by D. Fischer
We stare at one another, gaging the other’s reactions while trying to guess at the other’s thoughts. His breath brushes my cheeks, and his face softens in consideration. Then, his eyes stray to my lips. The space between us charges once more, pulling him to me.
He nips again, soft and seductively, and I can’t help but gasp at the sensation where his teeth grazed a sensitive spot on my neck. His teeth trail across my jaw until his lips find mine.
We’ve been playing a game for days, teasing one another without being too obvious about it. Stolen kisses, light brushes, verbal teases, and the need to touch one another as we pass. It has been hell on my hormones, and more often than not, it’s me who’s left all hot and bothered and required to function properly afterward.
My skin blazes with a flushing heat. This is the farthest he’s gone.
I often wonder if shifters and their supernatural heightened senses can smell the changes in someone else’s body, chiefly arousal. My theory is often tested in times like these in which I believe my hypothesis to be true. It’s simply unfair.
He starts to pull away, but I wrap my arms around his middle and press my hips against the steel of his stomach. Jacob dwarfs me, and I delight in the press of his weight. He groans, and I allow a small smile of victory.
“It’s not nice to tease a skinwalker,” I whisper, biting his bottom lip. “It’s not nice to leave me all hot and bothered and then walk away, either.”
He grins and moves his lips against mine in a sensual kiss. Eventually, he pulls away and whispers, “I want to take this slow, Jinx. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world.”
“Why wait?” I’m a little taken aback by the entire situation. Until now, I wasn’t completely positive about his feelings for me. These actions prove he truly does feel the same as I. “Waiting is boring.”
“I want to learn your body – your sensitive areas. Taking you isn’t something I want to rush. Licking every area of you, tasting every inch . . . Before I take you, I want to know your body like my own.”
“Like your own, huh?” I cock my head to the side, my bound hair pulling beneath my head. “Maybe I’ll just take care of the problem myself.”
His eyes flash wolf, and a growl rumbles in his chest. I trail my hand up my side and cup my breast. I moan despite not having planned the added sound effect. He rocks his hips. The evidence of his own arousal pushes against my sex, pulsing heat to my core.
“Don’t test me, skinwalker.”
I grin mischievously, planning to do exactly that.
He growls again and presses his erection right to the sensitive, throbbing areas. As if that wasn’t enough, he dips his head, feathers a kiss to each eye, to the tip of my nose, and lastly, to my already swollen lips, effectively ending his teasing in the fashion that’ll surely leave me thinking about him all damn day.
When his body lifts from mine, I growl and slam my fists against the mattress. Jacob’s deep chuckle in the bathroom is his only response.
CHAPTER TWO
Jacob Trent
During the entire breakfast, all the unmated males had stared, food left forgotten or obliviously shoveled into their mouths like distracted starving men. Jinx and her taunting expressions hadn’t gone unnoticed by them, so of course, they ogled. The minx had arrived in the cafeteria after me in nothing but my black shirt. She hadn’t bothered with pants, and when she bends just so, anyone can glimpse the black lace of her underwear.
With her arousal unchecked, her nipples had been sharp enough to cut glass, pushing against the confines of the graphic red letters. The thinning shirt had done nothing to hide that fact, and the scent of her desires had left a trail everywhere she went.
Damn woman is going to kill me. Travis and Trevor were the worst of the unmated males. The two made no pains about showing their interest. Both propped against the wall, smirks on their faces, they openly watched her every move, even when I pin them with a wolf’s dominant glare.
Sara had found some sort of twisted enjoyment out of it, grinning from ear to ear as she caught on to what her friend was doing. Perhaps the witch isn’t a good influence on Jinx. I know she and Cinder are sleeping together, that much is obvious. His scent is all over her, and the shower she took did nothing to wash him from her.
Cinder, who had mistakenly sat next to Jinx, had bent his fork in his hand with such a severely clenched jaw I worried he would crack his teeth. All in an effort to ignore Jinx’s attempts to sway me into pleasuring her. I swear, every unmated male had hobbled out of the cafeteria, readjusting their pants, and every female had found it hilarious. Reese, too, which surprised me. Last time I knew, she hated Jinx. Perhaps Jinx found her way into Reese’s heart in the end. Someday, I hope to hear about how that happened.
The spectacle hadn’t done anything for the mated males, though. And thank the Divine for that. We could have had a real mess on our hands, breakfast and a showdown. Chip was oblivious to it all. Or he just ignored it. Mates only have eyes for their mates, no matter the scent others give off. It’s a simple reality I envy right about now.
Taking the steps slowly to keep from rocking my erection further against my jeans, I can’t help but continue to recall her sultry looks. The way she ate her eggs made me picture something else being lapped by her tongue. The sensual bite of her bottom lip had nearly been my undoing. She knew it too. She had laughed when I walked away from the table, growling and cursing the entire female gender.
“I’ll take care of it myself,” she had threatened. I have no doubt she would. I snarl as my cock twitches to the imagery.
My wolf is close to feral. He wants to take her. Demands I turn around and bend her over the table and . . . and . . .
I stop in the hallway, bracing my arms against the wall. I bend my head forward, letting it dangle between my shoulders, close my eyes, and breathe slowly through my nose.
He wants to bite her. To claim her. He has it in his mind she’ll find another male to ease her aches. Trevor perhaps. Or Travis. Or both. I blow against the bricks. It’s a ridiculous notion. A jealous notion. She wouldn’t. Nope. She wouldn’t do that to me. Would she?
I shove my wolf down, down, down, until he’s snarling in a small pocket of my mind. He wants her, and I don’t blame him. So do I.
Pushing away from the wall, I enter my office, snap on the lights, and startle backward. Grinning, lying sprawled on the couch in a lazy, easy fashion is Rex. He and Amelia weren’t at breakfast this morning. They arrived shortly after Jinx had woke me, and both had gone to their rooms to rest. It would seem Rex doesn’t need as much sleep as Amelia does. I had heard her snores filtering down the hall and into the stairwell as I climbed them. She hadn’t bothered to shut her door before she collapsed on her bed.
“What the hell,” I spit, placing a flat hand on my chest. My heart hammers against my ribs, and the vein in my neck pulses thickly. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Good,” he says, laughing. Sitting up, he tents his fingers and rests his elbows against his knees. “Did it work to disarm the rocket in your pocket?”
Growling, I stomp into the office, around the large desk, and plop my ass in the rolling chair. “She’s going to be the death of me.”
“She’s going to be the death of all the unmated males. Why do you think I ate up here?” He gestures to the empty plate on the floor.
“I thought you were still sleeping.”
He only shrugs. “Why don’t you just give her what she wants?”
I fold my hands behind my head and lean back in the chair. A yawn escapes me, and it does nothing to make me feel more awake. It only makes me more tired. “Because the game is too fun. At least, it’s supposed to be, but I’m starting to realize it’s more fun for her than it is for me.”
He quirks a red brow. “The game, huh? I never pegged you for the game-playing type. Jinx, definitely. But not you. Is this all about the prize, or do you actually want her?”
“I want her,” I admit softly, surprised by
my honesty on the matter. My gaze traces the stones along the wall. Before Jinx, I never talked about my personal life so openly. Everything was strictly business, and I had run the pack successfully that way for years. Allie. Allie was the one who pried away my feelings to be aired in the open. She was the one to keep my secrets, too.
“You look exhausted, Jacob,” he says after a moment. “Claim her, and get it over with.”
I consider him from the corner of my eye. “She’s not a shifter, Rex. She wasn’t born into this lifestyle. She doesn’t understand it, and if she were, she wouldn’t want it.”
He grins again and nestles back against the couch, all sorts of self-satisfied. “You don’t want to scare her off.”
“No,” I say, drawing out the word. I don’t think anything could truly scare Jinx Whitethorn. Rattle her, sure, but not outright make her run for the hills.
“I don’t want to stick her with a mate for the rest of her life. I want it to be her choice. She doesn’t understand the complications having sex with me would bring, therefore, sex won’t be happening.”
No matter how much she begs.
I know once I take her, I won’t be able to let her go. I’m clutching to her like a man starved of affection his whole life. I want her to have the option to leave if she wants. When the threat is taken care of, that is. If I give in to my desires – her desires – hell, my wolf’s desires – I know I won’t be able to let her go. I’ll become possessive until we’re fully mated, and even then, I think I’d still be obsessed with her.
He peers at the sky through my favorite tall arched windows. It’s clear today, a pale robin-blue so bright it almost hurts to look at. The breeze pushes against the pane, a cold one, and by the scent of the air, I can tell snow will arrive in a week or two.
“So.” Rex grunts. “That’s easy to fix. Just explain it to her.”
“Not yet,” I answer distractedly. “I want to see how this plays out.”
“Because you’re having too much fun?”
I laugh. “That, too.” And it’s the partial truth. I haven’t felt this young in a long time. I haven’t looked forward to something so much in years. The other part of this truth is that I don’t know if this is just a game for Jinx, which has no true end. Is she playing along because it’s fun? Or does she actually want the prize?
Rex stretches and yawns, and with that, he changes the subject. “So, today’s the day?”
Scraping my thumbnail along my bottom lip, I nod.
“What time will she be here?”
I look at the clock on the wall. “Any minute.”
Pulling back one of my desk drawers, I grab the soft, worn leather book of Adriel Whitethorn and set it on the surface with a thump. It was on the bookshelf, but with the near invasion we had, I thought it best to keep it from sight.
I’ve peered inside, only once. Most of the older stuff is drawings of suns and animals and arrows. Jinx knows I had looked. I wouldn’t keep that a secret from her. She had seemed disinterested, even appeared content with it being in my possession. Maybe it’s too hard for her to look like it’s too hard for me to abandon this rubber band around my wrist.
From what I can tell, Adriel’s book is similar to a witch’s grimoire. Shaman have magic, a different kind of magic than the witches but magic, nonetheless. They can summon the spirit of animals, and according to the limited research I’ve done in the pack’s library, they can delve into the future using their smoke. Lots of smoke. Some have even claimed they can see spirits long since passed.
I think they had continued to write in these strange symbols so that a random person couldn’t pick them up and read them. The world is far more superstitious than it has ever been and even more populated. It’s their way of keeping secrets, careful to pass on the meanings of each mark, down through generations of gifted shaman.
Jinx is a worthy descendant, but she never got to know her father. She was never taught these symbols nor their ways. In fact, her mother just told her about her father not too long ago.
Maybe her aunt can shed some light. Maybe she was taught these symbols, too.
“Do me a favor?” I ask Rex. “Make sure Chip tells Jinx about her necklace before our guest arrives.” The last thing I need is to make it look like the pack was withholding information from Jinx. I want her to be able to trust us – to feel like she can be herself in our home so I can later convince her to stay with me.
If the Native American woman shows up and spews all the information about this necklace that we didn’t share, it’ll hurt Jinx, and that’s the last thing I want.
Jinx is scared of shifters. I can scent it on her. After what the Bane had done to her, I don’t blame the gut reaction whenever she sees one of the Riva Pack wolves shift or dart across the hill. She tries to put on a face and hide her feelings about our other halves, but I know better. To me, she’s easy to read.
There’ve been a few times when I’ve watched her observe the pack as they play in the woods. She won’t go near them, only observes from one of the towers, hidden in shadows.
The towers have become her safe haven, I think. It’s the one place she doesn’t have to pretend to be brave. She can be scared up there – happy, mad, sad, and not a soul has to know about it. I know about it though, because as she watches them, I watch her. I’m always aware of her. Of everything about her.
I stroke the leather of her father’s book. Somehow, I need to show her I’ll never hurt her. I need to show her I won’t let anyone hurt her. Not a creature. Not a human. Not a man. Not a woman.
I’ve watched her grow here and become comfortable with what she is. At least, more comfortable than she was before. She had hated herself. Saw herself as a monster in the making. Now, I can’t help but think she sees creatures as the monsters because of everything they’ve done to her.
It kills me, and I plan to mend what others have broken.
CHAPTER THREE
Jinx Whitethorn
“I had no idea shifters could read,” Sara says loud enough that Bia looks up from the book she pours over.
Bia is across the room with a tower of spines nearly obscuring our view of her scrawny frame. All we can see is her glare circled by the blue rims of her large glasses. The towering books are piled on a round wood table with twin tables on either side, each only big enough to seat one.
The wood is dark, a beautiful contrast to the brick walls. Sara and I sit on two large suede couches, facing one another with a matching coffee table in the middle.
To my left is a large fireplace as tall as I am, which isn’t saying much. I’ve met preteens taller than myself. Unlike Jacob’s master bedroom’s electric fireplace, this one is real. The scent of burning wood fills the room, but not in a smothering sort of way. It complements the books and is comforting when mixed with the brisk breeze of the outdoors. The slithering black smoke being pulled up and out through the chimney is sort of calming, too. I imagine it’s like spirits rising from a body to drift to a better place.
On the stone mantel are trinkets, carved or sculpted objects, and I can only guess at their origins. They’re old, perhaps trinkets belonging to various ancestors and forgotten eras. Sculptures and pictures and objects I can’t name. I sense their history as though it’s but another presence in the room, and I find myself staring at them more than the soft reassuring flames.
We’ve spent several hours here since Sara’s arrival, but this is the first time we’ve shared the space with Sara’s favorite target. Bia usually grabs the book she wants, sneers at us, and leaves the library. Not today, though. Today, there are too many books to justify leaving the room.
In all fairness, Bia started this feud. I think on some level, she knows Sara isn’t after her mate, but she continues to shoot daggers with her eyes at my best friend. I can’t blame Sara for the taunts and rising to the challenge in a compound full of creatures who respect a pecking order.
When Sara receives her desired reaction from her current taunt, m
y friend grins, huffs, and twirls her short hair around her finger. Her shoes are propped on the coffee table, and today, instead of the normal skimpy outfit, she’s dressed in yoga pants, running sneakers, and a sweatshirt with the hood cut off. The outfit is similar to Bia’s, and I eye it over the rim of my coffee mug, suppressing a giggle.
I opted for baggy sweatpants and one of Jacob’s sweatshirts. I think it drives him mad that my scent is mixing with his. Possessively mad. Sexily mad. My own game of taunting has yet to commence. I’ll get what I want even if it means I drive the alpha up the wall in the process.
“You and Cinder, huh?” I ask, changing the subject from both my thoughts and the two women’s eventual bickering. For a devoted bookworm and obvious nerd, Bia isn’t afraid to rise to Sara’s intimidating challenge. It’s the submissive wolf in her, I realize. Any wolf would be reluctant to lose her spot in the pecking order, even if the challenger isn’t a wolf herself.
“It was inevitable,” Sara declares quietly as if to not deter Bia’s aggression. I don’t tell her that Bia can hear every word, no matter our volume.
“I’m glad,” I say honestly, and then cock my head to the side. “Is the sex any good?”
Her grin turns feral. “You have no idea.”
I raise my eyebrows, and she waves me off. “You know what I mean.” Conspiratorially, she tips forward. “Did he do this thing with his tongue –”
I stop her by holding up a hand. “I barely remember the sex with Cinder. I was too drunk.”
In all honesty, the sex with him was a drunken mistake. I get horny with a belly full of liquor. It goes straight to my warm and sensitive places more than my head. Now, after feeling like I fully know him, he’s become more of a brother to me than an ex-lover. Or a one-time lover. Whatever.
“Fine, fine.” Sara huffs, snatches a book on the end table previously abandoned by someone else, and fans the pages like a flipbook.
“Are you nervous about meeting your aunt?”