by May Dawson
“I don’t mind,” I said. I tilted my head to one side. “Are you still growing, Chase?”
He snorted. “Aren’t we all, I hope?”
“I mean literally growing?”
He nodded. “I think so. And I really didn’t need to be any bigger. I guess the change… coming at the age I was turned… is different for me than usual.”
“It must be hard to go through all that without a pack.”
Chase met my gaze. “Who said I don’t have a pack, Northsea?”
His words came out light, but they lit a warm glow in my chest.
I ignored it for now, catching his hand in mine and drawing him onto the mats.
“You really want to fight in that skirt?” he asked me. “We could’ve gone upstairs first.”
“I can kick your ass in plaid, Chase Freeman,” I promised him.
“Oh, is that right?”
He stepped in, whirling low to knock my legs out from underneath me, but I expected his attack. I flipped myself backward, somersaulting across the mat and coming up with a triumphant grin.
But Chase was right there, and he almost managed to knock me off balance. Instead I placed my foot to throw him.
He caught my biceps in his hands, so when he fell, I stumbled and came down on top of him. The two of us scrambled to fight for position. First one of us would get the other in a hold, then the other would break it.
The two of us were both sweating, and we’d both tapped out once, when Chase flipped off me. He lay on the mat, staring up at the ceiling as his chest heaved.
“Best out of three?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not making that deal with you. Your stubborn ass will never tap out.”
“You don’t win just because you don’t tap out.” Going unconscious was just as much a loss. During our hand-to-hand training, it was also generally followed with a long talk with an instructor about admitting our limits.
“I thought that was pretty much how we both dealt with the academy when no one wanted either of us here,” he said. “Just don’t tap out.”
I rolled to my feet, then offered him my hand up. “You say that as if something changed.”
“It did,” he said. He put his hand in mine, and I leaned back as I drew him to his feet, my muscle straining. “I want to be here now. I’m not just surviving anymore.”
His eyes were bright on mine, and something sparked in my chest. He was right. Something had changed for both of us.
I was no longer here just to be stubborn; I was here because I wanted to be with my friends and my team and I wanted to learn. And he was no longer here because he had nowhere else to go. We belonged together.
Our damp palms slipped apart. The two of us squared off again.
“How much did you have to drink?” I asked casually. “You’re slow tonight.”
“Oh, we’re shit-talking now?” he asked as we circled each other.
“Just making an observation.” I tried to slip past his defenses, but he blocked all my moves. I retreated a few steps, studying his built shoulders as they gleamed with sweat.
“If we’re shit-talking, I’d like to point out that your skirt is highly distracting. It’s cheating, really.”
“First of all, that’s a compliment. You’re terrible at shit-talking,” I said. “Second of all, I still don’t understand why I’m wearing a kilt and a tie.”
“A very short one, at that.”
“My sister’s got an explanation,” I said. Chase tried me, and I blocked him. “She says that the time stress of getting from PT uniform, to showered and dressed in our formal school uniform, then into our utility uniform for hand-to-hand is all supposed to help us practice time management, to develop focus and discipline.”
“That seems legit.”
“But I think she just wanted to torment me. She’s my hero, she’s amazing, but she’s still a big sister.”
Chase grinned, right before I launched a furious volley of blows. He blocked them, the two of us moving across the room together as I pressed him toward the wall.
He lurched as his shoulder blades hit the wall. I moved forward to press my forearm against his throat, to get him into a hold.
To my surprise, he managed to catch my biceps and whirled me around. He pinned me against the wall instead. My shoulder slammed into the wall. The two of us struggled for position. Chase’s body was against mine, warm with exertion, muscular and solid.
His eyes met mine, and my breath caught, just for a second. His face was so near mine, the two of us both breathing hard. His dark-lashed eyes were gorgeous, and suddenly the desire for a fight was turning into something else.
I brushed my lips against his.
He hesitated—as if he thought this was a trick—then groaned as if he didn’t care. He returned my kisses with quick, fevered kisses of his own.
Chase caught my wrists in one of his big hands and raised them above my head, pinning me against the wall. As his lips met mine over and over, my hips swayed forward, seeking more of him helplessly, since he still controlled my wrists. I smiled. He didn’t trust me not to distract him so I could knock him on his ass, even when the two of us were wild for each other’s bodies.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, when his lips left mine.
I glanced up at my wrists. “Do any of you manage not to alpha?”
“Nope,” he growled playfully. “You need it.”
I quirked my eyebrows. “Do I?”
But the truth was, I loved the way my guys were commanding in bed. As long as they listened to me outside the bedroom as equals, I liked being dominated when we were in the bedroom. Or, well, anywhere else private, including this brightly lit dojo.
His lips were on mine again, and I drew one bare foot over the curve of his muscular leg until I could wrap my leg around his waist, pulling his hips toward mine. I wanted more of his body.
The two of us traded wild kisses until his grip loosened on my wrists, and then I took the opportunity to knock him on his ass.
He hit the mats on his shoulders, his broad arms reaching out to catch himself as he slapped the mats.
“You were right not to trust me,” I teased, right before I dropped to my knees, straddling his waist. “I was waiting for my chance.”
He caught my hips and rolled on top, pinning me beneath him. “Same.”
He kissed my throat and décolletage, sucking and nibbling, and my hips jerked against his at the sensation. Chase was always kind, but he wasn’t gentle.
The two of us continued to wrestle and kiss by turns. Whenever one of us was almost unbearably hot with desire, the other would knock them down again or get them into a hold.
“You’re a hard girl to pin down,” Chase said, his arms to either side of my head, as he nuzzled his nose against the side of my throat, tickling me. He lifted off me, his eyes bright as they met mine. “Did you get what you needed tonight?”
I licked my lips. My need for a fight was satisfied. The restless ache I always felt—as if the way I missed Silas and Tyson was a physical need—was still there, but the anger had burned away.
But I had other needs.
“Not yet,” I said, and my voice came out husky.
I brushed my lips against his. As our kiss deepened, Chase’s dark lashes fluttered as he closed his eyes. He was the only one of the guys who closed their eyes when we kissed, and I studied his handsome, chiseled face, with the familiar scar running through his eyebrow.
I ran my palm over the hard, warm muscle of his shoulder. “You seem to have done just fine pinning me down, by the way.”
“Took a while.” He moved away from my lips.
He kissed his way down the curve of my shoulder, then he began to suck a bruise, and I gasped.
“Who’s fault is that?” I asked, stroking my hand through his hair.
“Yours.”
I moved fast to roll him over, trapping him beneath me, but he rolled the two of us over so he was on top again.
I threw him off, then jumped to my feet and backed away, feeling the mischievous smile that wrote itself across my face. “Mine, hm? I’d hate to trouble you any more then…”
I sashayed away from him, complete with a dramatic hair flip, heading toward the back of the room.
Then he was right behind me, his big body against mine, his cock pressing against the curve of my ass. His hard arm circled me, pulling me tight against him.
His lips brushed across my cheek. “Oh, no. It took us long enough to get here. I’m not letting you get away from me again.”
I grinned as I tilted my face up to his. The two of us traded kisses as we stumbled back and forth, undressing each other.
He yanked my shirt over my head, and his breath caught for a second in a way that never failed to stun me. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Northsea.”
In return, I jumped up into his arms, wrapping my legs around him. The force of my motion made him stumble back a step, his back bumping the wall, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight to his body.
“Jeez, you’d think no one ever gave you a compliment,” he teased.
He spun us around, pinning me against the wall as he held me up, and I felt his cock tease against my thigh.
I tightened my legs around him, pulling him even closer, and his tip brushed against my center. Then he thrust deep inside me, and I bit my lip as I smiled. He thrust inside me over and over, our bodies rocking together.
Chase always touched me like he needed me. His eyes closed again, as if he were lost in the moment. His fingers tightened on my thighs. There was an answering thrum in my soul, as if the two of us vibrated on the same string.
He claimed my mouth with his. He coaxed my lips open, and the tip of his tongue brushed mine. My thighs tightened around his hips, feeling the power of his body against mine and reveling in it. I couldn’t have him any closer to me than this—with his cock buried deep inside me and his tongue slipping against mine—but I still wanted more.
His cock hit my g-spot over and over as we moved together, until it felt like I was melting into a puddle of molten heat. My fingers dug into his shoulders as his hips thrust against mine, and my ass banged into the wall over and over, and I didn’t care.
I lifted my head, breaking away from his lips to try to catch my breath. Then the flush of my orgasm swept through me, curling my toes, tightening my already-tense body.
“Chase,” I murmured into his ear, before biting down on his earlobe, and he gasped as if it pushed him over the edge to hear his name on my lips.
I felt him pulse inside me as he came, and I threw my head back, my hair flickering back and forth across my naked shoulders, as my back arched.
Then the two of us melted to the floor. Chase caught me against his body, pulling me tight against him with my head on his shoulder.
“Beautiful girl,” he murmured into my ear. “How’d I get so lucky?”
I nestled myself against him, my leg thrown over his, my still-throbbing clit pressed against his thigh. “Hell if I know.”
He ran his hand over my naked stomach, seeking a place to tickle me, as he snorted, “Brat.”
I was so ticklish that I couldn’t help but pull away, laughing, sitting up a little.
And that was why I saw Tyson as he reached the open door to the gym.
His face was intent, and he hadn’t seen me yet—he was probably doing the same thing I was, looking for someplace to burn off his anger and his grief—but I was powerless to do anything to keep him from seeing us.
Tyson took the scene in, hurt flashing across his face as his gaze met mine.
“What is it?” Chase murmured, as if he’d seen my face change. He followed my gaze to Tyson. “Oh, shit.”
Ty jerked his head in a nod, the same way he would if he were just saying hey in the hall, but his eyes looked haunted.
Then he turned and stumbled out of the room.
“Maddie,” Chase said. He didn’t say anything again until I looked back at him, and when I did, I could feel how my face crumpled, as if I were on the verge of tears. Chase’s face softened, as if he just wanted to make me feel better. Kindly, he asked, “What happened between the two of you?”
I’d been so angry at Tyson. Now I felt sorry for him, and that felt even worse. This thing he believed—about him, and Winter, and me—had stolen our love, and it would keep chipping away at Tyson himself. He still seemed driven to protect me, but the pull between us was a constant source of pain.
“I’ve got to figure out who my father is, and who his is,” I said. I tried to smile. “It’s fine. I can figure this out. I can fix this.”
The words hung in the room.
They sounded so confident.
But as I gathered my clothes up from across the floor, I held back a sob, feeling as if I were on the verge of breaking down. Ty couldn’t be right about us. I couldn’t imagine that fate would play such a cruel trick. The thought that I could love Ty for the rest of my life but never have him overwhelmed me.
I didn’t want Chase to see how devastated I was by Ty’s rejection, especially when Chase and I had just been intimate. It might hurt his feelings.
“Hey.” Chase’s voice was warm behind me.
I turned, my head down, and tried to smile through my tears. “I’m fine,” I promised.
“Okay,” he said. He shook out my blouse, and reluctantly, I turned, putting my arms into the sleeves. Chase dressed me again, kneeling at my feet to offer my skirt, and I rested my hands on his broad shoulders as I stepped into it. It was odd, but also oddly comforting, to have Chase dress me.
“I can do all this by myself, you know.” I looked down at his bowed head in front of me as he tied my oxfords again. “Even when I’m upset. Being sad doesn’t completely fry my brain.”
“I know you can,” he said. He tied the last bow and stood to his feet, towering over me. He rubbed his hands over my arms. “But you don’t have to. You don’t have to face anything on your own anymore, Maddie.”
I stared up into his handsome, reassuring face, then pressed myself forward into his chest. His big arms closed around me, holding me tight. He comforted me while I cried because another man didn’t want me anymore.
I didn’t have to be embarrassed. Not with him.
Chapter Four
Usually, I slept contentedly between Chase, Penn and Jensen. It wasn’t quite the sleep of the innocent—thank Cain—but between the exhaustion caused by our long, challenging days and the coziness of our nest together, I slept deeply until our alarm went off.
But not tonight.
I tossed and turned, seeing Tyson’s face. I’d grown angrier and angrier the past three months as he pushed me away—when I needed him most, when I missed Silas—and now I knew why. Now that the anger had been stripped away, the sadness I felt for him, and for me, and most of all for Silas, was overwhelming.
None of the spells I’d done after Silas disappeared into the river had found any trace of him in our world. He’d either been home… or dead.
After a while, Jensen had caught me doing yet another spell, and he caught my chin in his fingers and turned my face to his.
“No more,” he’d told me. I would’ve been pissed at him for telling me what to do, but his voice had come out broken. “It’s time to stop, Maddie. We promised we’d all trust each other. Trust him.”
It was clear from the worried look in Jensen’s eyes that he thought I was going down a dangerous road. I’d taken one last look at the scrying bowl—there was no sign of Silas—and then I had doused the candle. “No more,” I had agreed. “For a while.”
Now, it had been a while. I slipped off the foot of the bed, stopped in the dark bathroom to fumble for the copper bowl under the sink, then filled it with a slow trickle of water that wouldn’t wake anyone.
Then I carried the scrying bowl into the guys’ room, since they were all asleep in mine. I set it on the floor and moved around the room, lighting a few candl
es that I set near the scrying bowl in the center of the floor.
By the flickering light of the candles, I went to Silas’ dresser. His comb was still thrown on the top, along with his cologne. I picked the bottle up and pressed it against my face, drawing in a deep breath. The crystal bottle was cold against my skin, and the cologne didn’t smell the same without the heat of his body.
There was just one blond hair left tangled in the teeth of the comb. I carried it back to the scrying bowl and settled cross-legged in front of it. Murmuring the words of the spell, I studied my face in the reflection of the still water, and focused all my magic into the water itself.
When the water rippled with my magic, blue smoke rising along the edges, I dropped the hair into the bowl.
I glimpsed my reflection again before it flashed, changing to Silas’ face, and I inhaled sharply. Then his face was gone. But for a second, I had seen him again—the hard-planed cheeks, the flop of blond hair over his high brow, the easy, boyish smile—and the ache of grief I’d felt for the last three months was like a knife again, pressing into my chest.
There was a noise in the hall—a footfall close to the door—and I glanced up, realizing the guys had left their door to the hall propped barely open as most of us did. The door was almost closed, but the lock had been twisted out so the bolt kept the door from closing completely.
I could stop. But I was so close. If I kept going, maybe I could find Silas. I could know for sure that he was alive.
I started to murmur the words of my spell again, staring down at my reflection. But it remained stubbornly me, a girl with her blond hair falling in loose waves around her face and her lips moving frantically, her eyes troubled. I didn’t want to admit I’d truly become that girl in the reflection, the one who looked haunted.
If I were haunted, didn’t that mean I had a ghost? Silas couldn’t be a ghost. He had to come back to me.
I cupped the bowl with both palms, feeling my magic heat the copper. Come on, Silas. Show me you’re alive.