Never Cry Werewolf Page 9

  Hunter nodded, his expression unreadable as he folded his arms over his chest and waited.

  “You cannot think like this,” Shogun said bluntly. “You will be a detriment to any investigation—because if you find the perpetrator, you will kill it on sight. That may not be what is required.”

  “I have restraint,” Hunter said, his canines breaking through his gums as he spoke.

  “No. You don’t,” Shogun said flatly. “Run your tongue over your teeth. The evidence speaks for itself.”

  “I do not have to justify myself to anyone!” Hunter shouted, pointing with a hard snap at Shogun.

  “Then let me tell you the truth,” he replied calmly, beginning to circle Hunter. “You need to go back to the North Country and rectify whatever has gone awry with your mate.”

  “What!”

  Shogun leaned against a tree. “You heard me.”

  Again the two brothers stared at each other and allowed a brief silence to become the referee between them.

  “It is understandable,” Shogun said in a compassionate tone. “I have never said this to you, but it is time.”

  “Speak!” Hunter shouted, beginning to circle Shogun, who now remained still.

  “I love her, too . . . If you were ever to die in combat, I would go to her and stay with her until she would have me.” Shogun held up his hands before his chest in a slow, calm motion when Hunter’s eyes changed. “However, as my brother, as long as you live, I would not cross that line out of pure respect for you and for her. I don’t have to explain myself . . . do not listen to my words, look at my deeds. You have seen me save your life and fight beside you—I am not hoping for your sudden death and would give my life for you. Do not be a fool and allow anger or pride to throw away such a gift as Sasha.”

  Hunter turned away, and Shogun rounded on him. “I do not know what has happened between you. That is not my business. I can only judge by the result of your attention to this very pressing matter that it must have been profound.”

  When Hunter didn’t answer and looked away, Shogun stepped into his line of vision again, pressing his point.

  “I know this, brother—she loves you. The way I know is too painful for one man to disclose to another, but she is faithful. Trust me.”

  This time Hunter looked at his brother and onetime rival.

  “Yes,” Shogun said, nodding. “To even discuss this is my silver bullet,” he added, covering his heart with a broad palm. “But as your brother I would be remiss if I didn’t implore you to go home for one night, fix this, and then return. I can gather leads with my men and will report all to you. We have a fallback position in the sidhe and have Sir Rodney’s forces on the ground and in the trees to provide us cover. You are no good like this to us.”

  “I am—”

  “No good to us right now,” Shogun repeated firmly. “And as your brother, being as honest as one man can be to another, if you let this break, if you throw away your gift, I have no honor . . . I will go after what you have cast away without shame.”

  CHAPTER 8

  A lonely howl made her stand up and go to the porch rail. Crow Shadow was long gone; it wasn’t him. She’d know that forlorn call that haunted the night anywhere. It knocked the wind out of her.

  Sasha touched her amulet, nervously fingering it as she stared into the night. Initially seeing nothing, she took a deep breath to steady herself, set her gaze on the horizon, and then scanned the dark tree line until she heard movement in the shed.

  He loped out of the folds of darkness wearing only his jeans and amulet, his eyes capturing hers. He didn’t say a word. She gripped the railing tighter, not trusting her emotions, not trusting what would leap out of her mouth. Anger fought with worry fought with relief as she watched him stop at the foot of the stairs. His mood was impossible to judge. She just prayed he hadn’t returned to argue.

  “I came to report on what I found in the bayou,” Hunter said quietly.

  Sasha didn’t immediately reply; she let the evasive comment stand between them for a moment before offering one of her own. “I was hoping you would let me know what was going on down there.”

  He didn’t blink, just stared at her with those intense amber eyes that made her want to go to him.

  “I can’t do this without you,” she finally said in a quiet rush.

  “You know that I will always help you with your missions, Sasha—”

  “No,” she said, cutting him off as she moved to the top of the stairs. She shook her head, her voice becoming fragile. “That’s not what I meant . . . what I just said before wasn’t honest—we’re dancing around the subject, but it’s there, Hunter. It hasn’t gone away. What I’m trying to tell you is that I can’t do this life without you. I just can’t. And I’ve never made that clear to you before . . .”

  He mounted the steps and met her at the top of them. A pair of warm hands caressed her shoulders gently before she was enveloped in the heat of his sure embrace. She could feel his heart slamming against his chest as he breathed into her damp hair. Their amulets touched, radiating an additional prism of heat where they met. The familiarity, the rightness of his body against hers melted her bones into his stone-cut torso. Her palms slid up his naked back, splaying in search of more of his glorious skin.

  “I cannot stand by and watch them hurt you,” he murmured against her scalp. “Don’t ask me to do what is beyond my capacity . . . Sasha, when they disrespect you, it kills me. That bastard drew a weapon on you, and my wolf needed to butcher him—it was only for you that I didn’t.”

  She hugged Hunter tighter and then pressed her lips against his amulet before she moved it to caress the place over his heart.

  “I just want you to be safe,” he said in a low rumble that she felt inside her womb. “It was never about me versus the human military . . . I have no problems with your career or your rank—I’m proud of that . . . I’m proud of you. But I do have a problem with the humans who would attempt to abuse you simply because they know what you are. Don’t hate me for that, Sasha.”

  “It’s not possible to hate you for loving me.” She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and simply nodded against Hunter’s bare chest. His confession made her inwardly cringe. She’d been fighting the wrong war . . . had dug in and held her position because she’d thought it was about her role, her position—she’d been filtering his actions through her human cultural lens . . . the one where who made more in the male–female dynamic, who had more status, and who was so-called on top mattered so very much. That was her baggage claimed from years of fighting in a male-dominated profession. But Hunter was a Shadow . . . and the man was no liar.

  “Sasha, I have to know that they won’t take you away and lock you up and try to dissect you . . . or to steal your eggs to try to make lab experiments of what should be our children. Your commanding officer said that you were their property and I lost it . . . Can you understand what that did to me to hear something like that?”

  His voice had become a plaintive rumble as his grip on her tightened. Until this moment she hadn’t realized just how worried he was for her safety in the hands of humans.

  “Oh, God, Hunter . . . they won’t—”

  “They will!” he shouted, breaking their embrace and holding her away from him with both hands. “Sasha, baby, our kind have lived for centuries in hiding from human invaders, and there are historical facts—we’ve seen the beast called man.” Before she could respond, he clutched her to his chest again. “Don’t you understand what drives me, what makes my wolf insane?”

  His hands sought her hair as his lips pressed hard against her scalp. “If I lose you to them, I would go against every honor that I owned. The dark wolf would have me as though I’d gone through a demon door . . . and I would not rest until I destroyed the men who harmed you—and after that, there would be no returning to myself.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” she said, leaning up to send her promise into his mouth. “I won’t.”

>   Only touch could convey her intentions. Words failed so miserably now. That had always been the great failing between them—words. Knowing that, she allowed her hands to speak, reverently tracing the sinew-carved expanse of his back as her tongue swept his. Arms then encircling his neck, her fingers laced through his hair, she pressed full statements into his mind, her pelvis translating meaning into feeling. How did a woman say she was sorry when words had been her undoing?

  Admitting error was simply not enough when there were so many wrongs to right. This recent struggle was just the last in a long line of incidents, and that awareness shook her to her core. Until now, until she was near ready to release all that she’d known, she couldn’t see what she’d been doing to the person who loved her most. Surrender had never been an option for her as a soldier or as a warrior . . . but Hunter had surrendered to her on sight, and unlike her, he had never been conflicted about where he stood.

  That basic truth crackled in his silvery aura. The deep heat emanating from his massive hands against her back and sliding over her backside explained it all. His words were always direct and uncomplicated, just like his touch. That had everything to do with his pure view of who she was and what she meant to him . . . if she’d only been able to give him the same.

  For so long she’d offered him her body but never her full mind, and absolutely none of her spirit, yet he’d gone completely bankrupt for her. She’d known that from the start. But fear of loving too hard, too fast, too recklessly had allowed her to rob him of the totality he deserved. The man who held her was the salt of the earth, and she’d held him to a standard that was beneath his dignity.

  Tears stung the back of her throat as she climbed up his body and wrapped her legs around his waist. “I was so afraid to let go,” she whispered in an urgent rush against his temple. “I was fighting me, not you.”

  He nodded and pulled back to gaze at her in the moonlight. “I know,” he said quietly. “But I was willing to wait for this.”

  Terror became enmeshed in desire as she stared at him, looking into his soul. He held nothing back in his gaze, and she’d never been so lost to another being in her life. He’d once told her “mine” while loving her hard, and tonight he seemed determined to make good on his claim. Holding back and not giving him her all was impossible.

  “You own my heart, Sasha,” he admitted in a deep murmur. “What more can I give you to make you trust me?”

  She slowly shook her head to try to convey there was no greater gift and nothing more that he could give. Her damp lashes brushed his nose as she tilted her head and took his mouth, and then deepened their kiss. Instantly his grip tightened on her backside and her legs clamped tighter around his waist as though they were inextricably linked, one body joined at the heart. She caught his moan and swallowed it as he began to walk, helping him to manage the screen door so that he didn’t have to put her down.

  What had started as a long, sensual kiss had become a series of impassioned kisses between shortened breaths, between finding the sofa and stumbling until they came to rest in a pulsing heap. Their shadows danced across the moonlit cabin wall, moving separately from their bodies, undressing them faster than their hands could negotiate fabric and form. The skin-on-skin burn they felt before her bare breasts slid against his chest made them both cry out, made him yank harder on her jeans to free her.

  But her giving to him in return made her slow him down, her cheek against his hot abdomen causing his hands to tremble as they sought her shoulders. He sucked in air between his teeth as she managed his button and zipper and caressed his navel with her tongue. He stepped out of his jeans, and she stepped out of her fears. Desire flared in his expression as she stared up and drank it into her soul. Surrender was imminent. This time it would be hers. He had already done so; tonight was about laying down arms and becoming one. The prospect was terrifying; she would give him everything within her.

  Taking her time, she allowed the texture of his skin to play against her palms as they slid up his naked thighs and over his hips to finally find anchor over the tight swell of his magnificent ass. With her eyes closed she lolled her head from side to side, allowing her cheeks to graze the length of his shaft, reveling in the changes in texture from his wide base up the thick, throbbing member that was crisscrossed with a network of veins until her lips met the smooth, wet skin that made her finally stare up at him.

  For a moment she watched his stomach tremble, each inhale he took through his nose a clear attempt to remain in control. But she had so much to give that her shadow mounted his as her lips parted. The combination of a shadow dance and the tight sheath of her mouth wrenched a moan from his depths.

  Her spiraling tongue issued the first in a series of apologies working in concert with her hands that pulled him deeply into her mouth until she couldn’t breathe. She didn’t care. It was a matter of principle that became a matter of rhythm, inhales and exhales taken in through her nose on each withdrawal, fingers gripping the tight lobes of flesh in her palms until his taste became saltier, his breaths shorter like his strokes. That was when she abandoned his shaft to find his sac, her hands covering the slick wetness, pumping in unbroken glides, her lips gently pulling at the most fragile part of him with her tongue, only to return to give him more mouthed warmth.

  A hard contraction made her grip him tightly just under the head and suck at it quickly, lapping the ooze until his voice broke her down.

  “Sasha . . .”

  He said her name like a plea the moment his knees buckled. Staccato breaths pelted her damp scalp as he bent trying to hold her, trying not to break her stride as his fingers sought to make contact with her skin. Her body was on fire, but tonight she was the giver. Her breasts ached as she watched pleasure consume him, heard it embedded deep within his moans. Each earthy response bottomed out in her swollen labia; every lick against his taut skin soon felt like sweet suckles teasing her engorged bud. Her tongue found the groove of his head, laving it, paying homage to it until her slit frothed and spilled, anticipation making her tremble and open her thighs wider. That was when she realized his shadow had not abandoned her.

  It didn’t matter that she was physically giving to him; his shadow had found her sweet spot, suckling her from behind. She leaned into the phantom sensation with a groan, unable to resist. The expression on his face, head back, mouth open, hands cradling her crown while his shadow continued to eat her alive, blew her mind. Even swathed in his own pleasure, giving to her turned him out. Being his witness nearly made her come.

  Crazed, she needed to feel him everywhere at once. Her nipples sent shards of stinging want between her legs until she released him from her mouth and captured him between her breasts. The change in texture and temperature put canines in his mouth and a dip in his spine as he furiously pumped against her. Then her name devolved in fragments from Sasha, to baby, to oh . . . God.

  It was too intense. The feel of his hot, wet shaft quickly rubbing her swollen breasts; his head thrusting against her tender lobes as her mouth eagerly sought to kiss it on each pass. Slick, salty essence flowed, making each thrust faster in the viscous fluid, driving them both to the brink while his shadow caresses made her strain against air, tears streaming down her face.

  Unable to stand it, he grabbed her by her shoulders; limp, she complied with total surrender, climbing up his body as he put her down on her back hard. The joining was instant and soul shattering. He entered her like a hot knife cleaving butter, and cried out like a man who’d been shot. Her wail rent the living room, but he cradled her face with one hand while holding himself up with the other to look into her spirit. She nodded, tears flowing, clutching his back; his lids lowered slowly but not before she saw his eyes cross.

  He immediately dropped down and enveloped her like a man possessed. The pleasure from his thrusts were almost paralyzing, each hard return threatening the stability of the furniture, the stability of her sanity, and she felt it the moment he lost all control. His shadow on
the wall literally howled . . . never in her life had she witnessed such a thing.

  It was as though his spirit pulled everything that was within him up his spinal column to explode colors behind her lids and pour all that he had from his body into hers. Devastating pleasure stole her breath as her nails raked his back, her arch becoming a shuddering plea for more that his convulsions answered.

  Wrecking orgasms sent her into seizure. Fisting her hair, he gazed at her for a moment, his pupils dilating, agony etched across his handsome face, and then the next convulsion struck him. He turned away as though gut-punched and heaved; she caught him as he collapsed, climaxes ebbing with breathless shudders.

  For a long while they lay like that, joined, his breath and hers the only sounds of the night. Crickets and night fauna were now so distant. There was only his heartbeat and hers. Only his breath and hers. Only his skin touching hers. Sweat, love essence, no dividing line between the two. Her palm lazily stroked his back as his lungs expanded and contracted with effort. She’d given him everything she could, had the intention of uniting with him completely set in her soul . . . and could only hope that he’d felt it.

  “I did,” he murmured between deep breaths.

  Startled, she tensed. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

  “You let me in,” he said quietly and then swallowed hard, burying his face against her hair.

  She didn’t understand, but continued to send healing touch into his shoulders and sweat-slicked back.

  “I don’t know about this part of being a wolf,” she said softly, trying to understand.

  His breaths were shallow, his emotion too full to allow him to speak, so he just held her tighter for a moment. She could feel him battling for composure, and that made her struggle with her own. Something profound had just happened, but she wasn’t exactly sure what it was. Yet she didn’t want to ruin the moment by overanalyzing it. Then he began to rock her, stroking her hair, nuzzling her as though she were the most precious gift in the entire world.