Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Asher

The problem with data is there's always too damn much of it.

I scoured through the list of videos Lucas' algorithm had identified for me from feeds we'd been able to grab through less than legal means. Speed camera footage, business security camera footage, anything to help me find fucking Phil Jackson. Australia was a big, broad, brown country, and the prick could've been anywhere, which had the bear shoving hard against our bond.

If I'd let him out when I had him, there's no way the beast would've allowed Phil to get free of his paws. The bear may well be right. He might've turned Phil to a bloody smear, but that wouldn't have been the end of our problems. Guns pulled and aimed not at our enemy, but at us, right before they put a bullet in our brain. I showed him that mental image to calm him down.

Which just left me here, staring at the damn screen before moving the mouse to click on the first video as I looked for the beat-up, white Toyota ute that Phil drove in the footage. But right as the video started to play, my phone rang.

"Asher."

"And a good morning to you too." Rye's voice came down the line in a slow drawl.

"What news have you got for me?" I asked, not willing to play games.

"Good news or bad, depending on how you look at it. We know where your prey is."

"Where?" I straightened up in my chair, every muscle locking down tight. The bear stiffened with me. Get him alone, back out in that forest , he urged. I'll do the rest.

"Some… distant relatives have placed him in Coober Pedy."

That was a damn long drive from here, but I was up and out of my chair, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I grabbed my keys.

"Keep him there."

Rye chuckled. "No intervention is needed. His car shit itself out there." I sent up a brief and heartfelt prayer to the bear gods right then. "And the only garage for one hundred clicks in any direction…?'

"Is owned by this relative," I deduced. "I can be there in eight hours."

"Be where in eight hours?"

A new voice, feminine, and more beautiful than any other woman's, had me turning. There she stood.

My mate.

"Don't let the prick go anywhere and you'll… have my eternal gratitude," I told Rye.

That was a fucking stupid promise to make to a fox. He'd use it, abuse that offer, wringing more from me than the initial favour warranted, but I couldn't think straight, think smart, when she was standing there. Imogen's hair formed a loose halo around her head, a little mussed from whatever she was doing before this moment as her eyes searched mine.

"You got it."

I heard Rye's voice dimly as I ended the call and moved towards her.

When our fingers touched, when I had her hands in mine, I had to hold myself and the bear back. She caught when fur prickled across my arms, her eyes widening. This was the moment when she'd pull away, when she'd see the claws form and then fade away, confronted by my animal nature. Instead, she shot me this winsome smile and gripped my hands tighter before squaring up to me.

"Where do you need to be in eight hours?"

There was no hiding anything from her, not now. She knew what we were, what I was, and that meant she deserved honesty going forward.

"Coober Pedy," I told her.

One eyebrow shot up and her focus sharpened.

"Going opal fossicking?" she asked, because the desert town was one of the biggest centres for opal mining in Australia, if not the world.

"Hunting," I replied, watching her closely for her reaction. She knew what I meant, nodding slowly.

"You want…" She swallowed hard, no doubt remembering the stories Ursula had told her. "You need to… end Phil."

She understood. That knowledge lit a fire in my chest, warming me down to my bones.

"I have to, Imogen."

There was a reverence to the way I lifted my hand and stroked the fingers through her hair. Part of me tried to memorise the sensation, right before going back for more. "He can't walk around in the world hurting women." She sucked in a breath to argue, but I pushed on. "He can't be out there fixating on you."

Her hands went to my wrists, bringing them down to her jaw.

"But he'll never get within ten feet of me. The three of you? Three massive, fuck-off bears?" Her eyes bore into mine. "None of you will let him touch me."

I loved her confidence in us, but she didn't understand. There was no level of risk when it came to her that I was comfortable with. However, when she grabbed my hand and dragged me to my chair and sat me back down into it, I went, especially when she climbed into my lap.

"You're my fated mates. You'll always keep me safe."

Her fingers trailed down the side of my face, tracing the shapes there, then scruffing through my stubble. Her fingers skated over the scar and right when I expected to see revulsion, there was only a gentle warmth in her gaze. It was then I saw what she was doing, stalling, distracting me. It was working because the bear was no longer stamping his paws. Instead, he was calm, still, leaning into her touch as much as I was.

"This place locks up like Fort Knox, doesn't it? Why don't you trust what you've built?"

I did. Every day I did. We'd had shitty husbands and boyfriends find us before, but our security protocols repelled even the most persistent attempts to get to their victims, so why was this different?

Because I lived every day with the guilt. When Phil attacked Imogen, I was focussed on her, not him, getting him as far away as possible from my mate before attending to her injuries. Then I saw those fucking videos.

Nobody's daughter deserved to be treated like that, and while I knew it happened every fucking day, right now I could only focus on him. If Phil was dead, his blood on my claws, if he took his last breath staring at me, piss spreading in a puddle under him, then that would be a strike back. For Imogen. For all women. My arms locked tighter around my mate, dragging her closer.

"I trust our security protocols," I told my mate in a careful tone. "I trust my sleuth, but…"

I had more to say as she twisted in my grip, straddling my hips, yet it all seemed to fade away as she settled back down again. Her scent was warm, thick, and sweet like honey, and it felt like my anger couldn't exist in the same space as it. The bear looked at me with one sleepy eye, then closed them, leaving just her and me in the room.

"But?"

She smiled then, a wicked one full of confidence, and I loved it. Never had a woman adjusted to becoming a shifter's fated mate as easily as Imogen did. I was starting to think she needed to put together a reading list to be disseminated by all other bear shifters when they met their mates. Imogen moved her hips slightly, her grin widening as she realised exactly what effect she was having on me. Of course my dick was hardening. It, like me, was eternally at her service, so when she kissed me, I was right there with her. When her lips touched mine, all thought of Phil, of any other man, was driven out of my mind.

There was a wildness to my mate. Her fingers raked along my scalp and then grabbed at my hair, giving it a yank to pull my head back slightly, opening my mouth to hers.

"Shit, sorry!" she yelped, but I just grinned.

"Don't be." I pulled against her grip and her hand tightened, creating a prickling sensation all across my scalp as she watched in wonder.

"I'm hurting?—"

"You're not."

"You want me to?—"

"Take your fill of me?" I nodded slowly. "Always. I'm bigger than you, stronger than any man you've been with, and I can take anything you've got to dish out." My eyes stared into hers. "Take me, Imogen."

That seemed to remove any remaining concerns. That little animal sound of hunger, I needed it, right as her mouth slammed down on mine.

Our kisses were open mouthed and messy, without finesse, and I didn't know what had stirred this in her, but I was right there with her. Thrusting my tongue into her mouth as my hands clamped down on her hips, dragging her right down on the ridge of my cock. Her little gasp had us pulling away for a second as I checked in, but then she moved. Slowly, in an undulating wave, it felt like her lycra-covered cunt traced the entirety of my length with that movement. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, just as I lunged forward to suck that pain away.

"Stay…" she murmured between kisses. "Stay right here."

So that's what this was about? She thought she needed to have sex with me to keep me from driving to Coober Pedy? That was enough to make me want to stop, but she mistook my reticence, shoving up my shirt before I took over, wrenching it off. Her hands smoothed across my chest, her look of fascination something I drank in, right before I did the same to her. The oversized t-shirt she'd borrowed from Kyle was dumped on the floor, just leaving her.

Those beautiful little tits barely needed a bra, and perhaps that's why I shoved the cups upwards. Or maybe it was because then I got to see her pink nipples that pulled tight in the cool air, that made me want to turn the thermostat down as far as it could go, just to see her response. Heat and cold, that's what I'd apply in that scenario. Her skin would prickle with goosebumps right as I lunged forward.

My tongue flicked across one nipple, feeling the hard point skate across it, right before I captured it with my lips. "Asher…!" All she needed to do was keep calling my name like that and I would be her eternal slave. The nature of our bond meant she seemed to understand that, murmuring it over and over as I sucked one nipple hard, then let it pull free before turning to the other. Her hands wrapped around my head, holding me there, forcing me to take swallow after swallow of her, as my hand slid down. Yoga pants were a gift from the gods, hugging my mate's form and highlighting the delicious curves of her legs and buttocks, but also stretching far enough for me to shove my hand down the front.

She was always volcanic hot and wet for us. A small cheer of self-congratulation went up inside my head but only for a second before I slid my fingers along her seam, wetting the fingertips. It made each movement easier, to trace the shape of her as I kept on sucking that nipple in slow pulses, her little cries music to my ears. It was the sound she made when I found her clit that caused the noise inside my head to quieten. I could only listen to her, her pleasure, her mumbled urges for me as my fingers moved faster. To clamp down around that sensitive bud, then flick it faster and faster.

"Asher…"

She began to move restlessly, pulling away, her movements spasmodic, her hands jerky as she tried to reach down between us and undo my jeans. I didn't need her little hand around me, stroking my cock. Fuck, I was ready to unload just watching her. Hands freezing, eyes going wide as the realisation hit. That she was going to come, right before my finger slid inside her.

Not enough, I knew that in the way she frantically clamped down around me, seeking more, seeking something harder, faster, thicker, deeper. I pumped her through this little orgasm, watching her ride the wave like an expert surfer. But there were more, bigger ones to come, and when she shuddered through the last wave, I went to push her harder, only for her to slip free of me. The chair wheels squeaked as she pushed me back, falling to the floor between my knees.

"Imogen…"

I didn't like to see her like that. If anyone was going to kneel, it was me. At her feet as I kissed every damn toe for existing, for bringing the endless ache in my heart to an end. Instead, she ignored my sound of protest, looking up at me with mischief in her eyes, right as she slid my zip down.

"Commando…"

She said that with an air of reverence but was extra careful as she fished my length out. Before I could say a word in protest, she licked a stripe up the centre of my cock.

Wet, hot tongue, it was too close to the feel of her cunt, and that's what had my hips bucking upwards. I wanted inside her. Deep as I could go, locked down forever and never parted. That was an impossibility, but it didn't stop me from wanting it.

"Imogen…" My hand went to the back of her head, ready to pull her free so I could spread her out on my desk and eat her whole. Her mouth sucked the head of my cock in. "Fuck!"

"Mmm…" That little muffled sound of second-hand pleasure undid me. I was helpless in the moments before her hand wrapped around the base of my cock, but now I was completely her slave. Let her lick me, suck me deeper and deeper, but the sound of her choked off gags had my eyes flicking open. I saw the tears in her eyes and went to pull her free. She wouldn't relent, the dark look she shot me making clear what she intended to do: test her limits pleasing me.

"Baby…" I could barely choke out the word, the need to unload down her throat riding me so fucking hard. "You're making me feel so good. Not so deep. Fuck, yes, there." She pulled back, her tongue swirling, then pressing hard on the sensitive spot just under the head, making my hands slam down on the arms of my chair and dig in. I shifted slightly in response to each suck. "Just like that, baby." My hands went to her hair, stroking it back from her face so I could see each moment my dick disappeared into her mouth. "Fuck, I… Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

I needed to come, but I wouldn't—not in her mouth—and I told her that.

"Not like this. Imogen, not like this." Her eyes flicked upwards to meet mine again. "In you. Need that pretty little pussy full of my cum and you coming around it, sucking it out of me."

Her mouth pulled free with a pop, her lips red and swollen as she smiled up at me.

"Promise?"

I had her yoga pants lying in a puddle on the floor in one second, the keyboard shoved aside in the next as I sat her down on my desk, right as I rose.

"Always," I told her as I notched my dick at her entrance, then thrust in before she could respond. "Always, my mate."