by Elsa Jade
“Right here,” she breathed. “Take me all the way to the top, Mac.”
With her whispers of encouragement ringing like music in his ears, he backed her toward the fallen ponderosa and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs behind his hips, clinging to him as if she’d never let him go.
Last time he’d done this, she’d stabbed him. The time before that, she’d left him. But the warning voice of reason and past experience had nothing on the wild rush of his blood rising higher with every caress and gasp.
She fumbled between their bodies and let out a rasping sound, almost a growl. “Put me down.”
It took more strength of will than he knew he possessed to set her on the fallen tree and release his grasp.
If she walked away again, he thought it might break him where even the clan’s shame had only inspired him to dig deeper.
But she didn’t let him go. Her fingers curled through the waist of his jeans, pulling him closer. Grinning up at him, she thumbed the button of his fly and started to ease the zipper down the teeth.
“Oh!” Her smile dropped into open-jawed awe as his engorged shaft thrust free. He gritted his teeth at the swirling sensation of pleasure and painful need as she stroked her hand down the heavy weight of his bare shaft, exposing him.
Her smile came back, wider than before, when she looked at him through half-closed lashes. “Oh, Mac…”
He pumped himself once, twice, into her fist, each stroke swelling him larger, tightening all the muscles in his thighs and ass, a prelude for pumping into her. “If you’ll have me,” he rasped.
“I seem to have you now,” she purred. “Bare and ready to go.”
“Shifters keep it simple,” he said. “Never know what might need to change.” He held his breath, watching her, knowing he was taking a risk, reminding her of what he was and what that meant. But some risks were worth taking.
She toyed with the sensitive crown of his swollen flesh, and he gritted his teeth, clamping every muscle to hold himself still, until she finally glanced up at him.
“I only ever seem to lose my clothes around you,” she confessed. She widened her knees, hiking her skirt up over her thighs and guiding him toward her. The sweet, musky scent of her arousal was sharpened by the salty tang of sweat from their race together. And he loved all of it. But it wasn’t enough. Not until he marked her with his own scent, the hungry beast declaring that she was his.
Did she even know what that meant? Did he?
***
Chance, instincts, planning… None of it added up to anything compared to the desire in Mac’s eyes when he stepped between her knees and cupped her cheek in his big hand.
Brandy closed her eyes for just a heartbeat, exulting in his closeness. She might not be a shifter, but she was an animal too, and she’d longed for this primitive closeness. Her sisters would’ve given her a night off any time she asked, but if it wasn’t with Mac, this big, desirable male who’d awakened her to the bliss of her body, the simple joy of joining with another, it wouldn’t be enough.
But as he stripped away her panties, wrestling the scrap of cotton over her borrowed boots—which made her appreciate the shifter preference for commando freedom—she suddenly wondered if he was too much.
“It’s been a long time,” she murmured.
“You never forget how to ride a bear,” he said hoarsely.
Her little chuckle seemed to open something inside her, clenched muscles, her worry over what this meant, and she spread her legs wider.
“I think you mean a bicycle.”
“The bear on a bicycle would be awkward, but if that’s what you want, I’ll do tricks for you.”
“I just want you.” She propped one heel on the slick bark beneath her, and he made a noise that was all hungry male.
He ran one hand over the tidy thatch on her mound, his jaw dropping slightly as if contemplating all the terribly tasty things he would do to her. Except she couldn’t wait.
When she hooked her other heel behind his butt and flexed, with a hoarse groan he dove into her. The blunt, heavy head of his erection against her slick folds made her breath keen with need. She thrust her hips toward him, piercing herself on his flesh.
He stilled. “What happened to it’s been a long time?”
“That’s long enough,” she gasped.
With a rumbling chuckle that vibrated through her core, he slanted another endless, infinitesimal distance within her. “Remind me what you like,” he urged.
She shifted her hips, deepening the angle. “You,” she whispered. “It’s always been you.”
With a deep groan, she impaled herself until he pressed so tight that the inner muscles of her thighs ached from his nearness. Still she stretched herself wider to take more of him. Once upon a time, she’d done this with no thought to the consequences, spinning her life off in a direction she’d never dreamed. This time, her eyes were wide open.
She stared up at him, memorizing the flow of golden summer light through his dark hair as he loomed over her, reveling in the rasp of his coarse leg hair on her thighs and the satiny caress of his cock inside her. The golden sunlight seemed to be in his eyes too as he stared back at her, as if he was memorizing this moment out of time.
“I need more of you,” he rasped. “I need to see all of you.” He gripped the floral button in the V of her neckline. “I wanted to chew off this button since the first time I saw it.”
Lost in the glorious haze of his touch, inside and out, she tipped her head back, letting the warmth of the sun and the heat of his body melt her, force her into bloom.
He unbuttoned the flowers down the front of her bodice, flaying open the edges to expose her.
“No bra,” he said approvingly. “Maybe you’re half shifter.”
Something in the possessiveness of his words raised an untimely warning bell in the back of her mind, but she wasn’t going to push him away this time, wouldn’t deny herself this summer loving.
Loving…
Bracing off the fallen tree, she drove herself deep onto his swollen flesh, so far she swore she felt him in her womb. With a rumbling roar, he braced his hand under her backside and lifted her against him, rocking her hard, rocking the whole damn tree. Impossible… No, her whole world was rocking.
She clung to him as every muscle and nerve in her seemed to tighten and soften, reaching for blessed release.
It came out of nowhere, and she came like it was her last chance. She cried out in satisfaction, and his answering roar shook her to her depths.
They clung to each other on the awkward perch of the ponderosa, catching their breath.
“You won that race too,” he murmured finally.
She chuckled, stretching against him. “What’s the prize this time?”
“I’ll have to—”
A not-too-distant cry froze them both. Then she twisted back off him, making him grimace as his still thickened shaft bobbed precariously near the bark. She scrambled to push down her skirt. “It’s one thing to get caught with our knees tied together,” she muttered.
She darted a glance at Mac who was stuffing himself away behind the button of his jeans. A jolt of mortification and amusement—and a very wicked thrill—shot through her. She’d done that. Done him.
And it was glorious.
She darted forward to brush her lips across his, catching one last taste of him, before they were interrupted.
Her bliss evaporated like a snowflake in the desert when Gin burst into the clearing, Rita slowed by her shorter steps but just a few seconds behind.
“Aster is gone.”
Chapter 13
This new park was the best!
It was way bigger than Central Park where Mama took him every few days to run around. Central Park was big, but everywhere inside it, the rumble of traffic was a warning, and the stink of steel and concrete was not so far away.
But this new place… So big! So far away...
For the first time since he’d wa
ndered away from his aunties, Aster wondered how loud they were going to yell. He was supposed to stay close, but in a place this big, he sort of was still close. Or so he’d told himself when he walked away while Aunt Gin was talking to some big man. He meant to just look at some flowers growing in the cool shade of the trees, then he looked up at the green tops swaying in the warm breeze—so high!—and lost track of which way he walked. So far away.
While Mama had told him—lots and lots of times—what to do if he ever got lost, it was hard for him to say his name and numbers so people could call her. But usually he had his backpack with her business card. He’d left his backpack on the picnic blanket, so far away… And it wasn’t like there was anybody around to tell anyway.
For just a second, his breath hitched. But he was a big boy and wouldn’t cry.
What would Mac do? Mac was big, bigger even than the trees. Mac had lifted him down from the tree in the front yard with just one hand. Probably Mac could see over the tops of every tall tree in this very big park. Mama would tell Mac to look for him. So he just needed to sit still—as hard as that always was—until Mama and Mac found him.
If only he’d brought a juice box and some peebee—
The very softest whisper of sounds, as soft as Mama’s hair against his cheek when she kissed him goodnight, made him turn around. They’d found him already? He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, ready to take the scolding (and the hugs) he knew were incoming.
But the green-gold stare that met his wasn’t anybody he knew.
A flash of terror, sharper than big-kid scissors, sliced through him, and Aster knew he was in real trouble this time.
***
Mac grabbed Brandy’s elbow when she staggered, as if the heavy black boots weren’t enough to hold her upright. The same jolt weakened his own knees, but he tightened his throat against the urge to roar out a denial.
Keeping his voice calm, he asked, “Did you tell Kane? He won’t allow a child to go missing in this town.” Not to mention, he was a wolf with one of the sharpest noses around.
Rita darted a glance at Brandy. “We had to tell you first.”
“It was my fault,” Gin whispered. “I just looked away for a second—”
Brandy jerked out of his grasp to go to her sister. “I know how he is. Believe me, I know.” She stiffened. “He can’t have gotten far. His legs aren’t that long.”
Mac frowned. “If we get Kane and the others, they’ll have no problem finding one little kid—”
Brandy whirled to glare at him. “I don’t want a bunch of animals hunting him,” she snapped. “I’m his mother. I’ll find him.”
The multipronged note in her voice, sharp as the tines of a marshmallow roasting stick, startled him. The panic and guilt he could understand—that caustic brew was burning through his calm too—but why would she not want shifter help?
Because she didn’t want him either.
He really was just a slow, dumb bear. How many times did she need to make it clear that she didn’t want him around? Oh, for a hot, rough tumble maybe, but not forever, not for a mate. She’d left him after their day together, hadn’t tried to contact him even when she’d found out about her baby, never sought him out for anything, tried to keep Aster secret. He didn’t need to be some clever wolf or sly cat to figure out he wasn’t wanted.
He took a step back, his jaw hardening. Not wanted maybe, but needed, at least for this moment. “Where did you see him last?”
Brandy’s stricken gaze snapped to him. “You don’t—”
“Show me,” he all but roared.
Despite the fury of his insistence, the three sisters exchanged silent glances before Rita offered, “He wanted to look at the flowers on the other side of the playground, but I told him he needed to wait until you two got back.” Her thoughtful gaze tracked over the two of them, and while she might not have a shifter’s predatory senses, even a human couldn’t miss the evidence of what he and Brandy had been up to.
For the last time.
The loss he knew was coming mixed queasily with his fear for the missing child, but he stomped down the pain to do what he had to do. “There’s a path that takes off through the trees there,” he said tightly. “It would be natural enough for him to follow the path. So he’s not really lost, just farther away than you want him to be.”
Brandy swallowed hard. “Where does the path go?”
It went straight to a fast, cold creek that could easily sweep away an unwary child. But no way was Mac going to say that aloud. “If we bushwhack from here, we can meet up with the trail and get ahead of him.”
“What if he’s not on the trail?” Brandy fretted. “He could be anywhere.”
Mac lifted his chin. “You might not like shifters, but we have a few advantages.” He touched his nose. “We’ll find him.” He looked at her sisters. “Rita, you should stay at the festival grounds in case he wanders back. Gin, if you walk down the path from that direction, you might even find him first.”
For once, they nodded without doing that shared look thing with Brandy.
Mac took Brandy’s hand and led her from the clearing into the trees. Her pretty floral skirt wasn’t the best choice for a cross-country hike, but at least her boots were sturdy. And considering how well she’d done in the race, maybe he was underestimating how tough she was. Mama bears might be the gold standard for toughness, but Brandy Wick was definitely in the running.
The towering ponderosas cut down much of the understory growth, but a few downed snags plucked fretfully at their shins as they hurried through the forest. He quickly found a game trail leading generally in the right direction and they picked up their pace. When they came to a fallen old-growth giant, he paused to reach back and lift her over the thigh-high trunk.
She might not want him, but God, as his hands settled on her hips, every part of him was achingly aware of how much he wanted her.
Forcing himself to focus, he lowered her gently to the other side of the log, releasing her though even the tiniest muscles in his fingers told him to hold on. “Don’t worry,” he assured her as he slid over the snag to join her on the far side. She was staring into the trees as if her eyeballs could laser burn through the entire forest to find her son. “The shifters know these lands like you know the subways in New York. We’ll find Aster.”
To his surprise, she didn’t rush off along the trail. Instead, she cut him a wary look, half angry, half frightened, as if he were one of the trees standing between her and Aster. “If you are using your nose to find him, you should know”—she let out a harsh breath—“he might not be a little boy anymore.”
Mac stared at her. “Not a…” A rush of emotion as cold and confusing as the wild tumble of the creek swept through him. “He’s a bear.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, low, where she would’ve carried a baby. His child. A bear shifter son.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was a wounded growl.
“It didn’t matter before.” She stared up at the maze of open sky visible between the dark crown of the trees. “It matters now.”
“It always mattered,” he said. “He’s not just my son, Brandy. He’s a bear. He needs to be with other shifters.”
“He’s a little boy!” Her voice cracked higher than his. “My little boy. He needs to be with his mother, not…not out there.” She waved her hand wildly so that Mac wasn’t sure if she meant the woods or the big, wide world.
He grabbed her hand, stilling her frantic gesture with her fist pressed against his chest. “You don’t have to be afraid of the wild,” he said gruffly. “It’s just a part of us.” Of Aster. And of him.
Though she didn’t try to pull from his grasp, she tilted her head away so she was glaring at him sidelong. “Not anymore. It’s not part of him anymore.”
Something about her tone made him stiffen. “You can’t just ignore the bear.”
“I didn’t even know it was there, until…” She let ou
t a harsh breath. “When Aster changed and wouldn’t change back, I knew I had to do something. I wasn’t going to let him be a…” She sucked in whatever word she’d been about to say.
Monster. Mutant. Freak. The accusations caromed through his head anyway, and the reverberations seemed to knock loose his hold on her.
He stepped back, stiffening with a mix of hurt and rage that he could neither let loose nor deny. Much like his bear, the beast that Brandy so hated.
She gazed at him, her eyes shimmering. “I just want to give him the chance to be normal,” she said in a broken voice. “Because I never… He shouldn’t have to pay for what you are, or what I am.”
Mac jerked his chin back. What was she? Besides a liar who had kept his child from him? What could be worse than that? Not that it mattered. Now that he knew about Aster, he wouldn’t let them just walk out of his life. He’d find his son and find a way to stay in the boy’s life.
He took another step back, his face hardening. “You might not like animals,” he said tightly. “But that’s who’s going to help you find Aster.”
The misery in her eyes wrecked him. Did city people really hate the wild that much? “You were born here in Angels Rest,” she said. “And you never left. You have no idea how cruel the world can be to anyone who’s…”
“Who’s a monster?” he finished harshly.
“Who’s not normal,” she countered, as if that were so different. Her exhalation this time was almost a sob. “The spell was supposed to make him normal. All I needed was your blood to banish the bear from Aster.”
He reeled back. “My blood?” When she stabbed him with her hairpin… It hadn’t been a careless, clumsy move in the midst of their shared lust. She’d lain in wait and hurt him deliberately. Obviously she was pretty good at that. He scoffed to cover up the pain. “There’s no such thing as an anti-shifter spell.”
“There is now,” she said. “We made one, my sisters and I.”
“What, you just twiddled your fingers and…”
“And cast a spell.” She lifted her chin. “I’m a witch.”