Pack and Coven (10 page)

Not a great hideout. He didn't want to be pinned here with wolves searching for him, one of them Gavin Householder. When he'd been younger, he'd dreamed of vengeance. Seeing Gavin again after forty years revived those urges, but Harry wasn't foolhardy.

If there was one thing he knew, it was that vengeance would be hollow if he didn't survive to enjoy it. Now June was involved too, her safety at stake. He'd listen to his instincts.

“We will not stay here. We'll head west while my disguise is still working. That Caddy can fly. We'll be a blur.” The roads to the west were flatter, with more interstates. They could make better time once they got out of the mountains.

“We should stay until the morning.” Her protest sounded weak. “I need a chance to recoup.”

He returned to her side and cupped her face, her skin like satin. “Sleep all you want. I'll drive. I'm made of stamina, honey. Next thing you know, we'll be in Indiana.”

Her nostrils flared, and her cheeks flushed. “I—”

“If you don't want to come,” he said softly, “I can go alone. In your Caddy.” He had no intention of leaving her behind now that Gavin had noticed her.

“If your spell wears off, you'll never make it. You're a natural alpha. You broadcast whether you want to or not.”

“Then it's settled. You're coming.” When Harry wanted something, his alpha side did tend to come to the fore. It helped him be persuasive, but humans weren't influenced as much as a shifter would be. June was, as she always had been, swayed by his common sense. “Are you hungry? We missed dinner.”

“I could eat,” she said uncertainly. “Harry, I don't think running is a good idea.”

“Sure it is.” He headed for the kitchen. She followed. No reason to drive on an empty stomach.

She took a deep breath and slid between him and the fridge. Her breasts rubbed against him and he stayed where he was. Hey, she'd initiated the contact. He stared down at her, her scent teasing his nostrils, her body teasing something else.

She placed both hands on his chest. “Listen to me.”

“I'm hardly ignoring you.” He was extremely conscious of her at this particular moment.

“I know you aren't, but we both know you're stronger than I am.”

He frowned. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“You're alpha. Force of character is in your blood. You make up your mind, and you take people along for the ride.” She closed her eyes. “You don't always mean to.”

“It doesn't work on humans that much.” He only wished it worked so well on shifters. Then he could convince the packers to leave him the hell alone.

“Hush. If you talk I can't concentrate.” She hadn't opened her eyes. Her fingers flexed on his chest, like a cat stretching. “I want to agree with you. I want to go with you. But we need to stay here until I rest. I need to be able to cast bigger spells.”

“Why? Do you need a better disguise?” He hoped she stayed June instead of turning back into Sandie. He'd have too much trouble putting her true appearance out of his mind.

“Your spell won't keep anyone from recognizing you if they know your face. Bianca will have blanketed the neighboring territories with your photo as part of the lockdown.”

“That didn't help Douglas's bunch after your voodoo. Why would it help anyone else?”

“I've been thinking about that. What if they hadn't seen the photos? They had to have left Roanoke hours ago, before Bianca called the lockdown.” Her lashes fluttered, but she didn't open her eyes. “It's possible they came for other reasons.”

“If you mean so Gavin can try for pack alpha,” Harry guessed, “he wouldn't need Douglas. The applicant and anyone who wanted to immigrate with him would show up and hope they got picked. They'd have, I don't know, two days to convince the pack here to take them on before severance hit. Douglas and the others have to be here for the search. That's why they were clustered near the border.”

“You don't think they're claim jumping?”

“The Roanoke territory's already so large they can't monitor it like they should.” They sure as hell hadn't monitored Gavin after he'd come of age and begun terrorizing various packers on the fringes, like Harry's mom. His dad had died when Harry was three, leaving him and his mother adrift in pack hierarchy and vulnerable to Gavin's cruelty. When Harry had tried to protect her from the abuse, Gavin had almost killed them both.

Harry grimaced, glad June wasn't paying attention to his face. He hadn't thought this much about his mom in years.

“I didn't think Roanoke's area was unusually big.”

“It's not, but like I said before, Douglas Householder is weak. Everyone knows it.” Weak and blind to things even Bert Macabee would have controlled. “He wouldn't want more territory, but he would respond to a lockdown. He'd like it if Bianca's pack owed him favors.”

“Then we got lucky.” June blew out a breath, ruffling the curls on her forehead. “We can't guarantee we'll stay lucky. I need all my supplies, I need to be at full strength, and I need sleep. Real sleep. Not in a car. We're safe from Bianca here until the morning.”

“Okay, okay. Let me think.” Gavin and Douglas hadn't recognized him as John Lapin or Harry Smith. They hadn't even recognized him as a shifter. But June said Millington packers would know him if they caught him outside the house.

Damn Bianca. What the hell was she thinking? If he could figure out why she was fixated on him, he'd do everything it took to de-fixate her. He'd marry a human. Run his business into the ground. Turn vegan. Prove himself unworthy of leading a pack of shifters.

Millington's female alpha wasn't so dumb she wanted him for the sex she thought they'd be having. She was too serious to let lust rule pack decisions. Something else was going on here, and he was damned if he could figure it out.

“Why me?” he said out loud. “Why does Bianca want me?”

June, still not looking at him, gave a small chuckle. “Why wouldn't she?”

“Because I'm not interested in anything she and the pack have to offer.”

June's eyes flew open, and their bright blue color nearly incited him to plant one on her. “Maybe that's the point.”

“What is?”

“Would you say she's a powerful alpha?”

Bianca had force of character in spades. “She held her own against Bert. Some might say more than held her own.”

“You're a challenge,” June said. “You defy her and she can't let it go. You alphas, having to prove yourselves all the time.”

“Are you saying if I roll over she'll lose interest?” Harry raised an eyebrow. It was easier than ruining his business or giving up meat, but… “I'd be pack and it'd be too late.”

“No.” June rubbed her sprained wrist, her body shifting against his. He dropped his hands to rest on her rounded hips. “I don't know what I'm saying. It's late and today was exhausting. We should eat and go to bed.”

Harry considered the situation as a whole. If Roanoke hadn't seen the photos but other territories had, what were their chances of making it to Millington's border, and then the next territory's border, without being noticed?

If they stayed here until June felt livelier, he had a pretty woman and a fridge full of food at his disposal. Sounded like a damn good compromise to him.

“How long before you're recharged?” He studied June's face, her dark pink lips and sparkling blue eyes. Her snip of a nose. She still had a smudge of talc on it.

“A day or two.” She pushed her hair out of her face. It was as soft and yellow as creamery butter. “I can't remember the last time I was this drained.”

“Another thing.” Harry couldn't believe how quickly his attention had flashed back to sex, but there it was. “Will there be kissing involved whenever you cast a disguise spell? If that's the case, I don't want any of your friends doing it. Just you.”

Her gaze dropped to his neck as she blushed. “I…I had to get the talc into your system while we had witnesses.”

“And the second time?”

“Douglas thought we were a couple. I apologize.”

“There's nothing to be sorry about.” Except for the fact the Roanokers had interrupted them. Oh, and her car was totaled, although he didn't see that as a misfortune so much as good riddance. “Is there?”

She eyed him, considering. “We're friends, Harry. We've been friends for eight years. Nothing has to change. We'll just be the guardians of one another's secrets.”

He wasn't sure he believed her. His body didn't believe her. His love for Sandie was jumbled with how sexy he found June. Now that he knew, he wasn't about to block it out.

Things were going to change.

“When you came to me this afternoon,” he said, piecing it together, “did you intend to tell me who you were?”

“I didn't think that far ahead.” Their gazes locked. “I just wanted to help you.”

His hands tightened on her hips. She smelled nervous. Desirous. “What would have happened between us if I'd continued to think you were Sandie's granddaughter?”

“I don't know.” Her gaze slanted to the left, a sure sign she was hiding information. “I shouldn't tell you more. Please don't make me.”

This was the second time she'd intimated he had control over her, but there was no way. Only pack alphas had much influence over humans. “Was there nothing else you hoped to achieve by pretending to be June?”

“I'm not pretending. I am June. The pretending was my grandmother's face.”

“What if I'd fallen for you?” he asked softly. “What if I'd fallen head over heels in love with my…rescuer?”

She blinked several times before she answered. “You wouldn't have.”

“You seem certain.” He flicked her cheek with his finger, feeling the heat of her blood beneath the fine skin. “Did you see that in a crystal ball?”

She rolled her eyes. “I used common sense.”

“How so?”

“You don't fall in love with your girlfriends, Harry. You're gun-shy.” She tilted her head into his palm until he was cupping her cheek, his thumb at the corner of her lips. “It was a safe bet that aspect of your character wasn't going to change even if…”

“If what?”

“Nothing.” The movement of her lips tickled his thumb.

He couldn't help that lots of women found him attractive. They came, they saw, he let them conquer. Then he made sure they moved on to greener pastures because they were never enough like…

June. His best friend June.

Smart. Funny. Resourceful. A fabulous cook. But not that sweet, when it came right down to it—except for the way she looked. The way she tasted.

Oh, hell.
He was starving, and she smelled like cake and fruit tea.

June didn't have a chance to duck before Harry kissed her, one hand securing her head while the other tugged her hips against him.

Her brain told her to run.

Her arms snaked around his neck.

He slanted his mouth and plunged his tongue inside her, setting off a chain reaction of desire from her lips to her privates. He tasted wild. Vital. For a moment she wasn't conscious of anything but the need to be closer to him. She kissed him back, opening herself.

Harry murmured something she couldn't make out. Her head swam when he lifted her, almost roughly, and slid her onto the counter. The dish drainer clattered into the sink when he swept it aside.

He shoved her knees apart, his muscular body pressing the softness between her legs. His fingers dug into her hips, explored her back, gripped her hair in a fist that rendered her immobile. She held him tight, embracing him in a way she'd never been able to before.

He dropped his head to nuzzle her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress. When cool air hit the skin of her thighs, June realized he'd lifted her skirts. His questing fingers ripped a gigantic hole in her tattered pantyhose and she broke off the kiss.

“No, no, no, Harry. We can't do this.”

“What about this?” His hot mouth laved her throat, licking the pulse. Then he returned to kiss her again.

And again, she kissed him back.

This was dangerous. Her defenses, literally, were down. Her skirt was up. Harry's tongue was doing things to her. This was leading straight to the situation all witches warned their children about, warned each other about, in grave and somber tones.

Never, never, never sleep with a shifter.

Male, female, straight, gay. Didn't matter. While there was no edict against befriending their furry companions in secrecy, those libido dampener spells came in handy. Independent wolves in particular tended to be drawn to covens. These things happened. Once a wolf decided to pursue you, the relationship could get volatile quickly.

And here she was, squirming in Harry's hands, wishing he had more of them. The better to touch her with.

This time cool air hit her chest. Her dress had pearl buttons marching down the front, and he'd freed them to expose her sensible white bra.

June tore her mouth away from his. “We really can't.”

“Really?” He chuckled, his smile seductive and dark. “Which part can't we do?”

“All of it.”

“Including this?” Harry palmed her breast, his thumb stroking her nipple, and she sank a little deeper under his sensual spell.

“Yes,” she panted, but what she meant was—more.

He drew one bra strap down her shoulder. Her heart raced. She'd gambled Harry wouldn't be attracted to her true self. Even if he was, he didn't chase women. They chased him.

She'd assumed if she didn't flirt, this wouldn't be a problem. The kisses after the wreck had been necessity, not encouragement.

But there was a problem. A big problem. Harry was behaving out of character, getting in her space, getting in her…clothes.
Oh Goddess.
Her resolve was failing with every brush of his lips. The thrill of being close to him twisted her common sense into rumpled bed sheets.

When Harry's lips closed over her nipple, June arched her back, whimpering. He sucked harder. Sensation arrowed straight to her core. She wrapped her legs around his hips, her heels digging into his behind. When he ground against her privates, she thought she might climax right on her countertop.

He yanked down the other bra cup and raked his teeth across the rigid tip of her breast. The prickle of his whiskers, the liquid silk of his tongue, heightened her passion. When he went to pull off her ragged nylons, she raised her bottom to help him.

Harry smoothed his hands up her bare legs, drawing them farther apart. When he reached her panties, he didn't stop. His thumbs swept her secret flesh, causing her hips to buck. He remained there, rubbing her through the cotton, which dampened with her need.

“I want you,” he whispered against her neck. “I want to taste you.”

She meant to say, “No,” but it came out a helpless moan of desire.

“You smell so good.” He kissed her cheek, licked her bottom lip. “I bet you taste better. My mouth is watering.”

One thumb delved beneath her underwear, brushing her wet heat. June whimpered, and Harry muffled her with a long, sensual kiss. He smeared her juices up and down her slit, concentrating on the most sensitive area.

“You're drenched. This turns you on, doesn't it?”

It would be ridiculous to deny it, so she kissed him. Maybe he'd be quiet if she kept his mouth busy. His suggestive talk struck an answering chord inside her and made her want to be a bad, bad girl.

Because he was being a bad, bad boy. He broke off the kiss and continued his spiel, as if he knew how much it enhanced his touch.

“Do you want me to lick you?” He plucked and rubbed her slick flesh until her breath came in pants. “I can make it so good for you. I can lick you until you come, and then I can suck you until you come again. Unless you want something else.”

“Harry,” she said, twisting away from his face. “Don't.”

“Don't talk to you? Don't kiss you? Don't lick you?” He kissed her cheek, her lips, between words. “Don't tell you how much I want to be inside you?”

“Don't… Oh!”

Harry sank a finger into her body. She clenched around him, far too close to her peak.

“But I want to.” When he inserted another finger into her, pulling at the aching skin, the animal part of her stirred. Growled. Wanted.

Oh no.
She moaned, fighting it. Yearning for it. If it clawed its way free, her life as a witch would be over. She'd lose the magic she'd struggled so hard to master. She'd lose her coven. She'd lose herself.

But it would feel so good to be with Harry. To take him inside her, his beautiful wildness pounding in and out until she disappeared in bliss.

He withdrew his fingers to fondle her breasts again, rubbing his moist, musky thumbs on the nipples. The ache between her legs was almost painful. He murmured against her neck. “The minute I saw you today, I wanted you. I don't care about the past eight years. I don't care about the pack or your friends. Things change, and it's okay. Change is okay. You're so sweet, I just want to eat you alive.”

She dredged up every ounce of willpower she possessed. She had to stop this before it was too late. Harry's alpha side was enveloping her, his wolf calling her, and she was succumbing.

This was why witches went over the edge.

This was what she absolutely could not do.

But Harry lifted each breast so he could lick her juices from one nipple, then the other. He growled and sucked, drawing something out of her to meet him.

He would do that between her legs with his hot, hot mouth. Growl. Suck. Madness and lust whirled inside her like a tornado, a violent wind that flung aside her caution.

She wanted to devour him, wanted him to devour her, until they were inside one another. Forget the consequences. This was Harry, and she had to have him.

She slipped a hand beneath his T-shirt, his warm skin gliding beneath her palm. In response, he yanked off his shirt, practically ripping it. Lean muscles bunched in his arms, his abdomen, his skin golden-tan. The hair that grew on his chest was as silky as she'd always imagined.

When she followed the path downward and tried to free the button on his jeans, something inside her popped.

No, not inside her. Thank the Goddess, it was her sprained wrist. The pain restored a semblance of sanity.

She closed her eyes so she couldn't see his dark head bent over her breasts, her legs spread wantonly around him.

“Harry.”

He pinched her nipples, his whiskers rubbing her raw. Delicious.

So she bent her hand backward until her wrist flared with agony. June clenched her teeth against it. “Harry, stop.”

His teeth scraped her tender skin, and she wondered if they'd sharpened. If his eyes were pale blue. If Harry continued to exert his alpha to persuade her into bed, what was she going to do?

She wasn't strong enough. A few witches claimed to have bedded a shifter and kept their magic, but June feared she'd be one of the others. One of the lost ones.

She shoved him. “I hurt my wrist, Harry, and my cut could get infected. We can't do this right now.”

He rested his forehead against her, his breath sighing over her moist nipples. “You're right, honey, you're right. Give me a minute.”

She did. When he raised his head, his expression was tight but not angry.

“I can't believe how much I want you,” he told her. “Did you cast a spell on me?”

“Of course not.” There were spells for that, but she'd never cast one. “In fact, I normally…” Her face heated.

Harry raised the straps of her bra and buttoned her dress with lazy hands, caressing each inch of skin before he concealed it. “Normally?”

“I run a…well, we call it a dampener. For the libido.” She didn't want him to think she'd been drowning in lust the past eight years. “I dropped that spell along with my older face to conserve magic. I didn't think it would be a problem.”

“Really.” He didn't phrase it as a question.

“Yes, really.” She sighed.

“Being horny isn't a problem, June. It's healthy.” He finished her top button and winked. “Besides, what else are we going to do until your power comes back?”

He made it sound so casual, something to pass the time. She was no virgin, but she didn't hop in bed to relieve her boredom.

And she absolutely couldn't hop into bed with Harry.

“What can we do? All sorts of things.” She slipped off the counter, bumping him with her elbows and knees. “We can eat. Sleep. Surf the internet. Bake a pie. Play poker.”

“I was teasing.” He stepped out of her way when she stomped to the sink to tidy the dish drainer. “If you're not in the mood, I get it.”

“It's not that.” She couldn't tell him what it was. “Sex would complicate matters.”

“Matters are already complicated.” He winced and adjusted his jeans, which bulged at the crotch.

She tore her gaze away. “Complicate things more.” If she slept with Harry and lost her power, she couldn't imagine how she'd be able to help him tomorrow—or herself.

He bent to pick up a plate, his jeans hugging his heinie in a way she had always appreciated.

Just not with such erotic hunger.

His light brown eyes gleamed when he caught her watching, and he smiled—wolfishly. “I think I can handle it. Can you?”

No, she couldn't. “End of discussion. Put some food in that mouth and quit arguing with me.”

“Now I definitely believe you're Sandie,” he grumbled, but he opened the fridge, just the same.

June retreated to her stillroom at the back of the house as fast as her feet would carry her. She couldn't explain why sleeping with him was a horrible idea, and it both thrilled and disturbed her that he'd been so aggressive. From what she'd heard from his dates, who'd all adored Harry's sweet old lady friend, his habitual indolence had extended to his love life. He didn't hunt. He didn't pursue. If he'd been roused to seduce her today, he might be roused out of it again.

She had no idea why. The nerve-racking situation? Their friendship? Her resistance?

Didn't matter. As soon as her power returned, she was going to hit herself with a dampener spell the size of a tractor.

Right now she lacked the strength to soothe a sunburn. To tend her wounds, she'd have to dig out her stash.

The Millington coven didn't just specialize in cake. They were also one of the top producers of primed medicants, pre-spelled substances that could heal without more magic. Nothing fancy—no cures for cancer—but her coven's ability to combine psyches gave them an edge over other covens in this lucrative area. It took a lot of power to create medicants, power that solo witches rarely had.

Nearly all their product went to market. June didn't have much on hand. Burn cream, a few orals, an all-purpose healer. She had more in her emergency pack, but she didn't think she'd need it. After donning clean clothes and washing her arms and hands with antibacterial soap, she smeared a dab of healing salve on the cut.

Then she gritted her teeth and counted to one hundred because it burned like fire as the wound closed.

For the wrist she popped ibuprofen and slapped on an elastic bandage. Time and patience could work their own magic.

After June raced out of the room, Harry considered shoving ice down his pants instead of fried chicken down his gullet, but then he smelled the meatloaf.

His stomach growled like two badgers fighting over roadkill.

He piled meatloaf, baked beans, scalloped potatoes, cornbread and, what the heck, some chicken on a plate and nuked it. The odors of beef and carbs slowly overpowered the scent of woman. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, only to realize his hands smelled like June's body.

His erection sprang back to life as he remembered how he'd spread her out on the counter like a wishbone waiting for his wish. Christ, he hadn't been this horny since he was a teenager, the man and wolf inside him struggling to break free.

Teenaged shifters had it rough. Not only did they have raging hormones, pimples, growth spurts and bottomless pits for stomachs, but their wolf stirred around that time, as well. Their animal nature tormented them. Their senses sharpened too, which made things worse. Fucking, eating and their hair was pretty much all they thought about. When they weren't having an existential crisis, that is.

Not that different from human teenagers.

In a biological blessing to parents, no shifters turned four-legged until they controlled their animals, usually in their late teens. Mastering the wolf was a huge rite of passage. Wolves who displayed weakness afterward were considered feral. Defective. Pack risks. They were banished, and after a day or so in foreign territory, the defective wolf lost his powers, maybe his life.