Cry of the Wolf (11 page)

She pooled into her knickers in anticipation, despite the fact that he was a fucking lunatic.

The motorbike wobbled again, and Lydia fought to remain motionless as visions of the both of them hurtling across the dirt, as the bike spun out of control, invaded her mind. “God, no,” she whispered.

“God, yes,” he groaned.

Skin to skin, he slid easily against her aching wetness, and she unravelled so fast that for a moment she couldn’t feel herself any more – not her hands that held tightly to the seat, not her knees that gripped the sides of it so hard they felt like they might pop…

It was Lawrence’s tight and desperate voice against her cheek that brought her back, and when she
did
come back to herself, there was none of herself left. “I need your heat. Give it to me, Lydia. Give me everything you have.”

He pressed just under her clitoris, circled his thumb against the swollen bundle of nerves, just once, and she shattered against him.

She had no recollection of the bike coming to a halt. Lawrence kicked the stand down, engine still running, and lifted her onto his lap, his thumb still circling; her, still rocking…

Then, before she knew it, he had picked her up bodily, swung them both off the bike, and turned her around in the process so she now had her back to him. The move was disorientating.

“Lawrence—”

“Against the tree – arms out.”

She saw the tree only when she’d almost head-butted it. With a little cry, she pushed her arms out to keep herself from concussion, and then Lawrence’s hands encircled her wrists, holding her against the large trunk and steadying her.

“That’s it. Just like that. Palms open.” He ran his hands up her arms from her wrists, igniting unexpected sensual reactions from within her, then glided them down her sides until they rested either side of her hips. With a tug, he pulled her backwards and outwards, so she was bent forward from the waist, palms still against the tree to keep her from falling on her face.

Cool air brushed her backside when he yanked her jeans and knickers right down her legs. They gathered at her ankles, and she started to rise, but he placed a hand on her back and kept her down.

“I want to see you.” His voice was low, but hadn’t lost that desperate edge.

Her face flushed hot. She didn’t know what was going on with him, but she’d never felt so vulnerable in her life, and she was no stranger to kinky sex. But
this …
this was less like kink, and more like a craving – a need – that rolled off him in waves and took her with him…
We all have a sea inside us…

He nipped at the cheeks of her bottom, and she couldn’t stop the little sounds of desire that escaped her, despite her undignified position.

“God, your cunt is so beautiful; so fucking wet.” He slid two fingers inside her. Sparks flashed in front of her eyes.

“Did you come hard?”

Her answer was another whimper. Jesus Christ, she was close again already – spiralling…

“Answer me.”

In stubbornness she clamped her mouth shut. Her inner-wolf growled at her obstinacy the same time Lawrence did, and then it was his mouth clamped around her soaked sex.

“Oh, fuck!” she shrieked.

He ate her out, licking, gliding, pushing … deeper. Hot breath fluttered around her sensitive flesh, his nose nudged her perineum, liquid fire surged inside her…

“Oh, god…” she pushed back against him…

And then he stopped.

She screamed. A long, furious holler, jumbled with swear words and promises of castration.

His fingers found her clit once more, and he feathered it lightly with barely a touch. “Answer me.”

She howled in defeat. “Why?!
Damn it
– fine! Yes, I came hard; really fucking hard. Is that what you want to hear?”

He slid his tongue along the length of her in reward and her insides clenched. The ache was almost unbearable, reminding her of the mating pains she’d had last full moon before her release. Except this time, there was no pain in her chest – all the agony was centred in her groin. And all the while, he kept his ministrations soft, gentle, teasing her, keeping her needed liberation at bay…

The warmth in her belly began to billow out like a furnace in the wind.

Again, he pulled away.

With a cry of surrender that was almost a sob, she lost their battle of wills. “Please … Lawrence,
please
…”

Everything went deathly still behind her.

Held down with his hand on her back, she couldn’t turn to see him. She might as well be blind. What was going on?

Silence. Eerie silence.

She was surprised to discover it was worry she felt – not for herself, but for him.

She bit down on her tongue to keep from calling his name, sensing any noise might be destructive rather than helpful; the way you shouldn’t wake a sleepwalker from their dream.

She recognised the light scent of saltwater before she felt the drops…

Tears.

Falling onto her back.

Oh, god.

The urge to turn, to take him in her arms, was overwhelming beyond belief, but she held her position without struggle and kept as still as she could, submitting of her own free will.

The realisation of it was a little dizzying.

Finally, there was movement and the sound of him pulling at the fastening of his trousers. She held back her groan of want, her mouth watering in expectation as a fresh flow of juices coated her sex.

“Do you know what it’s like to have no choice?” His voice broke over his words. “To be a true slave to another’s will? To watch everything that means anything to you taken away, and not be able to lift a finger against it?”

The thick head of his erection prodded her entrance, and she gasped at the feel of it. Hell, she might just come like this. “I feel a little like that now,” she whispered.

“Good.” His hand on her back glided upwards to her neck and encircled it. “I need you to understand.”

She’d expected him to enter her hard and fast, all in one go, but he bided his time and eased into her slowly, every thrust taking him a little deeper; taking her a little closer to the edge of her sanity.

Her gums ached where her teeth elongated. Her senses became sharper; her vision, even more so.

She wished she could see him; see what his cock looked like. It must be big given his size – at the moment it felt like the whole fucking world.

“There are things I need to tell you about me … but I need you to
understand
.”

He was fully inside her.

She moaned, but barely had time to get used to his size – to the feel of him – when he grasped her under her chin and forced her head back, almost painfully. Her eyes now locked with his, upside down. The look in his was torture – pure torture – and she struggled to take in her next breath, but she couldn’t tell if it was owing to the torment coming off him or the angle of her neck.

With his other hand, he pulled her pelvis back, locking her lower half in place as well, and ground into her once.

Deep.

The result was unrivalled pleasure with a bite of pain. Her eyes welled up. She would have cried out if she could have moved even an inch, but all she managed was a grunt, any movement denied to her, his dominance complete.

“God…” the ache inside her was cavernous … “it hurts,” she breathed out, raggedly.

“It doesn’t hurt, baby. You don’t know what hurt is. I’d never hurt you.” Then he began to thrust – deep, determined, driven…

The pleasure didn’t just build. It crescendoed, reaching its height in a matter of seconds. It came from a place inside her she didn’t know existed – a place where she was split open and naked, and dying and alive all at once.

Tears free-flowed down her face. Little sobs from the intensity of it all, and from the dark chasm that was Lawrence, choked their way up her throat against the feel of his hand there.

Then it happened: that energetic union. That bonding between mates. A fusion that occurred naturally when two wolves surrendered to each other and to the fate that had brought them together.

She’d experienced it with Ryan, both in dreams and in real life, and here it was again, snaking its way from the deepest part of her, around the base of her spine; invisible tendrils trailing upwards, entwining, then shooting outwards to encircle them both.

For some reason it hadn’t occurred to her that she would feel it with Lawrence. Her surprise was mirrored in his eyes – he felt it too and he hadn’t been prepared for it, she could tell, so embroiled as he was in whatever was eating away at his soul.

But there was nothing he could do about it. Just as he needed her submission to him; this new entity that held them both in its grasp, demanded their submission to
it
.

Those ethereal cords that ran between them coalesced, merged, joined them together in an infinite union, and for a moment, she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.

She floated upwards as if leaving her body, then something like an electrical current shot through her, and that lightning she tried so hard to harness finally danced across her skin, and then across his.

His thrusts became wilder, almost vicious. She heard him groan, a hungry, fierce sound that she felt at her core, and with it she absorbed the silent cry of his wolf; his pain and anguish; his devastation; his fear, knowing all the while that he was also devouring the most secret parts of her.

His hand tightened around her hip as he drove himself home … swelled inside her… “Please understand … I need you to … understand … I need you—” His words ended on the raw sound of release as he climaxed inside her.

Somewhere above them, thunder sounded, but she couldn’t focus enough to tap into it because the cords that bound them together burst like lava from a volcano, melting and welding everything in its wake, careening her into an orgasm, indescribable in essence, shared only with her mate and no other.

No other, indeed.

Her experience with Ryan, although no less remarkable, had been completely different. Without a doubt, she was now bonded to two males – truly bonded – both of them as different as night and day.

Chapter Seven

Amil snuck a sideways glance at the clock on the mantelpiece. Five minutes to four. He had to be at Sarah’s in an hour and he was already cutting it fine, but there was no chance he could get away from Gabriel’s piercing gaze. No. The best thing to do was act as calm as possible. That was the only way Gabriel could be pacified: if everything around him appeared to run smoothly.

He’d been here for two hours already and Gabriel had kept him waiting and waiting, only calling him in, finally, two minutes ago.

The new leader of The Trident waited for his answer.

“I brought you everything back that I could find, the syringe being the most important.” He had become an expert liar since becoming a Trident, even able to control the scent he gave off when he told a fib, and that was no mean feat.

The grey-eyed Alpha twirled a pen through his fingers. “Everything except information, Amil.”

“I don’t understand, sir.”

Gabriel reached into the draw beside him, at the desk where he sat, and pulled out a newspaper which he tossed at Amil.

He caught it as it smacked into his chest.
The Surrey Times.
He scanned the articles on the page it had been opened on until his eyes landed on a picture of the warehouse where all the Tridents had been killed – all except him. “It’s the warehouse,” he stated blankly. He really had no clue what he was missing.

Gabriel’s eyes flashed in annoyance, no doubt at his stupidity. “Look at the destruction to it.”

The photograph showed the ruined building, roof torn apart by lightning from the unexpected storm. “They needed better lightning conductors on the side of the building,” said Amil, and then he winced, wishing he hadn’t spoken. Gabriel didn’t look impressed.

“There are many more, much taller buildings around that warehouse, some with aerials on the top of them even, yet that one, and
only
that one was destroyed by lightning. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?”

He supposed it might be, but he really couldn’t see what—

“Storm-wielder, Amil!” Gabriel slammed his hand down hard on his desk. “Why was that not reported back?”

For the first time, Amil felt the tendrils of fear dance over his skin. “Storm-wielder? But, sir, they are myth.”

“They are
not
. Do your homework. They’ve been scattered and thinned out, they keep themselves so well hidden nowadays it’s next to impossible to find one, but they are far from myth.
That
,” he pointed at the paper in Amil’s hand, “looks very real indeed, wouldn’t you say?”