The Longing of Lone Wolves

by Lana Pecherczyk

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The mating need had never left Rush. Not since the moment he’d sunk his teeth into Clarke and coated her with his scent. Before they’d entered the room, he’d smelled himself on her body and it made every instinct within him howl with possessive pride. The way she’d taken him into her mouth... it had made him weak for her touch. And now he had her at his mouth while he feasted and probed and swirled. Her taste was drugging, and the way she responded to his every touch sent his mind spiraling, falling and crashing. He would turn into a beast of need if he couldn’t keep her roving hands off him. She pushed him to a new urgent pace. The woman knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to ask for it. Assertively, she took his head and guided the direction of his tongue to where she wanted it. He pulled back with a growl of restraint.

  She looked down her body, cheeks flush. “Don’t stop.”

  “You said whatever I want,” he reminded.

  She nodded.

  “So I want to take my time.”

  A frustrated sound mewled out of her and she dropped her head to the pillow. “I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

  “I’ve waited decades for this. I won’t be rushed.” He stroked her thighs. “You will wait.”

  “So bossy.” But she said it with a bright-eyed smile.

  She was the elemental divine made flesh. Silken flames flowed around her shoulders. The color also dusted her sex. He never wanted it to end, and she was eager for it to go faster. He wasn’t playing. He was avoiding because if he let her have her way, he feared his resolve to make it last.

  And it needed to last.

  He hadn’t been wrong when he told her she was a dream turned real for him. Any time he’d fantasized about being with a female, he’d imagined the flesh, the carnal act, but not the deep satisfaction filling the aching hollow of his chest. This connection went beyond gratification. It was like she’d said, there had been something between them from the start, something waiting for them to acknowledge, and now that they had, it was there to stay. With her, he never felt alone. She saw him. She saw into him.

  The whisper of her voice floated back, “You’re not a bad person for wanting this.”

  He only wished this wasn’t so close to the end of his curse.

  He shook the thought away. There was no place for that here. Right now he had to make himself last. His eyes tracked again to the torn tunic wrapped around her head.

  “Clarke,” he said, voice hoarse with an idea. It deepened. “Princess.”

  She drew her fevered gaze back to his.

  “Do you trust me?” he asked.

  No hesitation. She nodded. Her complete and utter submission sucked the air from his lungs. She trusted. Knowing this clicked something inside him. He would prove her trust founded. He would give her the best of him.

  He gave an affectionate goodbye kiss at the apex of her thighs, just for now, and then prowled up the length of her body. He tugged off the torn strip and enjoyed splaying her red tresses around the pillow. She watched him, eyes dancing with humor. It would get messed up soon, but that wasn’t the point. The point was she allowed him the moment to learn another intimate piece of her identity, an act reserved for loved ones. Tonight he would find many more of these brief moments with her.

  “Do you have a thing for tying me up?” she teased.

  “Only when you test my resolve.”

  “So this is my fault.”

  He bared his teeth. “The fault is my lack of restraint at the want of your touch.”

  She snorted, but gave him her hands.

  With one knee on either side of her hips, he gathered her wrists and gently tied them together. As he lifted her bound arms over her head and leaned toward the bedhead, the tip of his cock grazed and tickled her abdomen, sending fire scooting up his spine. He cursed. Tensed. He was so close to the edge. All it took was a trace of her skin and he was almost over. Satisfied she couldn’t reach out to him, he came back down to her, surprised to find her eying his member with heat.

  He took himself in hand and squeezed. “Do you want this in your mouth again?”

  She nodded, licking her lips.

  He pumped until the aching need abated a little and then whispered low and rough in her ears. “First, I want to take my time giving you every pleasure I’ve fantasized about for decades.”

  “You torture me,” she moaned. “I’m going to die.”

  “You’ll die happy.”

  “Rush,” she pleaded.

  His lips curved up one side, and then his amusement dropped. “If it’s too much, tell me.” He eyed the wrist bindings warily. “You tell me. Understand?”

  She licked her lip and nodded. “What... what did you fantasize about?”

  His gaze lingered on the way her breasts lifted with her quickening breath. Tight, hard and aroused. She was more than his fantasy. He captured a pebbled nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue, sucking and groaning around the peak. “This,” he murmured, and then did the same to the other. “And this.” He moved down her center, stopping and studying every inch as though it was his only chance. His last. Because tomorrow he might wake with the last of his mana expended. If Thaddeus came for them in the night, he would use any and every tool in his arsenal to protect Clarke. One more shift into wolf, one more slip of control, and he would be done. He was well aware that he could lose his hold even now. At least he’d have this moment, this small taste of honey. Frowning once again at the direction of his thoughts, he moved down her stomach until he reached the red patch of hair and nuzzled between her legs. He licked. She made little whimpering sounds. Then he opened her wide and blew a jet of air right where it mattered most.

  Her writhing cry of abandon brought a smile to his lips.

  “You like that?” he asked, then laved and did it again.

  She tensed in response, and so he ran his finger around her heat, teasing the outside before finally slipping in. A deep, inarticulate sound came out of him when he found her ready.

  “You really want this.”

  “God, yes.” She lifted to him.

  He increased his pace, dipping to explore with his tongue, taking more insistent strokes until his own need churned within restlessness. Every mewling sound she made, every bow of her back and small thrust of her hips delighted him to no end. He slid his hand beneath her pelvis and lifted her to him, increasing the pressure of his tongue. Her thighs clenched, coiling her tight. He gave more until her scream of ecstasy filled the room and she went languid beneath him.

  Drawing back, he took pleasure in the way she panted to catch her breath, the sated expression on her face, and most importantly, the way she watched him, the way she saw him—with complete carnal belonging—it was the way he felt about her. He untied her hands and gently rubbed her wrists, giving each a reverent kiss on the inside.

  “Thank you,” he said. “For giving me that pleasure.”

  She arched a brow. “I think you have it all wrong, baby. It should be the other way around.”

  “Baby.” A short laugh burst out. “Why do you call me a babe?”

  She huffed, chagrinned. “It’s a term of endearment in my time.”

  “Did I act like a mewling newborn?”

  “No, sir, you most definitely did not.”

  His gaze darkened. “Maybe I thanked you because I want to be in your debt.”

  “I’m sure I can arrange something.” She shimmied down the bed and hooked her legs around his waist, nudging him closer to her center. Her eyes fluttered closed and he scolded her.

  “Keep them open, princess. I want you to see me when I fill you. I want you to always remember it is me bringing you to this bliss.”

  “God, you say the most arrogant things.”

  He angled himself at her entrance and in small teasing movements, sheathed himself to the hilt. The shear electric buzz of it curled his toes. She fit him, perfectly. Holding his position until he could function, he lowered his lips to her
s and murmured, “You can touch me now.”

  A wicked gleam flashed in her eyes. “Maybe I’ll tie you up.”

  He circled his hips. She whimpered.

  “Nope,” she breathed. “I’m... I can’t. Oh God, do that again.”

  He dragged out and in, enjoying the way she went boneless beneath him. He did it again. And again. Each time he watched her reaction, finding something new to revel in. A lick or bite of her lips. A euphoric roll of her eyes. A slight frown of concentration. It was all a reaction to him, to the genuine moment they shared. He was alive. He was seen.

  Each time she revealed herself, it carved out a little piece of his heart, making space for her to crawl in and occupy. He knew, without a doubt, that no matter what happened next, even if she didn’t stay with him, or if these were his last moments, that space would still be there. It would follow him until the next life.

  Clarke’s breath caught, and then she let out a shuddering moan, bowing her back. His mark on her neck had never been more on display. Desire broke the banks of his control and he kissed her with hunger, swallowing the remnants of her bliss. His movements turned frantic, and it was all she could do to hold on. Tension rode his system. Every bone, muscle and tendon retracted from too much sensation. But he was powerless to stop. He thrust and pounded, kissed and nipped, faster and harder until the headboard crashed against the wall, and sweet heat sizzled up his spine. Until he planted himself and shuddered through his release with a deep, rumbling growl of satisfaction.

  He stayed inside her, holding her in his arms. The oil in the lamps was almost spent, and the fire was almost out. Her breathing seemed to even out and he pulled out, jolting her awake.

  “We’re not done.”

  “What?” Her eyes flew open.

  “We have all night.”

  She gave him a listless smile. “We have to sleep at some point.”

  “Yes.” He dragged his teeth along her jaw. “At some point.”

  “I’m kinda hungry too.”

  Another swell of warmth hit him in the chest. He shifted off the bed and found a cloth at the wash basin to clean her, and then he filled a glass with liquor and broke off a chunk of hard cheese. Through it all, she studied him with one hand propped behind her head.

  “You’re glowing,” she noted. “It’s covering more of you now.”

  He settled on the bed and lifted a piece of cheese to her lips. “It’s close to the end,” he admitted.

  “How much time is left?”

  “Maybe a few weeks. Months at most.”

  She ate and sat up with a frown, chewing. Before she could speak, he lifted the glass of liquor to her lips. She drank, swallowed, but then scowled. “What’s with the feeding?”

  “I like knowing I’m providing for you.” For now. He winced.

  Her gaze softened and dropped to the glyphs. “Rush,” she whispered, forlorn.

  “Don’t speak about it. Let’s have tonight.” He used his thumb to wipe a drop from the corner of her mouth. “And it’s only just begun. I have more fantasies for you to fulfill.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Clarke woke from a deep, dreamless sleep and instantly knew the warm weight over her body was Rush’s arm and leg. Naked and cocooned in his arms, she didn’t want to move and drifted lazily listening to the sounds of the inn waking up below them. Someone emptied water in the alley. Birds tweeted nearby. Banging sounds thudded on the wooden floors elsewhere in the establishment. The smell of fresh-baked bread wafted in and her stomach grumbled.

  It was no wonder she was hungry. They’d stayed up half the night enjoying each other’s company. Rush wasn’t wrong when he’d said he needed no elixir to keep aroused around his mate. Clarke stretched languidly, feeling the pleasant pull of their lovemaking in every aching part of her body. The fae was a machine with endless stamina. Clarke was the one who had called it a night because she simply couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Rush didn’t complain. He’d tucked her smaller body into his larger one and surrounded her until she drifted away.

  Not a single nightmare plagued her sleep.

  Clarke rolled from her back toward the window to see if she could ascertain the time of day by the amount of light peeking through the cracks in the drapes, but Rush grumbled and placed his teeth on her shoulder in warning. He did that a lot—teeth on the neck or shoulder—to let her know without words what his feelings were. In this instance, it was not to ruin his deep comfort. It was never a sharp bite like it had been the time in the alley, but only a light pressure that eased off and grazed along her skin more often than not. She smiled, realizing she liked learning all these little pieces of him.

  He tightened his grip and tugged across her middle so her rear fit nicely into his lap. A growing hardness pressed into her behind.

  “Are you even awake?” she chuckled.

  He made a throaty sound and kissed, or licked, the back of her neck, then tucked her in tight and rested his head back on the pillow. The sound of his soft breath evened out.

  She remained content to spend her time tracing a finger up and down his forearm resting between her breasts and wondered what was going to happen next. Not knowing how her own future would unfold was an ever-increasing irritation. The bare hints she’d gleaned weren’t enough. How was it fair that she could see into anyone else’s future but hers?

  Thaddeus hadn’t come breaking down the door, so the curse must have worked to confuse him as to her presence. And then there was Bones. An involuntary shiver traveled through her. That man was despicable.

  The glow of Rush’s curse glanced off the furniture in the low lit room and amplified her anxiety. They’d have to get going to the Order after they had something to eat. A gnawing sensation of… something… tried to break through her reverie. Fear.

  He’d said his curse was nearing its end. When it was done, he’d die. Just like that. Months. Maybe weeks was all he had left. She couldn’t imagine a life without him. Since she couldn’t see his future, she had to have faith that it was entwined with hers, but it didn’t assuage her worry. His future may be with hers, but he could still die tomorrow... just with her at his side.

  A knot formed in her belly. When she got to the Order, she would find a way to somehow trigger her psychic visions on demand. The way they just popped up was very inconvenient. Then she would learn how to lift the curse. If she couldn’t work it out on her own, she didn’t care if she used her abilities to exploit the people there. She’d done worse for greed. This was for Rush’s benefit.

  Wasn’t it?

  “You are fretting.” His voice was still thick with sleep as he nuzzled into her hair.

  “How can you tell?”

  He took a deep breath and moved in a way that felt like a shrug. “Let me make you happy again.”

  He began a slow path down her front, hand splaying at her pelvis and holding her firm against his hips. She rolled to face him and found his gaze full of wicked intent.

  “We didn’t get much chance to talk last night,” she said.

  “We talked.”

  She frowned. “Okay, fine. Yes we did. But there’s more. Remember that person I recognized at the barracks?”

  He sat up. “The human?”

  She hugged herself. “He was a very violent man. He tortured my friend to convince me to work for him.”

  “Then he is breathing his last. Tomorrow, I will—”

  “No.” Clarke touched his jaw gently, eyes soft. He hated not being able to protect her. She didn’t want to remind him of his limitations, so steered the conversation. “We can’t rush into anything. He could lead us to someone worse, and we’re vastly unprepared. You were at Crystal City. Did you ever see him there?”

  Rush threaded his fingers over his chest and stared at the ceiling. “When I visited, there was a new king. From what I gathered from the people, they were both equally awed and fearful of him. I never saw his face.”

  Clarke tugged on her hair. “I just think we
need more information before doing anything. And hopefully we’ll get some answers at the Order.”

  “I trust you and your visions. If you think this person is linked to a threat to Elphyne, then that’s good enough for me.”

  Tension rode her body. She plucked a few strands out.

  His hand covered hers, stopping the action. “You’re fretting again.”

  “Maybe that’s because I’m not sure if I can trust myself.” She bit her lip and inhaled deeply. Here goes. “My mother abandoned me because of my visions. She thought I was demon spawn. My father ignored them. Bishop used them. I just… I don’t know.”

  He kissed her on the shoulder. “I do.”

  “You shouldn’t. I wasn’t exactly a good person. I used to steal.”

  “I steal.”

  “But you do it out of necessity.”

  “Isn’t that what you did?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Maybe.”

  “Then enough talking.”

  He lifted the blanket to cover his head and disappeared with a mischievous glint in his eye. The moving bulk of his body slid down the bed, and within moments, he pushed apart her knees. Another moment later she forgot her troubles.

  “So,” Clarke said, “to be clear, you want stew for breakfast, and some ale? But it’s so early.” She scrunched her nose as she tugged on her boot. “That’s gross.”

  Being the only one others could see, ordering was Clarke’s job. They’d made the decision to get dressed so they could head straight out after their meal. He’d conceded and was coming with her to the Order. It hadn’t been hard to convince him when she said they could continue with his long list of fantasies the following night.

  “The ale here is delicious,” Rush replied. Now fully clothed, back in his worn Guardian jacket, he rustled through his rucksack with a mumbled, “I could have sworn I had more coin than this.”

  She made an awkward face. It was probably still in her pants from when she’d stolen it yesterday. She dug her fingers into the pocket and found not only the coins, but one of his little wolf carvings. She pulled both out.