She's the One

by Riley Ashford

  His gaze wandered over Tarn. His lover was ten years older, thirty-one to his twenty-one. He was 6'6", built like a goddamned ancient oak. Thick with muscles, and those shoulders ... those thighs ... that cock.

  He felt his own cock stir. It had been a week since they'd had sex. A week! In all the time they'd been together, they'd never gone that long without fucking—unless they'd been dispatched to different missions. Ever since they'd proclaimed their relationship, it was rare to get opposing assignments. The Tribunal might look askance at their mating, but they couldn't deny Erick and Tarn made one helluva team.

  Erick was horny. If he thought Tarn would give in to a quickie, he'd go over there right now and suck his cock.

  He licked his lips, thinking about how Tarn tasted, about the feel of his shaft pumping in and out of his mouth. Oh, yeah. His cock hardened, and his nipples pebbled.

  Slow down there, idiot. It's not gonna happen. This is Tarn, remember?

  Erick sighed. Tarn had been distant lately, and had rebuffed Erick's attempts to get him into bed. Tenderly delivered rejection was still rejection. And Tarn wasn't exactly a talker. His emotions were fully owned by him. No sharing. Erick didn't go around spouting poetry or reading self-help books, but he also wasn't as internal as Tarn. He didn't stew. He blew up. Anyway, something big was bothering the T-man and Erick knew from experience there was no getting it out of him until he was ready to spill.

  "We don't have time,” said Tarn, though his voice had gone hoarse. Erick noticed Tarn's penis had gotten a little hitch in its giddy-up. That was a relief. At least Tarn still wanted him.

  "We don't have time for what?” Erick asked innocently. His cock twitched and he gripped it, giving it a solid yank.

  "You gonna jerk off?"

  Erick let go of his shaft. “I was hoping you might do the honors."

  "Later. Don't lose focus.” Tarn's gaze returned to searching the perimeter.

  Damn. The man was all about principles, always had been. Tarn wouldn't indulge in a woodland quickie, not if there was a Tribunal-sanctioned duty to fulfill.

  Erick picked up a rock and tossed it from hand to hand. He was getting antsy again. They'd checked out the place last night, figured out how to get in, gone over the plan a billion times. Booooring.

  "Why not just ban Jaron?” he asked idly. “He'd already left."

  "If he hadn't put his seed into a human, he'd still be waking up tomorrow morning. And he'd still be able to return to the pack."

  Erick dropped the pebble he'd been messing with. Yeah, yeah. What did the Tribunal know? They were a bunch of old farts with nothing better to do than boss around pack members. “Before he left, Jaron wouldn't even consider taking a female to his bed. He said he wouldn't be forced into breeding."

  "He's been gone for almost a year. Who knows what happened to him.” Tarn shook his head. “He was the last of his line. The Celtic wolves die with him."

  "No,” said Erick, his voice quiet. “They die with his child."

  He wanted to hit something: the tree, the ground, the smug face of Elder Roderick. He'd been the one to deliver the Tribunal's decree. They'd invited them to the cavern, the very place where the first wolf shape-shifters slept and ate and lived, and assigned them the task of killing Jaron Dunmore. The Tribunal still did their business in the cavern of their ancestors, though its members seemed much more concerned about politics and nonsensical dictates than the welfare of the pack. Or so it seemed to Erick.

  But not to Tarn. Tarn, who followed the regs every single day of his life. Erick had been drawn to him, not only because he was older, but also because he offered the kind of security Erick never had. Tarn was consistent. He was steady. He was thoughtful. He planned.

  Erick ... not so much.

  "The Elders forget we had human ancestors.” Erick glanced at Tarn, who was staring at him and frowning. Well, he could frown all he wanted. He had doubts about this course of action, too.

  Jaron was their friend. They'd fought beside him, laughed with him, and helped him mourn his sister, Grelda. Erick felt as though a hot brick had landed on his chest and then slid onto his stomach. He'd known her, of course. She'd only been a couple years older. He hadn't yet revealed his preference for males; in fact, he'd dated around just to give everyone the impression he liked girls.

  Tarn had courted the young Grelda. The Tribunal had approved their match, but Tarn had admitted they were not in love. Still, they were devoted to each other, and both deeply respected their duties to the pack. She'd conceived on their wedding night, but she and the baby died during childbirth.

  Erick had been seventeen, and only just named warrior of his father's line. He'd trained with Tarn, and genuinely liked the man. He wasn't sure when he'd started crushing on him. After Tarn married Grelda, Erick had requested another mentor.

  A year passed.

  The night of his eighteenth birthday, Erick got stupid drunk. He decided the only birthday present he wanted was a night with Tarn. So, he stumbled up to the man's house, knocked on the door, and when the warrior answered wearing only a pair of jeans and a pissed-off expression, Erick had kissed him.

  Tarn hadn't protested. He simply dragged Erick into the house, threw him onto the couch, and fucked him senseless. Erick knew right then and there, he was in love.

  It took Tarn a little longer to come to the same realization.

  Still, here they were, a couple looking for their female mate. The Tribunal usually ignored gay relationships so long they didn't interfered with anyone's duties. Erick wasn't sure about adding a female into the mix. Tarn wouldn't mind, but even though Erick had slept with women—okay, two women—it wasn't the same kind of thrill as fucking a guy. He didn't like the idea of sharing Tarn. And he really didn't like the idea of mating with a female just to please those Tribunal jerks.

  Jaron had felt the same way. The elders told Jaron they expected him to mate, and if he did not, they couldn't see the point of him sticking around. Basically it was a polite way of saying he either married a girl or he should get lost.

  So, Jaron got lost.

  And now, after giving up his friends and his status in the pack, he'd found a female he was willing to sleep with. A human, but who cared? He was gonna be a father. Erick thought about Jaron's child growing in his mate's womb. She was nearly at term. The pack had only recently become aware of the pregnancy, and the Tribunal had acted quickly. Hybrid breeding was an intolerable sin against the purebloods. Jaron had committed treason, which was an automatic death sentence. He would die, and so would the woman carrying his abomination.

  Erick's stomach squeezed with dread. He didn't want to kill his friend. And he sure as hell didn't want to hurt a mother-to-be. “Tarn ... what right do we have to kill someone not of the pack?"

  "What she carries in her womb is of the pack.” Tarn stood up and walked to Erick, holding out his hand. Erick took it and allowed Tarn to pull him up into his embrace. “I know what this is about,” said Tarn, smoothing back Erick's shaggy blond locks. “We will find a mate we both enjoy. She will have our children. I promise we'll be a real family."

  "Unless the Tribunal does to us what they're doing to Jaron. Maybe he wouldn't have left or hooked up with a human if they hadn't tried to force him to mate."

  "Stop it, Erick.” Tarn sighed and though Erick was only a couple inches shorter than him, he still tucked Erick's head under his chin and held him close. As annoyed as Erick was with his partner, he couldn't help but wrap his arms around Tarn and press close to his muscled chest. His heartbeat kicked up a notch.

  "The Tribunal must sometimes make unpopular choices for the benefit of the pack. What if others starting producing children with humans?"

  "We'd have more shape-shifters."

  "Erick..."

  Erick knew that tone. It was Tarn's you'll-understand-when-you're-older Dad voice. Argh!

  "Don't patronize me! You never fucking listen. And you know what? That pisses me off.” He pushed out of Tarn's ar
ms and glared at him. He wanted to be heard, and he was tired of Tarn ignoring his opinions. “What's duty without honor? I don't care how we kill Jaron. It's wrong."

  Tarn grabbed Erick by the forearms and slammed him against the oak. He pressed against Erick, chest to chest, thighs to thighs, cock rubbing against cock, his massive strength leashed by his ever-present patience. Erick wished he were capable of that kind of control. But he was impulsive, and he knew it. He hated to wait around, not when he could take action and get things going.

  "You think I'm more a boy than a man,” he said bitterly. His chin jutted out, an act of petulance. He knew that he was being childish, which didn't exactly help his boy vs. man case. But he was angry, damn it.

  Tarn reached between them and grabbed Erick's cock, his gaze icy as a glacier. “I don't fuck boys."

  "Is that what you're going to do?” Erick laughed derisively. “Yeah, right."

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  Erick thrust into Tarn's loose grip. The feel of Tarn's calloused palm against his sensitive flesh felt good. “It means you wouldn't let sex, or love, get in the way of doing your duty."

  "Did you ever think that I follow duty because I love you, and our pack?"

  Erick hadn't thought about the motivations for Tarn's decisions. He'd never really considered the emotional drive the man might have to complete his tasks. He was a machine, in bed, in life. Erick knew Tarn loved him; he just wasn't exactly verbal about it. And he held his emotions in check. Erick blurted his out. He couldn't keep shit to himself.

  "Leave Jaron to his life,” he said. “Let's just go home."

  "If we don't abide by the pack's ruling, we won't have a home,” responded Tarn softly. He began stroking Erick's cock in earnest. “Do you ever think before you act?"

  "Maybe I don't think enough,” said Erick, “but you think too much.” He pressed his mouth against Tarn's, parted the seam of his lover's lip, and thrust his tongue inside.

  Tarn aggressively returned the kiss, his hand working Erick's cock. He freed his mouth, panting, and managed to say, “You are my partner in every way. Just because we disagree about the Tribunal's decisions—"

  "Shut up already.” Erick ran his hands down Tarn's back and grabbed his phenomenal ass.

  Tarn let Erick go, and disappeared around the tree. When he returned, he had the mini-lube. Erick's mouth dropped open. “Seriously?"

  "Turn around."

  Erick's heart went thumpety-thump. Tarn was gonna do him, right in the middle of a mission? What the fuck? He turned and braced himself against the tree, offering his ass to Tarn. The gel was thick, and a little cold. Tarn massaged his anus, piercing it with a finger, widening and circling.

  Erick couldn't catch his breath. Tarn turned him on. His strength. His fierceness. One look from the man and Erick was a pile of fucking goo. He felt Tarn push the tip of his cock inside, and his knees nearly buckled. “More,” he rasped.

  Slowly, Tarn worked his cock inside Erick's quivering channel. For a moment he lay against Erick's back, sucking in air. Erick felt the frantic beat of Tarn's heart, and that made him even hotter for the man. He loves me. He wants me.

  Erick reached down and fisted his shaft with a trembling hand. As Tarn began to fuck him, he matched the rhythm. Stroking his cock. He wasn't gonna last long. It had been more than a week since Tarn had touched him, much less taken him.

  "Tarn. Oh, God. Tarn!” The orgasm blasted through him, and Erick gripped his cock as his seed splashed the tree.

  Tarn fucked him harder. Flesh slapped against flesh. His thighs quivered, and then, Tarn howled, shoving deep, and came.

  Erick felt a sense of satisfaction. He was happy Tarn had given into impulse, and he wished like hell they could just go back to the hotel and forget about Jaron.

  Seconds ticked by. After both men caught their breath and their heartbeats returned to normal, Tarn released Erick. When Erick turned, he found Tarn cleaning himself off with a tissue. Of course. That was his lover, all right. Always prepared. He gave Erick some clean tissues, and he did the same.

  When they were through, Tarn backed him against the tree and kissed him stupid. Then he leaned away and said, “I love you."

  There was something tremulous in the words, something that made foreboding stab at Erick. “I love you, too."

  Tarn's mouth curled into a rare smile. Then his eyes went wide. A pained gasp escaped as he staggered sideways.

  What the—

  A woman stood there, silent, practically a shadow despite her height.

  She moved fast. She yanked the silver dagger from Tarn's back, and tossed the other glinting blade toward Erick's throat.

  He caught it. “You little bitch!"

  She kicked him in the solar plexus. Hard. His lungs nearly collapsed and he bent over, dropping the second knife. She scooped it up, and plunged both blades into Tarn's kidneys as she double-kicked behind his knees.

  Tarn collapsed. He was too much of a warrior to scream, but the silver was doing its job. He was shaking, obviously in excruciating pain.

  She jerked out the knives and went for Tarn's carotid artery.

  Erick snarled and dove at her.

  She whirled away, sheathing the blades. Then she turned and ran, not away into the woods where he could scent and catch her, but to the nearest tree. She grabbed the lowest branch and swung up, catching another limb with gloved hands and using it to climb further into the tree. He heard her thrashing, the scrape of her boots against the trunk, and then she jumped into a nearby oak.

  And she kept going.

  Even as fury pounded through him, he was damned impressed by her skills. She wouldn't get away, no matter how fancy her moves. And when he caught her, she was getting a throat full of his teeth.

  Unfortunately, that wouldn't be tonight. Not with Tarn injured.

  Heart hammering, both pissed and worried, Erick knelt next to his lover. “C'mon. I'll get you to safety."

  "Get. Her."

  "I'm not leaving you.” Erick was gonna take Tarn back to the rental car. It was a clusterfuck now. The Tribunal couldn't be mad at their failure if some crazy bitch had tried to off them first. Why had she attacked them? Was she protecting Jaron? That didn't make any sense. Jaron was more than capable of kicking ass, and he'd never give the job of protecting himself and his mate to someone else.

  What the fuck was going on here?

  Tarn gripped his arms and used Erick's strength to help him sit up. “Can't. Leave.” He struggled to take breaths and Erick felt panic well. Tarn sucked in a breath. “I'm healing. Go ... g-get her."

  "I'll kill her."

  "No!” Tarn shook his head. His teeth were chattering and his lips turning blue. It felt like a hundred degrees out here even with the storm brewing, so it was bad that Tarn had taken a chill. “Just restrain her."

  Erick wanted to argue. Instead, he zipped his lips. Tarn was in pain, his body trying to heal the effects of the silver. She'd jabbed three times, deeply. The wounds on Tarn's back were blackened—one of the results of silver touching werewolf skin.

  "I'll stay here. Need t-to heal."

  "Dude. You look like shit.” He didn't want to leave Tarn. What if his body didn't detox the silver?

  "Been through this before.” He gulped in air. “Can't let her go. Might warn Jaron."

  "All right, already.” Erick could give two shits about whether or not Jaron knew they were there. Maybe he could talk some sense into Tarn. But right now, he just wanted Tarn to feel better because Erick was seriously freaking out.

  He helped Tarn to the same tree where he'd been sitting earlier. Tarn leaned against the trunk. He was taking deep breaths, and he'd stopped shaking. He really was healing. Okay, that was good.

  "You're w-wasting time."

  Erick grabbed Tarn's hand, turned it upright, and kissed the roughened palm. “I'll get her."

  "Alive,” reminded Tarn. He grasped Erick's wrist and drew him in for a quick kiss. “Got it?"
r />   Erick nodded. When he caught the woman, he'd keep her alive, but that didn't mean he wouldn't punish her for what she'd done. Still breathing constituted alive, right?

  You can run, he thought as he stood up and began the change from human to wolf, but you can't hide.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  Cass paused at the top of a pine tree, and sucked in steadying breaths. Her heart hammered, skipping its beats, letting her know it was gonna fail her ... maybe right now.

  That so hadn't gone well. She'd severely underestimated the werewolves. Freaking paranormals. Those dagger wounds would've killed a human. Not to mention she would've been able to deliver the killing blow.

  The other guy had moved fast. He'd snatched the dagger right out of the air and if he hadn't been distracted by his partner's injuries, he might've actually gotten her. She'd seen the animal glinting in his eyes. She'd seen her death in those eyes, too.

  Before that, though, she'd seen the two of them kissing and touching. And then fucking. She'd waited, just to see how far they would take it. Watching them together had made her hot. She told herself it was because if they had sex, they'd be relaxed and less likely to pay attention to her movements. She'd been right.

  But if she was honest, she'd been a total voyeur. Holy fuck, it had been a really long time since she'd had sex. She'd always harbored a fantasy of getting freaky between the sheets with two guys. Even now, as she contemplated her failure, her panties were getting soaked just thinking about what it would be like with those werewolves. Inappropriate as hell. They were targets. This whole thing was too jacked up.

  What to do? Complete the assignment? Or bail?

  There was no way to tell if she could get to the house, kill Kirk, and get out before the wolfies caught up to her. In this day of iPhones and Blackberries, they'd probably already dialed in.

  Still...

  If Kirk Raynard was into any kind of technology, it sure as hell didn't show. Her brief immersion into the vampire court revealed a big reluctance to adapt to modern times. Most vamps dressed and acted as they had during the time period they'd lived as humans. Queen Isolde encouraged such behavior, not because she wished to honor the desires of her subjects, but as a way to control them.