by Jory Strong
“No,” she said, fighting his grip. Jerking and pulling. Finally trying to peel his fingers away.
He countered by wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly against him. She stiffened, resisting still. Her heart thundering, pounding like fists against his chest.
“Let me go. Please. It could be too late by the time someone comes back to get me.”
Aryck gave her the truth with lips touched to her forehead. “It’s already too late.”
Her hands maneuvered between them, pushing against his chest in a continued effort to escape. “You don’t know that.”
He rubbed his cheek against hers. “Think how quickly the virus affected the Wolves. They succumbed at almost the same time and were all near death. If not for the shaman’s drum holding them to the living world, they would probably have crossed to the shadowlands before we got there.”
She stilled with understanding, making the very connection he’d meant to spare her from. “The last two dead Elk were Were.”
“Yes.”
A tremor went through her, a soul-deep shudder. Her hands slid down and around his waist, arms hugging him, drawing comfort as she softened against him.
Mine, he thought, accepting it fully, completely. Determining to act on it as soon as they were back on Jaguar lands.
It didn’t take long for the smell of smoke and burning flesh to reach him. He set Rebekka away from him just before a Wolf arrived, one whose scent was close enough to Jael and his brother’s to mark him as a sibling or cousin.
“There is no need for a healer,” the Wolf said. “Fire will bring Bears, if they’re not already watching. Jael said to tell you he believes the Bear enforcer will also see the wisdom of approaching his alpha about forming an alliance.”
It’s a first step, Aryck thought. He couldn’t ask for more or even guarantee his father would support the idea. “I’ll speak to the alpha when I return to camp.”
The Wolf focused on Rebekka. “The pack owes you a great debt. We will not forget it.”
Nineteen
DUTY and desire warred inside Aryck as soon as he stepped foot on Jaguar lands. He should go directly to camp to discuss the possibility of alliance with his father. Even now he should be reaching out mentally to the alpha and sharing all that had happened since going to the Wolves’ village. But rather than doing either, he detoured, taking a path leading to a dried-up spring.
Anticipation grew with each step, desire rebuilding. His heart beat fast and hard in his chest, like drums around the fire, building to a crescendo. Beside him Rebekka was quiet, somber, lost in thoughts he could easily guess at. But for the Were, life went on. There was little use in grieving over the Elk.
She’d saved seven Wolves from death. That was all time allowed.
He led her to a place where sandstone had eroded to become a soft bed, then halted, drawing her into his arms. She trembled but didn’t resist him, didn’t turn her face away when he slowly lowered his.
Brushing his mouth against hers, he said, “If not for you, the entire pack would have died.”
His words had the opposite effect of what he’d intended. She withdrew emotionally, stiffening in his arms and looking away.
Tenderness filled him. He understood. She was a healer and a human, far removed from the harsh truth of survival among pure Weres.
She couldn’t know that if other groups had learned of sickness spreading through the Wolf pack, they would have acted, slaughtering the Wolves either to stop the spread of disease or to gain control of the territory. He didn’t doubt she’d witnessed terrible things in the brothel, but nothing as horrible as genocide and war.
He pressed kisses to Rebekka’s neck, pausing to suck, to take the tender skin between his teeth. The desire to mark her strengthened as his cock hardened.
Her ear drew him upward and he captured the lobe, teased it with his tongue. Sucked. He was rewarded by the softening of her body, a melting against him accompanied by the heated scent of awakening desire.
“Let your worries go,” he murmured, sliding his hand up her side and over, taking possession of her breast as his tongue explored her ear.
Her moan and the jolt he felt go through her were all the encouragement he needed. He tightened the arm around her waist, pulled her against the thick ridge of his erection as his palm glided over her nipple until it hardened and she began grinding against his cock.
He abandoned her ear, needing to claim her mouth and thrust into the wet heat of it with his tongue in a prelude to doing the same to slick nether lips. He wanted to taste her passion, to mark himself with her scent before sheathing his cock inside her.
Satisfaction purred through him at the look of desire in her eyes, at the way her tongue darted out, wetting a mouth that parted in anticipation.
A spike of pure heat shot through his penis as he imagined those same lips on his shaft, caressing his length before wrapping around his cock head and slowly sucking him deep into her mouth.
With a rumbled growl he captured her lips, his hand leaving her breast long enough to jerk her shirt out of her pants, then slide upward, his palm against smooth skin until it encountered her bra.
He pushed under the unwelcome barrier, wondering why she would wear such a thing. She was so lush, so feminine, so utterly desirable. There was no reason to hide it with layers of clothing.
Their tongues twined, tangled, slid against each other, stoking the fires of lust. Pleasure whipped through him when her fingers glanced over the back of his neck before spearing through his hair, gripping him, holding him to her as if she never wanted the kiss to end.
Their breaths mingled, becoming one. Aryck closed his eyes, sinking into the moment, the pleasure of having her in his arms.
Pliant. Willing. Responding to him.
There was no doubt, only desire, a feeling of rightness. This was meant to be. He’d been a fool to fight the Jaguar’s claim, to waste time fighting the attraction she held for him.
He captured Rebekka’s nipple between his fingers, rolled and tugged and squeezed until her whimper brought the Jaguar to life, not in separation but in full integration, in a dominant demand to feel their mate’s body naked beneath them.
Aryck forced himself to abandon her lips. “Undress for me,” he whispered, ensuring her compliance by recapturing her earlobe, sucking, feeling her breast swell and nipple harden further.
Heat poured into Rebekka, engulfed her. She wanted him, shook with the need to accept the pleasure he offered.
But what would happen afterward? For there to be a future together, he had to know about the witches and their talk of a coming war that would change the world yet again. He needed to know about her demon father, and that she’d been created for a purpose. She had to tell him about the urchin. Reveal the full truth of her gift.
Desire ebbed with images of the burning pallets in Oakland and the dead Elk here. As if sensing her retreat, Aryck said, “Life goes on.”
He renewed the sensual assault on her nipple. Tugging, squeezing, the rhythm sending flutter after flutter through her womb, making her grow swollen and wet with need, ready again as he repeated his command. “Undress for me.”
The light filtered in through the trees, denying her the protection of the darkness. It was only a phantom sensation, she knew it wasn’t real, and yet she felt the tattoo as if it were raised on her skin. It brought a more immediate fear, a vulnerability she’d lived with far longer than worries about her father or her gift.
What if Aryck saw it and knew what it meant? What if he turned away in disgust? Or even after she told him the truth, his eyes continued to hold doubt? Or what if it didn’t matter to him for the same reason the prostitutes in the brothel sought one another out for pleasure or comfort without forming permanent ties?
He hadn’t spoken of a future together. Hadn’t indicated he wanted anything more than physical release.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” she said, though her body seemed determined to
make it a lie.
Her hands remained in his hair. Her pelvis continued to grind against his, each strike of her stiffened clit against his erection sending a jolt of pure ecstasy through her.
“I’ll help you then,” he murmured, making her womb clench with one final thrust of his tongue into her ear before he stepped back far enough that his hands could undo the buttons of her shirt.
He started at the top, eyes becoming molten as each button was freed to reveal another few inches of skin. It unnerved her at the same time it made her feel incredibly feminine, desirable in a way she’d never viewed herself as being.
She was a healer. That was how she’d defined herself for so long. It obliterated the label of prostitute’s daughter and helped keep her own sexuality at bay.
But now she found she didn’t want that any longer. She wanted to be more than a healer.
Aryck pushed her shirt off her shoulders and down. It fell away, leaving her standing in bra and pants. He’d seen her wearing nothing but her panties and yet there was something erotic in appearing before him like this, her nipples hard points against the thin material of the bra.
Nervousness made her lick her lips. The way he zeroed in on her mouth, his expression growing hungry as his hand moved to the front of his pants to grip his erection sent a thrill through her, a rush of feminine power.
It gave her the courage to take off her shoes and pants, then step forward to grasp his waistband. “Your turn,” she said, arousal soaking her panties and wetting her inner thighs as she remembered him the night before in the moments between shifting, when he was a cat in human form, expecting admiration. “I want to see you again.”
He captured her hand, replacing the one at the front of his pants with hers. She blushed despite being no stranger to nudity or the male form. In the brothels she’d undressed prostitutes when they couldn’t do it for themselves, had handled their sexual organs with emotional detachment.
Aryck brushed the back of his hand against her heated cheek, a curious, speculative expression on his face. It lasted only until she traced the laces at the front of his pants.
His features went taut. She licked her lips again and felt his cock pulse beneath her fingertips.
Slowly, partly in nervousness and partly in anticipation, she loosened the leather strips holding the pants closed. Her labia grew more flushed and swollen, her clit harder. She was intensely aware of them, of the need centered there. Throbbing like a second heartbeat.
The laces gave, loosening the pants so they dropped to the ground, freeing Aryck’s penis. Exposing it. Revealing a wet tip and pulled-back sheath, the heavy testicles beneath, framed by powerful thighs.
Everything about him was masculine perfection, a sensual beauty of sleek muscle and innate strength combined with the absolute confidence of a bold, dangerous predator.
His cock grew fuller under her perusal. Another drop of arousal beaded on its tip.
He took her hand once again, guiding it to his erection. His hand remained there, covering hers.
Without the material of his pants, she closed her fist around him, felt the thrill of his low moan all the way to her toes. He leaned in and recaptured her lips, grasped her hair and held her to him as he thrust his tongue into her mouth, the hand covering hers moving up and down on his shaft.
It was so decadent, something belonging to fantasies she barely acknowledged having. He was smooth steel and velvety softness combined.
On an upstroke she rubbed her thumb over the wet tip, reveled in the way his hips jerked. Then jerked again when she did it a second time.
His hand left her hair, sending pleasure through her as he caressed her back, seeming to pause at each vertebra. He lingered at the base of her spine, fingers sliding into her panties, dancing over the spot where the cleft between her buttocks began.
Her ass cheeks clamped together instinctively, and he ended their kiss with a soft laugh. “I don’t want you that way, not for the first time, anyway.”
He leaned in and flicked her earlobe with his tongue, whispered, “But in the end, I’ll have you every way it’s possible for a male to have his female.”
Rebekka’s heart stuttered as hope slammed into it, tripped into a racing beat until she realized the only promise inherent in his words was that he would do to her what a man could do to any female, whether she belonged to him or not. It wasn’t a declaration of love or an acknowledgment of a shared future. It was a promise of carnal exploration and pleasure, nothing more.
A hint of pain snaked through her chest, and yet despite it she didn’t want to stop what they were doing. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him deep inside her, his body joined with hers. But going that far risked her heart and she’d guarded it too long to casually expose it now.
She rubbed her cheek against his, glad she couldn’t see his face as she said, “I’m not ready to couple with you.” Yet. She heard the unspoken word as clearly as if she’d said it.
His tongue slid into her ear then retreated. “There’s more to lovemaking than the act of fucking.”
Her heart did a slow roll in her chest. Was it lovemaking for him?
She didn’t have the courage to ask, or to face all the additional questions that would come after that one. There couldn’t be talk of a future without a discussion of the past.
She didn’t resist when he maneuvered them to the sand. Stripping her bra away before pressing her to the ground and positioning himself above her.
The heat of his cock burned through the thin barrier of her panties. Rebekka moaned at the feel of it sliding up and down along her clit. She shivered with the renewed thrust of his tongue against hers, answered each parry with one of her own.
Her hands roamed over smooth muscle and firm buttocks. Repeatedly returning to the silky strands of his hair and refusing to let the kisses end until he shifted his weight onto an elbow with a growl.
His hand went to his cock then, tightened at the base of his shaft as if fighting to keep from coming, and the knowledge she was responsible emboldened Rebekka. She became the aggressor, forcing his hand away from his heated penis so her fingers could curl around it.
She captured his tongue with her lips. Sucked hard and deep in a sensual battle she was determined to win.
Pleasure swept through her when he lost control. Arousal poured from her slit as he began thrusting, fucking through the tight clamp of her fist with steady, desperate movements.
She took his moans, swallowed them as his penis jerked, wet her belly and chest with his seed. He shuddered above her for long moments, finally breaking the seal of their lips, his breath coming in fast pants as he pulled from her grip and lay on his side next to her.
His eyes glittered as they traveled down to where he’d spent himself on her. His face was flushed, not with embarrassment but with satisfaction. “To steal your earlier words,” he said. “Your turn.”
Her toes curled as he leaned in, mouth latching onto a nipple. A whimper escaped when his hand cupped her mound, rubbing, pressing in time to the pull of his lips.
She lifted her hips with each of his sucks, didn’t think to protest as his hand slid beneath the waistband of her panties. A shudder went through her when his fingers grazed her slit, collecting the moisture there before going to her clit. A cry followed as he stroked the tiny head, tormenting her as she’d tormented him.
Her channel clenched, sending more arousal to soak her panties. She felt the press of teeth against nipple, arched her back at the implied threat of a bite.
He clamped down harder, to the point pain and pleasure blended, his fingers concentrating on her engorged clit, finding all the ways she liked to be touched.
Her movements became frenzied. Her heart raced at a dizzying pace while her lungs struggled to get enough air.
She grew desperate for relief, to feel his fingers slide into her opening and find the spot deep inside her that would make her come.
Her moans turned into fevered pleas, and finally a
breathless “Please.”
His touches became more devastating, more demanding. He intended to make her as helpless in desire as she’d made him.
His mouth went to the breast he’d been neglecting. Biting and sucking the nipple, keeping her hovering on the edge of climax as he gave it the same attention as the first.
Her hands roamed his back. Without conscious thought her nails dug into his flesh, raked over his skin.
It inflamed him. His head jerked up. His eyes blazed. He brought his face inches away from hers as he fucked into her with his fingers, striking her clit with each thrust.
She gave herself over to sensation as he watched. His mouth covering hers at the moment of release, swallowing the sounds of her pleasure as she’d swallowed his.
Twenty
AS Rebekka dressed she felt shy, uncertain. Defenseless against physical desire and her growing feelings for Aryck.
She couldn’t lie to herself. Only his need to return to camp and discuss forming an alliance kept them from doing more than they’d already done.
Despite her internal arguments against it, when he touched her intimately, her resolve not to give in weakened dangerously. They needed to talk.
She braved a glance at Aryck. He seemed aloof, withdrawn, his thoughts already on other things.
Aryck felt Rebekka’s eyes on him and looked up. Uncertainty clung to her like a shroud, making him want to close the distance between them and rip it away.
Was she regretting what had happened between them? Already thinking about leaving him and returning to Oakland with Levi?
The Jaguar’s silent snarl mirrored the man’s. His scent coated her belly and chest in a primitive warning to all others that she belonged to him. Hers marked him as well, as did the shallow scratches on his back.
Unable to stop himself, he took the few steps needed to reach her. There was a hint of resistance when he pulled her into his arms.
The Jaguar reacted badly, thrashing to separate life with a desire for Rebekka’s complete acceptance and submission, demanding Aryck take the skin at the base of her neck between his teeth and clamp down hard enough to leave visible proof of her claiming.
