Till Abandon (3 page)

Voltaire didn't blink. “This is my mate.” She jerked a finger at Blake. “You don't want to know what you'll set off if you decide to fuck with his pack."

The scowl on Czion's face faltered for a second, but remained in place. “You have no part in this, V. Stay out of it."

"I have all the rights I need. He's my mate, therefore his war is mine."

Her words were loaded with warning. They meant something to Czion, because his tanned face whitened slightly. Blake's chest swelled with pride when she took ownership of him, of his pack.

I meant every word.

"He hasn't claimed you yet.” Czion looked from Blake to Voltaire. “His mark isn't on you, nor his scent."

His face puffed out suddenly, going red as he clawed at his throat. The cats surrounding him hissed but didn't move. They looked like they'd been frozen in place.

"Do you think not having his mark makes me more dangerous, or less?” Voltaire asked quietly. “You've seen me in action, Czion—what do you think?"

Sweat poured down the jaguar's face. Palpable power swirled around the room, making the wolves behind him paw the floor and emit curious growls. Now they felt the magic Voltaire carried. The cats’ eyes darted back and forth. They were frightened for their leader, yet couldn't do anything to save him.

Czion clawed at his neck, fighting to remove the invisible hands that seemed to be squeezing the life out of him. “Don't do it,” he gasped. ‘This isn't your fight, Death Bringer."

Blake's heart stuttered. All sounds from the animals ceased. It was as if the words Czion had spoken had snuffed out all the life inside the bar. But then, that was the effect the Death Bringer had on everything. She killed for the Council—the best and deadliest enforcer they had. Still, some people thought her a myth. No one had any real proof she existed.

Yet, if what the jaguar said was true, the Death Bringer stood next to Blake. His mate, the woman in white. He should've suspected something, but his wolf and his needs had collided, swamping him.

We'll talk later,
she promised inside his head

"You're wrong, Czion. This is my fight, too. I'm giving you one chance to walk away and take your cats with you.” A wave of her hand must've revived the jaguars at Czion's feet—they growled but didn't move. “I wouldn't want to hurt you too much. Remi wants that honour for herself."

Desperation flared in the head jaguar's eyes. “How is she? Does she—Is she...?"

Voltaire laughed. “Remi is Remi. She's still unbending and no, as far as I know, she's not seeing anyone."

Czion swallowed. “Does she still hate me for that night?"

What one night?
Blake's hackles rose. Growls rumbled in his chest.

Calm the fuck down, Blake. I thought you didn't want me? You refused to claim me, remember?

Damn it to hell. Voltaire belonged to him. The wolf knew it. Blake knew it, too.

Really. Now you change your mind?
Voltaire huffed in his head.

"Remi likes to pretend that night didn't happen,” she told Czion. “She's hard-headed that way."

Czion nodded. “Yeah, I know that."

Blake had heard enough. “Alright, enough playing catch up.” He met Czion's gaze. “Get out, and take your cats with you.” They'd fight another day—right then Blake needed some alone time with the woman next to him. Grasping Voltaire's elbow, he pulled her with him out of the wrecked doorway.

She matched his stride easily in her heels, tucking the guns back into her coat. “Where are you taking me, shifter?"

Blake led her to the rear of the building and into the dark woods at the back of the bar.

"We need space to talk, Death Bringer.” He spared her a glance.

She stood out, a stark contrast in the middle of his hunting grounds, clothed in white against the black of the night. Appearing untouchable...yet her body begged to be touched. By him and no one else. Her arousal tickled his nose, sending the wolf into a fucking frenzy.

"Do you know, whenever someone calls me that, it's loaded with fear?” she mused. “You say it, and it sounds like an endearment. I like it, shifter."

Blake clenched his teeth, afraid to look at her for fear he'd pounce. Afraid he'd fuck her right there on the ground, with leaves as their bed and the starry skies as their cover.

That's what I want, Blake. I want you out of control.

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They entered a clearing and Blake grabbed her throat, slamming her against the bark of a tree. A small gasp left her lips, but she didn't fight him. “You want me out of control?” he grated. “I've been out of control from the moment I set eyes on you.” Her pulse beat frantically under his hold but not from fear. Warm, musky arousal mixed with the crisp air and wrapped around him, around them.

Voltaire licked her lips and kept those fucking eyes on him. “Whatever you're feeling, I'm right there with you.” The throaty voice reminded him of thick Irish Cream. Smooth and sweet. Intoxicating. He flexed his fingers around her neck. “This isn't my magic making us feel that way, Blake. This is us, what we do to each other."

God, he couldn't think. His arousal, hers, and the wolf's clamour for release made his head spin. Images of sinking his cock into her wet heat, of marking her delicate neck with his canines played out in his head. Blake squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to hers. “What do you want from me?” Agony and fear mixed with his arousal, making his voice a low growl.

A warm hand cupped his jaw and his eyes snapped open. Voltaire's arms remained at her sides, yet fingers caressed his face, sifted through his hair. Something to get used to.

"Make me yours,” she answered his question. “Mark me, bond with me. Not because the wolf wants it, but because you want it, too.” She moved her hands, then, to wrap them around his waist and pull him to her.

The wolf rumbled at the contact, even though they were both clothed. Without conscious thought, Blake rubbed his cheek against hers, inhaling the faint hint of lilacs. His chest constricted, hindering his breathing. Voltaire's hand travelled up his chest in a tight caress and he opened his mouth to gulp air into his lungs.

Rubbing her front on his erection, she licked his ear, then whispered, “More than anything, I want to hear you say my name.” She inhaled, then slowly let out a breath. Hard nipples poked his chest, sending spikes of need to his cock, which was already weeping pre-cum. “Say my name, Blake. Please.” That last word quivered, the first sign of vulnerability from the deadliest of them all.

Fisting her hair, he jerked her head back. Voltaire went willingly, eyes closed, exposing her neck to him. Silver-blue moonlight glinted off her hair and illuminated the steady pulse in her throat as she awaited his next move. Blake leant forward and dragged his tongue down the column of her neck, tasting her salty skin, delicious enough to nibble on.

Voltaire shuddered and pressed her hips into him. Blake rubbed his cock against her, rocking a sensational rhythm. She lifted her hands and clutched his hair, pulling hard. A series of growls rumbled in his chest as she arched her back, giving him better access, showing him her readiness for...whatever.

What he wanted was his woman, his mate. No more waiting, putting it off. He'd take her, mark her, possess her. God help them both.

Holding her with his right hand, he pushed the floor-length white coat off her shoulders. The material dropped to their feet, her guns hitting the ground with a low clunk. The claws on his left hand popped out and he tore her tight blouse off her body with a single slash. She wore no bra and her dusky pink nipples stood to attention, begging for his mouth.

He obliged. Blake licked one, then the other, moaning at the feel and taste of her. She tasted of winter—clean and crisp. Voltaire cupped his head, held him to her as her body trembled and another wave of arousal swamped them. Taking his focus off her nipples, Blake shredded her jeans with a flick of his wrist. He barely noticed as they fell in tatters to the ground.

Voltaire wore no underwear. He straightened and her hands fell to her sides. His woman stood naked before him, seemingly impervious to the November cold. Smooth, creamy skin gleamed in the moonlight, the same light giving her white hair a silver-blue tint. Her firm breasts were perfect, the size of his palm. Her flat stomach tapered out to flared hips with enough flesh for him to grab on to. Toned thighs and legs seemed to go on and on.

The most beautiful vision. His mate.

Voltaire grabbed him by the neck, forcing his attention to her face. “Get undressed, Blake.” Her raspy voice dripped need with every word. “I don't want to make love, not now. I want to be fucked.” Reaching between them, she fondled him through his sweat pants. “By you."

His balls tightened, his cock pulsed furiously. She was an aggressive little fuck. God, he loved it. Husky laughter echoed in his head. Gritting his teeth, he stepped away from her. He kicked off his pants, pulled off his T-shirt, and used both their clothes to make a bed on the layer of leaves littering the ground. When he'd finished, he looked up at her. She stared back in silence.

"Get on your hands and knees,” he ordered. She obeyed with a twitch of her lips. As soon as she was in position, he pounced, covering her back with his front. Yanking her hair, he whispered, “You asked."

She turned her head, brushing her lips on his cheek. “Bring it, mate."

He pressed a hand to the small of her back, pushed her down until her cheek lay flat on the ground and her ass hovered in the air. Blake knelt behind her and brought his face to her pussy. He pulled her wet folds apart gently, exposing the tiny hole, and inhaled the ocean. The wolf howled, ready to devour. Blake's cock felt like granite, his tip dripped pre-cum onto the ground. He wanted to ram into her, lose himself in her tightness, but he couldn't.

His mate was a virgin.

"I won't break and I don't care about the fucking pain,” Voltaire growled above him. “Get that cock inside me, else I'll be the one doing the fucking."

Choking back a groan, Blake pressed his nose to her slippery cunt and licked. Voltaire bucked. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back onto his mouth. He snaked his tongue out, dipped into her clenched core, and her taste, creamy-sweet with a hint of salt, exploded in his mouth. He swallowed, took her into his body and got lost in the sensation.

Blake grabbed her ass cheeks, pulled them apart roughly, and dived in. Nose in her ass, lips on her swollen folds, tongue thrusting into her pussy, he closed his eyes and savoured his mate. Harsh sounds came from Voltaire as she rolled her hips, pushed back onto his face. Blake ground his cock into the cold earth below him, shuddering as cream poured from her. He swallowed every drop, licking from her clit to her tight hole and back.

Stiffening the tip of his tongue, he dipped lower. Blake rimmed her ass, pushing into that place until the tiny ring of muscle opened for him in slow degrees. He thrust two fingers into her cunt. Voltaire groaned and clawed at the ground. Blake removed the fingers, saturated with her juices, and screwed them into her ass.

They both hissed as her ass opened for him. The tightness there squeezed his digits. Her body heat singed him as he thrust into her to the last knuckle.

"Blake, take me.” Her voice trembled in time with her body. The muscles in her ass clenched, held him prisoner in the heated cavern. She glided soft, invisible hands over his ass, blazed a hot trail down his crack. Blake shuddered and growled.

Two can play at that game, mate. Now take me before I take you.

The threat made his hips roll forward, his cock flex, and his wolf howl. He pulled out of her ass and rose to cover her with his body. Holding on to her waist with one hand, he wrapped the other around his painful cock, and aligned it with her soaked entrance. One sharp thrust and he impaled her, shredding her virgin barrier and whatever self-control he had left.

Voltaire cried out at his invasion, but her pussy pulled him in with clenching waves. Blake dug his nails into her hip as he pounded into her. The wolf loved every second, but urged him to bite, to mark, to claim. He wrapped her hair around his fist, pulling her head back against his chest. She came to her knees with a moan, body twitching, pussy contracting.

"I want your neck,” he growled.

"And I want your bite.” She leaned to the left, giving him the right side of her neck. So smooth, so unblemished, so ready for him. He licked her once, twice then sank his canines deep. Warm cinnamon flooded his mouth.

Voltaire screamed, drenching his cock with cream. Her muscles spasmed and she clawed at his arms as her orgasm took over. Blake sucked the bite, each sound, each pull making her cunt clench, making his balls draw up tighter, making the wolf clamour in triumph.

Something soft and wet—a tongue—licked down his crack, pushed into his ass. Another one of her psychic touches. The carnal caress toppled him over the edge into an explosive orgasm. His chest heaved, vision dimmed as he pounded his release into Voltaire. Savage growls escaped from his throat. Blake threw his head back and howled. Bright light blinded him, and he felt like he was falling. Images and sensation from inside Voltaire's head bombarded him, stealing what breath he had left.

He felt what she felt—the sweet burn of his cock inside her, the sharp sting of his claws digging into her hips. Contentment swamped her at the heavy weight of him pushing her into the ground. Fear and excitement blossomed in her chest. She wanted this, knew he'd possess her like he did, but wondered if she could ever be a threat to him.

He collapsed on top of her and her knees gave out, bringing them flat to the ground. Blake rolled them until he lay on his back and she sat astride him. Cold, hard ground bit into his skin. He pushed her hair away from her face and met her heavy-lidded gaze.

"I was in your head, I felt you.” He swallowed. “Your emotions, your fears."

She blinked in slow motion, silver lashes kissing her cheeks. The corners of her mouth curved up. “You're my mate—stands to reason you'd be able to see into me."