A Soulmark Series

by Rebecca Main

  “They won’t come until after sunset,” Irina agrees, “which is set to take place at 6:59 p.m.”

  “There will be too much chance of civilian casualties so early in the evening. They would not dare risk their true faces being seen,” a man says. He looks oddly familiar, his dark hair and dark features jogging my memory.

  “Agreed brother,” Ryatt interjects. “I believe an attack before nine o’clock is very unlikely.” Something about the phrase makes me gasp in recognition at the other man.

  “There’s nothing like a new moon, is there, brother!” Ryatt called out joyously.

  “I’m not your, brother,” Keenan responded, voice gravelly and harried.

  Keenan meets my eyes unexpectedly, and a look of understanding flashes over his face. He bows his head to me, a look of contrition quick to flash my way before he does so. I find myself giving a brief nod, not realizing the others in the room watch our interaction closely.

  “You’ve met?” Aunt Lydia asks. Blood rushes to my cheeks.

  “Just once,” I mutter, “it’s not important.”

  “Then, let's continue, shall we?” Gran states, eyeing me dubiously from her seat at my side. I blush once more, and the conversation resumes. We discuss the placement of wolves and eldritch witches—our coven's warriors—in great detail with everyone crowding around the map on the table until Gran and Aunt Lydia pull out a magic trick to appease the crowded circle. An almost holographic super-sized mirror of the map is projected into the seating area we just vacated. Xander moves a chess piece representing a team of wolves on the map on the desk, and the magical projection mimics its movement.

  Things move along quickly then. We agree upon times. Places of ambush and greater lines of defense negotiated and confirmed. Contingency plans are formed. After three hours of nonstop discussion, all seem satisfied. People linger to deliver their farewells, even Gran and Aunt Lydia. I’m sucked into a salacious retelling of one of Ryatt’s recent conquests as I attempt to say goodbye. His saga depicts the lengths he went to secure a supposed necklace from a fiery ex-girlfriend hell-bent on ruining his good name. A remark that precipitates my eyebrows drawing into my hairline.

  “And then as I finished her off, for I’m never one to leave a woman wanting, my other hand—”

  “Enough, Ryatt! Honestly, must you always be so crude? Zoe doesn’t want to hear about your extracurricular activities.” Irina comes up to my side and places a quick kiss on my cheek. “You don’t have to suffer through his indecent retellings, Zoe. Just tell him no and swat him on the nose like a bad dog.” Ryatt’s eyes sparkle as he opens his mouth to deliver his retort, but the final Adolphus walks up to our small circle.

  “Leave us,” he commands.

  Ryatt rolls his eyes. “As if we need to be told.” Irina and Ryatt walk away, knowing smiles passing between them as they leave us.

  “Oh,” I remark as I take in the empty room behind us. “I didn’t realize everyone had gone.” Even Gran and Aunt Lydia.

  “Ryatt does have the unique ability to capture people’s unwavering attention with his stories I’m afraid. Even if said stories are…”

  “About his sex life?” I finish with a laugh.

  “And told in far too much detail.” Xander smiles and laughs along, but our laughter soon dies. The resounding silence that follows fills the space between us. Xander takes a step forward, and I one back. A flash of frustration flickers behind his hooded eyes. He takes another decisive step forward and I, yet again, one back. “Still? After all this time, you would chance the chase, Zoelle?”

  I bite my lip, my own frustrations surfacing as our emotions tunnel toward each other through the soulmark. “Why do you do that?” I ask, summoning ire to prolong the inevitable.

  “Do what?” he asks back patiently, though his waning temper thrums through the soulmark.

  “Call me that.” His head tilts to the side.

  “Zoelle?”

  “Yes, that,” I respond stiffly. “Nobody calls me that—”

  “Your grandmother calls you by that name. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Because”—just breathe—“I prefer Zoe. Everyone calls me Zoe.”

  “Except your grandmother.” He points out again, shuffling forward. I take two steps away, placing one of the armchairs between us.

  “Gran is family,” I snap, surprised at the heat of my emotion. He frowns at that. Stills and mulls over my small admission. Inside a sadness long since stowed away tears forth. Only family called me Zoelle: Mom, Dad, Clara, and Gran. Only family.

  “You’re my soulmark, Zoelle. You’re my whole goddamn universe. I think I’ve earned the right to call you by your given name.”

  I find myself shaking my head at his insistence. Old insecurities rear their ugly heads. I’ve lost my family. Lost my first love to another woman. Lost a good man because I can’t control my desires. I can’t do this. Can’t lose myself to this man and the link between us. And what if… what if I lose him too? Tomorrow night Xander will lead his pack against the Wselfwulfs, and there is no guarantee he will come back.

  Every nerve in my body holds taut with heightened emotion. Xander pours love and reassurance through the bond, aiming to placate me. But lurking beneath the presence of his wolf stirs. My eyes meet Xander’s.

  They’re hunting me. Both of them.

  Blood rushes through my veins, my fear practically paralyzing. Run or stay? I can feel my breath coming faster and faster as I screw my eyes shut. Maybe I can do this. I just need more time! I open my eyes and stumble back with a short cry. Xander easily crosses the distance between us during my short moment of reflection. He wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me into his body with a growl.

  “Dammit, Zoelle, stop doing this. Stop trying to put this distance between us. What are you hoping to achieve? You want me to leave? To go? Never talk or see you again? Ignore the soulmark?” He barks out a harsh laugh. “Well too fucking bad. I’m not going anywhere. I’m always going to be there for you. You’re not getting rid of me. You’re not. I’m not leaving.”

  His words crash over me like a tidal wave, and I sink into his hold. “Damn you,” I mutter, knowing he can hear each word perfectly clear. My fear and walls crumbling as he leans in closer.

  “Just give me a chance, Zoelle,” Xander pleads.

  “Love him,” Katrina said. Can the answer be so easy? My hands come to rest tentatively on his chest. They fall over his heart, and I listen for one beat. Two. Three.

  Our eyes meet.

  “Tell me you’re mine,” he whispers hotly. He steps forward, every inch of his body suddenly pressed against mine. I let out a shuddering breath and feel his own as I utter my response.

  “I’m yours.”

  He pins me against the nearest wall before he reward my admission with a searing kiss. It's full of tongue and teeth. Biting and sucking. He trails his hands across my body. Leaves me squirming and whining in the pleasure he builds between us. My own hands trail down his lithe muscles. I love the way they strain beneath my touch.

  “Say it again,” he repeats, pulling back from our kiss to look me in the eye.

  “I’m yours,” I breathe as I rub my body against his, seeking release I know only he can give. He gives a pleased growl and attacks my neck, his hands winding their way underneath my shirt to unclasp my bra and touch me. I let out a wanton moan as his hands cup my breast, my hips bucking in need against his own as he bites and loves on my neck. God, I haven’t felt this worked up in… ever. Never has a man inspired such—ahh.

  His lips capture mine once more. One hand pinches and twists my nipple, and I open my mouth with a heady moan. He deepens the kiss. I strain to pull him closer. He responds in kind, then coaxes soft, little, desperate noises from me that he swallows with his lips. Dear God, have mercy. My hands race down his shirt, furiously undoing each button before ripping it off his body.

  He looks down at me in a daze. His lips are swollen. His eyes are amber and gold across a
forest of green. “Again,” he growls, hands tugging at the bottom of my shirt, up and over my head along with my bra.

  “I’m—” yours.

  He steers me around until the back of my knees hit the end of an armchair. We stumble, but only momentarily. His hands are on my hips and back, steadying me as he leans in. My back arches painfully at his hunger, but with a slight nudge, I am pushed back onto the body of the couch. Xander hovers over me, eyes sweeping over my naked chest and stomach possessively. A liquid heat curls and spreads deep inside me, making me ache with want. I catch his eyes once more. See the longing in them that mirrors my own.

  Rough hands capture my thighs and lift up. His hips fall forward into my parted thighs as his lips trail down my neck, then across my breasts, where he teases and worries the tender flesh into almost unbearable sensitivity. My fingers claw at his arms and chest. My hips rise to meet the firm heated part of him, fit so snuggly against my own soaking center. I can feel his roguish smile against my breast as he moves lower still, his hands making quick work of my jeans.

  I should have worn my black lacy thong. I think desperately as his warm breath fans against my naval. And shaved. But Xander does not seem to share my worry. His fingers move aside my blue cotton underwear with care, and he makes a small appreciative noise at the unveiling. I tremble in anticipation. Heavy-lidded eyes meet mine from below, and his tongue slips inside of me.

  I let out a coarse cry, something close to a whine that gives him pause, and then he returns to his task. His tongue lays flat across my heated flesh, then flicks upward. Again and again. He gives his own groan of appreciation as one arm locks around a still trembling leg and hikes it over his shoulder before diving in. Xander tastes me like a man who has never known the pleasure of a bourbon chocolate truffle. Or sweet decadence of summer’s first picked strawberry. His attention is unwavering, and I shift restlessly in his hold. He nips at my clit in rebuke, almost bringing me over the edge.

  Xander pulls back abruptly, and I almost cry out in distress, but then his hands are ripping my underwear off. The tear of the fabric sounds almost too loudly, but it’s nothing to dwell on. Not when his hands are moving decisively to his pants. I scoot back, my lip caught between my teeth as I watch in anticipation where the dark trail of hair will lead. He doesn’t disappoint. The sudden visage of his cock, hard and thick and long—I swallow, and my eyes dart to him in slight panic. I feel a girlish blush stain my cheeks as I avert my eyes. His pants land on the floor with a soft thud and the leather cushion sinks at his added weight.

  “What is it?” he asks, lips running over my jaw.

  “Nothing,” I respond, hating how breathless I sound. His erection brushes against my clit, drawing the smallest of moans from my lips.

  “Tell me,” he whispers, nipping at my chin. The commanding lilt to his words compels me to answer.

  “It’s not going to fit,” I blurt out and Xander freezes. I freeze too, my hands stilling in their silent exploration of his chest. Then, his body begins to shake ever so slightly above my own. My eyes dart toward his face uneasily, before they are taken over by a scowl. “It’s not funny,” I tell him tersely as his low chuckles reach my ears. His hips gently move forward, his cock sliding the length of my core as his soft laughter dies and catches in his throat.

  “You’re right. Not funny,” he responds, his eyes finding mine as he adjusts us. He places one leg around his hip and braces an arm on the armrest behind me. “And yes, it is.”

  And then he is pressing into me. The pressure and friction so wonderful I keen in response. We stay like that a moment. Xander pressed fully inside me, his hand gripping tightly at the flesh below my hip. He shudders and inhales deeply, a resonating growl tearing from his throat as he draws back his hips and slams forward. We both moan at the sensation, our eyes meeting once more before all thoughts flee and we are one.

  He thrusts remorselessly. He pounds into me with almost terrifying force. And I can do nothing but buck my hips in answer. We are a wild union, and somewhere in the midst of our coupling, his hand slips between us to rub at the slippery, wet flesh till my breathing turns erratic.

  “Xander,” I pant, my hand clawing around his shoulder and grazing his soulmark. His hips slam harder into me than expected, the flash of pleasure succeeding it so great I almost faint. For one fleeting moment, he is all I feel. Inside me and around me. Pulsing with heat and want and desire. I tug him closer. Hitch my other leg around his waist and urge him on. “More.” I breathe desperately, almost sobbing in relief as he grinds down into me.

  Fuck.

  He growls savagely against my neck, pinning my hips down with his own as he barrels into me. I writhe against the couch, my end in sight as he steals a frantic kiss from my lips.

  “Say it,” he breathes into my ear. I tilt my head back, my neck bent in an offering. “Say that you are mine and that you bind yourself to me, freely.”

  “I am yours,” I moan. “I bind myself to you, Aleksandr Adolphus.” His teeth sink into the flesh of my neck, breaking the skin and growling victoriously. My eyes widen as wave after wave of aching pleasure wracks my body. My back arches. My nails claim purchase in his tense sinew. Xander relinquishes my neck with a low-pitched groan, hips spasming against my own as he rides out his own climax.

  “Mine.” He almost purrs, lying down against me heavily, nose buried against my abused neck as his cock slips from inside me.

  “Yours,” I mutter back, sinking into oblivion.

  – Chapter 12 –

  Love Me or Leave Me

  I stir awake at the soft kisses pressing across my shoulders, that, and the fingers gently slipping between my thighs. A cross between a moan and a sigh escapes my lips as I lean back into Xander’s body, my eyes opening lazily.

  “Good morning,” comes Xander’s husky voice from behind me. He presses a kiss to the side of my head, lingering to inhale my scent. We are no longer in the study but a bedroom. The dark color scheme is familiar, and I realize with a small smile that it is the same room I was originally brought to when Xander sealed our mark.

  “Morning,” I murmur, parting my legs more to allow him better access. I can feel his answering grin as his hand dips deeper and sinks one finger inside of me.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, “You're so wet for me already.” His hand moves away and grips my thigh, lifting it and shifting his hips so his cock brushes up against me, just right. I shiver at the touch. I’m unprepared for his entrance with one fierce stroke. We both cry out.

  “Fuck.” His coarse curse comes as he shifts his body closer to mine. “Don’t you dare think about putting that leg down,” he growls into my ear, rocking his hips forward. I can only shake my head in response.

  My nails claw at the silken sheets imprisoning us as he begins a gentle rhythm, so different from his initial thrust. Each stroke is meant to inflame. Build us up until we both come crashing down together. It isn’t long before we fill the room with our heavy sighs and ragged breaths. Just as the pressure intensifies, Xander’s hands are moving me. His cock slips out as he rolls me onto my stomach.

  He’s quick to move behind me, hands gripping my hips and guiding them up and back till his cock is at my entrance again. I lean back and relish the low growl Xander emits as the head of his cock slips inside of me.

  “You are a wicked witch, Zoelle,” he groans. He gives my ass a sharp slap in rebuke before sinking into me fully. The movement brings a high-pitched sound from my lips. Something between a groan and a whine that only seems to encourage Xander. He keeps his thrusts slow and deep.