by Sadie Moss
“Lick.”
I obeyed, swiping my tongue out and wetting my skin like a cat lapping up milk.
When he was satisfied, he pulled it away, dipping his head to kiss me once. Then, with a deliberate movement, he moved my hand to his cock, letting me encircle his thick girth before wrapping his fingers over mine. He groaned, guiding my movements as he showed me exactly what he liked.
“When you touched me,” he muttered, breathing harshly, “I thought I’d fucking die.”
His cock pulsed within my grip as he spoke, and I could hear the strain in his voice already. His hips thrust into the movement as we jacked him off together.
“Rhys,” I whimpered. I was driving him crazy, and that was driving me crazy.
“Oh fuck!” he grunted, guiding our joined hands in two more quick strokes before he yanked my hand away, pinning it against the door again. “Jesus.”
Not pausing to let me catch my breath, he kissed me again, devouring my mouth while he reached for the last barrier between us.
Against the tree that night, he’d just worked the zipper down and slipped his hand inside my pants, his fingers bringing me to two of the most intense orgasms of my life.
But apparently, in our little trip down memory lane, that was no longer enough. He shoved my pants all the way down until they pooled at my ankles, and when I kicked them off, he slipped his hand between my legs. One long finger slid inside me, and I let out a sharp cry, arching my back away from the door. His lips, tongue, and teeth clashed with mine as his thumb worked my clit in quick, almost punishing circles.
Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
I was aware of a wet slapping noise as he added a second finger, plunging them in and out while his thumb rubbed my sensitive bud.
“God. Rhys! I’m coming!”
My fingers dug into his shoulders, nails leaving red marks on his skin as I clung to him with all my strength. Another inarticulate sound fell from my lips, something heavy and deep, as my body shook with the force of the orgasm.
Aftershocks sent tremors through me as I blinked up at him, breathless and weak-kneed. The raw hunger I saw looking back at me almost made my knees give out completely. I drew in a shuddering breath, trying to get my brain to function again as anticipation hovered over us like a cloud.
“We’re in uncharted territory now, Lexi,” Rhys murmured thickly. “Should I show you what I wanted to do to you that night? What I wish like hell I’d done?”
Wordlessly, I nodded. I couldn’t speak right now. Couldn’t think. I could only focus on the feelings ricocheting through my heart and body.
Rhys’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as he slid his hands down my hips, over the swell of my ass, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. My arms encircled his neck, and he pressed me back against the cool metal of the door as he teased my entrance. Love and lust burned from his eyes as the broad head of his cock stretched me slowly.
“Do you want me, Lexi? Do you want this?”
It was a question, but his tone made it sound like a statement.
A command.
I still couldn’t articulate words, but my nod was enough. With a single hard thrust, Rhys buried himself to the hilt inside me. We both cried out, and the unforgiving surface of the door dug into my spine as he pulled out and plunged in again.
His strokes were hard and deep, and he gazed down at me as he fucked me, eyes tracking over my face as if he were trying to imprint everything about this moment in his mind.
I didn’t blame him.
He was right. We’d entered new territory, leaving that night in the woods far behind. And for the first time, I realized that—although the hurt I’d felt had been real—Rhys truly had been protecting me when he’d walked away. Because this was so much better than a desperate fuck in the woods could’ve possibly been.
Rhys had certainly wanted me that night, and I’d wanted him just as much.
But there’d been so many unresolved feelings, so much anger and confusion mixed up with the attraction that crackled like lightning between us. He’d been conflicted about what he felt for me, and I had just been caught trying to run away from him and his pack mates. Everything between us had been a tangled mess.
Now, though?
None of that existed. Those barriers were gone.
And without them, every touch, every thrust, every kiss was so much sweeter.
I ran my fingers through his hair, grabbing onto the dark, curly strands as I panted breathlessly, staring up into his beautiful eyes. “Rhys… I love you.”
The rhythm of his thrusts stuttered for a second. Then he rested his cheek against mine, his entire body pressing into me, pinning me to the door as he drove into me harder.
His voice was low and deep, his lips brushing against my ear as he murmured, “I fucking love you too.”
As if those words shattered the last of his restraint, he grunted, thrusting hard once more before spilling himself inside me. I could feel his cock pulsing, and as I squeezed around it, I came again, burying my face in the warm skin of his neck while lights flashed in my vision.
We stayed like that for several moments, bodies so closely entwined I couldn’t quite tell where he ended and I began. I had to imagine even for a big guy like Rhys, holding up another person would eventually get tiring, but I didn’t care enough about that to let go.
Besides, I really wasn’t sure I could walk quite yet.
Rhys saved me from the embarrassment of falling flat on my face by carrying me over to the bed. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple mattress covered with a thin sheet and wool blanket, but when he set me down gently before pulling out and crawling up beside me, it felt like the best thing in the world.
I hadn’t realized it at the time, but we’d both worked up a sheen of sweat from our efforts, and it glistened in the lantern light as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, dragging me against his body. We had things to do today, chores and pack duties to take care of—but for just a little while longer, I wasn’t going to let myself worry about any of that.
“Rhys?” I murmured, sated exhaustion tugging at my eyelids. My body felt boneless.
“Yeah, Lexi?”
“I get it now.” A small sigh fell from my lips. “I think I’ve been a little bit mad at you ever since that night, but… I’m glad you walked away when you did. I don’t know how you knew there would be a better time for us, another chance, but you were right.”
His grip tightened, and I felt the muscles of his arms contract around me.
“I didn’t know,” he answered quietly. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, the words sinking into my sleepy brain. “But I hoped.”
Chapter Five
“Okay, Noah, fess up. Who did you have to blow to get us all assigned to the same hunting party?”
“No one.” Noah shook his head at Jackson, rolling his eyes as he tugged his shirt over his head. “I think Alpha Elijah prefers it this way. He clearly still doesn’t trust us; I don’t think he wants any of his pack venturing out into the woods with us alone.”
Jackson scowled, squatting to unlace his boots. “Oh, yeah. That.” Then he brightened. “Well, whatever. Still means we get to hunt together.”
I smiled at his perpetual optimism, slipping off my own clothes and laying them gently on the ground near the storage building on the outskirts of the base.
If shifters anticipated a shift, we usually stripped beforehand to preserve our clothes. Unexpected shifts pretty much destroyed garments, and since we didn’t have an unlimited supply, it was best to take care of the ones we did have. Some of the Lost Pack shifters hardly bothered with clothes anymore, wearing makeshift loincloths, tunics, robes—or nothing at all. And there were a few who spent most of their time in wolf form, only shifting back when absolutely necessary.
Would they lose the ability to shift someday? Become stuck in wolf form?
Shifters walked a constant line between their two ha
lves, with dangerous, possibly irreversible consequences if they let one side dominate the other too strongly. And every one of us seemed to have our own set of struggles, depending on our personalities, what dosage of serum Strand had given us, and what tests they’d performed.
“Where’s Sariah?” West asked, shooting a glance at Rhys.
“Not coming. I let her go on patrol yesterday, but I talked her out of hunting with us today. There’s no fucking way I’m letting her run on that leg—well, arm—until it’s healed.” Rhys tugged on the tie that held his black curls at the back of his head, shaking out his hair as it tumbled around his shoulders.
I suppressed a grin at the memory of that conversation. After our talk yesterday, he’d tried—he’d really tried—to let Sariah make her own decisions. But his protective instincts were impossible to shut down, so the best he’d been able to manage was to strongly suggest she stay home and rest instead of coming hunting with us.
It would have to be a work in progress. Besides, there were worse things for Sariah than having a big brother who loved the fuck out of her, even if it did make him a little grouchy and controlling. She’d accepted his “suggestion” without too much push-back, making me think she really was grateful for the chance to rest.
“Well, if we’re not waiting for her, what the fuck are we waiting for?” Jackson complained good-naturedly, kicking off his pants and stretching his arms over his head.
“We were waiting for your slow ass,” West shot back. “Let’s go.”
We were all completely naked by now, and it was impossible not to enjoy the view of my four mates around me. Afternoon sunlight shone down on tanned skin and hard muscles, and my eyes drank in the sight greedily. I no longer felt the need to look away, no longer felt abashed by my open appreciation of their bodies.
Well, except for with West.
I tugged my gaze away from his broad shoulders and massive biceps, the ripples and curves of muscles flexing under his dark skin. I’d promised I wouldn’t push him, and even though it hurt to think we might never be more than friends, I meant to keep that promise.
And gazing longingly at what I couldn’t have was a recipe for heartbreak.
His gaze flicked to me as we headed away from the camp, a sadness in his dark eyes that made a lump rise in my throat. He was trying. I knew he was. The experiments Strand had conducted on him had been devastatingly cruel, leaving no physical scars but a patchwork of emotional wounds that might never fully heal.
West and I had grown closer since arriving at the Lost Pack base three weeks ago, spending hours talking and sharing stories. But we always hit a wall eventually. A point past which he wouldn’t—couldn’t—share anymore of himself.
As long as our conversations were focused on the present, it was fine, but the second they veered toward talk of our histories, I could feel him shutting down. I knew he wanted to break through that barrier, but I also knew it could only be broken from the inside. If I forced my way in, broke down the wall before he was ready, I could lose him for good.
“Hey. Cheer up, Scrubs. We’re all still alive. We’re together.”
Noah picked up on my melancholy mood and bumped my arm with his, smiling down at me with the slightly lopsided grin that had been the first thing I loved about him. There was so much more I loved now, but that grin would always be a personal favorite.
I smiled back, pulling on his arm to bring his face closer to mine so I could plant a kiss on those beautiful lips, inhaling his musky scent. Then I turned to the others.
“Race you!”
Almost before the words were out of my mouth, I shifted. My wolf had been itching to come out again since she so rudely abandoned me in the forest yesterday. After the leg-weakening sex with Rhys, she had howled her satisfaction inside me, and I felt closer to her today than I ever had before. I could only hope that meant she wouldn’t force the shift out of nowhere again and embarrass me in front of my mates.
The broad pads of my feet thudded against the ground as I raced through the thick pine forest. My sharp ears picked up the sound of four sets of feet behind me, and I gave a whuff, putting on a burst of speed.
In human form, I would never challenge my men to a race—unless I had a particularly strong urge to get my ass handed to me for some reason. I was a decently fast runner and in good shape, but my short stature meant I had to take two steps for every one of theirs, putting me at a huge disadvantage. But in wolf form, I was bigger than all of them, powerful, and fast as fuck.
Sometimes it scared me if I thought about how strong my wolf was, so I tried not to think about it. I figured it was kind of like the old adage about dogs being able to sense fear. If my wolf knew I was afraid of her, she’d walk all over me. Not to mention, I’d never stand a chance of truly connecting with her if I continually thought of her as “other.” We’d made a lot of progress, but there was still a long way to go.
The wolves behind me ran harder to keep up, trailing close on my heels as I darted around trees and over gentle slopes. Larger hunting parties were allowed to venture farther away from the perimeter of the base, especially because there was more to hunt farther out. Small prey animals had learned to avoid the base, and the ones careless enough to wander too close became easy meals.
I ran flat out for several minutes, losing myself in the thrill of the wind in my fur, the speckled shadows and light on the forest floor, the smell of pine and earth. Finally, I slowed, my tongue lolling out of my mouth as I swung my head to glance behind me.
The gray wolf with dark brown eyes was right on my tail. He trotted up beside me, rubbing his head against my side in an affectionate gesture. In this form, West had no problem showing me how he felt, and I let myself enjoy the sweet, uncomplicated love that radiated from him. In moments like these, I could understand why some shifters chose to stay in wolf form. Everything seemed easier like this.
But I couldn’t abandon my human side. And I didn’t want my men to lose theirs either.
Jackson came up on my other side, his white fur shining in the dappled sunlight as he sniffed at the ground. I followed his lead, lowering my head and allowing the myriad scents of the forest to fill my nostrils. I could smell each of my mates around me, their distinctive scents as familiar to me as my own. There was a faint smell of deer, and maybe pheasant.
I blew out a breath, sending up small particles of dirt from the ground. The scent wasn’t strong enough for me to latch onto it. I could tell animals had been through here, but not recently. And I couldn’t tell where they’d gone.
Jackson looked up, catching my eye, and tilted his head toward the left. He was a better tracker than I was, the best in our small pack—a combination of skill and natural ability I could only hope to one day come close to.
We followed his lead, veering to the left. Our steps were slower, quieter, although we weren’t trying for stealth yet. Once we got closer to our prey, we’d stalk even more carefully.
Forming a loose V shape with Jackson at the front, we made our way through the forest. I’d never been to this particular stretch of land before—our run had brought us farther away from the base than we usually ventured—and my black nose twitched as I tried to catalogue all the new scents.
I was so distracted I almost walked right past Jackson when he stopped suddenly, body frozen like a statue and ears pricked. The others halted too, and I swung my head around, trying to read their wolfish expressions and wishing, not for the first time, that we could communicate telepathically in these forms.
What had they heard? Or smelled?
Reaching out with my senses, I scanned the forest around me, frustrated when I didn’t immediately notice what they all seemed to be picking up. I was about to shift back so I could ask Jackson what the hell was going on when I caught it.
A sound.
Low and faint, carried on the breeze like a message in a bottle bobbing along in the ocean.
I cocked my head, my ears straining forward to pick up more.
The sound came again, something like a whisper.
A growl rumbled in Noah’s throat as Rhys’s hackles rose.
That sound wasn’t animal. I’d become well acquainted with the squawks, chirps, and screeches of the birds and mammals that lived in these forests during the many hours I’d spent out here. And the low, muffled noise was unlike any of them.
It sounded… human.
My heart thumped hard in my chest. Shit. Strand? Had they found us again? Already?
I jerked my gaze between my mates, panic rising inside me. I could feel my skin prickling, my own hackles rising as I prepared for a fight.
Moving together, we crept forward, breaths quiet and footsteps careful. The strange sounds faded away for several minutes, but when they returned, they were louder—and coming from straight ahead of us, beyond the gently sloping hill that rose through the trees.
My body tingled with anticipation of a fight as we made our way quietly up the rise. Rhys and West brought up the rear of our small pack, swinging their heads around to keep a lookout for threats from all sides. This could be an ambush, with whoever was making those noises acting as bait.
Jackson sank down to his belly as we crested the rise, and I followed suit, army crawling awkwardly until I could see down the slope on the other side.
Two men leaned against the trunk of a small pine, speaking in low voices; I couldn’t pick out the words they were saying, but that was definitely the sound that had drawn us here. One was about six inches taller than the other, and they both wore black clothing that was ripped and stained.
Who were they? What were they doing here?
Could they possibly be Strand hunters?
They didn’t look like it, but experience had taught me not to trust anyone without good reason.
My mates must’ve been thinking the same thing, because a low growl rumbled from Rhys’s mouth, quickly echoed by West. The sound wasn’t loud, but the shorter man looked up suddenly, his head snapping toward us. Then he moved, stepping away from the tree and reaching one hand behind his body.