by Ellis Leigh
“Mine,” he growled as he reached her. He took the plate from her hand and threw it to the corner, ignoring the sound of breaking porcelain. Threw his phone, too. Michaela kept her eyes on his, breathing hard, nipples pebbled under her thin shirt. She wanted him. Whether she would let herself have him, he wasn't sure. But his wolf was speaking to hers. Seducing hers.
The animals within had already made up their minds.
Phego leaned over her smaller frame, still not touching, but close enough to feel her heat. To smell her arousal. “Mine. My mate.”
Michaela shivered, her hands coming up to his chest. Her skin warm against his. He shivered from head to toe at the feel of her.
“My mate,” she repeated, her voice breathy and filled with desire. Without any push from him, she rose to the balls of her feet, bringing her lips to his. The kiss was sweet, light and soft in a way Phego had never experienced. A perfect first kiss for just about anyone, but not nearly enough to satisfy his craving.
With a growl, he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet. Kissing her harder. Pulling her body against his. Trapping his cock between his stomach and her hips. She felt so good in his hold, so soft and warm as she melted against him. Willing. And that was everything to him. He wanted her that way. Wanted her begging for him. Wanted her screaming for him. He wanted to give her every bit of pleasure her body could take and have her asking for more.
Phego carried her over to an old worktable in the corner, sweeping his arm across the surface to rid it of the few tools and odds and ends resting there. Dust flew into the air as well, but he didn't care. He had one thought on his mind. One end goal made up of three parts.
To touch all of her.
To take whatever she was willing to give.
To claim his mate with his body.
Michaela gasped as he laid her back, spreading her legs around him and grappling for contact on his shoulders. “God, you’re so big.”
Phego couldn’t hold back his grin, his hand slipping down to grab hold of his cock. To stroke it as he growled at the way her breath caught while she watched him. “Don't worry, baby. I’ll keep this to myself for now.”
He pushed her skirt up her long legs, letting his fingertips run along the silk of her skin. She moaned and moved against him, seeming to enjoy his touch. To want more. His actions were rougher than he'd have thought pleasurable to her, his wolf too out of control to be gentle. Luckily, Michaela didn't seem to mind. In fact, her panties were soaked, arousal evident even on her thighs. She liked this. Liked her male being in control and demanding. She wanted him that way.
And he was more than happy to give it to her.
Phego yanked the panties down her legs, exposing her pussy to his hungry gaze. Glistening, swollen with need, her flesh called to him. Sang to him. His mouth fucking watered at the thought of what was to come.
Michaela spread her legs wider, blatant in her need, leaning back on her elbows as if in offering. “Why are you stopping?”
“I’m not,” Phego said, rubbing her thighs, pushing her apart even farther so he could see every intimate part of her. “I’m preparing myself for this. Your taste is going to ruin me.”
She licked her lips and whispered, “Prove it.”
Accepting the challenge from his mate, Phego dove in with fervor—licking, sucking, and spreading her with his thumbs so he could flick his tongue over her clit. Michaela moaned and arched her back, holding on to the edges of the table as she gave herself to him. As she encouraged him. But her submission wasn't enough, wasn't all that Phego needed. He wanted to own that pussy, to treat it so well she’d never forget the feel of his tongue inside her. To devour every fucking drop of her.
He hooked his arms under her hips and lifted, leaving her to rest on her shoulders and bringing her hips to his face so he could lick at every bit. So he could grip her ass with his fingers and attack her pussy with his lips and tongue. So he could destroy her as much as she was destroying him.
“Shit,” Michaela said, a thick growl in her voice, thrusting her hips against his face as if riding his tongue. Such a hot fucking move for his needy little mate. She trembled at his touch, shook at every swipe of his tongue. Writhed with every nibble of her soft flesh.
And Phego ate it up.
He licked, kissed, and sucked every inch of her. Thrust his tongue inside to chase down every drop. Every taste. In that moment, with his mouth firmly latched on to her flesh and her taste all over his tongue, she was his. Completely. His mate. He would make her come. He would make her scream. He would make her crave him as he craved her. Her taste started a new addiction; the feel of her pussy on his lips something he could never get enough of. So he pushed, and he licked, and he tasted, and he worked her until she came. Until she arched her back and screamed his motherfucking name.
“Phego… Fuck,” Michaela yelled, her entire body bowed with the force of her orgasm. Phego didn’t let up, though, intent on giving her everything he could. He'd made his mate come so hard, she’d screamed for him. Didn't matter that it was only on his tongue and not his cock. He did that; he gave her that pleasure. And fuck, did he want to do it again.
But Michaela had plans of her own. As she came down, as her body relaxed and her trembling muscles stilled, she grabbed Phego's arm and yanked him on top of her. Trapped him between her thighs.
“Take me,” she said, her eyes locked on his, her words harsh and demanding. “Fuck me now and claim me as yours.”
He couldn't tell her no.
10
Michaela could barely catch her breath, could barely see straight enough to focus on Phego's face. Her body burned, alive for the first time, her instincts firing jointly between her human and wolf in a pattern that heightened her senses. The moment had come—she was giving herself to her mate. In a dusty old barn on a rickety workbench, she would claim and be claimed. There’d be no going back from this, no second chances or do-overs. There was no divorce in the shifter world, no annulments or separations. Once they joined one another, once his body and blood mixed with hers, they’d be one. A mated pair.
She couldn’t wait.
Michaela grabbed Phego's shoulders, pulling him closer, wrapping her legs around his thighs so his heavy cock slid through where she was so wet for him. His skin was so soft and smooth. It was a total contrast to the hard muscles cording their way beneath it. She could have lay there and done nothing but explore him with her fingertips for hours. Could have…but that wasn’t part of his plan, it seemed.
Phego climbed up her body, kneeling above her. His gray eyes locked on hers, his sharp jawline clenched in need. With his white-blond hair cut so short and the scruff of a day’s stubble dusting his lower cheeks and chin, he seemed ready to go to war…for his home or her body. He was brutal in movement and appearance just as she’d expected, and she loved it. Found herself attracted to the man in ways she hadn’t anticipated. From the dips and planes of his abdomen to the bulky width of his shoulders, he was an education in musculature and the male form. That fact spoke to her, aroused her with all that chained-up strength. He could crush a person if he wanted to, could destroy any enemy with only his body. But he wouldn’t. Not her, at least. He wasn’t gentle by any stretch, but he wasn’t cruel. Wasn’t out to hurt her. The opposite, really. He’d been rough because she’d liked it, had demanded because she’d needed him to. He fulfilled her every desire…almost.
Phego dropped his weight on her, pinning her down, teasing her with his closeness and his position. Pushing her to the point of unfettered control. She could feel the cold, wet spot she’d left on the table, smell her arousal on Phego’s face. Sense how close he was, how hard, how much he needed.
She needed, too.
She wanted him inside her. Wanted him in a way she’d never felt for another partner before. This wasn't just sex. It was weighty and meaningful, powerful. This was fate and spirits and souls all tied together. This was the start of her forever.
“
Please,” she murmured, writhing under him. Seeking more.
Phego rocked on top of her, sliding the tip inside her pussy, groaning long and low as he trembled with what had to be restraint. “We shouldn't do this.”
“Yes, we should.” Michaela clawed at his shoulders, running her nose along his as she stole his breath. Damn, she wanted to kiss him. Wanted to feel those thick, pink lips on hers. Wanted him to fuck her mouth with his as he slid deep inside her. He was just so beautiful in his own way—his short, light hair and his icy gray eyes the only soft spots on his otherwise hard as hell body. Harsh was a good descriptor for him. Harsh and rough. And hers. All fucking hers. And she wanted to make sure he knew that.
She bit him. Not a claiming bite—not yet—but enough to remind him of what they were about to do.
Phego grunted and dropped his head to her shoulder, leaning on his elbows and pressing her into the table. Covering her. Touching every bit he could.
“Want more,” he said, his words rumbling with his growl. “Want to feel you come on my cock.”
Michaela gasped, shaking. Already so close. “So make me.”
Phego groaned, the sound almost a wail as he moved like a man possessed, a man fighting an instinct. Michaela wasn't sure if that instinct was to push forward or back away, though. So she waited, her arms around him, running her palm up and down his spine as he growled against her. Gave him the chance to decide one way or the other.
And decide he did.
With nothing more than a hissed fuck, Phego jerked his entire body forward, thrusting inside her in one push. Spreading her wide with his hips between her thighs and owning her body. She clawed his back, fingers digging deep as he moved in and out, deeper on each push, hitting places inside her that had never been hit so hard before. Setting off nerves that had only just come alive.
When he grabbed her leg, when he pulled her knee up over her shoulder to push in farther, spread her wider, she almost screamed.
“Fuck yes,” she cried, biting down on his shoulder to keep from chanting his name. He roared and moved faster, harder, the old worktable rocking underneath them. Savage and unrelenting, he fucked her like a man possessed. Like a man who couldn't get enough. And still, she knew he was holding back. Felt it.
“I don't trust you,” he said between thrusts, clinging to her. His words refuted by the way his body responded to her every breath, her every moan and shiver. Michaela arched into him, craving more touch, pressing her body into his so he pushed against her clit on every swell forward.
“I know you don't.” She whined as he hit just the right spot, his body curling over hers, the base of his cock rubbing along her clit with every slide. “You'll learn to. I'll prove myself to you.”
He grunted and pulled her leg higher, straightening it, practically putting her into a half split underneath him. The position was so filthy, the noises their bodies made as they came together so fucking debauched, she almost felt embarrassed. Almost, but his cock inside her felt too good, and his body slamming into hers was too enticing. There was no room in her mind for propriety or embarrassment. There was only her and him and every titillating second of what they were doing together. Every snap and grunt and filthy suck of flesh on flesh.
As Phego snarled into her neck, pressing his teeth against her skin, she lost all capability of thought and speech. Her body screamed for him, every nerve ready to explode. The pressure built in her gut, the need to let go. To release. To fall over that cliff of ecstasy and give herself to the man inside of her. Phego was close as well, if his own coordination was any indication. Harder, deeper, faster…everything coming together, every press becoming a circle of movement dragging her soul around and around and around until there was nothing else. Nothing left. Until, with one final thrust and a roar that shook the windows, he came inside of her. That sensation, that wet heat from his release, sent her flying as well. Sent her muscles spasming and her mouth falling open as she clenched around him in an orgasm that spread throughout her entire body. Cradling him as she milked every drop. As she rode out every pulse.
Phego collapsed on top of her, breathing heavy, cock still inside her. Still hard, from the feel of him stretching her. She didn't know if she had it in her for another round, but it didn't matter. Not after the barn door flew open and Colt ran inside.
“What the—” Colt stood in the entryway, staring at them. Wide-eyed and obviously in shock. Michaela didn't even have time to pull away, to cover herself with more than the man on top of her, Phego not having time to pull out of her before the bodyguard shifted to wolf. Colt growled and snarled, directing his hate to her mate, whom he didn’t know about. Didn’t have any clue that they were connected in any way other than the physical. And he wasn’t giving her time to explain. There was nothing she could do, but still, she tried.
“Colt, no—”
But it was too late. Phego sprung off of her, shifting almost in midair. Leaving her cold and alone…and afraid. For her, for him, and for Colt. The two wolves attacked one another a mere few feet away, teeth and claws and snarls all coming together in a picture that turned her stomach. The fighting was ugly and violent, brutal in a way Phego hadn't been with her. Bloody from the onset and definitely heading toward deadly. Michaela couldn't let the fight go on. Couldn't stand to see either man hurt.
She lunged toward them, ignoring her tattered clothes and missing panties, the burn of her muscles between her legs or the coldness dripping down her thighs. She had one job, one focus, and that was to plead with the males to stop and listen to her.
But as she jumped off the counter, her skirt caught on the front edge. The tug, the pressure backward, and then giving away before she adjusted, sent her flying face first toward the floor. Right into the fight. Directly between the two. She wasn't sure which male caught her, wasn't sure which one slashed at just the right or wrong moment, but someone had their claws in her flesh before she hit the ground. She screamed, pain flaring bright. Skin and muscle and even bone burning under the attack.
But before she hit the ground, before she could even twist to see the damage, Phego had her in his arms. He raced out the door in human form, heading for the cabin, carrying her.
“I've got you,” he said as he hit the porch. Michaela couldn’t answer him, too busy fighting back tears as pain racked her body.
Ariel met them in the kitchen, looking far more startled than Michaela had ever seen her. “What happened?”
“She got in the way,” Phego said, setting Michaela down on the couch. Ariel rushed over with a towel, placing it on her shoulder where the slashes were the deepest.
“Go get her doctor bag from upstairs,” Ariel said, sliding into doctor mode in the blink of an eye. “These will knit together; what we’re going to have to make sure of is that they do so correctly.”
Phego’s stomping footsteps receding across the floor were his only answer. His absence hurt, tightening around her chest like a steel band. Shifters healed quickly; in fact, there wasn't much that could kill them. That didn't mean they always healed in the best way. Broken bones were broken bones, and if they didn't line up properly, there were long-term issues. Same with muscles, tendons, and cartilage. Someone would need to help hold her together as her flesh knitted into one piece. Someone would have to help her. She had a feeling it wouldn’t be Phego.
Colt had come in through the back door by the time Phego came downstairs. He surveyed the scene with something akin to disgust on his face. “I can't believe you did this.”
Michaela assumed the words were meant for her, but it was Phego who answered. “It's my fault. She’s not to be blamed for anything.”
“Why are we even arguing over fault? Since when is there fault in something as natural as sex?” Ariel huffed, pressing Michaela's skin together, frowning at the cuts. “And if there is fault to be found, it’s on both of you. This is what you get when you refuse to deal with a new mate bond.”
Michaela tore her eyes away from her mate to take
in her bodyguard and packmate. Colt stood frozen, barely blinking, looking stricken. “You’re mated to him?”
Michaela refused to lie, refused to allow anyone to diminish her bond to her mate. “Yes. We're mated.”
But the confidence behind her words deflated as Phego stared down at her. Saying nothing. Doing nothing.
At least, not until he turned away.
11
Phego stayed by Michaela's side all night, refusing to abandon her even for a moment. The guilt of knowing he’d hurt her, that his claws had damaged her flesh, swamped him, freezing him in place. Leaving him useless and unable to function beyond simple existence.
Ariel stayed as well, pressing on her friend’s torn flesh to hold the edges together properly, a voice of calm and reason in a sea of doubts and fears. Colt, the bodyguard, came and went. Checking on Michaela every so often before heading back outside. He kept his phone in his hand, obviously calling someone or texting. Phego couldn’t focus enough to concentrate, to listen in, though the man’s face was pale and filled with anger whenever he appeared. Whatever was going on with him, it wasn't good.
“She’ll be okay,” Ariel whispered once Colt had again left the room. She checked the wound for what had to be the hundredth time that night, lifting the bandage to look underneath. To his relief, the skin appeared almost completely closed, though the dark red tracks of claw marks still screamed from the pale flesh. Claw marks that were absolutely his fault. He knew it, had felt the slash as it happened. Hadn’t been fast enough to stop himself once he’d realized who he’d hit.
And that fact ate at him almost as much as his deeper, darker worries. “I can't trust her.”
