Soft Fate (Wolven Moon Book 2)

by Dany Rae Miller

  “The girls are in Gabriela’s room.” She motions behind her with one foot out the door.

  I hesitate. Having never been here before, I don’t know if I should take the extravagant tiled staircase up, or go down the impressive hall with the viga lined ceiling.

  “I’m sorry.” Mrs. Santana comes back in and sets her purse on the entry table. “We had to exclude you from Gabriela’s parties growing up. Now you know why.”

  I nod. “The Alliance,” I almost choke on the words. The Santana estate is too close to Enrique. Jack would never have allowed us to get that close.

  “You don’t approve?” Mrs. Santana graciously tilts her chic gray head.

  I shake my head.

  “We thought we were doing the right thing.” She grimaces.

  “I understand.”

  “Gabriela’s bedroom is upstairs and to the left.” She picks up her bag to leave.

  I take a few steps toward the stairs, but stop.

  “Mrs. Santana?” Besides Enrique, she’s the most powerful Native I know. “Do you know how Skylar’s doing?”

  She pulls herself up to her full height. Even elderly, she’s quite tall. I don’t think she’s going to answer at first. Finally, her face softens into a empathic smile.

  “She’s doing well, really well. Healthy. Happy. Strong.”

  “Thank you.” My eyes get glassy as I step up a few stairs. “And thank you for helping Enrique and me the night at the creek.”

  She nods with a smile and closes the door behind her.

  Upstairs, I walk into a full-fledged super feminine fashion workshop.

  Gabs stands on a platform in front of a gilded trifold mirror. A gruff looking middle-aged seamstress sticks pins in Gabs’ dress like she’s trying to kill the white silk.

  “Hey, S!” She smiles.

  Lauralynn and more girls wave to me from various spots around the suite sized room. They’re being tended to by younger seamstresses.

  “Where’s Cherie?” Lauralynn admires the designer confection she’s wearing.

  I shrug. “She’s not with me.”

  “She had to work late,” Gabs says. “She should be here soon.”

  “She better be. I’ve no time to wait,” the seamstress says with a French accent.

  The seamstress purses her lips and looks me up and down. I challenge the old crone’s rudeness with a slight squint. She quickly turns her head back to Gabs.

  “Mademoiselle Beatrice weaves magick with a needle,” Gabs gushes, turning this way and that to examine her royal-worthy wedding dress.

  Maybe so, but she’s also a bitch.

  “Your dress is there.” The old witch motions to a pair of dresses hanging on a portable garment rack.

  Most of the surfaces in the room are littered with fabric and lace. I sit the box down on the floor in an out of the way corner and change into the dress tagged with my name.

  Thirty minutes later, after a whirlwind fitting session with the bitch herself, I’m back in my T-shirt.

  The designer’s five assistants have packed up and struggle to carry everything out of the room — all but Cherie’s dress.

  “Bring the last dress to the hotel.” The mean, albeit talented, couture designer seethes. “But I cannot guarantee there will be enough time for an alteration.” She slams the door.

  Lauralynn pours from a bottle of Côtes du Rhône at the minibar under the window. “You know Cherie’s birthday is smack in the middle of your wedding week,” she says to Gabs.

  “Her mom made reservations for an all girls dinner in Telluride,” I say. “You should get the invite soon.”

  “That’s kinda lame for a twenty-first birthday,” Gabs says.

  “You’re the one who scheduled your wedding for the same week!” I chastise her.

  “I didn’t realize it, then,” Gabriela murmurs with a frown.

  “We can bar hop after dinner.” Lauralynn winks as she hands me a glass of wine. “Find some hot instructors who need to get back in shape before ski season.”

  “It’s a plan,” Gabs says.

  I retrieve the box I brought.

  “Whatcha got?” Gabs peeks inside.

  “Kennedy’s book of shadows among other things.”

  “What?” Lauralynn sucks in her breath.

  We sip our wine and peruse the book of spells that was obviously started several generations before Kennedy. It’s also apparent when the dark started to creep into their magick family.

  The door bursts open and Cherie rushes in.

  “Oh, I’m too late?” She looks around the room.

  “No worries, C!” Gabs hugs her. “We’ll get you fitted in Durango.”

  Lauralynn puts the empty wine bottle in the waste bin and opens the cabinet. She smiles as she reaches into it.

  “Let’s get the party started.” In her hand is a giant bottle of absinthe.

  “Yum!” I put the book away and go help her make the drinks.

  “Hey, you found it!” She taps my pendant before pouring a splash of the pretty green liquid into special reservoir glasses.

  “Yup.” Since putting it back on, I feel whole. Better than whole. The hexes are off my psyche, my memories are back and I’m a mated woman.

  Following behind Lauralynn, I carefully pour iced water over a sugar cube balanced on a slotted spoon into each glass. The sugar sweetens the rawness of the alcohol and water dilutes the potency of the absinthe.

  “Will you decorate my new house, Ells?” Gabriela looks around her massive bedroom. “More modern, less girlie?”

  “First of all, I’m a designer, not a decorator.” Lauralynn smirks. “Second of all, you love girlie!”

  Gabs smirks right back. “I want the men in my life to feel comfortable there, too.”

  “Men? Now that sounds kinky.” Lauralynn finishes pouring.

  Gabriela tilts her head, not amused.

  “Alright, alright. Send me the keys and the address. I’ll try to get it done by the time you get back from your honeymoon. Consider it my wedding present.”

  “Aw. Thank you.” Gabs hugs Ells.

  The girls each take a glass from the tray.

  “Santé!” Lauralynn lifts hers in a toast.

  “Salud!” Gabs returns in Spanish.

  We toast to the coven and to Gabs’ upcoming nuptials. Then, we chant a blessing for the Santana owned Avalon hotel where the wedding will be.

  “Whew.” Cherie sets her glass aside. She’s never been a big drinker.

  Gabriela moves back to the bar and pulls out a big margarita glass and proceeds to make a giant absinthe cocktail.

  “We’re going to play a game.” She finishes pouring the water — not enough in my opinion. “Everyone takes a drink for each person they’ve ever slept with.”

  “Oh, brother.” Cherie rolls her eyes. “What are we high school sophomores, again?”

  “Ah, c’mon, it’ll be the only pre-bachelorette game we’ll play tonight.” With two hands, Gabs hands the huge glass to the nearest girl who takes three quick tiny sips.

  “They were that good, huh?” Lauralynn quips.

  We all laugh.

  The glass moves from girl to girl. I take a sip for Dillon and a sip for Enrique. Then, I remember the threesome with Nash and Ben and sip twice more.

  When the glass gets to Cherie, she just passes it to Lauralynn.

  “You’re not fooling us,” Lauralynn laughs. “You’ve been going out with Jesse for” — she counts on her fingers — “ten months now. That’s almost a year.”

  Cherie sucks in her lips.

  “Not even one sip?” Lauralynn takes the glass, looking at her with awe.

  Cherie shakes her head.

  Lauralynn takes five fast gulps, chases those with water. “You’re still a virgin?” She questions Cherie, again and sips five more times. Again, she chases with water before sipping more. At seventeen, we cut her off.

  Uncomfortable, Cherie hugs her knees to her chest.

&nbs
p; “Hey.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “That’s right,” Lauralynn slurs her words. “You’re waiting for a good guy, because you” — she hugs Cherie from the other side — “deserve a good guy.”

  “There are good guys?” Cherie smirks.

  “Of course there are.” Lauralynn sniffles, teary eyed. “S found one.”

  “That I did.” I smile.

  “Maybe you’ll find one at the Avalon?” Gabriella wiggles her eyebrows at Cherie like she has a secret.

  Cherie smiles back. Whatever the secret is, she is in on it.

  What are those two up to?

  — The End —

  Please enjoy this sneak peek of Accidental Lovers, book three in the Wolven Moon series coming soon.

  Chapter One

  Peaches.

  I smell peaches.

  My wolf likes peaches.

  Loves peaches.

  I dream that the mattress presses down as though someone is getting into the kingsized bed with me.

  In my sleep, I smile. Maybe The Avalon really is charmed after all.

  A breathless female voice whispers over my shoulder. “Will you make love to me tonight?”

  My sexy sounding dream girl is a witch. She smells fresh and clean and mine. But the scent of her arousal, of her peachy essence, is too light.

  I need to do better in this fantasy.

  Coming closer and leaning over me, her hair brushes my shoulder and waist. From the feel of them pressed against me, she has soft, generous tits. My cock responds to the stimulation like never before.

  I roll over to have a look at my dream lover. Damn hotel blackout curtains. I can’t see a fucking thing, but I can feel.

  In my dream, my hands roam over the nymph’s body finding creamy smooth skin, more than a handful of tits and a round ass just right to cup and fondle.

  I use a hand to find her face, my thumb strokes soft lips. I touch my mouth to hers lightly at first. When I’m fully connected, her tongue darts in and out of my mouth once, quickly, shyly.

  Lycan cells fill my balls to bursting.

  Groaning into her mouth, I none to gently, roll her onto her back, savagely burying a hand in long silky hair and pressing one of my legs between her two. She is completely naked. Not even panties.

  Hands roaming everywhere, I ravage her delicious mouth without remorse. My fantasy tastes like apple with a touch of mint.

  And my imagination generates the full-on scent of her pussy. Definitely peaches. Her essence has a sweet, juicy peach-like aroma.

  Mmmmm. Irresistible.

  Responding to the kiss, she lifts her pelvis, grinding on my thigh. Fuck. I need to remember whatever I ate so I can have this dream again.

  Cupping a tit, I tease the peak with a thumb.

  “Yes, please.” She arches her back, offering it to me.

  My beast growls at the invitation. I kiss down her throat, scrape tender skin with my teeth.

  “No biting,” she says. “I don't want to mate, this is just sex.”

  What kind of fucked up fantasy is this?

  She smells like my mate, tastes like my mate, hardens my cock like my mate. Shouldn't sinking my fangs into her be part of this dream?

  But the girl said no, and no means no even in a fantasy.

  Fucking her so well that she changes her mind? That sounds like a plan. A fun plan!

  I let my hand lead the way for my mouth. Replacing my thumb with my tongue on the nipple, I give it a light flick. Her sweet gurgles of pleasure echo in my groin.

  I take the dainty bead in my mouth, swirling, sucking, rolling it against my tongue while working the other breast with my hand. Her moan this time is deep and throaty. The dream nymph has ultra-sensitive nipples, like hot little on buttons. The harder I suck on the nub, the louder her groans, the faster her hips grind against me. The wetness from her pussy soaks my leg.

  The scent drives my beast to wild.

  Damn. This is hot. Please don’t let me wake up yet.

  Each nipple gets a turn and my full attention. Her verbal approval and eager whimpers, threaten to push me over the edge. There's titanium in my cock. I’m not going to last long. But, even in a fantasy, a wolf needs to assure his mate gets hers.

  I slide down her tight little body, licking, kissing and lightly nipping a flat tummy. I continue my journey until I’m between her legs, licking the softest inner thighs. I nuzzle her folds with my nose. Fuck. She smells so good.

  I start with one little flick of my tongue on her clit.

  “Oh my god.” Hands fisting the sheet, mi ninfa arches clear off the bed.

  The dream mate likes it. I grip her hips and feast on her. Pressing my tongue flat against the stiff little pearl, I lave quick circles. Adding my thumb to the mix, I firmly vibrate the engorged bud and tongue her hot channel. Yup. Salty peaches — she smells and tastes like salty peaches. Delicious.

  “Please, please.” She whispers. “Don’t stop.”

  No danger of that, sweetness.

  She bucks in such frenzy that I have to physically restrain her with an arm across her hips. Finally, she stiffens and screams her ecstasy. I lap up every last tremor.

  Suppressing the urge to fuck my dream mate hard and fast, I slowly lick my way back up her lush curves, until I reach her soft lips. Coaxing her to open for me, I simultaneously, ease my tongue into her mouth and my cock into her heat at the same time.

  Holy hell, she’s tight. With every ounce of control I can conjure in this fantasy, I pause part way in and let her body adjust to my size.

  “That feels so good,” she moans and lifts her hips to meet me.

  She wants it hard and fast after all. That’s my dream girl!

  I withdraw almost all the way and thrust back in to the hilt, breaking right through a skin-like barrier. The heavenly body under me tenses and my dream girl cries out in pain. I freeze.

  She’s a virgin? I don’t fantasize about virgins. Hot liquid oozes over my cock.

  Shit!

  This isn’t a hallucination! I open my eyes. Unfortunately the blackout curtains are real. I still can’t see squat.

  My mind flips through the younger girls on staff at The Avalon.

  Fuck. If I’m inside one of my employees right now, I’m toast. I start to pull out.

  The girl whimpers, wraps her legs around me and digs her heels into my ass, urging me to stay in. “Please,” she begs. “Don’t stop now. I want it to be you.”

  Who are you, peaches? And why give it to me?

  She wiggles her hips and raises her pelvis to meet me.

  “It’s okay. The pain has subsided some.” Legs still wrapped around me, her incredible strong internal muscles squeeze my rod, the tiny movements sucking me in deeper, making me hard, again.

  Screw it. Like it or not, she’s deflowered. We are past the point of return.

  I kiss her tenderly and move slower, gentler, mindful that she’s not a figment of my imagination. She’s real and hurting.

  Fuck. It isn’t easy to hold back.

  The peachy scent of her is real, and so is her tight quivering velvet.

  “More,” she pleads.

  My cock twitches on her breathy request. I obey, slowly sinking back in until my balls touch her soft ass. Then we move together in a primal dance. Instead of sliding in and out, I rotate my pelvis against her pubic bone, stimulating her clit while letting her slick passage expand to comfortably fit me.

  I kiss her cheeks, jaw, neck. Then, I latch on to a nipple, detonating an explosive response. If virgins are supposed to be shy, this girl didn’t get the message. Demandingly, she rocks her hips. I answer with a faster and faster pace until I’m thoroughly hammering into her.

  She meets me thrust for thrust. Each soft whimper and deep moan from her throat swells my cock to bursting. I feel her pleasure build, her climax elusively close.

  I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. I slide a hand betwee
n us to rapidly massage her bud. The little jewel swells more under my touch. Faster I rub until my hand vibrates.

  Come for me, sweetness. Now!

  Finally, the orgasm ripples through her, her pussy convulsing around my cock with a satiny steel grip.

  My fangs drop just as I roar a release so fucking powerful, I swear my heart stops.

  “Mi ninfa,” I moan. I push once, twice, three times, as deep as I can, shooting stream after stream in climax.

  Drained and depleted, I collapse, gasping for oxygen. The breakneck beat of my heart roars in my ears.

  There's just the sound of us catching our breath for a minute or two.

  Her scent drives my beast to crazy. Carefully tucking my fangs behind my lips, I nuzzle her throat. I've never wanted to bite a female more.

  I raise my weight onto my arms. “I don’t know who you are, dream girl, but you’re amazing,” I mumble.

  The soft body beneath me tenses. She kicks and bucks for me to get off her. Still recuperating from the best orgasm of my life, I slowly roll off.

  The girl leaps out of bed. How can she even move after that kind of rapture? I hear a hand slide along the wall. Then, the overhead lights flick on, momentarily blinding me.

  “You aren’t Jesse!”

  “I am not Jesse, mi ninfa.” I breathlessly confirm her statement.

  I open my eyes a slit and lift my head to get my first peek at the dream nymph who just blew my mind.

  She’s gorgeous. I look into sparkling azure blue eyes, big and round with shock. Waves of blonde hair spill around her shoulders and halfway down her back, her skin is creamy porcelain.

  My hands were right. She’s petite, curvy and in shape. Lush, full breasts have a slight teardrop shape that tilts her delicate pale nipples up slightly, seductively. My cock tightens, incredibly wanting her again right now.

  Pouty lips are red and swollen from being kissed and sucked. Blood stains her crotch and inner thighs.

  Fuck. Responsibility slams my chest hard. Wake up, Victor. This is not a dream.

  I force my legs to move, to get out of bed. “Let me draw you a bath, sweetness.” I hurry to the bathroom, turn on the water in the suite’s spa tub.

  What the hell was I doing fucking a total stranger? An apparently very young stranger? If she’s an under-aged summer employee, I’m going to jail right after I get sued for everything I’m worth.