“It occurs to me, since you’re my mate…” Her voice sounded strange and husky to her own ears. “…I should take good care of you.” With a nip at his ear, she felt her teeth shifting, and she reached for one arm. He let her pull his hand from the pocket, let her unroll the sleeve. Saturated with heat and yearning, she reached for the other hand. Though she’d only touched his arms, his eyes had closed and his breathing was coming in unsteady gasps. She lifted her hands to the buttons of his starched white shirt—though she was tempted to tear it off him like the one he’d been wearing the night before, she didn’t—choosing instead to torment him with gentleness.
“You’re so proper,” she teased as she worked each button free, pressing a kiss to the heated skin above his heart, feeling a fierce exhilaration at the way it quickened under her lips. She tugged the shirttails out of his pants and pushed the garment from his shoulders. Like all wolves, his chest and back bore tattoos marking his achievements. She saw the one that had marked his place as Third in the Amazon Pack back before she had been born, and she traced it with a fingertip before dropping her hands to his belt.
“Do you ever just…come undone?” she asked as his pants fell to the ground at his feet.
Angelo’s eyes snapped open, and she felt her blood might boil over. He stepped out of his pants and wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her tight to his body, letting her feel exactly how undone he was. She placed her arms around his shoulders, tugging his face close enough to run her tongue over his shifted teeth. She wondered at the power of seduction within her that had brought this man to shudder at her touch.
“Querida,” he whispered. “I could, right now, sink my teeth into your pretty shoulder and make you come undone. Do you know how much I love to watch you come? You’re so beautiful and unfettered. Goddess, it gets me hot and hard just thinking about it.”
Now it was Sarita’s turn to shudder in anticipation.
“But I’m not going to do that just now,” he smiled. “Because my wolf wants yours. Needs yours.”
She hadn’t realized he had backed her up against a tree but then suddenly the roughness of it was at her back and his face blotted out the moon. He placed his shifted teeth right—oh Goddess, right there—where her neck and shoulder met, then teasingly sucked the skin into his mouth, carefully scissoring it between his teeth just enough to make her wolf whine. With a suddenness that left her bereft, he took a step back and shifted, turning and running away from her. Without conscious thought, she followed, feeling her wolf burst out as she ran after her mate.
He knew the compound grounds as well as she did, even after years away. She followed the brown wolf over a hill and deeper into the woods. When they came upon a moonlit clearing, he stopped and stared. Slowly he circled her, sending a wave of lust and need through their bond. She shied back slightly. She knew what needed to happen, and she wasn’t exactly reluctant, just…
With a growl, he circled her again, and she began to understand the dance her wolf was doing, flirting with her mate. Smiling inwardly, she rubbed her muzzle along his, enjoying the electric spark between them before she stepped away again. One big brown paw reached toward her; again she skipped away.
The playful dance between them lasted long minutes as she flirted and teased while he stalked about the clearing, displaying his alpha male qualities while barraging her with sensual images of their night together the night before, putting the memory of her first orgasm into her mind with so much intensity she almost felt it all over again. Feeling her need escalating sharply, she turned and presented herself to him. In a flash, he had the back of her neck in his teeth: he was over her, inside her, giving her everything she’d never known she would need. The human part of her felt detached but curious, the wolf part of her felt…victorious. She felt his body flood hers with his release, and she knew their bond was complete.
When they collapsed to the ground, she felt him shift and she followed, sitting cross-legged beside him. With a still-animal look in his eyes, he pushed her down to the forest floor and took one puffy, brown nipple in his mouth. Her hands buried in his hair as he pulled her legs apart, kneeling between them. Before she could wonder what he would do next, two of his fingers were buried inside her, his thumb brushing along her clit, playing over her body with the mastery of a man who knew exactly how to please his woman. Humming against the hard nipple in his mouth, he drew upon it hard.
The feverish joy that spread through her was immediate, intense. Before she could even attempt to draw it out, she was falling, sucked into a riptide of feeling as her shoulders lurched toward her mate and her head fell back against the ground. She felt the rumble of a growl against her breast as his mouth opened wider and he bit into her breast, forcing her up and over the peak just as quickly as before.
“Querida, I need…” He shook against her breast as her tremors slowed, his hand still working rhythmically inside her. Tugging him down to her body, she opened herself to him. With a groan of gratitude, he pulled his fingers out, grabbing her hips as he buried himself inside her. She felt it then—the way the strength of their bond had multiplied, unfolding like an infinite loop around them, magnifying and enhancing everything they felt, reflecting back over and over. The shuddery kiss he pressed to her lips was full of wet heat and loss of control, and she savored it as she reached once more for that sweetness, that intense oblivion. She felt his need growing within him, felt the heat and tightness of her own body wrapped around him, felt the driving energy pulsing around them, electric impulses firing in her—no, his—spine, and then she exploded—or was it him?
It didn’t matter: as they clutched each other tightly and rocked together, she realized the boundaries between their souls had disintegrated. Everything she was, was his; everything he was, was hers. The intensity of it brought tears to her eyes as she tumbled into an exhausted, fucked-out sleep, naked on the forest floor.
Chapter Seven
Sarita was in the glass studio, running the bowl she was creating over the marver, when her uncle Fionn walked into the room. The glass furnaces were hot, and she wore just a tank top and sweat pants, her hair pulled back and safety goggles perched on her nose. As she looked up, she smiled. Her uncle had dressed in shorts and a tank to visit her, which meant he was willing to talk while she worked. Often, when she was interrupted in the studio, her friends and family would be dressed for whatever was going on outdoors. When that happened, she’d be forced to grab a coat and abandon her work before they dripped sweat all over the place.
“Hey.” She grinned, turning her face up for a kiss on the cheek. Fionn sat on a nearby table, watching as she turned and shaped the glass.
“Hey, Littlebit. Need a hand with anything?” he asked, looking around the room. She shook her head, humming to herself as she ran the piece smoothly against the steel table, the glass glowing orange from the heat.
“You should put goggles on if you’re going to be in here though,” she reminded him. He shrugged, as it was unlikely anything in the studio could blind a wolf, but he humored her anyway: why suffer unnecessary pain? She could always count on her uncle to do the right thing.
“I can’t believe you had a reputation for being such a troublemaker.” She laughed at him as he perched back on the table, goofy-looking red goggles covering his eyes.
“Why red?” he asked, blinking as he looked around. “And my reputation was as a hound, not a troublemaker.”
“Rose-colored glasses make everything brighter,” she tossed back. “Actually, I hate those goggles; I don’t know why they are even here.” With a shrug, she turned back to her work. “Uncle Fionn, if it’s going to take you a while to work up to whatever you came to say, can you hand me the duckbills behind you?” At his confused look, she added “The things that look kinda like scissors.”
As he handed them to her, he asked, “What the hell are you making anyway?”
/> “It’s a bowl. Commissioned, actually. It’s supposed to have this weird split thing here…” She studied the piece for the place she needed to cut. “I don’t get it, but the job is going to bring in some good bank, so…”
“So, Littlebit, I thought you might want to talk about the whole Usher thing.”
“Oh Goddess, not you too.” She sighed. Her mother had been on her case most of her life about listening to her Guide and trusting her instincts. For once, she’d like to have a conversation with someone in her family that didn’t involve duty.
“Hey. Ita. I’m not your mom. And you should give her a break, she loves you. And she had it really fucking rough back when she was ‘The Chosen One.’”
“And you didn’t?” She scowled at her bowl as she sliced into the hot glass with her shears, then curled the edges back, shaping almost by instinct, leaving a sharp point on either side of the split. The piece was sort of odd and gruesome-looking, actually, but it did look like the example photos sent over by the client. To each their own. It helped support the pack; that’s all that mattered for commission work.
“I did, of course, I did. But, Ita, I was up against wolves. I wasn’t contending with First Blood.”
“We don’t know that I will be either, Fionn,” she reminded him. “I just need to get to the right spot during the eclipse. Unlike you and Mom, it seems my role is more metaphysical.”
“Littlebit, you can’t think like that. What you’re going to do is dangerous. There are a lot of people—humans, Blood-Drinkers, maybe even a few wolves—who don’t want the Mother freed.”
“Well, they can take it up with Mac and Bear.” She scowled. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m all of five foot two; I’m an artist, not a warrior; and until I took my wolf, I was treated as the Omega of this pack by everyone except my family. I’m still treated as the Omega by most of them, but at least some pretend to have some manners.”
“Sarita Murphy. I say this because you’re family, and I love you. I know all about self-doubt. I know all about depression. It’s a lying fuck that doesn’t deserve the space in your brain you’re giving it. You are not the Omega. You’re the fucking Third Usher. You’re unbelievably powerful, or you wouldn’t be the Usher, let alone mated to someone like Angelo. The man is lethal, and your connection with him is far more than genetic compatibility. Your wolf accepts his as a mate worthy of you—and he’s a very dangerous wolf. That’s powerful moon magic right there.”
“He’s so much older than me,” she whispered. “You all know him better than I do.”
“Honey, your mate is older than me. And my mate is 200 years older than me. And lest we both forget, your mate was my mate’s best friend for years. Trust me when I tell you, he is one of the very best men, one of the very best wolves, you will ever meet. And you need to see the reflection of that in yourself.”
“How?” She finally looked up. “Because I look at him, and I’m breathless. It’s ridiculous how perfect he is. Handsome, sexy, so fucking smart I could die. How can little Ita Murphy be enough for an angel like him?”
“You know I used to feel that way about your aunt? How could a fuck-up like Fionn Murphy deserve the brilliant and beautiful wolf who built Amazon from nothing? Nothing. And I doubted myself for so long, Littlebit.”
“You seem to be so sure of yourself now.”
“Yeah, you know why? My bond with Mo, it changed me. It made me a man worthy of her in every way. She made me a better person. The difference here—you’re already a great person. He’s just going to help you see that in yourself.”
“Why me?” she asked. Fionn knew she wasn’t talking about Angelo anymore.
“Ha! If Sara were alive… oh, she would kick your butt for voicing those words,” he smiled. “You know why. You’re a Murphy. And you’re the Albina’s daughter. Genetically speaking, you’re the closest thing to a Messiah in wolf mythology. And you know better than anyone that our prophecies aren’t just wishful ramblings. They’re cultural lampposts, showing us our path.”
“Do you know why Kathy is here?” She turned and looked at Fionn sharply.
“Yeah. I know. Annie told me.”
“Annie’s back?” Delight flickered across her face.
“How do you feel about it?”
“About Kathy? She has free will, and Fionn, I know this sounds crazy to you, but I trust her. She knows what she needs to do.”
“Actually, she doesn’t. Not yet. But Annie and Gerard will tell her what she needs to know.”
“Oh. I thought she knew.” Sarita’s face fell before she steeled it. “If they don’t tell her, I will. She needs to make a choice. It has to be a choice freely given, or it changes everything.”
“Free will for the win,” Fionn smiled, slipping his goggles off. He blew her a kiss as he slipped from the studio.
“From your mouth to the Goddess’s ears,” she murmured as she studied the bizarre bowl in front of her. It reminded her of the old Pac-Man video games she and Mac had found in the rec center basement, but something about it fed an undercurrent of anxiety. Frowning, she moved it to the first of two cooling furnaces—the glass had to be cooled slowly to prevent cracking, a sort of thermal stress fracture from cooling too quickly. She’d cool it over two days’ time, then arrange the shipping for it. With a shudder, she realized the sooner it was out of her sight, the better she’d feel. Art didn’t have to be comfortable, but that didn’t mean she wanted to keep it around if it wasn’t.
Chapter Eight
A week to go until the full moon, and Angelo needed to make a decision.
He could re-affiliate with the Amazon Pack, but to what end? He didn’t want his old position as Third, and he didn’t want to have to challenge Graham. And it would mean either living full-time in the Amazon Compound or living as an outlier and traveling back when the moon called. Neither option was particularly appealing to him. In the last twenty-five years, he’d grown accustomed to his freedom, his beautiful Manhattan apartment, and the occasional late night runs in Central Park. But would Sarita be willing to leave her family, to move to New York with him? She could continue with her art; he’d rent her studio space if she needed it.
Frustrated, he paced the floor of the suite he was sharing with his little mate for the time being. He knew she wanted him to re-affiliate, but he was also pretty sure she was ignorant as to what that would mean for him. He felt like a fish out of water here, with no meetings to go to, nowhere to wear his immaculate business wardrobe, no fancy dinners designed to dazzle a new client. He looked around the compound that had once been his home, and it sort of felt like…summer camp. A whine slipped from his lips as his wolf made the observation.
He had to talk to Sarita about it, but he really wasn’t looking forward to this conversation. He didn’t have the first clue how to approach the subject.
Monica, help me. He sent the thought as it occurred to him. Not only was Monica his dear friend, she was also Sarita’s aunt. She might be able to share some insights.
What do you need, Lo? Her voice crackled in his mind—he’d forgotten how it felt.
A heart-to-heart with my best friend? he asked.
C’mon over.
She didn’t need to tell him twice. He threw his jacket on, but left his tie behind. His colleagues would laugh if they saw him, Angelo Gonzalez, going anywhere in a suit without a tie. Half-dressed. But fuck it, he was at summer camp.
Stepping off the elevator and into Monica and Fionn’s lush apartments, he was nearly bowled over by the wave of nostalgia. He’d spent hours conducting business out of these rooms. Of course, he’d also spent a good bit of time here with Monica, talking, making love. She’d been a great comfort to him in the years after he had lost his first mate and before Fionn had come to the compound.
“I’m in the office. I’ll be right
out,” Monica called out. Angelo looked around for a bodyguard, but didn’t see anyone. Then Fionn walked out of the office, cell phone to his ear. He grinned a wide, wolfish grin at Angelo as he told whoever was on the other line to come ahead up. Monica hurried out of the office a minute later, blushing.
“Oh man, did I interrupt?” Angelo started to apologize, but Monica just waved it off as she gestured for him to sit.
“No worries. What’s going on?” She settled unto the couch, tucking her bare feet up under her as she looked at him.
“I think Sarita wants me to re-affiliate.” One didn’t beat around the bush with Monica. She had no time for bullshit.
“Ah. And you don’t want to come home?” An eyebrow arched.
“I don’t feel like this is home anymore, Monica.” He sighed. “I have a life in New York. It’s been a lonely life at times, but I have friends there, colleagues, my work. I don’t know that I can go back to working out of your apartment like old times. I think we’ve all grown too much for that. Plus, Graham is well settled in as the Third, and I have no desire to challenge him. If I re-affiliate…”
“You’ll need to establish your place in the hierarchy.”
“Sí.”
“Angelo…this life you’ve made for yourself in New York, can you imagine Sarita sharing it with you?”
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