by Anne Marsh
Right. No killing Fang today. That sucks, but now’s not the time to push Jace. Blade tips his beer onto the floor and draws a wet circle, and that’s fucking good enough for me. I can serve up an ass-kicking before the brew’s dry.
“Waste of a good beer,” I growl, and Fang lunges.
Guess that’s my go right there.
For the first ten minutes, we fight in human form. We trade blows, and I land a couple of solid ones to Fang’s kidneys. He staggers, but doesn’t go down. Returns my shit with interest too, his fists hammering my ribs and my jaw.
It’s almost a surprise when Fang shifts. I’ve gotten in more than a few good hits, and he’s bleeding and limping almost as badly as I am. I’m happy to shed the human skin for my wolf form. Shifting isn’t a magic cure-all—the only advantage my wolf has is that it has three good knees instead of just the one. I shrug out of my cut and toss it in Jace’s direction. Everything else is gonna get sacrificed. Shifting feels goddamned natural to me. Some wolves talk about the pain of changing, but for me it’s a simple letting go. The wolf explodes out of me, charging to meet Fang.
In the end, I owe my salvation to two things. Fang is impatient. Instead of continuing to wear me down, he goes for my throat. At first he tries to fuck with me, kinda like taking a swing at a piñata—he doesn’t connect full-on and my ribs don’t fucking shatter, but each blow rattles me. But when he finally gives in to the impatience and comes charging at me, he’s vulnerable, and I take full advantage. I’ve been fighting longer than his sorry ass has been alive, and I don’t plan on dying today.
Second thing? I told Marly I’d be home. I don’t make many promises, but I always aim to keep them.
I close my jaws over Fang’s throat. I bite hard, too, because I hurt fucking everywhere, and he’s cost me. Now that the other wolves have seen that it’s not impossible to beat me, he’s just gonna be the first in a long line of challengers. The pack doesn’t tolerate the weak.
I should kill the bastard.
“Ware—” Jace growls my name. Funny how four letters can spell out back the hell off. Guess he doesn’t want me killing my opponent. It’s not easy filling pack vacancies, after all. This is what happens when a wolf goes upper management—he starts worrying about fucking head count.
Fang shifts and taps out, twisting his neck and relaxing in my grip. I drop him onto the ground. He tastes like shit, too. There’s not enough beer in the world to erase the aftertaste from my mouth.
I shift and stand there. Bleeding. Fucking naked. But I’ve won. “Touch Marly again and I’m gonna kill you. We clear?”
Fang grunts out an agreement and rolls onto his side, spitting blood. He’s not such a pretty bastard now—I’ve marked him good.
Jace ambles over and slaps me on the back. “You okay?”
“Fuck you,” I snarl. “I shoulda killed him.”
Jace lifts a shoulder. “I’ve got uses for him. Thanks for reining it in.”
As the other wolves surround me, slapping me on the back and shoulders, Fang disappears, presumably to lick his wounds or screw the hell out of a club whore. He’ll be back. He’ll either kill me and take my place in the pack, or he’ll leave and start his own pack. Guys like him don’t know how to compromise. He can’t bend, not for long.
The road’s calling my name and I need to ride. “Gotta go,” I tell Jace, and he nods like he’s in my head and feels where I’m coming from. He doesn’t like sitting still either, and we’ve spent hours tearing up the road and exploring the bayou. He’s a good man and brother. I’m fucking lucky he has my back.
Turns out, I’m not free and clear when I get outside, though. Fang is in the parking lot. His lips peel back from his teeth when he scents me, his fingers stilling on his saddlebags. Yeah. Fucker’s not rolling out the welcome wagon for me anytime soon.
“She’s a liability,” he snarls, and I don’t have to ask who he means. He’s got my Marly on his brain, and I don’t like it. Not one bit.
Gotta make that clear. So far Fang’s failed to learn his lesson—but he’ll shut the fuck up about Marly if he knows what’s good for him.
“You go near her again and you die,” I counter.
One corner of Fang’s mouth lifts. He’s not so pretty now, with blood streaking his cheek. “Maybe next time I’ll win, but she’s not wolf, and she’s not an old lady. You gonna make her your property?”
You don’t own a woman as fine as Marly—if you’re really fucking lucky, she owns you. She’s like the road or the wind in your hair when you push your bike flat out on the road. You don’t control that shit, just enjoy where it takes you, how it pushes you.
I shrug as if it’s no big deal that the wolf I just beat down is already plotting his next challenge. This is the problem with letting the loser live—he always comes back after you. “Next time, I’ll kill you.”
Fang grins, and he’s no charmer. “You want to bet on that? I’m younger, stronger, and faster. You’re broke to hell, and I screwed up today. Next time, I won’t.”
I have to remind myself that Jace wants this bastard alive.
“Happy to bet on it.” I throw my leg over my bike, and agony flares through my knee. I force it into the proper position, because no way will I let Fang see the damage he’s done. Then I start my bike and peel out of the lot. Not sure where I’m going, but it feels good to leave Fang behind.
MARLY
When I hear the roar of a bike approaching, I pop up from the couch like a trained dog. This isn’t my proudest moment. Big Dog kept me tied to the bed, so it wasn’t as if I could walk away from him. What keeps me tied to Ware is something altogether different.
I blame my girl parts for my sticking around—Ware is hot, he knows exactly what gets me off, and he makes sure I get it, too. He may claim he’s a mean, nasty bastard, but he’s never been anything but careful with me. He blows my mind in bed, but it’s not just about the sex. I have feelings for him that go beyond the simply sexual. Wish it weren’t true, but… somewhere along the line, I started loving my wolf.
The noise outside stops when someone kills the engine, and there’s silence for a few counts. Then I hear the slam of the door followed by the sound of boots. Funny how I recognize Ware’s step. I move to the door. The loft has considerably more furniture than before, which is totally my fault.
I’d picked up my stuff from my old landlord last week. Fortunately, the guy had been decent about my sudden disappearance—he’d shoved everything into an empty storage unit “for a while,” banking on my coming back. He hadn’t asked too many questions about where I’d been either, but maybe that had been because of Ware. Ware had gone with me, and he’d waited outside, straddling his bike, while I’d paid up the back rent and negotiated for the return of my stuff. He claimed he didn’t mind if I dumped it all in his place while I figured out what I wanted (which was him, but we weren’t talking about that), so I had. Cheaper than a storage unit, and paying off my back rent had emptied my checking account.
The door slams open before I can get to it. I jump back as Ware sort of staggers in. Holy. Shit. I’m not sure where he’s been, but he looks rough. He’s got an enormous bruise on his right cheek and bloody knuckles on both hands. He lands heavily on his left leg with each step. I’m no expert on fighting, but either he got jumped or the Breed went looking for trouble and found it.
“What happened?” I sort of fly toward him, but he throws up a hand.
“Fang challenged.” He heads for the couch, yanking off his club colors and tossing them onto the leather. His shirt follows. God. His ribs look worse than his face.
“You need a doctor. There’s an urgent care place over on Fourth Street—I can drive you.”
I’m still wearing my work clothes—a blouse and skirt—that’s more than enough clothes for an E.R. run. All I need are my shoes and my purse. I could have him there in under five minutes.
He shakes his head. “No doctors.”
“You’re hurt,” I tell him
. “Don’t be stupid about this.”
“You gonna ask who won?” He sprawls on the couch with a rough sound of pain. Crap. Did he lose? I hesitate a moment too long, because he kind of snarls at me and says, “I won.”
“You look like shit.”
Not the smartest thing I’ve ever said, but it’s the truth. Even half-lying down on the couch, he’s swaying in place.
“Fang fights to win,” he says.
“You need a doctor,” I repeat. “We can take you somewhere to get you fixed up.”
“Only thing that’s gonna help now is shifting,” he continues.
“So do it.” It’s not like I haven’t seen a wolf before. Big Dog was plenty scary, but I can handle this.
He reaches for the buttons on his jeans and then stops. “You sure?”
“If it makes you feel better, why not? Since a doctor appears to be out of the question, I’m voting go furry if it fixes any of the damage Fang did. Shift.”
“You gonna freak out on me?”
I shrug. “You’re dirty, bloody, and pissed off. How much worse can fur and fangs be?”
He nods, like he’s coming to some conclusion, and then stands up. He pulls off his boots with a grunt and shoves down his pants. His dick punches up in the air. Looks hard enough to hurt, too.
And then he shifts. One minute I’m staring at the man, wondering why my heart hurts and my body burns so bad for him, and the next minute he’s gone. It happens so fast that I almost miss the way the air shimmers around him, his form blurring as he changes. It’s funny, but I think I’d recognize him anywhere. Ware is a huge wolf. He’s a grizzled gray with white markings on his face and chest. Bet that thick coat of fur is soft, too, and I itch to run my fingers through it, except he’s nobody’s pet. He stands there for a moment, head up, ears back, watching me through those familiar gold-brown eyes.
Does he understand me? Do wolves speak English? I should have asked more questions, but there’s no mistaking the intelligence in his eyes. He pads toward me, and I tell myself I won’t retreat, but hello… there’s two hundred pounds of animal stalking me. I take a step backward. And then another. With a short, sharp bark, he herds me where he wants me to go and I forget all about his injuries.
I think the shift did heal him. At any rate, I can’t see any visible wounds when I scan his wolf. He bumps my leg with his shoulder, and I dart away from him and up the stairs. I’m really hoping he’s playing, because when I launch myself toward the bedroom, he’s right on my heels. A bump from behind sends me tumbling onto the bed.
And you know what? Ware is scary as fuck in this form, but he’s also beautiful. He comes down over me on the mattress, his wolf a heavy weight pinning me to the bed. He’s in my face, and I can’t stop myself from running my fingers through his fur. He’s every bit as silky soft as I’d imagined.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell my wolf, and he whines low in his throat. I slide my hands over his ruff and down his side, checking for injuries. He growls once but doesn’t stop me. Maybe he’s better. Maybe he’s over the fight.
Ware makes another rough sound and eases down onto the bed beside me. His head rests on my thigh, his tongue darting out to explore me. It’s hot today, so I skipped the nylons and went barelegged.
“We should discuss boundaries.” Shoot. I sound breathless.
Wolf-Ware laps my bare skin with his tongue, the rough stroke shooting straight to my pussy. Uh, no. I’m not afraid of him, but this is way out of my league. I want human Ware, biker Ware in my arms—not the wolf. And yet I can’t stop petting his fur, sifting the short strands through my fingers.
As if he scents my pleasure, my wolf snarls softly and nips gently at the bare skin of my thigh. His teeth cause an erotic sting, my flesh reddening as I tense. He bathes the red mark, his tongue inching higher toward my panties.
“Change back.” I can’t do this with a wolf, not like this.
Even if part of me is curious, the rest of me is nervous—or scared shitless. Big Dog did this out in the bayou, and I’d rather not think about the biting—or worse. My head’s apparently still fucked-up, not sure whether to scream or moan, because I just lie there.
Proving he’s nothing like Big Dog, Ware backs off. The wolf blurs, the fur retreats, and I’m lying beneath two hundred pounds of pissed off biker.
“You want to go? Go.” He growls his warning as he stares down at me. God. He’s so hot.
I lick my lips and hold my ground. He doesn’t get to run me off. He sets the pace in bed, calls the shots when we’re naked, but outside of the bedroom? He’s not the boss of me. It’s time my wolf learned that. “You don’t scare me.”
“I should. I’m not nice. The only thing I want from you is sex, and I want it dirty.”
I can’t believe that.
I won’t.
So I’m waving the red flag tonight, pushing for everything I really want.
“Still not scared,” I whisper up at him.
WARE
Marly’s challenge is all the green light I need. I don’t hold back tonight. She wants this? She gets all of it, all of me. I flip her over and come down on her. She digs her fingers into the sheets, bucking beneath me.
I nip her ear, reminding her who she’s in bed with. I’m as much wolf as I am man. “You wanna be all mine?”
She moans something that’s gotta pass as a yes. I drag her hands wide, planting her palms against the bed as I give her my full weight. Fuck, she’s soft. She yields sweetly beneath me, and I shove up her skirt and tear off her thong. Toss the pink scrap somewhere behind me. I’m not playing nice tonight.
I shove her hand beneath her. “Play with your clit.”
I don’t wait for her to follow my directions. I thread my fingers through hers and draw her hand down, finding the hard nub. She moans when we make contact, bucking back into me again. Yeah. Not like there’s anywhere she can go. The move rams her gorgeous ass against my dick, and I’m so getting in there. Tonight I’m marking her inside and out.
“Yes,” she gasps, followed by sexy little whimpers mixed with a needy more.
Yeah. I’ll give her whatever she wants.
Best. Feeling. Ever.
I touch her, tease her, and her fingers follow mine, letting me set the pace. Her trust is so fucking awesome. She’s soaked, too. Wish I could see her, but she’s tight and swollen. I’ve never had anyone like Marly. She fists the sheets, tilting her neck. Her gorgeous hair slides forward, baring the soft, sweet expanse of skin. No way I don’t run my mouth down that curve. I nip and suck as she bucks beneath me. She smells like Marly and flowers, which is so fucking perfect that I have to taste her. Lick her. Eat her up. I could do this all night, which isn’t like me. My women come hard, but I’m not the guy for snuggling and gentle touches and all that emotional crap. Those are tiny one-bite appetizers on a silver tray, and I’m a main course guy. I like my sex fast and dirty, giving it to my girl good. I don’t hold back, and if they don’t like it, they avoid me at the clubhouse afterward. Works for me.
Marly likes it dirty, but she’s different, too. She wants the four-course meal, and I don’t know how to be that. Right now, though, she’s okay with what I am. She moans as I drive inside her, getting lost in the sexy sounds she’s making. Wish I could record those and play them back when I’m alone and jerking myself off to the memories, because she’s better than a fucking symphony. Christ, she’s tight. She’s heaven wrapped around me, and I could stay here all night. Probably all week and the rest of my life too, if reality would stay the fuck away.
I push in, pull back, and her pussy clings to me, as if she’s trying to hold on. Pull out until my dick’s rimming her opening, then slam back in. It’s a rough, wild ride better than any place my bike’s taken me. Our fingers work her clit together until she’s convulsing and tightening around me. Feels good, but I’m not done with her yet.
I pull out and grip her hips with my hands.
“Ware.” She whimpers my name, reac
hing for me.
She’s got a gorgeous ass, curvy and round. Love looking at her when she’s wearing her sexy librarian skirts, the way the fabric clings to her and I imagine what she’s wearing—or not wearing—underneath the skirt. Imagine shoving her skirt to her waist and running my hands up her thighs, exploring what she’s kept hidden from me.
When I pull her ass cheeks apart, she tenses. I don’t want to hurt her, not like this. I get my fingers wet in her juices and ease them over the small hole. Not enough, though, so I grab her lotion from beside the bed. Stuff smells like flowers, but it gets the job done. I lube up, fisting my dick with a handful of lotion, and then I press myself against her ass.
“Ware—” She moans my name, but that’s not a no.
“Brace yourself.” I grab her hands and drag them wide. She clutches at the sheets, but she also pushes her ass out toward me. She’s so gorgeous. I’m a sick bastard for wanting this, but I do. I cover her, pressing my dick against her rear hole. Christ, the heat of her burns me up.
“Let me in.” Supposed to be an order—because nothing gets Marly hotter, faster—but I’m pretty sure the words sound fucking desperate. I need this part of her, too. The part she’s never shared with anyone else, the dark part that just might have room for me.
She relaxes a fraction and I make my move, pushing into her body. I can’t be gentle, not with the adrenaline rush of the fight pumping through my veins. I need to take her, conquer her, make sure I leave my mark on her body. She’s so fucking tight. I screw my way into her ass, and it’s unbelievable. Gets even better when she moans, low and sexy. Her hands claw at the sheets, and I reach beneath her to find her clit.
“You’re gonna think of me when you sit tomorrow and the rest of the week.” I drive back inside her, imagining the burn, me stretching her, making a place for myself deep inside her body. And I have to have that, have to take what she’ll give me. I pound her with slow, hard strokes. I’m not nice about it either. I drill her deep and fast.
