by L. A. Banks
Sasha backed up. Hunter dropped to his knees where he’d been standing. An agonized amber stare trapped her. She turned around and nestled into the cave he’d made for her body to fit against on all fours. He mounted her with a wail, coaxing one from her, too—hot skin sliding against hot skin, sweat and female essence providing heat-slathered sound.
On every power thrust she could feel his wolf begging to come out, dying to come out, filling his lungs with deep rumbling thunder that reverberated through her bones.
Wide male hands braced against the floor to soon score an area rug, pulling up nap and damaging hardwood. Frustration and pleasure sank him deeper into her each time, making her throw her head back and cry out. Primal, driving pleasure lifted her hips and dip-swayed her back, bringing her breasts to sweep the floor, until a hard arm welded itself to her waist for more leverage.
His body was hot stone, burning up. Every return to her body released a guttural moan from his depths. She could barely get his name out, much less her next breath, but the moment she cried out again both his arms gripped her waist and his sweat-damped face scorched her back.
A sudden, blinding climax left her convulsing hard enough to nearly swallow her tongue. Needing an anchor, she dug her nails into Hunter’s muscle-corded thighs as he pulled her back against him, still thrusting.
Sensations ricocheted from his body into hers then back, the shadows in the room holding a life echo all their own. She could feel that blend in with their sweat-saturated skins, compounding ecstasy into every touch. It was all too much at once . . . all too insane and frantic. She was on the verge of passing out; he was breathing erratically. From the way his body dry-heaved against hers and the way his thrusts had devolved to inconsistent jabs, she knew he was in a place where pure agony resided.
A pair of rough hands aggressively covered her breasts, then swept down her torso to hold her hips as she fell forward again, palms pressed to the floor. Sweat from his burning face splattered her spine. His deep-timbred moans now had a mournful, pleading quality that sent shivers down her spine.
Hot breath pelted her shoulders in steaming bursts. Her man was trapped between heaven and hell, between his wolf and his human, between release and torture, and no matter how hard she worked, he was stuck there at midpoint.
Peering backward she saw how pain had contorted his expression, furrowing his brows above tightly shut eyes. His dark, handsome face glistened in the moonlight from pure sweat effort. His hair was a wild mane of dark velvet across his shoulders. Five o’clock shadow was thickening on his square jaw, the muscle in it pulsing to his thrusts. His need had become so great that she could intermittently hear him whimper between ragged gulps of air. Every now and again he bit his bottom lip and then suddenly stopped breathing altogether, bracing for the release that didn’t come before letting the anticipated sensation go with a hard shudder on a low, agonized groan.
“Sasha . . . baby . . . shit . . .” Hunter lowered his burning forehead against her shoulder blades for a moment and sucked in several huge inhales, slowing down.
A charley horse cramp was kicking his ass. Words wouldn’t form; his body hurt to the point of trembling. His balls ached so badly that it made his kidneys throb. Then she moved and cold air stabbed his groin; for a split second he didn’t know whether to cry or puke. Oh . . . God . . . All he could do was slowly pound the floor with his fist until the wicked sensation abated. Never in his life had his wolf trapped him like this. It was a merciless betrayal that sent his pulse into arrhythmia.
But mercy found him before he could give in to the heart attack that sought him. Relief came as a pair of satin-smooth female legs that found his waist . . . a hot slide into paradise as firm breasts pressed against his chest and graceful hands swept up his back. He fell into Sasha’s arms in a cold sweat, stuttering.
“I need to . . . but I can’t, I dunno what’s the matter,” he said in a gravelly rush, holding her against him so tightly he could barely breathe himself.
“If your wolf won’t come out, then let the man run hard,” she murmured into his ear on a husky moan. “Give in to him, Hunter,” she demanded, taking his mouth and fisting his hair. She arched hard, causing his eyes to cross beneath his lids. “Track me.”
His nose instantly sought her hair, and he pulled her into his senses on a sharp, wincing inhale. Thick sex with Sasha-scent coated his insides. Oh, yeah . . . She-Shadow rippled under her skin, driving him insane. His hands couldn’t touch enough of her at once. Her body was fluid, liquid shadows filled with she-heat. Tears stung his eyes. He could feel her wolf just beneath her satiny skin, could taste it in every wanton kiss . . . could hear it in her moan.
“Sasha!”
“Track me,” she commanded, thrusting harder as her hands slid down his back to grasp the lobes of his ass.
She bit his shoulder, making him see stars. “Don’t lose me. You with me, Hunter? Keeping pace . . . ,” she asked in a sensual timbre that almost made him break stride with his hard shudder.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, each inhale now ragged. She’d said his name like it was a verb, like something of action, something she wanted, on that breathy, deep whisper of hers that shot right through him. Hell no, he wouldn’t lose her. Never. His wolf was on her and everything male within him paced her.
Sasha’s sudden moan and a hard rake of her nails up his back fused with her arch. It made his breaths sync up to his muscles, wound everything tighter around his skeleton as his heart slammed against his rib cage. Hell yes he was with her. The moment she lost it again, so would he.
Tight contractions sucked at his shaft, breaking his thrusts down into erratic, long lunges. The shit felt so good he couldn’t even howl.
“I’m so close, Hunter,” she said between her teeth. “You still tracking me, baby?”
“I swear I’m with you, baby,” he panted, and then dropped his head forward, near the breaking point.
“No you’re not,” she said in a hard rush into his ear and then bit his earlobe as she began to slow.
Pressure built, his mind snapped, his hands were in her hair, his mouth punishing hers as he lifted her beneath him in a hard arch. “Don’t stop, Sasha—don’t . . .”
Words tumbled into a howling wail as she scored his sides and he came so hard he couldn’t breathe. Granite thrusts crippled his mind and stole his breath. Insane pleasure jags felt like they were pulling his spinal cord through every disk in his back as tears and sweat ran down his face. Sasha’s hard climax twisted his stomach in pleasure knots. Her hot, pulsing sheath was going to make him drool on himself; his body was already twitching like he’d been lightning-struck. Then slowly, but surely, it was all over. He could breathe . . . he just couldn’t move. He couldn’t even lift his own body to give hers a break.
“You okay?” she asked softly, struggling under his deadweight.
He slowly rolled over with her anchored by his right arm. There was nothing to do but simply nod. When he felt her try to move, though, he shook his head. “Please . . . not yet.” That was all he could get out.
Okay, so he’d begged her. His mouth wasn’t cooperating with his brain. But how could he make her understand the pleasure that was still radiating up his shaft, practically leaving him blind? It had been intense between them before, but nothing like this. He was just thankful that she lay against him peacefully and allowed him to stay deeply embedded within her for now.
She wasn’t sure how long they lay there in the middle of the floor, but she could tell by the change in the pitch of the moon it had been a while. Each time she tried to gently slip out of Hunter’s dozing hold, he tightened it. Finally she gave up trying not to wake him and simply kissed him.
“I’m going to at least get us a blanket.”
A pair of hot hands caressed her back, and a kiss brushed the crown of her head.
“How about we go to bed?” he murmured with his eyes closed. “I just couldn’t move for a little while.”
“How’
re you feeling?” she asked quietly.
“Way better than I did before we came back to the room.”
She could hear the smile in his voice and was glad of it. She also hoped he would simply let her run-in with Shogun pass, chalk it up to aroused male wolves squaring off over body turf—as primitive as that concept was. But when she lifted her head to begin the tough process of getting up off the floor, she met a pair of sad wolf eyes in the dark.
“I’m sorry,” Hunter said in a quiet, faraway tone.
She cradled the side of his face with her palm. “Baby . . .”
He closed his eyes. “You’re not going to be able to go on like this forever. I can’t expect that.” He sat up slowly, gathering her into his arms as their bodies shifted and parted.
“What do you mean?’ She stood as he stood, blocking his escape to the bed.
He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers. “The way . . . Things aren’t right, in Shadow terms.”
She knew he was talking about the way they now made love. He couldn’t shadow-dance, couldn’t shift on a run. Her hand rested in the center of his chest for a moment, feeling his heart.
“By your next heat, this has to be fixed or you’ll have to shoot me.”
“Why would you say something like that?” Horror filled her as she stepped away from him and began collecting clothes.
“Because now you know what it’s like to make love to a Werewolf,” he said flatly, finding his discarded clothes and kicking the coffee table out of the way.
“What?” Sasha stood in the middle of the floor holding jeans and a T-shirt, stunned. Was he accusing her? Shoot him—he couldn’t be preparing to dominance-battle Shogun over a moot point . . . noooo . . .
Hunter stared at her for a moment. “Now you know.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, things have not gone that far and . . .” Her voice trailed off as his expression became perplexed. Damn.
“Sasha, what are you talking about?”
Hunter raked his fingers through his hair and then folded his arms over his chest. In the dark with moonlight bathing his dark symmetry and eyes glowing amber, he was awesome. The problem was, she’d inadvertently put her foot in her mouth. There was no defensible comeback as he waited. Not one that wouldn’t irreparably damage an already very wounded male ego.
“Before you go asking me what I meant—since you’re the one who’s speaking in vast metaphors, Hunter, why don’t you clarify what you’re talking about?” she said, trying to sound casual and righteous. “I’m not sure that I like your tone, either. Why can’t we just go to bed and . . . maybe do what we just did all over again? I have to leave in the morning and I don’t want . . . Oh, c’mon, baby, seriously. What’s up?”
She stared at him, waiting, hoping that female double talk might work while standing in front of a male wolf in the nude. At least it was worth a try. Sasha raked her hair; this man was making her crazy. Worse, he was making her sort out things about another man that she didn’t even want to think about while standing in the middle of a bedroom stark naked!
“I meant,” Hunter said between his teeth, “that now that you’ve seen how very unrefined the male Werewolf style is, I’d have to get this virus out of my system and the situation rectified before your next calendar heat—or you’d have to shoot me for being all over you day and night . . . like this. Why don’t you tell me what you were referring to?”
“Nothing, Hunter. Let’s just get some shut-eye—”
He pointed toward the window in a hard snap, indicating the tavern that they could see across the street. “But maybe curiosity about the Were Clan Federation has left a void. Was that what you thought I meant? That I was referring to Shogun? Or when I said you’d have to shoot me, I was talking about a dominance battle?” Hunter dragged his fingers through his hair and began to walk in a circle. “Reference to a Werewolf immediately conjures the image of him in your mind, not me . . . the one who just made love to you like one because of a—”
“You are not being fair,” she said, heaving her clothes onto the sofa in a jumble and then pointing at his chest. “We both got approached tonight, so what? We both maybe took a look at expanded possibilities after we’d had a fight. But nobody acted on anything. You and I ended up here practically devouring each other. What’s the big deal? I’m here, you’re here—and as best I can tell, it was a wild and crazy night. I hope you had fun, because I sure did.”
“Is that what happened?” he said quietly, his tone distant and hurt. “We just had fun. Okay.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake!
“What happened over at The Fair Lady, then?” Sasha folded her arms over her breasts.
He looked away.
“Uh-huh, I thought so.” She gave him a hard glare before righting the coffee table and the broken lamp.
“I had virus competing with meds in my system.” Hunter strolled over to the bed and sat down on it hard. He picked up the room-service menu, staring at it in the dark.
“I had a flight from a testosterone rush and good old-fashioned anger competing in mine, so?”
“Are you hungry?” he said, changing the subject.
“Hell yeah,” she said, angry but not sure why.
“Burgers and fries are all they’ve got that looks good on the twenty-four-hour menu.”
“That’ll work,” she said, coming to flop down beside him. “The usual—rare.”
He gave her a sidelong glance, leaning his weight on his forearms and thighs. “Look, Sasha, if at any time you want out of this, you let me know, okay? I’d rather it be decided privately between us than humiliate myself in the streets in a dominance battle for a woman who’s lost interest. At least allow me to save face in public and in front of my pack . . . in front of the North American Shadow Clan. That’s all I ask. We’re both at a level politically where there’s more at stake here than our own personal bull . . . you were right about that.”
Their eyes met in a sad stalemate.
“I’m not going anywhere, Hunter,” she said in a slightly annoyed tone. “Except to report in to the base tomorrow. I haven’t lost interest. If you couldn’t tell that from what just happened in here, then I’m at a loss for what to say to you.”
Hunter let his breath out hard. “The Werewolves dominance-battle all the time over selected, but temporary, mates. They have a very different worldview than Shadows. In our culture, we go there once in a lifetime. I’ve already been there.”
“I know,” she said, more softly now, not sure what else she could tell him as he moved a stray wisp of hair off her cheek. He hadn’t completely read the Shogun conflict within her wrong. That fact at the moment was killing her.
Lei sidled up to her brother at the bar in Finnegan’s Wake and slid onto a stool beside him.
“Why do you persist in torturing yourself like this, Shogun? It isn’t becoming for a Were-royal to be scouring the dank alleys of New Orleans looking for a stray she-Shadow like he’s some forlorn hunting dog. Nor would I ever allow anyone to see me practically baying at the windows of the back of a bed-and-breakfast establishment. The Elves are probably all gossiping; you know the Fae.” She smiled smugly and inclined her head toward the B&B across the street. “It’s quiet now . . . good thing the human community doesn’t hear like we do, nor do the Fae or Mythics, but I bet—”
“Enough,” Shogun snarled, and then tossed back a Jack Daniel’s shot, standing. “Get what you want and put it on my tab.”
Lei held his arm. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”
“We have nothing to discuss.” Shogun snatched his arm from his sister’s hold.
“It’s about her.”
Shogun hesitated. Lei smiled.
“While I am sure that after listening to her get naked with the big Shadow, you need to quickly go find an available, unaccompanied she-alpha tonight—rare at this hour since all the pretty ones are taken—you do need to discuss how she could possibly factor into your complete rule of both Federatio
ns. A coup, if ever I saw one on the horizon.”
“Why are you always so quick to deceive a friend and to cut the throat of an ally, Lei?” Shogun said close to her ear in a warning growl.
“If you could have Hunter’s woman, tell me you wouldn’t cut his throat. Didn’t you try without success to do that tonight? Be honest. We’re family. I know how much you want her.”
“If you weren’t my blood sibling, I would shun you,” Shogun whispered, straightening. Rage made him clasp his hands behind his back to keep them from finding their way around Lei’s neck.
“But you need me, as you have always needed me. You try to run this clan and all its packs with an Old World sense of honor and chivalry that nearly eclipsed our parents. What I am offering you is an opportunity.”
“Do not ever speak ill of our parents’ honor,” Shogun growled. “Before they made irreparable decisions, they ruled with integrity, and that is the part of their legacy that I will restore!”
Lei’s eyes narrowed as her voice dipped to a threatening murmur. “Do not lecture me on the history of the Eighteenth Dynasty of the Xi-Ho Clan. I have not forgotten what it took to unite the Werewolf Clans of China, Japan, Korea, Thailand, Mongolia, the Philippines, and Malaysia—all of it. The entire region under one rule—now yours. I know how much blood was shed, how many sacrifices, how many secret deals and strategies it required, dear brother. Do you?”
When he looked away, she grabbed his arm. “I also know that its current alpha leader is a direct descendant of those mighty clans that crossed into the vast wilderness of Siberia, battling the fearsome Russian Wolf Clans to cross the Bering Strait. It is our seed that entered North America to become the foundation of the North American Clans. So yes, Shogun, I am well versed in the history of honor and duty.”
Without apology in her tone or gaze, Lei lifted her chin, releasing Shogun’s arm. “I am asking that you honor your ancestry by not attempting to sully the Xi-Ho name by consorting with Shadows as a second pick, as though you were a mere beta male, and by refusing to share your rightful rulership of the combined Federations with their alpha male long-term. The Shadow Wolves are imposters! Mutants that adapted from our gene pool, not the other way around. Our birthright supersedes theirs, was the foundation of theirs, so it is no wonder that our parents made the ultimate sacrifice to accept the demon virus to strengthen themselves as well as their warrior ranks against invaders. I am not ashamed of our complete history. Unlike you, I am not conflicted and haven’t chosen to pick and choose from the rubble of past lives. Thus, who is more honorable—one who hides half of his history in shame, or the one who lifts her chin with complete dignity and says, Yes, there were hard choices that had to be made for the preservation of the future?”
