Heart Mates

by Mary Hughes

  Then she locked the door, and the heat rushing through him shouted all his carefully constructed reasons were lies.

  They were alone inside a locked store. Stealing a kiss in front of Mason was nearly his undoing. Stealing a helluva lot more in a locked building where they could be alone and uninterrupted set him on fire.

  She must’ve caught something of what he was thinking because she blushed a very pretty pink, the same shade as her lips. Then she glanced down at his crotch and flushed an ever more appealing shade of crimson, the same shade as her lips after he’d kissed them so very thoroughly.

  His body blazed hot enough that he’d be ashes soon. He turned away from temptation. “This may take a while. Why don’t we sit?”

  “All right.”

  Her voice was husky. He liked that a lot. He headed for a sofa.

  He didn’t hear her follow, stopped and turned.

  She was shrugging off her suit coat jacket, revealing soft naked shoulders and a long creamy neck.

  His tongue fell out of his stupid mouth. Just as he’d shoved it back in, she carried the jacket toward him with a sexy sway. His tongue fell back out again and he started panting like an idiot. Fortunately her gaze was locked on the old-fashioned coat tree at the edge of the big carpet. He had time to reroll his tongue while she hung up her jacket.

  Frankly, it shocked him. Shifters were preternaturally sexed, sure. But he’d never lusted like this, so hot, so fast. His eyes could see nothing but her; his body hardened simply from the way she moved and the curl of her scent dusting the air.

  If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was his mate.

  He knew better. Shifters of any caliber rarely mated non-shifters. Alphas, never, because how could a non-shifter lead the pack in a hunt?

  His body didn’t want to be rational. It wanted to strip her of that staid pantsuit, throw her onto the couch and pound into her until she screamed with a full-body release.

  His brow broke out in a thin sweat. He had to get himself under control now.

  “What are we talking about?”

  She eyed the couch, the one where he’d been imagining her naked and arching and moaning her pleasure.

  He clenched his jaw, reined in his wolf and sat on a different couch. “I thought if I told you about last night, it would help you find your aunt. It started with Marlowe.” He found himself patting the cushion beside him.

  She didn’t join him. With all the soft, overstuffed furniture, she perched primly on the only wooden chair on the whole premises. Her knees were pressed together and her lips were almost as tight.

  He’d love to loosen them—with his tongue. He wasn’t sure if he meant her lips or her knees.

  “Why did Marlowe break in?”

  “A prank? All the kid stole was your aunt’s vibrating ‘mushroom’.” A dildo if Noah’d ever seen one. From the pink blush rising up Sophia’s delectable cheeks—he barely stopped himself from licking them—she’d seen the thing too. “Linda called me in.” He gave her the rest of the story, except for the hex. It had already worn off and hadn’t done any real damage.

  Sophia listened to him without interrupting, a sexy furrow of concentration on her brow.

  To stop himself from licking that, he said, “How did you know Linda was missing?”

  “Auntie’s a bit…Bohemian. My brother set up an alarm on the store. He’d put a nannycam on her if she’d let him.” One corner of her mouth tipped up.

  He wanted to lick that corner so badly he nearly howled.

  “We’re a touch overprotective, but since our parents’ deaths, Gabriel and I only have Aunt Linda.”

  That kicked Noah’s head out of his pants. “I’m sorry. Why isn’t your brother here, taking care of things?” His words were roughened by a growl. Men who left their women alone in times of need should be neutered with a meat cleaver.

  She eyed him nervously.

  His expression must’ve reflected his thoughts, unusual for him. He cut the growl. He’d never hurt her—he’d never hurt any woman—but she didn’t know that.

  She smiled ruefully and relaxed. “Gabriel’s working out of state. My place is only four hours from Matinsfield, so I volunteered to drive up.”

  “That was good of you.” Her caring made her even hotter to him.

  “Say.” She tapped her lip. “Do you think maybe Auntie went to confront Marlowe? Get her, um, ‘mushroom’ back?”

  There was that blush again, just as lickable as before. “It’s possible.” He shrugged.

  Sophia’s eyes dropped to his shoulders and widened.

  Well, well. She was impressed by his body. His wolf pranced proudly inside; he ignored it. “She mentioned needing to check out a few things. Do research.”

  “I wonder why.”

  He shrugged again, just to watch her eyes widen and enjoy her enjoying him. “I don’t know.” Linda probably wanted a good hex to throw on the kid since the original had backfired.

  “Well, there’s no help for it.” Sophia stood. “Let’s go.”

  He stood too. “Where?”

  “I was going to wait until tomorrow, but since you’re here, you can help. Let’s talk to this Marlowe and find out if Auntie visited him.”

  Her sweet, soft flesh anywhere near that hoodlum? Noah’s veins fired. “Absolutely not. That pup is trouble with a capital T. Living with an older brother, who is trouble with a capital A-to-Z.”

  She bit her lip, her pearly white teeth denting the lush red pillow, making him want to lick and nibble that. He briefly clenched his eyes. When he opened them she had grabbed her suit coat from a hook and was digging in its pocket. “Well, I hoped you’d come with me, but I guess I’ll have to make do with my pepper spray.” She headed for the door.

  He intercepted her in three strides and lay a restraining hand gently on her arm.

  Her bare arm.

  His fingers pressed to the smoothest, silkiest flesh in the world. His body went instantly rigid. Her soft little gasp didn’t help. He swallowed his lust, a long, hot sword of it. “Sophia, please. I don’t want you anywhere near those brothers.”

  “To be honest, I don’t want to go either.”

  “Good. Then let’s sit on the couch—”

  “But I have to, don’t you see? It’s not like Aunt Linda to go off without telling me or my brother. If you’re right, Marlowe may have been the last person to see her.” She started again for the door.

  He needed to stop her. He rationalized it in his head—Marlowe was pack, Noah was alpha, and it was his duty to protect humans from the worst of his pack.

  But really, he simply wanted to protect Sophia, with a need that burned white-hot in his chest.

  No immediate ideas how, though, with her determined to leave, not without tying her up…his body hardened again, so wrong, but entirely too enticing an idea. He shook himself. He was an animal, but he hadn’t lost all humanity. Surely he could keep her from walking out that door in a way that was urbane, gentle, and didn’t give away anything about the state of pack affairs?

  His wolf took it out of his hands. He grabbed her, spun her into his arms and kissed her.

  Her lips parted on a gasp of surprise. He fell into her sweet mouth, minty warm breath and plush, velvety lips. His arms wrapped around the softest curves in the world. His whole body rose to the feel of her, the scent of her.

  She sighed and nestled in, wrapping arms around his neck and stretching herself along his torso until every inch touched. He relished the feel of her, the knowledge that she was safe in his arms.

  And still it wasn’t enough. He wanted to kiss her, to cuddle her, to be moving inside her—everything, all at once. His need rose so swiftly, so fiercely, that his control nearly vanished. Mouth devouring hers, he lifted her and carried her to the couch.

  His human tried to slow things
down, not to stop but to settle her on the couch and sit beside her so that they could slowly explore each other.

  His wolf spread her flat on her back, exposing everything to him in a perfect position to plunder.

  She whimpered. Too fast. He reined hard on his ragged control. He was wolf, but she wasn’t. She needed gentle touch, sweet seduction. He leaned in and floated his palms along her arms.

  Her hands found his shoulders. Her fingers dug in like a prospector finding gold. Pulling him, wanting him.

  His wolf leaped past seduction to full-on taking. He stretched himself over her, his body completely covering hers.

  He fused lips with her. She moaned into his mouth and her hands slid up his neck to curl fingers into his hair. His wolf urged more, harder. His kiss roughened; his tongue plunged deep inside her glorious heat.

  And she…she opened to him. Accepted him, wolf and all. Her lips parted to give him greater access, and her thighs spread to nestle his hips.

  His wolf howled, reveling in it, in her. At her splendid welcome, his cock sprang full, the bright need shocking him. He cupped her head with both hands and took what she offered, his groan ruffled with the beast’s sexual growl.

  He rolled his hips against her. It dragged his pumped zipper along her pants seam. She gasped into his mouth, soft breath billowing. He rubbed himself into her again, this time deliberately long and slow. Her eyes widened and locked on his. She began to pant.

  He searched her gaze and read surprise there but not surprise at the speed. Surprise at so much pleasure.

  Still, he wanted to know she was sure, so he said the words. “Do you want me to stop?”

  “Well,” she panted. “This is pretty fast—”

  His wolf growled. He throttled it. “But do you want me to stop?”

  A beat. “No.”

  He gave her a fierce smile and rewarded her with a hard stroke of his hips. She moaned and her knees fell completely apart, her legs limp with pleasure. He leaned one forearm beside her head, freeing a hand to open her prim slacks.

  A snick of button and zip, and he slid his fingers into her panties and stroked her naked skin. She was sweet and warm and womanly.

  He was in heaven.

  She jerked at his touch, gasped and then moaned, low and long. He’d never heard a sweeter sound. His fingers delighted in her slick warmth, over and over.

  Her hands wrapped around his triceps, fingers digging in. His heart pounded in quickening desire. Her hips tilted, yearning toward his stroking hand. His cock strained against his zipper in response.

  He slid a finger inside her and was rewarded with a louder groan. He shifted his hand to cup her sex while pressing his finger firmly inside her. With his palm, he started pumping.

  She whimpered. Whispered, “More.”

  He kissed her, deep, wild. She arched into him. He drove his tongue into her mouth. She sucked at it.

  Desire splashed hot in his belly. His cock was straining so hard it was about to burst.

  Bite her. He was nearly overcome with the sudden need to take her like a wolf, to throw her up on her knees and fasten himself to her and plow her with rough strokes, to mate like an animal and howl.

  He broke the kiss. How could such a rough act appeal to him? He was a beast. She whimpered, as if underlining the fact.

  Then she pumped her hips against his hand and licked his chin, urging him to do exactly as he pleased. She wanted him, beast and all.

  Her simple acceptance undid him. It brought sudden clarity; the rough act didn’t appeal—he wanted to take her in the traditional way, in front of the pack to proclaim her as his mate.

  By his fangs and claws. How was this possible? Confused, he dropped his head into the crook of her neck.

  Her scent, heady and ripe, filled his nostrils. His wolf opened his mouth…and he barely managed to turn his bite into a gentle nip and lick. Her tender flesh was like silk dusted with the scent of jasmine and woman. She tasted of fresh fields lightly kissed with dew.

  Didn’t matter how, where or why. Only who. His blood boiled up and over into a low growl. He thrust a second finger into her and stroked.

  She arched into him, breasts pressing against his chest, hips into his belly. Staid navy slacks and a thin blouse didn’t stop him from feeling every feminine curve stamped into his skin like hot brands.

  He panted into the crook of her neck and tried to get himself under control. She undulated and rubbed against him in wild abandon. “I’m almost there…please, Noah.”

  His cock was ready to rupture and that almost undid him. He could barely keep his fingers steadily stroking her. She was so wet and hot he could just imagine grabbing her hips and plunging deep into her sweet naked body, sinking into her wet welcome—

  She stiffened and cried out. Her muscles contracted around his fingers, so hard it shot pulses down his arm, straight to his erection. He came in his pants like a green pup, and it was wonderful, the best. Sound evaporated as the world around him exploded with bright lights, all the colors of the rainbow and more, so bright his eyes hurt.

  He pulsed an infinity of perfect pleasure, locked in her arms.

  Sound zoned back in, his rasping breath and heart thundering in his ears…and soft, even breaths.

  He blinked. The bright lights resolved into the Uncommon Bookstore. He and Sophia lay on the old reading sofa.

  Sophia had fallen asleep, a tiny smile on her face. He gazed at her in wonder.

  From first meet to orgasm in less than a day. Even for shifters that was incredibly fast.

  Yet it felt right. Almost as if…

  His mate?

  No. Again. Couldn’t be. Not a human.

  His heart slowed as his body cooled. The wet in his jeans cooled past the point of discomfort. He still didn’t move, needing the contact with Sophia—until it occurred to him that she might be uncomfortable too.

  He slid off and went in search of a blanket. After that disastrous hexing last night, the aunt had gotten a sheet out of a freestanding armoire to cover the mirror. He opened a door, found a light woven blanket and returned to drape it over Sophia.

  She sighed and snuggled in. His heart swelled.

  He shushed it. Human. Not his mate.

  Still, he pulled a chair near to her and watched over her as she slept.

  The wizard known as X picked up the hem of his silk robe and stalked past the wolf man into the dirty trailer. X’s familiar hopped off his shoulder as he did. The familiar refused to enter the filthy place. The familiar, X thought, had the right idea.

  When X saw what was waiting for him, he stopped in his tracks.

  The female cowering in the corner was stick-thin, dirty and ragged. Scowling, X took out his tool, a foot-long rod that was the color of air-bubbled blood. The tool warmed in his hand. He circled it at the cringing female to activate its analytic properties; it would tell him how much magic the skeletal wreck actually had.

  At the readings, he snarled. “Can it be? Have you actually found a female scrawnier, sicker and poorer than the rest?”

  “She’s not pack,” the wolfman whined. “She’s the only fuckin’ wolf we could get.”

  X sneered at the pathetic creature. At Killer. What a burlesque of a name for a stupid, dirty animal. “What’s your excuse this time?”

  “It’s that new fuckin’ alpha. He’s watching us too closely. Doesn’t let any females go out alone. Sends fuckin’ Mason along or goes himself.”

  “There’s one of him and five of you. Deal with him.”

  “Blackwood’s different. Stronger. Master, we got him to fight the old alpha before he was ready, like you said. But he won. He’s different,” Killer repeated. “Stronger. Give us more. Give us something to help crush the fucker for good.”

  “You want more?” X’s eyes rolled in contempt. “When you offer barely
adequate tribute? Do I not already provide you with drugs to make you more powerful, amulets to help you lure whatever female you want, make her do whatever you want?”

  The wolfman hung his head. “Yes, master. But this new alpha is just too much—”

  “Stop complaining.” Idiot anti-alphas. Big men when beating up on bitches and pups, but let a real challenge face them and they were whiny girly dogs. “I suppose this offering will have to do.” X turned from the pathetic loser to put one hand on the female’s forehead and ready the tool in the other.

  He paused. “On second thought, I will be generous to you. Find me a weapon and I will ensorcell it—if you have discovered more information on Blackwood.” He glared at the pathetic Killer.

  “Yes, master.” The wolfman practically whimpered. “He comes from Mason’s old pack out west, but he wasn’t born there.”

  “That’s all you have?”

  “Mason’s old lady is dead, master, and no one knows Blackwood’s bitch mother.”

  “Imbecile. Answer me this. Is he the one we seek?” Spittle flew onto X’s chin. He wiped it away with an automatic fastidious flick. “Never mind. It’s obvious you couldn’t find a pimple on the end of your dick. I’ll know the answer soon enough.”

  He turned to the bitch, slapped his hand against her forehead and triggered the talisman. Magic sucked out of her, flowing into him. She deflated like a ball, head caving in first. He pressed harder, following her as she slowly collapsed to the floor. She didn’t move, other than her gradual shriveling, didn’t even whimper. At least the wolfman had done one thing right, drugging her to the gills.

  When she’d collapsed into a pile of useless biology, he removed his hand. Stood, stronger and younger and flush with magic.

  The wolfman’s face was white. X almost turned the talisman on the pathetic excuse for a were. But no, Killer had his uses. All the power-hungry anti-alphas across the country were useful, manipulated to make their packs weak and vulnerable. Make their females available for X’s draining.

  And of course, prod key young dogs into premature alpha fights. The fact that Blackwood had actually won made him all the more interesting.