Their Shifter Princess 3: Coven's Revenge

by May Dawson

  “But know that I do love you,” I said, my voice low and fierce.

  The wall between us crumbled.

  He kissed me over and over, each touch wild and fierce, his fingertips trailing sparks across my skin.

  This was no gentle reunion.

  My knee slid between his thighs as he pressed me to the wall, holding my body tight against his. He drew my wet shirt over my head, flinging it away over his shoulder. I gazed up at him, and he muttered, “I’ll keep you warmer than those clothes will.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’ll hold you to it.”

  He ran his thumb over my lips. “That smirk of yours has got to go.”

  “Then give me something to smile about.”

  His own smile twisted at his lips, and they parted, as if reluctantly. He pressed his free hand over my mouth, and I tasted salt on his palm. “No more talking.”

  I smiled against his palm, and he lifted his hand away. In the silence of the cave, the only sound the distant crashing of waves, our lips met over and over.

  I pushed him against the opposite wall, taking charge and kissing him hard, and the two of us slammed into the stone. He wrapped his arm around me, and twisted to fall, pulling me on top of him to soften my fall. I landed hard against his body. My breath came out as a gasp.

  “Are you hurt?” I murmured, my hands stroking over the hard planes of his chest.

  “Nah.” His thumb skimmed my cheekbone, his expression affectionate. It’s nothing like the pain when you leave, girl.”

  The man was doling out guilt and desire in equal doses.

  His hands stroked over my bare skin to my hips. I rose onto my knees as he unbuttoned my jeans. I leaned over him, grinding down against his hard lower abs as my lips met his. His fingers tangled in my hair as we kissed.

  When I sat up, throwing my mass of wet hair back over my shoulder, he watched me with dark, glittering eyes. I eased my jeans off over my hips, and he rested his hand over the front of his own jeans, then paused.

  “Are you sure you want it like this?” he asked, his voice rough.

  “Like this,” I said, “and then many, many other ways.”

  A grin curled one corner of his mouth. It was genuine this time, as if our fight was fading away. He unbuttoned his jeans, sliding the rough, wet fabric down his hips.

  “We’ll have to survive for that,” he said, and his hand rested on my bare skin, sending warmth flooding through my body.

  “That’s the plan,” I said.

  “Promise you won’t give yourself up for us again,” he said.

  But as far as I was concerned, it was still on the table, so I leaned down and covered my mouth with his again. He kissed me back, and I ground against him as the two of us traded kisses. I could feel his warm, thick bulk brush against my inner thigh.

  When he broke away, turning his face to one side, he muttered, “You won’t promise. I shouldn’t—”

  “But you should,” I said softly. I kissed him over and over, until he forgot how much he hated me at times, until he forgot everything but how much he wanted me.

  His cock pressed between my thighs as I kissed those hard-angled cheekbones, the determined jaw, the corners of his lips. I brushed his wet, dark curls back from his high forehead and kissed his salty face.

  There were no more words lost between us. I shoved my hips down, grinding against him, and he slid inside me. He didn’t hesitate, not now, and I groaned as I took him in.

  His eyes turned watchful, but even I didn’t know if I groaned because he was too big for me to take in comfortably or if it was just because I wanted him so badly now. Or both, maybe. He filled me up, a delicious throb on the edge of pain.

  He wrapped his hands around my hips, guiding me up and down his shaft. When I came down, I was keenly aware of the hard rock under my bare feet, the bits of pebble and jagged inconsistencies in the floor. He was protecting me from the rough cave floor. Every time I came down his shaft, rocking against his hard lower abs, it probably hurt.

  But maybe he didn’t mind some pain when it came to me. He already knew that loving me hurt him, somehow, pressed on old wounds.

  Maybe someday we’d heal each other, but for now we were hurting each other and unable to resist doing it more.

  Those grim thoughts were lost as I rode him. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face, which I had missed so much: his dark, intent eyes and his brows which were almost always frowning but now were relaxed, his handsome face and that sarcastic, quick mouth. His lips parted in pleasure for once.

  Pleasure built in waves, intense, and I wanted more of him. His hands were on my hips as I rose almost entirely off his shaft and then pushed down quickly until my inner thighs slammed against his hips. We were both breathing quickly, wildly, now. His lashes fluttered to cover his eyes, and a high flush rose in his tanned cheeks. When he turned his face to one side, biting down on his lower lip as if he was fighting back the pleasure I brought him, he was as beautiful as an angel.

  My toes curled against the rough stone. I drove myself against his lower abs one more time and then paused, shuddering around his cock as I came in waves. His arm wrapped around my hips, drawing me against him. He emptied inside me, a powerful release that made my own inner self clench again, holding him tight.

  He groaned and let his head fall back against the rock floor. His fingers wrapped around my thighs, his fingertips pressing into my muscle, as if he didn’t trust me not to run.

  I let myself collapse onto his chest, nestling my head into his shoulder. I sighed, in relief and contentment.

  He didn’t hate me that much, after all.

  Certainly, he never hated me more than he loved me.

  Chapter 26

  Fiona

  “Caro!”

  For a second, I thought she wasn’t going to turn around. Her dark hair, in a neat ponytail, swished back and forth across her narrow shoulders as she reached the front door to the pack house.

  I ran down the hall, ducking around two shifters from the Shenandoah pack who stared at me, mouths agape. This was my home. Not theirs.

  She paused, then opened the front door.

  I followed her out into the sunshine. She was moving determinedly, like she had someplace to go.

  Like she had a mission from the witches.

  A black Jeep rolled up across the yard, driving slowly but erratically. The handful of shifters in the yard scattered. Caroline stopped on the top step of the porch stairs, and her lips parted as she stared at the Jeep drifting by.

  It was Arthur’s Jeep. Rippedthroat had been driving it around. I could imagine how Arthur would react to that.

  It almost drifted into a tree, but then it turned hard left and came to a stop near the stairs.

  The door opened, and Rippedthroat stumbled out. He was bleeding, his hand pressed to his side. The rich iron scent of his blood hung in the air.

  Maybe he was hurt enough to finish him off. Did he have the power to cast a spell now? I looked up and around, hoping there was no one to stop me if I shifted now and ripped his throat out. Again.

  But the thick, sickly scent of dark magic overwhelmed me as two witches brushed past Caroline and me. They ran down the stairs and to the side of Rippedthroat.

  I grabbed Caro, nudging her to one side of the porch out of the way. We didn’t need to draw the witches’ attention. Was she spell-bound stupid? Or was she simply convinced that Rippedthroat would look out for his spy?

  I looked up at her face, and stopped. Her lips were parted, her eyes wide and shining and full of hope. I looked over my shoulder, following her gaze.

  She was staring at Rippedthroat’s bloody hands as he bent over the wound in his side, his face warped in pain.

  She wanted him dead as much as I did. She wanted to be free of his magic.

  She was in there, even though I couldn’t trust her anymore these days.

  Inzel came out the front door, and then stopped. He hesitated with that scheming look on his
face that I’d come to know and dread.

  “How can I help—” he began as Rippedthroat slowly mounted the stairs, helped by his two witches.

  Rippedthroat held out his hand and made a twisting motion with his fingers. His knees seemed to buckle, and the witches caught him before he hit the ground.

  Inzel fell to the ground, choking, and the witches stepped over him.

  “No more alphas,” Rippedthroat ground out. “I’ll be your alpha now.”

  Inzel’s heels kicked out across the ground. I ran toward him, to see if there was anything I could do to help, but his head lolled to one side, suddenly still.

  I looked back to Caroline. Her face was expressionless again. She folded her hands together, so tightly that her fingernails bit into her skin.

  “Don’t worry, Caro,” I said.

  Chapter 27

  Piper

  As I headed up the narrow cave passage, ducking my head under a low-hanging rock, I glimpsed Logan waiting for me up ahead. His arms were crossed over his chest, his face worried. Suddenly I as all too conscious of my tussled wet hair and my bee-stung lips. He’d be able to smell sex on me. My cheeks flushed.

  As I neared him, the mouth to a smaller cavern was on my right. I glanced in to see unrolled sleeping bags.

  “Maddie and Finn were here,” Logan said to me softly. He caught my shoulders with my hands, as if he saw something on my face, and he patted my shoulders comfortingly. “We’ll find them, Piper. It’s a good sign that they were here. They’re still…”

  Alive. He meant alive. But he didn’t want to say it.

  “He might kill Finn, but he wouldn’t kill Maddie,” I said, my voice suddenly dull.

  “Let’s wait until Arthur comes back. We’ll hunt for them,” Logan promised me. He sounded so confident.

  “Why would they have left?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe they’ll come back. Maybe Finn is trying to make contact with us, and Maddie wanted to stay with him.”

  That made sense. Of course Maddie would want to stay with Finn. But if they were out there, they were in danger.

  “Logan.” Callum called from further up the cavern hall. When he turned the corner, his expression was tight and worried. “You need to see this.”

  Logan’s eyes flashed to me. His lips twisted as if he knew it was a bad sign and he wished he could protect me from whatever news was coming next. But he couldn’t.

  When I took a step forward toward him, he nodded, then turned. The two of us went up together.

  Callum bumped into the wall as he walked back ahead of us. He wasn’t quite limping, but there was something off about his unsteady gait. Worry spiked through my chest.

  I followed him into a second enormous cavern. Through cracks in the wall, I glimpsed sunlight and the glitter of blue ocean far below. I couldn’t shake the sense that there was magic here.

  Callum turned to me, his nostrils flaring.

  “Your sister was here,” he said calmly. “You need to know that.”

  “And Finn,” Logan said.

  “But there’s no sign of them now.”

  Logan frowned. “They weren’t the only ones who were here.”

  My nostrils flared. I didn’t have that much experience using the enhanced senses that the shifters seemed to have as both wolves and humans. My hearing and eyesight was sharper than normal, but I hadn’t learned to tease out odors.

  “What do you think happened?” I asked.

  Logan stood at the long crack in the cave wall that formed what almost seemed like a balcony, looking out over the sea. He pressed his hand to the rock above, as if he was bracing himself, while he looked out over the horizon.

  Callum rested his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get them back,” he promised.

  “I know,” I said.

  “I think there was a struggle here.” Logan turned back suddenly, as if he had made a decision. “I can smell Maddie and Finn here. But Joan too.”

  I drew in a sharp breath. Maddie’s mother.

  “If Maddie is with her, she’s safe, at least,” I said.

  “Maybe,” Logan muttered. Callum, seeing my face change, shot him a dark look.

  “And there were others. Two others, maybe?” Logan shook his head and then concentrated again, his face intent. “There was a struggle. I can sense Finn’s…”

  “Finn’s what?”

  “His fear,” Logan said in a rush, as if it pained him to admit it. He raked his hand through his hair. The expression on his face was distraught, but the emotion was only there for a second before he shook it away. Evenly, he said, “There was a fight.”

  “Do you think Joan has Maddie or that the Shenandoah pack does?” I asked. “Can you tell?”

  He shook his head.

  Callum paced across the far side of the room. He pressed his hand to a vertical track carved into the side of the cliff wall, as if by ancient forces carving stone long ago.

  “I think maybe Maddie went up,” Callum said.

  Relief flooded my chest as I imagined Maddie and Finn climbing out of reach of the Shenandoah wolves.

  “So maybe they both got free.”

  Callum hesitated.

  “Finn couldn’t,” I said, understanding dawning for me. “Maybe he fought the others off so she had time to get away. Maybe she’s out there alone.”

  Logan knelt at the edge of the opening over the sea. At first I thought he was making sure he wouldn’t fall in as he looked out over the horizon. Then I realized his eyes were closed, his lashes resting in the dark hollows above his cheekbones from our restless night. His lips moved as if in prayer.

  I hadn’t thought of Logan as being religious. But it was Finn. He was scared for Finn’s life.

  I went to his shoulder, and when I looked past him, careful not to touch him, it felt like we were at the edge of the world. The ocean spread beneath us, dizzying and bright. It was a long fall to survive.

  But if anyone knew how to take a hit and roll to his feet, still bright-eyed and quippy, it was Finn. His mischievous smile and close-cropped copper curls rose in my mind, and my chest squeezed.

  But we had to keep moving. I had to keep these men together and fighting until we were all safe. Then we could mourn our losses, if we must.

  “Callum,” I said, my voice soft. “While we wait for Arthur to come back, can I talk to you?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  Logan rose heavily to his feet. I caught his hand and drew him away from the ledge. His eyes looked tired, so unlike him, and I couldn’t resist leaning up to brush my lips over his cheek. He smiled at my touch. It was a small smile, but it was something.

  “I have to think my brother is too stubborn to die,” he said.

  “You don’t usually call him your brother,” I said gently, thinking of the story he’d told me earlier. I hoped he and Finn and Seb would get the chance to be brothers in a new way.

  He gave his head a quick shake. “I don’t. But everything is changing, isn’t it? Arthur is accepting magic. Two packs love one woman. And I…”

  I waited, and he shrugged. His words were self-deprecatory when he said, “I’m not going to waste any more chances.”

  He stepped back, nodding to Callum. He brushed a quick kiss over my forehead.

  “Logan,” I said, but I was speaking to his back as he had already turned and headed for the doorway to the cavern. “He loves you. He knows you’re looking out for him.”

  He stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. No matter how the past weighed on him, he tried to flash me a smile over his shoulder anyway. Something about that tired smile broke my heart.

  “I could’ve done a better job,” he said. “But it’s all right, Piper. We’ll get your little sister back, and Finn if we can. It’ll be alright.”

  He said it like he was trying to convince himself. Then he was gone, making his way down the tunnel.

  “You should go to him,” Callum said, his voice low. “He doesn’t
seem like he should be alone right now.”

  “Maybe.” Logan didn’t always appreciate company when he had things to work through. He’d certainly shut me out before, when his affection for me warred with his loyalty to his pack. But it was surprising—and nice—that Callum wanted to make sure Logan was all right.

  I tucked my hair behind my ears, turning toward Callum.

  “Right,” Callum said, as if he saw the resolve on my face. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “When Arthur comes back, we’re all going to need to be at full power,” I said.

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you and your sister,” Callum said. “You know that.”

  “I do.”

  He shot me a questioning look.

  “How are you healing?” I asked. There was a ragged t-shirt tied over his bicep still.

  “That salt water swim with open wounds didn’t leave me feeling very cheerful,” he said, his voice deadpan. “But I’m fine.”

  He wasn’t going to turn to show me his back. I headed toward him, resting my fingertips gently on his unmarked bicep as I stepped beside him.

  His back was beginning to scab over, but the wounds looked angry, the skin between the split-open strips swollen bruised and angry. In places where the whip’s strike had criss-crossed, the wounds were deeper, revealing torn muscle and flesh.

  “I’m going to kill my father,” I said.

  “One more thing we’ll have in common,” he muttered. “This time, we won’t leave him any chance of coming back.”

  I nodded in agreement as I glided my hand over his other bicep.

  He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Piper.”

  “Yes?” My voice came out husky.

  “You don’t need to do this,” he said gently, folding my hands in his. He held them between us. “Even wounded…I’ll do anything to protect you, your sister, and the packs.”

  “Even make up with Arthur?” I wasn’t sure why that question sprung to my lips. Judging from the way his eyebrows arched, he didn’t know either.