by Kyle, Celia
Millie nodded. She felt that way. Well, she didn’t recognize the transmitting part, but her anger and need to lash out at others was nearly nonexistent. “Okay.”
“That means we’re allowing you to return to Wyatt’s with the understanding that Maddy and Elise will continue visiting you and work on your control. I know you were focused on that before, but I think that your mating to Wyatt has altered the plan a little.”
Maddy nodded. “Yup, now you’re more like a teen who’s being overrun by hormones. Before you were… scary.”
Millie blushed, but couldn’t argue with the woman’s assessment. It was true. “Okay. Did anyone figure out what…” She waved to her body. “What happened to me?”
Ricker sat forward with a wince, his one hand still beneath the table and she imagined him holding an ice pack to his crotch. “I went to Wyatt’s and took a look around. Maya mentioned you asked about snakes?”
Millie nodded. “Yes. I remember one coming toward me and he… shifted?”
Things were still so fucking hazy, and it killed her.
“Sounds right.” He nodded. “There were tracks near the window you used to break into Wyatt’s home as well as around the back patio. We’re lucky that it rained recently. The mud preserved them pretty well. We can’t identify the breed, but it at least tells us you’re not crazy.”
Well, bonus points for that.
A memory prodded her and then it rushed forward. “After,” she swallowed and cleared her throat. “The other morning, before I went to Wyatt’s, I found a piece of shed skin in my room. At least, I think that’s what it was. Will that help?”
Ricker nodded. “Yeah, it might. If we can narrow down species, it’ll help us identify him. I found boot prints at the base of the stairs and tracked them through the woods. From what he left behind on the ground and on a few of the trees he passed, it’s a male. He’s just shy of six feet and about two hundred pounds. Brown hair, not sure about the rest of him.”
Millie let the description trickle through her mind, and she felt the other parts of her react and flare to life. Her cat leaped forward to help them remember, but her power nudged the animal back.
No, no, no. She needed to remember.
Frank…
“Bethy?” Wyatt’s murmur filled her ear.
“I… it’s there, but they won’t let it through. I see a face and then it’s gone.” Bland brown eyes, droopy eyelid, a scar across his face that the cat put there. The cat? Oh yes, her panther was rather proud of that injury.
Ricker nodded. “We’ll keep an eye out.”
“What… what did he do to me?” She had to know. “A snake bite couldn’t have caused that reaction, right? I mean, Wyatt said my shift…”
“Was brutal.” Maya’s voice was subdued. “I’ve never seen anything so horrific in my life. I’ve helped free Freedom captives and seen pictures of the things Alistair has done to others, but I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that.” The Prima shook her head. “I don’t even know how you lived through it, let alone got jiggy with Wyatt later. I mean, I thought for sure you broke important girly bits with all that.”
Millie rolled her eyes and then got serious. “Why was it that way though?”
Ricker dug into his pocket and winced, followed by a groan as he shifted his ice pack. Finally, he produced a small, glass vial. “This. I think his bite is what subdues you and forces the memory loss. The rest was probably what was in this bottle.” He slapped it on the table. “I found this along with an empty syringe near where I lost his scent. He got into some kind of truck or SUV and left this behind. Whatever it is, I’m ninety percent sure it initiated your shift.”
Millie rose and gently snared the bottle before returning to her seat. She rolled it between her fingers, seeing a few tiny droplets of the drug swirl back and forth. She brought it to her nose, intent on scenting it, when Ricker’s words stopped her.
“You won’t catch anything. We’ve all taken a whiff, and it smells like water. Like nothing.”
Millie didn’t doubt him, but she had to be sure. She eased it closer and inhaled, drawing what she could into her lungs.
The aromas slid into her, plucking her senses, and she found what she was looking for. Bitter. Sweet. Mold. Water. Rotting grass.
And then she was thrown into the past, thrown into yet another horrific dream.
Alistair walked into her cell, bringing a family member—a cousin?—with him. Then there was biting. Pain. Agony. Her body broken and destroyed.
“Goodbye, Millie-love. I’ll be back tomorrow.” Flat, brown eyes, droopy lid, evil grin.
Frank.
Without thought, she threw the vial, intent on getting it away from her as far and fast as she could. Thankfully Alex had fast reflexes as he plucked it from the air before it collided with the floor and shattered.
Millie clenched her shaking hands, and immediately Wyatt embraced her, pulling her close until she sat across his lap. He stroked her back, soothing her with his touch.
But her heart raced, worry and terror warred within her, battling for supremacy. Her cat roared, and her power pulled away, fighting to break her into thirds once again. It was Wyatt’s touch that grounded her, but even that was weakening, the power he had over her lessening with every breath.
She would shatter again and again and again…
A sharp yank on her hair had her head wrenching back, and she was forced to stare into Wyatt’s amber eyes. Fur covered his face, his features no longer that of a man, but of his lion. He snarled and bared his fangs, threatening her with his deadly teeth.
“Stop.”
But the panic wouldn’t wane, it wouldn’t recede. He yanked again, baring her throat fully and forcing her to become vulnerable to him. But her panther and the dark cloud didn’t care about his threats. He loved her, he wouldn’t hurt her, not truly.
She felt her power rise, the cloud of anger gather and coalesce inside her. No, no, no…
A searing pain attacked her shoulder, the tearing of flesh sending agony blossoming through her body and the scent of blood stained her nostrils. The coppery fluid, her own blood, had the pieces of her stilling inside her. And then everything snapped back together as if they’d never been apart. She was one once again, and the mating bond between her and Wyatt glowed.
The golden thread entwined them, wrapping around their embracing bodies and tying them together even tighter than before.
He claimed her. He tied her. And she would submit.
Millie lay passive in his arms, letting him lick and lap at the new wound he’d caused, and it was then she noted the utter silence in the room. She turned her head to look at the others, but Wyatt’s low growl had her freezing and she held her breath, waiting to see what he’d do.
The cat, now quiet and subdued, urged her to listen to their male. Well, she would, mostly. There would be times she’d tear into him, she was sure. But he was strong enough to handle all of her. So when she got out of control, when she neared the edge of sanity and her body threatened to tear into three, she’d always submit to him.
Wyatt ended his attentions with a gentle nuzzle and a soft sigh. He released her hair and rubbed her scalp while chuffing and purring. The sounds brought them out in Millie as well, and she nuzzled his chest, ignoring the new ache in her shoulder.
Silence continued to surround them. Well, at least until Maya spoke.
“So, now that you’re back from kill-everyone land, care to tell us why you nearly went catshit?”
Millie furrowed her brow and turned toward the Prima. The Prima noticed she was also getting the same expression from everyone else.
Maya shrugged. “What, if she were a gorilla or something, I’d have said apeshit. She’s a panther.”
“You…” Millie wasn’t sure what she was trying to say, but Maya waved her off.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m a different kind of Prima, this is a different kind of pride. I get it. I can’t help that I’m awesome, and everyone
else seems to have sticks up their asses.” Maya turned to Alex. “Is that right? Sticks up their asses? I mean, stick up your ass is right, but sticks up their asses? It’s plural and—”
Alex placed a finger over her lips. “Let’s figure out what’s going on and then we can discuss plural and possessive later.”
“In bed?” The Prima’s eyes brightened, and Alex nodded.
“In bed.”
Maya turned to her and snapped her fingers. “Hop to it, missy. I’ve got a ride to catch, and it ain’t in a car.”
Smiling, Millie shook her head. These women, this pride, didn’t seem to care how unstable she was. It appeared they were as fucked up as her, just in different ways.
Sobering, she voiced the name that had haunted her through her captivity. The cat and her Sensitive abilities could no longer keep it hidden from her. They were one, working together and no longer separately. The memories were hers once again and she called her past forward to the front of her mind.
All of the hatred for men she harbored wasn’t caused by Alistair. Yes, he was the initial catalyst for her captivity, but he wasn’t the male who’d broken her, destroyed her mind, and caused her to lash out at every other man she’d come across.
No, that honor went to one male. One shifter. One snake.
“It’s Frank. Frank Mattson.”
63
“The way to my heart is through ice cream. The way to Alex’s heart… Well, it involves some kinda cream.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and woman who is always ready to sate Alex’s cravings. With food, people, with food. Okay, that’s a lie.
Wyatt shook with rage. Even hours later, after they’d said their goodbyes and came back to his home, his body trembled with the need to destroy something.
Again the Mattson family, Alistair, had intruded on their town. Again, they tore and damaged their women. And again, they’d die.
Wyatt would be sure of it.
Two years ago, one of their own lions, Jenner Mattson, had participated in a woman’s repeated rape and torture. At the time, he’d been working with his cousin, Alistair McCain. The woman in question eventually became a fellow guard’s mate. Elise and Brute were happy now in Ridgeville with their pup, Katie, but it’d been a bumpy road.
Jenner was imprisoned by the council, but it seemed his father remained free.
Free to kill. Free to torture. Free to harm Bethy.
He felt a growl build in his chest while his lion paced and snarled in the back of his mind. They’d torture the male, fill him with those drugs and force the painful shift on him. Wyatt would smile and laugh while piece after piece changed and contorted, leaving the male in agony.
That would be… delicious.
Small hands gliding over his chest tugged him from his thoughts, but it was their travels to the waist of his pants that had him focusing on the present.
“Bethy?”
She rubbed her cheek on his back, spreading her scent on his shirt. “Hmm?”
Her fingers slid lower, wiggled beneath the hem of his shirt and then returned. Only this time her bare digits encountered his skin. They slipped over his lower stomach and dipped past the waistband. Wyatt sucked in a breath with the surge of arousal and the sudden filling of his cock. With that inhale came a wave of her need, the heated, musky scent of her cream invaded him and sank into his blood.
“What are you doing?”
The aroma of her juices increased. “Do you know how hot it was? When you bit me?” She purred against his back. “I was out of control, shattering, and you put me back together.” Two fingers unsnapped his jeans. “So strong. So tough. So mine.”
She lowered his zipper, the sound of the metal teeth parting joining her rumbling purrs.
“Bethy, we should…” She wiggled her hand into his pants and encircled his cock. Oh, God. “Right now isn’t the time.”
She squeezed him, pumping his dick. “Our job is to stay inside and stay safe.” Her fangs scraped his back, and he realized that she’d sliced his shirt. “I want you safely inside me.”
Shit, he almost came. Almost, but he held it back. “Sweetheart, you’re not acting like yourself.”
His mate had been a wildcat in bed, but he had to coax her there. She hadn’t been aggressive and demanding until after a few orgasms.
“No, I wasn’t acting like myself before, Wyatt. Now, I’m not afraid. I know you’re strong enough to contain me. I know you won’t ever let things get out of hand.” She tightened her hand around him, and he released a low groan. “I know you love me enough to do what needs to be done, so I don’t injure others. At least until I learn how to control the parts of me.”
He grabbed her wrist and lifted her hand from within his pants so he could face her. He opened his mouth to tell her that yes, it was so fucking early, but he did love her. Or at least he was mostly in love with her. That eighty-three percent of him loved her?
Fuck it, she was his. Period.
Instead of saying all that, his mind blanked.
His Bethy was naked. Bare assed, all of those sweet curves exposed, and those pretty pink nipples hard and aching for his mouth.
“Bethy?” He squeaked out her name.
“Wyatt, there are parts of me that are out of control.” She gave him a wicked grin, and he released a low growl.
His mate was naked, wet and ready for him, but she was also standing bare assed in front of the massive living room window.
Without hesitating, he bent down and placed his shoulder against her stomach before flipping her into a fireman’s carry. At Bethy’s indignant squeak, he smiled, and stomped through the house, intent on one destination: the master bedroom. Particularly, his bed.
He stormed past the kitchen and into the hallway, ignoring the spare bedrooms that were filled with random boxes. After ten years, he really needed to unpack.
Before long, he made it to his room, their room, and slowed as he neared the massive, unmade king-sized bed. Without hesitation, he flipped her off his shoulder and let her bounce on the soft mattress. Her fiery hair contrasted against the pale sheets while her curvaceous body called to him.
His cock, still hard as a rock, jutted from his jeans. He reached down and stroked himself, running his callused palm along his length. It kept his arousal at a simmering boil, just enough to tease, but not enough to push him over the edge.
No, he wouldn’t reach his peak until he was balls deep inside his mate.
Smiling, his Bethy brought her knees up, exposing her pink pussy to his gaze. She ran a hand down her body, stroking between her breasts, over her stomach and then finally settling between her spread thighs. She teased her slit as he watched, fingers dancing along her pussy.
Damn, he wanted to be there, wanted to sink his cock into her heat and come deep inside her.
“What’re you doing, Bethy?”
She grinned and slipped a finger between her sex lips. “Nothing.”
That digit slid down and then back up, circling the hidden nub between her folds.
“Uh-huh.” Shit, his balls ached and his cock throbbed. He tugged his dick and squeezed below the head. “Try again.”
Bethy shook her head. Then that finger tap, tap, tapped her clit, and his sweet mate moaned, arching her back and rocking against her own hand. “Right there.”
Somehow her thighs widened farther, laying her body out before him.
The tiny pucker of her ass caught his attention, and Wyatt knew what he wanted, what he craved.
Attention on her, he snared the drawer handle of his end table and tugged it open. A quick grab had his favorite bottle of lube in his hand.
At the sudden move, Bethy froze, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. “What’s that?”
Wyatt turned the bottle toward her. “Lube, sweetheart. Wanna know what I’m gonna do with it?”
She whimpered and shook her head. But he noted the hand between her legs didn’t stop or slow. Nope, it sped up, tapping and cir
cling her clit with an ever increasing rhythm. The fresh scent of her cream filled the air.
Yes, his Bethy knew. And she wanted it as much as he wanted to give it to her.
“How about I tell you anyway?” She whined in response.
He placed a knee on the bed and released his cock so he could easily move toward her. He kept making his way across the bed until he was between her legs, his bare cock inches from her wet heat.
And her hand was still going, still teasing her needy pussy.
“I’m first going to fuck you until you come on my cock.” Desperate desire entered her gaze. Yes, she liked that idea. “And then, I’m going to turn you over. I’ll nibble and bite your ass and then I’m going to stretch you so I can work my dick into your asshole.” Bethy gasped. “Do you want that, sweetheart? Want my cock in your asshole?”
She whimpered and whined and finally nodded.
He tossed the lube beside her hip and then gripped her knees, pushing them wide. “Look at that pretty pussy.” He salivated with the need to lap and lick her, drink down all of that cream. “Are you ready for me to fuck it, Bethy?”
She nodded.
“No, say the words.”
Bethy licked her lips and whispered, “Fuck me.”
He grinned. “Nice try. If you want it, you have to demand it. Be my strong mate, Bethy.”
Power flared to life in her eyes, and he sensed her mounting desire. Her hand abandoned her clit and traveled farther south, digits sliding through her juices. She plunged two fingers into her pussy, pushing them deep.
“Fuck.” She rolled her hips and shoved deeper. “Fuck me, Wyatt.” She retreated and then plunged in once again. “Fuck my pussy and then… F-fuck my ass.”
“Anything for you, sweetheart. Anything.” Even if it meant he had to hold back his orgasm for hours. His dick was about to explode, the vision of Bethy finger fucking herself nearly sent him over the damned edge.