Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

" S peak."

"Baton reporting in." Baton gripped the burner phone hard, anxiety making it difficult to think. The leadership in the Scythe didn't tolerate fuckups.

"Go on."

"I found the two you indicated you had an interest in. Here in Ailill Ridge."

"Acting openly?"

"Very. Jobs in a bar and a coffee shop."

He made a noise, perhaps satisfied, and maybe angry. His anger would be understandable, considering how much damage had been done to the organization. The two named Patrin and Fell had been leaders of the creatures. "How about their sister?"

"I haven't seen her in town." At the disapproving sound, Baton tensed.

What might placate him? Ah. "The two appear interested in a woman. They don't appear to be lovers…yet. If we can't find the sister, this one might give us a hold over them."

"You're right. A lover has potential." There was a pause. "Keep looking for the sister and watch how the interaction with the female goes. If she can serve us in the sister's stead, then it'll be a go."

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm. Also, observe the two—and the female. There will undoubtedly be interactions with humans; however, if they have friends—the friends will most likely be mutants. Take good notes."

Baton nodded, seeing the next step up the ladder within reach. "Yes, sir. It will be as you wish."

"Yes, it will."

Baton swallowed hard at the unspoken threat. Don't screw this up or else.

Small town grocery stores were different from the ones in cities, Fell decided. The aisles were narrower, the lighting not quite as bright, the smells of food more mingled. But…

A female shifter, one from the pack, smiled brightly at him. "Hi, Fell."

He managed a smile and a good evening and considered he'd done enough. Not being basically invisible left him unbalanced, much like when he'd first tried to walk with four legs rather than two.

He shouldn't get used to being greeted or smiled at. When they left Ailill Ridge, they'd go back to being unknown. The thought wasn't as soothing as it should have been.

Setting a bag of potatoes in the basket, he checked the list for the next item. Moya's handwriting was a pleasure to read. So different from his brother's scrawl.

Hopefully, Patrin would have a quiet night at the bar. Mondays weren't busy, according to Nik. Even better, Fell wasn't needed.

He wasn't about to complain, not when he was going to spend time with an engaging, little wolf.

A few minutes ago, he'd heard Moya in the apartment hallway and poked his head out to ask her what the CONV on the oven setting meant. Her explanation of convection led to her offering to help him cook a meal. She said it wouldn't be anything involved like what she'd made them a week ago at her place. No, this was to be "a basic roast, potatoes, and veggies. Solid and filling."

He agreed so quickly she'd been startled.

His enthusiasm was, of course, for a home-cooked meal—but also for getting to spend the evening with her.

The longer he knew her, the more time they spent together, the more he wanted to know her. She was so fucking easy to be around, never at a loss for words, yet demanding that he hold up his side of a conversation.

She laughed, easily and often, but never at people getting hurt or embarrassed. If anything, she poked fun at herself. She was smart and, no surprise, well-read, considering her occupation.

He grinned, remembering how there was always music playing in Espresso Books. It was easy to tell who'd chosen the—what had Renee called it?—the playlist . Talitha liked soft mystical music, especially harps. Renee liked something called heavy metal. Corey enjoyed country western. Moya always picked bouncy music, from Celtic rock to human pop tunes—and she'd usually be moving in time with the beat, even when she was sitting.

And when she was standing? Those hips of hers were perfection, especially when rocking. Gods, face it— she was perfection.

Having reached the end of the list, he joined the checkout line with two customers in front of him.

Murtagh, the short, white-bearded owner, had perfected the art of ringing up sales even as he chatted. He did love to talk.

Bagging groceries at the end of the counter, a bull-necked twenty-something tossed in a few laughing comments.

It really was a friendly town.

"You picked yourself out a fine-looking roast." Smiling, Murtagh scanned the price. "Looks like you're going to have a nice meal."

Fell nodded, then sighed, almost hearing the soft voice: Use your words, Fell . "Aye, Moya is teaching me how to cook it."

"Whoa, dude. Isn't she the sexy chick who works in the bookstore?" The grocery bagger waggled his eyebrows. His scent indicated he was human—and that he lusted after Moya.

Fell barely stifled a growl. "Yes. She's a kind person."

"That she is." Murtagh shot a frown at his bagger. "Gregory."

Gregory's ruddy face darkened. "Sorry."

Murtagh pushed the last of the groceries to the bagger. "That'll be eighty-nine dollars and twenty cents."

Fell tapped his card against the reader. Wells had given them new credit cards, ones they didn't care if someone tracked.

Murtagh handed over the receipt. "All done. Have a good day, Fell."

The bagger blinked and eyed him. "Fell? Sounds like something ominous. What kind of name is that?"

Humans and their curiosity. But saying fuck off wasn't considered good manners in small towns. Use your words. "Old family surname. A fell is a hill or moor."

"Oh, cool." Gregory bagged up the last sack. "Your car in back?"

"No. I live across the square." Stepping around the human, Fell slung the bags over his arms and headed out.

Once through the door, he glanced back.

The bagger was watching him with narrowed eyes.

Interesting . Just how long had Gregory been in town?

Standing at the end of the kitchen counter, Moya watched Fell put the roasting pan full of potatoes, carrots, onions, and a pork roast into the oven.

The way his broad shoulders strained at the royal blue Henley dried her mouth. Because, well, damn. He really was so very, very male.

Would he still be here for the full moon Gathering in twelve days? Would he be interested in mating? He'd kissed her at the dance. So, maybe?

But would she end up backing away if he asked? He might not be as over-the-top forceful as Patrin, but he was a long way from submissive. It really wasn't fair that her libido wanted dominance and her mind…didn't.

"You're staring at me." Fell's rough voice shattered her thoughts. Leaning an elbow on the counter, he touched her cheek with his fingertips. "What's got you worried, cariad ."

He'd called her sweetheart.

"I…" She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Bullshit." He studied her, eyes far too discerning. "Is this tied into your thing about pushy males? Am I being pushy?"

"No, no, you aren't."

When she tried to take a step back, he gripped her wrist with his free hand and sniffed. "You're interested."

"No, I'm…" Scat! Lying was wrong. She forced herself to say the words. "I'm interested, only…I'm scared too."

He frowned, and his hand dropped from her face. "I did something?"

Of course he was confused. He hadn't released her wrist, and his thumb traced back and forth as if to gentle her.

"No, I was thinking about Gatherings. How people—males—change on that night. The scent of females in heat increases their testosterone. And aggression."

"Huh." Fell turned, resting his back against the counter, then pulled her between his spread legs. "I don't change."

His blunt statement held assurance, and to her surprise, she believed him. The shifter-soldiers were incredibly controlled. "Oh. Um, okay."

He drew her closer until she was pressed against his groin. Lips curving slightly, he kissed the inside of her wrist with soft lips.

A spike of heat ran up her arm. "Fell." She tried to interject a warning in her tone and instead sounded breathless.

"Moya." He nibbled on her fingers and sent tingles through her. "I've never been with a Daonain outside of a Gathering."

"Me neither, actually."

Laughter lit his eyes. "Want to practice now—when there isn't any full moon?"

Practice…mating? The idea was ridiculous, only every single cell in her body urged her to agree, as if she really was in heat. She'd never felt this way except at Gatherings, and on those nights, any male who fit her criteria would do.

Here and now, the only male she wanted was Fell.

And she wanted him badly.

"Practice." Her voice sounded husky. "Yes."

His gaze never leaving hers, he molded her against him, and Mother's breasts, but he was pure muscle from his wide chest to his washboard stomach to the iron-hard thighs trapping her. His mouth came down on hers, so very gently, but with an assurance that didn't seem inexperienced at all. Yet he'd only been free of the Scythe for a year.

She pulled back. "You said you'd never been with a Daonain outside of a Gathering. Does that mean you…"

"Had sex with human women? Aye, when we were on missions with the Scythe." His jaw tightened. "It's different in a way. They don't smell right. But sometimes we were ordered and"—he shrugged—"sometimes it was a way to establish comradery with our human handlers."

"Oh." No wonder he seemed so comfortable with kissing.

"I doubt I could tolerate a human now. Not after learning what mating can be."

What had it been like for him? The thought of mating with a human was just icky, but what if she was a teen and humans were all there was? Young Daonain males were all testosterone and urges. Yes, she'd probably have done the same.

And…she had to honor how honest Fell had been, despite the awkwardness.

Watching her carefully, he pulled her closer again, lifting her chin and brushing his lips over hers.

Oh, nice . Because of the heat during full moon Gatherings, most shifters went straight for the shove it in and climax. She was the same, really—and had almost no experience with this foreplay stuff talked about in the human books she enjoyed.

Fell nibbled on her lips and grazed down her jaw to her neck.

She sucked in a breath. Foreplay is amazing .

He took her lips again, his tongue probing, stroking hers, demanding a response. Heat rising fast, she teased him in return, successfully enough the kiss turned ravenous.

His hands cupped her ass, bringing her up onto her tiptoes until her tender bits rubbed against a very hard shaft. The friction on her clit made her moan.

He chuckled, then moved her back one step, and swept her up in his arms in a bridal carry.

" Fell ." Her head spun, and she clutched his shirt, unsure if she was thrilled or terrified.

A minute later, they were in a bedroom, cool and dark.

Silently, he laid her on top of the bed quilt. When she lifted her arms to him, he joined her, slowly moving his body on top of hers. Oh, he was heavy, and suddenly, she felt…trapped.

Fell saw anxiety cross Moya's face, smelled the change in her scent. Propping himself up on one elbow, he cupped her cheek with the other hand. " Blodyn, we can stop."

Her eyes cleared, and she set her hand over his, turning her head to kiss his palm. "Uh-uh, I was just…surprised."

Because she hadn't been with a male except at Gatherings. As it happened, he could think of nothing he'd like better than to show her the joy of a slower pace.

It was a shame Patrin wasn't here with them, but…no, she needed more time to trust his brother. She would get there.

Tonight, Fell would go slow, so very slow. He reclaimed her mouth, tasting and stroking, and felt her go boneless beneath him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she answered him with a passion that left him voracious with the need to taste her…everywhere.

He slid his hand under her shirt. Rather than the harness-like contraption females called a bra, she wore a stretchy thing with no zipper or hooks. No way to release it.

As he pushed the thing upward, it squeezed down on the curvy mounds, firming them for his enjoyment. Nice. He cupped one warm, soft breast.

Her gasp made him halt, but her back arched, pushing her breast against his hand.

All right then. Gently, he kneaded and stroked her soft breasts. Her breathing changed, deepened.

She stroked his shoulders and ran her fingers through his hair, even as she kissed him hungrily.

He nipped her lower lip, bit her chin lightly—and felt a nipple under his fingers harden. If a bite on her chin did that, then…

Kneeling between her legs, he divested himself of his shirt, then pulled hers off along with the stretchy thing. And simply enjoyed the sight laid out on his bed.

Her lips were swollen from his kisses, eyes slumbrous, golden skin flushed. Her creamy-brown breasts were topped with dusky, pebbled nipples. "Fuck, you're beautiful."

Her gaze lingered on his bare chest. "So are you."

That wasn't true, yet the admiration and desire in her gaze made him feel as if he could conquer the world.

He curved his hands on her bare breasts and squeezed gently, before bending to kiss the undersides. When he licked over a nipple, then sucked on it, her fingernails bit into his shoulders.

Concerned, he paused, but her throaty moan made him smile—and he continued. Sucking, licking. Nibbling. A careful nip to the tender underside heightened the fragrance of her arousal. So he used his teeth more, alternating with gentle kisses and licks, working his way around and inward, back to one nipple.

Sucking, circling, then… He captured the peak between his teeth. When he increased the pressure, her eyes went blank, and her hips pushed up.

This… So damned beautiful.

There had been a moment when everything fell away, and she saw Fell stop and simply look at her. And through the sexual haze, she thought he was going to quit.

Instead, he moved upward, kissed her blind again, before returning to her breasts, continuing his attentions until they were swollen, the nipples tight and aching.

"Fell…please."

As if he'd been waiting for just that, he moved off the bed to smoothly unfasten and remove her jeans—then his own.

By the Mother, he was more than virile with a strong, corded neck and powerful, wide shoulders. Curly blond chest hair couldn't conceal the solid wall of muscle beneath it. His abdomen was hard-packed, and a line of hair trailed down to a straining thick erection.

Getting up on her knees, she ran her hands over his shoulders, his chest, feeling the way his muscles tensed under her touch, how his breathing sped up. His eyes were a burning blue, his color flushed. Leaning forward, she closed her hands around his erection.

Oh, his sharp inhalation was satisfying. Sliding her hands over him, she explored. So thick and straight with prominent veins below a velvety helmet. She stroked up and down, and when he opened his legs to brace himself, she cupped his heavy testicles.

Males were awfully different. He was fascinating, and just touching him pushed her lust for him higher and higher.

Unable to resist, she ran her tongue over the horizontal ridges on his abdominal muscles. As her wolf instincts surged, she nipped his belly.

And suddenly found herself flat on her back on the bed.

"My turn, little biter." Moving back between her knees, he ran his warm hands up and down her thighs. The slight abrasion of his callused palms was tantalizing. Each stroke brought him closer to her aching pussy.

Spreading his fingers over her pelvis, he used his thumbs to open her before bending down and licking over her in one devastating pass.

She gasped at the ferocious pleasure.

"Mmm." Settling down between her legs, he…feasted, licking and sucking, kneading her labia, tonguing her until ravenous need boiled through her blood. Until she was…right there—every muscle, every nerve right on the precipice.

Her body tight with tension, she shook. "Fell, you toothless mutt." Damn the male, his thick hair was too short to yank.

His head lifted. His gaze met hers, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "You should be happy I'm not using my teeth, little wolf." With a huffed laugh, he closed his lips over her clit and sucked, his tongue tapping on the very top.

The hot pressure pushed her right over. Crying out, hips bucking, she fell into a lake of pure sensation, of singing pleasure.

Goddess, this was so different from full moons.

Rumbling a pleased sound deep in his throat, Fell moved up her body and propped himself up on his elbows. "Beautiful Moya. Stop now or continue?" The hardness at her entrance showed what he meant.

"Continue. Oh, please, yes." She pulled his head down to kiss him. "I want you to enjoy this as much as I did."

His teeth flashed with his smile. "I will." After another long, wet kiss, he balanced on one elbow and reached down to position himself. He met her eyes, watching carefully, as he entered her slowly, hot and thick. Inch after inch pressed in, until he was seated deeply inside her, stretching her impossibly full.

She could feel the aftershocks of her climax pulsing around him with tiny electric zings.

His gaze still trapped hers as he withdrew slightly and pressed back in, then paused, obviously to see if he'd hurt her.

Because the deadly shifter-soldier was disconcertingly protective of her.

She put her hands on each side of his face and felt the harsh stubble on his jaw. "Fell. Take what you need from me."

His lips twitched. Pulling out, he pressed in, faster. Harder.

Oh yes. "Yes." She lifted her hips, meeting him, showing him she could take more.

"Fuck, you're sweet," he muttered. "Put your legs around me."

Oh, really? She'd never done that before. Lifting her knees, she wrapped her legs around him until her heels hit his buttocks.

His cock went deeper.

So deep. Oh. Ohhh.

His guttural growl showed how much he liked it too. And that added a zing of delight to all the heat.

Balancing on one hand, he put a hand under her butt and lifted her while angling himself so his pelvis rubbed her clit with every thrust.

Pleasure ripped through her with each dizzying touch against those sensitive nerves. Her legs jerked, tightening around him.

"Yeah, just like that." Smiling slightly, he started pounding into her, thrust after thrust, hard and fast and deep. Pressing over her clit with each stroke.

Inside and outside were being stimulated, the sensations vibrating through her, until her whole being was in flames. Her climax blazed through her, wave after wave, so intensely the room, the world dissolved into white sparkles.

Then his fingers dug into her buttocks, and the warmth of his release filled her. A low growl reached her ears.

Heart still hammering, blood still singing in her veins, she smiled at the realization the sound he made was a happy one.

He brushed his lips over hers. So, so sweetly.

Patrin entered the apartment, feet aching from standing behind the bar for hours, ears ringing from people talking and talking. Especially the humans, who didn't have the sensitive ears of the Daonain. Did they have to chatter so fucking loudly?

The apartment was blessedly quiet, and even better, the aroma of meat and potatoes filled the air. His stomach growled in instant hunger.

In one of the armchairs, Fell looked up from the book he was reading. "Brawd, there's a plate of food for you."

It smelled fantastic. "Your cooking…or did Moya help?"

"Moya. She taught me to cook pork roast and potatoes."

"Goddess bless her."

"Clean up. I'll warm the food for you." Fell set the book down.

A quick shower erased the scent of the bar, and Patrin pulled on a pair of sweatpants. Padding barefoot out of his bedroom, he caught another scent. Coming from Fell's room.

It was Moya's light fragrance and…sex?

Another sniff confirmed it.

What in Herne's horn and hooves?

Fell had set a plateful of food on the oval table. A thick slab of pork, potatoes, carrots, with gravy covering it all. The delectable sight was almost enough to distract him. Almost. "You and Moya…mated?"

His brother had retaken his armchair. "Aye."

Patrin eyed the faint smile. Not smug, simply…pleased. Happy. Something he hadn't seen nearly often enough on Fell's face. Fuck, did he need to be reminded they were on a mission?

Fell obviously read Patrin's expression. "Don't worry, brawd. We have a job to do. I know."

The tightness in Patrin's gut relaxed. "Okay. I didn't want…" Didn't want his brother hurt—or the little wolf either.

"She said the humans call it friends with benefits ."

"Interesting." The benefits would be the mating outside of a full moon?

The touch of envy was natural—Moya was a desirable female—but, seeing the satisfied contentment in Fell's posture and scent, Patrin could only be happy for him. And pleased, too, because his brother was talking more. Fell would never return to the open-hearted, gregarious boy he'd been before the Scythe, but his time with the gutsy wolf had done him a world of good.

For his brother, Patrin would do everything he could to stay here longer.

Setting his worry to one side, he took a bite of food. The pork was melt-in-the-mouth tender with a savory seasoning. He took another bite.

And saw his brother grin.