by Olivia Arran
“So—” we both said at once, both stopping and waiting for the other to carry on.
I pulled out a chair, not trusting myself to sit on the bed. Lowering myself down, I gestured to her. “Ladies first.”
She grimaced, her thumb rubbing circles on her hand. “No, please. You first.”
I decided the politeness was going to kill me if I didn’t die of a self-imposed heart attack brought on by restraint first. “Okay. Where to start…” I’d had everything I was going to say worked out. Now, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, and my carefully planned speech had up and vanished in a puff of smoke.
“Ask me what you want to know and I’ll tell you.” And then you’ll answer my questions. I could read the silent challenge in her eyes.
“How do you know about shifters?” I blurted out.
She cocked an eyebrow at me, a silent really? “My family.”
I smashed down the urge to kiss the cockiness right off her face. “And how did a human find herself with a shifter family?”
“I was adopted.”
Score one for Angel. “Are you going to make me work this hard for every answer?”
“You haven’t exactly been open since we’ve met.”
“I had my reasons. I didn’t know you knew about shifters—”
“You still should have told me. I trusted you with my life!”
I took a deep breath, grinding my feet into the floor so they couldn’t carry me over to her. “I’m being open and honest now.”
She blinked at me, seeming to weigh my answer. “I don’t know who my real mom and dad were. When I was eight years old Scar’s Mom and Papa found me in the forest, and they took me in. They searched for my family but nobody claimed me. So, they raised me as their own. Scar was only four at the time and we grew up together.” Her words were wooden, the pain hidden behind a thick barrier, but I could feel it.
Wait? I could feel it? Dammit, I’d been so busy creating a barrier between us that I’d forgotten the basics. When true mates kissed for the first time the soul bond started, linking them together. Which meant—
I closed my eyes, searching, looking…there! A fragile spindle of light spiraled from my chest to Tasha’s, linking us soul to soul. My heart thudded, skipping a beat, the sound echoing in my ears. We were already linked. But it wasn’t complete.
“Are you falling asleep on me?” She sounded suspicious and more than a little put out. No wonder. She’d just spilled her life story and I hadn’t said a word.
Her pain was a living thing, tugging at the barrier I had put up. I braced myself, getting ready to push her away. I couldn’t let her in; it was too dangerous.
Then the pain stopped, all traces of her disappearing.
My eyes flashed open, spearing into her. “What did you just do?”
“Nothing.” Her face was shuttered, closed off. “I’d like to be alone now, please.”
“Tasha—”
“Please go.”
She was doing it again. Pushing me away, like she had when we’d first met.
She turned her head away, but not before I saw tears pooling in her eyes.
I was on my feet and across the floor in an instant. Dropping to my knees in front of her, I gently turned her face back.
“Go away,” she muttered, her hand swiping at her cheek.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “I wish I could. You don’t understand how much I wish I could—”
“So just do it. Walk away.”
My lips twisted as I traced the wet path down her cheek with a finger. “If I were a selfless man, I would.”
“I don’t understand.” It was a whisper, a plea.
“I’m no good for you.” I’m not good enough. I’ll hurt her. I already was hurting her.
Her breath puffed out, caressing my cheek. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me. I’m a big girl.”
I tried again, pulling on my fading willpower. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Her hand came up to cup my cheek. So fragile. So strong. “You won’t, remember? You’d never hurt me.”
She cut through the last of my resolve, shattering it with her blind faith. The bond hummed through me, a weak echo of the emotions I could see painted on her face.
We didn’t know each other’s truths, but I knew enough. I couldn’t resist. Not anymore.
Natasha
I could see it in his eyes—the second his resolve melted and he accepted it. Accepted the inevitable. We had been hurtling toward this moment for what seemed like forever, when in actual fact it was only days.
Whatever this was, I wanted it. Needed it. I was sick and tired of navigating life alone. Always alone.
But not right now.
Our lips met in the middle, tongues lashing out in a wild dance, dipping and tangling as our hands tugged at clothes. Fabric ripped and air cooled my skin, and then his hands were molding and shaping, and cupping and squeezing my flesh.
Tugging, I pulled his T-shirt off, then set to work wrangling his jeans into submission. The zipper slid down and I pushed as he kicked free of the denim, our mouths fusing together, our breath merging in gasps and moans.
Curling my fingers around his shaft, I gripped him tightly, pumping him in a firm thrust. I could barely close my fingers around his width, as the length of his cock was spilling over my fist. Heat throbbed through my core, my pussy fluttering in anticipation.
“Fuck, your scent…” he growled into my mouth, his eyes flashing emerald green with his wolf as he took a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. “You smell so ripe and wet for me.” His hand left my breast and dipped between my legs, finding the fabric of my panties.
He broke away, glancing down, his look one of annoyance. “I thought I’d taken care of these,” he muttered, a claw slicing out through the lace.
I shuddered, a ripple of primal desire threading through me.
“You’re not scared?” he asked, concerned. “No, definitely not scared,” he murmured, a smug smile on his face as his finger slipped through my damp curls to find my throbbing clit. Flicking the tiny nub, he circled it with his thumb. “I want you to promise me something,” he whispered, his finger spearing into my pussy.
My back arched off the bed, my thighs clenching at thin air, then falling apart in invitation. “What?” I mumbled, tugging his straining shaft harder.
His eyes rolled back, his lip caught between his teeth, and he hissed. “No panties.”
Another finger joined the first, circling and stretching me.
I needed him inside me, wanted him thrusting deep. Filling me. “Cole,” I moaned, my hips bucking beneath his hand.
“Not ever.”
His words sank in even as a wave of heat crashed over me, tugging me under. My head was thrashing on the bed.
“Is that a yes?” His hand slowed down, his thumb circling my clit in a lazy figure eight.
“Only if the same goes for you,” I bit out, returning the favor and rubbing my thumb over the sensitive ridge on the underside of his cock.
“I don’t wear panties—”
“Boxers—”
“Nope.”
“Briefs?”
“Nope.”
So, Cole went commando?
“Okay. Deal. Now quit playing—” My words were lost in a scream as his tongue replaced fingers, thrusting and lapping inside me with a vengeance. Vibrations rippled through me, dancing across my skin and tugging low in my core as he growled his pleasure.
“I’m going to—” My back arched, hands grabbing at his head and yanking on his hair. I was holding him close as I bucked beneath his questing mouth. Fire rolled through me, my toes curling and thighs clamping tight, sweat coating my quivering stomach.
Melting back onto the bed, my limbs heavy and throbbing, a lazy smile tugged at my lips.
I felt him move up me, his weight settling heavily as he planted his knees between my legs. Firm lips teased mine open, his tongue darting out and tangling wi
th mine, the taste of my release tangy and mingling with his unique flavor. Languid and teasing, he nudged my legs further apart, his hand smoothing my hair back, his eyes catching and holding mine.
“Do you want this?” he murmured, kissing at the corner of my mouth. The head of his cock brushed against my opening, sliding through my slick heat.
The fire that had consumed me roared back to life, twisting through my body until every cell was crying out. I wriggled beneath him, hands pulling him close, smoothing over firm muscle and digging into his hips. “Yes.”
Satisfaction flared in his eyes, determination squaring his jaw as he eased inside of me, his thickness stretching me wide, filling me inch by slow inch until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. All I could feel was him, hard as steel and locked inside of me, as the two of us joined together.
Nothing had ever felt so right.
But it could feel even better. “Uh, Cole…” I tried to swivel my hips beneath him, but he had me pinned.
A muscle jumped in his cheek, his eyes glowing. “Can’t a man enjoy the moment?”
“What moment is that?” It was hard to think, to breathe, to talk. He surrounded me. Filled me.
He took a deep breath, his eyes closing briefly. “The moment of utter perfection,” he growled, his voice low and hoarse.
Then he moved, his hips snapping back then thrusting forward, his hands holding me, pinning me, caressing me.
A groan rolled through my chest as skin dragged against skin, the friction building. I curled a leg around his hip, holding him tight as I rocked beneath him, greedy and wanton.
His hands dragged down my arms, thrusting them above my head, and his mouth came down to feast at my breast. The bed shuddered beneath us, the springs bouncing and squeaking with every powerful dig of his hips. Our bodies collided, slick with sweat and sliding effortlessly together.
“Tasha—” His lips parted, his face pulled tight with pleasure. My name sounded like a prayer on his lips, a low warning whispering promises.
I met his thrusts, straining beneath him, reaching for the peak, the edge. It was so close, dancing just out of reach.
Pulling my hands free, I grabbed his head and pulled him down to me, sealing our lips together. Breathing him in, I lost myself in his taste and his touch. My nails skated over his shoulders, down his chest and around to rake over his ass, where they dug in.
“Faster,” I hissed into his mouth. Nearly there.
He sped up at my command, his cock throbbing deep inside of me, my pussy clenching and squeezing around him, refusing to let him go.
Curling around me, he tugged me up off the bed, pulling me onto his lap. Bracing me above him he thrust hard, his chest straining, his breath hot on my cheek. “Come for me…” he growled, thrusting again, then again, swiveling his hips relentlessly.
With a cry I melted in his arms, my body dissolving into shudders of bliss as heat erupted deep inside of me. My head fell back, my back bowing in his arms.
A roar filled my ears, his cock twitching inside of me as he jerked beneath me, his come filling me in hot spurts.
I braced myself for the sharp pain, the slice of teeth as he claimed me, joining us.
We collapsed onto the bed, a mess of arms and legs entwined.
He didn’t—? It was a slap. A sting of reality. My hand reached for my neck, tracing a path to my clavicle, the dip where throat meets shoulders. Where I should bear his mark. Did he think I didn’t know how it worked? Or maybe he thought I was a fool.
Stillness settled over me, pushing away the sparks that still danced before my eyes. I wanted to ask—no—I wanted to demand he explain. But did I really want to know?
Chapter Seventeen
Cole
Shit, shit, shit, shit! I forced a ragged breath into my lungs, my pulse still leaping out of control.
Beneath the surface my wolf snarled and howled.
Tasha stiffened in my arms, her hand tracing a path down her neck, lines furrowing her brow.
Shit. I was a motherfucking asshole. A douche bag. I hadn’t claimed her. My mate... I’d fucked her and left her unclaimed. Any hope that she wouldn’t realize it had vanished.
I’d wanted to. I’d been planning on doing it, taking the final step. But…I hadn’t. I should have left her alone; better that than to come this close and have to walk away. Because I wasn’t going to claim her as my mate. I knew that for sure now. Hell, the certainty was branded inside of me. Scratched in blood.
I wasn’t mate material. For a split second I had allowed myself to dream, to pretend I was someone else, somebody who could love and cherish and protect her, always. But I wasn’t made that way. Genetics didn’t lie. I knew it. Accepted it.
At that moment, when the claiming words had been at the tip of my tongue, fighting to be spoken, I had known. I might want to love and cherish and protect her, but I also wanted to own her. I wanted to make her mine so no one else could come anywhere near her. I wanted to tear and rend and kill anyone who so much as looked at her.
Destructive. Exactly like my brother.
The darkness had split open inside of me, a glimpse of what it would be like. What I would be like. And I couldn’t do it to her. Couldn’t mate her to a monster.
I rolled out of the bed, not daring to look at her. My feet hit the floor and I didn’t stop until I reached the door.
It was better this way. Better she hate me.
Then I wouldn’t be tempted.
Natasha
I don’t want to hurt you… Cole’s earlier words echoed in my mind over and over again like a broken record. Deep down he had known, and tried to warn me. And I hadn’t listened.
I was a fool.
I didn’t stop him from leaving.
Bracing myself, I pushed open the door to the kitchen. The guys were seated around the table, their heads bent as they pored over scattered papers.
“Natasha!” Scar called, jumping up from her seat and hurrying toward me. Tugging me over to the other side of the room, she grabbed a mug and poured me some coffee, doctored it with cream and sugar, then thrust it into my hand. “So, tell me everything,” she whispered, her eyes flashing with excitement and bobbing back and forth between me and Cole.
He was poring over the paperwork like the others, outwardly relaxed and calm, like he didn’t have a worry in the world. Like he hadn’t just walked away without a word, breaking my heart. Dammit! I blinked furiously as the room blurred and swam before my eyes.
“Natasha?” Scar’s excitement faded and was replaced with concern. She rested a hand on my arm, giving me a little tug. “What did he do?”
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t! Who does he—”
“Scar! Please,” I hissed. Her voice had risen beyond a whisper, not that whispering would do us much good in a room full of shifters. “What are they doing?”
Her lips twisted in a snarl, her eyes flashing liquid silver. “What did he do?” Not waiting for my answer, she swung around, directing her fury at the man in question. “Hey! Asshole! What did you do to my sister?”
Cole tensed, his back going rigid. Not bothering to turn around, he answered, his voice a growl, “That’s between me and your sister.”
Scar marched over to him, giving him a shove in the shoulder for good measure. “Like hell it is! She’s crying! She wasn’t before. What did you do to her?”
“Scar, leave it—”
“You’d better listen to Tasha,” Cole snapped.
“Or what?” my sister snapped back.
Is he trying to piss me off? “Don’t speak to her like that! She’s looking out for me.” Unlike some people. The unspoken words hung in the air between us.
Chairs groaned as the other guys sat back in their seats, mixed expressions of confusion and concern on their faces.
Angel eyed us both, his blue eyes narrowing. He deliberately sniffed the air, then his gaze zeroed in on my neck. “C
ole?” His voice was a low rumble.
“It’s nothing to do with anyone else,” was Mr. Asshole’s answer. Yeah, I like that name so much better than Mr. Yummy.
Mortification flooded me as realization struck. Angel could smell Cole on me. The urge to run upstairs and drown myself in a scalding hot bath gripped me, but my feet remained rooted to the floor. It didn’t matter now—they already knew. Better to get it all over with. Then I could move on.
“He’s right. It’s nobody else’s business.”
Cole’s head snapped around, his eyes drilling into me for a brief second before he looked away, returning his attention to the table.
Shock crushed the breath from my lungs. I had expected coldness, maybe a hint of embarrassment or shame, but the look in his eyes simmered with regret. And something else. Something I recognized, because I knew it shone from my eyes too. Longing.
So why had he run away?
“We’re going back over all the leads we have. We can protect you, but it would be better if we could eliminate the threat.” Vin indicated the messy tabletop. “Do you feel like sitting down and going back over some stuff?”
If they catch the guy, then I could leave. I’d never have to see Cole again. I swallowed hard against the rush of loss. “Sure,” I muttered, walking around the table to the chair he had indicated. Opposite Cole. Pulling it out, I lowered myself gently, all too aware of the dull ache between my thighs.
Cole coughed, a strangled sound as he flicked through a file. “Who’s this again?” He held out a photo for my inspection.
He knew exactly who it was, but he wanted to check facts. Deciding to humor him for now, I took a sip of my now-cooling coffee and answered, “Michael Botley, the Art Director.”
He nodded. “Tell us everything you know about Mr. Botley.”
“Late forties, never married, successful, wealthy.”
“Have you worked with him before?”
“No. This is our first campaign together.” And our last, I added silently.
