by Ann Gimpel
Miranda started toward the car. “Say, are there any clothes in the trunk? Two of us are naked.”
“There should be.” Lars popped the hatch. He handed dark sweats around.
“My shoes are still in the back seat,” Garen said. “Miranda doesn’t have any, but it won’t matter if we stop at a drive-in or carryout.”
They settled inside the SUV. The heater warmed it quickly as Lars guided it back toward town. Miranda leaned against Garen. Her body felt wonderful. He reminded himself how close he’d come to losing her and kicked himself for being stubborn and shortsighted. He reached out with shifter magic, gratified Miranda’s energy was recovering. She was much stronger than she’d been just a few minutes before.
“I guess I was really bad off when you found me,” she murmured. “I passed out, and I don’t remember anything until I woke up back there.”
“Not dead, but not far away from it,” Lars answered. “All cat shifters can produce venomous saliva. It creates a more-or-less permanent coma. We also carry the antidote, else our kind would have died out eons ago. All our young experiment with it—usually on one another.”
“So that’s what you did to bring her back,” Garen mumbled half to himself. “I wondered.”
“There is a window,” Lars went on, “but it does not last very long. Once the antidote enters the bloodstream, the victim must find their human side. It breaks the enchantment.”
“What if the victim’s not a shifter?” Miranda asked.
“The venom kills them.”
“Hmph.” Miranda snuggled closer to Garen. “Alejandro said he knew me from Afghanistan.”
Garen sucked in a breath. His stomach tightened. “So that bastard knew who you were even before you came through his front door.”
“It would seem so.”
“If I’d realized that, I never would have—”
She twisted in his arms and laid a finger over his mouth. “Ssssh. I’m here. You’re here. If we engaged in Monday-morning quarterbacking, we’d never leave Company headquarters.”
“She is a smart one,” Lars said and chuckled. “No wonder you fell in love with her. What does everyone feel like? Burgers? Asian? An early breakfast?”
“Yes.” Miranda pounced on his last suggestion. “Let’s do that. A Denver omelet and a cup of coffee would be perfect.”
Epilogue
Three weeks later
Miranda signed her name to what felt like the umpteenth document and then slid it to her right. Garen, Nadine, Jordan, and Lars were spaced around the oval table in The Company’s conference room. Brad Abernathy, the middle-aged, balding attorney Garen had hired to draw up the new incorporation papers, said, “That’s the last one, folks. I’ll just get these notarized, and you can send them in to the Washington State Department of Corporations. Until you get notice from them, your old articles are still in effect.”
“How long does it usually take?” Garen asked.
The attorney shrugged. “Who knows with the government? If you don’t have them in three weeks, give my office a call, and we’ll see if we can’t light a fire under them.” He got to his feet and walked around the table gathering papers. His expensively tailored suit didn’t have so much as a wrinkle despite him sitting for over an hour.
Miranda glanced at her creased gabardine slacks and stifled a snort. Clothes had never mattered much to her. Work had been the most important thing in her life. Until Garen. She felt his gaze on her and smiled. The first week after her rescue had been hard. She’d wanted to do everything, but it took a few days to regain her full strength. Mostly, she’d wanted to lasso Garen into her bed and never let him loose, but he’d insisted on waiting until the doctor—whom he demanded she see regardless of Lars’ opinion—declared her well enough to return to normal activities.
“Bye, all.” Brad stuffed the papers into his expensive-looking leather briefcase and strode from the room. “I’ll have these back in a couple of hours.”
“Just slide them through the slot in the front door,” Garen called after him. “We may not be here then.”
“Got it.”
“I would say this calls for a celebration.” Lars went to an antique sideboard, the conference room’s sole non-utilitarian piece of furniture, and picked up a bottle of champagne.
“I’ll get glasses.” Miranda rose and padded across the room on her flat-soled shoes. She set champagne flutes next to Lars and went back to her chair, waiting expectantly for the cork to pop. “Wahoo” and “Here’s to us” filled the air as Lars caught most of the first rush of bubbly in a handy flute.
“We have an extra reason to celebrate.” Garen looked meaningfully at Nadine and Jordan. “Lars already knows since he stood as my best man this morning at the courthouse, but Miranda is now my wife.”
Nadine’s usually somber face broke into a grin. She vaulted from her chair, raced around the table, and bent to hug Miranda. “Wonderful news. Just wonderful. When I found out Alejandro was mixed up in the San Ysidro operation, I was plenty scared. If we’d known that before you went undercover, I would have argued against it.”
Miranda got to her feet and hugged Nadine back. She let go and said, “Wow! I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you smile. Thanks for your good wishes. Funny thing, but Garen said the same thing about Alejandro.”
“Well,” Jordan, who’d also gotten out of his seat, huffed. “It doesn’t matter anymore. The bastard’s dead, and that’s all that counts. Hey, woman, move over.” He hip-butted Nadine. “My turn to toast the bride—and kipe a hug.”
It didn’t take long before the champagne bottle was empty. Jordan stood behind Nadine’s chair and tugged on it. “We need to go somewhere. Remember?”
“Huh?” Her confused expression smoothed. “Oh yeah, right. I’m on it. Right behind you.” She picked up her small bag and got to her feet. “All the best. See you Monday.”
“Now just a minute,” Garen began and then stopped. “Okay, it is Thursday. I guess that’s a not-so-subtle way of saying you’re taking tomorrow off.”
She shrugged. “It’s not every day my boss gets married. I figured you’d want at least a little bit of a honeymoon.” Nadine rolled her eyes at Miranda. “You’ll have to work on him, sweetie. Get him to understand there’s more to life than work.”
Miranda’s face split into a wide grin. “I plan to. Hate to admit it, but I’ve got the same problem. Overactive work ethic.”
“Maybe we can help each other.” Garen patted her arm.
Lars stood too. “I should get going as well. I am needed in Berlin.”
“Anything we can do to help?” Garen got up and laid a hand on Lars’ shoulder.
“I will let you know. It was a stroke of brilliance to join our two business concerns. We shall be much more formidable.”
“That was the idea. Since we were redoing the articles anyway, and you agreed to be a director, it was a natural extension. After all, we have common enemies.”
Miranda watched them, a fond smile on her face. Like nearly every agent she’d known, both were tough people, men who dealt death for a living, yet they understood tenderness as well. She hadn’t forgotten Lars’ pitch for her in the plane at JFK Airport. A thought blossomed. Maybe she could find him a woman. He had to be lonely. She knew how it felt because she’d been by herself for a long time before Garen captured her heart.
Miranda pushed to her feet and carried the glasses back to the small sink. She chucked the bottle in a trash can and turned to where the men chatted. “Thank you,” she said to Lars. “You saved my life.”
Color rose to his cheeks. He looked uncomfortable. “You are mate to my oldest friend. I could not have done less.”
“Regardless. Thank you. I’m forever in your debt.”
Lars cocked his head to one side and jabbed Garen. “Hear that? The lady owes me.”
“Not that way, she doesn’t. Don’t you have a plane to catch?”
Lars glanced at his phone. “I s
hall be all right, but I do need to leave quite soon. Have you considered a European honeymoon?”
“What a grand idea.” Miranda looked hopefully at Garen. “Paris, Venice, Rome.”
“I’m sure we could find something to do in all those places,” he agreed, a wicked grin on his face.
“How about just hopping from lush bed to lush bed?” She turned her best come-hither gaze his way.
“That does it. I am truly leaving now. Talk with you soon.” Lars shouldered out the door.
Garen laughed. “Hussy. You just drove my best friend out of here with all your sex talk.”
“Like he hasn’t heard it before. We need to find a woman for him.”
“He used to say the same thing about me.” Garen closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around her. “What would you like to do with the rest of today? After all, it’s not every day you get married.”
She twined her arms around his back and tilted her head. He bent and kissed her, tenderly at first, and then more demanding as he sank his tongue deep into her mouth. His cock hardened against her stomach. She pressed against it and felt fluid gush between her pussy lips. Her nipples tingled with need. No matter how many times they made love, she couldn’t get enough of him.
She broke away from their kiss. “I know. Let’s go back to the room I had here.”
“And then?”
“You’re leering at me, Mister LeRochefort.”
“You’re my wife. I can leer all I want.” He dropped his hands to her ass and pulled her firmly against his erection. “What happens after we get to your room?”
“We do it—twice. Once as wolves and again as humans.”
He made a wonderfully male sound, possessive and savage, spun her about, and gave her a playful shove. “Just what I was about to suggest. Let’s move.”
She laughed as she led the way out the door and up one flight of stairs to the apartment she’d stayed in. “Sheesh, you make everything sound like a field operation.”
He slid an electronic key card from a pocket and opened the door. “You wish you had a field operations chief like me.”
“Yeah, right. Bossy, overbearing. Hey, the door’s not quite shut.”
“Now it is. What were you saying about bossy? God, but I love you, Miranda. You made me the happiest man alive by saying yes today. What do you want first, wolf sex or human?”
Instead of answering him with words, she slithered out of her clothes and reached for her wolf form. A growl from behind told her he’d almost beat her to the draw. She turned so she could drink him in. “You’re the most beautiful wolf I’ve ever seen.” She licked his snout, and then took a step or two and shoved her head under his belly so she could lick his shaft, protruding from its furred sheath.
A panting growl filled the air. “You’re the beautiful one. Turn around, Miranda. You’re driving me mad. I have to be inside you. Wolves don’t do foreplay.”
Heat flared in her loins. Her tail twisted to the side of its own accord. Just to be a tease, she licked his cock twice more. Long, slow strokes. He nipped her back and then moved away from her questing mouth. His weight settled over her; his penis sank to the hilt, and the bulb at the base swelled, sealing them together. He rocked against her, pushing so deep she was certain he plumbed her very soul. Her muscles clenched around him and held tight as she came and came again.
Somewhere in the midst of her climaxes, he released inside her in juddery spasms that thrilled her. “I love you, heart of my heart, soul of my soul,” she murmured.
“And I love you, Miranda, dearest wife. Most wonderful woman.” He nibbled her neck and turned his head to lick the side of her face. She pushed her loins against him. He pushed back. After a while, the swelling at the base of his penis receded, and he pulled out of her. She rubbed snouts with him before reaching for her human form.
The air shimmered; he stood before her, eyes alight with love. The coppery tone of his skin gleamed in late afternoon sun slanting through the windows. “Would you like to clean up?”
“After the next round. And then you can buy me a wonderful, elaborate dinner with some hundred-year-old cabernet to go with Kobe steaks.”
“Anything you want, darling.”
She tossed back her head, laughed, and held out her arms. “I can’t get a rise out of you. You were supposed to complain about the expense. You know me. I’m happy with Chinese takeout.”
He gathered her close. “I’m happy with cardboard as long as you’re next to me for the rest of our lives.” He kissed her forehead and her eyelids before settling his mouth on hers. Slowly and inexorably, he backed her toward the bed and surfaced from their kiss. “I know we did it on the floor in this very room, but let’s go for comfort. Neither of us is getting any younger.”
She felt the bed against the backs of her knees and let herself fall across it. He followed her down. His mouth took up where it had left off, and he strung kisses down her neck and breasts. Her nipples zinged with delight as he tongued first one and then the other. He sank a hand between her legs and rubbed her passion-slick clit. Her hips bucked; her breath came fast. Garen was an incredible lover. He got her so high she thought she’d never settle back to earth.
She reached for him, but he batted her hands away and raised his head from her nipple. “Today is for you, darling. All for you. Tell me what you want. My mouth, my cock, my hands. All of them in a certain order.”
“Wow. Like a menu. Maybe someday I won’t be so hot I can’t wait to get you inside me, but that day’s not here yet. I want that”—she made another grab for his dick—“inside me. Now.”
He grinned, repositioned himself, and licked her lips until she opened her mouth for his tongue. The head of his cock swirled around her opening, tantalizing all the hypersensitive nerve endings. She thrust upward, wanting to capture the glory of his amazing cock inside her, but he only gave her about an inch. He’d played this game with her before, and she loved it.
Her nails sank into his hips as she tugged, trying to get more of him inside her. She locked her legs around his hips. He moved his mouth away from hers and settled it over her ear. “Tell me.” Whispery breath made shivers go up and down her back.
“Fuck me. I want all of you inside.”
“With some men, this is all you’d get.”
“I’m not married to some men. Did I tell you I married you for that amazing piece of equipment between your legs?” Her hips bucked.
“Not for my rapier-sharp mind? I’m crushed.” More hot breath. More shivers.
“I love you,” she panted. “All of you. Please. I’m going to come. I need you inside me.”
He lowered himself, seemingly by centimeters, until at last he was all the way in. There was something so amazingly erotic about how he did it; by the time he hit bottom, she spasmed around him. “Yes, darling,” he crooned. “Come for me. That’s it. Your nipples feel incredible, like hard little marbles against my chest.”
He drew all the way back out and slowly drove himself home. Another stroke and he groaned. She felt the tension in his ridged flesh deep within her and knew he rode a ragged edge of control. The game he played made him hotter than hell too.
This time he stayed deep. Little fluttery muscle movements drove her higher and higher. Her heart thrummed against her ribs. Her throat was thick with need. Her clit was on fire. Her breasts ached. “Yes,” she breathed. “Harder. More. Now.” Her hands tightened even more on his ass as she got just as close to him as she could. He joined her, cock shuddering as her pussy convulsed around it.
He’d been supporting himself on his arms. His weight folded atop hers. For a time, they just held each other. “I’m happy,” she whispered into the hollow of his throat. “So happy it scares me.”
“I love you, Miranda. I’ll take care of you. Nothing will ever threaten your happiness. Nothing.”
He sounded so fierce her lips curved into a smile. “What if I feel the same way about you?”
“I’ll take it. Come on, sweetling. Let’s shower and find something to eat. I liked your idea about a fine, oaky old cabernet and a tender steak, barely cooked.”
“What are we waiting for?” She slid from beneath his body and headed for the bathroom. “I’m starved.”
The End
About the Author
Ann Gimpel is a clinical psychologist with a Jungian bent. Avocations include mountaineering, skiing, wilderness photography and, of course, writing. A lifelong aficionado of the unusual, she began writing speculative fiction a few years ago. Her short fiction has appeared in a number of magazines, webzines, and anthologies. She’s also written several novels. A husband, grown children, grandchildren and three wolf hybrids round out her family.
www.anngimpel.com
http://anngimpel.blogpsot.com
