by Morgan Rae
“You don’t want to hear it.” She shrugged. Cayden wasn’t interested in empathizing and handholding. His attentions were very singular—Trish got it. More than any of his other playthings, no doubt. They were young adults budding into their own, sure, but they were also animal, and those instincts were constantly whispering in her ear: eat, sleep, mate.
But the way Cayden was looking at her, blue eyes piercing…he looked very human. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know,” he said.
Cautiously, Trish nodded and said, “It’s just…everything Jacob’s going through. It’s tearing the clan apart. We used to be this real…family. You know? But lately, it’s just…falling to pieces.”
She looked up and expected to find Cayden picking dirt out of his nails. Instead, his eyes remained locked on her. Listening. “Must be hard,” he said.
Trish gave a small nod, her eyes never leaving his. “I’m terrified of being left alone.”
“I can’t tell you where the talisman is,” he said. He also sounded guilty about it.
Time to play hardball. “Are you…sure you can’t tell me?” she asked. She bit her bottom lip, smiled, and edged the neckline of her shirt down. She saw eyes hook on the path of her fingers as she bared the purple fabric of her bra, and then further down. She stopped, however, right before exposing the pink of her nipple and blushed. She was trying to be coy—like some sexy secret agent or something—but she just felt stupid now, silly. Because Cayden had—obviously—seen plenty of perky girl-tits, plenty that were way better than hers, proud college girls who would snap off their tops at a moment’s notice. And she was still too chaste with her body to even give a little nip-slip.
“I, um…didn’t think this all the way through,” she admitted, finally.
Something warmed in his face, a very human reaction in the face of the young girl’s vulnerability. He took her shirt between his fingers and slid the top button back into place. “You care a lot about your family,” he said.
“They’re all I have.”
Cayden looked tense. He raked his fingers through his hair, eyes stuck on the ground. “I don’t know where it is,” he finally confessed. “Her cougar buried it somewhere…probably in the woods.”
“That could be anywhere,” Trish said, her shoulders dropping.
He nodded, but then he added, “All I know is that it can’t be destroyed easily. You can try to burn it, smash it, run it over with a truck, but there’s nothing that’s going to break that gem. You have to…find the man in the Beast. Whatever that means—”
Trish grabbed him and kissed him. Hard. He let out a muffled, startled noise in her mouth. He was just starting to lean into it when she sealed it off and pulled back, giddy, a grin stuck on her lips.
“You’re a good guy underneath all those claws.”
He bared his teeth. “Don’t count on it.”
But when Trish kissed him once more before dashing off to the ranch, she swore she could hear him purr.
Chapter 62
Something wasn’t right. Jacob could feel it. Bare, animal instinct—danger—woke him out of a restless sleep, anxiety stirring in his blood.
Holly lay curled up in the crux of his arms, her head nestled against his wide chest, her arm draped over him. Her nightgown had slipped past her shoulder sometime in the night, exposing the top of her full breasts. The thin fabric had just barely stopped from falling away completely, the top lace caught on her round nipple, and he could only just make out the pink blush cresting the lace like the last light of a sunset. Jacob’s mouth watered at the thought of taking her nipple between his teeth, his moonlust transferring to a very immediate, very human longing. He felt his cock stir, rising languidly and disturbing the silk of his briefs, and he thought to himself: This is my wife. My mate. And still just the sight of her makes me crazy.
Focus. What had woken him up in the first place? What was this nervous feeling crawling through his bones? Then it hit him: Brent had left in the morning to get the talisman from Miranda and he still hadn’t heard from him. Jacob checked his phone: no calls, no texts.
He could feel Holly stir beside him. “Are you okay?” she croaked, still half-asleep. He loved her voice then, and felt the sudden urge to kiss her again and again until she fell back to sleep under his lips, like Sleeping Beauty in reverse.
“Brent hasn’t called,” he said. He didn’t try to hide the worry in his voice; if he’d learned anything about Holly, it was that trying to hide around her was an act of futility. He had no poker face around her, no more walls to hide behind. There was something intensely refreshing about that.
“He’s a hard worker.” Holly yawned. Jacob glanced over at her, eyebrow lifted. “Oh, you know what I meant,” Holly said, and then slipped her hand over his back. Her fingernails graced his shoulder blades. “Brent’s probably just getting one more…ride in before he leaves her for good.”
Jacob gave a snorted “hm” noise in response. He still felt unease prickling in his heart, but he also knew Holly was right. He had, after all, sent Brent on a mission to sneak the talisman out from the lion’s—or, in this case, the cougar’s—den. Brent had little to no finesse, so, in Brent logic, that meant one of two things—knock the cougar woman out long enough to steal the talisman, or fuck her brains out and then take it while she lounged in a puddle of postcoital bliss. He was guessing his brother had taken the path of least resistance.
“Relax,” Holly said, her fingers tracing his spine soothingly. “There’s nothing we can do about it now. If you go bang down her door, you’ll blow his cover. Let’s wait until the morning. Then we’ll worry.”
Even pure-instinct Jacob knew she was right. There was nothing he could do now, except wait it out. The problem was, he wasn’t very good at waiting, and long, nervous nights like this roused the long-dormant animal inside of him. It had been a long time—a very long time—since he’d let his Beast come out and play. It used to be physically painful to hold back, like something clawing at the back of his eyeballs. Now, he beat it down so often that his Beast felt weak, like it had gone into hibernation inside of him, despite the sticky-hot summer weather, ripe for mating season.
Yet, in fight-or-flight moments like these, his nerves were on fire and his senses heightened. He could feel every small stroke of Holly’s long nails. He could feel the cool breeze that kissed the bare parts of his back that the sheets left exposed. He could almost taste it then, the metallic-blood, deep-root scent of the woods, and he felt that nagging itch to lose himself in the night.
Holly, as if she could sense it, cupped the back of his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Her tongue met his—soft and sleepy—and for a second he forgot all about the call of the night. His Beast gave a growl and then receded back inside of him, but the noise vibrated in his throat and onto her lips. The kiss lingered, deepening, and then he felt her get slower, and slower, until her lips stopped working completely and her fingers went loose in his hair.
“Holly…” No response. He glanced down at her and, though her eyes were closed, he saw that she was smiling, and he could see a hint of teeth where she bit her inside lip to keep the smile from spreading.
Ah. This was a game. He could play games. It would be a good distraction, anyway. Jacob climbed between her legs and rolled her panties down, even though she offered no help. “My queen,” he said. “My sleeping beauty.”
He reached over and drew the nightgown down, just enough to expose the rest of her breast. Perfect, full, ripe enough to bite into. In the cool air, her nipple hardened to a peak. He drew his hand down between her legs and found the soft cotton of her panties. He pressed his fingers there, rolling his touch, cupping her sex and rubbing his fingertips in small circles. She shifted, but only to open her legs wider, giving him better access.
“Sleeping girls don’t move,” he reminded her. This had, after all, been her idea. And now he was going to make her play by his rules.
He could see her stifle a grin bu
t then she settled back against the mattress as he tugged her panties off. From here, he could see her sex clearly, a perfect pink rose, and he dipped his fingers between her naked folds. They came back wet. He took off his briefs and got on top of her, guiding himself inside of her.
Her composure broke with a gasp and he could see the flush rise in her cheeks, before she visibly bit her lip to try to quiet herself again. He wanted her, badly, craved her, and the warm hug of her pussy propelled him into full, deep stokes, needing to be as close to her as possible. She remained passive, but her pussy was alive, soaking, clinging to him. He decided to make it hard for her and wet his thumb with his tongue. He cupped one of her swollen breasts and began to flick her hard nipple repeatedly with his thumb.
He heard her inhale sharply through her nose as her breathing rate changed. Her pussy tightened around him as he played with her breasts. She began to tense and her body twitched here and there when his flicks became too sensitive. Jacob didn’t stop, however; he tugged on her breasts and felt her get tighter and tighter around him, her nipples hard as pebbles, and her eyebrows knitted, caught somewhere between pain and pleasure, it seemed. Finally, she whimpered when she couldn’t take it anymore and her hands shot down to grab his wrists.
“Sensitive,” she squeaked.
He took her hands in his instead and pinned them above her head. “Don’t move,” he demanded. Her lips were parted in short, lusty breaths, her eyes open now and trained on him. If he couldn’t control his Beast, he would control her instead. Her used his thumbs to unfurl her fists and wrapped her fingers one by one around the rungs of the bedpost. “Hold this and don’t let go.”
The longing in her eyes was consent enough, even if her words seemed to have dried up in her throat. He felt hungry for her suddenly—mouth-watering, Beast-in-the-night hungry for her. He wanted to claim her, again and again, so everyone would know she belonged to him. He pulled his cock out of her and pressed his body flush against hers. There, he kissed down her throat before sinking his teeth into the still-healing mark on the side of her throat. Her body went stiff as a board and she cried out—hell with staying silent—pressing her nakedness hard against him. He needed virgin flesh and his lips trailed down, finding her breast. He bit in there, sucking a hard hickey into her skin. Her writhing whimpers grew louder when he batted his tongue against her sensitive nipple.
He could smell her sex scent getting stronger as he marked her with his teeth, and he knew she was getting wetter. The knowledge made his cock throb stickily against her thigh, but the Beast wasn’t satisfied. His hunger crested like a fever and soon he had her covered—her tits, her stomach, and her thighs in little red love bites. By time he had finally reined in his animal enough to stop biting into her, the room was thick with the smell of her sex and Holly was sweating, gasping.
“You’re mine,” he growled, his animal rearing up inside of him.
“I’m yours,” she whimpered and he could swear he saw her hips lift up at that, pleadingly. Submissive.
Jacob was on her in an instant. His Beast was riding hot in his blood and he grabbed her hips, shoving inside of her. Holly gasped loudly and moaned—such a sweet sound—as she arched her hips to take him in deeper. Jacob pounded his cock into her, hard, as his animal crested inside of him, making him wild. He could practically hear it roaring inside of him as he fucked her like he meant to split her apart.
Holly took it. She whimpered through it but she was already wet—so wet—and her body took the pleasure with the pain. Jacob felt as though he were losing himself, his animal dancing around inside of him, banging down the door, and for a second he worried that his claws might break through and pierce her skin. But the Beast in him was too far gone to worry. Jacob’s hand reached out and grabbed the bedpost for leverage—
And his fingers connected with hers. And then he realized it was Holly, sweet Holly, underneath him. The pregnant mother of his child. His Holly. He couldn’t let his Beast have his way with her. He reined it in again, slowing the pace of his hips, and settled for slower, full thrusts, instead of spearing her on his cock. His eyes connected with hers—those soft, gentle eyes, shimmering in the dark—and she responded well to his generous pace, her fingers twining around his.
“I love you,” he growled through each labored breath.
“I love you too,” she whispered and then her body went tense underneath him, every limb outstretched and taut. Her eyes never left his as she came, throbbing around him, each whimper corresponding to a pulse around his cock. He spilled over inside of her soon after, coaxed over by the warm hug of her body. They rode out the aftershocks together and he relaxed his body on hers. He caught the side of her face in his hand to hold her close. Only then did he feel the wetness on her cheek, a small trail of tears.
“Do I hurt you?” he asked, suddenly panicked as he streaked her tears under his thumb.
“No,” she murmured shakily, then revised with, “Not in a bad way.”
Jacob shifted, but Holly’s fingers tangled in his hair. “Stay inside me,” she begged, as though afraid of what the night would think of her after she’d spent the last hour yelling into it.
He nodded, “I’m not going anywhere.” He did feel nice here, comfortable, like he was meant to be part of her.
“Do you feel better?” she asked, her eyes scanning his.
“My Beast isn’t roaring quite so loudly,” he told her.
“I’ll take that.” She drew her fingers through his hair, petting it back, and he could feel his heart beat slowing to a normal pace. “Do you think you can go back to sleep?”
“I’ll try,” he said dubiously. Jacob passed out three minutes later, tangled up in her limbs, still buried deep inside Holly.
Chapter 62
By time Cayden got home, his mother was already poking through Thai food takeout. She looked small, suddenly, sequestered to the end of a very long dining room table.
“I ordered beef curry,” she said as he sat down at the table beside her. “There’s some left over if you’d like it.”
“I have some questions,” Cayden said. “About the talisman.”
His mother’s eyes locked on him sharply. “What about it?”
“Where’s the hunter now? Robin Hoyte or whatever.”
“Dead.” She flashed a toothy smile. “Tends to happen to hunters that try to feed the animals.”
“How long?”
She flicked her hand. “I don’t know. Twenty years.”
Cayden did the math in his head. “Twenty years and nine months?”
She swiveled her body around and looked at him. Eyes sharp as daggers. “What are you insinuating, my dear?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t you forget which the stronger species is.” She slipped her hand over the back of his neck and her nails tugged lightly at the short hair there. “Humans are weak. Those bears are outdated. Once we have this town to ourselves…we’ll do a little interior remodeling. Turn this town on its head. You’ll start with the fresh meat you marked at that school of yours and we’ll work our way up the chain from there.”
Cayden pushed against her hand to look in her matching clear blue eyes. “If the bears are so weak, why’d we have to put Brent in the cave?”
A ripple of gold danced in her cat-eyes. “We’re so close, sweetheart,” she hissed through a smile. “Don’t get soft on Mama now. You always had my strong heart.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy.” She pressed a small kiss to his forehead and then murmured, “Now go upstairs and change your clothes. You smell like wet dog and it’s putting me off my food.”
She settled back in her seat and stabbed at her food again. Cayden took the stairs and closed himself away in his room. There, he unbuttoned his shirt, obediently changing. Standing in front of the full-length mirror, he watched his fingers bare a little more of his smooth chest button by button. He could feel a tightness in his chest, a swirling tornado of carefully containe
d emotion. He threw the shirt in the hamper, ripped open his closet, and—
Paused. He glanced over at his shoulder at the white button-up peeking out from the top of the hamper. Cautiously, he plucked it back out, balled it up in his hands, and held it to his face, taking in a long breath.
Blueberries. Jasmine and wild honey. Newly risen daisies. Trish Westmore’s scent was imprinted all over his shirt, like a cat territorially rubbing over its favorite scratching post. The memory made his dick twitch in his pants. But his cock wasn’t the only thing swelling uncomfortably; he could feel it, a dull ache in his chest where his heart resided. He could feel it very clearly suddenly; he could feel the thump of each beat, and he half-wondered if it wasn’t larger somehow, filling with more blood than usual.
What did Mother always say? That he had her strong heart?
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe he had his father’s weak one.
He caught his own gaze in the mirror, his mother’s steel-ice blues staring back at him. He could see the long scar across his belly where Jacob’s Beast had left its mark.
No. Enough of that. He tossed the shirt back in the hamper, closed the lid this time, and went to the shower to rinse off the rest of her bestial stink.
Chapter 63
When Brent woke up, his vision was swimming. He blinked groggily, his head pounding from where Miranda had knocked him out. Cougar bitch. He groaned and tried to push himself off the ground, feeling hard stone underneath him. There was a clattering as he rose, and he felt weighted down. He reached out and caught on something—a chain. A thick metal chain. One end looked attached to the wall—he was in a cave of some kind?—but the other end…
He followed the chain up until it came to a stop underneath his chin. And then he felt it. Secure around his neck was a thick metal band. He was collared. Like a dog.
That bitch. That goddamn cougar bitch.
Brent tried to stand and get his bearings. When he did, however, he felt as though his blood had dropped straight to his feet and a sudden dizzy vertigo swept over him. As he looked out the cave, he got the uneasy sensation the sky was underneath him and he was hanging from the ceiling.
