Ruled

by Keira Blackwood

Angel seemed as into the retelling as she had been the last time. Those two really were a good fit.

  When we stepped back through the last portal, and arrived in the basement of the Ulfhednar Estate, a weight I hadn’t realized I was carrying lifted. It felt good to be home.

  “Since there’s not much moonlight left,” Violet said, “we better get back to our place. There’s a lot to clean up.”

  “Us too,” Bennet said.

  “Really?” Charlie asked. “So soon? I thought we’d carry on this happy reunion a little longer.”

  “I’ll stick with you,” Angel said, and reached up on tiptoes to kiss his nose.

  “Score,” he said, and scooped her up into his arms.

  “Goodnight,” Violet said, as she walked up the stairs.

  “Goodnight,” I replied.

  Waves and goodbyes followed until we were alone, just me and Tyr. It was good to have everyone home safe, but even better to say goodnight and return to being just the two of us.

  “We’ve got to get ready for sunrise, too,” I said, and laced my fingers in his.

  He still seemed distant, like he was stuck back in that basement instead of being present here in this one. I hoped maybe when we reached our bed, he’d be ready to talk about it.

  He stayed still when I took a step forward. I turned back and met his sad, green gaze. Maybe he was ready to talk now.

  “I’m sorry you had kill him,” I said. “I know that’s hard on you, but it was the right choice.”

  “I know. It’s just, I was him,” Tyr said, “all those years ago. I was driven by revenge.”

  “You’ve changed,” I said. “You’re not that man anymore.”

  “Maybe not, but the man that I was is still a part of me,” he said. “I wish I could go back. Change the past.”

  “Say you could,” I said. “Say you could go back in time and make yourself give up on vengeance before you attacked those wolves. You wouldn’t have met Lyra. You wouldn’t have been changed the way you were. You wouldn’t be the man I fell in love with.”

  His eyes sparkled, and he kissed me softly. His fingers combed through my hair, gently raked my back. Excitement, like electricity, radiated from his touch.

  “I love you, too, amor aeternus,” Tyr whispered.

  His lips crashed against mine. It was a promise of loyalty, of love, for eternity. I opened for him, kissed him deep, and promised myself in return.

  He lifted me up, held me close, and I wrapped my legs around him. I held tight to his neck as he started to walk, leaned my forehead against his, and looked deep into his eyes. This was it. He was it for me.

  “I’d thought true happiness wasn’t possible for me. I’d thought I was meant to be alone. It took a thousand years,” Tyr said, “but I’ve finally found you.”

  “We’ll share at least a thousand more,” I replied.

  His lips were tender, his kiss gentle. I lost myself in our embrace, in him.

  We went up both sets of stairs. When the door clicked shut behind us, I found myself over the bed we shared.

  He lowered me softly onto the mattress, and I eased my grip on him.

  Cool and wet, he trailed kisses down my neck. I wanted him to go lower, to kiss every inch of my skin, but my sweater was in the way. I sat up and pulled the thick fabric over my head, tossed my bra onto the floor.

  The air was cold, but I knew Tyr would keep me warm.

  He stood over me, and licked my collarbone, trailed his fangs across my shoulder. He was gentle enough that the sharp points didn’t cut, slow enough that I feared he’d never give me all that I wanted.

  With every kiss I grew more wet. His tongue flicked across my hard nipple, sending tendrils of pleasure down through my core. The wait was exquisite torture, a tease. I pulled at his tattered shirt, ripped open the buttons. Every hill and valley of his sculpted chest was chiseled to perfection. My legs quivered as I explored every hard muscle with my palms.

  He slid his hands down to my hips and teased with a finger just inside the waist of my pants. It was too slow, I wanted more. I wanted him to throw me down and give me every inch of his cock, just as he had in the training room downstairs.

  I tore into his pants, ruining the button and zipper. The black fabric fell to the floor and I smiled at my victory.

  Tyr’s irises swirled with red as he lowered my jeans. I grabbed hold of his cock, through his boxers, and moved my palm softly over the thin fabric.

  With the pad of his thumb, he traced my shape through soaked panties. He looked up at me and smiled wide.

  “Don’t just tease,” I said.

  He moved his thumb up and down, much too slow.

  I pulled down his boxers, and his huge cock sprung out. I took it in my palm. The skin was so soft, yet it was also so firm. He moaned as I slid my fist upward toward the tip. Before I could move down again, I found myself thrown down on my back, with Tyr above me. His face was playful yet intense, and I saw in his eyes exactly what I felt for him—there was only me for him, just as there was only him for me. His hands held my wrists up as he teased my opening with his thick head.

  I squirmed beneath him, searching for more. He smiled.

  He was so close, yet much too far away. I ached for his touch, yet he held himself up, his chest above mine, his hips too far back.

  “You want it?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He pushed in a little more, stretching me in the best way. I gasped as his huge cock filled me. The pressure was intense and glorious. Warmth radiated through me as he gave me all of the contact I’d yearned for.

  He released my hands and grabbed my breast, flicking the nipple with his thumb.

  “I just can’t get enough of you, Ashley King,” he said, burying his cock to the hilt.

  “Good,” I gasped.

  Every inch of me felt alive as he gave me everything I needed. My lips tingled as pleasure built within my core.

  “I want this, every night,” Tyr said.

  “For eternity.”

  He sped up, thrusting with unnatural speed, and I threw my head back, closed my eyes, and let ecstasy wash over me. I’d never felt anything as intense as our connection, any climax so fulfilling. My core tensed as he pushed me over the edge.

  “Tyr,” I cried. “Yes.”

  Heat washed over me, intense, euphoric heat. I felt his body tense as he came with me. Everything was as it was meant to be. There was nothing that mattered in the world but the bond that we shared. We were one.

  Tyr collapsed beside me in the bed, and I rolled over into his arms. I was the perfect fit in his arms. I was home.

  “Amor aeternus,” he said.

  “Amor aeternus.”

  Epilogue

  Tyr

  The hall was quiet, with only the sound of voices echoing up the stairwell. The hardwood was pleasantly cold on my bare feet. Going without shoes was a habit I’d picked up from Ashley. The estate guard, Orlando, passed in the other direction when I went by. He appeared comfortable in his jeans and t-shirt that read Squirrely Sandnuggets.

  “Good morning, sir.” Orlando smiled and waved.

  “Morning.”

  The estate was still far from full, but I’d grown fond of having more people around than I’d previously been accustomed to.

  Downstairs, the voices were louder, as was the theatre room. I stopped and peered inside as I passed.

  Charlie and Angel sat on opposite sides of the room, throwing handfuls of popcorn at each other. Why any vampire would want popcorn, or why the two of them made any of their choices, I had no idea.

  On the big screen at the end of the room, the local news was broadcast.

  The official statement on the fire at Market Square has been released. Strange reports of werewolves, aliens, and superpowers are all being explained by an apparent gas leak. The highly flammable gas is known to elicit hallucinations when inhaled. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured in the events that occurred last Saturday night.
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  I continued down the hall and found Ashley exactly where I knew she would be—in our office. The dais was gone, while her favorite chair remained by a desk just like mine.

  “That’s right,” she said. “No more official announcements, but come in anytime, I can help.”

  The vampire before her reached out a hand, and they shook.

  When he turned to go, he smiled at me. “That one’s a keeper,” he said. “Just took a bit to find her stride.”

  “She is,” I agreed.

  Her flaxen hair fell softly over the sides of her face, framing her magnificent emerald eyes. Her bright red lips curved into a smile when she noticed me. She was so beautiful, so gentle, yet so strong. In one look I knew the love that she felt for me, the same love I felt for her in return. And I wondered, as I did every time that I looked at her—how did I get so lucky?

  Bennet, standing at the other end of the room, set down the pile of papers that he held. Cleared his throat, and headed toward the door. I hadn’t realized he was there. “That’s the last meeting for a few hours,” he said. “I’ll be back later with Hannah for family ‘dinner’ night.”

  “Thanks, Bennet,” Ashley said, without taking her eyes off of me.

  It was our monthly gathering, bringing together all of the Ulfhednars for a social, rather than business meeting. There was food, though only Hannah ate it. There was blood, and blood infused cakes for the rest of us. I’d nearly forgotten that it was happening tonight.

  Ashley shut the door with a flick of her wrist once Bennet had left.

  “I have something to ask,” she said.

  “Anything.”

  “Hannah’s parents reached out. A pack of wolf shifters showed up in Nowheresville. Their territory was ravaged by another pack, and they’re settling in Hannah’s hometown.”

  “Okay,” I said, unsure what Ashley meant to ask.

  “There’s a lot of orphans, more than their pack can take in. They’re looking for shifter families to take in the kids who’ve lost everything.”

  “Are Hannah and Bennet considering adoption?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “That’s wonderful.”

  “The thing is,” Ashley said. “They’re considering adopting a little girl. She’s six, and she has a best friend.” Ashley pulled a photo from the desk.

  Two little girls had their arms wrapped around each other. Their skin was the color of warm caramel, their hair black as night. They beamed with joy as they looked at each other. And their smiles were contagious.

  “Her name is Katia,” Ashley said, and pointed to the girl on the right. “I know we aren’t shifters, but I think we could offer her a nurturing and understanding home. I thought maybe we could meet her.”

  Every day that passed, I thought it was impossible to love Ashley more. I was wrong. I wrapped my arms around my amor aeternus, kissed her deep, then said, “Yes.”

  Also by Keira Blackwood

  Protectors of the Pack

  The Protectors of the Pack Complete Series Box Set

  Bodyguard

  Enemies

  Heir

  The Riverwood Series

  The Riverwood Complete Series Box Set

  Grizzly Bait

  Grizzly Mate

  Grizzly Fate

  Can’t Prove Shift

  Misdelivered

  Continue reading for previews of Misdelivered and Grizzly Bait!

  Misdelivered: Chapter One

  Lyn

  Heated, hazel eyes devoured every voluptuous curve. Desire poured from him in waves. Even from my seat, forty feet away, the stink of my mark’s arousal tainted my nostrils. It was the loudest thing in the hotel lobby, even with the musician bellowing Frank Sinatra as he smoothly played his grand piano. The tune was flawless, just loud enough to dull the sounds of the casino in the next room—drunken chatter, clinking of coins, and the never-ending electronic dinging from the slot machines.

  The lounge was filled with dark, rich woods. And rich patrons. A redheaded waitress flirted with a middle-aged suit at one of the small, round tables, then mocked him when she returned to the bartender. A thin, elderly woman in a satin evening gown sat at the next table over. Her silver hair was styled like that of a movie star from the twenties, and her confidence matched. The seats beside her were filled by attractive men, young enough to be her grandsons. But with their proximity to the aging starlet, and her hands on their thighs, I assumed no relation. Whispered innuendos passed, glasses clinked, taps poured. I took it all in, and kept my body turned toward the performer at the piano. But my attention remained focused on my target.

  Salvatore ‘The Weasel’ Girardo—sixty-three, five foot seven, two hundred twenty-five pounds, and most importantly—loaded. His reputation preceded him, that of his wealth, and that of his love for curvy brunettes. During my research, I’d learned that Girardo was drawn to short skirts and low-cut tops. Which was exactly what had drawn him to the woman on the stool next to him. It was also exactly the reason I wore a blonde wig and a modest pencil skirt. Every button on my blouse was done up to the collar; and I sat as far from the lech as the Obsidian Resort’s lounge allowed.

  Not only did The Weasel attempt to conquer a new woman every evening, but also the hotel’s poker tables. His vices ruled his nights. Legal defense of Monaco’s sleaziest criminals ruled his days. That, and shady deals with shifter mafia—the Sanguine Syndicate.

  My inner cat was ready to pounce with one look at my prey—some sort of weasel shifter a few times removed. Guys like him made easy marks. Hell, he was asking for it wearing that custom Bangaudi suit and thickly layered gold chains. Only one thing bothered me. There was a quality to him that didn’t fit the rest of the package. It was his eyes. The way that he looked at the woman beside him was lewd, sure, but at the same time predatory. It didn’t matter though. I kept my distance, so even if Girardo had a surprise ferocity held beneath the doughy surface, it wasn’t my problem.

  The brunette cackled in exaggerated amusement as he leaned close and whispered in her ear. His thick, sausage fingers brushed the fair, freckled skin just above her elbow. A heavy blush tinted the tops of her ears and the center of her cheeks. He almost had her. It was nearly time.

  “Hey, sugar. Next round’s on me.” A tall, dark, and overconfident distraction slid onto the stool beside me. His black hair was slicked back in a fifties-style poof that appeared to be made of plastic. The ten gallons of cologne that wafted from him threatened to drown me. And the wide, bleached-white, self-assured grin on his square face told me he was accustomed to hearing yes.

  “I have a drink,” I said, sparing the man only a small glance before turning back to the pianist in the center of the room. The glass was cool against my lips, the Cabernet Sauvignon smooth on my palate.

  “A fine lookin’ lady like you shouldn’t be left to drink alone,” the man said. “The name’s Chad, and I can promise you’ll be screaming it. All. Night. Long.” He placed his clammy palm on my bare knee, still sporting that self-assured grin. Clearly he was not the type to take no for an answer. And if I could have afforded making a scene, I would have made him regret touching me. Break a finger, bloody a nose. Not tonight.

  “Chad,” I said, looking him square in the eyes, “You’ll remove your greasy paw from my leg and make your way back to the casino.”

  “And why-”

  “If you don’t,” I said, leaning close enough that only he could hear me. “I’ll tell your wife exactly what you’re doing on this ‘business’ trip.”

  Chad recoiled, stupid grin sliding right from his smooth face. “How could you… I’m not…”

  “The indent from your wedding band remains from where you took it off,” I said. “I can see the circle shape in your pocket.”

  He looked down, sliding his hand over the offending wrinkles in black fabric. It was enough of a diversion.

  “And I’m guessing this is the lucky woman who snatched up such a prize.” I held
his cellphone out for him to see. On the screen was the picture of the jerk holding a smiling blonde. Both wore matching gold bands.

  “How’d you-” The cheater reached for the phone, which I gladly allowed him to take.

  “And now it’s time to return to the casino,” I said, with a small, sarcastic smile.

  He did exactly that, without another word, and with his head turned back to watch me while he walked away.

  Plastic Hair shoulder-checked an undeserving bellhop just before leaving my line of sight. I sighed in relief and turned my attention back to my task.

  Panic welled in my chest when I found Girardo’s stool empty. His scent of aftershave and lust still lingered. I scanned the room.

  There. By the elevator. His fat fingers teased the hem of her barely-there skirt as he held the woman against the wall. His back was turned to me. Her face was buried in his chest.

  I set my glass down on the counter with enough cash to cover the tip, and stalked forward. Silent steps came naturally, even in six-inch heels, even on the buffed marble floor. It didn’t matter. The couple was so engrossed in their pre-coital connection, I could have shifted into an elephant and trumpeted behind them and they wouldn’t have noticed.

  Stealth was my thing, so I stuck to it. A flick of the wrist, and I slid the keycard from Girardo’s pocket without missing a stride. Before the elevator doors opened, I was halfway up the stairwell.

  A stark contrast to the luxury of the lobby, the stairwell was cold, concrete, and quiet. Thick stone walls buffered the noise from below. The floors above were quieter, filled with lavish, empty rooms, belonging to the rich gamblers that threw their money away in the first-floor casino. The Weasel’s room was six fifty-three. High enough to make escape from the window difficult. Also far enough from the security that swarmed in the casino that if I happened to be caught, it would take time for them to arrive.

  At the entry to the sixth floor, I stopped and listened through the thick, metal door. Heavy footsteps accompanied the dragging sound of rubber wheels on carpet, and the gentle clink of glass on metal. A food cart. Metal jingled, keys fumbled on an overfilled ring. The ding of the elevator. A gentle moan, a rustle of fabric. They were here.