Page 32 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane (Rise of the Resistance #2)

SARI

L ook, it’s easy to run around a field and say you’re a pagan. Hell, it’s what people do in college all the time. They see two movies from the Nineties or visit Burning Man and suddenly, they’re a witch.

Give me a break.

I wasn’t aware that the cat was as into this as she is. Mostly, I figured all this planning was an elaborate excuse for an orgy.

She’s been hiding something big, and it’s not hanging off a clone somewhere, if you get my drift. I can feel the fucking energy in the air here. This shit just got real and I’ll be straight with you: I don’t have a damn clue how to handle it.

I reluctantly agreed to come at her plea, knowing full well she hasn’t reached out to me or my clan since that flashy, flighty flirt arrived. I yearn for a glimpse into her mind, to understand what’s troubling that crimson-haired beauty and how I can restore the peace we once had. My optimistic partner believes we can control the situation by replacing the backstabbing blondes with Talia and Taurus in their former positions.

I know better than that.

Talia is like a wild, sleek stallion, untamable and valuable. No jockey can match her power and grace, no matter how many Hollywood films tell otherwise. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and I relish every moment of the chaos she brings.

This group of women is like a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment. Every call made to the wrong person or unwanted individual will set off an all-out brawl. Yet, I find myself following the woman my mate adores, despite her infuriating ways and misguided intentions.

She’s simply the best show in town.

It’s unclear what Deli hoped to achieve with this gathering. Perhaps she wanted to cleanse our palate from our ex-family members, which I support. However, I would much rather rid ourselves of the prancing prima donna that she seems fixated on. But in an effort to maintain peace and unity, I held my tongue and accepted the branch he extended as a peace offering.

I’ll try really goddamned hard not to stake him with it.

Now she’s all in for him, which is a mistake I’ve seen others make. She says she’s not, but she frets and fritters, so I know she’s full of it. I’ve seen her fall for a fellow or two, and this is what it looks like. That girl is subtle like a neon green unitard and she thinks she’s an emotional ninja.

I think she knows I’m here because I love her, not because I believe in this mumbo jumbo. She invited Lily, who I believe is odd enough to have a passing fancy for this shit; Amanda, who will pretty much pretend she’s into anything for attention; and Calista, who’s programmed to think she can do this. Yeah, I know all her magic is science masquerading as a miracle, but I don’t tell her that.

The power to change your life lies within yourself, not some magic bean counter in the sky that helps you if you say the right words or sacrifice the right cows. I’ve survived for years by making sure that number one—me—will always benefit.

That’s why I’m ignoring the bloody advice they gave and calling Kali, the Hindu vengeance Goddess. I look inside myself, finding plenty of need to exact revenge for slights that have gone unaddressed. I raise my arms to the sky, demanding that the Universe show me the way to get what my mate and I need.

My inner instincts take over, and I sniff the air, my gaze honing in on a familiar scent. It’s Veruca’s, which is surprising because I didn’t think this technique would be effective on droids. Belle’s people don’t believe in these superstitious practices. Plus, Deli and Belle are like oil and water—they don’t mix well and it’s easy to manipulate them against each other with strategic moves. They barely communicate unless it involves Hex dating Chaos. I prefer it that way because it makes achieving my goals much easier.

I don’t see nearly as well as the cat in the dark, nor is my mutation as developed as hers. While I’m still learning, she’s almost a full shifter. However, whatever Deli’s passed on to me in the DNA department makes my coyote senses on point. My olfactory nerves are working overdrive tonight. Veruca’s on the other side of the fire, staying away from the dangerous column of flame as it shoots into the air. She’s stopped and the scent of daisies fill the air. I know why she’s here now: Calista.

The cynic in me has a serious freak out. The cat’s called both a mate and a hell of a pyrotechnic show. We’re dancing like fools in this clearing waiting for the unknown to arrive. After everything that has happened in the past few months, I shouldn’t bat a lash at magick, but damn . I knew that girl was either a powerful ally or enemy from the moment I met her, but this is not what I meant . It seals the deal, confirming that the kitty’s been hiding things despite the mating bond. I have to know what else she’s hiding.

Wilde has to get her under control.

Twitching my nose, I tilt my head when the scent of expensive tobacco, Bulgari cologne, and leather hits the air. Well, well, well. Looks like there’s more than magic being hidden. The kitty’s brought a bird to the nest.

While I’ve always liked the scent of that irritating fowl, I’m aware of how serious things are between them for this to pass muster with Talia. She’s the type to chain him in the basement to keep him out if she didn’t agree. There will be explaining to do when my fancy pants mate finds out this tidbit.

The night air is quiet. The fire is crackling and jumping, but we’re in a bubble. There’s no nighttime symphony of insects and birds and other animals—it’s eerily silent. It makes me wonder what kind of mojo is going on in this circle. Is this the kitty’s work? I never wondered how the Resistance stayed hidden from the Cabal or how members could go in and out and stay off the radar until now.

This is troubling and I need to talk to ? —

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I growl low.

Someone’s here. Who?

I thought this was just going to be some amateur witchcraft role play in the woods, not a genuine supernatural occurrence. I never believed magic was real, but now I’m doubting everything I thought I knew, and it’s frustrating. I should have been more skeptical about the cat, especially when she grew claws and seemed to heal impossibly quickly after rough play. I had assumed she and her partner were just skilled with special effects makeup and didn’t question it further.

Trusting. Arrogant. Foolish.

Something isn’t right here, and everything around us isn’t necessarily real. I feel my canines drop—part of my early warning system—then I scent the air. His aroma hits me as he slips up behind me, wrapping around my crouched form like it’s an everyday thing to find me naked in the woods snarling. His purr vibrates from his chest to mine, and though I haven’t seen him for a few weeks, I feel a triumphant sense of possession.

Rhea may have left him broken, but he’s still mine. She doesn’t get to win.

His body is taut, as if he’s been cooped up for weeks. I can sense the unease radiating from him, and a part of me wonders if he even had a choice in leaving his house. The thought only fuels my frustration, and I growl louder. My muscles tighten as all the pent-up tension finally snaps. A surge of anger rushes through me at the idea that he may have only come to me because of some powerful magic or force beyond our control.

With a swift, fluid movement, he’s suddenly on my back and I’m pinned to the grass with his sharp teeth hovering dangerously close to my throat. The wild spirit of the coyote courses through him, moving without any regard for my consent or control. A twinge of guilt pricks at me for allowing this outburst of aggression, but I push it aside. It’s necessary for him to remember who he belongs to, to remind him that I am the leader here. And perhaps this display will also put the cat in their place, causing them to fall back into line and respect my authority. As I lay there under his weight, I can feel the tension between us slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of dominance and ownership.

He’s not even fazed. All he does is look up at me, submissive. “Nice one.”

That’s good. I like submissiveness. It’s where he belongs.

I hold onto my teeth, refusing to remove them even as I look at him. Teeth are his favorite thing in the world, much like his mate, and he revels in sessions where I work him over with them. The sound of his moans and groans always echoes in my ears, a constant reminder that I have power over him. I’ve never felt the need to ask if he likes it or not; his enjoyment is palpable. He craves biting and this is just an amped up version of it. It solidifies our bond and proves that he belongs to me.

As I sniff the air, searching for the familiar scent of his arousal, I come up empty. Crouching down at his side, I take in the beating drums of the chanting circle, the smoky smells of the fire crackling nearby, and the pulsing energy of magick shimmering all around us. The human side of me wants to ask questions, but the wild coyote within yearns to rip and tear. It’s a delicate balance that I must maintain, so I pacify both sides by staying still and present in the moment.

“Why are you here?” The growl that accompanies my question is unintended, but Rafe rolls over on his belly and gives me a quirk of a smile. That tells me nothing. He smiled that way when being worked over by my mate at the line between actual pain and pleasure. My mate has an amazing poker face.

He loves me all growly and fangy—he’s said so from the beginning. I briefly wonder how much control this affair is going to afford me. It could get bad if I don’t have any, but I don’t believe it will be any worse than he’s had before. I don’t comprehend what’s going on and I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect him , and I don’t know what to do with it because he’s still not bloody answering me.

“Shiva, I suppose.” He gives me that smile again as his long locks fan over his back. His calm is almost resigned, and this display isn’t fazing him. He’s more used to shit than I knew and he doesn’t fight it— or he doesn’t have the will to. Either could be true, given his depression over the other family. I think his problems lie with the brother, not the woman. However, Rafe’s never said a word about his other mates before and he won’t start now.

“Shiva.” I crawl over to him, straddling his waist. He’s hot, beautiful, submissive, and mine. Why should I care about the reasons why? I’m being a fool.

Stowing my concerns, I look into his eyes, intent on regaining the power in this situation. His ability to disarm me has always felt like a weak point; I know Wilde feels the same way. Rafe’s ease, his charm, his willingness to give the ones he loves anything they desire makes you vulnerable. It might be why Wilde is harder on him than the cat; her primary is more dangerous in subtle ways.

Shiva was that way—destroyer of worlds only to recreate them, tamer of rivers to benefit mankind, and drinker of poison to prevent the destruction of the gods and humans alike. Born of an argument between two gods over who was most powerful, Shiva emerged in a blaze of glory that forced Brahma and Vishnu to accept him as the third ruler of the world.

Rafe always zips past the turrets of my defenses and gets to the heart of me without setting off the warning signals. Like Shiva springing from nowhere and extending his reach into the earth and sky, he’s wormed his way into the dyad that Wilde and I formed, making himself indispensable.

At least, he is for figuring out how to control our very own Kali in the form of the kitty. Ironic that that goddess was MY choice—not hers—but it also makes sense. No matter what face she’s wearing for Talia and Taurus, she’s no killer. The cat isn’t evil to the core when necessary as my mate and I are. We are better matches for those two than she is for Taurus. We could truly challenge their world.

She is a pretender.

Returning to the clone in front of me, I can’t help but wonder if this situation will provide some much-needed clarity for me. The thought of the gods and goddesses actually appearing is thrilling, Kali’s presence alone could give me ideas for restoring order to my world and vanquishing our enemies. With a wicked grin, I lean down and lick his lips, feeling his hands gripping my waist tightly. He’s given me control and I relish in it, showing him who’s really in charge. My teeth graze his neck, eliciting a satisfying shudder from him as he grinds against my heat, eagerly waiting for my next move. Rafe is practically pleading with me to claim him and make him mine - all mine - right now.

Even if it’s just for this moment, I am willing to fight through the nine levels of hell to keep him by my side. My mate may have other playmates, but none who elicit such a response from me. There may be consequences for taking what rightfully belongs to him, but I am willing to face them all for the chance to have Rafe as my own.

“Mine,” I command him as I strip away his shirt. I pant up a storm and I know that means the shift is coming. Once it does, I can’t stand it anymore—it’s all want and have . My eyes flash yellow, which means I won’t be here for long. At least, the human part of me won’t.

“Yours,” he answers automatically. He’s docile tonight. Rafe knows I like when he fights back before he lets me have my way.

Tonight, it’s all me and I like it.

I fumble with his loose clothes, getting him out of the trademark track pants as quickly as possible. I touch and nip everywhere until he pants and curses and makes the best sounds for me. “Get up here.” He’s pleading and I’m smirking. He doesn’t want to make it last tonight? Needs me now?

I can do that.

With his chiseled features and sculpted body, Rafe is a sight to behold. Even for someone like me who doesn’t buy into the whole romance thing, my heart can’t help but skip a beat at the mere sight of him. Despite his reputation for being stationary, he radiates a powerful energy that practically crackles in the air around him. And while he may have a soft heart buried beneath all that muscle, there’s no denying his undeniable sex appeal. It’s almost as if he was carved from the same block of perfection as his mate, yet their personalities are so different that it’s hard to imagine how they connect on such a deep level without words.

And I’m not just talking about telepathy here. They literally don’t need words to communicate, and it’s both fascinating and frustrating to watch them interact as if they were two halves of the same whole. Wilde is livid with envy that he can’t achieve that kind of unbreakable bond with either of them - it’s almost like some twisted form of twin-cest. If anyone ever needed an example of soul mates, you could simply point to Rafe and his feline companion. They make every other pair of mates look inferior in comparison.

For me, Rafe’s constant presence in my life has become an essential part of my existence. Even when I was lost and confused, trying to figure out why I needed him by my side, he never once triggered any alarms or set off any red flags. And now I understand why, because he effortlessly bypassed all of my defenses and burrowed himself deep into my heart without me even realizing it.

This clone has never wanted anything from me. I don’t have to make him whole—that’s her job. Rafe doesn’t need me to fix him or make him better. He doesn’t need me to run after him, pick up for him, or feed him. He doesn’t want me to be anyone but who I am.

Whether I’m a giant snot ball in his arms, playing hide-n-seek, listening to music next to each other, or tying him down to the bed, it doesn’t matter to him. I only need to be there—that’s enough. What he always wants is me. I missed that along the way, and it feels important. It feels like something I’ve screwed up. Hell, maybe Wilde has, too.

Rafe will never admit that I did anything wrong, but at this time of revelation and heat and want, I’m going to set it right. I’m going to fix that slip of the teeth that lead to mating with him ‘by mistake’ and the ensuing fall out afterwards. I’m going to show him what he means to me and give him everything I am.

That will fix everything. Wilde will do the same to fix his mistakes with Victor and Alistair.

Now’s the time. He’s completely unfettered, and we can own him now. We can have him the way we always wanted to if we take advantage of what’s being offered here.

The cat will follow. It’s perfect.

“Friend of my body,” I whisper as I kiss him softly. He’s noticed a subtle shift, but he doesn't react. “Mirror of my spirit, complement of my mind—I am yours for now and all time.”

His expression doesn’t change, but I feel tension in his frame. Perhaps he’s nervous that I will claim this is an accident or magic induced fancy again. Settling over his hips, I slide over him until we’re joined. That familiar rush hits me and somewhere inside, a voice says ‘hurry, for it’s soon to be gone’. Rocking my hips slowly, it takes everything in me not to out-and-out ride him into oblivion.

I want to say a few things before we tumble. “You’ve never wanted anything other than to be with me and that is truly the greatest gift anyone has ever given me.” I kiss him again because I can’t help it. The howl is building in my toes; I feel it. “While I may have fucked this up in the past, I will always want to make it right.”

“You haven’t?—”

My fingers shush him. His first words since he mentioned Shiva are unnecessary. Fangs firmly in place, I show him that I am sure. I drive my teeth into my mark and the points of my canines slice through like butter. His blood fills my mouth and I revel in the taste.

Everything is blown apart in panting, thumping, grinding, and blood. Whoever I was and whoever I’m going to be are wiped clean by this act. His belief, his trust, and his love will remake me into a better person.

When I am with him, I’m always stronger.

I hear him scream over my growl, but I need more. I pull up, waiting for his fangs to emerge. They don’t come and my growl becomes angrier, needier. I feel the spirit of Kali echo in mind, whispering what I need to do to make Shiva ready to fulfill my desires.

Tearing my fangs out, I gnaw and rip and tear a bit. He snarls, able to hold back until I take a claw and puncture his left nipple. The ripples happen and there is my mate. His eyes are golden and expression fierce as he tears into my neck. I return the favor with zeal, bathing in the flow of his essence.

My howl vibrates against the skin in my mouth, but I don’t let go. Suckling like our lives depend on it, we buck and pound out our ecstasy. When all is said and done, I lick his wounds closed.

Rafe holds me quietly—his demon gone and fangs retracted—as I come down. He knows I’m going to want to hunt and howl, but breaking the circle would be bad. He kicks up that familiar rumble in his chest to soothe the coyote into staying in place.

Shiva fades from his mind, but Kali stays with me. She whispers plans and prophecies, what will be and what can be, and how I can shape the future of my world. Oh, I was so right in choosing her over everyone’s objections. Kali is making music in my mind and the coyote likes the song. Wilde will be so pleased when he hears what I have learned.

We will take our family back and the world will fall at our feet once more.

I like the words she gives me and I love that she’s planning to hang around. I could use an inner monster like Kali to keep me on track.