Mara squeezed his hand. “No explanation necessary. I’d feel the same way.” And she would. To lose a child would be to lose the will to go on.
But Harry’s next request was simple. “Will you do it with me when the time comes? When they’re old enough to process it.”
“Why, Harry Emmerson, are you asking me to help you with a sensitive family matter that might not happen for years?”
Harry stared down at her, his gaze no longer playful, but very serious. “I think I am.”
The fluttering of her heart, the butterflies in her stomach were hard to hide. “Sure. I’ll help.”
“You know what that means, right?”
“I’d better put my speed-reading skills to good use and find a book on therapy for the family of a werewolf?”
“Nah. It means we’d better invite the Crypt Keeper, too. She’s a badass parent.”
Mara’s head fell back, her laughter ringing in her ears. “Point.”
Harry pulled her down to lie on the bed with him, tugging her to a sitting position on his hips. He began to unbutton the shirt the hospital had given her after a warm shower. “So you’ll show me?”
She planted her hands on his chest, her breathing labored when he pushed the shirt aside and cupped her breast. “Show you what, Harry, not Harold, Emmerson?”
“How to be a werewolf. You know . . . all the tricks of the trade?”
Mara flashed him a smile before gripping his wrists as his hands roamed over her breasts, his fingertips tweaking her hard nipples. “Only if you promise to do this in return.”
Harry groaned, pulling her forward, licking her nipple until heat pooled like lava in her belly. “Scout’s honor,” he teased, lifting his head and giving her body a shove until their lips were inches apart. “Open your eyes and look at me, Mara.”
She obeyed, finding his eyes were full of a million emotions.
Harry’s fingers stroked the back of her head. “I want you in my life, Mara. I want you to get to know Mimi and Fletcher better. I want you to help me get to know them better. I want you. Period. Any way you’ll have me. Before we go any further—before we do or say anything else, I need to hear you want that, too.”
In all of her wildest dreams, in all her fantasizing with Astrid about Harry, never had she ever believed any of it would come true.
And now it had.
Whatever it meant—whatever happened—she was going to go for it. No regrets. No waffling. No factoring in all of the things that had held her back before.
With one kiss, one searing, soul-offering kiss, she said, “Yes.” Yes, yes, yes.
Harry captured her lips, slipping his tongue between them and stroking her mouth, groaning into it as he pulled her shirt off.
Her fingers found the waist of the scrubs the hospital had given him, pulling at the tie and slipping them down his rock-hard thighs. He was naked beneath, gloriously, fabulously naked.
As she tore her lips from his, she rolled down along his body, pressing her heated flesh to his, moaning her appreciation for the hard lines of his abs, the trail of hair leading to his cock.
Her hands found his shaft, hot, silken, stiff, and without hesitation, she let her lips skim the rigid line. Harry’s hiss and low groan made her nipples harden, scraping against the comforter as she settled between his thighs, kneeling there, encompassing his cock with both hands.
Harry’s fingers scored her hair, clutching fistfuls of it when she speared him with her mouth, letting her tongue slide along the heated column, cupping his balls, rolling them with gentle fingertips.
His hips crashed upward, his body tensing and flexing as she swirled her tongue around him, along the throbbing vein just beneath the head of his shaft. His knees rose up and Mara slipped her hands under him, cupping his ass, lifting him higher, driving him into her mouth over and over until he pulled away from her with a hiss of a groan. “No more!” he rasped out, grabbing at her shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh.
He hauled her upward, rolling her to her back, taking her breath away with the force of it, driving his hands into her hair until her back arched and he was kneeling over her, burying his face in her neck, trailing hot, wet kisses along her neck, down over her breasts.
His teeth grazed her nipples, making Mara fight not to scream his name. Her hands clenched the bedding beneath her, tearing at it for the sweet agony he evoked as he slid down her body. Without the pretense of their last encounter, he spread the lips of her sex, wet, slick with a need so intense her heart surely stopped.
Harry ran the length of her slit, entering her with a digit, then two, driving into her and placing his mouth over her clit. He dragged his tongue over the swollen bud, licking, sucking, thrusting his fingers into her until the heat searing her veins exploded.
Mara jammed her hips downward, lifting them again and again until her orgasm tore at her, reaching deep within her, ripping it from her body with a scream she had to bite her tongue to keep from leaving her mouth.
Her chest heaved. Her hands went to Harry’s head, threading her fingers into his thick hair as she whimpered his name.
Harry slid up alongside her, turning her to her side and sheltering her with his chest. He raised her thigh high, hooking it around his thighs, spreading her, placing his hot cock at her entrance.
Mara reached a hand between them and stroked him, encouraging, silently begging before his first upward thrust into her.
He nipped at her shoulder, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples between his fingers to hard peaks, moaning at how easily she accepted him.
Mara’s hands went up around his neck, arching into him, loving the feel of her ass against his hips, rolling with him when he splayed his large hand across her abdomen, cupping the heat of it, whimpering again when he let his middle finger slip into her wetness.
They rocked together, Harry deep within her, thrusting, stiff, hot, creating a fire so hot it consumed her.
Their thrusts increased, the spiral of desperate lust Harry evoked in her deepening, crawling its way upward until her body went rigid from the pleasure, tensing, feeling Harry tighten beneath her.
She ran her hands along his muscled arm, abandoning everything but the drive to find her release.
Harry’s body seized, his strong, warm arms tightening, his pelvis tightening along with hers until he took one last thrust. One last, silken, wet thrust, so deep everything stopped but Harry within her. His moan in her ear was husky and raw, her whimper of satisfaction mingling with his.
Harsh air escaped their lungs, rasping into the silence of her bedroom. Harry stroked the curve of her waist, tracing the indentation with his palm, soothing away the vestiges of her frenzied orgasm until she melted back against him.
Harry nuzzled her neck, the stubble on his chin from the long night, scraping her skin with delicious possession. “Werewolf sex rocketh,” he murmured, slipping his arm under her and turning her to face him.
Mara giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck and lifting her lips for a tender kiss. “I couldn’t say for sure, Harry Emmerson. I’ve never had human sex. But I think this’ll do for now,” she teased.
“For now? Fickle, aren’t we, Ms. Werewolf?”
She gave him a grin full of the devil. “You’ll just have to work harder then, won’t you, Mr. Werewolf?”
Trailing kisses along her jaw, Harry chuckled, a deep, contented rumble. “Always with the work. Why is everything with you people so much work?”
Her neck arched into his lips and she hummed her approval. “Something worth winning is always work, don’t you agree?”
“I’ll work hard, Mistress Mara,” he joked, pulling her hand to his thick shaft.
Giddy with joy, she giggled again then sighed. “I’ll count on it.”
“Uncle Harry!” a small voice cried out in the darkness.
&n
bsp; “Mimi,” he whispered down at her. “I’ll be right back. Go nowhere, woman. Got that?” As he rose, his warmth leaving her embrace, his body hard and supple under the moonlight, it was all Mara could do not to shout her joy before rising, too.
She grabbed her bathrobe as Harry pulled his T-shirt over his head. Tightening the belt, she slipped around the side of the bed and grabbed his hand. “I’m coming, too,” she assured.
Harry looked down at her, running his palm under her chin. “I’m a little nuts about you, Mara Flaherty.”
“Yeah? I’m a lot nuts about you. Let’s go be nuts about the kids—together.” She pulled him with her out of the bedroom and across the hall where Mimi sat up, Coconut tightly pressed to her chest.
Her face began to crumble and the tears began to fall. “I had a bad dream, Uncle Harry,” she muttered.
Mara hopped over her where Fletcher stirred, sitting between the children. She pulled Mimi close and hugged her. “Was it about elephants?” she asked, kissing the top of Mimi’s freshly shampooed hair.
Mimi giggled her innocent, sweet giggle. “No, silly.”
“Because you know, I’ve been talking to Uncle Harry, and I think, no promises, but I think we can talk him into an elephant. The only problem is where to put him. You think he could fit in the bed with all of us?”
Fletcher grunted a sleepy giggle of his own. “Elephants don’t belong in beds, Mara.” He shifted a little when Harry nudged him to sit next to him on the bed, tugging the child into his arms and smiling.
Mara reached over and ran her fingers along Fletcher’s exposed belly, making his eyes half-open as he squirmed and laughed. “Said who? Shouldn’t all elephants have beds? If you can have a bed, why can’t an elephant? Are you special or somethin’?”
Harry looked over at Mara, his wide grin as endearing as it had always been, stretching his fingers to meet hers alongside of Mimi’s arm. “I’m the boss and I say no elephants in the bed! They poop on the floor, not to mention they’ll turn the bed into a total pancake.”
Mara gripped his fingertip, smiling back at him. Her heart so full, she had to fight tears. “Okay, partners in elephant crime, on three.” She squeezed Mimi to her, snuggling her close. Grateful. So very, very grateful. “Ready? One, two, three! Oh, Uncle Harry!” they all groaned simultaneously.
The children fell into fits of giggles while Mara and Harry cuddled them near and Carl snored softly on the floor.
As she gazed upon this new adventure beaming at her from beneath the moon shining into the window, full of giggling, happy, healthy children and a hot nerd of a man, her heart welled with gratitude.
And really, Mara thought, what better way to begin her fairy tale than with two small children, a sorta zombie, a cat named Coconut who wore dresses under protest, and a handsome prince named Harry who had two left feet?
It was everything she’d ever dreamed of and more.
So, so much more.
Epilogue
Seven Months and Twelve Days Later—Eight and Counting Quacky-Wacky Paranormal Accidents, a New-ish, Albeit Not As Reluctant As He Once Was Werewolf, One Incredibly Smart, Suddenly Childless No More Werewolf, Two Precocious, Very Active Human Children, Three Doting, Constantly Interfering Aunties, A Manservant Grandfather, One Half-Assed Though Totally Endearing Witch Doctor, and a Demon Who Could Push a Swing Like No Other, attended a wedding beneath a pine tree in a clearing on a beautifully perfect summer day . . .
Mara smiled up at Harry and over at his children—their children—when Charles Knotts pronounced them husband and wife.
Harry kissed her soundly, encompassing Fletcher and Mimi in his embrace as everyone cheered.
Marty cheered, dabbing at her cheeks and blowing Mara a kiss. Marty had been her surrogate mother during the planning of the Flaherty/Emmerson wedding. She’d held Mara when she’d cried because her mother wouldn’t see her marry, given her endless advice on raising two small children, worried over her—coddled her—made her man up when the going got tough with Harry and the kids.
Cried like a child when Mara, in a simple white, sleeveless silk gown with an empire waist and a small broach tucked between her breasts, one Marty had given her as her something borrowed, had entered the room just before the ceremony.
She’d cooed over Mara’s hair, flowing down her back in soft curls, placing the wreath of freshly picked flowers on her head, straightening the ribbons so they flowed over Mara’s shoulders just so.
Marty, though not much older than Mara herself, had taken on the role all pending brides relied on, and she’d done it like she did everything else where her family and friends were concerned.
With love.
Nina poked her head over Harry’s shoulder, pinching Fletcher and Mimi’s cheeks before Harry set them down to run off and play with the other children in the pack.
Nina gave Mara the look of death. “It’s good I like you, Short-Shot. This fucking dress sucks ass. Christ, all I did was itch during that whole thing.”
Mara giggled, happier than she’d ever been in her life. Nina was gorgeous in the ivory sheath Mara had chosen for Ying, Marty, Wanda, Jeannie, Astrid, and Nina. Gorgeous. Alas, she couldn’t see it because she couldn’t see her reflection. “But you look sooo pretty, vampire!”
“Fuck pretty,” she groused. “I’m burnin’ it when this shindig’s over.”
Marty wrapped her arms around Nina’s waist from behind and squeezed. “Oh, thou art a cranky Mistress of the Night. Leave it to you on such a beautiful day to complain.”
Nina flicked her fingers at Marty’s hands—even though she followed it with a chuckle. “Get the fuck off me, ass sniffer. No hugging. I’m on fire in this goddamn frilly shit.”
Wanda, her hair atop her head cascading in loose waves about her face, her expression serene, landed a rare kiss on Nina’s cheek with a chuckle. “Hush, Elvira, and come with. You need more SPF one bafillion on that nose of yours.”
Before Wanda pulled her away, Nina clapped Harry on the back with a grin. “You, make sure you do this right.” She waggled a finger at the space between Mara and Harry. “Got that? Or I gotta kill ya. Ugliness—this I promise. So much ugliness.”
Harry cocked his head, so handsome in his dark suit and tie. “Is that your way of saying congratulations, Crypt Keeper?”
Nina grinned, taking Wanda’s hand. “Whatever, nerd.”
Wanda gave them each a hug, squeezing Mara extra hard. “Happiness. I wish you both so much happiness,” she whispered as Nina dropped a kiss to the top of Mara’s head, then let Wanda lead her to the shade of a pine tree where more sunblock awaited her.
Carl waited patiently, as he’d been taught over the months, putting his stiff limbs on Harry’s and Mara’s shoulder. “Hoppy,” he said, that awkwardly stiff grin wreathing his face.
He was handsome in his suit and tie, picked out by Mimi and the other girls on “Carl Day”—a day created specifically for their zombie to spend getting to know his new extended family and friends.
And once a week, he sat with Mimi while she practiced her spelling words, and unbeknownst to them, had begun to absorb Mimi’s homework.
Mara patted his face, making sure he had his duct tape tucked securely in his inner pocket in case of an accident. “Yes! We’re happy—very happy you’re here, Carl,” she praised.
“Thanks, buddy,” Harry said with a warm smile, rubbing Carl’s shoulder.
Carl wandered off to find Charlie, one of his favorite people in the whole world. He found her under a tree with Greg and, with Greg’s help, settled beneath it, shaking toys to interest her.
Charlie clapped her chubby hands and laughed, her dark curls draping on Carl’s arm when she fell over on him, her balance still unsteady. Carl stroked her head the way Darnell had taught him—gentle and soft.
Werewolves bandied about, threading in and out of the orna
tely decorated trees, eating, laughing, chatting.
Harry sighed, pulling Mara close, surveying the people he’d come to love and trust. The people who’d helped save his children—who loved them almost as much as he did.
Keegan surprised them by pulling Harry into a hug, bumping shoulders with him. “You make sure you take good care of my sister and those kids. Or I’ll eat your liver.”
Marty burst out laughing, roping her arms through Mara and Harry, her eyes full of the not-so-quiet tears she’d shed during the ceremony. “I’m so happy for you both. We’re all so happy you’re here, Harry. You and the kids—it’s all just right, isn’t it?”
Harry cleared his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it is, Marty. Thank you,” he said, his voice tight.
Jeannie rushed up to them, fresh and pretty in her gown, a spot of batter on her face. She grabbed them both up in a hug. “So beautiful—it was all so beautiful. Mara! You’re a vision. Have you ever seen a more beautiful woman, Harry?”
Harry agreed warmly, kissing Jeannie on the cheek. Jeannie was one of Harry’s favorite people aside from the girls. He’d never admit it had anything to do with her divine apple turnovers or the most amazing dumplings he claimed to have ever had. “Never.”
“Except for you,” Sloan added, leaning in to gather Mara into a hug and shake Harry’s hand. “Welcome to the state of servitude, pal,” he joked, handsome in his gray suit.
Jeannie wrinkled her nose, grabbing Sloan’s tie and giving it a yank. “Speaking of servitude, I need help with the side of beef I have cooking over there for you carnivores. So move it, husband,” she said on a laugh when Sloan scooped her up, twirling her around toward the general direction of an open pit where the most enormous amount of beef, skewered and turning slowly, roasted.
Harry cupped her face. “She’s right. I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman than you. Never. I think I love you, Mara Flaherty,” he murmured, tracing her lips with his tongue.
She shivered in response. “You think? It’s a little late to be unsure, huh?” She chuckled, holding up her ring finger.
The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry (Accidentally Paranormal Novel) Page 30