Scattered Siblings 3: To Mate a Werewolf (17 page)

Ellie didn’t think they’d sleep much, but she took the biggest risk of her life. “I’ll stay, Joel, but you need to conserve your strength for tomorrow’s challenge.”

He didn’t put her down, just moved toward the bed. “I need you, and I promise I’ll be good.”

There he went with that innocent look again, and she knew exactly what he’d be good at. Her pussy overheated at the thought.

Chapter Seventeen

Ellie didn’t know if Elves bonded with their mates the way Lykae did, but she couldn’t love Joel more if she tried. She met his gaze, snuggled in closer, and murmured, “I’d enjoy sleeping in your arms.”

Joel kept her on his knee as he sat on the edge of the bed. He tugged her torn sweatshirt over her head. “Let me help you undress. Once you’re comfortable, then we can sleep.”

The only way Ellie would be comfortable was if she had Joel’s cock surging between her legs, but she hid her smile and tried to look as if she wasn’t on to his game. She loved her wolf’s tricky side, but he had so many responsibilities that she didn’t see enough of it. He growled when he realized how deeply Olivia’s claws had pierced his true mate’s skin. Dried blood still marked her shoulder.

Joel put her down abruptly and grabbed a sponge. “Stay here.”

He flashed away. Ellie didn’t understand, even wondered if he’d played her again, but then he ran back inside, the damp sponge steaming in his hand. He must have soaked it in the hottest pool. Gently, he rubbed it over her shoulder. She’d been too numb to feel the pain before, but a dull ache spread over her shoulder blade.

Her heart might be doubtful, but when he licked at her injuries, her body relished his touch. As he tended her like this, her doubts fell away. His angry growl when he finished cleaning her wound surprised her. He didn’t move, just snarled, “I should have that bitch flogged for attacking my mate.”

She wanted to lie back and relax, but his tongue replaced the washcloth. It was rough, warm, and comforting as it laved across her wound.

“Gods, Ellie, she could really have hurt you.”

The concern in his voice thrilled her, and the slight scratchy texture of his tongue felt wonderful on her flesh. No one had ever made Ellie feel so cosseted and so loved. Her gaze dropped to the bulge in his leggings. “I like that King Caleb made you wear Lycra, but why didn’t you change after the match?”

His lips hovered near her ear. “Because I spent the afternoon searching for the elusive Elf who stole my heart. I think better out here, and I racked my brains as to where I’d to find you. I thought you’d left the Tundra Toughs’ territory, and if I could’ve figured where you’d gone, I’d have followed you.”

She sat up, her eyes glinting with angry, emerald lights. “I wouldn’t disrespect your pack that way. More to the point, the pack would never let you return if you’d broken their tradition. What the hell did you think were you doing?”

He unfastened her jeans before he answered. His hands shook with passion. “Nothing, not even pack, matters more than you. Marcellus would make a fine alpha.”

Ellie nodded. “He would, but you’ll be a million times better.”

His soft growl of possession meant the world to her. She lifted her ass and let him pull down her jeans. Sneaky wolf that he was, he tugged off her panties in the same fluid movement.

Joel kneeled between her legs and shoved her thighs apart. “After that amazing blowjob you gave me, I owe you an orgasm or three.”

He stared at her bared pussy and licked his lips. Ellie shuddered in anticipation. None of the Elves ever thought to pleasure her, and this was new territory—something she’d only ever share with her mate.

As Joel draped her legs over her shoulders, she leaned back and took her weight on her elbows. She watched as he lowered his head and lapped at her cunt. When her breath came in shallow gasps, he grinned and upped the pace. Her fingers curled like claws as she grasped the bed sheet.
Frantic. He’s making me frantic
. She should have been embarrassed with his head so close to her cunt, but a fresh wave of desire shot though her veins. She wanted. She needed, and Joel gave.

Her soft moan throbbed with longing and burning needs. Joel stiffened his tongue and delved inside her until he found her G-spot. She felt as she’d swallowed a galaxy of stars, and every one of them turned supernova inside her. She’d never orgasmed so long or so hard.

Joel chuckled and flicked his tongue across her G-spot again. His fingers kept a firm pressure on her clit. When Ellie came a second time, she struggled to breathe. Joel sent her spiraling out of control, and she never wanted to touch the earth again.

She’d never imagined sex could be all consuming, mind-blowing, and… Words failed her, and as she surrendered to new sensations, she came again. Her eyes glazed, and her muscles trembled. Joel lapped at her cunt, learning everything that gave her pleasure.

Her arms collapsed, and she lay flat on the bed, too weak to move. Her body thrummed with new cravings and lusts, but her energy level plummeted. Worn-out from her earlier tears, her brush with hypothermia, and repeated world-class orgasms, Ellie felt her eyelids drop. She knew Joel wanted to mate her, but that was something she should savor. Right now, she wouldn’t exactly sleep through it, but once she’d slept, she’d lose herself in his arms. She’d make good memories to cherish. “We both need to rest. Can we resume in the morning?”

He nibbled her ear, but he understood why she’d rather be on the top of her game when he took her from behind and claimed her as his true mate. “Sleep, Ellie, but tomorrow, you’re mine.”

She snuggled up, her ass against his cock, her head tucked under his chin. He pulled her closer and threw his left leg over her hips. She sighed with contentment. “I love when you hold me this way.”

Limbs tangled, they slept.

* * * *

Joel woke with an armful of sweet-scented woman, his mate, cuddled up close. He wanted to sleep with his body wrapped around Ellie every night for the rest of his life. He ran his tongue over one of her ear tips and watched her wake. She was primed and ready. A few more minutes, and she’d be his.

He fingered one nipple and kissed her ear tip. “Good morning, sleepyhead. I’ve never slept as well as I did last night. Come closer, little girl, and let the big bad wolf eat you up.”

She giggled and nestled closer. “I’m glad you feel good. Don’t forget the tournament’s final challenge is today.”

“Bloody hell, the tournament. Ellie, look how high the sun is. It’s almost noon.”

They washed quickly, then hopped from foot to foot as they pulled on their clothes. Ellie hated wearing day-old clothes, but the wardrobe only contained Joel’s spare uniform. He pulled it on, grabbed hold of Ellie, and flashed them to the green outside the Great Hall.

Overnight, Caleb’s soldiers had taken down the wrestling ring’s ropes, draped the canvas in yards of purple cloth, and set two thrones in the center. Caleb and Sylvie emerged from the Great Hall, climbed the three steps onto the ring, and took up position on the thrones.

Rather than crowd around the finish, the pack had spread out along the route. Joel pulled Ellie into his arms and kissed her until they ran out of air. “Don’t go anywhere, Ellie. Once I’ve won the race, you’re mine.”

She grinned and cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand. “You’ve got that so wrong. I’m yours whatever the result of the race. Now go win back your rightful position.”

His mate made him proud, and his inner wolves clamored to claim her. He’d win today just to see her eyes shine with delight. Of course pack mattered, but win or lose, he knew Ellie was his.

As he approached the start/finish line, Marcellus pulled him aside. “What happened yesterday was wrong. I’ve met your pack, and I know how much you mean to them. What I’m saying is, I’ve got your back, and I’ll time out before I finish ahead of you. I’ll either find another pack or go lone wolf and roam the unclaimed prairies.”

Joel looked him over carefully. Marcellus seemed genuine, and he’d take him at his word. He nodded at the other man. “We’ll talk later.”

Next, Joel looked around, trying to locate Titus, but he’d mingled with the crowd out on the course. Titus would be a fool to interfere after Caleb’s warning.

The remaining three contestants lined up, waiting for King Caleb to signal the start.

Caleb stood and called, “Remember, gentlemen, apart from the standard rules, anything goes. You may not shift from your primal form until the time is up, and you have exactly two hours. Ready? Then the race starts now.”

Three primal Lykae charged for the bridge. Marcellus’s red beast tackled Lysander’s brown form, giving Joel a head start.
He really does have my back.

The lads Joel had kicked the ball around with yesterday lined the bridge. They’d lifted young Sammy and his friends onto the parapet so they could see over the crowd. Along with everyone else, they cheered when Joel crossed first. Behind him, Marcellus and Lysander traded blows as they ran.

Beyond the bridge, the track curved in a series of S-bends. Titus watched from the apex of the first. He clenched his fists and growled, visibly willing Lysander on. Joel glanced over his shoulder just as Marcellus punched Lysander’s belly. Lysander doubled up and dropped to the ground.

He could only hear one set of footsteps behind him. Another look over his shoulder, and he spotted Marcellus in the distance. Apparently Lysander had decided to stay put. He’d fight the other contenders when they returned with a standard, capture it, and run on to win the race. That would make for an interesting return trip. Well…no one said this would be easy.

Thirty-five minutes after he’d last seen Lysander, Joel reached the standards. He had an hour and five minutes to return to the King Caleb with his prize. Then the Tundra Toughs pack was his. Of course he’d have to fight Lysander first. He wouldn’t surrender his flag easily.

Joel grabbed a standard, rolled it lengthwise, and wrapped it around his biceps. It took exceptional control, but his primal wolf form managed to knot it firmly in place before he started back. A couple of minutes later, and Marcellus came into sight.

“Watch out,” Marcellus growled. He struggled to form the words in primal form. “Lysander. S-bends.”

Joel considered going cross-country, but the route was slower, and the race had a time limit. He decided to remain on the track, but he’d keep his wits about him. His beast roared inside him, fearless and confident it could take on anything. He picked up the pace and distanced himself from Marcellus, his senses on high alert. There was no sign of Lysander. The going was too easy, and Joel knew he’d have to fight to keep his flag. As he rounded the third S-bend, a barrier of uprooted trees and shrubs blocked the path.

Knowing Joel was stronger and faster, Lysander had spent his time building a barricade and setting traps. Joel had thirty-five minutes left to defeat Lysander, race just over eight miles down the road, and win. He’d just sprinted thirty-six miles. Lysander was relatively fresh, but to win, he needed to take out both remaining competitors as well as get back with a flag.

Those pine trees were centuries old, but for Lysander’s beast, uprooting them would have being akin to picking flowers. He’d piled branches and scrub against his roadblock, but it wasn’t enough to stop a Lykae in primal form.

Playing safe, Joel forced his beast to a halt. It growled, eager to press on, but he planted his feet and studied the barricade.
Big mistake
. Lysander dropped from the overhanging branch of a tree and brained Joel from behind. The blow took him to his knees.

Lysander tore at the standard on Joel’s arm, but he’d knotted it too well for it to come loose easily. Lysander roared and threw a wild punch. Joel leaped to his feet, ducked Lysander’s second punch, threw back his head, and howled. Lysander missed again.

Joel’s beast growled in outrage and fury. He dodged another blow and landed an uppercut to Lysander’s jaw. Lysander kicked at Joel’s legs, but Joel slammed his linked hands into Lysander’s belly.

Lysander retreated. Joel spun around and started toward the barricade. Lysander charged, his beast determined to stop Joel. He needed to take him out to win this final double-points contest. He howled and flung himself against the back of Joel’s legs. Joel toppled forward. A sharp stake, hidden among the pile of branches impaled his midriff. Joel howled as the point grazed his kidneys. Blood spurted, turning dirty red against his dark blond fur.

Farther back down the track, the crowd booed Marcellus as he neared Lysander’s barricade. To win, Lysander had to get back within the time limit—after he ensured the other contenders timed out. Along the way, he had to steal one of their flags.

Joel heaved the stake from his belly and staggered onward. The crimson stain on his fur became a steady stream that pooled around his feet. He could his feel strength flowing out of him along with the blood.

His thoughts blurred. His beast wanted to tear out Lysander’s throat. The bit of humanity remaining inside him demanded he keep going and finish within the deadline. If he shifted, he’d heal instantly, but he’d be out of the race. He groaned and doubled over, but determined to reach the finish line he kept climbing. Finally he made it to the top of the barricade.

A quick glance behind him, and he saw Lysander leap on Marcellus’s back and knock him to the ground. Lysander grabbed Marcellus’s standard, stomped Marcellus’s belly, and ran. Joel’s beast reared up, furious. A primitive need to rend Lysander limb from limb almost overwhelmed him. Since Lysander had stolen Marcellus’s flag, he could win the tournament. If Lysander won and Joel didn’t make it back within the two hours, the Tundra Toughs were lost. Love of his pack spurred Joel onward.

He groaned when he dropped to the ground, his whole body aching, but still he limped down the track He had just over ten miles to cover in the remaining thirty minutes. For a fully fit Lykae it would be a walk in the park. With the blood flow leaching his strength, Joel wasn’t sure he’d make it.

Chapter Eighteen

Joel forced himself onward despite his injuries. Pain made his breath catch in his throat. Doubled up, both hands clutching his wound, he moved in slow motion. Behind him, Lysander leaped atop the barrier and bayed with triumph.