Ilan

by Dana Archer

  There’s nothing outwardly different about Josh, nothing I can point to as proof, but I don’t doubt the human’s conviction in his ability to protect his mate. I feel the truth in my bones.

  “I’m sure Sara appreciates the company and advice.”

  Josh steps in front of me, blocking my path to the door. “Aren’t you going to ask about them?”

  “Them?” I raise a brow. “If you’re referring to Sara and my nephew, no. I sense them just beyond this door. They’re alive and safe.”

  “Learning about shifters isn’t something Sara expected. She needs more emotional support than I can give her. In her eyes, I’m her boss, not a confidant. And she doesn’t know Mira well. The few conversations they’ve had doesn’t constitute a friendship.”

  The idea of Josh giving Sara the comfort she needs doesn’t sit well with me either. Not that I know how to be what Sara needs. Innocence has no place in my life. At least it didn’t before last night. No need for Josh to know how inadequate I am in this situation.

  I’m in no mood to play the dominance game, not while Sara’s inside needing comfort I’m not sure I can give, but there’s only one way out of this. Sara’s house is mine, just as she is mine. And another male is blocking me from her. I step into Josh’s personal space. “Move.”

  Josh does, and I enter the kitchen. Baby supplies no longer clutter the table and counters. Ezra’s not by the stairs either. Voices reach me from deeper inside Sara’s home. I follow them, then stop halfway across the kitchen. I have a perfect view of the living room.

  My gaze zeroes in on Sara’s chest. A black lace bra cradles her heavy breasts, lifting them and forming a deep valley between the globes. In the next instant, Mira places my nephew in Sara’s waiting arms, hiding my view of my true mate’s creamy white skin.

  “There. A fresh diaper.” Mira caresses my nephew’s cheek as if he’s the most precious thing in the world. “Do you need anything else before I get a bottle ready?”

  Sara’s warm smile brightens her expression. I press a balled fist to my chest before I can stop myself. Goodness radiates from her all the time, but when she smiles, my chest aches, the need for her unbearable. She touches Mira’s arm. “You don’t have to do that. I can hold him while I mix a bottle. It’s not a big deal.”

  “I want to.” Mira glances at me. “Besides, once we leave, you’re going to be on your own. Ilan’s not the nurturing type.”

  There’s a warning in her gaze. Over what, I can’t fathom. Many points would fit Mira’s pointed look. Don’t break Sara’s heart. Help her with the baby. Don’t be a jerk. I can think of dozens more. I can’t guarantee any of them, save one. “Sara won’t be on her own. Ever.”

  With one hand pressing at her lower back, Mira straightens. Despite her distended stomach, she lowers her chin and glares at me. The predatory gaze might’ve made me laugh coming from any other pregnant shifter, but Mira isn’t just any woman. She’s the only female I’ve ever met strong enough to defy the laws of our kind. And win.

  Mira takes a couple of steps forward. “Sara might’ve been unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time but that doesn’t mean she owes you a lifetime of servitude for saving her life.”

  “Sara’s mine now, Mira. Let it go.” That’s as much insight into our connection as I’m willing to give in front of an audience.

  Mira’s focused study turns reflective. I can almost see her judging and dismissing ideas. After a moment, she nods, no indication in her expression as to what conclusion she came to. “I’ll make several bottles to warm later. Feed him as much as he wants. He’ll let you know what he needs.”

  Only if I can somehow learn to distinguish his cries. No way am I opening my soul to the kid. I dip my chin anyway, pacifying the protective female shifter before she unleashes her judging gaze on me again.

  Once Mira disappears in the kitchen, I turn my attention to where Sara’s sitting in a worn brown recliner. With the baby, in only a diaper, resting against her chest, she appears naked from the waist up. Her creamy white skin looks soft, the kind a male could lick, indulging in her taste.

  With my gaze locked on to the eyes I want to drown in while I fill her up, I close the distance between me and Sara. I don’t touch her, though. I can’t. I’ve ignored my needs too long, and this isn’t the right place to unleash them.

  I look at my nephew. He’s watching me with sleepy eyes. His contentment is clear. He feels safe in the arms of the woman who will become his second mother, the only one he’ll ever know. Unless his birth mother shows up, of course. If she’s still alive. For this little soul, I need to find out.

  “What did you discover at your place?” Sara draws my focus back to her. “Any clues as to who those lion shifters were?”

  She’s using the correct terms now. She also doesn’t seem as flustered as Josh implied either. Maybe he lied. I dismiss the idea in the next heartbeat. The human is honorable. My wolves saw that the moment we met him. So that leaves me with only one conclusion. My presence has calmed Sara. It must’ve. She’s not the type of person to hide her feelings. Her expression is an open book.

  “I know which pride they’re from, and I have the scent of the male Ezra chased off. His fate is sealed.” Hopefully, Sara won’t question me more. I have no desire to go into details of how the lion shifter will suffer before leaving this world.

  “What’s next, then?”

  No doubt in my ability. No concern over her safety. But more importantly, no questions over my ownership of her. I assumed it’d be the first thing out of her mouth. Not this trust in me. Of course, I expected questions about my wolf during the car ride over here and never got them. Even after I prodded her, she waited.

  Until we were alone.

  I glance over my shoulder and catch Josh’s gaze. “You should take your mate home.”

  Josh nods. “Ezra will stay until his twin returns.”

  “Only if he remains on the first floor.” I crouch next to the recliner and glance into my true mate’s eyes. “Sara and I want privacy.”

  Her eyes glint, proving my guess correct. She has a thing or two to say about my ownership claim after all.

  My lip quivers, a smile threatening to break free. My true mate might be the epitome of purity, but she’s not fragile. She holds a fire inside.

  And a flickering flame works wonderfully for navigating through darkness.

  Eight

  Sara

  My blood boils even while I yearn to experience what it means to belong to Ilan. How dare he make such a claim without telling me the reason he’s denied our connection. For years. I’ve felt it. I thought I was crazy for the intense longing too. Apparently, I wasn’t crazy, and Ilan better have a good reason for making me feel like I was pathetic for desiring someone who acted as if I didn’t exist.

  The moment Mira and Josh leave, I carry the sleeping baby to the bassinet, close the door to the first floor where Ezra’s jaguar form retreated, then step into the kitchen. My flannel, the comfy kind that’s meant for around the house, is still where I left it. I snag it from the chair and slip my arms into it.

  Ilan grips the edges before I can button the shirt.

  Standing this close, I’m reminded how built Ilan is compared to other men I’ve known. I feel tiny next to him, and I’m not exactly petite. Far from it, actually. I’m sturdy. Tough. Even if I am a Goody Two-shoes. At least I can pull off a two-minute plank.

  “Why were you in a bra when I walked in here?” The growl to Ilan’s voice is more prominent than normal.

  “Skin-to-skin contact is important for babies, especially shifter newborns. Mira thought it’d be best if he gets used to my scent too. She seemed to think I’d be taking care of him.” I crane my head back to look at Ilan. “Is she right?”

  “Yes.”

  Ilan doesn’t specify which part of my statement is correct, however. I can’t allow for misunderstandings. No longer will I be ignored. Not now that I know my importance to Ilan. O
f course, I don’t actually know what I am to him other than his. Mira never pushed the point. I could simply be this baby’s caretaker.

  Brow raised, I stare at Ilan. The corner of his mouth rises ever so slightly, and his eyelids lower a fraction of an inch. Had I not been absorbing every nuance of his expression, I might’ve missed the little clues to his amusement. “Yes to the skin contact, my scent, or my role?”

  “All of them.” Ilan pushes the shirt off my shoulders so the flannel slides to my elbows. “Now ask me the question that’s put that glint in your eyes.”

  How does this man know when something is eating at me? I guess this moment isn’t any different from the one outside my house earlier this morning. Both times stemmed from a major revelation. He was honest with me last time. Hopefully, he will be again.

  “Okay.” I nod. “You told Mira I’m yours. What exactly does that mean?”

  His eyelids lower more. His lips part on a slow exhale. He lowers his head. With his mouth a fraction away from mine, he breathes. His inhale steals the air from my lungs and replaces it with his. Light-headedness grips me after a moment. Reaching between our bodies, I fist his shirt. The flannel hooked at my elbows stretches, reminding me of my half-dressed state. While I didn’t feel uncomfortable in front of Mira and her husband, I do now.

  A vulnerability settles over me. My heartbeat quickens, the sound of my blood racing in my veins pounding in my ears. Weakness leaves my limbs trembling. I tighten my hold on Ilan’s shirt, bunching the cotton in my hands.

  The soft caress of Ilan’s fingertips over the thumping vein in my neck eases the tremors in my legs, saving me from crumpling to the ground at Ilan’s feet.

  “Do not fear this.” Ilan’s lips brush mine with each word. “It’s as natural as the cycle of the moon.”

  Ilan’s comparison makes my heart flutter and slows the rapid beat. I feel my body calming under his touch, much as the baby’s cries had slowed last night under Ilan’s caress. “What is this power you hold over me?”

  He moves his hands to my shoulders. His firm hold is the gentlest I’ve ever felt. Odd that his grip could elicit such a sensation of reverence within me. “It’s the same as you hold over me, Sara.”

  “I don’t understand.” My breathless voice doesn’t shake. It’s not weak either. There’s an anticipation surrounding this moment I don’t understand. As if it’s life altering.

  “You will.” Ilan’s softly spoken words wind through me, revving the expectancy until every inch of me is aware, excited for what Ilan will do.

  “Will I?”

  “Yes.”

  Ilan tilts his head. The press of his lips against mine firms, urging me to open to him. I do. No thought of resisting crosses my mind. I’ve been dreaming about kissing Ilan for nearly all my adult life.

  His tongue slides against mine, a sensual caress. Not a kiss, exactly. It’s more intimate. He curls his tongue around mine before exploring my mouth as if he’s memorizing every inch. The rolling thrusts steal my sanity. I’ve never been kissed like this. As if Ilan is trying to crawl into my body, love me in a way no man ever has, and leave a piece of himself behind.

  On an exhaled sigh, he swallows, I arch into him. As if it’s the sign he’s waiting for, Ilan makes a sound low in his throat, something between a growl and a groan. Not a sound any human would make. He’s not human, though. He’s a predator, one who fought to protect me. One who promised I’d never be alone. One who claimed I’m his.

  Sharper teeth descend the longer our tongues duel. Fangs. My mind supplies the detail. Ilan’s fangs are poking through the line of his straight teeth, turning this kiss into a dangerous melding of mouths. One of those sharper teeth nicks me. The copper tang of blood fills my mouth. A hint of chocolate overcomes the bitter taste and destroys the twinge of pain.

  Ilan sucks on my tongue, jerking my body and awakening needs I’ve ignored for years. The instant punch of desire leaves me trembling.

  It’s been so long since I’ve held a man inside me. Ilan will shatter every notion I have of what good sex is supposed to be like. I don’t doubt that. Having his lips on mine has obliterated memories of kissing other men. I’m in unfamiliar territory, a human in the arms of a primitive male.

  A whimper tears from my throat. The sound’s muffled, but my body quivers as a tremor runs down my spine. Ilan’s hold on my shoulders firms more, his fingertips biting into my skin and pushing me to the cusp of pain and submission. After seeing the primal side of this powerful man, there’s only one choice I want to make.

  I abandon my tight grip on his shirt and link my hands behind Ilan’s neck, giving myself to him and forcing him to hold me up. I don’t fear Ilan. I crave him. Always have. And I won’t lose my opportunity to indulge my hunger.

  Ilan presses one hand to my lower back, the other between my shoulder blades, and tilts my body so only his hold on me is keeping me upright. He bends over me, surrounding me. Every breath I take fills my lungs with Ilan’s forest scent. His warmth beckons me closer. I want to rip his shirt off and press my chest to his.

  I need Ilan to ease the ache deep inside me, to complete me. Only he can. The thought takes hold. I can’t lose him. He’s mine too.

  With my nails scraping Ilan’s scalp, I hold him in place and take control of this kiss, leading where I only followed moments ago. A wildness I can’t explain consumes me. Deeper and deeper, I kiss Ilan until I know every inch of his mouth as he knows mine.

  More chocolate-flavored blood enhances the melding of our mouths. The taste pushes my needs higher. I abandon Ilan’s head and drag my nails over his back. The elastic waistband of his sweats meets my wandering hands. I grip it and tug, exposing the backside I saw only briefly last night.

  On a raw curse, Ilan breaks the kiss. In the next heartbeat, I’m spun, my back to Ilan’s chest. My hands are tugged behind me, the flannel finally slipping free. He holds my wrists in a firm grip with one hand and my chin with the other, then turns my face so I’m staring into glowing orange eyes.

  “Sara.” The growl to Ilan’s voice rumbles in his chest. “Tell me to stop.”

  “I don’t want you to stop.” I focus on those inhuman and breathtakingly beautiful eyes. “I want you to prove to me I’m yours.”

  The orange color overtakes the white. Black and brown streaks bisect his all-orange eyes. I suck in a sharp breath at the sight of them. These are his wolf’s eyes. I’ve brought out his primitive side, unleased a primal male on myself.

  “Oh God.” Anticipation builds within me, stronger than before.

  Ilan smiles. Well, he raises the corners of his mouth, revealing his wickedly hot fangs. “With you, I can be godlike. Only with you.”

  I don’t get a chance to question his odd words. He kisses me again. Held immobile against his chest, I can’t arch into him. I can’t lead him. I can’t move. All I can do is feel. And I do. I experience everything, from the press of his mouth to the sharp tug on my wrists as he holds me firmly in place for his bruising kiss. Mostly, though, the truth resonates within me.

  Ilan owns me. I’m his. Just like he said.

  Another whimper escapes me. Ilan breaks our kiss. He drags those sharp teeth along my jaw, down my throat, to the spot where my shoulder meets my neck. Then breathes. His warm breath sensitizes me. Shivers of awareness skip across my skin.

  My body aches for Ilan. I open my mouth to tell him, to beg him for relief. The wet swipe of his tongue over my shoulder stops me. My eyes roll back in my head as Ilan laves my skin, deliberately licking the same spot. Numbness spreads, the sensation odd but not unwelcome.

  Ilan tips my head, exposing the spot he’s focusing his attention on. A nip of his fangs sends a shudder through me. No pain accompanies the almost playful pinch. Eagerness quickens my breathing. “Ilan, again.”

  His groan is the most primal I’ve ever heard. More animal than man. Still no fear or apprehension seizes me. Excitement does. “Please, Ilan.”

  He firms his hold on my c
hin and wrists. His mouth opens around my shoulder. His fangs press into my skin. I draw in a breath, my muscles tensing. Suddenly, I want to run, to escape Ilan, to hide from this moment. I don’t get the chance to act on the primal fear. Ilan’s sharp fangs sink into my shoulder.

  Pain locks my muscles, closes off my throat. I can’t even scream. Ilan grinds those deadly teeth against my bones. The scraping sounds echo in my head, followed by a heartbeat. A second heartbeat. It’s not mine. My heart wants to escape my chest. This steady beat is calm. The urge to match it overcomes me. I can’t fight it. My body’s not my own.

  Ilan’s inside me.

  “You’re beautiful, Sara. So pure. A haven I never thought to see. Innocence for the taking.” Ilan’s praise slips through my mind.

  Eyes closed, I focus on his voice. I can almost see where he’s hidden, a bright light surrounded by something sinister and dark. The need to go to him can’t be denied. I have to touch him. I have to keep him.

  My leaden limbs don’t want to move, but I force them to obey me. I take a step, then another. The temperature drops. My breath fogs. Goose bumps break out. A firm push against my chest stops me. I glance down. Shadows form a wall. I press my palm against it. Ice seeps into my skin, chilling me and leaving my teeth chattering.

  “Ilan, where are you?” The compulsion to wrap myself around him is unbearable.

  “Don’t worry. I have you. Your soul is safe with me.”

  “My soul?”

  “Yes, Sara, your soul. It’s mine.” Shadows creep over the bright white sphere. Dark fingers dig into it, gripping a section. My body seizes. The shadowy hand yanks a section out. Agony as I’ve never known clamps down on me. My heart stutters. The pain is more than I can handle.

  A breath of warm air on my shoulder stops the anguish, snuffing out the torture as if it had never occurred. I drop back into my body. Ilan’s fangs pull free of my shoulder. His tongue swipes over my skin. Tingles spread. Desire follows. The change in needs is happening faster than I can comprehend.