by Hattie Hunt
Joe’s hand found the small of her back, holding her up. The other hand gripped her hip. He didn’t know how much more he could take. The play was sweet, blessed torture, but torture nonetheless. He needed release.
The hand on her hip guided her as she rocked from the arched position. Small, short motions. Measured, taunting.
His breathing quickened and pleasured grunts timed to each pulse of her ride. Then he moaned in desperation.
Yes. She rocked harder, sitting up for better control. She opened her eyes, watching his face. Gripping both shoulders, she rose until only the tip remained inside her.
He met her gaze, his dark eyes raging in fiery need. His fingers kneaded her hips. He wasn’t going to plead. She knew what he needed.
With a slow, smoldering smile she lowered herself, taking him in again. She rose the full length of his shaft and sank again, crushing the full weight of her body onto him, reveling in the play of expressions on his face.
Joe ground his teeth and closed his eyes, a low growl issuing from his throat.
Oh, she should give him what he needed. Should.
She brought her lips to his and teased him, the tip of his shaft barely within her. She pumped her hips, engaging only his tip. Ripley nipped at his lower lip, letting it slide between her teeth as she pulled away.
Joe moaned in desperation as his lips chased hers.
She kept them just out of his reach.
A frustrated growl erupted from him. His hands left her hips and pulled her face to his, crushing her lips, his tongue invading her mouth, shoving his need into her any way he could.
As he released her, Ripley pulled away, breathing heavy. She raised a single eyebrow. “You take me.”
He growled. Challenge accepted. He needed complete control. To pump inside her fast and hard at his will, his whim. He lifted her off him, depositing her in front of the rock.
She knelt in front of it and bent over, Joe’s hand guiding her into position. He pushed her knees further apart. She brought her hips up and looked over her shoulder, inviting him in.
Joe stared at her ass, enjoying the view. This view. This…view. He quivered with need, but slowed, spreading her gorgeous folds, running his fingers within their glossiness. He slipped a finger inside her, his body pulsing as he stroked her, teasing her in the place he wanted his cock to be.
She moaned, undulating against the rock.
He pushed a second finger inside her and grabbed his cock with his other hand, mimicking the movements of his fingers.
She pushed his against his hand, rubbing her clit on his knuckles, her movements growing wilder, her cries rising in volume.
Joe gripped one shoulder with one hand, the other on her hip. He entered her hard.
A breath of a scream escaped her lips and her entire body went rigid with another orgasm.
That damned woman. How many times would she go? If only he could release as many times.
But the time for wishing was over, and he was pumping his hips.
“Harder,” she growled.
He gripped her hips with both hands, pumping harder, their skin slapping together.
She braced her hands against the rock wall in front of her, helping him, drawing him deeper into her with each pounding thrust, harder and harder, faster and faster.
Until the passion built to a crescendo. She cried out his name in desperation. She needed him to come with her. She needed him to be complete, to spill himself inside her.
He thrust a final time. His hands on her hips stayed her motions.
She pushed herself onto him as far as she could and released her orgasm, feeling the largest explosion of passion she had in a very, very long time. Their voices joined in ecstasy, echoing through the small cave.
They collapsed together, spent. Ripley across the rock, Joe still inside her. She didn’t want him to leave.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, holding her up a little, his mouth to her ear. He breathed, unable to remove himself. Not yet anyway.
They closed their eyes, both wishing that moment would last forever.
Both knowing that as soon as they separated, the world would crash back into their lives.
Chapter Twenty-Five
They lay on the blankets, wrapped in each other’s arms, blessedly naked.
Until Ripley’s belly made a loud, long sound of displeasure.
Joe chuckled, placing the palm of his hand over her belly. “Are you a little hungry?”
“Always.” She ran her palm over his hand, sliding her fingers between his. “But this time, I really am.” She hadn’t eaten since the night before.
His hand stilled over her lower abdomen, an unexpected thought crossing his mind. They hadn’t even considered protection. What if he’d planted life within her womb? Would he still push her away?
Joe would be a wreck after Brett died. He wouldn’t be worthy of her or their child.
But only if she wasn’t on birth control. Most women were these days. It wasn’t all about not getting pregnant. He’d had to listen to a thirty-minute tirade on that issue from Emma not long ago.
Ripley saw the look on his face, felt his hand linger over her belly. What kind of father would he be? She didn’t take birth control. With her schedule, it was hard to remember to get some of it serviced—like she was a damned car. And taking the pill was a down-right dumb idea for her. She didn’t know what her day would give her from one day to the next.
She didn’t typically sleep around. She could. She could take whoever she wanted and, sometimes, she did. But when she did, she was careful. There were other ways to ensure she didn’t get pregnant.
And she didn’t know where she was on her cycle because she rarely paid attention to it.
So, yeah. These two times…there could be something. Or not. Who knew?
But it was possible. And what would happen if she did end up pregnant? She couldn’t terminate it and she couldn’t support it. Not with her old job. Sure. She made plenty of money, but the job itself took her away for long periods of time and was dangerous. And as a bar owner? Could she then?
She was jumping. She didn’t know. He didn’t know. Neither of them had a clue as to what their future might hold for them. They needed hope.
And Leslie could be that hope. Alma, too.
Or not.
Or they could.
Ripley plastered a smile onto her face and got to her feet, slipping on her pants. “I vote we find food before I decide to eat you.”
A dark smolder flitted across his gaze, but he rose and put on his clothes.
As soon as they stepped out of the apparent dead zone of the cave, both their phones buzzed with multiple in-coming messages.
Frowning, Ripley looked down at her phone. Tuck, Leslie, Emma, and a few unknown numbers. Several missed calls and many more texts.
“Tuck wants us to know there’s a shoot to kill order out on Brett,” she said, knowing the cringe she felt on her face had transferred to her voice.
“Juliet says he broke free.”
Ripley read the words as he spoke them. “Shit.”
Joe caught her gaze, a look of fuck written all over his face.
She went to Leslie’s texts. “Good news, though. They’ve discovered something that might work.”
Joe jammed his phone into his back pocket, his face stricken with panic. “We gotta go. Fast.” His shoulders bristled with hair, muscles bulging as they shifted into partial bear form. “What if…” he couldn’t finish the sentence. There could be no what-ifs. They didn’t have time.
Ripley watched his transformation. He wasn’t wrong. They needed speed. They had to get back before…
Decima stirred under Ripley’s skin, sensing the promise that Ripley couldn’t voice aloud. They might already be too late. A wave of panic swept over her. There was only one way she could get back in time. But did she trust Decmina? If she gave herself over, shifted into her dog form, would she be able to handle it?
; Then a thought boldened her resolve. Joe. Together, they could make it. Half-bear, full padfoot. Two wild beasts streaking through the forest to save the world. To save his world. That was more important than her aversion to the padfoot. She looked at Joe, met his eyes, and they ran.
Day became night as Decima pushed forward, and Ripley’s vision blinked into hers. And for the first time, they were one. Working together. Running towards death. Ground sped away beneath them, Ripley’s padfoot form bounding through the inky forest towards the horizon’s glow. She tried not to think about how the glow had brightened. How it seemed to stretch further, reach higher. Shit. Shit.
And then she smelled blood. The metallic, sweet aroma of doom. Ripley’s heart surged, excitement trilling through her powerful padfoot limbs. Excitement. And horror. She felt Joe tense beside her, his bear strengthened muscles keeping pace with hers, even as he leapt over trees and sidestepped obstacles that Ripley and Decima phased right through. He smelled it too. She knew he did.
Ripley had no idea how far they had come. Distance seemed to disappear when she was the padfoot. It was near impossible to track their progression in the sea of black. She considered pulling back, taking stock of their progress, checking on Joe. But they didn’t have time. Not if blood had been drawn.
It had been five miles to the cave by trail. It stood to reason that their bee line back to the cabin cut off some of that distance. Trails didn’t matter to shifters. Animals were built for the wild.
Decima. Ripley’s pace slowed as she glanced over her shoulder to Joe. He wasn’t far behind her, as far as she could tell. Everything around her seemed to be moving, pitches of black melding in and out of shapes she could almost define. Decima. Where is the blood?
Ahead.
How far ahead?
A black, heavy shouldered blur passed by Ripley.
Decima sniffed the air, their nose turning to the left. Too far at this pace.
Fuck. Ripley surged forward. She phased through a thick column of black that might have been a tree and leapt at Joe’s ankle. Decima, can you do something here? Joe’s on the war path. Her teeth caught in the hem of Joe’s jeans, and they toppled over the top of one another.
“What the shit, Rip!” he demanded, scrambling back to his feet. Leaves and twigs stuck to his fur, and he swiped irritably at his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall. Ripley curled her lip in a warning, and Joe took a step back. He hadn’t really stopped to consider Ripley as a padfoot. Damn, she was huge. A silver-grey dog mess of tangled hair and muscle. If she stood up on her back feet she would be as tall as he was. If this came down to a fight, he would have to shift the rest of the way.
Ripley barked sharply and put her nose to the ground, settling into a loping gate. Joe’s bear responded immediately, an urge of caution swelling around his limbs. The smell of blood had grown stronger, but now that he had stalled, he could tell they had a ways to go. Joe shook his head. No doubt the nip at his ankles had been Ripley’s way of telling him that. Subtlety had never been her strong suit.
And dammit, she had a point. Who knew what was waiting for them back home? What they would find. Who. He needed to run. His bear cautioned him not to push it. If he wore himself out before they got there, they would all be in trouble.
Joe vaulted over a fallen tree, falling into step behind Ripley. His bear pulsed through his muscles with approval, and Joe conceded his fierce pace in favor of theirs. Fine. But if they were too late…
What did you do? Ripley asked Decima, letting the padfoot take control of their direction.
I warned his bear.
You can do that?
Their shoulders shrugged between steps.
Thank you. Ripley didn’t relish the idea of having to shift back and forth just to tell Joe they needed to pace themselves. Sure, her and Decima were working together—for the moment—but that didn’t make her any more comfortable with the surges of death related excitement that bristled through her. She could feel the ridge of tension along her back, and she pictured the hair standing on end, like a cat poised to strike. Except she was a dog.
Decima turned their direction sharply, and Ripley tried to ignore the intensifying blood odor. There had to be a lot of it. Heightened sense of smell or no. She had no idea how far they had come. They might have slowed their pace, but they were still moving.
How much further? Ripley glanced over her shoulder, irritated that she couldn’t see Joe in more definition. Black blobs didn’t have much in the way of facial expression. She could hear his breathing, rushed and haggard. More than it should have been, for a bear. His nerves probably weren’t helping with that. They certainly weren’t helping her. Though she didn’t spend a lot of time running through the woods in padfoot form either.
We are getting closer.
Ripley growled low in her throat and moved faster. Closer. Close enough? It had to be. They needed it to be. Joe matched pace beside her and they flashed through the forest with superhuman speed.
You’re pushing it, Ripley.
Do you smell the blood? Of course Decima smelled it. But she was just a little new at this whole saving people bit.
Then a scream ripped through the air, slicing into Ripley. She turned towards the sound, her powerful padfoot legs phasing her through anything and everything in her way. She hadn’t realized how determinedly Joe had matched her pace. Now, he sped straight past her and she had to push herself to keep up. Fucking bears.
They pushed over a rise, and Ripley’s vision exploded with fire. Brett was glowing in his entirety, shifted into a grotesque red ball of heat the size of a fucking bear.
“Brett!” A black streak collided with the fire.
Ripley snarled in frustration. She couldn’t see a damn thing. Because she was still shifted into her padfoot. Decima, stay close.
I’m never far.
Ripley shifted and the fire and inky shadows disappeared. A tree cracked, and she spun around, disoriented by the change of vision.
The brothers toppled to the ground, Brett’s bear form cushioning Joe’s half human body in the collision. The initial crack of the tree echoed around them, and then it cracked again. Shit. “You stupid fucking bear!” Joe screamed at Brett. At least the impact had done enough to jar his brother out of bear form. Just soon enough that Joe could pull him aside, and out of the falling tree’s trajectory.
A woman screamed. Ripley? No. Juliet. Gods... Juliet.
Ripley hunched over a woman’s naked, bloodied, unconscious form. The tree had missed them. Barely. Ripley’s eyes met Joe’s in a meaningful glance. They needed to get Juliet back to the cabin.
Brett stirred beside Joe, groaning then reaching for his head with a hand. “What happened?”
“You went after Juliet, from what it looks like.”
Brett blanched and then scrambled to his feet. “Juliet?”
Joe gripped his arm, holding him back. “Stay back, Brett. Just give it a minute.”
“What have I done?” His hands shot into his tangled mess of hair, pulling down in anguish. “My Juliet.” Brett backed into the fallen tree and slid to the ground. “What have I done?”
Joe knelt next to his brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t you. It was the virus. Everything will be fine. She’ll be fine.”
“She needs attention, Joe. I can take her back. You should stay with your brother.” Ripley tried to keep her voice calm. Not to show how bad she thought it might be. There was so much blood. It greased her fingers, stained her shirt and pants where she had pulled Juliet’s head into her lap.
“I got it, Rip. Go.”
Brett shot up, stumbling as he found his feet. “Ripley? What the fuck is she doing here?”
“Calm down, man. She’s helping. She’s going to take Juliet back.”
“She will not touch Juliet.”
“Ripley, get her out of here.”
Ripley met Brett’s gaze and her blood chilled. Those were not Brett’s eyes. They were they
eyes of a rabid fucking grizzly. Juliet moaned, and she twisted around in Ripley’s lap. “Hey Juliet. I’m going to help you up. We need to get out of here.”
“Brett?”
Shit. Fuck. Ripley swept a hand behind Juliet’s back and levered her up to a semi-standing position. She could support a lot of her weight, but not all of it. Juliet’s left leg gave out as she tried to put weight on it.
“Use my shoulder as a crutch. Come one. It’s not far.” They settled into a stumbling walk, Ripley half dragging Juliet.
“You will put her down, Ripley Kent!” Brett snarled.
Ripley could hear the bear in his voice.
“Brett, she’s only helping. Juliet is hurt.”
Brett’s response came out as a low, dangerous growl, and she heard heavy feet hit the ground. Decima bristled, and Ripley glanced back.
Just long enough to see two grizzlies charge one another.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ripley half carried Juliet into the cabin.
Leslie leapt out of her chair and rushed over. “What happened?”
“Near as I can tell, Brett attacked her.” Ripley wished she could scrub those pictures out of her head. Juliet crumpled and bleeding. Brett flickering back and forth between anguish and anger.
“Where’s Brett?”
Ripley sat Juliet in the chair Leslie had abandoned. “Joe is taking care of it.” He better be. If he got himself bit, she was going to kill him. The image of Brett and Joe charging one another had been playing over her vision the whole way back.
Juliet slumped forward, blood pooling under her arm.
“Any bite marks?” Alma asked, levering herself out of her chair and starting for the kitchen.
“I didn’t see any,” Ripley said. But that didn’t mean anything There’d been a lot of blood. And before she pulled back from her padfoot, all she had been able to see was Brett’s grizzly sized fire. Decima. Ripley drew Decima forward, just enough to engage her padfoot sight. The room remained gloriously fire free. “She hasn’t been bitten.”