His Wild Kiss

by Heather Marie Adkins

  A strong hand grabbed her bicep and yanked her up to capture her lips in his. “You keep doing that, I’m going to be useless,” he murmured. He rotated them and gently shoved her onto the bed.

  He removed her shirt, and then worked off her pants. His eyes moved over her hungrily as he stepped out of his own jeans.

  “All this time, you didn’t have on underwear?” His voice was hoarse.

  Addy smiled sweetly. “I usually don’t. Fewer layers to destroy when I shift.”

  Wate growled playfully, covering his body with hers and kissing her senseless. As a werewolf, her body temperature always ran higher than a human’s, but Wate’s body felt like fire on top of hers. He moved his lips and tongue over her breasts, making his way south to even more aching parts. Addy stared at him, his black hair trailing down her body. He sat up, his knees on the floor, and grabbed her thighs, jerking her to the end of the bed until she was on display before him.

  “So pretty,” he teased, and then buried his face in her core.

  She cried out, bucking beneath him as his tongue dipped inside her. Her body was a chaos of sensation, from the abrasion of his five o’clock shadow on her thighs, to the swirling of his tongue on her clit, to the roughness of his fingers as they gripped her ass and opened her wider to his attentions.

  When she couldn’t stand it any longer, she gripped his hair and tugged, probably with more force than necessary.

  Wate laughed. “Am I not good enough?”

  “Too good,” Addy gasped.

  He readjusted her on the bed and crawled up her body so slowly she wanted to cry. He settled between her legs, his erection nestled against her most intimate place. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, and then pushed inside her.

  Addy’s world exploded, and her spirit soared. The moment he entered her, she shuddered; the very sensation of him filling her up sent her into orgasm. Then he began to move, his rough, wind-toughened skin brushing over hers, driven by sheer primal need.

  Making love to Wate was like riding on the wings of a hawk in the nighttime sky. He tasted like the wild, and he felt like freedom. There wasn’t much she remembered when she was a wolf because her human self was pushed so deep, but this ultimate flight, this rush of adrenaline, this was what she remembered every time she shifted.

  For a time, she was lost to him. Nothing could break the spell of their bodies moving together, of lips, hands, and heat on his sheets. Wate knew how to manipulate her better than even the most serious of her past lovers. He drew her to the edge time and again, a white smile slashing across his face as she begged for more.

  Finally, he rolled to his back, dragging Addy with him. “Finish it the way you desire,” he said, his voice gravelly from exertion.

  Addy complied. On her knees above him, she rode him to completion, crying out his name at the moment he let go, spilling his wildness inside her.

  Chapter Ten

  The sun had set on solstice night as the pack gathered on Addy’s land.

  Wate stood at her side, sore from his day with her but never more alive than he felt right then. Addy looked the part of pack leader in ripped blue jeans and a tank top, not even shivering in the steel cold night. Her grey eyes searched the crowd, taking note of her people.

  “Sam,” she said.

  One of her brothers stepped forward. Wate couldn’t tell any of them apart with their matching shorn heads and gangly bodies.

  “Yeah?”

  “Where is Katelyn Aubrey?”

  Sam turned, his own gaze combing the restless pack.

  Wate knew that all children and elders had remained home, safe from the war about to be waged. But Addy had requested all able-bodied wolves take part in tonight’s battle. Obviously, this Katelyn person had disobeyed her leader’s order.

  “I don’t know. Want me to send a scout?”

  Addy shook her head once. “No. She was lost to me when I killed her husband.”

  Wate stared at the object of his affection, shocked to hear her say such a thing.

  “He challenged me for kikua,” Addy explained.

  There was no victory in her tone. Only regret. Wate had a feeling that the woman before him had a strength that weighed heavily upon her. He wished he could shoulder some of her burdens. He wanted to take the sadness hidden behind her steely gaze and wipe it away like an artist recreating a work of art.

  “Katelyn never had any intentions of fighting beside me. As such, she has snubbed our entire pack,” Addy went on, addressing her brother. “When this is over, she is to be escorted off LaBarre property.”

  Sam nodded. “Yes, kikua.”

  “Are you ready, Yaholo?” Addy turned her serene face to the chief.

  Yaholo wore his headdress, but in lieu of his polo, he wore only his leathers — fringed, cropped pants and an open vest over his brawny chest. Beside him, Dela looked more like a warrior queen than Wate had ever seen her. Her cheeks were painted with rust-colored lines for protection, and the same lines decorated her arms, bare beneath her sleeveless buckskin dress.

  Yaholo templed his hands and bowed to the pack leader. “We are ready, kikua.”

  The power of his clan spread behind them. The council stood close by, and behind them, the strongest mages of the clan, both male and female. Wate had been astonished by the outpouring of support from the clan. Dela had assured him — and Addy — that no mage stood there that had not come willingly.

  “Many of our elders remember the stories of the Skin-Walkers’ bravery,” Dela had told Addy. “We give tribute to that memory and uphold our honor this night.”

  “When the enemy arrives, work the magick quickly,” Addy reminded them. “If all goes well, no one must die tonight.”

  Wate listened to the determination in the voices of his clan as they all promised to do their best.

  “It is time.” Addy turned around to face the woods, dropping onto all fours. Before she’d taken a single step, the beautiful white wolf stood in her place.

  All around them, the pack shifted. Wate watched in awe and felt the magick that surged each time a new wolf shook away the mirage. He saw the way they walked in pairs, side by side, a true pack even as they charged into battle.

  *

  On the appointed battlefield, the pack came together, a sea of reds, browns, greys, and whites. The sharp winter air ruffled their thick fur and cut through Wate’s leathers.

  Despite the tension in the air, he could still sense the anticipation of solstice night. It stretched before them in darkness and fear, an unknown mystery that could only be unlocked by the dawn. With dawn, he held on to the hope that Addy’s pack would have protection from the enemy, and that their land would be theirs alone once more.

  That no blood would be shed on this longest night.

  Addy had told him how they would call for the Hansens, but he hadn’t realized how stunningly beautiful it would be. As one, the sea of giant wolfs lifted their snouts to the sky and howled. The crisp, clear song filled the night sky, a mournful note with challenge behind it. Three times, they called, the final note fading into ringing silence.

  Time passed. Wate began to think the enemy wouldn’t come. He shivered, his gaze always finding Addy at the front of her pack where her dappled fur shone in the bright moonlight.

  But then, from the trees beyond the edge of their territory, came slinking a new pack of wolves.

  These wolves were black, inkblots on a dark landscape. They moved like shadows connected by threads, each wolf identical to the next. Wate glanced at the diversity of Addy’s pack, at the various sizes, shapes, and colors, and wondered why the enemy was so starkly identical.

  The largest of the black wolves pulled ahead of the pack, baring his teeth as he approached Addy.

  Wate stepped forward, terror striking him as Addy did the same.

  Yaholo reached out, his heavy arm stopping Wate across the chest. “She is strong, Hiawatha. Let her do her duty. We must begin ours.” />
  As his clan’s magick rose around him, their chants filling the air, Wate stared hard into the moonlit night, his eyes on the woman he loved.

  Chapter Eleven

  The enemy smelled of lust and evil.

  The she-wolf Kikua sniffed the air and bared her teeth, a low growl emitting from her throat. She padded forward, hackles raised. This black wolf laid challenge to her.

  This black wolf wanted her territory.

  This black wolf wanted her pack.

  The she-wolf would not let that happen.

  On a background of chanting, — The mages, Kikua thought. Friends. Comrades. He Who Smells of Home. — she leapt.

  Kikua and the enemy came together hard, teeth clamping upon any furred surface they could reach. Kikua tasted sanguine fluid, and her bloodlust emerged. She bared her fangs, lunging for the enemy’s neck. His fur was too dark to see the blood, but she smelled it and it was hers. The enemy was strong and sleek, his fur shining beneath the light of the Moon Goddess, but Kikua knew she was stronger.

  But another creature nearby did not know she was stronger. Suddenly, that creature was before her, but it was not another wolf. Giant wings flapped, startling the black wolf as the intruder put himself between Kikua and her enemy.

  Kikua knew birds like this. Not the kind of tiny things that sang in the trees. This was a bird of prey, a brother to the wolf. His speckled brown body was larger than any she had ever seen. Where had he come from?

  And then the prey-bird was gone, replaced by a human.

  He Who Smells of Home.

  Kikua panicked. She could not let the human be hurt.

  The human spoke, but to Kikua’s ears it was no language she knew. His body erupted into flame as the enemy wolf pounced.

  Kikua knew innately nothing was more important than destroying the enemy, but something inside her screamed to save He Who Smells of Home.

  Kikua leapt into the flames as her wolves leapt into battle. She felt the scorching heat of He Who Smells of Home, but ignored the pain. She hit the enemy with her broad shoulder, throwing him to the frozen ground.

  The enemy was on fire, his fur singed. He rolled frantically to put out the flames, but beside Kikua, He Who Smells of Home stumbled to his feet, one hand pressed to his neck as the other blasted fire at the enemy.

  Suddenly, a loud noise shot through the field. Kikua’s wolves cowered at the sound. A roaring wind, larger than any the she-wolf had ever experienced, flew past her. The enemy wolves were gripped by this gale and thrown through the forest until their scent was gone.

  Kikua turned her snout to the air, sniffing.

  Magick.

  She felt the protective mantle of the mages settle over her coat. A moment later, the chief approached her. She felt his magick on her skin, sinking into her bones.

  He spoke, his face kind as he held out a paw.

  Kikua snuffled at his palm and licked it. She liked the chief. He was goodness.

  But she loved He Who Smells of Home.

  She whined, leaving behind the strength of the chief’s paw. Other mages crowded around He Who Smells of Home, and she couldn’t reach him. She paced the circle, tail flicking, whining.

  What was this pain inside her?

  Her mate was hurt.

  Kikua was distracted by a hand on her fur. A familiar face with blue eyes and a shaven head.

  Brother Wolf.

  He growled. “Come back, sister.”

  *

  Addy returned to chaos.

  Many of her people were down with injuries, but thankfully the mages were unharmed. She took the offered clothes from Kita and struggled into them as she received reports from her wolves.

  “No casualties,” Jake told her.

  “And their pack leader is dead.” Nick motioned to the still-steaming lump of burned wolf on the ground.

  “Where is Wate?” she finally managed to ask the white-braided mage. Kita had remained by her side as she took stock of the damage.

  Kita grimaced. “He has been injured. Dela has taken him to the elders for healing.”

  Addy’s heart stopped beating. She remembered the cool water sensation of his rushing magick. “He can’t heal himself?”

  Kita lay a calming hand on her arm. “He is gravely injured, Adeline. The elders can help him.”

  “Take me to him,” Addy ordered, aware of the kikua in her tone.

  “Your pack—”

  “My pack is alive and protected thanks to your clan. Take me to Wate.”

  *

  Wate lay upon a straw mattress in a dark, smoky hut on mage land.

  This was the smell. His smell. Wood smoke and sandalwood. Home.

  Addy collapsed beside him, touching his face. There was an angry red scar on his throat. Blood congealed on his chest. A lot of blood.

  Dela sat at his bedside, her face drawn.

  “What happened?” Addy demanded, immediately ashamed that she’d unleashed her pack leader voice on the gentle woman.

  “When you and the rival pack leader attacked one another, Hiawatha panicked.” Dela stared at her son and gave a small shake of her head.

  “No.” Hot tears pricked Addy’s eyes. She sniffed, bringing her face to close to his. “His neck. Was it the … ?”

  “The rival pack leader.”

  “Oh, Goddess,” Addy moaned, gathering him in her arms. His face looked peaceful, and his breath steadily rose and fell.

  “He will live, Adeline.”

  “But not as before.” Addy kissed his face. “A wolf’s bite is poison. He’s going to awake as a Skin-Walker.”

  “I doubt that.” Dela’s voice was amused.

  Addy glanced up sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “The most amazing thing happened. When he saw you in danger, I imagine he wanted to reach you at all costs. Right before our eyes, he became a hawk.”

  Addy sat back on her knees, dumbfounded. “A hawk?”

  “There are legends in our clan. But you know how legends are.” Dela waved a hand in the smoky air. “One never knows if they’re truth or myth. This legend states that when a Native of Wild Magick falls in love with a Skin-Walker, and they consummate that love in perfect trust, the Native is given greater powers and the ability to transform into their spirit animal.”

  “Falls in love … ” Addy laid a hand over Wate’s heart.

  “Falls in love,” Dela repeated, a knowing smile on her face.

  *

  Addy awoke in Wate’s arms.

  His dark eyes sparkled in the firelight. Wood smoke and sandalwood surrounded them as they lay entwined on the straw mattress. They were alone, the tent flap closed against the cold winter morning. Above them, where the crackling fire released its heady smoke into the universe, she could see a hint of the coming day.

  “You’re awake,” Addy murmured, reaching to brush his hair from his eyes.

  “More than ever before,” Wate said. “Will you be mine, kikua?”

  “Always,” she answered. “Just promise to never again risk your life for me. I’m a big girl, you know. My wolf is strong.”

  He grinned, affection drawn across his face. “I know.”

  In the darkest moments before dawn, as the sun returned from the longest night and the land rejoiced, Addy kissed Wate, and together they shared the Wild Magick of their love.

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  If You Liked His Wild Kiss…

  Check out Heaven Below!

  Seventeen-year-old Kelli McNeil wishes her only problems were what to wear and who to date. But she also has recurring nightmares about dying.

  In every dream she sees Sebastian, and feels a love that echoes across the ages. As the dreams intensify, Kelli suspects they are not imagination, but memories of
past lives. While these memories hint at an ancient prophecy and the fate of an entire race, they reveal a dark danger for her.

  In every life, Sebastian is not only her true love — he is her murderer.

  Find it at Amazon.

  Other Books by the Author

  SERIES

  The Temple, Book One in the Vale Avari Novels

  Abigail, Book One in the Witch Faery Trilogy

  Mother of All, Book One in the Hedgewitch Mysteries

  The House, Book One in the Old Houses Series

  Heaven Below, Book One in the Goddess of Ptalonia Trilogy

  Wiccan Wars, Book One in the Wiccan Wars Trilogy

  His Haunting Kiss, Book One in the His Kiss Series

  Saffron, Book One in the Vengeance Goddess Serials

  STAND-ALONES

  Constant State of Disaster

  Cause & Effect

  Eternal Youth, co-written with Julia Crane

  Visions of the Witch, co-written with Tara West

  SHORT STORIES

  The Darkest Night, A Hedgewitch Novelette

  Underneath, a FREE novelette

  May I Go Play?, a short story

  PIECES: A Collection of Short Fiction

  Short fiction featured in these anthologies:

  Eclective: Halloween Collection

  Eclective: Holiday Collection

  Eclective: Celtic Collection

  Eclective: Pride Collection

  Eclective: Haunted Collection

  Eclective: Apocalypse Collection

  Eclective: Time Collection

  Pink Snowbunnies In Hell

  About the Author

  Heather Marie Adkins loves magick and words, but not necessarily in that order. She can often be found wrangling chickens in her backyard, pulling weeds from her herb garden, and saving field mice from her cats—when she isn’t plotting her eventual move to Ireland. She worships the moon and stars, and loves the feel of grass beneath her bare feet.