Mated for Keeps Boxed Set: a BBW Werewolf Shifter Romance (The Lost River Pack)

by Alexis Wilde

  Maybe he wasn’t her mate now. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be. That wouldn’t stop him from indulging every moment he had left.

  Jackson’s lips brushed hers. Lingered. Her mouth was soft underneath his, lips pliant. So sweet. The taste of her, the scent of her, filled his chest, his heart, until he couldn’t breathe without shuddering from the ache of it in his skin.

  But this wasn’t about him.

  Not completely.

  He wrapped one arm around her waist, tugged her back more firmly against his chest as he deepened the kiss. Her lips opened under his, a soft sound caught in her throat. Color flooded her cheeks as his tongue swept inside her mouth.

  Warm. Wet. Hot. An echo of the way he knew her body would feel around his fingers. His dick.

  God. Just the thought of it was enough to bring him to a raging hard-on.

  But it wasn’t about him.

  He lifted his head, a thrill of pure masculine pleasure rolling through him as her breath shuddered. Her eyes shone, brilliant and heavy-lidded, the sorrow she’d projected eased by the sheer overwhelming scent of lust on the air between them.

  He wrapped one hand loosely around her throat, a claim he couldn’t resist making. Her pulse hammered against his palm. “Jackson,” she breathed.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said against her temple. Easing his other hand around one soft, heavy breast, he kneaded her flesh until she moaned and leaned back against his chest. The sun slid over her like a caress, highlighting every expression, every breath. Every beautiful strand of her sable hair as it tumbled over her shoulder.

  She was beautiful.

  And he wanted to show her that.

  Jackson plucked at her nipple beneath her sweater. It was already hard, beaded into a tight little nub he couldn’t help but roll between his fingers. Her back arched, thrusting her breast into his hand. “Jackson,” she said again, a desperate note already turning it ragged.

  The desperation of heat probably already filled her. He could smell the mingled fragrance of his pack on her skin, and the sheer memory of her body writhing under them all was enough to strain the control he forced on himself. Just that, her scent, the lush feel of her pressed against him.

  Just everything.

  “God, you are perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot and damp against her ear. She shuddered. He didn’t lift her sweater, didn’t obey the sweet little sounds she made.

  Okay, this was maybe a little about him. About his desperate hunger to feel her clench around his fingers. To feel her drench his palm.

  His free hand slipped into the waistband of her jeans. Unsnapped it with a flick, and eased the zipper down.

  Natalie trembled.

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  He’d have to be made of stone not to smell the sudden pitch of her arousal as it spiked. Her pulse slammed hard in her throat as color swept all the way past her jaw. Into her neck.

  She’d blush all the way to her sweet nipples.

  His hand flattened at the smooth, soft flesh of her abdomen. “Say it, Natalie. Say you want to ride my fingers.” Her head fell back on his shoulder, her hands clenched into his thighs behind her. “Say you want me to pleasure you. That you want to come.”

  “Oh, God,” she gasped.

  “Say it,” he whispered, and flicked his tongue over the shell of her ear.

  She jumped. “Please.” Another gasp. “Please t-touch me. It aches so much.”

  Yeah. He knew the feeling.

  Jackson’s hand slipped deeper into her open pants, eased into the curls already made damp by her arousal. She didn’t bother with underwear. He appreciated that.

  “Like this,” he growled, one finger sliding between the swollen folds of her pussy. She parted for him like a dream, eased back against him with such trust that it took his breath away. She was every bit as hot as he’d expected, every bit as wet.

  So much more intense.

  “Y-yes,” she whispered. “Like…like that.”

  He slipped the very tip of his finger into her, crooked it just enough that the trembling flesh tightened around him. She sagged against his chest, until all that kept her upright was his arm.

  A second finger forced a moan from her lips.

  Jackson shuddered. “So perfect,” he whispered, easing both fingers deeper inside her flesh. Slick and soft, it clamped tightly around him with velvet force.

  “J-Jackson, please—”

  He crooked his fingers. Dragged the tips against her G-spot until she jerked, grasped his wrist and held him there. She cried out when he added a third.

  “Ride me,” he rasped. “Move your hips—yes,” he hissed as she obeyed. Her body arched, head falling back against his shoulder as she rode his fingers, ground herself into his hand with small, panting gasps.

  “Good girl.” He held her steady, supported her upright while watching her lose her senses to the pleasure he plucked inside her. His thumb skated over her clit, and she snapped her teeth closed on a sudden cry.

  Not yet. She wasn’t there yet. Her muscles clamped on his fingers, her body dripped into his hand, and he thought he’d explode if he didn’t bury himself balls deep inside her right fucking now, but he didn’t.

  Not yet.

  First, her pleasure.

  She tipped her face up, pressed her lips against his jaw and then nipped the skin. “More,” she groaned. “Jackson, please, I want—”

  Crash! Glass shattered, cracking through the sublime heat of her surrender with the force of icy water. Natalie jerked. Jackson swore, slipping his hand from her pants. Without thinking, he hauled her one-armed behind him. Held her steady when she wobbled.

  The dull thud of something heavy hitting the floor vibrated through the soles of his shoes.

  Jackson’s guts clenched. The primal need to mate shifted abruptly to the visceral need to protect, and his throat expanded on a growl that leaked from between his clenched teeth.

  Behind him, Natalie’s hands clenched in his shirt. Her sharply drawn breath ended on a whispered note of fear. “Victor.”

  Yeah. He smelled the bastard, too. Every fucking nerve in his skin sizzled to violent fury. Tear, hunt, kill. The instinct welled up in him, until the seams of his shirt stretched across his swelling skin.

  Natalie’s palms flattened against his back, the sound of her heartbeat rapid and afraid in his sensitive ears.

  With impatient hands, Jackson stripped off his shirt. Tore the jeans he struggled out of, even as his limbs fought his control and began to shift.

  Footsteps—padded and clawed—pounded down the hall. The scent of Victor’s trespass flooded Jackson’s nose. His lungs.

  His rage.

  They’d been betrayed. And there was nobody else here to protect Natalie but Jackson.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A large, shaggy brown wolf tore through the study door. Wood splintered as the thick, muscled weight of the Yellow Canyon alpha took a part of the frame with him.

  Jackson was already mid-shift as he sprung to intercept the wild alpha, tearing him out of the air before he cleared the study.

  Her heart pounded in her chest, in her throat. Fear glued her feet to the floor, but fear for Jackson glued her eyes to the tangle of fur and fang and tearing limbs rolling across the rug. It shredded like so much paper beneath the claws both wielded.

  They collided like bulls, a heavy impact of muscle that sent Jackson’s gray body flying back over the couch, disintegrating the coffee table in his wake. The wolf yelped in high, strangled surprise and fury as Victor’s shaggy head turned to her.

  Her stomach pitched. But it wasn’t all ice and terror.

  Something bloomed under her fear, something warmed the base of her senses. The fringes of her awareness.

  Under her skin, deep in her flesh, her wolf began to growl.

  Victor wasted no time. He tore across the study, tearing deep furrows into the wood, and leapt with teeth bared.

  Too late, Natalie realized
his intent. Seize her, by throat or by her chest, and force them both through the glass window behind her. Whatever the wounds he inflicted, she’d heal.

  And she’d be in no condition to fight.

  But the thing welling up inside her, the hunger that bloomed with sudden, vicious claws, batted away her frozen fear. She moved because the wolf inside her moved, twisted because the beast she carried howled.

  The sound spilled out from her chest, welled in her mouth and erupted in a scream that almost masked the sound of her fist as it drove into the springing alpha’s throat. Fur splayed, gristle popped and cartilage bent as the heavy werewolf’s momentum drove him so far against Natalie’s fist that his own howl strangled.

  Victor hit the floor, writhing in pain—but it wouldn’t last. Surprise and pain were easily overcome, and she hadn’t done more than give him pause.

  Pain blossomed through Natalie’s arm. Her own surprise warred with the savagery of her own wolf, the ripple of her own skin as she snarled.

  But she was still human enough, still Natalie enough, to scramble back from the snapping jaws inches from her legs.

  “Jackson!” she screamed.

  He was already moving.

  He leapt from behind the fallen couch, pounced upon Victor just as the alpha shook himself back to his paws. Teeth gleamed in the sunlight, blood sprayed like rubies as fangs sank deep and tore a chunk of flesh from Jackson’s shoulder.

  Natalie clutched at the window sill behind her, fingers so white the wood groaned beneath her grip. Her throat was dry. Her heart pounded.

  Her wolf threw back its head inside her mind and howled in vicious delight.

  This. This is what she wanted. Natalie stared as Jackson’s muscles clenched, as back legs sank and went taut. Growls and snarls and yelps filled the study, the splintering of wood, the viscerally awful sound of flesh tearing, of blood splattering.

  This was what it was to be claimed. To be fought for.

  To be earned.

  Jackson barreled into Victor, the meaty sound of muscle against muscle straining. Victor snapped his head around, inches from Jackson’s muzzle, and his back paws pulled up and tore at Jackson’s belly.

  Blood flew.

  Jackson snarled, a savage challenge. He leapt away from the alpha’s snapping jaws, nails scraping over the scarred wood floor as he positioned himself between Natalie and the enemy.

  His sides heaved, breath panting as blood dripped to the floor.

  Natalie’s hands clapped over her mouth, sealing the desperate cry before it drew Jackson’s attention away from the real threat.

  Saliva dripped from Victor’s jaws. Foam flecked at his lips as his eyes, yellow and alien and simmering with fury, pinned on her.

  The sound of voices echoed from the front yard. The wind wailed through the broken window, carrying with the fragrance of the mixed packs as it whistled down the hall and curled into the study.

  Reinforcements.

  But Jackson didn’t wait. As Natalie screamed for Nico, for Alek and Ben and Damien, both wolves dug their claws into the floor and launched themselves at each other. The sound they made was like thunder in Natalie’s senses. Blood splattered the floor as the first boots pounded down the hall.

  Natalie’s scream turned high and wild as Victor flipped Jackson over onto his back, teeth flashing inches from his throat—but as Nico tore through the door, pale wolf eyes wild—Jackson got his hind feet under Victor’s belly. Launched the older wolf up with a rabbit kick that sent the alpha twisting in mid-air.

  Before Nico could intervene, before Alek and Damien could even get around their alpha, Jackson threw himself on Victor. Rode him all the way down to the floor, slammed his body into the bookshelf behind them so hard that books thudded to the floor around them.

  But Victor’s fangs found flesh. A red stain dotted the bookshelf, painted the ground. Filled the room with the tang of copper.

  Everything went still.

  Natalie reeled. A hole opened inside her heart that froze even her wolf in place, empty and yawning and aching. Pain blossomed inside her stomach, stole the strength from her legs. She folded, buried her head in her arms as the smell of Jackson’s blood invaded her nose. Her heart.

  Her deepest fears.

  She didn’t realize the high, keening wail searing through the library sunshine belonged to her until rough, familiar hands dipped past her shoulders. Caught her jaw and pulled her head up with hard, unyielding force. “Stop. Look.” Ben’s voice. Dark. Deep.

  Commanding.

  Natalie fought him, but a second set of hands caught her wrists, forced her arms down even as Ben pulled her to her feet.

  Damien’s grip bit. “You need to see,” he insisted.

  She couldn’t. She didn’t want to. Her eyes, wide and aching, burned with tears she didn’t dare shed.

  Across the room, Alek flanked Nico. His pale eyes touched on her face. His mouth eased into a softened line. Pity?

  Sympathy?

  Oh, God.

  “Look, Natalie,” Nico said softly.

  “Jesus Christ.” Cameron’s voice was sharp in the door behind Nico and Alek. Of everything else, it was his gasp, his strangled sound of mingled disgust and fury, that got through to her.

  With Ben’s palms warm at her cheeks and Damien’s fingers interlacing with hers, with the solid weight of both on either side, Natalie took a shaking breath.

  And looked.

  What she saw took the muzzle off her wolf so fast, nobody in the room had time to cope. Jackson’s jaws were clamped around Victor’s throat, pinning the big wolf to the floor with an intensity that belied the blood matting Jackson’s fur.

  The smell of it, the wet heat of blood and sweat and musk, tangled in her senses, flooded her body.

  It smelled of challenges won. Of victory.

  Of raw masculine strength.

  Ben hissed, letting her go so suddenly that it was like her skin burned him. Damien’s eyes snapped wide, and across the room, Alek barked sharply, “Dema!”

  The younger twin let her go.

  Just in time.

  Natalie saw nothing but Jackson.

  Nico reached over and caught Cameron by the collar. He jerked the wolf close enough that they were nose to nose, aggression to aggression. “I have every right to murder him right here,” he snarled.

  Cameron very slowly lifted his hands to the side. Behind him, Nicholas did the same. “If you do, we’ll swear it was in the right.”

  Natalie crossed the study on steady feet. Her heart slammed a rhythm echoed in her body. Heat flooded her. Infected her. Stripped everything away from her but one, singular goal—mate.

  Jackson’s ears twitched. With a last, savage shake on the flesh trapped between his jaws, he let Victor go. Clambered fully to his feet, limping faintly as he turned to face her.

  Blood stained his muzzle. And then, as he shifted back to skin and muscle and man, blood slicked his rock hard abs. His powerful thighs.

  Ragged furrows already knitted, but Natalie didn’t care. Didn’t wait.

  These scars, these bloody wounds, were a mark of his effort for her. To save her, to protect her.

  She licked her lips as her skin all but sizzled from wanting. “Now,” she said, a ragged urge. “Jackson. Now.”

  The color of his eyes darkened, the green of a forest caught in a lightning storm. Energy crackled between them, skittered over her skin. She was deeply aware of the other men int he room, of their scents and warmth—of the energy that filled them, the power that made them what they were—but none shone to her as strongly as the one that fought so hard.

  Jackson.

  His body stirred. His cock hardened as if her gaze was a hand that stroked over him, and then he didn’t wait, either. With two powerful strides, he reached her, sank rough hands into her sweater and tore it off her body.

  It exposed her to the eyes of the wolves who watched, and the scent of mingled arousal joined that of blood and musk, but it only m
ade it better.

  Made it more right.

  “Jesus fuck,” Cameron whispered. “A mating.”

  “A real mating,” Nicholas echoed, his voice ragged with awe.

  Let them watch. Let her new pack and the old watch as she gave herself completely to Jackson King, werewolf of the Lost River Valley.

  Let them taste it on the air as she stepped out of the shredded remains of the jeans he tore off her and climbed over his body with savage, sweet hunger. “Take me,” she whispered.

  “Right here,” he promised. His voice trembled. His muscles firmed as he wrapped one arm under her backside and lifted her bodily into his arms with inhuman ease. Her thighs wrapped around his waist, opening herself for the cock he dragged across her flesh. Sparklers lit up inside her skin.

  But this wasn’t the time for foreplay. She didn’t want to wait, didn’t want anything but his cock inside her sex, his teeth at her throat. His hands on her skin.

  With a tilt of her hips, she dug her heels into the firm muscles of his ass and impaled herself on his erection. Her flesh stretched, slick around him. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as cords in his throat went taut.

  His breath hissed out on a groan, muffled as she took his mouth in a kiss that left no room between them. He grasped her hips, strained to meet the fervor of her tongue, fought against the limit of their own flesh as though he’d taste her from the inside out. Her lips. Her breath. The wetness between her legs.

  Her muscles clamped on his cock as he lifted her, only to slam her back down against him. She threw back her head, tearing her mouth away, as her voice broke on a cry of such pleasure that even Cameron stared at her with wonder.

  She could feel his gaze on her. On the way sweat gleamed on her skin. The way the blood staining Jackson’s flesh rubbed off on her.

  And it was perfect.

  Jackson sank to his knees, guided her down on him and drove his hips upward to match the frenzied claim of her body. Again and again, his cock stretched her, filled her. Slid against the walls of her body until her muscles shuddered, until she couldn’t breathe, until her nails raked down his back and Jackson snarled in mingled pleasure and pain.