Shifters Gone Wild; Collection

by Skye MacKinnon

  He held back, out of reach. “Be my wife, Jem.”

  I closed my eyes as his breath washed over me, drowning me in his scent and igniting an inner fire of my own. Another attempt to pull him closer ended in more resistance, and smiling at his resolve, I lifted my lids to a brim-full of lust, humour and adoration in his stare. “Yes,” I said. “I shall agree to be your wife, but—”

  His mouth covered mine with enough force to bruise, swallowing my words before they could be imparted. I curved into him, and his hand smoothed along my spine, holding me tighter. He took a step back, and another, his embrace drawing me with him, his lips demanding more.

  His body lowered, and I followed, pausing only long enough to discover the bed before stealing responsibility for the continued kiss.

  I released his hair to hike up my skirt, sliding my right knee alongside his thigh, my left finding station on his other side as my rear settled over his lap.

  “Jem.” His whisper arrived as an admonishment, though the tangle of his fingers in my hair contradicted his tone. “Are you forgetting—” A low growl rumbled from him when I snatched his lower lip between my teeth. “… where we are?”

  I tended to the spot I’d bitten with my tongue. “Not at all.”

  Fingers fumbling with the laces of his shirt, I feathered a path of kisses along his jaw to his throat. With his chest unleashed, I lay my palms there, smiling at the thud of his heart beneath them and the vibration that accompanied the groan he expelled.

  When I leaned into him, he pushed back. “Jem, please.”

  I paused and brought my face to his, my lips parting at the desire that dominated his stare. “Tell me you wish for me to stop, and it shall be so,” I whispered.

  For seconds, we remained, eyes locked, breaths infusing, hearts beating against one another, until, with a low moan, his lips smothered mine.

  His hands slipped beneath my skirt, brushing my knee before leaving a trail of heat along my thigh. He slid around farther, to my naked bottom, his growl long and low as he kneaded the flesh there.

  Grasping my hair, he tugged my head back, his hunger seeking my throat for nourishment.

  My breath hitched.

  His arm slipped beneath my rear, and he dragged me forward.

  I gasped as contact shot fire through my groin.

  “You should not start what you cannot finish, Jem.” Arousal roughened his voice as his words breezed across my skin.

  With a smile, I snuck a hand between us and reached for his waistband. His gaze shot to mine, as I loosened the fastenings that separated him from me, though his heavy scent of excitement permeating the air negated the sternness he attempted to portray. I breathed out a laugh, sobering when I freed him from his constraints and took him in my hand.

  He bared his teeth at me, though the expression held no warning, only a deep yearning, and his chest thrummed at the volume of a thousand bees.

  “Do you still believe we should stop?” I asked as I caressed his length. “Perchance we should finish this lat—”

  His fingers grasped my thighs. My body slammed against his with a jerk of his arms. I gasped as he filled me with an upward thrust, before my sigh of satisfaction seeped out.

  A tilt back of my hips preceded a rock forward. I clutched at his loose shirt, combed a hand back into his mussed hair.

  As though content to allow me control, his arms encompassed me, his face burrowed into the tresses fallen across my shoulder. His body trembled with each urge of my body.

  A ripple washed over the surface of his flesh. “My Jem.”

  “Eternally yours,” I whispered, before I lost myself in him.

  * * *

  The richness of broth wove into my nostrils, tugging me from a sated slumber. The surface I lay upon rose and fell, in tune with the breaths pouring past my lips, whilst against my ear, a natural orchestra created by the uniting of bodies beat a background rhythm.

  “Sean?” I whispered.

  “Mmm.” A drowsy response, telling me he had slept, also.

  I opened my eyes. Darkness filled the space. Shadows everywhere. Only a moon-cast glow offered illumination through the undrawn window.

  For how long had we lain?

  I pushed up from Sean’s chest. Tilting toward the curtained doorway, I listened for sounds of Mother or Jessica, relaxing a little when I caught the slight scrape of the rocker. That she still sat there told me the day had yet to end.

  Sean’s breaths stuttered. A quiet snort bubbled out in his next exhalation.

  I pressed my fingers to his lips, smiling when his lashes fluttered and his lids lifted to reveal his dark eyes. From my face, his gaze travelled the room as though he had forgotten our location.

  “We fell asleep?”

  I nodded. “We really should show ourselves. I am surprised Mother has allowed us this length of time uninterrupted.”

  As he pushed up to sit, his arms wrapped around my waist, taking me with him. “We need to speak to her before we leave.” He tugged at my unkempt hair, brushed a kiss across my lips. “I have yet to ask her permission.”

  “Ah.” I touched my fingertips to the creases coating his brow. “You need not worry so. Mother approves of you more than you realise.”

  “Approves?” His eyebrows rose. “Accepts, maybe. I am not so sure I have ever earned her approval, Jem.”

  I smiled at the worry in his eyes. “Let us go and see. And perhaps we can beg some food from her, also.”

  * * *

  When we stepped into the living room, Mother did not look up as she poked her embroidery needle through the hessian she worked. “Sleep well?”

  Opposite her, Jessica barely contained her amusement, her lips clamped tight over her snigger.

  I sent her my best glare. “Yes, thank you, Mother.”

  “Hungry?” She looped cotton over and over itself to bind the thread.

  In response, my stomach grumbled, Sean’s matching beside me.

  Mother regarded us at last, her lips curved. “That would be a yes, then?”

  The chair protested at her climb from it. As she crossed the floorboards, she paused when she reached Sean. “You will join us for dinner.”

  “Of course.” He nodded as though he ever had a choice.

  Once Mother had submerged herself in the next room, Sean strode to the window. I knew one or more of the pack loitered, when he nodded toward the pane before he spun and paced a diagonal path across the small living space.

  Jessica eyed him from her seat, a slight upward curl to her lips as her head twisted, following his movements. Leaving him to his anxiety, I headed into where Mother collected bowls and cutlery.

  “You have your glow back,” she said without turning.

  I started to respond before I realised I had no idea how to, and so simply reached around for the crockery instead.

  Her face tipped up as I did, her eyes seeming to study my entire aura with the quick scan she conducted. “There,” she said, bringing her hand to my cheek and smiling, “that is much better.”

  Sean still paced when we stepped back into the living room, from where Jessica settled the pot on the table to the window.

  “You shall wear a path through the floorboards, if you continue.” Mother laid cutlery out at each of the four chairs. “Come, you are man of this abode for the eve, and we cannot eat until you serve us.”

  I almost laughed at her words. Mother had never once expected Father to serve our meals in his years alive. Surely, she meant only to tease Sean. Or to test him.

  Sean came to an abrupt halt and brushed his hands across his hair. He appeared flustered for a moment before he nodded and crossed the room.

  In silence, we all took our seats, Sean at the head of the table at Mother’s direction. The three of us waited as he scooped broth into each of our bowls, leaving his own until last. As soon as he replaced the ladle in the pot, he grabbed up his spoon and prepared to delve in.

  “Perhaps you could provide the evenin
g prayer, Sean,” Mother said.

  His mouth opened, and his hand stilled, hovering above his meal. “Of course.” He lowered his cutlery and bowed his head.

  Like a leaden cloak, quiet landed upon the room as we mimicked Sean’s pose, lasting for seconds with only the crackle of flames in the hearth as background sound.

  “What do I say?” Sean’s whisper broke through my mind at a volume too low for our hosts.

  As my lips curved, I lowered my face to prevent Mother seeing.

  “Our Father,” I whispered back.

  Sean cleared his throat. “Our Father.”

  “We give thanks for this meal with which we have been graced.” I waited as he repeated my words. “And we give thanks for our loved ones.” Again, my verse arrived on Sean’s tongue. “But I am especially thankful …”

  “But I am especially thankful …”

  “For the amazing woman at my side …”

  “… for the amazing woman at my side …”

  “… who I shall worship with all my heart forever.”

  “Who I shall worship …” He trailed off, and though I did not lift my gaze, I imagined his had turned toward me. “With all my heart forever,” he finally said.

  “Amen.” At Mother’s response, I turned to be met by a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. “Now, let us eat before it grows cold.”

  Spoons clanked against crockery for the next few minutes. Sean exhausted his meal first and sat with arms folded upon the table-top in front of him. As he shared his attention between his fidgeting fingers and Mother, I wondered how long he would last before he broke down.

  Knowing it best to warn him of Mother’s distaste for disturbed mealtimes, I said in near silence, “Not until she has finished eating.”

  Although he did not look at me, his discreet nod told me he heeded my words. He all but drummed the table, yet made no noise as we ate one mouthful after another.

  Only when every bowl had been emptied did Mother lean back in her seat, her attention all for Sean. “Thank you for being so patient.”

  He gave a nod.

  “You have something to say, I feel.”

  Another nod, a lick of his lips. “Jem …” He glanced to me, back to Mother. “She would be my wife, but your blessing is required.”

  “Correct.”

  A heavy quiet crept in. Mother met Sean’s gaze with a steady one of her own. Beside me, Jessica’s attention could have sliced Sean with its sharpness.

  A wave of pity arrived for him at being faced with three females who had been well taught in self-assertion.

  “May I?” he said after seconds had passed. “May I have your blessing?”

  Mother allowed him a final steely appraisal before turning to me. “You wish for this?”

  I smiled. “Yes, Mother.”

  “Then, it shall be so.”

  Sean heaved out a sigh. “Thank y—”

  “But on one condition,” Mother cut in. She paused as though expecting his protest, but received only a nod of acceptance. “That you agree to a ceremony of our kind, in exchange for Jem’s hand.”

  My eyes narrowed. She had not once informed me that she had any terms of her own. A large part of me half dreaded hearing what they might be.

  Chapter 16

  Shadows painted a spectral guise over the forest, as we weaved our way home. In silence, we entered the trees, the joining of our hands speaking the language required to state our re-harmonisation.

  The farther into the forest we trod, the deeper the realisation sank in of just how much Sean had committed himself.

  In exactly nine days, when the blue moon rose, we would be bound to one another—for eternity.

  “Why did you allow her to manipulate you that way?” I asked.

  “Manipulate?” He chuckled, drawing me closer with a tug of his hand, dropping his lips to my ear. “Jem, had I not agreed with the concept wholeheartedly and accepted her reasoning, then it could be considered manipulation.”

  “You wish for this? Truly?”

  “Truly.” He nuzzled my neck.

  The shiver of my body had little to do with the evening chill and everything to do with his caress. “You must be certain. Forever is such a long time to spend with one person.”

  “Actually, forever with you could never be long enough. Only if I had to endure it without you would the years stretch into everlasting torture.”

  The lengths one would go to for love were often great. I smiled as I curved against his body, and his arm slipped around my waist, holding me there.

  For him to verbalise his willingness, his pledge, quelled the flutter of unease I had experienced since leaving Mother’s. It had to be his own decision. Had to be something he readily accepted, also.

  Without that, I could not have considered it.

  * * *

  Wednesday mornings had been granted to me since I had lived with the pack. Nobody else used the bathroom or ventured upstairs. Three long and blissful hours had been designated for me to bathe, pamper, or simply relax, and I luxuriated in them every week.

  Sodden from washing, my hair dripped water that trickled over my bottom. I drew the overgrown strands across my shoulder and dabbed at them with a cloth. Still, one hour remained of my personal time, and I had plans to self-groom before reading the book Edward had loaned me, but my interest switched at the sound of my sister’s voice from somewhere downstairs.

  I frowned and wiped faster at the moisture darkening my hair.

  Jessica rarely visited the house, and only then with a message from Mother. After scraping the brush through my tresses and shimmying into a white petticoat and lemon frock, I wove a plait the length of my spine and stepped out onto the landing.

  Gruff laughter carried up, and I followed it downstairs and into the kitchen.

  “Did I hear Jessica?”

  Giles leaned against the cupboards before the window, with his grin spread wide, his shoulders jigging with his trailing chuckles.

  Charles and Philip, both sitting at the table, made little effort to disguise their own amusement.

  I looked from one to the other, my gaze settling on Giles. “Where is Sean?”

  “Sean is being shorn.” He erupted into more laughter.

  “Very amusing,” I said. “Where are they?”

  His chuckles, at whatever jest I had not been privy to, refused to evaporate.

  My lips pursed at their idiocy. “Never mind.”

  Their rumbles followed my march out the back door.

  A fine rain misted the air and seeped into my pores. Not much of a breeze existed to ruffle the grass that carpeted the way to the forest surrounding the property, yet the weaker limbs of the trees groaned as they swayed. I paused for a moment, listening whilst an inhalation assured me Sean had stepped outside recently.

  “Enough!”

  I whipped to the right at Sean’s holler, and at Jessica’s retaliation of, “I shall decide when we have enough, thank you very much!”

  Lifting my hems from the moist ground, I headed for the barn.

  As it often did in damp climates, the door creaked on opening, and what confronted me as I entered halted my steps.

  Jessica loomed over the stool Sean occupied, shears in hand, a gleam of immense satisfaction in her hazel stare. Upon the rough floor, surrounding Sean like a protection circle, lay a gathering of thick, dark hair, each strand no less than five inches in length.

  I lifted my gaze and followed the line of Sean’s body until I came to the much shorter style Jessica had given him. Beneath it, an expression of pure desolation shone back at me from his eyes.

  Concealing my snort of laughter with my fingertips did not work—proven when Sean’s expression devolved into an impressive scowl.

  “You need not laugh, Jem.” Jessica snipped another lock from his head. “I shall require some of yours, also.”

  My amusement died.

  “At least I shall be able to take less from you.” Another tuft of dark
ness floated down to the floor. “With how long it has grown, I should be able to take some from underneath. That way, it won’t show at all.”

  Not like Sean’s.

  “Oh, and I have a message.” Jessica paused in her coiffing and turned to me. “Mother said you are to make yourself available in the morn. She has … encouraged the rector to meet with you.”

  “Alone?” I had not stepped foot inside the church in a while, and I doubted the rector would receive me too well.

  “Of course not, silly.” She smiled. “Mother and I shall be there.”

  More shearing, more drifting down of hair, and Jessica stepped back with a smile. “There. That ought to be enough, and you look … perfectly handsome.”

  I studied the result and realised Jessica’s skills were more satisfactory than expected. Yes, a few unruly tresses stood prouder than others at his crown, but the mussed style of it all only added charm to his roguish appearance.

  Sean’s stare met mine, the question in it all but screaming at me: How bad is it?

  I moved forward until I could reach him without disturbing the strewn supply and combed my fingers through what remained before stroking his face. “Jessica is quite correct. You look perfectly handsome.”

  The worry creasing his forehead diminished, replaced by the upward quirk of his eyebrow.

  I could do little other than laugh.

  * * *

  St Andrew’s church had always been such an imposing building in my mind. As a small child, the windows had appeared huge, the characters depicted in the stained glass giants, and it daunted just as much when I stood before it as an adult.

  The surrounding land, enclosed by a grey stone wall, provided a final resting place for those who had passed on—including my father. Small headstones poked up from the long grass like guardians of the dead.

  Sean had accompanied me on the walk, and I had little doubt he concealed himself somewhere nearby, but Mother and Jessica had either still to arrive, or they awaited me inside. After sending a glance over my shoulder, should Sean be that way, I ventured in deeper than just within the gate.