Fated Mates: The Alpha Shifter Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle) (Insatiable Reads)

by Hunter, Adriana

  Then Delia and their mother entered behind them. Delia looked hungrily at my Pack brothers and her mom looked as if she had just been ordered into the city dump. She had been distant when we had met at a fancy restaurant and Bree had introduced us. I didn't exactly feel cherished and embraced. I don't know why she disapproved of me, but maybe it was the classic “he's not good enough for my daughter.” Naturally, the whole wolf thing wasn't brought up.

  I noticed she kept a distance from her own mother and the other elders. Bree had run over and hugged her grandmother. She was then surrounded by the other four women and three men who had come in from the bus. There was a lot of chatter and laughter. Delia broke away and headed off in Dutch's direction.

  I heard a few whisper “humans,” as if it were a four letter word. It was sadly obviously how political lines established themselves―the ones who disapproved migrated to the far side of the room. The ones who were indifferent or supportive (and they really were definitely the majority) stayed close to the open bar and kept up their conversations. The Pack Master came over and Bree introduced him before I had a chance. Bree was a take charge kind of gal―unlike her sister who was more of a cuff 'em and drag 'em type.

  By the time I made it over, Bree had her arm around her grandmother and I could feel her excitement as if she were giving off waves. “Grandma,” Bree said, bursting with pride, “This is Mikah!”

  “He's right,” Bree's mom said. “This is wrong. It isn't natural.”

  Bree

  Oh, god, no amount of therapy could ever get me past an evening with my mother. Why did she have to always spoil everything? I mean, I get the fact Mikah's ex is a fucking asshole and would take the chance to piss on our wedding, but what the hell was my mother doing?

  Grandma called her by her Indian name, but mom ignored her just as she always did.

  “It's not right. You shouldn't bring your filth into our family,” my mother said, her voice low, but strong enough to carry throughout the room.

  “What are you talking about,” Kevin asked, obviously confused by the fact he wasn't the biggest bigot in the room.

  “Wolves!” my mom yelled, pointing her finger at Mikah. “You're filthy wolves!” Mikah's head swung in my direction. I had never mentioned any of this to her. I was sure Delia hadn't either.

  “Wait,” said Mikah, “so you know about us?”

  “Oh, honey,” my grandmother laughed, “you think we haven't known from the moment we all met you? You think you are the only ones to have (and she used a word I didn't know) up here?” She turned and with an open hand, gestured to others in the room, naming them in the Pima language. I didn't recognize a single word—our mother had made it very clear we were only to speak English if we were growing up under her roof. The other elders were nodding their heads.

  “It's all your fault!” my mom screamed at grandma.

  “You were the one who could never accept who you are,” my grandmother said, pulling herself up straight. She seemed to grow a couple of feet. God, the woman was born with authority. I guess she was our version of an Alpha, without the going furry stuff. It was true, mom had never come to terms with the fact she was half Indian. She had spent all my life trying to deny that side of her.

  “And here you are to give your blessing so you can make history repeat itself!”

  Mikah

  Just then Davis, our Pack Master, came back in the room with the Otter Queen. I was willing to bet they hadn't been away discussing catering. I could smell both of them from where I stood. He looked confused, trying to figure out who the players were. Bree's family had managed to suck all the air out of Kevin, who just stood there looking drunk and stupid. Wait―so I'm the filthy one? That's like taking “not good enough for my daughter” to a whole new level.

  One of the older women said something to Bree's mom and she spit back something in what I assumed was the same language. I had no idea what was going on, but it was obvious my future mother-in-law's head was about to explode.

  “I loved him,” Lily said, quietly. “You were conceived in love. You were blessed, but you could never accept that.”

  “He fucked you and ran off into the night!” Oh, jeez, how did our wedding suddenly turn into a bad episode of reality TV?

  “You always told yourself that because that's what you wanted to believe,” Lily said, still in that quiet voice that filled the room.

  “It's true,” Russell said. “The hunters came for him. The Navajo accused him of being a Skinwalker. He never abandoned Lily or you. Jack was killed by those bastard hunters.”

  “That year they killed Cylus and Josephine, too,” said one of the old women.

  “We had to hide you,” Lily said. “They would have killed you, if they had known.” She stepped forward and put her hand on her daughter's cheek.

  Bree

  I was so confused. Mostly I just kept thinking my perfect wedding was in the toilet. This is why we should never do family reunions. I had always thought my grandmother and I were the only sane ones, and now I was starting to question my grandmother.

  Delia had come forward, and to my surprise, stood behind me. Usually the only time she did that was so she had a better chance to push me down a set of stairs. “Wait―even though we asked when we were kids, you never told us anything about your father,” she said to our mom. “We just figured he was―I don't know―Bree and I used to play a game. He was a Mexican prince. He was the mayor of Phoenix. He was a Shepard but he was really a Mexican prince, or maybe a French one.” For fuck's sake―there were tears in Delia's eyes. She hadn't cried since she was seven years old.

  “Your grandfather,” Lily said to her granddaughters, “was like Mikah. He was a (and she used that word again) and he was from the (something something) Clan.”

  “Wait,” my Alpha said to Lily, “your husband was a Wolf?”

  All seven of the elders nodded their heads at the same time, as if they were connected by a string.

  “But if that's so,” Delia turned to our mom, “why don't you do anything when there's a full moon?” She looked at me. “Or why don't Bree and I change?”

  “It's the way the genetics work,” said Davis. “For maybe one in four who are half Wolf, they don't change. It's what called recessive.” I looked over and Bree rolled her eyes. This is what happened when a high school dropout lectures a woman with an advanced degree in Science.

  “That's also why you and Bree don't shift. But if you have children with a Pureblood,” he nodded to me--”the kids will be proper Wolves.”

  I looked at my grandmother. “Is this true?” Again, all seven silver heads nodded. Well, fuck me with a spoon. “Did you know anything about this?” I copied her gesture, using my open hand to include every tribal member who was in the room.

  “No,” she replied. “But this is the way Stories work. The more your mother refused to accept who she is, the more she shaped the world around her to make sure her grandchild would be what her father was.”

  "The Circle has to be mended,” Russell said. I had no idea what he was talking about. So our mom was half werewolf and that made Delia and me a quarter?

  I looked at Delia and she was moving her fingers again like she was counting. “So, let me get this straight―if I have children with a standard human, then they're just going to be like, regular, right? But if I have kids with a werewolf, then our kids would be werewolves too?”

  And like clockwork, seven silver heads nodded as one.

  Mikah

  Davis stepped forward, and I could feel the Pack politics flow out like a swollen river. “So, everything has worked out fine. The humans came here not only knowing about Supes, but the bride is already part of our community, but didn't know about it. Wolf children will be born! Our identity is safe. There have been no violations of The Law.” He looked around, deliberately making eye contact with everyone present. “Then―we have a wedding to celebrate!”

  * * *

  After that, the ceremony was al
l a blur. We waved goodbye to everyone (my new mother-in-law was last seen looking sullen as Russell lectured her about something. I think Kevin was passed out in the kitchen. Delia was off with four new recruits who were all looking both excited and a little scared.

  We got into the car and drove to a resort on the coast. All I could think of was our first night as Mr. and Mrs. Berkeley. When the bellman opened the door for us, the room looked just like the brochure. “I had always heard about honeymoon suites,” I mentioned to Bree. “When I signed in, I know it's silly, but it made me feel like a grown up.” She laughed and held out her arms and I lifted her up just like all the movies had taught me to do.

  When we were alone, she walked out on the balcony, looking at the Pacific Ocean, only a few hundred yards away. She turned and started unbuttoning her blouse while she hummed. “Come to me, my Wolf Bride,” I called to her. She had me undressed in record time, but still played her fun game of stripping slowly for me. She knew it always got me excited.

  “Sadie, sadie, married lady,” she sang softly, waving her wedding ring in front of me. She lay down beside me and I let my fingers drape against the full expanse of her beautiful vulva as if it were a down comforter. I let her push against my palm, and then used my middle and index fingers to make the upside down rhythmic gestures I had come to think of as “coochie coo” movements. I did this along the entrance of her vee-jay. I gently stimulated the head of her clit with my fingertips. I kept her going in the right direction—I could smell her scent change slightly, just as strong a sign of her arousal as the gold in my eyes. I reached in and up with my two fingers and pressed them against the ceiling of her vagina. I did this gently so I didn't actually lift her off the bed.

  Her scent was like a musical scale to me―it was as if it were going up the scale, ever higher. I watched her face flush as my fingers pushed her love button and kept her clit satisfied. I switched back to using my tongue to please her. An old wolf from another clan I had talked to in a bar taught me something he called Rope-a-dope. “You do this with your woman, boy,” he said, “and she'll brag about you to her friends.”

  I let her push and grind against my tongue that I was keeping flat and still. I took it all in. I then sprung back with a series of quick diagonal and vertical tongue strokes. The plan was to lick her senseless with a fast burst of energy. Then I switched back to the stillness of my flattened tongue, waiting a moment before I would spring to life again. It was fun―it appealed to the Wolf in me―as if I were stalking my prey. In this case, my prey was her orgasm.

  I licked her like I was a master artist and my tongue was my brush. I used broad strokes with laser beam accuracy. I would then swoop down as if I were an eagle, once agains using the flat part of my tongue, then ending with the tip. All that mattered to me was this would be a night she would always remember.

  I could scent her move a few notes higher. As I watched from my most excellent position, her inner lips were darkening in color and luster, and the head of her clit began to retract into her hood. Based on my experience between these changes and the ones I was smelling, I knew I had a little over sixty seconds before she punched her climax. What I was watching was really starting to look like a love “button.”

  With practiced skill I quickly positioned my pubic bone at the base of my cock against her clit, rubbing it against her. I did my dick dance, letting an easy rhythm take her those final notes higher to where she tilted her head back and screamed her joy. “I love you, Mrs. Mikah Berkeley,” I whispered into her ear.

  “I love you, too, Mister Berkeley.” She turned to look at me directly, a lovely glow on her face. “What about you?” she asked. “It's your wedding night, too.”

  I cleared my throat. “I can smell you're entering your fertile period. We normally never use a condom because I've been away on business when you've gone through your cycle before. But if I do it with you without a condom tonight, there's a chance you could conceive. I know we both want kids, but we've never discussed if you wanted them this early on.”

  Bree

  I laughed and pulled him against me, “Oh, Mikah,” I said. “Let's make beautiful little werewolf babies!” I kissed him and thought: and really piss off my mom. It's a win/win situation.

  Epilogue

  Delia

  “For God’s sake, Delia, get your big Indian ass in gear. You’re already running twenty minutes late. I don’t want you to miss a goddamned red-eye flight.”

  I stared at my sister. I knew the effect my stare could have on grown men. For the ones who hired me as a Dominatrix it would be an instant hard-on. For most men, their miserable balls would be climbing back inside their abdomen. But I knew I was just wasting my time on Bree. I gave up (rare—I know) and grabbed my carry on and silently followed her out the door. I never should have asked her for a late night ride to the airport, but I had thought it was worth it to inconvenience her. I’d be out of town for a week and wouldn’t have the opportunity to irritate her in person. Doing it on the phone wasn’t nearly as much fun.

  She grabbed my luggage out of my hand and slung it into her trunk. Considering how much of my work equipment was inside she handled it like it was a small bag of groceries. I had to admit she was strong. So was I. Stronger, in fact.

  “What were you doing that threw you off schedule?” Her voice had lost its irritation as she glanced into her side mirror and pulled out, focused on her driving. She had always had a tick’s attention to details. From the time we were kids if I wanted to have her chill out I’d just have to distract her and all the pissed-off attitude she had built up would puff away instantly.

  “So, I needed a new pair of shoes because one of my heels had come loose. I had had a full day of pegging Peter, Paul, and Harry. I finished up a blog post for Dommes R Us. By the way, did you read my last one?”

  Bree flicked her turn indicator on. “That was the one where you refer to yourself as a Serial Thriller?”

  “Yeah. I got an email asking me to do a version of it as a banquet speech at next fall’s conference in Santa Fe.”

  “Who knew you’d find employment with a Bachelor’s degree in English?”

  “Anyway, the only thing I had eaten all day was one of those shitty low calorie protein bars, so I wasn’t in the best of moods. I dropped off my latex gown I had gotten for the Fetish Ball to have it hemmed and picked up a few new accessories. That took longer than I had intended and I ended up at Hussy Heels around twenty minutes before it was going to close. I wasn’t at all interested in seeing the salesman’s left eyebrow get a hard-on when he saw me walk through the door.”

  Bree’s eyebrow did a great imitation of what he had done. “I told him what I wanted and took out my lipstick because I was so hungry I needed to have something in my mouth.” I glanced up at her, screwing up her lips. “Don’t go there.”

  “I’m trying to avoid the sexual innuendo, but it’s hard. So hard.”

  “He asked my size and actually leered at me in a pitiful attempt at flirtation. He popped into the back of the place. A female co-worker in a smart navy blue outfit was clutching her purse like a puppy. God, Bree-- I’ve seen more realistic faces painted on T-shirts at a Santa Clara Beach Broadwalk airbrushing booth. She looked like she belonged to the Church of Latter Day Taints.

  “She picked up some keys from the counter and yelled at him she was leaving. He stuck his head out from behind the curtain like a stupid muppet and called back that it wasn’t even five o’clock. He ruined it by smiling. She countered she had just taken half of her lunch hour so it was only fair. I thought it was only fair if I bit off their heads for being so unprofessional in front of a customer.”

  “You have odd standards,” she muttered and pulled in front of a Volvo.

  “I used my trademarked glare and he vanished behind the curtain again. He came out a moment later with a stack of boxes. I enjoyed watching him kneel before me. He pulled off my pumps. ‘Miss,’ he said with a hoarse voice, ‘may I say you have som
e of the most beautiful feet I’ve seen professionally?’

  “No— I responded, ‘you may not.’ But my blood sugar was low and it didn’t come out as intimidating as it normally would. I sat back as he finished fastening the buckles on my other foot. He was obviously tenting from basking in my glow. Imagine a dick with a foot fetish working as a shoe salesman. But I stood up and realized they were pretty comfy considering how high the heels were. I glanced out the window and noticed the street was already as empty as a Tea Party reception for Obama.

  “He sighed and when I walked back over and sat down he told me my legs were as beautiful as my feet. I knew that. I didn’t need him to tell me that. I could feel my blood pressure building at his lack of professionalism and actually thought about dropping a line to his employer. It was obvious he wasn’t the owner. It only took him a moment to have the shoes off again. But to my surprise, instead of doing his job he kept holding on to my left foot.

  ‘Oh, yes, most remarkably lovely,’ he whispered and then started rubbing my foot as if we did this every Thursday afternoon. I’ll admit it felt good but I was even more pissed off at his lack of professionalism and I tried reclaiming my damn foot.

  “‘Please,’ he rasped, ‘Please.’

  “You obviously need a lot of discipline, since you have none of your own,” I responded. He was stronger than he looked and I had one of those old moments of discomfort of realizing the street was empty and I was alone with a man with a major hard-on whose breathing had gone shallow. Then I almost laughed out loud because I realized I could break several of his body parts without having to get up.