by Rosanna Leo
She was his and they would to find a way to make it work.
First of all, he’d find a way into her soul.
Dragging his mouth away from her swollen flesh, he licked his lips and swallowed her essence. Her juices appeased his tiger to no end. The beast purred like a kitten, bumping its great head against his rib cage, and all Jani wanted to do was rest his own head between her legs forever. She felt right. She felt good. God help him if she wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
“Jani.” She scratched at his shoulders. “You’re torturing me.”
He teased her folds with his finger. “Do you want me to finish?”
“No. I don’t want it to ever stop.”
“How fortunate. I wasn’t planning on stopping.” Replacing his finger with his lips, he drank her in until her body began to quake. “That’s it, mindenem. Come for me. I want to know if you’ll whimper or scream.”
She pinned him with a look. “Make me scream.”
Jani lowered his head and nibbled her clit. Fleur shattered with a strangled cry that blossomed into a shout when he smacked her bottom. Her cry, so exultant and mystified, filled him with the most primal joy he’d ever experienced. Something inside him acknowledged the sound as the most beautiful music ever created. He didn’t want it to end. Jani continued his onslaught until she starting writhing away and when she did, he dragged her right back until he’d eaten his full. By the time he was done, Fleur looked disheveled, as if she’d stumbled out of a windstorm. Her cheeks were bright and every hair seemed out of place, but she’d never looked more breathtaking.
She rose, still shaking, and got on all fours on the bed. “I want to taste you now.”
As much as he was tempted to feed her his length, he was more intrigued by the idea of making her come again. Her orgasm was like blood to a vampire. He couldn’t resist another dose. “This moment is all about you. Fleur, I’m going to make you come so many times you’ll lose count.”
“Is that a fact? I was always good at numbers, you know.”
“That sounded like a dare. Too bad I’m a competitive sonofabitch.” He spun her around and hauled her ass against his crotch. Just the feel of her moist sex made his cock inflate. It would be so easy to sink deep inside her right now, but that ever-present sense of responsibility reared its head. “I should get a condom.”
Although shape-shifters were generally clean of any human disease, it still felt like the right thing to do. Unnatural, perhaps, but right. His balls were already so tight, he worried he’d impregnate her on the first round. He felt ready to shoot like a cannonball. Jani leaned over and reached into the bedside table drawer and withdrew a strip of condoms.
Fleur laughed at the sight of them. “Someone’s cocky.”
He rolled one on quickly and pulled her ass against his hips. “In this moment, that sounds like a virtue.” With that, Jani penetrated her, thrusting deep.
Fleur gasped in shock and planted her face in the sheets. Holding her breath, she bunched up a wad of the sheet and stuffed it in her mouth. Muffled, she finally let loose and screamed as if the devil had called her name.
She clearly liked how he felt. Good. He aimed to stay inside her for a good, long time. Her pussy was like a velvet vise, so tight and hot. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he’d barely started moving. Clutching her hips, digging his fingernails into her skin, he pounded her. She took every inch, moaning with each volley. Jani wanted to slow down, to drive her crazy with anticipation but something about the moment demanded wildness and abandon. Their inner animals had sniffed and pawed at each other for so long, they would not be denied. And so, as his tiger dominated her pretty wolf, Jani too was ruthless, intent on stroking every hidden place inside her.
He wouldn’t have thought Fleur could come again so soon, but she tightened around him. Still muffled by the sheets, her groans caught and turned into bliss-laden hiccups. As she neared orgasm, Jani picked her up, his dick still lodged inside her. Balancing like a high wire artist, he lay back on the floor. Jani held Fleur on top of him, facing upward. Bracing himself on the hard surface, he pounded her from underneath and reached forward to massage her clit with one hand.
Fleur sucked in a huge breath as she came and let it out in a hiss. “Ohmigod. Jani, oh…”
Unable to hold back any longer, Jani pumped even harder and his own orgasm barreled through him with the force of a vengeful god chasing a naughty human. Even as it depleted his energy and sanity, he couldn’t stop moving. She felt too good and her moans fed his soul. He continued to thrust until the condom threatened to empty its contents.
Swearing, he withdrew from her heat and eased her off him. Whipping off the rubber, he took two seconds to dispose of it in the washroom and stalked back toward her. She lay curled up on the floor, pink and exhausted. He’d never seen such a gift of a woman, so voluptuous with her round ass and generous breasts. As if by magic, his cock leaped to attention again. He quickly sheathed it with another condom.
Fleur raised her head, eyeing the organ. “You’ve got to be joking.”
Jani picked her up, wrapped her legs around his waist, and impaled her against the wall. Grinning, he put one hand over her mouth so she could scream to her heart’s content.
“Joking? Here’s the punchline.”
Chapter 7
“JESUS Murphy.” Barbi Bissette grumbled as she awakened and swiftly plummeted from her drug-induced high. Her eyelids felt so heavy, as if they’d been welded shut. A cursory swipe let her know she had crud on her lashes. No wonder it was so hard to open her eyes. Her stomach revolted with a lurch and she sucked in a breath, wondering if she might heave, but the sensation passed. Now if she could only rid herself of the headache. The headaches were always the worst. More Spider would take the edge off the pain. Had Wilf left her with any? She couldn’t recall. Hell, right now she couldn’t recall her age or bra size.
An involuntary shudder passed between her shoulder blades, making her tense. Heat streaked through her body at the same time as a devastating chill. Finding a blanket tucked around her shoulders, she pushed it away, unsure if she wanted to be covered or completely nude. How was it the fever made her feel hot and cold at the same time?
She needed more Spider and she needed it now. The only thing that eased her symptoms was more of the special cocktail of drugs Wilf created. Wilf said he was getting more.
So where was he?
She sat up, looked around and tried to focus. Where the hell was she? Last she remembered, she’d fallen asleep at Pete’s place.
Fleur was there too. Or was she? Barbi guessed she’d been hallucinating. She hadn’t seen her good-for-nothing daughter for a couple of years.
Barbi glanced around. Hardwood floors. Cozy rugs. Wooden beams everywhere. A fireplace, crackling with flame. And she was lying on the most comfortable couch ever, one that came with a plaid flannel throw. Yeah. Definitely not Pete’s place.
“Wilf? Are you here, baby?”
A man emerged from another room, eating a bowl of cereal. Her wolfish senses homed in on the other shifter immediately. He was a bear man. He certainly looked the part with his broad shoulders and strong thighs.
“Ah,” he said. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.” He put the cereal bowl down on a side table and walked toward her.
Barbi scurried backward on the couch. “Stay away.”
He put his hands up. “I won’t hurt you.”
My, what big hands you have. “So you say. Where the hell am I?”
“At the Ursa Fishing Lodge on Gemini Island. You’re among friends.”
“I’m not your friend, whoever you are.”
“My name is Luke Miller and I’m a counselor. Oh, and a new friend of Fleur’s.”
The chips careened into place. “How special.” Barbi craned her neck to look down a nearby hallway. “Where is she? Let me guess. My daughter doesn’t even have the balls to join me at my intervention?”
/> “Actually, I’ve asked Fleur to stay away for now.”
“I bet you did. If you lay even one of those oversized mitts on me, I’ll bite your dick off.”
“Whoa. No mitt-laying, I promise.” He grinned and assessed his hand, chuckling at its size. “Although I’m glad to see you have somewhat of a suspicious nature. It’s a good trait for our people to possess. Lots of bad folks out there.”
Oh, he was smooth, this bear shifter man. Pretending to be her buddy when all he wanted to do was destroy her life. Thanks to Fleur.
“You must be hungry.” Miller looked up from under ridiculously long lashes. They were thick and black. If most women had fringes like that, the mascara companies would go out of business. “Or would you like a coffee? I brew it extra strong.”
“Fuck off, Fozzie.”
Miller laughed out loud, so hard the cabin seemed to shake. Something about the clamor made her want to smile but she didn’t. “That’s a new one. I usually get called Paddington.”
“I wouldn’t be laughing if I were you. My boyfriend will find me and when he does…”
“Barbi, your boyfriend won’t find you here. I think we both know it.”
“Oh, yeah? We’ll see about that. If I were you, I’d start pissing my tight pants.” She cast a derisive glance at his denim-clad thighs, annoyed at how well the fabric embraced his muscles. “Wilf won’t appreciate you abducting me.”
“You mean Wilf the drug dealer? The greedy fuckwit who pumped you with a toxin powerful enough to kill three tigers?” He trained his dark eyes on her, somehow seeing everything she never wanted to reveal. “He sounds like a stand-up kind of guy.”
“Wilf loves me.”
“Wilf might as well stick a dagger in your chest. It’d be quicker and less painful. Do you have any idea the kind of shit he pedals?”
“What do you know it?”
“I know plenty about Wilf Breckenridge. Because of him, I’ve lost several clients and friends. All shape-shifters who thought they could handle a little buzz now and then. I’m familiar with your boyfriend’s work.” He sneered. “And I’m not a fan.”
“He takes care of me.”
“By giving you Spider?”
“How do you know what I take?”
His gray eyebrow quirked. “I’ve seen the signs before. I know what Spider does to a body, especially a shifter body. You might enjoy the high right now, Barbi, but I guarantee the longer you take it, the more easily it’ll destroy you.”
“Prude,” she scoffed.
“I’m no prude, darlin’, but that’s a conversation for another day.”
“You wish.”
“Look,” he continued. “Your daughter wants to take care of you. She loves you.”
“Fleur? She can’t even take care of herself. Why do you think she ran off with that cult leader August Crane? She stopped caring about her family that day. Wilf knows what I need.”
“Then where is he? From what I hear, your wonderful Wilf didn’t bother to stick around when he dumped you in that grungy drug den.” He reached over to the table, dipped his spoon into the bowl and swallowed a big bite of Cheerios. “If Wilf knows what you need, how did you end up here with me?”
“I had no choice. Fleur and her tiger meathead kidnapped me.” Her stomach grumbled when he consumed another bite of cereal. To her horror, the gurgles became audible as she watched him swallow.
He held out the spoon and bowl. “Want a bite?”
“Take a hike, shithead.”
“Hmm,” he said, sitting back, peering at her through narrowed eyes. “I’ve allowed you two derogatory names, seeing as we’re just getting acquainted and you’re pissed off. But from now on, you’re going to call me Luke.”
“And if I don’t?”
“There will be consequences for your disrespect. Now, you may want to reconsider eating. Something tells me we’re going to be here for a while. So, get comfortable.” He concentrated on his food. When he neared the end of the bowl, he drank the last few drops of milk straight from the bowl. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stared, waiting for her reaction.
“You have bad table manners. My husband Terry was just as annoying.”
He put the bowl down on the table and patted his flat stomach. Smug fool probably had an eight-pack under his Henley. Not that she was looking. He probably thought he was hot stuff with those bulging arms and that salt-and-pepper hair, but she didn’t impress that easily.
“Tell me about Terry.”
“He’s dead. Nothing to say.” She picked at the couch upholstery. “The idiot got himself killed.”
“Losing your mate must have been very hard.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Fair enough.” He carried on as if he hadn’t heard her. “Still, when you think of the enormity of the situation, it kind of gets you right here.” He patted his chest, over his heart. “Terry was the one fate chose for you. He should have been the yin to your yang. The person who should have treated you like a goddess. In return, it should have made him feel like a king. There’s no stronger bond than the one between mated shifters.”
She squeezed the bridge of her nose in an attempt to keep the waves of her headache at bay. Did this man never stop talking?
“Thing is, Barbi,” Luke said, leaning toward her. “You and I understand fate sometimes chooses wrong.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His flashing gaze pinned her to her spot. “Just like it sounds. For some of us, the mate bond is pure horseshit.”
Finally. Someone who voiced the thought that had tormented her soul for over twenty years. How many times had she said the same words to herself? How many times had she had to steel herself against the prospect fate didn’t give two shits for her ass? Bonding with Terry, that drunken, fist-swinging bastard, has always seemed like a divine joke. It didn’t seem fair other shifters ended up with mates who adored them, and she ended up with a man who treated her as his personal punching bag. It made no sense and had always left her feeling she was one of God’s rejects, that she wasn’t destined for happiness.
But what would Luke Miller know about it? A man like him probably had women coming out of his wazoo. How could he possibly understand the misery that had driven her actions and blackened her soul? “What makes you think the mate bond is rubbish?”
“Not every mate bond. From what I’ve seen, and I’ve seen a lot in my time, most mated shifters are deliriously happy. But then there’s that tiny percentage of us who get stuck with a piece of crap. It does happen, you know. We surrender to the passion, to that driving lust, never dreaming that person might actually be bad for us.”
“That still doesn’t tell me why you’re such an expert.”
He made a steeple of his hands and rested his head on it. “Well, the short answer is fate fucked me over too.”
Barbi clapped her mouth shut, hoping she didn’t appear as startled as she felt. “You had a bad mate too?”
“Yep. Gave her nineteen years of my life. Those are years I can’t get back and I spent the whole time wondering what I did wrong to land me in such a situation.”
“What did she do to you?”
“She hurt me, over and over again. Not in the same way, and not how Terry hurt you. In my case, Jordan was just…indifferent.”
As he chose his next words, Barbi took a sly opportunity to appraise his hard body and the pleasing crinkles around his eyes. How could any woman with a working libido be indifferent about him? It would be easier to feel indifferent about a sunny sky after a torrential rainfall, or the roar of a cozy fire on a cold day. “Did Jordan cheat on you?”
“She sure did, and I took her back time and again because I didn’t think I had the right to fuck with destiny. Barbi, I adored that woman. My bear couldn’t get enough of her. If she’d asked, I would have found a way to drag the stars out of the sky to make her a crown. But so
mehow, she didn’t feel connected to me. And after a few years, I honestly stopped feeling connected to her. Does that make sense?”
“But the mating process didn’t bind you?” No matter the spirit animal, all shape-shifters went through a mating ritual. Most big male shifters were compelled to bite their females, as a sign of dominance and protection. There might be slight variations depending on the species of shifter, but everyone had a process. The bite, macho as it was, sealed the relationship. It bound the partners in such a way they could never be parted.
Or could they?
She’d always secretly suspected something went wrong when Terry mated with her, and that it was the reason he treated her with derision.
“Sure, for me anyway,” answered Luke. “For Jordan, not so much. If anything, the mating ritual made it clear we weren’t meant for each other. She struggled, I can’t fault her for that. At the beginning, she did try, but you can’t force that level of chemistry to appear. After a while, she looked for connections elsewhere, and I was left wondering how I’d managed to scare my mate away. I was terrified when she finally left, sure it would spell my death. But when I survived, I began to question how I lived through the loss of my mate. I felt like a reject in my own community, and I was left with one conclusion.”
“Which was?”
“Jordan was never my mate, not in the truest sense. I don’t know if it’s biology or magic that makes shifters what they are, but I began to realize instinct can make mistakes too. I know, more than ever now, my mate is still out there, looking for me as I’ve been looking for her.” He sighed. “For a long time, I hated my bear for not getting it right.”
A mournful cry emanated from somewhere deep inside Barbi. How long had she ignored her wolf? Years? Decades? Did the canine even still exist, or had it faded away like a lonely ghost? Perhaps the wolf had made a mistake in choosing Terry as her mate. Then again, maybe Barbi hadn’t interpreted its signals correctly. There was no shape-shifter manual, to the best of her knowledge. It wasn’t as if a buzzer sounded if you got it wrong. There were no red flags. Had she punished her wolf for picking Terry, ignoring it for so many years?