Motor City Wolf

by Cindy Spencer Pape

  He smiled at her for the first time. “Max is ready to continue. If you can all take your places?”

  It took a few moments to get everyone back in place. The runner was gone. They’d wrapped Vince in that to carry him out, but otherwise everything was exactly as it had been—except for the extra line of guards now surrounding the gathering. Fianna recognized some of them as Aidan’s security staff.

  “Grandfather made them wait outside the compound before. Now he decided more is better.” Greg led her back to their place under the archway.

  “Are both your cuts still open?” Max asked as he resumed his place.

  Greg unwrapped his hand. “Open enough.” He nicked his wound with a fingernail from his other hand to restart the blood. Fianna unwrapped hers and held it out, lacing her fingers with Greg’s so their cuts would line up and their blood mingle.

  “I’m not asking for objections this time,” Max said. Someone in the audience tittered nervously.

  He took the white rope from his lectern and tied their wrists securely together.

  “Fianna Celeste Meadows, do you take this man, Gregory Ivanovitch Novak, to be your lawfully wedded husband…”

  From that point on, the ceremony was a simple exchange of vows. Each uttered the required responses in strong, clear tones. Fianna was warmed by the glow in Greg’s eyes as he looked at her and swore to cherish her forever.

  “As your blood mingles, so shall your lives. From this day forward, Fianna and Gregory shall be as one, united in heart, soul and body. Let it be so.”

  “So be it!” rang the voices of the guests.

  Max untied the cord. Greg’s wound was already almost closed, but Fianna’s was still oozing. She looked around for the handkerchief, but instead felt a touch from Elise on her arm and the cut was gone, leaving a tiny white scar on her palm.

  “Do we still have the rings?” Max looked for Kevin, who was nudged forward by his father. He lifted the satin pillow so Greg could untie Fianna’s ring and she could retrieve his. More vows went with the exchange, and the ceremony was officially over.

  “Now, Greg, you may kiss your bride.”

  Greg pulled her close and lowered his lips to hers. She’d expected a formal peck on the lips, but Greg didn’t let it go at that. Instead, he kissed her with all the passion he’d shown every time they’d been together.

  By the time the kiss ended, the audience was laughing and clapping. Both Fianna and Greg gasped for breath.

  “Allow me to present Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Novak.”

  Their small crowd of family and friends cheered.

  They slipped their shoes back on, and Fianna retrieved her bouquet—undamaged or magically repaired—from Lana. Together, she and Greg walked back toward the house amid applause and photo flashes.

  She looked at him and it struck her like a physical blow. Goddess—she was really married.

  For the second time that day, the world spun around her.

  And again, Greg caught her, holding her steady until it passed.

  “We’ll hold the funeral later in the week,” Ivan told Greg at the reception. “I hate to do it, but we’re going to set it up as a drunk-driving accident.”

  Greg nodded. It ate at him, the knowledge that his friend, his packmate, had tried to kill him and Fee. When he’d gone with his grandfather to look at the body though, he’d understood. The scent was there—the one with overtones of vinegar and bleach.

  “It’s the drug. I should have seen the signs, known he was addicted. It made him unstable.” Looking back, he realized Vince had been deteriorating for a while—since before Greg and the others had gone Underhill to help find Dina. How could he not have noticed Vince had snapped? They’d found the bow and arrow in his room, along with two supplies of the demon drug—the one used on Fee, and the one he’d been using himself. There was also a chemical spray, strong enough to mask a werewolf’s scent.

  “It’s not your fault, son.” Ivan shrugged. “My guess is someone got him addicted deliberately and sent him at you like a loaded gun.”

  “He was the firebomber, too, I’ll bet. And the sniper. I hadn’t realized he was never around when it happened.”

  “I sent someone to search his apartment. I’m sorry.” Ivan patted Greg’s shoulder. “I’ve already notified his parents. They asked us to ship the body down there for burial.”

  “Thanks.” He looked at the old man and realized that for the first time, Ivan looked old. Lines of fatigue and grief had aged him, just over the course of the afternoon. “We should go back and sit down now. Grandmother will be expecting you to dance with her later.”

  “And you have a bride to take care of. She’s got spine, I’ll give her that. And at least we know the pack will continue. You could have done worse.”

  Greg stared at the old man’s retreating back.

  That was maybe the nicest thing Ivan had ever said to him.

  Leading all the packs wasn’t an easy job. Though Greg had no intention of raising his kids with his grandfather’s iron fist, he was at least beginning to understand the old man’s reasoning if not his methods, his need to make Greg as tough as he could be. When it counted though, he’d come through for Greg, saving Fianna. Then he’d dealt with all the details involved with Vince’s death. For the first time in his life, Greg was grateful to the Prime.

  Mostly, Greg really hoped his grandfather lived for a long, long time.

  He returned to the ballroom to find Fianna waiting for him. She took his hand. “I’m sorry, Greg. I’ll understand if you want to leave now. Vince was your friend. You should be allowed to grieve.”

  He kissed her forehead. “Thank you. It’s hard, there’s no denying that. But this is also our wedding day, and I don’t want to miss out on things we’ll never get to do again. Now come on. We’re supposed to cut the cake.”

  They’d been given the guest suite over the garage for their wedding night. While still attached to the main house by a breezeway, it was the most private space available. Servants had moved all their things during the reception, and the guards stationed outside were discreet enough to ignore any sounds they heard. Greg would have preferred to take Fee on a real honeymoon, but given the circumstances, this was the best he could manage.

  “Come on, wife.” He scooped her up in his arms and carried her down the breezeway corridor. “Time to put you to bed.”

  The party was still going in the ballroom, though a few others had left—the older folks, or those with children. Lana had caught the bouquet, much to her own chagrin, while a teenaged third cousin had caught the garter. The laughter that ensued had gone a long way toward soothing everyone’s frazzled nerves.

  “You’re probably exhausted,” Greg said as he climbed the stairs from the breezeway to the guest suite.

  “Not really.” She nuzzled her face into his neck. “Elise gave me a boost before she left.”

  “I hope she gave you the go-ahead for our wedding night.” It was going to be hell if he had to keep his hands off her again tonight. The notion of it being their wedding night was giving him all kinds of ideas.

  “She said sex is fine, right up until the end, as long as everything is going well.” She nipped a tendon on his throat. “As for tonight, I have full medical clearance for anything we want to do.”

  Greg doubted one night—even one week—would begin to put a dent in the things he wanted to do to her, with her. He forced his mind back into conversation mode for a few more minutes. This was important. “Them being here today—it really showed my grandfather and some of the others that it’s good to mingle with other paranormals. Other than our marriage being official, that was the one positive thing to come out of it all. We’ve moved a step closer to uniting our races.”

  “That’s good.” She nipped at his neck again when he paused to open the door to their suite. “Do you really want to talk politics now?”

  “No.” He stepped across the threshold and kicked the door shut.

  The serva
nts had done a good job brightening up the space with flowers and a tray of fruit and sweets on the counter. He didn’t pause out in the sitting room to admire it, though. If he put her down now, they’d never make it to the bedroom.

  “Ooh, this is nice.” Fianna flicked on the light switch behind Greg’s shoulder as he moved into the bedroom. Sure enough, the king-sized bed was made up with pristine white sheets, turned down. A vase of red and white roses perfumed the room, and an ice bucket with non-alcoholic champagne waited on the nightstand.

  Greg took this all in with a small part of his brain. The rest of it had gone numb, all the blood in his body having fled south when Fianna nibbled on his ear.

  At the edge of the bed, he lowered her, letting her slide down his body inch by inch.

  “You were beautiful today. Thank you for wearing moonstones.” He ran his fingers through her hair, which was loose now that she’d removed his grandmother’s veil during dinner. “And I’m glad you wore your hair down. It’s so much softer and sexier.”

  “The moonstones were gifts from your family, and I love them, with or without the symbolism.” She ran her fingers through his hair, which brushed past his collar. “I like your hair long, too. I’m glad they didn’t talk you into cutting it.”

  “You’re the only one I have to please.” Tired of talking, he dipped his head. In her heels, she was almost his height, and it was nice not to have to bend in half to kiss her.

  “You do that without half trying.” She got the words out in a breathy rush before their lips locked together.

  Greg’s body responded in a heartbeat, going from mostly hard, which he’d been since dancing with her a couple hours earlier to primed and ready. The scent of her, marked with his blood from the ceremony, aroused and—yes, he could barely detect it now—pregnant with his cubs made it tough to go slow enough to avoid shredding her dress. His fingers shook as he lowered the zipper while his tongue plundered her mouth.

  The gown dropped partway to the floor, hung up on what seemed like another whole dress beneath the first one. Cut only a little lower, with less ornamentation, the thing she had on under her wedding gown was still in his way.

  “Back clips on the bra, down by my waist.” She slid her fingers from his shoulders to his chest, popping the studs on his shirt one by one. “The slip zips from the waist to the butt.”

  So this layer had two parts. Got it. He started in on the clips while Fee undid his tie. Her bra went flying to some random corner of the room about the same time as she shoved shirt, tie and tux jacket off his shoulders all at once. He had to pull away to get the cuffs off his hands—she’d forgotten the cufflinks.

  “Damn, you’re beautiful.” He stopped for a second to look at her, in her poofy full slip, naked from the waist up.

  “You’re not bad yourself. I never knew chest hair was sexy before I met you.” She licked her lips as she stared at him. “Naked. Now.” She reached around her back to the zipper of her slip and Greg got the message. He unbuckled his belt and kicked off his dress shoes and lowered his pants, all without taking his eyes off Fee.

  The sight of her when her slip dropped and she kicked it away almost made him come in his shorts. She stood there in silver sandals, sheer white stockings, a white lace thong and matching garter belt. Moonstones still sparkled at her ears and on her wrist, and his ring glinted on her finger. It was an image he wanted to freeze in his mind for the rest of his life.

  “Oh, fuck, lose the thong, but leave the garter belt and heels on, princess.”

  Her eyes widened. It was so easy to forget how inexperienced she was, but her naïveté turned him on all the more.

  She was his. It took him half a second to kick off his socks and drop his boxer-briefs.

  “Give me your hand.” He held out his left hand, with the thin white scar from the silver dagger. She gave him her right, with the matching mark, and he laced their fingers together as they’d been for the ceremony. With his other arm around her waist, as if they were dancing, he pulled her close.

  This time the kiss was just as intense, but it struck Greg on a deeper emotional level. His need for her was something so intrinsic, so primal, he didn’t begin to understand it.

  “Goddess.” Her little whimper when he finally released her lips was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard. She dug her fingers into his shoulder.

  “Yes, you are.” He trailed his lips across her cheek to her ear. Ric had let him know that the points of an elf’s ears were particularly sensitive, and he wanted to test that out. Even though she looked fully human, her ears were still slightly pointed at the tips. When he sucked that little point into his mouth, she moaned and sagged against him. “Guess you liked that.” He sucked on it harder.

  “Yes.” She let go of his hand to grab both his shoulders.

  “Then you’re gonna love this.” He dropped his butt to the bed so his face was level with her breasts, spreading his legs so she stood between them. He blew on her, teasing the already-puckered nipples. “I hear these are going to get more and more sensitive over the next few months. Isn’t that going to be fun?” After drawing circles around each pink areola with his tongue, he cupped both breasts in his hands and kneaded gently.

  “Greg.” Her breathing hitched as she said his name.

  “More?”

  “Yes.”

  “All you have to do is ask.” He caught one nipple between forefinger and thumb and began to roll it with a firmer touch. The other he nipped with his lips, drawing it slowly into his mouth.

  “More.”

  He loved that she was losing her shyness with him. He pinched a little harder and suckled more deeply, until her spine bowed, pressing her closer to him. Her skin tasted like heaven and her increasing arousal perfumed the room more than the roses.

  His cock ached and pulsed with wanting to be buried in her tight sheath, but Greg wanted her to come first. He sucked harder on the one nipple, letting his other hand slide down her belly to cup her mound. She was hot and drenched, more than ready. He slid two fingers inside and flicked her engorged clit with his thumb.

  “Greg!” On the third thrust of his fingers she splintered, closing around his fingers as if it would never let go. He kept suckling her, kept massaging her clit to draw out her climax, until she collapsed against him, sobbing with her release.

  “Now I want you on the bed.” He lifted her and laid her face down in the center of the pristine sheet. “Can you get up on your knees for me, princess?”

  “If I can move,” she teased. She lifted her head so Greg could put a couple pillows under it for support. Since she pulled her knees up under her, so her pert backside pointed straight up in the air, she proved she could.

  Greg stepped back for a second to admire the view of Fee’s ass framed by white silk and the silver high heels. After fixing the mental snapshot in his mind, he climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs. He’d never been this hard before in his life, so he meant to start slowly, making sure he didn’t cause her any pain. With one hand, he positioned the tip of his dick at the crease of her silky pink labia and slid an inch or so inside.

  “More.” Fianna pushed her hips back, forcing him deeper. “I won’t break, Greg. I need you to take me as if you mean it.”

  Like an overstretched cable, his restraint snapped. He didn’t slam into her with all his strength, but he thrust fast and deep. Leaning over, he bit down on her shoulder, where his mark still showed.

  Fee screamed and came again, her walls clenching around him, shooting him straight into his own orgasm. He held himself there, feeling the grip of her muscles as he poured himself into her. The very tips of his fangs buried in the same spot as before, renewing the mark.

  “Mine,” he murmured as he finally caught his breath and rolled them both to their sides. He was so swollen and she was so tight he didn’t even try to pull out.

  He yanked the covers up over them both as Fee snuggled her face into a pillow and her butt against his groin. />
  “Mmm-hmm,” she said, yawning. “All yours. And you’re all mine. Don’t you forget it.”

  As if he ever could—or wanted to. He smiled into her hair while he reached out with one hand to turn off the bedside light. “Get some sleep. I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

  Fee chuckled. “Oh, good.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The sound of shattering glass woke Greg from a sound sleep. He didn’t want to wake. Fee was curled up on his chest, and the bed was warm and scented with sex.

  The smell of smoke penetrated his brain, along with a flash of light and heat.

  “Fee, wake up.” He shook her and climbed out of bed, grabbing the down comforter as he went. He threw the cover down over the flames, and stomped them out while Fee stirred to wakefulness. The clock said it was roughly twenty past three.

  Another window shattered and another Molotov cocktail flashed to life.

  “Come on, princess, grab a robe and something for your feet.” Greg dumped the vase of flowers onto the second flame and ground out the remaining embers with his feet. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

  “Right.” Moving swiftly, she ran to the closet and found a pair of lounge pants and a sweatshirt, along with some slip-on tennis shoes. He had to admit, that was smarter than a robe.

  Glass shattered out in the sitting room.

  “Come on, let’s go.” After dumping a bucket of melted ice onto the third fire, he pulled her to the door of the suite. Once there, he shifted into wolf form and led the way down the stairs. His nose wasn’t telling him anybody waited at the bottom, but he wanted to be sure. He shook his head, telling Fee to wait inside the staircase. She nodded and stopped moving, while he nosed open the door and sniffed in the breezeway. Nothing but Peter and his guards.

  Shifting back into human form, Greg said, “I want you to crawl across the breezeway to the main house. The windows of the breezeway make it too exposed to walk through.”