After the Moon Rises (13 page)

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Authors: Karilyn Bentley

Tags: #Romance, #Paranormal, #Shape Shifter, #spicy, #Anthology

BOOK: After the Moon Rises
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“Maybe we can help the rest of them. If Sid wasn’t already here, I’d call in different alphas to help out. They’d love a fight with a dictator.”

“Come here.” One minute she was in the middle of a discussion and the next, his hand clasped around her wrist, drawing her to him. His arms encircled her waist as he flipped her onto her back on the bed, his heavy body following, his lips pressing against hers.

Oh, yeah. She wanted this, wanted him. Her arms wrapped around his back, pressing him closer, while her lips opened for the thrust of his tongue. The kiss was anything but gentle, a claiming of alpha-to-alpha, male-to-female. Each stroke plundered her mouth, her soul, marking her as his.

One hand ran between her breasts and down her side, searching and finding the hem of her shirt. With a quick flick of his wrist, her shirt moved out of the way and his hand traced across the skin of her stomach. When he pushed aside the cup of her bra and rolled her nipple between his fingers, she let loose a moan.

Hers
. She belonged to him and he to her.
Forever
.

Once she accepted him as her mate, once she allowed him in her body, they became each other’s, for in the pack there was no divorce, no separation. Once a were found his or her mate, they stayed together until they died. If things continued on the path they were heading, the two would soon be mated.

No matter that Sid was running around the vicinity of her pack, or that she really needed to be working on getting that torc off Zane’s neck. Mating hormones prevailed. She wanted him, he obviously wanted her and that was that.

Or not. Instead of mating with Zane now, she had pack responsibilities. She needed to ensure Sid didn’t kill a single one of her pack members. She needed to be in on the fight. Mating could come later.

Margie pushed at Zane’s shoulders until he raised his head and looked at her with a puzzled gaze.

“Sid’s out there now threatening my pack. I should be preparing for a fight, not mating.”

Zane pressed his forehead against hers as he drew in several deep breaths while smoothing her bra cup over her breast. Despite its covering, the skin of her breast felt cold from the lack of his touch. “You’re right,” came out as a growl, “but I don’t want you to leave.”

“Come with me to talk to the pack. Provided Allen released you?”

Zane raised his head and looked her dead on. “I release myself. He removed the bandage. I have stitches and I heal fast. And Sid’s my kill.”

Margie pecked him on the lips as he started to stand.

“Keep that up my little wolf and you won’t be leaving this room anytime soon.”

“Mmm. I’ll have to remember that.” She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get you a shirt and shoes and then we’ll meet with my pack. They should know what’s going on.”

****

Zane watched Margie as she strode to a wardrobe and pulled out a scrub top. Her ass was made for his hands to grasp as she rode him, while her slick core gripped his staff. He shook his head, dispelling the fantasy. As much as he hated to admit it, Margie was right. They did not need to be mating while Sid was terrorizing her pack.

Intellectually he knew that, but the mating hormones rode through his veins like a wave of lust and his higher thought ground to almost a complete halt. Once they neutralized the threat of Sid, he would finish what they started, claiming her as his. But by then he would be free of the torc and could claim her as an alpha, not as the beta enforcer he was now.

Margie pitched him the scrub top and Zane pulled it over his head. Who would have thought he’d rock the doctor look?

“Hey, check me out. I’m the good doctor Ben Dover, proctologist.”

Margie barked a short burst of laughter. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this get-up.”

“It’s easy to get to since it’s right here in the room. You need shoes, though. Hmm. Here are some socks. We have the standard slippers, but I’m going to have to ask someone to loan you a pair of shoes.”

He liked watching her think. Or move. Or, well, he liked everything about her so far. And now that he had a taste of her, he wanted more. There would be plenty of time to taste her, to join with her, to be gloved by her core and her soul. Plenty of time once he got the damn torc removed and his alpha powers restored.

Provided the torc hadn’t permanently suppressed his powers. Zane shuddered. Nope. Not going there.
Positive thoughts, Zane.

After handing him a pair of baby blue hospital slippers, Margie moved to the door. He looked like a candidate for a geriatric commercial in his beige socks and baby blue slippers. On the plus side, the slippers barely made a sound as he walked by Margie’s side.

Her boots and the soles of Big G’s shit-kickers tapped an angry tune as they marched down the hall.

“You sure he should be out walking around, alpha?”

“Yes, Big G, I’m sure. When we get to the top of the stairs, I’ll need you to call the pack together. I need everyone to meet inside, on the basketball court. Outside is dangerous with Sid around. Zane, we have a couple that resides off this property. Would Sid try to take them out, or is he more likely to focus here?”

“He wouldn’t expect pack members to live anyplace other than in the direct vicinity of the alpha. They should be safe where they are.”

Margie slammed her palms against the release bar on the door at the top of the stairs and strode through, turning to Big G.

“Big G. Don’t call in Tom and Vonda. They should be safer where they’re at, but do let them know to be on the lookout for Sid.”

“How do you know he is telling the truth?” Big G nodded in Zane’s direction. Zane couldn’t blame the giant for doubting him, nor could he stop the snarl from crossing his lips for the insult.

“He’s my mate.”

“Well, hell. That means I have to play nice, don’t it?”

Margie patted him on the shoulder. “Go on now. Make sure everyone on the ranch is gathered in thirty minutes. I’ll be in my office with Zane and Landa.”

She marched in the opposite direction from the giant. Zane narrowed his gaze on Big G and started to turn when the giant hissed at him.

“You might be her mate, which one day will make you my alpha, but alpha or no, you fuck with her and I’ll rip your throat out.” His canines flashed as he snarled at Zane before striding off down the hall.

Zane growled, wanting to run after Big G, wanting to avenge the disrespect. His feet apparently liked that plan too as his baby blues turned in Big G’s direction. But that route meant he was nothing better than Sid. Avenging disrespect, fighting for honor, destroying other lives. All because his ego pride couldn’t handle a bit of truth.

What was he? A spoiled child or a full-grown male?

And shouldn’t he be glad to know Margie’s enforcers were willing to go up against her mate if he hurt her? Most definitely.

Stinging pride was a dangerous thing.

Instead of talking to Big G about the giant’s attitude, he should be getting busy earning that respect. Earning it. Not demanding it. Demanding it would only cause dissension and dissension within the pack damaged pack dynamics.

After all, Big G’s job was to protect his alpha, Margie. True loyalty by an enforcer was hard to come by, he should know. If Margie managed through trust and respect to inspire loyalty in her followers, then what right did he have to interfere? Even if it meant sucking down insults and disrespect.

Oh shit
. He was going to have his own pack.
This one
. Complete with the skinhead giant enforcer his pride wanted a piece of. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? How would he run a pack? The only example he had was the dictator from hell. Okay, so he knew enough not to go that route. Other than that, he had abso-fucking-lutely no idea how to do it. Luckily for him, his mate seemed to know what to do. The few wolves he’d met today had shown Margie only loyalty and respect.

Learning from her was his number two priority, right after removing the damn torc from around his neck. No, wait. Learning from her was number three on his to-do list, number two being a horizontal work-out session on the bed of her choice.

Oh, yeah. That was some action he wanted to get in on.

Now
.

Unfortunately, he had the little matter of his neckwear amputation to attend to first.

His slippers swished on the wood floor as he turned and followed Margie into an office, his thoughts bouncing from one thing to the next. The ping-pong internal conversation came to an abrupt halt as he saw Landa sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, her upper body twisted around so she faced him, her face a ghostly white. Her eyes darted to Margie.

“You said I didn’t have to go with him.”

“And I mean that. This is your pack now. But he’s not going back to Sid. He’s my mate and I’m not going to let anyone else have power over him. So we’re going to take his torc off. And you’re going to help me.”

Chapter Five

Margie watched Landa’s eyes grow large, saw her throat move as she swallowed. “Me?” Her voice came out on a high-pitched squeak.

Margie toed the door shut and left Zane standing by it as she walked toward the blonde wolf. “I need your help, Landa. You read Sid’s grimoire. You know more about him and his magic than I do. I know magic, but I don’t know how to remove Zane’s torc. I need you to show me. Are you willing to help me?”

Landa’s gaze darted to Zane—who wisely stood still next to the closed door—her tongue licking her lips before her eyes closed. She pulled in a deep breath and opened her eyes, her gaze on Margie as she spoke.

“Are you sure he’s your mate?”

Well, she hadn’t expected that question. A simple yes or no-way-in-hell, sure. What did Zane being her mate have to do with it?

“I’m positive. Why?”

“Fate has a way of things, eh?”

“Will you help me or not, Landa?”

“What will he do when the torc is removed?”

“Kill the bastard.” The growled words came from the door and Margie glanced to Zane. His lips pulled back in a snarl, his canines gleaming. “He took from me too, Landa, and for that I apologize. Because of this torc I was unable to save you when he took you for his. Several of us tried to free you, but he stopped us before we were able. The punishment didn’t mean we gave up trying. We never gave up trying. He deserves to pay for what he has done. Please. Help me to help you.”

Muted tweets of birds drifted through the closed window into the vacuum of silence previously known as her office. Not that she blamed Landa for thinking on the matter. Zane had come for the little wolf, after all. If he hadn’t been her mate, she might not have trusted him either. But even though they hadn’t joined bodies, she felt as if she knew his mind, and she knew he wouldn’t betray them no matter what happened.

Landa continued to stare at Zane as the minutes ticked by. Patience might be a virtue, but whoever wrote that proverb probably wasn’t sitting around with his heart in his throat waiting for an answer.

Right when Margie opened her mouth to try again with the question, Landa’s gaze turned to her.

“He speaks the truth. I’ll help you.”

Margie released a breath of air. Apparently patience really was a virtue. Not to mention it seemed like Landa really did read minds, which was something that bore watching in the future. “Great. Thank you. I have no clue about the torc. I can feel its magic and that’s about it. Did you read the spell in Sid’s grimoire?”

Landa nodded, her eyes focused on the white knuckles of her hands, her lips moving silently.

Margie waited for a minute. Nothing, but muted birdcalls. To hell with the proverb. “And?”

Landa’s gaze flashed to hers and Margie hissed a breath in. Did her eyes turn black when she worked magic? Who knew? It wasn’t like she looked in a mirror while casting spells. Landa’s once blue irises now shone black as obsidian. Part of Margie expected Landa’s head to start spinning around and her voice to warp.

She was only mildly disappointed when Landa’s head stayed in place as she nodded at Margie. Rising from where she sat, Landa walked over to Zane, Margie trailing behind like a hungry dog on the scent of a rabbit. She saw magic twisting around Landa in ribbons of color, saw it circle around a wide-eyed pale-faced Zane. Damn, but the little wolf could work some magic. How long had she studied Sid’s grimoire? Margie had worked hard learning magic spells, all under her parents’ noses. She learned her magic through many hours of practice, but she had a feeling Landa’s magic was part of her, strengthened by study.

‘Cuz sure as she wore boots, ribbons of magic never visited her. Not once. If Landa learned this from Sid’s grimoire, how the hell was Margie going to defeat him?

She stared at the colored ribbons surrounding Landa as the blonde touched the torc. Zane stiffened, his jaw tensing as if he was in pain. Ribbons of magic coalesced in Landa’s palm, running into the torc as she touched it with her fingers. The magic hummed as it spread across the torc, vibrating colors surrounding Zane’s neck. Tendons stood out in his arms as his fists clenched, his nostrils flaring.

The burning scent of pain filled the air, slamming into her like a punch to the ribs. Margie moved, a growl escaping her lips. She wanted to attack the one who hurt her mate, wanted to hurt Landa like she hurt Zane. But if she shredded Landa’s flesh, Zane might be injured accidentally. Who knew what would happen if the spell broke while the spell-caster was in the middle of it.

How the hell did mated werewolves stop themselves from going insane every time anything happened to their mate? Instead of walking forward to rip Landa to shreds, she forced a step backward, then another and another until her leg hit one of the chairs. Margie grabbed the back of the chair, her hand turning into a claw as she punctured the leather.

Shredding leather chairs kept her from shredding her newest pack member.

As Landa waved her hands around Zane’s head and neck, the magic rose in pitch, the humming vibrating at such a high frequency that Margie turned her claw back into a hand and clasped both palms over her ears. Zane howled, a scream of pain that echoed through the room. The sound beat through Margie’s bones as the frequency of the magic changed. Higher and higher it rose until it shattered in an ear-splitting, headache-inducing bang, the torc dropping to the floor with a thud.

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