Текст книги "Alien werewolfe"

Автор книги: January Bell

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CHAPTER 12

BREKKER

I’m obsessed.

One taste of her perfect cunt, and I’m absolutely reduced to an addict, ready for the next hit.

She pants on top of me, the keening way she yelled my name my new favorite sound.

After one last long lick of the sopping proof of her pleasure, I lift her from my face.

“Hands and knees,” I grate. If I were a better male, I would wait a few more days before knotting her. I would make sure she was truly ready, that she understood that what we’re about to do is final. “You’re it for me. All I want is you, forever.”

“Yes, yes,” she whines. Her cheeks are flushed the most beautiful pink I’ve ever seen in my life, the tips of her breasts the same color, her mouth swollen and glistening. I capture it with mine, my beast near the surface, growling his approval and screaming for more.

“I’m going to knot you,” I tell her desperately, trying, for her sake, to keep control. I don’t want my beast to hurt her, don’t want her to have anything but good memories of this gift she’s giving me.

“I don’t know what that means.”

“I’m going to fuck you, and then my cock’s going to get stuck in that pretty, tight little cunt while you milk it, and I’m going to make you come so many times while I spill inside you that you won’t be able to move for the next week without thinking of me.” My voice is deeper, the beast so close to control now that I know I should stop.

Desperate, I clutch at her chin, forcing her to look at me, trying to gauge her feelings.

“Tell me you want that,” I manage, needing to know she’s okay. Needing to please her.

I track the moment she realizes I’m not fully in control, the moment she notices something shifting in my face, my eyes.

Her own pretty eyes widen, and then she’s kissing me like her life depends on it.

Fuck. Yes.

She flips onto her stomach, arching her back as she presses her hips high into the air. My nostrils flare, and my control slips completely.

That’s my hand grabbing her by the neck. That’s my arm pinning her hips to me.

I feel every inch of her slippery cunt as I plunge into her, not waiting for her to catch up, for her to breathe.

“I’m going to bite you.” The snarl that comes out of me is deeper, primal, and not all my own. “Say yes. It will help.”

“Yes,” she whines.

My teeth sink into her delicate shoulder, and I thrust all the way in, the base of my cock expanding to keep her just like this for as long as I can.

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CHAPTER 13

AILEEN

It’s not him. It’s not him that has me trapped against his body. It is, and it isn’t.

I should be freaking out, and maybe a teeny tiny part of me is. But I love it.

I’ve never felt so close to another being as I do in this moment. I can hardly move, pressed so tightly against him, his palm at my throat, his fangs in my skin.

He fills me completely, ridiculously, and somehow, somehow, it feels so fucking good that I can’t stand it.

All I can do is babble nonsense as he pushes farther and farther into me, filling every inch of me.

The bite on my shoulder burns like engine fuel. Then the blistering heat gives way to a warm, melting sensation, and before I can take another breath, he’s full seated inside me.

We both groan.

“Are you okay?” he asks. The words are mangled, like he’s having trouble forming them. Like he’s no longer quite as human as he looked a moment ago.

The mere thought turns me on even more, and my body knows what to do, even if I’m barely functioning in any rational manner.

I push my hips back against him in answer, and a strangled, pleased sound erupts from him as I try to sink farther onto him, try to get more.

“Such a perfect fucking mate,” he manages, pulling me up toward him so he can slip a finger through my wetness, teasing my clit.

I can’t think. I can hardly breathe. I race toward another orgasm, more shallow, more desperate, as I clench around him.

Warmth blazes inside me, and a small, cognizant part of me recognizes he’s come, even as he continues to work me with his fingers, licking small stripes across the fresh bite on my shoulder.

It lasts forever.

It feels like no time at all.

I lose track of how many times he makes me come like that, touching me, filling me, biting me.

I’m boneless and exhausted and satisfied by the time he’s done. The first rays of sunlight peek through the curtains as he cleans me thoroughly with a cool towel I don’t remember him getting.

He curls up beside me, around me, both legs around mine, cradling me against his body like I’m the most precious thing in the entire universe.

It takes no time at all to melt into his heat and fall asleep to the rhythm of his breathing.

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CHAPTER 14

AILEEN

The days pass by in a haze of sex, long baths, and the best food I’ve ever had. The days turn into weeks, and sometimes I wake up from a midnight nap to an empty bed and the sound of a wolf howling in the distance.

Sometimes I wake up to the cold nose of a huge wolf dog curled up next to me, but I like the days I wake up with Brekker’s mouth between my legs the most.

Brekker himself is a revelation. He’s not the most talkative creature I’ve met, but I think I like him more for it.

When he talks, it’s because he has something important to say, or a dry, funny observation that makes me laugh.

I never in my life thought this was where I’d end up, married through a freaking lottery to an alien male. An alien werewolf.

We’re on our way back to Clan Claw’s city on Wulfric, and unlike the trip to the lodge, I’ve spent this entire trip basically in Brekker’s lap, half dozing through the woods in the too-bright sunlight.

“You’ve practically turned me nocturnal,” I tell him through a stifled yawn.

He just laughs and holds me closer.

Compared to the trip to the lodge, which seemed like it took forever, the journey back to the main city goes by in the blink of an eye.

Well, more like the length of a nap, but still.

I stand at the door of the ground transport, sudden nerves stiffening my shoulders.

“The last time you were here, you were a different person,” I tell myself.

“Oh?” Brekker nuzzles my shoulder, planting a kiss on the side of my neck. “Were you?”

“Yep.” I turn around and catch him in a hug, smelling the scent of the forest and dew on his skin still. “I didn’t know what I was doing here. Now I know that by your side is where I belong.”

“Thank the moons you’re finally here,” Tessa yells, bursting from the entryway of the huge Clan Claw house—my house.

I have a fucking house. I have a husband who, though hairy at times, is nothing but joy.

I haven’t had to deal with a brain in a vial making gross sexual comments at me in a week, and I’ve never been happier.

I hope Bridget is okay.

“What’s wrong?” Brekker asks, sweeping me alongside him, his big arm glued to my waist.

“The clan. Of course it’s the clan. They are demanding to know why you went outside our ranks to marry a human.” Tessa grimaces, then glances down at me. “No offense.”

“Um, I am a human? Why would that offend me?”

“Because many of the Wulfric see humans as less than us.” Brekker kisses my temple. “They’re wrong.”

“Konrad said useless, actually,” Tessa clarifies.

I arch an eyebrow, trying not to laugh. I mean, I feel like I should probably be offended, but… I know I’m not useless. I can clean the hell out of a sentient tentacle.

I’d like to see these hot to trot werewolves deal with half the shit I did with the Oolasag curiosities.

“Right,” I tell her brightly. I start to continue, but Brekker cuts off whatever inane shit I was about to say with a terse growl.

“Don’t go fluffy on me,” I tell him.

Tessa’s jaw drops. “Go fluffy?”

“Yeah. Y’all think you’re hot shit until you sprout fur. Then you’re just a puppy dog.” I shrug one shoulder. I’ve never actually seen a puppy dog in real life, but she doesn’t need to know that.

Her mouth opens, then closes, and she shakes her head with a laugh.

“I’ll deal with them.”

“Yeah, you sure as fuck will,” a huge man, the same bearded one I remember from the night Brekker married me, pushes through the doors behind Tessa. A small crowd follows. “You have insulted our clan by choosing this bride. She’s a pretty little pet, but our wolves would make mincemeat of her.”

I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. Talk about alpha male bullshit.

Brekker growls, and I put a hand on his chest, staring up at him. He cannot lose his shit at this nonsense.

“You want to know why I married a human?” There’s an inherent challenge to the question, and the bearded man snaps his jaws. “Because I never would have been able to mate a wolf. I carry the bloodlust gene, and if my instincts are right, you do, too. So I chose a human woman who brings me joy and who settles my wolf. Who will bear me cubs.”

“I’ll what now?” I squeak.

“Shh,” Tessa tells me.

“The human woman can carry the Wulfric bloodline?”

“Aye, and she can take my knot.”

Silence meets this pronouncement, and I swat at Brekker’s arm. “Why did you have to say that? They don’t need to know that,” I hiss, my face on fire.

The crowd has grown in front of us, murmuring and whispering.

“Is this true?” the bearded werewolf asks, stunned. “She can… the humans can…”

“This is inappropriate,” I belt out, earning a few gasps at my bellow. “You don’t need to know what my husband and I do in the bedroom.”

“They do, actually,” Tessa says out of the side of her mouth.

I glare sidelong at her. “No.”

“She can take my knot, and she will make a fine mother for my cubs.”

I turn my withering stare onto Brekker, and a few of the wolves laugh out loud. “Don’t say another word about that.”

“When my little mate is ready, that is.” With that, he plants a kiss on my mouth, and I frown for a split second until I melt into him easily.

“More human women!” one of the wolves cries out. “We must apply to the Starlight Lottery for more.”

Tessa barks out a laugh, shaking her head as they practically stampede back inside.

“I knew you would help,” she says, laughing as Brekker finally lets me up for air.

I dust off the soft blue pants, blushing furiously. “None of that is anybody’s business.”

“No, of course not. Except that it is. A third of the men here thought they were doomed to live alone—those who are interested in a life with a female, anyway—because of their genetics.” She shrugs a shoulder. “There aren’t enough females in our clan anyway.”

“You knew there were more than me? That had the gene?” Brekker voice is flat, but there’s a hint of amusement around his eyes.

“Just because you males are too stubborn to talk about it doesn’t mean the rest of us don’t. I suspected the human would help. Still, I didn’t want to give away your secret until you were ready.” She looks incredibly smug, the wolf who ate the cat who ate the canary. “All’s well that ends well.”

She flounces back through the door, but not before she throws a wink over her shoulder at me.

Slowly, I look up at Brekker, astonishment plain on his face.

“Cubs?” I ask, putting my hands on my hips. “Do I get a say in making baby wolves?”

“Of course you do, love,” he says easily, slipping his hands around my waist until he cradles my ass. “Do you want to start trying now? Or just practice?”

I can’t help but laugh as he smacks my butt. “Practice. Just practice for now.”

“Well, I can’t deny you that.”

I yelp as he tosses me over his shoulder, running inside the huge Clan Claw keep with me there.

All’s well that ends well—and being safe, in Brekker’s arms, and well-loved—is the best possible beginning to our story I can imagine.

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EPILOGUE

BRIDGET

“No, no, no, no,” I mutter, my eyes darting around, shock and trepidation turning to steely resolve.

The shuttle that was supposed to be taking me to the Starlight Lottery hub nearest my assigned position doesn’t make the normal sounds of a healthy ship.

Nope.

The normal sounds, if there are any left, are currently being drowned out by the crew screaming at each other in various languages, the full-on klaxon of the emergency alarms, and the immense noise of my own breathing.

“We’re being boarded,” someone screams.

“Of course we are,” I say cheerfully. That’s the shock, I think. The tentacle I absconded with from my station wriggles in fear, the tip of it slapping my neck. “Sorry, buddy. I thought we were on our way to a better place. I thought our luck had turned.” My tone is bright, my smile slapped on like a doll’s. It’s all I can do to follow passenger protocol and buckle myself into a space suit.

Most of the rest of the passengers have lost their heads completely, and I watch them from behind the clear material of the bubble helmet like they’re exhibits at the curiosities shop I just left behind.

“I hope Aileen is having better luck,” I say, the words sounding hollow in the mask.

The tentacle wriggles into the suit lining, its self-preservation always astounding for a creature without any sort of obvious brain.

“We’ve left the brain behind,” I say in a sing-song voice.

Is this what a nervous break is? Hmm. I’m oddly calm. Completely detached.

So when the space pirates make it on board, sorting us into groups for what purposes I couldn’t guess, I just smile up at them stupidly as they inject something into my suit’s life support system.

The tentacle goes limp first, and that’s when my brain screeches back into existence.

“Oh, we are completely and totally fucked,” I tell it.

Then I lose consciousness with the wriggly tentacle wrapped around my waist.

**

Read Bridget’s story, Alien Kraken’s Prize!

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CHAPTER 15SNEAK PEEK: BARGAIN WITH THE ROGUE

Welcome to Wild Oak Woods… where the stakes are low, the spice is hot, and the men are deliciously monstrous.

A new cozy monster romantasy world coming soon.

WREN

Istop in my tracks, unable to process the sight before me.

Three Fae. Unseelie, judging by their lilac skin and icy eyes, except for the green one.

Fenn’s darted past me, and I stare at the trio settling at one of Piper’s tables in utter dismay.

Unseelie Fae and an… orc? In Wild Oak Woods?

We have minotaurs and harpies and all manners of what most humans call monsters, and I’m pretty sure there’s even a vampire or two… an elf runs the boutique on the other side of my store, and a few shifters live in town as well… but a Fae —an Unseelie at that– unheard of.

Two High Fae from the Underhill.

My hands tremble slightly, and I shove them behind me.

“Aren’t you a surprise.” The male speaking hasn’t so much as glanced away from me since I walked through the door of Pixie’s Perch, hoping for peace after the lunch rush and a charmed pick-me-up pastry before I went back to inventorying gems.

I swallow hard.

He’s beautiful, easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

But beautiful in the way a too-sharp tool might be, all perfectly honed edges and dangerous in uncareful hands.

He’d cut, and deep, and you might not even feel it until you saw the blood.

That is, if anyone were foolish enough to let him too near.

I step closer, intrigued and slightly terrified.

“Who are you?”

Long black lashes flutter shut as he inhales deeply, before a wide smile stretches the corners of his mouth. It’s a shade darker than the light purple of his skin, like he bit into a fresh blackberry and it stained it with a summery burst.

“Why, I could be your future, little love,” he says, all cockiness.

A thick black vine of a tattoo crawls out from under the sleeve of his shirt, and I blink at it. Surely some trick of the light, or of his, but it looks like the tattoo marks are bleeding into existence while I watch it.

A strange buzzing sounds, and my attention finally goes to the other Fae, where the noise seems to be emanating from.

“Wings,” the first one says through that razor-sharp smile. “That’s what the noise is.”

The orc makes a strangled sound, eyes as large as dinner plates– but he’s not looking at me, no, he’s staring openly at the black lines of the tattoo on the light purple Fae’s hand.

A moon and vines. I have no idea what it signifies, what it could mean to a Fae who lives under the earth, no real moon to speak of.

“Bread and salt,” Piper calls out,  bustling towards the table from the kitchens. She stops in her tracks when she sees me. “Wren, what are you—” She cuts off the question with a sharp intake of air.

She’s given them my name.

Names have power amongst the Fae– especially in the Underhill.

Piper blanches.

“Wren,” the tattooed Fae purrs, pinning me in place with his pale, pale blue eyes, as clear as a cold spring. “A lovely name for a lovely witch.”

I go hot and cold all over.

“Bread and salt,” Piper repeats, jerking her head at me to sit, to join them. There’s a bit of annoyance in her eyes, but she doesn’t seem overly worried.

No, my pastry-making friend seems… completely fine.

There are two Unseelie Fae sitting smack-dab in the middle of her adorable black and white patterned floor, their lavender and deep purple skin complementing the few pastel frosted cakes left under the glass counter.

The massive Orc stands out like a sore thumb, and I can’t help but notice the way he’s watching her hungrily.

I don’t think it’s just for the honey-soaked loaf glistening on the platter in her hands.

The tattooed Fae pushes one of the heart-backed chairs out with a toe, grinning at me as I warily sit beside him.

At least this ritual of bread and salt will give us a modicum of protection. Every muscle in my body’s tense, and I focus on the serrated knife Piper expertly wields as she distributes a slice to each of the males at the table.

The men dwarf us, even the leanly muscled winged Fae, and it’s hard not to be painfully aware of their daunting physical presence.

Not to mention their innate magic, the citrus and smoke flavor of it tingling against my senses.

“I’m Caelan,” the tattooed Fae says after a perfunctory bite of the bread. “We appreciate your generosity.”

The winged male makes a sound of slight disgust, a noise that turns into a muffled moan a second later as the orc spears him with a furious glance.

“I’m Ga’Rek,” the orc offers after a beat, smiling broadly at Piper, and then me. “As you’ve noticed, we’re from the Underhill. We are hoping you know of a place we can stay here. Maybe some work.”

Piper leans forward, her eyes glimmering with excitement. “As a matter of fact, I need help here. I need another set of hands in the kitchen.”

“At the risk of sounding less than humble,” the table groans, the platter of sliced bread sliding towards him as he puts his weight on it, “I am a fantastic cook.”

Caelan arches an eyebrow, and the pressure of his attention finally flits away, towards the green-skinned orc. “Humility has never been one of your virtues, old friend.”

“You would be the expert opinion on that,” Ga’Rek tells him cheerfully, and the two laugh uproariously at their shared inside joke, while the third Fae sniffs at the bread before taking a delicate bite.

Piper clears her throat, wiping a crumb from her lips. “I don’t have need of three bodies in my kitchen, though,” she tells them apologetically. “Have you asked around anywhere else?”

Ga’Rek shakes his head, a smug look on his face as he studies the two Fae with him. Caelan, and the quiet, disdainful one who can’t seem to manage an ounce of friendliness towards us.

I scoot further away from the table, and nearly scream in surprise when a warm arm stretches around the back of my chair.

Fenn chitters an angry warning at Caelan, who, sure enough, has put his arm around my chair. I lurch forward, caught between either moving closer to his arm or closer to the table and absolutely not wanting to touch him.

The audacity.

I settle for an uncomfortable position in the middle of the chair and skewering the presumptuous Fae with a glare.

“Hmm. Isley, that’s our town grocer, she might be short-handed, you could check there. She sells fresh fruit and vegetables on the square.” Piper’s gabbing away like this situation is entirely normal, like Unseelie Fae are regulars in Wild Oak Woods.

It’s silly, but it does relax me a little.

At the very least, I’m not moping about the Guild’s rejection. Well, I wasn’t until I remember it, the cold words of the letter hitting me all over again, a punch in the gut.

My eyes well with tears, and I hunch my shoulders. Fenn pushes his cold, wet nose against my ankle, his fluffy tail wrapping around my other leg. Caelan’s watching me still, his pale eyes narrowed.

Piper claps her hands loudly, and I inhale with a shudder, grateful she’s pulled attention off the fresh tears. I wipe my fingers along my eyes, hoping no one’s seen my distress.

“Isley is for sure where you could start, if nothing else, she can probably use the help getting her goods from farm to market. I think she was talking about starting a small restaurant too…” She keeps talking, but I’m only half-listening, trying to stop the angry tears that threaten.

I glance around, pleased to see two of the three are fixed on whatever Piper’s saying.

Caelan, however, narrows his eyes at me, the smile that played along his lips disappearing as I dab at the stupid tears.

Mortified, I decide to ignore him completely.

He probably only wants to take advantage of whatever he perceives this weakness to be, he’s probably just looking for a way in.

That’s the Unseelie way. Bargains and tricks and promises they do everything in their power to keep the upper hand in.

I sit up ramrod straight. That won’t be happening to me, thank you very much.

No matter how pretty their packaging, how compelling their story, I will not be taken in. Nope.

Though, I have to admit, upon closer inspection, the three seem a bit worse for wear.

Their clothes are rumpled, not the polished finery, and there’s a hunted look in their eyes. Maybe they really are just looking for a new place to live. Caelan in particular seems to be doing his best imitation of tired innocence, and the orc, though completely overwhelmingly huge, seems genuine enough.

“What about the apothecary?” I force myself to ask, unwilling to utter Willow’s name. Last thing I need is to give these Fae another name. Goddess only knows what they’d do with it.

My skin prickles at the knowledge they have mine.

“She could use some help finding some of the more rare herbs and⁠—”

“Perfect,” Caelan says quickly. “Perfect. The—” he clears his throat, pausing. “Kieran is excellent at finding things like that. It’s in his nature.” He says this as an aside to me, a conspiratorial slant to his smile.

I take another bite of the honey-sweet bread, staring him down as I chew meaningfully. See? I want to tell him. Bread and salt. You can’t hurt me.

I don’t trust you.

Kieran, the winged fae, buzzes in slight outrage, his cheeks turning a brighter purple.

“Don’t deny it Kieran,” Ga’Rek says, putting a particular emphasis on the name. “You have a singular way with plants. The apothecary would be a good fit.”

Kieran scowls at Ga’Rek, who just huffs a laugh and slathers a piece of bread with Piper’s homemade butter, spiked with more honey a spell for pleasant thoughts, if I know her.

And I do.

“And what do you do, witchling?” Caelan leans further forward, and I taste the scent of magic clinging to him .

I cant my head at him, annoyed with his presumptive tone, as well as the stupid nickname. “It’s been a long time since I was a witchling. You already have my name, anyway.”

“Well,” he says the word slowly, positively beaming at me. “I might have your name, but I have better manners than to use it without your permission.”

I glance at Piper, and she cringes slightly, nodding. Right. No help there.

“I’m Wren,” I say delicately. “Do you plan on doing something with my name, Caelan of the Underhill?” There’s as much brave challenge in that question as I can muster.

I am a fantastic jeweler, a fact I take heart in despite the Guild’s rejection, and a great enchantress of jewels and metals.

But there’s not much in my witchy arsenal that would be effective against this man– a fact I’m all too aware of at the moment.

“Wren,” he says slowly, dragging the syllable out in a way that makes my heart flutter strangely. “I think you’ll find that all I want to do with your name is speak it with pleasure.”

I choke on my bite of bread, the rest of the table very studiously ignoring whatever in the world Caelan’s just said to me.

It certainly shouldn’t set me on fire from head to toe.

It certainly shouldn’t set me to the point of distraction.

“I don’t need help right now,” I manage to croak.

“No, I suppose your type of work is solitary,” Caelan continues, his icy lavender gaze pinning me in place. I can hardly breathe from the weight of it. “But if you need help, you know where to find me.”

“Actually, no, I don’t know where to find you.” I snort, laughing a bit out of nerves and at the absurdity of this entire situation. Underhill Fae. In my friend’s bakery. In our small town, which is supposed to be my safe bubble from the troubles of the outside world, and decidedly safe from the Unseelie.

Fenn, picking up on my distress, lets out his absolute worst ear-shattering howl.

There’s nothing quite like a fox yowl to break the mood. I let myself smile, and I mean it, because I have no doubt my vocal familiar will stop whatever this Fae’s fixation on me is.

Caelan, however, simply leans closer, his nostrils flaring.

“You smell of the earth. Dark places. Precious metals. Magic.” He tilts his head, that glossy, soft-looking black hair slipping from the knot at his neck. “I would like to help you, if you let me.” His eyes meet mine, arresting and otherworldly beautiful.

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