by Sylvia Frost
“We trust our own” Cal finishes.
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the idea of driving right toward the organization that apparently is the root of all of our troubles. Well, if not all, then at least some. Inclining my head, I study Orion’s expression.
He’s completely composed. Except for his eyes. It’s not the look in them that gives him away, but the way they gravitate toward me every couple of seconds. As if he’s afraid that if he can’t see me, I might disappear. I’ve never had anyone look at me that way before. Like I’m irreplaceable.
It makes my whole ribcage feel full to bursting with warmth.
I know then that Orion won’t let anything happen to me.
“Fine,” I say, trying to keep any giddiness from that revelation out of my voice. “So where is this Stefania?”
Cal frowns. “The bat tower.”
“The bat tower?” I purse my lips. “Is that where they keep the radioactive tigers?”
Orion rolls his eyes. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him make the gesture, and on his gladiatorial features the expression looks somehow anachronistic and… charming?
Maybe that’s my hormones talking. Lately they won’t shut up.
“Cal means the FBSI New York State headquarters.” He rests his upper arm on the vehicle. In the dark his pale skin glows and the strong shadows showcase exactly how sculpted his torso is. He catches my attention and gives me a gentle smile. It’s more infuriating than his smirks. “We’ve recently relocated to Rochester, conveniently enough.”
I flick my gaze away a beat too late. “After Timothy Higgins revealed himself, I went down to New York City to be interviewed. It was in some big building right in the middle of Manhattan.”
“Budget cuts from Washington,” Cal says drolly.
“But Rochester? Really?” I ask, thinking of the run-down neighborhoods and empty skyscrapers.
“Fallaches sunt rerum spechies, Artemis.” Orion gives me a cryptic smile and pats the frame of the Camry. I catch his expression out of the corner of my eye, unable to keep my eyes off of him.
He’s speaking Werelatin, but it takes me a moment to realize it. His accent sounds more guttural than the smooth renditions of the tongue I’ve heard in History Channel movies. Sexier, too.
Cal is not so enraptured. “Care to translate, Socrates?”
“Socrates was Greek,” says Orion.
“Tomahto, potato.”
“I said, much like my Camry here, sometimes the most powerful things have the most inconspicuous of frames.” Orion grins at me, as if we’re sharing a secret. But only for a moment. Because, for the first time since he approached the car, something else has his undivided attention.
“What in the seven portals to astrum,” he shouts, “have your done to my car?”
6
The closer one gets to the initial consummation of the bond, the trickier chronicling details becomes. Most of werelore is encumbered only by human recording error, as neither lies nor secrets come naturally to most werebeasts. However, when it comes to the bonding between werebeast and weremate, the truth is impossible to find. This is one secret they keep. And keep well.
Beasts, Blood & Bonds: A History of Werebeasts and Their Mates
By Dr. Nina M. Strike
Ten minutes. It’s been ten agonizingly long minutes since Orion dragged Cal outside to yell at her about her destructive tendencies. I know this because I can count each of those minutes on the digital clock of the Camry. 9:01, 9:02, 9:03. Through the car’s flimsy frame I can still hear them shouting.
“You destroy everything you touch.”
“I came here as a favor to you. I saved your mate. And now you’re bitching at me over a couple of scratches in your lumbering, outdated hunk of death machine? Really? I was napping when you called me. You know how I feel about waking up from a nap.”
“You’re always napping. You never come to headquarters. You’re a disaster, Cal, and you have been for a long time.”
“I nap because I’m a fucking cat. Twenty hours of sleep required, genius! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take my motorcycle and ride home. I’ve got a papaya-scented bubble bath, The Real Weremates of Yellowstone Valley, and a nap to get back to.”
“Cal!”
“Later, wolfy-pants!”
I hunch down in my seat as I hear the revving of a motorcycle and then the crunch of Orion’s feet on gravel. He must be really pissed if he’s not walking with his usual silent stealth. I glance at the clock. 9:06. And it looks it, too; night completely fallen.
Slam.
I jump as Orion practically rips the driver’s door off its hinges and plunges into the driver’s seat. I wait for him to thrust the key into the ignition. But, as usual, his first order of business is me. “Artemis,” he says. His increased proximity makes his nakedness a hundred times more… palpable.
“So,” I drawl awkwardly, trying to fill the silence. “I guess Cal’s not coming with us.”
“No,” Orion says curtly. “She’ll join up with us tomorrow. If she can manage to wake up, that is.”
He slings one muscled arm over the steering wheel, with the other propped against the armrest between us. Thankfully, said armrest also hides some of his lower anatomy.
Is he going to drive naked? Is that even legal? And more importantly, if he does, will I be able to keep it together? Already my heart is pounding against my ribcage, each thump fracturing my self-control a little further. I wait for the blessed purr of the engine waking up, but it never comes.
Instead, Orion continues to look me up and down with a gaze so strong I’d swear he’s branding his name onto my skin with his eyes. “Raise your chin.”
“Why?” I say and lower it.
“Don’t be so defiant.” He sighs with exasperation. “I’m going to check you for injuries.”
Looking up at him skeptically, chin still firmly tucked against my chest, I squeak, “Can you please put on some clothes first?”
Orion’s only response is to hit the light on the ceiling, further illuminating the contours of his forearms and biceps. And in my distraction, he sneaks two fingers underneath my chin and tilts it upward with a gentle but irresistible force.
“You don’t have to do this.” A fleet of goose bumps suddenly pops up all over my skin.
With two fingers he traces the red mark the knife left. “Did the coyote’s mate hurt you anywhere else?”
“No.” Even though his touch is methodical, it still makes my knees weak. “Just a few shallow cuts. I’m fine.”
“I wish I could believe you.” With only his index finger, Orion makes me look to the left and then the right again, checking for more wounds. And I, like an idiot, let him manipulate my body. His presence is like a drug, rendering me instantly pliable.
“Unfortunately, after you made the foolish decision to find your friend at the expense of your own safety, I’m having a hard time trusting you.” He pushes away the top of my sleeve to expose my shoulder.
“Excuse me!” I splutter, unable to come up with a better defense. “No one’s elected you public health inspector of my body, and last I checked you aren’t a doctor.” But my anger feels flimsy. He’s right. If I were him, I wouldn’t trust me with my personal safety either.
He rolls back my shirt over my shoulder, satisfied that I don’t have any lurking bruises. “Lean forward.”
“I think you just want to see my boobs.” I roll my eyes, mostly to keep from looking at his body.
“If I wanted to see your breasts, Artemis, I would’ve ripped off your t-shirt. Look down.” Not waiting for me to obey, Orion skillfully adjusts my head and performs the same pressure-sensitivity test on my skull as he did on the wound near my throat.
As he does, I try to gaze anywhere else but at his abs. I don’t succeed. Is it humanly possible to have an eight-pack?
“Jeeze.” I squirm when Orion presses on the base of my head right above my spinal column. Familiar pain shoot
s through me, an echo of the whiplash.
He frowns. “You didn’t lose consciousness when we went off-road, did you?” His hot breath brushes over the shell of my ear. “Do you feel dizzy?”
I do feel dizzy, but I know for a fact that’s because his minty smell has already begun to overwhelm my nostrils. “No, I’m fine. And I don’t have a concussion.”
“You seem off balance.” He shifts to look at me from another vantage point. This also means that I can see him from another angle too. An angle that exposes the deep V of muscles below his toned stomach. Damn. Damn. Damn.
I have to stop myself from reaching out to touch him. Part of me is convinced that unless I do, I won’t be able to verify that his body is real.
People don’t look like this. And definitely not people who are interested in me.
“If you touch me now, Artemis, I may not be able to stop myself from claiming you right here.” Orion’s low voice fills the small space of the car and resonates in my blood.
I rip my gaze away from his body and meet his eyes. They are utterly frank with desire, and his pupils are wide despite the artificial brightness from the car light. He’s giving me no menacing look or overtly sexual smile, but somehow that makes it scarier. And hotter, too.
He’s not coming on to me. He’s telling me the unvarnished truth. He wants me. And he’s utterly confident he will have me.
“Clothes,” I manage to choke out. “You need clothes. And we have to get going.”
“You’re touching me, Artemis,” he whispers.
I look down, realizing that indeed I am. My fingertips graze the no man’s land between his broad chest and his sculpted waist. It’s just as hard as it looks. I draw back immediately. “Sorry, I—”
He pushes the armrest up so that there are no obstacles between us. This means, among other things, that there’s nothing blocking me from looking at his lower anatomy. I can see everything.
His cock is magnificent. I couldn’t guess in inches, but I know it’s bigger than in the dream, hard and slightly curved away from his body. Stretching toward me. It’s the kind of tool that makes a blowjob instinctively appealing and terrifying. My sex pulses from its nearness.
“I could’ve had you a billion ways since I first met you, Artemis. You do know that, don’t you?”
I nod weakly, unable to open my mouth as my heart tries in vain to pump desire-heavy blood through my veins. I want him so much my whole body aches to be in his arms. Maybe if I wanted him a little less I would’ve given in sooner.
My reluctance has nothing to do with my parents anymore, I realize. I’ll have their memory no matter what. It’s only me who’s afraid of being lost. Of being overwhelmed by his presence.
Maybe it always was.
“You want to touch it, don’t you?” Orion practically purrs.
I do. I want to wrap my fingers around it and squeeze, to watch his eyes fly shut, to make that beautiful mouth of his moan, to make him the one off balance for once. But this isn’t like the dream. This is real.
“I know I want your hand around me.” Then, with a surprising gentleness I can’t bring myself to resist, Orion places my fist around his cock finger by finger. “I’ve wanted it since the moment I first saw you.”
All I can do is watch, in awe of his girth. I don’t have small hands. My fingertips are square and my palms pudgy, but the size of his cock makes my hand look practically dainty. Taking him would split me open. And with every passing moment he’s swelling more.
His hand closes over my own, forcing my grip to tighten around his dick. “Do you know what will happen when I put this inside of you?”
“You’ll tear me apart,” I whisper in a breathy voice I barely recognize as my own.
“Yes, I will do that.” A smile of masculine pride briefly flirts with his lips before he turns serious again. “But something else will occur as well. Something I should have told you about long ago.”
“What?” The texture of his cock is velvety, even though I can feel its ridges and veins. It pulses hotly in my hand, as if to confirm my assessment.
“The bonding will be complete.”
“The bonding?” My tongue darts out to moisten my lips, and I can’t resist slowly dragging my thumb up and down the length of his shaft. I want to hear the need in his voice again. I’ve never had someone desire me so much before.
Orion’s eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a long, low groan, as if he can let out all of his desire like steam out of a kettle. “By the gods, Little Mate, do that again and I will bend you over and pound you until you can’t breathe anymore. No matter if it would break you or not.”
I stop. “B-break me?”
“When I take you, when I bond with you. You become mine.” His fingers uncoil from mine and trail upwards to graze my cheek. Despite the softness of his gestures, his words are steady. “If you fight the taking while it’s happening, when it’s over you’ll become nothing more than an empty, obedient shell.”
Shock at his words lightnings through me. My hand draws back from his cock even as my libido screams at me to stay. “There wasn’t anything about that in Beasts, Blood & Bonds.”
“Humans don’t know all of our secrets.” His brows furrow together with such plaintive need that I have to force myself to keep my hand at my side. I have no doubt that he wants me just as much as I want him. More, maybe.
“You can stop now, Artemis. But I will claim you.” He trails a finger down my cheek to my lips, tracing the blush spreading there. The heat he caused. “Every second I spend near you without taking you is harder to endure than the one before it. At first it was bearable. I kept myself at bay by focusing on finding your friend and understanding who you really are, but now…”
The path of his hand ends as he moves down away from my lips and off of my chin. Then he turns from me, so that I can only see half of his face. Frown wrinkles crinkle around his eye like fault lines before an earthquake. “Eventually, I won’t be able to control myself any longer, and I will take what is mine.”
“Tame, not break,” I whisper, repeating the words that he typed to me what feels like an eternity ago, even though it’s been less than forty-eight hours. “You meant that literally.”
“Yes.”
Not caring about his earlier admonishment, I take my hand away from his body. All along my fear of him was right. Bitter tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but refuse to fully come. I look up at the ceiling as if I can force them back down using gravity alone. “Did I ever have any choice at all?”
“We always have choices,” he says. “They just aren’t always the ones that we’d like.”
I say nothing to that, the numb coldness growing in my stomach, the tears still stuck in my eyes. I should feel outrage, I know. I should yell and scream and say it isn’t fair. But I don’t. Maybe because part of me has always known this was coming, and maybe because another part of me wants Orion so much it doesn’t care about the consequences.
By the time I finally have the courage to speak, Orion is gone.
7
I should be terrified. Orion has just told me that if he claims me and I resist, I’ll turn into a shell of myself. A ghost. Yet my hands are warm, not clammy, and my heart is steadily thumping out a beat every second. I tell myself that I’m not scared, and that I’m shivering from the cold. It’s not entirely a lie.
The fully fallen darkness has brought a chill. Even though it’s May the ghost of April’s temperatures has come back to haunt us. My ensemble of dirty jeans and a black long-sleeved shirt is due to be washed, but I decide against changing.
Keeping my desires in check is hard enough when Orion’s naked; if both of us are naked at the same time, I think my ovaries might combust.
After I’ve spent a couple of quiet minutes in contemplation, the door opens. Much more peacefully this time than the last. Orion, now clad in his usual combination of jeans and nothing else, eases into the driver’s seat. He stays silent as he turns the ke
y in the ignition, and I don’t prompt him to talk.
Then we go, and mile by mile, the world falls away.
Driving at night always has a timeless feel. The world is transformed from generic gas station stopover towns and blurry fields into an ocean of darkness. As an hour passes and then two, I sneak glances at Orion. I tell myself it’s because there’s nothing else to look at. But the lie feels obvious.
I’m hungry for him. For everything about him. His voice. His face. His laugh. Even his weird Werelatin. I may not like everything about him, but every time I try to tear my gaze from his wild blond hair and rugged features, I find myself drawn back, and each of my staring sessions is longer than the last.
Orion North is beginning to become my addiction.
“You should sleep if you can,” Orion says, not taking his eyes off the road.
“Are you a sleep doctor too, now?”
“You can continue saying that all you like, but I know—”
“Orion, look.”
A blinking red light crests the hill. At first I think it’s a radio tower, but as we get closer another red light emerges behind it, and another, and another, and another. There are far too many for them to be radio towers.
“What are they?”
Orion squints, gives a little gas to the accelerator, and then says, “They’re windmills, Little Mate.”
After a few minutes my human vision catches up to his, and I see that he’s right. Hundreds of them fill the fields around us, blades turning and lights blinking. I know that since the energy crisis began, wind farms have become more and more common, but I’ve never actually seen so many before.
“You humans are never content with the landscape around you. You always have to change it.”
“Sometimes, change can be beautiful,” I say. “I think they look like fallen stars.”
He tilts his head, a strange smile crossing his face. “Perhaps they do.”
A half hour later, as we turn onto the outer loop, I realize why the windmills disturbed me as much as they fascinated me. They remind me of the red dots I saw yesterday, the ones on Tracker. That whole group of werebeasts crowded around Rochester. Like a herd.
