by Liza Street
She wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist and eased onto the bed beside him, squeezing a few inches of mattress for herself so she could rest next to him and wake easily if he needed something during the night.
His scent wrapped around her, masculinity and sandalwood, and she repeated to herself Stetson’s promise that Jase would heal on his own and he’d be fine.
“Blythe?” he said in a low, quiet voice.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I washed most of the blood away. Stetson said—”
“I’m wondering when you’re gonna yell at me and then tell me you love me.”
She sucked in a breath. “You heard all that?”
“I’ve been listening for a while, babe.”
She could hear the smile in his voice and if he wasn’t injured, she’d probably smack his arm.
“Those were private confessions,” she said.
“But you said them to me,” he said.
“Only because I thought you were unconscious!” She never would’ve exposed every feeling in her heart if she’d thought he could hear her—not after he’d rejected her.
He rolled from his stomach and onto his side.
“Should you be doing that?” she asked.
“I’m practically good as new.”
The outlines of his features were visible in the faint moonlight streaming through the cabin windows. His eyes shone as he regarded her, face to face.
“I’m hopeful enough to assume you meant what you said a minute ago,” Jase said, “because Blythe? I love you, too. I never want to be apart. I don’t care whether or not the barrier lets us through. I want to stay here with you, or get out of the Junkyard with you. Whatever you want, I just want us to be together.”
“But I’m human,” she said, feeling his earlier rejection even as she rejoiced at his declaration of love. He loved her. It had to count for something. “My so-called frail humanity hasn’t changed.”
“But I have changed,” he said. “There are no guarantees. Ever. I hurt someone, a human, and that’s why I’m here in the Junkyard.”
She nodded. “You said that, before.”
“His death was an accident,” Jase said quietly. “This guy and his friends were harassing a woman on the sidewalk. I told them to leave her alone. They shouted some insults at me, most to do with the color of my skin, but I thought it was over. Then the leader of the crowd followed me, and cornered me in an alley. It was one wrong, stupid move I made, pushing him back. He landed on a piece of metal, cut his femoral artery, and bled out. If he’d been a shifter, he’d have been fine, bounced right back up. But he wasn’t, and he didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry,” Blythe said, squeezing his arm.
“Me, too. The guy was a sexist, racist asshole, but I didn’t want him to die. And ever since then I’ve been telling myself that I should stay away from humans.”
“Exactly,” she said.
“Exactly nothing.” He wrapped his arm around her and tugged her toward him. “I love you, Blythe. Like you tried to tell me before, there are no guarantees—not for humans, not for shifters. I love you no matter what. The past two days have taught me I’m no better off when I stay away. I fuckin’ pined for you, Blythe.”
Her breath caught in her throat like a trapped sob.
“Hey,” he said. “Don’t cry.”
“You left me, you jerk,” she said, taking a great, gasping breath.
“I was an idiot.”
“I know. And I’d be yelling at you except the last time I looked at your back, it looked like hamburger meat.”
“Wow, that’s a great visual, babe. But I’m glad you’re not yelling.”
“Don’t do that again. Don’t leave, don’t get cut up by a bad guy.”
“Okay. I definitely won’t leave. And I’ll try not to get cut up.”
She snuggled into his chest. Her heart was at ease, and she felt safe.
“And the guy is gone?” she asked suddenly, about to sit up. “The one who hurt you?”
“Yeah. Dead. Stetson or Barnum killed him and one other.” He sighed. “We’ll have to deal with it in the morning.”
By “it” she assumed he meant the bodies.
“In the meantime,” he said, “I want to kiss my mate. Is that okay with you?”
“More than okay.”
His lips touched hers and she sighed in contentment. The past couple of days had been hell, but now, all was right in the world.
And she fully planned on really yelling at him once his back was better.
22
When Jase woke the next morning, Blythe in his arms, he gave an experimental stretch and flexed his back. The skin was tender, maybe scabbed up, but the wounds were no longer open and he was grateful for that.
He was more grateful for the woman in his arms. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, nor her acceptance.
He didn’t deserve her, period.
She sighed in her sleep—it was the sound she usually made before waking up. At some point during the night, she’d flipped over so they were spooning, her back to his front. He was naked, and hard. He’d cupped one of her breasts in his palm while he slept, and now he gave it a gentle squeeze. More like a breast hug. She wouldn’t object to that, would she?
She sighed and murmured, “Feels good.”
His cock, already hopeful, hardened further.
She’d told him she loved him. She even forgave him for being an ass. He had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky, but he would never, ever take Blythe’s gift for granted. And he’d start showing her how grateful he was by giving her lots of orgasms…starting now.
Her nipple had hardened under his touch, so he rubbed it slowly, lazily, as if they had an eternity to build up—because they did. She pushed her ass against him and he bit back a groan.
“I want you,” she said.
“I want you, too.”
He nuzzled aside some of her hair so he could kiss her neck. She moved her head forward, granting him more access, so he nuzzled and licked, enjoying the way she writhed and the way she pressed her ass against his dick while thrusting her chest forward into his grasp.
“You’re mine,” he whispered in her ear, moving his hand down so he could yank off the sweats she’d worn to sleep in. “Tell me it’s true.”
“I’m yours,” she said, kicking her pants off the rest of the way.
Delving his fingers into her folds, he continued kissing her neck and whispering in her ear, gently biting the lobe when she didn’t respond right away. He had her gasping and moaning in no time, and after another minute of stroking, her body shook and tensed as she came.
“Jase,” she said, turning around to face him. Her lips were parted, her eyes heavy-lidded. Reaching down, she gripped his cock, jacking him slowly. He thrust into her grip.
“I love you,” he whispered, pulling her leg over his. “Just like you’re mine, Blythe, I’m yours. However you want me, as much as you want me.”
“I want you here, now.” She guided his cock to her pussy and he waited, enjoying the delicious anticipation, lingering in the wetness that coated her folds.
“Please,” she said on a sigh.
Jase couldn’t deny her. He thrust forward, filling her and enjoying the tight squeeze of her surrounding him. He locked eyes with her, drinking in her gaze, her dilated pupils, the way her lips contorted with pleasure.
She tightened her leg around his side, keeping him close as her hips began to rock back and forth in time with his thrusts. Everything centered on her—his dick, his gaze, and every beat of his heart. He loved this woman. He loved her so fucking much.
He gathered her close, kissing her neck, running his hand over her breasts, gently tugging on each of her nipples in turn. She sighed and her hips moved faster.
He could finish any second, but he didn’t want to lose control. “I’m going to come soon, babe. But I want to feel you come on my cock, first. I want to feel you squeezing me while you moan.”
> “Yes,” she said. “I’m close.”
“I want to hear my name on your lips.”
“Jase,” she gasped. “Jase.”
“I’ve got you,” he said, and felt the rippling squeezes of her pussy constricting over his dick.
As she shook against him, he let himself go, fucking into her harder and faster, with less control. He clamped his teeth over her shoulder, biting just hard enough to leave a faint mark, no harder. She was his mate, but they hadn’t talked about mate marks yet.
Still, the idea that he’d mark her for even an hour was enough to send him over the edge, emptying into her sweet pussy. He held her tightly as his cock pulsed, and kissed the place on her neck that he’d bitten.
“Blythe,” he said. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”
“And you’re never leaving again, are you?” she said in a surprisingly stern voice.
He pulled his face back from hers so they could see each other better. “I’m never leaving again. I’m choosing love over fear, babe. I’m yours, and you’re mine.”
“Good.” She sighed. “I guess that means I can skip the yelling at you part of my morning.”
“I can still make you yell, if you want,” he said with a wink, and flexed his dick inside of her.
She arched an eyebrow at him in challenge. “All right, loverboy, let’s see you try.”
23
Although Blythe had been worried about Jase’s injuries, he more than proved his quick healing by his endurance in bed. They spent most of the morning together, making up after their few days apart. She refrained from yelling at him, which was easy when he was doling out orgasms like the best house on the block passing out candy during Halloween.
As she lay panting in his arms, he kissed the tip of her nose, her chin, her cheeks.
“I love you, Blythe,” he whispered.
“I love you, too.” She spoke it with the same certainty she felt—it was an absolute truth. And the truth of it made her happy. Jase made her happy.
She was lucky.
They stared into each other’s eyes and she drank in the good feelings, the truth of their love. She would never forget this moment, as long as she lived.
As if he understood where her thoughts were going, he leaned forward and gave her another soft kiss on the lips. “You’re mine,” he whispered.
“Always.” She sighed and snuggled against him, then pulled back. “We should take care of the bad guys, huh?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I guess I need to go do alpha stuff.”
She felt herself grinning. “Alpha stuff, huh? What does that entail?”
“Beating my chest, hollering, maybe pissing on a tree or something to show people it belongs to me.”
Blythe laughed.
“Damn, I love your laugh, babe,” he said. “Throaty and wonderful. Anyway, you want to come with me?”
“I’m not peeing on any trees,” she said.
“Come out with me, walk around. Araujo said you’ve barely left the cabin the past few days.”
“I want to check on Barnum, first,” she said. “I’m feeling bad we haven’t already done that.”
“He’s alive,” Jase said. “Someone would’ve come by if he didn’t make it.”
“Are you sure? Maybe they did come by, and we were too busy to hear them knocking.”
His kiss was swift but thorough, leaving her breathless. “Let’s get up and check on him. It was the first item on my list of alpha things.”
Blythe got ready in a hurry, then she and Jase were leaving their little cabin in paradise and hurrying toward the northern border of the Junkyard.
There was no one in sight.
“Does this mean he’s…?” Blythe couldn’t finish the thought. She’d been so grateful Jase was healing, she hadn’t spared much energy or thought on anyone else. Perhaps she should have. Perhaps if she’d checked on Barnum sooner—
“He was here, and I’m guessing he got better, just like I did,” Jase said. “I don’t smell any death. Blood, yes. Lots of it. But no death.”
Blythe was already turning to walk south again. She tugged on Jase’s hand. “Let’s go to the dump, see if he’s in his den or what.”
He twined his fingers with hers and they hurried along. Blythe’s throat felt tight. Jase didn’t smell death, so Barnum was probably okay. But this couldn’t keep happening. The Junkyard was in danger, and she knew Jase wouldn’t stand for it, either.
“What are we going to do about this?” she asked. “They came here to kill us.”
He grimaced. “I know. Once we reassure ourselves that Barnum is okay, I’ll talk to Grant, see if he can make some calls for us.”
The rusted cars and scraps of the dump had just come into view when Stetson appeared, walking toward them, a slender book tucked under his arm.
“How’s Barnum?” Blythe called when they were still far apart.
“He’ll make it,” Stetson said.
Blythe exhaled in relief.
Jase shook hands with Stetson when they reached each other and said, “Thanks for bringing me to my mate last night.”
Stetson looked between Jase and Blythe. “You’re welcome.”
“I take it there was no sign of any other intruders?” Jase asked.
“Not a hair nor a hide,” Stetson said. “Further, Mollin gave a sniff all over the area. All those guys are Jagged Forest Clan.”
“I need to talk to Grant,” Jase said.
“Markowicz talked to him last night,” Stetson said. “I’ll let you get details from him.”
Stetson walked away, already opening his book again.
“The man reads a lot, doesn’t he?” Blythe said. “I miss reading…maybe he’ll let me borrow a book sometime.”
“You can borrow a book anytime,” Stetson called over his shoulder.
“Thanks,” Blythe said.
She’d forgotten about shifters’ good hearing, and she looked up at Jase, feeling embarrassed. He was smiling at her, fondly, his mismatched eyes sparkling in the morning light.
“Let’s go talk to Markowicz,” Jase said, kissing her forehead.
He steered her through the dump, winding through piles of old cars that could be shifter dens, or just piles of old cars. Blythe couldn’t tell the difference, although when they stopped in front of one pile, she noticed a plastic welcome mat in front of a dismantled metal door. The welcome mat had Home Sweet Home emblazoned across it in a scripted blue font. Blythe smirked, and pointed.
“That’s new.” Jase chuckled, then knocked on the door.
“Go away,” a voice called from inside.
“It’s Jase. We need to talk.”
“Oh.” There were sounds of shuffling around inside, then the door banged open, revealing a very rumpled looking, and very naked, Ronan Markowicz. He took one look at Blythe and his green eyes widened in surprise before the door slammed shut. A few seconds later, it opened again and he was wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.
“Morning, boss,” he said.
“Stop calling me boss,” Jase said.
“Sure thing.” To Blythe, he said, “Sorry about the naked stuff.”
“No problem.” She grinned. The view hadn’t been half bad.
Jase gave her a gentle pinch on her ass, and she grinned even wider.
Jase said, “Sorry for the early wake-up, but Stetson said you spoke to Grant last night. Good thinking.”
“Yeah, we need to get to the bottom of this ASAP.” Ronan nodded. “We figured you’d want all the info possible today.”
“You were right,” Blythe said.
“So how does it stand?” Jase asked.
“It’s bad news,” Ronan said, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair. “We have maybe a day at most before they send in all their fighters.”
“Wait—hold on,” Blythe said. “Why?”
“The Jagged Forest Clan got a new alpha, maybe a month ago. And he hates us, for some reason.”
T
hat didn’t make sense to Blythe. She could see maybe, maybe having a grudge against one Junkyard shifter. Like Alleman. In fact, that’s what they’d all thought his death was about. But all the Junkyard shifters?
“Markowicz and I were two of the first guys put in this place,” Jase said quietly. “Not all of the groups outside were convinced that this project was worthwhile. Some believed that if you broke the law and were judged irredeemable, you deserved to be killed.”
“You mentioned that before,” Blythe said.
“So, it sounds to me like the new alpha of the Jagged Forest Clan is among the crowd that don’t agree with the Junkyard’s existence.”
“I don’t like it,” Blythe said, “but sure, I guess it’s motive for what they’re doing. But it still doesn’t make sense—it doesn’t explain what these guys think is going to happen to them once they come inside, to come after us. They’ll be trapped here, too.”
Jase looked around, his arm tightening on Blythe’s waist. “Look at this place. Yeah, it’s a dump, but it’s also gorgeous. It’s home, so I’m biased, but I wouldn’t want to leave, either, ya know?”
“So the plan is they wipe us out and stay here, claim it as a territory?”
“That’s what I think,” Jase said.
Ronan spoke up. “That’s the conclusion Grant and I came to, as well.”
Jase’s gaze flicked around the trees and landed on the gravel line that ringed the Junkyard. “We’re going to need some patrols along the boundary. Four-hour shifts. I’m thinking four people at a time, working in pairs. I’d like to work on a plan for how to handle whoever comes in.”
His voice sounded strong, but he looked worried. Blythe took his hand in hers and gave him a squeeze. They’d get through this—together.
Ronan started toward the dump, presumably to gather their patrols.
“Markowicz,” Jase barked.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Jase said. “Appreciate your help.”
Ronan’s green eyes gleamed. “Thanks, boss.”