Mating Dance

by Merryn Dexter

  “Daniel?” He’d asked one of the other kids his name. The boy looked startled then wary at his approach.

  “I’m not doing anything wrong,” Daniel muttered, dropping the sketchbook he had next to him. The boy fiddled with a stray thread on his shirt, refusing to make eye contact.

  “I’m not here to get on your case. I just wanted to know what you thought about the program.” Sander slid down against one of the trees until he sat, legs crossed at the ankles. He watched the older and younger woman working in harmony in the garden. He didn’t say anything else. The kid was skittish, and he didn’t want him to feel compelled to respond to a more dominant adult.

  “It’s okay, if you like that sort of thing.” A wistful note threaded beneath the belligerent response. Sander kept his body language relaxed, enjoying the view of his future mate’s curvy butt wiggling around as she dug in the dirt. A soft growl rumbled in his chest as she leaned forward, stretching the denim tight. Her head whipped around, and she started at the sight of him. He blew her a kiss then laughed in delight when she sniffed in disgust before pointedly turning her back to him. He winked at her companion, Caress, who studied him with interest before leaning in to whisper something to Rory.

  “I don’t think she likes you,” the boy scoffed then ducked his head as though expecting a blow. The wolf inside Sander didn’t like the obvious sign of fear, not at all. Young are to be nurtured, protected.

  “She’s crazy about me, kid. Just playing hard to get.” He glanced to his left, catching Daniel’s eye to flash him a rueful grin. “Well that’s what I’m hoping anyway. I’m a stubborn bastard. So’s my wolf. We’ll win her over with our irresistible charm.” He waggled his eyebrows at the boy, pleased when he got a little smile in response. Hoping the ice had been broken enough, he gestured casually to the pad beside Daniel. “You like to draw, huh?”

  The change in topic caught the kid off guard. He placed a protective hand over the top of the pad and shrugged. “I guess.” Sander let the silence stretch, this time keeping his focus on the boy. Patience was a skill he had grown into, and there was nothing more pressing on his time than the desire to get Daniel to open up to him. A few more minutes passed before the boy muttered, “There are better things I could be doing.”

  The soft words hurt his heart. Someone with influence had apparently said those words to Daniel often enough for him to believe them. Sander possessed little in the way of artistic skills himself, but had always admired the talent in others. “Can I take a look?” The boy’s hand on the sketch pad convulsed, and he feared he’d pushed too far, too fast. He held his breath, only relaxing when the boy shrugged as though it was no big deal and handed the pad to him. The tension in his body belied his attitude as he tugged over and over at the thread on his shirt.

  The trust this child placed in him was a gift he would need to handle with infinite care. Placing the pad across his knees, he opened the cover and gasped. A charcoal leaf filled the first sheet, every vein and line shown in intricate detail. He flipped the page to find a side-on study of Adrie Scarlett. Page after page of exquisite images delighted him. Daniel had a remarkable talent with an eye for detail.

  He waited to speak until he’d looked at every single drawing, paying due homage. “Have you shown these to anyone else?” Daniel shook his head, staring at his knees as though they were the most fascinating thing ever. “Do you take commissions?” The question shocked the boy, his brown eyes huge as he gaped at Sander. The idea someone would not just appreciate but covet one of his drawings had obviously never occurred to him.

  “It’s my sister-in-law’s birthday in a few weeks. Do you think if I got you some photos to work from, you could put something together for me?” The hope in Daniel’s eyes broke Sander’s heart. Before he could pursue the subject further, the boy glanced at his watch, and grabbed the sketch pad. The change in his scent, the reek of worry, had Sander’s wolf’s hackles up.

  “I’ve gotta go. I can’t be late.” Daniel disappeared, scrambling through the undergrowth in his hurry.

  Sander rose, unbuttoning his shirt as he approached the two women. Tugging his keys from his pocket, he tossed them toward Rory as he continued to strip. “Take the truck home. I’ll be there later.” Without pausing for an answer, he shucked his pants and boxers, leaving them in a pile at her feet.

  Running for the trees, he dropped to his knees, answering the call of his wolf who clamored to get out. He let the shift come, the bright, fresh pain a joy in itself. After so many years of being fettered by life among the humans, it was a relief to be able to shift at will. Gray fur rippled as his limbs twisted, bones reshaping into his other self. Throwing his head back, the wolf bayed his challenge to the winds. They would hunt well today. First the source of Daniel’s anxiety and then their mate.

  Catching the sour taint threading the boy’s natural scent, the wolf loped through the trees. It felt good to run, good to stretch his muscles again. His senses came alive as he slid through the undergrowth. The loamy smell of crushed plants underfoot created a backdrop for all the other notes. The sudden blast of mindless fear as a rabbit fled at his approach proved a momentary distraction before he pulled his wolf back on point. The boy’s scent lay fresh and clear over everything, and he made sure to keep some distance, tracking upwind to keep from being noticed.

  Crossing a wide, flattened area, he became confused by a tangled rush of scents. The pack had passed through here on a recent run, and the wolf wanted to roll in the power and fraternity of pack and family. He lost the scent he chased in the midst of so many others. Muzzle to the ground, he tracked back and forth, seeking the boy. The snap of a twig revealed his target, and he reluctantly abandoned the dazzling rainbow trail. The light changed overhead as the canopy thinned and the wolf slowed his pace. Hunkering low behind a fallen trunk, he watched the boy enter a cluster of houses.

  The buildings were in various states of repair, a couple tumbledown, others neglected but showing signs of occupancy. One stood alone at the back of the group, worn and tired, but the surrounding area kept neat. Daniel headed straight for the wooden stairs, dashing up as the door swung open. A harassed-looking woman with a pair of toddlers clinging to her legs shook her head as the boy ducked his.

  His foot scuffed on the bare planks of the little porch as the woman snapped, “Where were you? You know I can’t afford to be late. Daydreaming, no doubt?” She snatched the sketchbook from under his arm, waving it under his nose as proof of her last words. Daniel didn’t speak, instead crouching to gather the two little boys into his arms, lifting their weight easily. The woman continued to berate him, stepping aside to allow him to pass into the house. The door closed behind them, muffling her words, but Sander could tell they continued to flow.

  He held position, calling on all of his patience and experience. Rushing in when the situation wasn’t clear might prove a recipe for disaster, a lesson man and wolf had learned the hard way. It didn’t take long before the door opened again. The woman emerged, tugging her coat over her shoulders as she rattled off instructions over her shoulder. He could just make out the shadow of Daniel’s form, shoulders slumped, head hanging in a pose stinking of submission and defeat.

  Sander gave the woman time to clear the area before shuffling back on his haunches, making sure the trees fully covered him before rising from his crouch. Shaking himself vigorously, the wolf scented the air before loping off toward the east. Signs of civilization thinned as his paws ate up the ground.

  The hunt was on again, and this time he was determined he would find a more satisfying outcome.

  Chapter Six

  Rory paced the short distance between her bed and the kitchen area, the path taking her around the small dining table which marked the center of the cabin. The fragrance of dried herbs and flowers hanging from the exposed rafters filled the room although the heady lavender and lemon balm did little to calm her fraying nerves. The stack of clothing sat on the table, tauntin
g her with images of Sander’s sleekly muscled ass as he strode away from her earlier. She’d seen plenty of naked men before, Sander included. Wolves were pretty laid-back about nudity as few shifters had the ability to shift in their fully clothed state.

  She turned another circuit of the room, refusing to check the hands on the old clock ticking quietly above her bed. They were unlikely to have moved since the last time she checked them, or the time before. Throwing up her hands in frustration, she grabbed the offending items from the table and marched from the cabin. Should have left them in his truck in the first place. Taking care not to squash any of her beloved plants, she wove a path across the clearing. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the sky in a blaze of pinks and oranges. Undergrowth rustled close by her, and an impressive gray wolf stepped into the opening about six feet from her position. Golden eyes catching the fading rays of the sun, the wolf turned his head and studied her.

  Wintergreen filled her senses, making the wolf inside her rub up against her skin. He was magnificent in both forms. The urge to shift, to press her muzzle into the deep fur at his throat and draw on his scent until she was drunk on it, almost overwhelming. The wolf padded closer, rubbing against her thigh in greeting, and she dropped her hand to the soft fur on the top of his head. He turned his head, nipping playfully at her fingers before stepping back a few paces. The wolf lowered his head, body rippling as the shift started. Fur melted away, surprising her with the ease of his shift. Sander knelt at her feet, shaking from the aftereffects. She didn’t touch him; too much sensation for the newly shifted could be very uncomfortable. He looked up, brown curls plastered to his forehead by the sweat of his exertion. Heat burned in those familiar gray eyes, sparking a ripple of response low in her belly.

  Dropping the clothing she hugged to her chest, Rory spun on her heel and made a dash for the cabin. A deep growl rolled across the clearing as he pursued her. I’ve really got to stop giving him reasons to chase me. Hot flesh bracketed her, pressing her hard against the unforgiving wood of the door. Or maybe not, whispered her wolf. A soft whine escaped her throat before she could swallow it down.

  “What is it with you and doors, Sander Burrows?” She gasped as he pressed a thick thigh between her legs. Arms circling her waist, he tugged her back to rest against his chest. The hard muscle of his leg pressed the seam of her jeans close, rubbing the heavy material against her clit. Her resistance melted, as he scooped the hair away from her nape and nibbled at her sensitive pulse point. Liquid heat gushed from her core, and an approving rumble rose in his chest. “You smell so good, honey. So. Fucking. Good.” Hot hands slid beneath her shirt, clasping her breasts, teasing her nipples into tight, aching points. She couldn’t think straight as his tongue laved the side of her neck. Her focus zeroed down to those three points, and she braced her hands on the door, grinding her sex against his thigh to seek relief.

  “Good girl. That’s my beautiful, sexy girl. Do you want to come, honey?” he whispered in her ear, and she whined in response. “Unbutton your pants for me, Rory. Slide them down nice and slow.” The pressure from his thigh disappeared, and she cried out at the loss of friction, scrabbling frantically at the fastening on her jeans. His grip on her chest shifted as he tugged the cups down until her breasts spilled out, the underwire in her bra holding them up for his touch. The zipper finally came free, and she shoved at the denim, kicking until her pants fell to her ankles, her practical white panties pooling on top of them. Cool air hit her ass, and she shivered, but it didn’t stop her from tugging the T-shirt over her head. Sharp teeth grazed her neck and he pinched her nipples at the same time, the dual shocks arrowing to her core.

  “My hands are full, Rory,” he murmured. “You’ll have to help me out.” She paused, uncertain as to what he asked her, afraid she would do something wrong and betray her inexperience. He soon filled in the blanks. “Touch yourself, honey. Finger that hot little pussy of yours; show me what you like. I want your cream flowing when I fuck you with my tongue.”

  She dropped her hand hesitantly, cheeks flaming at the thought of masturbating in front of him. His thick erection nudged her ass, excitement and fear warring within her at the alien feel of it. “Do it for me,” he panted, resting his chin on her shoulder, giving him line of sight down the front of her body. “I’ve dreamed about this, Rory. Dreamed about you coming apart in my arms.”

  The need to come was a hollow ache between her thighs, and she gasped in relief as she glanced her fingers over her clit. Pressing farther back, she was shocked at the slickness as she dipped just inside her pussy, dragging the moisture back to tease the bundle of nerves throbbing in time with her pulse. She knew exactly what she needed to do to come, the act as familiar as breathing after all these years. Pressing hard, she stroked herself rapidly.

  “Yes, honey. That’s it. You look so sexy. Does it feel good, darling? So beautiful, so hot.” The litany of encouragement fell from his lips as sensation built to a level she had rarely felt. Getting herself off was mostly a stress reliever, a way to relax when sleep wouldn’t come. She’d had no idea being intimate with another person would be this intense. And it wasn’t just anyone.

  It was him.

  Past hurts faded in the reality of his touch. He was here. Now. And he wanted her.

  “Sander.” She gasped his name, faltering at the sensations threatening to overwhelm her. Releasing one of her breasts, he responded to the uncertain question in her voice, gliding his hand down the front of her belly until his fingers curled over hers, increasing the pressure on her throbbing clit.

  “I’ve got you, Rory. I’m right here with you. Let it go, honey. It’s okay.” His soft assurance, the tenderness in his tone provided the perfect contrast to the riot of need inside. Clinging to the promise of safety, she gave herself over to the primal demands of her body. Her knees buckled as the strongest orgasm of her life ripped her apart. He braced her with ease, leaning back to take the limp weight of her body. Stars burst behind her tightly closed eyes, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs. He petted her, stroking her skin as he eased her back to awareness.

  Reality came in a series of physical messages. The stretch in her throat where she’d thrown her head back against his shoulder. The press of his arm across her chest as he held her tightly against him. Wet heat on her fingers where they tangled with his at the juncture of her thighs. A throbbing pulse against her ass, his cock hard and ready to thrust inside her body. She catalogued them all as her wolf surged forward. Ours. Take him, claim him. Mate.

  The wolf had no time for foolish emotion and doubt. She knew what she wanted, what was best for herself and her hesitant human half. Had it been up to the wolf, they would have made their feelings known years ago. Too much time had been wasted. The demands of her other half combined with her needs, the lonely, rejected girl so desperate for love.

  Rory rolled her hips and the head of his cock slid between her thighs, gliding through the wetness coating her sex. Sander groaned against her ear, hot breath teasing her skin. His grip tightened, pressing their entwined fingers against her clit. A shudder of pleasure rippled down her spine, and he rubbed against her, seeking entry.

  “Can you bend forward for me, honey?” He unlinked their hands, gripping her waist to shift her position even as he spoke, and she yielded to his guiding touch. She braced both hands against the door, her knees still shaky. Her weaker right hand didn’t have sufficient strength to support her as he adjusted her to the angle he needed.

  Pressure built against the entrance to her pussy as he aligned himself, and she tried to relax. Everyone said there was some pain the first time, and she clenched her teeth as the tip of his cock stretched her open. The burn in her swollen tissues brought tears to her eyes. He stopped moving. “Relax for me, Rory. You’re a lot tighter than I expected, and I don’t want to hurt you.” His fingers flexed against her hips, sweat dripping from his brow onto her back.

  What the heck does he think I’m
trying to do? Exasperation battled with pain as she willed the contracted muscles at the entrance to her body to release. It wasn’t like this in the romance novels she read. A pause, a quick thrust, white pain fading quickly to pleasure—that had been her expectation. Not this fiery invasion that felt as though he was tearing her apart. He pulled back, the tip of his cock slipping out. She gasped in relief. His forehead lowered to rest against her spine, and he sounded as though he struggled to get his breathing under control. “The thought of any other man touching you makes me crazy, but I have to ask, has it been a while since you had sex?” She could hear the wolf in his growled words. Squeezing her eyes shut, embarrassment and frustration warred with his right to know.

  “It’s fine, really. Try again, it…I heard…they say it’s always painful the first time. Just do it.” She pressed back again, seeking contact. His grip tightened, stilling her movements.

  “Just do it?” The growl was gone, replaced by incredulity. Dammit, she was no good at this. The sexy words rolling so easily from his lips were a struggle for her. Trying to recall some of the seductive phrasing from her favorite stories, she wriggled her ass against him.

  “Take me, Sander. Take me and make me yours.” His lack of response made her panic, and she hunted desperately for the right words to get him back in the mood. “Fill me with your love rocket and ride me to the stars!” Really? Her wolf snorted in disgust, and Rory gave a mental apology.

  The loss of his body heat when he stepped back combined with the vulnerability of her position, and sheer embarrassment to flip all her defensive switches. She straightened up, turning to place her back against the door, arms crossed to shield her body. He stood on the edge of the narrow porch, hands loose at his sides, a deep frown hooding his beautiful gray eyes.