Pack Princess (Paranormal Shapeshifer BBW Romance): (Devil Riders MC)

by Mina Carter

  Christ, that sounded good. Really fucking good and exactly what she would’ve wanted from her mate.

  “I’d fuck you good. Make you scream every night,” he promised, letting go of her nape to sit back on his heels. His hand on the back of her hips tilted them up for him to thrust in again, and she cried out at the change in position. His thumb found her clit, circling and stroking it in time with his thrusts. “Such a pretty pussy…I could eat you for every meal. And just so you know, I’m partial to breakfast in bed as well.”

  The combination of his words and actions turned her mind and body to mush. Electric shudders raced down her spine to her clit. Tension built in her, rolled into a thick knot that held her immobile. His body pounded into hers. Deeper. Harder. Stronger. So fucking perfectly it felt as if he’d been made for her. Her lungs compressed, sucking for air.

  “God, Razor,” she gasped the moment her body gave. It snapped hard like a rubber band and shattered into a billion tiny fragments. Then the rush came. A giant wave of pleasure blasted from her groin and shot outward toward her limbs, dissolving muscles in its wake. She rode it, clinging to him for dear life while trying to remember how to breathe.

  Her body worked on automatic as he moved over her. His breathing ragged, interspersed with deep groans, but she didn’t care. Not when every rock of his hips, every deep thrust, fed her another wave of ecstasy so complete that she could have died right here and been a happy woman. With her track record, she was going straight to hell, but it didn’t matter, she’d already seen her glimpse of heaven.

  “That’s it...fuck, you’re perfect, princess. I’m gonna co—” Razor gasped, then slammed into her one last time. Throwing his head back, he roared his release. His cock, buried deep inside her, jerked and pulsed, and for a second, she wished she was in her heat phase. That his seed could find fertile ground.

  Chapter Four

  His princess was, in a word, amazing.

  Razor lay propped up against the pillows and watched her as she bustled around the room wearing his T-shirt. It hit her just above the knees, hiding her luscious curves from view. That made no difference. He knew what she looked like. In fact, every detail of her delicious body was imprinted on his mind forever, courtesy of one, white-hot night between the sheets.

  Content to just lie there, the sheet loosely spread across his lap, he watched as she brushed her hair and piled it on top of her head with clips. The yawn was sly, hitting him blindsides, but it wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t slept more than half an hour all night, sleep pushed aside in favor of making his princess scream again. And again.

  Even now, just watching her do normal things, like brushing her hair, his cock stirred under the sheets. Sheets that held the scent of her and sex; a scent he realized he was rapidly becoming addicted to.

  “So Princess, you never did tell me your name.”

  She stopped, the brush in mid-air held tight in her grasp. She turned to meet his gaze, her face no longer holding that carefree smile. “Evva, but I don't think it matters at this point.”

  He caught the flash of guilt at the back of her eyes. Was that guilt because she’d had a night of wild, hot sex with a bad-boy biker? Had that been what she’d been after when she’d walked into the bar last night? His wolf snarled, and he had to agree. Being used for sex when they wanted so much more from her didn’t sit right.

  “Why doesn’t it matter?” he asked, careful to mask his expression. Good thing he’d become a master at concealing his feelings. Kind of a given in the pack he’d grown up in. Appearances had been everything, and nothing but the best had been expected from the heir. No wonder he’d run, first joining the army, and then heading out on the road with the Devils.

  He added a smile, shoving a hand through his loose hair and watched her as it fell down around his face. He wasn’t stupid. He knew how to make the most of his looks to get what he wanted. “Maybe I’d like to know to put a name to fond memories…”

  She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, nibbling on it, indecision clear in her face. “Memories...” Her gaze swooped down to his mouth and continued to the area the sheet lay around his hips. “Memories can be dangerous.” She cleared her throat, her gaze rising up to meet his. Desire filled the depth of her eyes. “But sometimes, so incredibly worth it.”

  His body, already half-hard, reacted immediately and predictably, but he wasn’t ruled by his lusts. His heart, that organ that he’d buried for so long, ached at the look in her eyes.

  Loneliness. Pain. Longing.

  He recognized the first two from his mirror each morning, but the third was new to him. Reaching out, he snagged a hand in her hair and pulled her toward him to press a kiss to her lips. They parted instantly under his, and the sweet kiss he’d intended became something hot and torrid within seconds.

  Breaking away, he met her gaze. “Princess, if you’re in some kind of trouble, you can crash here. We’ll take care of you.”

  As soon as he said the words, he felt like an idiot. What sort of trouble would a princess from the better part of town possibly be in that would make her take sanctuary in the gutter with the likes of him?

  She blinked, surprise evident in her eyes. Her lips lifted in a soft smile. “That might just be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me.” She raised a hand and slid her fingers through his hair, her smile dulling. “Thanks for the offer, but I won't hide from my problems.”

  Admiration rolled through him. She planned to meet her problems head on. A good trait to have in a woman. And a mate, a little voice whispered in the back of his head. He ignored it in favor of kissing her again. Softly. Slowly. Committing the shape and feel of her lips to memory.

  “The offer’s always there,” he said when they came up for air. What made him unwrap his leather bracelet, he had no idea, but he did it anyway. “Here. Take this.” The leather was too long for her wrist, so he wrapped it around twice then snapped it shut. Turning it, he showed her the small metal wolf’s head dangling near the clasp. “If you ever need help, give this to any Devil, they’ll know what to do.”

  She rubbed the leather on her wrist with care, almost as if afraid to break the strong material with her touch. “This is...” She glanced at him, confusion clear in her gaze. “This is lovely. Are you sure I can have it?” At his nod, amusement replaced the confusion in her eyes. “So, will flashing this like the bat signal make you appear?”

  He smiled, touched by her reaction to the gift. She no doubt had boxes full of flashy, expensive jewelry, yet she seemed ready to tear up over a crudely worked leather bracelet.

  “Sorry, Princess. I don’t do a rubber suit for anyone. Leather’s my thing.”

  It was getting too sentimental, so he kissed her, reaching down to slap her ass at the same time. “Shower. If you want dropping off somewhere that is.”

  She squeaked and hopped away. “I'm starting to think you have an obsession with slapping my ass.” She wiggled her way to the bathroom, turning to him with a sexy grin. “Want to help conserve water?”

  ***

  Evva's chest compressed with sadness. She was home. What she really wanted was to throw herself at Razor's back, cling to him and beg him to take her far away from the upcoming nuptials. She wouldn't be getting that wish. Couldn’t have that wish, no matter how much she might yearn for it.

  Though early, she knew the staff would be watching from the moment they came into view of the large house, so she tapped his shoulder and got him to pull over behind the trees near the main gate. They were sheltered from view. Just. It would have to do.

  Sliding from the bike as gracefully as she could, she inhaled, pushed back the knot in her throat, and faced him. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice how difficult the whole morning-after chat was now.

  Her gaze swept over his rough features, his piercing eyes and the lips that could bring any woman to her knees. She fingered the bracelet, her heart cracking. A slow sting started in her chest, growing until the throbbing made it nearly impos
sible to stand there without bursting into tears. This big biker with his sweet words, tender treatment, and hot sex had done what no other man ever had. He'd made her fall in less than the time it took her to pick out a new pair of Jimmy Choos. And now, she had to go inside, forget all about him, and marry Chip.

  “Thanks.” It was all she could get out.

  He nodded, a rough grunt his only answer. His gaze moved past her, lingered on the big wrought-iron gates. Once, she’d imagined them to be gates to a fairy-tale castle, protecting her, the princess, within. Now, she saw them for what they were—a prison. Her life, her dreams of true love and marrying her prince charming were just that. Fairy tales. Real life didn’t work that way.

  “You’re a Castillo?” He glanced back at her, his silver eyes unreadable.

  It didn't surprise her that he knew of her family. He probably knew Chip's family too. It's how it worked in the shifter circle. Everyone knew the powerhouses, who to steer clear from. She just happened to belong to one.

  “I am.”

  She held stiff, waiting for some sort of comment about her whole princess of the pack status. The ache in her chest increased. This was probably the first time in her life she wished she were just some random girl who could say to hell with everyone and hit the road with Razor. She wouldn't, though. She'd been raised to make her decisions based on the good of the pack. She might be spoiled, but being an alpha, ready to take command if needed, was in her blood.

  He nodded, his expression unchanging. She tried to work out if it was a good or bad expression, but he was giving her nothing to work with. She bit back a sigh, he’d make a fantastic poker player.

  “Good family,” he commented, still sitting astride his bike. She cast it a glance. Big and powerful, it looked dangerous to her, but he handled it like it was nothing. “Heard there was going to be a big Castillo wedding soon. That yours?”

  Shit. Even he'd heard of the wedding from hell.

  “That'd be me.” She shifted, uncomfortable discussing her upcoming wedding with the man she’d be screaming for in bed—and the shower, could never forget the shower—mere hours before. “I get to play bride for Chip.”

  He lifted an eyebrow, surprise flowing over his features. “Chip?”

  “Sorry. The Rasmussen pack first born. Dale something or other.” She ground out. She really didn’t want to have this conversation. Not with him.

  His face returned to the blank expression, but the expression in his eyes made her freeze, her heart pounding. “Their first-born, huh?”

  She sighed. “It's supposed to be good for both families. Unite. Create a stronger front. Have super alpha babies. Make one solid pack.” She waved a hand dismissively and tossed a strand of hair over her shoulder. “Or some shit like that.”

  “Politics.” He spat the word, disgust evident in his voice. “Can’t fucking stand politics. Easier on the road.”

  He dropped his head back and blew out a sigh. She took a second to just look at him. To ogle the strong body, heavy with muscles, and the way his hair rippled in the breeze. For a moment, she allowed herself to think what life with him would be like.

  She’d probably hate him within the month. Maybe. Her heart clenched. She knew she wouldn’t. Her mate was standing right in front of her, and she had to walk away from him.

  “Like I said, I don't run from my problems. So this is something I'll see through,” She struggled to say the words. “For the good of the pack.” She inhaled, her chest and eyes burning with the need drop the facade and cry. “This is who I am.” She didn't mince her words. “You're lucky. You don't have to make decisions for people who depend on you.” She envied him that. To be able to do whatever he wanted without worrying about anyone else. “Politics suck, but I want what's best for my family, so I'll do whatever I have to do.”

  Including watching him walk away with her heart.

  He nodded, a strange expression on his face for a moment. Before she was even sure she’d seen it, let alone work out what it was, it was gone.

  Reaching for her hand, he lifted it to his lips. “Princess, you have to be the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

  He smiled, not the small sexy quirk of his lips, but a true, honest smile. The effect was devastating, rendering his appearance from simple drop-dead gorgeous to lethal. Especially when the expression turned tender, and he kissed the back of her hand. She mourned the loss of his touch when he let go.

  “Good luck, Evva Castillo.” He started the bike and put it in gear, ready to go. “May your marriage bring you everything you wish for.”

  And with that, he was gone.

  ***

  Razor made it around the corner before he snarled and pulled the bike over with a vicious wrench of the handlebars. The car behind him swerved at his sudden braking and honked. He didn’t care, flipping the driver off before cutting the engine and leaning over the handlebars.

  “Fuck!”

  He’d let her walk away. The woman his wolf told him was his mate, and he’d let her walk away. And for what? So she could fulfill her duty to her pack. Like he hadn’t.

  Shoving a hand through his loose hair, he ignored the fact that it shook. Or that his nails had lengthened to claws as if further evidence of his loss of control was needed.

  He glanced back the way he’d come. The trees by the front gates were still visible. His wolf paced and snarled within, demanding that he turn the damn bike around, storm through those gates and go claim his mate.

  His lips quirked. If he did that now, his little mate would probably give him the roasting of his life and leave his ears ringing for weeks. No, he had to do this right. He sat back comfortably, plans turning over in his mind.

  She was due to marry the Rasmussen first born, was she?

  Reaching into his inner pocket, he pulled his cell free and hit speed dial.

  “Cuffs. Get the brothers together. We’re going shopping.”

  ***

  Knock knock.

  “What?” she snapped, pacing the confines of the bridal suite at the church.

  “You okay in there, sweetheart?” her father asked, his voice hesitant for the first time in her life.

  “I’m fine! Don't come in. I need a moment.” Or a century. Whatever kept her from the fiasco about to take place. Her dress caught at the hem on something. She growled, ready to yank the expensive material, not really worried about tearing the beautiful gown.

  Another knock sounded not a minute later.

  “I said I need a minute! Doesn't anyone listen around here?” She made a swift U-turn and returned to pacing. The clickity-clack of her heels sounded louder than the thumping of her frantic heartbeats.

  “We just wanted to let you know everything is in place,” her cousin Lainie mumbled from the other side of the door.

  She’d fully embraced being a Bridezilla. Not so much because she cared that the event went off without a hitch, but because she’d prefer something did go wrong so it wouldn’t take place.

  “The organist?” she demanded. The hand on her bouquet dug deep into the white satin covering the rose stems.

  “She's ready and waiting on you.”

  “Groom?” She held her breath, hoping against hope that Lainie would say he changed his mind.

  “Er, he's here. I think.”

  Of course he was. Dammit. Chip wouldn't refuse to do something his father ordered. Spineless jerk. She'd chew him up and spit him out within a week.

  “I'm sure he's waiting like everyone else is.” Gigi's normally patient voice held a note of frustration. “Like we all are.”

  He could damn well wait for her a few moments. Not like she was going to be going anywhere else after this.

  “Evva, I'm coming in.”

  “I said I need time.” She glanced around the room in a panic, now wishing for a window or some way to escape.

  The door swung open, and Gigi entered. Frustration was visible on her features, matching the tone of her voice. “What’s going on in
here?” She shut the door, leaving a wide-eyed Lainie outside the room.

  “I…” She gulped and glanced away from Gigi, her gaze travelling all over the room only to stop at the leather bracelet she placed next to her “something blue” garter on the sofa chair.

  Razor.

  Anguish clasped around her heart, holding tight. She swallowed hard and met Gigi’s worried frown. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  Gigi watched her for a moment before glancing at the leather bracelet herself. “This isn’t like you, Evva. You might bitch and complain,” she said with a grin. “But you always do what you have to. What’s really wrong?”

  “If I marry Chip…” She inhaled, choking back tears. Her heart ached, the pain excruciating. If she married Chip, then there was no chance of her Happily Never After with Razor. “I’ll never be happy.”

  Gigi marched closer, wrapping her arms around her in a fierce, sisterly hug. “Honey, don’t think that way. You don’t know that for sure.”

  She nodded, the tears rushing down her eyes and messing up the makeup artist’s hard work. “I do know that.”

  “How?” Gigi pushed back, her gaze bored into Evva’s intently. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She blinked repeatedly, trying to stop the flow of tears. This was pathetic. She was uber-bitch pack princess. She never cried. Ever. Except now, she couldn’t seem to stop. “I met someone.”

  Gigi’s eyes widened the same moment she gasped. “When?”

  “The night we went out.” She turned away from Gigi, moving to the sofa and holding Razor’s bracelet in one hand. It made her feel better to have it with her. She didn’t feel so alone.

  “When you left us in the bar and disappeared?” Gigi’s tone wasn’t accusing, more probing.

  She nodded, glancing down at her lap. “I met my mate,” she pushed the words through her tear clogged throat. “But worse than that, I fell in love.”

  “Oh, Evva.” Gigi dropped down, squatting in front of her. “Maybe if we talk to your dad, if we explain things…”