by Amy Green
“Listen,” Ian said. “There’s been a decision. Brody will stand as alpha.”
Devon turned and looked at him, his expression inscrutable behind his thick, dark beard. “Oh, really?”
“It was impartial,” Ian said, not backing down. “We let Alison Masterson choose.”
Devon blinked. “Alison who works at the Four Spot?”
“Yes. We figured there was no way we’d be able to choose among ourselves, so we asked her to do it. She chose Brody. And I back him. It needed to be done.”
The next ten seconds hung in the balance, and Ian felt his muscles tense, just in case.
But Devon thought it over, and then he nodded. “That’s not a bad idea,” he said in his low rumble. “Alison is a Falls girl. She’s pack. She’s shy but not stupid.” He raised an eyebrow. “Though she’s not exactly impartial, because she’s been in love with Brody since she was ten.”
Ian shook his head. He’d picked up on that, though it wasn’t something he’d know, since he hadn’t grown up in the Falls. “He’s oblivious, isn’t he?”
“Completely. Even his sense of smell is oblivious when it comes to Alison.”
Ian shrugged. “Well, maybe she’s a good judge of character. Maybe she’s in love with him because he’s the kind of wolf who would make the best alpha.”
Devon turned away again, looking out over the town. Ian could see the edge of the tattoo that snaked up from his collar. It looked like inked flames. Ian himself only had the tattoos mandated by his kind: his wolf identifier, and the Donovan emblem on the back of his neck. But Devon had had others done, likely a lot of them from what Ian could see. There was the edge of ink on his neck, and more ink coming from his sleeve on the back of his hand. Something had compelled Devon to put ink all over his body. Something important. His half-brother, he knew, was almost a complete mystery to him.
“You won’t get trouble from me,” Devon said at last. “Alison may be biased, but she’s right, Brody is the best alpha. And we needed to choose fast. I’ll back him, and I’ll make sure Heath does, too.”
“Can I ask you something?” Ian said.
Devon shrugged. There was snow collecting on his shoulders, and Ian’s too. They were both oblivious to the cold.
“When you tried to kill me,” Ian said. “Was that an ordered kill?”
“Fuck,” Devon said, the only show of emotion Ian had seen from him. He brushed the snow from his hair, agitated. “Does it matter?”
“Since we’re going to be pack brothers, yes, it kind of matters to me to know whether you wanted to kill me or not.”
“I did want to kill you,” Devon said, his voice dark. “And yes, it was an ordered kill. Both are true.”
“Care to explain?” Ian asked him.
“No, I don’t.” Devon looked at him. “When I found you that night, Charlie wanted you dead. Now Charlie’s dead, and I don’t have the order anymore. So unless you break loyalty or the rules of the pack, you won’t have trouble from me again.”
“No,” Ian said. “You’ll just be an asshole.”
“That isn’t illegal,” Devon pointed out.
It was Ian’s turn to say “Fuck.” Brody had some reason he didn’t feel fit to be alpha. Devon was hiding secrets. Only Heath seemed to be an open book—unless his man-slut ways were hiding something. He had a lot of work to do here in the Falls.
Devon was still watching him, and he shook his head. “Stop puzzling it out, Ian,” he said. “You won’t get all your answers today. Go downstairs to your mate.”
“She’s not my mate,” Ian said automatically.
“If she wants it, claim her,” Devon said. “If you don’t, you’ll be sorry. Take it from me.”
Ian felt his eyebrows rise almost to his hairline as he looked at his huge, dark, tattooed brother. “You’re giving me mating advice?”
“I know more about mating than you do,” Devon said cryptically. “Now take my advice and fuck off.”
“Yeah,” Ian ground out. “This is gonna be a lot of fun. Fuck you too, Devon.”
He heard Devon laughing as he left the roof and slammed the door behind him.
He came back to the apartment and found her sitting in the window, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of jeans. And, apparently, nothing else, because when she turned to look at him, the first thing he noticed was her nipples through the shirt. His shirt.
She’d had a shower and her hair was damp, her face bare of makeup as it always was. She looked upset.
“What is it?” he asked her.
She looked away.
“Tell me,” he growled.
“It’s over,” she said to the window.
He stepped into the apartment, feeling the snow melting in his hair and down the collar of his coat. “What’s over?” he made himself say.
She looked back at him, sadness in her eyes. “My project,” she said. “It’s over. I have to go home.”
22
He stared at her for a long minute, and despite herself, she drank him in. He’d been outside, and snow was melting on his dark hair, his eyelashes, the shoulders of his coat, in the scruff of his beard.
“You have to leave?” he said.
She stood from the window, coming closer to him without thinking. She crossed her arms over her chest. “They revoked permission for my research,” she said. “The school decided it’s too dangerous. I have to go back to Denver and pick another topic.”
“They can just do that?” he asked.
Anna felt a lump in her throat. “Apparently, they can.”
He ran a hand through his hair, and she watched droplets of melted snow trickle down the taut skin of his neck. “You can’t go anywhere tonight,” he said, shrugging off his coat and hanging it on the hook by the door. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I know. But I have to go back as soon as possible.” She watched him, every movement he made, the play of muscles under his shirt, the dark scruff on his jaw. She’d have to memorize him. “This doesn’t affect your prison release,” she said. “You were released legally, fair and square.”
He put his hands on his lean hips and looked at her. “I appreciate that,” he said, “but even if it weren’t true, if they want me, they’ll have to come get me. I’ll never go back.”
“I know,” she said. She stepped closer to him, unable to help herself. She could smell him now, his good Ian smell, and nearly feel his heat. She looked up into his eyes and the tension between them grew so thick she could barely breathe. Around them, the apartment was quiet and the snow fell hard outside the window.
Ian ran the tip of his tongue slowly across his lower lip. Anna watched, fascinated, her blood pounding in her veins.
“You know what this means,” he said in a rasp.
“Yes,” she breathed, coming closer again.
“You’re here for the night,” Ian said. “With me.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t leave.”
She rose on her tiptoes. “No.”
She uncrossed her arms, braced a hand on his chest, but still he kept his hands on his hips and didn’t touch her.
“You still see me as your research subject?” he asked her softly.
She dragged her hand down his chest, his stomach, and shook her head. “No.”
He stepped forward and tangled his hands in her hair. “Thank fucking God,” he said, and kissed her.
It was bold, like before, but it wasn’t panicked. He kissed her deep, opening her mouth, tasting her in strokes, exploring her. Anna dropped her hands to the hem of his shirt and pushed it up, sliding her palms over his hard, muscled stomach. He felt so good, tasted so good, that she dropped her hands again and tugged at the button on his jeans.
She thought perhaps he’d stop her, but he didn’t. Instead he broke the kiss, grabbed the t-shirt of his she was wearing, and slid it up off of her, dropping it on the ground. His gaze traveled down her breasts and her hard nipples, and without a word he leaned in and
picked her up so her legs wrapped around his waist.
She clung to his big shoulders and kissed his neck as he carried her into his bedroom. He dropped her on his bed and landed on top of her, pausing only long enough to pull his shirt off over his head when she yanked at it. Then he leaned down and kissed her again, hard, skin to skin.
Anna moaned into his mouth. She had never been frantic for a man before, but she was now. She hooked her legs around his hips and squeezed, pressing him in to her, running her hands through his tousled hair. His big hand covered her breast, his thumb rubbing back and forth over her nipple, then pinching it gently between his thumb and forefinger as she squirmed beneath him. She was so wet she could feel it. He needed to hurry.
She dropped her hands and tugged at the button of his jeans again, and he broke the kiss and trailed his mouth down her, over her breasts, down to her belly. He deftly undid her jeans and slid them off along with her panties, leaving her totally naked on the bed. He kissed along her belly button and then over to her hip, his scruff scratching her tender skin. He slowly moved a hand between her legs and brushed her with his thumb.
Anna bucked, gasping. “Ian.”
She felt him smile against her skin. “Impatient?” he asked.
“Yes. Yes.”
He touched her again, sliding his thumb just inside her, and she hoped he didn’t have any neighbors, because she moaned. In all her time with Daniel, she had never moaned. Ian had gotten her to do it in thirty seconds.
They stay for the sex, he’d said.
He slid his thumb out of her and moved it up, over her clit, circling it a few times as she lay helpless, the pleasure washing over her so hard she couldn’t move. Then he moved back, undid his jeans, and slid them off with his boxers. He knelt on the bed between her legs and pulled her knees up around him and moved over her again, his big shoulders looming above her as he kissed her hard and deep.
When he broke the kiss, she looked down. Finally, she could see all of him, every inch, and he was glorious. He watched her look at him for a minute, letting her look her fill, and then he bent and kissed her neck while she was pinned under him. “You’re very wet,” he said in her ear.
“I’m on the pill,” she rasped.
“Are you?” He kissed along the soft edge of her jaw, then the tender flesh where it met her neck. “You know we can’t catch diseases.”
She ran her hands up his arms, feeling the muscles like rocks where he held himself above her, running her palm over his wolf tattoo. “I know.”
He made a hmmm sound against her skin, and then he pressed against her, his hardness against her wet softness, his big body a heavy weight on hers. She shuddered, and he did it again. “Do you have something to say to me?” he asked in her ear.
“Please,” she said. “Please.”
“Begging is good,” Ian said, her alpha wolf. “I like it.” And then he slid into her in one long thrust.
It was good. So good. They moved together in perfect rhythm, his muscled body on hers, her knees up and clasped around him, her back arched beneath him. Though he was in control, making sure she was pleased, she could feel how hard he moved, how short his breath came. The pleasure was hitting him, its intensity feeding hers as his arms flexed and his body pounded into her. She let go and let the sensations wash over her, and she came, bucking up against him, making him come too as he grasped her, both of them in sync again.
When they came down he still lay on top of her, and she felt his fingers trace along her collarbone, the line of her neck. She kept her legs wrapped around his hips, unwilling to let him go. He smelled so incredibly good, felt so incredibly good. He pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder and she heard his intake of breath. He was smelling her.
“Do I smell like you?” she asked him.
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Yes, but that’s not what I’m after.”
She ran a hand over his shoulder, the back of his neck. “What are you after?”
“Trust,” he said, running his thumb over her collarbone and dipping his head to brush his lips along her neck. “Relaxation. Arousal. Desire. Satisfaction.”
She closed her eyes at the hypnotic rumble of his voice. “You can smell all of that?”
His laugh was a vibration deep in his chest. “Yes.”
“Oh, my God,” she sighed.
Ian moved over her, and she opened her eyes again to see those amazing green eyes staring into hers. “Do you want more?” he asked her.
“Yes,” she said.
“Good,” he said, smiling. “We have all night.”
23
Hours later, they sat in bed, Ian’s back against the headboard, Anna between his legs. Her back was against his chest, her hair tickling his skin, his leg hooked possessively over hers as he curled his arms around her and listened to her breathe.
His wolf was happy. Very happy. His wolf was always happy when he was skin to skin with his mate.
And she was his mate. His wolf had chosen almost from the first, which was rare, but not unheard of. She hadn’t chosen him, not in the way his wolf wanted, not yet. But his wolf was patient.
“I have a question,” she said.
He dropped a soft kiss to her neck. “So many questions,” he teased her. “Go ahead.”
“Heath explained to me about mating,” she said, and he tried not to wince at her mention of his brother’s name. He wasn’t jealous, exactly, but no alpha wolf liked to hear another man’s name in his bed. “He wouldn’t tell me what happens when it comes to mating. He said it was hard to explain.”
He ran a palm down her arm, unable to get enough of touching her, the connection with her bare skin. “It is, a little,” he said. “What happens is that the shifter bites his mate.”
“He bites her?” She shifted beneath his touch. “Where?”
“Here,” he said. He brushed her hair from the back of her neck and ran his thumb over the skin there. It was the same place he had his Donovan tattoo, just above the knob of spine. “During sex. He has to be behind her, of course.”
He felt her shudder a little, and he caught the scent of arousal. “Does he turn her into a werewolf?” she asked.
“No.” He dropped his hand. “It isn’t possible to turn a human into a werewolf. Shifters are born, not made. The bite is a claiming ritual. It marks her as his, and only his.” He ran his palm down her arm again.
“Does it hurt?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s very pleasurable, or so I’ve heard. I’ve never experienced it, myself.”
She elbowed his ribs. “I hope not,” she said. “If you have, you’re in big trouble right now.”
He dropped more kisses to her neck, tasting her skin, feeling the shiver of desire in her again. “There are no others, Anna.”
She sighed, and he couldn’t help but gently palm her breast, just to make her make that sound again. “Your wolf has chosen, hasn’t he?” she asked.
“Yes,” he rumbled. Her breast was soft and warm in his hand. He’d already explored them thoroughly, but already he wanted to do it again.
“Then… you want to…” She trailed off.
Oh, yes, he very much did. He could do it right now, sink his teeth into her and make her his. But an important part of mating is that the woman comes freely to the man, giving herself to him. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, though the words pained him. “We’re not going to.”
She twisted to look back at him, but he held her close and wouldn’t let her. “Why not?”
“Because you’re leaving,” he said. “You have a life in Denver. Things to take care of. Plans to make.”
She groaned. “I don’t want to go.”
“You have to,” he said.
“I’m coming back.”
“You can’t promise that,” he said.
She sighed again and ran her hand along his thigh. That made him start to get hard again. “If we aren’t mating, then what is tonight?” she asked.
He ran a thumb over her nipple and felt her skin shiver. “Tonight is tonight,” he said. “I get to have my way with you until morning. I have no problem with that. It’s more than I thought I’d get.”
She shifted away from his back, leaning forward, and he could smell how aroused she was. He slid his hand down between her legs, unable to keep from touching her, and she gave a little moan. “Your way is amazing,” she said.
He ran his other hand down her back as he rubbed her, cupping the perfect curve of her ass. Some man had had a relationship with her, had had all of her, and had never pleased her like this. And then he’d cheated on her. Ian shook his head. “Human men don’t deserve their women.”
She turned around and straddled him, then leaned down and kissed him. He kept her there as he kissed her long and slow, as he felt her melt against him. She could definitely feel how hard he was now, and it made her breath come quickly. She wanted him. “I’ll come back,” she said again.
“You always can, you know,” he told her. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes.” It was true. It would leave him desolate and grieving if she didn’t return, but it didn’t matter. She was the mate for him. If she came back in a month, or a year, or ten years, he’d be here. But his job tonight was to convince her that she wouldn’t want to stay away.
Because he didn’t just want a mate. He wanted his Anna. And as she slid onto him, and he ran his hands over her skin, he knew that he wanted her forever.
24
The snow stopped sometime before dawn, but it took until nearly noon before the streets were clear enough for driving and Anna’s car was dug from beneath the snowdrift in the parking lot. She spent the morning having breakfast—and maybe doing other things—with Ian, then packed a suitcase with enough clothes for a week. She left the rest of her belongings in his apartment, promising him again that she would be back. He told her again that she wasn’t in a position to make any promises, and that she should do whatever she wanted. Then he took her into his shower with him and nearly made her pass out.
