by Alana Hart
Once the alphas found out about Connor, Ronan demanded they rejoin the pack. His parents did as they were told, but they kept the house and vacationed there as often as Ronan let them, bringing the boys for some quality time away from the reclusive world of the pack.
It was a great place for shifters because it was secluded in a little bay, hard to get to, and invisible from the ocean.
Connor left the main road, cruised down several side streets, and then pulled into the nearly hidden driveway and guided the bike down the steep and winding hill. When the little house rose up from the thick foliage, his heart swelled. It was small, dark, and had a great view of the beach and the surrounding hills.
He parked by the front door and peeled Casey’s arms from his middle. She winced as she climbed off the bike, stumbling. He caught her, but she jerked out of his grasp. Considering what she had seen, he didn’t blame her. If it hadn’t been for the trips to this house, Connor would have grown up believing that humans were vicious, murdering animals. That was how the alphas taught their children and grandchildren to see humans, but Jackie and Donald had let their sons explore the world and interact with humans.
Not that it had done much good with his younger brothers. It had left Connor with a curiosity about humans, while Aidan and Liam’s attitudes were closer to that of the pack’s.
He left her to follow or not and went inside. The door stuck, squeaking when he shoved it open. It smelled abandoned, musty. Everything looked the same, though; old couches with afghans thrown over the backs, big wooden table and chairs, small kitchen with yellow cabinets that his mother had painted flowers onto. The fridge still held drawings Connor and his brothers had done so many years ago.
Casey banged into the coffee table and swore. He forgot she couldn’t see so well in the dark. He opened the shades and windows, letting in the sunlight and the warm, summer air.
He turned and faced her. She stood in the middle of the living room, staring dazedly at the wood stove.
“I’m gonna run to the store,” Connor said, making her jump. She turned her big green eyes on him. “I’ll get some food, check the area. Be back in an hour. Feel free to take a bath; just let the water run a bit if you want it hot. If you want to sleep, the bedroom’s at the back.”
“Bedroom? As in only one?”
That was her concern? “Yeah, my parents were big on co-sleeping, so one bedroom, one bed. Sleep on it or sleep on a couch. Your choice.” Wherever she slept, he’d find somewhere far away from her in this small house.
When she didn’t move, Connor slipped past her, careful not to touch her, in case the thin thread that was holding her together fell apart. He didn’t have time to deal with any breakdowns. He needed to get supplies and figure out what to do with her.
Once outside, Connor pulled out his phone while he walked around the house. He had calls and texts from Aidan, all demanding to know if he was still alive. The last text he’d sent, twenty minutes ago, said he was going to hunt him down if he didn’t answer in a half hour.
Connor texted that he was alive. Sent that. Started a new text saying they were laying low for a while.
Aidan asked who they were.
Connor ignored him. He had one text from Frankie. Stomach in a knot, he read.
I’ll see you soon, Mr. Wolf.
Connor sighed hard through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. He had fucked everything up. Never before had there been such a colossal fuck up in their pack. That video, Frankie having it, could mean the exposure of a centuries old secret. The fear that his family’s existence would ignite if the world found out about them would end with the genocide of his entire race. There weren’t enough shifters to take on all of the humans. And there weren’t enough places in the world left to hide.
It was Connor’s fault and it was up to him to protect his family.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Casey watched Connor walk around the house, his head passing the windows, and then heard the bike roar to life and disappear back up the driveway. Finally, she relaxed, slumping and wanting to cry. She’d held on way too tight and now her muscles were screaming in agony. A bath sounded amazing right then. Everything she was thinking, feeling, it could all wait.
She limped through the kitchen and down a short hall where she found the one bedroom. Peeking inside, she found a small room with a large bed, big dresser, and a rocking chair. There were family photos on the walls of a couple and three young boys. Connor’s family.
The bathroom was laughably small, but it had one of those old fashioned, deep, claw foot tubs. Giddy with relief, she sat on the edge of the tub as the water turned hot. She found shampoo and soap in a cabinet, stripped out of her boots and coverall, and then sank into the steamy water.
She moaned as it enveloped her, cradling her body in its relaxing, hot, depths. She could die now and be okay with it, she thought. And then she remembered Victor’s hands on her, the certainty of death, and she decided living wasn’t such a bad thing.
Casey washed her hair and body, wincing as she ran the soap over her hips. The bruises were turning purple, getting bad before they got better. It wasn’t funny, but she grinned. Of the three men who’d manhandled her the past two days, it was Connor who had left marks. Well, Frankie did leave bruises on her throat. But, even though he did rape her, she wasn’t in pain between her legs.
Quite the opposite actually.
After everything that had happened she was surprised she could have any sort of reaction other than fear or disgust when she thought about sex.
Yet, thinking about Connor behind her, inside her, sent heat spiraling into her belly.
Her hand floated along the water, drifting to her middle, and then dipped under the surface. She slid her fingers over the smooth skin and down between the folds. Biting her lip to keep quiet in case he came back soon, she slid two fingers inside and rubbed herself with her thumb. Her other hand skimmed over her nipples where they poked out of the water.
She moved against her hand, the water lapping slightly, and panted as her orgasm started to grow.
She heard the footfalls before he appeared in the doorway, enough time to stop what she was doing and throw her hands over herself.
Her scream was raspy and pitiful.
“What the hell?” she gasped.
He stared around the small bathroom and frowned. “I—I thought someone got in the window. Your heart started racing.” His eyes moved over her naked body and stopped on her heated cheeks. His smile was slow. “What were you doing, Casey?”
“Nothing. Get out. Pervert.”
He chuckled. “I’m not the one touching myself in a stranger’s bathtub.”
She threw the soap at him, but he caught it, leaving the bathroom laughing.
He called from the hallway, “I’m making spaghetti. Join me after you get off.”
Casey glared at the doorway. God damn him. The water was cold now and her lady boner gone. Wrapped in a towel Casey stared at the discarded coverall with distaste.
“Is there something I can wear here?” she called, leaning out the bathroom door, her voice sounding more like her own.
His head appeared at the end of the hall, making Casey’s cheeks warm. “The dresser in the bedroom has some of my mom’s old clothes. She’s taller than you, but something’ll fit.”
She waited until he was gone before stepping into the hall. The dresser was a chaotic jumble of women’s, men’s, and boy’s clothing. She dug through until she found what she thought was the safest thing to wear around Connor. The jeans were baggy, but her ass kept them up, and the tee shirt was old and soft.
Leaving her hair wet and tangled down her back, Casey padded barefoot into the kitchen where Connor was dishing up spaghetti and buttered bread. He handed her a plate. It smelled divine. She sat at the table, and Connor joined, handing her a bottle of some craft beer. She sipped it, tasting oak and bourbon.
She looked over the plate in front of her and cocked an eyebrow
. “No meatballs?”
He twirled spaghetti onto his fork. “You don’t eat meat.”
“You do.”
“I’m fine.” He slurped the spaghetti up, sauce collecting on his lips before he licked it off. Casey dropped her eyes to her food.
“You eat someone on the way back?” she joked and could have kicked herself.
Connor lifted his eyes. “No.”
Casey shut her mouth as he returned to his meal. She took a piece of buttered bread and piled it with spaghetti. She found Connor watching her as she took a bite of the messy sandwich, amusement in his eyes.
“What?” she said, her mouth full.
He shook his head. “Nothing. That’s just how my mom eats her spaghetti. Taught us. I thought we were the only ones.”
She frowned and swallowed the bite. “I’m pretty sure everyone eats spaghetti this way.”
“We were sort of sheltered,” he grinned. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”
“I figured you were. From what I found, your pack is pretty tight.”
“Very.” He said, gravely. “No one alive knows what we are.”
“No one alive?”
“I was supposed to kill Frankie anyway for the dogfighting, but now that he knows about me, I have no choice. The alphas won’t let him live even if I fail.” His eyes found hers. She had stopped eating.
“You have to kill anyone who knows?” she said, her voice small.
Connor nodded slowly, his eyes holding hers. Her stomach was rioting against the spaghetti. She knew what he was.
He blinked and took another bite. “When you’re done eating, if you want, the beach is hidden in a bay. You can swim without being seen.”
She stared at him. Was he going to drown her where no one could see it happening?
He took his last bite, wiping up the remaining sauce with his bread, and stood.
“I’m going to shower. Just don’t swim too far out; the main beach is on the other side of the outcrop of rock.” He stared at her hard, and finally she understood. She nodded, and he dumped his plate in the sink, before stalking to the bathroom.
Casey waited until she could hear the shower running, and then slipped from the house. Her bare feet moved easily over the roots and grass and then the sand as the trees gave way to open beach. The sun was behind her, shimmering on the water. The beach was small, the rocky outcrop high enough to hide them from the ocean. Waves crashed against it, but lapped peacefully at her feet.
This must have been a wonderful place to grow up, she thought. She imagined three young boys climbing the rocks and jumping into the little bay. They wouldn’t have to fear anything like sharks, not with their senses and strength. And then she thought about sharks in the water and she froze, her feet under the cool surface, the sun warm on her back.
Trying to talk herself into getting in the water only made her feet more stubborn. Come on, Casey, she thought, risk getting eaten by a shark, or stay and definitely be killed by a wolf. But if he was going to kill her for knowing what he was, why hadn’t he done so? And what good would running do if his pack was just going to kill her anyway? Even if he failed, he’d said. And if the pack didn’t find her, somehow, eventually Frankie would.
No matter what she did, she was dead.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Connor stepped out of the shower. He’d used the soap begrudgingly, knowing she had used it on her body. If she was as smart as he thought she was, she had taken his hint and swam the fuck away from him.
He had come up with this idea when he was shopping for supplies, while also deciding that if she ran while he was out, he would let her go. If she scaled the outcrop of rocks and dropped into the ocean on the other side, she could swim to the main beach and get the hell out of there. That way he didn’t have to kill her, and he didn’t have to lie to the alphas when he told them she escaped. He just hoped he could convince them that she wasn’t a threat.
Connor pulled on his jeans, leaving them unbuttoned, and went to the window. He peered through the trees.
“Fucking idiot,” he muttered.
He stomped outside shirtless. Casey stood on the beach, her feet in the water, as the sun began to fall in the sky. If she wasn’t smart enough to take his glaring hint, then it was out of his hands. This woman had been nothing but trouble since he met her. He shoved through the trees and stormed down the beach.
He would make it quick. No pain. She wouldn’t even know it was coming. Just sneak up, grab her head, and snap her neck. Over and done. Easy.
Reaching for her, he saw his hand shaking a little. He slid it slid beneath her jaw, the other hand cradling the back of her head. Casey sighed, closed her eyes, and leaned back against him. He saw the tear streaks down her cheeks, felt her heart beating fast, clinging to life. He smelled no fear, only sadness.
He held her against him, his hands around her head, ready to end her life.
“Why didn’t you go?” he whispered in to her ear.
“Sharks,” came her shaky reply. “If I’m going to be killed, I’d rather it be fast and painless.”
Connor closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against her hair. She smelled like shampoo and warm, salty air.
“God, you’re so fucking stupid,” he growled, but whether to her or himself he didn’t know. And then he turned her face toward his and kissed her. A sob tore through her and she faced him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Connor deepened the kiss, sucking her tongue into his mouth. She whimpered and pressed against him.
Wrapping his hands under her ass, he lifted her and walked them back inside the little house. He broke the kiss long enough to drop her on the bed, yank off her pants and his while she pulled her shirt over her head, and then he climbed between her legs, pulling them wide, and buried himself inside her.
He groaned at the sweetness of it. She was wet and ready and gave a little cry when he pushed deeper.
The knowledge that the alphas were going to beat him and kill her drove him crazy with need. He needed to take her as much as he could. He needed to give her everything before it was too late. He needed to end her life quickly, while she was getting happily fucked, end it before the alphas tortured her to find out if she told anyone.
He lifted his head, breaking the kiss, and stared down into her eyes. They were bright in the dying light, bright and sad and lost.
Moving his hips, pushing deeper with each thrust, he put a hand on her throat, his thumb pressing the fragile larynx, the bruises darkening the soft skin. Her eyes widened, and then, maybe in an attempt to stop him, she wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him deeper.
It worked. He hissed in her ear, slamming into her, and she cried out. He couldn’t do it. Couldn’t kill her. But he could take her.
Braced on his elbows, Connor moved faster, watching as her orgasm crashed over her, twisting her face, tightening her body. She arched beneath him, her nails digging into his shoulders. He couldn’t help it, normally he was good at controlling his shift, but right then as her body went limp, shuddering with release, his fangs slid out.
She saw them, but didn’t cower. Instead she reached up as he moved inside her, and touched his cheek, her thumb grazing the sharp points.
His release hit him hard. Tensing, his elbows barely holding him up, he spilled himself inside her, slowing, and then panting into her neck. Slowly, he lifted his head and peered into her eyes. She stared into his, and cupped his face in her hands.
That was it, he decided, when the alphas came to execute her they wouldn’t find either of them alive.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Casey woke feeling sore all over, especially between her legs. Remembering the night before, Casey smiled into her pillow, the sun warm on her skin.
After their first go, Connor had carried her out to the beach, naked, and walked into the water until it was over their heads. Casey had tried to get back to the sand, but he held her, floating in the dark, the water black in the moonlight. He swam the
m to the rocky outcrop, sat her on a ledge, and put his mouth between her legs.
She’d held on to the rocks over her head, her legs spread wide for him as his tongue dipped in and out, sliding up to her clit. His fangs flashed in the moonlight and she came hard, crying out, pressing against his mouth.
He’d pulled her back into the water, pushing himself inside her, fucking her against the rocks, and a new orgasm built as the water lapped around them.
They’d gone inside, wrapped in blankets, and ate more spaghetti, cold by then, but they only meant to revive themselves enough to get back at it. And they did, running a hot bath, Connor sitting in the tub. Casey ran her hands over the tattoos on his chest; wolves, stars, words, it was all beautiful. She knelt between his legs, pulling his hard cock out of the water.
She was right, she wouldn’t mind it if it was Connor. She slid her lips over the head, swirled her tongue, and dragged her teeth over and over until he pulled free, lifted her by the hips, and sank her down onto him, pushing deep inside.
They came together, his hands on her breasts, his seed spilling into her.
The thought passed through her mind that she could end up pregnant, but then she wasn’t going to live that long.
With that thought Casey opened her eyes.
Sunlight poured through the open windows. It was still low on the horizon, but bright and warm. Connor wasn’t in bed. She had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning with his arm draped over her shoulders, their legs entwined.
Except for the crash of waves outside, the house was silent.
Casey sat up, her body aching in the sweetest possible way. On Connor’s pillow was a note. Dread filled her as she opened the note and read.
I have something to take care of. Stay at the house. Be back by tonight. – CM
