by Lola Gabriel
Sarah’s cheeks were stained pink as he stepped even closer to her.
“Are you okay?” he asked tenderly, and Sarah shook her head. She knew this was wrong, she was fully aware she shouldn’t be allowing this to happen, but her body felt like it was on fire.
He’s with Lexa, she tried to remind herself. I have no right to feel this way about him.
Ever’s face seemed to be closer to her own with each passing second, and her attraction to him was so strong that if he kissed her right now, she wouldn’t be able to hold herself back any longer.
Before she could realize it, Sarah asked him, “What about Lexa?”
Ever seemed taken aback by the question, as if he hadn’t heard her. “What about her?”
Sarah forced herself to take a step back, confusion and anger flooding through her at the same time. Lexa had been incredibly nice to her, and she did not deserve this.
“What do you mean, what about her? Aren’t you worried she’ll find out about this?”
“Why should that worry me?” Ever responded, and Sarah felt her anger turning into fury. Was he used to being with more than one girl at once? Was it something he enjoyed?
“Well, aren’t you guys together?” she demanded, knowing that she wouldn’t like his answer.
To her utter surprise, though, Ever’s expression became perplexed, and then realization seemed to hit him. He let out a small chuckle and shook his head.
“Lexa is my cousin,” he told her, and Sarah suddenly felt as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. “She’s the closest thing to a sister I’ll ever have.”
“Oh, my God,” she breathed out, exhaling in relief as a fit of giggles overtook her. “Oh, my God, I thought you were—”
Ever laughed as well, closing the distance Sarah had put between them. Sarah raised her head to look at him with hopeful eyes, and when he started to lean forward again, she closed her lids, anticipating his kiss.
Ever tasted as delicious as Sarah had imagined, and she moaned lightly, her fingers softly grasping Ever’s waist as he guided her towards the closed door of the store, pushing her against it. His palms reached out to touch her heaving breasts, and Sarah sighed into his mouth.
“You are beautiful,” he breathed, his words short and punctuated by kisses that worked their way down the curve of her throat, toward the vee of her t-shirt.
Sarah wrenched off her top and bra, allowing him to explore the tight skin of her chest, tongue lolling about her flesh slowly but hotly. She bit on her lip, her fingers threading through his dark mane of hair as he slid lower across her belly.
Ever yanked down on her shorts, and she stepped out of them and pulled down her underwear as his face nuzzled the skin between her thighs.
Suddenly, Ever pulled her legs up over his shoulders, and Sarah gasped as her back slid up against the wood door, Ever’s face firmly in her core, his mouth wrapped around her nub of nerves. His kisses were urgent and hard, luring her to the brink of climax with teasing, pointed movements.
Sarah’s legs clenched against his ears, squeezing his head as her body began to quiver with delight. A low, feral cry escaped her, and gushes of warmth flowed fast and furiously through her.
Ever reached up, delicately balancing her waist to bring her back to his eye level, but Sarah locked her legs around his hips, rubbing her wet nakedness against him with longing. Ever undid his pants to let his shaft free, sliding it against her core before thrusting into her with one smooth, swift motion.
Sarah clenched around him, driving her hips forward to meet his thrusts. She relished his groans of pleasure, each noise he emitted driving her closer to the brink again. Her nails dug into his broad back, clinging for balance and posterity, because she never wanted him to stop.
Ever’s motions grew rougher, piercing through her with precision, and Sarah squealed as she released again.
Inside her, his rigid member grew harder, and she could sense he was close to his own climax. In seconds, Ever sighed, his fingers bruising her buttocks as he drove himself home, burying his face in her neck and filling her with his orgasm.
They were shaking, even though they were spent, and Sarah gasped as she tried to catch her breath.
Ever gently dropped her legs to the ground, and then they both immediately collapsed to the ground, Ever’s arms around her and Sarah’s hands resting on his chest.
Sarah remembered how anxious she had been, thinking that Ever and Lexa were together and that she was getting between them. She would’ve saved herself so much suffering if she had only thought of asking rather than jumping to conclusions, and she couldn’t help laughing at her own stupidity.
“I feel like an idiot,” she mumbled, but Ever grabbed her hand and tipped her face upward to look at him.
“Don’t,” he told her, knowing what she was referring to. “Because there is something you should know before we let this go any further.”
Sarah’s heart fluttered at the ominous words, but she could not deny that she was tickled he was considering a future with her.
So, he does feel the connection between us, too, she thought, relieved.
“You can tell me,” she assured him. “I can handle it. I would prefer if we were truthful with each other, rather than me running around making up things in my head.”
Ever stared at her for a long moment before slowly rising to his feet, his hand still around hers. Without a word, he helped her up, guiding her toward the front door, and Sarah glanced back at her discarded outfit.
“My clothes—” she started to say, but Ever shook his head, smiling.
“You won’t need them where we’re going,” he told her, and a combination of fear and excitement hit Sarah as he looked into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re ready?” he asked.
Sarah nodded, although she was not sure she was.
He opened the door, and she cried out, taking a step back.
The yard was filled with wolves in various colors and sizes, their eyes glowing like hot coals against the night.
“Would you like to come with us?” Ever asked, and when Sarah turned to him to ask him what he meant, she watched in awe as he transformed into a wolf like the ones before her, his black fur gleaming against the pale light of the moon.
A grey and black lupine stepped forward from the pack, slightly bowing its head. With only a glance, Sarah realized that she was staring at Lexa, and she was no longer afraid of what awaited her if she went with them.
It is true, she thought, her mind going back to the words Sylvie had spoken in MJ’s room. They do exist.
Come with us, Sarah, Lexa called out, but her voice was only inside Sarah’s head. We will bring you back.
Sarah glanced back at Ever and slowly nodded her head.
It looked like she would have a story to tell her sisters at Kappa Mu Pi, after all.
THE END
Click Here to Read the Entire Shifter Pursuit Series
Part VII
Brother’s Best Friend
1
He had no reason to be excited as the car pulled off I-95 and made its way through the cedar-lined backroads.
They were closer to their destination than he realized, and his apprehension was mounting.
I shouldn’t have come back here, he thought angrily, eyeing Branson with disgust.
As if sensing his annoyance, his best friend turned to him, removing his starch white hat from atop his blonde head, and grinned disarmingly.
“It’s only for three weeks,” Branson said optimistically. “What else were you going to do while we were on leave?”
“I don’t know, Bran. Maybe go to Europe? Maybe Vegas? Maybe anywhere but back to the trailer park in Scarlet Oak, Georgia where I’ll be scraping my mama off the floor when she’s passed out from too much bourbon again.”
Branson half-smiled and shook his head.
“Ah,” he replied with understanding. “Does she know you’re coming home, or did you conveniently fail to mention it a
gain?”
Rocco scoffed and turned back to watch as they fell further into the country with each passing mile.
“What’s the point of telling her? She would only forget, anyway.”
“Good,” Branson said, clapping his best friend on the back. “Then you can stay with me. No need to tell her anything. She won’t leave her trailer long enough to hear that you’re here, and even if she does, she’s apt to forget, anyway.”
Rocco glanced back at Branson, a spark of hope growing in him for the first time as he considered the offer.
Do I really want to stay with the Carringtons? Rocco asked himself. Don, Cindy, and Zoe watching my every move?
The Carringtons had been like a surrogate family to him since he and Branson had attended grade school, but they were still exactly like family. Rocco was not sure that he had the energy to endure the platitudes and small talk.
Instantly a mental picture of his mother’s bloated, tearful face popped into his mind.
“Shouldn’t you check with your folks first?” he asked, and Branson laughed.
“Nah,” the slightly smaller man replied, extending his fingers to examine his nails. “The family is so happy that I’m home that they wouldn’t care if I brought the enemy to stay at this point.”
Rocco wondered what that was like, having a family who missed him after being gone for three years.
He reasoned that the Carringtons would be happy to see him, too.
It had been the appeal of joining the military to Rocco, leaving behind the oppressiveness of Scarlet Oak and the pack, putting his natural killer instinct to good use.
But he couldn’t deny that a fire burned inside him, a longing for something more than shifting and war.
What it was, he couldn’t say exactly, but as the years passed, the conflagration grew hotter and Rocco did not know how to calm the flames.
“Lieutenant Carrington, Lieutenant Burnaby, we will be in Scarlet Oak in twenty minutes,” the driver announced, and Branson turned to him expectantly.
“So? What do you say? You coming to stay with me?”
Rocco found himself nodding in agreement. What else could he say? Neither of his options was appealing, but at least staying with Bran would be the lesser of two evils.
“No need to stop at Burnaby’s location, Bryce,” said Branson. “Just straight to Pine River Drive.”
2
“The balloon fell, Zoe! Pick it up!” her mother screeched, and Zoe rolled her blue eyes skyward.
“Mama, this is unnecessary,” she moaned, but she leaned forward to reclaim the fallen red orb, taping it to the streamer against the Roman column.
The front of the colonial-style house looked as if America had thrown up on it, red, white, and blue assaulting Zoe’s eyes from every angle.
“Shush,” Cindy Carrington retorted. “Your brother hasn’t been home in three years! The least we can do is show that he was missed.”
Zoe did not respond, although several thoughts crossed her mind.
Branson doesn’t want a production, she thought, stifling a grunt. He just wants to come home and relax. And he certainly doesn’t want a faux-patriotic display to remind him that he’s on leave right now. This is a terrible idea. I can’t wait to see his face and then tell him I was against the decorations the whole time!
It didn’t matter how long Branson had been gone; Zoe still felt she knew her brother better than anyone else in the world.
And she knew he would hate the gesture.
As if on cue, a black sedan pulled up along the long, pine-edged drive, and Cindy squealed in delight.
“Don! Don, Branson is home! Branson is home!” Zoe’s mother shrieked into the house, clapping her hands together like a small child.
Again, Zoe swallowed a groan and watched the vehicle approach, flopping indifferently onto the front steps to put her chin in her hand, a short blonde strand of hair resting at her wrist. She had no interest in bombarding her brother with the theatrics her parents had prepared, but she did want a front row seat to his disdainful expression when he arrived.
Unexpectedly, she realized that there was someone else in the car with her brother. Zoe lifted her head with interest, her cornflower blue eyes widening as she took in the second body exiting from behind the passenger seat.
Her breath caught slightly in her throat as she recognized Rocco Burnaby.
He just gets hotter and hotter, she thought, rising to her feet without noticing she was doing it.
The marines had matured him, the slight boyishness of his face gone entirely. In its place was a firm, structured jawline, intense green eyes, and thick, dark eyebrows.
It seemed to her that he was almost bursting out of his uniform, even though he was not—it was only her perception of his impossibly large shoulders and lumbering frame.
Did he grow? Zoe wondered, her eyes admiring him as she fixated her gaze on her brother’s best friend. He certainly seemed larger than the last time she had seen him.
Inadvertently, her eyes traveled down toward his crotch. Zoe gnawed on her lower lip, leaning against the column, her arms folded over her chest as she watched the scene with renewed interest.
Rocco had basically grown up in the Carrington household, trying to run away from the drunken escapades of his mother, Yvonne. If Zoe claimed she had not been in love with Rocco throughout her childhood, she would have been lying.
After all, his dark, brooding nature and smoldering good looks made him a natural attraction for any woman with hormones. And Zoe’s hormones had been raging for as long as she had known him.
Unfortunately for her, she’d not only the disadvantage of being Rocco’s best friend’s sister, but she had also been unbearably unattractive.
I’ve since rectified the latter part, she thought.
“Branson!” Cindy yelled, throwing herself into her son’s outstretched arms. “Oh, how we’ve missed you, baby!”
Branson embraced his mother and grinned in embarrassment, setting her back slightly.
“Hey, Mama,” he said, his southern drawl almost shy as he looked around at the decorations. “You didn’t need to go through all this trouble.”
“Nonsense, son!” Don announced, making his way out of the house toward his oldest child. “This isn’t nearly enough for an American hero!”
Zoe almost laughed aloud at the crimson in her brother’s face.
“I tried to warn them,” she called out, and Branson turned to look at her, his cerulean eyes wide with amazement.
“Zoe!” he cried, rushing toward her. “You look amazing!”
She laughed and hugged him, but her gaze was still locked on Rocco.
“Oh, Rocco!” Cindy exclaimed. “Are you staying with us, too?”
“Yes, Mama,” Branson replied for his friend, who seemed uncomfortable as he remained by their bags. “I invited him to relax in la casa de Carrington while we’re on leave.”
“If it’s an inconvenience, Mrs. Carrington—” Rocco started to say, but he was instantly cut off.
“Nonsense!” Don interrupted. “Our home is always open to heroes!”
“And you know full well that you’re always welcome in this house, Rocco. You’re like a second son to us, and always have been,” Cindy added, her light eyes filled with warmth.
Zoe knew she was speaking the truth. Her parents had always loved Rocco like another child.
“Come inside, boys. You must be famished. I’ve got the barbecue all fired up. People will be here soon.”
“People?” Branson echoed. “What people?”
“Your family, Branson. They’ve missed you. You’ve been away for three years, in case you’ve forgotten.”
Branson stifled a groan, and Zoe could see he was not looking forward to a family reunion on his first day home, but he was far too good a son to diminish their parents’ good humor.
Rocco glanced back at Branson, as if masking his friend’s silent anguish, his stare falling on Zoe for the first time.
His mouth parted slightly as Mr. and Mrs. Carrington made their way into the house, the pained look disappearing from his face almost instantly. In its place was an expression of keen interest as his head moved up and down to take Zoe in from head to toe.
“Come on, sis,” Bran encouraged, grasping Zoe’s arm. “Save me from the confetti.”
“Sorry about this,” she laughed, nodding at Rocco approvingly. “They never listen to me.”
The siblings joined him, the three mounting the steps to enter the home.
“Hi, Zoe,” Rocco breathed. “You got your braces off.”
She stifled a smile, glancing at him gravely. “And I got contacts. No more coke-bottle glasses for this mouse,” she answered coyly.
“You were never a mouse,” Rocco muttered, but Zoe knew he was lying.
She had always been slightly awkward growing up, and she’d always been painfully aware that the boys she liked never looked at her twice. Yet it seemed like almost overnight, she had blossomed from a gawky high school sophomore to a gorgeous college freshman, her grades seeming to reflect how good she felt about herself.
Branson chuckled. “I almost didn’t recognize you,” her brother commented. “My baby sister is all grown up and ready to conquer anything!”
“Yes,” Zoe breathed, locking gazes with Rocco. “Yes, I am.”
There was an unmistakable electricity passing through them as the words were spoken, but Branson didn’t seem to notice as he clapped his friend heartily on the back.
“Sorry about the family affair,” Branson chirped. “I had no idea. You can hide out in the guest room if you want.”
“I like your family affairs,” Rocco replied, his sincerity undeniable.
Zoe blushed slightly and turned her head. He is gorgeous, she thought wistfully. Too bad he’s leaving in a few weeks. Who know when I’ll see him again?
Within two hours, the barbecue was in full swing, with family members and friends coming from miles around. Branson and Zoe claimed the comfortable Adirondack chairs on the deck that allowed them to look over all the activity in the back yard.
