by Bianca D’Arc
They undressed each other—just the parts they needed—by pushing at fabric and undoing buttons and zippers, hooks and eyes, wherever needed, but they didn’t waste time. No, she felt like they’d already wasted a little too much time talking when they could’ve been giving each other the greatest pleasure she’d ever known.
She encouraged him with soft nips and low growls when he licked her breasts and then sucked on her skin. She was conscious of not making too much noise with their daughter asleep upstairs, but since Em had started shifting, she slept hard and never woke up before morning anymore. At first, that had concerned Tracy, but now, she counted it a blessing.
Was that yet another benefit to the jaguar way? She wasn’t sure she liked thinking that the jaguar way might be better than the wolf way she’d always known, but it was certainly convenient, right now.
“I want you so much, Tracy,” he breathed against her abdomen.
She had a few stretch marks there now, but she wasn’t too self-conscious about them. She’d earned each and every one of those, giving life. She sort of liked them. And judging by Hank’s response as he ran his lips over them, one by one, he did, too.
“You are so beautiful,” he told her in a whisper that made her shiver down to her toes.
She didn’t really have the brain power at the moment to respond because Hank was systematically driving her out of her senses, but she kept running her fingers through his hair, stroking him. Petting him as he kept moving downward.
When he sat up and divested her of her pants and panties in one fell swoop, she wanted to howl but held it in. Emma might be a good sleeper nowadays, but howling in her home would certainly wake her.
Hank lifted Tracy’s legs, one by one, pausing to kiss her ankles before placing her just the way he wanted her. She felt the wetness coming from her intimate space, readying herself for him, wanting him like no other. Why didn’t he just take her already? She’d waited so long…
Hank pushed his pants down, freeing his cock, but he didn’t come to her straight away. No, he paused. He had something in his hand, and when she heard the rasp of foil, she knew what it was. A condom.
Shifters seldom had to use such things because they weren’t fertile very often across species or with someone who wasn’t their mate, but Hank and Tracy had already proven they could make a baby. He was right to be cautious. Thank the Goddess one of them was thinking. Planning ahead.
Hank was taking care of her. She felt a little pang in the region of her heart. He claimed to care, and this was one subtle way of him showing her the truth of that claim.
“Not that I don’t want another baby with you, but I think we should plan for the next one, if there is to be a next one, don’t you?” Hank’s soft words came to her as his smile tilted up one corner of his mouth.
He sheathed himself with careful movements then settled between her thighs, his hard cock just nudging the place where she wanted it most. He braced himself on his hands, holding himself above her and looking deep into her eyes. Then, he paused again.
“This is going to be fast. I’m sorry. It’s been a long time, and I find it hard to control myself when I’m around you, Trace.” His whispered words were accompanied by a trio of small kisses placed all over her face. “You drive me wild, sweetheart. I want you ‘til I can’t see straight.”
“I want you too, Hank. Please, come into me now,” she begged, throwing pride, caution and modesty to the wind. She raised her hips, trying to nudge him deeper into her channel. “Please?”
Rather than answer in words, he simply lowered himself into her, moving slow, sliding home. And that’s what it felt like. Home.
Hank couldn’t believe he’d denied himself the pleasure of Tracy for so long. Had he been completely blind? Yeah, he realized, he had been.
Well, no more. He was with his mate now, and she was welcoming, warm and so incredibly delicious, he thought he might be drunk with the intoxication of being inside her. He tried to make it last, but it had been way too long. Hank began to move, watching her reactions, moving when he discerned something he thought she liked and repeating the actions just to be sure.
He was learning her body. Learning her responses. Discovering all the little motions that gave her pleasure. He didn’t stop until she came, and came again, wreaking havoc on his control, but he managed to hold it together. At least for a while.
When she came for the third time, Hank couldn’t take any more. He came with her, feeling like the top of his head had blown off, rocketing him to the stars and back again, on a long, lusty, pleasurable journey of delight. With Tracy. Only ever with Tracy, from now on.
Mate. The cat inside purred, and he knew the truth of it without a shadow of a doubt.
“Are you purring?” she asked him sleepily, her gaze meeting his as he opened his eyes.
“Maybe?” he answered, hedging his bets. Did she find it repulsive?
She laughed softly and reached up to kiss him. “I like it,” she whispered against his lips, then took his mouth with deep, thrusting, lazy licks. Mm.
They lay together for a long time, but he had to protect them, and the condom had to come off eventually. Hank got up and held his pants up with one hand while he made his way to the bathroom. She was giggling at his state of undress, which he found charming, but when he came back a few minutes later, she was sitting on the edge of the sofa, re-dressed and thinking hard.
He stopped short. This didn’t look good.
He’d thought they’d crossed a bridge here tonight, but maybe not. Maybe she’d just thrown him back a few steps. He stifled a sigh. Tracy didn’t do things easy. Hank shouldn’t have expected his stubborn mate to give in all at once, so easily. He’d have to work at this, but he was up to the challenge. He’d win her, come hell or high water. And he’d cross that metaphorical bridge someday soon, then destroy it, so it could never separate them again.
CHAPTER NINE
“You can’t be here when Emma wakes up,” Tracy told him, finality in her tone. She scrupulously tamped down on the regret. That wouldn’t help in this situation.
Hank didn’t look happy about her decision, but he nodded tightly after searching her gaze for a long moment. “Okay. I’ll go. But think about what happened here, between us. Has anything ever felt so right before?” He moved close, and she held her ground, but all he did was press a gentle kiss to her forehead before letting her go.
He was right. Being with him had always felt right. But it had also gone terribly wrong in the past. Not that her baby was wrong, but the whole crazy path her life had taken since meeting Hank hadn’t been the easiest road she’d ever taken. Known as a woman who liked to do things the hard way, she’d lived up to that dubious reputation since the morning handsome Hank had flown off into the sunrise, leaving Tracy pregnant and alone.
He’d hurt her. Not intentionally. He’d had no way of knowing he’d left her behind with a baby on the way. And she’d been too stubborn to tell him. But the fact that he’d managed to stay away for well over two years… That hurt.
If he’d been thinking about her all that time, why hadn’t he come for her? Why wait until now? Why had he made her wait so long?
Did he really want her at all? Or was it just his conscience rearing its head now that he knew he had responsibilities in the form of one adorable little jaguar kit? And what if Emma had turned out to be a wolf? Would he be so eager to take them on then?
She had no way of knowing. She didn’t know him well enough to trust him, either. Oh, about certain things, yes. He was a good man, at heart, and he was loyal to his Clan. She trusted in that sort of thing. But to trust him with her heart? Her future? Her daughter?
She just wasn’t so sure.
Hank left, feeling both exhilarated by what had happened and flat-assed rejected. He’d had her in his arms once more, and all had been right with his world…and then, she’d slipped through his fingers, slipping away from the commitment he wanted so badly. Damn. When had that happened
? When had he gone from wanting to commit to Tracy for Emma’s sake to wanting Tracy beyond all coherent comprehension?
He couldn’t pinpoint the moment, but it had definitely happened. Maybe when he saw her pretty brown eyes peering up at him over Emma’s dark blonde curls. Maybe it had been at the soda fountain when she’d gone all protective at seeing Pax and Ari with him. Or maybe it was when they’d sat in Tracy’s garden with the sun shining down on her wavy chestnut hair.
He wasn’t sure exactly how it had happened or when, but his inner cat was on board with his human half—finally. Both sides of him needed Tracy. There was no other woman who even came close to being what he wanted and needed in his life. Only Tracy. Forever.
But how in the world was he going to convince her of that? They hadn’t gotten off to the greatest start. There would always be doubts about his motivations now that Emma was on the scene. But he couldn’t bring himself to regret Emma’s existence. He would be hollow without her giggling laugh. Empty without her tiny growls. Now that he’d seen her, he would always need her in his life. Always.
Just like her mother.
He needed to mount a campaign to win Tracy’s heart. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he had to figure it out. He had no other choice.
That thought firmly in mind, Hank went back to the hotel where he and the jaguar twins had been given a giant suite that had two separate bedrooms—one with a king-sized bed that Hank had claimed and one that had two double beds that worked for the twins. There was a sitting area with some big chairs, a couch, and a huge television, too. When Hank entered the suite, he was confronted immediately by the coppery scent of blood.
Senses going to full alert in the blink of an eye, he took in the situation. The twins were sitting in front of the TV. One was sprawled on the couch, flipping channels between two different basketball games, the other was in an armchair, doing something to his arm. It was his arm that was bleeding, and the innards of a first aid kit were strewn on the low coffee table in front of him.
A sharp acrylic scent reached Hank’s sensitive nose, making him jerk his head to the side. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded. The twins didn’t even look up. They’d had to have heard him walking down the hall long before he’d entered the room, but they didn’t seem in the least concerned.
“Numbnuts zigged when he should have zagged,” Ari said of his twin as he flipped back to the other basketball game with seeming indifference.
“Fucker had a knife,” Ari grumbled, still working on his arm. “What kind of shifter uses a knife in a shifter fight? Fucking wolves.”
“You were fighting with the wolves?” Hank asked, moving closer, having locked the door behind himself before stepping farther into the room.
“No choice, really,” Pax said philosophically as he straightened from his reclining position on the couch and tossed the remote control onto the coffee table. “We got jumped, so we fought back, trying to do as little damage as possible while still letting those jackasses know we could wipe the floor with them all.”
“But one of them got in a lucky shot with a switchblade. Little punk,” Ari growled.
“How old were these wolves?” Hank began to get suspicious.
“Juveniles,” Pax answered immediately. “Ranging in age from about seventeen to twenty. Immature and full of themselves. Good pack fighters, though. There were a lot of them.”
Pax got up and retrieved three beers from the small fridge the brothers must’ve stocked earlier. He threw one to Hank and put another down on the coffee table in front of Ari, then reclaimed his seat and popped the tab on his own. Hank nodded his thanks before opening his own can of beer and taking a long pull.
“We didn’t hurt any of them too bad,” Ari claimed as Hank took the chair opposite his, getting a closer look at what Ari was doing. He had a tube of super glue and was gluing a gash on his arm back together somewhat awkwardly.
“Super glue?” Hank asked, nodding toward Ari’s arm. “Does that really work?”
Hank had seen something like it in the military, but that had been stuff made specifically for bonding human skin. He’d never thought to try hardware-store super glue for the same purpose.
“All I need is something to hold the skin together for a little while, until the healing kicks in,” Ari said absently as he continued to work on the long gash. “That way, it won’t scar too much.”
Jaguars, like all shifters, had accelerated healing abilities. That was just part of who they were. As a result, they seldom needed things like bandages or sutures. Though, if a cut was deep enough, a stitch or two would help hold things together until a shifter’s natural healing abilities revved up and healed it from the inside out.
“It’s actually better than using a needle on myself,” Ari said a moment later. “This just stinks a bit until it’s dry, and somehow, as my body heals, it expels the glue. Looks gross, but this shit works.”
Hank shook his head. “Good to know.”
Hank decided to pass along the information to the Clan’s healer. Jaguars did get banged up a lot, and having sharp claws meant the occasional slice, so having an alternative to sewing wounds closed with something readily available in any dollar store would be good information to pass around the Clan. He decided to put a tube of super glue into his own first aid kit next time he had a chance—as long as the Clan’s healer gave the all clear. While he liked and respected the twins, he preferred to have a trained medical opinion on whether or not the chemicals in the store-bought super glue would be safe for regular use.
Hank drank his beer and pretended to watch the game until Ari finished with his glue. The scent of the acrylic was strong, but the air circulation system in the room was sufficient to whisk away the smell in short order. Ari must have cranked the system up before he started working on his arm.
“What can you tell me about the kids who attacked you?” Hank asked finally, as he finished his beer and set the can on the table.
“Not much,” Pax said. “Kids. Looking for trouble. Raging hormones. You know the type.”
Hank nodded. “Any injuries to them I should know about?”
“Nah,” Ari said, sitting back in the chair and discarding the paper towels he’d used to sop up the blood. “We bloodied their noses but made sure not to break anything. They were just kids, after all. Once they realized what they were up against, they tucked their tails and ran home to mama.”
“What about the one that cut you?” Hank asked of Ari.
“This?” Ari looked scornfully at his arm. “I’ve had worse. Actually, when they scented the blood, everybody froze, and a split second later, they started running away. I don’t think they’d intended to go that far, and even the blood scent didn’t stir their wolves, as I thought it would.” Ari looked philosophical.
“These kids haven’t been blooded. Not like us,” Pax put in. “They were raised here, in their quaint little town. Protected. Safe in their Pack. First scent of blood, they probably feared the censure of their Alpha for an unsanctioned attack more than their wolves wanted the blood.”
“Strange way to raise kids,” Ari put in, looking at his twin.
“They’ve been safe their entire lives,” Pax said, nodding slowly.
“We sure as hell weren’t raised that way. We were tougher at their age,” Ari said with a grim tone to his voice.
Hank understood. In the last hundred years or so, no jaguar child was raised in the kind of comfort and safety the wolves had here. Only in recent times, since Mark had stepped up and created the community on Jaguar Island, had there been any hope for the young to grow up in safety and peace, without fear. Without learning what it meant to fight and kill at too young an age.
“I’d almost envy these wolves,” Pax said quietly. “But their kids are weak compared to the way we were at that age.”
“Be glad of that,” Hank told them. “Otherwise, you would’ve had a worse fight on your hands tonight, and we’d be coming under
fire from the Alpha for hurting children.”
Ari looked sharply at Hank. “There is that,” he admitted after a moment.
“I wonder what it would have been like,” Pax mused quietly. “To have grown up so innocent?”
All three men were quiet a moment while they considered that statement. Then, Hank spoke up.
“That’s one of the things Mark is fighting for. A peaceful place, where our young can grow up without fear. Free to be just children, not warriors at a young age.”
“But then, they’d be too soft. Too unprepared for what’s coming,” Ari protested quietly, a wistful look on his face.
“Not necessarily,” Hank countered. “They all train and are taught. They know that the world outside our island holds danger for our kind. They are never let out into the world unprepared. But while they live on the island, they are safe. Free in a way we never were.”
The twins seemed to think about that for a while. It was Pax who spoke, after a long pause.
“That sounds like…” He cleared his throat. “It sounds idyllic.”
“It is,” Hank told him. “But you’ll see it for yourself. You can make your own judgments.”
“If we ever get your mate situation straightened out,” Ari commented, somewhat sarcastically. “Any progress on that front?”
Hank bristled. He didn’t really want or need interference from these two relative strangers, but it looked like he was stuck with them for the remainder of this mission. He couldn’t tell them to buzz off. Not like he wanted to. And the smug bastards knew it.
“She sent me home,” Hank admitted. “But I think we made great strides forward before that happened.”
“I’ll translate,” Ari offered with a grin. “Our boy got laid.” He tapped his nose and winked. Hank knew they could smell the subtle hint of Tracy on him.
Hank growled at the bloody twin. “None of your business,” he said, knowing it sounded juvenile, but powerless to keep the words from coming out of his mouth.
