Till Abandon

by Avril Ashton

  He'd never thought Voltaire would lie to him and, now that he'd calmed down, had a little rabbit to munch on, he wondered if he'd been hasty. She'd said someone had messed with Aimee's mind, got her riled enough to confront Blake and Voltaire in the hopes Voltaire would kill her, but what would that accomplish? Was he then supposed to turn on his mate for killing one of his pack?

  She'd claimed she'd followed the killer's psychic trail and it wasn't Czion. Why had he doubted her? Voltaire was the one familiar with those things, and if she said no, it should be no—right? So why the hell had he walked away? He'd been blinded by fury as she'd tried to explain why she'd lied to him, sent him away so she could communicate with a man who was essentially his sworn enemy, and he'd reacted accordingly.

  The wolf finished with dinner and flicked its tongue out to wipe the blood off his muzzle. A breeze rustled the low-hanging trees nearby and he caught the scent of lilacs before her magic wrapped around him like a soft, down blanket. She stepped into the wolf's line of vision.

  Blake stood on all fours, ready to shift back, but Voltaire dropped to her knees before him and wrapped her arms around the wolf's neck.

  "Finally I get to see you like this. I've missed you in my dreams,” she murmured to the wolf. She tightened her fingers in his fur and silver tears slid down her cheeks. The wolf whined and licked them off—he didn't like the heavy aura of sadness clinging to his mate.

  "I messed up,” she confessed. “You wanted me to be his other half, his mate, but in trying to protect him, I hurt him.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I love him and he might never forgive me."

  The salt of her tears melted on his tongue and Blake shifted.

  He wrapped his naked arms around her and pulled her to him. “Voltaire."

  She trembled, her soft body pliant. “I'm sorry."

  He loosened his hold on her and tilted his head to look at her. “Why are you sorry?"

  "I hurt you.” Wet lashes clumped together as she blinked, those gorgeously weird eyes glistening.

  "And did you purposely set out to do so?"

  She frowned. “You know I didn't.” Confusion swam in her eyes. “I would never want to cause you pain, intentional or otherwise. You have to know that."

  "I do know that.” Blake cupped her cheek, brushed his thumb over the smooth, pale skin. “Anger blinded me, but I know it and that's why I forgive you.” He brought his lips to hers, kissing her softly. “Because, Death Bringer, I love you."

  * * * *

  A sob caught in Voltaire's throat and she mashed their lips together, bruising. Blake's tight grip on her hair said he loved it. Those strong hands left her hair and travelled down her nape to her back, pulling at her clothes while his hard cock pressed against her thigh.

  She kissed him, thrusting her tongue into his mouth, and he sucked on it with hard pulls that echoed in her pussy. Voltaire gripped his shoulders, sinking her nails into the smooth flesh as he tore away her blouse. Cool air kissed her nipples and she arched her back, almost doing a complete back-bend. She thrust her nipples skywards in silent offering and Blake tore his mouth away from hers to suckle one.

  Mother of—She groaned, the husky sound filling her ears.

  Blake, what you do to me...

  He tore at her jeans with his claws, shredding them like he'd done before, until she was on her knees before him in nothing but her black Bruno Maglis. He moved away from her, then, separating them when she would have melted into him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, quiet rumbles of the wolf drifting from parted lips wet from her kisses.

  A wildness in his eyes gave them a dangerous gleam that set her blood racing. The slight breeze tousled his dark hair, sending tendrils clinging to his forehead and into his eyes. This was her man, her mate, her love. This was her wolf. Voltaire cupped his jaw and brushed a finger over his bottom lip.

  "Are you reading my mind?” His words were harsh, but she knew they weren't meant to be.

  She shook her head. “No."

  His lips curved. “I wish you would. Then you'd know the way I see you right now—the wind whipping your hair all over, your eyes glowing, your ivory skin so smooth and biteable. You're mine, Voltaire.” Those eyes flashed again—this time the wolf was in them. “I will not let you go. Never.” A threat and a promise.

  Lips trembling, she grinned. “I was thinking the same about you.” Leaning forward, she sank her teeth into his shoulder, tearing his flesh. Blood filled her mouth, flooding her taste buds like liquid cinnamon. Voltaire whimpered, the wolf roared, then she was on her back, legs in the air, Blake's tongue on her clit.

  Fuck! Blake. Her nails dug into the ground, her thighs clamped around his neck as her hips rolled. Blake worked a finger into her ass and his tongue into her pussy, licking, slurping. His groans blended with hers until the wind snatched them away. Eyes open, Voltaire stared unfocussed up at the sky.

  I want to feel you, Blake. Give me you"

  Blunt fingers dug into her hip, lifted her ass off the rugged ground, as he continued loving her, destroying her. His saliva mixed with her juices and slid down to her ass, acting as lube for the second finger he pushed in. A sweet burn tingled along her nerve endings, greying her vision, yet she pushed back on those fingers, welcomed them into her body.

  Blake flicked his tongue over her clit, then caught it in his mouth and hummed. Voltaire jerked, ass and pussy clenching, hips rocking.

  You're killing me, mate. Killing me so good.

  She reached down and threaded her fingers through his hair, gripping and tugging. She touched his mind, tears blinding her as she felt his love. The emotion was like a bright spotlight in his mind, focused only on her pleasure, her needs, her wants. Her mate loved her completely.

  I love you, she sobbed into his mind. You're everything I didn't want, everything I need, Blake.

  Fingers still in her ass, he froze between her legs. Her heart stuttered.

  Voltaire rose up on her elbows. He met her gaze with smouldering heat, held her enthralled as he lowered his mouth and sank his canines into the tender flesh of her inner thigh.

  "Oh, God!” She flew apart with a scream, body arching, melting into his. Blake growled, fiercely enough to send goose bumps over her skin as he drank from her. Mini orgasms rolled over her at each pull of his lips on her flesh. Voltaire couldn't move, couldn't blink. Instead she used her magic—a pitiful show—and brushed a hand through his hair, down his cheek. He pressed into her.

  Take me, Blake. Show me I'm yours.

  He pounced on her, mouth crushing hers, cock pushing between her swollen folds. She gasped and he swallowed it, sliding in until he lay balls-deep within her. The tight curls on his groin scraped her mound when he ground against her with his hips. His heavy balls slapped her ass. Voltaire lifted her legs, wrapping them around his hips and raking her nails down his back.

  Fingers wound around her hair, pulling tight, Blake tore his mouth away and stared down at her as he thrust with his hips, in and out.

  "I love you. Always mine, Voltaire. Always."

  His hips punctuated the words, pistoning cock hitting her motherfucking hot-spot again and again. She locked her ankles at the top of his taut ass and threw her hips back at him.

  "And you're mine, Blake. Always,” she reminded him.

  He removed his right hand from her hair, sought and found her left palm, and linked their fingers. “Always."

  The word rumbled as he drew back and thrust in, hard, deep into her cunt. Her sheath quivered round him, contracting wildly.

  Sharp objects on the ground dug into her back, but she ignored the discomfort as she rocked onto him, doing her best to climb his limber ass. She palmed his buttocks, pulling him even deeper into her core. His pelvis rubbed her clit, setting fire racing through her veins.

  "Voltaire.” Blake's thrusts increased, he tightened his hold on her.

  Voltaire shuddered, mouth falling open as the first waves of orgasm crashed over her.

  "Yes, give it to me.�
� Her voice shook, tits bounced as he thrust harder and harder. Her pussy sucked in his cock. “Fill me up, Blake."

  And he did.

  Head thrown back, veins bulging, he howled out his release as he poured his seed into her. Voltaire rolled her hips and clutched his waist. He lowered himself on his elbows, mouth capturing hers in a slow, wet kiss. She kept rolling her hips and he kept thrusting while their bodies quivered and shook from the aftershocks.

  Blake smoothed his hand over her hair as he dropped kisses on her jaw and licked sweat off her neck. “Love you."

  "Love you, too.” She nipped at the fingers he used to trace over her lips and he smiled, pulling away, then coming back. To tease and touch.

  He brushed his lips over hers, then froze. A painful sound tore from his lips, coming from deep within. Voltaire stared, wide-eyed, as dark liquid dripped from his nose and eyes and fell on her cheek and chest.

  Warm, copper smell.

  Blood.

  "Blake? Blake, what's wrong?” She tried reaching his mind but found only a black wall of pain. “Blake!"

  "Blake's not home right now.” A figure stepped out of the shadows behind a tree to Voltaire's right.

  Oh, my God. The familiar voice roused Voltaire and she lashed out with her magic but it fizzled to nothing. Her last thought, as she sank into darkness, was that she had never seen this betrayal coming.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Eleven

  * * * *

  A fist to her face knocked Voltaire out of the dark void she'd been drowning in. Red-hot pain flashed through her body and she came alive, fighting, kicking—at least in her mind. Through the dark spots in her vision, she noticed she sat on the cold, concrete floor of a dank room, hands clasped in her lap, body heavy, lead-like.

  Immobile.

  Blake sat about a foot in front of her, green eyes wide, the whites turned pink. He stared off into space, a vacant look on his face. Dried blood formed a caked trail at the corners of his eyes and nose.

  Voltaire whimpered, her heart in her throat, beating a rhythm of furious fear.

  Shifter, wake up. Look at me.

  "Sorry. Unfortunately, he can't.” The male standing to her left stepped into her line of vision.

  Pain lanced her jaw, so she spoke through the PSC link.

  Ken, what are you doing?

  The killer was Ken? How fucked up was that, and why hadn't she known, suspected? The man she'd been so intimate with wanted to kill her mate...and do what with her?

  Ken met her disgusted gaze with wild, dark eyes. “You never suspected because you don't give me credit. Never have.” His jaw ticked and he removed a hand from behind his back. A curved knife gleamed as he turned, walked over to Blake and pressed the blade to his throat. Blake didn't even flinch. Her man wasn't present—Ken had taken control of his mind.

  No! Don't hurt him, Ken

  All-consuming fear took over, drowning out the pain as she stared at the blood trickling down Blake's chest.

  What do you want, Ken? What?

  She yelled the last word into the mind link as her insides shuddered and her blood slowed to a crawl.

  Ken moved behind Blake and went down on one knee, his hand still on the knife, the sharp, jagged blade still at Blake's neck. Ken met her gaze, licking his lips, and Voltaire realised the man she used to know wasn't present either. Something dark, evil, and utterly out of control resided in his skin. In his heart.

  "I want to know why you left me and came all the way out here to fuck an ankle-biter.” He flexed his wrist and dug the blade deeper into Blake.

  Breath stuttered in Voltaire's lungs. In her mind, she lurched forward, but in reality she remained glued to the floor, hands in her lap.

  "Wasn't I giving you what you needed, Voltaire?” Ken asked. His eyes were wide and curious. “I let you fuck me whenever you wanted, however you wanted, because I thought you cared. I thought we were partners."

  What the hell was he talking about? She tried frowning but it hurt too much, even for her.

  Ken, I never knew you felt that way. I—I'm sorry that I hurt—

  "Really?” He sprang to his feet, knife waving. “Are you really sorry, Voltaire, or is it all about the shifter, here?"

  He took a step towards her and her heart leapt in relief. As long as he wasn't anywhere near her mate.

  I'm worried about Blake, Ken, but I'm telling you the truth

  She pleaded shamelessly, with her eyes locked on Blake's.

  I'm sorry if I hurt you, truly. That was not my intention.

  "What was your intention? Just keep me on my knees, my ass available to you, marking time until you found your so-called mate?"

  Ken's voice grew more erratic. The dark magic surrounding him pulled at Voltaire, clawing at her to let it in.

  No! I didn't—that wasn't—

  She dry-heaved.

  "—your intention,” Ken finished. “Yeah, heard that already."

  Do Remi and the Council know what you're doing? Do they know you can do these things?

  Voltaire tried to steer him away from her perceived wrong-doings.

  How did you manage to hide this from them?

  Ken scoffed and waved her words away. “As you well know, the Council isn't that hard to hide things from. They're all too full of themselves to care about us little people, even if we do carry out their dirty work."

  But—but—

  For an agent to become an elite, the Council had to be involved. They had to be, to choose, do some vetting.

  "I'm very good at hiding things, Voltaire.” Ken winked as a sick smile spread over his fair face. “May I point out that the Death Bringer never saw me coming?"

  He looked supremely proud of himself and anger the likes of which she'd never experienced blossomed inside Voltaire. She welcomed it, closing her eyes to camouflage the intensity.

  When did you realise you had elite skills

  Better to keep him talking, off her scent as she allowed the darkness in her to rise to the forefront, to fester and grow. Reaching deep inside, she wiped her thoughts clean, made it so all he saw was fear for Blake and nothing else.

  Ken shrugged at her question. “Dunno. A while before you decided to abandon me to find him.” He jerked a finger to indicate Blake.

  Her shifter's eyes had drifted closed. His head lolled to the side.

  Voltaire yanked her gaze from Blake and focused on Ken.

  Why didn't you tell me about it?

  "Really?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Would you have continued seeing me once I was on equal footing with you?” A self-deprecating laugh fell from his lips. “I took note of who you fucked and not one of them was on your level, none was an elite. And then you got with Remi and Czion."

  He knew about that?

  Yes, Ken said in her head. Then, out loud, “I knew about that because I kept tabs on you. Believe me, I thought it was rather careless of the Death Bringer to be so lax with her safety, but, hey.” He shrugged. “I thought you messing around with those two meant you were opening up to other possibilities, until you said you were going away ‘indefinitely'.” Air-quotes on ‘indefinitely'. “No explanations, nothing. All I knew was you were leaving me behind and I wasn't about to let that happen."

  But all this is for...what? She couldn't get his big picture. What's your end-game in this, Ken?

  Laughter bubbled past his lips. Chills danced along her spine at the sound. The son of a bitch really had lost his motherfucking mind. She'd be damned if he'd take Blake away from her. Not happening.

  "The shifter will die, Voltaire. Simple as that.” All evidence of mirth disappeared from his face. “You and me...can you imagine us together? The power we'd command, the havoc we could visit on the Council? The entire Para world?” He opened his arms and span in a circle. “We will combine our gifts, becoming even more powerful."

  Damn man was completely nuts. Voltaire kept her eyes on him and reached for Blake's wolf. The human might be MIA, but s
omething told her the wolf was another matter. She conjured the wolf's image in her mind's eye—the huge, powerful animal, its grey coat, green eyes glowing and spittle dripping from its jaws.

  Deep inside her man, the wolf roused and stretched when it felt her presence. She murmured reassurance, stroking its back, sinking phantom fingers into its thick fur. Through their bond, she fed the wolf images, allowed it to see the situation and waited until she knew it understood.

  As she petted the wolf, Voltaire spoke to Ken.

  That's not going to happen, Ken.

  He paused, murder blazing in his crazy-ass gaze. “What the fuck did you say?"

  He lunged at her, a clammy hand gripping her neck. “It's not up to you, Death Bringer. I decide what happens from here on, and I say yes to the power.” His heavy breath puffed out at her, spit flying everywhere. “I say yes to it all, Voltaire,” he whispered. “I suggest you get on board willingly, or I will drag you on."

  Those cold fingers pinched her skin, but Voltaire didn't even wince. Inside Blake, the wolf roared its displeasure and clawed at her psychic hold, fighting to get out.

  She tightened her hold on the wolf, promising, Soon, soon, while meeting Ken's gaze. Not going to happen, Ken. Please, don't make me kill you.

  He laughed in her face. “Kill me? I'd like to see you try. I've frozen your gifts, I'm in control of the shifter and inside your mind, Voltaire.” A wide grin spread like butter across his face. “I know what you're thinking—I see your every move before you make it."

  Voltaire smiled, baring her teeth. “Do you, now?"

  At the sound of her scratchy voice, his eyes widened, and he reared back but kept hold of her neck.

  "How did your jaw heal so fast?” He flicked his eyes over her face and she felt his probe of her mind. Voltaire allowed it and she knew the instant he bumped into that little road block, the ball of energy hopping along for a ride in her brain.

  "What the hell is that?” His face paled, his hold on her slackened.