3: Fera - Pack City Page 7

  Our struggles were easily visible on our faces, I think. At least, his was. Finally, he blurted, “What the hell’s your name?”

  I pursed my lips, holding back a grin. “Fera.”

  “Pretty.”

  Obvious flattery. My gaze darkened, narrowed, and I said, “Beats being called bitch.”

  He made a face, then flicked his hand, as if dismissing a thought. “Well,” he grinned in an almost lyrical voice, “my little stolen bitch,” that turned to a growl, and dropped its playfulness immediately as he said my name, “Fera, I have to tell you--”

  I bent closer, watching his face, because he seemed so serious suddenly.

  “I have this indescribable urge to lay you down and fuck your brains out.”

  He stole my breath away with the guttural announcement. Our gazes kind’ve clung to one another, until I worked through the glint in his eyes, retraced his words. His little stolen bitch. Airily, I taunted, “Why don’t you?”

  Chapter Seven

  Honestly, he had won me. With a little help, maybe. But he’d secured me from the pack, had led me--Okay, that part’s debatable, but you get the drift--he had me alone now.

  I’m sure he considered the whole fast fuck thing again. I know I did. Could see it happening, right there, with my eyes open. His nostrils twitched. And a sexy little smirk appeared on his lips. He lifted his eyebrows and said, “Maybe I’m waiting for you to beg.”

  “Ha!” I turned my back. That had almost been a slap in the face. Felt like it at first.

  And it wasn’t what I expected.

  It made me mull over the words, his expression. And he waited on me to catch up, respond.

  He wasn’t some brainless twit running on base urges. Well, he might have been running on base urges, but he had a sense of humor, I could see that. And he wasn’t pouncing me like an animal. Not that I necessarily would have had a problem with that. But, apparently, he thought I’d taken it too seriously, was considering it too long. Only he was smart enough to know I wasn’t, not once, thinking about begging him to fuck me.

  I am a princess. No way was I begging. My back went stiff. I honestly thought about chewing his throat open. You know, how I could turn, pounce, and rip him apart. Slash my heart like that, telling me to beg. Instant anger filled me.

  And fury. Fury for all the time I’d waited to pick a mate. And what had I done? All that destiny bullshit. Who had filled my brain with that? Kayty? Hood?

  He reached out and touched my shoulder. A light, almost non-existent prodding for me to turn back around. I just twisted my neck a little so I could look at him--reproachfully.

  “You should, you know.”

  Beg. I knew that was what he was talking about. Only this time, his eyebrows wiggled up and down, so obviously willing me to take the suggestion that it was laughable. That’s when I saw his nervousness, his desire to make me smile. He was waiting for it, hoping I was smart enough to get the fact that he’d been trying to break the tension a little. Damn, I felt slow all of a sudden.

  I rolled my eyes, smiled. Told myself, okay, he was being funny. But I’ll admit, for a minute there, I’d thought he was serious. It could’ve ended real badly.

  With all the charm I think a man could have, he said, “By the way, my name’s Jack.”

  Like spreading that name out there was supposed to impress me. Jack. What kind of name is that? A confusing one. One that made it hard to think. Or was it his touch?

  Or did he think I wouldn’t have asked? I skewered him with my gaze for a minute, trying to figure out where he was coming from. I blinked a little. His features appeared more human. Less hair, maybe.

  I wondered what he looked like in human form. Or what he’d look like if he shifted to full lupus. In crinos, he was definitely all that. He was pretty big, but not monstrous, like some oafs get to be in that form. And his hair had a silvery sheen to it. White with silver tips. Black around his ears.

  I looked at his hand, which had lifted from my shoulder, to flutter all the way down my arm, snagging my fingers. Powerful hands. Yet tender. Tugging.

  “So, Fera, tell me what we do now.”

  “What? You need instructions?” My eyes bulged, I’m sure. A little shock and surprise, maybe?

  Then my brain kicked in and went off. I realized how silly my questions were. Crinos guaranteed our instincts. Super hormonal activity. Duh.

  But I wanted to giggle. I mean, holy shit, we could’ve been in trouble. I hadn’t ever had vaginal penetration. Certainly done nothing in that form. And I really didn’t think my voyeurism qualified me to direct the process. I mean, it looks simple, it is simple, but it didn’t seem so simple at that moment.

  Jack chuckled. “Not really.” He tugged on my hand again, entwined our fingers. I hadn’t registered that I had fingers. “But, since you didn’t drop to your knees--”

  My chin came up quickly. My lashes fluttered. Probably looked like an owl.

  He tried another tack. The whole begging thing just wasn’t coming off. “I didn’t want to jump your bones without warning, though.”

  “Why not?” Sounded good to me.

  You can see, at this point, that the scent of the guy was making my brain into mush. But he was smarter than the average crinos jerk, because he respected me. A chick in crinos could do some serious damage to a guy who’s a little too pushy. I remember back at that moment and think, jeez, Jack had amazing self-control. Or maybe his instincts for self-preservation rode his brain harder than what was between his legs?

  The truth was, in fact, I was actually getting irritated with the ‘sudden wait,’ now that we were there where we could do it. All that conversation, as little as it was, was in my way big time. But something I’ve learned about Jack. He likes to tease. Doesn’t like to be rushed. He doesn’t fuck like a rabbit, or a dog. Or an animal.

  Though, I promise you, I have every intention of urging him to it. But what can you do? The man savors every moment.

  Guess that comes from being bit, thinking you’re dying, and surviving hell to wake up and find yourself a shapeshifting demon.

  Make no mistake. Werewolves in crinos are demons. Hellbent and hellacious.

  But we were calm. Unnatural. The thought occurred to me as it happened--that we were unnatural. That I, too, was somehow unnatural. I should have been rolling him on his back and climbing on, insisting that he do me the honors. But I was--just--mesmerized.

  His fingers reached, still tangled with mine, but I felt a soft tickle on my thigh. And his voice; rough, like suede, smooth and silky at the same time, had me slipping juice down my legs again when he said, “Because, Fera, I want a little more than a fast hump.”

  “Why?”

  Leaning toward me, he tucked his nose near my ear. I felt his breath on me. More, I heard him inhale. Very tenderly, he put his other hand along my collarbone, trailed over the musculature there, and said, “Because I’m a man who recognizes what he’s found.”

  Stupidly, I asked, “What?”

  Jack smiled; his lips grazed the top of my shoulder. And yeah, I swooned a little. My knees went weak. But that could have been from the fact that I wasn’t used to standing upright. If you recall, I’d been running on all fours until just before I met him.

  I didn’t want to give Jack the power of knowing he made my knees weak. I remember thinking that I had to be worn-out from all the events of the night. Funny, how you fight what you know is true, what you don’t want to accept. That maybe, just maybe, you’ve met your match.

  “When--” His voice cracked a little. “When I got bit, I thought--”

  I knew what he thought. That he’d never find peace, or sanity again. That he’d be lonely forever.

  That hung between us for several seconds. Kismet. Kindred souls. Destiny.

  A sense of belonging. A sadness for him, and the fact that he’d gone through that first change on his own, feeling totally victimized.

  I could imagine the pain he must’ve gone through.
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  The fact that he conveyed it to me by the way his voice broke and the way he reached for me, tucked my head under his chin and held me, while trying to speak of how he felt--it did something to me.

  “I thought that my life was over.” He choked over the words.

  I slipped my arms around him. And I have to say, I reveled in that. Never had I had arms before. Legs, paws. Well, I still had paws, but they had a different feel to them, a new sensitivity. I spread my claws and held on. I closed my eyes and listened to the beat of his heart under my ear, felt the warmth of his body against mine.

  Maybe I jumped the gun a bit, but when he said that to me, I took it to mean that with me, he felt there was something to live for. Call it the princess syndrome. The world revolves around me. You can’t help what you are.

  But you know what? It was exactly what I needed to hear. I whispered, “Shh. It’s just begun.” I took it as a sign that he needed me.

  I clung to it. After all, I’d left P.C. for him, with him.

  I believe Gaia knew I needed him. I’d been so lonely. Never even realized it. I’d watched the others at Pack City with my puppy dog eyes, pathetically pretending that their affections were nothing but entertainment to me. Curiosities.

  But really, I had felt such a soul-consuming sadness, like I’d been left out by the whole universe, always on the fringes of everyone else’s lives. Gaia knows I lived vicariously through Kayty. Pretended to be the one in Leer’s arms, under his all-encompassing masculinity.

  I think Jack smiled then, when I sort of promised him a life together, though I couldn’t see his face. I just sort’ve felt it, ya know? He practically purred, “But then, when I was at my sorriest, I got word, I mean, wind, of you.”

  I frowned, pulling back so I could look at him. “Word?” Call me wary. Something made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  “Wind. Slip of the tongue.” He grinned. “Forgive me.” Then, he flicked his tongue out, traced my lips quickly, and sucked it back in before I could object. That had me scrunching up my nose, totally distracted from what he’d been saying, and dropping my mouth open in surprise, too. Thinking, damn, I’ll bet that tongue’s as good as Leer’s at--

  I didn’t get any further than that in my thinking. Because Jack slid his hand up my back, grabbed a hold of my hair and pulled my head back, rather forcefully, but not painfully. Kind’ve snapped my attention directly to his face.

  He searched me. That’s all I can say.

  And there was a hardness in the way he did it. His body felt tight against me, like every muscle bunched up. There was anger there, I could feel it. I chalked it up to pent-up frustrations. We all have them. And confusion. I mean, it had been one damn crazy night.

  “Fera.”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me that you wanted to leave that place.”

  Oh. He was feeling guilty for sneaking me out?

  Well, I didn’t want my lover struggling with guilt when he needed to be attending to me. I told him, ever so quietly, “I wanted to leave that place.”

  I exonerated him with those words. He kissed me hard. Like a drowning man whose only redemption is a drink from the deepest well, he slid his tongue into my mouth and sucked fluid in a kiss I felt clear to my toes. I can’t even describe the passion that he put into that. The all-consuming feeling that swamped me, that had me clinging to him, totally weak in the knees. Jack held me up and bent me over backward at the same time, laid me over his knee. How he’d dropped to one knee, I don’t know. I don’t care. I truly swooned in his arms. And I knew that loving him, being made love to by him, would be an experience that I would never forget.

  When he came up for air, his lips only rose about a half-inch. I felt his breath on me, heaving as if he’d been running a marathon, and I thanked Gaia that I wasn’t the only one running a race of emotions.

  He asked, “What is it?” Again, he searched my features. He released my hair, spread his hands on the back of my head, then took hold again. It felt like a brief massage. Lulled my eyes from the inside out, I think. Under hooded gaze, I watched him.

  The man had a reverence about him, like he was somewhere between respectful of me, and considering what was to come. Again, the word savor comes to mind.

  His nose slid around me, not touching, just sniffing. Very much the way I’d seen Leer do to Kayty--many a time.

  Teasing, the way his breathing warmed my flesh.

  Humbly, he asked, “What is it, this thing between us that makes me a madman, an insane wolf that would risk life and limb for it?”

  Kinship. I murmured, smiling, “Attraction, maybe?”

  That he felt a kinship straight up made my heart flutter, drew me deeper into the snuggling center of his embrace. He pressed me to his breastbone. Hung on tightly. Almost crushed me.

  But I held him, too, in that desperate-feeling, thank-Gaia grip, for the space of several minutes, eyes closed, feeling how right it was. I could have fallen asleep like that.

  I definitely felt like he’d sucked the energy from my whole being. I went limp, considered letting myself drift into that restful slumber I suddenly craved, sure that I was safe in his arms.

  Except between us was something that we couldn’t ignore. Something making itself known to me by pressing into my hip. His cock.

  And that had me realizing the slathering fluidity between my thighs. Downright messy.

  Let me explain. It isn’t always like that, but sometimes, when you’re really hot, you’re just wet. I was feeling sensitized all over. Probably had something to do with the proximity of his pheromones, mingling with mine. I don’t really know.

  Shifting in his arms, suddenly uncomfortable, self-conscious, I forced his hands to move. I don’t know that it was inadvertent when his fingers managed to slip down over my hip, squeeze my ass, then ride up my thigh to cup my crotch.

  To slide a finger in.

  Again, I’m sure, my eyes rolled up inside my head.

  I clawed a little.

  And he helped me stand up, which, apparently, is what he thought I wanted. He never let go of me, or I of him. He said, “You’re ready for me.”

  I thought, no shit. I wanted to scream, just fuck me.

  I know he didn’t want to do it standing up, but he didn’t want to lay me in the grass, either. Too much a man. I had a terrible urge to pull out of his arms altogether and turn my back to him again and bend over, on all fours. And simply demand he climb on.

  Maybe that’s what caused the embrace to last for extra minutes after I became aware of the throbbing between my legs and the insistent rod pressing against my belly. He was thinking about where to do it, how to make the first time something less--animal. And I was just envisioning it every way I could think of, wondering how to initiate it.

  Now, remember, at that time, he had no idea that I had been born a wolf. We were both in crinos. But it was weird, more control than, I think, most crinos werewolves have. Both of us, I mean. We were thinking.

  And it’s odd, but at that moment, when I realized I was overanalyzing what was going on between us, that I finally understood what Hood had been trying to tell me--what the difference was between us, him and I, and most of the dogs in the pack. Thinking smart in spite of our instincts, our driving urges. It’s how Jack and I escaped the pack, I know that for damn sure.