Shifters Gone Alpha (31 page)

Nodding, I let my knees fall farther, opening myself to him more as I murmured a quiet, “Of course.”

With nothing more than a grunt, Blaze fell to his knees and ripped my panties down my legs, tossing them to the side. He attacked my pussy without delay, his tongue finding me swollen and slick for him, his hands rough against my thighs. Growling, making me twist and whine, he yanked me across the desk, shoving my legs over his shoulders and pressing my knees toward my chest. Giving me no chance of escape. Owning me. Devouring me.

“Blaze…fuck.” My head hit the desk as his fingers plunged inside. No warning, no teasing strokes. Just the delicious stretch and burn of his hand joining his mouth. He filled me from the start, curling and stroking and thrusting until I lay chanting his name, gripping his hair, and pulling him harder against me. Needing him with a desperation I couldn’t express.

The orgasm Blaze demanded from my body hit suddenly, every muscle clenching as my nerve endings seemed to spark all at once. I gasped and groaned my way through it, arching hard, my heels pressing into Blaze’s shoulders.

Before I could come down, before my muscles relaxed and my body stopped shuddering, Blaze flipped me to my stomach and shoved me forward. My upper body rested on top of the desk, hips at the edge, legs hanging.

“One down,” he said as he slammed himself deep inside me. The force of his thrust slid the desk across the floor and lifted me to my toes. My arms flailed to the side for something to hold on to, gripping the edge of the desk, and knocking over a stack of old, leather-bound books.

“Shit, sorry.” I pushed onto my palms, but Blaze grabbed my neck and held me down.

“I’m fucking you. My cock is right—” a hard thrust slid the whole desk forward another few inches “—there inside you, and you’re worried about a few books?”

“I…damn it.” I bit my lip and closed my eyes as his hips hit my ass again and again. The pleasure and pressure built as he hit places deep inside of me, making words hard to find. “They seem…expensive. Important.”

Blaze laughed, kicking my feet wider and pulling up my hips for an even deeper angle. Oh God, he was going to kill me with this position. The pleasure would rip me apart, and I loved it. I pushed back, meeting him on every thrust. Ready to fall to pieces at his hands.

“They’re nothing compared to you, my sweet girl,” he said, voice deep and a growl underlying the words. “You are the treasure in this kingdom, and the sooner you learn that, the better.”

He smacked my ass, the jolt of pleasure mixed with pain making me jump. I tried to turn, needing to face him, but he held me down.

“Please,” I groaned, my fingers scrabbling along the slick, wooden surface. “Let me up.”

“Why? You’ve been happy to play the submissive shewolf since we arrived here. I’m giving you what you want, aren’t I?”

“Yes, but…” I grunted on a particularly deep thrust, my mind foggy with lust, my words overruled by the sound of his skin hitting mine.

“But what?”

“I…” I shivered, desperate, something circling just on the edge of my mind, barely out of reach. Something important. “I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” Harder, faster, he thrust into me, making me need to come so badly, I trembled. Every inch of me owned by him. Every desire belonging only to him. He slid one hand underneath my hips, his hand cupping my pussy, teasing me but refusing to give me what I needed to get off. Forcing me to ride the edge of orgasm.

“Blaze, please,” I cried, too far gone to be ashamed of begging.

“What? What do you need, sweet girl?”

One more hard thrust that sent the desk skittering across the wood floor and the wispy thoughts dancing at the edge of my mind exploded. This was what I wanted, what I needed. A deep connection to my mates, to know them and let them know me, was all that mattered. Wherever we lived or what the accommodations were like, they didn’t override the base of our triad. We were a unit. Three people bound together by fate. No one and nothing, especially not some insecurities about snobby decorations, could tear us apart. We were the foundation, everything else was just window dressing.

“Fuck, Blaze.” I shoved back, knocking him off balance and forcing him out of my body. Growling, I spun and pushed him down, the two of us falling to the floor. “I need you like this.”

I devoured his mouth in a brutal kiss, bruising and demanding. Taking. Before he could say a word, I straddled his hips and slid down over him, fitting him back inside me, impaling myself with his hard cock. This time, on my terms.

“Moira,” he groaned as I lifted, almost pulling myself off him, before dropping back down. He grabbed my hips, and I dropped a hand between my legs, circling my clit, bringing the other to my breast to pinch my nipple. Teasing…pushing myself harder and faster toward release. He watched me, snarling and growling and bucking as he lay on the floor. Wanting control, but letting me take it. Letting me own him for a moment.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Bouncing on his thick cock, I rocked and rotated my hips, teasing myself as much as him, driving us both toward the goal. He groaned when I reached behind me to grab his balls, massaging them, tugging just hard enough to make him shiver.

He closed his eyes and let go, allowing me the control I craved. Surrendering. I loved him like this…all out of control and driven by sensation. Loved it when he gave himself to me so fully. I took that trust seriously, made sure I gave him everything I had to show how much I appreciated it. How much it turned me on.

With a pinch to my clit and a roll of my hips, my body seized around Blaze’s dick. Shaking, sweating, shouting his name as he roared. Blaze followed me, his hands gripping my hips, holding himself deep inside of me as he arched up. The orgasm calmed the crazed need my heat had brought on, eased the pain and the burn. At least for the moment.

Breathless, my head on his chest as I recovered from the exertion of riding him, I sighed and said the only words I could think of. “I hate the chandelier in the foyer.”

Blaze’s hands stopped their roaming, and he lifted his head off the floor. “What?”

“The chandelier. It’s too…ritzy. It makes me feel somehow unworthy to be here.” I sighed and waved my hand. “This whole place is very…”

“Overwhelming.” He gave me a soft smile, one that demanded I press my lips to his and kiss it off his face. So I did.

I smiled when I released his lips. “Yes.”

Blaze pushed my dark hair off my face, staring up at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I figured I’d get used to it.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.” I shook my head, clinging to him, my hands clutching at his shirt, somehow afraid he might leave as I admitted my ridiculous fears. “Every day, the insecurity kept getting worse. It’s too much.”

“So we take it down.”

I pushed myself up higher. “What?”

Blaze chuckled, grabbing my arms and rolling me underneath him. “It’s a goddamn light fixture, Moira. It means nothing.”

“But this is your home.”

“No, this is the home of the president of the NALB, which I happen to be for the moment. This isn’t me, nor do I want it to be.” He leaned down and bit my lower lip, making me moan. “I have homes all over the world, sweet girl. From cabins in the woods to chalets on the top of mountains. We’ll find one that suits you, and that’s where Dante, you, and I will go once this is all over.”

“I never thought…” I whispered, unable to finish my thought due to the tears falling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, I should have said something.”

Blaze ran a finger over my cheek. “You did. It just took you a few days.”

Looking up at him, at this wonderful man I was blessed to have met, I whispered the only thing I had left to admit. “I love you, Blasius Zenne.”

His eyes sparkled, and he grinned the most beautiful, bright smile. “I love you too, Moira O’Shea.”

“Yes, of course, I love you both as well.” Dante quietly shut the door behind himself, walking over with a smirk on his face. “Especially when you’re all disheveled and obviously postcoital.”

“Come join us,” Blaze said, holding out a hand.

Dante wasted no time, stripping off his coat and tie to pile onto the rug with us. The three of us wrapped ourselves around one another, all touching, cuddling. Connecting as mates should.

“What were you two talking about, anyway?” Dante asked as he ran his hands over my hip.

“I was telling Blaze how much I love him,” I said, staring into his dark eyes. “And I love you, too, Dante.”

“Oh, my dove. I’ve loved you since the first night I saw you.” He leaned forward, kissing me, his hand sliding over Blaze’s waist and pulling us together. “What brought this lovefest on?”

Blaze chuckled from his place behind me. “Well, we were talking about decorating.”

Dante paused, his brows furrowing. “Decorating?”

“Yes,” Blaze said with a cocky grin. “It seems Moira’s not fond of the chandelier in the foyer of the private wing.”

Dante shrugged. “So we take it down. What’s the big deal?”

I chuckled and buried my head in his chest as Blaze laughed behind me, bright and loud and vibrant.

“What?” Dante asked. “What did I miss?”

Blaze rolled us both, lying across me and leaning over to nuzzle Dante’s neck. “Nothing, really. Though our mate has obviously gone into heat. I think it’s time to take her back to our bedroom, don’t you?”

I shook my head, shoving him off me. “No, I want to stay here in your library. I like this room.”

“You’ve barely wanted to leave the bedroom for days,” Dante said, smiling in surprise.

I crawled over his body, straddling him as Blaze moved to press himself to my back.

“No more wasting time worrying. I want to christen every room with you boys. Even all the kitchens.”

Shifters of the Glen. Book 1.

Skye Jones

Prologue.

It stood on the high hill, surveying the territory. Too far from home, it didn’t know the area well. Others of its kind were nearby, but they held no concern right then. A scent called it here, to this clearing in the woods, where the little wooden cottage sat. Centuries ago, a family had lived in the abode. A woodcutter, his wife, and daughters. The wife had been of a wanton nature, and the woodcutter found her fornicating with the night elves. Or so the legend went. Whatever the truth of the matter, they’d left, and since then, not many people came to the tiny cottage. A few bespectacled young men would descend on occasion. They’d spend their time out and about, trekking in the woods and over the hills. Measuring and counting and taking photographs.

This night, though, the creature caught a scent and it wasn’t male. Not one of the young men who came to catalogue the local wildlife. Not this time. The door to the cabin swung open and a small shape stepped out, huddled in loose clothing and a long top with a hood covering her head. The creature knew the bundle of clothing contained a female by the scent tantalizing and taunting it, and by the generous curves evident even under the loose clothes. Making it yearn and want and need.

Head cocked to one side, nostrils twitching, it watched the figure cross the space and go into the shed. It waited for what seemed an age before she came back out again. For a brief moment, she looked up into the hills, but it knew the dense trees provided enough cover. A blackbird sang, heralding the encroaching dusk, and the female glanced up at the sky. With a sudden movement, she pulled her hood back from her face, revealing a shock of long, shiny red hair.

It stared, rapt. The way that hair caught the fading light made it shine with an array of color, from deepest russet red to warm gold. The creature felt its maleness fill with want. Sharp canines tingled in its mouth as powerful eyes took in every single detail of her face. It couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of her.

Smooth, faintly tanned skin covered delicate features. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, and huge green eyes dominated her elfin face. Her snub nose reminded the creature of the Disney princesses human females wanted to be when young. This little girl had grown up to be one. A real, living doll. It liked dolls. Soon, however, others of its kind would find her…and want her, too. Yes, soon others would come.

Chapter One.

I sometimes questioned why I moved so far from humanity. I’ve always loved wild places. The untamed areas. Those few remaining bits of wilderness still left in this crazy, urbanized world. But it is one thing to go visit these places with your friends, quite another to live in one…alone.

The rain beat down hard against the windowpane, and I shivered as the fire dwindled. Soon it would go out, and I’d retire to my bed. The cottage housed but one bedroom, a small living room, and a kitchen with a simple table and an old-fashioned range. Cozy, the National Park’s office had called it. Tiny, my friends had said when I’d sent email pics of the snug interior. But whether cozy or tiny, this space was now mine for the next twelve months or so.

When I’d announced my intention to move to the Scottish Highlands to take up a yearlong residency studying the flora and fauna, everyone in my life had been shocked. Words like
crazy
and
insane
were tossed around like confetti. My parents became most upset. Fears of me being trapped for days if the weather turned severe gave my mother sleepless nights until she begged me not to go. But how could I refuse the job offer? The wildlife of these wet and windy mountains was what I lived for. The chance to spend a year as custodian of such a primal and raw area wasn’t to be turned down.

Still, part of me would welcome the warmer spring days soon to arrive. The time when the nights would shorten and the tourists would return. I might not be quite as solitary a creature as I’d once believed.

When among my friends and the hustle and bustle of city life, I’d long for solitude. Now the loneliness… Well, it got to me a little some days. Thank God for modern inventions. My iPod provided music, my laptop my favorite television shows, and most important of all—I had contact with friends and loved ones through Skype.

A deep snuffle had me looking to the rug in front of the fire and smiling as my dog, Sandy, shuffled in her sleep. Her front legs twitched as if she were running across meadows, chasing rabbits. In her dreamscape, she probably did. Her fur gleamed golden in the amber glow of the room, and her nose twitched as she dreamed on. Soon, I would have to wake her to let her out for the night before we retired to the tiny bedroom.

After making sure the fire was well and truly out, I cajoled Sandy into getting up and following me through the kitchen to the door. She hated going out for her final constitutional, but if I didn’t make her, she’d wake me at four in the morning, crying and fretting.

A tremor rippled through me when I pulled the old wooden door back. Its creak never failed to give me pause. I smiled as my thoughts turned to my friend Suzy. Such a fanciful, fearful wisp of a girl, she’d have fainted clean away after one day here, never mind the nights. Suzy read books full of ghosts and demons and vampires. Then she wondered why she couldn’t sleep without a child’s night-light burning. She couldn’t even spend a night alone in her flat in the city. If her boyfriend went away on business, she would return to her parents’ home for the night. Yep, Suzy would fall apart if she had to spend but one night out here among the stars.

I welcomed it. Despite my own unease at times, I relished it all in an odd way, even at times like this when the rain beat down and the wind howled.

Sandy paused in her snuffling of the grass, lifted her head, and gave an odd, low whimper. I stiffened as I watched her. The dog didn’t normally do such things. She usually went out and sniffed around for ten minutes before finally having a pee and trotting back inside. Always looking as proud as if she’d brokered world peace.

“Sandy, come on. Do your business.” I huffed at her. Annoyance became a cloak I wore to hide my unease. I put my momentary anxiety down to thinking about Suzy, with her ghosts and ghouls.

But Sandy didn’t do her business. Instead, her head stayed upright and the whimper turned into a snarling growl. Hackles rose along her entire back, and for the first time since leaving home, my moments of odd disquiet turned into real fear.

There could be poachers out there in the black night for all I knew. Men who killed animals illegally. And what such men might do to a woman alone, I didn’t want to think. The park ranger’s cabin wasn’t for three miles, leaving a shotgun I barely knew how to use as my only immediate protection.

I called Sandy to me, and as soon as she reached the door, I pulled her in by her collar and slammed it shut, sealing us inside the cottage. I’d barred us from whatever was outside with nothing more than some thick, aged wood and an old, rusty lock.

Shaking, I made my way into the small bedroom and drew back the thick blankets. Sandy curled up happily enough in her basket on the floor, and I gave her a pat on the head as I climbed into bed. She gave a loud yawn. Nothing fazed Sandy for long, and I sagged in relief to see her back to her normal, contented self. Clearly, whatever had her so spooked outside bothered her no longer. After reading for a short while, my eyes grew heavy. I clicked off the bedside lamp and closed my eyes.

Tap, tap, screech
. I blinked twice, not seeing much in the dark room. A yawn forced its way out of my mouth, and I struggled through foggy layers of sleep to full consciousness. Often, I would wake to Sandy turning around in her basket or even padding softly around the room, but as I listened all I could hear was her gentle, rhythmic breathing.
Tap, tap, screech
.

My bed lay right under the window and the sound came loud and clear while I held my breath. Then…nothing. Perhaps I’d imagined it? After a few long moments, I started to relax and my eyes grew heavy once more when…
tap, tap screech
.

Shit!
I might not be one for flights of fancy, but I didn’t like the sound. It reminded me of the way the witch used to tap at my window in my childhood dreams. Her long, gnarled fingernails would etch marks into the glass. Of course, they were never there when I awoke to the reality of bright daylight.

Tap, tap, screech
. Frozen in place by cold dread, I barely dared breathe. But as I stilled, trapped in the indecision of terror, the words of my grandmother came back to me, soothing my fraught mind. Whenever I used to dream of the hideous old crone who’d haunted my childhood, she’d tell me to stop being a “
scaredy cat
” and hold my head high. To face my fears, because no one got the better of a Buchanan woman. Not even gnarly old witches who haunted little girls’ dreams.

I could almost feel my spine become strong and rigid as Grandma’s voice washed over me in a rush of welcome memories. I was no
scaredy cat
!

Tap, tap, screech
. I examined the situation with my rational mind, and guessed it would be nothing more than a branch tapping and sliding against the glass in the wind. It certainly explained the regular, rhythmic quality of the noise. Happy to have a sensible answer for the strange sound, I slid back down under the covers and closed my eyes. Despite feeling reassured, I still slipped my hand out of the warmth covering me and rested it gently on Sandy’s head.