Hell's Wolves MC: Complete Series Six Book Box Set

by J. L. Wilder

  He unlocked the door to their room, led Charity in, and shut it behind them, throwing the deadbolt for extra security.

  As soon as he turned back around, they were on each other. It wasn’t like the night before, which had been intense but with a sense of restraint and care. This was wanton. They kicked their pants away, tore at each other’s shirts, and after only a few moments, they were skin to skin.

  It was heaven. After all the waiting, the long walk into town, it was like a burn finally being held in cool water. Charity pressed her body into his as hard as she could, squirming with a combination of satisfaction and the need for more.

  He worked one of his thick, muscular thighs between her legs, and she moaned in satisfaction as she ground down into it. His hands sliding down her back to grab the globes of her ass and guide her hips as they worked. She could feel him throbbing against the muscles of her stomach. I hope it does take twelve hours, she thought madly. I could do this forever.

  “God,” he said quietly. “You’re so amazing, Charity. You’re so fucking hot.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and helped her to lean back, supporting her. As her hips continued to grind against his, he bent down and kissed along her collarbone, then made his way across the soft mound of her breast. He took her nipple in his mouth and treated it to the rough flat of his tongue.

  She threw her head back and cried out, feeling like she might fly into pieces.

  He moved to the other nipple and gave that one the same treatment, and suddenly Charity’s body was out of her control. Her hips bucked desperately, and she sobbed out his name— “Weston!” And suddenly she was coming so hard that she thought she might lose consciousness.

  The next thing she was aware of was being cradled in Weston’s arms. Her limbs were shaking. She couldn’t have stood on her own feet if she’d wanted to, which she didn’t. Being held by him was wonderful.

  He lowered her onto the bed, then lowered himself over her. She could feel him pressing between her legs, grinding against her, and even though every touch was almost more than she could stand so soon after her orgasm, she welcomed it. It was Weston. It was wonderful.

  He entered her slowly, panting, eyes closed, and she knew he wanted more and wanted it fast and wanted it now. He was taking his time for her sake. He was letting her adjust to him. She was grateful. He was so big, so strong, and she was still shaking like a dandelion in the wind. She wrapped her arms and legs around him to steady herself and breathed deeply as he began to thrust into her.

  The force of his thrusts was enough that it moved the bed. If Charity hadn’t been hanging on, she thought, she would have been driven into the wall. It was so powerful, so intense. She doubted there was any other man alive who could have given her something like this, who could have taken her so commandingly. She lifted her hips to meet him, taking him deeper, letting herself get carried away with it all, and when Weston cried out and snapped his hips forward, spasming with pleasure, Charity came for the second time.

  He lifted her up and carried her to the shower, bracing her body against his as he reached in to adjust the water. Charity felt as if she wasn’t even human anymore. Her mind had receded to a pure, animalistic place, a place that understood only the basest possible concepts—pleasure and trust and love and need.

  Weston got into the shower, bringing Charity with him, and held her up under the spray. She probably couldn’t have stood on her own, she thought idly. But it didn’t matter. He had her. He washed her hair with complimentary motel shampoo, tore open the bar of soap and ran it over her arms, legs, and torso, the whole time holding her propped against his own body.

  By the time he had opened the soap, Charity was fully aroused again, and Weston seemed to know exactly what she needed. He shifted his grip on her carefully, one arm wrapping around her to cradle her right breast, the other hand circling her waist and dipping between her legs.

  “You’re so needy,” he said, marveling. “Such an omega. God, you’re beautiful.”

  She whined, swollen and desperate, beyond words, and pushed herself into his hands.

  “I’ve got you,” he said quietly, his thumb circling her nipple as two fingers found their way inside her and stroked. “It’s okay, Charity. I’ll give it to you as much as you need it. Don’t you worry about that.”

  She lost herself in the sensations as his skilled hands worked her body, playing her like a delicate instrument and coaxing another orgasm from her. By the time they were finished she was sobbing, and Weston had grown hard again. He turned her to face the shower wall and entered her from behind this time, fingers still working dexterously between her legs. He fucked her slowly and gently, seeming to know how sensitive she must be now, bringing her gradually along.

  I can’t believe it, she thought. I can’t believe I’m going to come again.

  But the tension was building in her, a tension she recognized all too well, and she began fucking herself back onto him, increasing their pace. He picked up on the cue and worked his fingers faster, and as Charity cried out her pleasure, she felt a sharp pain where her shoulder met her neck, the stinging sensation taking things higher than she could have imagined.

  She started to slide down the shower wall, but Weston caught her.

  He helped her out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around her, holding her close. “I’ve got you,” he said. “Take your time.”

  “Weston—”

  “I know.”

  “It was almost scary. It was like I’d never get enough.”

  “You’re an omega,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Lots of omegas have trouble stopping once they’ve started.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I read about it.”

  She laughed shakily. “I guess I missed some opportunities for research, living as a human.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll catch you up.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed him, deeply and passionately, trying to pour every ounce of love and gratitude she felt into the gesture.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asked. “The bite?” His fingers came to rest on her neck, where she’d felt the pain at the moment of climax. “I couldn’t resist. I had to mark you, to claim you.”

  “Another omega thing?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “Actually, it’s usually an alpha thing. The alpha of the pack claims his mate like that. But maybe because there are no alphas here...I don’t know.”

  “Could be that,” she agreed.

  “Are you okay for now?” he asked. “Think we could get some sleep?”

  “I don’t think I could do anything else,” she said, laughing.

  “Come on, then. To bed with you!” He scooped her up in his arms again, even though her strength was starting to return, and she felt like she could have made the walk on her own and laid her gently on the bed. Charity crawled under the covers, and a moment later, Weston joined her.

  “I love you,” she whispered. “I’m so in love with you.”

  “I love you too.”

  “Promise we’ll never be apart again?”

  “You won’t run away from me again, will you?”

  “Not ever.”

  “Then I promise. We’ll never be apart. Wherever you go, I’ll go.”

  “And I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

  She snuggled into his chest and felt his breathing become deep and even.

  She thought she might never fall asleep—she was physically exhausted, but her mind was going a mile a minute now that her ability to think and reason had returned to her. But to her surprise, she found herself drifting almost immediately. She felt as if she were lying on a smooth surface that was slowly tipping upright, allowing her to slide away into the abyss of sleep.

  She let herself go.

  As she tumbled forward into her subconscious, darkness closed around her, enveloping her, welcoming her, and she felt as safe and as comfortable as she did in Wes
ton’s arms. Nothing could be better, she thought, than a safe place to sleep and the arms of her love around her, keeping her warm and protecting her from anything that might come their way.

  It was her last full thought before consciousness faded away and she surrendered herself completely to the depths of sleep.

  SHE WOKE FEELING FRIGHTENED and out of place, as if something was badly wrong.

  She crawled out of bed, thinking of finding a bottle of water in Weston’s duffel bag, but as soon as she had her feet under her, her stomach lurched, and she was forced to dive for the bathroom. She made it barely in time to kneel before the toilet and vomit.

  By the time Weston reached her, she was finished, soaked in cold sweat and sitting back against the shower door, shivering. “What is it?” he asked, clearly alarmed. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I’m sick,” she said.

  He knelt before her and placed a gentle hand on her face. “You don’t have a fever,” he said quietly. “What did you eat yesterday?”

  “Just the granola bars.”

  “How do you feel now?” He gripped her hands, then moved his hands up her arms and squeezed them in several places as if reassuring himself that she was all in one piece.

  “Better, actually,” she admitted. “Maybe there’s something in the granola that didn’t agree with me.”

  He frowned. “It’s granola. What could be the problem?”

  “I don’t know...”

  Weston helped Charity to her feet and back over to the bed. He went to the duffel back, fished out a bottle of water, and handed it to her.

  “Thanks.” She took a long, restorative drink and felt better still.

  Weston sat beside her. “You’ve got a bit more color now,” he said.

  “I think I’m all right.” She felt humiliated, actually. “It was just a passing thing.”

  “Are you sure? We could try to find a clinic, if you want.”

  “Complete overreaction,” she assured him. “I’m fine. Let’s just go back to sleep. It’s really nothing.”

  Weston looked doubtful, but he lay back on the bed anyway. Charity allowed herself to relax beside him.

  Suddenly, he sat bolt upright. “Charity,” he gasped.

  “Um, what?”

  “I know what’s wrong with you. Oh my God.”

  “What is it?” she asked nervously, already afraid of the answer. She had never seen Weston like this. Even when things were out of his control, he always maintained a veneer of calm, as if there was something he could do to ensure that the situation played out in his favor. But there was no calm about him now. He looked almost frantic.

  He turned and gave her a look that was half penetrating and half—was she reading him right? —wondering.

  “Charity,” he said softly. “I think you’re pregnant.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  WESTON

  “Pregnant!” she laughed. “I can’t be pregnant! We just had sex for the first time yesterday.”

  “But you’re an omega,” he said. “Your body would register the change immediately. Omegas are built for pregnancy. It happens quickly, and it’s almost always obvious as soon as it does. You probably just conceived within the past hour or something.”

  “You got this from your reading too, I take it?” she asked faintly.

  “Yes.” He wished he’d brought the book along with him. It was hidden under his mattress back at the Hell’s Wolves’ cabin, one of the few he’d managed to save from Hawk’s purge when he’d cleaned out their old library and converted it into a workout room.

  But he had read enough of it to be helpful, enough to know that without precautions sex with an omega almost always resulted in pregnancy. He had known that when he’d taken her to bed, and yet he hadn’t been careful at all. He’d been so eager for her, for her body, that he hadn’t been thinking.

  Perhaps he couldn’t be blamed for it. Omegas were uncommonly alluring. He had read that too. But if he was honest with himself, he had to admit that a significant part of her allure came from the fact that she was Charity, not that she was an omega. If she had just been someone random, he thought he would have been able to resist.

  It was the fact that he loved her that had made her so irresistible.

  Could she really be pregnant? “I wonder if anything would show up on a pregnancy test,” he mused to himself.

  “Why wouldn’t it?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “They’re designed for humans. A human woman would have no idea she was pregnant at this stage. Her body wouldn’t have registered the fact. It’s possible that the test that works for humans won’t work for you at such an early stage.”

  “I don’t think we need a test,” she said.

  “You don’t?”

  Her hand came to rest on her stomach. She was gazing down in wonderment. “It’s true,” she said. “It’s crazy, and I have no idea why I’m so sure, but...as soon as you said it, I felt how true it was. There’s no doubt about it.”

  He came over and sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “How do you feel?” he asked quietly.

  “Scared,” she admitted. “But also...I don’t know. I don’t have the words for it. It feels like...this is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.” She looked up at him. Tears were glistening in her eyes. “Even more amazing than finding you again, and I would have said just a few hours ago that nothing could ever top that.”

  He took her face in his hands and kissed her, softly but passionately. “It’s a miracle,” he agreed.

  “But what are we going to do?” she asked. “We can’t have a baby. We’re on the run from the Hell’s Wolves. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Babies,” he corrected automatically because he didn’t have any idea how to answer the real question she’d asked.

  “What?”

  “Babies. More than one. A litter.”

  “Of course.” She leaned into him. “I’ve been human too long.”

  “We need to find a place where we can settle down,” he said. “A place where we can stay, and we won’t have to worry about Hawk finding us.”

  “Do you think we’re safe here? In this town?” she asked. “Obviously we can’t stay in this motel for the long term, but we might be able to figure something out. Get a little house or something.”

  He didn’t want her to be afraid, so even though he wasn’t certain, he nodded. “I’m sure we’ve come far enough,” he said. “Between the bus and the train, there’s no way they’ve managed to follow us. We’re safe from them here.”

  “What should we do?”

  “Let’s check out of the place and go get some breakfast.” He smiled at her. “You need to keep your energy up. You’re eating for...well, for several.”

  “I am hungry, now that you mention it.”

  “Good, because I’m going to make you eat.”

  They smiled at each other shiftily, and suddenly Weston felt as if they were young again, as if everything between them was brand new and exciting and happening for the first time. It felt as if their lives were so novel that these experiences might never have happened to anyone else before. It felt as if they were the first people in the world to fall in love, the first people to become pregnant. It was all new and all just for them.

  They went down to the reception building and returned their key. Weston consulted the clock again and saw that it was now four in the afternoon. Still daytime, but the sun would be going down soon. They might be able to find a place to stay if they moved quickly.

  “Do you know of any apartments for rent?” he asked the woman behind the desk.

  She was friendlier than the young man they’d met last night. “There’s a sublet over on Linden Street,” she said. “Look for the chain-link fence. I think it’s number 4244. The man who owns it is going on sabbatical in Europe. He’s a writer or something.” She smiled. “Perfect place for a couple of youngsters just getting started.”

  “Thanks,�
�� Weston said, hoping his depleting funds would stretch to cover a few weeks’ rent until he could get a job and start bringing money in.

  He and Charity went out onto the street. “We’d better go over to the sublet first, before it gets too late,” he said. “We want to make sure we have a roof over our heads tonight.”

  Linden Street turned out to be easy enough to find—it was the first cross street they encountered. Number 4244 was just a few houses down the block. Feeling slightly nervous but emboldened by the fact that Charity was counting on him, Weston walked up the porch steps and knocked on the door.

  The man who answered was lean and tall, with wire-rimmed glasses and a well-maintained beard. “How can I help you?”

  “We were told this place might be available for rent,” Weston said.

  “Sure, come in,” the man said. “I’ve been trying to offload the damn thing for weeks now,” he admitted as he led them into the house. “My flight to Rome leaves tomorrow. My wife’s already in a hotel—we’re trying to keep the place as clean as possible, so it’ll be rental ready. Have a look around.”

  Weston did so, trying to convey that he gave a damn about the amenities of the place, when actually he would have moved into a cardboard box if the price was right.

  “When would you be able to move in?” the man asked.

  “We were hoping for today, actually,” Weston said. “We’re new in town, and we haven’t got a place yet.”

  “Well, you’re in luck,” the man said with a grin. “I can vacate at a moment’s notice.”

  He produced the rental papers. Weston scrawled a signature on them, doing his best to make his handwriting illegible. He didn’t think that Hawk or any of the others would recognize the signature as his, on the off chance that they managed to connect with this man—but that was ridiculously unlikely anyway. He was leaving the country. The papers were safe.

  They shook hands and the man went on his way, and then Weston and Charity were on their own in their new apartment.