Page 25

Stacy

I’m putting away the vacuum cleaner when Greyson’s scent assaults my senses. More than usual. It’s as if his fragrance, his vibrations, they hit something deeper within me – maybe to do with my wolf. I ponder this for a beat as I stand frozen, with the vacuum cord in my hand.

It’s like his scent speaks to the most primal part of me, making me hyperaware of my wolf. It’s an odd sensation – as if my wolf jumps to attention within me. Ready for something. Eager for it.

I’ve never felt anything like this. It’s as if the volume of my mate is turned way up to every single part of me. Voice, scent, presence. Connection.

I hear him speaking.

Yes, something is different. Something is very different with my wolf. Everything suddenly feels very, very strange. Vivid? I’m on edge, ready to spring up like a Jack-in-the-box. But for what?

Then again, things have been a bit different the past few days and not just because I’ve been in the midst of what I can only imagine must be an ongoing state of fight or flight.

I clumsily finish looping the cord and pace, impatient to touch him, suspecting he’s talking to the men he has guard the house as he usually does for a minute each time he comes and goes.

I’m like a coiled spring in here. Though, really, I haven’t been able to relax since… who knows when? Certainly not since I got here. And it’s been worse the past few days as I’ve processed Wyatt’s latest actions and braced for what might be next. And now the tension feels like it has expanded ten-fold because of this odd new sensation inside me.

Particularly the past few days, since Wyatt’s most recent attack, my mind has constantly felt like it’s racing. To combat it, I’ve been as busy as I can make myself in Grey’s home. Shifting to and from my wolf form, because it feels like I need to do that. While I haven’t been able to go out for any runs with the security issues and how busy Greyson has been, being able to shift at will has helped with my state of mind.

While Grey isn’t being unkind or impatient, I’m feeling like he’s frustrated.

I’ve been woken by his mouth or his erection each morning, but he hasn’t been bossy in bed again, hasn’t even been verbally communicative with me during the act. It’s still incredibly satisfying, but there’s an uncomfortable element as he’s taken up a different sort of communication via forced eye contact the last few times, holding my face and it’s as if he’s trying to pry his way into my mind, to communicate with me through eye contact. And the things I think he communicates leave me unsure, tense, and sometimes this culminates in harder thrusting or deeper growls.

It’s like there’s something he needs from me that he’s not getting. But I don’t know what it is or how to give it to him. Miraculously, he’s still incredibly attentive, kind, and nurturing when he is here, though he’s been gone a lot since my brother’s latest attack.

He goes for runs each morning with his pack’s council members. He’s often gone to the other council members’ houses to work on the Wyatt issues. He kisses me goodbye and kisses me hello but he’s in a rush. I know he’s focused on looking after his people, and there’s also the things happening with The Collective to do with Riley Savage and his witch mate, so I’ve just been here in this beautiful house. Cleaning it until every inch sparkles, organizing every nook and cranny. The house wasn’t disorganized before, but now there’s not a speck of dust anywhere I can reach and everything within closets, drawers, and so forth are precisely organized. I’ve done some disaster preparedness, too, which might not be necessary, but it’s in my nature – particularly because in Silver Hills a disaster always seems to either be in progress or at the very least … looming.

The past few nights he’s gotten into bed after I’m already there and just pulled me close and purred for me until I’ve gotten so drowsy I’ve had no choice but to succumb to sleep. But we’ve only had brief conversations during the waking hours.

I know there’s a lot going on. I know my presence accounts for a lot of why . I suspect that’s why Grey’s father was how he was when he drove me to Greyson at that cabin the other day.

The older near carbon copy of Grey (except for his eyes, which are a darker brown) wasn’t unfriendly. Grey asked me if he was terse with me and he wasn’t that, but he also wasn’t warm and welcoming either, at least not the way Grey’s sister and stepmom are. I can hardly blame Mr. Blackwood if he’s wary of me. Besides, he was taking me to a crime scene and would’ve been worried about what happened there. I didn’t take his demeanor personal.

Grey spent time with his pack and his family tonight, because of an important visit tomorrow from members of The Collective.

This makes me shudder.

He invited me to come with him, but he let me off the hook in nearly the same breath as inviting me; likely seeing my panic. And sensing it. Because it’s not like I’m great at hiding it. Though I could sense his immediate frustration as he let me off that hook.

Beyond not looking forward to being judged by people including Tyson Savage and his mate, not to forget the other council members who were attacked by Wyatt the other day, the mere mention of the Supernatural Council Collective had me quaking, though I didn’t explain this to Greyson.

Fear was struck into the hearts and minds of every single member of my pack from a young age about the dangers of outsiders, particularly humans and The Collective, the group of corrupt supernatural police that look for every opportunity to take from their perceived lessers. At least that’s how Father described the SCC. The story goes that elders and alphas before my grandfather’s time had run-ins with them back when we were the Silver Mountain pack. Word has it that they robbed us several generations back, around the time the collective first formed.

This was when our pack’s territory was a beautiful village in the mountains of Alaska, a place with the most pristine blue lake – lore is that our then-alpha’s four beautiful daughters were abducted to be paired with ranking SCC officials including vampires, warlocks, and Fae before our alpha was murdered and the rest of the people in our pack were run off from that location, fleeing south, to where we are now. Where we now suffer.

I heard from Mal that these old stories were made up. Mal said it’s to make people distrust anyone from outside the village. He said there’s a lesser-known story that states someone from the SCC fell for the alpha’s daughter and the alpha lost it and took revenge against the SCC officer, which meant sanctions for our alpha. I don’t know what’s true, but I did hear that Silver Mountain is one of The Collective’s headquarters, only now it’s known as Argentia Mountain.

I haven’t been able to stop wondering what became of Malachi. I was relieved it wasn’t his scent when I was brought to the cabin the other day to identify the two dead shifters. Jeremy used to be so sweet and kind. But that didn’t take long to change after he shot up with a growth spurt in height and then Wyatt put him into training to build bulk and use him as an enforcer. Jeremy transformed before all our eyes into someone else. Someone who won’t be missed by most. Thorn was cruel and conniving. And he went out of his way to belittle me whenever Wyatt had me spend time with him. Thorn was always whispering gross things to me about Addy and doing the same to about Addy about me, taking pleasure in being cruel.

How involved was Mal in my brother’s recent actions? Will he be part of whatever is next? And has he taken up with my brother’s way of thinking or is he just doing what he’s told until there’s an opportunity to do what we talked about? The last time we spoke was just a few days before I had to leave to go to Drowsy Hollow and Mal was frustrated, ready to bail on the pack like so many others had, even suggested I go with him, but I refused to abandon everyone and pleaded with him to give it a bit more time to see if new opportunities could arise to change things for us. I told him I had a loose plan that wouldn’t work if we lost more of our pack, losing more of the decent pack members who could be right for a change in leadership.

The day before I left, Wyatt sent me to spend time with Mal in the cottage. It made me sick to my stomach. I’d never been with Mal that way.

Mal didn’t lay a finger on me. He did tell me my brother had insinuated some things about us were possible, and Mal got right into my orbit instead of respecting my space like he usually did. His eyes darkened with lust and suddenly my childhood friend felt like a predator. Like the others. I was relieved that he didn’t mount me.

Later that day my brother suggested he could pair me and Mal up when I got back, if I accomplished the tasks he had for me.

I didn’t want Mal that way, but one male – a kind one – would be heaps better than what I’d been enduring. And Malachi has always been good. Kind. Fair to everyone. If any of the remaining betas in our pack are capable of helping make things better, I figured it could be Mal.

Mal narrowly escaped death the night Riley Savage mauled Jimmy. And it could have been him at the cabin that day, too, if Wyatt had ordered him there. I loathe death, have been too close to too much of it, but while I want to think Thorn got what he deserved by Erica Young, I feel bad about Jeremy. If not for Wyatt, Jeremy might not have changed.

I impatiently peer out the window and see Greyson is still conversing with the two men who have been here for a while.

And looking at him, pulling in the scent of him which is so much stronger than those he’s talking to, I suddenly ache to be under him, held by him, wrapped up with him. I ache with a depth of need verging on painful.

As if sensing it, his head jerks to the side and his eyes pivot to mine. I lamely wiggle my fingers in greeting at the same time as clenching my thighs. He affectionately slaps the back of the man he’s closest to and erases the space between him and the house. I hear the door slam, so I move to the top of the stairs to face him. A trickle of sweat drips down my spine, my palms twitch, and my fingers itch to drive into his currently messy hair.

Our gazes are locked. He looks amazing. He smells incredible. My heart trips and rights itself at his expression. Oh my stars, my underwear are absolutely soaked.

His nostrils flare as his eyes snap to my mouth, to watch me nibble on my bottom lip.

He sets his phone and keys on the shelf by the door as he kicks his shoes off.

My heart beats faster.

He scratches his jaw and my eyes take in the salt and pepper facial hair that looks really fantastic. He’s wearing a tight black t-shirt with his faded jeans and they fit so good he should come with a warning label.

Yeah. Warning: he’s mine, so every other female on the planet needs to back off.

I moisten my lips with my tongue, noting the scorching look in his eyes, which twinkle with meaning.

Fascinated, I watch the liquid mercury bleed into the irises and clench my thighs as more arousal floods my underwear.

He crooks his finger.

But instead of launching myself at Greyson, which I should do, I’m suddenly, inexplicably throwing my clothing off and shifting to wolf shape.

As soon as my front paws hit the floor, Greyson’s eyes are filled with surprise and he immediately opens the front door for me, as if knowing I need nothing separating me from the moon and the grass.

I sprint straight out there, guided by my nose to the forest behind his house.

***

This . This is what I need. I need the wind in my fur, the moon over my head with nothing in between me and the sky, nothing between my paws and the earth. I’m also getting another thing I need – my mate following closely behind, showing me I’m safe to run, safe to be me . Strangely, I suddenly feel more me than I can recall feeling.

His presence is so prominently behind me, it’s as if we’re in synch. He’s shadowing me in a protective, non-invading way. And as much as I want to run faster and continue to feel the earth beneath my feet, there’s something I want even more.

More liquid arousal courses through my system as I glance over my shoulder and see him in wolf shape directly behind me.

He’s massive. Strong. Silver. Beautiful.

His eyes are filled with purpose. He knows what I need.

I stumble and fall, yelping with pain as my ankle rolls. I shift to human shape, shift back to wolf shape, then back to human again, stretching and turning my ankle to make sure it doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t.

Greyson’s beautiful silver wolf is nearly on top of me, hovering over me, filling my nose with his scent as his eyes glow with meaning. He sniffs my ankle.

“It’s fine,” I tell him. “Shifting helped.”

I reach for him. He shifts to man shape and covers me with his hot, hard body, mouth descending to mine slowly, but then when his lips touch mine things speed up and detonate as he grabs me and impales my body with his hardness.

“Grey,” I groan huskily.

“Fuck, baby. I don’t know what’s gotten into you tonight, but I’m all about it.”

“Me either,” I whisper. “I feel so strange. So… alive. I feel so alive with you on top of me, you inside me. I want to do this but also run and play and shift and howl and still do this. All at once. I n-need you most of all. All of you.”

“Do exactly what you want. All of that, Stace. All of it. You can have it all. I’m a hundred per cent yours. Maybe you’re finally ready to be all mine?”

I grab his face and attack his mouth, whimpering, “So much.”

I can’t get close enough to him.

“Guess what?” he whispers against my mouth. “Some big things happened tonight with my family, the coven, so I’m also feeling more me than I’ve ever felt. And gotta say, Blossom, coming home to you like this feels like it’s all connected.”