by Alexis Wilde
“Could be a matter of hours, could be days.” The second-in-command strode away from the fine layer of cable. “As long as Damien’s network works, we’ll have a good lead on them.”
“Trust,” Jackson said wryly.
The other man flashed a grin as he leapt up onto the bank.
The wind rolled through the trees on either side of them, plunged frigid fingers through skin and flannel. Jackson inhaled deeply, drew the icy promise of winter into his lungs until the burned. It smelled of woods and water and sky. Of freedom and the warm, pulsing musk of prey.
And of something else. Something familiar.
Jackson went still, head cocked to one side as awareness sliced through him.
He smelled her before he saw her. Like warmth and the unique fragrance of a woman in heat. Like arousal and hunger. Beside him, Ben echoed his stillness—but he didn’t linger in it. Didn’t roll himself in it like Jackson wanted to, didn’t give chase. Every inch of Jackson’s skin tingled.
Hunger swelled inside his flesh, gripped his wolf by the throat until he had to swallow back the urge to growl.
Ben made a thoughtful sound. “Nico’s got her running the land.”
“Yeah.” A rasp.
The other man ran a hand through the air, as if he’d pluck the currents of her scent from it. “And she’s running hot.”
Jackson grunted.
Hot and sweet and like a beacon. He’d be able to track her from anywhere. Could all but taste her on his tongue. Feel her under him. All her soft flesh and desperate urging. What would it be like to pin her against the earth, sink his cock into her as the forest loomed around them? A damned sight different than letting her ride him back in those other woods, that was for sure.
Ben shot him a steady eyebrow. “You can’t keep getting in her way.”
“I know,” Jackson replied between gritted teeth.
“Does your wolf?”
“Barely.”
Ben’s chuckle was dark, a baritone humor undercut by more calm than Jackson could scrape together. Fucking deep waters. “Explains why you’re still here with me instead of out there prying Damien’s puppy eyes off her ass.”
What would her wolf look like? Light fur? Dark? Tipped like Damien’s or brown like most American-bred breeds?
What would her fur feel like? Soft and silky or rough and thick?
It took more effort than he liked, but Jackson pulled his gaze away from the line of trees she ran through. “Why aren’t I prying you off her ass?”
Ben shook his head, his own eyes flicking to the forest. He rolled his shoulders in an idle stretch, easing the tension Jackson hadn’t realized crept into his muscles until then. “She’s sweet. Fucking incredible,” he admitted when Jackson snorted. “But it’s not right between us.”
“And that’s it?”
“That’s it,” Ben said. When Jackson said nothing, the other man and clapped him on the shoulder. “I can’t explain it. You know or you don’t.”
“And you know.”
“Yeah.”
Another gust of wind dragged through the trees, bringing with it the sound of a brittle branches, falling leaves.
And a long, wild howl. Liquid silver, smooth and haunting and hungry.
The hair on his nape prickled. The skin drawn tight over his muscles shifted ever so faintly. His wolf clawed at his restraints, snarled and frothed and strained with everything it had to take over, to shift and run and chase and hunt.
And hard on the heels of her fragrance, the whiplash scent of their alpha followed.
Ben sighed. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He flung a hand to the forest spread out behind them. “If you’re so keen on going nose to nose with Nico, go.”
It was all the push he needed. Jackson leapt into a sprint, already stripping off his shirt. Heedless of the cold, the brittle ground, the frigid sky, he shed his clothes and allowed the change to take his body—flesh and bone, heart and soul, until four paws hit the earth and the world took on stunning, vivid life around him.
And through the center, colored in ways humans would never know, Natalie’s scent. Beckoning. Drawing him.
Drawing them both—two male wolves with a desperate desire to claim.
Run, he thought, and tipped his muzzle to the sky.
* * *
Nico didn’t corral her. She could feel him, smell and sense him in the woods around her, but he didn’t shepherd her, didn’t force her the way he wanted her to go. Natalie wasn’t sure if she expected him to, or if she wanted him to, or if she thrilled in the freedom he gave her.
It didn’t matter. She ran through the Lost River Valley and let the smell, the colors painted in fragrance and sound, envelope her. The wind smelled like snow from the distant mountains, like the deepest recesses of the forest clasped lovingly between the valley walls. The earth beneath her paws, the sharper odor of grass and brush as she forged through it, the vibrant sense of life surrounding her filled her from nose to tail, wrapped her in it, cradled her.
She’d have sticks and mud clinging to her tawny brown fur when she was done, but Natalie didn’t care. This was freedom; this land, this sky, this speed as she darted between the trees. She tipped her face up and howled in joy.
An answering echo merged with her throaty cry—a long, rippling harmony that forced its way under her fur, clawed into her skin and left her shaking, shuddering, in response.
That wasn’t Nico. That was another wolf.
Another male. One she knew?
One she didn’t?
The feel of the alpha at her back, the pressure that whipped through the trees and curled into her senses, altered. Grew heavier.
She leapt over a fallen trunk, paused on the other side and cocked an ear. Her nostrils flared—instinct urged her to run, flee, force the males who hunted her to tear the ground up on a merry chase.
Make them work for her.
Make them hunger.
Mate. She wanted it. Wanted to be run to the ground, wanted to know that the males on her tail could.
Her ears flicked as bracken cracked in the distance. Birds chirped in cheerful accompaniment, and the sound of their wings as they fluttered peppered the thrumming forest. She could smell everything, taste everything on her tongue—the tiny creatures burrowing in for the winter. The wolf pack who’d passed through this part of the Valley a few days prior.
The werewolves who closed in without fear.
Her teeth bared, a wolfish grin. Shaking herself hard, Natalie darted through a knot of thick oak and tangled thorns. She moved with a surety that her human body lacked, agile form and thick fur brushing through undergrowth as if it was made of water.
The air thickened. Grew warmer. The pressure of the alpha as he closed in heightened.
Challenged the other male who dared to trespass.
Let them try. Natalie gloried in the chase. Loved that they chased her for the want of it—the want of her—not to take her freedom. Nothing could take her freedom now. This was air and sky and the fresh scent of water ahead. This was the welcome of nature, the comfort of home.
She backtracked, circled back on her own trail until the scent of it cut through theirs. Nico’s was easy to pick out—brisk and strong, like open fields and crackling storms. The second was different in her wolfish nose, but something about it earned her attention. Stalled her in the path of it, panting deeply.
Forest upon forest, cool and shadowed.
Jackson.
Her tail hiked. Her heart sped in her breast. Want. She wanted. Was he the one?
Was this the test her wolf demanded?
Another howl tore through the woods, answered by a closer challenge that had the birds around them taking wing. The cacophony filled her sensitive ears, but the scent around her altered. Changed.
Nico’s scent.
Her skin prickled. The birdsong went still, and she crouched in wary patience as even the warm-blooded creatures nestled in their hollows froze.
Ma
le to male. Dominance. Challenge.
For her.
Run.
It wasn’t a fight. It was a race. They were racing to her, and Natalie leapt in delight—in fierce pleasure. Her paws thundered on the earth, her heart echoed in wild refrain. Wind battered at her, rippled through her fur, but it wasn’t cold. It was fresh. Goading.
Home.
God, could it be?
The smell of water merged with the sound of it, and she tore out of a copse of trees to find a small creek bubbling across her path. It smelled fresh and clean. She dropped her nose into it, lapped at the crystal clear liquid and thrilled to find it tasted like heaven.
Here. This was where she’d make her stand.
This was where she’d face them.
It didn’t take her any effort to shift back. She’d always found changing form easy, and as she rose to her feet, gloriously naked, she tipped her face to the sky and raised her hands. The sun streamed through the clearing, dappled the creek and painted her skin in diamonds.
With her wolfish senses dampened by her human body, she didn’t hear them approach. Didn’t realize they’d both arrived until Nico and Jackson stepped out of the ring of trees simultaneously—one from each side. They had already shifted back to form. Like her, they were naked, unabashed.
Beautiful.
Jackson with his broad body, heavy muscles and sculpted strength. Nico, shorter but no less defined, with effortless muscle control. Both were hard, unashamed of their erections; they wanted her. Her. In all her glory. Both stared at her—deeply green and wolfish white and black. Hunger battered at her.
She cupped her breasts in each hand. Stroked her own nipple with a thumb and shuddered when it set sparks through her belly.
They approached on bare feet, soundless on the earth, but it was Jackson who hesitated first. He glanced at Nico, fingers twitching before they closed into fists. “Alpha,” he said hoarsely.
Acknowledgement. Deference.
The strongest among them.
Nico’s mouth curled into the lazy smile she no longer assumed meant he was weak. The heat of his skin shimmered in front of her eyes, the feel of him—the weight of him—battered at her senses. He wasn’t weak. He was careful. Controlled.
Aware of the way he affected those around him.
He could take her, take whatever he wanted, and she knew in that moment as he stared at her that she’d never complain. His wolf could dominate her so thoroughly that she’d never even think herself trapped.
A trap in itself.
She raised her chin. Locked her knees when they shook.
Nico’s eyes trailed over her. Skimmed from her lips, which tingled, to the column of her throat. The sweep of her clavicle, the heavy spill of her breasts cradled in her own hands. His eyes shimmered. “What do you want, Natalie?” His voice wrapped around her, a low, velvet thrum. Almost a growl. Teasing. Knowing.
A knot formed in her belly. “Both of you.”
Jackson’s voice strangled in a grunt, but he didn’t move. Every muscle in his body vibrated with the effort to close the distance between them, to overtake his alpha—she could see the toll it took on his face. In his taut skin.
But he waited.
“How?” Nico pressed.
Her throat dried. Her fingers plucked at her nipple, until she shuddered. “I want…” The images assailed her all at once. Nico’s cock inside her, Jackson’s in her throat. Just like the twins, but harder. More.
But what could be more?
She shook her head, her hands stilling.
“How?”
She closed her eyes as Nico’s growl lashed out. “Oh, God,” she groaned. “I— I want something different.”
Jackson eased out a shuddering breath. “What did the twins do, Natalie?”
“Alek…in my mouth,” she whispered. The breeze skated over her bare skin, dragged cool fingers across her heated flesh. Her sex twitched. “Damien in my…my pussy.”
“Beautiful,” Nico murmured. “What else do you fantasize about?”
She couldn’t say it. Didn’t have the words. Them, on her. In her. All over her.
“She wanted to know about what we’d do to her ass,” Jackson said, his voice throttled into strangled calm. She opened her eyes to find him searching her face, cords on his throat standing out. “She’s never tried it.”
“Just what you did,” she admitted. His tongue at that part of her, licking at her, was unbearable by itself. She couldn’t imagine more.
“Is that true?”
She sucked in a breath. Nodded.
Nico held out a hand. “Come here.”
More than just a hand. More than a command. That hand held her future.
Summoning every ounce of courage she had—every iota of control she had left—she forced her body to move. Forced her legs to carry her, shaking and desperate, until she could slide her hand into his.
His fingers closed over hers. Slowly, like he had all the time in the world, he brought her hand to his lips. Slid his tongue over her knuckles.
Between her fingers.
“Do you understand what it means to be caught by me?”
She’d never expected the fine skin between her fingers to be so sensitive. She shuddered. “Yes.”
“You’re prepared?”
She took a slow, shaking breath. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “But I want it. I want to feel like you can’t get enough.” Over Nico’s shoulder, Jackson’s jaw strained as he tipped his face up, tore his gaze from her and closed his eyes.
Was it jealousy?
Was it an effort at control?
She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that the smell of them, powerfully aroused and so uniquely male, rolled over her body, eased into places she desperately wanted them to touch. Her sex pulsed in time with her heartbeat, tingled as the breeze caressed her skin.
“Oh,” Nico drawled. “Don’t worry. Whether here…” He tugged her gently forward, sidestepped with her until she faced Jackson, her back pressed against Nico’s chest. “…Or in the cabin…” The hot, slick jut of his cock nestled between her naked cheeks. “Anywhere. We’re never going to get enough of you.”
The thought should have frightened her. The promise implicit, that they’d never let her go, felt too much like a threat.
But Natalie relished it. She sank her hands into Nico’s sides, eased her palms down his flank until he shuddered against her. “Yes,” she breathed.
Nico’s long fingers wrapped around her throat, cradling her against him with firm resolve. “Look at him, Natalie.” His fingers bit into her cheeks, forced her gaze to Jackson. “Look at how badly he wants you.”
There was no way to hide it—no way Jackson would try. She knew the taste of his cock, knew every line against her tongue, in her body, but the way he faced her, erection strong and proud, no apology or fear, never failed to amp up her own arousal. He jammed his hands behind him, causing muscles to ripple across his chest. “Alpha,” he growled. A reminder as much as a question.
Nico chuckled against her ear. One hand reached around her to pluck at her nipple. This time, she couldn’t hide it—her gasp spilled into the clearing like glass on velvet. “That’s it,” he breathed. “Don’t hide your voice. I want to hear your reactions, Natalie. Every last one.”
Jackson’s fists were white at he knuckles, seared through his tanned skin with violent effort. She could see the toll his patience took on every line of his body, but he waited. His gaze seared her skin. His cock twitched as she arched into Nico’s hand.
“Tell me how you want it,” Nico whispered.
She opened her mouth. Cried out when he palmed her breast, squeezed hard enough to sting.
But the sound that spilled from her only bordered on human.
“More,” she groaned. It cracked as his other hand tightened around her throat. “Fast. Hard,” she panted. “Hot. Now.”
“Jackson?”
“Finally,” the other man snarled,
savage accompaniment to the straining effort of his control. He surged forward, taut muscle and leashed hunger, and she reached for him even as she pushed back against Nico. The alpha steadied them both as they came together, his chest to her back, Jackson’s heavy muscle to her breasts. With Nico’s hand taut around her throat, Jackson wasted no time to cup her sex, sliding his fingers through her already wet curls and into her body.
She almost choked on her cry, but let it out when Nico’s teeth nipped at her ear. His other hand left her breast, but flattened at the small of her back. Pushed just enough that more of her weight settled against him, forced her hips slightly forward just as Jackson rammed two fingers so far into her body that his knuckles bumped her clit and sent her reeling.
“God, you’re wet,” he muttered.
Nico growled his approval, even as his hand eased over her tailbone. Skimmed the cleft between the flesh of her backside, and nudged the fingers Jackson already had inside her.
Were they going to touch? Inside her? They were only fingers, but the thought of it—the feel of Nico’s fingers sliding inside her, slick against Jackson’s as he thrust them in and out—was almost too much to bear. Her nails bit into Jackson’s shoulders as her body clamped down on all four fingers inside her. Two of Nico’s. Two of Jackson’s. Stretching her. Filling her.
Her knees buckled.
Jackson clamped an arm around her waist, held her upright. “Stand,” he ordered.
“Y-yes,” was all she managed as Nico coated his fingers in her. When he withdrew them, Jackson replaced them with his own, until he four fingers deep inside her.
And Nico’s wet fingertips touched the virgin ring of muscle at her ass.
His breath wafted over her cheek. “I’m going to put my fingers inside here,” he said roughly. “Slowly. One at a time.”
Natalie’s hands clenched against Jackson’s shoulders. “N-no…”
“Yes,” Nico corrected. His index finger tapped the flesh—she jumped.
Jackson forced his fingers deeper. Forced her to rise up on her tiptoes, riding his hand as if her body didn’t care what her brain was saying. “We’ll get you used to it first,” he said, and dipped his head to lick at the pulse hammering at her throat. Warm, wet, his tongue dragged over her skin and sent all her nerves dancing.