"We could make a camp. I think I can last till morning," I said. In truth, I wasn't sure how long I could last at all, but I had to hope. Thorne wiped his brow, looking distracted. His cool demeanour from the night before had definitely slipped. I could hardly blame him; he'd been running for a long time to find me, and then half-carrying me ever since. Even Thorne's muscular shoulders had to give out at some point.
"Alright then, if you think you can manage it," he said. "A camp's probably our safest bet. I know somewhere we can reach before nightfall, if miss slowpoke can keep up."
"Yeah, whatever, Butch. Come on then, lead the way."
We were cutting it close by the time we reached the campsite. Dusk was creeping up on us fast, aided by dark clouds that rumbled with the promise of thunder. Compared to the camp I'd shared with Thorne the previous night, this location was practically a penthouse. The landscape was uneven and rocky in this part of the woods, and beneath a long granite overhang a screen of woven branches hid our designated hidey-hole from view. It was disguised from the outside to look like a tangle of fallen foliage, but when Thorne lifted the side of the screen he revealed a modestly sized cave sinking into the rock behind it. Inside, hidden again behind a pile of rocks, was a bedroll, supplies to start a fire, two flasks of water, and some dried food. There was even a covered vent in the ceiling to let smoke out.
Thorne let me curl up on the bedroll as he started a fire, leaving me to nibble on a strip of jerky as I watched. A day ago I'd barely known him, and already I felt as close to him as anyone in the pack. Out of all of them, he was the only one who'd ever tried to help me with my instinct. He'd more than earned my friendship after today.
More than friendship? I frowned and tried to squash the thought, but it wasn't as intense as I'd feared. I was still in control. I let the thought resurface for a moment, admiring Thorne's broad shoulders and lightly tussled hair as he worked. He wasn't like other werewolves. We were a selfish bunch, all in all. Even me, I realised, with a hint of shame. Our animal mentality made it hard to trust people we didn't know. But Hawthorne seemed to genuinely care about others—even put them before himself, if his rush to find me earlier had been anything to go by.
Would he make a good mate for me? I'd definitely prefer someone like him over Cyan, but what kind of a life would that be, two wolves at the bottom of their pack hierarchy together? Most tried to elevate their status by mating someone above them—and those above always had the pick of everyone below.
I sighed and laid my head down on my bundled up jacket. It was a pointless fantasy anyway. Thorne could never be my mate. I needed someone who would satisfy my instinct, and he needed someone who wouldn't temp him to give in to his own. We were about as wrong a match as you could hope to find.
A pointless fantasy, maybe. But it was still nice.
Before long rain was thrumming against the screen that shielded us from the elements, the rumble of thunder more pronounced now as we huddled in our cave. I was grateful for the fire flickering between us. It was going to be a long and cold night, but inside our cave we were toasty warm. If it hadn't been for Hawthorne I'd probably still have been out there, thrashing around in the mud, lost and delirious.
"Thank you, Thorne," I said, sitting up. He muttered something in response, eyes fixed on the fire. "I mean it," I continued, "if you hadn't come to find me I don't know what would have happened."
Thorne closed his eyes and nodded. Despite the warmth in the cave his hands were shaking. He'd seemed preoccupied ever since we settled in for the night.
"You can go to sleep if you want, I can manage without you keeping an eye on me," I said.
"It's not that." Thorne's voice was strained. Something was wrong. "I'm sorry, Lyssa."
"Why? What's the matter?" I shuffled over to him, but he pulled away. His eyes met mine, flashing with aggression. Their deep green seemed more intense than ever in the firelight.
"My instinct. I've been fighting it ever since I found you. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up."
His instinct. I'd been so focused on trying to control my own that I'd barely even given a thought to what my companion might be struggling with. I'd thrown myself at him and begged him to mate me. "Can't you control it? You helped me with mine, if you can focus—"
"No. We've been together too long. My wolf's got your scent, every time I look at you I just..." His brow creased in anguish. "I'm so sorry. I should never have come looking for you."
A tingle of fear crept up my spine. If he really couldn't control himself, what would he do to me? But the fear masked a hidden longing. My own instinct was far from gone, and the prospect of being taken by a wild, savage male stirred something deep and dark inside me. "How long do you think you've got?"
"I don't know. A few minutes, maybe." Hawthorne suddenly gasped, a bead of perspiration running down his brow. "The longer I fight it the worse it gets. By the time I lose it, I don't know what I'll do."
"Then don't fight it." I edged closer, taking his hand. "Do it now, before it gets any worse."
He looked at me, eyes wide. "But Lyssa—"
"It's going to happen anyway. Do it now, before your instinct makes you hurt me."
"I'm going to hurt you no matter what." He grimaced.
"Maybe you won't. It's been years since the last time it happened, right? You've learned to control it now."
"But that's no guarantee!" he said, aggression flickering in his eyes as his instinct began to take hold. I resisted the urge to back away, fighting my fear. I let go of the thoughts that had been keeping my lust in check, letting the heat flood through my body again. It calmed me, soothing my anxieties with overwhelming desire. The fear was still there, but my wolf wanted it. She wanted a mate so ferocious and powerful that he frightened her.
"I want it, Thorne," I whispered, moving close and kissing his cheek before he could pull away. "I can take it. I want you. You won't hurt me, I know you won't." It was a lie, but it was more comforting than the truth; that the prospect of him hurting me was exciting, that I'd dreamed of his claws on my skin and his teeth on my neck.
Thorne hesitated for a second longer, then something inside him seemed to give. A savage growl burst from his throat, and in a flash he was on top of me, snatching my wrists and slamming me backwards into the dirt. His wild eyes flicked across my face, searching for any sign of defiance, any urge to fight.
They found none, and with a jerk of his wrist he had grabbed the neck of my tank top, yanking it down so hard he opened a long tear in the side, severing the left shoulder strap in the process. My aching shoulders protested, but I bit back my moan of pain, struggling out of my top as quickly as I could before Thorne tore it to shreds. His attention turned to my jeans, yanking them down along with my underwear all in one go until they were bunched up around my ankles. Then he had me by the arms again. I was flipped over with such force that another jolt of fear overwhelmed my desire for a moment. He was so strong. If Thorne wanted to, he could probably snap my neck like a twig. I whimpered, presenting myself to him on all fours as I waited for my mate to take me. My arousal glistened between my legs, and Thorne was panting as he rid himself of his own clothes and threw them into a corner. The movement was so final. As though he knew he wouldn't be needing those clothes for a long time. He was going to have me every way he wanted, and nothing was going to stop him.
My instinct had been warming up steadily, and now it was approaching the point of no return as lust and longing clouded my thoughts. I crossed my arms in front of me and buried my head between them, spreading my legs for my mate as he dropped to his knees behind me. When his hands clamped down on my hips, I knew there was no going back.
His hard fingers dug into me so tightly I was sure they'd leave their mark. I squeaked in discomfort, but a savage bark from Thorne silenced any further protests. My head felt heavy and feverish with a cocktail of arousal and fear. His fingernails dug into the sides of my stomach like pointed claws, and I grit my teeth i
n preparation for a painful entry as the head of his thick shaft brushed my folds. But he didn't tear me open in a single thrust. He slipped in slowly, giving me a moment to adjust to his thickness. He growled, and I felt the faintest tremble run through his hands.
He was fighting it. He was holding back the urge to ravage me as violently as his instinct wanted him to. I couldn't imagine how much effort it took on his part, but by the time he was fully buried inside me and a few shallow thrusts had opened me up, the tremors in his hands had ceased. He let go of my hips, slamming his palms into the hard-packed earth either side of my head. He knelt on the back of my legs, pinning me against the cave floor as his hips began to buck, the sudden jarring motion drawing another gasp of discomfort from my throat. Thorne's growl was dangerous this time, and my eyes widened in shock as I felt his teeth against the side of my neck, tightening against my pale skin in an exquisite pinch of agony.
My last shred of resistance evaporated. He had me pinned, dominated, forced to his will. I had to submit to him, let this powerful male use me and breed me until he was satisfied. It might have been the human bodies of Lyssa and Thorne hunched over on the cave floor, but our minds had completely given in to the feral instincts of our wolves.
His hips slapped against mine hard, filling me to my limit. The thick girth of his shaft stroked at my sensitive walls, dragging the ridges of his glans back and forth in a feverish rhythm that soon had me arching and moaning in response. I tried to take his violent thrusts as best as I could, but soon he had forced my hips flat against the ground, driving my body into a prone position beneath him as he rode me hard. I was making ragged sounds of lust, my exclamations rolling off the walls of the cave until they blotted out even the sound of heavy rain thrumming down outside.
Thorne's teeth remained tight against my neck, letting me know I was his. The pains throbbing in me from earlier seemed to swell through every muscle until my whole body was a shivering wreck of sensitivity. Every inch of my skin held a powerful itch waiting to be scratched, and when Thorne's fingernails dug into my shoulders I screeched in ecstasy. I wanted him to violate me, savage me, hurt me like I'd hoped he would. I needed to feel his dominance so intensely it would leave its mark. He thrust down into me from above, his shaft driving against my front wall in long, satisfying strokes until my legs were bent around his knees and my toes were curling. His teeth finally let go, and he yanked my hair back in a handful to kiss me with a hunger I'd never felt from a partner before in my life.
This was what I needed. This was my perfect mate. His tongue dove into my mouth possessively, letting me know that I was his female, the one who he'd take for his own.
It felt nothing like all those times with Cyan. He had been strong, he'd given me what I wanted, but Hawthorne's wolf was speaking directly to mine, claiming her in a way she'd never been claimed before. His savage thrusts left a deep, throbbing ache in my belly, and no matter how hard he went I was always ready for more.
He wrapped his arms around me, clutching my body against him, pressing my back into his muscular chest. The hot wetness of his tongue lapped at my neck, then up across the length of my cheek in a long, deliberate lick. I shuddered, and felt the pleasure boiling over in my belly as a crashing orgasm flooded through me. It worked its way from the hot ball of intensity beneath my navel all the way to my toes and fingertips, my whole body arching up against Thorne as my muscles contorted and clenched. My eyes rolled, lips parted in an endless, broken groan as my head dipped and jerked back upright again and again with each peak of pleasure. He took me relentlessly through my climax, like an animal, squeezing my body so tight I could barely breathe. His muscles tightened against me, and with a bellowing growl his teeth found my neck again, biting down hard as he drove himself in to the root, spilling his seed deep inside me, the head of his shaft pressed against my deepest places. Delicious pain seared into me as his nails scored rough scratches across my stomach, heightening the last intense moments of my orgasm to breaking point.
With a few final thrusts Thorne finished, and at last I felt my instinct beginning to subside. But just as I'd begun to relax, the arms around my body tightened again. Thorne rose to his feet, dragging me across the cave and throwing me down on the bedroll.
I might have been sated, but when I looked up into his eyes I could still see them burning with the ferocity of his unquenched instinct.
A flicker of fear returned, but he didn't give it time to manifest before he was bearing down on me again, spreading my legs and bracing them over his shoulders as he pushed his still-erect member back into my tender folds. I was panting desperately, but despite my exhaustion a wave of pleasure rippled through me as he began to thrust again, resuming his previous frantic pace almost immediately. Even though my instinct was sated, it wasn't going to disappear if my mate decided he was ready for a second round.
Thorne pinned me by my aching shoulders this time, letting me look at him face to face. His shoulders strained with exertion, perspiration rolling down his chest in glistening beads as he took me. His lips were curled into a half-snarl, a dangerous glint of white teeth visible between them, his brow knotted in concentration.
I lay back and let him have his way with me. My tired and tortured body went limp in his grasp, only responding when he drove me to my next shattering orgasm. And my next. And my next.
I lost track of time, only dimly aware of the final traces of light fading outside. The night became a blur of images and sensations. Thorne's panting face looking down at me. His fingers curled tight into my hair. His nails raking painfully across my skin. Biting me. My screams of agony and ecstasy. His rumbling growls. And, through all of it, the constant burn of his length inside me, driving me to climax after climax.
I didn't know if I'd passed out or fallen asleep. The fire had burned low and only a dim flicker from the embers illuminated the dark cave.
Thorne's warm chest pressed against me. I was curled into the hollow his body, wrapped in his arms. When I tried to move I whimpered in pain. Every muscle ached intensely. I ran a finger down my side, wincing as it brushed over raw scratches and bite marks. I was so sore between my legs I felt for sure I must have been bleeding, but a quick brush of my fingers put my anxiety to rest. The only slick warmth I found was what Thorne had left inside me.
He stirred, and I tried my best to roll over so that I was facing him. I made it on to my back before I had to grit my teeth and stop, letting out a sharp exclamation of breath that roused my partner fully.
"Lyssa?" he whispered, something close to fear in his voice.
"I'm here," I replied. My own voice was weak and strained.
"What did I do to you..."
If I'd been in pain, it was nothing compared to the anguish on Thorne's face as he looked down at my naked body. "I'm so sorry, Lyssa. I'll never come near you again, I'll..." his voice caught as he lowered a hand to touch my cheek, looking at the bite mark he'd left on my neck.
"Thorne, it's okay," I said. I took his hand and kissed it. "It's just a few marks and bruises. You didn't do any real damage. I knew you wouldn't."
"But look at you." He touched one of the scratches on my stomach, withdrawing instantly as I winced. "You must have been terrified of me."
"I wasn't. My instinct took care of it. I wanted everything you did to me."
Thorne looked at me again, his expression still pained, but it seemed to soften a little when he saw the reassurance in my eyes. "Does it hurt much?"
I bit my lip, then nodded slightly.
"I'll make us some tea," he said, and extricated himself from the bedroll to find his bundle of discarded clothing. I propped myself up on an elbow, thankful for the comfort of the bedroll and the warmth of the fire. I hurt, but I was only sore and stiff. My werewolf body would take care of itself within a few hours.
Thorne pulled on his jeans and produced a packet of the same pain-killing herbs he'd made tea from the night before. Crumbling them into one of our metal water flasks, he rested
it in the coals of the fire to boil.
"Please don't feel bad about it, Thorne. I'm glad you came out to find me today."
He shook his head. "I should've never let it happen. What if I'd really hurt you?"
"But you didn't, and I enjoyed it." I paused. "...Did you?"
He stared into the embers and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. "Of course I did. But I don't have to be proud of that."
"You can be proud that you controlled yourself. And do you know how I feel now?"
He sighed. "Abused?"
"Satisfied. I'm looking at you sitting there half-naked, and do you know what I feel?" I smiled. "Nothing. Not one little sniff of my instinct anywhere at all. I've never felt this free from it before." Hawthorne slowly returned my smile.
But I did feel something. It wasn't lust, but a warm flutter in my belly all the same.
"Fine, you've convinced me. But I'm still sorry, and I won't feel good about what I did. I promise, this won't ever happen again." He looked away and took a deep breath. "It can't."
My heart sank, but I knew he was right. My fantasy was still just a fantasy. Even if the marks on my body felt like a small price to pay for what Thorne had given me, they clearly weren't so easy for him to shrug off. There was no way I could ask him to do this again. It wasn't fair.
I rubbed my arms and legs until the stiffness had eased, then carefully dressed and sat down by the fire, nursing my pains with a cup of Thorne's herbal tea.
If only things were different. If only he was my alpha. If only our instincts weren't what they were.
If only.
—3—
Dangers
The rain continued for a full day after my night spent with Hawthorne. We discussed heading back to camp, but every time we pushed the screen of branches away from our cave's entrance the deluge showed no signs of letting up. Rain wasn't usually much of a bother for werewolves, but it was a good enough excuse to stay put and rest up for the time being. Besides, the thought of making Cyan sweat for a few more hours was always something I could get on board with. I had no doubt he was regretting his decision to leave me tied up in the woods by now.
Wild Instincts - Complete Edition (Werewolf Erotic Romance) Page 4
