Cracked

by Vanessa North

  “Sarita, have you heard a word I just said?” Mac was trying to get her attention. Still blushing, she shook her head.

  “I’m sorry, I was distracted,” she confessed. “What were we talking about?”

  “Travel arrangements. If you’re okay with driving to New York for the first show?”

  “Oh yeah, whatever. We can send the pieces ahead.”

  “Kathy, you don’t mind coming to New York?” Mac asked. Sarita looked back at Kathy in time to see Ted leave the room, his posture tense with aggression and deprivation. Kathy nodded as she moved to stand beside Sarita, absently throwing an arm around her waist.

  “I’ve always wanted to see the Big Apple.” She smiled at Mac.

  Please don’t tell anyone. Kathy’s voice in Sarita’s head felt like thousands of bubbles bursting across her nose.

  All this time? Sarita couldn’t help but wonder.

  I seem to have made some appallingly bad life choices. The bubbles flat now, Kathy’s head dropped to Sarita’s shoulder. With a pang of regret for Kathy and Ted, Sarita wrapped her own arm around the other woman’s waist and hugged.

  Chapter Eleven

  The art pieces were sent ahead to New York, and Angelo had followed shortly thereafter. Though he’d only been gone a few days, there was a dull, aching, Angelo-shaped sore spot in her spirit that plagued Sarita like a toothache. And like a toothache, she kept probing that sore spot, bringing it raging back to life whenever she thought of him, which was constantly. When Mac and Gerard came to get her, she was simultaneously high-strung and relieved. Along with Kathy, they were finally headed to New York. Sarita leaned her head on Mac’s shoulder as Gerard drove them through the gate, her eyelids already heavy with exhaustion…

  “Ita…” Mac shook her awake. “We’re in the city. Angelo has arranged for parking a few blocks from his home. We’ll be there soon.”

  Eyes burning against the sunlight, Sarita rubbed at them and peered at Mac. “Did I fall asleep?” she mumbled.

  “Yah, I think someone needs a Starbucks.” He grinned at her. “Or just her mate.” He raised an eyebrow.

  “How far is Angelo’s apartment?”

  The walk to his apartment was short, the city-scented air stirring Sarita’s wolf senses. She liked it here. She was relieved as she felt her wolf starting to enjoy the sights and sounds around her. She could live here. It wasn’t just bravado and a fear of losing him that made her promise to move here. Her wolf actually knew what she was doing.

  The doorman let them in. Angelo was already waiting in the lobby. The moment Sarita saw him, she was flying across the lavish stone floors, diving into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist. His kiss was soul-shaking, she needed it so badly… and there it was, bursting with passion and feverish with longing. She felt his teeth lengthening as she ground her hips into his, not caring who saw them. The world had fallen away—her hand stroked down his face, feeling some rough stubble on his chin, contrasting starkly with the incredibly soft sweater crushing against her breasts. His hands gripped her buttocks, holding her tight to his undulating body. She felt a hand sliding up under her jacket, stroking the satin skin of her back.

  It was only the rumble at the back of her mind, Gerard’s combined amusement and disapproval, that pulled her back. Her eyes met Angelo’s, and a giggle slipped from her as she slid back down his body. He groaned as she pressed herself against him, his eyes as wild as hers.

  “I missed you,” she whispered, her wolf whimpering around the words

  He laughed. “Let’s go.” He pushed the button for the elevator, shoved her inside as the doors opened. Mac and Gerard followed, then Kathy, looking lost next to Bear.

  Sarita wasn’t sure what she had been expecting Angelo’s apartment to look like, but the opulence that greeted her wasn’t it. It was huge in a city that didn’t do huge. She gasped as she looked around, suddenly feeling shy about her tiny little dorm suite. No wonder he didn’t want to leave this. Just as the wave of insecurity washed over her, his teeth came down on her neck, nipping lightly, herding her through the doorway. The others followed behind. With a vague gesture to his left, Angelo called out, “Guest rooms are over that way.”

  Then he propelled her down a short hallway to the right and into a big, well-lit bedroom. Her hands skimmed over his cashmere v-neck sweater, reaching for the hem, but he pushed them back.

  “Please, don’t rip the sweater,” he teased. “My mami knit it.”

  She laughed, shushing against his lips as he thrust her toward the bed, a smile on his face. He pulled the sweater off, tossing it aside.

  “Why do you make me lose all control?” he questioned as he shucked his khaki pants to the floor, reaching for the hem of her skirt.

  “Maybe you need to lose control. Maybe you need to give it up to someone else for a change. Let me have my wild ways with you.” She was teasing, but the way he gasped at her words, the way his wolf flashed in his eyes, she knew she was onto something.

  “Lay down on the bed,” she demanded, dropping her dress and heading for what she guessed was a closet. Lucky guess. Nearly as big as some of the dorm rooms back on the compound, it was lined with exquisite dark-colored suits, and in one corner, shelves that held his neatly folded ties. She snatched a handful. She tied one around her neck in a perfect Windsor knot, loosening it so that the triangular knot hung like a pendulum between her breasts. For a moment, she wondered if she could pull off the act… For her mate though, she would try. Smiling, she turned back to the bedroom. Angelo lay across the bed on his back, watching her with wary eyes.

  “Querida…” he whispered as she knelt next to him.

  “Get up on your knees,” she ordered. When they were facing each other, his erection straining between them, she bent down and kissed the bulbous head, sliding one hand around his shaft and working her way down. When he reached for her hair, she let go, taking his hand in hers. Pressing a kiss to his palm, she looked into his eyes. She saw wonder, fear, and also trust there.

  “I’m going to tie your wrists to your ankles.” She explained as she fastened one wrist behind him, then the next. She toyed with the triangle knot on the tie that hung around her neck. “Do you want me to blindfold you?”

  “This is loco, querida, but yes, you can blindfold me, if that is what you want.”

  Loosening the knot on the tie, she took it off and bound it around his eyes. She knew he could break and remove any of the bonds she’d tied. She didn’t want him helpless, she just wanted him to let go of his tightly held control. Sliding a finger down his arm to his wrist, she felt as much as she heard his gasp.

  “You’re all tied up for me, darling. What should I do with you?” She teased, nibbling and kissing along his collarbones, dropping a kiss with just a hint of bite to one nipple. A groan wrenched from his throat, and his hands flexed convulsively.

  “Whatever you want, love.”

  Before the endearment had left his lips, she had pressed her face to his groin, was licking and biting along his erection before sucking him deep to the back of her throat. His hips bucked forward, and she seized his buttocks in both hands, not letting him retreat back. Sliding one hand between his legs, she pressed against the sensitive skin just below his balls, felt his exhilaration from the pressure she placed right there.

  “Querida, let me touch you,” he begged, his voice gravel in his throat.

  She let his cock slip from her mouth. “No.” She positioned herself so she straddled his legs, his firmly muscled thighs pushing her legs apart.

  She rocked against him, sliding his length along her folds. Each slip-slide of her wet heat against him made her hotter, wetter. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and rode him, even as he tried to move just enough to slip inside. She hadn’t known it would be possible to get off like this, just from rubbing against him, bu
t all of a sudden—hell yes she could—she was flying with the sensation of it, even as he whispered her name over and over again, writhing under her, trying to get just there.

  With snarl, he snapped his wrists free, impaled her still shuddering body on his own. She squealed at his rough entry but tightened her grip on his shoulders. Still blindfolded, he let his own lust guide him, pulsing into her, once, twice, and then his hand was tugging her hair back and his teeth were on her neck and she was shouting against him. She came again, this time the convulsions of her body taking him with her to that dark, sweet nothing-space, the oblivion their lovemaking seemed to throw her into headlong, but he was always there, his touch keeping her anchored even as she soared free.

  Breathing heavily, he pulled the blindfold from his eyes as he sank with her down to the bed.

  “I’m sorry.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “I didn’t mean to rip free.”

  “Don’t be. Now I get to punish you next time.” She giggled.

  “You like playing the domme, don’t you?” he smiled back at her.

  “Sure, but not in a real, intense way. I thought it was fun to tie you up, but it was fucking hot when you ripped free and took over.”

  “I’m being a rude host.” He glanced at the door.

  “No. Gerard and Mac are probably doing the same thing.” She shook out her hair, the fragrance of her washing over him. “They’ve been spending so much time with me, I doubt they’ve had much time alone together. Kathy is fine too. Don’t worry.”

  “Well, how about you, sweetheart? Now that we’ve satisfied one hunger, what about others? Are you hungry?”

  “Mmm. Yes. I could eat.”

  As they got dressed, moving about the room in tandem, sharing kisses and laughter, she felt her heart swelling with love. She felt safe, her wolf content.

  “How do you feel about chilaquiles?” Angelo called as he strode into the kitchen.

  “What’s a chilaquile?” She asked, tucking her hair into a loose knot at her neck.

  “I guess they are a sorta Mexican comfort food. Stale tortilla cooked in salsa with cheese and veggies on top. I like huevos on mine.”

  “Sounds yummy. Minus the huevos.”

  “Wait a minute here. A wolf who doesn’t eat eggs?”

  “They squick me out. Yuck. I eat the white part but not the yolk.”

  “Well then, I will eat your yolks, and you will eat the whites—wolves need protein, querida.” He moved about the kitchen with ease. Soon, the tortillas were simmering in the salsa, and he had eggs frying in a pan. He whistled as he worked.

  “Smells good in here.” Mac grinned as he came into the room, his face flushed. He kissed Sarita’s forehead before glancing at the stove.

  Gerard rumbled into the room, smiling ear to ear. Sitting on one of the barstools in the kitchen, he pulled Mac into his arms, kissing the side of his neck. Sarita felt his joy wash over her and smiled at her Guide.

  Bear, I’m so happy for you.

  Thanks, Italove.

  Kathy emerged from one of the guest rooms, her freckled nose twitching. She smiled shyly at the others.

  Angelo began to sing out loud then, winking at his mate. He had a surprisingly strong tenor, and his ability to change the lyrics to popular songs extemporaneously had them all in fits of laughter by the time he placed steaming plates of chilaquiles in front of his guests. Groans of bliss filled the air as the hungry shifters all tucked in.

  “Angelo, if you weren’t freaking brilliant in the boardroom, you could be a chef,” Mac said reverently as he polished off the last of the savory dish.

  “I paid for undergrad by cooking in a taqueria,” Angelo explained. “The whole M.E.Ch.A. movement was starting strong out in Cali. I got some scholarships for being Xicano, but cooking paid the rest of the way. I wanted to get the hell out of the old ’hood.”

  “I’d say you succeeded.” Sarita gestured around his posh apartment.

  “Sí. Beyond my wildest dreams.” His eyes grew distant as he looked at her. “Mami y los tios, they’re the alpha family among the Sur Califas Pack. You know, they’ll never leave L.A. I could have been the Alpha out there. I probably would have been, if my Maria…” He swallowed hard against the overpowering memory of his first mate. Feeling the pain rushing through her, Sarita gasped. She saw the accident in her mind as if she were watching it from the roadside, saw the metal of the car slicing through the young woman’s body, too much trauma, too sudden for her wolf to cope. Tears sprang to her eyes as she felt the hollow rush of agony that was Angelo’s wolf leaving him behind.

  “Goddess…” She reached for her mate, tugging his head to her shoulder as she shushed against him, rocking him. With a nod, a swipe across his eyes, he acknowledged the horror of it.

  “It was a long, long time ago, querida,” he said, tracing the line of her nose. “And I have a new vieja now. That helps.” A smile quirked his lips up.

  “Did you just call me an old woman?” Sarita looked shocked.

  “It’s a term of affection, Sarita.” Mac grinned at her. “He means, his old lady, his wife.”

  “I am your wife now, aren’t I? I’m not Sarita Murphy anymore.” The surprise that worked across her face made them all laugh. “Sarita Gonzalez sounds pretty sweet though.” She grinned.

  “It sounds perfect.” Angelo tightened his grip around her waist, pressing a kiss into his hair. “Thank you.”

  “De nada…viejo.”

  Sarita and Mac took the subway over to the gallery to supervise the art hanging. Gerard threw an epic shit fit, and Angelo looked like he wanted to call her dad, but Mac managed to convince them he could protect her, and damn if she wasn’t glad of it. So much had changed in the last few months, she had missed spending time with her best friend.

  “Buy you a Starbucks if you tell me what it’s like to kiss Bear,” she teased as they walked the two blocks from the subway to the gallery. He grinned at her, and a look of wonder softened his face.

  “You know how it is, when you kiss the man you love. It’s hot and crazy sweet.”

  “Cop out.” She laughed. “I bet he’s all rough and fierce and bitey. How long? I mean, the two of you kept it a secret…it couldn’t have been that long?”

  “The night of my first shift. I bit him, marked him, and he bit me back.” He smiled at the memory, but the smile faded. “The next day you told me you were in love with him.”

  “And you tried to stay apart, for me?” Surprise flooded her face, spilling a flush across her cheeks.

  “Well, we see how that worked out.” He laughed.

  “This is it.” She grinned, opening the door to the gallery. A man, dressed in jeans and a ribbed tank top, sporting a three-hundred-dollar haircut looked up from a computer as they entered. He rapidly sized them up, just as quickly dismissing them as not-the-art-collector type.

  “We’re between shows right now, nothing to see here. New show opens tonight,” he grunted, turning back to his computer.

  “Yeah, we’ll be there tonight.” Sarita winked at Mac. “I heard the artist was kind of a prima donna.”

  “I wouldn’t know. She’s one of those wolf-things. I haven’t met her.” He waved a hand in their direction as if to shoo them out.

  “That’s a shame.” Mac was getting into the game now. “I heard she’s gorgeous.”

  “Not my type.” The man’s eyes went skyward.

  “Wolf?” Sarita teased.

  “Female.”

  Mac grinned. “We have something in common then.” He let his eyes linger over the man’s ass.

  “By the way, my name’s Cormac, but everyone calls me Mac. This is my cousin, Sarita.” He stifled a laugh at her pout of annoyance. As much as he hated to spoil her fun, they were here for a reason.

 
“Sarita?” The guy practically squeaked.

  “Not so much a prima donna. Definitely a wolf, and most certainly female.” She grinned, showing teeth. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…”

  “Don’t worry about it. Do you have the pieces ready to hang?”

  “All but the mixed media piece with the fabric.”

  “Ah, I brought something else to add to it.” Ita grinned, pulling out one of the shredded ties from the bondage play with Angelo the day before.

  “It’s right over there.” The guy gestured to a covered canvas in the corner. Sarita made her way over to it and set to work as Mac started to hang her pieces. He could see in her mind how she wanted the room to flow, and which pieces she wanted where, so he didn’t need to ask. Instead, he made small talk with pricey-haircut-cheap-’tude while Sarita bit at her lip and used a partially shifted claw to scrape part of the piece away. She pulled out a pocket-sized sewing kit and began stitching the tie fragment to the canvas.

  Intent on what she was doing, she didn’t hear the door chimes or feel the wind rushing toward her. When a voice spoke a murmured hello close to her ear, she startled, pricking her finger with the needle.

  “I am so sorry.” The voice was cold and dry, icicles forming down her vertebrae. Her startled eyes looked up, fell into green ones that captivated her. A cold hand brushed hers. “Are you injured?”

  “No.” She shook her head, unable to look away from those frighteningly green eyes.

  “I am the Ahne. You made a vessel for me. I heard about your show and wanted to be here for your opening. Your first New York show. You must be excited.”

  “I-I-I…” Sarita stammered, trying to make words from the thoughts that ricocheted around in her head.