'Til Death

by Lorie O'Clare

  Dimitri lowered his face to hers, taking her lip and sucking it into his mouth, then kissed her soundly. It was sensual, hot, scorching not only her lips but every inch of her.

  “Relax, little bitch, and trust me not to hurt you,” he whispered, soaking her cheek with his hot mouth as he spoke. Show me that emotion I see all over your face and in the richness of your scent.

  Could he smell her love?

  His cock and balls were damp and heavy as they brushed against her rear end. With every touch, her senses heightened, her insides twisting with need to explode again while she imagined what it would be like to have him in such an intimate way.

  Would it bond them even closer together? Maybe that’s what he wanted. His fingers brushed down her neck, stroking her shoulders and then her breasts. She could say no. If she did, it wouldn’t change anything between them. That much was clear in her mind.

  But her heightened need, every inch of her tingling like one giant nerve ending, overexposed and raw, put her in a place where sex of any kind sounded too damned good to pass up.

  “I trust you,” she told him, her mouth suddenly too dry.

  He moved his hand down further, first stroking her soaked pussy so that she jumped. “You are on fire. Give me your hand. Feel how hot you are.”

  Dimitri wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pressing against her pulse, which beat as hard in her arm as it did in her chest, and placed her fingers over her well-fucked pussy. Slowly she stroked herself, pushing inside and then spreading her juices over her warm, smooth flesh.

  He growled at her actions, which elevated her sense of power, and she finger-fucked herself more, watching as his breathing grew heavier and louder while his gaze remained locked on her. She pushed her index finger over her clit, the little knob several times its normal size and also capturing the beat of her heart. The small amount of applied pressure gave her another orgasm. It didn’t possess the strength of when he was inside her, but she came hard enough to double over. She rolled back and forth until the waves of lust subsided and her breathing returned to normal.

  But then she realized where his cock was. Soaked and pressing against her tight, virgin hole. Her gaze shot to his. Eyes blacker than a starless night stared down at her, watching her like a predator would right before attacking. And there was no escape.

  “Breathe,” he told her, pushing slightly into her entrance.

  Tiny little nerves sprang to life, adding a new sensation that she hadn’t felt before.

  She sucked in a breath and blew it out.

  “Now relax your muscles. All of them. Make your body calm, like you’re floating, and trust me, my sweet bitch. Give all you have to me and know that I won’t hurt you.”

  His words had a calm control to them that urged her to follow his instructions. Never taking her gaze from his, she forced her breathing to slow, concentrating on her body and making it soft and relaxed.

  “If you don’t like it, I’ll stop,” he reminded her.

  “It’s okay.” She blew out a breath, wondering if it would be.

  And then his warm, sticky cock pushed inside her. One quick, fluid movement and he broke through a barrier of tight muscles that stretched with a sting so intense her eyes watered as she gasped, instantly forgetting all of his instructions.

  “Keep your finger on your clit. Rub it slowly and look at me.” He spoke as he began moving, and his expression tightened until his jaw appeared locked and the only way he could speak was through his teeth.

  He never looked away from her, building the momentum, creating a pressure that would knock her out. She pressed her fingers against her clit, rubbed her moist pussy and watched his face while his muscles bulged and veins looked like they would pop in his neck. His movements grew as his cock slowly glided in and out of her ass.

  Nothing could compare with the sensations riding her insides. He split her in two yet filled her with a passion and feelings she’d never felt before. Every inch of her tingled. He reached and touched parts of her she didn’t know could be given so much pleasure.

  “Little bitch,” he growled as tiny beads of sweat appeared above his eyebrows. His chest glistened with moisture, making him look smooth as satin.

  Yet what he did to her insides was anything but satiny. It was more like leather, hard and hot, igniting and exploding all at the same time. Something shattered inside her, and for a moment she panicked that he had swelled inside her. But it wasn’t pain.

  “Dimitri,” she screamed, unable to take the pressure and sensations attacking her any longer. She reached for him, certain she clawed flesh from his chest as her world erupted into a million colors of hot reds and then hotter crimsons.

  Dimitri pulled out, taking all the sensations with him, and exploded on her belly. The hot cream singed her skin and filled the air with its rich, musky scent. He fell backward, holding his still swollen cock. His hair was wild around his face and his expression a mask of too many emotions.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She was more than okay.

  “And no male has ever done that to you before?”

  “No.”

  And no other werewolf ever will. His thoughts were so clear she swore he spoke out loud. Standing, he didn’t say another word, but walked naked to the bathroom. Too exhausted to move, Rosa willed her body to rise off the bed, turn around and relax with her head on the pillow. Dimitri returned, his cock still hard and throbbing between his legs. He ignored it, although it looked heavy and almost uncomfortable, and instead applied a dry hand towel to her stomach, taking his time cleaning her. He didn’t ask her how she turned her body so quickly, and she was too tired to search his mind. She was happy and sated when he crawled into the bed with her and then pulled the blankets over both of them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sometimes dreams sucked. Dimitri was stiff, and rolling over sounded painful. Every muscle in his body seemed racked in pain. And after such wonderful sex, every breath smelling of Rosa, this was the last dream he wanted to have.

  Bruno Tangaree’s house was always full of happiness, the white walls clean and throw carpets on the floor smelling like every flake of dust had just been beaten out of them. Dimitri wasn’t the oldest, but he led the way for his littermates to the room all of them loved visiting.

  Renee, their queen bitch, still called them cubs, even though Dimitri was sixteen and stood several inches taller than she did. She stopped him with a stern, motherly look before they made it too far into her den. Dimitri raised his bare feet, along with his littermates, so she could ensure none of them tracked mud through her den.

  “He’s in there—go on and behave.” Renee’s laughter was prettier than any music he ever heard in the evenings down at the docks.

  Dimitri held hands with his youngest littermates, the twins, Maria and Marco. Erin made the door to Bruno’s special room open before they reached it.

  “Show off!” Theresa—his younger littermate, barely eight years old at the time—accused and pulled on Erin’s long braid.

  Erin growled, thrusting her pudgy hand out and baring her fangs. She wasn’t even six years old. Dimitri saw her baby face in his dreams, so young and full of life, spoiled beyond belief since she took to the gift so quickly. No one would ever smell the jealousy he felt over that little bitch, the only one of all his littermates who mastered the gift like she was born with it.

  “My favorite den!” Bruno smiled at the lot of them as if he had sired them himself.

  Dimitri let go of the twins, keeping an eye on them but anxious to see what Bruno was doing today. The large werewolf was always at his den, always had time for them, unlike his own sire, who worked from dawn until way after dusk down at the fishery. Although many his age already worked alongside their sires, Dimitri helped keep an eye on his younger littermates, giving their mother time for an afternoon nap and much needed alone time. Besides, he wanted more than to just work at a fishery all of his life. Bruno was what Dimitri ached to be so
meday—the boss, in charge, a pack leader. And coming here once a week made him believe that dream would come true. Not a soul in his pack knew of his craving to lead, and that was how it would remain until he was ready. And he wouldn’t challenge Bruno, not ever. He loved the werewolf like his own sire. But someday, when the incredible werewolf stepped down—he would never die—then Dimitri would be ready.

  “I’ve worked hard all week at everything you told me,” Dimitri said, watching the large werewolf closely for any signs of pride.

  Bruno patted Dimitri’s shoulder. “I know you have. Every time the fire burns brighter in my hearth, I know it’s because you are closer to mastering the elements.”

  Dimitri beamed. Glancing at the large fireplace at the end of the room, which was dark and sooty although no fire burned today since it was so warm and sunny outside. Nonetheless, he smelled the flames, saw them in his mind.

  The dream turned dark. Dimitri fought not to remember, not to let the terrible day resurface, but his mind ignored his orders. Kicking the covers off him, his body stretched, feeling the warmth of Rosa lying next to him. He ached to roll over onto her, regain control of his mind and enjoy the softness of her luscious curves, but his dream tugged at his brain.

  Flames. Always the damned fucking flames. He fought the dream—hated the dream. How many years would he live before a fire didn’t affect him or bring back that horrible day? If only Bruno believed in him, trusted that eventually he would figure it out. And why the hell couldn’t he master the gift? What the fuck was wrong with him?

  If he only figured out what his five-year-old littermate understood within minutes of being exposed to it, then he would have been Bruno’s assistant instead of that waste of werewolf flesh, Dante Aldo.

  It should have been him.

  It was supposed to be him.

  Bruno wanted Dimitri for his assistant. But he chose Dante. Dimitri couldn’t master the gift. Hating the dream even as it played before his eyes, he wished more than anything he would just wake up.

  “You know you aren’t allowed to go up there.” Moira Tangaree stood at the bottom of the stairs that led up to her sire’s special rooms. The teenage bitch would make werewolves forget their names when she got older.

  “Something is wrong,” she continued. Her thick black hair tumbled down her thin back when she turned and stared up the flight of stairs. “I wasn’t supposed to hear him and mother this morning. They are sending messengers around to the dens, warning them of something. My sire is pissed. He needs more werewolves to warn the dens.”

  “I can help.” Dimitri refused to sound too eager in front of the young bitch.

  Her black eyes sparked when she turned around quickly. “You aren’t allowed to go up there either, Dimitri Spalto. Don’t play like you’re anyone important. If I can’t go up there, don’t think for a minute I’ll let you up those stairs.”

  He could throw her out of the way. It would be so easy to do. He hated more than anything that she spoke the truth. Over the past few months, Bruno had changed. All of his good humor and joviality was gone. Even at the last pack meeting, he didn’t laugh once. He never looked at Dimitri. And he chose another werewolf, a male who hadn’t even grown up with the pack, to work alongside him. Dimitri knew Moira didn’t know the other male. Her sire wouldn’t allow her to have anything to do with his private work. As much as Dimitri ached to order her to move, he wouldn’t defy the wishes of Bruno. If he went up those stairs, Moira would follow him.

  He stormed out of the Tangaree den, marching down the street, which for the middle of the afternoon seemed unusually quiet.

  “Where are your littermates?” His sire met him at the corner with Dimitri’s oldest littermate, Nicolo, by his side. Both of them reeked of fish.

  “School isn’t out yet, father.”

  “Bruno’s assistant showed up at the fishery with orders that we were all to head to our dens. You know anything about this, Dimitri?”

  It was wrong that he didn’t. With every ounce of blood that pumped too hard through his veins, he felt how wrong it was that Bruno allowed Dante Aldo to be his assistant and not Dimitri.

  “I’ll find out.” He turned around and marched back to the Tangaree den. Bruno would see him. He would demand it. And fortunately, when he stormed back inside the den that was like a second home to him, that spitfire little bitch, Moira, wasn’t there to boss him around. “Bruno?”

  Dimitri swore he called his old pack leader’s name out in his sleep. He rolled over, feeling the blankets tangle around his feet, and nudged Rosa’s warm body. Nothing like what had happened in his past would ever happen again. He wrapped his arm around her, feeling her soft bottom press against his still-damp cock. But his dream pulled him under too quickly to focus on how good she felt lying next to him.

  “Where is my daughter? Where is Dante?” Bruno’s pissed off voice bellowed through his den.

  Dimitri paused in the doorway, smelling the animosity. Never before had he hesitated to enter this den. But the happiness, the warm aromas that always greeted him were gone. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

  “He’s supposed to be warning the God damned dens. They will die. All of them will fucking die. I need someone out there warning them. Someone fast enough to race from one den to the next. Where the hell is Dante?”

  It was the worst part of the dream. He didn’t want to relive it. More than anything he wanted to wake up, run from his bed.

  And he did run. He turned around and stormed out of that den, mad as hell that Bruno howled for Dante and not him. And if it were him, Bruno wouldn’t be pissed right now. Dimitri would have been there when Bruno needed him.

  In his dream he ran as fast as his legs would take him. Bruno’s outrage pissed him off so bad that he ached to change, to run to the cliffs and not stop running until exhaustion cleansed the anger from his body. He didn’t know what was going on. All he knew was that Bruno was pissed as hell, and it was all Dante’s fault. Served the ugly bastard right. He didn’t deserve to be Bruno’s assistant anyway. Maybe now Bruno would see that Dimitri would be the better werewolf. Dante would fuck it all up and Bruno would sniff out Dimitri the next time he had an urgent message to tell all the dens.

  He ran to the sea, that beautiful green sea that was always so tranquil, so peaceful and beautiful. Just staring at it, inhaling the warm, relaxing, familiar scent helped calm his racing heart. In spite of all the humans around him ignoring the dark-skinned young male with long black hair that blew off his back with the ocean breeze, he loved being down at the docks and just focusing on the routine that would never change.

  He spotted his sister at the same time that he picked up an unusual scent. Ignoring the smell at first, he marched over to his younger littermate, puffing out his chest just the way his sire would.

  “You’re not in school.” He ignored the way she made the fish jump out of the water just by staring at them. “And you’re busted. Get your ass back where it belongs.”

  Erin turned around with that defiant look she always wore on her face, but then turned her attention toward the town.

  “Something is wrong,” she whispered.

  “You’re damned straight. You keep skipping class and our sire will take his belt to you.”

  “No. Dimitri. Look.”

  Black smoke made incredibly odd-shaped clouds in the sky just above his pack’s part of town. Dimitri barely acknowledged his younger littermate slipping her smaller hand into his as he stared in horror at the fire that spread quickly. He pulled her alongside him, barely aware that he held on to her as he walked up the street as far as he dared, listening as the screams increased and his pack started running around with their tails between their legs.

  “No!” Jumping out of the bed, Dimitri scrubbed his head with his hands and wiped the unbearable memory out of his head. He wouldn’t remember.

  Anger and outrage made his body shake. Slowly gulping in air, he willed his heartbeat to calm down. It took several really
deep breaths before he acknowledged that he inhaled Rosa’s scent. Turning around, he stared at her slender back and her messed up long black hair as she sat on the other side of the bed. She didn’t face him but had her legs hanging off the side and her head in her hands as if…

  “Shit.” He would die if she were in his head throughout that entire terrible dream.

  The floor was cold under his feet as he walked naked around the bed until he faced her. She didn’t look up at him. Standing there for a moment, studying her, he breathed in the salty smell of her tears. Oh Lord.

  There wasn’t much compassion inside him, and right now Rosa needed just that. Just when he believed that she was possibly the bitch for him, he watched her cry, knowing she now understood the horrible errors of his past.

  Slowly she shook her head. “No. No, Dimitri.”

  She didn’t look very stable when she pushed herself off the bed. Remembering her telling him last night that she’d never had anal sex before, he realized that more than likely her body was more than a little sore this morning. Dimitri pulled her into his arms and then held her too tightly. Even when he worried he might hurt her, he couldn’t let go of her.

  “Dreams are a mass of torn up memories.” He tried desperately to put everything back to right. If only he had taken her back to her den last night. But if he had, he would have kept her here another night and she would have eventually experienced the nightmare that to this day wouldn’t leave him alone. “Did you experience the dream I just had with me?”

  She didn’t try moving out of his arms, but slowly nodded her head.

  “Damn it.” What could he say to make her believe it didn’t happen that way?

  No. He wouldn’t lie to her.

  “Maybe it’s best that you learn the truth about me now.” No other werewolf on the planet knew this about him. “Dante Aldo fucked up on that terrible day. But I ran like a cub with my tail between my legs. My cowardice killed my den and our pack.”