Wolf-Bound: Unfamiliar Territory (6 page)

30 Rachel Bo

Jenny laughed. “I don’t know about other women, but there isn’t a second of the day or night when I don’t want the two of you, pregnant or no.” Both of her husbands growled, nuzzling either side of her neck. She grinned wickedly. “Besides, we won’t be able to have sex for a while after the twins are born. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m going to need quite a lot of sex between now and then in order to tide me over.”

She heard the breath catch in their throats, their teeth pressing into her neck as they rubbed their cocks against her thighs. She reached down, caressing, feeling them stiffen anew in her grasp. “Oh, yes.” She squeezed the rigid shafts, grinning wickedly. “I want them inside me this time. I want to come with your thick, hard cocks deep in --”

Growling, Damien straddled her with one quick movement, driving his cock roughly between her swollen labia.

“Yes,” she breathed. “That’s it, baby. Take me. Quick and hard.”

He gasped, fists tightening on handfuls of blanket, skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he thrust desperately.

“Yes, baby, yes.” She wriggled enticingly. “Come for me. Come for me…now!”

Her pussy throbbed as he sank his burgeoning cock deep inside her. Arching, he howled, his jaws and nose lengthening into a muzzle as the familiar swollen ring trapped him inside her. She gasped, wave after wave of pleasure rolling over her, his warm seed bathing her pussy.

He withdrew in the middle of her climax. Jenny tossed her head fitfully in dissatisfaction, but only for a moment, because Devlin’s cock plunged inside her, spreading her swollen lips, driving her back up onto the pinnacle of the wave, keeping her there, gasping, body trembling, until his own cock ring swelled inside her, his seed spilling as her pussy tightened painfully, blissfully, then spasmed over and over, jolt after jolt of sheer bliss searing her nerves.

“Oh, God, yes,” she whispered. “Yes, yes, yes.”

When he withdrew, she thought they were done, the pleasure so complete that she never would have imagined she could want any more. Then their fingers found her throbbing pussy, harvesting their own essences. Devlin drew slick, cool patterns around her nipples, while Damien, his features back to normal, decorated her inner thighs. Jen moaned, not quite believing her sudden desperate need to have something inside her again. Dev painted her mouth, and she shivered, licking their semen and her own juices from his fingers while slipping her hand down between her legs.

“That’s it, baby,” Devlin prompted. “Come for us again.” His wet fingers rubbed her swollen nipples.

Jenny gasped, arching, pressing her fingers into the sweet spot deep inside her pussy.

“That’s it.” Damien spread her legs so that he could watch her masturbate while his slick thumb caressed her clit. “Make yourself come, baby. Make yourself come.”

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She bucked, driving her fingers deeper and deeper inside herself.

“Mmm, your pussy.” Damien’s tongue flicked out, as though he would taste her. “I love watching your slick, red lips.” He kissed her inner thigh, his gaze never leaving her fingers as they plunged in and out.

Dev chuckled. “And your fingers, so slim and white,” he taunted. “Glistening with our juices, gliding in and out --”

Jen panted, making animal sounds deep in her throat.

“That’s it,” they coaxed together. Their hands closed on her wrist. She gave herself over to them, letting them guide her, stroking her fingers in and out, faster and faster. Their faces lengthened into muzzles, their cocks hardening again as their desire grew.

Jenny stiffened, trying to bring her thighs together and trap herself inside, ready to come, but they held her legs apart, their grips tight on her wrist, still driving her fingers in and out, in and out. “Not yet,” they murmured together, watching her face. “Just a little longer.”

She thrashed and moaned, perched on the cusp of an orgasm, spears of pleasure piercing her clit, but her pussy waiting, waiting, sucking her slick fingers desperately, trying to hold them inside her, but they kept moving, kept moving…

“Now!”

Jenny arched, grunting as they buried her fingers deep inside her. They pressed her thighs together, closing them tightly on her wrist, then reached up, pinching and rolling her nipples.

“Damien, Devlin, yes!” She trembled and squeezed every muscle between her waist and her knees tight. “God, yes!” she screamed, over and over, as yet another incredible orgasm slammed through her.

Their shafts ripe once more, they forced her legs apart and pulled her fingers out and away. “Yes,” she gasped as they each fucked her again, their hot cocks plunging inside her even as her pussy spasmed forcefully, prolonging the seemingly endless orgasm that throbbed through her. “Oh, God, yes!”

When it was over, she lay limp between them, limbs trembling with fatigue. “Think that’ll hold you over?” Damien teased.

Jen shook her head. “Never,” she mumbled, voice thick with passion even as her eyelids became too heavy for her to hold open. “It’s never enough.”

“In that case…”

Their fingers slipped inside her again, tenderly and lovingly caressing her raw lips and swollen canal. Slow and soft, their careful ministrations satisfied even as they sent her to slumber, rocking on the gentle swells of yet another sweet but subdued climax.

32 Rachel Bo

Unnerving Disclosures

The next morning, Jenny sat at the breakfast table drinking tea and nibbling on cinnamon toast as Damien and Devlin read the news. Eventually, papers rustled as they folded them. “You finished reading this yesterday, right?” Jenny nodded, and Damien gathered the sections and carried them out to the recycle bin.

When he returned, he stood behind her, rubbing her shoulders. Jenny sighed. “Mmm.

That’s nice.”

Damien kissed the top of her head. “Well, we’re off. We decided to ride the fence line today.”

She stifled a burst of disappointment. As large as their portion of the mountain was, that meant they wouldn’t be back until after dark, and would still have to go back out and finish the job the next day. “All right.” Short notice, too. They usually planned these things days in advance. She tilted her head thoughtfully, looking up at him. “You’re worried about that sound we heard last night, aren’t you?”

The look her husbands shared irritated the heck out of her. “Look, just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I’m some kind of china doll. Why don’t you go ahead and tell me what’s wrong?” She speared Dev with her gaze.

He looked to Damien.

Jen sighed. Though both her men had strong alpha leanings, Damien had been the first of the twins to be born. In weyr families, the firstborn male of twins was usually the dominant one, and this was certainly true in their case. The fact was evident in both their manner and their appearance. Physically, Devlin stood slightly smaller, his body lithe and athletic. Damien’s build was thicker, more solidly muscled. He also measured an inch or two taller, making his the more formidable build. This was true in their wolf forms, as well.

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And when it came to personality, outgoing Devlin radiated positive energy and good humor, but also reacted to things a little less maturely, tending to be rash and impulsive.

Damien, on the other hand, was often serious, self-contained, even somewhat tense, but infinitely more responsible.

What all this meant in practical terms was that Devlin ultimately deferred to Damien when it came to serious matters. The only saving grace was that Dev would actually back her up in arguments if he thought what she said had merit. But after last night -- she couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of her lips at the memory -- she was really too tired for a long, drawn-out argument.

Dev’s gaze flicked back to her. “Don’t you think I should know if there’s something dangerous going on?” she asked, eyes wide and innocent.

Dev made a sympathetic face, glancing up at Damien again. “She has a point.”

His brother frowned. “But she’ll want to get involved, and if she gets involved --”

“Hey.” Jen raised a hand. “Sitting right here. I hate it when you talk around me like that.”

“Sorry.” Damien sighed, glancing back and forth between the pleading faces turned up to his. “All right, fine,” he grumbled. “You can tell her, but it’s only going to cause trouble.”

“I did some sniffing around this morning.” Dev plunged in immediately. He did, of course, mean this literally. “There’s a rogue wolf on the mountain.”

“A rogue wolf? Is that a big deal? What exactly is a ‘rogue’ wolf?”

He picked at a nonexistent spot on the table. “A rogue weyr, I should have said.”

She frowned, still not understanding. “Okaaay.”

Damien stepped away from her and leaned against the kitchen counter, taking over the explanation. “It’s a lone male weyr, a full weyr.” He sighed, rubbing his hands through his hair. “Hell. This is going to require some background information.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Males born to any breeding set that includes a full male weyr are always twins.

You know that. What you might not know -- I don’t think we’ve ever talked about it -- is that even when these twins are apart, there’s this incredible bond, a psychic connection that’s palpable to other weyr. No matter how far away the other twin is, we should sense that connection. We should still perceive that other wolf.

“In this case, we don’t. The connection’s been severed. This wolf’s lost his twin. It’s…a very dangerous situation. I’m sure you’ve heard stories of human twins who fail to thrive after they lose their sibling. Well, it’s even worse for weyr. The bond between us, it’s…” He shook his head, while across the table Dev shuddered. “I pray we never have to go through anything like that.”

“I don’t understand. What’s so dangerous about it?”

Damien sighed again, plainly reluctant to explain. “Generally, one of three things happens when a twin is lost. If the weyr are over eighty, it’s painful, but generally the

34 Rachel Bo

remaining twin will survive and finish out his lifespan, maybe a little subdued, but for the most part fine. It’s as though nature recognizes that age takes its toll, and lessens the effects for those who have lived more than half their lives.

“If you’re under eighty, either the remaining twin becomes…I don’t know, sickly, I guess. We call it the ‘pining,’ and it’s the most common response. Basically, they become very passive, losing the will to live and wasting away until they finally die themselves. Then there are the ones that revert.”

“Revert.”

He nodded. “Their minds can’t accept what’s happened. It’s a form of insanity, I guess, weyr style. They revert to wolf form, in order to run from their loss, and stay there. Instead of pining away, they let the animal take over. They become less and less human, more and more wild, but their urges are still human, so…they can wreak a lot of havoc. They’ll still desire human women, but will be more likely to try to take them in wolf form, indiscriminately. They’ll kill livestock and pets, not for food, but out of rage. They quit caring who knows what they are and may even shift in public.”

Damien pushed away from the cabinet, arms crossed over his chest. “What it boils down to is this: there’s no cure, and they can’t be allowed to expose us or harm others.”

Jenny frowned, the rogue weyr forgotten momentarily as the implications of what he was saying sank in. “So, when we get older, if one of you dies before the other…”

Damien shrugged. “Like I said, if we live past eighty, which is the rule more than the exception considering that the average length of a full weyr’s life is a hundred and fifty years, neither the pining or reversion will be an issue. The loss would be hard to weather, but most do manage.”

“A hundred and fifty years?” This was the first she’d heard of this. Some day soon, they were absolutely going to have to sit down and give her a much more complete understanding of what it meant to be weyr. Of course, that was something her mother should have done when Jenny was younger. It still riled her that her origins had been hidden from her for so long.

Dev leaned forward. “Don’t worry. You’re going to live almost as long. Half-weyr are almost as resistant to disease as full weyr and tend to have healthier bodies overall than pure humans.”

“It’s not that. Well, it is, a little, but I’m also wondering how you hide a lifespan that long from society.”

“Oh. Well, in our case, eventually the boys will take over the homestead, and we’ll build a nice little house in some very secluded portion of the land and keep to ourselves.

Outwardly, we only look about ten years younger than normal humans up until we’re about sixty; then the difference becomes a little more noticeable, but there are ways around that.

You’d be surprised how good a weyr is with makeup. Also, there’s a ritual that can be done, where the bond with the land is passed on to a younger pack, and it’s not unusual for older

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weyr to do that and then move to another country, where the problem isn’t an issue -- it’s only hard to hide your age among people you know. And then there’s the fact that the human lifespan is increasing. Some weyr have lived openly to the age of one hundred and twenty, and they might get a spread in a local newspaper, but other than that, there’s no big uproar. There’s no medical test that will tell a human physician what we are, just that our body systems aren’t wearing down as fast as others.”

Jenny held up a hand to stop him, her mind whirling. “You know what? That’s an education for another day, I think.” She tried to order her muddled thoughts. They needed to get back to the immediate issue, the rogue. What was it Damien had been saying before they veered off on a tangent? Oh, yeah. “You said that the rogue couldn’t be allowed to expose us or hurt others. What did you mean by that?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening into something closely resembling granite.

Jenny gasped. “You’re not saying…please tell me you don’t want to…to kill him?”