With a decision firm in his mind, he brushed her long hair to one side, exposing the creamy column of her neck. He lowered his lips to her, first dropping a light kiss then sucking the skin into his mouth. Sweet. Tangy. His. He inhaled deeply. The stirring of her arousal mixed with her own unique scent even evident in sleep. He sank his teeth into the soft spot under her ear, right on the side where everyone could see it. He felt the moment the chemicals in his body combined with hers, felt the bond create and snap between them. When he was sure it was done, he lifted his head. With his thumb, he caught the trail of blood that trickled toward her shoulder. She stirred in response, and he groaned, forcing his hands away from the zipper at her back.
Billy stuck his head out the cockpit door. “We’re landing, Jackson.”
He nodded. “See you on the other side.”
A slight shaking in the floor indicated the landing gear was going down while the plane swung around to line up with the private runway. Billy would have a car waiting for the short drive to the house. It could have taken minutes or hours; he was oblivious. When the younger man stepped out of the other room and arched his eyebrows in question, Jackson realized they’d landed. He stood with Summer and walked down the ramp, motioning to Billy to get her things. At the car he settled in the passenger side, and Billy drove them home.
There were several cars out front when they arrived, and he snorted in disbelief. Though most of the pack didn’t see it that way, there were actually some things more important than petty grievances. He was beginning to see the sense in Brant’s iron control policy. And that irritated the fuck out of him. Not for the first time he wondered if Brant had evolved into the self-absorbed asshole they’d all known and hated, or if the pack had made him that way. Jackson was on his way to following in his predecessor’s footsteps.
Carrying Summer, who was still out cold, he walked up the front steps. Billy held the door open for him and they shared a silent communication. How he’d ever thought he could live without this Beta in particular was beyond him. He walked into the foyer and headed straight for the stairs, ignoring all the voices clamoring for attention behind him. He heard Billy’s booming voice call for silence and ordered the area cleared until morning.
“It can wait, people,” he shouted. “Tomorrow. Now clear out.”
Jackson ignored all the drama and walked up the stairs, going down the long hall to the spacious master suite at the end. Once inside, he kicked the door closed behind him and laid her gently on the bed. He stepped back and looked down at her for a minute. She was perfect sprawled across their bed, her long black hair like a fan around her and her clothes an enticing tight fit, showcasing curves and soft skin his fingers itched to explore.
Sliding into bed behind her, he pulled the zipper down, trying to quickly and efficiently remove her clothes. It was impossible not to notice the body he bared, but he gritted his teeth and fought his urges. Once that was finished he pulled his shirt over his head and slid off his jeans, glad for once not to be going commando. He needed some barrier between them. Pulling the sheet up, he gathered her in his arms and covered them, hoping to catch a few hours’ sleep. He’d need the rest to face her wrath.
Chapter Two
She felt different on some deep level her muddled mind couldn’t fathom when she awoke, so it took a few minutes for the arms banding her body to register. One wrapped around her waist, settling on her hip, and the other scooped under her torso, cupping her breast. Male arms, thick, well-muscled, and awakening an unfamiliar yearning.
She occasionally took a lover. She never stayed the night. But this somehow felt…right—for the half a second before her brain kicked into working gear. Then the memory of Jackson and what he’d done filled her mind. She struggled to free herself.
She found herself on her back, wrists pinned in his grip next to her head with his erection pressed into her pelvis. He growled low in his throat when she pushed against him, and she tried desperately to suppress her rush of arousal. She didn’t want this, right? Didn’t want him? Her body certainly had other ideas. She should feel terror or rage trapped beneath him. Or, at the very least, distrust.
His icy blue eyes glowed down at her with command and passion. He rocked his hips against her, his hard cock only kept from her entrance by the thin underwear he wore. Her pussy clenched in response. Growing hot and wet, her body seemed to have a mind of its own, and her hips thrust up against him.
It was so unlike her and, with lust filling the corners of her mind, she had a hard time puzzling it out. She’d wanted him when they met, but she’d gotten over it, hadn’t she? Never mind the dreams. Everyone dreamed about completely inappropriate partners. This was beyond want. The longer he lay pressed against her, the more need crawled through her body. When his mouth lowered to hers, his tongue tracing her contours and silently begging entry, she thought she’d explode on the spot. Her lips parted on a groan, and his tongue dipped inside. Gentle. Insistent. He outlined her teeth before his tongue dueled with hers. He tasted like caramel and coffee, and the exposure was too brief.
Then his lips were following the angle of her jaw to her ear. His rough tongue lapped the skin down her neck to the super sensitive hollow between her nape and shoulder. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight to her pussy. Clarity struck her with a similar force, and she struggled against him.
Lifting his head, his gaze bore into hers.
“You bit me,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Let me up, Jackson.”
Even as she said the words, he ground against her, and she felt a fresh flood of warmth between her legs. It isn’t real. It’s just crazy werewolf chemistry.
“We are way past the point of no return, Summer.”
How the hell did he get his underwear off?
She realized her hands were free and put them on his shoulders, prepared to push him away. This wasn’t happening.
Then why were her fingers itching to caress him?
“No way, Jackson. You people are a lot of things, but I’ve never heard y’all condone force. Or…or rape.”
She stuttered past the ridiculous attack. She was angry and hurt, but there couldn’t be much doubt that she wanted him. His jaw hardened and his own anger flared in response.
“Don’t be so sure of that, sweetheart. I met you months ago. I’ve known for months you’re my mate, and you knew it then, too. But you ran and hid. Do you have any idea what that does to a werewolf? I gave you as much time as I had to give, damn it.”
He leaned his forehead against hers and took a deep breath. His cock nestled between them bumped her clit, and she struggled to think instead of feel. He was right. She’d known and avoided. He’d obviously let her. She wasn’t exactly in a position to think through the whole situation now.
He looked up and met her gaze. “God, Summer, I don’t think I can take you putting me off anymore. This is dangerous to everyone, especially you.”
Why did his plea touch her heart so deeply? Was it just the bond or something else? He was giving her a choice, and she made the decision without thinking. Reaching one hand between them, she curled her fingers around his cock. He gasped and thrust into her palm, while she matched his rhythm, tightening her grip more when he groaned his approval.
“Jesus,” he moaned. “Harder.”
She gripped him harder and ran her other hand up his side, lingering over his many scars. Some felt new and she wondered what had been going on in his pack. She reached his pecs and flicked one nail over a hard nipple. He was big and broad, an exquisite specimen of the male of his species. How often had she dreamed of him taking her, holding her down, and refusing to let her hold back? His body exceeded expectations. She wondered if the rest of him would too.
He pulled her hand off his dick and laced their fingers together, then leaned over and took her mouth in a bruising kiss. With the other he guided himself inside her. She held her breath as he filled her, stretched her. He grabbed her other hand and held both abo
ve her head on the pillow.
How did he know exactly what she needed?
Wrapping her legs around his waist, she prepared to hang on for a wild ride and titled her head back to lick the cleft in his chin. She loved the rasp of his stubble-covered face, how it contrasted with his smooth body. He moved in slow, deep thrusts that hit her G-spot every time. As turned on as she was, by the third contact she was keening, an orgasm ripping through her. Her body seemed to clench and contract around him, unwilling to release his as he thrust through her resistance. She was in the throes of her second orgasm when he came with a roar that echoed in her ears. It touched a cord in her soul. Something she recognized in her sated state as the bond that stretched between them.
Releasing her hands, Jackson rolled to his side and pulled her close to him. My God, the woman is going to kill me. Struggling to regain his breath and regulate his heartbeat, he buried his face in her hair. He wanted to enjoy the moment—it would be time to face the music soon enough.
He felt a twinge of guilt for the deception involved in getting her here, for binding them without her consent. Was this a kind of rape? Her body was willing, but mentally? Emotionally? She was so not with him. Worse, he’d brought her into the pack at a dangerous time. Forces moved against him and as much as they tried, he, Billy, and Clint weren’t able to determine exactly from where the danger came. He shifted and a sharp pain in his side—the wound from the last challenge—made itself known. Thank God for the healing powers of the werewolf or where would he be now? Six feet under probably.
Summer turned in his arms and her hand came up to the talisman around his neck. He couldn’t read her expression, and that worried him. A tomblike quiet fell over the room.
“Meg, I’m betting,” she said.
He sighed. “You backed me into a corner, Summer. And your cousins just want to see you happy.”
He apparently struck a raw nerve because defensively, she said, “I’m happy. Who said I wasn’t happy? That’s ridiculous.”
He snorted. “Yeah, that’s why you’ve spent the last few months practically begging for more work.” She closed her fist around the talisman. She gasped and tugged at it. Thank God, for titanium.
“You’re Hardy,” she accused.
“Guilty.”
With a small sound of disgust, she released her grip then jumped up from the bed to pace across the room. He grinned, arms crossed under his head, and watched. Her breasts, round and pert, nipples hard in the cool air, bounced as she walked, and her long black hair swirled around her waist with each pivot. He couldn’t help the growl of appreciation that rumbled up from his chest. He quickly evened his features to a bland expression when she stopped to glare at him.
A soft knock rapped against the door on the opposite wall, and Billy’s voice rang out. “Boss? You available?”
He sighed and stood up. “Just a second, Billy.”
As he strode to the armoire that spread across most of one wall, he noticed Summer’s eyes widen. In appreciation? God, he hoped so. He certainly appreciated her walking around naked. Grabbing a long-sleeved flannel shirt, he tossed it to her and turned to find a faded pair of Levi’s. After pulling them on, he turned to see her still watching him, the shirt clutched in front of her chest.
“Babe, much as I love that gorgeous body, we’re fixing to have company. I’d hate to have to rip Billy’s eyes out for ogling you.” He tried to make it a joke but couldn’t quite keep the edge out of his voice.
She covered her startled look quickly and shrugged into the shirt, fingers fumbling as she hurried to button it up. Looking up, she met his gaze. “Where are my things?”
“Knowing Billy, in the office next door waiting to come in.” He laughed. “That kid is always one step ahead of the rest of us.”
She arched her eyebrows and waited for him to continue, but he just shook his head and turned the doorknob. Stepping back, he let her walk through first, the smell of French Vanilla coffee assaulting his nostrils. Summer accepted the steaming mug Billy handed her and eyed them both warily over its edge. Jackson couldn’t help but smile. Suspicious to the end.
“No, it’s not drugged,” he said. “You must have mentioned at some point that you liked that stuff. Billy here is a details man.”
Instead of replying, she walked around the large room, fingers trailing the edge of his spacious desk before she settled in a leather wing chair by the window and stared out. He cocked his head to the side, anger stirring through him. Was he getting the silent treatment? Billy looked between the two of them and opened his mouth to speak. Jackson shook his head, and he snapped it shut.
At the sideboard near the door, he poured a cup of hot tea and carried it back to the desk. Billy took his usual place before him, folding his tall lanky body into the empty chair, feet widespread and hands resting across the seat’s arms. Jackson sighed and took a long swallow of the mint tea. Ah, the morning routine. The calm before the storm. Billy gave him time to drain the cup and refill it before diving in.
“There was another incident while we were gone. Three of McGarvey’s herd, and he’s blaming you for not catching this guy. Grumbling about incompetence. Actually, I heard quite a bit of that from the usual suspects this morning.”
Billy shifted and rested one ankle on the opposite knee. In a man who was normally very still, Jackson recognized it as a sign of agitation. He frowned and waited in the silence for Billy to go on. When he didn’t, Jackson answered, “They’re welcome to challenge me if they think they can do better.”
Sputtered coughing erupted from the chair by the window. Jumping to his feet, he rounded the corner of his desk but was brought up short by the sight of her. Her eyes glowed and she radiated anger as she stalked toward him.
“Are you okay, Summer?” he asked cautiously, forcibly reminded that this was no ordinary woman. The granddaughter of a powerful witch and a Hunter werewolf, she had plenty of power of her own. He held his ground, though the temptation to step back was strong. He was Alpha here, damn it. He wouldn’t be intimidated by a witch, especially one that was his mate.
Billy edged nervously closer, but he warned him off with a flick of his wrist. Let them have this out now. Whatever this was.
When she reached him, she lifted his arm and ran her fingers along his most recently acquired scar. Despite her anger, the fingers were feather soft, and his body responded. She noticed, cutting her gaze to the bulge in his jeans, then glaring back up at him. They seemed to telegraph her message for her. And if he read it right, it said, no way bubba.
When she spoke, her voice was low and husky, a thread of violence in the controlled tone. “When did this happen?”
He sighed. “Last week.”
“And this one?” Her hand rested on an older scar across his back.
“Last month,” he answered, covering her hand with his and pulling it around to another across his chest. “And this one was a couple of months ago.”
“This is why you didn’t come after me. You couldn’t without risking control of the pack.”
He gritted his teeth and bit back a sharp retort. How dare she question his control of the pack? She’d done her damnedest not to be involved with him, with them, and now she had an opinion?
“This is a way of life for us. You’ll get used to it.”
Her eyes blazed at him and narrowed. “No, it’s not. I study wolves, remember? Wolves and werewolves. An early challenge or two is typical. This late in the game? Not so normal,” she ended sarcastically.
The thing that glared like a neon challenge in that statement was study werewolves. What the fuck did she mean by that? His hackles rose and a growl rumbled deep in his throat. He felt calmness move through him as he developed purpose and turned the tables on her.
Something flickered in her eyes, maybe fear, and she took a step backwards. He followed and they repeated the dance until her back was to the wall and his body pressed tight against hers. Despite his anger, his cocked throbbed at the contact
. After he dealt with his rebellious mate, Billy would have to leave for an hour or two.
“Study werewolves?” he asked, voice deceptively composed. It wouldn’t do to let her see the storm that raged through him at her words. “Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous?”
Try a lot dangerous. If anyone caught her… He shuddered. She could have been lost to him forever. That fear must have shown on his face. Her eyes widened, and she reached a hand up to smooth his brow. Her hand trembled slightly, and she seemed to shrink into the wall.
“Not since I met you,” she whispered bitterly. “I was too afraid you might have people looking for me.”
She shifted against the wall. Her pelvis lifted against his and the smell of her arousal flooded his senses. Amazing. His cock actually got harder. Searching her eyes, he pushed back into her, wondering if she had made the move on purpose, to try and distract him, or was she simply fidgeting under his scrutiny.
Behind him, Billy cleared his throat. Jackson jerked his head around and met his gaze. His expression seemed to telegraph one message loud and clear—they had work to do. Sighing, Jackson slowly peeled away from his alluring, though less than welcoming, mate and returned to his desk.
She clung to the wall for a moment before making a cautious approach and took the seat next to Billy. Her face was flushed, breathing less even than usual, but otherwise she appeared to take the encounter in stride. His molars ground again. And why wouldn’t she, if she had made it a point to study werewolves? He glared at her over the desk.
“We’ll discuss that study in more depth later,” he promised.
She actually had the gall to roll her eyes. He took a deep, cleansing breath. Later. He’d deal with her later. It was enough that he had her and she was listening for the moment, right? Actually, that alone is a hell of a lot of progress.
Lunar Mates 3: Chasing the Moon Page 2
