by Mina Carter
Master’s Retribution
Master of the City series
Mina Carter
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Epilogue
Also by Mina Carter
About the Author
Copyright © 2017 by Mina Carter
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Prologue
Revenge was sweet, and his would begin right here. Jacob McCauley, once a pack alpha, now a wolf on the run, glanced around the room with a look of disgust. It was a shitty little room, in a shitty motel on the outskirts of the city, but it would do. A sigh escaped him as he dropped to sprawl on the bed, the ancient springs creaking.
The worn bedspread was clean, just, but other scents peeked out from the lemon-fresh cleaner, easily discernible to anyone with a sensitive sense of smell. The was blood in the corner near the window with the stench of vomit by the bathroom door. Other, muted smells wafting up from the carpet around the bed said the motel was a frequent haunt of prostitutes and their clients.
He disregarded them with a sniff. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered about the place besides the fact it was where he’d launch his attack on the lycan court. The location he’d start his campaign to retake his rightful place leading it.
As Master of the City.
Grumbling under his breath, he looped his hands behind his head. He should be Master of the City, not that jumped up fucking upstart, Veyr. Moon’s sake, the man wasn’t even a pureblooded wolf. He was a mongrel, the brat of a bitten wolf. Veyr was a nobody…unlike Jacob who could trace his lycan ancestors back generations.
And he’d been wrong to try and mate his sister to Veyr. He could see that now. As pureblooded as he, the little bitch was weak willed. She’d let that mongrel, Jace Trenton, turn her head, scheming with him so Jace could take Jacob’s place as the McCauley pack alpha… but no matter. She would pay. So would Jace when Jacob took Veyr’s place as Master of the City.
Jacob deserved to be master. He just knew it. It was his right…his destiny.
Banging and muffled screams from next door brought his head off the pillow. After a second, he relaxed. Instead of his usual irritation at being disturbed by someone else’s fucking, a small smile curved his lips.
The noises wouldn’t last long, those moans of ecstasy soon turning to screams of agony as his latest recruit took her pleasure. He’d recruited many for his glorious endeavor, and among them were disaffected born wolves unhappy with the current state of affairs in the city, werehyena mercenaries, and even a gargoyle. Of them all, Mia was the shining jewel in the crown of his efforts—the one who would deal the crushing blow to Veyr and deliver Jacob his triumph.
Who cared if he lost a few mercenaries to feed her lust? The end justified the means. He smiled as he settled back against the pillows and closed his eyes.
Just a few more hours, and the city would be his…
1
He was the luckiest wolf in the world.
Veyr smiled as he watched Cyan chatting animatedly in the middle of a group of court ladies. Shorter than the tall, willowy women clustered around her, she was a curvy bombshell amongst them—an exotic orchid in a rose briar. She didn’t just stand out by appearance but also manner. She’d gone from being an outsider, a born wolf who couldn’t shift, into the queen of the court, beloved by all. And none of that was because she was his, the Master of the City’s mate.
She’d done that all herself. From the moment she’d left because she thought he’d chosen another woman, a full shifter, over her and declared herself forsaken, she’d become a legend. Repudiata Stipandis. The term was archaic, but still legal, a ceremony that allowed a wolf to declare themselves no longer part of their pack…no longer a werewolf.
Forsaken wolves were rare. Wolves were pack animals, so they needed the company of their fellows around them, and werewolves were no different. Cyan had felt so strongly about how she’d been wronged that she had declared herself forsaken… had disappeared so completely it had taken him weeks to track her down so he could grovel and beg her to give him another chance.
That alone had elevated Cyan to almost god-like status amongst the women of the court. That she’d brought him, the Master of the City, to heel and now had him dancing attendance on her every request as her devoted mate… even he, a battle-scarred mongrel from the fight pits in the bowels of the city, could see the romance in that.
“She’s the perfect Lady of the City,” said a familiar, deep voice next to him. “You’re a lucky man.”
Veyr slid a glance sideways to find his longtime friend, Jace, suited and booted for the evening. He was dressed, not as the Captain of the Guard he had been, but as the pack alpha he now was after winning the position in a challenge fight.
Veyr smiled as he lifted his whiskey tumbler to his lips. “Yeah, lucky she didn’t kick my ass into the next century for fucking things up.”
Jace chuckled, amusement creasing the corners of his eyes. “You have to admit; you did fuck up there. On an epic scale.”
“Me?” Veyr snorted mid-drink, burning the back of his throat and nose as the whiskey tried to go the wrong way. He recovered with a swallow and looked at his friend. “As I recall, the whole situation was caused by the need to rescue your lady.”
Jace’s somewhat harsh features softened a little as they rested on the slender woman next to Cyan—his mate, Vanessa. Last year, thanks to her brother’s underhanded machinations, she and Veyr had nearly ended up mated. While Jace had almost lost the love of his life, Veyr had nearly lost Cyan and, unbeknownst to him, his unborn daughter.
Fortunately, he and Jace had realized what McCauley was up to and concocted a plan of their own; a mating ceremony Veyr had never intended to go through with interrupted by a challenge fight that sorted the whole problem.
“Yeah… it was. But,” Jace’s gaze clashed with his, “it wasn’t my idea to not let your woman in on the little secret, was it? For the Master of the City, you sure were a little slow on the uptake there, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah…” Veyr waved his hand dismissively as Jace chuckled, knowing he’d won that argument. Again. “Talk to the hand…”
Silence fell between the two men as they watched the small group of women again, each only having eyes for the lady in the group who belonged to them. Veyr sighed. “Well, thankfully, it all turned out alright in the end. Who would have thought, this time last year, that I’d be mated, with a gorgeous woman and a beautiful daughter?”
“She is beautiful,” Jace agreed readily, his voice full of warmth for his little god-daughter. “Who’s looking after her this evening?”
“Margarite,” Veyr said, naming one of his wife’s younger ladies in waiting. “Lily adores her.”
“Margarite? Isn’t that the one Bryce has a thing for?”
Both looked up and across the room. The third of their little group who had risen through the social ranks in the city when Veyr had become master, Bryce had replaced Jace as Captain of the Guard, the men charged with protecting them all.
He stood by the open doorway between the two main ballrooms, hi
s big, heavily muscled form shoehorned into evening wear. Even though it was fitted for him, he still looked like he’d stolen it. Diamond in the rough was an understatement. Veyr had noticed a lot of the older ladies of the court eyeing him suspiciously, as though he might be hiding the court silver beneath the jacket.
“Yeah…” Veyr said nothing else, unable to wrap his head around the idea of the big wolf with a delicate thing like Margarite. Putting that from his mind, he emptied the rest of his glass in one long swallow. “Right now, though, the only lady on my mind is right over there. Excuse me.”
Depositing his glass on the tray held by a circulating waiter, he headed for the women.
“Excuse me, ladies.” Striding forward, he eased his way between the chattering women, smiling in acknowledgment as several gasped, dipping their knees in half-curtseys.
It was a habit he’d tried hard to break the court of, the kowtowing and groveling servility, especially by the women. As far as he was concerned, no woman should ever have to prostrate herself before a man. Ever. Just one of the archaic traditions he was trying hard to stamp out… the city was well behind others in that regard. For example, their nearest neighbor had a mistress rather than a master.
“My lady,” he addressed his mate directly as the band struck up a waltz. “Would you do me the honor of this dance?”
Cyan smiled, her full lips curving upward in welcome as she slid her hand onto his offered arm. “I thought you’d never ask, although… we’ll have to be careful.”
“Oh?” he asked as he led her out onto the dance floor. The swish of her silken skirts matched the movement of her dark hair as it fell in a cascade of curls down her back. He turned her lightly before pulling her into his arms. She fit there perfectly. “Why?”
“Weeeell,” she flicked him a teasing look from under her lashes. “Rumor has it the Master of the City will be here tonight, but I haven’t seen him yet…”
He bit back his smile. As always, he’d muted his appearance, pulling the cloak of humanity over his features and hiding the power of his wolf within. He pulled her closer to whisper in her ear. “I’d heard that too, but since he’s not here and I am, I figure that makes you all mine. Wouldn’t you say?”
Her breathing caught, the little half-hitch and the softening of her body against his telling him she agreed. They moved together in perfect harmony. To an onlooker, their dance would have appeared respectable. They knew better though, tension swirling between them.
Awareness arched and tightened, building with each turn and spin as he held her against him that little bit tighter than he needed to. His gaze caught hers, the corner of his lips quirking as he spotted the flush across her cheeks when she looked away. Her fingers curled around his upper arm, her back arching a little more as she pressed herself against him.
The second glance from under her lashes broke the leash on his control. Dark and full of promise, it drew a growl from his throat unbidden. Abruptly, he changed direction, eliciting a tiny squeak from his tempting little partner as she’d expected him to follow the flow of the dance and go the other way. Easily he lifted her as she stumbled just a little on the steps and urged her out onto the balcony instead.
“Inside,” he half-growled, half-ordered the guard standing outside. “Make sure no one comes out.”
“Yessir,” the man murmured, disappearing back inside in the blink of an eye, the door closing behind him.
“Veyr! What are you up to?” she gasped in delight, her body soft and yielding as he walked her backward until her hips were against the low stone wall that surrounded this, the smaller and more private of the two balconies off the main ballroom.
“You know exactly what I’m up to,” he breathed, nosing her chin up so he could run his lips down the sensitive skin of her throat. She moaned, tilting her head back to give him better access. She was so responsive, so in tune with him she knew exactly what he wanted, what he needed, before he did.
Almost as if she had read his mind, she pulled him closer, the fingers of one hand spearing through the short hair at the nape of his neck to hold him to her. He groaned, teeth grazing the soft skin as he kissed his way down to the curve of her shoulder.
Cyan caught her breath, the heat simmering in her veins bursting into full blown flame as Veyr’s lips covered the small scar on her shoulder. Her mating scar, the mark proclaimed to everyone that she was his and he was hers. Forever. There was no divorce in the lycan world.
He pressed against her, the warm weight of his hard body driving her arousal higher. One hand hard in the curve of her waist, he slid the other down her hip, pulling her full skirts up. The fabric bunched up, higher and higher until he could slide his hand beneath. She whimpered as he dipped down to grip her ass, strong fingers massaging the full, rounded globe with lusty desperation.
She knew how he felt, dropping her head back as his lips traveled down the slope of her breast to her cleavage. With a new baby, their nights and any lovemaking were often disturbed. If they even got there in the first place. Exhaustion often claimed one or both as soon as their heads hit the pillows.
“God, I’ve missed this,” he whispered, the sound more a groan, and pulled at the ribbons that held her gown shut at the front with his teeth.
She opened her mouth to agree, but at that moment he reached around further, urging her leg up and over his hip. His fingers found the thin scrap of satin covering her pussy and swept it aside to stroke between her lower lips. She gasped, her answer lost as he found her clit, broad fingertip teasing and caressing the small bundle of nerves.
Arching her back, she urged him on silently. His deep, masculine groan filled the night air when the ribbon gave, her bodice parting to allow him access to her breasts. Cool air washed over her skin, the twin mounds tightening to hard peaks as if to entice him. Her groan joined his as he bent to swirl a tongue around one nipple, then the next, paying them both equal attention in soft kisses and warm licks.
But his attention didn’t stay gentle for long. A small nip made her jerk before he pulled her nipple into the warm cavern of his mouth. She whimpered as pleasure shot through her, drawing a line of fire between her nipple and her clit. Her hips rocked against his hand, a subconscious plea for more, for him to assuage the fire that rolled through her body.
He didn’t. Instead, he made it worse.
His fingertip teased her clit. Circling, pressing and tapping but never stroking as she needed… as she craved. Then, as his mouth moved to the other breast to close over the nipple, he slid a finger deep into her needy pussy.
“Oh god,” she gasped, clinging to his broad shoulders as he pumped slowly in and out. “Please, Veyr…”
He licked over her nipple in reply and added another finger. She whimpered, rocking her hips as he fucked her with his fingers. Each stroke was long and deep, and he twisted his hand to press against her g-spot on the way out. Soon she was panting and moaning, ready to beg him… do anything if he quit playing and fucked her like she needed.
He added a thumb, pressed against her clit, and she was lost. Pressure and tension built in her body with each thrust and slide of his fingers until, finally, it burst. Face buried against his neck to stifle her screams, she came long and hard. His deep murmurs in her ear of all the dirty things he wanted to do to her and with her elongated her release until she lay lax in his arms, spent.
He didn’t give her time to recover. Pulling his fingers from the slick grasp of her pussy, he leaned back to make eye contact and purposely licked along the back of them where they glistened with her release. She shivered at the dark look in his eyes.
“Later,” he rumbled, reaching up to rub the tip of his fingers against her lips. She moaned, her eyelids fluttering shut as she tasted herself on his fingers. “I’m going to eat your pussy until all you can do is scream my name.”
Her arousal kicked up another notch as he circled her waist and boosted her up to sit on the low stone wall that surrounded the balcony. The court was old,
the building added to and extended over the years, so in this corner, the balcony butted up to a wall, giving her something to lean back against as he lifted her skirts, wedging his hips between her spread thighs.
“You…” he whispered, leaning down to capture her lips in quick kisses as he spoke. “Are the most beautiful, sexiest woman I have ever met. As soon as I saw you, I wanted you. Knew I had to make you mine. Knew I was going to fuck you. Had to fuck you.”
“Like right now?” she panted, wriggling against him as he reached between them to unzip his pants. Within a second he was there, the thick, wide head of his cock pressing right where she needed him against the lips of her pussy. “Oh yes, now… please… just fuck me.”
“Oh yeah, I’m gonna fuck you,” he breathed, the deep rasp of his voice right by her ear as he thrust into her, seating himself balls deep in one hard thrust. “Gonna fuck you hard and fast until all you can think of is me. Of what I do to you. Of my cock buried deep in your pussy.”
He’d done that already. With his hips wedged between her legs and his cock pulsing deep within her, all she could think of was him. He pulled back, the slick slide stroking hidden nerve endings that sang only for him, and almost instantly drove back inside her.
Each hard thrust made her breath catch, her shoulders pressed back against the cold brickwork, but she didn’t care. She loved every second. Moaning in pleasure, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling his lips around to claim them with hers. He let her and then within a heartbeat, he turned it around and became the aggressor.
With a hard sweep of his tongue he demanded access, sliding deep when she granted it. His tongue slid and stroked against hers in a hot, torrid kiss to match his body moving in hers. Claiming her. Taking her. Owning her.
She whimpered and clung to him, the hard points of her nails elongated and strengthened by the force of her desire and the wolf that lurked within her skin. He growled in approval… appreciation… sheer lust… she didn’t know, didn’t care. All she knew was that she needed him to keep doing what he was doing.