I’m left standing in the hallway confused, quiet, and not really understanding everything that has just happened.
Letter 19
Cash,
I can taste the blood in your throat. Stop bleeding for me. I never asked you to bleed for me. That’s your own choice, not my choice. Bleed for yourself, not me. I’m fine.
You’re going to be fine. Eventually, you’re going to be fine. It won’t happen overnight, and you will make yourself suffer because that’s who you are. You are a sufferer.
I’ve been watching you, I’ve been listening to you, I’ve been thinking about how to help you through all of this, and I think these letters are my the only way to help.
Like I said before, these aren’t love letters; these are my thoughts through all of this. It’s not meant for you to keep reading them, worship every one of my words; it’s meant to read, think, reflect, and move on.
If in the Moon we can look down on the ones we love, know that I won’t be looking down on you. I will be waiting to see you again up there, but I am not going to be watching you. I won’t be a ghost that can’t leave you alone because I can’t stay away from the living. I’m not a jilted spirit. I will be at peace when I die.
Don’t be afraid to do things because you think I might be watching you. I’m not.
Kennedy
Chapter 20
Lips Feel the Pleasure of Skin
The earrings slip back in.
Cassius has noticed the next day I came downstairs for breakfast. He’s noticed all the following weeks with those sidelong glances; he’s noticed with those eyes that tell he’s wanting to do what red allows. Still, he doesn’t act, and it’s made me jittery, quick to jump at things, expecting him to be all over me the minute he comes into the house or when I come into his bedroom to sleep.
He’ll be on his back, his head turned to me, and ask, “Do you want something, Treajure?” Those times I can’t move. I stay stiff in my spot, so he turns himself to the wall. “Goodnight, Specs.”
When I’m taking a shower, I expected him to join me or to be standing there when I got out. He doesn’t.
A wisp of Cassius’s scent lets me know he’s been in rooms that I enter. He doesn’t look at me, but on occasion, I can see him looking. There is more hunger in his eyes than mine. Still, he doesn’t touch me.
I feel as if I am being hunted by him, stalked around the house in a quiet kind of way. This stalking is something that makes my heart pound in my chest and puts my senses on high alert—not from danger, but from wanting to be caught.
I’ve never been more wanting in my entire life. He’s bought a few new things for himself, and he’s even started to sing songs on the radio with the kids. I’ve never seen the edge of his mouth curve up so much.
Drying the dishes, I’m stretching up to put the container on the top shelf, and I feel him behind me taking it out of my hand and stretching up easily to put it away while I’m still on tiptoes. I can feel him breathing right behind me, not moving.
His fingers brush along the corner of my jeans, where the pocket is against my ass.
“Looks like someone needs new jeans.” His finger digs into the small hole, skin against skin. I turn my head to look down where his finger is pushed into the hole, his blunt nail scratching at my skin.
“It’s been driving me crazy all day.”
My breathing is caught off guard.
The hole gets bigger, his finger taking the opportunity of stretching the material to allow it to expand around him. He’s now got his finger against the ridge of my panties. He leans into me, his straight nose pressing into the base of my neck. He’s inhaling deep with changing breaths.
Something between us is alive. I can feel it like I feel my own beating heart.
His nail now is clawed, more Wild than skin. There is a growl that extends from his chest into my back. It shakes me, not with fear. No, I don’t fear this, not him; I could never fear this male standing behind me.
“It’s a nice day. I’m going for a run. Would you like to join me? We won’t go too far, just up the trail.” His nails dig into the pad of my hip, bringing me against his body.
“Say yes.”
I nod my head.
“You’re going to need to talk to me, Treajure. I know you can make sounds; it’s not much different than saying words.” My eyes snap to his, and his smile seems naughty. I haven’t seen that kind of thing spread wide across his face, a hint of teeth showing. Naughty, mischievous, and so sexy.
He steps away, almost on purpose, I think, and the Wild actually whimpers out the noise to him. She doesn’t need to be quiet for this male; he’s not that man.
“Let her do that again. Let her talk to me.” The Wild doesn’t need me to let her do anything. She whines out again through a throat that is close to atrophy from prolonged non-use.
The sound is rough, painful almost. He doesn’t wince away from the noise; he turns me to face him. His blunt nails scratch down my throat, and the Wild points her chin to the ceiling, the neck lengthening, letting him scratch at the skin she wants to shift. I can feel the shake of her underneath my skin.
Muscles tense before relaxing to tense out again, pushing against the casing of skin.
She wants out. Now.
“Let’s go for a run. Let them meet each other. I’ve kept him away long enough.”
A pause.
“He wants to meet her. I’m going to let him do what he wants to do.”
There’s a bad shake to my thighs, right above the knees. I’m afraid he’s going to notice. If he does, he says nothing.
He’s never once mentioned his Wild to me, this is the first time, and what’s inside me is rejoicing in a fit of silent yips and tail chasing.
She’s wildly enthusiastic to meet him as well. Too enthusiastic.
He goes to the back mudroom first. I can hear him peel all the layers off him before the back door opens. My turn to take everything off, including the earrings and glasses. I come out in a flowered robe; I think it might be silk. I’ve never felt something so light and smooth before. I’m almost blind except for the blurs of shapes.
“Ready?” He turns and shifts really fast; the cocoon of skin releases to the body of the Wild, who faces the forest. Discarding the robe, my turn to shift, and she only sees in blurred shapes as if cataracts are over her eyes.
There is a nudge to our flank, a sniff of our mouth, more sniffs to our underbelly, our female parts. The Wild does the same with him, sniffs him up and down, and all around. He’s a meaty male with a height to him.
The Wild follows the male’s lead. He takes a gentle route, not demanding anything of her non-existent skill level.
He keeps nudging her flank, letting his body slide along hers. He nips into her haunch, and she nips him back with teeth that don’t draw blood, more gums than teeth.
There is no running full out; the path is even, without dips or hills. She’s steady on her feet until the male starts to become playful and upends her. He holds, rushes her, then pulls back at the last minute. When she rights herself, he’s there as a big blur on hind legs to pounce back on her. She plays back, full of her strength that doesn’t match his.
They roll on the ground together and lick at their mouths and inside of their jowls. They explore the other’s body without any kind of restraint until the male gets a hold of the Wild’s neck.
He holds her with powerful jaws. He could take her throat. He could kill her if he wanted to.
A whine from the Wild before she tries to push her neck inside teeth that have her wanting to be bitten.
There is no hesitation before the bite is felt; it’s a solid, clean, through the skin kind of bite that has her back legs give out.
The Wild experiences complete paralysis of the body from pure uninhibited pleasure. Teeth retract and she lays on her side, panting open-mouthed, tongue hanging out.
He gives her a few moments before trying to get her to her feet. She licks the side of
his face, and he stretches his neck out, practically shoving it between the Wild’s teeth.
There is no hesitation with her, she clamps down, and the surge of him is felt, a complete overwhelming shift of my internal makeup. It makes room for something else within, some other presences that shift along the bone line that intertwines within my private spaces. The marrow of my bones expand as Cassius is felt within.
I feel internally swollen, everything is excessive, and it’s hard to pick my head up. There’s a need to shift from fur to skin.
Something besides me is inside my head. I can feel the strange presence taking up space just on the peripheral edge.
He shakes himself out, a lick to the side of my neck, cheek pressed against cheek, before he stretches and waits for the Wild to find her legs again.
When his Wild tries to mount her, she tucks her tail around her, the nip is real this time, and Cassius sheds his fur to skin. He’s a blur.
“He got ahead of me. My apologies.” Now his hand runs down her neck, scratches at her flank; she rolls on her back, belly exposed, and he laughs.
“It was the right thing to do, Treajure. I hope you aren’t upset?” I can’t see him real good, nothing but an outline of a body. The Wild whines in her throat; he touches her cheek with his, and kisses her neck, her throat, and licks off the blood in her fur.
He shifts again and walks slowly, almost reluctantly back to the house. He goes inside first. I find the robe and shift quickly, putting it on me. I still can’t see, and I can hear him dressing in the layers of himself.
I can feel his fingers at one of my ears. He pushes the earring through the hole. I feel the deliberate way he touches the back of my ear; it gives me a shiver in my spine.
“That feels good when I touch you there.” I can’t even shake my head, because he’s pushing the other earring through the hole, securing it with the backing. The pad of his thumb plays with the thin skin behind my ear for a few staggering moments. I can feel something rush through my blood, but it’s not my blood rushing. It’s his.
My glasses are put on by him next after I blink a few times, and his eyes are waiting for mine to see him.
“Perfect.”
My breath is gone.
His nose runs the length of mine, slow.
Everything responds—my body leans into his.
He takes a minute before those lips are on mine.
Soft. Warm. Gentle.
I want to take a taste of his tongue that is nudging between my lips.
He breathes in, heavy. I can feel him curl his shoulders around my body. I’m being pulled flush to his chest.
He’s a force…
This is urgent male; he kisses with ownership. To claim my lips as his, only his. His tongue belongs against my tongue.
The warmth inside me spreads, and he makes this noise that he kisses me through. Our breaths meet and are inhaled by the other.
“Tell me your name,” he asks through the break in his lips still pressed to mine. “Let me know your name.” He’s on my mouth again, eyes closed. His hands run back down my robe to mid-thigh, lifting it up next time as he runs them back up me. I can feel the cold air hitting my inner thighs as that throbbing heat spreads deeper below my mound.
He’s stone-hard; I can feel him. He’s responding the same as me—I’m as slick as he is hard.
I have no underwear on, and I can feel the wetness with each clench of my thighs.
His hips shift, and I can’t help the moan that comes from deep in my throat. He stiffens.
“Do it again.” The noise is made again, and he rewards me with a kiss that demands I give him everything back he’s giving me. He pulls me even closer with a drawn-out noise from his chest.
We’re both breathing hard. His hand skims over the front of my thighs to reach around and grip me by the ass, picking me up so I can feel him on my mound. I feel the length of him straining through his jeans, pushing into my space.
Heart pounding each time my hips shift into his.
I can barely breathe; everything is a rush forward.
My hips desperately push back into his. We are lips and tongues, hands, and I can’t stop from thinking I’d like nothing more than to shove his jeans to his ankles and feel a male for the first time in my mouth.
A raspy breath drags out of his lungs as his hand smooths down over the silk robe against my mound, and I freeze.
The back door opens, and instead of jumping away, he holds me to him, our foreheads touching. I’m embarrassed to be caught but not him. He makes no move to hide this from anyone.
“Sorry.” The Luna backs out, but not before the twins bully themselves past her.
“What are you doing?” Ken asks his father.
“I’m giving Treajure a kiss. Is that okay?”
“I guess so.” Ken makes a disgusted face, and Dee’s eyes are as big as mine.
“Why?” Dee asks.
“Because I like her.” He pulls away his eyes from mine to meet the twins, then to his mother, whose face has become red and blotchy.
“Why do you like her?” Ken is persistent and confused.
“I just do.”
“I like her too,” Dee chimes in and holds my hand.
“I like her too,” Ken mimics his sister’s reply.
“Well, it’s settled, we all like you.” I can hear the smile through Cassius’s voice.
“We all like her,” the voice of the Luna joins in, and before I know it, I have to take my glasses off and wipe away the tears that keep coming from what I feel inside me. Joy.
Letter 20
Cash,
You should move on because I already have.
Kennedy
Chapter 21
Skin in the Shade of Slate Drawn on Paper
Cassius’s range is wide. I can feel his eye on my face even if I can’t see him. I feel every glance; I feel every brush of vision that keeps coming back to my face, to my lips, to my neck. I feel him, the security of the inside of him.
“Well. I think I’m going to bed. Goodnight. Are you coming, Grace?” I understand where Cassius gets his puppy pout; the Silverback looks at the Luna all lip and desire with eyes that grow big. The Luna nods her head, and if he was in Wild form, his tail would be wagging incessantly. He has a little pepper in his step as he make his way the other side of the house.
“Well, goodnight, see you in the morning.” His mother kisses his forehead, then she presses her lips against mine.
“Treajure, I’d like to talk to you.” He doesn’t mumble; his words are clear precision. “I want to ask you if it would be all right if I marked you?”
I stiffen slightly.
“Not today.” He shows me his palms. He’s calm.
“I’m just asking if it would be all right if I marked you, only if you want me to. I know the Wilds have done their business, and now it’s time for us. You and me.”
My legs buckle, and I’m sitting on the chair, all loose as if I don’t own a bone in my body. Cassius waits for an answer.
“You’re going to have to tell me what you want. I won’t do it without you telling me, Treajure. I know you can talk. I can feel all those words inside you.” He touches his chest with his hand, the center of him.
“I promise I won’t do anything you aren’t ready for. We’ll take all this slow. As slow as you need.” His eyes are trained sharp right on my face before they soften, and I swear he’s smiling through them now.
“I’m off to bed. Goodnight, Specs.” He doesn’t kiss my forehead; he brushes his lips on mine before pulling away with a subtle growl that terrorizes the deepness of my sex.
He leaves his door cracked slightly, and I can hear him get on top of his bed. It’s dark in his room except for the sickle moon that is out.
Entering, I stop in the middle of his room. The outline of his body is held still on his bed. I’m not sure he’s breathing, but I can feel the race of him.
His head turns toward me. “Do you want somet
hing, Treajure?” His voice reaches out, touches my face. I can feel it all over me, surrounding me, holding me like a warm blanket.
There is no answer from me. The word you is trapped the same way spit is under my tongue and it’s swallowed down, leaving me there standing by myself with everything surrounding me.
“Goodnight, Specs.” Cassius rolls on his side, facing the wall, his back to me, and I slip underneath his bed, feeling the wooden frame above me until my breathing is even and my eyes can’t stay open any longer.
The next morning has Cassius working on his computer, but he makes it a point to get up from the table to kiss me good morning in front of everyone. The Silverback takes a sip of his coffee with a toothy grin stretched as wide as his shirt across his face.
The twins just stare at their father, at me, and start to giggle.
“Nothing’s wrong with kissing,” the Alpha says with an even brighter smile glued to his face.
“That’s right, nothing is wrong with kissing.” Luna Grace wraps her arms around her mate’s chest and kisses him on the cheek.
“Now Grace, you’ve made my lips jealous, and you know we can’t have that, can we?”
“You’re right, forgive me, Alpha.” Her lips touch his, long and slow, not indecent but there is a fine line.
“Better?” She pulls away, and his neck follows her lips.
“Almost.” He kisses her once more, a little deeper, and Cassius looks away, the twins giggle, and I turn red.
“Better. Them lips are a jealous thing, Grace. You know better than to start with the cheek.” His teeth nip at her neck before he leans back against the chair.
Crane gags.
His mother throws a butter knife at his head, misses, and Caleb smacks him lightly.
“What did I do?” Crane asks.
“You made your mother mad.”
“And you’ve never?”
“That was when I was younger. I’m a changed wolf.” Caleb’s teeth shine white toward Crane.
Cassius (The Wildflower Series Book 3) Page 16
