Donal sat up and helped her get in position so her knees were outside of his hips. She eyed the cock that was straining toward her, and her lips twitched. “I think I’m getting an idea of how this will work.”
Tynan said without breaking a smile, “I thought you might.”
Donal snorted.
And Meggie laughed.
Fisting his cock, Tynan held it up. “Lower yourself onto me. Slowly, a leannán.”
Biting her lip, she went down slowly, engulfing the head of his cock. Eyes widening, she halted.
Halted.
His shaft throbbed with such urgency he had to force himself to stay still. “You feel amazing.” Like the warmest of silk. “More, please, Meggie mine.”
Her hands gripped his shoulders as she dropped, inch by intense inch until he was completely sheathed in her tight, wet heat. By the Gods. He let out a low groan.
Donal had moved away, and now he returned, settling down beside her hips, one hand gloved and glistening with lube. The healer had all the fun equipment.
Meggie didn’t even notice as she squirmed on Tynan’s cock, adjusting to his size. She stared at him, her lips parted and pink. “Now what?”
“Now, you go up and down.” Smiling, Tynan reached down—because this position left his hands free—and ran a finger over her clit.
Her cunt clenched down on his cock so tightly he almost came right then.
He pulled in a breath, regained control. After a second, he continued, rubbing one side, then the other. Wasn’t it handy that the little nub got pressed outward by the girth of his cock?
She started to wiggle, and he watched the flush of heat climbing from her breasts to her face.
By the Gods, he loved mating with her. “Up and down,” he reminded her, winking at Donal.
Making little huffing sounds, she started to move. Up, almost off his dick. Then down. Slowly.
But as he teased her clit, her movements grew faster and faster.
* * *
Oh Gods, she felt so ignorant about all this sex stuff. But Margery decided she didn’t care, not in the least, because all she could really think about was the way Tynan felt inside her and how his fingers were moving on her clit. The combination was too much.
His heated gaze was on her face, those blue eyes watching her. His lips quirked up in a slight smile of enjoyment and satisfaction and…and caring.
When he lifted his gaze, trapping hers, she froze. He reached up with his other hand and touched her cheek. “Meggie.”
Her heart seemed as if it was falling, tumbling out of her chest into his keeping.
No, no, that wasn’t right. She mustn’t think that way.
Worried, she bit her lip.
His expression turned tender, but then he smiled. “Move, little wolf. It’s time for you to move.” He started rubbing her clit again.
Her body reawakened in a flash. Each stroke, each touch made her more sensitive, drew her closer and closer to—
A hand gripped her hip. Donal had moved behind her. He parted her buttocks and ran his finger over…over her anus.
“What?” She started to sit up.
Tynan wrapped his fingers around her wrists, holding her hands against his chest. “No, don’t move, Meggie.” His gaze was intent on her face.
She looked back at Donal, then him.
His slow smile eased her worry. “It seems this might be something else you didn’t know. When males share a female, that area is sometimes used as well.”
Donal circled his finger around the rim, creating an intoxicating kaleidoscope of sensation.
As sizzles zinged through her, she shivered. “There?”
“There,” Donal answered, his voice gentle. “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop, sweetheart.”
Tynan nodded. “But try it once first, aye?”
“O-okay.” Another shiver ran through her as Donal’s finger pressed in slightly. The slick intrusive sensation felt totally wrong as he opened that part of her, yet the nerves felt electrified, and everything inside her clenched.
Tynan groaned. “By the Gods, that feels good.”
Happiness swept through her that she’d pleased him.
But then Donal moved his finger in and out of her, sending all sorts of strange sensations through her. He added another finger, stretching her almost uncomfortably, yet the disconcerting pleasure overwhelmed everything else.
“Ready for you, brawd.” Donal’s hand tightened on one buttock with his fingers deep inside her.
She shivered at the consuming sensations—Tynan’s cock so thick in her pussy, Donal’s fingers…elsewhere.
“Time to move, little wolf.” Tynan said.
Move? Was he crazy?
Gripping her hips, he didn’t wait, but lifted her up and almost off his cock—and then he drew her down, hard enough to make her gasp—and the two fingers in her ass went along. When Tynan’s cock was completely inside her, Donal moved his fingers in and out, sending a seething tension through her.
The need started to grow.
Tynan lifted her up…
Up and down, in and out, and everything increased the delirious hunger until each cell in her body burned with urgency. Vibrated with the need to come.
More.
Hands moved over her, Tynan’s cock penetrated her, Donal’s fingers possessed her. Both males were focused on her, only on her, and the knowledge of their careful nurturing and concern filled her heart to overflowing.
And sent her over.
Her head went back as her entire core exploded with pleasure, as waves of heat rippled through her, outward along her nerves and blood vessels and muscles until her whole body shimmered with ecstasy. Until the whole room turned blurry.
Through the haze, she heard Tynan laugh, rock her up and down twice more and then anchor her against him as he came with hard spasms.
She sagged down on top of him, hearing Donal’s chuckle, and as he pulled his fingers out, she jolted at the flash of pleasure.
Every muscle in her body went limp.
When Donal returned, Tynan tucked her down between them. Hard bodies on each side, deep voices.
Their callused hands stroked her gently as she fell asleep.
Chapter Sixteen
Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory - waning gibbous moon
* * *
Not even a pouring rain could diminish her spirits the next morning. Margery let herself back into her house, closing the front door quietly in case her littermate had come home.
“No need to pussyfoot around.” At the dining room table, Oliver scowled. “Or act like you’ve been out killing pixies.”
She laughed. “No pixies have been slaughtered today. I didn’t want to wake you if you were asleep.”
“Where in the Hunter’s green forest have you been?” His voice came out a growl. “I was worried.”
“Oh, cat-scat. I’m sorry. I should have left you a note.” She hung up her wet coat. “I was next door.”
“Oh.” He looked happier. “I didn’t realize the healer started work so early.”
She exhaled. Letting him assume she was only working with Donal would be a form of lying. The Scythe had taught her to hate lies. “Donal doesn’t open his clinic this early. I spent the night over there.”
Oliver’s brown brows drew together as he sniffed the air.
She flushed, all too conscious of the scent of sex clinging to her, of her beard-reddened cheeks, chin, and neck. Of her swollen lips. Of the bite-mark on her neck. Of her tousled hair.
Worry crossed his face, before he scowled. “Isn’t it considered poor form to fuck your boss?”
What? She jerked back, then her eyes narrowed. “That was rude. And uncalled for.”
His expression blanked. “I just… Yeah, sorry.”
Her eyes narrowed as she looked him over. Hair tousled, a day’s beard scruff, eyes bloodshot. His T-shirt showed a bear watching a human on a bicycle with the text beneath: Meals on wheels.
Same T-shirt he’d worn yesterday. And he smelled like alcohol.
“Is this the fairy calling the bird, flighty?” She put her hands on her hips. “Were you even home to notice I was gone?”
He turned a dull red. His hands had a fine tremor. His skin looked sallow.
“Bro, you said you didn’t like crowded taverns,” she said softly. “Were you having drinks with Patrin and Fell or something?”
“Nah.” He looked away. “I was drinking—got a bottle of whisky at the store—but it was in the woods.”
A niggle of anxiety came to life. Drinking alone. That wasn’t healthy, and it appeared Oliver had imbibed the entire bottle. “That doesn’t seem… Is everything…?”
Mother’s breasts, why was it easier to discuss health issues with patients than with her own brother?
“I’m fine.” He shoved his chair back and rose. “And I’m not a cub, sis. What I do, what I drink is my business. Not yours.”
As he disappeared into his bedroom, she stared after him. Honestly, he gave her that line after asking her where she’d spent the night?
Huffing out a breath, she headed into her own bedroom to take a shower—and managed not to slam her door.
She’d forgotten how Oliver could act like a dwarf whose gold had been stolen when he got in a mood.
Well, really, couldn’t they all?
Guilt reared up. Perhaps she should have come home last night. He was having a rough time.
But alcohol was never the right answer. She stripped off her clothing and stepped into the shower. What if he—
She shook her head. No, she was being a worrywart. He was back in civilization from the tiny Elder Village with no stores. Over-indulging in drink just once wasn’t the sign of a problem.
He was fine.
She’d make sure he was fine. Because she was all he had left now.
Orson was gone. If the mere thought of their brother sent an echo of sorrow through her, how much worse must it be for Oliver? Male littermates were closer to each other, probably because they stayed together through life. If Orson had been alive, he and Oliver would have their own place or—like many other young males—would have been wandering through the territories before settling down. She’d have been looking for her own place. For her own males to love.
To love.
The thought sent tremors of hope and anxiety through her.
Last night had been something she’d never experienced before. Being with Donal and Tynan together was so special. Would they want to…to be together like that again?
She scrubbed her skin hard, needing to wash away her silly hopes.
Paws on the trail, Margery. She mustn’t get enticed into chasing butterflies that would flit away into the sky, leaving her in a tangle of brambles.
Chapter Seventeen
Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory - third quarter moon
* * *
Two days later, Margery looked around at the group of wolves. On a slight rise, Patrin was lecturing. It was his second day of teaching them how to fight in animal form against those in human form…like the Scythe.
Margery shivered, despite the warmth of the day.
I’m a banfasa, I don’t hurt people.
Yet… If the Dogwood villagers had been better fighters, some of them might have escaped. Might have found help before so many had died.
I’ll kill anyone who tries to capture me or my people again.
Patrin reviewed the techniques he’d taught them yesterday. The circling, the leap. Where to bite to disable and what bites would kill.
The Daonain had all hunted deer and rabbits. Humans weren’t much different. Just bigger.
Too big, she’d thought at first. In yesterday’s class, Margery had been a total failure. Too slow, wrong angle, too weak.
Last night, Tynan had hauled her into the forest and made her practice “killing” him, saying if she could take him down, she could take anyone down. Over and over, she’d leaped at him. Until suddenly it all clicked. Spring from here. At this angle. Lock onto the throat here.
Afterward, Tynan and Donal had “rewarded” her with so many orgasms that she’d slept like a hibernating pixie.
Today, though, all that practicing had left her with legs that ached like she’d been pounded on. Leaping on someone wasn’t for wussies.
Margery watched Patrin for another minute, then…inevitably, her gaze was drawn to the side where Tynan stood beside Fell.
A male shouldn’t have eyes the color of the sky.
His gaze met hers, pulling her in, drowning her in blue heat.
A cleared throat pulled her attention away.
Kori, a middle-aged shifter who taught in the small school edged closer and whispered, “I know this isn’t the place to ask, but, banfasa, could you visit my neighbor, Zaneta? She’s well over a hundred now and having trouble getting around.”
Because of Ailill Ridge, Margery’s first reaction was to tell Kori to talk to the healer. But, no, dealing with daily living activities was more a banfasa’s skill than a healer’s.
Stop huddling in caves, Margery.
First, she should establish the problem wasn’t from a new illness. “Has Donal seen her to discover why she’s having trouble getting around?”
“Aye. He said there’s no cure for old age.” Kori sighed. “We all want the miracle cures, don’t we? My sire told me healers are for instant fixes, and banfasas are for everything else.”
The knot in Margery’s stomach disappeared. “That’s pretty much how it works.”
“Will you go see her?”
“Certainly. I’ll go over tomorrow and see what can be done.” Delight sparkled inside her like sunlight on a burbling creek. She loved that her clan had started to come to her for help. “Thank you for letting me know.”
Kori grinned. “Thank you for—”
A growl interrupted her.
“Oh, spit,” Kori said under her breath and inched away from Margery.
Margery looked toward the front and shrank slightly. Because Patrin’s scowl could send a grizzly into hiding—and he was staring right at her and Kori.
Oops.
Standing beside Patrin, Tynan ran his palm over his mouth, all too obviously trying to conceal a grin. Oh, she was going to get teased tonight, wasn’t she?
After another menacing stare, Patrin continued. “To warm up, I want to see your one-on-one attacks. Row one—human form—against row two as wolves.”
The row in front turned. Margery faced Van, one of Bonnie’s mates, who’d arrived a few minutes ago. He nodded at her. “You can do this.”
Though his smile was encouraging, his gaze and stance showed he didn’t think she had a chance.
She shifted to wolf and assessed him. He was almost as big as Tynan—and not nearly as muscular. She circled him once, then again, her haunches tightening. Compensating for her weak ankle, she sprang upward, paws landing on his chest, jaws angled exactly right for her teeth to close on his throat. She bit down hard enough to let him know he was dead and leaped away.
“Gods blast it.” Staggering back, he stared at her and then grinned. “Perfect kill, banfasa.”
“Agreed. Good job, Margery,” Patrin called. From the front, he watched as others attacked, kills were made. He, Fell, and Tynan instructed as needed.
When everyone was warmed up, Patrin resumed. “Today, the lessons are about teamwork. One wolf will divert the prey’s attention while another wolf attacks. Tynan and Fell will demonstrate as we go over the techniques.”
“Patrin,” Jody yelled, “if one wolf is enough, why use two?”
“Good question. Honestly, if your target is unwary, not looking for trouble, unarmed, you should have no trouble. Watch now.” Raven-black hair gleaming in the sunlight, Patrin sauntered across the low hillock, looking like the typical hiker. “See how easy a target I am?”
Everyone nodded.
“However, if you’re up against a soldier…” He picke
d up a rifle from the ground. His muscles tensed. His alert gaze swiveled over the area. Each balanced step showed him ready to fight. “…how effective will you be?”
“Liable to get perforated with bullets before we get within ten feet,” Van answered.
“Exactly.” Patrin moved toward the brush. “Wolves are excellent stalkers—and a human’s peripheral vision sucks. Unfortunately, a throat kill means attacking from the front where your target can use a weapon.”
“Got it,” Jody said. “So, distracting him is the answer.”
Patrin pointed his finger at her. “If I had an army, I’d recruit you.” He addressed the rest of them. “We’ll teach an effective two-wolf method today. However, anything that distracts your target and points his rifle away from the attacking wolf will work.”
“Tynan, play a Scythe soldier. Fell, you’re the attack wolf. I’ll be the diversion wolf.”
Tynan walked over and accepted the rifle.
As Patrin stripped and changed to wolf, Tynan crossed the rise, walking slowly, cautiously. All senses aware. His posture reminded Margery far too much of the Scythe guards, and she shivered.
Patrin slipped out of the bushes, stalking him from behind. Off to Tynan’s right, Fell moved silently through the undergrowth.
Patrin charged, jaws closing on Tynan’s left rear thigh.
With a yell, Tynan turned to the left, swinging his rifle around. Even as Patrin darted away, Fell leaped at Tynan’s vulnerable neck.
Off balance, Tynan fell. And as Fell pretended to rip his throat out, Tynan died…dramatically.
Hoots and whistles and yips ran around the clearing.
Grinning, Jody nudged Margery. “Wanna team up and take Van down?”
Still seeing Tynan falling, dying, Margery had to force herself to smile. “Sounds good.”
Her gaze returned to the rise where Tynan was coming back from the dead. She couldn’t keep from scrutinizing his clothing for blood, watching his expression for signs of pain.
When had he come to mean so much that the mere thought of him being hurt was intolerable?
Oh, she was in so much trouble.
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