T. A. Grey (12 page)

“Though don’t expect our sex to always be like that.”

Huh. She blinked, confused. Big warm hands pressed on her thighs, squeezing then trailing over her hips as his came over her, his mouth once again finding her breasts.

“Why not? I thought it was pretty...amazing.”

He grunted against her breast then braced himself on a strong arm to play between her legs with his other. He flatted his palm above her mound. He let his thumb idly swing across her clit.

“Because I’m in charge and will always be.”

Christine gaped at him then she started laughing.

“Always laughing at me,” he growled.

And then he ripped her panties off and thrust inside.

There was no time to prepare, to expect it. He just took her in a hard stroke. And he didn’t stop moving.

His thrusts were hard, fast, steady. Christine moaned, head swishing side to side at the full, stretched feeling. He leaned down and sucked a nipple into his mouth. Her thighs squeezed tightly around his hips wanting to wrap completely around him but her jeans kept her still for his thrusts.

With each thrust, he built her up higher and higher. Breathing grew difficult, body burned hot as a sensual haze clouded over her. He was right there with her, groans meeting moans as he thrust into her body again and again.

Christine liked it, but she wanted more. Calling on the beast which happily purred with contentment at his touch inside her, she used it to kick her legs apart. The denim tore with a loud rip and he lifted his mouth from her breast to give her a strange look. She wanted to know what that look was, it almost looked...accusing.

Each thrust hit her clit, slapped their flesh together, sending her close to the peak. So she wrapped her legs around his ass and started pumping her hips. His eyes shuttered closed as a harsh sigh left him. He couldn’t thrust hard like this as she pumped, working her sex over his cock. She held him deep inside, right where she needed him, bumping him over a part of her that made her breath catch and her blood boil.

“Dmetri,” she whispered.

His arms wrapped around the top of her head, caging her in as he rolled his hips back against hers.

She let out a short scream as the pleasure mounted. Her arms reached down and latched onto his ass, her thighs locking around his hips as they pumped against each other, rocking and thrusting.

His breaths came in hot, hard pants against her neck as he buried his face there. Hands curled into fists in her hair; and then she started coming.

The pleasure was instantaneous—incredible. Her hips met his and shook with the power of her orgasm.

“Oh!” She shouted again and again as she clung furiously to his back. Waves and crashes pulsating and pounding inside her muscles and blood.

“Christine.” He groaned like a dying man. And then he bit her neck and hammered into her.

The bite took her fading orgasm and ramped it back up, fresh and new. She couldn’t keep quiet, couldn’t stop her body from trembling so hard against his, couldn’t stop from digging her nails into his back as she held on for dear life. But he liked it.

He moved even faster, flesh pounding against flesh. With one last push, he held himself deep, his hips jerking against hers as he shot hot seed inside her.

Christine gasped, holding onto him like she didn’t want to let go. Slowly, he pulled away from her neck, licking at the bite marks he’d just made. He pulled back to kiss her. It was slow and lazy with passion. Their tongues met gently before parting ways.

He pulled back to look down at her. “You’re mine.”

She shook her head in denial.

“Say it. You’re mine.”

A small smile played at her lips. “Okay, you’re mine.” His eyebrow arched. “I suppose so but that’s not what I meant and you know it.” His eyes grew dark as a midnight sky. “Say it,” he commanded.

Christine looked away, her heart beating frantically against her ribs. She wanted to say it, she realized. She wanted to say it and mean it.

“I can’t.”

He frowned at her, his jaw working side to side.

“You will,” he promised, then kissed her once more.

The three vampires stopped to rest. One started to build a fire; the biggest of the bunch went to take a piss in a small stream. The last one stayed with the girl.

She’d been beaten; her eyes were black and blue, swollen completely shut. Her clothes hung in tatters around her...that which she still wore. They’d taken off her shirt and shorts, leaving her only in her underwear. Her battered chest was red and bruised down along her ribs and stomach; her breasts looked scratched and swollen.

Brayden saw red. Slamming his eyes shut, he took deep breaths to steady himself. But when he opened them again his eyes still went back to her. Her arms were tied behind her back leaving her no chance to try to cover up her nudity. Thick rope bound her with a longer piece clenched in the vampire’s hand as a leash.

The vampire said something and hauled her to a stand. Whether it was because she couldn’t see or because of injuries he didn’t know, but she stumbled, legs shaking as she stood.

The impatient vampire pulled hard on the rope, but she didn’t cry out no matter how hard her arms were pulled.

He pulled his eyes away from her with effort. The man at the stream was just finishing.

Brayden made his move. With cold deadly accuracy, he raced silently through the forest and grabbed the vampire’s head in his hands. He never saw him coming, never heard it until he felt the pressure at his head and the crack of his neck snapping. As the man fell to his knees, Brayden stabbed his dagger into his heart and moved on to the vampire at the fire.

He wished he had time to kill these men properly. To shove their faces in the fire and hear their screams of agony, but he didn’t have that kind of time. So he twisted, cracking the vampire’s neck.

The vamp holding Vanessa snapped his gaze to him. Brayden never gave him a moment to react, to plan—he exploded at him.

At the last second, the man tried to shove her in front of him, but Brayden clothes-lined the man, catching him at the throat and choking him. The force of the hit slammed him down to the ground and Brayden followed.

His fist pounded into the vampire’s face. After the second blow, he stopped struggling.

He didn’t know if he was dead or passed out because the thought never entered his mind. He only had one focus—he touched her, he had to die.

A soft sound floated by his ear...crying. That simple sound cut through the violence in him better than any knife ever could. He sat up, breathing in hard long pulls, and looked behind him.

Vanessa sat on the ground, rocking, her hands covering her face. Christ, she didn’t even know what was going on because she couldn’t see.

Brayden cut a lethal look back at the vampire under him and noted with deep satisfaction that his face was unrecognizable now. He took his blade out and jabbed it into his heart—the killing blow. He didn’t feel a single regret. In fact, he lifted the vamp’s shirt and cleaned his bloodied fist and blade on it.

Coming to a stand, he walked slowly towards Vanessa. She stiffened as she heard him and stopped rocking. Her fingers curled into the grass behind her, her tense body said she was ready to run.

“Vanessa, it’s Brayden.”

She froze for a moment then started scuttling towards him. She was about to bump into the dead vamp, so Brayden quickly knelt in front of him. Tears rolled in fat droplets down her face; her arms shook in their binding.

“It’s okay now.” God, what did he say to her? He knew how to kill, how to rescue even, but this part...was not something he was acquainted with. The aftermath.

He didn’t stop her when she crawled into his lap and sagged against him. His eyes landed on the two dead bodies, one at the stream, one at the fire he still needed to stab, and wanted to kill them again. Only this time slowly, taking his time to enjoy it.

He didn’t want to touch her but some part of him must have because he wrapped an arm around her waist and held her.

“Are they dead?”

“Very much so.” A strange feeling came over him...embarrassment. This was not a conversation he thought he’d ever have with this girl. She pulled back but still hadn’t stopped shaking as she tried to look around.

“Don’t try to open your eyes. I’ll take care of...” he’d been about to say
you
but that sounded too personal. “Everything,” he said instead.

“Where are my uncles?” She sounded like a little girl who desperately wanted her family right now. Again, it made him realize just how young she was, a teenager. Lykaens aged differently than humans. They aged slowly and could live incredibly long lives. But even then, compared to his dirt-old age, she was practically a newborn.

“I’m an excellent tracker if the scent is fresh so I came. They sent teams after you right away. I got here first.”

“They got Vince right?”

Worry pulled her face into a frown that had to hurt. “Yes.” She shook her head and started to move, then collapsed against him. “I can’t stand.” She mumbled as if admitting so made her weak. After what she’d just been through the last thing he saw was weakness.

He pulled his knife out of his shoulder holster and cut the thick rope around her wrists.

Then he wrapped his jacket around her. “Here put this on.” The big trench coat billowed around her small frame. He started to stand but her hand snapped out and grabbed his wrist.

Amazing considering she couldn’t open her eyes.

“Where are you going?” she asked in a high voice.

Brayden looked at the dead bodies. “Just going to take care of the bodies. I’ll be within thirty feet of you. I swear nothing’s going to happen to you now.”

“Okay,” she said but she didn’t release his hand.

“Trust me.” He used his most commanding of tones, the same one he used with soldiers.

She started nodding then released her grip on him. His coat engulfed her small form as she wrapped it around her.

Brayden grabbed each of the vamps and tossed their bodies on top of the fire. Nothing would remain of them now. Before the horrid stench of burnt flesh could meet her nose, he encouraged her to stand then lifted her in his arms.

If she hadn’t been so bruised he could run with her and make it back to the pack in half the time, but as it was, he made his way through the dense forest being careful of her injuries.

“What do you do?”

Her soft voice startled him. His chest tightened and he felt the strong urge to look away from her. He wasn’t used to being questioned, let alone with an innocent question about his life.

It felt odd.

“I’m an Elder with the Justicars.” He told himself he only answered because she’d been through a rough night. She deserved some minor conversation at the least.

“But what do you
do
?”

Brayden thought of his job and realized it’d probably sound incredibly boring to a young one like her. Hell, it
was
boring, but he loved it.

“Help packs and clans negotiate treaties, help to capture criminals, and decide on sentencing. A variety of things.”

She didn’t say anything for a long time. When she did, he wished she hadn’t.

“Why do you want me to marry that Alpha?”

He couldn’t be sure why the question threw him off. Was it because of the soft innocent way she asked it or because this was the first time she’d brought up the subject without screaming at him?

“I believe family values should be upheld. If marrying the Alpha would bring peace and prosperity between the packs then it is for the best. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”

She made a sound akin to a snort. “He’s old.”

Brayden straightened and resisted the urge to say he was much, much older.

“That Dmetri guy’s old but he doesn’t look it, ya know? But the Alpha
looks
it. He’s fifty and looks seventy, no joke. How can I possibly go through with that?” He had no idea what to tell her so he kept his mouth shut.

“You don’t look old.”

She squirmed in his arms then stretched her arms out to wind them around his neck.

“Sorry, my wrists hurt.” She sounded embarrassed.

Brayden started walking faster. When she didn’t tense or complain, he broke into a jog.

He needed to get her home before she started prying into his life even more.

“How old are you?”

A pause then, “Old.”

Sounding displeased she said, “Figures. Everyone’s old but me.”

“Do you hurt badly?” His eyes flew open at the question. He’d been thinking it but he hadn’t meant to ask. But then he felt her arms stiffen around him.

“No. Who were those men?”

“Members of Claude’s clan here to do his bidding.”

“Why does he want to hurt us?”

Simple questions that any innocent would ask, but the answers were much more complicated. In the end, he decided to just tell her the truth. It made things much easier on him, besides she wasn’t so young she wouldn’t understand.

“He wants to kill the Kategans so he can gain control of the pack.” Her hands clenched around his shoulders. “What? The pack would never follow him, even if he could somehow become a lykaen and make them change loyalty.”

“Perfect logic, but then again you’re not insane, he is. He believes a lot of crazy ideas and has enough determination to start a war.”

“And hurt people,” she said softly.

Brayden nodded before he remembered she couldn’t see him. “Yes.”

“Why have you been so mean to me?”

Brayden faltered a step but righted the action quickly. “I haven’t been mean. I’ve been as I always am.”

She laughed softly. “I see. You’re just a mean old guy then.” Brayden didn’t know how to respond to that so he didn’t. As he stepped over a fallen tree, he spotted the Kategan land in the distance.

“We’re not far now.”

She nodded but didn’t say anything.

He could smell the burnt wood and smoke that covered the pack as he neared it. A heavy fog sat over the pack because of the humidity from the rain. He supposed it was metaphorical in a strange way. Damn, now he was thinking sappy thoughts.