by SJ Himes
The mess hall was packed with people, every member of Red Fern not on active patrol and all the members of Black Pine not on guard duty as well. It was late in the afternoon, the day after Ghost regained his human form and revealed Simon Remus’s involvement in Ghost’s attempted kidnapping, and Andromeda and Kane had gathered the clan for a meeting. After healing the Suarez wolves, Ghost had made it another couple of hours trying to explain the last fifteen years of his life, but he fell asleep mid-sentence and woke the next morning, hours later, in Kane’s arms in a guest room of Andromeda’s cabin. His exhaustion had been swift and extreme, coming over him quickly, and he’d not been prepared for the lack of energy that came after using his gifts. Breakfast that morning had chased him out of bed and his mate’s arms, and his appetite was almost bottomless, only stopping when Andromeda flat out refused to cook any more bacon. Kane told him it was common, but in a way that left Ghost with the impression that Ghost wasn’t experiencing the symptoms in the same way as other shamans. Especially with the way Shaman River was watching him, his cerulean eyes tracking every move Ghost made.
Ghost spent the morning recounting again and again his side of what happened when the interlopers attacked the sanctuary, mostly at River’s insistence. For some reason the older shaman was having trouble understanding how Ghost was able to conjure the spirit-fire, and without engulfing the building in an inferno on his first attempt. Telling River he remembered Gray Shadow using the spirit-fire the day of the ambush and then conjured it without thinking about whether or not he should be capable of the spell apparently wasn’t sufficient explanation for the older shaman.
The myriad scents and the subtle thunder of dozens of hearts broke him from his memeories, and he looked out over the mess hall. There were so many wolfkin that Ghost’s head spun, his senses overwhelmed by the scents and sounds of so many of his people in one place. He slipped his hand into Kane’s, and his alpha pulled him in close to his side, tucking him under his arm.
Ghost watched the crowd. A sea of blonde hair and lithe bodies with gem colored eyes filled the space, and the random and few darker colors of Kane’s wolves and what Ghost assumed were out-Clan mates occasionally showed through the throng. Surely Andromeda wasn’t the founding mother of Red Fern—not all of the wolves present were her litter, were they? Most of the wolves looked similar, alike to a degree that spoke of multiple births and several twin pairs. Was she the mother of them all?
“Smart observation, little wolf,” Kane whispered in his ear, hearing his thoughts through their link, “she is the founding mother of this current incarnation of Red Fern. Most of the wolves here are her descendants.”
“I want things to remain as normal as possible, but please take these precautions seriously, my children. I don’t want a repeat of what happened the last time we took our safety for granted,” Andromeda said gently, her quiet voice reaching the far corners of the mess hall. Her wolves, from the rare elders to the suckling cubs, gazed back at their Clan Leader with nothing short of iron-clad faith and adoration. “I’ve called many of our brothers and sisters back to Red Fern to increase our numbers for safety’s sake. The only wolves allowed back in the park are those vouched for by Black Pine and our kin.”
*They are all related by blood? What about inbreeding?* Ghost asked, giving up trying to speak as wolves milled around them, many of them heading for their Clan Leader, vying for her attention. He kept his thoughts to Kane alone, so they wouldn’t be overheard. Sharing Kane’s thoughts, his knowledge helped Ghost put words to the near instinctual worry he felt at the thought of a too small breeding pool.
Inbreeding was something Cat and Glen tried to prevent with the sanctuary wolves, especially since there was a small population in an enclosed space. Ghost shivered, very thankful he escaped the castration planned for some of the sub-adult wolves coming of age in the sanctuary. The Canadian government kept trying to tell Cat how to manage her pack, and she put off their orders for years until the last season. The sanctuary wolves were safely out of reach of man now, too, and he hoped they flourished in their freedom.
*They all look for mates in other clans, usually at gatherings. There are no alphas here, and none dare migrate here either, so political pairings don’t happen. Red Fern wolves mate for love. Andromeda allows refugees, ill-fit wolves in other packs and clans to petition for sanctuary and most requests are granted, so there’s an influx of fresh blood every few years.* Kane chuckled in the space of their link, and Ghost followed his attention to Red Fern’s leader. *Andromeda’s sire is where the coloration comes from, and even several generations later, it still breeds true. * Andromeda was speaking to several wolfkin, their fair heads nodding in agreement as she gave them instructions and settled nerves.
Ghost absorbed Kane’s reply, and he unconsciously nuzzled deeper into the alpha’s embrace, breathing in his scent. It was a delicious and heady mixture of fresh-cut sweet wood, pine, coffee, and soap from their shower. Thinking of wolves mating for love, and then their shower that morning, stirred Ghost’s blood, his body heating. The dull roar of many voices and the vibration of dozens of feet coming up through the soles of Ghost’s borrowed boots receded until nothing existed for him except his mate.
He laid his hands flat on Kane’s stomach and side, feeling rock-hard muscles under his thin shirt, heat radiating through the fabric. Kane was speaking over Ghost’s head to someone, but he wasn’t interested in who it was, or their words. He put his nose on the smooth, soft cotton, and pulled in deep, smelling the winter air caught in the threads and his mate’s scent underneath, knocking his thoughts astray. There was so much to learn and do and think and simply be, and Ghost wanted none of it right that moment. All he wanted was to keep on existing in his mate’s space, feeling him, smelling him, listening to the rumble of his words as he spoke.
Ghost ran his hands down Kane’s sides to his hips, nostrils flaring as he pulled his heady scent in deeper, until it felt like his mate was wound around his very bones, twined with the fibers of his very being. Red starlight pulsed, grew brighter, flooding his vision, his eyes floating shut as he leaned into Kane, everything falling away but for the other wolfkin’s heat.
Time passed without meaning. He’d never felt like this before. Was it because he was a human man now? The female wolves of the sanctuary never appealed to him when he was in wolf-form, nor did the scrawny males, the submissives of the female alpha’s pack. Perhaps his dual nature, both wolf and man, had kept him from having an interest in such things until he was back among his own kind.
Kane was everywhere. His heat, his scent, his taste. Ghost came back to the surface momentarily, as his tongue traced the dips and hollows of Kane’s collar bone, revealed by the open neckline of his shirt. Salty, and yet sweet. He wanted more. A voice came to him through the haze, trying to calm the storm of heat and need, but he didn’t want to hear it. He growled softly, teeth bared against his mate’s soft skin, nipping and tasting.
“Kane, take Ghost to your cabin,” an accented voice said, laced with humor. It came as if from a great distance, muffled. Ghosts sighed, lathing his tongue over a hard ridge of muscle, standing on his toes, fingers curled tightly in the fabric of Kane’s shirt.
“What’s gotten in to him? I’m not complaining, but he growls every time I try and get him to calm down.” Kane was speaking. Why was he speaking to someone, and not touching him?
Ghost whined and pressed closer, wanting to crawl inside his mate and roll in him, surround himself in every facet of his mate. He was falling deeper, every thump of his heart rocking him under his body’s response to his mate. His thoughts were thinning, becoming less complete, Kane’s sharing of thoughts and ideas, behaviors—it was becoming less important. He wanted something. Needed something, and soon.
“Your bond is getting stronger, deeper. Whether you knew it or not, you’ve had nearly fifteen years of adjusting to the bond. Whereas Ghost was a little boy, then a wol
f, when the bond first began, so it never had time to grow in him as it did in you….the bond is hitting him hard, making up for lost time. The two of you need to cement your connection. Get him alone, now.”
“Well, shit,” Kane swore, grabbing at Ghost’s hands. He growled again, trying to get closer, not wanting to be denied. “I’ll ask how you know that later.”
Big arms picked him up. Ecstatic, Ghost whimpered, and roped his legs around Kane’s waist, and he buried his hands in his long dark hair, the silken strands flowing through his fingers like water. He ran his mouth slowly over Kane’s high cheekbones, to his ear, nipping at the soft lobe. There was a rough hitch in Kane’s breathing, and there was a change in his scent, a fiery and spicy taste of which he wanted more.
Kane was walking. Carrying him to somewhere. He didn’t care. All he cared about was the strength in the muscles under his hands, against his body, the way his skin tasted and smelled and felt. Chill air and the scent of pine greeted him, light filtering through his eyelids. He blinked and lifted his head from Kane’s neck. He saw a hillside covered in snow, a thin path cutting through the trees behind them as Kane took them down a new path.
“There you are, little wolf. Can you hold on for me? Just another few minutes?” Kane asked him huskily, his long strides devouring the ground as he walked along the path.
“What happened?” Ghost gasped softly, and he tightened his arms and legs around Kane’s torso. He felt different. Head lighter, skin tingling, heart thrumming. And he was hard, his cock aching where it was pressed to Kane’s stomach.
“Can you tell me? I don’t mind at all that you want me, little wolf, but in the middle of a Clan-wide meeting was perhaps not the best place to… you know.” Kane didn’t sound upset, he sounded amused, and yet strained. “My cabin’s right here, just hold on, I’m going to open the door.”
KANE WOULD have dropped Ghost if the shaman wasn’t clinging so tightly to his torso, nuzzling and nibbling his collarbone with his sharp white teeth, distracting him as he barely managed to open the front door. Kane kicked the door shut, the sound loud in the empty cabin. Arms full of horny wolfkin, Kane strode for the bedroom, shouldering it open, and he was too impatient to care that it slammed shut behind them.
Ghost was whimpering, and Kane’s neck around the open neckline of his shirt felt like he had a field of love bites from his eager mate’s attention. Kane grinned as he bent over, depositing Ghost on his back on the bedspread. Ghost clawed at Kane’s clothes, biting his lips, his silver eyes burning like captured moonlight, glowing in the dim winter light trying to come through the shades over the window. He made a small keening cry, lifting his hips invitingly, his eyes burning brighter and brighter. His pale pink lips parted as he cried out, and Kane wanted to bend over and bite them, suck on the soft flesh. Dip inside and taste his mate. Yet getting rid of clothes was important. Nothing really fun could happen clothed.
“Easy, my mate,” Kane whispered, and he put his hands on his own waistband, standing over Ghost, watching as his mate showed his need with every twitch of his body and whimper escaping past his lips. “Take your clothes off, little wolf.”
Ghost moved in a blur as Kane unbuckled his belt and pants, kicking off his boots and socks. Ripping fabric and discarded clothing fell off the bed in all directions, and then Ghost was naked, crouching on the bedspread, eyes wilder, lips parted as he panted, inch-long claws growing from his fingertips. Kane saw the flash of elongated eye teeth, as Ghost crouched lower and crawled on his hands and knees to the edge of the bed, face mere inches from Kane’s partially exposed groin. Ghost closed his eyes, briefly obscuring Kane’s view of his glowing orbs, and he breathed in deeply, sucking in Kane’s scent. Kane’s cock was hard, flushed red and leaking precum from the hard tip, tenting his boxer briefs.
Kane shucked his underwear, and yanked his shirt over his head. He tossed aside the last of his clothing, and just in time, as a wet, hot tongue flicked out past pink lips, and swiped over the head of Kane’s hard, aching shaft. Kane’s hands were buried in Ghost’s silken locks before he could think, and Kane lost all thought and plans of taking things slowly as Ghost growled, opening his mouth and sucking Kane’s cock past his lips.
He groaned, shocked and pleased, surprised Ghost knew what to do, that his little wolf knew precisely how to move his tongue, to suck hard, to swallow around the broad head of his cock.
A chuckle rippled through his mind. Silver-white overtones of lust and amusement, as Ghost peered up at him out of wild eyes. *I see what you like, my mate. Your mind, my mind. Your taste makes me ache. I want more.*
How Ghost could think, much less communicate past his lust was a mystery. Kane growled, and he snapped his hips forward, Ghost’s clawed fingers digging into his thighs, meeting him halfway. Taking it easy, going slow, easing Ghost into a sexual relationship was a moot point; his little wolf was in charge, and Kane followed his lead. Ghost swallowed hard and repeatedly around Kane’s cock, the head in his throat, his shaman reading his thoughts, seeing what he liked best and putting it to devastating use.
The smell of hot blood tickled his senses. Ghost’s claws had dug deep enough to make him bleed. His arousal ramped up, his cock swelling, as Ghost sucked hard, and Kane gave in to the urge to fuck the talented mouth of his little wolf. Ghost’s eyes flared white, and Kane could feel the wild lust of the other wolfkin as Kane ravaged his mouth, thrusting in and out fast, saliva dripping from Ghost’s chin, his eyes tearing up, cheeks flushed red. Kane dug his own growing claws into Ghost’s scalp, holding him in an unbreakable grip as his hips moved faster, each thrust sharper, taking his cock to the back of his little wolf’s throat.
“I’m going to come, little wolf,” Kane snarled, nearly breathless, sweat forming on his forehead and running down his spine as he thrust. “Tell me now if you don’t want it.”
*Mine!* Taking Ghost’s claim as understanding, Kane thrust faster, his lips curling in a soundless snarl at the sight of his aching hard cock coated in saliva stretching his mate’s mouth wide.
It was impossible but Ghost sucked harder. The increase in pressure was the breaking point; Kane threw his head back and howled, hips stilling as he came. His spine erupted in a storm of fantastic bolts of pleasurable release, he lost feeling in his extremities, and his thoughts collapsed under the weight of the waves of pleasure swamping his mind. Pleasure rolled through him, and as it poured through the connection of their mind-link, Kane could see, could feel, an answering wave from his little wolf.
Ghost’s release flowed into him, a river of silver and white pleasure, filling him up. If emotions could have flavor, it tasted of spicy sugar and cinnamon, heady as mulled wine. He growled, wanting more of the sensations that flowed in a never-ending loop between them.
It was a miracle he was still on his feet, considering he couldn’t feel his legs. Or much of anything except the heat of his mate leaning his shoulder on his hip. Warm puffs of moist breath floated over his overheated flesh, and he finally found the ability to move his head, looking down at Ghost.
His lover peered back up at him, his face pressed to Kane’s lower abdomen, not far from his groin. Ghost’s lips were glistening, parted as he panted. His eyes still glowed, but it was now dimmer, a hint of light compared to the solar flare when his passions were higher. Kane cupped Ghost’s silky smooth cheek, brushing his thumb over his swollen lips. Ghost had come on the bed, staining portions of the blue quilt, the musky scent a delicious addition to the scent of lust filling the room.
“I like the way you taste,” Ghost exhaled, voice raspy. “Am I supposed to be this tired?”
Kane laughed, somehow finding the strength. He leaned down, and picked Ghost upright with hands under his arms, lifting him to his feet. Ghost grumbled at being moved, but came willingly enough, curling into Kane’s chest and nuzzling his skin.
GHOST LICKED his mate’s skin, tasting sweat and spicy arousal. He le
aned his weight on Kane, knowing his mate would keep him upright. Their naked skin rubbed together, and his spent cock twitched with renewed life. Feeling Kane’s pleasure through their link made his own explode in a startling burst of musky liquid, leaving him weak and boneless. He’d shot his seed all over himself and the bed, and the taste of Kane’s hot fluid still coated his tongue. He licked the firm skin of his alpha’s chest, mixing the tastes, and Kane moaned, the vibrations buzzing under his tongue.
“Alpha,” Ghost whispered, licking again. The power that shone brightly in his mind, the power that was Kane’s connection to his soul and spirit, was deeper, more interwoven with his own. Where the colors had been easier to define before as alpha and shaman, they now blended, changing, connecting on more levels, with tendrils thoroughly twining together.
“My little wolf, my shaman,” Kane responded, dipping his head, nuzzling his temple, breathing in his scent behind his ear. Ghost shivered, and pressed himself fully to Kane’s muscular frame.
“Mate,” Ghost rasped. He breathed slowly, trying to still his heart, realizing he could now think, his focus no longer narrowed to his mate. He lifted his head, and peered around him, taking in the wooden log walls, the big bed and the white and blue quilts. He scented his alpha’s presence in the room, and saw a collection of black duffel bags in one corner. He breathed in through his nose, and caught a hint of ozone and sulfur, something akin to smoke.
Ghost furrowed his brow and sent a wordless query to his mate along their link.
“My tactical gear is in there,” Kane murmured, nuzzling in his hair. “My guns and vest. That’s what you smell.”