by Lola Taylor
Elijah ran most of the way. Even with Verika cloaking their whereabouts, they couldn’t take any chances on letting the DPI catch up to them. If her coworker had been part of the Order, there was no telling who else had been compromised. Staying behind was too great a risk.
It was nearly dusk by the time they stopped. They built a fire to keep away the evening chill, which Verika cloaked to make it invisible to everyone. She then set the area with an assortment of alarm and repulsion spells. This way, if someone stumbled upon them, they would feel an intense urge to leave, though they wouldn’t know why.
They ate their gas station food and drank water as they sat by the fire. The flames chased away the chill, but Verika still felt cold inside.
She was a Black Witch, the rarest gift of magic.
“You okay?”
She looked up to find Elijah watching her.
“Yeah.” She sighed. “It’s just a lot to take in.”
“You can handle it. You wouldn’t have gotten a gift that powerful if you couldn’t. And I can’t think of a better witch to have inherited so strong a gift.”
“What if it’s a curse?” she whispered.
He stared at her thoughtfully. “I think it’s what you make of it. If you dread your powers, they probably will be a curse. If you embrace them, they’ll be less of a burden. You may even come to enjoy them.”
She thought about that. Could she embrace being a Black Witch? Could she learn to overcome her fear of herself and even cherish it?
She had a long way to go before that happened. And before it could…
She glanced at the Mark, then at the sky. A few stars poked out of the darkening blue expanse. What really stood out was the large white orb. “It’s a full moon.”
He went still, looking away. “Yeah.”
“It’s the last night for us to, um, mate.”
“Yeah,” he said, quieter.
They sat in silence for a minute.
“You don’t have to—”
“Elijah—” They stopped and chuckled.
Verika took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Slowly, she lifted her eyes to him. “I want to.”
Elijah’s head jerked up. He went still. “You do?”
She nodded.
He stared at her for a moment longer. Then he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. His mouth came down on hers with such fervor she barely had time to register what was happening. God, she could get used to being kissed like this.
She was drowning in him, could feel herself growing wetter for him. A moan slipped from her mouth as he tipped her head back and kissed her neck. “Are you sure?” he breathed against her slightly sweat-dampened skin.
She found his eyes and smiled. “I’ve never been so sure about anything.” She blinked, confused. “But I thought we needed a pack to, um, ‘witness’ the occasion.”
“Not with a rogue, you don’t, since I don’t officially have a pack. I’m a lone wolf.” He cupped her face and kissed her forehead. “Besides, you’re my pack now.”
She slowly smiled at him as her eyes teared up.
His eyes softened. His kisses were different as he laid her back against the soft grass and began undressing her. His lips moved in tender gestures as clothing came off, and skin came into contact with skin.
She sighed with contentment as he kissed a path straight from her jawline to her aching breasts. Her nipples were pert; he took each of them into his mouth, one and then the other, sucking and gently nipping. She moaned and arched her back, feeling her toes curl as he cupped and squeezed her breasts.
The fire inside of her, the need to mate with him, was growing stronger.
His mouth at last traveled back up to hers, planting another breathless kiss there. She gazed up at him in wonder. How had she been so fortunate to end up with this magnificent creature? His muscles were bathed in moonlight, and his eyes faintly glowed gold. He looked like an elven king, come to claim her in his domain.
She could feel his swollen cock prodding her wet opening, seeking entrance. She instinctively opened her legs a little wider.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice ragged.
She closed her eyes and kissed him in response, without even taking another breath.
That was all the invitation he needed. He thrust. She gasped as he entered her and began pumping, slowly pushing his considerable girth inside of her. Slowly, she loosened up, her nectar coating his cock and easily allowing him to immerse himself fully.
He groaned as he finally thrust himself all the way inside. God, he was so big. He filled her up completely, and yet, it didn’t hurt. She felt… whole, like a piece of her that had been missing was finally rejoined.
She whimpered and clung to him as he began slowly rocking inside her. He didn’t pull all the way out, for which she was glad. Considering his size, it probably would have hurt. No, he was a gentle lover.
He kissed her tenderly as he made love to her, each thrust of his powerful hips carefully controlled so as not to hurt her. He was so sweet. She eagerly brought her hips up to meet him as he pumped, the embers of pleasure inside of her threatening to turn into an inferno at any second.
The sensations spilled over her body in one powerful burst, and she cried out.
He kissed her cheek, still pumping. “Are you okay?” he breathed.
“Yes,” she whispered back, her voice ragged. She laughed a little and hugged him, placing her mouth beside his ear. “Why don’t you roll over onto your back so I can help you?”
His rhythm stumbled a bit as his brow arched. He stared at her and then blinked before complying. “Yes, ma’am.”
In an instant, he’d grabbed her and swung them so he was on his back. She yelped and giggled, then sighed at the feeling of straddling him. It was a totally new sensation, but a damned good one.
Sitting straight up, she began riding him, sliding herself over his shaft in desperate movements. He groaned, holding onto her hips and squeezing. She reached down and grabbed his hands, guiding them to her bouncing breasts.
He eagerly complied and began playing with them. He held onto them, squeezing and kneading and teasing her nipples with his forefingers and thumbs.
She tossed her head back, breathing in the crisp night air and feeling freer than she had in a long time.
He let her work him, which she was definitely enjoying. A deep groan that was almost a growl came up his throat, right before she felt his hot seed pour into her. He groaned again, thrusting his hips a few times before lying still at last, panting.
She was breathing much harder herself. Climbing off him, she curled up beside him.
He was right—the mating had worked. Their tattoos were complete. She admired the elegant indigo swirls crisscrossing on their chests, shoulders, and backs. The pattern shimmered in the moonlight, as if they were made from stardust. She’d been so caught up in the intense pleasure of the moment that she’d barely registered the slight tingling sensation across her skin as the tattoo spread.
Intense happiness swelled in her chest, and she found herself almost in tears again. For a long while, neither of them spoke, content to let the enormity of what they’d just shared sink in.
They stared at the growing number of stars dotting the darkening sky. “Have you looked at the journal yet?” Elijah asked softly.
Verika shook her head, cuddling closer to him. “No. I’m not… ready. Satine, my mother… they must have had a good reason to bind my powers. It’s because they’re evil.”
“What if it was because she didn’t want you to be overwhelmed by them? I still think it’s the witch who makes the magic, not the other way around.”
Verika was silent as she thought. She wanted so desperately to believe her mate. Could she learn to control her powers? Would she ever not fear them?
“Being afraid of yourself sucks,” she grumbled against his chest.
He chuckled, the deep sound rumbling through her. “I know the feeling.”
S
he swallowed hard, her thoughts switching topics. “Are you ready to see your brothers?”
Elijah grew silent. “Yes,” he finally said. His voice was a fearful whisper, so full of hope, yet so weighed down by the fear of disappointment. He took a deep breath and let it out in one long gush. “What if they don’t want to hear what I have to say, about why I’ve been absent for so long without any contact?”
“I’m sure they’ll be a little mad,” she admitted calmly. “But I’m also sure they still love you and want you back in their lives. They’d rather face Mistress Black with you than abandon you. Sure, you’ve made mistakes, but so have they. We all have.”
He squeezed her shoulders in a brief hug and sat up. He ran his hands over his face and through his hair. “What should I do? I don’t have a clue how to go about this.”
Verika sat up and dug through her bag. Smiling, she held up her pay-by-minute phone.
“How about we start with letting them know you’re alive?”
The conversation with Gage was stilted, as Verika had expected it to be. How on earth did you tell someone their brother, whom they believed to be dead, was alive and sitting right in front of you? Not to mention he’d sounded annoyed when he’d first barked into the phone.
“Well?” Elijah said, waiting nearby. He looked tense.
Her lips spread into a grin. “It’s a start. Now let’s go find your brothers.”
END OF BOOK 4
Though several weeks have passed since her family’s murder, werewolf queen Alara Crescent can’t seem to let go of the pain. It’s festered inside of her like a disease, twisting her thoughts until the only thing she can seem to think about is revenge. It doesn’t help that her dead sister keeps visiting her in her dreams, warning her of an approaching threat that could tear her new pack apart…
Nik knows his mate has changed. Gone is the unsure-of-herself princess, replaced by a werewolf queen with an appetite for blood. Not that he, of all people, can’t appreciate that, but he wants his mate back.
When a doppelgänger stumbles into a pack celebration, Nik and Alara know it’s more than a coincidence. Doppelgängers are bad luck, rumored to make people insane with rage and bloodthirst, on top of being creepy as hell. But no sweat for Nik and Alara. They think they have the problem—aka, “one unwelcome body snatcher”—taken care of when they send the doppelgänger away with the DPI, but their problems are only just beginning. One by one, their pack members fall prey to something sinister, and Alara’s own demons become restless, turning her into a deadly vixen that could rival the vilest and most dangerous denizens of the Underworld. She wants answers to her family’s senseless murders—now.
And she’ll do anything to get them.
Will Nik be able to break the curse of the doppelgänger in time to save his mate before her soul is lost to the darkness forever?
Alara arched her back and moaned as Nik’s tongue raked over her sex.
He squeezed her plush hips, making her open her legs wider as he went deeper. She whimpered, her nails digging into the fur rug that lay sprawled before the massive fireplace in their bedroom.
No one would dare disturb them, so she relished the moment. Every second, every breath, every heartbeat. Modesty be damned, especially when he was doing this with his mouth.
Her whole body came alive as Nik kissed her most sensitive spot then licked her body from her navel to the dip in her throat. “You are so beautiful,” he said as he kissed her neck, his voice husky with want.
He slowly rocked into her as he said it, pushing inside just enough to make her gasp—then growl as he slid back out. “Tease,” she said, nipping at his lower lip as she hid a smile.
He raised a brow, a mischievous sparkle to his eyes. “Never. I’m just enjoying myself. Shouldn’t a wolf want to enjoy his mate?”
“You’ve been enjoying me for the past twenty minutes,” she said with a wicked grin of her own.
He paused, still grinning as if he could read her mind. “You’re saying you didn’t enjoy it?”
“I’m saying,” she purred, grabbing hold of his cock and positioning it against her sex, “that I’m growing restless.” She grabbed hold of his tight ass and pressed downward.
He might be her Alpha, but in the bedroom she was the master. And judging by how hard he was, he was just as eager for her.
He plunged into her. A contented sigh escaped her as exquisite fire bloomed deep below her navel. She brought her hips up to meet his as he began picking up a familiar rhythm. Their bodies rocked together as they made love, their hips rising and falling as the flames within her grew.
She closed her eyes. Ah, there it was—emotion. She hadn’t tasted it in so long, she’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel. It was intoxicating, her senses coming alive with her soul’s thirst to be whole, to feel normal, again. “Faster,” she breathed, digging her nails into his back.
He obeyed, but she could tell he was still holding back.
Something about that set her teeth to grinding. She growled low in her throat. “Harder,” she clipped, her breathlessness making the command harsher than she intended.
His rhythm stumbled before he at last stopped. He lay on top of her, panting hard. Sweat was starting to bead on his skin, making the valley of hard muscles on his body shine in the orange firelight that bathed their room. The indigo ink of their mate-bond tattoos shimmered, a thousand tiny blue crystals twinkling with the reflection of orange flame.
Her brows furrowed as she studied his face. She swallowed her frustration. “What’s wrong?” she asked, brushing the wisps of hair out of his face. He’d started to grow it out since they’d gotten back to Crescent Manor a few weeks ago. She had to admit, it made him look boyishly cute, though it had taken some getting used to.
Nik sighed and sat up on his elbows, so he straddled either side of her head. “Nothing’s wrong, love.”
She blinked, idly playing with damp pieces of his bangs. He was hiding something. It was in the way he ducked his head, not quite looking at her when he spoke. She’d have to be gentle so as to coax it out of him. “Then why did you stop?”
He caught her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. She tried to catch her wince but wasn’t fast enough.
“Exactly because of that,” he said quietly, examining the backs of her hands. They looked a hell of a lot different than when she was a princess. Thanks to the angry red scabs and bruises, she looked as if she punched concrete on a daily basis. It about felt like that now, but she was starting to form calluses. Once she would have balked at the idea of having “man’s hands,” but now she was rather proud of them. They made her feel strong, more in control. Beating the shit out of a punching bag was about the only time she felt any semblance of control.
More scars to match the rest.
Her mate studied her, gently playing with her hair. He liked to do that. While they spoke, tangled in each other’s arms in bed, he’d often run his fingers through her hair. She couldn’t say she objected.
Nik watched her warily, trying to be so careful. Which, in itself, was damn impressive, considering he usually spewed whatever thought came to mind without any filter. “I hear you slipping out of bed every morning before dawn,” he said quietly, “and your scent is all over the training room. You haven’t given yourself one break since we’ve been back.” Pause—cue a deep breath. “I wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself,” he added, more softly and with a hint of sadness.
Her heart wrenched with an unfamiliar twist of regret.
And rage. That emotion, that simmering, restless anger, had been her one constant. She was mad as hell, a ticking time bomb. She had been ever since her family’s deaths. Training and trying to relieve the anger with physical exertion was the only way she knew how to exorcise the pain.
She opened her mouth to tell Nik just that and then choked. God, why did she always choke? Why was it so hard to talk about this?
Feeling as if her throat were closing up, she blinked
and looked away. Coward. “Who says I’m being hard on myself? Werewolf packs need strong queens. Everyone here is a way better warrior than I am. I want to get better. I want to get stronger.”
He grinned. “Way better, huh? Humph. That’s the first time I’ve heard you not speak in perfectly polite sentences.” He poked her on the tip of her nose. “Your ‘poshness’ is wearing off, Your Highness.”
“Well, look at the company I keep.”
He snorted and pulled her closer. “I’m ruining you.”
“It was bound to happen.”
She smiled. The motion still felt stiff. Fake. It was also usually accompanied by a wave of guilt and a little annoying voice that preached how she shouldn’t be happy. That she didn’t have the right to be happy when her family was dead.
When her little sister, so innocent and kind and everything she wasn’t, was now cold in her grave.
She shivered as her blood turned to ice.
Nik rubbed her arms as goose bumps broke out over her skin. Mmmmmm, he was so warm. Though her temperature ran naturally hot too, she still loved snuggling next to her mate’s gorgeous bared body.
Nik rested his head on hers. For a pensive moment, the only sounds in the room were their beating hearts and the gentle swish of their breathing. “Beating the pain out of yourself isn’t going to make it go away,” he said, his breath ruffling her hair. “It’ll only remind you of why you’re there and make you angrier.”
Her fists tightened. I couldn’t possibly be any angrier. She couldn’t say it out loud, couldn’t ever acknowledge that sleeping beast. For if she did, she didn’t know if she’d be able to control it.
“I should know,” he went on thoughtfully. “I got in a lot of fights growing up.”
“But you didn’t have a choice.” She didn’t need to look at the network of scars along his body to make her point; they spoke for themselves. “You said you had to protect your little brother. And your father,” she added bitterly. It was a good thing he was already dead—otherwise, she might have to assassinate the son of a bitch. Anyone who hurt her Nik, father-in-law or not, automatically went onto her shit list.