by T. S. Joyce
“I’ll give her the note,” Mac said in a frail voice.
“Thanks.” Kong stood and strode for the door.
“Kong?” Mac asked.
Kong stopped and turned, leaned on the door frame. “Yes, sir?”
“You should read the ending to that book someday.”
Kong nodded, knowing he never would. “I’ll see you when I see you, Mac.”
The old man’s thin smile lifted and fell. “Goodbye, Kong.”
Chapter Seven
Layla was supposed to be off tonight, so when she bustled through the door and behind the bar top, Kong was utterly gut-punched.
“She isn’t supposed to be working tonight,” Kong muttered to Creed, dark-eyed alpha of the Gray Backs. “That’s the only reason I was okay with having this here.”
Jason was talking to Kirk in the corner while Kong shot pool with Creed. Beaston, the clever monster, had apparently told his crew about Kong’s troubles, as well as about Layla, and they had set up a going-away shindig at Sammy’s. They were also doing a bang-up job of keeping Kirk at a distance, which he appreciated more than they knew. Rhett had said he’d rather cut off one of his own balls than come to a Kong celebration, so he was getting a night off from that relentless prick as well. The going-away party had gone great until Layla came in looking like a million fucking bucks in a short, ripped-up jean skirt, fishnet stockings, and black combat boots that came mid-calf. And always with the tank top that showed the top half of those buxom tits of hers. And now, after one second of drinking her in, his dick was knocking on the seam of his jeans.
He forced his eyes back to the pool table to line up a shot before Kirk noticed his flighty attention. Willa danced by with a red feather boa around her neck singing a song about a matchmaker finding a find and catching a catch. He’d bet his sawmill the pint-sized red-headed hellion had something to do with Layla taking over Jackson’s shift midway through the night. Kong hid a smile and shook his head as he popped the cue ball into the red three. It blasted into the corner pocket. Damn, he was going to miss these bears.
“We got you a going-away card,” Willa said with a graceful spin before she leaned onto the pool table. She pulled an envelope from her bra and grinned up at him. “It’s not money.”
Kong snorted and ripped into the thick envelope. Inside the card read, Don’t Go Asshole in ugly bubble letters, and the Gray Backs and Ashe Crew had all signed it. In the very bottom corner, Beaston had simply written, you are my friend, and he and Aviana had signed their names underneath.
Kong’s throat tightened, and he tried to smile at Willa. He opened his mouth to pop off a witty retort, but none came.
“Oh, hairy monkey,” Willa murmured, throwing her tiny arms around his middle and squeezing him with an amazing amount of gusto for one so small. “This place isn’t going to be the same without you.”
“Willa, you’re killing me.”
She whispered, “It’s okay to cry.”
“No, I mean you’re squeezing the shit out of me.”
“Oh. Bear muscles,” she explained, easing away and flexing. “As almost alpha, I don’t know my own strength.”
Creed sighed behind her and chalked up his pool cue. “Willa, you are second, not almost alpha.”
It’s all the same, Willa mouthed to Kong. She whipped her cell phone from her back pocket and nearly blinded him with the bejeweled case that protected it. She punched in a number and waited, hip cocked against the pool table as she bit her thumbnail. “Oh! It’s ringing.”
The landline behind the bar was trilling at the same time Willa shoved the phone into his palm and whispered, “Good luck.”
“What?” he barked out as panic dumped adrenaline into his veins. But Willa was already prancing off toward Kirk, flailing her feather boa gracefully.
“Sammy’s,” Layla clipped out.
“Uuuuh, hi.” He turned and shot her a glance behind the bar.
“I’m busy. Someone is apparently having a going-away party I wasn’t invited to.” Her voice shook with anger and something else he didn’t understand. “Nothing like serving drinks at a farewell party for the man I love.”
She made to slam the phone back onto the cradle nailed to the wall, but Kong said, “Wait.” He rubbed his hand across his forehead and checked that Kirk was busy. Willa had draped herself across him, and Jason was singing in an off-key opera voice. Matt was in the process of positioning himself in between Kirk and Kong, cutting off his guard’s line of site. Well played, Gray Backs. Kong turned and rolled his shoulders as he looked at the wall and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you said that in the note. I got it by the way. Nicely done giving it to Mac instead of telling me in person.”
“Because I can’t,” Kong murmured. “I can’t see you. I can’t talk to you. You think I want it like this? I fucking love you, Layla. I love you. I do. There it is.” He gritted his teeth and murmured, “I’ve never said that to anyone before, and look at where it’s getting me. I’m gutting us both.”
When he ghosted a glance at the bar, Layla had her back to everyone, and her shoulders sagged. “How did everything get so fucked up?”
That would be his fault. Or rather the animal inside of him. The birthmark. The traditions of his people. All of it was on him. Layla was perfect. A perfect rose in a summer garden, and he was the weed steeling her water, her life, clinging to her roots until she suffocated.
“Do you know how hard it is to love a man I can’t touch?” she whispered brokenly.
A soft growl rattled his throat, and he tossed a look to Kirk who was laughing with the Gray backs as Georgia sauntered over with a round of shots. She shoved two in Kirks fists as the rest of the crew lifted their tiny glasses and toasted him. It was now or never if he wanted to steel a moment with her. Rhett was back at the cabin, and Kirk was more relaxed in his guard duties, and if his slurring words were anything to go by, well on his way to three sheets to the wind.
“Meet me in the office,” he murmured.
“When?”
“Now.” He hung up the glittering phone and set it on the green felt of the table.
Willa gave him a wink when he muttered he was going to take a piss. Kirk didn’t even respond, so Kong weaved through the crowd and into the back hallway. Layla was already waiting, pacing when he stepped into the office.
“The door doesn’t shut,” she whispered, her bright blue eyes round. She smelled like worry and adrenaline.
But Kong was a problem solver, and a forceful shove to the door sealed that sucker tighter than a tomb. As he turned, Layla slammed into his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist. Layla, his Layla. Damn this felt good, right here with her body wrapped around his.
“Why are you going now? I thought you would have more time.”
“Fiona called me the day I dropped you off at Mac’s. Rhett got suspicious I met someone and ratted me out. I think it sped up the process.”
“I don’t want them to have you. I don’t want you protecting them. I want you for me,” she said in a voice as soft as a breath.
Kong winced as his chest crumpled inward with pain. Damn, he wished things were different. He wanted her to be safe with him, but he was only one silverback, and Fiona could sic the entirety of his people on him, and on Layla, if he wasn’t careful.
“I want you,” she said, stepping back.
He angled his head and frowned. “What?”
“If this is all I have with you for our whole life, I want you.”
“Layla…” Kong shook his head. “I signed…”
“I don’t give a good goddamn about some contract you were forced to sign, and I give even less fucks about tainting your seed. You’re mine, Kong, and if all you’re leaving me with is a memory to last my whole life, I want a good one.” She ran her hands underneath his shirt, over the ridges of his ab muscles.
His eyes rolled closed because, holy hell, she felt good against his skin. On her tiptoes, she
kissed his tripping pulse at the base of his throat. His hands tightened around her waist. Be gentle. Layla likes gentle.
He’d prided himself on being an honorable man and following the contract, but it had all been shot to hell the day he’d given in and talked to his mate. He’d never wanted anything more than to bury himself deep in Layla and empty himself inside her, just to be close. Just to share a moment like that with the woman he loved before he ripped himself away from here and lived the rest of his life in numbing emptiness. Dammit, he wanted to feel! He wanted to know how mating should be. Not just some scientific humping to create offspring.
“Take off those fishnets, Layla,” he growled out in a voice he barely recognized. Her scent was filling his head, making it hard to think.
Layla’s pupils contracted. She swayed slightly, but regained her balance and began to kick out of her boots. Too slow.
With a snarl, he gripped the edge of the desk and shoved it against the door, then ran his hand over the surface, scattering everything onto the floor. He gripped her hips and slid her onto the table, then reached between her legs. Riiip. The fishnets weren’t an obstacle anymore.
Layla gasped and slid her arms around his shoulders just as his lips collided with hers. These weren’t sweet kisses like their first one had been. There wasn’t time for that. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down just enough to unsheathe himself, then he pushed her panties to the side—lacy if his sense of touch was spot on—and cupped her sex. He wasn’t small, and he needed to make sure she could take him.
He pushed his finger into her. So wet. Warm. Fuck, he was losing his mind. He pulled out and slid two fingers in. Her hands were on his dick now, stroking as his lips moved against hers. He shoved his tongue past her lips as he jerked her to the edge of the desk. So wet. Wet and ready. The growl was constant in his chest, but he was in it now. If it scared her, she’d have to deal. This was him. This was what it was like to be with a silverback shifter.
He pressed the head of his cock against her, dipped inside by an inch. So tight. Fuck, she felt good around him. His hips jerked as he pushed inside her again. Steady. Don’t hurt her. Layla arched back as his kisses trailed to her neck. He sucked hard as he pushed into her completely. That would leave a mark, but so fucking what? This was what he got with her, and he wanted a mark on her. He wanted her to look in the mirror and remember the exact second he took her. Claimed her. Claimed her? Yeah, that sounded right. She was his, and no one else for the rest of his miserable life would replace his Layla.
He grunted as he eased out of her. Wrapping his arm around her back, he pulled her closer and slammed into her. She was mewling, begging, but she had to be quiet here. He kissed her hard, bit her lip to remind her to be quiet. Shit, he didn’t want that. He wanted her screaming out his name. He wanted her loud. His stomach flexed as he pushed into her again. Another sexy groan from Layla, and he was gone. Not thinking straight. Rutting like an animal, he pumped into her, careful to hit her clit every time they connected because, dammit, if this is all he could give her, she was going to come. He was going to take care of her. Satisfy her, satiate her— his animal required it. Duty. His duty shouldn’t be to female strangers whose genetics made them a viable match. His duty was to his mate—the woman who had his heart. The only woman he wanted to breed with. His teeth were elongating, just the canines. He could feel the burning ache of them.
He wanted to bite her. It wouldn’t Turn her. It would only show other silverbacks she was claimed. He wanted to mark her, but wouldn’t hurt her, not when he couldn’t stick around to defend his claim. He pumped into her faster, and she met him blow for blow, soft noises of abandon in her throat. Don’t Change. Don’t scare her. Make her come.
The growl in his throat was louder now, uncontrollable as pressure filled his dick. He was close, so close. He shoved her backward and laid her back against the desk. Jeans still clinging, he rolled his hips into her, locked his arms on either side of her head and watched her face as he took her. Bowed against the desk, she raked her claws against his back and exposed her neck. Good mate. Just like that.
His eyes would be blazing, and his teeth were long now. He should scare her, but when she opened her eyes to dazed slits, a wicked smile came over her face. “Do it,” she gasped out.
Kong slammed into her again as punishment for asking for things she knew nothing about.
“I’m going to come soon,” she said on a breath. “Do it.”
Kong lowered to her, bucking into her. So wet, fucking her had a sound. Sexy. He teased, grazing his teeth against her shoulder. He gripped her hair at her nape, steadying her as he thrust into her hard enough to shove her up the desk toward the door.
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he gritted out. A few more strokes, and he was going to blow. So tight. So good. “It won’t Turn you or fix things for us. It’s not like that for gorillas. It’ll only hurt and scar you.”
Layla kissed his shoulder, then sank her teeth deep into his skin. Harder. He gritted his teeth at the pain. Harder still, she clamped down until the scent of iron filled the air. Little hellion human mate. What was she doing? Marking him so that every female he ever bred would see proof of his betrayal.
Good mate. Smart mate.
Holding back a roar, he sank his canines into her shoulder—shallow to keep her pain minimal, but deep enough that his teeth would leave four pink puncture mark scars. She cried out his name and clawed his back as her body clenched around his in deep, quick pulses. Her orgasm triggered his. He released her skin from his bite and pressed his forehead against hers, closing his eyes against the ecstasy as his dick contracted and shot jets of seed into her. Over and over, he pulsed into her, filling her until her legs were slick with him. “Fuck,” he whispered, shaking as he bucked into her again, slower this time. He lifted off her by inches as he continued to stroke into her wet heat, uninterested in breaking their coupling yet. In and out, slower and slower until her aftershocks morphed into another orgasm. This one drew a gasp from her lips and his name whispered like a prayer. His Layla.
He sighed and rolled his eyes closed at the feeling of her clamping around his shaft, then opened them again just to drink in the soft glow of her skin. He’d covered her, broken the contract and bred her. And fuck it all, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel guilty. Not now. This was the most real moment of his entire life right here, and he was bleeding onto her in a steady pit pat that slowly filled the hollow at the base of her throat. He inhaled deeply. “We’re a mess.”
And now it would be even harder to leave her.
Now, he didn’t even know if he could.
Chapter Eight
How careless could she be? Kong had been warning her about the danger they’d be in if they got caught, and what did she do? Begged shamelessly for him to mark her.
A whimper clawed its way up the back of her throat as she pulled another wad of paper towels from the dispenser in the bathroom. Kong hadn’t been lying about them being a mess. Her shoulders and chest were smeared with a mixture of hers and Kong’s blood, and it had taken her a good while to shimmy out of her torn up fishnets and clean up her legs.
Her sex pulsed at the memory of him between her thighs, and she stifled a smile. That had been incredible. He’d been sexy and barely in control, stroking into her like he couldn’t stop. For as long as she lived, she would never look at that office the same way. Jake was going to kill her for breaking the grizzly bear snow globe she’d gotten him as a gag gift over Christmas, but she would replace it. Maybe with a gorilla snow globe.
“Come on,” she muttered as the wad of paper towels refused to absorb any of the sticky crimson around the thin straps of her Sammy’s work tank top.
A soft knock sounded at the door. That would be Jake wondering where the crap she’d gone off to when they were so busy. “Just a second!”
“Layla? It’s me, Georgia. Can I come in?” Georgia was Jason’s mate and one of the newest members of the Gray Ba
cks. She was also a newly Turned bear, and Layla didn’t know if Georgia could handle the scent of blood that even her dulled human senses were picking up.
“Uhh.” Layla stared at her blanched reflection in the bathroom mirror. She hadn’t managed to get the puncture holes of her bite mark to stop bleeding yet, and now she’d painted her skin with gore. “I’ll be a few more minutes.”
Georgia lowered her voice. “Kong sent me.”
Layla flew to the door and pulled it open by inches. Georgia stood there all wild curly hair, freckles standing out, and a sympathetic grin on her full, glossed lips as she held up a serious looking first-aid kit.
“Oh, thank God,” Layla said on a relieved breath.
Georgia slid into the bathroom and locked the deadbolt behind her. “Jake is handling the front fine. Willa told him and half the damned bar you got your period. Barney looked nauseous. Take off your shirt.”
“But I have to wear it. It’s part of the uniform.”
“You smell like fresh meat and Kong,” Georgia said, popping the top to the first-aid kit on the counter. “Kirk is drunk as a skunk, but he’ll smell you the second you go back in there.”
Layla did as she was told and peeled her shirt over her head. “What about Kong? He’s bleeding, too. Oh my God, Georgia, I lost my mind and bit him.” In a horrified voice, she repeated the last embarrassing part. “Bit. Him. Like an animal.”
A grin transformed Georgia’s face as she pulled open a pack of cloths and began cleaning Layla’s skin. “You want to know a secret?”
Layla nodded, feeling sick at the memory of how Kong’s blood had tasted trickling into her mouth.
“I bit Jason, too.”
“You did?”
Georgia nodded and wet the rags, then began scrubbing her again. “He had another mate before me. One who died, but she was horrible to him. I hated her mark on him, so I made my own. I was human at the time.”