Captive of the Wolf Pack:Captive 0f The Wolf Pack (Bonfire Falls Paranormal Romance Book 2) A Bonfire Falls Paranormal Romance

by Liv Brywood

  “I do.” I smile.

  I should’ve thought of them sooner. It’s no secret Minerva is a friend of the Bear Clan and an insanely powerful witch, and everyone knows the story of Azealia. Her power is nothing short of legendary.

  I’ve never thought I’d get to meet her in person. We aren’t friends or anything, but ever since she and Minerva became friends, Azealia has been to some of the Bonfire Falls social events. Rumor has it she’s a beast at bingo night.

  “If we intend to wipe the Academy off the map once and for all, those are two witches we want on our side,” he says.

  I nod in approval.

  “Look at that. The little wrinkle is already smaller.”

  “Really?”

  “No. You still look as tense as a loaded spring trap.” He chuckles.

  “That’ll probably stop once this whole mess is put to bed.”

  “Probably?” Remus arches one strong brow.

  “No promises.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence. I magically pluck the last of the herbs I want while Remus gathers leaves from that poor sage plant.

  When I stoop down and group the herbs together in neat little bundles by plant species, a thought occurs to me. I straighten and stare at Remus with my mouth open. I struggle to find the right words to voice my sudden barrage of thoughts. He must sense my stare because he turns to face me.

  “You look like you swallowed a garden beetle,” he says.

  “It’s so strange. Did you ever think we’d be a part of something like this? To topple the Dark Magic Academy is to basically launch a revolution.”

  “It’s a lot to wrap your head around. I never expected to be a part of something so major. I always thought you would, though.”

  “Me?” I shake my head. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. You’ve always had fire in you. Even though the circumstances aren’t ideal, I’m glad I get to watch you put that fire to good use.”

  I blush.

  “That’s one way to look at it.” I glance down at my feet in an attempt to hide my goofy smile. “I never understood Lexus’ deep hatred of shifters. Or anyone’s, for that matter.”

  “All the witches I’ve ever met, with the exception of one or two, are good people. When we first learn to control our shifting powers, we’re taught to always be cautious around witches, but I never understood why. Every injury I’ve suffered has been from a shifter.”

  I remember my first lesson about shifters. “The instructors at the academy made all shifters sounds like brainless savages that would tear our throats out the moment we let our guard down. I believed them until I was, like, ten. Then I realized everything they said was basically hateful lies. But why go to that trouble? The war was already fought.”

  “Grief, stubbornness, and bad blood make for a toxic mix. It’s not just the witches. This illogical hatred is in some of the shifters too.”

  “So illogical that a witch and a shifter can’t even be lovers.” The thought is voiced and out of my mouth before I can rein it in.

  “That’s nonsense.” The ferocity in Remus’ voice startles me. “The war’s over. There’s supposed to be peace between witches and shifters. Find me one good reason why a shifter and a witch can’t be lovers.”

  Words catch in my throat. There are no good reasons. He and I both know this.

  “I’d pay good money to see someone try to take you from the witch you want to be with,” I say.

  Remus steps closer. “You’d pay for a bloodbath.”

  That’s the most aggressive thing I’ve ever heard him say.

  As I gaze up at him, I’m not sure if my heart beats ten times faster than normal or if it stops completely. I know he means what he says. Remus may outwardly appear to be the most laid back of our little band, but he’s still a wolf, and wolves have teeth.

  A hazy sensation washes over my body. A thrill runs up my spine and causes me to shiver in a way that might be mistaken for fear, but it’s something else entirely. A pang of longing and desire for Remus pops up that’s so sharp, so sudden, it nearly takes me to my knees.

  His intense gaze darts to my parted lips. I’m not sure who moves first, but the next thing I’m aware of is his lips pressed against mine. My hands go to his arms and grip the sleeves of his worn leather coat.

  My fingers dig into the solid muscles that lurk beneath. Every inch of him is hard and taut except for his mouth. It’s never occurred to me his lips would be so soft.

  I consider what Lexus and the other elder witches would think of this. The fact it’s so forbidden only makes me like it more.

  “What was that for?” The smile on his lips reaches all the way to his eyes.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages.”

  “You’re the witch I want to be with.” His voice rumbles through his chest. My knees go weak as if I’m a maiden in one of those Greek tragedies. Oh my God, I’ve swooned. Somehow, Remus has turned me into a swooner. “I waited so long because I didn’t want to risk our friendship.”

  “Our friendship…” I murmur.

  Suddenly, it feels like icy water has been thrown over me.

  Remus and I are friends. Lexus knows this. She hates him enough as is. What will she do to him if her ghastly raven spies discover he and I are something more?

  “You don’t want to risk it.” His strong brow furrows.

  “It’s not that. I just can’t make a decision like that right now. My head’s not in the right place. There are so many other risks to consider. If Lexus ever finds out, she’ll skin you alive, make your coat into a hide, and deliver it to me in person.”

  “My God.”

  “The messed-up part is that I’m not exaggerating.”

  Remus’ expression softens. He tucks a stray lock of hair back behind my ear.

  “I understand that you’re not in the right mind to make a decision.” His hand leaves my hair to rest on my shoulder. The weight of it steadies comforts me. “If you ever need to talk about what’s going on in that wonky head of yours, you can come to me. Always.”

  “Thank you.” I can’t think of the right words to fully express my gratitude. “Even if you think my head is wonky.”

  He plants a kiss on my forehead. It’s not romantic or sexy, but it’s meant to reassure. It’s exactly what I need.

  “Now that you’ve mentioned those ravens, I’ll walk the property and see if I can scare them off,” he says.

  “Be careful. Who knows what kind of spells Lexus has put on them? I’m headed inside to dry these herbs. If I do it right, we can use them tonight.”

  He pulls me in for a hug before we go our separate ways.

  Once I’m alone, my thoughts shift to the kisses I’ve shared with Remus and Nyx. Yes, I’ve fantasized about both of them, but I’ve never thought it would happen, especially with everything else going on.

  Remus’ kiss felt warm and familiar. Nyx’s felt like a ride on a wild animal, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.

  If someone were to ask me whose kiss I prefer, they’d wait an eternity for the answer. My attraction to both men is undeniable.

  Memories of kissing their delicious lips sends my heart into a flurry all over again. My cheeks flush, and I stumble over my feet as I walk.

  I need to get it together. Now is not the time to lose focus. Lexus could show up to incinerate the house with all of us in it, and here I am with thoughts about which man is the better kisser.

  Remus said he wants to be with me. I admit I like the idea a lot. Yet I also feel something for Nyx. I don’t fully understand what it is, but it’s strong. If I were forced to choose between them right now, I couldn’t do it.

  My foot catches on a stone hidden beneath the grass. I stumble. The herb basket slips from my fingers, and its contents scatter over the dirt.

  “By the witches’ moon, pull yourself together. They’re just men. You don’t need to lose your head after a single kiss.”

  Even as the words leave
my mouth, I know it’s not true. They aren’t just men. They’re something more. They’re my men. When all of this is over, I’m going to have to choose between them. I don’t want to do it, but I don’t see any other way. How can I expect them to share me? They’d have to be crazy in love to agree to that proposition.

  11

  Torak

  Usually, the lavender field behind Remus’ house is one of my favorite spots to write songs. The brilliant purple stalks always get my creative juices flowing. The scent relaxes my mind and allows lyrics to pop up naturally. But today, my process isn’t going so well.

  It’s a beautiful sunny day, and the purple flowers contrast nicely against the clear blue sky. Bright sunlight warms my skin. Butterflies flutter about the field and float in the occasional breeze. Bees buzz from one flower to another, and birdsong accents the insect sounds of the day. It’s a perfect day to write songs.

  But for some reason, my fingers seem clumsy on my guitar. None of my chord progressions feel right, and all my lyrics sound weak and clichéd.

  Several pages of my notebook are full of crossed-out lines about flowers and bees and who knows what else. All are very lame, heartsick teenager lyrics.

  I’m supposed to have this song over to Gareth Desharp’s people by next week so they can get into the studio to work on his new album, but I can’t find an angle. He wants an inspiring, original, powerful love song. And right now, I can’t string together one chorus. It’s a bit of a problem for a professional songwriter, especially when the client is as big a star as Gareth Desharp. A hit song for him would be a huge boost for my career.

  Every time the melody and lyrics start to flow together, my mind strays back to Iris. Whenever I muse on the concept of love, I picture her smiling face.

  I wish I could push aside my feelings because we’re such good friends. It’s not right to lust after close friends who trust you so much, but at the same time, I can’t change my heart. I just wish it wouldn’t interfere so much with my professional life.

  It’s not very professional to pine after your best friend like a pup.

  As much as I try to focus on my writing, I can’t help but wonder how she’ll hold up with all this conflict about to boil over. The wolf in me wants to protect her, to tear apart all who would threaten her. The man in me wants to hold her, stroke her hair, and tell her everything will be all right.

  As my fingers slide across the frets, they find their own way over the strings. They ring out a slow, haunting melody that sounds like it has potential. Lyrics follow close behind, and lines come in, half-formed, but good.

  My moon, I am the wolf

  Howl longingly for you

  Feel your push and pull

  I pause to scribble furiously in my notebook. I will my hand to move as fast as it’ll go to keep up with the lyrics that stream forth in waves now from my subconscious.

  With the opening lines written, I try the melody again. I start the progression a few frets higher this time, slide down the neck and match my lyrical cadence to the chord changes. It sounds good, but I shouldn’t write about Iris. The concept of unrequited, forbidden love is the only thing I’m able to articulate right now, and Iris is the inspiration.

  The first couple of stanzas are ready. I run through the chord progression again and lose myself in the performance. My head’s awash with the scent of the lavender and my heart’s afloat with love.

  My moon, I am the wolf

  The only way I can show love

  Is to howl for you

  In my veins, I feel your soft pull

  It’s enough to keep me on the run

  But I’m no fool

  Everyone else howls for you too

  After all, you’re the moon

  Everything with blood

  Feels your push and your pull

  I open my eyes as the last chord echoes across the field. Iris stands right in front of me with a smile on her face.

  “Hey.” A rush of heat makes its way from my chest up my neck and into my face. “How long have you been there?”

  “Long enough.” She smiles a sweet, impish smile. “That was beautiful. Like really, incredibly, beautiful. Did you just write it?”

  My blush intensifies. “Uh, yeah, it’s for a really important client. It’s not finished, though. You weren’t really supposed to hear it. I don’t usually share works in progress.”

  “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t notice me here then, huh?” Her mischievous grin spreads wider across her face. “Lucky for me, you were lost in your own world.”

  “Ha, yeah. I guess you got a free show.” My embarrassment fades slightly as we fall into a familiar back and forth. “But next time, I’ll have to charge you. Can’t work for free here.”

  She laughs. “So, who’s the lucky lady?”

  The blush returns. “Oh, it’s not about anyone in particular. Just a project for my client. Radio always wants more generic love songs.”

  I want to tell her she’s the woman, the inspiration. That she always has been. And that practically every song I’ve ever written has been about her in one way or another. But I know I can’t tell her.

  We’ve been friends for too long. I can’t ruin our dynamic. To disrupt it would terrify me. But not telling her the truth about how I feel is also unbearable.

  “Oh, come on,” she says. “I don’t buy that. I heard the way you sang it. That wasn’t some generic, meaningless love song. You should’ve seen yourself. I could see the pain on your face, hear the longing in your voice.”

  “There’s nobody. Really. Just some lyrics that came into my head.”

  “Nope, no way. Come on, just tell me who it is.” She shoots me a devious, conspiratorial grin. “I have to know so I can go punch her in the face and tell her what an idiot she is not to want you.”

  I know it’s probably not a good idea, but I can’t live with my secret emotions for one more second.

  “It’s you.”

  She looks surprised, naturally, but not taken aback or appalled, or offended, as I feared she might. I even see what I hope is the hint of a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.

  “What?”

  “It’s about you.” My gaze drifts away from her, scared of what I’ll find on her face. I stare out over the lavender field as I will myself to be calm. “You were the inspiration. You’re the moon.”

  She’s quiet. I chance a peek at her face. She looks at me intensely.

  “I love it. It’s beautiful. I totally get it what it’s like to want something so much that you’re afraid you’re going to burst.” She surprises me when she sits in front of me and envelops me in a tight hug. “You’re so talented. I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

  Her breath is hot on my neck. I can feel her gentle heartbeat against my chest. My heart pounds like a bass drum. My embarrassment has shifted and blossomed into a full-body blush now. Blood rushes simultaneously to my crotch and my head.

  But for the first time, I don’t see my feelings toward Iris as inappropriate. To hold her like this feels completely natural. It feels right. We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, and I never want to let her go.

  Her breathing deepens. The wolf within me calls out as I sense her passion. The man within me calls out too. Both aspects desire one thing—her.

  I shift my head slightly to angle my mouth toward hers. As she clutches the back of my shirt, she shifts her head too. Her fingers press gently into my back and neck.

  My hands slide along her back to search tentatively for a signal. I pull my head back, and our eyes meet. Her gaze darts to my mouth. Her lips part and our faces seem to be drawn together by some inextricable force.

  When our lips meet, a current of energy radiates from my mouth into the rest of my body. Her mouth opens like a blooming flower. Her tongue reaches out delicately. My long wolf tongue responds instinctively to flick against hers as our mouths move in passionate concert.

  My hands find their way to her round
bottom. I squeeze her against me. She groans and wraps her legs around my waist. My cock jerks hard and desire burns in my belly.

  She slips one of her hands inside the unbuttoned portion of my shirt to run it across my hairy chest. I growl in response.

  Our mouths open wider and our tongues glide across each other as the kiss takes on a hungrier tone. We press against each other hard now, almost desperate with desire. I run one hand underneath the back of her shirt while the other slides up her stomach toward her chest.

  Her hand drops down to my waist to search under my shirt and down into my waistband. My body calls out for her. It screams with the intensity of pure desire. I want to lay her down and surrender to passion amongst the lavender stalks.

  But before she can grab my fully erect cock, before I can caress her breasts or bite her neck or undo her clothes, she pulls away. She pulls her hand out of my waistband. She rests both hands on my chest and gently eases back.

  We both take shaky breaths. I lick my lips, still hungry for her. She gazes at me, and I see the same hunger reflected in her eyes.

  “I wish you didn’t have to sell that song. I know it’s your job, but I love it so much. I wish it could be ours.”

  Before I have a chance to respond, she turns and hurries away from me through the lavender field. I’m too stunned to call after her, struck dumb by what just happened.

  We kissed.

  I can’t believe it. After all these years, I kissed Iris. Or she kissed me?

  I don’t even know what happened, but damn, it was hot. She’s flat-out sexy. It’ll take a long time to get rid of this aching erection, but it was so worth it.

  Still in shock, I sit and think about her.

  She’s one of the kindest, most genuine, most good-hearted people around. She’s one of my favorite people to spend time with, and if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve pretty much always been in love with her. But I’ve never really thought it could work out between us—until now.

  We’ve always had so much fun together, but usually, we hang out with Nyx and Remus too. I’ve never wanted to screw up our friendship before, and even now, the possibility worries me. All four of us have been so close for so long. I would never want to do anything to change that. But for Iris, I don’t know. Right now, I would risk almost anything to kiss her again.