by Rhian Cahill
The photo of her parents on their wedding day sat on the dresser. The gold frame that held her cherished picture of Quinn sat next to it. Her jewelry box, a gift from her mother, held position on the tallboy in the corner and when he opened a drawer of the dresser and removed one of her favorite sleeping shirts, Rowan couldn’t hold back the tears.
Chapter Six
Now that the crying jag had calmed to the odd hiccup, Rowan nestled into Quinn’s side. He hadn’t said a word when the dam burst. He’d wrapped her in his arms and let the storm blow over. Drained, both physically and mentally, she soaked up his warmth—basked in the glory of being loved by this man. If she put everything aside, her destiny to be royal, his role in pack leadership and them being mates, she would still love him. Before she ever knew what romantic love was she’d been in love with him.
He’d been a part of her for so long—longer than she could remember. Leaving him behind had left a hole in her that gaped and oozed like an open wound. From the moment he’d crashed back into her life the gash began to heal. Each second that passed eased the pain a little more. Surrounded by all she’d known and loved in her youth, and with her future stretched out in front of her, Rowan felt at peace for the first time in her adult life.
She didn’t think her worries were over but she wouldn’t let them stand in her way again. Maturity and absence had made her heart and mind stronger and she planned to take charge of her world one step at a time. She’d made headway with her coyote, she’d faced her fear of Marcus with surprising ease and when it came time to front the council, Rowan would be more than ready.
Quinn’s hand traveled in lazy circles on her lower back. The soothing motion sent conflicting sensations throughout her body. The light, comforting strokes lulled her into sleep but the tingle of skin on skin when his fingers grazed beneath her shirt sent darts of awareness to every nerve ending. A shiver skipped along her spine and trembled to the tips of her fingers and toes. Arousal swirled low in her belly, hardened her nipples and wet her core.
Rowan slung a leg over his and pushed her throbbing center against his hip in the hope of relief. A spark of electricity shot into her clit and her inner muscles clenched. Cream soaked her panties. Quinn’s arm tightened and his hand stopped. For a moment not a breath was taken. Time froze and the world stilled as they lay there. One heartbeat. Two. Then Quinn moved and nothing else mattered.
His tongue invaded her mouth and conquered. He stole her breath and gave it back again. The hand on her back had moved to her ass, splayed fingers cupping one cheek. Other clever digits teased her breast, plying a nipple until it beaded tight. Rowan’s hands weren’t idle either. They pulled and tugged at clothing. Groped at muscles rippling under smooth skin and teased sensitive flesh. Moans, muffled by their joined mouths, filled the air.
The heady scent of desire cloaked them, pushed them higher. Quinn tore his mouth from hers, dragged his lips over her chin and down her throat. His teeth scraped across her skin, goose bumps trailing in their wake. He sucked at her neck, hard enough to leave a mark. The tinge of pain mixed with pleasure fizzed in her veins, pumped through her to pound in her core. Rowan’s pussy convulsed, moisture seeping from within to heat folds slick with need. Surging up, she ground her sex against his side.
Quinn growled and yanked free of her hold. In one quick move, he ripped his shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor beside the bed. Rowan scrambled to do the same. When he reached for her pants, sliding his fingers in the waistband she didn’t protest. Lifting her hips to help, she was soon stripped bare. With greedy hands, she helped him remove the rest of his clothes before reaching to envelop his cock in her fist.
Hard and hot, it jerked in her grasp. Long, firm strokes from root to tip and back again had him groaning. Pre-cum beaded at the slit and Rowan leaned forward to swipe it off with her tongue. His hand cupped the side of her head, fingers tangled in her hair and tugged her closer. She took the hint and opened her mouth to suck the mushroom tip inside. Swirling her tongue, she teased the sensitive gland. He growled in approval and his fingers curled—dug into her scalp.
Flavor exploded on her tongue. The scent of musky male arousal filled her nostrils, saturated her senses. Hungry for more of his taste, Rowan slid his shaft between her lips. She closed her mouth around him and sucked hard. Cheeks hollowing, she pulled him deeper, flicking her tongue along his length as she did. He thrust his hips, driving into her mouth. The plump head nudged the back of her throat and she swallowed around it, fought the urge to gag.
Quinn loosened his hold on her head and withdrew from her mouth. Rowan greedily slurped at his cock as it slipped free. He pushed her to her back, put his hands on her thighs and spread her legs wide. Dipping his head, he took a deep breath before blowing a stream of warm air over her clit. Her body jolted, electrified by the sudden stimulation. With a sweep of his tongue, he laved her from back to front.
He devoured her. With teeth, tongue and lips, he ate at her, sent her rocketing toward orgasm and over the edge in minutes. Spasms racked her from head to toe, her hips bucking beneath his ravishing mouth. There was no time to come down. Quinn took her back up to the peak before surging over her and penetrating her in one hard thrust. Her walls clamped, held tight to his cock. Buried to the hilt, he stilled, pelvis locked to pelvis.
Frustrated with need, Rowan contracted her muscles, squeezing along his length. He flexed his hips; the base of his shaft brushed her clit and sent a barrage of intense craving to her core. She wrapped her legs around his thighs, dug her hands into his ass and arched her back to urge him to move. When that didn’t work she sank her teeth into his shoulder.
“Move, dammit!”
“Not yet. Don’t want to come too soon,” he panted.
Rowan growled and thrashed under him. His cock slid from her pussy, hitting her G-spot and sending sparks of delight into her belly. She drove her hips up off the bed and plunged onto his erection again, her muscles quaking with lust. Quinn’s cock pulsed as he rammed into her, slamming home hard. Every inch of delicate tissue was stimulated beyond measure. He withdrew, plunged forward, withdrew. In and out, he took them both to new heights.
Back and forth, they rocked together, each movement harsher than the last. Frantic, savage actions brought them closer to release. Nails and teeth bit into flesh, dragged across sweat slick skin. Grunts and groans rebounded off walls, echoed in her ears and competed with the slap of wet bodies colliding. Quinn’s hands curled over her hips, his fingers dug in and pinned her in place as he pumped into her. Clawing at his back, Rowan dug her heels into the bed and tried to meet him thrust for thrust.
Caught in his strong grip, she strained against him. Head thrown back, Rowan pushed her breasts into Quinn’s chest. Taut nipples prodded hard muscle. Coarse hair abraded the tender buds, they puckered tighter and electric pulses of need beat through her to center in her core. She bent her knees, flung her legs around his waist to lock her ankles together and pull him closer. Her pelvis titled, her ass lifted off the bed and his cock stroked in deeper. Pounding in and out, the mushroom head brushed her G-spot with each slide.
Quinn’s teeth clamped down on her nipple at the exact moment he drove balls deep and ground his pubic bone hard against her clit. Fire burst inside her and stars exploded in front of her eyes. Her body went rigid, every muscle frozen in that split second before she shattered into a million pieces. The world narrowed to nothing but the ecstasy flooding her senses. She called his name, a rasp of sound that was barely heard over Quinn’s cry of release.
Clutched within her, his cock jerked and spilled a pool of warmth as he emptied his seed. Her walls continued to convulse with her orgasm, milking him of every last drop of cum. What seemed like hours but probably only seconds later, Rowan’s body relaxed. Her limbs felt like jelly and they slipped from around Quinn to fall to the bed. He’d slumped on top of her, his breath hot and fast, bathed her neck. She couldn’t raise more than a grunt when he spoke.
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��Too heavy.” Quinn levered up on his elbows but didn’t get off.
His fingers swept the hair from her face. Cupping her jaw, he tipped her face up and placed a butterfly light kiss on her mouth. Rowan forced her eyelids open and found herself staring into Quinn’s caramel brown eyes.
“It’s so good to have you in this bed.”
Rowan laughed.
“You know what I mean.” He smiled and gave her another kiss. “But having you in this bed is pretty damn good too.”
He rolled to the side and got off the bed. With his arms stretched over his head, Quinn’s back and ass were on perfect display. She watched, mesmerized by the shift and flex of muscle and sinew under smooth tan skin. Licking her lips, she imagined running her tongue down his spine and dipping into the crack of his ass. Nibbling her way across the curve to the crease where leg met butt. He was one fine specimen of mankind standing naked for her enjoyment.
“If you’re not careful you’ll drool all over the bed,” he said.
Slowly she brought her gaze up past his rear end, up the line of his back and to his face. He looked at her over his shoulder with a grin. Rowan smiled, not worried about getting caught ogling him.
“A little drool can’t hurt. It’s only water.” He turned and gave her an eyeful. She swallowed. “Besides, I find my mouth suddenly dry.”
Quinn threw back his head and laughed. The deep rumble shook his chest and made his cock bob. At half-mast, his erection stood out from his torso, the base was surrounded by dark hair and his large balls swung free below. She turned on her side and reached out to skim one finger from sac to tip and back again. Quinn shook and his cock grew harder. Palming the length, she gripped tight and pumped her hand up and down.
“Enough.” He stepped back, pulling away. “You need rest.” He scooped up the discarded sleep shirt and tossed it at her before stalking off to the bathroom, naked butt jiggling all the way.
Flopping back on the bed, she debated showering but gave up on the idea when the comfort of the bed proved too enticing. The temperature in the room was warm in spite of the cold wind blowing outside the window. The storm blowing up would likely dump snow overnight and turn the weather below freezing. But here in the comfort of the home she’d been born in she could rely on the furnace to do its job and keep the sub-zero temp at bay.
Listening to Quinn run the water in the bathroom, Rowan closed her eyes. The rattling pipes, the wind whistling under the eaves and the creaking of timber settling were a welcome reminder of all this house meant to her. Comfort, safety, home.
Quinn washed up quickly. He grabbed a clean towel and washcloth and headed back to Rowan. She looked so peaceful lying sprawled on the bed and as he got closer her soft snoring reached his ears over the storm outside. Sound asleep and more beautiful than he remembered, she took his breath. To see her here, in their bed, the one he’d carved himself, made his heart whole for the first time in six years.
He sat on the edge of the bed, admiring the changes in her lithe body. She’d always been slim, but now that was tempered by sleek muscles and womanly curves. Her black hair was damp and plastered to her forehead, her face still flushed from their earlier exertion. Soot-colored eyelashes fanned over her cheeks and her pink lips, slightly parted, invited him to kiss.
Nothing else would please him more than to lean over and lick her pouty mouth but it was late already and they had so much to face in the next few days that he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her slumber. He used the warm washcloth to clean her up, trying not to wake her. A few times she stirred but she remained asleep while he wiped and dried her. Wadding the cloth and towel together, he threw them in the general direction of the bathroom.
Quinn folded back the bedding on one side and gently rolled Rowan over onto the sheet. Covering her with the quilt, he walked around the bed and climbed in on the other side. Putting an arm around her waist, he pulled her back until her spine nestled against his chest and her ass cradled his cock. The crease between her cheeks made the perfect resting place for his erection.
The wind howled outside as the storm picked up force. The legendary whistle that had given the mountains their name grew louder. Older members of the pack talked of the mountains whispering to those who chose to listen. It was a tale told for generations and even though Quinn didn’t believe most of what was said, he knew from experience that once the mountain whispered it was best to find shelter. The predicted snowfall was going to be a big one.
He pulled her body closer to his, her murmured protest reminding him not to squeeze the life out of her, but he could help it. He wanted to hold her and never let her go. The next few days would be busy and if the snowstorm brewing dumped too much of the white stuff they’d be stuck at the house. There was no way he’d risk the mountain road if there was more than a foot of snow on the ground.
No doubt by now Marcus would have spread the word of Rowan’s return. He wouldn’t let an opportunity like that pass without using it. Quinn could only image what crap he’d make up this time. The man lived to cause trouble and did so every chance he got. But unlike in their youth, when Marcus’s father was regal, he wouldn’t be able to cover up any attempt he made to get at Rowan so easily.
Quinn would need to keep his wits about him too. He’d wanted nothing more than to squeeze the life out of Marcus for calling Rowan a bitch and if she hadn’t been there he probably would have. Her steady calm had spread over him and kept him from doing something stupid and playing right into Marcus’ hands. Before they went anywhere, they needed to sit down with Brogan and work out a strategy.
Without knowing what Marcus had planned, they wouldn’t be able to do much in the way of prevention but they could certainly be prepared for the worst. Quinn didn’t think Rowan would have difficulty being accepted back into the pack and the Council had been questioning Brogan on her possible return since the moment he became sovereign. They were more than ready for their royal to come home.
He was being selfish but he wished there was a good dump of snow between now and morning. It would allow him to keep her to himself for a little longer. They had a lot of catching up to do. He wanted to know everything she’d done, everywhere she’d been. He wanted to tell her all that he and Brogan had done for the pack in her absence and he wanted to roll between the sheets until neither of them could stand.
Nuzzling the side of her neck, Quinn breathed in deep and sucked in a lungful of her scent. Wrapped in his arms, she was all he wanted and he’d do anything to protect her. If push came to shove, he’d take Marcus out and worry about the consequences later. Nothing and nobody would hurt her or force her to leave her home again. He cuddled into her back and let the comfort of having her here sink in. Rowan continued to snore softly and he let the warmth of holding her and the sound of the raging weather lull him to sleep.
Quinn jolted awake, reaching for Rowan as he sat up. Already up and moving off the bed, she grabbed for a shirt.
“What the hell was that?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer her, the door flung open and Brogan burst into the room. “Are you two all right?” He scanned the room for some perceived menace.
“We’re fine. What was it?” Quinn asked while he pulled on pants.
“I think we’ve got a broken window. I thought it came from in here.” Brogan turned and left as quickly as he’d come in.
“I think it was my old room,” Rowan said as she followed him out the door, Quinn right on her heels.
Brogan stood three feet inside the doorway staring at the mess of broken glass and snow littering the floor and furniture. They hadn’t left much in this room, a queen bed and dresser the only large items. There was a small writing desk and chair in one corner and a plush recliner in another. The desk and dresser remained unmarked but the bed and recliner had a layer of snow and glass glittering on them. The wind howled through the window and filled the room, dropping the temperature a good thirty degrees. Rowan shivered and Quinn moved around her to block
the worst of the cold.
“How would the wind pick up a rock and hurl it through the window?”
“What rock?” Quinn surveyed the debris for what she was talking about.
Brogan stepped forward and Rowan’s hand shot out and stopped him in his tracks.
“You’ve got no shoes on, Brogan.”
Her reminder came just in time. They were all barefoot and not exactly dressed to tackle the clean up and repair of the window. Walking backward, Quinn pulled Rowan with him as he moved into the hall.
“Close the door to stop the chill from getting into the rest of the house, Brogan. We’ll get dressed and clean this up now. I’m not leaving it until morning, if the snow gets any worse the room will be soaked by then.” Rowan spun away from them and went back to their room.
“The weather didn’t do this,” Brogan said.
Quinn thought the same but remained quiet on the subject for now. “Let’s fix the window first and worry about the rest later.”
He found Rowan not getting dressed but standing by the window peering out into the darkness. The rollers on the timber door of the wardrobe squeaked as he pushed it open. He grabbed jeans and a flannel shirt to throw over his T-shirt. She hadn’t moved when he turned back and he walked over to see what she was looking at.
“Why would someone be out on a snowmobile in near blizzard conditions?”
“What?” Quinn cupped his hand on the glass and scrutinized the darkness. “I can’t see a damn thing.”
“Over by the trees on the left, see the tracks? They’re not covered because of the tree canopy.”
She was right. Once he knew where to look, his keen coyote vision picked up the distinct trails of a snowmobile leading off into the forest. It appeared he’d be going out in the storm to scout around. He wouldn’t follow the path cut into the snow but he’d be sure to find anything that might have been left behind. If the person had sat watching the house for long there could be a clue as to their identity. Not that he needed one. His gut told him it was Marcus but what was he playing at throwing rocks?