by T. S. Joyce
“Please,” she begged on a breath.
“You wanna come on my hand?” he whispered against her ear.
A nod, and he checked the front door. Bruiser would probably barge in if he didn’t finish her in about a minute, so he pulled Everly inside his bedroom and pressed her against the wall. He slid his finger into her, then a second on the next stroke, careful to touch her clit. Damn, she was so sensitive there he had to be careful or he’d hurt her if he lost his head and got too rough. When he cupped her on the next stroke, she tossed her head against the wall and moaned. He swallowed the sound of her pleasure so they wouldn’t attract the wrath of the crew. He pushed his tongue past her lips and tasted her. Three more strokes, and she pulsed around his fingers and clutched onto his back, nails curved like talons against him, and sexy, helpless little noises in her throat. He’d never get tired of her response to his touch. Not ever.
God, he was so turned on, he could probably blow his load just rubbing up against her right now.
“Brighton, Everly!” Bruiser yelled through the wall.
“I’m coming!” Everly called out, then opened her mouth wide with her eyebrows arched high and a silent laugh on her lips. “Get it? I’m coming?”
Surprised, Brighton huffed air in shocked snickering.
A beat of silence was followed by a single booming laugh from the other side of the wall.
Drew snorted from so far away it was barely audible. “Her jokes are funnier.”
“Okay,” Bruiser said, his voice fading as he walked away from the trailer, “but it wouldn’t have been as funny if I didn’t set it up, though. Right?”
“Leave them alone,” Brooke called.
Brighton led Everly to the bathroom, then let the tap water warm before he ran a clean washrag under it.
“What are you doing?”
Cleaning you.
He’d done it before, minus the warm water. Hell, he enjoyed it. She always relaxed under his diligent affection afterward and was always so appreciative when he treated her well. He cleaned her carefully, then washed his hands. Not because he wanted to rinse her scent off his fingers and down the drain, but because he knew she’d be self-conscious if she thought the others could smell her on him. She tucked her towel back around her and followed him out.
The others were already headed for the rickety old gate on the other side of the trailer park—the one that led to a worn trail up the mountain. The path they needed forked off that one. Most of the Ashe Crew was three sheets to the wind, shirtless and meandering into the woods barefoot, but Brooke, Skyler, and Danielle waited for them to catch up.
Brighton picked Everly up and jogged toward the receding group, determined to protect her flip-flop clad feet from the six inch weed garden they’d managed to grow in the back of the trailer yards over the summer. When he reached Brooke, he set Everly down and winked at his alpha’s mate, then swatted his woman firmly on her perfect ass and trotted up the trail after the guys.
With one ear on the conversation around him and one on the conversation the girls were carrying on behind, he made himself give Everly space to talk to her new friends. These women had been through the ringer for their mates and had come out strong as steel. It took a special kind of woman to accept a life out here with a crew of growly, foul-mouthed, beer-guzzling, dirty-joking grizzly shifters. Everly would need to learn to depend on them when things got overwhelming or when she thought of questions pertinent to lady bears that he wouldn’t have the answers to. He’d seen the bond between Brooke, Skyler, and Danielle and wished for that for Everly. She’d often talked about wanting friendship like that but had been unable to fit in anywhere in her old life.
From the way they were giggling and cutting up back there, his heart filled with the confidence that she was going to be okay here with him. With his people.
“Geez, brother,” Denison said, hooking an arm around his neck. “You should see the sappy look on your face right now.”
I’m happy.
Denison stopped so fast, Haydan ran into the back of him. Stumbling and slurring an oath, the other shifter walked around, but Denison just stared at Brighton like he hadn’t understood the words he’d mouthed.
I’m happy, Brighton repeated.
A slow smile spread Denison’s lips, then faded as he nodded. His brother ghosted a look behind him at Everly, then squeezed Brighton’s upper arm and strode up the trail behind Tagan. Over his shoulder, he said, “Good. You deserve to be happy.”
Chapter Thirteen
“So many giant penises,” Everly muttered.
“I know,” Skyler said. Her dark hair swished around her bare shoulders as she shook her head in mock sadness. “They really have no shame, and I’m pretty sure modesty doesn’t even exist here.”
“She says as she sits spread-legged and naked on the river bank,” Danielle ribbed, bumping Skyler’s shoulder.
Brook snorted and rubbed her belly. She wore a bright yellow bikini and leaned back on a locked arm, legs crossed in front of her.
“Can I feel?” Everly asked. Heat filled her cheeks as she realized how inappropriate that must’ve sounded. “I’m so sorry. It’s not… It’s not my place to be rubbing all over your belly.”
“I don’t mind,” Brook said. She snatched Everly’s hand and placed her palm on one side. “I think this is his knee or elbow.” A distracted look came over Brooke’s face, and her belly jumped. “There. Did you feel it?”
How amazing that such a miracle existed. Against the odds, Brooke was carrying a cub, and without the heartache of years of trying, like Brighton had said most shifters had to go through. This child was truly meant to be a part of this place, and she’d felt him move, right against her palm. “That’s like magic.”
“Feels like it sometimes.”
Most of the men were in the river, taking turns on a dangerous looking rope swing that dangled out from a branch across the gentle rapids. Apparently, they were trying to outdo each other with flips before they hit the water.
Drew yelled, “Watch out!” and jumped over the women’s heads and into the water, laughing as they ducked.
“Dick,” Danielle accused, but she was smiling so the insult lost its sting.
Everly liked the way they called names here. The words were jokes and terms of endearment, not spoken to hurt like Momma used to do.
“Brighton said it’s hard for shifters to get pregnant,” Everly said low.
“It is,” Brook agreed. “We got lucky. Do you want a cub someday?”
Everly arced her gaze to Brighton as he swung out far over the water and jack-knifed with a big old grin on his face. He flipped Bruiser off right before he hit the water.
“I haven’t really thought about it. I was raised in a different sort of home and thought I wouldn’t ever want to raise a baby. I thought I wouldn’t have the right tools to be a good momma, you know? But with Brighton, I think I would be okay. Some day. And it would be nice to bear him a cub. A baby who looks like him. If he wanted one, or course,” Everly said, shaking her head self-consciously.
She petted the little pygmy goat that had followed Danielle out here and was now curled up in a comfortable-looking ball of gray fur next to her legs. He had short curved horns that he attempted to use frequently on the boys, but with the women, he seemed to be a loyal, sweet little critter. Bo, Danielle had called him, bleated softly and nibbled at the edge of her towel.
“How do you handle being human around all this chaos?” she asked Danielle.
“I don’t know,” she answered, lifting her gaze from Bo to Denison. “I guess I love Denny so much that it doesn’t matter that I’m different.”
Thoughts of Connor and how forceful he’d been raised questions that sickened Everly’s stomach. “Aren’t you afraid of some other crew deciding to claim you since you don’t bear Denison’s mark?”
Danielle snorted and grinned. “This twatwaffle named Matt came on strong when I first arrived. He’s a Gray Back. Brighton
beat the shit out of him at the Lumberjack Wars competition for messing with me, and if he pushed anymore, I’m pretty sure Denison would’ve chopped him up into little cubes and pissed on the pile. Now, Matt and I have an understanding when I see him in town. He stays out of my way, and I don’t sick the Ashe Crew on him. Look at them,” she said, nodding her chin at the giant, eight-pack-riddled grizzly shifters in front of them. “Who in their right mind is going to take a mate away from one of them? It’s a death sentence. I don’t know. It just never felt right for me to change that much about myself to fit with Denison. We work as we are, different or not.”
Everly liked that. She appreciated they were each different and had their own unique stories with their mates. She identified with the fact that none of their pairings had been easy. Now, she didn’t feel alone with what Connor had done. It was just part of her tale that made her and Brighton unique, too.
The moon, low and heavy in the sky tonight, cast blue light across the woods. From here, she could make out the piney mountains on both sides of the river and the occasional fluffy cloud in the dark sky. A wide yellow moonbeam rippled across the water as the men stuck their splashy landings. The air was filled with the scent of sap and damp earth.
Denison came up the bank from the water, splashing around like the swamp thing. At least he had decided to wear swim trunks, unlike the others. Danielle squealed as he threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the waves. She gave a half-hearted struggle just before her new husband dunked her.
Brighton’s turn was up again, and he stood on the opposite bank, bare torso stretched, muscles flexing as he held onto the rope above his head. He winked at Everly just before he backed up and launched himself into the water.
She giggled and leaned back on her elbows, feeling less and less bashful by the minute. She’d never seen Brighton like this—in his element and happy. It was good for her soul to see him completely at ease.
Brooke and Skyler watched Brighton as he crested the water and shook out his hair.
“Do his scars hurt you?” Brooke asked in a voice as soft as a breath.
Everly studied the stripes across her mate’s smooth flesh as he dragged his feet and exited the water down the bank. “They did before I knew how he got them. Now, I adore them. They are one of the most attractive things about him because I know how strong my mate is. Those scars show his resilience.”
“He told you how he got them?” Skyler asked, sitting up straighter.
Denison, who’d apparently heard the turn in their conversation, drifted closer and settled Danielle against his chest.
“Yes. He told me.”
“Told you?” Denison asked, cocking his head and frowning.
Brighton was walking toward them with a half-smile on his face, and Everly offered him a little wave. “Yes,” she said. “He told me.”
“You mean he wrote it down for you,” Denison said, a statement, not a question.
The smile dropped from Brighton’s face as he approached.
Confused at the change in the mood, Everly explained, “No, he told me.”
Denison’s dark eyebrows arched, and he dragged his gaze to Brighton. “What does she mean?”
Brighton linked his hands behind his head and stared at his brother with regret pooling in his eyes. He swallowed hard and winced. “I don’t write my thoughts to her,” Brighton whispered out in a painful-sounding hiss. “Not anymore.”
Denison’s eyebrows rose higher, and now he looked hurt. And angry. “What the fuck, man?” His voice wrenched up. “You can talk?”
Danielle dipped lower in the water behind Denison with her lips pursed and a troubled look on her face.
“Oh, shit,” Everly said on a breath. “I didn’t know—”
Denison shook his head hard, strode from the gently lapping water, and marched past Everly toward the trail.
Brighton looked sick as he followed his brother.
Heart in her throat, Everly stood and ran after them. She had to fix this somehow. She’d wanted his brother to like her, and instead, she’d made him feel alienated.
Up ahead, Denison was on his hands and knees in the dirt with Brighton crouched down beside him. Brighton made a calming gesture with his hands, and she halted a few feet away.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Denison asked in a choked voice. “Why didn’t you ever talk to me?”
“Because it hurts to whisper,” Brighton said, gripping the back of his brother’s neck. “It feels like pushing glass shards up my throat. And more than that, it reminded me of when we were taken—of when Reynolds took my voice.”
“You could’ve talked to me about that at any time, though, Brighton. I’ve always been here. I could see what it did to you, and you wouldn’t ever open up or tell me what you remembered.”
“Because, Denison, I was trying to protect you. You don’t remember it all, but if I tell you all that happened, to me and what I saw them do to you, it’ll bring it back. I know it will. I don’t want that for you. You were lucky. You found peace. I couldn’t rip that away from you.”
Denison sat down hard and rested his elbows on his knees, then cupped his scalp in his oversize hands. His voice came out a tortured whisper, matching Brighton’s. “I want to know everything. You shouldn’t have gone through that alone. I can handle it. Knowing is better than imagining the worst.”
Brighton’s face crumpled, and he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want, but not here. Not on your wedding night. This can wait another day. It’s held all this time.”
Most of Denison’s face was hidden, but Everly could see his lip tremble right before he said, “It’s so fuckin’ good to hear your voice again, Brigh.”
Brighton pursed his lips as his eyes filled with sadness. “It’s not really a voice, brother.”
Denison sniffed and shook his head. “It’s more than I ever thought I’d hear again.”
Brighton cupped his brother’s neck, then rested his head against his for a moment before he stood. Her mate scrubbed his hand down his face and tried to smile at her. It was a broken expression, though, and she reached for him. Held him tight. And when she looked up into his eyes again, she expected them to be silver, like they always seemed to be when he got too close to his secrets. To her unending relief, his eyes were still the color of spring grass.
Turning, she knelt down beside Denison. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you hadn’t heard him whisper. We were off in our own little world out at the cabin, and I didn’t know the dynamics. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”
“Forgive you?” Denison asked, a truly baffled expression on his face—a face so much like the man she loved. He shot up and took her with him, hugging her until she couldn’t breathe. “There’s nothing to forgive,” he said thickly. “You brought my brother back. Thank you. Thank you,” he choked out.
Twin tears streaked down her face as the big, burly shifter crushed her to him harder, then released her. Denison wiped moisture from his eyes and paced a short circle in front of her. “If you ever need anything,” he said to her, “anything at all, you come to me and I’ll take care of it. I owe you…” He shook his head as if his voice was going to fail. His expression was raw and open as he tried again. “I owe you everything.”
Her throat clogged with emotion, and she nodded through her streaking tears. “Okay.”
Denison squeezed her shoulder, then hugged his brother roughly with two resounding slaps on the back, then ducked around him and disappeared through the trees, headed back for the river.
“Brighton?” she asked, turning slowly toward her mate.
His chest heaved, scars stark, ribs showing and torso flexing with the movement. His hands were hooked on his hips, and he couldn’t seem to meet her eyes quite yet.
“Can you take me home?”
His chin dipped slightly. He gripped her hand and led her back down the trail toward the trailer park.
He didn’t say a word as they made their way back to his trailer. And when they were inside, she locked the door behind them and turned slowly. He watched her with a confused expression. You okay?
She swallowed and inhaled a slow breath. “Brighton, I don’t want Connor’s mark anymore. I want yours.”
He shook his head slightly, and his look of profound confusion grew deeper, etching a wrinkle of worry across the bridge of his nose.
“What I mean to say is I want you to claim me.”
Brighton’s face went blank, and his ears moved slightly as the realization of what she was asking hit him. I don’t want to hurt you.
“It’ll be a temporary hurt that will bind me to you. I don’t want to be Ashe Crew as a default member. I want to be Ashe Crew because I’m yours and I belong here. I want to be bound by your traditions. By our traditions,” she amended. “I want to be proud of the scar on my back, not reminded of what Connor did to me.” She lifted her chin and conjured her courage. “I want you to choose me.”
“Done,” he whispered without hesitation. His lips crashed onto hers, and he plunged his tongue into her mouth. Gripping her hair, he angled her face as his lips moved against hers. Easing back slightly, he whispered, “I choose you.”
Backing her toward the bedroom, he unsnapped her swimsuit top and pulled off her bikini bottom. His hands were everywhere, stroking, kneading, and adoring her skin. He dipped down, drew her nipple into his mouth, and sucked. His tongue stroked her until it was a hard bud, causing every nerve to tingle from there to her sex. He cupped his hand between her legs and pressed his finger into her, then smiled against her lips. His breath came in shallow bursts as he pressed his thick erection against her belly.
“Connor hurt you when he took you from behind because he did it wrong. I won’t hurt you,” he promised as he positioned her on the bed, hands and knees splayed.
“Angle your hips, love.” He gripped her waist and guided her.
Fear and anticipation blasted through her like warring lightning strikes as the head of his cock touched her exposed slit. She gripped the soft comforter, preparing for the excruciating pain she knew was coming. But when he slid into her halfway, she didn’t feel discomfort at all. Only a slight stretching and pleasure. He gave her another slow, shallow thrust, then pulled out again, teasing her.
