Huntsmen (The Better to Kiss You With Book 2)

by Michelle Osgood

“Come on, love, open up for me.” Ryn coaxed. The cold touch of lube stole Kiara’s breath; the sensation snapped along her senses and then was soothed when Ryn’s tongue laved Kiara’s clit. She sucked the heart of Kiara into her mouth as the fingers inside of Kiara twisted ever deeper.

  The thickest part of Ryn’s hand was against her now. Ryn’s tongue swirled rapidly against Kiara’s clit as the pressure mounted. Pain flared sharp, and Ryn instantly eased back, tongue soothing, before she pressed in again.

  Kiara was ready for the pain this time, forced herself to relax and breathe, breathe, breathe through it. With one last push, Ryn was in.

  Almost instantly the pain receded, replaced by an overwhelming feeling of fullness. Ryn twisted her wrist experimentally and sweat broke out over Kiara’s skin. Her hands gripped the mattress, and her back arched fully. Pleasure swept through her so intensely that she thought she might fly apart from the force of it.

  “Kiara, god,” Ryn’s voice was low, reverent. “You feel so good around me. Like hot, wet velvet. So soft and…” she trailed off as she moved her hand. Slowly at first, gentle twists. Then she pressed her mouth back to Kiara’s clit and began to thrust her hand in earnest.

  Kiara cried out, her eyes snapping shut as the onslaught of sensations crashed into her. She was oblivious to the mattress at her back, to the sheets seized in her clenched hands. She was exploding, she was flying apart, all of her was stars, and none of it would be contained.

  As Kiara spiraled back to earth, her awareness of her body in the bed returned, and Ryn slowed. She guided Kiara’s hand down, pressed it between Kiara’s own legs so that she could feel Ryn’s lube-slick wrist, feel where it disappeared into Kiara; Ryn’s fist curled against her most intimate places.

  Ryn kissed Kiara’s inner thigh and gently eased her hand out of Kiara. The feeling of loss was instantaneous, and Kiara whined. Ryn grinned, slow and cocky, as she rose to her feet.

  “Don’t worry, love, I’ve got you.” Ryn stroked down Kiara’s side, teasing her nipple with fingers that were sticky with lube. Kiara arched into the touch, completely shameless.

  “Don’t stop, Ryn, please don’t stop,” Kiara begged.

  “Hands and knees?” Ryn suggested. Kiara gave a full body shiver and nodded. She rolled over, her arms shaky, and moved farther up the bed before lifting herself up.

  The mattress dipped as Ryn climbed up behind her. Ryn ran her hands down Kiara’s sides and across the flare of Kiara’s hips. She bent down and her hands moved to spread open Kiara’s ass before her tongue stroked, hot and wet, over Kiara’s puckered flesh.

  Kiara jerked forward; a choked cry escaped her lips. They’d never done this. Kiara had never done this, but Ryn’s tongue laved over her and Kiara rocked back into it before she knew what she was doing.

  “Jesus, Ryn,” Kiara moaned. Ryn hummed in response, and Kiara shuddered.

  Ryn reached between Kiara’s legs and circled the pad of her finger over Kiara’s clit, drawing another fist-clenching orgasm from her.

  As Kiara sagged forward, Ryn grabbed for the bottle of lube. She slicked more over her hand and rubbed it on Kiara’s hot, swollen flesh.

  Ryn slid back inside her, and the new angle sharpened the sensations; the intensity was so overwhelming that a sob broke from Kiara’s chest.

  Ryn stilled instantly. “You okay?”

  “Don’t stop.” Kiara’s voice was wet with tears. Ryn dropped a kiss to the base of Kiara’s spine and pressed forward again. Kiara keened, a part of her shocked at the noise that came out of her, but unable to stop herself from making it again when Ryn pumped her fist.

  Tears ran down her face and dampened the sheets below her. Her arms shook as she tried to hold herself up, keep herself still so that Ryn could continue to fuck her. Ryn grasped Kiara’s shoulder, anchoring her in place. The grip steadied her, made a bruising counterpoint to the dizzying sensation of Ryn’s fist moving in and out of her.

  “So good for me, sweetheart, so good.” Ryn’s voice was thick. She stilled her wrist, but twisted her hand slowly inside of Kiara. Kiara rocked back against the sensation, against the feeling of so much of Ryn buried so deep in her. Ryn groaned and lifted her hand from Kiara’s shoulder. Kiara heard a rustle of clothing and Ryn’s sudden, sharp intake of breath, and knew that Ryn had slid that hand into her pants. Ryn’s fist in Kiara resumed pumping, her movements were slow and gentle, and the mattress moved as Ryn rocked against her own fingers pressed against her clit.

  Kiara shivered when Ryn’s breathing quickened, the pace of it echoed in the movement of her fist. Despite Ryn’s careful gentleness, Kiara felt every twist, every thrust, scrape through her as if all she was was one raw, open nerve. The pleasure mounted and mounted and mounted, thrummed through her so that Kiara couldn’t do anything but weep with it. There was no crest or climax from orgasm, not with this, just an overpowering wash of sensation that rode the edge of too much, too much, too much and please don’t ever stop.

  Behind her, Ryn stiffened. Her hand inside Kiara shook slightly as she came, Kiara’s spine bowed, and her forearms finally gave out.

  “Love, love, love,” Ryn murmured, breathless as she gently, so gently eased herself out of Kiara. “Oh, sweetheart.” She helped Kiara turn to her side and pressed kisses over the tear tracks on Kiara’s cheeks. “That was wonderful; that was so good. You did so well.” She reached Kiara’s lips and kissed her softly.

  Ryn tasted like the lube, something chemical, but Kiara didn’t mind. She wound her arms around Ryn’s neck and pulled her closer, needing to feel Ryn’s skin against her own.

  They lay wrapped around each other until their heartbeats slowed to normal, and Kiara finally felt as though she’d returned completely to her own skin. Eventually though, the stickiness of the lube was too uncomfortable to ignore.

  “Shower?” Kiara suggested.

  “Yeah.” Ryn agreed after a moment. “Probably a good idea.” She kissed Kiara one last time and slid off the bed.

  The hot water soothed away what was left of Kiara’s tension from the fight that morning. She and Ryn showered together in relative silence, not needing to speak save to ask the other to pass the tiny bottle of shampoo. They wrapped themselves in the cheap, scratchy towels provided by the motel and curled onto the bed. Kiara snuggled close to Ryn.

  It was hard to imagine how much had happened in the last few days: that suddenly everything had changed; that Ryn was back in her life now. It was harder still to imagine that it was the Huntsmen whom Kiara owed for that reunion. Why they were so focused on Ryn, Kiara couldn’t imagine. She just knew she couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her.

  As though Ryn could tell the direction of Kiara’s thoughts, she stroked light fingertips over Kiara’s forehead, smoothing away the frown Kiara hadn’t realized she was making.

  Kiara closed her eyes against the sudden tightness in her throat and pressed closer.

  The weekend had taken a toll. She’d never hurt anyone before, never injured a person, never caused harm deliberately. And she’d done so on two separate occasions now. Kiara wasn’t sure what that said about her. It had been self-defense, each time, but violence was still violence. And the woman—the Huntress—was right when she’d accused werewolves of finding a thrill in it, of being dangerous. Kiara had caused more damage than a human would have. She’d hurt and even now wasn’t sorry for it. She was sorry that she’d had to, but not sorry for having done what she’d needed to do to keep her pack safe.

  The thought struck her, and she sat up so suddenly that Ryn stiffened in surprise.

  “They’re after you because you’re lone. GNAAW can’t—won’t—” she corrected, “protect you because you’re not with a pack.”

  “Yeah, and?” Ryn raised an expectant eyebrow.

  “You don’t have to be. You could join one. You could join ours.” Kiara grabbed Ryn’s hand and press
ed it urgently between hers. “You’d be safe then. The Huntsmen would have to stop. GNAAW would make them.”

  Ryn pulled her hand free. “No,” she said woodenly.

  “Why not?” Kiara demanded. “It’s not that big a sacrifice to make.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one making it.”

  “We’re not bad people.” Kiara shook her head beseechingly. “I don’t see how this is worse than the alternative.”

  “I’m saying no. I don’t want to be a part of your father’s pack. Don’t ask me again.”

  “But I don’t understand why you won’t—”

  “Exactly.” Ryn cut her off. “You don’t understand. You don’t need to understand, but you do need to respect my decision.”

  Protests flew to the tip of her tongue, and it took all of Kiara’s self-control to bite down on them and keep her mouth shut. All she wanted was for Ryn to be safe. It was hard to wrap her head around Ryn dismissing the only option Kiara could see. “Okay,” she said finally, resigned, when she trusted herself to speak again. “We’ll think of something else.”

  Ryn gave a curt nod, and slowly settled against the bed. It took a bit longer before she relaxed into Kiara, but eventually the tension drained from her body and her breathing evened out. Kiara wrapped an arm around Ryn’s waist and snuggled in as close as she could. Ryn took Kiara’s hand in hers, twining their fingers together against her bare chest, and soon they drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter Twenty |

  Kiara wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she woke up. The room was dark now, but in Vancouver in February that could mean it was anywhere from five-thirty in the morning to five-thirty in the evening. Kiara leaned across the bed to check the digital alarm clock on the bedside table, and saw that it was only six-forty at night.

  Beside her, the bed shifted as Ryn rolled over onto her stomach. “Do you think this place has room service?” Her voice was muffled by the pillow.

  Kiara hit the switch for the lamp. Illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp, as opposed to the harsh light of day, the room didn’t look too bad. But then she remembered the sticky lobby floor and suppressed a shudder. “No. And if it did, would you want it?”

  Ryn considered Kiara’s point. “No, probably not.”

  It had been a long, exhausting day, though. Ryn was right; they should find something to eat. “Takeout?” she suggested.

  “Sure.” Ryn slipped out from the covers. Completely naked, she stretched, and Kiara watched helplessly, Ryn’s skin limned gold by the lamplight. Ryn added an extra wriggle to her step as she crossed the room to her bag. She pulled out her phone and tossed it to Kiara.

  “The passcode’s 4247. In my contacts, there’s a number for Chinese food. They make wicked sweet and sour pork.” Ryn went into the bathroom.

  Kiara unlocked the phone and refused to think about how many other nights she and Ryn had spent naked in bed, playfully fighting over the last piece of pineapple.

  She scrolled through Ryn’s contacts until she found the restaurant. Her thumb hovered over it. She had a lump in her throat. It was too much like before: sex-rumpled sheets, the lingering slickness of lube, Chinese food on its way.

  A notification popped up onscreen: @VanCityStyle liked Ryn’s photo on Instagram. Suddenly desperate for a distraction, Kiara tapped on it. The app opened up, and a picture of Ryn and Nathan filled the screen. He was grinning; his head was tilted to the side to display the flowers Ryn had created, and she stared out haughtily beside him. Golden Afternoon with @TomeRader. His kitchen was visible in the background.

  Kiara’s eyes flew to the date at the bottom: One day ago. This morning she hadn’t had time to wonder how the Huntsmen had known where to find them, and after they’d escaped she’d been too exhausted to question it. But Ryn had made it too easy. Despite everything that had happened, she’d shared a picture of herself and Nathan, in Nathan’s apartment, on social media. Kiara’s fingers went numb around the phone.

  “Can’t you find the number?” Ryn came out of the bathroom, drying her hands on a towel, and gave Kiara a quizzical look.

  “I found it,” Kiara said shortly. Her chest felt tight. “I also found this.” She turned the phone toward Ryn and displayed the screen.

  Ryn frowned and crossed the room to get a better look. “My Instagram account?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Did you think I was hiding it from you or something? It’s a public account.”

  “I know it’s public.” Kiara shoved the phone at Ryn and threw off the covers, no longer able to stay in the bed. “That’s the problem.”

  Ryn stared at her, confusion warring with irritation on her face. “I’m a freelance hairstylist. This is how I get clients. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “I have a problem,” Kiara bit out as she yanked on her underwear, “with you publicly posting pictures of yourself in Nathan’s apartment when we’re trying to hide you!”

  Ryn paled.

  “Didn’t you wonder how they found us this morning? How the Huntsmen knew to look at Nathan’s? You led them right to us, Taryn. Right to us. You could have been killed. They could have taken you.” Kiara pulled her pants over her hips, then shoved her tank top down over her arms. “Who knows what could have happened? And, god—” She broke into a joyless laugh. “Anyone could have walked in. We’re lucky some soccer mom with a stroller didn’t wander into that shitshow on her way to her minivan.”

  “I didn’t think.” Ryn sat woodenly on the edge of the bed, her phone forgotten in her hands. “I swear, Kiara, it didn’t even occur to me.”

  “Well, it should have,” Kiara snapped. “I don’t want you to even think about touching your phone, do you understand? I’m doing everything I can to keep you safe, and if you’re going to sabotage—”

  “‘Sabotage’?” Ryn rolled her eyes. “That’s a little dramatic.”

  “Is it? You’ve been arguing with me about the best way to do this since Kings of Hearts.”

  “And, what, you thought I’d get my revenge by calling the Huntsmen up and saying ‘Here I am, come get me’? For fuck’s sake, Kiara.” Ryn dropped her phone on the bedspread and stood with her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “What good would that have done me? Whose side do you think I’m on here?”

  “You’re not on mine, that’s for sure.” They were close now, nearly nose-to-nose, and Kiara hated that she was forced to look up just the slightest bit to meet Ryn’s eyes. “You’ve been nothing but disrespectful this whole time. I’m the Alpha-designate of—”

  “Of not my pack.” Ryn’s voice was the low growl of distant thunder. “You could be the Queen of England for all it matters to me. I don’t care about whatever title you’ve taken—”

  “Earned. I earned it. What have you earned, Taryn?”

  “A life!” Ryn shouted. “I earned a life.”

  On the bedspread, Ryn’s phone rang.

  They both grabbed for it, but Kiara was quicker. For the second time that night, Nathan’s face filled the screen. Kiara turned away from Ryn and swiped to answer.

  “Nathan.”

  “Hey, K.”

  There was something off about Nathan’s voice, and Kiara stilled. “What’s going on?” she asked carefully. Ryn stepped into Kiara’s line of sight, and whatever she saw on Kiara’s face made the question she’d been about to ask die on her lips.

  “I’m just at work—the library—doing some research. I think I found something about the Huntsmen. You and Taryn should come and take a look.”

  Kiara’s mind raced. Something wasn’t right. “Research, eh? You’re turning into a regular Scooby.”

  Nathan laughed, and it rang hollow. “Yeah, you know me. But the thing is—” Kiara pressed her phone tighter to her ear. She could hear Nathan lick his lips nervously. “—there’s sort of a time limit. Professor Ackbar needs the text
I’m looking at for a seminar tomorrow morning. So I need you two to head down here now if you want to see it.”

  “I understand. We’re on our way.”

  “Great. See you soon.” The line went dead.

  “Oh, cool, the library—what do you think he found?” Ryn asked curiously.

  Kiara stared at her. “It’s a trap.”

  Ryn frowned. “What makes you say that?”

  “Professor Ackbar. Admiral Ackbar. ‘It’s a trap.’”

  Ryn’s face remained blank and uncomprehending.

  “Ryn, we watched Star Wars.”

  “Was that the space one?”

  Kiara gritted her teeth. “Never mind. Nathan’s in trouble. We have to call Jamie and Cole. Oh, fuck.” She rubbed a hand at the worried crease in her forehead and desperately wished for a cigarette. “Deanna is going to kill me.”

  “Was it the one with the space wizards?”

  “Jedi, Ryn, they were Jedi.”

  They shifted in the alley behind the hotel. Kiara was prepared for it this time; she took her clothes off, folded them in a neat pile, and slid them under a nearby dumpster. There was no guarantee they’d be there when she got back, but there was no sense destroying another perfectly good outfit. Beside her, Ryn did the same.

  They didn’t have time to dawdle, or linger, but Kiara couldn’t help but let her eyes drift over Ryn standing in the moonlight, clothed in nothing but a long fall of black hair. Ryn caught Kiara looking and stared back at her defiantly. Kiara dropped her gaze.

  “He’s at the university. It’s a straight shot from here.”

  “As long as no one sees us.”

  “As long as no one sees us,” Kiara agreed. There hadn’t really been a discussion about how they were going to get there—a bus was out of the question, and there was no telling how long a cab would take. They could run it, though, as wolves.

  From the street, a car honked and a man shouted angrily. Someone could come around the corner any second, and they’d certainly have questions about the two naked people.