Tempted by the Pack

by Anne Marsh

  “You’re so pretty here.” He stroked down her folds, not quite parting her. Teasing her with the promise of a deeper penetration. Then he cupped her ass, pulling her closer still. Holding her in place, supporting her. “Spread yourself for me.”

  His demand shocked her. There was no way to argue with him, to beg for more time. To wait for her head to adjust to the sensual demands her body was all too willing to make. He was taking her now.

  “Do it.” His voice was harder, intimating an erotic punishment she wasn’t sure she was ready for if she hesitated. This was what she wanted, though, so she reached down, sliding her fingers into wet heat. Defiantly, she watched his face as she moved her fingers lower and sucked in a breath at the bright stab of pleasure. This pleasure, this awareness—this was what she had been missing.

  “Good girl,” he praised. “Now let’s give you what you need, chère.” He leaned forward, his tongue finding her swollen clit and drawing a wicked circle around the tip.

  Fire whipped through her. Heat and need striking her from that quick, light touch.

  She lifted up into his mouth. Her hips loosened. Tension flowed out of her.

  He ate her up in slow strokes. Buried between her thighs, he traced those wicked, wicked circles where she ached so badly for him. She was burning, and it was all his fault.

  “Do something,” she demanded, her hips arching up off the bed. His kiss was too much and not enough. She needed more. Now.

  His tongue devoured her, lapping at the soaked folds like he couldn’t get enough. Like the taste of her was something he craved. With each devastating pass, her body tightened as that sweet, hot tension filled her up, and the delicious end rushed closer as he traced eerotic circles around her clit.

  He blew lightly, and she didn’t recognize the moan tearing from her throat.

  The need was worse now, the fiery heat tormenting her. He covered her with his mouth, gave more as she whimpered, lost in the pleasure. The sight of him, of that hard, raw-boned hunter worshipping her, pushed her higher. All that strength reined in. Focused on her. Safe to explore. Safe to let go.

  Because oh God, God, God, she was letting go. There was no holding back now. His hands supported her, gathered her closer as one hand slid beneath her. Her back arched up, pushing her pussy against his mouth. Her clit twitched, a bright, pulsing beat consuming her as she cried out his name.

  He wasn’t done yet. One thick finger coated in her juices traced the dark crease between her cheeks then tested the small hidden opening there. That knowing fingertip circled the opening. Once. Twice. Then dipped just inside, an erotic pinch of pleasure-pain as her body let him in.

  Welcomed him.

  “Come for me, chère.” His blunt words against her pussy, that rumble of approval followed by the rough, sweet drag of his tongue through her soaked folds, sent her over the edge.

  ~~~~

  Lark’s soft, feminine scent surrounded Rafer, and each pass of his tongue in her sweet syrup let him feel her ripples of pleasure. She was coming for him. Surrounded by him and his scent, she lost herself in his touch. Nothing had ever felt so good. He wanted to do it again, touch her more until he knew every inch of her.

  Instead, he got with the plan. His mission was seduction, so he flipped her face down on his bed, pushing her thighs apart. The pretty, pretty sight of her pussy, glistening with her juices, had him staring. She needed him there. Whatever her reasons for letting him touch her, she needed him.

  That need made him feel damn good. She opened her mouth, but he didn’t want words from her now. No, he wasn’t chancing her refusing him. Instead, he touched her with his fingers and his body, until her orgasm stole her breath away.

  He dropped onto the bed beside her. Resting his cheek on the curve of her ass, he traced his tongue along the dimples at the base of her spine. His shoulders widened her legs. “Open up,” he growled.

  He demanded her attention. No closing her eyes. This was happening, and he wanted her aware of the weight of him pressing her down, arranging her body. Let her feel the wild hunger in him. He was all man on the outside, but the wolf raged inside him.

  “I’m goin’ to make this good for you, honey.” He slid his hand up her thigh, finding her pussy, working her clit again until she moaned.

  She curled her fingers into the bed, digging into the fabric. Holding on.

  Desperate, he tucked himself against her wet opening.

  ~~~~

  Rafer stretched her slowly and deliciously, filling her with his blunt, hot length. Big and determined, he was impossibly careful. Rough-gentle. He wouldn’t hurt her, not intentionally. Tomorrow was soon enough for regrets because right now all she could do was feel the heat and need streaking through her belly. He carefully pushed her face and shoulders down into the bed, not allowing her to rise up to meet his touch.

  Instead, he gave her more words, dark and roughly sexy, while he put his hand on her clit, his other stroking up her spine, finding the back of her neck and holding her in place. He had all the control. She had none. It shouldn’t have been so sexy. Shouldn’t have turned her on. But it did.

  So good, so good, so good.

  Short, teasing, shallow strokes, then he slid deep. Taking her thoroughly. Pushing her over the edge and into another orgasm.

  ~~~~

  Afterward, as she drowsed in his arms, he cleaned her up and tucked her into their bed. The sheets smelled like the two of them, and all was quiet outside. There were only the night noises of the cicadas and the bayou settling into the dark.

  He wrapped himself around her. His scent marked her, inside and out, and his fingers were tucked beneath the soft curve of her breast, his face buried in her hair and against her neck. His.

  Part of him knew she couldn’t be his, not really. Mate or no mate. This was about seduction. He couldn’t truly have forever. This was simply one more battle in a lifetime of fighting.

  But this felt right.

  Lark felt right.

  And he had another night to hold her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Rafer stepped outside onto the porch, carefully latching the screen door behind him. The bayou night was all sultry heat and sweet scents. A copperhead slid away into the shadows. “We need to talk,” he said.

  His brothers were standing guard, on edge. At his call, they melted out of the darkness surrounding the farmhouse, battle-hardened fighters responding to his summons.

  He knew they recognized the mating scent, knew why he’d summoned them back to the house when they needed to be out in the bayou. His brothers were his Pack—and now he had a new mate. He had a choice he didn’t want to make—one or the other, but not both. Not unless Lark gave him that choice. His brothers definitely looked the worse for wear, and the shame of that hit him hard. He’d left them to finish the fight so he could go fuck in a primitive instinct to dominate the female he’d defended.

  The earlier battle had left its mark, but the Pack’s injuries were already mostly gone. Their bodies mended quickly because shifters healed fast. The pain was still a bitch, though. The Omega’s face was bruised, and one of the twins bled sluggishly.

  Rafer didn’t want to choose between Pack and mate.

  He and Lark, they could be a famille of two. Together they’d have sons and daughters. He forced himself to imagine what their children would look like, and it was all too easy. A baby girl with her mother’s eyes and that stubborn enjoyment of whatever life had to offer. And a big brother to keep life’s shit the hell away from his sister whenever her father couldn’t.

  But his Pack was famille as well. He slapped a hand on the wall of her house, wanting to howl. Wanting to pound his flesh against the unyielding boards until something in him tore and bled. His Pack mates had had his back. Christ. They mattered too, and there was no compromising between the two, was there? He had to choose—mate or Pack. One or the other.

  He needed to do the right thing here. The honorable thing. Making up his mind had never been
harder, but when he heard the words coming out of his mouth, he knew his head was finally where his heart was.

  “I’m stayin’.”

  The familiar faces of his Pack stared back at him. His Alpha didn’t look surprised, so maybe he’d seen this coming all along. Sometimes the Pack changed. Brothers came or went. So, he’d stay right here. He might not be sure how or why he could make this work, but damned if he wasn’t going to try.

  “She’s not ready.” He gave them the truth. They deserved that.

  “Not ready for what?” Luc’s boots hit the porch, deliberately loud. Luc was dressed and ready to roll, whereas Rafer was barefoot. Fresh out of bed. It dawned on him that he had somewhere to go back to, while Luc had no end plan, no destination, when he beat feet away from Lark’s farm tonight.

  “For any of this. For us. To leave.” Despite the battle they’d fought in Lark’s yard, the farm looked relatively unscathed in the silver moonlight. “Hell, Luc, she shouldn’t have to leave. This is her home. She belongs here.”

  He wanted to belong to her. With her. For as long as she’d have him.

  “And we don’.” Their omega sounded resigned. Yeah, he knew where this was headed. His ass was ready to hit the road, his arms wrapped defensively around his middle.

  “No,” Rafer admitted. The words hung there between them in the air,. “She’s not Pack. She shouldn’t have her whole life upended—” ended, “—because of a blue moon.”

  “She’s your fated mate.” There was no mistaking the aggression in Dag’s stance as his boots ate up the porch steps. “You don’t want to keep her, I’ll take her. No worries.” Hunger and anger lit Dag’s eyes. “Don’ throw this away because she’s unfamiliar with our ways. You find a female like that, you keep her.”

  “Only if she’s keepin’ me,” Rafer said coolly.

  ~~~~

  Rafer had gone outside. His big body cast a dark shadow through the screen door, lit up by the sun peeking over the horizon. Despite the too-early hour, the low rumble of male voices told her he wasn’t alone, either. Tucking her towel tighter, she wondered what he would do if she dragged him back inside. He’d been sprawled in their bed when she got up to take a shower, but he probably knew she was lurking here on the other side of the door—that was the downside to mating a wolf.

  Only if she’s keepin’ me. The words hit her like a punch. He was admitting she had choices to make here. This wasn’t more of the predestined-mate crap he’d been spouting. Stay or go, he was telling his brothers that she’d make the call.

  “We need every fighter we can field.” That was Luc’s decisive rasp. “You think about that when you were makin’ this decision?”

  “Yeah.” Rafer didn’t move, just kept his feet planted on her porch. She could hear the pain in his voice as clearly as if he’d reached out a hand to his brothers. “That’s not somethin’ I like doing, but talkin’ about it isn’t goin’ to fix things. Lark is my mate.”

  “A mate who won’t accept what you are.”

  “Maybe not. Maybe not now. Or ever.” Rafer’s shadow shrugged, and she closed the distance between herself and the door, pressing her fingertips into the steel mesh. Memories of his powerful shoulders beneath the faded cotton T-shirt had heat licking through her again. Last night, she’d curled her fingers into that warm skin and hung on while he rode her hard, took her over the edge with him. “She’s goin’ to do what’s right for her, Luc. I aim to be right here when she’s ready to decide.”

  “All those years we’ve been Pack and you’re walkin’ away?” The voice from down in the yard was clearly unhappy. The wolves were posturing, circling each other.

  “Three hundred years and I’ve found where I belong,” Rafer countered. “I don’ need to tell you that. We all feel it. I’d hoped—” He stopped.

  “Hoped what?” Dag’s voice sounded mocking and hard. There was an undertone of pain, though, that she recognized on a visceral level. “Hoped there’d be room in that bed of hers for all of us? That’s a choice not too many of our females make, Rafer.”

  “Maybe it’s not, but sure I’d hoped,” Rafer growled. “It don’ matter anymore. All that matters here is what she wants.”

  Her hand reached for the latch before she could overthink her instinctive decision. Mate. She tried the word out mentally. That felt right. Rafer felt right. Blue moon or no blue moon, he was hers, and she wouldn’t hide from that truth anymore.

  Stay inside, and she shared him with no one. He’d be just hers. Where the mesh screen had bit into the pads of her fingertips, red crescents marked her skin, a small bite of pain. Part of Rafer belonged to the Pack. Those males were why he fought so hard. They were the reason he defended, protected.

  And they would lose him.

  Memories came rushing back of the wolf pelt she’d held earlier. Now, when she stretched her senses, she could feel the soul-aching loneliness of the Pack’s unmated males. Family. They belonged together, too.

  The only question was, could she share Rafer with them?

  She got her fingers around the latch, strong-arming the recalcitrant door open before she could second-guess herself. Two steps, and she was out on the porch, beside Rafer. When she leaned into his warm, solid side, his welcome heat blasted through her. His scent reached out for her, wrapping her with familiar comfort.

  “You don’t have to choose,” she said, slipping her hand into his. His fingers curled around hers. “You can all come inside.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Lark welcoming his Pack was the most fulfilling sight Rafer had ever seen. He’d been so afraid last night that he had lost her, first to the skin hunters and then to his own dark hungers. He’d ached for her, ached to hold her in his arms. Ached for words he’d waited a lifetime to say. I love you.

  He loved her. He wanted to spend every night wrapped around her, his skin pressed to hers. He’d had three nights with her, and already he couldn’t imagine sleeping any other way. He didn’t want to return to the bayou without her. He couldn’t.

  She was part of him now, part of his very heart.

  “Rafer?” Her husky voice held the barest hint of a tremor. A whisper of feminine nerves—and need. She was offering him a possibility he’d dreamed of. He’d had her, taken her, but he’d known his Pack was on the outside. Yearning for females of their own even as he lost himself in his. He’d wanted to share what he’d found.

  And now she was going to let him.

  Her eyes met his. Her gaze was steady, unflinching. There was still that hint of nerves, but the scent of feminine arousal was stronger. She wanted this. She wanted them. Over his shoulder, his Pack watched him.

  He took her hand and said what he’d wanted to say again since their fight with the skin hunters.

  “I love you.” He’d meant every word he’d given her, standing there on her porch. Defending her, fighting for her and her farm, had been his right as her mate—and an honor. She’d let him give her what he could and she’d had his back. Both before, when she’d faced down the vamps, and now. A hot sensation unfurled in his chest. That was new. Always, he’d fought for others. She was there for him. She was here, by his side.

  “Good.” A smile lit up her face. “Because I think I could love you, too.”

  He was terrified of losing her—and in awe of the precious gift he’d been given. Her love was something he’d never dared dream of.

  He pulled her into his side, his fingers threading through hers. So small. Fragile. But she was strong, a warm presence, and he’d want this woman, blue moon or no blue moon. When they got to the edge of the bed, he gently lifted her in his arms, savoring the feel of her.

  She was his.

  “You sure?” He had to ask, had to hear. She wouldn’t hide from who he was or who the Pack was, and that was far, far more than he had any right to expect.

  Her eyes searched his face again, but he didn’t see doubts. Just the Mona Lisa smile that had him wondering what she was thinking. Something good.
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  “I invited you in, remember?” Her fingers curled against the back of his neck. The soft touch meant the world to him. The intimate brush of her skin against his promised she liked the feel of him and shared the same unbearable need to be closer that he did.

  “Naughty,” he growled, hearing Dag’s answering rumble from behind him. “You’re a naughty girl.”

  “Only sometimes.” She tugged at his head. “Only right now with you.”

  “And them?”

  He felt her heartbeat speed up against his arm. “And them. You tempt me.” Her tongue traced an erotic path along his ear, her hand sliding down his shoulder, past his ribs, headed south. “All of you do, but you’ve known that since the night we met.”

  Her hand cupped his ass and squeezed. Right there in front of his brothers she was touching him, her fingers exploring. At the sharp nip of her teeth, he jerked.

  And damned if she didn’t growl at him. “So put me down and do something about it, okay?”

  He’d never been so aroused. So hungry. She was teasing his wolf. Pushing him in a sensual challenge he had every intention of winning. He knew his fierce grin mirrored hers. She was his mate. His match.

  “No worries, chère.” He sensed the Pack moving closer. Someone shut the door to her bedroom, but he didn’t look back, just put her in the middle of the bed and followed her down. “You want to play Little Red ridin’ Hood, I’m plenty happy to eat you up.”

  ~~~~

  She swallowed hard as Rafer’s broad shoulders blocked her view of the room. She wanted this, wanted him, and she’d take what she could get. Right now she couldn’t think of anything—anyone—but Rafer. His devotion to his Pack. His fierce protectiveness. He’d offered her all that, and she hadn’t understood what he was offering. Now she did. This wasn’t just sex. This touching and kissing was something else. Something more. Inviting the Pack into her home—and her heart—felt right. Her wolves needed something she could share with them. If she wanted to.

  God, how she wanted to.

  She turned her head and watched them come to her. Luc sprawled in her armchair, watching, but the other four men padded towards the bed on sure feet. Their erections pushed out the front of their jeans in an unmistakably erotic demand. Heat tore through her. Mercenaries. Fighters. Hers. She’d told Rafer she was willing to do this, but it was more than willing. She wanted to do this. Wanted to kiss and touch them all, even if the man she wanted most was Rafer. These men watched her like she was a precious gift. With heat in their gazes, but something else as well. Affection. Yearning.