by Jami Gray
His lips nibbled a path along her exposed neck and the tantalizing hint of teeth left sparklers riding through her veins. He paused where her neck met her shoulder and drew the soft, wet skin into the heated cavern of his mouth. As he sucked on it, his wicked hands came up to cup her breasts, his clever fingers teasing her nipples.
Her body reeled under his dual assault and she forgot all about keeping her splinted wrist dry. She raised her arm around his neck, leaving her body open to his touch.
He took full advantage, his hands leaving her breasts to travel over her ribs and down her stomach until his fingers dipped into her heated core. He moved them with slow, deliberate intent, circling and teasing her clit until her hips followed his lead and her breath escaped in short, gasping pants.
Behind her, she felt him harden and lengthen, her reactions finding an echo in him. The delicious tension grew, winding tighter, taking her to the edge. Then his fingers disappeared and she reached out to grab his wrist. “Not yet,” she pleaded.
He rested his chin on her shoulder. “Greedy girl.” The rough edge to his voice pleased her.
“I’m hungry,” she whispered, turning her head just enough to nip his jaw.
“So am I,” he growled and turned her around, dragging her close until there was no space for the water between their bodies.
He plundered her mouth and, using his grip on her hips, lifted her effortlessly until she could wrap her legs around his waist. His wide shoulders blocked the majority of the water from her face, giving her a chance to blink her eyes open.
Keeping her injured arm around his neck, she used her other hand to cup his jaw, angling his face so she could feel the rasp of his stubble against her palm and indulge in his taste. She gave herself to the fury of his kiss, trusting him to lead her through the sensual storm. She could feel him poised where she needed him most, a dark temptation. She wiggled against his hold, wanting to sink down and feel him filling her aching emptiness.
He held her in place, gentling his kiss as he maneuvered their positions until his back was toward the wall. Drawing back, he leaned against the cool tile. “Look at me,” he commanded, shifting his hips and teasing her until he was certain he had her attention.
Caught in the glittery heat of his half-lidded gaze, she fought the urges of her body and relaxed into his hold, never breaking eye contact.
His smile was equal parts predatory and seduction, sending her pulse pounding.
Adjusting her good hand until her nails curled into his shoulder, she felt his muscles coil under his skin as he brought her down, one devastating increment at a time. When he had her seated fully on him, he held her still, his fingers digging into her hips. She wanted to savor this moment, this feeling of being complete, but her body had other ideas, wiggling with small sporadic movements.
Color rushed under his tightly drawn skin, painting his cheekbones. He lifted her, the sensation of his silken-covered heat dragging over her sensitive skin made her breath catch. He brought her back down a little faster than before, this time letting her help.
Together, they set a deliciously sinful pace until she was the one moving over him while he held on for the ride. Like a wind-whipped firestorm, their shared desired began to rage out of control. Somewhere in the midst of the passion she realized their bond had been flung wide open, tangling their emotions.
It was hard to tell what belonged to whom. The urge to possess, to protect, to love, to want, to need, became a brilliant, burning tether, tying them together soul-deep.
“Warrick!” His name was a plea, a promise, as she watched the beautiful gold flare in his eyes. Unable and unwilling to look away, she hid nothing from him as the pleasure rushed through her and swept her away even as he followed, his deep groan echoing in the confines of the shower.
Xander was just starting to drift off in Warrick’s arms, her body sated, her stomach comfortably digesting Warrick’s delicious rare steak, when the phone rang. She ignored the imperious summons of the shrill phone, and only when Warrick reached out to pick it up, did she move off his chest to snuggle into the nest of pillows. Her wrist splint hadn’t fared well in the shower and once finished eating, she hadn’t bothered to replace it. Her wrist was still tender, but well on its way to mending.
“Vidis.”
“I’ve spent some time with your wolf and we may have a problem.” Even half asleep and eavesdropping, she recognized the worry in Cheveyo’s voice. “We need you to come in.”
Tension crowded out her fatigue. Turning over, she hitched her sore leg to rest on Warrick’s thigh.
Warrick pushed himself up until his back was against the headboard, the sheet riding low on his waist. “What kind of problem?” He reached under the covers and gently pulled her leg back into place, absently rubbing it in a soothing motion.
“Whoever set that spell on Sebastian used a blood tie.”
“Which means what?”
“Unless you share a bloodline with Sebastian, I think it’s safe to assume he was just a Trojan wolf.”
A dangerous stillness fell over Warrick. Xander’s breath caught under the sudden onslaught of brittle pain running through their connection. She tried not to react, not wanting him to cut her off, as she sensed on some level that whatever was happening was important.
“You need to be completely certain of your facts, Cheveyo.” Warrick’s voice may have been level, but if he clenched his jaw any tighter, he’d break some teeth.
Slowly, because she knew she was dealing with a very lethal creature, she placed her palm just below his heart.
He glanced down, revealing the round amber pupils of his wolf.
The sound of Cheveyo’s exhale was clear even to her. “Every source I spoke to gave me the same information, and once I knew what to look for, it was quite apparent that whoever set this spell in place is somehow related to you.”
His answer sent shock rocketing through Xander, leaving her mind reeling. She tried to recall what she knew of Warrick’s past and came up frighteningly empty. She heard somewhere that his parents were dead and assumed they were his entire family. In all their time together, he had been very close-lipped about anything personal. Watching the myriads of expression chase over his face, she knew there was more to his story.
The bits and pieces she cobbled together indicated he had left Russia shortly toward the end of World War II and joined the Motoki Pack. He quickly moved up to position of Second and, when the previous alpha had been mistaken for a wild wolf and shot, stepped in. Months later, he’d taken the Northwest Alpha seat as well.
“You said we.” Warrick’s words were soft, the threat all too clear. “Who’s there with you?”
This time Cheveyo’s pause was longer. “Mulcahy.”
Ryan Mulcahy, head of the Northwest Fey House, CEO of Taliesin, and Captain of the Wraiths. Out of the four heads of houses that controlled the Northwest Kyn, he was the one Xander walked most softly around.
There was nothing overtly threatening about him, but you didn’t make it to his position on good looks alone. A master at manipulating those around him to achieve his goals, he wore a civilized veneer that hid his ruthlessly logical mind and lethal personality. His enemies were few and far between, probably because they disappeared shortly after making themselves known. She could only guess at the depth of power a Kyn of his age and stature had garnered over his very long lifetime. It wasn’t something she’d ever want to go up against.
The man in question came on the line. “Who do you share blood with, Vidis?” Mulcahy’s tone retained a note of challenge.
Warrick’s nostrils flared and he held her gaze, grim resolution darkening his face. “My brother,” he gritted out.
“I was unaware you had any family left alive,” Mulcahy replied coolly.
She bit her lip to keep from saying anything, glad this part of the conversation was on the phone. If Warrick and Mulcahy were in the same room, blood would have been shed. In the momentary silence, she heard Chevey
o ask, “You have a brother?”
“Until recently I thought he was dead.” Under the tips of her fingers, his heart thundered. “He disappeared when our parents died. We—I thought he was dead.”
“How recently?” Mulcahy pressed.
Warrick didn’t take his gaze from Xander, and she got the impression their tenuous connection was the only thing keeping him grounded. Tremors shook his frame and, lying inches away, she held a front-row seat as signs of an impending change ran under his skin, his bones shifting slightly. “Saturday morning.”
Her eyes widened. That explained the weird moment at Neil’s place when Warrick had shut down so violently.
Oblivious to the damage his interrogation was creating, Mulcahy kept pushing. “What did he want?”
Warrick’s free hand covered hers and held on. “The right to establish a new pack with territory and rights.”
Unable to stay quiet, Xander asked, “Why now?”
“I think the better question is, what does your brother gain from your death?” Mulcahy mused.
Something wild and furious moved to the forefront of Warrick’s gaze.
Xander answered for him, the pieces falling into place. “The pack and all those who fall under his authority in the Northwest.”
The line hummed with a taut silence then Mulcahy asked, “Vidis, do you know where your brother is now?”
The emotional deluge crashing through their bond indicated there would be no more rational discussions with her alpha. She needed to get Mulcahy off the phone because Warrick wasn’t going to be able to hold his wolf in check for much longer.
She sat up and Warrick let her take the phone. “I’m fairly certain any address his brother gave him will come up a dead end.”
Mulcahy sighed. “Bring Vidis here, Xander.”
She bristled at the command. The need to protect her mate overrode her common sense. “You aren’t my alpha, Mulcahy.”
“No, but I am your captain,” he snapped, any pretense of patience gone. “Whatever game Vidis’s brother is playing at is threatening more than just your pack. This latest attack has drawn too much attention from the humans. Right now, the Kyn can’t afford to be seen as the monsters they are.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Warrick was barely able to follow the rest of the conversation after Cheveyo’s little bomb. Why was he so surprised by his brother’s betrayal? Had he really held onto the slim hope that Dmitri had changed? Harsh memories flashed in his mind’s eye, tearing apart the half-assed belief of his brother’s redeeming qualities. Over half a century ago, his brother had no issue aligning himself with the humans, even if it meant the deaths of his parents and pack. All that mattered was the promise of power.
When Dmitri had fallen for a human woman who just happened to be the daughter of a very high-ranking Nazi scientist, his obsession with her had blinded him to the fact she had targeted him deliberately. Her father had identified possible shifters and sent her out to catch his attention. It didn’t take long for her to sow the seeds of discontent that lay fallow in Dmitri’s heart. Once they took root, the division between him and his family widened until all that was left was bitter pain and hurtful accusations.
Even as the humans ambushed the Russian pack, leaving bloody devastation in their wake, Dmitri refused to acknowledge his role in their destruction. It was Warrick’s last straw. Once the remaining pack members had been able to mount a counter attack, Warrick made it his mission to remove the woman and her father from the equation. To this day, he had no idea if Dmitri knew that the woman he claimed to love had died under Warrick’s teeth.
Considering what Warrick now faced, it was a safe bet he probably did. Which meant his brother was looking for payback. His wolf howled in fury. He couldn’t let Dmitri near his pack or his mate. It was too dangerous.
Small hands touched his face, bringing him out of his thoughts. “Warrick.”
The sound of his name pushed his wolf back enough for him to focus. Xander’s delicate face filled his vision. The heavy bruising from earlier had faded, thanks to getting her to eat and rest, but the yellows and purples still coloring her face made his heart ache.
Her lips moved but he couldn’t hear the words. She must have figured it out because she repeated herself, slower this time. “Go run.”
His wolf surged forward and he managed to get free of the bed before the change tore through him. The familiar ache of shifting muscle and bone was lost under the emotional storm riding him. In moments, he was on all fours, the wolf in control. He stood there, the urge to hunt competing with the equally strong desire to protect his mate.
She climbed out of bed, gloriously naked, and the man inside the wolf took pleasure in the sight. She led him out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Once they were out on the back deck, he felt her reach for her wolf. He leant strength to her change, knowing the past hours had been difficult. A flurry of magic, then she stood before him, her silver and gray fur glowing softly in the pre-dawn hours.
He nuzzled her briefly then spun and leapt over the railing, his paws absorbing the impact. He waited while Xander followed, using the stairs, still cautious of her injuries. When she stopped beside him, he nuzzled her once more, prodding her front right ankle. She nipped his ear and danced away.
Satisfied she was okay, he raced across the open yard and into the woods, Xander close behind him. Together, they ran. As the ground sped under his paws, he let the man slip away and the wolf take control. About fifteen minutes in, they flushed out a rabbit and he gave chase. Together, he and Xander ran the furry little creature down. The small hunt dulled the edge of his wolf’s need. Even better was the hot blood and tangy meat against his tongue.
Xander caught her own early morning snack and when they were finished, he led them the long way around until they were back at the house. The brief respite left both wolf and man calm, while a cold determination set in.
He changed back, and Xander followed suit. Something indefinable swept through him as he stood there watching her. She had been through so much, a great deal at his hands, but she was still here. Still standing beside him. Not because she had to, but because she wanted to. And he loved her for it.
Unable to resist, he pulled her close and kissed her, trying to show her what she was to him. He ravaged her mouth, the intensity of his emotions pushing him beyond gentleness and into carnal passion.
She didn’t hesitate, her response every bit as aggressive and demanding as his. When they broke apart, she was breathing heavily and the dazed expression on her face made him smile.
He turned her toward the back door and swatted her very delectable ass. “Inside.”
“What? Afraid the neighbors are going to see?” she teased.
He nuzzled her neck before answering. “No, but it’s still no reason to temp them to take advantage of my private views.”
A mysteriously feminine smile lit her face. She led the way into the house with an intriguing wiggle he’d gladly follow anywhere.
Inside, Xander grabbed the forgotten green blanket, wrapped it around her shoulders and settled into the couch. Drawing up her legs, she tucked her toes under the edges of the blanket as she watched Warrick, comfortable in his nudity, crouch in front of the fireplace and set the fire. Once he had a blaze going he came and joined her.
“Come here.” Propped against the far corner, he pulled her back until they were lying on the soft leather.
“We have to go to Taliesin,” she reminded him.
“They can wait.”
There was no mistaking the anger in Warrick’s voice. It was probably best that they take a few before answering Mulcahy’s summons. Otherwise, she might get the benefit of seeing the head of the Fey House taking on the role of Warrick’s new chew toy. The incongruous image made her lips quirk.
She wiggled around until she was comfortable, then adjusted the blanket over both of them. Together, they watched the fire, an easy silence falling between them. Under her cheek, th
e slight chill from their early morning run slowly faded from his skin. It its place, his subtle scent of cinnamon and cloves rose to mix with the crisp remains of forest and fur.
Their run had done him a world of good. The skin-prickling energy that had been poised on the edge of violence was gone, leaving a strange expectant calmness. He held her, running a hand almost absently over her hair.
She rubbed her nose against his chest. “Tell me about him.”
There was a minute pause as his hand stilled and his chest rose and fell under her. “He was a couple of years younger.” He resumed his caress, his voice carefully neutral. “My mother and father called us the Calm and the Storm.”
Xander smiled at the image of painfully serious Warrick as a pup with a rambunctious brother. “You were close?”
“For a while.”
She caught the encroaching tension. “Things changed.”
Old anger stirred in his voice. “Dmitri changed. He met this woman, Elise, in a town where our village used to be, and fell for her, hard. He was so blinded by his emotions he couldn’t see the way she manipulated him. The Germans were looking for any tool they could use to invade Russia. Rumors of beasts who could walk like men proved too tempting to ignore. A specialized group was sent to ferret out truth from fiction.”
Her fingers curled against his chest as he fell silent, an ache at what she knew was coming. “She was one of them.”
“Yes,” he paused. “Her father, Dr. Metzger, was the head researcher. He sent her out deliberately to seduce my brother. Their group managed to piece together the identities of a few of us. Gossip is a favorite pastime in small towns and Dmitri never had any problems generating his share.”
“I’m not sure when the plan changed, but something moved the Germans’ time table forward. Metzger must have been desperate because suddenly Elise became ill with some incurable human disease. It was only afterward that I found out Metzger had deliberately infected his daughter, hoping Dmitri would change her, then she’d become his living science experiment.”