against the cold stone floor, releasing what he'd held so long in check.

  Later, when coherent thought returned, she thought of their coming together as a force of nature; a furious storm of emotion, opposite charges building in intensity until lightning flared and thunder roared. In the towering flames of her phoenix rising amidst the fire that was Brad, Livvy felt as if she'd been born anew. She'd cried that day, cried for the joy of knowing Brad Seaward felt the same way, too.

  And for the first time, Livvy knew what it was like to hear her wolf sing, and it was the sound of magic.

  Overcome with the emotion evoked by the memory, tears leaked from beneath the lashes of her closed eyes. Pain seared through her, a pain so real, her wolf howled with it. She clutched the panties more tightly to her chest as if the pressure of the cloth could stop the shattering of her heart.

  The day Brad had taken those panties meant everything to her and their return meant only one thing. They no longer meant anything to him, and he wanted her to know it.

  Chapter 10

  Livvy stood in front of the collection of furniture and boxes that he'd piled in the corner. Her back was to him. Her shoulders were hunched forward and her back rose and fell with each heavy breath. She looked as if she might be fighting for control. She was angry and Brad thought he knew why.

  He thought her father would have told her about the trailer by now, but apparently he hadn't. He shook his head and swore under his breath. Now he would be forced to explain it. Maybe he could blame it on Tom.

  "You know your daddy," he could tell her. "The thought of money wasted even if you've got it to waste, is more than he can bear."

  It was, after all, Tom who'd dropped the trailer off at the nearest dealer after he'd helped Brad unload the bulkier items. If he blamed it on Tom, then he could avoid admitting the truth; that he'd found the receipts for the sale of one car and the purchase of another. He'd seen the printout of her loan payments and her empty bank account. He hadn't meant to pry, but when the folder fell to the floor when he opened the passenger door, the papers had scattered. He shouldn't have looked, but he did, and tallying up the cost of that rental trailer sitting unused for weeks would come close to financially wiping her out. No wonder she was so worked up about paying him for the work on her car.

  Best to get it over with.

  "Livvy?" He had to call her twice before her head came up at the sound.

  Her back stiffened. Instead of turning toward him, she fled into the washroom. The water ran and ran, proof that she was angry. Her anger rarely boiled over, but when it did, it came with tears, and the tears would make her furious. When the tears dried, she was always shamefaced. He was never sure what was cuter, her anger, her fury, or the contrition that followed.

  There was no fury or contrition when she finally emerged, but the anger was still there. Shoulders squared, eyes on the floor, she stormed in his direction like a miniature bull. He held up his hands.

  "Livvy, back up a minute. Let me explain about the boxes."

  She slowed her advance, but wouldn't make eye contact. "There's nothing to explain. You made your point. I got it. The Mate says you have the Christmas lights. I'm supposed to pick the boxes up. Tell me where they are and give me the keys to my car."

  Shit! What lights? Livvy was acting so strangely he couldn't think. Her voice was cold and close to monotone. This wasn't anger, but she was fighting to keep herself under control, like she was in pain and trying not to show it.

  "Livvy."

  "Lights," she said, a robot on a mission.

  Lights. Boxes. Mate. His mind worked to connect the three. Matt: 'Don't you want to know what's in them?'

  "They're in the other building," he said. "Livvy, please, hear me out."

  "No need." She held out her hand. "Give me my keys."

  He fished them out of his pocket and tossed them to her. "I'll help you load up."

  She caught them and walked past him out the door. "I don't need your help. I don't want it. All I want from you is the bill for my car and how much you spent on my tuition. I'll pay you back for both as soon as I can, every cent of it."

  Brad opened his mouth to argue, but when she passed, he was so stunned he took a step ba
ck.

  She was hot, sexually aroused. He could smell it on her. The sweet scent that was distinctively Livvy tickled at his nostrils. His nasal receptors sent the message to his groin. Taking a shocked breath at his body's instant reaction, he caught another scent. It was faint, but also distinct, and the knowledge triggered another primal response. Livvy wasn't angry. She was in pain.

  How? Who? Where? She'd been alone when he walked in, but someone had aroused her, damn it. Had something happened before he arrived? Had a lovers' tryst gone bad? Had she fled here for shelter? For protection? Had someone hurt his Livvy? His wolf went wild.

  "Mate. Mate." It screamed the word.

  Brad ran to the washroom, threw open the door. There was no evidence of injury, no scent but Livvy's. Two wet paper towels were in the trash basket. It wasn't hard to put those clues together. The toilet never flushed, but the water had run for a long time. She was trying to wash away the evidence of her upset. But why? Why would she hide her tears from him?

  None of it made sense until he walked back into the garage and saw the scrap of cloth on the floor. He picked it up and looked from it to the door.

  "Shit," he muttered. "Shit, shit, shit."

  His wolf was still going wild.

  Brad thought returning that little scrap of polka dotted fabric would tell her that he'd finally accepted her decision to break it off. Closure, or whatever the fuck they called it. The hurt was still there. For him, it would always be there, but he could learn to live with that. It was the anger he couldn't live with, the loss of control over his emotions. Hurting her with his nips and digs only made him feel worse.

  They'd been friends before they were lovers and the truth was that he missed her company as much as he missed the sex. He wanted to reclaim the peace they'd found between them when he'd walked her home. He wanted the comfort of her touch without the tension of where it could no longer lead. Returning those silly panties was his way of saying that he was back in control, that he could live without the lover, but not without the friend.

  He wasn't even sure why he kept the panties all this time. He wasn't a collector of trophies. It wasn't like they'd become some sick minded fetish that he needed to satisfy his fantasies. They remained rolled in a tight little ball in the back corner of a drawer that seemed to collect all the shit he didn't need.

  He seldom thought of them, but each time he straightened out the mess in that drawer and rid himself of the ticket stubs, the useless receipts and guarantees for items he no longer owned, the rubber bands, and packets of spare buttons that he would never use, he could never bring himself to throw the damn things out. He didn't need a pair of polka dotted panties to remind him of that day.

  He'd felt like shit for weeks. Doc had used his magic to repair the worst of it, but there were others in the pack who needed the Alpha's healing power, too. Doc said blood loss and multiple injuries had weakened Brad's body, but he was young and healthy. He would recover in no time, but to nineteen-year-old Brad, no time felt like forever.

  Livvy stayed with him every moment she was allowed. She soothed his frustrations and answered all his grumblings with a smile. He was aware of every minute that ticked by when she wasn't there. He loved her, but he didn't want her, and that scared the shit out of him since he'd been wanting her for what seemed like forever. Things didn't change when he started getting stronger. The hard-on that was his normal response to her touch was gone. When they kissed, he felt like an actor in a movie, all action with no real feeling.

  He told himself it was because they were never alone. The door was always open and there was always someone in the house or in the room. What he told himself was a crock of shit. His wolf remained silent and unmoving. Brad was beginning to think that while his body hadn't died, something else within him had.

  There were so many things he remembered about their walk through the woods that day; the feel of the sunshine on his skin, the scent of the earth coming alive with the arrival of spring, the sight of wildlife with their young. He'd never paid much attention to the world of life around him before unless he was hunting it, but that day it hit him, and it was Livvy Dawson who wielded the power to bring him back to life.

  The feel of her hand in his, the sound of her laughter, the sight of her smiling face, and the look in her eyes that she saved just for him; Livvy Dawson was life, his life, and he was alive to enjoy it.

  He was alive! It was like he'd been living in one of those nightmares where he was lost and alone, and waking to find the world was still there and Livvy was at its center. His wolf reacted to the bizarre discovery, over reacted, and Brad's body followed. He not only wanted Livvy, he had to have her, and it needed to be at the place where he first began to dream of a new life, one that included Livvy Dawson. It was as if his life depended on it. He was a man possessed and Livvy responded as if she felt and understood it, too.

  Like an erupting volcano, their coming together had rocked their world with an explosion of molten desire too powerful to be contained or controlled. It was so much more than sex. It was a declaration of life and all that the future would hold. His wolf howled in a kind of primal exultation that Brad had never heard or felt before, as if it recognized that they were once again back among the living.

  Passion spent, Brad was on his back, flat against the cold and filthy stone floor. Livvy lay sprawled on top of him. He could tell by her breathing that she wasn't asleep, but she didn't speak – strange for Livvy who always had something to say. It made him nervous.

  It was a minute or two before he felt the tickle of a droplet of water running down his chest. She was crying!

  In his selfish need, he'd lost control and he'd hurt her. It was just as he always feared. She was so tiny, fragile... good. And he was so...

  "I'm sorry, Livvy. I'm sorry," he whispered.

  She sniffed and then lifted herself up to look at him with tears still staining her cheeks. "Why?"

  "Why?" he repeated, incredulous. "That was, I was..." He couldn't say the possibilities aloud. Brutal? Barbaric? Violent? Everything he tried so hard not to be.

  "Earth shattering?" Livvy's worried frown tilted up into a smile. She laid her head back down on his chest. "Mind blowing? Everything I've dreamed of?"

  That couldn't be true. "Then why are you crying?"

  She snuggled her body into him and giggled lazily. "Because I'm happy. And don't you dare laugh at me, Brad Seaward. Tomorrow maybe, but not now. Don't ruin the moment by making fun. Just let me be happy."

  He didn't laugh. He was afraid to open his mouth. If he did, he might tell her of all the things he held inside, all the things he feared; the anger and the ugliness, and the violence that was bred into him just as it had been bred into Cho. More to comfort himself than to reassure her, he stroked her back, long, slow strokes from shoulder to ass. God, how he loved that ass.

  A few minutes later when they began to dress, he'd picked up her panties to hand them to her, then changed his mind and held them high above his head.

  "Hey! Give me those."

  "No." Laughing, he caught her up in his arms when she reached for them. "They're mine now. I need something to remind me of this day."

  "Just another trophy, huh? Another pair of panties in the drawer?"

  He still remembered how she tried and failed to smile, to make it a joke. That day meant something to her, too.

  He couldn't tell her that those plain cotton panties were a symbol of the tenderness and innocent beauty that she brought into his life. He couldn't tell her that her love was so simple, honest, and pure that he was overwhelmed by it. He couldn't tell her that, of course. He had a reputation to maintain. His bad boy image was damaged enough with being nursed like a pup for weeks.

  "No," he'd told instead. "They'll be the only panties in my drawer. Forever, baby, and every time I see them or touch them, they'll remind me of the best day of my life. I'll mark you as mine someday, Livvy Dawson. Until then, these are my reminder that you've left your mark on me
."

  She'd left her mark all right, and it was one that couldn't be erased by returning a stupid pair of polka dot panties. It wasn't that simple, but it was a step in the right direction and needed to be done if the wound was to heal.

  His wolf didn't understand. Just as it had gone wild with the thought of someone else hurting Livvy, it was still snarling over the pain inflicted by its human host. Its need to claim and protect her had never wavered. It either refused to acknowledge or couldn't understand that the mate it had chosen didn't feel the same. The animal demanded Brad follow Livvy.

  "No. Leave it alone, wolf. I've upset her enough. Let's give her some time." Maybe he could explain it once she calmed down.

  His wolf was never hesitant in making its feelings known and Brad expected more grumbling or a curled lip in reply. His wolf, however, was suddenly silent, head cocked, and listening. Without warning, its position changed from curious to challenging. Its body lowered, ready to spring into action. Lips pulled back to expose a mouthful of pointed teeth created to tear the flesh of prey or foe, the animal prepared to attack a perceived threat.

  Brad's human reaction was instant. He stuffed the tiny scrap of cloth into his shirt pocket and charged for the door. The threat was outside in the parking area and Livvy was out there, too. Fists clenched and shoulders hunched in response to the tension created by the wolf, he threw open the door, ready to race to her aid.

  Her car was parked next to the warehouse, backed up close to the door. The trunk was open and a stack of containers were ready to be loaded, but car and containers were of no importance to Brad or his wolf. It was the male wolver standing by the open trunk that drew their attention. Tony Carmichael stood with his arms around Livvy who was curled comfortably and unprotesting into his chest.

  Brad's wolf lunged in the couple's direction which such ferocity that Brad was pulled along with it. He'd moved four or five steps before he was able to exert his will and prevent the animal's challenge for the female. Jealousy boiled in the blood of man and wolf.