Blood Rights [Wicked River 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (4 page)

She fingered the small hole on the right sleeve, remembering how Brock had cussed a blue streak when he’d ripped it on a tree branch in the forest. His dark hair had been longer then, with little curls at the ends she’d love to run her fingers through. When she’d grabbed a handful of those silky locks and pulled him into a kiss, he’d forgotten all about being mad at the offending tree.

Stomping across the room, she shoved the sweatshirt into the trash can beside her bed and kicked the receptacle for good measure. Then she pulled a long-sleeved, black T-shirt from her dresser, tugged it on over her head, and took a deep breath before exiting the room.

“I thought you might have drowned in there,” Koba teased her when she walked into the kitchen to find them both sitting at the small, circular table. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving.”

Brock rose from his chair and offered her a tight smile. “Do you still like biscuits and gravy?”

“Why?”

His head tilted to the side, and he gave her a look full of confusion. “I was going to make breakfast. Do you want something else?”

“I don’t think that’s what she meant.” Koba stood as well and rounded the table, taking Moira by the shoulders and steering her into a chair. “Don’t move.”

No problem there. Though Koba’s touch sent a tiny current of electricity through her body, it was faint and fleeting, and she could barely hold her eyes open. Crossing her arms on the table to form a pillow, she laid her head down and stifled a yawn. They had things to discuss, but she just needed to rest her eyes for a few minutes.

* * * *

God save him from pig-headed fools.

As Brock went about preparing breakfast, Koba lifted Moira into his arms and carried her to the sofa in the living room. She groaned quietly when he eased her to the cushions, rolling to her side and curling her knees up toward her chest. Lifting a small fleece blanket from the recliner, Koba covered her and brushed the golden-blonde hair back from her face.

His lips tingled with the urge to place even a chaste kiss against her temple, but he resisted. It wouldn’t be right, even that barest of touches, without her permission. Moira had clearly stated that she didn’t trust him, and whether it was the anger speaking or something else, he’d respect that.

“She asleep?” Brock asked when Koba wandered back into the kitchen.

“Down for the count.”

“Don’t bet on that.” Brock chuckled as he whisked the gravy. “She’s a damn mule.”

“Hmm, reminds me of someone else I know.” The two were so much alike it was amazing to him that they weren’t related. It did explain why they couldn’t seem to be within ten feet of each other without the claws coming out, though.

Turning the burner off and setting the pot of gravy to the side, Brock turned and looked Koba up and down with a strange expression on his face. “Those are my clothes.”

“Would you like them back?” Gripping the neckline of his borrowed T-shirt, he began to pull the material up over his head.

“No.” There was no laughter or smile, though. Brock seemed in deep contemplation, but Koba couldn’t tell if they were pleasant thoughts or not. “Why would she have my clothes here?”

“Well, this did used to be your house, right?”

“It was my dad’s. It’s the alpha’s house. I guess Mo moved in after he disappeared.”

“So, it used to be your house. You grew up here.” The clothes Koba was currently sporting weren’t that old, though. The jeans were a little baggy on him, but they looked practically new. The harder he tried to puzzle out what Brock was trying to say, the more confused he became. “Can I buy a vowel?”

“Why did she save my clothes? It’s like she was waiting for me to come back.”

Ah.
Now he got it. “Maybe she was.” Koba didn’t know the whole story, but the bits and pieces he’d heard had never added up for him. “She’s the only one who can tell you.”

The timer sounded, indicating the biscuits were ready, and Brock busied himself with removing them from the oven. The avoidance of the issue wasn’t anything new, and Koba decided to let it go for the time being. “Should I wake her up?”

“We should probably get back to the barn with the rest of the team. The food will be here when she wakes up.”

“Do you really think we should leave her here alone?” It wasn’t that Koba thought the woman was weak or couldn’t defend herself. It was absurd to think that she could take on several Walkers at once, though, especially if she was unprepared for their arrival.

“The sun will be coming up soon. I’m sure she’ll be fine.” The tightening at the corners of his eyes and the tick in the muscles of his jaw said otherwise, though.

“Why don’t you move her to the bed? You take the guestroom, and I’ll crash on the sofa,” Koba offered. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to share a bed with his mate, but it only made sense for one of them to be close to Moira while the other remained near both entrances to the house.

“She won’t like it.”

“She’ll like it a lot less if she’s dead,” he countered. Technically, Moira wouldn’t care about much if she was dead, but that wasn’t the point he was trying to make.

Brock sighed and reached out to pull Koba into his arms. “You know I love you, right?”

Holding lightly to Brock’s waist, Koba arched his neck to kiss the side of the man’s jaw. “I know. You love her, too, though, and there’s nothing wrong with that. She might not admit it, but she needs you.”

“She needs
us
,” Brock amended firmly.

It wasn’t that Koba doubted his place in their relationship, but the reassurance was appreciated all the same. Smiling against the side of his mate’s neck, he stepped a little closer until the lengths of his their bodies pressed together. “Just talk to her, Brock.”

The man sighed tiredly and rubbed their cheeks together for a moment before easing away. “Later.”

“Don’t wait too long. Second chances can slip away just as fast as the first time around.” It wasn’t always easy to play the neutral observer and stand back while someone he cared about was hurting. Koba had seen the same longing and pain in Moira’s eyes, though.

Both obviously felt they’d been jilted, but when two sides of a story didn’t match up, there was obviously something missing. It was apparent to Koba that there was a third side to the sordid tale, but it was destined to remain buried in the past if Brock and Moira weren’t willing to bend.

Unfortunately, his presence would cause more harm than good at first. Brock was too afraid of doing or saying anything to hurt Koba, while Moira viewed him as the man Brock had replaced her with. “You get some rest. I’ll go check on the team.”

“What?” Brock paused on his way out of the kitchen and arched an eyebrow. A look that usually meant Koba was in trouble. “I thought you had decided to sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah, well…” Koba trailed off and shrugged. He’d never been good at lying, and it was even harder with Brock. “One of us should probably be there with them.”

Brock’s eyes narrowed, and he eyed Koba suspiciously. “If that’s what you want,” he finally answered, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his tone. “Is everything okay? I can come with you if you don’t want to stay here.”

Why did the guy have to make it so hard to do the noble thing? “I want you to talk to Moira, and I figured you wouldn’t want an audience for it,” he relented.

“I don’t have anything to hide from you.” Brock huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger. “She’ll probably chew me up and spit me out. Are you really going to leave me alone without protection?”

The tension drained away, and Koba grinned from ear to ear. “I’ll be back later in the day to clean up whatever’s left of you.”

Closing the distance between them once more, Brock wrapped his fingers around the back of Koba’s neck and pulled him into a searing kiss of lips, teeth, and tongues until they were both panting for breath. Then he rested their foreheads together, still keeping a firm hold on the back of Koba’s neck.

“I need you here. You saw what happened earlier with the betas. There are plenty of rooms in this house for a private conversation, but I want you close. Okay?”

Brock’s concerns weren’t without merit. Being an unclaimed omega in foreign territory was dangerous. Until the alpha claimed him, the rest of the pack would be clawing for the right to make him their own. “Fine, I’ll stay, but I plan to sleep really, really late.”

“I’ll talk to her. I promise. You’re just as much a part of this, though.”

“I’m not going to go cry myself to sleep and play the wronged and discarded lover, Brock.” The first reassurance was nice. Now, it just felt as though Brock was treating him like an overemotional toddler. Since Koba felt he was being the most rational person in the entire situation, the coaxing tone Brock used grated on his nerves.

“That’s not what I meant. I was just trying to say that I can’t do this alone.”

They were both tired, and the stress of the night was wearing on them. Rather than risk saying something he might regret later, Koba pecked Brock on the cheek and caressed his arm. “Get some sleep, Brock. We’re both too wiped out for this conversation.”

Things would be better once they were rested. He repeated the words to himself all the way down the hall to the guestroom. He even kept up the internal pep talk as he crawled into bed, but his heart was having a hard time believing it.

It wasn’t completely unexpected when the bedroom door creaked open and the mattress dipped beside him. Brock’s warm body molded to his back, his hard, naked cock nestling firmly along the crease of Koba’s ass. “I’m sorry,” Brock whispered against his shoulder. “I’m not sure what I did to piss you off, but I’m sorry.”

If the man thought he could persuade him with sweet words and amazing sex…well, Koba wasn’t going to stop him from trying. “Keep going.”

Moist lips skimmed down his nape and across his shoulders. “I was wrong to say what I said and do what I did. Whatever the hell it was.”

Though his skin tingled and his cock swelled at the attention, Koba couldn’t help but snort as he rolled to face his lover. “You’re an idiot.”

“But I’m a sexy idiot.”

“Mm, this is true.” Fisting his hand in Brock’s hair, he pulled him closer so he could press their lips together. “Even more so when your mouth is otherwise occupied.”

“Is that a demand, Mr. Blackheart?”

“Nope.” Koba’s fingers bit into the flesh at his mate’s hip, urging Brock to rock against him so that their heavy erections slid together. “Merely offering a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

“Yes, love, you are the master of subtlety.”

The kiss was rough, demanding, and full of desire. Brock’s tongue dipped into his mouth, twining and sliding with his own, silently commanding that Koba give him everything. More than happy to submit to his alpha but unwilling to be totally passive, Koba let his hands explore, mapping out the dips and valley created by his mate’s rock-hard muscles.

Rolling to his back, he sighed into Brock’s mouth when the man followed, insinuating himself between Koba’s legs and covering him with his slightly larger body. There was only one feeling in the world that Koba loved more than being surrounded by Brock, and if he played his cards right, he was about to feel that, too.

The distinct click of a bottle cap opening sounded unusually loud in the dark room. A moment later, two slippery fingers found his opening, skimming the fluttering muscles before pushing inside to the second knuckle.

“Where?” Koba panted, unable to get more than the single word through his kiss-swollen lips.

“Bathroom. Body oil.”

Well, that answered the question of the mysterious lube, and Koba’s brain shut down, allowing him to simply enjoy the feel of Brock’s mouth moving against his and the thick digits sawing in and out of his channel. Seemingly satisfied with his preparations, Brock eased away, extracting his fingers and sitting up on his knees.

“Hands over your head.”

Koba complied at once, his insides burning with lust until his skin flushed and his muscles vibrated. The flat, one-piece headboard didn’t offer him anything to hold on to, so he simply rotated his forearms and pressed his palms flat against the smooth wood. The look Brock leveled on him was so full of fire that Koba was surprised the room didn’t suddenly erupt into flames.

Koba’s cock rested heavy on his lower abs, pulsing with each beat of his heart and leaking copious amounts of pre-cum from the slit. His sac tightened, his hole clenched in anticipation, and the world around him disappeared.

Fisting his long, thick shaft in one hand, Brock positioned the tip of his cock at Koba’s entrance, nudging against the loosened muscles with steady pressure. Once the flared crown popped through the guarding ring, he paused momentarily, giving Koba time to adjust to the invasion before slamming inside until he was buried to the root.

A long, strangled groan rumbled inside Koba’s chest and up through his parted lips. The burn was minimal as his inner walls stretched wide to accommodate the massive girth, but he craved the sensation, always looked forward to it. Brock retreated slowly, leaving Koba feeling empty and bereft. When only the very tip remained encased inside his yielding body, Brock drove home again.

His lover repeated the move several times, and each forceful plunge pushed Koba closer to the edge of no return. A dewy sheen of sweat coated his skin as his internal temperature spiked and his heart raced out of control.

No words were spoken, none were needed, and as the tempo increased, only the sounds of their labored breathing and quiet groans echoed around the room. When Brock fisted Koba’s aching cock, stroking him from base to tip in time with his thrusts, Koba’s vision dimmed, his muscles tensed, and tiny explosions detonated inside his body.

Rivers of pearly semen spurted from his slit, painting his chest and stomach. His inner muscles convulsed, strangling Brock’s dick. His mate’s movements became jerky and uncoordinated, his large frame shuddered, and fiery, wet heat filled Koba’s channel until he overflowed.