Blackstone Ranger Guardian: Blackstone Rangers Book 5

by Alicia Montgomery

  She found herself pulled off him unceremoniously, then deposited onto his waiting cock. “Oh!” She was so wet, she slid down easily. He filled her to the root, and she could hardly move.

  Krieger looked like he was barely hanging on, his fingers digging into her hips so hard they would surely leave a mark. So, she wiggled her hips, making him groan aloud. Placing her right hand on his chest, she leaned back, then slowly rocked back and forth.

  From the way he threw his head back and his teeth bit into his lip, he was obviously enjoying himself, so she continued. Shifting her weight to her knees, she lifted her hips up and down, feeling him slide in and out of her.

  “Fuck! That’s good, baby,” he said through gritted teeth as he reached up to caress her breasts. She rode him harder, faster, clenching around him as she watched his face twist with pleasure.

  Pulling himself up, he shifted her again so they were face to face. His mouth captured hers, tongue delving into her like she was his first meal in a long time. She moved her hips harder, feeling her own pleasure building up.

  “Mmmph!” She moaned into his mouth as he moved her again, this time, onto her back. Pushing her knees apart, he drove into her, rutting in hard and fast. She didn’t even care about her cast, as she clung to him, hips meeting his every thrust. When he reached between them to pluck at her clit, she exploded, white-hot heat spreading through her body as she orgasmed. But he didn’t stop, continuing to ride out her orgasm with her. Only when she was beginning to relax did he grunt and speed up, pushing—demanding for more—until she had no choice but to obey. When her body wracked with another orgasm, only then did he let go. His cock twitched inside her, filling her with his warm seed, his hips slowing to an erratic rhythm.

  He kissed her again deeply as aftershocks rocked her body. Hands roamed over her breasts and sides, gentling as his fingers traced the pink, puckered scar on her torso. She sighed into his mouth as he withdrew from her, her body protesting at the loss.

  How long they kissed and caressed and held each other, she wasn’t sure. But her lips were swollen and her body boneless by the time he rolled off her and onto his side. An arm cradled her and pulled her to his chest.

  She settled against him, fingers playing over the mat of hair over his pecs.

  “Are you … okay?”

  Her lips curled up at the corners at the question. “Better than okay.” The satisfied rumbly growl from deep within his chest made her smile. She pressed a kiss to his side and turned her head up, planting her chin on him. “Thank you for taking me up here. And for the new mattress. I like the other changes, by the way.” She noticed there was now a side table with a lamp and a clock.

  His mouth actually quirked up. “I got new sheets and blankets too,” he said. “Did I hurt you?” He glanced down at her cast.

  “No, not at all.” She hardly noticed it. It was probably the serotonin talking, though. “And before you ask … I’m not tired.” Not even a little bit, she thought as her fingers moved lower, over his abs and continued following the trail of dark hair.

  Heat filled his eyes. “Good. Neither am I.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  In his travels with the Special Forces, Krieger had seen some pretty marvelous sights. The sun setting over the Gobi Desert. Colorful birds while hiking through the lush forests of South America. The crystal-clear waters of the beaches of Zanzibar.

  But for the life of him, he couldn’t recall seeing anything as amazing as having his mate next to him on the bed, her brilliant coppery hair spilled over his pillows.

  They’d made love for hours, until she was exhausted. Meanwhile, he hadn’t slept at all, content to just watch the rise and fall of her shoulders as she breathed and the little movements of her eyes before she settled into a deeper slumber. He couldn’t sleep, because he was afraid he would wake up alone and discover last night had all been a dream.

  He didn’t set up the party to seduce her into his bed again. Her rejection had stung, but it had all the more made him want to help her. All this time, he’d been trying to woo her and coax her with gifts and things she’d like, but it occurred to him that there was one thing from her old life that was still missing—the company of her friends. And so, he set up the party, even asking Angela to help get her to The Den.

  He fought every instinct, every shadow, even his own bear, to be by her side as she introduced him to the people that mattered most to her. When it got too much, he had no choice but to rush outside. His bear didn’t like the close quarters and needed to get out. It had been too crowded in there, too many people, too much noise.

  It was the closest he’d been to losing control in the past couple of years. As much as he had changed on the inside, his grizzly was still feeling the scars, and having their mate so close without being able to claim her didn’t help.

  Yet here they were. She sought him out. Touched him, despite her fox’s disapproval. And now that she was here, he would do anything to keep her in his arms and ensure they completed the mating bond.

  A sound from the outside suddenly set his body on full alert. His bear got up on its hind legs, paws raised, ready to defend their den and mate.

  Telling his animal to stand down—at least until they were able to investigate—he shifted Dutchy gently to her other side, careful that she didn’t lie down on her arm. Slipping out of the bed, he quickly donned his discarded jeans and padded outside, readying himself for a fight if necessary. However, what he found at the bottom of his porch steps wasn’t what he expected. Or rather, who.

  The grizzled-looking wolf stared up at him with its one green eye, never breaking the gaze. Perhaps acknowledging Krieger’s dominance and territory, the wolf lowered its head before it began to change. Matted gray and black fur receded into human skin, limbs shortened, and the figure stood up on two legs. “Hello, John Krieger,” said the rough, accented voice of Milos Vasilakis. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

  Krieger stood up even straighter. “Milos,” he greeted back. “To what do I owe this visit?”

  Milos stretched his neck, popping and cracking the joints. His head was completely shaved and tattoos dotted his scalp, all the way down to his neck and chest. A patch of scar tissue covered where his left eye should be. “I was hoping to speak to you. About recent events in the mountains.”

  “Did you find the raccoon shifter?”

  He shook his head. “There are other things I must speak to you about.”

  “What things?”

  “Suspicions I have.”

  “You should talk to Damon about them.”

  “I know. But I wanted to run them by you. Damon may be your alpha, but he does not have your instinct. Nor does he know this territory as you do.”

  He huffed. “All right.”

  “May I come in?” he asked, cocking his head.

  His instincts flared, knowing Dutchy was inside. His grizzly, too, did not like the idea of having another unmated male around her, especially since they hadn’t bonded yet.

  “Ah.” His one green eye flickered over to his door, and Krieger shifted to block his view. “I see. You are not alone. Come,” he cocked his head. “We walk and talk, yes?”

  “All right.” He hopped down the steps and followed Milos as he strode around the back. “So, what do you know about the missing raccoon?”

  “I know of this shifter that Damon speaks of. A lonely creature, longing for something it lost.” For a brief moment, a stricken look passed over the wolf shifter’s face. “He comes regularly, every month or so, or at least he did until about two months ago.”

  “You know when he comes?”

  “I know most of those who come up here regularly. Seeking solitude. Seeking peace. There are many who take advantage of the nature up here, to let their instincts take over and forget the human world for a little bit.” Milos led them to a path around an outcrop of jagged rocks. “One is a sly little raven shifter who loves picking up shiny things that hikers may have lost or left beh
ind. The little collector was especially active during the summer months. But it has stopped visiting.”

  “Maybe he’s busy.”

  “Perhaps.” As they rounded the boulders, they were treated to a view of the valley below and the splendid colors of the fall morning spread out beneath them. “But it was such a creature of habit and instincts. You must know how we cannot deny our instincts.”

  Krieger didn’t miss the meaning in Milos’s words or tones. But was he talking about him or himself? “Okay, so maybe another shifter is missing. What else ya got?”

  “Strange scents in the air.” Wolf shifters were known for their keen smell. “Like they do not belong up here, but they were manufactured to be.”

  “What the heck does that mean?”

  Milos’s lips tightened. “I cannot explain it. But I just know there is more to it than this. But nothing conclusive yet which is why I wanted to discuss this with you first. I know you have been … preoccupied, but perhaps you could come with me on a patrol soon? That way, you can observe for yourself.”

  Krieger hesitated, but seeing as things had progressed with Dutchy—and protecting this territory was his job, in case he forgot—he knew what the right thing to do was. If Milos thought there was something fishy going on, then it was at least worth investigating. “All right. I have things to take care of, but I’ll come out in a couple of days, if that works?”

  “Thank you,” Milos said, as they finished their walk around the perimeter of the cabin and approached the front porch. “Perhaps Damon can—” The wolf shifter stopped short, mouth closing shut.

  Krieger traced the other man’s line of sight to the front door, where Dutchy stood, wearing only his uniform shirt. His bear reared up, and he rushed up to her, covering her from Milos’s curious gaze. “You’re up,” he grumbled.

  “I’m up,” she repeated, then bent her head around him. “Hi there. I didn’t realize there was anyone else up here. I’m Dutchy.”

  Every muscle in his body tensed, and although his every instinct screamed at him to push her inside, he controlled himself and his bear.

  “I’m Milos,” the wolf shifter greeted back.

  Turning his head, he saw Milos had discreetly moved away, lest Dutchy saw his fully naked body. “Milos was just leaving.”

  “Leaving?” Dutchy asked.

  To his credit, Milos nodded in agreement. “Yes. I shall see you soon, Krieger. And it was nice to meet you, Dutchy.” Turning around, he shifted into his wolf and padded off into the trees.

  “Who was that?” Dutchy asked.

  “A … neighbor.” Now that the other male was gone, he could relax more. “Are you all right?”

  Her arms slipped around him. “I am now,” she breathed. “Didn’t like waking up alone.”

  “Sorry.” She would never wake up alone, ever, not if he could help it. “Are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast?”

  Lifting her head up to him, she raised an auburn brow. “Let me guess—bacon, eggs, and toast.”

  He found himself grinning at her. “You bet.”

  “How about I make breakfast this time?” she asked. “And you can clean up.”

  “Whatever you want.”

  They headed inside, and Krieger put the conversation with Milos aside for now. Instead, he sat down and watched his mate as she puttered around the kitchen, humming to herself, dressed only in his uniform shirt. This is how it should be. How it should always be. And he would do anything to keep it this way.

  “Can you light the stove and make coffee?” she asked swinging her head around.

  Standing up, he sidled up behind her, brushing her backside with his hand and leaned down to nuzzle her neck. “Of course.”

  Breakfast didn’t take long to cook as it wasn’t anything fancy, though she did seem pleased at the addition of some spices and herbs to his cabinet. “They’re from Damon,” he said. “He usually brings me takeout or pizza when he comes by, and he got tired of trying to open those ‘damn tiny pockets’ of hot sauce and then spilling them all over his shirt.”

  They sat down, comfortable silence settling over them as they ate. “I didn’t realize there were other rangers living up here,” she began.

  “Other rangers?”

  “You called Milos your neighbor.”

  He bit into a strip of bacon, chewed, and swallowed. “He’s not a ranger. Not really. Just a long-term guest.”

  “Ah.”

  There was hesitation in her eyes he couldn’t miss. “Something wrong?”

  “Nothing … I mean …” She pushed her eggs around her plate. “John … will you tell me now what happened?”

  “What happened?”

  “Back … back in the army.” Pale, robin’s-egg blue eyes peered up at him through thick lashes.

  A cold sweat broke on his forehead as his muscles tightened. The fork he’d been holding bent in his grip. “We don’t have to talk about that.” Reaching for his cup, he took a sip of coffee, not caring if the liquid burned his mouth and throat.

  “But, Krieger, I need to understand—”

  “No!” He slammed the mug down so hard it broke and spilled coffee all over the table. Dutchy jumped and gasped. The fear there was unmistakable, and he immediately hated himself, but he couldn’t control it. Rage boiled in him as he struggled to control his bear. It wanted out. It wanted blood. Pushing it deep down, he let out a roar and stormed out of the cabin.

  He slammed the door behind him so hard, the walls shook. The cool air helped calm him, but it didn’t ease the tightening of his chest or the pounding in his head.

  I can’t … can’t tell her. She could never know what really happened after Kargan. The nightmares that were still lurking … it still seemed real.

  The blood and destruction he left in the wake of his revenge spree sparked something in him and his bear. It wanted more. But there was no one left to hunt down. Everyone involved in the bombing had been removed from this earth, even down to the bomb maker who had pled for his life on his knees.

  And so, he hid deep, deep in the Arak mountains in the darkest part of Kargan. He survived by hunting animals, sleeping in caves, or in dens he dug himself. But he hadn’t been subtle about it. No, he left carcasses, went out at all hours of the day, sometimes ventured too close to farms.

  His presence became some kind of legend throughout the villages in the mountains. Stories of the monstrous bear roaming the woods spread far and wide, becoming wilder and wilder with each telling. The beast was fifteen—no, twenty feet tall—with teeth like a saber-tooth tiger and claws tipped with poison. It roamed at night, stealing sheep—no, it could take horses or cows and swallow them whole without leaving any traces.

  Then, when some child got lost and was found at the bottom of a ravine, they said it was the monster who did it, even though it was clear from the crushed bones that it was the fall that killed the boy.

  The villagers wanted blood. A mayor offered a prize and promised the winner would be celebrated with a feast. They even made a stage where they would display the monster once it was caught.

  So, they hunted him down. Sure, he was a powerful bear, but there were too many of them. And they had weapons and guns and nets. They set a trap for him. He had been desperate and hungry at the time, and he fell right into it. Cornered and fearing for his life, he had no choice. The only way to escape was to unleash his beast.

  But his bear was still thirsting for blood, and so he took down several of them and killed two innocent farmers in the process.

  Shock and guilt had made him shift back into his human form. They overpowered him. Imprisoned him. And not wanting to hurt any more innocent people, he didn’t even put up a struggle as they hauled him off. Didn’t fight them as they tortured him and left him half starved.

  It was only by a stroke of luck that a passing truck with some British servicemen got lost and stumbled upon him, sitting in a cage in the middle of the village square. They contacted the embassy and the army, and
that’s how Damon had found him and brought him here.

  He swallowed hard, as if he could consume the memories along with it and forget about them. Yes, he’d come so far. Made the changes. Got over the anxiety. Controlled his bear and bloodlust. Why couldn’t that be enough for her? Why did she need to know?

  She can’t know.

  She would forever see him as a murderer. Someone who shed innocent blood.

  Unclenching his jaw, he spun around and entered the cabin. Dutchy was kneeling on the floor, mopping up the spilled coffee with a rag. She froze, then lifted her head. “I’m sorry,” she said in a soft voice.

  “No.” He was at her side in two steps, and he gently lifted her to her feet. “I’m sorry. I was the one acting like an asshole. Forgive me?” Please. Please say yes.

  “O-of course.” But when he leaned down to kiss her, she put a hand up. “Just … I know you’ve been working on yourself, these past months. It must have been tough. I can see that now. But I still need to understand. Promise me you’ll talk to me about it?”

  He said he would do anything to keep her. And so, he lied. “I promise.”

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Thank you.”

  A knife-like pain twisted in his gut at her sincerity. “Why don’t you sit down and eat?” He grabbed the rag from her hand. “I’ll take care of this, okay?”

  “All right.”

  When he finished putting away the broken cup and the dirty rag, he sat back down.

  “How long can we stay up here?” she asked, taking a bite of toast.

  “As long as we want.”

  “No, seriously.” She patted a hand over his. “Surely you have to work at some point. And I—oh no!” Worry marred her face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Aunt Angela. We just left without telling her or anyone where we were going. She must be worried. I should call her.” She tried to get up, but he stopped her by placing a hand on her arm. “John—”