Dire Wants

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Dire Wants Page 19

by Stephanie Tyler


  “It was Lila?”

  “I didn’t realize I’d met her before—not until … tonight. How could I not have put that together until just now?”

  “Maybe you weren’t meant to.”

  “She looked different when she was giving me her power. Wilder. Scarier. She changed my fate.” She hugged her knees tightly to her chest and glanced back at the big wolf lying on his side, the moon worshipping his tawny skin. “She changed everything about me.”

  “No, she didn’t. No one can do that, Kate, no matter how hard they try. She just changed what your mother meant to happen for you.”

  “And my parents had to die for that to happen.”

  “What if it was your mother who tried to change your fate? And Lila just reversed it to the way it was meant to be?”

  She didn’t answer, but she looked slightly less upset. “So that’s my big secret. It’s all out on the table now. No happy childhood, no matter how hard I tried to pretend everything was wonderful and normal until the accident. I don’t know what’s worse—that I lied to everyone or that I lied to myself.”

  “You did what you needed to do in order to survive. Never apologize for that,” he told her fiercely as he sat up next to her. “I never have.”

  She hugged him then, pressed her body to his, twined her arms around him like she’d never let him go. Thing was, he never wanted her to, and that was quite a change from days earlier.

  Looked like his life would never be the same again, either.

  When she went to pull back, he lowered them back down to the blanket instead. Their legs twined together as if they’d just been intimate.

  Hadn’t they?

  “You’ve met my brother. Killian.”

  “He looks like you.”

  “Yeah, he does. He’s older. And it’s the first time I’ve seen him in a long time.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s better for both of us that way. He came back to help us deal with the battle.”

  She turned to him, her face propped on her arm. He continued to watch the moon, not sure he could face her. Still, his hand remained around hers.

  “His coming back has been hard for me to deal with. I’ve been … on edge.”

  “So it’s not all about me?”

  Stray laughed a little. “Very little, actually. Last night I bailed him out of jail. He was there on a drunk and disorderly. He just got into town last night and he’s already screwing things up,” he explained. “He’s … necessary in this war.”

  “Do you two get along?”

  He rubbed the long, abraded scar that ran down his chest absently, told her, “The only scars that won’t heal on me were caused by another Dire.”

  “Your brother did that?”

  “He needed to make sure I was immortal.” He shrugged. “I am.”

  And just like that, he was back in Greenland, fifty years earlier. Except this time, he wasn’t alone.

  They were killing him.

  Alone in the middle of a blizzard, Stray hung by his wrists, with chains wrapped around his ankles and neck to further immobilize him, the deep cuts in his skin healing slowly as they were purposely made from silver blades.

  They were killing him, but he merely suffered. He wasn’t dying.

  He remained that way for hours as the pelting snow and ice subsided. Bright red blood fell into the white snow below him with a steady drip he could hear as the silence settled in.

  The blizzard was over, but the storm was coming. And he was powerless to stop it.

  He’d never doubted this day would come, even though a part of him never wanted to believe his family capable of doing this.

  He would never again underestimate what fear could make a wolf do.

  Younger than his brother, Killian, by twelve years, kept apart from the pack—his family—for most of his twenty years and now he was a ritual sacrifice to the Elders, the day before his twenty-first birthday. Before his first shift.

  Kill had left the pack long ago, right before his own first shift. No one had heard from him since. Stray didn’t even know for sure he’d survived his first few shifts, but if the prophecy was to be believed … he had.

  Whether he’d left to make things better for Stray or for himself, well, Stray didn’t know that either.

  Stray didn’t even have the strength to curse him now; he was too close to his first shift, his body turning into something he didn’t recognize, a traitor that threatened him every time his Brother Wolf growled inside his head.

  It had become too much to handle. His wolf wanted him to live, howled desperately. The voices mashed together into a painful jumble until he closed his eyes and prayed the predators would come soon.

  One was close, but not the one he’d hoped for. His body tingled with power despite the pain and he cursed himself and the prophecy even as his eyes grew hazy and he couldn’t see much happening around him. But his hearing remained strong—the rustling in the snow happening long before the polar bears arrived, their white fur marred by some vanilla, and they were hungry. They were dying, just like he hoped to be.

  The blood scent drew them and they were coming at a run. His body would give them enough fuel to last another few weeks at most.

  There was no peace to make with anyone—he’d spent twenty-one years as a pariah to his own clan, hearing what they said about him, knowing he could’ve escaped what they planned.

  So why didn’t you?

  Hell, there was nothing for him to go to. A life on the streets of more alienation, well, he didn’t want to deal with it.

  They said he’d live forever, but nothing did. And once the polar bears ripped him to pieces, he’d find out the truth about the rumored immortality that had hung over his head from the moment he’d breathed life.

  The bears approached, teeth clacking together. A few roared, and it sounded like there were hundreds of them instead of the five or so Stray counted.

  A few began to fight among themselves because they didn’t want to share their prey—they were, by nature, solitary creatures. Stray understood them all too well.

  He’d gotten only a few minutes’ reprieve. The largest bear stood on two legs, roared as it claimed victory, then brought a paw down in a slashing motion along Stray’s side, opening him up as effectively as a knife.

  It didn’t end there. He couldn’t tell if he was being bitten or flayed, but no matter what, the pain was too intense for him to remain conscious much longer. Wasn’t sure why he was fighting so hard to do so, why he struggled to keep breathing even as his vision went sideways, like someone had twirled him. It hadn’t helped that the polar bears had used him as a piñata.

  The tingling of his skin had never retreated, but it was overshadowed by the pain. Suddenly, it reared up full strength and he heard the howl that sent a chill up his spine.

  Killian moved like lightning. It was white fur smeared with red blood, silver blade against the night sky. Stray groaned as his body seemed to give way. It was nearly midnight—the change would be upon him and he’d been too weak and hurt to do it.

  And if he couldn’t die, as the prophecy claimed, what would become of him? Because the prophecy didn’t say anything about any tolerance to pain.

  “Stray, open your eyes,” his brother told him. When Stray did so, he noted that the bears were all dead around them, and if Killian didn’t hurry, more would soon come.

  He waited, his arms numb, for his brother to help him down.

  Instead, Kill moved forward and ran the sword straight through Stray’s heart.

  Her hand caressed the scar as he spoke. Her eyes were wide and wet as though she felt his pain as keenly as he did. “I can’t believe …”

  “We’re different in the way we do things,” he told her. “I would’ve tried to kill myself if he hadn’t.”

  “But the fact that he did hurts you the most. Still.”

  He couldn’t deny that, so he didn’t bother trying.

  “I lived alone for a long ti
me,” he admitted, afraid to say anything more about his childhood at the moment for fear of losing it. “After my pack banished me, I went my own way and my brother went his. Together, our gifts were too powerful and the pack was worried we’d draw unnecessary attention.” Or take them over, he thought. He refused to say that out loud because that was the worst part of the betrayal. “I had a really shitty time on my own, had to pretend I was something I wasn’t. When they found out I was a Dire, I had to prove myself. I worked whatever jobs I could to earn some money. Rifter’s pack always has cash—our pack did too, I guess, but Killian and I were given nothing. So I did whatever I could to survive. It wasn’t always pretty.”

  “I understand,” she said quietly. “I was alone … lonely, for a long time too.”

  “Hard to be different.”

  “But you’re not. I mean, your brothers are like you. They accept you.”

  “My own family didn’t. Their families wouldn’t have, either. But the Extinction happened before they discovered that.” Except for Vice, who always knew his family thought his gift was too over the top. To the Dires, Vice had equaled sin personified, and even though wolves were all about primal urges, Vice’s ability was feared.

  “Sometimes family’s not about blood.”

  “I still have to talk to my brother. Try to figure some things out between us. He’s been alone longer than me. I don’t know what he’s like. He could be feral. I don’t know if he’s been using his power for evil purposes.”

  She nodded, her brow furrowed, and then asked, “Are your parents still alive?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Does your brother ever see them?”

  “I’d be shocked to hear him say yes. Could we change the subject?”

  She consented easily. “Okay. You’re really seventy-five years old?”

  “Rifter and the others are like ten thousand. I’m the teenager in the house who plays his music too loud. Probably why they dealt with young moon-crazed Weres so well.”

  “So I’ll always look like this?”

  “You’ll age slightly. Never look more than thirty. Not sure why, but that’s some kind of magic age.”

  “It’s a big deal for humans. You’re supposed to be grown up by then.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you really had a childhood.”

  “Me? No. The others did. A more typical Dire childhood, anyway. They were trained in the warrior way, but they had fun.”

  “They don’t know how you grew up?”

  “Until last week, they didn’t know I had a brother.” That confession would be the first of many. He started, hearing something she never could. “They’re out there tonight. Circling.”

  He rubbed his arms and shuddered.

  “Stay here with me tonight,” she said, and he knew she was giving him an excuse not to see his brother if he wasn’t ready.

  It would be only a matter of hours, but sometimes that was all you needed.

  He folded against her, warming her with the heat from his body. “Want to stay out here?”

  “Will we be safe?”

  “Yes.” In this cold, screened-in bubble, he could hold her in his arms and she could stay close to the moon.

  “Do you ever wish on stars?”

  “Is that a human thing?”

  “I guess so. You worship the moon; we wish on first stars, or shooting ones. I guess I used to.”

  “You still can, Kate.”

  “So I should still believe that wishes could come true?”

  “Maybe now, more than ever.”

  “If we could stay out here like this forever … alone.”

  “Wish it were that simple. But sometimes being tied to people isn’t the worst thing.” He stared up at the sky, then looked at her. “I was alone for such a long time—all I wanted was contact. How can I throw away people who are trying to help me?”

  “Because you’re scared of getting hurt. Scared that, if your brothers make you leave, you’re alone again.” She stroked a hand through his hair and his libido rose. “You’re close to your Dire brothers—they’ve stuck with you.”

  “What if they don’t, after everything I’ve told them? What if, when all is said and done, they want me to leave when Killian does?”

  “I don’t think they’re like that. They’re warriors like you, and they don’t turn away easily. You haven’t—from me or from them.”

  He buried his face in her neck, breathing her in, wanting to believe every word. “If they do …”

  She looked him in the eyes. “I won’t.”

  Chapter 28

  Kate looked luminous.

  Stray could see the outline of her body under the button-down shirt she’d borrowed—braless breasts, nipples tight, her legs crossed, a darker triangle between them. The shirt hit just above midthigh, and her bared legs seemed to shimmer under the moon. Her cheeks flushed as she stared up at the white orb. Her entire countenance was one of supplication—of reverence.

  He desired her more than anything he’d ever known.

  He’d never had that relationship with the moon—she distressed him, troubled him, and, as he’d told Kate, she could control him if he wasn’t strong.

  But now, watching Kate, he began to wonder what was so wrong with letting the moon take him over for a while. Protect him. Lead him.

  “I think the sharing helped,” she said softly.

  “I’ve never told anyone any of this. Fuck.” He ran his hands through his hair as hers caressed his back, half massage but mainly giving comfort.

  He wanted more of her touch.

  “Have there been a lot of women—wolves—in your life? Your bed?”

  Her thoughts told him she thought she was being selfish in wanting to be the special one for him. He was glad to be able to reassure her. “No one like you, Kate. Never.”

  She swallowed. “Because … I’m witch.”

  “Nothing to do with that. There’s never been anyone like you—no one’s ever gotten into my heart. Do you understand? No one.”

  He wanted her with a force he couldn’t explain. Sex had always been easy for him to find. It was something he loved, unabashedly, as all wolves did.

  “I’m bound to this prophecy and my brother. Now I’m bound to you. Can’t escape. You know my family hurt me—abused me. I didn’t tell you that they kept me in a silver-lined cage for the first twenty years of my life.” Stray paused, like he was wondering how much farther he should go. But he’d gone nearly all the way, so he stepped off the cliff and told her his final fear. “I’m nobody’s pet. No one’s slave. Do you understand that?”

  “I can’t undo the familiar bond,” she started.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m telling you that my wolf chose you before you called me. Before all of this, my wolf knew. At first I thought I was just telling myself that to make it all okay, but I know now—Brother Wolf would never lie to me. He couldn’t.”

  In agreement, the wolf howled in his ear.

  Kate watched him carefully, her words measured. “So what are you telling me—you’re okay with this? You want this?”

  He tugged her close, the heat from his body overwhelming her. “I want you.”

  “I don’t know why. I’ve brought you nothing but trouble.”

  “No, you brought me so much more.”

  Stray couldn’t help himself. More important, he didn’t want to. He pressed against her, nuzzled his head in her neck until he felt her body relent. She whispered something he probably wasn’t meant to hear, but with his wolf hearing, there was no mistaking the I’m sorry or the hushed yes that escaped her.

  Yes.

  His hands traveled down to her hips as Brother Wolf surged. Not your turn, boy. No, it was all Stray’s, and it was far too late to stop.

  He skimmed off her lacy white boy shorts and his hand sought her sex. Wet and ready for him. He put his head back and howled.

  Her fingers dug into his
shoulders, like the sound excited her. She arched in to him as he traced along her folds, teasing her until she demanded more.

  He would give it to her.

  “Beautiful,” he whispered and she tightened her arms around herself like no one had ever called her that before. And he was glad, only because he liked being the first one to put that smile on her face, the flush on her cheeks and neck. At that moment, under the moon, it didn’t matter that she was witch and he was wolf. It only mattered that they were together for whatever purpose, and that this dance was as old as time.

  She fitted against him, molded willingly to his body. He lifted her, arms around her hips so their mouths could meet and, to his surprise, she wound her legs around his waist.

  “Yes, now. Please,” she murmured, and he couldn’t hold back. The air was saturated with her scent and he took her hungrily, a dying man in a desert until he drank her in.

  “I want to fuck you. Mark you. Lick you until you scream, clutch the sheets, until your body is worn out from my loving you. God, I dream about tasting you, Kate. Want to spend hours between your thighs. I want to make you mine the way you’ve made me yours.”

  His words were visceral, like licks of heat on her skin.

  “You’re wet for me, aren’t you?” He shrugged out of his pants, nuzzled her neck and she gasped a little. “Show me, Kate.”

  God, she couldn’t do this. He was so free with his wants and needs and she was like a shy virgin.

  Well, she was a shy virgin.

  “Wolves are primal. We love sex and everything associated with it. Why not revel in it with me?” he cajoled, his hand on her thigh. “Let me all the way in, Kate.”

  She had nothing to lose. Her legs trembled as Stray opened her thighs, gazed at her sex and groaned. She let him strum her body with his fingers and his tongue until she was naked in the moonlight.

  “This isn’t about familiars. This is about me and you, not wolf and witch.”

  His eyes flashed something she didn’t recognize, but his mouth was on hers before she could figure it out. And then it didn’t matter because he kissed her like nothing else in the world mattered except her.

  She felt cherished. Hopeful. And she needed him in a way she’d never thought possible.

 

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