Whitney

by Celia Kyle

  Whitney slipped into the chair, fingers clutched before her and pressed against the tabletop. Her thick thighs connected to wide hips that would cradle him while he…

  Levy cleared his throat and willed his cock to soften. He’d been half-erect since she walked through the door, but the idea of sinking into her wetness had him hardening fully and throbbing in his slacks.

  “We understand you have an issue you have deemed important enough to bring to our attention.” When the first hint of red rushed to her face, he winced and realized he sounded like an ass. The two of them had done the same thing the previous night.

  Whitney pressed her lips together until they became a thin, white line slashing across her flushed face. “Yes, I have a legitimate,” she glared at Callum standing nearby and Levy held back his growl. The lower-ranked wolf had obviously done something to upset her. “A very legitimate, concern.”

  Emmett leaned forward and took a deep, audible breath, coaxing Levy to do the same. Oh, shit, he shouldn’t have. The first hint of her scent struck him like a brick to the face. Whitney’s flavors reminded him of the rushing river near where they grew up, combined with the alluring scent of honeysuckle. He wanted to lap at her skin and see if she truly did taste like that sweet flower’s nectar.

  “Explain.” Emmett barked the word, the man’s gaze focused entirely on a very pissed Callum, and a stinging whip of energy crossed the room. Whitney flinched at his friend’s tone, but it was Callum who whimpered and scurried from their presence.

  Levy glared at Emmett and then reached across the table. He gave in to the wolf’s desire to touch the woman. Just once. He wasn’t breaking any laws by simply touching her. A touch wasn’t a human marriage. The wolf nudged and prodded him, encouraging him to feel the silkiness of her skin and commit it to memory.

  He rested his palm on her fisted hands and squeezed, biting back his smile when a shiver raced through her. Releasing her, he leaned back into his chair and kept his tone neutral. “Miss Wickham, please explain.”

  “As you know, I was ‘invited,’” adorably, she used air quotes, “to this year’s Gathering along with Scarlet and Gabriella.”

  He and Emmett nodded in acknowledgement and he stole a closer look at his partner. A quick inventory revealed the man was in a state similar to his own. His nails were darkened due to his beast pushing through. A light dusting of white fur on his arms and his eyes were already taking on the lightened hue of his magic nudging forward.

  Levy had to make sure the man’s irises didn’t go pure white. Hell, he needed to worry about his own, as well. The first rule they’d learned together years ago was to never allow the magic to gain control. The wolf was a beast with an animal’s black and white understanding of the world, but it was predictable. The magic that lingered in their blood… was not. It weighed and measured and made decisions that pleased it and not others. Wolves understood dominance and submitting to more powerful beasts. Magic was more like a three-year-old with immeasurable power. It wanted what it wanted and damn everyone else. Even if “everyone else” was the planet’s population.

  “Unfortunately, I was ‘invited’ to the Gathering,” air quotes again. He wondered if she’d be using them throughout their conversation. He hoped not since it played havoc on his control. Even in her anger, she was beautiful and he wanted to kiss away her sarcastic frown. “And the Gathering is meant for Alpha Pairs to find their mate. A mate that has a Mark.” She had a tempting mole along the top curve of her left breast. He wanted to trace it with his tongue. “Thing about it is, I don’t have one.”

  That brought him up short. “What?”

  Emmett growled and Levy reached over and squeezed his partner’s shoulder. The same feelings coursing through him also flooded Emmett: confusion at how she’d come to be at the Gathering warred with rage at the idea of her actually being Marked and potentially mating with an Alpha Pair.

  “I. Don’t. Have. A. Mark.” She tilted her head to the side, so like a wolf examining something. “Did the class not understand? I don’t know sign language, but I’m pretty sure they have a Rosetta Stone program for it.”

  “Miss Wickham…”

  “For the love of—” she huffed. “My name is Whitney and you mean to tell me you have no clue about why I’m sitting here? I thought that whole ‘tell me why you’re here’ thing was some throw back to a therapy session gone wrong. Did you seriously not bother listening to any of the messages Keller and Madden left for you about me?” Shit, her face was near glowing red now, and tears glistened in her eyes.

  He cursed himself for both his ham-handed handling of her as well as getting caught up in his position. He knew her upset was their fault. He vaguely remembered Keller talking about his new mate-in-law and there being some problem… But then…

  Whitney’s chest rose and fell in rapid succession, her heavy breathing now audible in the small room.

  “Whitney—”

  “Oh, bite me.”

  “Gladly.” Emmett leapt to his feet and rounded the table in the blink of an eye, his magic and wolf lending a hand. His voice was rough and deep. Damn, his eyes were whiter than brown or even amber.

  When his partner reached for her hand, she snatched it back and leaned deeper into the seat. Her anger permeated the air, the scent spicy and hot, arousing him further as it mingled with the delicate honeysuckle that clung to her skin. His fangs elongated, pricking his gums and then lowering until the tips rested against his lower lip. The wolf surged forward, lured by her burgeoning rage.

  It wanted to bite her, wanted to take her up on her dare and sink his teeth into her flesh. His eyes zeroed in on his desired spot, where her neck and shoulder met. Right where… Where he was never, ever allowed to go.

  Fucking laws.

  Fucking magic.

  “Let’s sit down and discuss this calmly.” Levy had to get the meeting back under control because Emmett sure as hell wasn’t handling things. His friend glared at him and took another step toward Whitney. “Emmett. Sit down.”

  He was having enough trouble controlling his own fucking wolf, he didn’t need Emmett slipping his leash, too. Growling, his friend finally retreated and slumped into the chair beside him. As soon as it appeared the wolf was in for the long haul, Levy retook his seat.

  “Okay, passions,” Whitney blushed and his words, taunting Levy once again, “are obviously running high. We apologize for not discussing this previously. Please tell us what happened.”

  Whitney rubbed her head and her headache was like a physical thing inside him, pulsing within his mind. He shot a questioning glance to Emmett followed by a mental prodding. Em?

  Yeah, I got it, too. The voice echoed and he mentally groaned. I shouldn’t, but I do.

  Empathy and telekinesis weren’t something the two of them had ever shared beyond themselves.

  “On the morning of our thirtieth birthday—”

  Emmett cut in. “You, Scarlet and Gabriella?” She glared at Emmett and Levy decided he wouldn’t be the one to interrupt her next.

  “Yes. We’re fraternal triplets. Each of us received an ‘invitation,’” air quotes again. It seemed she would be using them when describing the summons. “At the exact moment of our births, in order. Unfortunately, they’d forgotten about the whole hitting thirty unmated rule and freaked.” Whitney snorted. “Scarlet actually tried to burn hers.”

  Levy furrowed his brow. “Why would she do that? Being mated is an hono—”

  She held up a hand. “If you’re about to say ‘honor,’ stuff it. Getting sniffed, patted on the ass, bitten, and then hauled to God knows where without a say in the matter isn’t an honor. It’s why both of them were so freaked. They’re happy. Now. But I know the two of them have dreaded finding their mates. A Marked’s life gets uprooted because some mutt sniffs her ass and—”

  “No one sniffs you,” Emmett growled. Again.

  “Of course not.” She released a shuddering breath and he ached to go to her. Something ab
out this caused her anger and pain. He didn’t want her to ever experience either.

  “Thank you for your interpretation of the process. That’s obviously something that can be discussed at a later time.” Any other time when Levy’s wolf wasn’t about to tear him in two. “Let’s get back on track.” Before he threw her on top of the table and claimed her and sentenced them to a life worse than death—a life locked in wolf form, never to be released again.

  “Fine. We got ‘invitations.’ They’re Marked, I’m not. I’m human, but I got my butt hauled here. Then, you two took your merry time getting here. You didn’t even bother to, I don’t know, open a book to see if you screwed up your mojo or something.”

  Regardless of his desire for Whitney, Levy’s wolf bristled at the implication they’d failed at their jobs. “We are the Ruling Wardens of North America, the most powerful and skilled Wardens ever born. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the spell we—”

  “So, if it’s not you, it’s me?” Her eyebrows nearly met her hairline.

  This time it was rage that poured off her. It blanketed the room and consumed his mind. The wolf and his magic rebelled at the idea she was mad at them and he opened his mouth to soothe her.

  Whitney rose to her feet and planted her fists on her hips, accentuating the dip and flare of her waist. She needed to stop tempting him. “Really? That’s what you’re gonna go with?” She pointed at him, then Emmett. “You two need to figure out what the heck went wrong. You’ve had since Friday evening and it’s now Sunday. How hard is it to hop onto the World Wide Werewolf Web and find an answer?”

  Grumbling, she spun and headed toward the door.

  No. She couldn’t leave. Levy’s wolf growled and snarled, the animal manifesting itself beneath his skin, physically scraping against the thin membrane. Darkened nails slid along his arms from inside him. He shuddered with the effort of holding it at bay. The tremors increased when his power shoved at him as well. The magic crackled over him, pricking and biting into him with the desire to be released. It’d detain her, wrap her in a cocoon and then strip her bare for them.

  “Whitney, wait.” He took a step toward her, then another, rounding the table and closing the distance between them.

  Whitney Wickham, woman who drew him in like no other, turned to him. “You know what, fuck you. Fuck you both.”

  Chapter Two

  Whitney shook—with anger or need?—from head to toe. Emotions battered her from all angles. Inside she was a jumble of confusion and desire. It felt as if her body was being pounded by rage, frustration, and all-consuming desperation for release coming from the air.

  The anger fueled hers, the frustration at desiring the two wolves fanned the flames, and their seeming carelessness with her problem just sealed their coffin. She’d worked through this already, darn it. It’d taken her years of fighting her inner-self, but she’d finally gotten over craving two wolves as mates. Then she’d met Emmett and Levy and the desires reared their ugly heads once again.

  Damn it, damn it, damn it.

  She reached for the door’s handle, intent on getting the heck away from them as soon as possible. There was a year before the next Gathering. They could figure it out within the coming 365 days without her.

  The door groaned as it opened and she tugged harder against the solid panel, only to have her ticket out of the room slammed closed. A heavy weight settled against her back. The heated breath of one of the men bathed her neck for barely a moment and then she was whirled around. She was pressed against the once open door, Emmett crowding her, his warmth and heavenly scent surrounding her.

  “Fuck you? Don’t mind if I do.” A smirk graced his lips.

  She should tell him to screw off, to get away from her, to stop touching and arousing her and making her crave him like a drug. She should. But the need in his gaze froze the words in her throat.

  Then Levy was there, snug against her right, nudging Emmett to her left. She was bracketed by the large, very aroused Ruling Wardens. Their hard cocks branded her hips and she shuddered. She was pissed and aroused in equal measure. Being more aroused than pissed, pissed her off even more.

  Both men inhaled deeply—their chests expanding with the action to brush against her breasts—and growled in unison. Great. They scented her juices. Stupid wolves.

  Whitney squirmed, attempted to push her way past the overwhelming males, but they stopped her with partially shifted hands. Levy’s arm snaked over her lower stomach, hand coming to rest on her hip. Emmett slid his palm up her ribcage and halted beneath her left breast. The heat of their touch warmed her from inside out, teasing and tormenting in equal measure.

  No. She was pissed at them. Pissed because she wanted them and couldn’t have them. Pissed that they had been jerks. Pissed that they hadn’t bothered researching…

  Oh. Wait a minute.

  Emmett nuzzled her, his rough cheek scraping the tender skin of her neck and she couldn’t suppress her moan. Her sound was answered by Levy as he mimicked his fellow Warden. Two mouths danced over her exposed flesh, tongues lapping at her and teeth scratching her throat. Her pussy clenched, growing heavier and aching more as each second passed.

  They kneaded the flesh they held, hands wandering and stroking her. Emmett eased his touch higher, skimming her breast and finally cupping the heavy weight. Levy slid to her center, rubbing her lower belly before going even… lower. His fingers came to rest above her mound, the heat and pressure adding to her need.

  Damn her clothing.

  Oh. Wait another minute.

  Emmett tormented her breast, fingers plucking her nipple and pinching the hardened nub while Levy traveled farther south. His hand skimmed the silken fabric of her skirt and, bending down, he snared the hem before disappearing beneath the flimsy covering. His callused palm scraped her skin, leaving goose bumps in his wake. The higher he rose, the needier she became, her pussy dampening more and more.

  As wrong as it was for her, she wanted them both.

  Levy neared her heat and she spread her legs farther, granting him unspoken access to where she desired him—them—most. He growled when his palm met the juncture of her thighs and she whimpered with the first wave of pleasure his firm touch drew forth.

  Whitney burned for them, body desperate for their possession. Unbidden, she slid her palms along their abdomens and on, hunting what she desired. Then she moaned when she found what she sought. The thick ridge of their cocks pulsed beneath her hands, the cloth of their jeans the only thing keeping her from feeling the heat of their dicks. She rubbed and stroked them, sliding up and down their lengths.

  Their moans turned into growls and those wicked mouths continued their torment. Nips, licks, scrapes, and nibbles rained down on her shoulders and throat. Pleasure assaulted her, raced through her from head to toe and she couldn’t withhold the groans and gasps that built inside her.

  She shuddered and writhed, kicking at her conscience every time it piped up in protest. She wanted this even if it was wrong. She could have regrets… later. Much, much later. For now she would live out her lifelong fantasies.

  Emmett’s touch floated away and she whined at the loss only to moan when he returned… under her top, inside her bra, bare hand now cupping and caressing her breast.

  “Yes,” she hissed and then Levy’s fingers slipped beneath the elastic of her panties to stroke her soaked flesh. “Oh, fuck, yes.”

  It wouldn’t take much, no more than a few flicks of her clit, and she’d come screaming their names.

  Levy slipped a single digit between her sex lips, the rough pad of his finger sliding over that bundle of nerves and she rocked her hips into the caress. All the while, she stroked them and hoped she gave them the same pleasure they gifted her.

  “Please…” She whimpered and they growled, one immediately following the other.

  Emmett’s touch became more firm, plucking and flicking her nipple until she thought she’d go crazy with the need for them. Once again he retrea
ted, but then cool air bathed her breast before a heated, wet mouth captured her nipple. He tapped the hardened nub with his tongue, licking and suckling that bit of flesh. Every pull sent another bolt of pleasure through her body, drawing her closer and closer to release.

  Their touch, their scent, their very presence hurtled her toward the edge. Pleasure coursed through her veins in ever increasing speed, pricking her nerve endings and sending shudders through her body.

  Seeming to sense her impending orgasm, their attentions increased. Touches grew more firm, kisses and nibbles became more passionate, and Levy’s teasing caresses focused on her clit.

  “God. Yes. Need.” Whitney needed so bad.

  A low, grumbled “mine” from Levy was immediately echoed by Emmett and she promised herself she’d bitch at them about tossing that word around later. Like, after she came. Wolves couldn’t toy with a woman that way. She, hypothetically, accepted this would be a onetime thing. It was her single chance to get her ovelay for the ardensway out of her system for good.

  Whitney squeezed and stroked the cocks pulsing beneath her palms, milking them in the same rhythm that they tormented her. She rocked and writhed against Levy’s hand, begging and directing his ministrations in equal measure.

  Just a little more…

  “There. So close, please please please please.” Her words came out as heavy, panting moans and whines.

  Twin stings jolted her, a hint of pain searing her nipple and shoulder at the same moment and she went flying over the edge. Her release washed through her in a gigantic wave. Her nerve endings flared to life, seeming to burn her from inside out as the bliss flooded her. Whitney’s pussy clenched, silently begging to be filled and stretched by their thick cocks. She wanted them hard and deep, plunging into her over and over again.

  Another bolt of hurt slid through her and then she burned. Her skin was on fire, scorching under the heat of their touch. Sensations bombarded her, emotions rioting and pinging around her body. Emotions—hers or theirs?—slammed into her, one upon on another upon another.