Last Wolf Standing

by Rhyannon Byrd

  She made a low, humming noise of appreciation, running her palms over the hot skin of his shoulders, lifting her hands to run her fingers through the damp strands of his hair, brushing the warm mass back from his brow.

  “I’m never letting you go, Tor. Never,” he vowed harshly, watching her, his stare so hot she could feel its searing heat spread across her skin. His hands took her own, pulled them up high over her head, holding them there, stretching her out beneath him. His thumbs swept over the leaping, erratic pulse in her wrists…and he held her wide-eyed gaze, his jaw grinding as he finally began testing the give of her body, thrusting his hips. She was tight, but so wet that she gave way around him, and he began working her hard…harder, until she’d taken every inch and he’d completely buried himself inside of her.

  His head fell forward, arms shaking as he pressed deep, just holding himself there, shoved up into her like a thick, heated pipe, solid and hard but throbbing with life. Then he pulled back, and lunged forward in another brutal, grinding motion that buried every inch of his cock inside of her all over again, slamming against her limit, and she screamed, the pleasure exploding instantaneously, as if he’d hit a switch. His eyes went wide, his expression stunned at the first clenching pull of her climax, and then he growled a feral, rumbling noise in the back of his throat and erupted into action, driving the pleasure into her until she didn’t know how to hold it inside.

  He kept pushing her, making her come over and over, like a hedonistic gear being revved higher and higher, until the intense, breathtaking spasms bled into one another, forming one huge, explosive swell of sharp, mind-shattering sensation. The relentless, provocative push of his body into hers made her crazed with it, her skin damp and flushed with violent color. Writhing atop the wrecked bedding, Torrance spread her legs wider, wavering between begging for everything he could give her and pleading for him to let her rest, the hard, relentless burn of ecstasy almost too sharp to bear.

  “Not yet,” he grated, his dark eyes golden, deliciously wild. “Just one more time, Tor. Let me feel it again, just once more.”

  “I can’t,” she sobbed, gasping, her back arched while her head tossed restlessly on the pillow, their bodies covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, sex-damp and burning. “I can’t…”

  “Yes, you can.” His lips pulled back over his teeth, breath ragged and fast, while his eyes burned down at her with a primitive, savage intensity.

  “Mason,” she breathed, his name a plea, though Torrance was no longer even sure what she was begging for. She clutched at the powerful muscles in his back, feeling them shift and flex as he powered his rigid body into hers. The low glow of the muted bathroom light burned behind him, setting the bronzed skin of his wide shoulders to a warm gold, like a god come down to pleasure her, while the sensual curve of his wide mouth was pure, unadulterated devil. “Mason…”

  “I know,” he growled. “Don’t fight it and just let me give it to you.” The pleasure; the dark, almost frightening intensity; his swollen shaft—it didn’t matter what he meant, she wanted them all. Her breath caught as he shifted position, slipping his hands behind her knees. He pushed them higher, nearly flattening them against her breasts, the tilted angle of her pelvis allowing him free access to that drenched, pulsing part of her that throbbed like a heartbeat, her sensitive skin stretched wide as he worked more and more of himself inside of her. She had no shelter, nowhere to hide.

  Emotions surged, sensation building upon sensation…swelling…deepening layer by layer, like pigment building upon a canvas, creating something brilliant and stunning and new.

  Something that was all hers.

  Something she was dangerously afraid that she already loved.

  * * *

  “Torrance!” Mason shouted, the word guttural and raw as his own release roared through him, powering through his body in a thundering wave. It surged up from the very depths of his soul, destroying him at the same time all the scattered pieces of his existence seemed to finally snap into place. And when she followed him over, spasming around him in another sweet, crushing release, Mason thought the top of his head would come off. “Damn, that nearly killed me.”

  She laughed a soft, happy sound, her face and chest flushed a beautiful blushing pink that made him want to howl. “You’re incredible,” he rasped, thrusting gently into her as the last waves of the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced pulsed through him. “God, I think I’m destroyed, but I want it again, Tor.”

  I want it forever.

  He released his hold on her legs and collapsed over her, a hard, exhausted grin lifting his lips as she wrapped her arms around him, holding tight, her face pressed into the hollow of his shoulder. “Just give me a second to catch my breath,” he whispered.

  A rough, trembling giggle shook her body beneath him, and the grin playing at his mouth melted into a smile that seemed to bloom from somewhere deep inside of him. The sex had been so insanely good it blew his mind, but it was what happened afterward that broke him down. That destroyed him. He rested his face against her belly, his body wrapped in bliss as she stroked her fingers through the damp tangles of his hair, petting him like an animal, and he loved it. Loved breathing in the sweet, feminine scent of her passion. Loved her hands on him. Loved the sheer beauty of everything that she was, both inside and out.

  “What now?” she asked softly, when their breath had returned to normal.

  “I need…I need for you to trust me, Tor.” He regarded her almost solemnly, lifting his head to stare up at her over the pale line of her body, her skin glowing like a pearl. “You can, you know. You’re my mate.”

  She let her head press back into the downy pillow. “And that means that I should trust you, Mason?”

  “I would never betray you,” he said gruffly. “Not for anything. Not with anyone.”

  A small crease formed between her brows. “You mean you’d never hurt me?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” he rasped, wishing she could just see inside of him. What she wanted was there—he just couldn’t risk letting it out. Hell, he didn’t even know how to let it out.

  But he could show her. And in those dark, provocative hours, he argued his case with the touch of his skin against hers, the press of his body, the ravenous hunger of his kiss—

  Again…and again…and again.

  Chapter 11

  Mason stood at the bay window in the kitchen, staring out at the pale stream of light struggling to fight its way into the dawn sky. The shadows of night still hung heavily over the forest, nature quiet and still beyond the window in a perfect, suspended state of grace, while chaos reigned within him.

  Though Torrance had slept peacefully in his arms, Mason had been the one who’d dreamed.

  He couldn’t recall exactly how it began. One moment, there’d been nothing but the gently soothing darkness of sleep…and in the next, he’d found himself running through the forest, the ground damp beneath his feet, the air heavy and humid, thick enough to feel against his skin, just the way it is before a violent storm. He was tired, his body battered and bruised…aching as his muscles burned, but he couldn’t stop. He had to get there; only he didn’t know where he was running to. He just kept moving, his feet pounding at the underbrush, rocks and stones and broken twigs slicing at his soles, his body naked but for the jeans riding low on his hips.

  It was night, the forest thick with shadows, his vision glowing as he used his wolf’s eyes to find his way in the dark. He ran harder, faster, driven by an insane sense of urgency, until the blinding moment when a hand grasped his shoulder from behind, jerking him to a stunning, stumbling halt.

  Whipping around to confront his attacker, he’d come face-to-face with his brother. Dean stood as tall and proud as Mason remembered him, his thick hair brushing his shoulders, a small scar at the corner of his mouth, a souvenir he’d carried since their roughhousing days as kids. He held a small woman in his arms, her face pressed to his chest, ebony hair streaming ove
r his brawny arms. Her feet, so narrow and pale, looked infinitely fragile beneath the hem of her eyelet gown, the white cloth charred in places, stained with streaks of dirt and blood in others. Christ, he thought. It was Lori. She’d been found wearing that same gown the night the fire had taken her life.

  His brother was holding his dead wife in his arms.

  Mason squeezed his eyes shut, while anguish burned a raw wound in his chest, his body rigid with pain and fury for the horrors of the past.

  “You’re losing her, brother,” Dean called to him, and though he stood only a few feet away, his voice reached out to Mason like a thin, metallic stream of sound traveling over a great distance.

  “What?” he croaked, the word no more than a hoarse whisper, emotion choking his ability to speak as he opened his eyes.

  “Mason, listen to me,” Dean shouted, his features twisted with concern. “You’re losing her!”

  “Losing Torrance?” he rasped, shaking his head in confusion, trying to make sense of Dean’s words as the forest around them began to spin. At first, it moved in a slow, revolving shuffle, gaining speed second by second, the leaves and limbs and sturdy trunks becoming a blur while Mason stood trapped in its center, as if caught in the eye of a hurricane.

  “Don’t feel sorry for me,” Dean called out to him, the edges of his body blurred, fading into the surrounding, spinning forest. “I have Lori waiting at home, waiting for me. We’re together…always. Love doesn’t make you weak, Mason. Love makes you strong, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

  “Dean,” he groaned, wondering how to tell him that his wife was dead in his arms. “Dean,” he choked out, his throat trembling.

  “Open your eyes before it’s too late, Mason,” he told him, walking forward. He held the woman in his arms out, offering her to him, and Mason stumbled back, his body quaking. “Open your eyes,” Dean growled. “I don’t want you to be alone.”

  Before he could react, the icy weight of the woman’s body was thrust into his arms, against his chest, and Mason looked down in horror…only to see a fiery mane of red flowing over his arms, covering her face. His muscles shook as the truth crashed over him, through him, taking him to his knees, the damp earth of the forest soaking into his jeans. His breath caught as she stirred, her face tilting, a breathtaking smile of pure joy curling across the beauty of her mouth.

  “I love you, Mason.”

  No sooner had the stunning words left her lips, than the force of the spinning forest caught hold of her body, wrenching her out of his hold. In a state of horror, Mason watched the ravaging cyclone of wind and trees carrying her away, her arms outstretched, reaching for him, but no matter how violently he struggled, his feet were rooted in place, sinking into the ground beneath him as it gave way like quicksand.

  “I love you!” she screamed. “Don’t leave me! I love you…”

  The next thing he’d known, he’d jerked awake with a roar trapped in his chest, skin damp with sweat, sounding like he’d run a marathon. Torrance’s small form had been pressed against his side, her soft breath brushing against the curve of his jaw.

  Now, standing at the window, Mason watched the sun crest over the tops of the trees in a burning arc of gold, and he headed for his bedroom, needing to check on her. The moment he sat down beside her hip, she stirred.

  “Why aren’t you in bed?” she asked sleepily, soft morning sunlight shining down on her head, setting the deep red tones of her hair afire in that way that took his breath. Every damn time he saw it.

  “I had a bad dream,” he said, his mouth twisting with a wry smile.

  Her luminous green eyes softened, hazy with the promise of comfort. “I know all about those. If you come back to bed, I’ll make you feel better.”

  “I have no doubt of that,” he rumbled, his rough fingertips brushing gently over her temple, tucking the wayward strands of hair behind her ear. “But after last night, you need time to recover. I know you must be tender.”

  She blushed a brilliant shade of rose, making him chuckle, and she picked up his pillow, whacking him against the side of his head.

  “I don’t suppose you’ve put on any coffee?” she asked, the hopeful note in her sleep-husky voice impossible to miss.

  “That sounds like a desperate request,” he chuckled, forcing the memories of his dream away as they hovered at the edges of his mind. He didn’t want to think about Dean and death and the past. He wanted to soak himself in Torrance. Wanted to fill himself up on her laughter and smiles. “I’m almost afraid to admit I haven’t made any yet.”

  “Oh, God,” she moaned dramatically. “You’re cruel.”

  Smiling, Mason leaned down and pressed his mouth to her temple, nuzzling her in a way that made her shiver. “After last night, how can you say that?” he teased, nipping her earlobe, breathing into the sensitive shell of her ear. “You know I only want to take care of you—keep you melting in satisfaction.”

  * * *

  And had he ever, Torrance thought with a dreamy sigh.

  When she’d seen him battered and bruised, she’d been reminded that life was fragile and fleeting, that fate could turn on you at the drop of a dime. She hadn’t wanted to waste whatever time she might have with him. And the night had been perfect.

  “You know,” she moaned, stretching, “Jeremy was definitely right.”

  “Jeremy was right about what?” he asked thickly, trailing his fingertips down her side, his thumb stroking low across her sheet-covered belly, making her tremble.

  “About this,” she murmured, giving him a slumberous, lazy look of fulfillment. She was steeped in it. Could still feel the residual pulses and aches of pleasure humming pleasantly through her well-used body, her muscles shivery and tired from the physical exertion. “There’s a heck of a lot to be said for this mate-for-life, love-at-first-sight stuff.”

  “What?” He squinted down at her, as if staring into a bright light, and against her side his fingers stilled.

  For a moment she couldn’t figure out what was wrong, and then she suddenly realized what she’d just said. “I didn’t mean to say that,” she laughed softly, the sound brittle, her heart already breaking at the bizarre look on his face. “I meant to say lust, Mason. You know. Lust at first sight.”

  An awkward silence met her words, and she shifted uneasily. She wished he’d just ignore it, pretend it didn’t happen, but no such luck. His gaze no longer seemed to be burning quite so warm, as if some arctic wind had swept through him.

  “I really wish you wouldn’t make a big deal about this,” she whispered, off balance despite the fact that she was still in bed. She may have been lying down, but her head was spinning. It was ridiculous, but she’d thought, at least for a moment, that last night had changed things. Clearly, it hadn’t. At least not for Mason. It hurt. God, there was no denying that it hurt. But she wouldn’t regret it.

  “It’s okay, Mason,” she said softly, grabbing at the sheet and pulling it a little higher. “It’s a physical thing, you said so yourself. I understand.”

  “Torrance,” he groaned. “I’m sorry. I wish I could be different. I—”

  “You were honest with me, so no apologies necessary. Okay?”

  “Damn it, don’t shut me out like that.”

  He wasn’t the one being shut out—she was. Shaking her head, she said, “Mason, do you even hear what you’re saying?”

  “Christ, I’m sorry, Torrance.” He sighed, rubbing one hand over his face, the bristle on his cheeks and chin making a scratchy sound against his palms.

  Those were the last words she wanted to hear. Not after last night. Not after the man had systemically stripped her down, ripped her open and shown her exactly what it felt like to give herself to another person, fully surrendering both her body and her heart.

  She’d been making love, no matter how breathtakingly wild and primitive their mating had been. She had been doing it with her soul—and he…hadn’t.

  “Last night didn’t ch
ange anything.” It wasn’t a question, just a simple statement of fact. The words fell soft and quiet between them, and despite the sick feeling in her stomach, she was relieved at how poised she sounded.

  His mouth twisted, the hard cast on his face looking almost like regret.

  She’d opened her eyes to the morning, feeling reborn, ready to fling herself into the newness of love and the brilliant, somewhat frightening gift she’d been given. And even with psychotic maniacs out there waiting to take them down, she’d still felt blessed. Had known, after the loneliness of her life, that to have found something this significant was both beautiful and profound. A miracle.

  We only met three days ago, she thought with a wry laugh. But this thing between them, it felt…different. Damn it, it was different. Real and beautiful and awe-inspiring. The stuff of dreams and dragons, of magical kingdoms and happily-ever-afters. She didn’t want to kill the magic by ripping the foundation out of her dream before it’d even begun. He’d promised to be faithful, to stay by her side—but without love, how could anything last? The life her mother had lived—a life Torrance had witnessed in full detail—answered that question all too well: it wouldn’t.

  Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, Torrance reached down to the floor for the oversize T-shirt he’d given her last night when they’d raided the kitchen for a midnight snack, and pulled it over her head with shaking arms. The last thing she wanted at this moment was to be naked in front of him. God, she already felt stripped enough as it was, all her emotions laid bare before him, like an insect pinned in a display case.

  “I need to grab a shower,” she murmured, knowing she had to have some time to herself, to figure things out.

  He stood, heading around the bed, but she stopped him before he could reach her, holding out her hand. Her chin lifted, but her eyes had that dry, scratchy feeling that always came before a flood of tears. Mason lifted his hand toward her face, as if he’d cup her cheek, but she stopped him with a single word. “Don’t.”