“We were part of that privileged class, and were able to have private tutors, including some that have always been considered the real intellectuals―the scholars of the Supe world. For example, vampires, and several types of demons.”
“Demons?” I whispered. I was still trying to figure out mermaids.
“Anyway, my point is―I was fortunate enough to get a formal education. But I lost most of my family in a plane crash when I was 19. That's why I ended up with the Pack I'm in now. A lot of them jokingly call me “Professor” because many shifters are wary of someone like them who has a high school diploma, let alone a masters, or a medical degree.” Then he leaned his head against mine.
“And to get back to your other question―in all our history, no one has ever gone from human to Wolf no matter how many times they've had sex with one of us. You probably have realized we're pretty sexually active. Believe me, if that was able to happen, it would have happened a lot. We're close enough in terms of species to be able to breed―but almost none of the children of a mixed marriage will end up being able to Change when they hit puberty. Most end up no different than full-blood humans. No, unfortunately the old stories got it right―when a human becomes a werewolf―or a few of the other shifter types―it's from a wound. According to the vampires, it has to do with a type of blood magic that's not directly connected with what you've referred to as the principles of physics. Maybe one day we'll understand even the magic stuff from a science perspective, but no one's been able to do that even after thousands of years.” He closed his eyes. “Remember, we didn't go through the Dark Ages like humans did. Our knowledge is a lot more advanced in a lot of cases, and in fact, much of what you take for granted in current technology came from our community.”
“So,” I said, “ if you were going to Change me, it would have to be through a wound? Are we talking some sort of range here, where a one would be like getting a tattoo, and a ten would be a beheading?” I gave a little smile, to let him know I was joking.
Mikah
This was the part of the conversation I had been dreading. “It's really serious. The operating theory is it ties back into the healing factor. One of the reasons the Supe community initiated the human genome project was to see if it could be determined what allows some humans to survive a wound that will allow them to become Supernatural themselves. It's so unfair. It's been slow going. Maybe in another generation or two we'll be able to tell Human A will go through the Change with no problems, while Human B would never be able to survive.” I stopped talking and held her hand. “I really care about you, Bree. I'd never do anything to hurt you, and the risk involved in getting you to Change just seems too great to me. How could I lose you?” I kissed her.
“But I do think it would be best if we schedule a time for you to meet our Pack Master. He's heard a lot about you from me and is very curious about you. I know he'll be impressed by you. The other Wolves you met that first night have talked a lot about how beautiful you are.”
I lifted her up once more. “And I think you've been trying to distract me from having the chance to watch you show me the finer techniques of how you stroke your lady parts to your satisfaction. Are you ready?” She was.
Chapter Five
Bree
“I need some change,” I told Mikah in a matter of fact tone. I walked over to him and started digging around in his pants pocket. I started grabbing at his cock and he got a surprised look on his face. To my satisfaction, his eye color began changing to the molten gold that signaled his arousal as much as what was responding to the pressure of my fingers. I gripped him more tightly and moved my hand into a better position. He started making a few breathy noises.
“Oh, Bree,” he muttered in a husky voice.
“Oh, Mikah,” I laughed, “I think I've found a roll of silver dollars. Have you been back to the casino? Who carries around a roll of silver dollars, unless he's a player?” I leaned up and kissed his neck, never letting go of him. Such a damn fine handle on a man. I didn't say another word but used that fun handle to pull him in the direction of my back porch. I had the hot tub ready and waiting.
One of the problems of being around a Supernatural being who had a sense of smell several times better than a human like me was a necessary trial and error approach to sexy fragrances. He had admitted the pot of gardenias he had given to me had been a mistake, since they were so overpowering they had kept distracting him. A few minutes before I knew he'd be over I had spritzed a mixture of patchouli, sandalwood and lavender he had given me around the tub. “It's an old family recipe,” he said. I could only smell the faint scent of the chemical disinfectant that kept algae and other organics from staking out my hot tub as their personal petri dish. But he assured me he was very aware of the odd little bottle's contents, and the combination was a turn on. Whatever works. Maybe I should look into creating a line of Shapeshifter products. He had casually mentioned there were several members of the Supernatural Community who had noses as good or even better than a werewolf.
When we got to the hot tub I efficiently peeled off his clothing while he smiled and his cock remained at attention status. I did my normal “tah-dah” spin, shedding my own outfit in the process. I thought of the old TV series starring Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman when I spun like this. I might not turn into Wonder Woman, but I know I'd have more sex in 30 minutes than she ever did in the whole series.
The water was the perfect temperature on a cool Seattle evening. I had him recline at waist level, and scooted the new inflatable bath pillow behind his back. “Are you ready for some bathtub boogie?” I moved to face his feet, then straddled him in a very wet version of reverse cowgirl. I'm sure my round ass filled his vision as I moved around positioning myself to slide on to his cock. I leaned forward, lifting up a finger width higher as he grabbed my butt with eager hands. I started to ride him. The combination of the warm water and our shared excitement made me feel a quick tickle of excitement. Damned if I could smell the oils I had spritzed, but if that enhanced his pleasure, it was sure a win/win for both of us. My grandmother always used the phrase, “looks like he was rode hard and put away wet.” Now I wondered if grandma had been a little more randy than I had ever suspected. A few more moments and I was rewarded with his body jerk and little pants I knew so well. I was getting ready for it to be my turn when I heard my sister yell, “Bree―are you out there?”
Crap.
The back door flew open and Delia looked up and started laughing. “Well, remind me not to use the hot tub until I get you a bottle of industrial chlorine as a wedding gift.” She came right over to the tub and so obviously tried to oogle Mikah through the bubbles. Even though I knew by now werewolves had absolutely no issues about nudity, I still thought Delia was being rude. Must be a day with a “y” in it.
“Mikah,” I said, careful to remember to keep breathing the way my psychiatrist had taught me in the therapy I had gone through because Delia was my sister and our mother was our mother. “You've probably guessed this is my sister, Delia.”
“Wow,” said Mikah, “based on the impression you've left on a lot of my Pack brothers, I thought you'd be seven feet tall and would be wearing a lot of black leather, not to mention...”
“I've got the stuff in the trunk, if you're interested,” she purred. Jesus, the woman never quits.
“He's sort of busy at the moment. Is there a reason you're here? Is it even worth the effort to say you might just once consider calling ahead?”
“Oh, please,” she said, brushing me away with her hand as if I were a fruit fly, “the gold had just started leaking out of eyes, so he's already had his happy ending. I'd say I timed things just right, so you have nothing to complain about.”
“Do you remember the long talk we once had with my therapist about the word “boundaries?”
“Oh, yeah—I remember that quack. Boundaries is a word you find in the dictionary between bottom and bunched, as in―don't get your panties in a bunch over this.”
She looked over at Mikah and said, “you look exactly like the facebook pictures Bree keeps posting, although I'll admit you look a lot better out of the clothes.”
“And you're here, because?” I realized I had positioned myself between Mikah and Delia as an unconscious move at protecting him. Who was I kidding? A kevlar male chastity belt would be no protection against Delia, Queen of the Kink.
“Guess who's coming to your wedding?” She had that old and familiar look of Superiority I knew so well. “Grandma!”
“You're kidding?” I said. “She always swore she'd never get on a plane.”
"I figure the idea a guy would marry you would be a once in a lifetime event even she couldn't pass up. Turns out there's going to be an Elders Conference in Seattle and a bunch of senior citizens from the reservation are going to be bused up here, so the timing was perfect. She doesn't have to fly and she has a lot of other old-timers to keep her company.”
“So, the wedding is going to be a combination of werewolves and American Indian elders?” I realized my voice just sounded as if I were eight years old. I hadn't even wanted to invite my mother. My grandmother and I were the only sane ones in our family. I knew the group she hung out with on the reservation. Each one of them had a youth that made Delia seem like a nun. My summers on the reservation was an opportunity for them to fill my head with all sorts of things a little girl really shouldn't find out about until she's old enough to get carded. I suspected all those aunties were the reason Delia had turned out the way she had. I didn't know if I was more worried about the elders or the werewolves. They were both groups best experienced in small doses.
“Cool,” said Mikah, still relaxing on his bath pillow. “I'll let the Pack Master know they'll be some more guests. How many should we expect.”
Delia frowned and I saw her fingers twitch with the strain of her mental calculations. “Seven.”
She leaned over the tub, determined to peer past the bubbles. “Welcome to the family.”
Mikah
Delia looked enough like my Bree to be her twin, although as I remembered Delia was about a year younger. She had managed to create a real following from a number of my Pack Members, to the extent our Alpha had demanded to meet with her to insure her silence about the fact werewolves existed. No one said what had happened during that discussion, but I'm told the Pack Master was walking funny the rest of the day and nothing had ever been said to the Pack about Delia again. My friend Dutch had joked Delia was a werewolf groupie, but after his second encounter with her, he had decided the wolves had become Delia groupies.
Delia left after I gave up and stood, so she could get to satisfy her curiosity. I had been holding off a conversation I felt I needed to have with Bree, since it made me uncomfortable. The truth was, not everyone in the Pack was supportive of a “mixed marriage” between a wolf and a human. I was purebood. It was possible to turn Bree, but even after all the generations of experience and knowledge, it was always a dangerous path. Not all humans survive the transition. I didn't want to lose Bree under any circumstances. And while she was intrigued with the perks of Wolfdom, she was wise enough not to volunteer to surrender her humanity without a lot of contemplation. As long as she stayed a human, some of the Pack would always suspect she'd break the code of silence.
I'm sure they felt the same way about Delia, but they were afraid of her. Besides, they made a distinction between my marrying a human and being cuffed and ravished by Delia. Marriage was serious, and not something wolves took lightly. I never thought I'd have to contend with a contingency of judgmental werewolves.
Bree
I loved my grandmother―I don't know how our mom had turned out the way she had. As far as I could tell, mom tried to escape Arizona as soon as she picked up her high school diploma and ran to the bus station. It seemed as if she had spent her entire life trying to deny she was born and raised on the Gila River Indian reservation. While I think it was a relief for her to dump us off on grandma for the summers, I was always able to tell the distaste she felt when she left us and then came back for us.
I was feeling frustrated. I didn't like to keep secrets from grandma. Mom lived in her fantasy world, where anything she didn't want to hear she ignored. But I didn't know if keeping the gold out of the eyes of an entire werewolf Pack long enough for us to get through a wedding was possible. I had no idea how they kept their existence a secret, particularly before sunglasses were invented.
I threw Mikah a towel for him to dry off and then pulled him back to my bedroom. Maybe finally getting my own orgasm would chase away all the mess in my mind. He grabbed me as if I weighed as much as a stuffed animal (woo-hoo Supernatural muscles) and carried me to put me down on my new comforter. He didn't say anything, but smiled and then used the tip of his tongue to trace the edge of my upper lip with the lightest of touches. He pulled back and then joyfully kissed me again, this time tracing the border of my lower lip.
Thoughts of any upcoming hassles blew out of my head, and I just focused on my body sensations. He kissed down the side of my neck while he trailed the tips of his index and middle fingers from my shoulder to that little dip where my neck met my chest. He let his fingers linger, swirling them in a circular motion with the slowness of dripping honey. Then he moved his mouth over that sweet spot and kissed me, using his breath to warm where he was kissing. I had never experienced a lover so focused on my needs before. He had tried to explain to me he would monitor all sorts of my physical responses with his Superior senses―my heart rate―my temperature―and my scent, doing more of what he could determine pleased me and backing off from what didn't.
As he touched me there, my whole chest became more sensitive, particularly my breasts, which got kicked up a notch in terms of pleasure. He started doing something with me he had done before (and taught me to do with him). He caressed me from the bottom of my rib cage, starting on one side, first stroking the area with his hand. Then he kissed me there, putting more pressure with his lips than usual or I'd feel it turn into a tickle which really screwed up getting to an orgasm.
I loved to watch Mikah when I did it to him. I could see his balls and cock actually contracting. I got distracted as he nibbled his way down to my hipbone. I could feel contractions starting in my vaginal wall and my clit, feeling the energy build up for a major release. Then it was like, “wash, rinse, repeat, “ where he started doing the same thing on my other side. God, this was intense!
Then to my surprise he gently flipped me over, taking as much effort as I would flipping a pillow. He started at my shoulder blades, then worked his hands down like he was kneading bread dough. When he got to my lower back he switched to a softer touch. He lightly spiraled his fingers down to the knob at the base of my spine. He sent a wave of chills through me.
Then he grazed his cheek against that same spot. I could barely feel that faint scrape of stubble. He kept sparking my excitement. He gently kissed that knob area, then traced it with his tongue. He then turned his head and started rubbing against me like Mr. Wiggins, my cat. The tips of his short hair brushed against my skin. Then he switched to raking his short fingernails across the same area to deepen the sensation.
I realized I had shut my eyes, trying to keep all my feelings in. I opened them to see him smiling at me. Once he had caught my eye, he dramatically licked his finger and started drawing it across my mid-inner thigh, all the way to the top. Then he followed the path he had just traced with his skillful tongue, teasing his way ever upward to sex central. I felt as if I were on a magic carpet ride, soaring ever higher.
Then I caught a whiff of chocolate, a smell I'd recognize anywhere. I had no idea where he had stashed it―under the bed? But he had pulled out a small package of chocolate truffles from Dilettante (I recognized the light silver gray box). Still smiling, he took one out and bit it in half. He kissed me, and used his tongue to push its bittersweet taste into my mouth. There was the distinct flavor of caramel and sea salt.
He then took the ot
her half, which was softening from the heat of his fingers. Werewolves run a few degrees higher in their body temperature than humans, and if he concentrated, he could focus the heat, as I suspected he was doing now. He playfully smeared the chocolate on my nipples, and on my tummy. He crawled up beside me and began licking the smears of truffle off my right nipple, then sucking it clean. By the time he had repeated this with my left nipple, I felt as if I was right on the edge of orgasm.
Then he breathed his warm breath southward, licking as he went. His tongue dipped into my navel and I felt my toes begin to curl. He nibbled around my bellybutton, taking my soft flesh into his mouth, carefully covering his teeth with his lips. The combination of the truffle smell, the warmth of his touch and the feel of his tongue was driving me crazy.
As clean as I was going to get, he continued further down, where he delighted in my lady parts. It felt as if he were using his tongue tip to write me a love letter. I felt as if I were in a growing spiral of tingles. I got swept up into the sensation and I grabbed on to his arms. I moaned so loud I'm sure my neighbors from across the street could hear. I exploded in excitement, and felt as if the room was tilting. My god, I loved this man. “Feel better?” he grinned.
Mikah
I had been counting down the days for the ceremony. Marriages are a “big deal” in the Supernatural Community, which means for political reasons the ones who are formal allies to the Alpha have to be invited. There was even a couple of vamps. I hate to think of myself as prejudiced, but vamps always creeped me out for some reason. A variety of shapeshifters filled the ballroom that had been generously provided by an Otter Alpha and her clan.
My Pack members were on their best behavior, which meant they were only half drunk by 10 a.m.--and then I heard a bus pulling up, and seven silver haired American Indian elders entered the room. I recognized Bree's grandmother immediately. A little shorter, a lot wider, but the amazing smile and sparkling eyes were proof of shared DNA.
Fated Mates: The Alpha Shifter Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle) (Insatiable Reads) Page 94
