by Tina Donahue
They were more than that, had been since the beginning, no way could he keep denying that truth.
Unable to flee any longer, he delivered himself to her lusty care, lost in her fragrant warmth. She worked his shaft in and out of her mouth, a soft, feminine sound escaping her.
He tilted his chin to the forest canopy, eyes closed, surrendering his will to whatever she desired. One lick became two and more then a flick, her tongue teasing his most sensitive area. Dazzling pleasure surged through him, draining his resolve to hold off. He clamped his jaw and resisted climax, running construction quotes through his head, adding extra to Fran’s job, then concentrated on tools and materials, not the delight rolling from his cock to his belly, chest, and thighs.
He locked his knees, tensed his legs, bit the inside of his lip.
Portia gently squeezed his balls.
Nick’s mouth sagged open, a howl tearing through the forest. From him? Must be, though he couldn’t recall having made a sound. He tried to breathe but his chest was too tight, his lungs worn out. Too bad. He had to hang on for a little while longer.
Release hit with tsunami force, his cum spurting into her mouth. Oh shit, he had to stop. He didn’t want to gross her out.
Lightheaded, he staggered away.
Portia yanked him back, gripping his ass, drinking his cock dry. Honoring him. More importantly, accepting who he was, flawed as fuck, barely worthy of her.
Finished, she licked his crown and looked up. “Still good?”
If he’d had the strength to laugh, he would have. “Yep.” The world spun, taking him with it. He dropped to the ground, his knees ramming hard.
“Oh God.” She grabbed his upper arms. “That must have hurt.”
His afterglow was too intense to allow pain. Later, he’d probably be limping. “I’m good.” He slipped his arm around her waist and dragged her with him to the ground. “I’ll be ready to go again in a sec.”
She stroked his nipple. “That long?”
He laughed. “Unfortunately, I’m not Superman.”
“No?” She suckled his throat.
Felt good until it stung. “Ow.”
“Sorry.” She rubbed his hurt.
Not as great as her mouth, but he wasn’t going to complain. “Were you giving me a hickey?”
“I got carried away. I’ll behave from now on.”
Who said he wanted that? “Just say you’ll come back to Moonlight and we’re good.”
She curled into him.
After her second sigh, Nick tightened his arm around her waist and slung his leg over hers. “I hope you’re not thinking of taking off while I snooze.”
“I should.”
“Fuck that. The second we wake up, we’re going back. You belong with the pack as much as I do.”
She didn’t argue. Nor did she nap. Neither did he, afraid to close his eyes, guessing the moment he did, she’d dash away. This time he might not be able to find her without discarded clothing giving him a heads up as to which direction she’d taken. As always, her scent seemed to be everywhere, so pervasive it confused and enticed.
He rubbed her arm. “Tired?”
“I could sleep. Go on. Nap.”
“You first.”
Breathing hard, she rested her arm over her eyes.
“Guess that means we should head back.”
“You go on. I’ll catch up.”
He eased her arm away so she had to look at him. “Are you planning to be as stubborn as I was?”
“What are you talking about? When did you stop?”
He hugged her hard. “The moment Fran opened her big mouth and made you cry.”
“She did not.”
“Fine. You have brass balls. You can chew nails and spit tacks. You can—”
“Let’s say we talk about what I can’t do. Apparently, even the simplest plumbing job is beyond me.”
He pulled back. “Do you honestly believe that?”
“Hell no. I’m good at what I do. Whatever happened in that bathroom is not my fault. I installed the damn thing correctly.”
“Then let’s tell Fran that.”
Portia made a face. “Would that be in between her making me feel like a leper?”
“She was out of line.” Nick figured Satan would have trouble with the old biddy. “I told her so and that she’d better not do it again.”
“Bet that shut her up.”
She’d kept hollering well after he left the porch. “If you let her run you away, you’ll have nowhere else to go.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I won’t.”
Portia’s expression changed. Hope, caution, doubt, and what might have been fear crossed her lovely features. “I don’t want you screwing up your place in the pack for me.”
“It’s not your call, and I won’t. Come on.” Despite his fatigue, he labored to his feet and offered his hand. When she didn’t accept his gesture, he leaned down. “Give me trouble, and I’ll sling you over my shoulder to carry you.”
“Why are you doing this? Is it because you feel sorry for me?”
So many emotions swirled within him, pity couldn’t have possibly squeezed its way inside. “You’re a braver person than I’ll ever be. A far better one, too.”
She slapped his hand. “Don’t ever say that or even think it.”
“Keep reminding me and I won’t.” He pulled her to her feet and into him. “Time to go back, under your own power or mine. Which do you prefer?”
She tried hard not to smile, but still made a small dimple. “I’m already responsible for you popping the blood vessels in your eyes and risking a hernia. No way am I going to add a slipped disc to that.”
“Wow, maybe I should use a fallen branch as a cane, or we could build a wheelchair to push me back to the community.”
“Stay here and I’ll rent one for you.”
He towed her back and smacked her ass playfully. “Stay in Moonlight. Please.”
She rested her forehead against his shoulder. “I hate when people don’t like me. I’ve never been popular, but reviled is worse than what I faced with middle-school bullies.”
“Fran talks big and loud. But what happened isn’t as bad as you think. She’ll calm down.”
“Maybe.” Portia wrapped her arms around his torso. “If I agree to go back would you do me a favor?”
“Anything except packing a U-Haul with your stuff.”
She laughed softly. “Once we’re there, would you mind if I wait at my place while you get the parts that messed up? Before I see Fran or anyone else, I’d like to go into town and talk to the jerk I bought the holder from.”
“Kent.”
“What— Wait, who?”
“The guy who owns the store. I’ll drive you there, get the new parts, you’ll replace them, we’ll make sure everything’s okay and then go out to dinner, a movie, whatever you want.”
She stared. “Like a real date?”
“Sure. I’ll pay and everything.”
Wonder flooded her face. “Thanks.”
He kissed her gently, his tenderness surprising but not disturbing him. He enjoyed the emotion. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Giving him countless chances to understand what Bree would have probably told him if she’d been able. That she’d want him to be happy, to have what they’d once had, to love again. He’d never forget her. He’d always remember how he’d failed. Only now, he’d do better, cherishing Portia, protecting her with his life, always keeping her safe.
He brushed his lips over hers. “Thanks for everything.”
***
Portia couldn’t stop grinning or horsing around with Nick. She smacked his ass. He tickled her relentlessly. Both of them laughed until they neared Moonlight. She held back, stomach churning. Nervously, she fingered the ripped laces on her blouse.
Nick glanced at the bloodstains then pulled off his tee, handing it over. “Wear this. I’ll grab a new one after I get the
damaged parts. Stay here, all right?”
She nodded.
He pecked her mouth. “Everything will be fine.”
Hopefully. She paced while he was gone, his absence seeming to take forever. Pack members were busy with their daily routines, not spotting her. Ty suddenly strayed close to the forest edge. Portia ducked behind an oak. He didn’t look over, concentrating instead on the lumber he carried.
At last, Nick returned, wearing a fresh white tee, the paint scrubbed from his face, his hand out. “This look like what you need?”
She fingered the handle and other materials. “Yeah. Was Fran still there?”
“Nope. She’s probably out riding her broom.”
Portia laughed, surprised she could.
On the way into town, they listened to Keith Urban, Lady Antebellum, Faith Hill, and Tim McGraw, then strolled hand in hand into Kent’s, a utopia for plumbers and construction workers, countless aisles stuffed with every conceivable material and tool.
Nick lifted his arm immediately, flagging down a tall man in jeans and a dark-blue tee, his hair more gray than blond.
She leaned close. “That’s Kent?”
“Yep.”
He was a good-looking dude, except for his smile not reaching his eyes. Goose pimples rose on her arms. Suppressing a shiver at the sudden cold, she lifted her face to the ceiling vent, chilled air pouring down. Should have felt better than it did.
“Nick.” Kent shook his hand. “What can I do for you?”
“Not me. Portia.”
She showed him the defective part, explaining what had happened.
He screwed up his mouth. “This is what you get when everything’s made overseas. Give me a sec and I’ll get you a new one. No charge, of course.”
“Thanks.”
“You bet.”
Nick squeezed her hand. “Told you everything would be all right.”
She leaned close so the other shoppers wouldn’t overhear. “Why don’t you like him?”
“What? I never said I didn’t.”
Nick’s frosty expression had given him away, unless she imagined things. “He kind of puts on, doesn’t he? Like, he’s not really as nice as he pretends.”
“He’s a businessman. Comes with the territory.”
True. “A shifter, too.” She’d caught his scent.
“Yeah, he was—”
“Here you go.” Kent hurried down the aisle, materials in hand. “These just came in. If you have any trouble, let me know.”
“We will.” Nick escorted her from the store. “How long will it take you to install that?”
“Shouldn’t be too much time, why?”
“We have a date.”
Right. Smiling, she climbed into his pickup, an old model Nick told her he’d saved for and tended lovingly. “You were going to tell me something about Kent when he returned.”
“I was?” Nick drove from the lot and shook his head. “Can’t recall what it was. Maybe it’ll come to me later. While you fix the sink, I’ll finish painting the cottage wall. We’ll meet at your place after that, all right?”
“Absolutely. Should I wear something fancy?”
He patted her thigh. “I like your pink socks with the lace.”
She had dozens. “Then I’ll wear them. Anything else?”
He stroked a string from her cut-offs, touching more skin than material, heat radiating off his fingertips. “Surprise me.”
Totally doable. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get back, wanting him to floor this baby.
He drove carefully, almost too cautiously, but at last Moonlight came into sight.
Portia had just left the cab when Ty ran up, his complexion as red as his hair and freckles. Bile rose in her throat. “Is Fran okay?” Good God, she couldn’t have died. “Did she pass out? Has anyone taken her to the doctor?”
“She won’t go.” He swallowed hard, snatched some air, then looked from her to Nick and back. “She told Derek what happened. He’s called a meeting and wants you there.”
Chapter Four
Pack meetings took place in Moonlight Diner. The establishment closed after luncheon crowds left so the crew could prepare for the evening rush. With the midday meal past, shifters, rather than travelers, filled the chairs and counter seats. Nick tightened his arm around Portia’s shoulders, encouraging her inside.
She didn’t want to be here.
With her reluctant approach, quiet conversations ceased, everyone’s attention swinging to her. Some in the pack looked curious or surprised at Nick’s embrace and show of support, others wary as they concentrated on Portia alone. Fran and Olive were downright hateful, their chins lifted, looking down their noses at her. The gash on Fran’s forehead had already scabbed, the dark circles beneath her eyes lightened somewhat. Despite the improvement, she hadn’t calmed down, as Nick had asserted. Her homely features tightened with disdain.
When Portia had been in middle school, her principal wore the same look, his face stony with scorn, whenever classmates blamed her for something they’d done. Breaking school property, smoking in the john, stealing money from a teacher or student. No matter how many times she’d proven she wasn’t responsible or what they’d claimed wasn’t possible, Mr. Jeffries kept ordering her to his office, blaming her for taking up his precious time, warning that she had better behave or face suspension, possibly expulsion. By the time she’d reached high school, Portia had policed her every move, afraid to breathe too loudly fearing someone would call her on it.
It seemed nothing ever changed, no matter how many years had passed or whether she was with her own kind or not.
With no chairs or stools left, she and Nick stood near the locked door. So did Ty. He squeezed her wrist in sweet encouragement. Her eyes teared.
Derek sat in the back next to Rand, a tall blond who was second in command. Their features didn’t register to Portia, Mr. Jefferies’ scowling face replacing theirs.
Derek rapped the table. “Let’s get started.”
Nick tightened his grip on Portia’s shoulders. If he hadn’t, she might have run, her pulse already racing, making her shaky.
On a loud grunt, Fran pushed to her feet, mouth twisted in rage or pain. She clutched the table as an arthritic would, using the furniture to stay upright.
She’d had no trouble kicking at Portia in the bathroom or smacking her hand. Now, she was suddenly an invalid?
“You see what she did to me.” Fran glanced around the room, making certain everyone got a great view of her battered face. “If I hadn’t jumped back when I had, the metal could have pierced my brain and killed me or put out an eye. My vision’s still not too good. I don’t know if it will ever go back to what it was. The pain is awful. It’s everywhere.”
She ran through a litany of her aches.
When she’d finally wound down, Olive patted her wrist. “Tell them what happened when you tried to shift.”
“That’s right. Thank you, I almost forgot.”
Nick huffed.
Fran played to her audience, brown eyes widened. “The change took longer than it ever has, even when I was a child and first learning to shift. I’ve never had any discomfort before, but now I do. I can barely stand the shooting pains in my legs and shoulders.”
“Shouldn’t your nose and forehead be giving you the problems?”
With Ty’s question, everyone looked at him. He lifted his shoulders. “Well that’s where the thing hit Fran. Seems only reasonable that’s where she’d hurt the most.”
Olive folded her arms beneath her sagging breasts. “There’s nothing reasonable about this. We know she did that to Fran.”
“Bullshit.” Nick released Portia and stepped forward. “It was a fucking accident.”
Olive stiffened, her expression appalled. “How dare you use that language with me or contradict what I say.”
“Someone has to.”
“I expect an apology.”
“For the damn truth?”
“Nick, wait.” Portia joined him. “I can handle this.” What was happening here wasn’t his battle. Not any longer.
“Handle it how?”
His worry touched her. “Please back off.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, I am.” Having been everyone’s scapegoat for too long had finally fueled her fury to an impossible level. She didn’t care what anyone’s motive was in behaving so abominably, whether they were driven by wanting to feel superior, self-righteous, were wary of a refugee, or simply loved being mean. Right now, so much anger raged in her, Portia couldn’t stop shaking.
She faced Fran. “I’m good at what I do no matter what you claim. I’d fixed that sink properly with materials I got from Kent’s. Nick and I were just there. Kent as much said the piece was defective. We all know the junk that’s coming from overseas. Pet food that poisons dogs. Defective drywall and copper plumbing. The handle that struck you is simply another in a string of problems with those imports.”
“So now it’s someone else’s fault. Sure. That’s what all guilty people say.”
“No, that’s what I’m saying.” She strode to Fran, getting in her face. “If you doubt me, ask Kent.”
“He runs a store. He’s no expert.”
“Neither are you.”
“Get away from me.” Fran swung her foot then her arm.
Portia stepped back. “Wow, it’s a miracle.” She gestured to Fran’s leg and hand. “Did everyone see that? She can move just as easily as she always has.”
Olive stood. “We want you out of Moonlight immediately.”
Those words should have terrified Portia. Too much adrenaline pumped through her to allow any fear or backing down. “Why do you want me to leave? Because of an incident that you damn well know was nothing more than a freak accident, or for the real reason—I’m not exactly like you. I’m not one of the original pack.” She turned to the others. “When I first came here, I recognized a community that pulled together and protected its members from the outside world, because each of us is different. Humans would certainly say we’re abnormal or cursed. So, we’re going to be like them now, picking each other apart for perceived deficiencies? Fine, let me get the ball rolling.”