by Lily Cahill
Grace pressed her lips together. “What if they don’t like me? I am an Espinosa, after all. And …,” she trailed off and Bret didn’t miss the way her eyes traveled to the pink scars etched down her arm. “I did some horrible things, Bret.”
“Hey, hey,” Bret said, his voice low. He tugged Grace’s chin up and looked into her eyes. “We’ve all done things we regret. But the fact that we have enough humility to admit when we’ve been wrong, to learn from them, that’s what matters.”
Grace sniffled and nodded slightly. “Bret, you’re what matters to me. Since the moment you walked into my bar, it was like color came back into my life. I can suddenly see a future, when before ….”
“Before you were only existing. God, I know, Grace.” Bret smoothed his hand down Grace’s hair, her soft cheek, her arm. “I thought fate had abandoned me, and it made me so twisted with hate. I turned my back on my family when they needed me most, all because I was too afraid to tell them what was in my heart, but never again.”
“What is in your heart, Bret?” Grace’s shining eyes were hopeful, her chin tilted up close to Bret’s mouth.
Bret couldn’t wait another second, another moment without Grace knowing the truth singing in his heart, in his soul. He pressed his mouth to hers, lingered there.
“You,” he finally said. “You are in my heart. I love you, Grace. I love you so much it scares me sometimes.”
Grace smiled against his lips. “And I love you. I loved the promise of you for nearly my entire adult life. But meeting you, getting to know you …. Everything fate promised me has been increased tenfold. I’m just … I’m so happy I have you in my life finally.”
Bret held Grace close. “Fate chose well for us, didn’t it?”
Grace nuzzled into Bret’s neck and pressed fluttering kisses there. Heat unspooled in Bret’s core at the feeling. He let his hands slowly roam down Grace’s side, to the hem of her dress. She shivered a bit as his fingers slipped against her bare thigh, trailed up, up, up.
The world outside had gone mad. There was danger on the horizon. But in that moment, Bret looked at Grace and saw only hope and love.
Chapter Seventeen
Grace
BRET’S FINGERS SLIDING UP GRACE’S leg made a languid heat stretch and awaken in her core. She let her eyes flutter closed in bliss and sighed.
Grace didn’t know what tomorrow would hold, or the day after that. But right now, she was in the arms of the man she loved. She wanted to bask in that love, let it wash over her until there was nothing else in the world but the two of them.
Bret nuzzled at her neck and pressed hot kisses against her sensitive skin. Grace angled her chin up, and he licked his way slowly up to her ear before capturing it between his teeth. Grace squirmed with pleasure and opened her eyes.
Across the kitschy wood-paneled room, a door stood half-open, and she could see a big shower. An idea bloomed in her head.
Grace stopped Bret’s hand just as it was about to breach her panties and looked at him. “I’m going to take a shower. Join me?”
Bret growled in approval at the idea, and Grace tugged him to stand. She led the way toward the bathroom, then turned and paused at the door. Never looking away, she pulled her white cotton dress up and over her head. Her hair fell in waves down her back, and she shook it out.
Bret, still standing feet away, looked like he might just faint with anticipation. The look in his eager eyes made Grace bold. She ran her hands down her body, tracing the generous curves of her breasts, her waist, her hips. Bret opened and closed his mouth, his eyes following her every movement.
Grace swiveled her hips and turned in a tantalizingly slow circle. She reached up behind her back and unclasped her bra, then held her hands over her breasts as she turned back to Bret. She dragged her hands down the sensitive skin of her breasts, the rolled her nipples between her fingers until they were hard and peaked.
Bret groaned and shifted on his feet. Even from a few feet away, she could see his cock straining against his jeans. Grace let her hands slip down her waist, then teased her fingers along the edge of her panties.
“Good God, Grace, you’re killing me,” Bret croaked.
A wildly devious smile curled at Grace’s lips, and she rubbed her hand between her thighs, her eyes on Bret.
Until … until the sensation of her fingers pressing against her pussy made her eyes shut in the anticipation of absolute ecstasy.
Need overtook her, and she abandoned all pretense. Grace tugged her panties down her legs until she stood before Bret, naked. She felt like a goddess, like the most beautiful woman in the world. It was a powerful feeling. And what she wanted was the powerful, gorgeous man standing in front of her. Grace crooked a finger and beckoned him closer.
Without a word, Grace grabbed the lapels of Bret’s worn-in plaid shirt and yanked him closer. She pushed up onto her toes and kissed him with all the heat she felt drenching her core, then she tugged his shirt open, let her hands skim over his hard muscles all the way down to the band of his boxer briefs peeking up over his pants.
Working quickly, she shucked off his jeans, then his underwear. Grace stood up and turned on the balls of her feet, rubbing her rounded ass against Bret’s cock as she did. He groaned loudly and grabbed for her hips, but Grace smiled at him over her shoulder and shook her head.
The bathroom shower wasn’t big, but the water blasted out hot and strong. Grace stepped under the water and let it cascade over her body. After the horrors of the last day, it felt amazing just to stand there. But then she felt Bret’s body against hers, his hands urgent and searching.
His fingers pinched at her nipples, and Grace gasped. She opened her eyes and found Bret close, his hair dripping into his eyes and his skin gloriously wet. He looked deep into Grace’s eyes as his fingers caressed her body, dipping lower and lower until he was right there. He paused for a long moment, just the tips of his fingers teasing her clit. Then he plunged into her, and Grace cried out with hot desire.
Water crashed over them as Bret pumped his fingers in and out of her. His lips found hers, crashed as hard as the water, as hot. Grace felt slick all over, nearly undone with desire that was making her dizzy.
Grace wrapped her arms around Bret’s shoulders and held on tightly as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Then, suddenly, he pulled his fingers free and turned Grace around.
She braced her hands against the side of the shower and bent over. Bret ran his hands over her ass and down her thighs, then back up to rub against her swollen clit. Grace sucked in a breath then arched her back and looked back at Bret.
“Fuck me, Bret.”
Bret growled and plunged into her with his giant cock. Grace cried out with the sensation of it, stretching her wide and thrusting deep.
One hand went to her breast, the other to her clit, and within seconds, Grace was crying out with each thrust. Her orgasm was fast and violent and wonderful, and she was left grasping for breath as Bret pumped in and out of her until he found his own release.
They stayed like that, his dick buried deep inside of her, for a long moment. Just their labored breathing and the wash of water over their joined bodies. Then Bret pulled himself free and his hands gently ran up Grace’s back. His hands left her for a moment, then they threaded into her hair.
His fingers kneaded her scalp, sudsing up with her voluminous hair with shampoo. Grace let her eyes drift closed as Bret carefully washed her hair, then moved on to running soap over the rest of her body. His ministrations were reverent, worshipful, and Grace didn’t speak as he slowly washed her.
When he was done, she returned the favor. It felt glorious to do this for him, and she took her time washing his hair, his chest, his legs. She peppered him with kisses in between, until they were clean and smiling and staring into each other’s eyes.
Outside the shower, Grace wrung out her hair then wrapped the towel around her body. She hooked her fingers around Bret’s wrist and pulled him toward
the bed. At the edge of the bed, she let the towel fall to the ground and lay back against the bed.
Bret hovered over her, his arms braced on either side of her head.
“I love you, Grace,” he whispered.
“I love you right back.”
Bret flicked his tongue along his lips. “When all this is over, I want to share my life with you, my everything with you.”
Grace had to blink back sudden tears. Her heart had never felt so full. “There is nothing I want more, Bret, than a life with you.”
Grace ran her hands down Bret’s naked shoulders and back until her palms were pressed against his ass. She pulled him close, spread her thighs to take him once more into her.
Then slowly, gently, he slid his hardened dick into her slick, ready pussy. They made love staring deep into each other’s eyes. And when they finally came, sweating and breathing hard, it was together.
Chapter Eighteen
Bret
BRET SAT BEHIND THE WHEEL of Derek’s truck, easing it around the hairpins turns and steep hills of the Montana mountains. It was nearly dusk on April tenth, and he’d been clenching his jaw so hard the last twenty-four hours that his head pounded.
But they couldn’t stop, couldn’t let up. When Derek had grown tired of driving somewhere north of Cheyenne, Bret had taken over. The foursome had long since lapsed into the sort of tense silence that spoke volumes.
What were they driving into? Were they too late?
The lodge of Western Clans was tucked away into the side of a densely forested hill, craggy gray rocks at its back and surrounded on nearly three sides by a bend in the deep, clear Flathead River. As Bret turned onto the nearly-impassable dirt track that led back to the lodge, his heart rate ticked up.
Next to him, Grace pressed a warm, reassuring hand against his leg. “We’ll make it.”
Bret could only nod tightly. His mouth was dry as sand, his throat tight as a vice. He could only hope Grace was right. He sliced his gaze to her then back to the road.
Slowly, slowly, picking his way over ruts and around giant rocks, Bret kept going. It took everything in his not to slam his foot down, to hell with the truck. But this road was long—five miles, at least—and impatience would only hurt them. With Grace’s strength and calm seeping into him, he kept going.
There. Through the trees. Bret’s breath was a shudder, but he was finally, finally there.
And it was quiet.
Bret parked next to a line of off-road vehicles and let the truck door slam behind him. The lodge was rough-hewn out of wood, with a low roof and barely any windows. It was here he’d watched his father installed as chieftain of the Western Clans, and here he’d had his vision so long ago, sitting next to the central fire. Bret reached out for Grace’s hand and found her right next to him. Mateo and Derek walked behind them.
With a last look, they ducked under the low lintel and walked in.
Emily saw him first, and her eyes went round. She elbowed Tiff, sitting next to her, who swiveled around and gasped. Bret nodded at the women, nerves suddenly sparking red hot and raw inside him. What if they were wrong about Tuco? What if, instead, he was showing up unwanted at a family event?
But then he caught Jax’s eyes, and the relieved smile that spread across his little brother’s face cooled his fears. Jax and Chase were seated in the front row, along with their Uncle Mac. All three men stood, and Mac motioned at Drew and a pregnant Nina, who were standing at the edge of a small dais talking to part of the conclave. The dais was bathed in rich golden light from a large hole in the roof.
Bret tugged Grace closer, and her fingers twined with his. He opened his mouth to say something to his brothers—anything—when Jax’s eyes skittered behind them.
Someone screamed, and then all hell broke loose.
Wolves poured in from the narrow door, so many they seemed to block what little light was available.
Bret pulled Grace into his body and backed them up, closer to the center of the lodge. Derek, Mateo, and the dozen others there to witness the installation scrambled over seats toward the center.
Bret’s eyes skittered over the chaos, the fear rankling in the air. His family. He had to protect his family.
Almost by instinct, he found his brothers in the center. Each had their mates with them.
“What the fuck is Derek Craven doing here?” Jax spit, his eyes narrowed at Derek, who was hovering near the edge of the frenzied crowd. Around the perimeter of the room, the wolves snapped their jaws and growled.
Mateo, who’d leapt after Grace when the wolves had rushed in, spoke up. “He’s good. He’s been helping us.”
“Who’s us?” That was Chase.
“Us, Chase. Me, Mateo, and Grace, my mate. I’ve been staying with them. And that,” Bret said, pointing to the alpha wolf with the wicked scar, “is Tuco Espinosa.”
Forget all the things he’d planned on saying, the things he’d practiced over and over in his head on the long drive north. That could come later.
Chase eyed Drew. “From the fight in Texas?”
Drew looked to Bret, his eyebrows raised in question.
“Yeah,” Bret said quickly. “That’s where I’ve been. And I wouldn’t have even known what was happening if not for Derek. That’s why we came.”
Chase raised an eyebrow. “So nice of you to show up.”
“Is now really the time?” Bret snapped, then took a breath. “I’m here now. And if it’s not obvious, those wolves are in a murdering mood.”
Chase opened his mouth, but it was Tiff who shushed him.
“Wolves, Chase. Focus on the damn wolves.”
Bret nearly smiled. God, he’d missed everyone.
All around them, the wolves started barking like mad. The hostages at the center grew quiet, and then the wolves did too. Tuco padded forward, his tail held high. He snarled at the group, showing his sharp, white fangs, then shifted back to his human form.
But he was even more terrifying as a human, every angle of his face hardened with hatred, and his dark eyes flat and pitiless. Tuco stroked a finger down the length of his scar and bared his teeth again.
“Traitors,” he snarled, his voice rough. “Cowards. None of you know my name, but you will. It will be the last thing you remember as I kill you. Tuco Espinosa. The wolf who took back what was his. No more conclaves. No more chieftains. There is only power over all shifters, and the one strong enough to wield it.” Tuco beat his chest. “Me,” he thundered.
Bret grasped Grace’s hand and held her tight. Tuco had truly gone insane.
There was a hand at his elbow and voice at his ear, his Uncle Mac. Bret cut his eyes toward his uncle in question.
“A way out for your mates. Under the dais.”
Behind Mac, he could see Tiff, Nina, and Emily crouching low. Everyone else in the room was a shifter, raised to know how to fight. But they were innocents in all this, and the wolves would be merciless. Bret’s heart nearly broke to see the way the three women huddled together, tears streaking their faces.
Mac touched Grace. “Come on, my dear. We’ll get you to safety.”
Grace shook her head slightly. “I’m staying to fight,” she said through her teeth, her eyes still on Tuco.
“But surely,” Mac started.
Bret shared a look with Grace, a look that said everything they couldn’t right then. Even their good-byes. Then Bret stared back at Mac.
“She’s staying to fight,” he said firmly.
Mac’s eyes went wide, but then he nodded, and Bret could only hope he could get Tiff, Emily, and Nina to safety.
Tuco was still talking, pacing and pounding his chest. Bret couldn’t take another second of it. They were going to fight. Might as well make it happen. Bret shoved his way through the crowd.
He stood tall and stared at Tuco, his arms at his side, his chin jutting out. “You want to fight? You want to take us down? Come and get it then.”
Tuco just stared.
There w
as a rustling of bodies behind him, then Bret glanced to either side to see Grace, Mateo, and Derek come to stand on one side of him, and Drew, Jax, and Chase on the other.
Bret looked at his family, then shifted. He dropped heavily to his feet in a roar that threatened to pull down the building around them. And soon, a dozen more feral sounds joined him. The ground trembled and the timbers shook.
Bret hunched down, Tuco’s wolf directly in front of him, then he leapt.
Chapter Nineteen
Grace
GRACE SNARLED AND SNAPPED. SHE bit and clawed her way through the wolves—her family, the people she’d grown up with. No, she had to remind herself. She lunged for a tall, lithe wolf and rammed her shoulder into its flank. These wolves weren’t her family. Her family was all around her, fighting for the shifter way of life.
Somewhere in the chaos, Grace had lost track of Bret and Mateo, but she could see them through the fighting shifters, teamed up together against a big wolf, one of the Espinosa twins. Around them, two other wolves lay on the floor, injured and whining.
Grace yipped, just to make sure her brother and mate knew she was safe. There were only eight wolves loyal to Tuco still fighting. Hope soared in her chest. They could do this! Put down this rebellion and finally live.
From behind, teeth suddenly sank into her haunch. Grace howled in pain and collapsed onto her side. Tuco snapped at her throat, his face inches from her face and ferocious. Adrenaline pulsed through Grace, and she kicked her front legs into Tuco’s chest. He rolled off her, but he was back on his feet in an instant, his eyes wide and manic.
Grace tried to stand, but she could barely put any weight on her hind leg. A desperate whine built in her throat, but Bret and Mateo were across the room trying to fight back three wolves. Would anyone else even know what her wolf form looked like? To the bears, was she indistinguishable from the enemy?
Her back was to the wall, her options out. Tuco snarled and lunged for her, and Grace did the only thing she could think of. She shifted.