by T. S. Joyce
A sad noise wrenched itself from Reese’s throat. “I’m so sorry that happened.”
He shrugged one shoulder like it meant nothing, but she knew better. “After that, I didn’t try to pretend anymore. I decided the clan would have to accept me as I was or banish me. I was prepared for either at that point. I didn’t care either way.”
“Did you ever sleep with Tarran again?” A pang of fear at his answer slithered up her spine, but he should talk about this muck with someone.
He inhaled slowly and rolled the back of his head against the brick wall until his gaze collided with hers. “Yes. Does that upset you? That I would go back and subject myself to her insults again?”
“Did you care about her?”
His short laugh was dry and humorless. “No. I don’t care about anyone except for Jesse.”
“And me.” She wanted him to say it.
His eyes met hers again. They swam with such honesty, such conviction when he said, “And you.”
“Why did you sleep with her again?”
“Loneliness. And I wanted to prove to her that she hadn’t hurt me. I learned what she liked and made her want me, and then I showed her that I didn’t care whether she was in my bed or not. I did the same to Rieland when she told the clan I was a robot. Do you think differently of me now?”
“No.” She should, but she didn’t. If she was as lonely as he probably was, she’d do the same. And it wasn’t exactly an awful revenge on them. They got an attentive dominant male in their bed, bent on learning how to please them. If someone had done that for her at any time in her life, she would’ve made a snow angel in a pile of confetti.
It also explained why he was so good at finding her sensitive spots, like now, as he returned to stroking her knee.
“When we were together the other day,” he said low, “that wasn’t the way I’d imagined our first time.”
She couldn’t contain her grin. “You’d only met me once and you imagined our first time?” Snuggling deeper into the stiff mattress, she stretched her legs more securely across him and said, “Tell me the story of what you’d imagined we did.”
“Well, I didn’t want it to be up against a door, for starters.”
“Why? That was hot.” Maybe the hottest intimacy she’d ever been a part of.
“I wanted it to be slower. I wanted to take my time with you, not just come at you like a rutting animal.”
“Mmm,” she hummed, repressing the shiver that his touch on her knee conjured. “I like when you are a rutting animal.”
He lifted startled eyes to hers and froze. “You do?”
“I haven’t felt wanted in a long time. It was nice to think that you wanted me so badly, you couldn’t control yourself in that moment.” She stretched her leg until it brushed his erection. She’d said it was a bad idea to have sex with him again—and perhaps it was, she didn’t know—but all of this talk about being together was conjuring memories of just how good he’d felt inside her.
“Careful now,” he rumbled, watching the movement of her leg against his lap.
But she was done being careful. They were already bonded. What was done was done and as far as she could tell, there was no taking it back. And his careful strokes against her knee had conjured some serious friction between her legs that needed relieving.
Feeling bold, she drew her knees up and ran a light fingertip over her sex. Ethan’s eyes stayed glued to the movement. “Have you ever had a woman try to figure out what you wanted?” she asked in a husky voice.
“No.” His eyes followed her hand as she cupped her breasts and arched her back.
“What do you like?” she breathed.
“This,” he said without hesitation. “Watching you touch yourself. And I liked hearing you cry out when I made you come the other day. I like you loud.”
“Why?”
“Because there is nothing sexier than hearing a woman enjoy herself, and you…you’re magnificent. Lips swollen and wet for me, walls tight, skin soft under my touch, pressing against me like you can’t get enough. That’s what I like.”
Easy enough.
“May I?” he asked, lifting her booted foot.
She nodded and he gave a wicked smile to her hands, which had stopped moving at the prospect of a slow undressing. “Don’t stop, Reese. We’re just getting started.”
Okay then. He removed her shoes, then her socks and in a smooth motion, tugged her shirt over her head. Without bothering to remove her bra, he pulled her breasts from the lacy black cups until they lay above them, then sucked each nipple until they were tight, sensitive buds. “Continue,” he murmured as he focused on removing her jeans.
She felt herself up, enjoyed the hungry way in which he watched her hands as he slid her jeans to her ankles, then tossed them to the floor. Standing, he pulled his shirt over his head to expose a litany of scars across his torso. Challenge scars.
He watched her take in the expanse of his chest as he unbuttoned his pants. The slow rip of his zipper brought a shiver of anticipation to her spine. His cock, red and full, bobbed from his briefs as he shucked them, and Reese licked her lips. God, he was beautiful. Indentations creating shadows between rippling muscles. Flat stomach under all that marred skin. And his eyes only seemed to grow darker as she moved her hands between her legs to tease him.
Kneeling on the bed, Ethan jerked his chin. “Come here.”
Normally, she didn’t like to be bossed around, but here, it was different. She didn’t mind him telling her what he wanted. Drawing up on her knees, she straddled one of his thighs and eased him into her. Her fingers clawed and she lowered her forehead to his shoulder as he filled her completely. Her legs shook from the sensation, but he grabbed her ass and steadied her, the thrust slowly upward with his powerful thighs.
Reese gasped at how far gone she was. Holy mother of everything that was right in this world, Ethan had been created to be right here, in between her legs.
Gripping her tighter, Ethan opened her mouth with his and plunged his tongue against hers in rhythm to his slow penetration. She could feel each powerful thrust of his abs against her, and she moaned as she tumbled toward the edge. Ethan pressed into her harder, and drew out slowly, only to give her a sharp thrust again. She was gone, gone, floating up in the air somewhere and out of control of her body completely. Pounding orgasm ripped through her, and as if he were inspired by her own release, he yelled out and jerked into her, spilling warmth into her in hot, rough shots.
Seconds dragged on as she dug her nails into his back and rode wave after wave of pleasure. How could a man make her feel like this? Like a goddess. Like she was the only person on earth he cared about.
With one final buck of his hips, he relaxed. Still buried deeply within her, he held her tight, as if he didn’t want to let go of their connection.
“Reese,” he said softly against her ear.
“Yes?”
“You’re my mate.”
Chapter Nine
Trent stood with his back to her in the middle of a meadow, and no matter how fast or how far she ran, Reese couldn’t get closer to him than the tree line. The wilderness stretched on and on the harder she pushed her legs.
“Trent!” she cried out, desperate to reach him.
Something was wrong. The sky was hazy with fog and the forest birds had been scared into silence. The only noise was her panting breath as she ran.
Slowly, Trent turned, and as he did, his dark hair lightened and morphed into Ethan’s wavy, mussed hair.
She skidded to a stop, chest heaving as she stared in horror at the man before her. One second he had been Trent, but now his face was changing, contorting, until Ethan looked at her with the saddest eyes.
She took one last step as a strangled sound left her throat, and the trees disappeared behind her, leaving only the endless meadow.
“Trent?” she asked, uncertain.
As Ethan shook his head, those haunted, dark eyes never left her.
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nbsp; “Reese.” It was Trent’s voice that whispered across the meadow, rustling the wild grasses. Ethan’s lips didn’t move. “You have to run.”
Flames exploded from the earth and she jumped out of the searing heat’s way. A ring of it sprung from the dry ground, encircling Ethan. Drawing her arm across her face to shield her eyes, she screamed his name in terror.
“Run!” he yelled as he burst into flames.
Reese sat up and gasped for breath that her closed throat didn’t want to allow. Her lungs were burning, and she clawed at her bare neck. Smoke. Smoke was everywhere and she blinked hard to try and allow her night vision to kick in.
She kicked viciously at the covers her legs had become ensnared in.
“Hey,” Ethan’s sleepy voice rumbled from right beside her. His strong hand found her shoulder in the dark. “Reese, what’s wrong?”
The soft edges of the lookout tower began to flesh out as her vision adjusted. With a long, trembling sigh, she closed her eyes and melted back onto the cot, into Ethan’s waiting arms.
It was just a dream.
Petal soft kisses brushed her forehead, just above where her head was pounding with pain. Trent’s ghost left her palms sweaty and her breath shaky. Watching him, or Ethan, burn was…
She swallowed bile down as Ethan stroked the sweat matted hair from her face. The smell of smoke still hadn’t disappeared from her haze of sleepiness, so she shook her head to clear it.
Still, it clung to everything, choking her, singeing her lungs. She touched Ethan’s chest, but where she’d expected his smooth skin, something grainy was smeared across him. Frowning, she sat up and reached for the lamp on the table.
The soft yellow glow illuminated Ethan as he propped up on one elbow and stared at her with such worry swimming in the depths of his dark eyes.
She studied his body in horror. Across almost every surface of his flesh was thick, black soot. The bed was covered in it. Her hands were covered in it. Smudges of the damning stuff were brushed across her bare stomach like a charcoal drawing.
“What is this?” she asked, lifting her shocked gaze to his.
Ethan had gone white as a sheet as he stared at the filthy covers.
He bolted from the bed and stood in the dull lamplight, rubbing his hands through his hair. Pacing, he gaped at the soot covered bed.
“What did you do?” Her voice was getting shrill, but fuck it all. The man was covered in ashes. Why the fuck would he be covered in ashes?
Spinning, Ethan rushed for the bathroom. The noise of the small shower sounded and Reese padded in there after him.
He hadn’t even waited for the water to warm up, and already he was frantically scrubbing his body under the streaming showerhead.
She watched his panic in utter confusion. “Ethan, tell me what’s going on. Right now. Why are you covered in ashes? Where did it come from?”
“I don’t know,” he answered.
Instincts were kicking in, and the word that had clung to the edges of that dream, run, made her back up a few feet. A warm tear fell to her cheek and she shook her head in denial. “Ethan, where did it come from?” she yelled.
“I swear, I don’t know.” His voice sounded tortured, but she couldn’t tell what was real anymore. “I sleepwalk.”
“You mean Bear sleepwalks?” His silence was answer enough. “Is the soot from Bron’s house? Or is it from where Trent died?” Because nothing in her believed he’d just gone rolling around in the remnants of a campfire. Her accusations rang right the second they left her lips.
He’d gone to the burn sites where someone had murdered Trent and tried to kill Bron and Samantha. Ethan was shaking his head, staring at the tile on the back wall of the shower. He hadn’t bothered to close the curtain, so black water dripped all over the floor. “Reese, it’s not what you think.”
Her voice cast low, she asked, “Did you kill him?”
“Who?”
“Trent. Did you kill Trent?”
“No!” he yelled as his face contorted with fury. “What reason could I possibly have to kill a man I didn’t know? I’ve never even met him.”
“Ethan, did Bear kill him?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it like he couldn’t answer for certain. Another tear streamed down her cheek as her back hit the wall.
“It’s not like that,” he pleaded, stepping from the shower and dripping black all over the white tile floor. He reached for her.
“Don’t you fucking touch me! Why? Why would he do this? Why would you?”
“No,” he whispered. “You don’t understand.” He grabbed her wrist and she hauled back and slapped him.
A feral snarl left his lips and he brought blazing silver eyes back to hers.
“Fuck you,” she spat. “Fuck you for making me care about you, you psychotic liar.” Shoving off his chest, she grabbed her clothes from the floor and bolted for the door. He didn’t follow and she sobbed the entire way down the stairs.
She was broken. Only a broken woman would ignore the warning of her friends and fall in love with a man like him. He’d killed Trent. She didn’t know why. Hell, maybe Ethan didn’t even know why Bear had done it, but he had. Or maybe all of the split personality talk was just bullshit. She didn’t know what to believe. Certainly nothing he’d told her up until this point. Dammit, how could she have been so stupid?
He was playing some game with her. Seducing the woman of the man he’d killed. Maybe that’s why he’d killed him. Perhaps their meeting in the office wasn’t the first time Ethan had seen her. Joseph was a small town. If he’d seen her in town and Bear had chosen her, what if he’d killed Trent so he could have her?
What if Trent’s death was all her fault?
Her tears were streaming rivers as she got into her truck and turned the engine. Ethan stood leaned against the railing on locked arms high above her, naked as the day he was born and watching her with stormy eyes as she peeled out and drove away.
Dragging her gaze from the rearview mirror, she gritted her teeth. His world was about to be turned on its ass. She was going to find a way to prove it was him who murdered the man she loved, and then she was going to kill him.
Chapter Ten
“Hey,” Samantha said, opening her front door wider. “Come on in. Sorry for the short notice, but I found something you should see in person.”
Reese stepped into the house Samantha had grown up in. Endless slumber party memories flooded her like they always did when she saw the place. It had been abandoned and trashed in the years Samantha had been in Portland making a life for herself, but between her, Reese, Bron and Dillon, they’d got it completely fixed up. Now, the house looked like it belonged on the pages of a Pottery Barn catalogue.
Reese had given herself one day to cry into a pillow like a heartbroken teenager, then called Samantha and Muriel, and told them everything. Then she’d gone to the town library to find anything she could about Ethan’s clan in the local history section, but came up with nothing on him.
“I only have a few minutes before I have to be at work,” she said as she followed Samantha down the narrow hallway, painted in a soothing lavender-gray color with white trim.
“This won’t take long.”
Muriel was lying on her back on Samantha’s bed, round belly pointing up at the ceiling, studying an old book of some kind. Rolling to her side, she said, “Reese, I don’t think Ethan did it.”
“What? How do you know?”
“He’s in my dad’s hunter journal,” Samantha explained, sinking onto the mattress beside Muriel and drawing an ankle under her. “Look.” She pointed to what looked like an unorganized lineage chart. “When we became lower in our numbers, the hunters started keeping track of the bears in the clans and rogues as well. We found Ethan’s name right here.” She pointed.
Ethan Brenner, the passage read. And right above him were DJ and Marsha Brenner. And in the column beside their names was written a small note in different colored ink.
“Oh my gosh,” Reese whispered.
No wonder he hadn’t wanted to talk about his parent’s death. And now his freaking out over the soot on her face made sense—and the horror in his eyes when he saw all that ash in the bed. His parents died by fire. Of course he would be wary of it.
“Was he there?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. This was what broke him apart from his bear all those years ago.
“It doesn’t say,” Samantha answered in a sad tone. “That’s not all, Reese. There’s an entire page on the Cress alphas, and Ethan is on there too.”
Shaking her head, Reese frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Muriel turned a few of the thin, crackling journal pages and pointed to a list that split off into several forks. “His grandmother was born to a woman named Lenora Cress. Never married or mated, and whoever made this chart obviously didn’t know who the father was. Ethan is a Cress just as surely as Trent and Bron, just not in name. Only by blood.”
“Ethan’s a Cress alpha?” she murmured. “Do you think he knows?”
Samantha shrugged. “Maybe if his parents told him before they passed. He was young though, and Muriel said he barely even talked when he came to the Seven Devils clan. He never mentioned it as far as she knows. And that’s something pretty huge to leave out if he knew about his lineage.”
“That’s why his eyes look so much like Trent’s did,” Reese breathed. “He’s related to him. And Bron. Jesus, two Cress alphas are running the last two bear shifter clans in the world. Has there ever been two at once before?”
Muriel shook her head. “Not that I know of. It’s always been one legendary Cress each generation. This generation has two by default.”
It was too much. All of this information was overwhelming and Reese laid back on the bed by Muriel. “So, you don’t think he murdered Trent. Why not?”
