want to try to examine the powerful feelings any further right now. But looking at the ominous cast on her arm, he knew he’d send the white bitch wolf responsible straight to hell.
“Mmm.” She slanted him a sexy look. “I loved doing you. I think you’ve corrupted me.”
“I hope so.” He enjoyed her laugh. “It occurs to me that you didn’t get any attention.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“This.”
Taking her chin, he kissed her. Reveled in the dark flavor of himself on her lips. Him, and no one else. Ever again. The knowledge aroused him all over again, his half-softened cock waking anew. Thank God for shifter stamina.
He laid Daria back gently, following her down. Cradling her, he pressed butterfly kisses to her lips, nose, chin, forehead. She rested a hand on top of his head, running his hair through her fingers, and he loved the sensation.
Dipping lower, he turned his attention to her breasts. Capturing one tight pebble in his teeth, he groaned, sucking it. Feasting like the starving man he was. She arched into him, gripping his head, gasping encouragement. He swirled one peak, then the other, as one hand skimmed down her flat belly.
His fingers found the springy nest of curls, and lower still, to her wet sex. Her thighs parted for him, hips urging his touch. He stroked the hot, sensitive nub, the pouting lips, slick and ready for him. Suckled her breasts, teased her clit until she writhed, unable to take any more.
“Ryon, please,” she moaned, yanking his hair. “I need you inside me.”
He lifted his head, regret spearing his gut. “Shifters don’t need protection for STDs, but we do unless you want to risk a small complication.” He didn’t add that a wolf shifter could not impregnate anyone but his mate—and that she was at risk.
“I’m on the pill, and I’m healthy,” she insisted, eyes searching his.
Her words sent a thrill through him. “Daria, sweetheart, are you sure?”
“Yes! Please, just make love to me.”
He needed no further encouragement. Positioning his body over hers, he guided the tip of his penis to her moist opening. Worked it in slow, making certain he wouldn’t hurt her.
And in one long, delicious stroke, pushed deep. Her tight sheath gripped his cock with silken heat. She clutched his shoulders as he began to pump. In as far as possible, his balls rubbing against her bottom. Relishing the feeling of being buried inside her. Then out, inch by wicked inch. Skin deep, inside her again. Wanting to crawl in and never come out. Fusing their souls.
Never, ever anything like this. The power of their connection, that physical bond, shook him. Humbled him. She was a gift, a treasure. Mindful of her arm, he held her close, making sweet love to her right there on his living room floor.
Her nails dug into his back. “Oh, yes, yes. Faster!”
The feral wolf in him came undone, howled in triumph.
“Come with me,” he demanded.
Hips bucking, she cried out. Her release shattered him. Seated deep, he let her carry him over the edge, into oblivion. Her orgasm milked his cock as he spurted into her, harder than before. More than he’d thought possible.
Raising his head, he looked into her face and swept a damp tendril of hair from her eyes. She gazed at him, smiling dreamily, a woman well satisfied. A new emotion clogged his throat.
One he wasn’t brave enough to name. Yet.
Seven
It was deliciously decadent, lazing on the floor with Ryon after making love. In the middle of the afternoon.
Her buttoned-up ex-fiance had never committed a spontaneous act in his life. Much less anything that involved getting naked
As soon as the uncharitable thought crossed her mind, she felt bad. It really wasn’t fair comparing two men who were so different. Ryon was an open book, his smile honest, his handsome face reflecting his love of life. Of laughter, his friends, the poor creatures like Chup who were displaced in a strange world. The exact opposite of her ex, who’d never had time for much of anything but his own career.
Head resting on Ryon’s chest, she trailed her fingers through the crisp, dusky hair that was a darker shade than what was on his head. She teased each nipple, enjoying the way the brown disks puckered into tight points, then skimmed her palm lower, stopping at the intricate tattoo on his left hip. The artwork was a wolf’s head, ears laid flat against his head, muzzle snarling fiercely in the direction of its owner’s belly button. The ink appeared black at first, but upon closer inspection she saw it was actually a dark blue. Very, very fetching.
“I love the tat,” she said, running a finger over it in appreciation. His abdomen quivered at her attentions and she smiled against his chest.
“Thanks. It was a moment of insanity, I suppose.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Hurt like a bitch. I’ll never get another one—that’s for sure.”
“You can fight vampires, nearly get gutted, then go back to battle again without batting an eyelash, but you won’t get another tattoo?”
He made a noise of agreement. “Damned straight. Nothing like having to hold still for the torture when I’d much rather go down swinging.”
“Well, it’s nice. I’m glad you got this one.” Sitting up, she sat and traced it. “I noticed some of the other guys have them, though they’re each a bit different. Was it some sort of team thing?”
“Yeah.” His voice got quiet. “All of us who were in the Navy SEALs together and got turned went out and got them when we first formed the Alpha Pack. We did it to remind us what we’d become, and as a solidarity thing.”
Daria thought that was really cool, but from his tone she guessed he might not, so much. It seemed like a serious occasion to his team, having the tats done. “Will you tell me the story of how you were attacked and turned?”
“One day,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry, it’s none of my—”
“No, don’t apologize.” Sitting up, he reached for her cheek, stroked it. “That’s just a dark story for such a nice day. I don’t want to ruin our evening.”
“Well, okay. As long as I didn’t overstep.”
“Of course not.” He was silent for a moment, then studied her thoughtfully. “You make the ghosts go away.”
“What?”
“I mean literally. I told you we all have Psy gifts in addition to our ability to shift? Well, mine are that I can see spirits—sometimes communicate with them, though that’s rare—and speak in peoples’ minds. I’m a Channeler and a Telepath.”
“Wow.” She didn’t know what else to say. “Do you see any ghosts right now?”
“No. That’s what I meant before. You make them go away,” he said in disbelief. “I just realized that when I’m with or near you, they don’t hound me.”
If she wasn’t able to astrally project, she’d think he was one brick short of a load. “I’m glad about that. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have ghosts following you everywhere like you’re the Pied Piper.”
“It’s not easy. But it’s better than being able to tell the future, like Nick.”
“True.” She studied him. “Can you speak to me telepathically?”
“Yes, but I doubt you could speak back to me that way, yet.”
