Page 11 of Shifters Unifying

A primal desperation that I had fought so hard to shield myself from creeped into my veins. The bonding of fated mates couldn’t—wouldn’t—be ignored. A deep need echoed beneath my skin like a faraway drumbeat, and he heard it, too, shared it with me. Every breath I took felt older than my bones, like the forest itself was cheering us on.

He gained on me, closer and closer. I could have let him catch me, but that wasn’t meant for fucking in the buff and wild. Faster, I went, dodging between trees, leaping over the underbrush, racing up a low hill.

Just as I was about to leap over the root end of rotting log, my foot caught in a vine and all my carefully orchestrated eloquence and grace disappeared as I screeched, “Fuck.”

Unable to catch myself, I stumbled into the closest, upright tree. Sharp edges of Live Oak bark bit into my hip and outer thigh as I crashed against the trunk and slid down into the cushion of leafy ground cover. I shimmied up the slight incline to lean against the smooth bark of the felled American Beech, I’mmore than a little pissed at myself. Running through the woods in Louisiana is asking for trouble. At least I’ve not fallen in a bed of poison ivy, oak, or sumac. For once.

Angry red lines bloomed on my pale skin, and I hissed at the small stream of blood dripping down my leg.Shit.What a way to kill the mood.

“Emma, what happened?” Logan’s breath hitched, sharp and low, as he must have smelled the blood before even seeing it. He caught up and dropped his knees on the ground in front of me.

I shake my head, embarrassed. My cheeks heated, and a flush worked over me.

“Where?” he murmured, voice thick with such a deep concern it set my body ablaze despite my humiliation.

I gestured to my injured side. “This leg.”

His hand skimmed my outer thigh, coming away with red on his fingers. “There’s one. Any others?”

“I don’t think so. It’s not bad anyway.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” With his other hand, he circled my knee, pushing up, up, searching for any other injury. I gasp as he spreads her legs wider, his fingers grazing the edge of my center.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, his eyes on my pink folds.

“Not much,” I whispered, already trembling, unable to think about anything but Logan and his fingers.

Logan leaned forward on his knees, reverent and eager. The moss and soil shifted beneath him, leaves crunching as he moved closer to the wound. “I’ll make it better.”

“What are you doing?” I rasp.

“Caring for my mate.” He rolled me slightly to my uninjured side, bringing his mouth so close his warm breath spread over the scratches and sent a shiver through me.

“You can’t, can’t…”

“Hush,” he whispered. Carefully, he tended to my wound, licking the blood and the pain ceased immediately. But he didn’tstop there. His lips followed the same path his fingers traveled around my knee. Then his mouth grazed higher and higher still until his teeth nip at the sensitive places between my legs.

“You’re already so wet,” he said, glancing up with a crooked smile.

“God forbid a girl likes it when a man is bowing beneath her,” I replied sheepishly.

Logan bent forward. Tongue first, hot and slow, tracing delicate lines on my inner thighs, then back tome, mouth trailing over the sensitive skin.

I moaned, my head falling back against the fallen tree. Its smooth bark cooled my spine, holding me in place, balancing the heat flooding me. Birds flew from tree to tree, screaming about the invasion, but I didn’t care. Not anymore.

He took me in his mouth, his tongue easily navigating its way to my clit. “That’s a good girl,” he growled against my folds. “Let me in.”

I angled my hips toward his face, giving him better access and providing a view of his head buried between my thighs. Dappled light fell over us, warmed by the green in the trees. His tongue worked in deep, devastating strokes.

His hands gripped the tree behind me, on either side, as if he needed to steady himself as much as I did. His fingernails scraped the tree, as my hips jerk before falling into a steady rhythm.

His wolf loped into my mind, whining, craving me and begging to be mated.

“Oh, Logan.” I reached for his head, gripping a fistful of hair.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat and vibrated my center. Satisfied. Primal. He pulls his free hand up the sides of my ass, gripping and pulling me closer to his lips.

“Logan,” I groan. “You feel so fucking good.”