by Casey Lane
Finally, his fingers slipped beneath the leg of her shorts, touching her where she needed, but not in any meaningful way. He was still playing with her. It was a tease, a light touch, designed to keep her begging, to keep her needing more. She imagined this was what it felt like to try to breathe under water. She didn’t know how to ask for what she wanted. She didn’t really even know what she wanted, just more. More of him touching her, more of him kissing her. She wanted him over her, inside her, moving within her. She canted her hips beneath him, whining, barely aware of the words falling from her lips.
But her pleas were ignored. It was as if Wren had made it his mission to take her apart one piece at a time. And it was working. It was. There was no conscious thought, just a coil tightening deep inside her, and she could do nothing but chase that feeling, more than willing to let Wren shatter her if it meant she could have all of him.
“Please,” she whimpered.
“What do you want?” he murmured. “Tell me.”
“More, everything,” was all she could manage. She gripped his wrist, moving his fingers where she wanted them, terrified to meet his gaze as she moved herself against him, chasing her own release. Wren made a noise of frustration, then his hand was gone and there was the sound of tearing fabric as her panties met the same fate as her t-shirt.
If Isa had been able to form even the slightest coherent thought, she might have been embarrassed about being completely naked while he was still dressed but when she looked at him, the intensity of his gaze was overwhelming. He was looking at her like she belonged to him and it was this side of too much. When he rolled to his side and brought her with him, she frowned in confusion. He dipped his head to kiss her softly.
When he touched her again, it was gentle but deliberate. He ran his palm along her thigh to her knee, hiking her leg over his hip, opening her to his touch. Her hands convulsed at his shoulders, her breath hitching on a sob as his finger slipped inside her.
She buried her head against his chest, face burning as he worked his finger in and out, as her body struggled to accommodate his invasion. He probed her heat, his bounding heartbeat echoing in her ears. Her chest felt tight. It was too much and not enough all at once. She couldn’t think about anything but the warmth of his skin beneath her hands and the way his breath was coming out in ragged pants against her skin like she was somehow taking him apart and not the other way around.
By the time he slipped a second finger inside her, she was mindless, whining against him, her nails clawing at his back and her hips riding a rhythm he controlled. His other hand closed in her hair, tugging her head back. “Don’t hide from me,” he whispered. “You look so perfect like this. Fuck.”
She couldn’t stop the sounds that escaped, she was so close…so close. Then his fingers were thrusting deeper, harder, his thumb finding and caressing that bundle of nerves like he could read her mind. Maybe he could. Maybe he was. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything but that feeling just out of reach.
“I want to watch you fall apart,” he whispered against her panting mouth. And she did, crying out against him, vision going hazy at the pleasure coursing through her like he’d dragged it from her with just his words. “That’s it. God, you’re so beautiful.”
Her body felt boneless as his hand slipped from between her legs, leaving her feeling sleepy and sated but so empty. When he kissed her, she kissed him back, body still trembling, as much from her orgasm as this feeling of being emotionally bare before him. He laid back on the bed, pulling her against him until her head lay on his chest. It was obvious that he was still hard, but he said nothing, made no attempt to get her to reciprocate.
She knew he was trying not to pressure her into taking care of him but it irked her too. Somewhere in the back of her mind, was the faintest flicker of a thought. She wanted him to fall apart too. She wanted him to lose that careful composure. She wanted to see him as defenseless and wrecked as she felt.
She sat up, biting at her lower lip. Wren’s heartbeat knocked off kilter, watching her beneath hooded lids as her hand ran along his thigh, her nails skirting over the outline of him through the thin material of his sweatpants. He didn’t move, didn’t press himself against her, but his whole body tensed, a low growl escaping his lips. “Isa,” he said her name like a warning, like he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions if she persisted.
She threw one leg over him, straddling his hips, her hands splaying across the hard muscles of his chest. A startled breath escaped her as he grabbed her hips, fingers digging into her flesh as he ground himself against her, once, twice.
She was so tempted to let him control everything, it was so easy that way…but she couldn’t. He didn’t get to be self-sacrificing, not with this. She captured his wrists, holding them over his head. Wren’s wolf didn’t like it. He snarled, teeth snapping as he struggled against her grip. She snapped back, letting sharpened teeth close against his throat, careful not to break the skin while still reminding his wolf of his place.
“It’s my turn,” she whispered against his skin, licking the hollow of his throat, reveling in the tangy salt of his skin. “Keep fighting and I’ll tie you up,” she murmured, voice sounding shredded even to her ears. “Don’t…move.”
It wasn’t a request. A low rumble vibrated through him as she released his wrists. She watched him, gaze guarded as she waited to see what he’d do next. He swallowed hard and she couldn’t help but watch the way his throat convulsed. He held her gaze as his hands gripped the pillow beneath his head, waiting. Something loosened inside her.
Like him, she took her time, mouthing along his jaw, his throat, trailing lower over his chest, tongue laving over one flat nipple and then the other, biting gently just as he’d done to her earlier that day. He didn’t move but every muscle quivered as he forced himself to obey her command. When she bent low, teeth biting at his ribs, his hips thrust beneath her as if he couldn’t help himself.
Isa smiled, taking her weight off of him, depriving him of the friction he craved just so she could run her tongue along the seam of his lips. His mouth opened beneath hers, his tongue seeking hers. She’d never get tired of kissing him. When she pulled away, he followed, his head lifting from the pillow to chase her lips.
“What do you want?” she breathed against his ear.
“Isa,” he groaned, breaking his grip on the pillow so he could grab her hips, shoving his length against her. “Enough. No more games.”
She leaned down biting at his earlobe. “You started it.” She slipped her hands underneath the waistband of his sweatpants, letting her hand close around him, stroking him hesitantly until he gave a sort of broken, throaty sound that had Isa’s wolf preening. “Are you planning on finishing-”
A shriek shot through the house, sending a shockwave through the room. Isa was off the bed and moving, snagging her robe from over the chair and shoving her arms in before running to Tristin’s room, Wren hot on her heels.
When Isa pushed open the door, she found Tristin and Neoma side by side, clutching each other’s hands, both sweaty and shaking.
“What happened?” Isa asked, sitting on the bed and holding her arms open. Hugging them tight when both girls threw themselves at her.
“We had a terrible dream,” Tristin whispered, still trembling in Isa’s arms.
Wren lingered in the doorway, eyes still glowing. “What kind of bad dream?”
“We don’t remember,” Neoma said, looking pointedly at Tristin.
Tristin didn’t say anything. Isa kissed both of their foreheads. “You girls want to come sleep with me tonight?”
They both nodded.
“Okay, let’s go. It’s late.”
Kai, Quinn and Rhys stood in the hallway. Kai looked pale beneath his tan, and he stared at Neoma in confusion. “Kai? Are you okay? Did you have a nightmare too?”
Kai didn’t say anything, glancing back at Rhys before he just shrugged. Her brother frowned, taking a couple of aborted s
teps towards the younger boy before seeming to remember they were enemies.
Isa sighed, looking at Wren with a half-smile before she looked back to the kids. “Alright, you can all sleep in my bed tonight. Come on.”
Kai and Quinn followed the girls into the bedroom, but Rhys stayed where he was. Isa smiled encouragingly at her brother. “Come sleep in here with us, Rhys. Please?”
He looked away from her. “I’m not a baby. I don’t need to sleep with my sister.”
Isa’s chest tightened. “Okay. If you change your mind…”
“I won’t,” he said, slamming his bedroom door.
She looked to Wren still lingering in the hallway. “What about you? You think you can put your wolf away for the night?”
Wren hesitated for only a moment before he nodded, taking her hand.
Isa woke when it was still dark out, glancing at the clock beside the bed. It was a little after three, but she slipped from the bed anyway, careful not to displace the others. She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh, as she took in the sight before her. The girls slept curled up together, in the center of the mattress. Quinn slept horizontally along the bottom of the bed, his head resting on Wren’s ankle. Kai had jammed his head into Quinn’s stomach, and Kai’s feet sat dangerously close to Wren’s face. Wren had somehow squeezed himself into a six-inch space at the edge of the mattress. If he attempted to move an inch, he was going to find himself on the floor, but that didn’t seem to faze him.
He was out cold, with one arm thrown over his head, and the other holding Kai’s ankle, probably hoping to avoid a blow to the face. It made her stomach swoop in a way she didn’t want to think too much about. Wren had slipped in so easily. Into her life. Into her bed. Into her heart. He just fit. Three days in and she didn’t even want to contemplate her life without him.
She didn’t see Rhys until she almost stepped on him. He slept on the floor at the foot of the bed, his pillow under his head and Isa’s robe thrown over him like a blanket. Her chest tightened as she looked at him. She just wanted him to be okay. She grabbed the quilt from her closet, the one their grandmother made, placing it over him before she made her way down the front stairs.
She snagged the throw off the back of the chair as she passed, draping it over her shoulders. She didn’t bother to flip on the kitchen light; she didn’t need it. She moved without thought, starting a pot of coffee and grabbing a cup the size of a small soup bowl, staring off into space until the coffee finished brewing. She filled her cup and slipped onto the front porch, sitting on the swing her father built as she sipped her coffee, listening to the sounds of the night.
Isa pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders. She didn’t have the blanket for warmth but comfort. It was one of the few things in the house that still smelled of her mother. She brought the blanket to her nose, inhaling deeply. She’d missed her mother more in the last few days than she had since she died and Isa just couldn’t wrap her head around why.
In six years, she’d never questioned how one-dimensional her thoughts of her mother seemed, how far away they felt. She didn’t remember grieving for her parents or even crying. She’d always chalked it up to suddenly having four kids to take care of when she was still in high school. But lately, with Wren appearing and Allister and the Grove trying to make her decisions for her, she needed her mother more than ever. She’d settle for real memories or some feeling of closeness. Something more than just a cardboard cutout of her past and a blanket that still smelled just a bit like her mother’s perfume.
She glanced up when Wren opened the front door, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He looked far too sexy for a man with major bedhead. He clasped a cup of coffee, taking a long sip and scanning the tree line.
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
“No, I was the victim of a flailing limb.”
She gave him a tired smile. “Kai kicked you in the face?”
“Nope, Tristin clocked me in the nose. She must get that from you.”
Isa smiled. “That and her negotiating skills.”
Wren moved forward, gesturing to the space beside her. “May I sit?”
She nodded, scooting a bit to make room for his much larger frame. When he sat, his arm slid around her shoulders, and it was nothing for her to push closer, resting her head against his chest. “Whatcha doin’ out here all alone?”
“Thinking about my mom,” she said, before biting her lip. She hadn’t meant to tell him that. She didn’t talk about her mom to anybody, not unless forced.
Wren’s response was quiet. “I met your mom once. Did you know that?”
Isa sucked in a breath, glancing up at him. “What?”
“It’s true,” he confirmed. “Our official betrothal. I was five, and you were only a few months old. You were the tiniest baby I’d ever seen, and my mom was instantly in love with you. I thought she was going to try to shove you in her purse when we left. I don’t think she put you down the entire time we were here.” Isa smiled, eyes watery. How could his memories be so much clearer than hers? “You look so much like your mother. She was beautiful too, and she had this way of commanding attention. Like when she was in the room you couldn’t look away from her.” Isa blinked back tears. She hadn’t inherited that quality from her mother. She sniffled but tried to hide it by taking a sip of her coffee. It was futile; he’d smell the salt of her tears.
She tipped her head up again. “What else do you remember?” she asked.
“I remember that your mom managed to charm even Cain,” he said, sounding amused. “Our parents spent a lot of time laughing that day. Your dad was funny and did magic tricks that were clearly not real magic. All the kids in the pack followed him around everywhere. I remember thinking how lucky you were to grow up in a town like this.” His voice lost its amusement, then. “It might actually be the last time I saw my parents happy together.”
Isa pressed a kiss against his bare chest.
“Your mom would be proud of you; you know that, right?”
Isa held back a sob, forcing herself not to cry. “Would she? I’m failing in every way. I have no idea what I’m doing.” She froze as the confession left her mouth. “See, an alpha who knew what she was doing would never admit that to somebody outside her pack, especially not a future alpha.”
Wren tipped her chin upwards to look at him. “Am I an outsider? I don’t feel like one. And I’ve told you a million times; I’m not a future alpha. Not now, not ever.”
Isa shivered. He didn’t feel like an outsider. He felt like her home, like a missing piece and she knew it was a ridiculous and overly romantic notion, but she didn’t care. “You’re not an outsider,” she conceded. “But that doesn’t mean I have any idea what I’m doing. That feels a lot like failure.”
“What are you talking about? You are taking care of four children, two of them with supernatural abilities. You run a successful business. You keep this town safe every night. You care about your family and your friends more than anybody I’ve ever met. How in the world are you failing?”
She scoffed. “Just yesterday you were telling me that I’m driving Rhys away.”
He gave her a look. “Don’t you put words in my mouth, Isa. You’re never going to be perfect. Nobody is.”
“My mother was.”
“You only think that because she’s gone. We tend to gloss over people’s flaws when they die. Your mother was flawed, just like everybody else. Sure, she was a fantastic alpha, but you’re going to be one too.”
Isa didn’t look up at him. “Eventually. But not right now.”
“Woman, you are so stubborn. The kids are going to grow up, and so are you. Your pack will expand, and it will keep growing until one day you are every bit the alpha she was. But your mother was an alpha for twenty years. You’ve been alpha for six, and your pack consisted of four five-year old’s. So, cut yourself some slack, okay?”
Isa nodded. “Yeah, okay.”
Wren cleared his throat. “S
peaking of slack. I wanted to apologize for my behavior earlier.”
Isa did look up then. “When you ditched our after-dinner coffee to wolf out and kill cougars? It’s nothing Rhys hasn’t done a million times.”
Wren moved awkwardly beside her. “No, later, when I came to your room. I was out of it. The full moon’s in a few days…I was having a tough time putting my wolf back in his cage. If I was pushing you into doing too much, too soon…”
Isa bit her lip, praying he couldn’t smell the effect he was having on her just by bringing it up. But still, she couldn’t let him play the martyr. “As I recall, I was the one pushing you, and I would have pushed you a lot further if we hadn’t been interrupted,” she reminded him. He smiled, but then a shadow crossed his face. Isa grabbed the hand at her shoulder and kissed it. “She’s going to be okay. Neoma is a lot stronger than you think. We’re going to get her through this.”
It was Wren’s turn to look surprised. “We are?”
Isa nodded. “Yes, we are.”
“Okay.”
Isa took his cup of coffee and hers, setting them under the swing before she spun herself sideways, settling her head in Wren’s lap and her feet on the handrail. “Good, now that that’s settled, play with my hair.”
Wren laughed, but pulled the elastic from her hair anyway, spreading her hair across his lap, his large hands carding through the strands as the swing rocked gently.
They were silent for a long while, Isa playing with the fingers of Wren’s free hand. Finally, she said. “Hadley needs to start tomorrow; you get that, right? Your father is going to find you eventually, and when he does, we need to know exactly what his angle is with Neoma. We need the upper hand.”
Wren’s hand stuttered along her scalp before continuing. “I know.”
Isa opened her mouth to say something more when the breeze picked up, carrying a sharp scent with it. They both froze, inhaling deeply. The scent was like nothing Isa’d ever smelled before, sharp and pungent, raising goosebumps along her arms. “What is that?”
