by Ranae Rose
“Me too.” Finally, her voice was working again. No way was she walking back to the cabin in her torn-up sweater, which barely hung low enough to cover her ass, not to mention the more sensitive flesh that was tingling between her thighs – damp, and not just because she’d fallen into the stream. Her panties had been lost in the fiasco and were probably a mile downstream by now, floating in a cluster of little pieces like a school of cotton minnows.
“That’s probably for the best – those wet clothes will make you sick if you don’t get out of them.”
More heat crept into her cheeks, but she didn’t look away. “Yeah.” That was true too. As a wolf, she’d have a fur coat to insulate her against the late-autumn chill. A wet one, but still. Though she was loath to remove herself from his grip, she transformed. No way did she want to spend the rest of her day with him fighting off a cold, waiting for night to come and the moon to heal her.
He did the same and even in their animal forms, he towered over her.
A pang of admiration shot through her as she took in his powerful frame, bulky with muscle and thick, black hair. He smacked of strength and fierceness, but his dark eyes looked intelligent.
She hadn’t been looking at those when he’d rushed at her, though. All she’d seen was a gigantic animal barreling toward her. She’d scarcely had time to wonder about its identity before she’d fallen. On the way down she’d almost had a heart attack. Even now, her pulse beat more quickly than usual, though to be fair, the kiss had contributed to that as well. Why had he been in such a hurry, anyway, and why had he assumed his animal form and left his clothing behind?
He started toward the cabin and she walked at his side, leaving the remains of her ruined outfit behind. He moved at a steady clip that was nearly a run, and though she would’ve liked to think that he was simply eager to reach the cabin and pick up where they’d left off, another shiver crept down her spine, telling her that something was wrong.
* * * * *
“Everyone’s accounted for.”
Ronnie breathed a sigh of relief as his grandfather’s voice resounded, speaking the exact words he’d wanted to hear. “Good.” He loosened his grip on the phone a little. “I’ve got Violet here – she’s fine. I’ll give you another call as soon as I have an update from work. Make sure everyone stays inside until then.”
The tribe was safe for now, each member accounted for. Ronnie exhaled slowly, allowing the tension that’d built up inside him to slow from a boil to a simmer. In all probability, the morning’s events were only a coincidence and the stark sense of alarm they’d incited would blow over before the day was out. Still, he’d better call Jack.
He didn’t have to explain much to Jack, just told him about what had happened that morning with the bear and warned him to be wary, just in case.
Calling work was different. Alarm reared its ugly head again as he dialed Hargrove’s personal number – if anyone would be willing to talk, it’d be him.
“Sweetwater.” Hargrove’s voice rang over the connection, too loud, as always.
“Hargrove. Any new information on the bear?”
“Blake and Armstrong just took a guy into custody.”
Ronnie’s heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Some hiker. No permit to carry the weapon he shot the bear with. They found the gun concealed in his backpack.”
It was illegal to carry a concealed handgun without a proper permit, and even then, it was still a crime to discharge one inside a national park. Which meant that a criminal investigation would be launched and the supposed hiker wouldn’t be allowed back out onto the trails anytime soon. Ronnie’s heart began to slow, though suspicion still leant an edge to his voice. “Why’d he do it?”
“I don’t know. Listen, I’ll call ya back when I find out.”
“Fine.”
“If you don’t answer, I’ll understand.” It was easy to imagine the stupid grin that was probably splitting Hargrove’s face, one that could practically be heard over the phone.
“I’ll answer.”
“You sure you don’t have anything better to do on your day off?”
“Just don’t forget to call me, Hargrove.” Ronnie ended the connection before Hargrove could crack another joke. After his phone emitted a tiny beep and the screen went black, Hargrove’s voice rang in his ears and the cabin seemed quieter than ever. The only sound was the soft rush of falling water, white noise that drifted from behind the bathroom door as Violet showered.
A wave of heat swept over Ronnie as he remembered her dripping wet with spring water, her hair plastered to her cheeks and her torn clothing clinging to her body. So cold, and yet, so hot at the same time. His palms tingled as he remembered gripping her and his lips felt like they were still swollen from contact with hers. He swept the tip of his tongue over the edge of his lower lip, hungry for stolen sweetness.
He tasted only himself.
As he took a step toward the hallway, his bare feet were silent against the floorboards. “Violet?” He approached the door, a bolt of sensation shooting straight to his cock as he imagined her beyond it, behind the shower curtain, naked in a downpour of hot water and steam. Was she still cold from her accidental dip in the stream? He could warm her, could make her forget that it had even happened…
His cellphone rested on the counter, only a few yards from the bathroom, beside his landline phone. He’d hear them if they rang. There was no reason to wait beside them.
“Violet?”
Again, no response.
He cracked open the bathroom door and steam billowed out, coating his face with heat and moisture. “Violet?”
“Ronnie?” Her voice drifted from within, sending another wave of desire through him, intensifying his craving.
“Can I come in?” Maybe it was uncouth, but after the kiss he wouldn’t – couldn’t – just pretend that it hadn’t happened, that his cock wasn’t hard as steel and aching so badly that he wanted to curse.
“Yeah.” Her reply was short and sweet – all he needed.
No clothing lay on the floor, not even her shredded sweater and camisole. She’d left them behind in the woods and traveled back to the cabin in her wolf form, remaining that way as she’d hurried into bathroom, intent on washing the chill of mountain water from her body. Had she only been cold, or had she been embarrassed after the kiss, reluctant to transform in front of him and let him see all the bare skin and soft curves he’d been fantasizing about for weeks?
He’d let her retreat to the shower alone, knowing it was his duty to inform his tribe and Jack’s pack about the possible danger and to discover what he could before he did anything else. But it had hurt – actually hurt – to force himself to stand a room away from her, dialing numbers as he relived the kiss again and again, savoring the remembered taste. God, the taste… His mouth flooded with moisture at just the thought.
“Is everything okay?” Her voice was a note or two higher than usual, whether with worry, nerves or embarrassment, it was impossible to tell.
“There’s been some trouble at work, on park land.”
“Is that why you rushed at me in the woods?”
“Yes.” Damn it, his voice was getting lower by the second, roughening, threatening to dip into a growl. She was only a couple feet away from him. He could just picture her standing behind the curtain, wearing nothing but water and steam. He’d been imagining her that way for weeks. As he stood there, palms burning with the urge to lay hands on her, it occurred to him, vaguely, that she might be intimidated when she saw him. He hadn’t dressed after transforming and his naked body was flooded with the effects of their kiss. His cock reached for her, harder than it had ever been. “I was worried about you,” he forced himself to say instead of simply peeling back the curtain.
“What happened?” She still sounded concerned, and why wouldn’t she be after what she’d endured along with him and her pack only a few short weeks ago? She’d faced the danger and fought, just like
he had. Remembering made him want her even more.
“A man shot a wild animal. A bear. Not a shifter,” he said, just to be clear. “But rangers have taken him into custody. That’s all I know at this point.”
“You were afraid it might have been a shifter hunter,” she said.
“Yeah. Better safe than sorry – I wanted you out of the woods right away.”
“Does Jack know? And your family?”
He nodded before realizing that she couldn’t see. God, how he wanted to change that. “Yeah. I called them all and warned them to stay inside, just in case.
“Oh.” Her reply was a small sound, nearly lost in the dull roar of the shower flow.
A silence alleviated only by the rush of falling water stretched for several moments, then the slightest of noises came – a little scraping that sent a surge of anticipation straight through Ronnie’s heart. The sound was that of rings sliding over the shower rod and clinking against each other as slender fingers curled around the edge of the curtain, gripping its edge and pulling it back.
Violet extended her hand, her fingertips dripping as she reached for him.
Chapter 4
As he took her hand and let her pull him toward the shower, something potent surged through his veins – not lust, but something more. A desire edged with both longing and possession. She was meant for him, wolf or not, and every fiber of his being knew it. Suppressing the urge to leap inside the shower, he stepped carefully over the tub wall instead.
All the air rushed from his lungs as he stood beside her, his hand still gripping hers. When he inhaled again, his lungs burnt as if he’d just run for miles. It felt like he’d been chasing after her for that long. Finally, he had her exactly where he wanted her. When he’d imagined this moment it had taken place in his bed, but this would do just fine. For starters.
She gazed back at him, her blue eyes wide as she stood in the shower spray, water streaming over her flattened brown locks and dripping from her body – from her eyelashes, jaw and nipples. It washed over the round curves of her breasts and fell from their pink tips like rain. Suddenly, he was thirsty.
She made the smallest of movements toward him, her feet sliding against the floor of the tub as she steadied herself with a hand against the shower wall.
Instinctively, he reached for her, placing his hands on her hips and leaning down, his calves bumping the tub walls as he lowered his head.
Sweetness danced on the tip of his tongue as he slipped it into her mouth, revisiting the same honeyed hollow that had sent him to the edge of bliss when he’d kissed her by the stream. The taste that had greeted him then flooded his senses again, shocking in its richness, its deliciousness. It was like honey, but at the same time, it wasn’t. It was stronger, wilder and definitely sweeter. It was better than he’d dared to hope, more addictive than he’d ever imagined. How had he never known that something – someone – could taste so good? He’d known since childhood that bear shifters identified their destined mates by taste – specifically, the taste of honey. What he hadn’t known was that ‘honey’, while comparable, only began to describe what one’s mate really tasted like.
She leaned into his arms, pressing her body against his and shocking him out of his astonishment, out of the kiss. Damp, their lips slid apart as her breasts met his torso, slick with hot water. Their stiff tips rubbed against his abs and sent a shiver of delight down his spine. The feeling pooled at the base of it, causing the muscles in his hips to burn with the desire to move, to thrust. But not yet – not when there was more of her to taste and curiosity simmered inside him, inciting a bone-deep need to explore his newfound mate.
He stooped lower, his knees slipping a little against the floor of the tub as he knelt. Slowly, he slid his hands from her hips, moving them further down her thighs. Faint tremors coursed through her legs as he leaned forward, his fingertips denting her flesh as he gripped her firmly. If he did this right, he’d have to hold her steady.
Hair grew over her pussy in the shape of a chocolate-brown triangle, darkened a shade more by wetness. Beneath, her folds were wet too – with more than water, hopefully. If she felt anything like he did, if the mating urge was affecting her as strongly … well, moisture would’ve been streaming down her thighs whether she’d been in the shower or not. The way she gasped when he parted his lips and let his breath rush against her sex said that she did, that it was.
She shuddered when he pressed his mouth against her pussy.
So did he. He couldn’t help it, though he was careful to maintain his grip on her thighs, ready to steady her if she should fall. Slowly, he slid his tongue along her seam. His cock grew even harder when he detected the taste of honey, thick and rich, all over her slick skin. With a groan he couldn’t have suppressed if he’d wanted to, he pressed the tip of his tongue against her entrance, delving inside.
Honeyed ambrosia teased his taste buds, causing his mouth to water so severely that saliva dampened his lips and chin, quickly washed away by shower water and her sweet wetness as he pushed deeper, letting his teeth and lips rub flush against her skin. At his urging, she opened her legs a little wider. He pressed his mouth as hard against her pussy as he could without actually biting and hurting her.
She gasped and leaned back with an arm against the wall, moving out of the shower spray, which fell directly on top of his head, soaking his hair and streaming over his face. Water trickled over his back and shoulders and down his arms, dripping from his elbows and probably splashing over the side of the tub. He didn’t give a damn. As she trembled, he ran his tongue up and down her honey-coated cleft, pausing only to pay special attention to her clit. He licked and nipped the little bud lightly, until he could practically feel it swelling against his tongue.
She breathed hard, almost panting, in a way that reminded him of her in her wolf form. Then she reached down and placed a hand on his head, burying her fingers in his hair, letting her nails rake his scalp as she tried to gather a fistful.
Raw sensation gripped him like a vice, making his cock throb with an ache so immediate that he shoved his tongue inside her again because it was the only thing he could think to do. Everything below his neck seemed to be paralyzed by sheer sensory overload and her taste dominated his thoughts, so unlike anything he’d ever encountered before. No wonder he’d longed for her – if he’d known what a taste of honey was truly like, he would’ve buried his tongue inside her shortly after laying eyes on her for the first time.
“Ronnie…” She sighed his name and tried to gather a handful of his hair again. It was too short, though he reveled in the way her fingernails scratched his skull, clutching at something they couldn’t capture. Each little scrape was another sign of her pleasure. He wanted – needed – to know that she was burning for him the way he was burning for her. Half the pleasure of the special mating urge was knowing that his newly-discovered other half felt the same way.
With another cry, she collapsed back against the wall and would’ve slid down to the bottom of the tub if he hadn’t supported her. Her pose of surrender put her pelvis at a perfect angle, tilting the damp underside of her pussy toward him.
He took advantage of it by abrading her folds roughly with his tongue, delving inside again, as far as he could go. Honey flooded his mouth and made his head spin as her hips bucked against his face, rocking the little pearl of her clit against his lips as her channel tightened around the tip of his tongue.
His groan was ragged, almost a growl, and still it didn’t drown out her gasps. She arched against the shower wall, thrusting her hips harder against his mouth, relying on him to support her. Her trust felt good. So did the feel of her soft, damp skin grinding against his lips. He could’ve used his mouth to make love to her that way all day if doing so hadn’t left him aching to take things farther. He persisted until the tremors that wracked her hips became faint trembling, and then even that was gone. When he pulled his mouth away from her pussy, she sighed.
He raised his h
ead to find her looking down at him with eyes that were wild under heavy lids. The evidence of the pleasure he’d given her was written all over her body – with her hair plastered to her flushed cheeks and wet shoulders, she looked perfectly disheveled. Her breasts rose and fell as she breathed more deeply than usual, still bracing herself against the wall. “You all right?” He was careful not to relinquish his hold on her, just in case she collapsed or slipped.
She nodded.
“Are you done showering?” Water was still beating down on him from overhead but he hardly noticed it anymore. Every few moments he blinked away the deluge so he could see her clearly.
Another nod.
He let his hands glide higher as he rose and wrapped his arms around her, embracing her in earnest at last. Her wet body slipped and glided against his but he held her tight, pulling her into a hold so snug she couldn’t possibly slip away. As he stepped out of the tub, taking her with him, he was aware of every little way in which their bodies were meeting, from the soft press of her breasts against his chest to the way his cock throbbed against her belly, trapped between their bodies. He couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it or be remotely ashamed. She was his and he was hers … what was there to hide? What reason was there to hold back? Now that he’d tasted her, he realized he’d been waiting for her for years, for his entire life.
She tipped her head against his shoulder and sighed as he cleared the bathroom in one long stride, carrying her close to his chest as easily as if she were a puppy, not a full grown she wolf. He was vaguely aware that the shower was still flowing but couldn’t be bothered to double back and shut it off. As he turned toward the door at the end of the hall that led to his bedroom, nothing could have stopped him from making it there with her in his arms.
Nothing except his ringing cellphone, anyway.