Midnight shift, p.10
Midnight Shift, page 10
“Why isn’t he changing back?” the female said.
“Like I told you, sometimes our kind gets stuck.” He heard remorse in the male’s tone. Could smell the stench of grief on him.
“Unstick him.” Her fingers tugged at the fur on the wolf’s neck.
“I can’t.”
The wolf licked her face and tasted her salty tears. He licked her again with a yearning to take away her worry. His effort only seemed to increase the pungent scent of her anxiety.
“What will happen to him?”
“If he doesn’t find himself. His humanity. He’ll stay wolf.”
“No,” the woman said, gripping the fur tighter. “You listen to me, Ian Michael Arent. You will not stay this way. Come back to me.”
She wanted something from him. He didn’t know what, but he knew he’d do anything to give it to her.
“Something’s changing, Benie. Keep talking to him. His mind was pure wolf a few moments ago, but I can sense Ian in there now. Keep talking.”
The wolf understood some of the male’s words this time. Benie. Ian. Talking.
“I can’t lose you.” Tears streaked the dirt on her cheeks. “You promised me, Ian. You promised you’d always be here for me. I can’t do this without you.” She threw her arms around his neck.
He felt his body melt—a searing pain that started in his gut and grew into every limb. He held his breath as the night grew darker around him. The warmth of her body saturated his skin. Her tears wet his cheek as her hands roamed his naked flesh. He pulled his face back, awed by her beauty. His best friend. His mate. His Benie.
“Ian,” she said, relief visible in her expression.
“I’m here,” he said. He coughed as the vestiges of the intense pain dulled.
“I don’t know how he managed to come back,” Calder said. He stared at Ian as if he’d grown a third eye.
Ian gave a shaky breath. He inhaled, tasting Benie’s scent at the back of his mouth. Relief. Overwhelming joy. He tightened his embrace. “I’ll always keep my promise.”
*
Benie rejoiced as Ian—human Ian—held her in his arms. When he hadn’t changed back, when Trace had said there was a possibility he wouldn’t, Benie thought she’d lose her mind. She twisted his short curls around her fingers, reassuring herself he was real. The desire to touch him, to be touched by him, was undeniable.
“I’ll never leave you, Benie.” He breathed the declaration into her ear. His tongue tracing the edges. “I need you.”
“Yes,” she said.
“I want you,” he said, his voice thick and heavy. “Want you so goddamn bad.”
“You have me.” Ian’s naked chest pressed against her breasts, his warm breath brushed her sensitive neck, and his strong hands kneaded her back until she was wet with aching desire. But not just for Ian…
She turned and held out her hand for Trace. She couldn’t take her eyes off his wide, muscular chest, his narrowed waist, or the erection thick between his legs.
“What about you?” Please. Benie allowed her unarticulated emotions to bubble to the surface. Trace was a part of her now. A vital part, and she needed him too. She might not know him well, but somehow she’d chosen him. Claimed him. And she didn’t know what she’d do if he rejected her now.
Finally, he turned his gaze upon her. Raw, naked passion scored his expression. She watched his Adam’s apple bob with a hard swallow.
His deep amber eyes, full of lust, focused in tight on Benie. It was her turn to swallow hard.
“I don’t know why fate has done this to us, but I need you both.” She shifted her gaze from one man to the other. Her body burned for their touch. “Please.”
“Yes,” Ian said.
Trace answered with a kiss, his mouth feeding from Benie’s as he trailed his fingers down her torso. Ian nuzzled the damp skin of her neck, his lips fluttering the surface, softly—sensually.
A swell of happiness crowded out the doubts and fears. Benie melted back into Ian’s arms, pulling Trace with her in the process. She reached down, gripping Trace’s ass, and wow, what a nice ass it really, really was. If there was a “Super Fine Ass” award, Trace Calder would win hands down.
Benie took Trace’s length in her hands, her fingers and palms tracing the silken skin. She leaned over, taking his cock between her lips. He tasted of earth and musk and salt as she thrust down his shaft. Having him in her, even if it was just her mouth, made her desire soar.
She wanted Ian inside her as well. Both of them, again, invading her body, even if not in the same way as before. It’s what she yearned for more than anything else, craved it—them—like a drug.
She raised her ass to Ian, her head against Trace’s thigh as she sucked and licked his shaft. Ian sat on his heels behind Benie, his fingers dancing over her sex. He sheathed his cock quick and deep, stretching her wide. A primal moan issued from his throat.
Tilting her chin back and to the side, Benie captured one of Trace’s balls into her mouth, sucking and tugging, as her hips jerked backward on Ian’s cock. Trace growled, spreading his thighs to give her more room.
“Benie,” Trace muttered. He cried out when she took his shaft once again between her lips. He began to thrust into her mouth with earnest, sliding himself harder and faster between Benie’s lips. A powerful wave of excitement, of desire, of love nearly stunned her.
The mark on her back throbbed with aching pleasure. It claimed them all as mates. She’d marked them. Mine, she remembered saying when she’d been with both of them alone. She hadn’t realized her ability to call a mate at the time, and some guilt toiled in her emotions, dampening her joy.
Trace gritted out. “I am yours.”
Ian’s chest covered her back. His fingers pulling her hair back from her ear. “Yours,” he agreed.
Tears burned Benie’s eyes. She knew their responses might be a result of the marks, but she didn’t want to care. Not right now. She wanted to enjoy the moment, revel in the melding of their bodies coming together in a way that felt like destiny.
Trace’s sac pulled tightly in her grip, tugging upward, and she sucked harder. She took him with her mouth the way Ian took her from behind. Pleasure stabbed at her lower abdomen. Ian’s thrusting increased—faster, harder. The pressure of her building orgasm rippled through her hips and stomach. With urgency, she took Trace’s shaft to the back of her throat, tears leaking down her cheeks, while her lips brushed the dense dark curls at the base.
Trace’s groin jerked forward near final climax. And though they’d made the deal that Trace would stay out of Benie’s head, she knew it was next to impossible for him. She sent him a clear message: Come for me. Let me taste you. Swallow you inside me.
The jolt of her passionate request triggered Trace’s body, and his bellows of pleasure soon followed as he filled her until he spent the last of his desire.
Ian continued thrusting in and out of her swollen heat as she swallowed, milking Trace’s shaft for every drop. Ian held her hips up with one arm beneath her abdomen, leaning forward as he took total possession.
She had Trace’s seed completely, and now she wanted Ian’s. Her eyelids fluttered as her mind repeated Ian’s name over and over. She moved up on all fours, letting Trace’s softening cock slip from her lips. “Oh, God. Yes,” she whispered, the pressure mounting hard and swift once again.
Trace maneuvered beneath Benie, his mouth clamping over her left nipple as his fingered her clit while Ian continued his thrusting assault.
She grabbed the back of Trace’s head and pulled him up into a kiss, passion arching her entire body as her eyes lost focus. She yanked away when the lust riding her body felt like it would flay her skin. “Oh God,” she shouted.
“Benie!” Ian called, and his husky voice acted like a punk to a firecracker.
Everything happening to Ian, all the danger, the bad stuff, changing into a werewolf, Benie knew it was her fault. Even so, he didn’t resent her. She loved him, and his complete acceptance of her, of her world, of these awful changes she brought into his life, told her that he loved her completely.
He thrust deep once again, and her desire exploded. “Yes!” she cried out, her body bucking and shuddering with complete and total release. Her screams echoed against the dense copse of surrounding trees.
Ian moaned as he drove his cock in deep—once, twice, then a final time. He collapsed on Benie, and she in turn collapsed onto Trace.
They lay there for several minutes. None of them daring to speak.
“Well,” Benie finally said, filling the awkward silence. “That happened. Again.”
She cursed herself as they both stiffened and repositioned themselves on either side of her. She reached out to both men and stroked their hair, Ian’s shaggy and brown and Trace’s black, thick, but cut short to his scalp. Trace pulled away.
“What?”
He stood up. “We should get to the cabin. It’s the safest place for you right now.” The switch in Trace’s demeanor, so abrupt, put Benie on guard.
“You’re right,” she said. “Absolutely.”
Ian intertwined his fingers with hers. A welcome gesture of comfort. Trace cast a brief glance at them before turning his back on Benie.
“This way,” he said.
His rebuff hurt her, which in turn pissed her off. “Fuck you, Calder.”
“Yep,” he said. “That about sums it up.”
What the hell had happened? She couldn’t understand why he was suddenly so cold?
Ian growled, startling Benie. She squeezed his hand tight to keep her at his side. “Let it go,” she said, wishing like hell she could take her own advice.
Chapter 9
A simmering anger bubbled in Trace as he led them to the cabin. He could sense the brothers, the two who had driven them. He picked up the pace, not bothering to look back to see if Ian and Benie kept up. The rustle of their bare feet on the dried fallen leaves answered that question, anyway. He’d partially shifted enough to change his eyes, vigilant for any subtle change or movement in the landscape. He might be pissed off, but he wasn’t stupid. Benie’s safety was the most important thing right now.
His stomach flipped as he thought of her. He wanted to be accepting of this new life. He’d made the choice back at Benie’s apartment to be her third. His knowledge of the Caledon, and his realization who Benie was, meant he couldn’t even plead ignorance in his decision. But when she’d come for Ian, the wave of love she’d felt for her friend, had been more than Trace could take.
Also, she felt guilty. She blamed herself for Ian’s change. But it wasn’t her fault. He’d picked up enough from Arent’s mind to know the man had experimented on himself without telling her. He was a liar. And still, Benie fully loved the man. She needed him. Couldn’t live without him…Apparently. She’d never feel the same way about Trace. She’d never trust him like she trusted Ian. Trace had been born “other” as she called it. Deep down, he feared she would always see him as one of the enemy.
Her wild and impetuous nature called to him. When they’d hunted together, they’d been a pack. The three of them. Two alpha males and one alpha female. Equal in all aspects. Until they’d become human again. When Ian’s mind went dark, pure animal, Trace feared the worst. It had been the same for his sister. The animal pull could be strong, an easier, freer way of living. But Ian had managed to come back from wherever his humanity had been banished. Trace might not like Ian Arent, but he had a deep respect for him.
A dim light twinkled beyond the tree line, and the scent of sulfur and smoke—the dragons—grew strong, sharp.
He stopped short of the open field in front of the cabin. He held his hand up and made a fist. The signal for his team to stop. He reminded himself he was no longer a warden, and the two people behind him, his bed mates, were not his team. He turned back to them, surprised to see that Benie and Ian stood motionless, waiting for him to give them the all clear.
He could feel Benie’s irritation, but he tried very hard to not invade her mind. She had the right to keep her private thoughts private. Besides, he wasn’t in any hurry to have his suspicions confirmed about her feelings for him. She didn’t care about Trace as much as she cared about Arent. She never would. He had to find a way to live with the situation.
Benie crossed her arms across her breasts. Her wildly tangled hair gave her the appearance of a wood goddess. Her skin shifted in various shades of camouflage to match her surroundings, but even so, he could detect a faint reflection of light, like an aura, outlining her. Even hidden he could see her. It felt like a small victory.
“The cabin’s up ahead in the clearing,” he said, keeping his voice low and soft. “I don’t smell anyone but our escorts, but we should still approach with caution.”
“I’ll round the back,” Benie said on approach. “Ian, you stay here until you get the all clear.”
Ian’s scent changed to the bitter aroma of humiliation. He narrowed his gaze on Benie. “I’m not helpless.”
She stared at him for a moment. “I didn’t say you were.” There was pith in her tone. “But you’re not a fighter, Ian. You don’t have training, and I’ll worry about you if we’re attacked. Will you please just stay here?”
Trace could feel Ian’s wolf trying to rise again. “Calm down, Arent.”
“I won’t be sidelined. Not now. Not with so much at stake.”
“Fine.” Trace held up his hand before Benie could protest. “Ian can take the perimeter. Do a once-around at the edge of the woods. Whistle if you see anything. Benie you go around back of the cabin. I’ll scout the front.”
Benie held up her hand, mimicking Trace’s gesture. “How about, since no one can see me, you two stay here, and I’ll go check things out.” Without waiting for answer, she strolled between them toward the cabin.
“Stubborn woman,” Trace muttered.
“She’s been that way since we were kids,” Ian said.
Trace rolled his eyes. The statement served to remind him of Ian and Benie’s history together. A history he could never compete with.
He crossed his arms over his chest, trying without luck to watch her progress. Damn, she was good. Logically, he knew she was best equipped to scout. She’d been born for stealth. However, it didn’t stop the rise of frustration. Every instinct in him wanted to protect her. Garrick would stop at nothing to prevent Benie from becoming queen. He was a ruthless psychopath.
The distinctive scent of smoke saturated the air. Just past a thick cluster of silver maple trees, Trace saw three men walking toward him.
Ian rumbled in warning, and Trace could sense his defensive urge to shift. The guy needed to learn how to control the impulse if he wanted to be effective in the fight against Garrick.
“It’s the brothers,” he said. “The one’s that drove us here.”
“There’s a third,” Ian countered.
When they drew closer, Trace could see the third was identical to the other two. “Triplets.”
“Huh.” Ian’s tension eased. “Where’s Benie?”
“I’m here,” she said from behind the three dragon shifters who were, much to Trace’s delight, visibly startled.
He swelled with pride. Benie was strong, beautiful, dangerous, and magnificent. He pushed aside his plaguing doubts. My mate, he thought fiercely, and his wolf agreed, even if she didn’t love him.
*
In unison, the three silver-eyed doppelgangers turned to Benie and took a knee. They bowed their head in deference. “My queen,” two of them said at the same time while the middle brother remained silent.
He smirked at Benie. “I bet they’re not talking about Freddy Mercury’s band,” he teased.
“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. In general, she preferred OWs on their knees, but she wasn’t planning on killing these guys, at least not at the moment. The bowing made her completely uncomfortable. Almost as much as them calling her queen. “Hey, fellas. You can get up.”
“Yes, your highness,” said the brother on the left. They all stood up.
Benie winced. “Stop that.”
The brother on the right pointed at the cabin. “We’ve got the place stocked. The gray man is waiting inside.”
One of these days she would make someone tell her why Myron Gray, her so-called uncle, was called gray man. Surely it was about more than his last name. For now, she was more concerned with finding out more of his plan.
“When did Dr. Gray get here?”
“He arrived an hour ago, my queen.”
“Benie, please.”
He half-bowed at the waist. “I’m Eustan.”
“Huh. Like Houston without the hard H.”
“Yes, my queen.”
She raised a brow at him. “I take it you’re not going to stop the queen thing.”
A hint of a playful smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No, my queen.”
Benie assessed the brothers again. They all had dark hair that fell in loose waves over their shoulders, and silvery-gray eyes that captured the moonlight like mirrors. They were a little over six feet tall and built like soldiers. They were HPs, human-passing, except for the eyes. Trace had said they were dragon shifters. This close they smelled like burnt charcoal. Not an unpleasant scent, though.
“Identical triplets?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am,” the man on the right said.
“That must have been one big-ass egg.”
He shook his head and laughed. “It’s a myth that dragons are like reptiles or birds. We’re mammalian. No eggs, your highness.”
“Call me Benie, please.” They were freaking her out with all the highnesses, queens, and ma’ams.
“I’m Destan.” He gestured to the remaining brother. “That’s Max.”
“Max? Your parents run out of stan names?”
“No, my queen,” Eustan replied. “He just prefers Max.”
She sized them up quickly, figuring out the best way to kill them if it came to a fight. Though neither her nor Trace had any weapons on them. Not that they had any place to store them. Their clothes were out by the road where they’d changed into wolves, and her knives along with them. Now was the perfect time to utilize Trace’s gifts. She raised a questioning brow at him.
