Pack and Coven (17 page)

Harry shifted as soon as he got upstairs. The pain relief was instantaneous. Not only did it negate his wounds but his wolf form improved his energy and mood, like yoga or meditation. Cleansed and whole, he rolled blissfully on June's rug in the den before prowling through the house.

With his wolf side engaged, he could trace the paths of humans and shifters here. He detected traces of Gavin and Maurice, the policemen. Pete's marker was strongest in the stillroom and near the trapdoor, as if he'd been guarding June's secrets. Good man.

Gavin had intruded into her bathroom, stillroom, kitchen. He'd been in her bedroom. Her underwear drawer was open.

Harry growled. Bad man.

His claws clicked on the kitchen tile as he stared out a window. The shifters had exited through this door. The police had too, at some point. Would the protection spell allow him to leave the house to inspect the property?

“Harry?” June's voice drifted through the house. “Where are you?”

He padded down the hall until he found her, his snout wrinkling at the sludge still clinging to her. She was inspecting the garbage bags taped over her broken window, her purse slung over one shoulder. As far as he could see, nearly all the glass had been swept up. Her couch had a few glistening slivers and a tear on the headrest. A stone garden gnome with an evil expression lay on the coffee table, possibly the item that had broken the glass.

He gruffed out a small bark to let June know he was there.

She turned. When her gaze dropped to him, her face lit up. “There you are.”

He bumped his nose against her thigh, where her skin was cleaner. In wolf form, he retained memories and thoughts, as well as personality, though he was less able to resist primitive urges. Or communicate with two-legs. Or twist doorknobs.

Cautiously at first, June stroked his head and ears. His eyes closed halfway as he enjoyed her caress.

“Did you smell anything weird?” she asked, scratching his ruff.

Her stillroom and her house were filled with a myriad of scents. Even so, the weirdest thing he could smell was her. What was that crap in the escape tunnel, radioactive waste?

Harry bumped her toward the door of the living room with his head. He might be able to cleanse himself when he transformed, but nothing beat a good, hot shower—except for a good, hot shower with a woman in it.

When she didn't budge, he brushed against her, wagging his tail. He hoped he wasn't out of line assuming June would share suds with him. They were inside the house, safe and sound, and she hadn't exactly been giving him the cold shoulder.

“What is it, boy?” she asked. “Did little Timmy fall down a well?”

Harry bonked her with his head again. Shifters were the size of regular wolves, though some were larger. He outweighed June by twenty pounds.

She fondled his ears. “As much as I appreciate you letting me see your better half, this would be a lot easier if you'd shift back.”

It might drain his abilities, but she had a point. He trotted into the hallway for a little privacy, rested on his haunches and allowed the tingle to fill his body.

Natural process—or magic?

Just like cowardice, it didn't matter as long as it worked.

The tingling continued longer than usual as his lowered energy levels responded sluggishly. When he came out the other side, he was disturbed to realize he was nude.

Not because June was admiring him as if someone had given her a present. That part was good. He hadn't lost his clothing between forms in years.

“Weren't you dressed when you went upstairs?”

“Yeah.” Before he'd learned to relocate his possessions, he'd undressed first or squirmed out of his clothing post-shift.
Good Lord.
What had happened to the sweats?

“Does this mean I'm never getting my fat pants back?” June quipped, her eyes trained on his face. “Good thing I already lost my winter weight.”

“I don't know.” He assessed his physical state. Were her trousers embedded somewhere in his DNA? “That was unexpected.”

“You're tired.” She ducked into her bedroom and returned without her bag. “It's okay.”

He'd worry about it later. Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bathroom. “I'm not that tired. Let's take a shower.”

June followed him until they neared the bathroom door, where she balked. She inspected the rest of his body, lingering where he'd been wounded. He might have disappeared her fat pants, but at least he'd been able to heal himself.

“You're already clean,” she said.

“You're not.”

She chuckled. “This is true.”

“We're housebound until you can cloak us or the Caddy, right? The pack can't sense us, and anyone looking for us will think the house is empty.”

“The coven won't be fooled as easily as the shifters. They'll know about the 9-1-1 call.”

“Pete searched the house.” Harry snagged two towels out of the linen closet in the hallway. “He won't come back that quickly. We have time for a shower.”

She crossed her arms, and her gaze cut to the half-open bathroom door, clearly tempted. “How can you be sure?”

She must be longing to bathe, as finicky about hygiene as she was. Why wasn't she already scouring herself? He could help her scrub those hard-to-reach spots. “Because the police went to search the tea room. Won't he stay with them?”

“It's not open yet,” she said. “Well, no matter. He will be with them if they're going there.”

“If anybody else shows up, we have the option of leaving the way we came in.” The door to June's safe room was completely concealed by the wooden panels on the walls. He'd constructed the shelves down there and hadn't even noticed.

“Ugh.”

“Don't you want to wash the mud off?” he coaxed, careful not to exert his alpha now that he knew it affected her. His native charm and good looks would have to suffice. “I bet it's flaking off on your carpet.”

“That's horrible.” She eyed the floor around her feet. “But—”

“We're here. We're alone. We might as well get clean.”

And do a few other things. Even in a manky sweater and baggy shorts, surrounded by a miasma of muck, June turned him on. When his cock hardened, there was no hiding how he felt about the idea of getting naked with her.

Harry lowered the towels over his hard-on anyway. It seemed like the polite thing to do. Her cheeks pinkened, proving she wasn't as unaffected as she was pretending to be.

“We can't get too distracted.” She blushed more. They both knew what she meant by
distracted.

“You're wasting time arguing.” He couldn't tell if her reluctance stemmed from shyness, the tense situation or fear she might wolf out.

She followed him into the yellow-and-white bathroom. Her tub and fixtures were new, but water usage caused a terrible banging in the pipes.

“It will conserve water if we shower together,” he said. June didn't have the biggest hot water heater on the block.

“You go ahead, I—”

He grabbed her before she could exit. The towels dropped to the floor. A cold shower was not on their agenda. Not physically, not figuratively. But if she insisted… “Is something wrong? Are you not interested?”

“I'm interested.” She focused on his chin. “We just need to stay alert.”

“There's nothing like a shower first thing in the morning to wake you up.” Harry shut the door behind her. “How hot do you like it?”

Her eyelashes fluttered down before she averted her face. “How hot?”

“The water.” He had a good idea how hot she liked the sex. God, he couldn't wait to slide between those creamy thighs. His cock ached and she hadn't so much as touched him. “Why don't you adjust the temperature to your liking?”

June sidled past him, careful not to brush his body. She leaned over to twist the faucets, her shorts riding up her thighs. The muck coating her pale legs like grunge knee socks should have been a turnoff, but Harry's hard-on seemed here to stay.

For the time being. He planned to rectify the situation after he sanitized his lady in a hot shower.

Water gushed. The pipes clonked. June cranked the shower and drew the curtain. Without asking permission, he slid her sweater over her head. The air puckered the tips of her breasts before she crossed her arms. But she stepped obediently out of her shorts and panties when he drew them down her hips, allowing him to appreciate her rounded curves along the way.

Once they were under the steaming shower, she loosened up. She was right about one thing—he was clean already, so he could concentrate on washing her. He sudsed her hair and scrubbed her back with one of those fluffy mesh things chicks always had in their bathrooms. He kneeled in front of her and worked on her legs, ankles and toes. When he rose, their wet bodies slid together. The glide of his cock across her stomach was excruciating.

When she held out her hand, he gave her the soap. To his disappointment she used it on her face instead of him. He took it back and started washing her front, rubbing away traces of the muck, telling her how dirty she was. It had gotten on her neck, so he washed her neck. Her stomach, so he washed her stomach.

It hadn't gotten on her breasts, but he washed them anyway, rubbing around and around until she was leaning against the wall, her hands clutching his shoulders. Water sprinkled her face like diamonds. When she closed her eyes and sighed, he pinched both nipples at the same time. Her grip on his shoulders tightened, and Harry decided the foreplay was over.

He dipped his head and captured her lips. Their tongues touched. Curled. He pressed her against the wall and kissed her deeply, still plucking her breasts.

With soapy hands she caressed his shoulders, down his arms, around his hips. He loved how much smaller she was, how soft, how she yielded to him. Her hair clung to her head and neck in dark ringlets. When she kissed, she tasted him as much as he did her, nibbling and licking. Her teeth against his throat, her tongue on his neck, her hands pulling his body into hers.

Rather unexpectedly, June rubbed the bar of soap down his ass. It slid between his cheeks, grazing him from behind. His cock surged against her. She soaped up and down, fondling and exploring, until he could feel every inch of flesh as if it were raw.

His balls tightened as he thrust against the hot gloss of her skin. When her fingers closed on his cock and pumped, he nearly climaxed before he had a chance to appreciate the sensation.

He latched on to her wrist. “Too much.”

“Really?” She squinted through the spray. Her free hand swiped him again before squeezing the head.

He grabbed her other wrist. A few more touches like that and he'd come before they could properly consummate their relationship. He wasn't a one-blow Joe, but it would take time to regroup. Instant erections were the only thing he missed about being seventeen.

She licked her lips, angling her face out of the spray. He slowly stretched her wrists above her head, watching her for her reaction. Some women liked to be overpowered. Some got pissed off. Yesterday she'd had qualms about sex with him she shouldn't have now, so her responses would be more genuine.

Instead of moaning or struggling, she twisted her lower body against his cock. It didn't have the same effect as her hot little hand, but it would eventually.

“So that's how you want to play?” He bent his knees and slid between her thighs, prodding her folds. If she was going to tease, he was going to return the favor. She clamped around him tightly.

When he thrust, the friction felt pretty close to the real thing.

The water gushed over them as Harry moved. His cock bumped her clit. The moisture between her legs became silkier, and he caught the scent of arousal. When she tilted her hips, the head of his cock nearly entered her body. Her feminine heat seared him. He froze there, neither pushing nor withdrawing. He ached so much every miniscule shift of her softness against him was torturous delight.

He could take her here. Now. He was one thrust away from paradise. His grip tightened on her wrists.

June licked water from her lips. “How close are you?”

He inched forward, pressuring her with his cock. “Why do you ask?”

“I want you inside me but…”

He didn't wait for the rest of the sentence. He pushed into her molten smoothness. They both groaned. At this angle, the penetration wasn't deep, but it was so, so tight. He bent his knees a little more and she slid onto him like a glove.

June's eyes flew open. Their gazes locked as they connected physically, emotionally. Her lips moved, forming a word.

Alas, it wasn't
yes.

“Condom.”

She was right. But God, this was hot. Water poured down their bodies. Steam surrounded them. She was pinned to the wall, panting. Soaked. Her sheath tightened. He sank into her another half an inch.

“Do you have any?” He didn't mind them, but they weren't in reach, and her body was.

He spread her arms farther apart, sliding along the wet wall, and she swallowed. “They're put away. You're the skirt chaser. Don't you have something?”

“I didn't think I'd need any for movie night,” he gritted out. He slipped almost out of her body.

But not quite. June whimpered and her inner walls squeezed him. Her hard nipples rubbed his chest.

If he dropped her wrists he was going to lift her up and shove her all the way onto his cock. But restraining her was its own kind of turn-on. The knowledge she was alpha only made him want to take her more.

“Kiss me,” she said. “Don't move your hips.”

Harry complied. The kissing grew quickly out of hand, their tongues doing what their bodies couldn't risk. Water cooled as the heater drained. He concentrated on the way her warmth clasped the tip of his cock like a hot mouth, the way she moaned, the way her slender wrists felt in his fists.