by Mandy Rosko
Her eyes were on Michael and Michael only. “Can I get you to take a break for a minute?”
He blinked at her. “Yeah,” he said, breathing a sigh, a little too eager to get away from whatever they were discussing. Probably how much longer they had until they had to put the howl out on Jake.
She didn’t give him a chance to speak. When he got close enough, she snatched his hand and started pulling him away, back toward the east hall where all the bedrooms were. She tried not to look at Deena’s door as she passed it. Vaguely, she was aware of Michael speaking to her, but she barely heard a word of what he said.
Finally, they were in their own bedroom, and she had the door slammed shut and locked behind them. Thank God Deena’s room wasn’t immediately beside this one, but she would still work to be relatively quiet.
She turned on Michael. There was a cautious concern in his eyes. “Baby, what—”
She shut him up really quickly by putting her mouth over his, winding her fingers into his long, sandy hair. There was that one second where he tensed up, the shock of her forcefulness stunning him into immobility before he swooped down on her like an eagle on prey, arms surrounding her much smaller frame, winding around her back and her legs before picking her right off the floor. Instead of tossing her onto the bed like she’d expected, he slammed her into the door.
He swallowed her gasp with his mouth, never releasing her lips, and Shelley wound her legs around his hips, her sex swelling in anticipation as it came into contact with Michael’s throbbing prick.
Her hands left his shoulders. She was more than confident he could hold her weight without any of her help, and her fingers found his belt and fly.
Putting one arm beneath her ass, he used the other to help ease down the jeans he wore, kicking them away. Somehow, the fact that he was holding her up with just one arm made her lose it that much more.
She yanked her mouth away from his biting kisses. “I want you to fuck me right here, as hard as you can, to make up for all the nights we missed or slept apart.”
A low growl sounded from deep in his throat, and suddenly both of Michael’s hands were at her waist, lifting her farther up.
They were totally going to do this without her feet even touching the ground. Oh God.
Michael’s hands found the hip of her jeans, and if Shelley hadn’t gotten the button and zipper down in time, he probably would have destroyed them as he yanked them down. He wasn’t above destroying her favorite jeans to get at what he wanted, if she recalled.
Her panties, however, the pretty pink lace ones with the black bow that she’d specially ordered online, weren’t so lucky.
She couldn’t bring herself to feel any annoyance over their loss as Michael’s palm and fingers started rubbing and touching her in ways she’d been handling herself for waaaaay too long.
She groaned at the shock his finger brought to her clit.
“I’ve missed you too,” Michael said. “We haven’t done this nearly enough since we got here. Your pretty, wet cunt is all I could think about for the longest time.”
Her eyes flew wide. He was so good with just his hand and probing fingers she hadn’t been aware of closing them.
Holy shit. No one had ever said that word to her before, ever. It always sounded so dirty even Shelley only ever used it as a name she called someone she really didn’t like, but while he was doing what he was doing, his body pressing hers into the door, warm, panting breath heating her face and eyes half-lidded with lust, it was strangely beautiful and erotic. Shelley trembled as she moaned.
Michael smiled.
That one time they’d gone after Alex won his round of alpha fighting hadn’t been nearly enough to satiate what either of them needed.
She banished the thought from her mind. She didn’t want to think about anything right now, especially not how life had turned on its damned head after Pearl decided to pay them a visit. “Fuck me, please, I need it.”
She caught only the slightest flicker of a question mark behind those silver eyes before he was inside of her, and the only thing she understood was the sound of her own high-pitched moaning and keening.
Keep the noise down, keep it down, she thought.
The pulsing of her inner walls had already begun long before he decided to start up his engines and begin with the surge and retract. His cock filled her, touched everywhere inside her, and holy hot damn, did that feel good.
He couldn’t hold himself back, it seemed. Now that he was going, he was really going, hips pumping like he had horsepower to back all that strength with speed. Good, oh God, so good. She couldn’t think, and every nerve inside her was tight and pulsing and, and…
“Don’t stop,” she moaned.
He grunted a reply and kept right on moving. His rhythm slowed only briefly to allow his arms to drop away from her waist, hands moving down just to settle at the sides of her ass, should he need to catch her quickly. “Spread your hands out. Palms to the door.”
Without a rational mind, she would’ve leaped into a tub of acid if he’d commanded it. She did as she was told, then caught on to what he was doing when he began thrusting in earnest once more, and she cried out with just how god-damnably Olympic-gold-medal amazing it felt.
He was using her weight to make his pumping motions harder for the both of them. She kept her balance using her back and her hands, and he just barely held on to her with his suddenly gentle grip.
It left her almost entirely balanced on his cock, and gravity took care of the rest.
Shelley lost it right then. The door must’ve become loose on its hinges or something because she could hear a banging similar to what a headboard against the wall would make, but they weren’t in their bed.
The rest was all her and the sensations she’d fallen into—the feel of Michael’s hard body, his prick inside her, the delicious pulsing that spread from her sex to her brain and kept all thoughts of anything else away.
Her orgasm was sudden and ripped through her with a Jedi force that had her arching her back off the door, shocking her as she hadn’t felt it coming on, too far gone to notice even that.
Her next coherent thoughts came with the observation of the warm spurts within her, then of Michael’s tensing shoulders and back spasms, the pumping of his cock becoming slower and more jerky. He ducked his head, putting all that sandy hair under Shelley’s eyes and nose, and she could see right away the silver hairs of his wolf sprouting up, like watching grass growing, reaching to the sun at a hundred times regular speed, like on Discovery Channel.
No, no. She lifted his chin, forcing him to look at her, and then saw his eyes, golden from the coming transformation, and more thick hairs spiking out through his pores.
“Stay with me,” she commanded.
A choked sound escaped him, and when his mouth opened, she got a glimpse of his teeth. They were those of a canine now, longer, thinner fangs, meant for chomping into prey and eating meat.
“Please stay,” she begged, voice breaking. He couldn’t leave her. She didn’t want to be alone.
Michael’s eyes fell shut, his lips thinning as he struggled for concentration to hold back his wolf because his mate had demanded that he do it. His body, every muscle he possessed, remained hard and trembling during this process, his skin going so far as flushing a shade darker, even after a round of vigorous sex, until he finally released a long exhale and sank down with her to the carpet.
She was relieved when his skin became its normal shade of tan, and the hairs that had started to grow either fell away or shrank back under his skin. She climbed off his lap and stretched out beside him as he lay back, a tingling satisfaction rippling through her as he pulled her up so she was lying half on top of the mound of his muscled chest.
The gentle rise and fall caused by the soft inhale-exhale of his breathing nearly lulled her to sleep before a sharp rise of his chest and deep intake of breath had her looking up at him.
His large hand was over his eyes, his l
ips pressed tightly together as though he were biting them shut to keep any noises from escaping.
Jesus.
“Michael, baby?”
He shook his head, still not looking at her. Shelley shifted and wiggled her way up until she was able to pull his hand away from his face, and then she drew him to her.
He came easily, wrapping his arms around her, hiding his face in the crook of her neck. He made no noise, but she could feel the wet tears against her flesh, his body so stiff he was locked up tight.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Shelley said, stroking his back, kissing his hair. She’d been so caught up in her own pain she hadn’t stopped to realize that not only had one of Michael’s best friend’s been killed, but he’d been forced to banish another, leaving Jake in the care of a woman who would likely destroy him.
When she had said she’d understood before the reason Michael needed her to not treat him like a puppy or be too lovey when he was around, she really didn’t understand at all, and she hadn’t even known it.
It wasn’t just about the image for werewolves, and that wasn’t even the real reason for Michael stepping down as head alpha. It was about Shelley’s command over his wolf, the same command that Pearl had over Jake when he was transformed.
If Shelley ordered Michael’s wolf to attack any member of this pack, to kill them even, he would do it. That was the real reason a mated werewolf could not be head alpha.
It must’ve been an apocalyptic kind of pain for him to hold back this sort of emotion while he was still with the rest of the pack.
“I love you so much,” she said, mortified when her throat began to close, her feelings reacting to his. She squeezed her eyes shut.
Shit. She couldn’t even be the strong one on the emotional stuff.
Michael spoke, his voice thick. “Are you all right?”
Shelley took a deep breath. “Deena’s leaving.”
Michael’s palm found her hair. He stroked her scalp as he sighed. “I wish...”
He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to. Those words were never the opening act to something positive.
“You can’t let her stay? What if I was to watch over her? The wolves don’t hurt me.”
He shook his head. “That kind of thing would only work if you were around her twenty-four-seven. Not exactly the kind of thing that would allow her to live comfortably,” Michael said. “She’s suffered enough losses. Let her alone for now.”
Losses. Michael already knew there wasn’t a baby. Whether Deena had told him or he’d found out through some other means, Shelley didn’t want to know.
Michael dried his face with the back of his hand, becoming strong-leader Michael once again. “I know she’s your friend, but she can’t stay without Chris. I know it’s hard to understand—”
“I understand.” Shelley shifted so she could look him in the eyes, their noses nearly touching. “I get it.”
“You okay with it?”
Shelley didn’t answer right away, and Michael touched her cheek with his knuckles.
“You have no idea how fucking scared it makes me that you might leave, that all of this’ll be too much and you’ll pack up and go,” he said.
“I would never do that,” Shelley said, putting a whole lot of emphasis on the never part.
“You say that now, but later…” He shrugged one shoulder.
The truly fucked-up part was how calm he was about it, as though he saw it as a certainty that had yet to happen and was already prepared for the inevitable.
He had once before told her of the possibility of living apart, that month ago when in that little cabin in the woods he made plans to send her home, out of harm’s way of any vampires who might come looking for her, the mate of the alpha they wanted so dearly.
Proof enough that just because they were mated didn’t mean they had to be together.
“This is the real reason you’ve been distant,” she said. “Not just because of the pack or Cal wanting us out, but for that, too?”
His whole body went rigid.
Uh-huh. Caught.
Shelley kissed the expanse of chest just above his brown nipple. What was she supposed to say that would get that notion out of his head? She used to be an actress. That wasn’t exactly an occupation known for its great speakers. All the bold words she’d ever spoken, passionate declarations and powerful speeches, had all been part of someone else’s script.
Of course, she was learning how to write and now had to do that part without her critique partner as well, but she was still foggy at best when it came to making up words of her own.
So how did she convince Michael that she was in it for the long haul? That she wanted to stay with him for the rest of her life, have his children one day, and grow old with him?
“Marry me?”
From her peripheral vision, she saw his head jerk down to look at her. Hesitantly—because she’d just frickin’ proposed to him—she looked back at him. His silver eyes were as wide as quarters and gleamed as brightly as if they were hot off the money-making machine.
His cheeks were the first to give hint that he wanted to grin his heart out, but his lips struggled not to move, to keep his composure intact.
She’d said it, and she meant it. She wasn’t going to change her mind, and she left her thoughts open to him so he could see that too.
He saw, and he laughed, pulling her face closer so he could plant his mouth on hers.
No tongue, no wild mouths going for dominance or speedy lust, just a long, lingering kiss that took her breath away and left her hypersensitive of everything around her: his smooth jaw with the lingering scent of aftershave, the warmth of his skin, the itch of the carpet that reminded her just why people tended to move the hot stuff onto their beds.
Or their showers. They got up off the carpet and stepped into the adjoining bathroom. She knew Michael had already taken his shower, but he didn’t complain about having another.
Once under a hot spray with only soap suds to separate them, Michael took her against the shower wall with lazy, deliberate thrusts, their bellies extra slick and slippery because of the soap, which was an extra turn-on. The cold of the tile only caused her a momentary discomfort.
Shelley didn’t come down off her happy high until they got out and began to towel off.
“I’m going to kill the vampire king.”
Shelley stopped in the midst of flurrying her own towel through her red hair, her body still naked as she stood straight and looked at him.
Right. That part still needed taking care of. Considering the planning that was going on in the kitchen, she should’ve guessed this part was coming.
“When will you go?”
“As soon as possible. That’s what the guys and I were talking about. We were looking over the maps of New York, trying to figure out where he’d be hiding.”
That part threw her for a loop. “New York?” She thought for sure a king, any sort of monarch, would be hiding somewhere in Europe.
“Lots of places to hide from the sun, underground tunnels, not very bright in summertime with pollution, and I could go on. The fucker hides there because he knows werewolves stray from largely populated places, never mind cities. It’ll be my last command as head alpha that we hunt him down, and after that, Alex will take over.”
She’d missed out on a lot while she’d been out, it seemed. “What about the last trial fights?”
“Logan decided to step down from the fight. He wants to be a soldier more than a leader, after everything that happened last night.”
“Cal doesn’t mind that part?”
Michael slid his tongue over his teeth. “He and I talked. He’s had a change of heart. So long as I’m stepping down, he doesn’t care what I do, but he’s calling in my debt to him for saving your life. He wants to be second-in-command.”
Alex’s beta. Great.
“That’s not much better,” said Shelley.
“I agree, but we�
��re not getting kicked out.”
He had a point. “So, when are we leaving?”
He raised a brow. “We?”
She waved her finger at him. “I know where this is going because I’ve played out this scene a hundred times before and read it at least a thousand more than that. The hero goes off to battle or his quest or whatever and is gone for months and months, sometimes years, while the wife or girlfriend or significant other stays behind all lonely and pining until she gets word that the hero’s been killed, which will turn out to be a complete mistake and he’ll show up five years after that recovering from amnesia, and she’s moved on and had a kid with someone else. Not going to happen. I’m going with you.”
He waited a beat before speaking. “I’m surprised you could breathe through all that.”
She took a deep breath, which was indeed pretty invigorating. “You’re not leaving me behind,” she said.
He rubbed his face, suddenly appearing very tired again. “It’ll be dangerous. I’m not just saying that either. This is another step beyond simply taking you home with me. You’ll be on their radar.”
“I’m already on their radar, and I’m not stupid enough to try and pick a fight with a vampire, anyway,” she said. “I know what I am and what I’m not. I know someone could recognize me, and I know that vampires are ten times stronger than I am. Trust me.” Shelley hadn’t forgotten her encounter with Pearl back at the cabin. “We’ll get a motel room for you and me and one more for the boys, and I will never leave it unless I have to. I’ll stay inside and search the Net for clues or something.”
He smirked at her. “Or something.”
Because of the hot steam still floating around and warming everything, Shelley was pretty sure Michael couldn’t tell that her cheeks had just gotten hotter.
“You’ll need me there to center you. You said it yourself. Werewolves don’t go near big places for a reason.”
“Because of the risk it poses, should someone sporadically transform.”
“Right, which is why you’ll need me there. If you or the others transform, I can keep your other selves calm, and I know the lot of you’ve been wondering what to do about that part.”
