by Dizzy Hooper
He drops down closer, so our lips are almost touching. "It makes me so fucking hard to imagine breeding you."
"Yeah?"
"Fuck, yeah."
He lets me feel it, too, lowering his hips to graze his nice long cock along my thigh. I tremble at the heat of it, even through his boxer and my leggings.
"I think about it, you know." He turns his head to the side, trailing the tip of his nose along my cheek. His breath burns hot against my ear, and I shudder, my pussy clenching and breasts aching.
"Yeah?"
"Fucking you in your season." He lets out a pained noise that's pure sex. "God, Jessica. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. You were so desperate for it. Sliding inside and feeling you so hot and ready. You tasted ripe."
"I was." Fuck. The memory of sharing my season with them lights my fire, too. "Wanted it so bad. Needed your cocks."
"And we needed in you. Needed to breed you. Fuck. I want—" But then he falters. Everything in him freezes. "Only…"
I hesitate. I was ready to get swept away on a tide of lust and need. But not if he has doubts. "Yeah?"
"That is something you want, someday. Right?"
Jesus. I knew it was wrong to transition into sex so quickly. This deserves a conversation.
But it's too easy right now to just give in. To tell him the truth.
"Of course. Someday."
Maybe soon, and maybe not. But someday? To my own true mate? This male who's a part of my soul?
Yeah, I can promise him that much.
"Oh, thank God," he groans, then meets my lips with his own.
His kiss is liquid flame, melting my insides and making my core flash molten. I open to him, letting him lick past my lips. Our tongues tangle, and he reaches down to cup my breasts. My nipples strain at the fabric of my bra, begging to be touched and sucked.
He slips one hand under my top to caress that tender flesh more fully, while with the other he grasps my hip.
I spread my legs for him, and he slots himself in between them seamlessly.
The first press of his thick cock to my center sends lightning crackling up my spine. I tangle my fingers in his silky hair and clutch him close to me. Delving deeper with his tongue, he grinds against me, filthy and hard. I moan and dig my heels into his ass.
"I know it'll be Grady," he says. "I know, but I wish. I hope…"
I pull back, pushing him away. Guilt plays in his eyes. And yeah, he's right—poly bonds like ours are unusual, but they're not unheard of. It's the alpha's right to breed the pack's bitch first, but that doesn't mean…
Couldn't we?
"I hope it's all of you." My pussy clenches, empty and aching around nothing.
"But—"
I hook my fingers in the collar of his shirt and tug. "Don't you remember? How good it was? All of you seeing me through my heat? One after another after another?"
"Fuck." His eyes just about roll back in his head as he claims my mouth again. "But—"
"Who knows whose seed will take."
"But the alpha—"
"Grady gets to breed me first. But they could be your pups." They could be anyone's, and that thought should scandalize me, but it only makes me hotter.
"Jess…" He kisses me deeper, and apparently we're done with the preliminaries.
He grabs the hem of my top and shoves it up. Our lips part just long enough for him to get the offending fabric over my head, and then he's attacking my mouth again, savage in the way he bites and sucks. He unclasps my bra and tears it off of me.
The second my breasts are free, his focus is redirected entirely. He drops to take one hard peak between his lips, and I let my head fall back as waves of pleasure move through me.
"Can't wait," he mumbles. One of his hands travels to my belly, caressing that empty place, while with his other hand, he cups the breast not currently engulfed in the heat of his mouth. "Wanna see you round with us. Your breasts huge and swollen. They'll be so sensitive…"
A breathless chuckle fights its way past my throat. My breasts have always been on a direct line to my clit. During my season they're twin points of agony, they beg so hard to be touched and fondled and squeezed. If they get any more sensitive when I'm fat with their pups they might actually kill me.
He takes one more sharp swipe of his teeth over my nipple, then continues his descent. He removes my leggings and underwear with quick efficiency, and then I'm there, bare before him. Groaning, he leans in, dipping to press his face to my wide-open, dripping pussy. He breathes in deeply, and I still can't believe how much my mates love my body. Every part of it. Every piece.
Both of us are too keyed up to wait through any extended foreplay, but he takes a minute to tease me with his mouth. His tongue is soft on my clit. He slots in two fingers and crooks them up, and that's it.
"Come on. Come here—" I scrabble at him, trying to haul him up to me.
He goes easily enough. His fingers slip from my body. He wraps them around my hip, smearing my own slickness on my skin. I tug at his clothes with a new desperation. I need his skin, his kiss, his cock plunging deep inside, claiming me, breeding me.
When he's finally naked, he doesn't waste any time. He fits himself to my open thighs and lines himself up.
I scream his name as he thrusts inside in one smooth stroke. Fuck, he fills me so good.
"God, Jessica…"
"I know, I know."
"I wish—"
Images of my belly swelling with his pups assaults me, and I throb around him.
"Me, too."
He groans and kisses me again. He starts up the fast, eager pace he prefers when he's fucking me, and God, yes, it's so good.
The head of his cock hammers my G-spot, and his hips slam into my clit with every thrust.
"Wanna. Wanna fill you. Put my baby inside you."
"Yes," I groan, thrashing my head to the side so he can seal his mouth over our bonding mark. "Fuck me. Come inside me. Want your come." I swallow hard. "Your pups."
He bites down hard, hips jerking.
The hot release of his seed inside me triggers my own orgasm. My pussy clamps down around him, milking him for every drop. I cross my ankles behind his back, and he spasms again. More of his release coats me, until it's dripping from the place where we're joined, and in the haze of climax, I imagine it. I imagine quickening. Feeling life inside me—life that my mates and I can create.
And I want it.
God, I do.
I want to heal these men. I want to give them what I lost; what Grady and Colt lost. What Landen never had.
A family.
Chapter 5
The day of the memorial dawns chilly and gray, like the skies themselves know of the grief about to pour through these hills.
I rise from my own bed, where I spent the night alone. No one refused me entry to theirs last night, but no one specifically invited me, either, so I decided it was best to leave them to their solitude.
I wash up in distraction. There's no point really getting dressed. I pad down the stairs in my pajamas to find Grady storming around at the base of the stairs.
I pause. "Are you okay?"
He snaps his head up. His amber eyes stare straight into mine. They're bloodshot, like he didn't sleep last night. It wouldn't surprise me. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and his has been weighing him down terribly this past month.
"Fine," he grits out, then turns away.
I want to go to him. To comfort him. But every single thing in his body language warns me to keep my distance.
I descend the rest of the stairs, and he backs away. My heart aches for him. Tentatively, I reach out a hand for him.
He flinches.
It's hard not to read that as rejection, but I put on a stiff upper lip. This isn't about me.
He catches my reaction all the same.
"Sorry." Still, he turns away. He takes a hand and runs it through his hair, scratching through the streaks of silver at the te
mples. His whole mane is a disaster. He must have been doing this all morning. Facing the window, he shakes his head. "I can't."
"Okay."
"Just—" He looks over his shoulder at me, and his eyes are pleading. "I can't. If I let you touch me… If I take comfort from you… I'll go to pieces."
His voice cracks.
And I see it then—the fault lines in his brow and the rigid set of his shoulders. He's a man carved from marble, and that stone is shaking. One good hit, and it would shatter.
One kind word would do the same.
I straighten my posture. "It's okay."
"It's not." He shakes his head and looks away. He all but hugs himself, misery and grief pouring off of him.
Not touching him makes my heart clench with physical pain, but I ignore it. Whatever he needs.
I walk past him, pausing only briefly by his side. His spine stiffens as I pass. My footfalls stutter, but I force myself to keep going.
In the kitchen, I find Landen and Colt carrying on with their day more or less the way they would any other, only instead of their usual friendly ribbing, silence hangs over them like a shroud.
I accept a mug of coffee from Colt, staring straight into the storms in his eyes. Our hands brush, heat flowing into that simple contact. He holds on for a second too long and then lets go.
Landen alone greets me with a kiss. He's off, too, though. Quiet. But he's not a redwood that's about to come crashing down the way Grady is. He's not holding back a torrential downpour like Colt. He just is. Sad and reflective, but otherwise himself.
And God, but I want to do something. Only we've already had this conversation. I'm here for them today. I'll be by their sides, reminding them that they have love in their lives. They survived. Despite all the heartache and loss, they go on. We go on.
I eat my breakfast of cold cereal at the table alone. Once I've finished, I sit there for a few more minutes, steeling myself for what's to come.
Finally, Grady appears in the room. His hair is a mess, his eyes even more bloodshot than before somehow.
"It's time."
I swallow my heart and rise.
Our small little pack assembles in the gloomy morning light behind the house. We strip perfunctorily. For the first time possibly ever, there's nothing sexual about the act.
Grady is the first to finish and the first to shift. It's like a dam bursting as the muscle and sinew of his human body pop and give way. A thick coat of silver fur grows in to cover his flesh, and it's like all the coiled energy inside of him is suddenly freed. He lifts his muzzle and pastes his ears back against his head. A howl erupts into the air, grief and relief twisting into one.
He's joined seconds later by Colt's big black wolf and Landen's loping blond one. I put all my will into the transformation, and then I'm there with them, letting all my mixed emotions out into the cool, misting air. My wolf and I join as one, and the landscape ahead resolves.
It's easier like this, somehow. There's no pressure to speak or to say the right thing. There's just the power in our limbs and the earth beneath our feet. The comforting scent map of the world around us and the presence of our mates, and they're hurting—each of them in their own way. But our animal bodies can contain worlds that our human ones cannot. No one is holding back anything now.
Grady's mournful howl breaks off, and then he's in motion. He casts one glance back to make sure his pack is with him. We all straighten up, muscles twitching in readiness.
He takes off, and we follow.
While we run and play together as wolves all the time, it's rare that we travel as a pack like this. We fall into our natural order, Grady in the lead with me right behind, Colt and Landen at my rear flanks. They insist on keeping me protected at all times, and my animal brain has no quarrel with their instinct.
And it feels good to run like this. The earth speeds away beneath our paws. Our muscles bunch and flex, and channeling feelings into action lets something loose inside us. We drink the wind and take comfort in our numbers and closeness.
As we pass over the boundary of our lands, other scents join ours. Some are friendly, others are foreign. I catch the signatures of our neighbors to the north and the sub-pack of unmated males that reside to the east. Others that I don't know, but they're clearly ours. Grief colors their scents, and then there are more.
I whine, high and quiet in my nose. I knew the remnants of the Broken Ladder Falls pack was vast, but they're so scattered. I've never met more than a dozen of them, period, and definitely never more than four or five at a time.
We pass through a final copse of trees, and then a valley spreads out before us.
Hundreds of wolves appear. Most are still gathering, though some have clearly been here for some time. I stop short.
Grady notices immediately. He breaks off his run, turning seamlessly. He faces me, his wolf eyes full of concern, but I shake my head. My wolf and I are fine, just caught off guard by the sheer number of shifters assembling around us.
Colt and Landen close ranks, letting their flanks brush mine, and Grady leans in. He rubs the sides of our muzzle with his own, letting his calming scent wash over us.
And he's the one who's grieving. I'm supposed to be here for support. Another whine escapes me, but he presses his face to our neck. The warm animal pleasure of contact drowns out our fears, our worries.
My alpha draws back and gives a single, sharp yap.
Right. Because he's here for me. He's here for our pack. He cares for us, and it gives him purpose. He leads us, and it gives him strength. He needs that strength right now. He needs to be in charge, to be of use.
I press into his body. His heat pours into me along with his comfort, and I drink him in.
After a minute, though, I pull away. He tilts his head in question, asking if I'm ready to proceed, and I nod.
As one, our pack advances. The scents of the wolves around us grow thicker as we walk among them. More than a few heads turn our way, but my mates keep me surrounded. They don't bristle, exactly. Everyone here is family. They don't treat the others as a threat.
But in no uncertain terms, they claim me as their own. Pride burns through me to be surrounded by such strong, possessive mates. I lift my head higher.
I probe the scents around us more deeply. There are so few females in this crowd. My heart hurts with the solitude pouring off so many of these wolves. They've clustered together in sub-packs of unmated males—just like my mates did before I found them. But that company only soothes the ache of loss so much. My ribs tighten with the weight of the sorrow.
And it's not just envy in the stares of the other male wolves, as they regard my mates. It's not just desire as they take me in.
It's deeper. It's longing.
It's grief.
And it's not about me. It's about the hole Landen told me about. The empty space in his life where his mother and all the other members of his kin should have been.
Landen brushes up against me again, and I meet his crystal blue gaze. And I understand.
Chapter 6
I'm not sure what I'm expecting, all told. My mates gave me some idea, but I've never been to a ceremony like this.
No one outside of this pack probably ever has.
No one's else's pack has ever suffered such a loss.
In my father's pack, we marked certain significant dates. We honored the solstices and the equinoxes, of course. But when we gathered, it was mostly in human form.
And even at our height, there were never, ever so many of us.
The wolves of the Broken Ladder Falls pack continue to assemble for some time. We make our way through the loose clusters of mourners until we're near the center. Grady is one of the leaders, one of the eldest members who didn't lose a mate himself.
The males whose property lies to the east of ours end up standing beside us. We greet each other as wolves do, but it's subdued. I meet the gaze of each of them in turn.
The first time Grady introduced me
to these males, tension filled the air. Their envy for my mates' good fortune was a palpable force. They carried a clinging scent of loneliness, of being starved for companionship and touch.
That aching scent is all the stronger now. In sympathy, I look to my own mates, then sidle up to our neighbors. I offer them what comfort I can, letting my fur brush theirs. They whine, and it hurts. I want to give them more, but there's nothing more to give.
When the ache of my own pack grows too deep, I return to their fold. They surround me, gratitude in their nips and low barks. They're glad I comforted their brethren.
They're desperately, desperately glad that they're the ones who get to take me home.
Finally, the noonday sun draws to its peak. It's still shrouded behind the clouds, but the cast of the fuzzy shadows on the ground makes it clear.
An old wolf, grizzled and white, frail and thin, climbs to the top of a large grouping of rocks in the center of the clearing. He lifts his muzzle to the sky and howls.
The answering howl is deafening. My ears ring with it, even as I join in.
I stagger beneath the emotional weight.
Never, in all my years, have I ever heard such a mournful sound. Hundreds and hundreds of wolves cry out. Restraint clatters from around the necks of so many strong, alpha males. Sympathetic cries come out from the females scattered throughout the crowd. Some are sisters, mates. Some are unclaimed, but not many.
Loneliness and grief rain from the skies themselves. I lean into my pack mates as the long paean of mourning goes on and on. They fall into me for once. Landen first, though for him it's easy. Colt lets his own flank rest against mine at last, until it's just Grady.
My strong, beautiful alpha.
He stands before me but alone for so, so long. His head tipped back, he howls with a force that shreds me.
And how did I not see before? He holds so much pain inside, but he hides it. From me, from his pack. He thrives on being strong, and he draws his fortitude from seeing to his friends and mate, but this is crushing.
My wolf and I rub our cheeks against Landen's muzzle and then Colt's.
And then we step forward.