Dominating Red

by Kristin Miller

  Falling over me, he remains sheathed deep inside as he breathes into my hair. “You’ve got such a sweet pussy,” he mumbles, his cheek against my back. “It’s…magic.”

  I bite back a laugh and bury my face in the satin sheets. “Did you just say I have a magic pussy?”

  “A man will say anything in the throes of sex.”

  Women, too, it seemed. Because I told him I was his. All his.

  But there was Reaper. Sexy-as-hell, passionate, mysterious, dangerous Reaper. It seemed he would always be there, in the back of my mind, even when I was having mind-blowing sex with someone else.

  Would I ever forget about him?

  My mind blanks for a moment too long, allowing doubt to creep in.

  “It’s time to go,” he says as he pulls out of my core, leaving me hollow and cold. “You’re going to be late for the ceremony.”

  I have to choose a mate—like, now—and I’m no closer to figuring out who that’s going to be than I was when I arrived tonight. I still have the option of letting the Omega choose for me, but who wants to be in an arranged relationship with someone they’ve never met? Not this girl.

  As my thoughts veer off course, I slide out of bed and drape the cloak over my shoulders. There are still a few tears from where Lukas got rough when I was tied up, but as long as I keep the flaps closed in front of me, no one will notice. After washing up in his private restroom, I fluff life back into my hair and readjust my crimson robe. When I reemerge and meet Lukas’s steely gaze, I still don’t know what I’m going to do about choosing a mate.

  “Ivy…” As he faces me, a hand on either of my shoulders, his expression stoic and unreadable, I get the impression his anger has returned. “You have a difficult decision to make tonight. I trust you’ll make the right one.”

  By “right one,” did he mean I should pick him? I’ve heard rumors that Lukas fucks for pleasure and chooses to remain unattached. What if I declare him as my mate and he laughs in my face in front of everyone? I’d be foolish to think he wanted me longer than an hour.

  I’m no more special than any other woman he’s pleasured during January’s Wolf Moon.

  I can’t choose Reaper—I know I can’t. He told me so before leaving me in my chamber earlier. Is the only reason I want him so much because I can’t have him? Goddamn forbidden fruit, anyway. It looks ripe and juicy, but when you take a big bite, it’s probably rotten.

  I’m torn.

  “How will I know?” I ask, staring up at the hard angles of Lukas’s face. “What’s right and wrong? I don’t want to be mated to someone I don’t know. That’s not the path for me. It’s down to the wire, and I’m still so confused.”

  He kisses my forehead, jumpstarting my heart. “You have to be smart about the move you make next.” A mischievous smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “It’s like a game of chess. Call out the wrong piece, and the queen could lose her head.”

  I wait for him to laugh or smack me on the ass in that dominant, possessive way of his. But he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls the hood over my head and leads me toward the Great Hall as a heavy sense of dread weighs on my shoulders. He’s not joking. The next words out of my mouth will determine the rest of my life.

  But should I be smart about the decision and use my head, or listen to my heart?

  The clock on the grand staircase strikes midnight, chiming twelve deafening times through the castle.

  Will Reaper attend the ceremony where I pledge my life to another? Will he view me with anger or indifference? Or has the fact that I’ve been taken by the Alpha changed things? I don’t regret being with Lukas or Reaper, but I can’t have both.

  The time has come…

  Chapter Three

  Ivy

  Holy. Wolves.

  They’re everywhere.

  As I enter the Great Hall, I scan the furry faces around me. Short wolves, skinny wolves, brown wolves, black wolves. I feel like I’m stuck in a warped Doctor Seuss book. They’re so different, each one unique in its own way. I only saw my parents shift into wolves one time, and that was so they could prove my fate wasn’t frightening.

  My life would still be normal, they’d said.

  But standing in a Victorian gothic castle filled with giant werewolves is only normal if you’re acting in an HBO special with an insanely talented hair and makeup person.

  As we stride between rows of giant black mats—where the wolves will sit in a few short minutes, I assume—Lukas whispers something in my ear before leaving me to take his seat on the front stage.

  I think he says, “You know what to do,” but I can’t be sure through the fuzzing in my head.

  A gold throne is situated front and center, with thick black swags of fabric sweeping overhead and two black leather chairs on either side. Lukas sits in the chair on the left, crossing his ankle over his knee as if he’s bored before the ceremony has even begun. As my gaze slides across the stage and lands on Reaper, my heart hiccups in my chest.

  Holy hotness, there he is.

  He’s sitting to the right of the throne, glowering at Lukas, a frown pulling at the corners of his gorgeous mouth. As I scope him out, from his slick, black hair to his mesmerizing onyx eyes, I’m taken aback—again—by how drop-dead-sexy he is. Somehow it feels as if he’s imprinted on me, and simply being in the same room with him has rendered me incapable of focusing on anyone else. A shadow of stubble covers his wide jaw, and his golden-tan skin nearly glows in the candlelight. He’s six foot six and over two-hundred pounds of thick cords of muscle. Not that you’d know it from the way he’s hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees.

  I track Reaper’s line of sight to Lukas, who is flanking the other side of the throne.

  Ah, the Omega’s two hotter-than-hell grandsons.

  And I’ve screwed them both tonight.

  I wonder if there’s a congeniality medal awarded after the ceremony. I’d be a sure win.

  “Excuse me,” I say, weaving around a wolf as he leans over the mat and scoots toward the front edge. His fur is black and matted, and the ridge on his back spikes high as I maneuver around him. “Pardon me,” I respond to another, who growls when I step on his tail. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, tripping over the thick paw of a silver-haired wolf.

  When another pre-shifter—a fair-skinned redhead with an evergreen robe—pulls me by the elbow and guides me toward the back of the room, I’m thankful beyond words.

  “You’re late.” Yanking me through a curtain partitioning the Great Hall from this antechamber, she pushes me toward the back of the line of pre-shifters. There are twenty women—give or take a few—and each looks more worried than the one standing behind her. “You’re also extremely lucky. The Omega and Reaper were tied up taking care of some emergency pack business, so they haven’t started yet. How was it?”

  “What?”

  “You know.” She waggles her thinly plucked eyebrows. “Lukas.”

  “Oh.” Brazen and bruising. “It was good.”

  Even though none of the other pre-shifters glance my way, I get the feeling they’re listening, hanging on my every word.

  “You know that’s what they all say.” Evergreen sighs dreamily, never breaking eye contact. “I hear he’s packing below the belt.”

  Grinning at the memory of his gargantuan cock, I feel a familiar throbbing sensation grow low in my belly. I want him between my legs again, filling me, twitching inside me. I just might be addicted. I know it’s not possible, and certainly not kosher, but I’m jonesing for Reaper and Lukas.

  “I knew it.” Smacking her hands together, Evergreen jumps up and down on her toes. “Man, I wish he’d picked me. Ah, well. Guess I have to settle for an arrangement from the Omega.”

  “You’re really going to have her match you with a stranger?”

  “Why not?” She shrugs. “The Omega matched my parents, and they’ve been married for forty years this month. If only Reaper were on the market—I’m only twenty-three and could
put off shifting another two years for a chance at him. You did hear he was back, didn’t you? God, I’m going to wet myself when I stand up there. That’s going to be too much beauty for one stage.”

  Blushing with naughty thoughts, I pull my crimson cloak closed and scissor my bottom lip between my teeth. “I thought I heard something about Reaper returning.”

  She leans in close, her glossy lips smashing together before she says, “I hear he’s not staying long. Has to pick up the hunt again, or something like that. But can you imagine if he were going to come back? He’d be the most eligible werewolf here.”

  Most Eligible Werewolf.

  Not a title I sleep with every day.

  “What about the Alpha?” As a draft blows from somewhere behind me, the curtain ruffles, giving me a clear shot of Lukas. He’s sitting where I saw him last, his gaze raking over the packmates assembling in front of him. “He’s still single. Why hasn’t anyone chosen him?”

  “Lukas?” The girl’s voice pitches so high, the pre-shifters in front of her spin around and shoot wicked glares. She lowers her voice as she says, “Believe me, there have been tons of women over the years—even ones in line today—who would happily slice your throat to rule the pack alongside him.”

  Extreme, but I get the picture.

  “I heard about two women who chose him a few years back, but when they stood with Lukas in front of the Omega, she said they weren’t compatible. Not by a long shot. She said it was her duty to make sure the Alpha’s mate was fully capable of ruling the pack as well. Imagine that. Only made the female pre-shifters want him more.”

  “I can imagine.”

  But I don’t want Lukas for what his position of authority can do for me. I want him because he’s a sex god who knows what my body craves and fulfills its every need. He’s also strong and commanding, and he makes me feel secure.

  At the same time, if I put a muzzle on my inner horn-dog and try to be honest with myself, I don’t get a warm, fuzzy feeling when I’m around him. That butterfly-in-my-stomach, can’t-stop-thinking-about-you sensation is notably missing. And I need to have that in my life. It’s passion incarnate, and I want to feel that when I’m in the arms of my soul mate.

  I have that kind of passion with Reaper.

  Yet I can’t choose him.

  As I stare at the women in front of me, dressed in the vibrant colors of the rainbow, a werewolf from the Great Hall howls eerily. Another wolf follows suit. Within seconds, the entire castle is filled with a howling symphony that pierces my ears.

  “They’re welcoming the Omega to the ceremony,” Evergreen says. “My parents told me about this part.”

  Standing on tiptoe, I search for the Omega through the mob and let my shoulders slump as disappointment sets in.

  “She’s not in wolf form,” I think aloud.

  A pre-shifter in a cerulean cloak spins around and says, “The Omega hasn’t shifted in fifty years. Some think she’s too old and can’t do it anymore. Lukas and Reaper stay in human form out of respect for her choice, so she’s not the only one in the pack who hasn’t shifted.”

  “That’s a bummer.”

  I’ve seen Reaper as a wolf, when the Alpha’s guards all but ripped me out of his arms earlier. I spotted him through the window of my chamber, his back raised, teeth bared, and fur sticking up everywhere. But I’m curious about the Omega and Lukas. Would he be lean and sleek, or strong and powerful? Would she be an old and frail wolf? Hardly able to walk, as she is now? She shuffles toward her throne, barely lifting her feet, and braces herself to take her seat.

  “Werewolves…packmates,” the Omega bellows, her voice echoing off the walls of the castle. “Welcome to our annual January Wolf Moon Ceremony!”

  The crowd goes wild, howling, roaring, and stomping their paws.

  “We have a surprise guest.” She spreads her left arm toward Reaper’s seat. “My eldest grandson, and your former Alpha, Reaper, has returned. He’s not staying long, so I caution you against getting your hopes up, but we’re thrilled to have him here with us tonight.”

  Reaper searches the room, from one furry face to another, as his packmates welcome him back with growls and gnashing teeth. He laughs, changing the tone in the hall to something lighter as the wolves paw at the ground and bow their heads.

  “He’s a natural leader,” the violet-cloaked woman in front of me mumbles. “And so hot.”

  “You should see him naked.” The words spill out of me before I can catch them. Every single one of the pre-shifters turns around slowly and pins me with a curious stare. “Not that I’ve seen him in the flesh,” I recover poorly. “Only in my dreams.”

  Cerulean rolls her eyes at Violet as Evergreen flashes me a knowing smile.

  “We’re going to get started with the bonding ceremony,” the Omega announces, as the crowd of wolves goes still. “As I declare the color of each ceremonial robe, the pre-shifting woman shall step forward and stand her ground in front of me, proclaiming the name of her chosen mate. As they join hands before my throne, I will determine whether they are solidly or poorly matched.”

  Whispers spread through the group like wildfire as anticipation spirals through me. I’m here, ready to walk in front of the Omega, Reaper, and Lukas, and I still don’t know what I’m going to do.

  “You okay, Red?” Evergreen asks, tugging on my sleeve. “You went pale.”

  “I’ll be fine.” The air whooshes out of me as a clammy wave settles over my bones. “I just want to get this over with.”

  “Let’s begin!” the Omega hollers, and the curtain opens, revealing our group for the pack to see. “Violet!”

  The blonde in the bright purple robe steps forward, and the line edges up to fill her place. Striding down the center aisle, her robe flowing behind her, Violet climbs the steps onto the stage, and faces the Omega.

  “I choose…” She takes a deep breath. “Rob Parker.”

  The Great Hall is so quiet I can hear a pin drop as a curtain on the right side of the hall is pulled back, revealing a lineup of twenty-something males. A tall, Clark Kent-looking guy trudges toward the stage after getting a dozen congratulatory smacks on the back from his “friends.”

  “Rob Parker,” the Omega says, as if she tastes his name on her tongue. Her attention flips between Rob and Violet as she leans forward and rests her elbows on her knees. “Fated match.”

  And just like that, the hall erupts in a fit of howls. Covering my ears, I search the rows of pre-shifting males. A few of them are cute. Thin lips. Soft eyes. High cheeks. Others are gangly looking. Spindly arms. Crooked teeth. And a very select few are handsome, with bright eyes and chiseled jaws. My luck, those are the ones who came in with established girlfriends.

  I doubt any of them would bend me over their bed and take what they wanted from me the way Lukas had. None of them would sweep me off my feet the way Reaper had in the garden, making me feel more like a woman and a temptress than I ever had before.

  “Orange!”

  Another pre-shifter walks forward, and the line adjusts. This time, as Orange stands in front of the Omega, she raises her hands from her sides until her arms and body form a cross.

  The classic sign of sacrifice.

  Without skipping a beat, the Omega says, “Louis Martinez,” and another male is beaten to the front of the line. He shuffles to the stage, hands clasped in front of him nervously, and stands beside Orange.

  “Fated match,” the Omega whispers, and the same howls of approval rumble through the hall.

  As the line moves forward and more women are called, panic sets in. I don’t know what I’m doing. I need more time, but I don’t have it. I need this pack—this family—to ease me through the shifting process and show me the ins and outs. I’ll shift into a wolf for the first time before dawn breaks, and I’m hyperaware that time is slipping through my fingers.

  Tick, tock.

  Lukas, Reaper.

  Reaper, Lukas.

  The line shortens. Cerulea
n is called forward, followed by Yellow and Evergreen.

  Oh God, I’m next.

  I take my place at the front of the line and eye the stage. Lukas and Reaper are staring right at me—through me—as if each man alone will ease my nerves. But nothing slows the racing of my heart.

  “Red!” the Omega shouts, and then all I can hear is the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of my heartbeat in my ears.

  Swallowing hard, I step forward and feel the weight of hundreds of eyes on me. My heart thunders in my ribs with every step. And as I search through the pack, from one wolf to another, I realize they’re paired off, two wolves to a mat.

  They’re still with the one they chose on a night just like this.

  The air wheezes out of my lungs as I continue my death march. Nerves prickle up my back and gather at the base of my neck as I climb the stairs and walk across the stage.

  Reaper, Lukas.

  Lukas, Reaper.

  I don’t even know which one is the frontrunner as I stare into the Omega’s eyes. And why does Reaper’s name keep spiraling through my head when I know I can’t have him? My world spins with panic and uncertainty. Waves of sticky heat fill my chest and clog my thoughts. I’m hot—so scorching I can’t breathe.

  “I…” Swallowing cotton, I lick my lips to return the moisture, but it doesn’t work. I let my eyes wander from Reaper to Lukas and back again. I don’t want to hurt either of them. Or maybe I’m narcissistic to think I’ve affected them at all. Maybe neither wants me the way I want him, in which case I should save myself the humiliation of rejection and let the Omega choose from door number three. “I choose…”

  My vision swims as my knees give out and I hit the floor.

  Strong hands are around my face as I blink up into blackness. Another pair of hands squeeze my cheeks.

  “Red? Can you hear me?”

  I hear the words, but can’t make out who is saying them. It takes every ounce of energy I have left to peel my eyes open. Numbness spreads from my feet up my legs, and settles in my stomach, and I know it’s not long before it overtakes me completely.