Roaring Up the Wrong Tree

by Celia Kyle

  And he was the last who would have that pleasure with Trista. She was his and his alone.

  “Mine,” he snarled, the beast needing to voice the truth aloud.

  Copper eyes flared brighter. “Yours.”

  No words were necessary then, their bodies speaking for themselves. She fluttered around him, pussy milking his cock with every thrust and retreat. His balls were high and tight and his release was within reach. He wanted to come, wanted to let go and possess her fully. Hell, the bear was in full agreement.

  But he waited.

  He wanted her with him.

  So he changed his angle, tilted her hips the tiniest bit and was rewarded with a deep moan followed by a roaring shout. Yes, he’d found the perfect spot. With each entrance he pressed against her clit and stroked that bundle of nerves within her sheath. Now he could relish in the pleasure, now he could allow his body the freedom it desired.

  His bear pushed forward, anxious to be a part of their joining, and Keen didn’t fight the animal. They were one and the same, two beings sharing a body and soul.

  “Need you…” she gasped. “Need more…” Trista’s hold shifted, hands no longer clinging to his shoulders, but gripping the back of his neck. She tugged and yanked on him, pulling him closer.

  And then he realized what she desired.

  “Tris,” he grunted and pushed deep, another shudder of pleasure overtaking him. God damn he was close. His balls pulsed, desperate for release, while his cock twitched and jerked inside her. She was hot, wet, and tight, and perfect for him.

  “Need it, Keen. I’m yours. Forever yours.” Trista pulled again, yanking hard this time.

  He stared at the spot, at the creamy shoulder already marred by his claiming bite. She wanted another, another piercing of her flesh with his thick, sharp teeth.

  “Please…” she whined and then gasped with his fierce thrust. “Please.”

  The second begging sound accompanied by her deep moan broke his control. His bear rushed forward, transforming human teeth to animalistic fangs. He struck, sinking into skin and muscle while rapidly slamming their hips together. Bodies met while blood filled his mouth. His bear’s mental roar warred with Trista’s echoing scream.

  Her pussy tightened around him like a slick fist, squeezing him, and then spasms overtook her. She came on his cock, his woman finding pleasure in his body and bite.

  Keen let go, released his iron control and pure ecstasy encompassed him. He flew with Trista, cock pulsing as cum filled her. The bliss of his orgasm wrapped around him in a joyous blanket and he didn’t want this moment to ever end.

  With every pull on the bite, her pussy clenched and his dick twitched. It continued, the never ending circle until Trista became nothing more than a trembling mass in his arms.

  And still he wanted more. The bear craved his mate’s sounds and reactions. At least until she became slack with a final whimper. Carefully, he slid his teeth from her flesh and lapped at the wounds, anxious and immediately regretting his actions. When he pulled back to stare into her eyes, he found them half-closed and her face pale.

  He cursed himself for being a selfish bastard. She’d been through so much, hurt by Adrienne, and he fucked her against the wall.

  “Tris?”

  “Hmm…?” Her head lolled back and rested against the wall.

  “Tris, love. Baby?”

  She sniffled and leaned forward, resting her head against his shoulder. “Wha?”

  “You okay?” Worry had him softening, and he carefully eased her legs to the ground, gradually lowering her until her feet rested on the cool tile. When she went lax and didn’t catch her weight, he tightened his hold. “Tris?” He reached behind him and stretched, shoving at the shower knob and turning off the water. “Trista?”

  Trista didn’t answer and instead harrumphed and nuzzled his chest.

  Anxiety mounting by the moment, he slid the shower door aside and slipped out. He didn’t bother grabbing a towel or even drying them.

  Keen swung her up into his arms and carried her through the bathroom and into the bedroom. He didn’t stop until he was able to place her on the bed, soaked body slumping onto the mattress. Then he examined her, hands sliding over her damp skin, pressing and feeling every inch.

  She whined and pushed his hands away, fighting him with every touch.

  “Tris, what’s wrong? Where do you hurt? Do you need a healer?”

  He was such an asshole. The biggest asshole known to man. She’d trusted him to take care of her and he’d assured her she could lean on him, that he’d protect and care for her. Well, who would protect her from him?

  “Trista? What do you need?” He ignored the panic filling his tone.

  She finally opened her eyes, the copper slowly bleeding to blue, and grinned at him. “Wrong? No, it’s very, very right. Can we do it again?”

  He froze. “What?”

  “Again. That’s what I need.” She nodded, a slow, lazy rise and fall.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  She shook her head and rolled toward him, extending her hand. “Never. I’d never tease about that. Now, c’mere.”

  Keen narrowed his eyes and without thinking reached out. His palm connected with her rounded ass before he had a chance to think through the motion. But when a pink imprint of his hand rose and contrasted against her pale skin, he decided he wasn’t all that sorry. Especially when the blue bled back to copper.

  No, he wasn’t sorry at all.

  Trista squeaked and rolled to her back.

  He grinned and leaned over her.

  From there, things got really interesting… and naughty.

  One kiss turned into two and eventually, they needed another shower.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Trista woke snug in Keen’s arms, his body spooning hers and his heat enveloping her in a warm, soothing blanket. Her body ached, parts of her throbbed, but she was alive. Alive and safe and…

  Thinking of being alive reminded her of who’d died and her heart squeezed at the loss of life. It was stupid to feel bad about Adrienne’s death, but she did. Even if the woman hadn’t fallen at Trista’s hand, it was still Trista’s presence that set the she-wolf on that path. Trista and Reid.

  She glanced toward the window, hunting for any indication of time and noticing the sun cast long shadows across the earth. It was late then, definitely after noon, and she wondered how long they’d slept. They’d made love well into the night, coming together again and again, confirming that the other still breathed.

  She eased from Keen’s arms, gently rolling to face him, stare at his strong features and the new scars that marred his skin. She’d traced each one with her tongue, thanking and praising him with her attentions. In sleep, he looked sweet and gentle, but she knew that could change in an instant if she was threatened.

  Her stomach grumbled, announcing its hunger, while her bladder decided it was time to get out of bed and take care of things. She hated to leave him, but she’d snag some food and scurry back to their makeshift den to eat in private. She couldn’t stand the idea of being surrounded by people.

  She slipped from the bed and dug through the drawers. She remembered Mia telling her about extra clothing earlier in the week and… She smiled in triumph when she found sweat pants and T-shirts. Not the greatest looking clothes, but comfortable.

  Now dressed, she snuck into the hallway, softly closing the door behind her. She padded down the hallway, feet sinking into the plush carpet, and toward the soft tinkling of utensils scraping against plates. The murmur of voices reached her just before she turned the last corner that dumped her at the entry of the kitchen.

  The family sat around the kitchen table, Gigi working in the kitchen and laying out platters of food as she took things out of the oven or slapped together sandwiches. She glanced at a nearby clock, noting it was just after one p.m.

  With Trista’s appearance, everyone fell quiet and focused on her. “Um…”

  She was
n’t sure what to say. Gee, thanks for killing the psycho woman last night, can I please have a few ham and cheese sandwiches to go?

  Anna saved her from having to figure it out. “How are you feeling, dear? Are you hungry? Here, let me fix you a plate.”

  The woman hustled toward the bar and snared a dish, quickly placing morsel after morsel on the surface.

  “Keen’s still sleeping, I thought I’d…”

  His mother looked back at Trista with a smile. “Of course, I’ll put together something for him, too.”

  The quiet became oppressive, suffocating and bearing down on her with a weight she wasn’t sure she could stand. Did they hate her for the trouble she brought to their door?

  A quick glance around the table didn’t reveal anything. Ty and Van’s features were blank masks, some emotions escaping, but not enough for her to discern their feelings. That near indifference brought words to her mouth.

  “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused. I didn’t mean…” To tear their family apart.

  Keen’s father grunted and shook his head then leveled a glare across the table. His anger was focused on Ty and Van, the laser-edged expression skipping over the women with ease before returning to her.

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” The older man pushed to his feet and came closer. From what Keen said, George Abrams was a gruff, frequently grunting man, but mostly harmless. Unless his family was threatened. Threatened like it’d been last night. Did he think of her as family?

  He hauled her into a hug and held her tight. It was sweet and warm and the closest thing to a father’s touch she’d ever received. That snarly part of her calmed with George’s touch and Trista raised her arms to return the embrace.

  George released her and patted her back, nearly sending her tumbling to the ground if not for his hold on her arm. “We take care of family and you’re Keen’s mate which makes you family. All there is to it.”

  She wasn’t gonna cry. She wasn’t.

  The older man checked his watch and then looked to her again. “Terrence said he’d try and get here by five, but if he isn’t, we just gotta stall a little bit. He’ll be here and sort all this out.”

  “I don’t know if I want to see him.”

  George smiled and shook his head. “And I don’t wanna get old, but it’s gonna happen no matter what I say.”

  Anna pushed her way between George and Trista. She thrust heaping plates into Trista’s hands and ignored her husband. “There you go, sweetheart. I put Keen’s favorites on there. He may be a meat eater, but the man loves his potato salad. I’ll teach you how to make it before we go home. That kitchen of yours is just gorgeous.”

  The woman beamed, flashing a big, carefree smile as if she knew at the end of the day, Trista would be right where she desired. Here. In Grayslake in the home she owned with Keen.

  “Thank you.” She snared the plates and took a step back. “We’ll eat and be ready by the time Quinn and Malcolm show up.”

  “Sooner if Terrence gets here.” George raised an eyebrow, as if daring her to object.

  Trista was smarter than that and merely dipped her head in a nod. He didn’t want to get old, she didn’t want to meet the man who’d likely turned his back on her mother and, by extension, her.

  Without another word, she retraced her steps, carefully navigating the turns. She’d have to knock on the bedroom door since she’d tugged it closed when she left. Darn it, she’d wanted to feed Keen lunch in bed.

  “Aunt Trista?” The voice was soft and a hint high-pitched, childlike in its tone. Which made sense since, when she turned to face the speaker, she found herself hip-to-nose with Parker Abrams.

  Anxiety immediately hit her in the gut, slamming home and forcing her heart to race. Her first encounter with the little cub hadn’t gone well. She looked around the hallway and noted she was alone with the boy who, only days ago, wanted her as his next chew toy.

  “Hey, Parker.” She tried to keep her tone light as she took a step closer to the guestroom.

  “I wanted to say I was sorry.” The little boy kicked at the carpet, digging his little toes into the thick weave. “It was wrong to try and hurt you. I can’t let my pre-juice fingerpaint my windows.”

  “Um…”

  An exasperated Mia waddled around the corner. “Parker, it’s prejudice, paint, and views. You can’t let your prejudice paint your views and you shouldn’t have made such a skewed judgment about Trista without getting to know her.”

  The little boy rolled his eyes and sighed. “What Mim said. I’m real sorry. I promise not to bite you anymore and I won’t even try and hurt other hyenas that show up.”

  “Um, okay.” She let her gaze drift from Parker to Mia and then back to the little boy. “Thank you?”

  Mia sighed. “Parker, help Aunt Trista open the door to her room and then come back to the kitchen. Everyone’s done eating.”

  The child groaned. “That means I hafta wash dishes.”

  “Only half if you quit whining, help Aunt Trista, and hurry back,” Mia added.

  That got Parker moving. Suddenly a small hand fisted the extra material on Trista’s pants and urged her to turn around. “C’mon, Aunt Trista. We gotta scoot our boot.”

  Scoot our boot?

  She’d have to ask Mia about that one later. Like when Trista’s world wasn’t still balancing on an edge that could crumble at any moment.

  Parker dragged her to the end of the hallway and immediately reached for the knob. Small hands wrapped around the shining metal only to have it snatched from his tiny grasp.

  The panel swung wide to reveal a half-dressed Keen, but Parker wasn’t impressed.

  “Hey!” the cub whined. “Mim won’t lemme only do half the dishes if I don’t do my job.”

  Keen raised his eyebrows. And Trista quickly explained, leaving out Parker’s convoluted apology. She didn’t want to laugh at the poor boy and she knew she’d bust into giggles when she retold the story.

  Her mate reached out and ruffled Parker’s hair. “Tell your Mim you did your job and we’ll be out soon.”

  When Keen gave her a look filled with heat and promise, she realized “soon” was a relative term.

  With a smile, Parker disappeared, leaving her alone with her mate. It took moments to get settled in the room, for Keen to sit in a plush chair, pull her onto his lap, and then spend the next half-hour feeding one another. It was teasing without being sexual, it was sweet and not quite chaste, but soothing and relaxing. Especially after what they’d faced. Their bodies reconnected throughout the night and now their souls were coming together again.

  Whispers were shared, words interspersed with nuzzles and the gentle brush of lips on skin. Reality would intrude soon, break the thin barrier the door created, but until then, they had each other.

  Keen popped the last strawberry into her mouth and she savored the sweet flavors that burst across her tongue.

  “Delicious,” she hummed.

  That had him kissing her, his tongue thrusting past her lips and exploring her mouth. She accepted the passionate kiss, realizing the time for sweetness was apparently at an end.

  They tasted one another, discovering flavors while also stoking the other’s arousal. It was heaven and she knew even more could be had. Later.

  She moaned against his lips and slowly eased the fiery kiss. “We need to shower and they’re expecting us soon.”

  Keen growled, but she realized he did back off a little. “Damn them all.”

  “No.” She pressed a hard kiss to his lips and snared his plate before rising. “We have to deal with this. Reid’s still in the basement and Quinn and Malcolm are on their way and…”

  “And I’m going to wash your back. Then I’ll put that sweet mouth to good use. I didn’t get my good morning kiss and I think you need to rectify that.” He pushed to his feet and snagged the plates back from her.

  “What was all that?” She waved toward the chair.

  “Lunch kisses. They don�
�t count toward morning kisses. Morning kisses are”—he bent down and rubbed his nose against hers, pressing their foreheads together—“naked.”

  Naked. She could get behind the idea of naked.

  * * *

  The shower took longer than anticipated. Well, longer than she anticipated. Keen seemed to be in no hurry to join his family and had loved her thoroughly. Twice.

  Running a towel over her hair, she scrubbed the strands in an effort to soak up some of the moisture. She hadn’t found a hair dryer under the sink and she hoped Mia wouldn’t mind lending Trista hers. It seemed like the woman liked her as did Keen’s parents if not his brothers.

  The rumble of approaching vehicles and the crunch of their tires over the gravel driveway had her going to the bedroom window. A half-dozen SUVs pulled to a stop before the house, making a neat row of vehicles. Massive men, males larger than the Abrams brothers, alighted from a few of the vehicles and moved to encircle the center SUV. One other vehicle was given the same treatment while the last was simply left alone as two men stepped out.

  “Keen?”

  He strode out of the bathroom, towel slung low on his hips as he too towel dried his hair. “Hmm?”

  “There’s…” She pointed out the window.

  He padded closer and peeked through the curtains. She watched his expression, saw the spread of his lips into a wide smile, and she let some of her gathering anxiety float free of her body. “They’re here.”

  “They?”

  He pointed out the window. “That end one is Mia’s father and my brother Isaac.”

  The brother who’d been permanently scarred by Trista’s family. “Keen…”

  Keen dropped the towel in his hands and embraced her. “Hush. I already talked to him. You know this. Isaac is a Healer so he’s used to acting like Switzerland when it comes to people. He can push his feelings aside and do his job. That also means he doesn’t hold grudges and he knows what happened had nothing to do with you. Out of everyone, you shouldn’t fear him.”