by Bella Jacobs
“Dust showed me the passport photo a couple days ago. Let me in on the fact that we’ve got the wrong guy.”
I knew Dust was ready to tell Creedence. I agreed it was time to tell Kite, as well—we’ll have to decide what to do about Luke before we cross the border, a milestone that grows closer with every passing day—but I hadn’t realized Dust had already spilled the beans.
I haven’t noticed any increased animosity on Cree’s part. In fact, he’s been a little nicer to Luke lately, easing up on the verbal jabs and general sneering.
“What are your thoughts?” I sway closer to him, curling my arm into the crook of his elbow as we move into the deeper shadows of the forest proper.
“No clear thoughts yet, just suspicions. Theories. I flew into town with Dust yesterday, checked my voicemail. I finally had something from my source in San Diego, the one looking into Luke’s family.”
“And?” I ask, peering up at him in the scraps of moonlight. We’ve reached a clearing, the same one where I lost the battle against the mud a few weeks ago.
The place where I first learned that Carrie Ann was dying. Leaving.
I shiver. Some places have bad energy, and I have a feeling this one’s is about to get even worse.
Creedence lets out a long, slow breath. “His sister isn’t a wolf.”
I blink. “What kind of shifter is she?” I know shifter species can intermarry—my own father was a dragon and my mother a fox—but I’ve learned most of them don’t. Wolves are especially sensitive about pack members mating with anyone but another wolf kin. Even other canine shifters—jackals, hyenas, etc.—are frowned upon.
In some circles, it can be grounds for banishment from the pack.
“Is that why their family went lone wolf?” I ask. “Because one of their parents broke pack mating traditions?”
“That would have been grounds for expulsion by the L.A. pack. The San Bernardino pack, too. But that’s not what we’re dealing with. His sister isn’t a shifter at all, Slim. She’s human.”
I stand up straighter, thoughts racing. “You said she’s his half-sister?”
“She is,” Creedence confirms. “But even fifty percent shifter is enough. They have the same father, different mothers. So there’s a chance Luke’s mother was part shifter, the father was part shifter, and that was enough to make him go wolf, while his sister, born to a purely human mother, didn’t get the supernatural mojo. But I’m thinking there’s a simpler explanation.”
“I’m listening.” I cross my arms at my chest, wishing I could see Cree’s face better. But the moon has checked out, disappearing behind the low-lying clouds crouched on the mountaintops, biding their time.
It’s going to rain before morning, but not for another few hours. I’ve learned to read the weather, too, Kite teaching me how to decipher Mother Nature’s secrets in the scents lingering in the air. But I can’t read Cree. He’s learned to shield so completely against my empathic gift that I all I get from him is static, a steady buzz that insists there’s nothing for me to hear.
I reach out, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palm. “Tell me,” I whisper. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can, but…” He sighs. “I’m at odds with myself on this one. A part of me wants to suspect the worse. But the more I think about the evidence, the more I think I’ve misjudged Wolfie. I still don’t like him, but…”
“Really? I never would have guessed.”
Creedence chuckles. “Yeah, well… I’m not used to being in close quarters with other people for this long. Makes me cranky. Aside from shacking up with my sister once in a while between gigs, I’ve been on my own since I was sixteen.”
“What kind of gigs?” I ask, intrigued by this glimpse into Creedence’s life. Aside from Luke—our resident brick wall—Creedence is the most secretive of the crew. I know he grew up in a con-artist family, had a rough childhood, and has a grown sister with two kids. That’s about it.
“Photography,” he says after a beat. “Wildlife mostly, but fashion every now and then, if a buddy needed a second shooter.”
“That’s amazing,” I say, ridiculously pleased by this tiny morsel. “How did you get into it?”
“I started out doing some kinky modeling for rent money and eventually picked up enough on set to get behind the camera.”
I smile. “Of course you did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He pinches my waist playfully, making me laugh and dance back a step, tennis shoes shushing in the leaves.
“You’re so pretty. It makes sense that you used it to your advantage. And it makes sense that you leveraged that into a career where you get to call the shots. You like control.”
He makes a soft growling sound, but without seeing his face, I can’t tell if it’s his amused growl or his irritated one. In the end, I decide I don’t really care. Let him be irritated. I’m tired of begging for scraps of trust from this man who’s supposed to be one of my ride-or-die allies.
“You do,” I push on. “You can be easy going, but sometimes it’s all an act. A shield you throw up to distract people from the plots and plans behind the scenes.”
He rumbles again, the sound vibrating across my skin as he moves closer. “Is that right? And what am I so busy plotting and planning, Slim?”
Ignoring the voice in my head that insists I shut my mouth and be nice, I say, “How to manipulate people and situations to your advantage. How to get the dirt on others while revealing almost nothing about yourself. How to stay safe when people let you down. Because they’ve always let you down. Haven’t they?”
I lift my chin, searching the darkness for his face. I catch a flash of yellow as his eyes reflect some tiny spark of light, but that’s it. Then, nothing but black and silence and my breath rushing out as his hands settle on my hips.
A moment later his lips are at my temple, moving against my skin as he whispers, “And what about you, sweetheart? What about the people you’ve trusted? Looks to me like we’re in the same boat.”
I flatten my hands on his chest, fighting to think clearly as hunger prickles across my skin. “My parents were brainwashed by a cult. They couldn’t help it.”
“They still lied to your face every day of your life.”
I swallow hard. “You’re right. They did. But they’ve changed. So had Carrie Ann. She gave her life to keep from betraying me.”
“Again,” Creedence says, not pulling any punches, either. “From betraying you again. After years of spying on you, pretending to be something she wasn’t, and planting a tracking device on our vehicle that would have gotten us all killed if Luke hadn’t found it in time.” His fingers curl into my hips. “Which leads us back to Wolf Boy. He’s either the real deal, someone we can trust to have our backs, at least until he gets what he wants. Or…”
“Or what?”
“Or he’s another layer in the conspiracy onion. As far as I know, he hasn’t shifted a single time since we met him. And if he has, it hasn’t been in front of any of us. Right?”
“Right,” I say, brow furrowing. “So, what does that mean? What are the implications?”
“Either he’s got such a mangy kin form he’s ashamed to show his muzzle in public,” Creedence says, clearly not buying that theory any more than I do, “or he’s hiding something. Maybe something like the fact that he gets into his kin form in fits and starts, jerky and slow, like all the lab-made shifters made before the mad scientists perfected their crazy.”
My lips part, but the more I think about it, the more sense it makes. “He’s lab-made. That’s why his sister isn’t a shifter.”
“And why his pack instincts are for shit. He’s never been part of a pack, so how the hell would he know how they work?”
I nod. “That would explain why he’s so cagey, too. We’ve already been betrayed by a lab-made shifter. He’s probably worried he’ll lose what trust he’s gained if he tells us the truth now.”
“Right. I’ve seen it.” I’ve spent enough time fighting with a shirtless Luke to memorize every muscle and mark on his body, no matter how hard I try not to drool over his stupidly gorgeous chest. “Why is that weird? It wouldn’t make sense to bring an unmarked man. The mark is the whole point.”
“It is,” Creedence agrees. “But to my knowledge, only Kin Born shifters have ever borne the mark. It’s something you inherit, not something you whip up in a petri dish.”
“But inherited traits come from DNA,” I say, wishing I’d paid better attention in experimental biology my sophomore year of college. “That’s how they’re making these shifters. With DNA therapies. It follows that the genetic code for the mark might have gotten mixed in with the rest of it.”
Creedence grunts. “Not ten years ago, when they were still targeting one or two base sequences with enzymes and a prayer. They weren’t doing the bulk infusions and code overwriting they do now. It was more specific, a snip here and a replacement there, just enough to get the shift going in both directions. And according to the timeline I’ve been able to piece together, Luke’s been wolf for at least fifteen years.”
The skin at the back of my neck prickles. “Then how does he have the mark? It’s real. I’ve seen it up close. It’s a birthmark, not a tattoo or makeup or anything else.”
“Up close, huh?” His arm bands around my waist, drawing me against his lean, hard, oh-so-delicious body. “Anything you want to share with the class, Slim? Cause if you’re feeling this guy, it might be worth locking down the mate bond and worrying about how he came by that mark later. If he’s lab-made, he won’t have a kin gift to share with you, but he’ll still make you stronger.” His free hand skims up my side, molding around the ribs below my breast. “The chances of us finding another marked wolf before we head off to face the Big Bad are slim to fucking none. They don’t want any part of this.”
“Luke and I aren’t anywhere close to that,” I say, though I can’t deny there’s a part of me that looks forward to his hands on me, even if he spends most of our time together kicking my ass. “Which makes sense, considering he’s not who he’s pretending to be. But what about you, Cree?”
“What about me, Slim?”
“Why are you so far away?”
He draws me closer, until his erection pulses between his belly and mine, making my blood run hotter. “I’m not far away. I’m right here.”
I cup his face in my hands. “Are you really? This is the first time we’ve been this close since we got here. I was starting to think you’d lost interest.”
He hums. “Oh, I’m interested. But you’ve been busy.”
“Not that busy.”
He cups my breast, making my pulse spike. “You’ve got two men in your bed, baby girl. I’d call that pretty fucking busy. Literally.” He laughs, teasing my nipple through my shirt as he adds in a softer voice, “I have to confess, I was thrown by you and the captain. I thought I was going to be your number two.”
My breath rushes out against his lips; the electric bliss tingling from my nipple downward makes clear thinking difficult. “But I… I didn’t think you were ready to commit to a mate bond.”
“I’m not. But I still thought I’d be the second man in your bed. Guess I overestimated the chemistry, huh?” He pinches my nipple tighter, making me gasp and my heart begin to beat between my legs.
I want him, want him so much the last of my shyness evaporates, burned away by the heat sizzling across my skin.
“My panties would tell a different story,” I say, digging my fingers into his shoulders and holding on tight.
“Oh yeah? And what kind of story is that?”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I whisper.
“You want me to touch you, sweetheart?” he asks, voice going husky as his hands smooth down my ribs. “You want my fingers inside you?”
I shiver. “Yes. So bad.”
“No, it won’t be bad,” he says, thumbing open the button at the top of my shorts. “It’s going to be good, Slim. I’m going to make you come so hard you’re going to forget everything that ever made you cry.”
I moan my endorsement of this plan, and a beat later, Cree’s hand slides into my panties, his fingers teasing through where I’m already almost embarrassingly slick. But the growl vibrating against my neck as he guides us both to the leaf-covered ground leaves no doubt that Cree likes me this way.
Wet and ready for him, dying for his touch, his kiss…
“In a rush?” I tease, breath catching as he rips my shorts and panties down my legs with one swift motion.
“Yes.” He fists the hem of my shirt in his hand. “Now, take this off, and play with your tits for me, Slim. I need to drown myself in your pussy. Your safe word is Flea Collar.”
My lips twitch. “What will I need a safe word for?” I strip off my shirt, pulse racing as Creedence spreads my legs, baring me to him as he shifts lower, positioning his face only inches from where I’m dying for him to touch me. The moon peeks out from behind the clouds, granting me a heart-stopping glimpse of the heat in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of me, swollen and desperate for his attention.
“In case you decide you don’t like biting,” he says, making my breath come faster. “But I think you will, gorgeous.” He shakes his head, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Fuck, I think you will.”
And then his mouth is on me, kissing my sex the same way he’s always kissed my lips, with devoted abandon that drives me wild. His tongue dips into my entrance, swirling and teasing, building the ache inside of me until I’m writhing in the leaves, the musky scent of the forest floor making me even wilder, hungrier.
And then he starts to bite.
To bite me there…
At first just little nips at the top of my thighs, then capturing the swollen folds of my sex between his teeth, and then…
Oh, God, and then…
I cry out his name, driving my fingers into his thick hair and holding on as his teeth pulse around my clit—tighter, harder, until it hurts so good. So insanely good. He drives two fingers inside me, hooking them as he drags them out again, electrifying every tingling, dancing nerve, and I come so hard a sky full of stars is born behind my closed eyes.
Waves of bliss pulse across my skin as I buck into his mouth, knowing I’m never going to get enough of his kiss. His teeth. His hands cradling my hips, drawing me close as he moans against my slick skin, as if he’s never tasted anything as delicious as my body wet and aching for him.
“You…” I moan, my back arching off the ground as the biting becomes suckling and his fingers continue to work inside me. “I want you, Cree. Please.”
“Not tonight, baby.” His breath shudders out against my thigh. “My pants stay on tonight. This is all about you.”
“I don’t want it to be all about me.” I tangle my fingers in his hair and tug lightly, wanting him up here with me. Wanting to taste myself on his lips and feel his cock hot and hard between my legs. “I want to make you feel good.”
“You already make me…” Cursing softly, he sits back on his heels, pressing the heel of his hand to his temple. “Shit. My head…it’s fucking exploding.”
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I sit up fast, reaching for him.
“No, don’t, I—” His words end in a choked sound as my palms brush his chest and suddenly the night rips down the center.
It’s like half the world just…peels away, revealing an entirely new one on the other side of the clearing.
My jaw drops, terror and wonder mixing in my chest as I watch time twist and curl back on itself, granting me glimpses of wh
at might come to pass.
Cree’s kin gift…
This is what it’s like, I realize. It’s intense, so much more real and present-feeling than I imagined.
I see myself years from now, my hair in a long braid and a baby in my arms as three beautiful children roll down a grassy hill in front of me. I’m laughing at Creedence, who’s not far behind them, still a kid at heart though there’s gray threading his golden beard and wrinkles around his smiling eyes. I see a cabin in an orchard, a kitchen big enough to feed a small army, and the men I loved gathered around the holiday tree as we hand out presents to friends and family, pretending not to notice the kids sneaking cookies from the plate we’re going to leave out for Santa.
I see happiness and love and a family that struggles to find its feet sometimes, but always comes through in the end, no matter what hardships we face.
But I also see…
Pain. And death.
So much death…
I suck in a breath that gets trapped in my lungs as Kite takes a fatal arrow to the heart, Dust falls from the sky into a churning ocean, and I walk through the rain dressed in black, on my way to yet another funeral, my heart aching and my arms empty.
There is no family in this future, no joy, no children because it would be cruel to bring a baby into this world, where there is only misery and suffering.
So much suffering…
The vision writhes forward again, rolling across time with a speed that makes my stomach pitch and Creedence cry out in agony.
Creedence.
God, what have I done to him?
I flinch, pulling my hands away from his chest. The moment the connection is severed, the other world cuts off like a door’s been slammed, locking me firmly on the other side.
But Creedence isn’t so lucky.
He collapses onto the leaves, clawed hands gripping his head as he fights for breath, his lids fluttering so fast I can only imagine what he’s seeing behind his closed eyes. “Get help. Help. Please.”
“I’ll be right back,” I swear, fighting the urge to reach for him again, knowing my touch isn’t going to make anything better. Instead, I scramble to my feet, backing toward camp as I shout, “Hold on, Cree. Hold on for me!”