Rescued by the Wolf (Blood Moon Brotherhood)

by Sasha Summers

  Her wolf whimpered, trotting several feet away and glancing over her shoulder at him. She wanted him to follow her. So he did.

  When she ran, he ran. She led him all over the refuge, the wolf’s curiosity demanding she sniff every damn pile of leaves or hole in the ground. Her enthusiasm was contagious, making his wolf just as inquisitive. They tore up the mountain, terrifying a heard of elk in the process. But when they reached the top, her wolf stopped to stare out over the valley below. The nearly full moon was massive in the sky. She threw back her head and howled.

  Mal joined her.

  Far below, the refuge wolves echoed their cry, sending a shiver down her back.

  He nudged her with his nose, and she faced him.

  She shifted, startling him. She’d been practicing, he could tell. Watching her long arm and sleekly muscled thigh return was oddly sensual. The line of her hip and dip of her waist…and her breasts. She sat at his side, breathing hard but smiling. “Hi,” she whispered.

  Her hands sunk into his fur as she buried her face against his neck. He sat, wolf and man, letting her fingers slide through his thick fur. It was heaven. When she rubbed his ears, he groaned, leaning into her hand. He stared into her eyes. “You are so beautiful, Mal,” she murmured. “So, so beautiful.”

  She rested her head against his. “I wanted to share this with you.” She continued to comb his fur, leaving pure pleasure in its place. “My wolf wanted to share this with your wolf.”

  His wolf groaned, content.

  ...

  Olivia was exhausted. She’d shifted several times, and each time it was easier. They’d covered so much ground that she’d had to shift to make the run back to the refuge. Never in her life had she been this exhausted. Maybe she’d sleep tonight without dreams. Today had been good—spending time with her wolf had been amazing. But that didn’t mean she wanted to test out her newfound bond by taking on their mortal enemy, even if it was only a dream.

  Mal’s wolf rubbed against her wolf, demanding her attention. She licked his ear and nuzzled his neck. It didn’t matter if she was on the verge of collapsing in the dirt, her wolf never tired of his. The only problem with this was the very real hunger between them. The air hummed with it, their scents giving off a blatant invitation.

  The wolves wanted to bond.

  Mal shifted as soon as the lodge was in sight.

  She whimpered, disappointed and relieved all at once.

  “We can’t,” he murmured, staring at her. “Wolves don’t use condoms, and I’m not sharing you.” He reached for her, hesitating.

  Her wolf sat still, waiting and watching, curious yet defensive.

  He ran a hand over her head. Warm. Firm. He sighed, cradling her head in his hands. “I like having you to myself.” He smiled.

  She rubbed her head against his, groaning at his scent and touch. They couldn’t mate as wolves, so she was done with being a wolf. She danced away from him, lingering in the shade of the trees to change. Her bones ached, and her skin felt raw and chafed, but she’d done it. She stumbled out on trembling legs. “My wolf wants to mate,” she said, somewhat breathlessly.

  Mal caught her in his arms. “Your wolf?”

  She nodded. “She’s very bossy about some things. Namely, the need to have you in every possible way.”

  Mal’s arms tightened around her. “I like your wolf.”

  “Dinner is getting cold,” Finn called from the porch.

  Mal groaned, resting his forehead on hers.

  “Dinner sounds pretty good, too.” At the mention of food, Olivia was instantly starving.

  Mal chuckled. “All the changing takes a lot of calories.”

  “After we eat, I’m so going to rock your world.” She smiled up at him.

  “In every possible way?” he asked.

  She paused, hunger for food warring with her hunger for Mal. The ridge of his jaw was hard, clenched. He did that when he was buried inside of her. She shivered, her voice husky, “How many ways are there?”

  His thumb traced her lower lip. “You’re going to make me walk in there with a hard-on.”

  “It’s huge.” Her fingers closed around him, loving his shudder at her touch. “You should be proud.”

  His muffled curse was sexy. “Not so sure Finn will appreciate it. Or Jessa.”

  Olivia let go of him, his words forming something hard and jagged in the pit of her stomach. Jessa wasn’t the only woman inside. Ellen. Tess. Neither was a threat, but her wolf didn’t care. She hadn’t expected the surge of jealousy that ripped through her. She stiffened, the instinct real—if misplaced.

  “Olivia?” he asked, tilting her face back. “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head, refusing to admit to such an adolescent reaction. They were all adults. All the women here had seen a naked man before.

  Her wolf refused to be pacified. Not our man.

  Mal’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mad?”

  She shook her head. “Can we go in the back?”

  “You think I’d let the guys see you like this?” he growled. “You’re mine. No fucking way.”

  She stared up at him, relieved.

  “I’m a possessive son of a bitch. It’s who I am.” He frowned. “It won’t change.”

  “I don’t mind.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, keeping her own insecurities to herself. She followed him into the house, crouching behind him as they made their way to their room. “Shower?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Faster we eat, faster we get to fu—”

  “Mal.” She cut him off, instantly on fire for him.

  He grinned. “You like it when I talk dirty, Olivia?”

  She stared at him, then nodded. “I guess I do.”

  He pressed his eyes shut. “You’re killing me.”

  She giggled, tugging on the clothes she’d left in the yard hours earlier. “Hurry.”

  He watched her, holding the door open once she was dressed. “After you.”

  “You need clothes,” she pointed out, waiting outside their room just long enough to get dressed—before she tugged him toward the kitchen.

  Anders and Dante were dishing out a massive pot roast, the conversation centering around the latest litter of wolf pups she and Ellen had found next to a downed motion detector on the far side of the refuge.

  “Storm knocked it out,” Dante said. “I’ll go fix it tomorrow.”

  “Not tonight?” Mal asked, glancing at him, then Olivia.

  “You want me to go tonight?” Dante asked. “Can you pass the rolls, Olivia?”

  “Yes,” Mal answered.

  Maybe it was Tess’s instant tensing? Or a sound she’d made? Whatever the reason, Olivia was startled by the furious expression on Tess’s face. There was no sign of the fragile victim Olivia had come to accept. No, this woman was full of fury. And then it was gone. In a span of seconds, Tess’s face went slack again, her eyes glazing over once more.

  “Rolls?” Dante asked.

  She turned to the table, risking another glance at Tess. She stared vacantly ahead, poking the food on her plate. Maybe she’d imagined the change. But her wolf disagreed, Ellen’s advice repeating. “Trust your instincts.”

  “How many pups were in the litter?” Hollis asked.

  “Four,” Ellen answered. “Olivia found the den. Her wolf is quite capable.”

  Hollis sent Mal a look.

  Mal scowled back.

  “You are displeased?” Ellen’s voice was sharp, making Olivia wince. She’d understood Mal’s reticence to accept the woman into the pack when they thought she was an Other. But she wasn’t. And even though neither of them knew who she belonged to or where she came from, Ellen had done nothing to make Mal distrust her. Today, she’d given Olivia a sense of camaraderie with her wolf, something she was beyond grateful for.

  “Olivia’s had a lot to deal with.” Mal shrugged. “It’s been less than a month—I don’t see the need to push her.” Her heart ached at his words. She couldn
’t blame him for being overprotective. How many times had he rescued her since they’d met? How many times had she relied on him for survival?

  But Olivia didn’t need rescuing. She was strong. She wanted him to be proud of it.

  “Her wolf is pushing. She needs freedom to reach her full potential. So she can protect the pack when you’re gone.” Her words were factual.

  Mal’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressed flat. Ellen’s comment infuriated him. She knew he’d never leave her—he’d promised. But she did want to do her part when it came to protecting the pack.

  “And you’re going to teach her?” he barked.

  “I cannot teach her to have instincts. But she has to learn to use them, to trust them. You need to let her do that,” Ellen bit back.

  Mal sighed, loudly. “I know what she needs.”

  “Do you?” Ellen’s tone remained impartial, almost cold.

  Olivia was right there, but neither of them seemed the least bit curious about what she had to say about what she needed. Yes, she was new and learning, but she wasn’t incompetent. They shouldn’t fight over her because they shouldn’t be making decisions for her. Olivia stood, her temper flaring. “Thanks for dinner guys.” She smiled at Anders and Dante. “I’m beat so—”

  “See you in the morning.” Jessa smiled.

  She rinsed and loaded her dishes in the dishwasher and smiled her good-nights, grabbing a book off the side table and heading to her room. Being a wolf meant she didn’t need lights, so she left them off as she went in and ran a bath. When steam flooded the room and the water was high, she slipped into the bath and rested her head against the edge. If she could have five minutes of Ellen-Mal-wolf-free thoughts, maybe she could calm down.

  She soaked a washcloth and draped it over her face, letting the warmth ease her tension.

  “I get jealous.” Mal’s voice made her jump.

  She dragged the washcloth from her face, watching him.

  “Up until now, it’s been you and me. We’re part of a pack, but I still want it to be just us.” He shook his head.

  “It is.” She smoothed her hair from her forehead. “Me and you. My wolf and your wolf. I know you better than I know anyone. Ever. I know you better than I know her.”

  “Ellen?” he asked, frowning.

  She smiled. He was adorable when he felt vulnerable. “No, Mal. Her, my wolf. You have a bond with yours. I’m still forming one with mine.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “At this point, I’m pretty sure she likes your wolf best, then you, then me.”

  “I don’t see a problem,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

  She threw the washcloth at him. “Running with Ellen let me tap into my wolf, without her wanting you to the point of distraction. She’s just as addicted to your wolf as I am to you. It’s overwhelming. She sort of locks up when you’re around, lets you take charge, steps aside for you.”

  “Addiction?” he asked. “I get the distraction thing. He wants to drag her into the woods and make a dozen litters. But he knows better.”

  She stared at him, his words evoking something primal and raw.

  “How do we fix this?” he asked. “I don’t want her, or you, taking a backseat to anyone. Especially me. Whatever you and your wolf want, I want. So be strong, Olivia. It might take some getting used to, but I can take it. I want it.”

  She smiled, draping one leg over the side of the tub. “In every way possible?”

  He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mal couldn’t look away. He didn’t want to. Olivia stood, her body slick with bathwater, a hundred drops sliding along every curve and valley. She had no idea what she did to him, or how essential she was to him. It was more than claiming her as his. It was the satisfaction knowing he was hers. He’d never wanted to belong to someone else, to compromise who and what he was. Olivia didn’t expect that—she wanted him as is.

  She stepped out of the bath, reaching for her towel. But he grabbed it before she could.

  “Mal?” She hugged herself, uncertain, and so fucking beautiful it took his breath away.

  He ran the towel along her shoulder then stooped to lick a drop of water from her throat. One taste wasn’t enough. Neck and shoulder, silky side and stomach, the underside of her breast and the pebble-hard tip—his tongue raked each drop from her skin. He dropped to his knees, loving the grip of her hands on his shoulder, the shudder of her every breath. His lips brushed her belly, lightly sucking on the ridge of her hipbone and the swell of her buttock. When his nose nuzzled the soft hair at the juncture of her thighs, she moaned and arched into him. It was sexy as hell. She was sexy as hell.

  “Tell me you want me,” he said, looking up at her.

  Her heavy-lidded gaze burned into his.

  His fingers stroked the inside of her thigh, higher and higher. He stopped, so close he could feel her heat. “Tell me.”

  “I want you, Mal.” Her voice shook.

  His fingers parted her skin and slid deep into her heat. Her nails bit into his shoulders. When his tongue licked her tight nub, she rocked against him. Nothing tasted as sweet as Olivia. He closed his eyes, his other hand cradling her ass and holding her still against his mouth. Her hands went from bracing to kneading, his tongue merciless as it stroked and teased her into a frenzy. He loved the power he had over her. He made her shudder with his touch, his mouth. Her body craved his—a feeling he understood all too well.

  She bowed frantically against him. Her fingers tangled in his hair as a long, broken moan slipped from her lips.

  When she swayed on her feet, he caught her close and swung her into his arms. His hunger still raged, but he was content to hold her. He was, she wasn’t.

  As soon as they fell onto the bed, she rolled over him. With a wicked gleam in her eye, she slid down the length of his body and clasped his throbbing dick in her hand. He sucked in a breath, damn near swallowing his tongue when her lips closed over the tip of his erection.

  “Aw, fuck,” he ground out, his hands fisting in the quilts.

  She moaned, the vibration running the length of him. Her lips were firm around him. The the sweep of her tongue, up and down and around. The light suck when she pulled him deep against her throat. She tugged his hand free of the comforter and placed it on the back of her head. The spill of her hair between his fingers taunted him. Alpha or no, the urge to dominate was there.

  “Mal.” Her voice startled him. “Show me what feels good.”

  She kissed the tip, easing him back into the hot wetness of her mouth. She pressed his hand against her hair again. He stared down at her, his control slipping away at the sight that greeted him. Her ass was in the air as she leaned over him. His hands slid through her hair, tangling in the amber locks to hold her steady as he pumped into her mouth. And every time he disappeared between her lips, he groaned. It was good, too good. He wasn’t going to last.

  Hands trembling, he let go of her hair to frantically tug open the night table drawer and pull out a condom. “Don’t move,” he ground out. He slid out from under her and off the bed, clasped her hips, and pulled her glorious ass to him. The stroke of his hands down her back had her arching back into him. It was too sweet an offering to pass up.

  He wound one hand in her hair, tugging just enough to make her moan. The things her moan did to him. With his other hand, he traced the curve of her ass. From this angle, Mal’s view left him breathless. He wanted to love her and claim her all at once. So, he did.

  One thrust and he was lost in the feel of her body. She was tight, and hot, and so fucking intense he needed more. He pumped into her, watching the spasms of her skin, feeling the clenching of her inner muscles, and listening to every gasp and moan. Hunger—for him—forced him on. The way she arched back, leaning forward onto her elbows to take him deeper, had him gritting his teeth. But he couldn’t wait.

  He reached around, his fingers working her clit until her cri
es gave him permission to let go. There was no holding back. One thrust, then another, hard, and he emptied himself into her.

  They fell to the side, his arms holding her tight against him.

  She was gasping, one hand reaching back to rest on his arm. “The things you do to me.”

  He kissed the nape of her neck, smiling at her full-body tremor.

  Her passion-glazed eyes glanced back over her shoulder. “Don’t ever stop.”

  The longing in her voice made him groan, his dick stirring against her.

  She smiled. “Exactly.”

  Rolling her over separated them, but he wanted to see her face—see what she was thinking. He ran his fingers along the side of her face, stroked feather-light across her eyelids and brows, the tip of her nose, her lips and chin. If he could etch her into his memory like this, he would—flushed from loving him. Happy from loving him.

  Her hand cradled his cheek. “You’re a mystery.”

  “Nope,” he argued.

  “Then tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’m happy.”

  “Good.” Her hazel eyes gazed into his. “You have soulful eyes. They tell me what you won’t.”

  “Oh?” he asked, waiting.

  She nodded. “You worry about the Others. You worry about the pack. You want to be strong for them, to protect them.”

  He shook his head. “I am strong. I—we will protect them. You and me and the rest of the pack.”

  She smiled. “We.”

  He nodded. “I don’t worry about that, or them. The only thing that scares me is losing you.”

  She frowned, her hazel eyes searching his.

  “I don’t deserve you, but I can’t let you go.” He studied her face. “I want to know every part of you. To make you happy, inside and out.”

  Her smile was pure joy. “Wow.”

  He shook his head.

  “No, really, Mal.” She placed his hand over her heart. It was racing. “There’s no reason to be scared.”

  He wrapped her up in his arms then, pulling her against his chest. He wanted to believe her. They were surrounded by the best security money could buy, and a big-ass pack of overprotective wolves to boot. But his fear wasn’t rational. He didn’t know what the fuck to do about it, except hold on to her.