by Helena Ray
Anya could contemplate her thoughts no longer, though, as she collided with another human being with a loud smack.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz.” She righted herself and tried to see if the other person had sustained any bodily harm. When he straightened himself stiffly and adjusted his fashionably thin tie and his wire-rimmed glasses, Anya assumed he was okay.
“Not a problem,” he said as he pulled his suit jacket back into place. “I just arrived the other day, and I’m afraid I’m horribly lost around here. It’s like a maze.”
“You’re quite lost indeed,” Anya said as she leaned against the wall. “You’ve found your way to the staff quarters.”
“Oh no, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on anything.” The man looked from side to side, as if genuinely concerned about the fact that he had muddled his way into this wing.
“Don’t worry. Just go back, take two lefts, a right, and you’ll be smack dab in the middle of the lobby.”
The look on his face clearly demonstrated his appreciation for her directions. “Thank you so much,” he said as he turned around. Anya started back toward her room when his voice stopped her again.
“Excuse me, but you look very familiar.”
She turned and squinted at him, but didn’t recognize the man and shrugged in response.
“You’ve probably caught glimpses of me wandering the building. I don’t believe I saw you when you—”
The man’s eyes widened, the whites nearly extending past the rims of his narrow glasses.
“You’re Christopher Birkhead’s assistant, aren’t you?”
Oh god. Memories of Christopher were the last thing Anya needed right now, but she was intrigued by the fact that one of her guests could identify her so readily.
“Well, I was Christopher’s assistant. I’m working here now, as you can see. Are you a skater?”
He looked around himself sheepishly then stepped closer to Anya, lowering his voice as he spoke. “I’m actually a skating fan.” His eyes darted as if scanning to see if anyone would overhear them. “A big skating fan.”
A laugh escaped from her at his whispered admission. “Well, I’m glad to have a fan staying here then. Let me know if ever want to swap stories.”
“Oh, I don’t have any stories,” he said with an inexplicable blush. “I did meet Kenneth Whipple at a club in Denver one time, though.”
“Kenny’s my best friend!” Anya exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad to find someone who knows who he is.”
“You know Kenny Whipple?”
She found his incredulity endearing and smiled as she leaned against the wall.
“Sure do. We’ve been friends since he could barely manage back crossovers,” she said, although she was interrupted by a yawn. “I had a late night and could use a nap, but I’m Anya, and you find me later and I’ll tell you all of Kenny’s most embarrassing secrets, okay?”
He nodded enthusiastically and started back down the hallway.
“Hey, what was your name?” Anya called to his retreating figure.
“Skyler. Skyler Fischer.”
* * * *
“Jack, where are you? I can tell you’re there, but I can’t get a read on where exactly.”
Jack watched as his closest friend, Perry Sullivan, shifted from his lion to human form and dressed in the clothing he’d gathered from what appeared to be an old metal garbage can beside the abandoned stillhouse.
“I’m inside the stillhouse,” he lied, knowing Perry would be better able to pick up on his thoughts if he hid the truth.
Instantly, he turned to where Jack lay crouched beneath a patch of brush on the side of the mountain. His eyes met Jack’s, glowing even in the darkness of midnight. Perry moved with leonine swiftness to where Jack hid and easily maneuvered himself to sit beside him.
“Are you sure this is far enough away?” Perry said aloud, no longer communicating his thoughts to Jack telepathically.
“I saw Roarke go in a few minutes ago, and I couldn’t hear a word from him.”
Perry gave a single chuckle at his remark. “Well, if you couldn’t hear Roarke, then you won’t hear a peep from anyone else.”
Jack smiled at his friend, once more glad there was at least one other person in Savage Valley who could understand his burden. While Perry did not have telepathic ability identical to Jack’s, he could hear the thoughts of all others within close range, especially when they were being deceptive.
“What’s with all the tension?” he asked, accurately ascertaining Jack’s emotional state. “Why aren’t you being up front with me?”
“It’s just…” As Jack let down his mental block, the images flooded his mind. Anya splayed naked beside Clay, the deep berry tint of her lips when he pulled back from kissing her…
“Fuck, man, you gotta stop with that. I’m getting a contact hard-on just from your thoughts.” Perry looked up and searched Jack’s face. “She’s your mate, isn’t she? That’s why you can’t get her out of your mind.”
Jack nodded in response and almost felt her soft flesh beneath his hands as he helped her right herself after slipping off the desk.
“She’s even fallen for Clay?” Perry’s gift was certainly unmatched.
“Looks like it. And I’ve never seen him flip his shit like that for a woman before. He couldn’t stop touching her.”
“Then what’s holding you back? Mate her already.”
“Believe me, I want to,” Jack said honestly. “There’s nothing I want more, but I can’t keep my head on straight for half a second. I swear, ever since I saw her, the chatter in my head has gotten worse, and the range has extended. It’s not just a few feet anymore.”
Perry was silent for a long moment, and Jack appreciated his friend’s ability to quiet his thoughts. The noise had gotten worse since he saw Anya, yes, but it had taken a nosedive that day, the babbling broke of chatter now an unstoppable squall. Not only did he hear the lions as they filtered in and out of Savage Hunger, but he heard them as far away as Ira Sullivan’s law office on Treaty Lane. Legend had it that pride members strengthened when they met their mates, and Jack worried his ability to hear the others would only grow the longer he was around Anya. And while some others of the pack may have wanted their supernatural gifts enhanced, Jack longed for peace and quiet. Almost as much as he longed for Anya.
Oliver Cash, along with Sam, Phil, and Mel Pope and Cleve and Ezra Yeats, approached the stillhouse in lion form, and Jack and Perry waited for them to shift, clothe themselves, and enter the dilapidated building before they emerged from their hiding place.
“Ready, man?” Perry asked as they stood and prepared to join the pride for the hunt.
Truly, Jack was never ready for the assault to his senses that took place whenever the pride gathered as a whole, but he would grit his teeth and bear tonight, if only for the possibility of shifting and watching his mate for as long as Clay would watch the Ninth Time tomorrow.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Jack moved a few steps closer, and each of the pride member’s inner thoughts rang clearer and louder than ever in Jack’s mind.
“I hope we finish the new batch of the white lightnin’ before—”
“The governing bylaws concerning the relationship between the Savage Valley Town Council and the Bannock Shoshone—”
“I sure hope the storm doesn’t affect my almond delivery. It’d be a shame if the muffins—”
Perry hauled open the rusting metal sliding door to the space, and both the mental and voiced chatter from the pride ceased for a moment as Jack and Perry stepped into the space.
“Try to block it,” Perry sent to him through the silence. “See if meeting your mate made that stronger, too.”
Jack took a deep breath and closed his eyes, concentrating his mental energy on creating a shield around his mind. For a moment, Jack’s world stayed silent.
“Damn it, I have work to do. There’s a pile of briefs waiting for me at—”
Ira’s thoughts rang clear in Jack’s mind, shattering any block he may have created. He sank to his knees and ran his fingers through his hair as the pride members’ inner voices swelled. One after the other, they layered on top of each other and thwarted all Jack’s attempts to call up a mental block again.
“Eleven fifty-nine.” Oliver spoke aloud, and the voices died down. “Let’s go, boys.”
With total mental and spoken silence, Jack joined the other members of the pride as they formed a circle in the middle of the empty space and each slowly rid himself of his clothing. Soon, they were all stripped to their boxers, and Oliver moved to the middle of the circle.
“Deegai-doyadukubichi’, mukua.”
Thankfully, Jack’s mind moved away from verbal thought and back into the warm pool of sounds and colors of his leonine mind. Only one human word echoed through his thoughts.
“Anya.”
Chapter 8
“Okay, room fourteen is clean,” Anya said with an exhausted sigh as she walked behind the desk. “Is that everything for today?”
“I think so, sweetie.” Aunt Cora shook her head as she examined the reservation book. “I’m gonna have a long night processing all these new reservations.”
“See? I told you the storm wouldn’t cause any trouble.”
“You were right about this Marina Andrews concert. Looks like we’re gonna be beyond booked, so I’ll need you that night, okay?”
Anya had hoped she would have other plans for that night. Over the past two days, memories of Clay and Jack had haunted her every moment. The Woodland had been a mess with cancelled reservations and guests staying longer because of the storm, and the text messages she’d received from them had been her only salvation.
“I guess,” she said as she took her hair down, thankful to finally be off duty. She took her phone out of her pocket and saw she had not received any texts. Damn it. All she wanted was to hear from Clay or Jack again. Their messages over the last few days had certainly been flirtatious, but her heart still pounded with her anxiety whenever she thought of them.
Knocking roused Anya from her stupor. After cursing to herself briefly, she hauled herself onto her feet and started toward the door, tripping over her laptop cable as she did so. As whoever stood on the other side of the door continued their knocking, she gave a disgruntled, “Coming.”
She lazily opened the door, not bothering to check who it was first. When she saw who waited for her, though, all her languor fell away.
“I’m so sorry,” Jack said, worry creasing his perfect features. “I’ve wanted to contact you so badly, but Clay said you needed some time and—”
Anya did not allow him to finish, instead satisfying her own body’s urges and throwing her arms around his neck, pulling herself to him, and crashing her lips against his. After a moment of hesitance, Jack responded in kind. This time, his kiss did not have the tender exploration that he had shown earlier. No, his kiss was possessive, dominating, full of probing tongue and stinging teeth.
Anya heard the door slam behind him, and Jack began moving forward, apparently knowing instinctually the direction of Anya’s bed. His hands held her steady as she rose to tiptoes as she moved backward, closer to the soft surface of the bed where she had already imagined Jack taking her. The backs of her knees bumped against the bed, and Jack lowered her onto the bed, never breaking their kiss as he climbed atop her.
One of his hands snaked between them and wrapped around her breast and massaged the sensitive mound. She moaned into his mouth as she pushed her hips upward in imitation of the act she so desperately needed in that moment. Jack’s tongue pushed into her mouth again in time with a sharp thrust of his hips that pressed the hard outline of his cock against her. This time, Anya had no wine in her system, and she would not be deterred.
She wrapped one leg around his thigh, rubbing her pussy against him as she maneuvered the opposite arm downward, over the toned muscles of his ass she hoped to explore later, across the hard, indented muscles of his hips, and to the waist of his jeans. With one hand, she began unbuttoning his jeans. When her fingers fumbled over his zipper, Jack’s fingers encircled her wrist, and he broke the kiss, leaving Anya panting.
“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his blue eyes penetrating hers with the gravity she had only seen momentarily there before. “You don’t really know me.”
“That doesn’t matter. Something about you…I need you, Jack.” The truth behind the words shocked Anya, but she couldn’t deny it. Every cell in her body cried out for Jack. Gone were her insecurities about intimacy, replaced by the same purpose that had radiated outward from her cunt when Clayton pleasured her on the floor of the Ninth Time. This was what she wanted. This was what would complete her.
“You’re sure.” She could see the barely restrained lust burning in his blue orbs.
“I’ve never been more certain.”
He needed no more coaxing as he used his grip on Anya’s wrist to push her hand against his cock, and she gladly massaged the bulge there. She craned her neck just a bit, brushing her lips against Jack’s as she unzipped his pants then wiggled her hand beneath the waistband of his boxer shorts. He hissed into her mouth when her fingers encircled his substantial erection, only barely connecting around his impressive girth. He thrust forward, and when his hips retreated, her fingers brushed over the sensitive flesh of the head, and the droplet of fluid there drew matching wetness from deep within Anya’s cunt.
As she began to caress his cockhead with her fingertips, Jack stopped her by breaking their kiss, shoving his hands beneath her shirt, and pulling it upward over her head. When his knuckles brushed over the sensitive buds of her nipples, she cried out as bolts of electricity flew to her clit at the sensation. Soon, he had her out of her shirt and her bra—after only a moment’s fumbling with the hooks—and moaning as she writhed beneath his expert mouth and hands.
Even through her haze of pleasure, Anya didn’t think Jack should have all the fun. While his mouth explored her neck, she pushed her hands beneath the fabric of his shirt, running them upward and along the rippling muscles of his chest. Although she missed the feel of his soft, full lips exploring the sensitive flesh of her neck, what she saw when he sat up and pulled his shirt over his head more than made up for her loss. His muscles were long and lean, his pectorals leading down to a smooth abdomen with an indention where a drop of sweat trailed even lower. She felt her tongue steal out to lick her lips when her gaze fell to where his cockhead peeked from beneath the waistband of his boxers, and after looking up to see Jack’s tanned skin flushed with arousal, she hooked her fingers over the waistbands of his jeans and boxers and dragged them downward.
Jack hurriedly shucked his pants after that, and she got her first thorough view of the heavy cock that stood hard and ready against his abdomen. It had been impressive when she only glimpsed it quickly at the Ninth Time, but upon further examination, she noted that Jack was truly well endowed. It curved up along his abdomen, long and thick, and its head flared from the shaft with sculptural grace. He cut Anya’s scrutiny short, though, when he responded in kind, unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans then pulling them down along with the black lace thong she wore.
“Aren’t you going to admire my underwear?” she teased as he pulled her jeans from around her ankles.
“I’m not interested in your underwear, gorgeous.” He caressed one of her calves and then dragged his hand upward to her thigh, pushing it to the side and allowing himself better access to her soaked pussy. His hungry gaze focused there, and he said, “This is what I’m interested in.”
He plunged two fingers into her without warning, tearing a strangled cry from Anya’s throat. For a brief moment, she worried that some of
the guests might overhear her activities, but that thought flew from her mind as his thumb brushed against her clit. His fingers thrust faster into her, harder, and she knew if she didn’t do something—anything—to distract herself soon, she’d come in only a few seconds. She fumbled for his cock and was gratified by the slick pre-cum she felt there. However, Jack had apparently gotten wise to her game, as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around one of her nipples. He sucked, sending mind-blowing spirals of pleasured pain to her pussy, then nipped at the tight bud.
That did it. Anya heard her scream, almost as if another had voiced it, as her climax overtook her senses. Her hips bucked a violent rhythm, clenching around Jack’s fingers as he rubbed relentless circles over her clit to extend her orgasm. When the shudders of release finally ceased rocking her body, Jack gave her no time to relax. He withdrew his hand from her pussy and trailed it over her hip and around her back. He lowered himself so that his chest pressed against hers, and she widened her legs to allow him to slip between them.
“I like it when you come for me,” he whispered into her ear, and his hot breath caused vibrations to begin anew inside her cunt. Already? “I want to see you do that again.”
“I want to do that again.” Her voice was breathy and high pitched as she returned his words. “As many times as you want.”
“Oh, I want.” Jack moved his hips, and the head of his cock pressed against her slick folds. She felt another wave of feminine wetness flow from within her just from his nearness. Anya had never particularly thought of herself as a sexual person, but it appeared that the Abbott brothers brought out a side of her as yet unexplored.
