It's a Wolf Thing (3 page)

He fought her steel-locked legs and slid his cock shallower inside her, working the tip against the inside of her pussy. He pressed back and slid, then did it all over again when she gasped and clung to him.

He liked that. Liked her clinging to him. Liked her needin
g
him that way. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red grooves that closed within seconds. The sharp sensation mingled with the arousal surging through his body, eliciting another groan from the center of his chest. The groan deepened as she moved, trailing a hand down his torso. His focus divided: half on continuing to fuck her in deep, long movements and half on the tender touch she gave him when she placed her hand over his heart. He’d had glimpses of that tenderness before—her caring for him on the battlefield—but now the floodgates were open.

He didn’t just want more, he wanted all of it. Wanted all she had to give.

Resting his forehead against hers, he drank in the feeling. Her hand felt like it belong there, close to his heart, which seemed like it was trying to beat right out of his ribcage. He had a lot to repay her for—all the wasted time and missed opportunities. But better late than never.

“It’s yours now, y’know…”

She didn’t reply, not in words. Instead she lifted her head and sought his lips with hers. The kiss was the sweetest he’d ever experienced. Soft. Gentle. A promise made in the only language they needed. A total counterpoint to the erotic sensation of her body under and around him.

Heat and affection stole the rest of his control, if he had any left, and he pulled her tighter. Hand on her thigh, he lifted it higher and held it close against his side as he changed the rhythm. He took the kiss hotter and deeper as he drove into her.

His hips worked faster, harder, the need to fill her overriding the emotional impact of the situation. Breed. Breed. Breed.
Breed
. The genetic command slammed into his mind again and again. He had his mate now. His mate. The One. Harder and faster, he slammed every last inch of his thick shaft into her. Her pussy grew slicker with her arousal, wetter and tighter as she clenched around him, and a throaty moan eased past his vocal chords.

As if sensing the needs that drove him, she wrapped herself around him. Her arms snaked behind his neck, her hips moving to meet his. She dropped her head back, baring the satin skin of her throat to his lips. A soft murmur escaped her, the breathy, feminine sound music to his ears. He’d wanted her in this way for months…years, and now it was a reality. He struggled to process it all.

But process he did. Her reactions spurred him on. Faster, deeper. Anything to keep those little sounds spilling from her lips and the shivers rolling through her body. She clenched around him, the grip and feel of her almost too much. Warm, wet, tight… He shuddered and closed his eyes, fighting for control.

“No,” she whispered, gentle fingers hooking around his jaw to turn him and make him look at her. “No hiding. Just let go. Come with me.”

He blinked for a moment, his body slipping as it did. His change edged out as the heat and tension in his groin built like an inferno. Throaty, grunting huffs passed for breathing as he fought for control. Claws dug into the ceramic tiles of the floor, leaving fine-cut grooves that arrowed toward her body, leading him toward the center of his universe. She was the focus of the world for him.

One more thrust and she gasped. Her pussy clenched hard around his shaft, and his reality shattered in pleasure.

Every muscle in his body went taut, hard as steel. White exploded in his vision and inside of her as his hands clamped around her thighs and held her body firm against his own. He gave her every inch and every last drop of himself. His gaze locked onto her the way a surface-to-air missile zeroes in on the exhaust of a fighter jet.

She didn’t flinch at the sight of his impending change, and why should she? She’d seen it so many times on the battlefield. There it was swiftly followed by hers, but here was different. He held onto the change, determined to stay human for her. As he moved, slammed into her, she gave another of those little moans that stole his sanity and followed him into pleasure. Her body tightened around his, the shimmy of her ecstasy feeding his.

He knew his eyes had changed, the jet-black signaling the approach of his wolf. Normally such a sight preceded bloody mayhem on the battlefield. But this, here, was so much different and a long time coming. There was a tenderness to his touch he’d not known in some time. The razor-sharp points of his claws receded back into his hands. Color returned as he cradled her soft cheek in the cup of his palm. Her features glowed as the moon shone through the window.

“I don’t know about you.” He smiled. “But I’ve got me some Fae to thank.”

“So who bloody died and made
you
God?” Dale slammed the door to their shared quarters and faced off against Spencer with a glare plastered on her face. They’d been mated a few short weeks, but already he was getting controlling, railing at her about the risks she took on the battlefield. She was a soldier. If she couldn’t fight…then what good was she?

He blinked at the statement—the same exasperated expression she’d seen him use any time she verbally slammed him against the wall.

“First off, fuck God. Second, your brother, as far as you’re concerned anyway. If you think I’m just gonna sit back willy-nilly and let you risk yourself out there you’re insane. What if something happens to you? I…I can’t lose you too.”

His shoulders sagged, deflated…no, defeated as he slid down to the bed. His head hung low.

“I can’t do it again. Not now. Not my mate.”

That hit Dale like the lightning bolts those bastard angels liked to throw. She paused in the middle of the room, biting her lip as her anger evaporated. Almost. In all her ire at what she’d seen as him trying to control her, she hadn’t thought how he’d react to her going into combat. They’d fought together for so long that she hadn’t considered he would view her differently now. Mated males were highly protective, and he was forced to watch her fight, put her life on the line time after time—something that every instinct he had would rebel against and try to stop.

She approached the bed, crouching down in front of it to reach out and touch his leg.

“Spencer…?”

He didn’t respond at first. His eyes were shadowed by his brows from the single, modest, incandescent light bulb that lit their room. Like a praying mantis seizing its prey, his hand arced out and caught her own.

“Don’t go. I won’t lose you like I lost Cain.”

“Shhh.”

She crawled into his lip without a second thought, worry surging through her as he wrapped himself around her without a word. Deep tremors shook his frame as he buried his face into the curve of her neck and shoulder, lips brushing against the mark he’d left on her skin. She shivered but fought back the reaction. Sometimes it seemed like all he had to do was touch her and she went up in flames, no matter how inappropriate the situation, and it was getting worse. She’d thought it would calm down after a while, but her hormones seemed to be amplified.

“You won’t lose me, I promise. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.”

He shook his head and pushed away.

“I can’t. I won’t. You aren’t going. I’ll find someone else to go in your place. Tell the General you’re injured or something.” He stood up and started to pace. “I won’t let them take you from me too… I can’t. Have to keep you safe.”

She watched him from where he’d dropped her on the bed, hiding her concern behind a neutral expression. She’d seen this before in other wolves that had spent too long on the front lines. Guilt and fear took over, not for themselves a lot of the time, but the people around them.

Battle fatigue.

“I’m safe, Spence. I’m right here. How about you come and lie down with me?”

He slapped her hand away, his expression sharp.

“I don’t want to lie down! I want
you
to lie down, here, where you’ll be safe. I want you off the field, off the front lines.
That’s
what I want.”

“Well, suck it up sunshine, because like it or not, I have a job to do out there, just the same as you have,” she growled, her anger getting the better of her.

She surged to her feet, squaring off with him between one blink and the next. What was it with men? They got you in a relationship, and then it was all “do this, don’t do that.”

“In case it escaped your notice, we’re in a damn war out there!”

“I know!” he roared as he towered over her. “Believe me, if anyone is acutely aware of the fact that the world is shit, it’s me!” He tore his shirt from his chest and revealed the nasty scar left by the angel sword. The angel sword meant for him. But Cain had taken the blade instead.

“I lost my best friend out there in that…hellhole. I’ll be damned if I lose my mate! I’ll talk with the General about this. Then you won’t need to feel so fucking obligated to follow your brother to the grave!”

“Huh? You losing
your
mate? How about me losing mine? Ever think about that?” Tears of anger and frustration prickled the back of her eyes as she jabbed him in the chest with her finger, but she refused to allow them to show. Instead she channeled them to her wolf, letting the creature roll out under the surface of her skin. Ready to break through at any moment.

“Oh, believe me, I’d stay as far the fuck away from that shit pit as I could. But we can’t. You won’t. So someone has to go make sure you don’t lose your head. I’d love nothing more than to throw my hands up and wash them of this crap. Go live out in the wastelands and just fend for ourselves. But for some reason you seem to need to prove yourself over Cain.”

He spun on his heels and slammed his fist into the wall. Blood trickled down over the drywall, but he remained put, facing it. He was hiding again, this time behind physical pain instead of emotional. She knew his game.

“Promise you won’t go?” His shoulders clenched tight. “Please.”

Oh shit. The dead note in his voice tore at Dale’s heart, piercing right down to her soul. He was right—she’d always been in competition with her twin, but not quite in the way he thought.

“I never wanted to prove myself over Cain.”

Her voice was soft as she picked up her jacket from the chair by the bed. He had to learn that they were in this together and that she was just as capable at her job as he was at his. They had to be. Or people died.

“I only ever wanted to prove myself to you.”

His head lowered.

“You never had to prove yourself to me. You’ve always kept me on my toes. If anything I struggle to keep up with you.” His fist remained embedded, though blood had ceased to flow down the wall as his flesh mended itself. His free hand clenched tight into a fist; his knuckles went white with strain.

“I don’t like it. You being out there I mean. If we start a family…I-I won’t be able to live with myself if I lose you.”

Oh hell, low blow.

Dale winced but didn’t go to him. He had to accept her side of things as well as his own.

“When… If that happens, then I’ll put in for reassignment from the lines. But only if you do as well.”

His jaw set as he clenched his muscles. His head dipped ever so slightly as he took a deep breath in and let it out with resignation. With a nod, he tore his arm from the wall. His flesh forced a piece of wood from the wound as it healed.

“Fine. We go. But this isn’t over. And you better be damn careful.”

She bit back a little growl, instead nodding as he turned to join her. “Right back at you, because if I end up nursing your sorry ass again, I won’t be happy.”

* * *

Time stopped as Spence watched the scene unfold before him. He needed to take in each piece of information and file it one at a time. They’d gone on this damn mission against his better judgement. They were in over their heads, and their human backup had been forced to retreat, leaving them cut off. Wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. That is, until the bastard angels pulled some kind of fancy new weapon. It was like a cannon or some shit. Loudest blast he’d ever heard caught Dale in the back and flung her thirty feet clean into a wall. She crumpled into a small heap on the ground.

Within a heartbeat he was in front of her in full-on wolf. In a complete change he stood in at seven foot tall, with long talons and a set of teeth that would’ve made the Big Bad Wolf blush with envy. His senses were in overdrive. He could smell a platoon or so. Lips curled into a snarl, he barked in rage at the angels taking up positions around them.

He cast a glance back to Dale. Her breathing was shallow, and the wound on her shoulder smoked and smelled of burnt meat. His muscles ached for blood. Slowly he backed up to her and set her up behind cover as he scanned for his nearest victim.

There was a moment of cold realization when the angels saw he wasn’t going to take this lying down. Their body language changed the instant they realized that this win was going to cost them. Dearly. He had no illusions. He wasn’t going to walk away from this alive. His goal was simple: carve up enough of these bastards until the resistance reinforcements could get here so that Dale could live on.

Quadriceps and calf muscles tensed as tendons went taut. In a blur of black and brown fur, he was off. Bluish white lances of energy sprayed into the wall where he’d been standing a moment ago.

The effort was futile, as he’d already removed the trachea of his first victim, a novice angel foot soldier who didn’t know his close-quarters technique. A blood-curdling howl filled the apocalyptic valley of dead skyscrapers. One, two, three, and four, he moved from one victim to the next, removing bowels and throats with swift swipes of his talons. The cannon was zeroing in on his movements now. Ear-shattering impacts fragmented concrete and liquefied steel in his wake.

He pounced on the cannoneer and shoved the weapon away as the angel fired, the barrel facing several of his own comrades. Their screams were drowned in the angry explosion that followed. Spencer broke the cannoneer’s arm in several places, each snap more satisfying than the last. His mouth watered for blood as he snarled and leaned in close, ready to clamp down on the angel’s throat. Just as he was set to deliver the killing blow, he was yanked from his feet by an impact so powerful it stole the air from his lungs.

He skipped off the ground four times and slid to a halt, a smoking wreck. He’d gotten sloppy in his blood rage and neglected the second platoon that had moved in to reinforce the one he was carving up like Christmas fixings. He tried to stand up, but pain drove him to his knees again. Vicious, blinding pain all but stole his ability to think. He glanced down, realizing that his arm was shattered and scorched. Even with his healing abilities, the damage was intense. He yelped in pain and held the injured limb gingerly.

Like a golden noose the angels closed in, ready to finish the pair off. Sneering and grinning, they leveled their weapons on him and Dale, and his gaze drifted back to where he’d left her. A tear stole down his blood-matted fur. Even though he’d finally mated her and claimed her as his own, he did regret that it took him so long. He wanted more time. Just another minute—another second—in her arms.

He watched the commander lift his arm and the winged op-for prepare the weapons. The sound of twenty-plus weapons being locked and loaded bore down on him. So this was it. Spencer Pena and Dale Foxx KIA on some shithole battlefield in the ass-end of beyond. He turned his gaze to her, determined to make her the last thing he saw in life. He waited. The Commander’s hand lowered.

Spencer closed his eyes and waited for death to claim him and the woman he loved.