Wild and Free

by Kristen Ashley

  Cain nodded and confirmed, “Yep.”

  It sucked, but Delilah was right.

  He should have waited to get pissed until after he got his brother’s story.

  “And you’re here now…?” Abel asked.

  “I’m here now for the same reason I’ve been anywhere since almost the time I started breathing. Because Teona and I have been staying close to make sure no threat can get to you. But I’m here now”—he pointed at the floor when he said here—“because you seem to be finding any threat before we do and you either neutralize it or it’s neutralized for you.”

  The wary intensity Abel’s blood brother had worn on his face since he appeared in the room cracked as his lips quirked.

  “And last, I’m here now because you got a bunch of witches on my ass and it’s annoying my mate. She’s not big on being annoyed, but she is big on telling me when she is and I’m sick of hearing that shit.”

  He felt Delilah relax against him, but he was stuck back on something Cain had said.

  I’m here now for the same reason I’ve been anywhere since almost the time I started breathing.

  Almost the time I started breathing…

  He stared at the vision of himself that was not himself. He stared at the only other living vampire werewolf on the planet. He stared at the man who’d been hunted, whose father died protecting him, whose mother died the same, whose family he’d lost, and didn’t have any to take their place, until he found his mate.

  He stared at the man who had a different story than Abel’s, but it wasn’t any prettier.

  Then he looked to that man’s mate.

  “Thank you for keeping my brother safe.”

  He heard a telling noise come from Delilah as she pushed super close. He also saw a telling sheen at the edge of Teona’s eyes and he was glad for it.

  This meant she felt deep too.

  For his brother.

  And then Abel didn’t waste another moment.

  Carefully guiding his silently crying mate to his brother, he stopped two feet in front of him, left Delilah leaning on him as he moved his arm from around her, and stuck his hand out to his brother.

  Delilah straightened away as Cain took his hand.

  Cain’s grip was strong, warm, and sure.

  Feeling it, Abel’s throat got tight.

  Then he jerked his brother’s hand until both were caught against their chests and he wound his other arm around Cain’s shoulders.

  It felt fucking good when Cain returned the gesture.

  It was then he heard more than one sob. He knew one was Delilah’s, the other he reckoned was Leah, and the third he figured was Aurora. He thought this because Sonia was queen, she kept her shit sharp. And Jian-Li would do that in private.

  “Fuck! This means party!” Hook shouted, and Abel pushed back but not far. He kept his hand on Cain’s shoulder. Cain did the same. “Gregor, you vampire motherfuckers are cool customers, but please, God, tell me in this huge-ass house you got the makin’s of a low-down, tits-up, ball-bustin’, howl-at-the-moon shindig.”

  “Essentially, my father-in-law,” Abel explained quietly.

  “Ah,” Cain murmured, lips again quirking.

  “If they don’t, a wolf can make a party out of anything,” Sonia announced. “Hook, let’s go see what we’ve got to work with.”

  Abel stepped back, dropping his hand from his brother’s shoulder but keeping hold of their grip, and looked toward Hook only to see Hook headed his way.

  When he got close, he pounded Abel on the back, the man’s eyes locked to his.

  “Glad for you, bubba,” he muttered. “Beside myself, son.” He pounded him once more, dropped his hand, and looked to Cain. “And fuckin’ pleased to meet you, brother. Know it.”

  Cain gave him a chin dip and Hook whirled away.

  “Now, little queenie, let’s get this party rollin’!” he yelled at Sonia.

  “Right on!” Jabber yelled after him.

  That was when Abel was forced to let his brother go. Everyone moved toward them to get introductions and give greetings. After that, many moved out to help Hook and Sonia make a party.

  It was only Gregor who dampened the mood.

  “It’s always important to celebrate when a celebration is in order,” he said low. “But Cain, there’s a great deal you need to be briefed on.”

  “How about you give the family an hour to get to know each other and then we can give my brother his briefing?” Abel suggested in a tone that stated plainly Gregor had only one choice of response.

  Not a stupid man, he gave that response, but he shocked the shit out of Abel when he did it with a smile that said the vampire was happy for him.

  “Of course.”

  Gregor moved away.

  Delilah took over, gaze aimed at Teona.

  “Babe, seriously, if you don’t tell me where you got your outfit, we’re starting our relationship with a catfight.”

  “No need, sister, I’m a bitch who likes to share the wealth,” Teona replied.

  “Right on,” Delilah returned.

  Abel looked to Cain.

  “From the look of your woman, not to mention you.” Abel tipped his head to the familiar uniform Cain was wearing. “I take it you got a bike.”

  “Fuck yes,” Cain said firmly. “Harley. Vintage. Got my first about a week after you got yours.”

  It was a hit, knowing this and learning it so far after the fact.

  But it still felt good just knowing it.

  “Pop would have loved motorcycles,” Cain said quietly. “Ma said the minute you got one, then I did, she wasn’t surprised because she knew if he had the chance he’d get one too and his boys were both just like him.”

  That was a hit too.

  But this time, it felt fucking great knowing it.

  “How about we share over bourbon?” Delilah suggested.

  “My baby likes Kentucky’s finest, but you got vodka, this sister will be grateful,” Teona said.

  Delilah gave her a huge smile, moving around and tucking her arm through Teona’s.

  “We’ve got everything. Let’s get you set up!”

  Then she led Teona out, and as she did, Teona threw a sexy, happy grin over her shoulder.

  Delilah threw just a happy grin over hers.

  Abel tossed out an arm and muttered, “Let’s get set up.”

  His blood brother jerked up his chin and moved forward.

  Abel followed.

  And he did it knowing he, too, was wearing a happy grin.

  * * * * *

  “It no longer matters,” Jian-Li whispered to the window.

  “Sweetheart,” Abel whispered to her profile.

  “It no longer matters,” she repeated, not looking to him.

  Abel had just told her about Ming.

  “Ma—” Chen, close to her other side, started.

  But he stopped when she suddenly turned her head and tipped it back to look up at Abel.

  “He would die for you.”

  Abel clenched his teeth to beat back the emotion her words caused, emotion that was threatening to bring him low.

  “He would, tian xin, for all of you boys,” she told him gently. “He’s at peace having died for you, Abel. And you know this is true.”

  He knew it was true.

  Wei and Xun, who were at their mother’s back, close to their huddle, got closer.

  They knew it was true too.

  Abel lifted his hand and touched her chin with his finger. When he did, it was the first time in a long time sadness didn’t sift into her eyes. Her gaze simply held his steady.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

  “You had no control over it,” she replied.

  “It was senseless,” he told her cautiously.

  “Nothing is senseless,” Jian-Li returned. “We may not be able to make sense of it, my Abel, but that doesn’t mean it was senseless. We moved soon after that. We moved to a place we were all much safer for
we were all possible targets. If that’s the only purpose of my husband’s death, and he knew it, he would die a million times to make that so.”

  That was true too.

  Knowing it, Abel swallowed and slid his finger along her jaw to curl his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her into his chest.

  She wrapped her arms around him.

  Her other sons drew closer. Chen lifted his hand to rest it on the small of his mother’s back. Wei drifted a finger through her hair, over her ear, to the bun at the base of her neck. Xun pulled one of her hands from around Abel so he could hold it.

  Jian-Li allowed this affection for a few beats before she pulled away from all of them and looked through them, saying, “Enough sorrow. There’s a celebration happening. Sorrow has it’s time. That sorrow has had its time. Now, we celebrate.”

  As ever (well, mostly), when Jian-Li spoke, her sons listened.

  This time, she made them do it by promptly walking out of the room on a trajectory to rejoin the party, which was in full swing.

  After exchanging looks, her sons followed.

  * * * * *

  “Can you believe Teona is ninety-eight years old?” Delilah asked, leaning heavily on Abel as he opened the door to their bedroom.

  His woman was sloshed.

  Suffice it to say, a biker and the queen of werewolves could throw together a fuckuva party. It was three in the morning and Ryon, Moose, Jabber, Poncho, Calder, Caleb, Regan, Jian-Li and the boys, Hook and his vampire, Ursula, Barb, Ruby, Jezza, and Flo were still at it.

  The rest, having mates, decided to take their parties elsewhere.

  Cain and Teona had taken off five minutes before Abel and Delilah.

  Abel knew why he stayed as long as he could. He wouldn’t have guessed it, but getting to know his brother and hearing about his parents far from sucked.

  What also didn’t suck was the fact that Cain, even while getting cues from Teona like Delilah was giving him that they were in the mood for a different kind of celebration, stayed as long as he could.

  This meant Cain thought sharing with his brother far from sucked.

  Abel liked that.

  But a brother was a brother, long lost or not, and a mate was a mate.

  Eventually, you couldn’t ignore the call of the wild.

  “Yeah, pussycat, I was there when she shared that tidbit,” Abel murmured, a smile on his face as he guided his mate into their room and shut the door behind them.

  He watched Delilah take two unsteady steps in front of him before she turned, whirled (his hands flew out when she started teetering, but she got herself sorted), then planted her fists on her hips and tipped her head saucily to the side.

  “I’m so gonna love being young forever,” she declared, and his smile got bigger.

  There were many times in his life he’d thought that sucked.

  Being the same, young forever, but doing it with her, finally, he was looking forward to it.

  “Yeah,” he agreed, getting close.

  When he got close enough, she put her hands on his chest and leaned into him.

  “In case you’re keeping track, that’s something else I love about you. That you can give me that.”

  Her words were kind of slurred, but they were still beautiful.

  “Me too, bao bei.”

  She tipped her head to the side again and asked, “You know, there’s something else I left off my list.”

  He rested his hands on either side of her neck. “What’s that?”

  She slid one hand down his chest, his stomach, to cup his crotch.

  He pulled in a hissed breath, but his breath snagged when she gave him a squeeze.

  “This,” she whispered.

  “Baby,” he groaned.

  Her other hand slid down and she undid his zipper.

  “Mama feels like sucking cock,” she shared, her voice hot, her eyes bothered, all of it telling him she really wanted that.

  “Not me gonna stop you,” he told her.

  She grinned, cute and inebriated.

  Then she dropped to her knees, pulled him out, and hesitated not a second before she commenced going down on him.

  His head dropped back and he slid his fingers into her hair.

  “Fuck, you’re good at that,” he growled.

  She took that encouragement and did amazing things with it. She did them for a while and she gave them her all.

  And she did it until he could take no more.

  “You wanna swallow or you want me in you?”

  She pulled him out, rolled his head with her tongue, and tipped her eyes to him. When she did, it was a wonder he didn’t come all over her lips. Her eyes were drunk. Drunk with booze and life and sex and love, wild and alive and carefree.

  It was a close second, but it was nearly as good as the beauty she’d given him that afternoon in living room five.

  “Your choice,” she whispered.

  He took his choice, fast, so she only had time to gasp before he had her jeans over her ass, her torso bent over the back of a chair, and she was taking his cock.

  She didn’t take it long before he leaned over her, prepared her neck, and sank his fangs in.

  Her blood gushed into his mouth and she came instantly.

  He kept at her, pounding hard, jolting her, forcing the chair forward, pushing her orgasm to the limit, his hand finding her tit, pinching and twisting.

  She cried out, arching her neck, rearing her ass into his hips as he gave more, she took more, and she gave it all to him.

  He swept her wounds with his tongue, drove a hand into the curls between her legs, and found her, still pinching and twisting her nipple, still driving deep.

  “Keep coming,” he ordered roughly into her ear.

  “’Kay, baby,” she whimpered, the words ending on a moan, her head still back, her mouth opened as the moan continued but went silent.

  Her cunt gripped him and he kept working her, reaching for it, getting close.

  “Keep coming, pussycat,” he groaned.

  “Yeah,” she panted, clutching him with her pussy, her breaths hitching as she rode the wave of a long orgasm, or the span of several.

  He loved that.

  Fucking loved it.

  Giving it to her and knowing she had it in her to take it.

  Now it was his turn.

  He shoved his face in her neck and pulled hard on her nipple.

  “I’m there,” he snarled as he drove himself in to the root and exploded.

  It was raw, it was wild, it was phenomenal, so it took him time before his head cleared. After it did, he cupped her breast, lapping gently at the fast fading marks on her neck.

  “Knew drunk sex with you would be the bomb,” she said quietly, her voice still breathy.

  “Any sex with you is the bomb,” he told her and got silence for long moments.

  She broke it, saying, “Yet another thing I love about you. That you think that.”

  He shoved his face further into her neck and he actually felt the roughness in his voice when he asked, “Anything you don’t love about me?”

  “Not yet.”

  Christ.

  “You have an eternity to find something,” he told her.

  “Figure it’ll take that long.”

  Christ.

  His temptress, his mate, his woman.

  The fates fucking loved him.

  “You sleepy or you got more in you?” he asked.

  “I can go all night,” she answered.

  “Not hard, since it’ll be morning in about two hours,” he teased.

  She twisted her neck to look at him. “Then I can definitely go that long.”

  Slowly, he slid out, and when she lost him, he bent in to touch his mouth to hers.

  When he lifted his head, he whispered, “Then get naked for me, pussycat. Wanna see how long you can go.”

  “A challenge,” she noted.

  “Yeah.”

  “Accepted,” she declar
ed, then pushed him back, shuffled two steps, and stood in front him, getting naked.

  He watched, loving what he saw.

  Abel was immortal. He had super strength, super senses, and super stamina.

  Delilah was not. She didn’t have any of that shit.

  But his bitch still wore him out.

  Fuck yeah.

  The fates fucking loved him.

  * * * * *

  Yuri

  Lazing on an elbow in the pillow, his other hand toying in her wetness, Yuri watched, smelled, and listened to what he was doing as it took hold of Aurora.

  She was on her knees in the pillows, those knees spread wide at his command, hands to the headboard, back arched, ass tipped to the ceiling, and she’d been that way for a long time as Yuri toyed with her.

  She was gripping hard, panting, her heart tripping over itself, the musk of her sex strong. Her body had long since grown taut, searching for it, wanting it, desperate for it, but he withheld.

  “Yuri,” she gasped, twitching her hips to find his fingers after he took off the pressure and made them merely a whisper. Vague and magnificent, her eyes found his. “Please.”

  “Have you had enough, my sweet?” he asked calmly, a calm belying the pounding throb in his cock.

  “Yes,” she panted.

  “All right, my love,” he murmured and drove two fingers deep into her drenched pussy as his thumb manipulated her hard nub.

  Her spine arched forward even further, her head fell back, her hair swaying against the smooth, creamy skin of her back, and her hands clutched the headboard as the sweet little noises of her climax poured from her throat and she ground into his hand.

  When it began to leave her, he stroked her deeply but gently, pushing high inside but taking his thumb from her clit, and he watched her head fall forward as she kept her ass tipped to the ceiling, enjoying what she was getting as he enjoyed giving it to her.

  “All right, button?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sweetheart,” she breathed.

  He slid his fingers out, running his hand over her ass, murmuring, “Relax.”

  She did as he lifted from his elbow, wrapped an arm around her waist, and pulled her to him. Sliding them down in bed, he twitched the covers over them and settled her snug to his side.

  She rested her cheek to his chest and whispered, “What about you?”

  The answer to her question was, by giving her that but not giving himself release, when he had her next, his orgasm would be extraordinary.