by Jessica Sims
“Len’s not my alpha,” I told him simply. “I got someone stronger. Someone from out of the area who was looking for a pack. Which means you need to go.”
“Really,” he said, rocking back on his heels. His fingers dug into his belt loops, and then he wiped a hand on his dirty shirt, that awful, skunky smell wafting into the air again. “And you already mated him?”
“That’s right.”
“He a good fuck? Lick that pussy hard?”
Shocked by his crude words, I felt the color rising in my face. “That’s none of your business.”
Roscoe snorted, and he stalked toward me. Anyone else would have dropped their ground, retreated a few steps, but I was locked into place, my will not allowing me to give him a bit of ground. If I gave him an inch, I’d find myself his in all ways.
He reached for my throat and I slapped his hands away. The next thing I knew, he was shoving me backward and I was pinned against a tree, the bark biting into my back. His hand clenched my jaw, his bigger frame stronger than me.
I snarled at him, showing my teeth. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”
He ignored my protests, shoving my head backward and forcibly exposing my neck so he could look at my mate mark. Then, he tilted my head back down.
“He got a big cock, girl? Or should I check for myself if he’s used you hard?”
I struggled against his hand. “I do not have to answer any of this!”
“No, you don’t,” he said in a mean voice. “That blush on your cheeks tells me everything. You’re still a virgin, aren’t you?”
I stilled, frozen at his words. “I have a mate.”
“No, you have a guy that bit your neck, precious.” He pinched my chin, harder. “If I throw you down on the forest floor here and fuck you myself, I can just as easily cover that mate mark with one of my own. Then you and your pack are all mine. What do you think of that?”
“I think I’d like to see you fucking try,” I bit out, and slashed my nails at his face.
My nails connected with the soft flesh of his eye. I felt him jerk even as he howled with anger, and his hand pinned my neck to the tree, choking me. I scratched and clawed at his hand, desperately trying to get free as Roscoe reeled from my attack. A moment later, he recovered, squinting up at me from his good eye.
And then he clocked me straight in the face with his fist.
Pain exploded behind my cheekbone, and I grunted when he struck me. That only made me fight harder, though, because I knew that if I backed down now, it was going to be much, much worse for me in the end.
So I fought.
I kicked and struck, snarling my fury, even as Roscoe hit me back, trying to subdue me. The world became a ringing of blows around my face, and he tried to trap my arms even as I fought and flailed against him. I would not go down without a fight.
But the world was getting dark, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe, Roscoe’s big hand tightening on my throat. He was choking the life out of me, and I couldn’t seem to get any air into my lungs. Blackness swirled at the edges of my vision.
A blur erupted from the corner of my eye, and the next thing I knew, I dropped to the ground, my throat released. Mad snarls filled the air, and I coughed, looking up to see that familiar yellow-brown wolf attacking Roscoe. Until I saw him against Roscoe’s human form, I hadn’t realized how big Jackson was as a wolf. He was enormous, though, all bristling fur and white fang, and he’d taken almost no time to subdue Roscoe. Even now, the other man was holding an arm braced over his face and neck to protect it, while Jackson snarled and slashed at it, going for his throat.
“Back off, Jackson,” I told him in a raspy voice, rising from the ground. There was blood in the corner of my mouth and I wiped it, hating the taste. “Don’t kill him.”
“Listen to your bitch,” Roscoe called from over Jackson’s snarls. “Don’t kill me. It’s just pack disputes.”
Jackson backed off, returning to my side, still growling and feral, his hackles raised. He began to transform even as Roscoe picked himself up off the ground and began to run away, heading deep into the woods. I touched my face, assessing my wounds. My eye was swelling and my nose hurt like a bitch, but my teeth weren’t loose and it didn’t feel like anything was broken. It’d heal.
Most importantly, I was disturbed by what Roscoe had said.
You’re still a virgin. It wouldn’t take much for me to throw you on the ground and put my mate mark over his.
I still wasn’t protected. Not really. We’d taken steps, but I had to accept Jackson in all ways before my pack would be truly safe. Shit.
Jackson stood at my side, in human form. His hand went to my shoulder protectively, and I looked at him.
His normally easygoing, handsome face was hard with anger, a snarl still curving his mouth. He looked furious, his eyes black. Blood tinged his mouth, and I watched his nostrils flare repeatedly as he attempted to get his anger under control.
We watched Roscoe lope away. “You’ll be sorry,” he muttered, staring back at us and then disappearing into the bushes.
Jackson could have gone after him, but Roscoe had lost a challenge. When you lost a challenge, you let the opponent limp away to lick their wounds. You didn’t attack him again.
And I was here, wounded. The alpha male would never leave the alpha female injured and unprotected.
Jackson’s hand flexed on my shoulder, and then he turned to me, his beautiful mouth hard. His gaze moved over my face, and his fingers gently brushed my chin. “You okay?”
I nodded. “He caught me in a rope trap.”
He examined my wounds, his fingers brushing over them as if he needed to assess them for himself. I could tell he was still pissed. Fury was locked in every muscle of his body. No sign of easygoing alpha here. This Jackson was cold and furious.
“You got here just in time,” I told him softly. “Another moment and I probably would have lost consciousness.” My hand went to my bruised throat. “And Roscoe’s not the type to ease up just because the girl’s unconscious.”
That only made Jackson more angry, and he stared back at the woods where Roscoe had left. I could tell it was killing him not to go after him, but that wasn’t the wolf way. He finally turned back to me. “You sure you’re okay?”
What, did he expect tears? “No, I want to punch something. It’ll be you if you keep asking me if I’m okay.”
A hint of a smile tugged at his mouth and he pulled me close, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Ah, the female alpha.”
I didn’t know if that was admiration or irritation. But I allowed him to hug me close and kiss my forehead, and I let him keep his arm around me as we walked through the woods.
The pack caught up with us as we walked back, and I heard Trina’s worried whining at the sight of my bruises.
“I’m fine,” I told them. “Just had a run in with Roscoe. Jackson chased him off.”
Spence came up and licked my hand, seeking reassurance, while Trina whined and moved closer to Jackson. Even Len loped a bit closer.
“We’re all fine,” I told them again, my voice reassuring. “It’s handled. Jackson took care of it. Roscoe was mad that he was thwarted and he caught me unawares. It won’t happen again. No need to be upset.”
Easy for me to say. I was serene on the outside, but there was a hard pit of anger in my stomach. It wasn’t just anger at Roscoe, either. It was anger at myself, and at Jackson.
If sleeping with Jackson would keep my pack safe, then I needed to do it, and he needed to push me toward it, damn it. No more of this easygoing shit.
Chapter Nine
Jackson was getting good at sensing my moods. By the time we headed up to our shared room (after soothing the rest of the pack again), I was bitterly angry and feeling helpless.
As soon as the door was shut behind us, though, Jackson took one look at my face and pointed me to the bed. “Sit there.”
I thumped to it, seething at my inability to resist his
command and my stupid desire to please him that came with talking to an alpha. “Why?”
He went to the bathroom and ran the water, then returned to my side with a wet towel. Jackson sat next to me and his fingers brushed under my chin, tilting my head so he could examine my wounds. “So I can help you clean up.”
I sat there, stewing, while he patted at my bruises and cuts. My one eye was swollen, but I imagined it’d go down by tomorrow. Werewolves healed fast. I’d taken quite a beating, but within a few days I’d be good as new again.
“You wanna tell me why you’re mad?” Jackson asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be mad? That asshole was on my property.” My fists clenched at the memory of Roscoe’s hard face. His hand slapping my ass. The indignity of it all.
“You have every right to be mad about that,” he said, and dabbed at a scratch on my cheek. “I meant why are you mad at me?”
I gave him a narrowed look. “I’m not mad.”
“You are,” he said, putting down the cloth. “You’re vibrating with it. I’ve done something that made you angry. Might as well tell me what it is and how it relates to this Roscoe stuff.”
I swallowed hard. Tried to compose myself. Failed. “You’re not pushing me.”
“Not pushing you?” His brows drew together.
“To consummate this mating,” I hissed at him, then lowered my voice when I was sure the others would pick up on it. “Roscoe could tell I was a virgin.”
Jackson regarded me. “And you’re mad about that?”
“I’m mad because every day that I’m still a virgin is another day that my pack isn’t safe.” I glared at him. “And you haven’t even kissed me.”
He studied my face. “I don’t want you to make a decision like that under duress. You have to be ready to move forward.”
“My pack depends on me moving forward—“
“Your personal life is yours. It’s not your pack’s.”
I began to get irritated with his attitude. “It’s intertwined.”
“To an extent. But you have to make decisions for you.”
Was he not listening to me? I was trapped on all sides. “Everything I do is for the good of the pack.”
“I know. But I want you to make one decision for yourself.” His fingers lightly touched my jaw again, examining my battle wounds.
“You’re not making this easy for me,” I said testily. “You’re supposed to kiss me and seduce me. You’re the alpha.”
“You’re an alpha, too,” he told me. And then his thumb brushed over my lower lip. “You want me to kiss you?”
I grew flustered at his direct, piercing gaze. I could still see flickers of wolf in his eyes - as it was probably still in mine. How did I answer that? Would saying yes mean showing throat to him? Could I let go of even a little bit of pride to ask for what I wanted?
“Shouldn’t we kiss?” I asked, letting my bluster answer for me.
That slow smile spread across his face. “I figured what we did last night was more intimate than kissing.”
My throat went dry, thinking of last night. My slick hands moving over his cock, and how it had made me hot just to touch him.
“But maybe you need to kiss?” Jackson asked softly. He moved a little closer to me on the bed, and I suddenly remembered that we were both still naked and sweaty from our run in the woods. His scent overwhelmed me, as did the nearness of all that bare, tanned skin.
Jackson studied my face a moment longer. “Does your mouth hurt?”
I studied his lips, in a daze with how close they were to mine. It was a strange thing to ask. My breasts ached, the nipples tight. Even my sex felt achy. Empty. But my mouth? “Does my mouth hurt?” I echoed, confused.
“Did he hit you in your mouth?”
Oh. A flush hit me again. That was what he’d been talking about? I felt foolish. “No, my mouth is okay.” Was he going to kiss me or not?
“Good,” he said, and leaned in, his hand sliding to the back of my neck and pulling me closer to him.
His mouth closed over mine.
I was startled at how fast it happened. I was kissing Jackson. I could feel the scruff of his unshaven jaw against the edge of my mouth, scraping against my cheek. In contrast, his lips felt firm against my own. He sucked lightly on my lower lip while I was still processing all the sensations, and I gasped. He continued to suck on my lower lip, then began to kiss my upper lip, caressing me in slow, careful motions. My eyes closed and I let the sensations move over me.
His tongue slicked between my parted lips.
I moaned and my skin prickled with awareness. Oh…wow. I clung to him, needing his body against mine, and my nipples brushed against his bare chest, sending twin pinpricks of arousal through my body. His tongue stroked deeper into my mouth, thrusting, and it send an odd, thrilling quiver deep inside me. He slicked into my mouth again, his tongue tangling with mine, and I began to respond to the kiss, opening my mouth for his invasion and holding onto him as he made love to my mouth. Soon, I was slick with need all over again, my pulse pounding, and the scent of my arousal hung in the air between us.
Jackson broke the kiss a moment later, and I panted against his mouth, dazed.
“No more tonight, Alice,” he murmured against my mouth, and then grazed it with another kiss.
“Why not?” I tried to press my mouth to his again, wanting more kisses. God, he kissed amazingly. I could live with his mouth on mine forever.
“Because you went through enough today, and I don’t think that any decision you made tonight wouldn’t be affected by what happened.” He gazed into my face and his thumb moved over my lower lip again. It felt swollen and delicious from his kisses. “And when we move forward, I want it to be because you want to move forward, not because you feel pressured to.”
I sighed. I wanted to move forward now. My body ached for him, and I felt delicious with need. But then his fingers brushed over my swollen eye and I winced, reminded of Roscoe.
There’d be more time for this sort of thing later.
~~ * ~~
“Don’t be nervous,” Jackson told me with amusement as we got out of the car. “It’s just dinner.”
I snorted. “I’m not nervous about meeting with the Alliance,” I said, my voice as scathing as I could make it.
“Uh-huh.”
“I’m serious. I could care less about meeting these two. I’m more concerned about leaving Eddie with Trina.” Holly and Dan had wanted to go on their pack run tonight, their skin itching with the need to let their wolves out, and I’d consented only because Trina had volunteered to watch the baby. I loved Trina, but she was absent-minded at best - being thirteen and easily distracted by texting - and I wasn’t sure about leaving a crawling, gurgling, into-everything baby who still couldn’t quite transform into wolf form in her hands. Any eight-month-old was a handful. A werewolf baby? Double the handful.
But Trina had looked at me with such big, pleading eyes and the others had been so quick to agree that I’d caved.
And now I was going to dinner…with the Alliance. Ugh. And I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t.
I’d even worn jeans and a t-shirt just to prove how not-seriously I was taking this. But seeing cute, adorably soft human Bathsheba again? Kind of made me a little anxious, especially since my face looked like a punching bag.
It had been almost a day since I’d last seen Roscoe and true to my wolf nature, my face was healing faster than a normal human’s would. My eye wasn’t swollen anymore; now it was just ringed with a dark blue bruise, ringed with green. There were healing cuts on my cheeks, and another equally vivid bruise on my throat.
Went well with my dark hair, I figured.
We headed into the restaurant, and Jackson’s hand automatically went around my waist, drawing me close to him. Like we were a couple. It startled me at first, and when he flashed a smile my way, I relaxed. Something about Jackson being a little possessive of me felt good, even when I looked like hell.
&nb
sp; The small mom and pop diner wasn’t crowded. I figured it had something to do with the fact that it was the middle of the week, later at night, and the Little Paradise Cafe wasn’t exactly a hotspot to begin with. But it was close, and local, and ran by a family of were-badgers. They weren’t great with service, being a rather surly breed, but Jackson wanted to support local shifter businesses, and apparently so did Beau and Bathsheba.
I smelled Bathsheba’s scent as soon as we walked in - human female, covered by the thick scent of a feline. I wrinkled my nose, the wolf in me not a fan of cat smells. Jackson pinched my side, reminding me to be diplomatic, and I pretended to rub my nose, as if warding off a sneeze.
They were seated at a back table, Bathsheba with her long, smooth pale ponytail and demure cardigan set, seated next to a larger man with big shoulders, short, immaculately groomed hair and a pressed shirt with an open collar. They looked like any nice, white collar couple, and it was obvious from the way his hand rested on the back of her chair that they were together. The mate mark on her neck was stark, and she leaned in close to him absently while he whispered something in her ear.
I felt an envious pang at the sight of their coziness. It seemed unfair for a human to have it so very easy when it came to mating. Just show up somewhere and be attracted to someone and boom, magic would happen. Nothing like the schemes and pack machinations of werewolves.
Still, pack machinations had brought me Jackson, so I couldn’t be entirely ungrateful. I stole a look at the sexy man at my side and felt a bit of possessive pride of my own.
Bathsheba looked up as we approached the table…and paled. Her gaze went to my face. “Alice?”
Oh no. I didn’t want to get the tenth degree from her. I smiled tightly and thumped into my seat. “Hiya. How’s it going?”
“Great,” she said in a slow voice, putting her menu down. Her wide-eyed gaze flicked from my face and then to Jackson’s as he sat across from her husband. “I want you both to meet my husband, Beau Russell. He’s the head of the Alliance.”
