For the Good of All (Law of the Lycans Book 7)

by Charles, Nicky

  “Water’s never felt so good.” She pushed her hair from her face and squeezed the water from the colourful tips.

  “Or looked so good.” Droplets clung to her lashes and dripped down the curves of her body. One brazenly slid along the curve of her breast before clinging to her nipple like a bit of diamond jewellery. Using his finger, he traced the path it had taken and the pink nub tightened. He felt himself beginning to harden at the sight.

  Unable to resist, he pulled her closer and kissed her. Lips slid over lips in a leisurely sharing of pleasure. His hands traced the length of her back to her hips and cupped her rear. She caressed his shoulders and upper arms, sensuously rubbing her body against his while mist from the nearby waterfall drifted over them.

  He broke off the kiss and eased her away. Her lids were heavy, her mouth parted and dewy. For a moment he brushed his thumb over her temptingly plump lower lip and then combed his fingers through her hair, holding her head as he trailed his lips over her brow, her cheeks, and then back to her mouth. His tongue stroked hers, sharing the intimate pleasure, stoking his desire.

  She trailed her hands down his chest, gently tugging his chest hair, teasing his nipples. A shiver passed over him and he snaked an arm around her waist bringing her closer to him.

  His erection brushed against her hip, his thigh slid between hers. She was hot and wet; he could feel it. The knowledge made him ache all the more, knowing the pleasure that awaited him. She was like a drug he couldn’t resist. Night after night he’d had to return to her, breaking his one night stand rule’, had to experience her one more time.

  “Christina…” He murmured her name as he nuzzled her neck. A part of his brain was telling him that having sex in a tropical pool wasn’t smart. Water snakes, crocodiles… Common sense disappeared when he was with her like this. “What spell have you cast over me?”

  Her hands rested on his hips, drifted lower to grasp his buttocks as she gently nibbled and sucked on his shoulder. “I don’t do spells.” Her arm brushed over his cock and his knees nearly buckled.

  “A hex, then.” He picked her up and carried her to a flat bit of rock. The water lapped about her as he laid her down, shimmering and sparkling as if magic were emanating from her.

  “My hexes can bring a man to their knees, remember?” She smiled up at him, laughter dancing in her eyes.

  “That they do,” he agreed sinking down to kneel beside her.

  He paid homage to her body, skimming his fingers over her smooth skin, cupping her breasts, teasing the tips. He’d had many women before but none had been like her. Soft, womanly, a mysterious treasure to explore and enjoy.

  When he finally entered her, it felt like nothing else he’d ever experienced. A homecoming, a sense of belonging as if her body had been made to fit his. He rocked into her, savouring the feeling, her soft gasps letting him know she shared his feelings.

  In. Out. Each stroke was exquisite. The coolness of the water contrasted the heat that grew between them. If only it could last forever.

  She caressed his back, softly murmuring, encouraging. He needed her in a way he couldn’t begin to understand. Needed to possess her, bury himself in her, join with her as deeply as possible.

  He began to move faster, their bodies pressed together, moving together. He worked his arms under her shoulders, holding her tight, his cheek to hers.

  “Stone… Oh, Stone…”

  His name on her lips. How could that be so erotic? Why did it create a strange feeling in his chest? He increased his pace. “Say it again, Christina. Say my name again.”

  “Stone.”

  He pressed his forehead to hers, stared into her eyes. She looked up at him. Their gazes locked. “Keep saying it. Don’t stop.”

  “Stone. Stone…”

  He moved to the sound of her voice, increasing his pace as she said his name faster, louder.

  Her back began to arch, her nails clawed at his back, his name still spilling from her lips. “Stone, Stone, Stone…”

  The need for her filled him, clouded his thinking, drove him onward as he strained to join with her as deeply as possible. His heart was pounding, his muscles tightened, trembled. He was going to explode. “Christina…”

  “Stone!” She shattered in his arms and he followed suit, completing losing control in the glory of the moment.

  He collapsed on top of her, panting and spent. For a moment his mind was numb only dimly aware of the splashing water around them, the sun on his back, the calls of the tropical birds. Her scent, the softness of her body, the sound of her breathing–that was all that mattered.

  Eventually, he moved, rolling them both over and cradling her on top of his body. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” She giggled. “But I bet I’ll have some bruises.”

  “Sorry.” He gently rubbed her back, his brows knit together. What was it about this woman that stole his control? Why did he— He paused noticing her flinch under his touch. “What’s wrong?”

  She sat up. “Nothing serious. My shoulders are just a bit sore from the backpack.”

  “Let me see.” He rose and checked, noting the reddened flesh. “The straps are padded; that shouldn’t have happened.”

  “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad.”

  “In this climate, any injury to your skin is bad. Infection sets in quickly.” He frowned in concern. “I’ll check the straps when we get back to camp.”

  “Stone, it’s not—”

  “I’m in charge of this mission, the people on it and the equipment we’re using. If I say it needs checking, it gets checked.”

  “Fine.”

  He could tell by the look on her face, she thought he was overreacting. Too bad. If something went wrong, he was responsible. The lazy after-sex feeling disappeared and he stood up. “Here’s the soap. Take your shower. I’m going to wash out my clothes over by the stepping stones.”

  By the time she was done and waded over to him, his mood had improved and they spent the heat of the day by the river. Stone went fishing with the small line and hook he’d brought along while Christina alternately swam or basked in the sun. He studied the curves of her body, the fullness of her lower lip, the hint of a smile that always seemed to grace her face. She proved to be a satisfactory distraction, keeping him occupied until he felt a tug on his fishing line and reeled in his catch. It was a strangely pleasant afternoon given that he was on a mission. The two had never gone hand in hand before.

  Later that evening, after the laundry had been hung to dry by the fire and the fish had been cleaned, cooked and eaten, Stone started boiling water to purify it before filling the canteens for the next day’s trek. While there were sources of water in the jungle, it never hurt to have some with you, just in case.

  “What’s the plan for tomorrow?” Tina poked the fire with a stick.

  “We’ll follow the river downstream for a few miles to where it merges with the main river and then continue on until we’re closer to the Lycan Embassy the Duffys set up. Then I’ll do some reconnaissance. With any luck, the drug cartel will have kept them held captive there. If not, I’ll start to track them.”

  “Track them? You mean follow their scent?”

  “That and visible signs. A group of men can’t move through the forest without breaking off leaves and trampling plants.”

  “And when we find them?”

  “You mean when I find them. I’ll set up a secure campsite for you a safe distance away and then go in and get them.”

  She raised her brows, but he shook his head.

  “Your purpose on this trip is to help with the children.”

  “You know, Stone, in any other situation a sexist comment like that would have had me calling you a spherical bastard.”

  “A what?”

  “A spherical bastard. It means you’re a bastard no matter which way I look at you.” She grinned at him and the corner of his mouth curved upwards in response.

  “Is that an original phrase?”
<
br />   “Nah. I took an astronomy course once. There was this guy named Fritz Zwicky that we had to learn about. Spherical bastard was a term he coined.”

  “Interesting, but even if I am a spherical bastard, you’re not going with me. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’ve studied self-defence.”

  “Self-defence, astronomy, make-up artist… Is there any course you haven’t taken?”

  “I have a wide variety of interests.”

  “So it would seem, but the answer is still no.”

  She scowled at him, her lower lip extended ever so slightly.

  “Listen, a rookie in the field is a good way to get everyone killed. Your willingness to help is appreciated, but I work best alone.”

  She was silent for a minute, randomly poking her stick into the fire. Eventually, she sighed. “Fine. I stay back, you go in. Then what happens?”

  “I’m going to scout the area during the day. Learn as much of their routine as possible, discover where they’re keeping the Duffy kids. With any luck, I can go back at night, slip into the camp, get all survivors out and be gone with no one any the wiser.”

  “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

  “Yeah,” he replied slowly. “I’ve done this before.” He stared at the fire. Ghosts from the past seemed to dance in the flame, mocking him and the outward calm he tried to project.

  This was his first real mission since the desert fiasco. Yeah, some might claim it was a success because he’d gotten out with some people still alive. The percentage didn’t make him feel any better, though. There were still times he woke up sweating in the night from his dreams. And more than once he’d caught himself having flashbacks. Not often but enough to make him wonder if he’d made the right choice taking on this assignment.

  Keep the demons at bay, he told himself. This isn’t the time for doubts. He forced himself to breathe slowly, to keep his muscles relaxed. Eventually, the tension eased from his body. A glance sideways showed Christina was preoccupied with a moth that was circling the fire. “Listen it’s getting late. I’m going to check in with Reno and then we’d better head to bed. We’ve an early start tomorrow.”

  They settled in their hammocks, mosquito netting tucked in place so they wouldn’t be eaten alive. Stone watched as Tina wiggled about to get comfortable, her hammock swaying to and fro. Eventually the motion stilled.

  He listened to the night sounds of the jungle, his inner wolf automatically categorizing each, deciding if it posed a danger or not. The chirring hum of insects, the faint rustling of leaves. Bats screeched using echolocation to find their next meal. Occasional startled cries as some creature became food for another. Nothing of importance to him. Instead, he focused on the sound of Christina’s breathing. Soft, rhythmic. It was vaguely comforting to know she was near. His wolf gave a contented sigh, resting its head on its paws, fixing its gaze on her location. By narrowing his eyes, he could just make out the rise and fall of her chest. Her scent wrapped around him, filling his lungs with each breath.

  A female could make us complete. His wolf murmured the idea.

  Where the thought came from, neither man nor wolf was sure, but it had both frowning. This afternoon had just been great sex, nothing else…hadn’t it? The idea that he was drawn to her, needed her, that was just his dick talking.

  She didn’t complain even once all day, his wolf pointed out.

  True.

  She is interested in learning. Look at all the questions she asked.

  Admirable qualities but that didn’t mean anything. Or did it? Stone folded his arm behind his head and considered the fact.

  She makes us smile, even if she is a witch.

  He nodded. She created a feeling of lightness inside him that he wasn’t used to. It was an interesting feeling, one he could get used to. Having her around all the time would have its benefits but… He shook his head. A partner meant depending on someone. It could make you vulnerable, impair your judgement. If you dared to care about someone, you lost your effectiveness. Just look what happened with Adisa.

  Adisa. He shifted in his hammock, not wanting to think of her but unable to block the memories. They’d been through hell and back together. She’d depended on him to keep her and her people safe. He’d come to lean on her for her wisdom.

  His stomach knotted. He took a deep breath, hoping to clear his mind. A sweet scent drifted on the air. Some tropical flower, no doubt. Ironically, there’d been flowers blooming that last night in the bloody desert. The night he’d lost her…

  Adrenaline surged through his system. Where the hell was the icy calm he’d always relied on? His heart was pounding so loud he could barely hear the sound of the approaching jeeps. Fucking bastards. He hadn’t come this far, gotten this close just to fail again. Sweat and sand stung his eyes. He wiped them, his hand shaking. If his plan failed this time they’d all be dead. No, he couldn’t fail. They hadn’t survived all this time just to be cut down when freedom was in sight.

  “Hurry!”

  “Elijah? I—”

  “Not now, Adisa. We have to—”

  Yelling. The sound of gunfire. It erupted around them, the words he’d been about to say stuck in his throat as his worst fear became reality. They’d been found.

  “Elijah Stone—”

  “Go! Run!” He urged the others on, taking one by the arm, dragging her to her feet, turning to help another.

  “The good of all before the needs of one.”

  Somehow those murmured words caught his attention in the middle of the chaos. “What?”

  “For the good of all, Elijah Stone. I’m old. I’ve lived my life.”

  “Adisa!” His eyes widened. He tried to reach out, to grab her, but he’d been too late. She was darting into the open, trying to draw the fire. “No! No!”

  “Stone? Stone!”

  Someone touched him.

  Suddenly awake, he jerked upright and grabbed the person near him, a snarl curling his lip.

  “Holy cheeseballs, Stone!” Christina gaped at him, her eyes dark and wide. “You better not bite me, wolf boy!”

  “Wolf boy?” He blinked and released her arm.

  “Yeah.” She stepped away, rubbing the place where he’d held her. “You lay even one tooth on me and I’ll hex you from here to the North Pole and back.”

  Stone swung his legs over the edge of his hammock and stood up. “Serve you right for waking me up.” He noted a slight tremor in his hands and clenched them into fists at his side.

  “I woke you up? Ha! You’re the one that was yelling in your sleep.”

  Damn. “What was I saying?”

  She shrugged and shoved her hands in her pocket. “You were mumbling at first. Something about the good of all and then you started saying ‘no’ louder and louder. I figured you were having a bad dream and I should wake you up.”

  Stone stared at Christina, noting the concern in her eyes despite her nonchalant tone. “Yeah. Just a bad dream.” He walked to the doorway and tilted his face to the sky. It was almost a full moon. In other circumstances he’d let his wolf free and go for a cathartic run. But not now, not on a mission.

  “Stone? Can I do anything for you?” Christina stood behind him. He could feel the warmth of her body. Her hand touched his back offering comfort. It would be easy to turn and use her to hold the memories at bay. Tempting, but also a show of weakness. He needed to conquer his demons on his own.

  “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.”

  “What about you? What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to sit by the fire for a bit.” He’d left it smouldering overnight, not for the warmth, but so the smoke would keep the bugs at bay. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay.” She removed her hand and stepped away. Her voice sounded hesitant, but she returned to her hammock.

  He listened as she climbed in and pulled the mosquito netting back in place. Yeah, he’d sit there for a bit; probably until morning. Better tired from lack of sleep th
an from fighting his own dreams all night. Damned nightmares.

  Time passed. He sat in a half-dozing state, using the white noise of the insects to dull his mind. How long he’d been there, he wasn’t sure, but suddenly his wolf lifted its head, hackles raised, a warning growl rising in its throat.

  They weren’t alone.

  Another creature was nearby.

  He flared his nostrils and tested the air. Not a human. And not a bat or a kinkajou or any of the usual nocturnal animals one would expect to encounter.

  It was a cat. A jaguar to be specific. Large. Lethal. And, thankfully, alone.

  Stone got to his feet and stepped away from the building. If there was going to be trouble, he didn’t want Christina involved.

  He could hear the animal breathing, the chuffing sound as it also tested the air, the faint rustling of the underbrush as it moved. The beast was circling, assessing.

  His wolf wanted out, but he held back. No point in provoking the big cat. A jaguar had no natural enemies—its jaws could easily crush the skull of its prey—but it was leery of humans.

  Except…this one was part human. A shifter. That didn’t necessarily guarantee his safety, though. He recalled Reno saying the jaguars weren’t happy there were Lycans in their territory. Damned cats were always unpredictable.

  Stone stood his ground, widening his stance, facing his opponent. Seconds ticked by, the standoff stretching out as both waited for the other to make the first move. He kept his breathing steady, his muscles loose. His years in captivity had taught him the value of patience, of waiting for opportunity to come to you.

  Finally, the vegetation quivered and the jaguar stepped forward. Its eyes glinted in the night, long canines showing as a rolling rumble reverberated from its mouth. Head held low, it moved fluidly, muscles encased by sleek, tawny-yellow fur dappled with darker rosettes.

  Several yards away it stopped and in the blink of an eye shifted into human form. Sinuous. Rangy. Strong featured. The man’s dark hair blended with the night, the ramrod stiffness of his back and the tilt of his chin gave him an aristocratic air.