With each thrust inside her, he felt more a part of her, the heat of her branding his cock as hers for as long as she may want it. And he really hoped she wanted it for a very long time.
Too soon Bo lost his fight to hold back, but that couldn’t be helped. Not with Blayne holding on to him so tight and screaming against his skin. He couldn’t hold back. Not another minute, not another second.
When he came, it shot through him like a potent blast of adrenaline, tearing through his veins, into his fingers and toes, and finally out his cock. He wrapped his arms around Blayne and held her against him as each ejaculation ripped through him. By the final one, Bo didn’t think he could move anymore. That he’d ever be able to move again.
Shaking, he went down on his knees and then on his ass, Blayne still held tight against him. Unable to do much of anything else, he kissed her sweat-soaked forehead and listened to her hard breathing.
For a long moment, he worried that maybe it had all been too much for her. That he’d been too much. She always seemed so small to him compared to the full-breeds. But then Blayne Thorpe said something that was very Blayne Thorpe and let him know she was just fine.
“Wowski,” she sighed.
And Bo smiled, knowing that he’d never hear a better compliment.
CHAPTER 21
Bo stared up at the ceiling, his hands smoothing up and down Blayne’s back. “We’re going to have to clean this hallway before my uncle gets home,” he murmured. Although, to be honest, not feeling the need to clean at the moment.
He really should feel bad. He’d kept Blayne in this hallway for about two hours. They kept trying to get to a bed or a couch or something a little softer, but they simply couldn’t manage it.
If Blayne minded, she certainly didn’t show it.
“Later.” She sat up, brushing her hair out of her face. It had dried into a mass of curls that she obviously had no control over without a hot iron. “I’m starving.”
“We’ve got food.”
“Real food? Or seal blubber?”
“Probably both.”
She stood and stretched, and Bo was reaching for her again, his hands on her waist before she realized it and scrambled back.
“No! Food!” She headed off to the bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.” Less than that, as she shot back out again. “Oh, my God.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We left the shower on.”
“That’s not good for the town water supply.”
“Thanks, Mr. Helpful.” She went back into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Bo dragged himself off the floor, stopping to pick up the empty packets and used condoms he’d tossed around like some heathen, since he assumed all heathens were messy. Unwilling to use the kitchen trash for his used condoms, he walked outside naked to drop them in the big cans his uncle had behind the house. That done, he headed back inside, guessing that the weather was probably a negative twenty Fahrenheit. Weather that was not for the weak or the felines.
Once in the house, he closed the back door and headed to the dining room, passing the living room. That’s when he stopped and walked back. Blayne had on one of his high school hockey jerseys and nothing else. Although she didn’t need much else since it went past her knees. She’d found his uncle’s CD collection. What Bo used to call his “subversive music pile” for no other reason than it pissed the old bastard off.
She’d put on some French alternative band singing about Tokyo and was dancing around his uncle’s living room like she hadn’t just spent the last two hours with Bo buried either cock first or head first in her lap. Where she got all that energy from, he’d never know.
“Come on,” she said, jumping up onto one of the couches. “Dance with me.”
“I thought you were hungry.”
“I’m never too hungry to dance to pretentious French music!” And only Blayne could make a compliment out of an insult.
“I can’t dance to this,” Bo told her, walking across the room.
“Are you one of those guys who won’t dance?”
“Not everyone has your lack of shame.” He dug through his uncle’s collection, going for what he had in the back since he knew the CD was his and not Grigori’s. He popped it into the player. “After cleaning up that hoarder’s nest you call an apartment—”
“Hey!”
“—I know your taste.”
Blayne’s mouth dropped open when she heard the first bits of the song. It was from a very old movie soundtrack that few people knew about.
“How… how did you get this?”
“Bootleg. Not easy to come by.”
“I know! I’ve been trying to find this for years.”
If there was one thing Bo always had a weakness for it was sixties music and bad sixties cult movies. “Hot Rods to Hell” or “Riot on Sunset Strip” or anything with hippies and ridiculous drug usage and uptight parents…he was there. But “Wild in the Streets” was one of his all-time favorites, and he’d searched with his old computer and even slower modem all through high school for the soundtrack. He somehow knew Blayne was the one person who could appreciate the great get-up-and-riot tune “Fourteen or Fight,” and he was right. She not only knew the song, she knew the words to the song.
She crooned the first slowly sang line, and Bo crooned the next one back to her, moving up to her as she stood on his uncle’s couch. Something he’d normally never allow simply because it wasn’t his couch and they’d already destroyed the man’s coffee table. But it was Blayne and… and she knew the words to “Fourteen or Fight!”
And when a man found a woman like that, he let her stomp all over his uncle’s damn furniture or anywhere else for that matter!
Marci had insisted they check on the kids since they were out for a late-night stroll anyway. Harsh Maine winters didn’t bother Ursus County bears, not when you were born and raised here. Although Grigori didn’t need much of an excuse to stay the night at Marci’s, he also figured his nephew could use a little space. He’d always been a little awkward around girls. Either too gruff, too busy staring, or just too…OCD. Most females couldn’t handle it.
Still, the boy didn’t need a babysitter, but try telling that to Marci Luntz. Grigori didn’t bother to argue some things with her. She could be stubborn as any black bear he’d ever met before. The grizzlies and blacks never as relaxed as the polars.
They lumbered up to the house, his belly full of the dying old walrus he’d found on the beach and Marci’s face still covered in the honey and pissed-off bees she’d taken from the year-round hives the town kept a few miles away.
Marci was about to go up the stairs and into the house, but Grigori knew better. Using his body, he pushed her toward the side of the house with the big picture window. As they came around the corner, they both froze, their mouths open in shock while they focused on that window and what went on behind it.
Seeing Blayne on his couch didn’t bother him a bit. She was a little tiny thing, so it wasn’t like she could do any real damage. But seeing his nephew naked and dancing with Blayne while they listened to that crappy sixties music the boy loved…well, that was something Grigori had never seen, never expected to see, and was now kind of freaked out by seeing.
Not because the kid was naked. Not because he was singing—the boy had always been a bit of a hummer when he thought no one was around. But the smiling? The laughing? The pretending he had a mic while Blayne played a hippie backup singer with her long hair covering her face?
That was something Grigori never expected to see. At least not without the use of very strong hallucinogens. And the reason why was simple. This was Bold Novikov. The kid who only seemed to come alive when he was on the ice or discovered what he considered a mess somewhere in the house. Otherwise, Bold kept to himself, watched everything, said nothing, and plotted his escape from town.
Grigori didn’t think he knew this kid and never thought the boy had it in him.
Not wanting to get in the b
oy’s way, he turned to Marci to lead her back to her house. But he found her on her back, in the snow, laughing her black bear ass off. Anyone else, he’d think they were laughing at the boy, and Grigori wouldn’t stand for it. But he knew Marci Luntz. She would never laugh at Bold. No. This was pure happiness for a little boy she’d cared for and loved nearly as much as her own cubs, and Grigori could already imagine the conversation he’d have to hear for the rest of the night about how she knew that Blayne Thorpe was perfect for “her” Bold and how long before they figure it out and blah blah blah. He was already dreading it. Nothing worse, sometimes, than chatty sows.
Deciding he wouldn’t wait for her to get off her ass, Grigori grabbed her ankle and dragged her back to her house.
She laughed the whole way.
Blayne stared out the window, a hard-driving wind throwing snow and ice against the glass. Normally storms like this depressed her unless it was Christmastime because it usually meant she was trapped at home, bored out of her mind. Although she was rarely trapped for long, being the one person in all of Philly or New York who could track down an open Chinese restaurant when everything else was closed due to the storm. She’d find the food, get it, and bring it back to her father or Gwen’s Pride. Whoever she figured would be the most welcoming. Anything was better than being trapped at home by herself with no one to talk to her but, ya know, herself. Which she tried to stop doing when she was thirteen and the nuns kept asking her if she was speaking with Satan.
Big arms looped around Blayne’s shoulder and soft lips brushed her cheek.
Nope. This time she wasn’t depressed at all.
“Who made the beef stew?” she asked.
“Mrs. Henderson, I think.”
“Best. Ever.”
“I’ll let her know you liked it.”
“Nah. I can tell her.”
“You know Mrs. Henderson?”
“Met her earlier today. Met lots of people.”
“Any problems?”
She laughed. “Stop worrying. Everyone’s been really nice to me.”
“Let me know if they’re not.”
“Yeah. Yeah.” She turned in his arms and basically climbed him like she would a rock wall. Arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist, she pressed her forehead against his. “Let’s fuck!” she exclaimed.
Bo sighed, pulling her in closer and heading toward the bedroom. “Have I mentioned that I adore your absolute lack of subtlety?”
CHAPTER 22
Dez MacDermott knew that if five, ten years ago someone had told her “You’ll be sitting in an average office building in downtown Manhattan, that’s actually owned by wolf shifters so that you can discuss the hybrid-hunting issue,” chances were Dez would have had them put in for a psych eval.
And yet here she was, doing just that.
“What do you mean they won’t help us?”
Dez took the cup of coffee handed to her by her husband, Mace. “Thanks, babe,” she said around a yawn, before refocusing her attention on a befuddled Niles Van Holtz. Niles? What kind of name is Niles anyway?
“They have to help us,” he insisted. He was cute when confused.
“Yeah, I tried that logic. So did Crush. They said no. Actually, what they said was, ‘Tell ‘em to fuck off,’ but ya know… Brooklyn bears.”
She sipped her coffee, badly needing the caffeine. She hated all-nighters, and that’s what it turned into because the bears kept her and Crush waiting for hours before they’d talk to them. Although she wasn’t positive, Dez had a feeling this thing was blowing up into quite the drama. She normally wouldn’t care, but she liked Blayne. She had a lot more energy than Dez could normally handle, but she was always willing to babysit at the last minute and took great care of Dez’s son Marcus. But Crush had told Dez that as long as Blayne was protected by that Russian guy, Novi-whatever, she should be fine.
She hoped Crush was right, because she was seriously enjoying the disbelief on Niles Van Holtz’s face and the despair on his cousin Ulrich’s. And if it turned out Blayne wasn’t safe, she’d feel guilty as hell.
“Looks like I’ll have to talk to them myself,” Niles said, sounding pretty haughty.
“Better bring backup. I sensed they would enjoy hurting you. I have to say… bears and wolves? Didn’t know about all the hate.”
The younger Van Holtz looked across the big conference table at Sissy’s cousin Dee-Ann. The She-wolf appearing to care less about Blayne than anyone else in that room. When Ulrich glared at her, she let out an annoyed sigh and dropped her legs off the table, since she’d had them up there through the whole meeting while relaxing back in the expensive chair, sipping coffee and enjoying the donuts someone brought.
“Are you going to do something?” Ulrich demanded.
“Yeah,” Dee-Ann shot back. “I’m leavin’. See? This is me walkin’ out.” The door slammed shut behind her, and Mace took the coffee out of Dez’s hand as he had a tendency to do and sipped it.
“Just an FYI for you,” he said to Ulrich, giving Dez one of his famous smirks. “Dee’s been known to wrestle a gator back home in Tennessee when she’s bored, so you may want to keep that in mind before you really piss her off, Dog Fancy.”
Ulrich stared at Mace for a good minute before he asked, “Who are you again?”
Knowing that not much else could insult her husband, Dez threw her head back and laughed.
Dee-Ann marched down the hallway toward the elevator. Not a lot pissed her off. Unlike the rest of the women in her family, she didn’t get angry at every little thing. What was the point? But Ulrich Van Holtz was wearing on her damn nerves.
“You!”
Dee froze when something hard and heavy hit her in the back of the head. Fangs out, she spun around but immediately stopped when she realized it was her cousin’s pregnant female. It wasn’t the whole kid-glove thing because Jessie Ann was pregnant that kept Dee from slapping the little bitch, it was because wild dogs were known to be highly unstable when pregnant. Defensive, highly emotional, and apparently quick to throw things. And the She-dogs standing behind Jessie looked like they weren’t about to get involved unless Dee made the first move. Normally, something Dee-Ann wouldn’t give a second thought about. But Smitty had made his demands real clear. No picking on the dogs… no matter how much they may be asking for it.
And the good Lord knew that Jessie Ann was asking for it.
“This is your fault,” Jessie Ann went on, sounding hysterical over a helpless poodle. Did she adopt Blayne, too? How many mutts did the woman need in her life anyway? “Because of you Blayne is trapped in scary bear territory. Because of you.”
“You need to stay out of this, Jessie Ann.”
“It’s Jessica, bitch!” Jessie snarled as she stomped forward, her belly leading the way and her She-dogs watching her, knowing that Dee wouldn’t do anything to harm her cousin’s future child.
Thankfully, though, Sissy Mae and Ronnie Lee jumped in front of Jessie Ann, hands on the She-dog’s shoulders.
“Jessie Ann, I thought we talked about this,” Ronnie pleaded.
Jessie pointed an accusing finger at Dee. “You! You microchipped her like a…a…”
“Like the rescue mutt she is?”
Sissy and Ronnie Lee looked at Dee, their eyes wide, and Jessie shoved the pair out of her way, descending on Dee. But before claws, fangs, or fists could connect Smitty was there, grabbing his mate under the arms and carrying her off.
“We’ll discuss this later, cousin,” he tossed over his shoulder before disappearing into the bathroom with his cursing, spitting mate.
“What?” Dee snapped when she realized Sissy and Ronnie were still staring at her, looking surprisingly disgusted for two females whose whole life goal at one time seemed to be the torturing of Jessie Ann Ward.
“I know that tone isn’t directed at me, cousin,” Sissy stated, one brow raised. And Dee took it as the challenge it was, stepping forward, but Ronnie Lee quickly got between them.
“No, no, y’all. Not here.”
Sissy crossed her arms over her chest. “You better figure out how to fix this, Dee-Ann. Or I’m going to get real fuckin’ cranky. That little wolfdog has a lot of friends, and I happen to be one of them.”
Great. Someone else blaming her for this mess.
Deciding she was tired of playing nice about all this, Dee headed toward the elevator.
CHAPTER 23
“Are you awake?” Blayne’s eyes opened wide to find a descendent of violent barbarians hanging over her. “Well?”
“I’m awake… now.”
“Good.” He kissed her, and Blayne automatically reached for him, her arms slipping around his neck. But before she could get comfortable, he pulled away. “I didn’t want to get up before you did.”
Why did they have to get up at all? Oh. That’s right. Because she’d just spent the entire night fucking the most OCD hockey player ever.
Bo sat on the edge of the bed, scratching his head and yawning. “We slept late.”
Hearing someone moving around in the living room, Blayne grabbed Bo’s jersey off the floor and tugged it on before glancing at the clock on the nightstand. “You consider seven a.m. as sleeping late?”
“Yes.”
Deciding not to worry too much about the man’s issues with time, Blayne raised her arms high in the air and took one of her nice long stretches. She was canine after all.
Her muscles were deliciously sore and now that she was up, Blayne felt a rush of energy hit her system. She wanted to run, to play, to…
She stared at Bo’s back. It was huge. Wide, muscular, and smooth. Like a giant target calling her name.
Grinning and using all the strength and power in her body, Blayne launched herself at The Marauder.
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