by Rhea Regale
No more tears. Charles wouldn’t want them.
Aya emerged from the steamed bathroom, tying the string at her waist as tight as it would allow. Lenox kicked himself off the sofa and killed the television. He met her at the edge of the hallway in a fresh set of clothes that did little to dissuade her sexual drive from switching to high heat. Again, simple clothing, from the soft polo shirt to his dark blue jeans and leather belt. She noted the crisp scent of soap and outdoors on him beneath the sheen of thick lust.
She managed a small smile, warmth caressing her cheeks. Lenox lifted a hand to her face, tilting her head before he lowered his mouth against hers.
Aya stilled. Blood pulsed against her head and poured into the pit of her womb. Her thoughts whirled in time with her stomach.
“Ayasha,” he whispered into her mouth. She moaned, lifting onto her toes and looping her arms around his neck to meet him fully. The satiny ends of his hair brushed her fingertips. A shudder coursed down her spine. Gods help her, she wanted Lenox right where he stood.
His lips eased hers apart. His hot breath was welcoming, as was the cautious slide of his tongue as he sought hers. He pulled her against him. Power and strength thrummed all around her. His hands stayed planted, one against her lower back, one against her face. She drank in his kiss, the slow glide of his hot tongue, and the taste of pure male. He was mind-numbingly delicious. Every bone in her body buckled beneath the pressing intensity of his desire. The hard bulge of his cock dug into her belly. She shifted, rubbing against him. A deep, guttural growl vibrated from his throat down to her toes.
Lenox drew back and she nearly fell into him. She swayed on her feet, thankful for his arm holding her up. She licked her bottom lip, savoring the rustic flavor of his mouth against her tongue. The fog lifted from her mind, but the ache in her pussy remained. Lenox pressed his lips together.
“Take a seat. Let’s discuss some important things you should know,” Lenox said. The heady husk of his voice curled around her spirit, and for the first time, her restless wolf pawed for release. Usually such a calm beast, she wanted out in the presence of her mate.
Aya allowed him to lead her to the sofa. She dropped into the corner seat.
“Are you feeling better?” Lenox asked, making himself comfortable in a chair angled next to her. He leaned forward, elbows on knees, and hands folded between his legs. A mixture of emotions, from appreciation and admiration to fierce hunger and determination, swirled in his eyes.
Aya nodded. “The shower helped. Thanks.”
“Do you have an appetite?”
“Not at the moment. It’ll return.” Aya smiled, surprised how easily it came in his presence. She pulled her legs beneath her and curled against the arm of the sofa. “You’ll wish it hadn’t when it does.”
Lenox chuckled. “I’ll be thrilled to satiate your hunger for years to come.” A shadow crossed his face, and the playful grin took on a darker, more carnal appeal. “Any hunger.”
Her breath hitched as a new wave of need washed over her. Easy. You’ve known him for mere hours. And still, being with Lenox simply felt right and…natural. She had little experience when it came to men, but never had a man affected her like this. Her thoughts were easily severed when his eyes took on that dusky appearance and his lips curled with a sensuality that begged to be tested. The air around him soothed her.
Aya cleared her throat with a little cough. “It’s nice to know I won’t have to worry about starving. I’ll earn my keep, though. I promise—”
“Shh.” Lenox pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her. “You won’t have to worry about earning keep or repaying me. I’ve worked all my years for you.”
She caught the flicker of wonder in his eyes as he slipped his fingers between hers. The dangerous shadow that had taken hold of his features softened.
“I need you to understand that everything about you is my business. It has been since the night your parents were murdered and Charles slipped you out of HoodRiver.”
“And why is that?”
“What did Charles tell you about the white wolves and the beliefs linked with them? The Blood Moon Legacy?”
Aya shrugged, but her stomach flipped uneasily. She stroked the back of his work-roughened knuckles thoughtfully. The air, which moments ago was cool and light, became dense and heavy with the onset of revelation. Instinct whispered warning of what was to come, but the man sitting across from her would shelter her through the turbulent waves.
“Ayasha, I need you to tell me what you know,” Lenox urged.
“About five years ago, Charles sat me down,” Aya began. The vivid memory of that day flew to the surface and she smiled. “He had a blanket and a robe. I had no idea what he was about to do.”
She sighed, finding security in his touch. Somehow, he fed her strength as she traced the lines over his palm. The constant fire in her spirit licked along her veins, fueled by Lenox’s intense focus on her.
“He started by telling me that our family had a secret. He asked if I wanted to know what that secret was.” She laughed quietly and shook her head. “Well, of course I wanted to know. That’s when he changed into a wolf right before my eyes.”
“How did you react?” Lenox kept his voice low, warmth woven in his words.
“My memory of the moments immediately following the transformation are still muddled, but I’m sure I was pretty confused. I recall wondering if I was crazy. Then I got to thinking that if Charles was a wolf, maybe I was, too. It might not be such a bad thing.”
“You took to the idea of being a wolf quite well, considering you hadn’t been raised in the traditional manner or atmosphere,” Lenox said. He leaned over the arm of the chair. Despite his calm front, he was as alert as a sharpshooter with his target in sight. His casual appearance belied his true nature. If she were not a wolf, she would easily miss the predator lying beneath his laidback approach. No. Lenox Carter was a master of disguising his true state, and she had only grazed the surface of him.
The moonlight pouring through the living room windows reflected off the lenses of his eyes in a prism of color. The wolf hovered just out of sight, but he made himself known to her. She could almost feel soft fur brush over her sensitive skin and the gentle prod of a cool nose against her mind.
Her wolf reached out for Lenox, coaxing him to come to her.
“How did you cope with being a wolf and face normal people on a daily basis?” Lenox asked. He leaned closer, cupping her cheek with his unoccupied hand. She shamelessly nuzzled her face against his rough palm. With every shift of his eyes, Aya caught a different rainbow of glassy color. Two rebel waves of dark hair fell over his eyes, further casting him beneath an ethereal glow that wet her palate on several different levels of hunger.
“I didn’t have to face people. Charles was overprotective, and that’s an understatement. I didn’t attend public school. I didn’t participate in sports. I didn’t go out with friends because I had none.” Aya shrugged, closing her eyes and soaking in the heat emanating from Lenox’s firm skin. He curled his fingers beneath hers and lifted her hand to his lips. Currents seared down her arm, her torso, and sizzled in her womb. “Charles hired the best tutors. They’d come to the house to teach me throughout my school years. He brought me hiking in the forest surrounding our home as a source of exercise when I was younger. Once in a while, we’d camp out and he’d tell me about my parents.”
“He told you they were murdered?”
“Yes, but he never went into detail or told me why.” Aya lifted her gaze to Lenox. “You made it pretty clear you know more about what happened than I do.”
“Did Charles ever tell you why he was overprotective?”
“All he ever said was that I was special. There were people in the world that would do great harm to me if I was ever discovered.”
“At least he told you that,” Lenox muttered. The sensual lull released her heavy eyelids of their vise, allowing her to peel them back completely. The cool predato
r she sensed in him paced below his surface. His muscles tensed, a subtle motion she absorbed through his fingertips. “The night your parents were killed is as clear a memory as if it happened yesterday.”
She narrowed her gaze. “How can you remember it so clearly? You can’t be much older than me.”
“Once you connect with your wolf, your aging process slows tremendously. I was twenty-six when the massacre happened.”
She glanced over him quickly. She was hot for a fifty-something-year-old god? Hell, she could live with this, especially if it meant more time enjoying her younger years. The aging process, or lack of, also explained why her uncle barely looked a day over thirty-five. He had never disclosed his true age to her.
“Charles was in his eighties,” Lenox answered.
“You can read my mind.” Aya shifted on the sofa. Lenox moved closer to the sofa, allowing her to lean more heavily into his hand.
“Charles never taught you to censor your thoughts?” Lenox’s chin lifted a notch. Displeasure tightened his jaw. “Of all things not to teach you.”
“Maybe I never had to worry because I was isolated.”
“That’s no excuse. In fact, that’s more dangerous than throwing you out in the world without knowing you’re a white.” He reached up and traced a stubborn wisp of hair with a single finger that had caught on her lashes. “But at least you know how to speak telepathically. It’s an important means of communication between packs when rebels are within range. We use it often.”
A pleasant chill curled down her spine as the deep, throaty rumble of Lenox’s rich voice poured through her mind. It coated her like a thick blanket of warm honey, spreading down her neck, her shoulders and arms, her body, until it reached her toes. Not even the unsettled air infiltrated the barrier around her. The vents overhead carried the sensual spice of his cologne straight to her nose, melting her insides. He was burned into her memory with an iron brand. Looking at him, admiring his fierceness beneath the cloak of calm, she knew if anything ever took him away from her, she would be devastated.
Not even a full day had passed and she had already begun to forge an irreversible bond with a stranger.
“Nothing will happen to us. Any of us,” he reassured.
“Any of us?” The silent knowledge he withheld in that simple sentence brought her upright. Lenox took a deep breath; she saw it in the way his chest expanded. Tension mounted. She watched the swift turmoil play across his eyes. Something about this bothered him deeply, and she wanted to know what it was.
She wanted to know what exactly he meant by “any” of them.
“You read the letter. You’re aware you have a mate,” Lenox said. His words were drawn and cautious, as if he played a game of Scrabble in his head. She observed him, honing all of her senses on his reactions. “A spiritually appointed mate who has been fated to you. Actually, two mates, to be correct.”
“What?” Her heart thumped erratically. She shook her head, steadying her vision and her pumping blood until rational thoughts replaced the absurdity… “There’s only one. You’re the only one Charles mentioned. What are you talking about?”
“Aya, no need to get worked up over it. Trust me, it’s natural.”
“Two men is natural?” She let out a sharp laugh, but a wicked vision of Lenox and another man tending to her lustful aches and desires… God, her pussy throbbed as her arousal wetted the inside of her thighs. Two men? The idea actually appeased her.
“Yes. Two. Whites are appointed two mates for good reason. First, it strengthens liaisons between packs. It builds a strong bond between other wolves that may have gone astray. Second, it provides the protection needed to keep you safe from harm. Your uncle was right when he said there are people who won’t stop until you’re dead. That’s what ignited the massacre that took your parents, your aunts and uncles, in a vicious bloodbath of murder.”
Aya stilled, her gaze locking with Lenox. Her stomach churned. Her skin crawled. The moonlight dwindled behind a cloud, casting the living room in an ominous shadow. Lust stepped aside and the secrets of the night embraced her.
“Twenty-five years ago marked a devastating blow to the wolf community. Packs of rebels stole into HoodRiver, a quaint little area in northern Oregon. They plowed through homes and businesses during the night, slaughtering any wolf that may have protected the sacred whites.
“There were three families. The Smiths, the Whites, and the Joneses. I remember the Smith woman still pregnant on that night. She was murdered, along with her husband. I learned only a few weeks ago that Jacob Smith must’ve saved the baby. She is now with her mates in HoodRiver. The Jones woman had two children, both of which I can’t be sure survived. One was a little girl, no older than you had been, and she was a white. The other was a little boy, who I believe had been killed.”
A knot formed at the base of her throat. The more she tried to swallow it down, the more it became lodged, cutting off the air she tried to suck in.
“Me?” she whispered.
“Charles was a smart man, Aya. He hid you on the outskirts of town in a cave.”
“The wolves couldn’t trace my scent?”
The hard thudding of her heart reverberated in her skull, making her dizzy. She knew Lenox was about to open a door that would change her life forever. The simplicity she’d known for twenty-six years was about to be shredded in light of the truth. A flash of sympathy shot through his eyes, confirming he knew just what she was thinking.
“Charles had the insight to disguise your scent. He was always prepared for anything. I remember asking him on numerous occasions why he kept dozens of animal carcasses stashed away in a freezer on his back porch.”
Her nostrils twitched. The little food she had consumed earlier threatened to purge her system. Lenox’s eyes scrutinized her expression while his wolf caressed her mind, surely sensing her unease.
“The night the wolves attacked, your uncle took you from your parents. He used those dead animals to mask your sweet scent beneath the foul odor of decay. The man traced back and forth between his house and your hiding spot, carrying carcasses to wash away any lingering trail leading to you.” Lenox’s grip on her hand tightened, pulling her out of the vision he was drawing for her. “He rubbed you with those same animals, deterring any curious wolves from finding you. You were nothing more than a dead, rotten piece of meat. Extremely unappetizing to a hunter.”
Swallow it down. Don’t let it get to you. He saved your life with clever wit.
Still, the images of being rubbed with rotten carcasses squeezed bile to the back of her throat. Warmth washed over her face, and weakness spread down her legs. A thin sheen of sweat suddenly coated her skin.
“I-I never knew about any of that,” Aya murmured, wiping the dampness from her forehead. Lenox climbed to his feet and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving her to mull in the putrid facts that had kept her alive. Charles had always been smart, always so in tune with the things around him. He had a knack for preparing for the worst.
And still you sacrificed yourself when you could’ve come with me.
Aya couldn’t repress the shudder that preceded a flare of chills. She hugged herself, yearning for Lenox to return and provide warmth. From the kitchen, there was a series of rattles and a soft smack. A drawer opened, closed. A quiet snap echoed along the open floor plan. Sharp sounds that her thoughts muffled behind disbelief.
Lenox returned, carrying two beers. He didn’t return to the chair. Instead, he took up the seat next to her and held out a bottle.
“It’ll help calm your stomach,” he assured. Aya eyed him skeptically before accepting the drink. She watched him take a long swig from his bottle. There was something erotic about the sight of him swallowing. The way his throat rolled and his cheeks hollowed. The way his lips pursed around the opening of the bottle. Those lips, she recalled, so warm and soft and sensual.
Aya took a small sip of the cold drink. The carbonation made her eyes tear and her jaw tighten. As
the liquid slid down her throat, the bubbles seemed to infuse calm through the tension that had settled in her shoulders. She sank into the sofa and rested the bottle on her knee.
“Thanks,” she said. Her eyes drifted down his solid chest and landed on his lap. There was no denying his arousal. Her brow wrinkled. Must be painful pressed against jeans with no resistance.
“Would you like me to answer your curiosity? Or would you rather ponder the extent of my discomfort?” Lenox’s voice filled her mind and made blood rush over her face. Her attention shot up to his face. He lowered the longneck from his lips and rested it on the coffee table. She tossed up barriers around her thoughts as he reclined and turned the full power of his smoky gaze upon her. Only then did she realize how flimsy the film protecting her thoughts truly was. She could feel the hot essence of his spirit sliding along the contours of her own, never touching but sure as hell making her quiver. It riled her wolf. “Come here.”
“I’m close to you.” She guessed the short distance between them to be less than two feet. Two feet too far. His beckoning rumble teased her, and she wanted to go to him.
“You’ll be much closer before the night is over.”
She stroked the perspiring side of her beer bottle, never once taking her eyes off Lenox’s inviting body. Her fingers itched to touch him, familiarize herself with every cut and curve of his figure. Her wolf panted against her ears, burning to get closer to her mate. My mate. This incredible man is my mate.
“You say there’re two mates. Who’s the other one?” Aya asked. Lenox tucked his hands behind his head and kicked one foot up on the edge of the coffee table. He stretched out, arching his hips enough to define his restrained cock.
“Come here, little one.” His nostrils flared, and he licked his bottom lip. “I can smell your juices. I know you’re aching.”
That bulge in his jeans grew and she salivated. Damn, how much more primal can you get?