A Place to Run (Trials of the Blood Book 1)

by Becca Lynn Mathis

  I may have just showered earlier that day, but it felt so much better to be getting the sweat and grime off after fighting with Matt and playing woofball.

  I smiled. It was an appropriate name. God, but what was I going to do with Jonathan? Of course I wanted him, that much I was sure of, but maybe we could just take things slow. I just didn't want to end up trying to make life with this pack work if he and I didn't. I couldn't imagine a scenario where that would be anything less than awkward.

  Besides, I didn't know anything about him. Not his favorite food, or song, or really anything. I didn't know where he came from or what his family was like. God, and he didn't know anything about me! Or did he? How much did the pack actually know about me anyway?

  I turned off the water and stepped out of the shower stall, wrapping the plush towel around me as I did. My rosary on the counter caught my eye. Blessed. It had been blessed by the priest who had provided the service for my mother when she passed, and somehow, it had managed to not get burnt in a raging housefire. Man, if that wasn’t proof that something supernatural was at work in the world—besides the werewolves and the vampires, that is—then I don’t know what is.

  The pack was reacting to the movie they were watching—comments of “uh oh” and “oh man” floating upstairs as I padded into my room. I placed the rosary on the bedside table and ran a comb through my hair a few times before scrunching the drips out of it with a towel. Then I threw on a pair of jeans from my bag along with a grey t-shirt and went downstairs to join the pack.

  It was a Keanu Reeves movie that they were watching, but it definitely wasn’t one of the Matrix films. Everyone was sprawled out across the room, relaxing as they watched the movie. Ian, Jamie, and Jonathan were all so engrossed that they moved craned their necks around me as I passed in front of the TV and came behind the couch where Kaylah was sitting.

  “You guys have popcorn,” I whispered to her. “Right?”

  She turned her head to me. “Of course!” She started to get up and I placed a hand on her shoulder.

  “I can handle popcorn,” I said, “as long as it’s the microwave kind. If you tell me where it is and where a bowl is, I’ll bring enough for everyone.”

  “Hun,” she said, “that’s prolly four or five bags.”

  Matt shushed us from the other couch, and when I looked over at him, he gestured to the TV.

  I nodded. Right. Watching a movie. I leaned closer to Kaylah’s ear. “It’s fine, I’ve already missed the setup of the movie. Where is the popcorn, and where are the bowls?” I tried to make my whisper as quiet as possible, hoping the werewolf hearing would make up for it.

  Kaylah put her hand to cover her mouth as she told me where to find everything in the kitchen.

  I nodded and squeezed her shoulder in a gesture of thanks before padding into the kitchen. As I expected, everything was where she said it would be. I tossed the first bag in the microwave and pulled out my phone. My mouth watered from the scent wafting from the bag of popping kernels.

  I leaned on the counter. I had a text from Steph. It was jarring to think that just a handful of days ago, I had been looking forward to going out with her and Jenny.

  As I read the text, which chastised me for not letting them know I couldn’t make it to the dinner, I realized that I didn’t even actually miss them any. Jenny and Steph had been coworkers of mine, loosely speaking—they worked at the news station. Steph had been in the mail room, but was offered a receptionist position at a marketing firm and had left the news station a few months back. She and I used to grab coffee on Tuesdays. Jenny, on the other hand, had finally gotten promoted to the mid-day weather broadcasts. And why shouldn’t she? She had long blonde hair and bright blue eyes and legs for days. She had an obsession with her gym membership and kept trying to get me to join and do some dance aerobics class or another. I think she called it Zumba? I pursed my lips. I’m sure the midday broadcast ratings had gone up since she took over.

  But they only ever seemed to invite me to things if I happened to be around when they were planning. We didn’t actually have much in common, and though we always had fun while we were out at the club, I always kind of felt like an outsider.

  The pops from the microwave had slowed enough that I knew it was time to take the bag out and start the next one. Thirty seconds left on a four-minute timer. The popcorn must have been a bit stale, but it smelled delicious as I dumped that bag into the first bowl. I tossed a couple of kernels into my mouth. They tasted fine. I shrugged and started the next bag popping.

  Three bags of popcorn later, I had all four bowls ready to take out to the living room and carefully stacked them up. After walking back to the living room, I handed a bowl each to Kaylah and Matt, and then crossed the room to hand one to Sheppard. Jonathan scooted over where he sat against the couch to make room for me between him and Jamie. He grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl as I sat down, settling my back against Jonathan’s side. He wrapped an arm around my shoulder, and it was like I was always meant to be there. My stupid little heart thrummed some silly little song and I rolled my eyes at myself.

  “So, which movie is this?” I whispered to Jonathan as Keanu fought his way through a red and blue club scene on screen.

  “John Wick,” Jonathan replied, not looking away from the TV. His breath was warm on my ear. “Ever seen it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, to put it simply,” Jonathan whispered, “that guy,” he gestured to Keanu Reeves, “is pissed off because the Russians killed his dog.” He grabbed another handful of popcorn, and I did the same. “He used to be a hitman, but he quit so he could be with his lady. But then she got sick, died, and left him the puppy—which then got killed.”

  “Poor guy,” I said. “No wonder he’s so pissed.”

  Jonathan nodded as I settled in against his warmth.

  As the movie wore on, there were less comments from the pack and I realized many of them had fallen asleep. My own eyelids had grown heavy too, and, before I knew it, Jonathan was gently shaking my shoulder and the TV was back at the menu screen. I blinked at him, trying to clear the sleep-fog. How long had I been asleep?

  Jonathan jutted a chin toward the stairs. “I hear sleep works better in a bed or on a couch than it does on the floor leaning against some crusty old werewolf.”

  There was so much mischief in that last phrase that I had to stifle a laugh, even through the haze of sleepiness.

  Jamie was laid out like a starfish on the living room floor, his head resting on my calf. I gingerly cradled his head and pulled my leg out from under him. Jonathan grabbed a pillow from the couch and placed it under his brother’s head as I laid him down.

  With a barely restrained grunt, I pushed up from the floor with my hands. It wasn’t like it was hard, I just didn’t want to actually move or go anywhere. My hips ached dully, but as I stood, they stretched and the ache melted away. I plodded over to the stairs and realized that Sheppard, Matt, and Chastity had already disappeared to their rooms. Ian had stretched out on the couch that Matt and Chastity had been on. Kaylah and Daniel were beginning to stir awake too.

  “Two fit better on a bed than on a couch.” I glanced upstairs and then met Jonathan’s eyes. “The room I’m in is probably more comfortable than that sectional in the den.”

  Jonathan gathered the popcorn bowls. With a feigned gasp, he pressed his fingers to his chest. “Why, Miss Cartwright,” he said, imitating a prim and proper southern belle, “are you inviting a man into your bed? How immoral!”

  “Well, if you really think so,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders, “then sleep on the sectional.” I winked at him as I went up the stairs. “Your call.”

  I heard the bowls hit the kitchen counter a moment later along with hurried footsteps on the stairs.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  JONATHAN’S ARM SNAKED around my waist as I opened the door to my grey room, his warm hand spreading along my belly under my shirt. “I can’t just let you wande
r into the dark all by yourself,” he said, the warmth of his tone settling somewhere decidedly below my stomach.

  “I’m a big girl.” I turned to face him and lazily draped an arm over his shoulder. “I don’t need some crusty old werewolf to protect me.”

  I placed a slow, deep kiss on his mouth, and the warmth spread throughout my body. I couldn’t help but want him. I felt so drawn to everything about him. It didn’t make any sense at all, but I wasn’t going to fight it.

  “Ahem.” Kaylah cleared her throat from the top of the stairs. “Hallways are fer walkin.’ Get a room you two, yer blockin’ traffic.”

  I smiled and backed a step or two into the room, watching to be sure Jonathan was following, then turned and headed for the lamp on the bedside table. I reached for it, but stopped before I turned it on and looked around the room. My arm fell to my side. I could see fairly well with just the moonlight from the window. Certainly better than I had ever been able to see in the dark before the attack.

  Jonathan shut the door to the room with a quiet click. Water ran in the bathroom for a moment and then the door to the other bedroom closed. I sat on the bed, and Jonathan stepped closer to me. Our heartbeats were in sync again—his thudding in his chest just as hard as mine was in my own.

  He took my hand gently in his own and guided me to my feet again. There, his hands fell to my waist, pressing my body against his as he closed his mouth against mine. I guided his hands under my shirt to the button and zipper of my jeans, and his breath caught in my mouth before he hungrily worked the pants off my hips.

  He stopped short as the waistband of my jeans fell to my ankles and took a breath, resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t want to push you.”

  I turned down the blanket, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled my jeans the rest of the way off. Why are women’s jeans always so clingy? His were so loose around his hips and legs.

  “No one’s pushing anyone. We’re just two adults giving in to something we both want.” I took his hands and gently tugged him to the bed. “I’m not thinking about forever.”

  I met his eyes, and could see the gold flecks clearly even in the otherwise dark of the room. “I just know what I want right now.”

  I leaned toward him as he closed the distance again, pressing his soft lips against mine as his hands tangled in my hair. God, he was so warm! And my head was simply buzzing with how much I wanted him, which was a curiosity in and of itself. I hadn’t ever wanted anyone as much as I wanted him.

  The hardness in his jeans was already pronounced, and—this time—he didn’t stop me as I worked the button fly of his pants. A throaty noise escaped him as I ran a hand along his shaft, gripping it as he hardened in my hand. It redoubled the warmth spreading through me and added to the wetness growing between my thighs.

  I definitely hadn’t wanted anyone more than I wanted him then, and I replied to the noise he made with one of my own as the pressure from my kiss eased him back on his heels. I repositioned myself on the bed and worked the underwear from his hips. Jonathan may have been a couple of generations removed from me, but the shaft at attention in my face clearly indicated a much younger man. I pushed the number out of my head. That’s all age really was, anyway, right?

  I glanced up at him as I wrapped my hand around his erection. I was sure the smile on my face was wickedly promising, but he only would have had the chance to see it for a moment before I lowered my head to wrap my mouth around his cock.

  “Oh shit.” His words were breathy, but thick with need and his hands fell to my shoulders. He gathered my shirt into one fist and pawed at my head and shoulders with his other hand as he twitched in my mouth. I pulled him deeper into my throat and his resulting breathy growl of pleasure sent warmth and wetness straight to my core. God, I could almost come just from the sounds he made. The scent of him clung to my nostrils and my own low moan rumbled around him as my tongue worked his shaft.

  I caressed the back of his thighs, clutching him to me as I slid my mouth along his length a few times. He was getting even harder than he already was and precum coated the tip of his cock.

  With a groan, he released my shirt and slid from my mouth. He pushed me up so that I sat on the edge of the bed again and pulled the shirt from my torso as he stepped out of his pants and underwear. He wrapped his arm around behind me, trailing electric fingers up my spine, and my skin erupted in goosebumps at his touch. With a flick of his fingers, he unhooked the bra I wore with one hand and used the other to guide it off my body, depositing it on top of my shirt on the floor.

  His mouth met mine as his warm palm cupped my breast, his thumb flicking over my already pointed nipple. I arched my back toward him and tangled my hand in his hair, feeling the heat radiating from him as my tongue greedily explored his mouth. His other hand was still pressed between my shoulder blades, but as he kissed me, he guided me down to the bed and shifted that hand lower, spreading warmth against my lower back. His other hand left my breast and he lifted my hips, pulling my panties from my waist in a single, smooth motion. I giggled lightly as they fell to the floor. His fingers danced along my shins and up my thighs, leaving tingling fireworks in their wake. He paused at my hips, and I swear I could see him calculating.

  “Well, now what are you going to do?” I couldn’t keep the playful taunt from my tone.

  A lock of dark hair fell over one of his green-gold eyes, and he broke into a dark, hungry smile. I swear I nearly came from that look alone. In answer, he simply gripped my thighs and spread them open as he pressed his face against my folds. My eyes fluttered closed as a pleased sound escaped my throat and I balled the blankets into my fists. His tongue and mouth set my core on fire and I bit my bottom lip to keep from making too much noise in the house full of werewolves. Releasing the blankets, I clenched his hair into my needy fist.

  I pulled his face into me and ground my hips against his mouth. I was going to have to be quiet if I didn’t want the whole house to hear us, but I wasn’t about to try to hold back the first orgasm that crashed into me, suffusing my body with blissful endorphins. Odds were good they heard me anyway. A chuckle rumbled in his chest. His blessed mouth didn’t stop until the aftershocks began to subside, and I was left gasping for air.

  With a quirk of his lips, he drew a line of kisses across my stomach and latched onto to each of my nipples in turn, swirling his tongue around each and nipping them gently with his teeth as the heat built between my thighs again. Scooping me onto the bed, he positioned me under him until his hardness exerted gentle pressure against my now quite sensitive sweet spot. I jumped at the renewed contact and his smile could have lit the Colorado sky. I returned his smile, my heart singing again, and pulled my bottom lip between my teeth. He leaned down, claiming my mouth with his as he pressed just the tip of his rock-hard erection into my entrance. I groaned into his mouth and squirmed against him, my hands clawing at his hips as I tried to wriggle more of him inside of me.

  “You impatient, delicious Dreamer,” he said, dark playfulness resonating through the words. “What if I make you wait until later for the rest, hmm?”

  He propped himself on his hands and withdrew from me then, and I couldn’t help the desperate little whine that escaped me.

  I ran my hands up his back and curled a leg around his thigh, settling myself against his hardness again.

  “Hmm,” I mused, tilting my head to the side. “But you want me just as bad as I want you.”

  I wriggled my hips some more, but he matched my movements, keeping himself only barely in contact with me. His eyes glittered with the fun of the game, and the flex of his lean muscles as he moved was tantalizing.

  “So there’s no point—” I thrust my hips against him, hoping to pull him in. It didn’t work. “In denying it.” I stopped wriggling around and raised an eyebrow at him. The game’s no fun when you can’t win, but there was still an infectious playfulness dancing in his eyes.

  “Now there,” he replied, pressing the head of his
cock inside me, “you have a point. I do want you.”

  He slowly slid his length into me as his eyes rolled back into his head—or at least, they started the motion before mine did the same. A low rumble shook his chest and I could feel it along the shaft penetrating me. I was still deliciously sensitive, and he felt warm and full and hard inside me. He lowered his weight onto me, his body solid, but surprisingly comfortable. His mouth found mine again as he started moving. I spread a palm along the side of his strong abs, feeling them flex as he moved. I swear I saw stars dance across the ceiling. His breath hitched in his throat, and I recognized the ecstasy in his voice as he thrust into me.

  Our hips fell into an easy rhythm. He was skilled. Or he was at least experienced. He felt so good inside me that I didn’t care which. He clutched at the back of my knee, his other hand on my breast, and pumped into me with a force I would likely have found painful a week ago. Instead, it felt just this side of divine and I writhed around his cock, unable to get enough of it as he rolled my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Despite the simplicity of what we were doing, this sex was easily among some of the best sex I’d had, though my own bedroom adventures previous to this had not exactly been numerous. Still, I wanted more.

  I rolled over on top of him and arched backward, rolling my hips along his length over and over. His warm hands held my thighs and his brows furrowed as he bared his teeth. His canines were ever so slightly more pronounced than seemed strictly normal. I ran my tongue along the line of my teeth. Mine were the same. A wonder I hadn’t noticed them before now. A smile crept across my face as I threw my head back, driving myself closer to the edge of another orgasm. Werewolves.

  His hips bucked in a counter-rhythm to my own, and I could feel him swell inside me. He was getting closer too. His fingers found their way to my hips, gripping me hard enough to draw blood from shallow, crescent-shaped wounds that healed as soon as they were opened. Then his breath caught and was released in a growling rumble of ecstasy that I could feel throughout his body. I closed my eyes as stars exploded along the strand of the pack threads that tied me to him, drawing the next orgasm out of me in a nearly perfect tidal wave of bliss. He pumped into me and I followed the pulsing of his cock with my hips, riding the reverberations until his twitching subsided. Closing my mouth against his, I realized that the cord between Jonathan and I—the one I could see if I closed my eyes and concentrated—had thickened and thrummed like the plucked string of a bass guitar. Well, if the pack didn’t know what we were doing before, they certainly knew it now.