6. Nicolai

Chapter 6

Nicolai

-White Horse–Chris Stapleton-

It’s been three weeks since we put Grace’s grandmother in the ground. As much as I expected Grace to bond quickly with Lorcan, it hasn’t happened yet. She’s not reluctant to bond with him. She simply understands that he has affairs to handle back in Ireland before he can fully integrate with us. Last week, when we took Lorcan and his brother Shamus to the airport, Grace surprised me by being fine with him leaving. But I wouldn’t allow my potential mate out of my line of sight for long.

Now, my mate sits in the field, bathed in the warm sunlight, watching our daughters as they playfully hunt mice in the tall grass. It’s their first hunting ground, a place to test their muscles and hone their skills. Suddenly, Grace shifts and joins in the romp with the pups, her barks floating through the air like music. Then, out of nowhere, a fawn comes bolting out of the field.

Grace moves with lightning speed, biting at the hind legs of the fawn and severing a tendon. Our daughters, Nina, and Ashina, rush out of the grass, eager to join in the hunt. Nina bites the hobbled hind leg, while Ashina goes for the throat, her jaws closing around it with precision. Together, they subdue the fawn, ending its life quickly and efficiently.

A swell of immense pride floods through me as I watch our children instinctively following their nature. Grace shifts back and gets dressed, her laughter fading into a contented smile. “They did good,” she breathes, her eyes shining with pride.

“Good call on snapping the one tendon,” I reply, unable to contain my pride as I look at her.

Grace shrugs her shoulders, her attention still focused on the pups feeding. “They need to learn to kill effectively. Next time, I won’t sever it completely,” she says, arching an eyebrow at me.

“Sounds good,” I agree, noting with satisfaction how Grace is seamlessly tapping into the Luna lessons that have been passed down to her. Together, we’re shaping the future of our packs, one lesson at a time.

“Any word when Lorcan will return?” I change the subject, hoping to gauge where Grace is in processing her feelings.

“He’s applying for the proper visas as well as the path to citizenship,” she responds, her voice distant as her gaze drifts upwards, studying the shifting patterns of the clouds.

Suddenly, Barrett emerges, seemingly out of nowhere, the pups trailing behind him obediently. He shoots me a playful wink before disappearing into the underbrush.

Noticing that Grace is still lost in thought, I move up behind her, drawn to her like a magnet. Leaning in, I press a tender kiss to her shoulder, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my lips. My senses heighten as I inhale her scent, the familiar fragrance of wildflowers and pine mingling with the earthy aroma of the forest.

As my lips trail along her neck, I feel a deep rumble building in my chest, my wolf stirring within me. Grace melts into my embrace, her body yielding to my touch. With a gentle nip at her shoulder, just above my mating mark, I elicit a soft whine from her lips. She arches her back, pressing herself against me. I feel a surge of desire coursing through me as she grinds against my groin. The sensation sending shivers down my spine.

My hands instinctively reach down, sliding over her hips and under her shirt, eager to feel the warmth of her skin against mine. As my fingers make contact, I’m enveloped in a sensation of heat, her flesh as hot and smooth as silk beneath my touch. It’s a rare moment for us to be alone like this, without the intrusion of her other mates. Every time we try to steal a moment together, it feels like someone inevitably crashes the party, disrupting our intimacy.

With one hand cupping her breast, I revel in the softness and the weight of it in my palm. Meanwhile, my other hand ventures downward, slipping under the elastic of her leggings. As my fingertips dance over the top of her mound, I’m met with a rush of desire, my senses heightening with each caress.

Pressing myself against her, I grind my shaft between her ass cheeks. The friction sending shivers down my spine. I can feel my cock leaking with anticipation, my balls beginning to pull up in a primal urge for release. But it’s not just physical desire driving me; it’s a deep, visceral need for her. She’s more than just my mate; she’s the air that I breathe, the very essence of my existence. Grace is my everything, the air in my lungs and the blood in my veins, and in this moment, she’s all I can think about.

Grace pulls away suddenly, her movements urgent and determined, and turns to face me. The air crackles with anticipation as she makes short work of my pants and shirt, the sound of fabric rustling filling the room. I can hear the distinct thud as my pants hit the ground, followed by the quick rip of her shirt over her head, the fabric sliding off her skin effortlessly. Her bra soon joins the pile, discarded in a rush of desire.

As she works on removing her leggings, the air feels charged with electricity, every movement heightened by the anticipation of what’s to come. I watch, feeling my pulse quicken, a primal rhythm echoing in my veins. With each passing second, the tension builds, tangible and electric.

Grace tilts her head to the side, a silent invitation, before dropping to her hands and knees. The sight of her, vulnerable yet powerful, sends a surge of desire coursing through me. Moving closer, I reach out, my hand tracing the curve of her hips and the soft swell of her ass. The heat between us is palpable, a magnetic pull drawing us together.

And then, in a moment of pure surrender, Grace yields to me completely. She drops into full submission, her trust in me a heady intoxication that ignites every nerve ending in my body. With a primal growl, I give in to the urge coursing through me, losing myself in the raw, unbridled passion of the moment.

I mount my mate swiftly, the urgency of our connection palpable in every movement. As I slip my length deep into her welcoming depths, a rush of sensations overwhelms me. The heat of her body engulfs mine, igniting a fire that courses through my veins. Each slow, deep thrust sends shivers of pleasure rippling across my skin, her essence enveloping me completely.

Her warmth seeps into my soul, filling the empty spaces with a sense of completeness I’ve never known. The submission in her gaze fuels a primal pride within my wolf, his howl echoing in the depths of my being. We move together with purpose, our bodies a symphony of desire, reveling in the deep connection that binds us.

With each stroke, our bond strengthens, weaving us closer together in an unbreakable tether. I can feel her presence deep in my soul, her essence intertwining with mine in a dance as old as time itself. Even our wolves seem to mirror our movements, their primal instincts aligning with our human desires.

Our bond, once the weakest among her five mates, has blossomed and flourished with each passing moment we spend together. With Lorcan’s arrival into our family, Grace made the decision for us to dedicate more time to nurturing our connection. And so, we’ve explored every corner of both alpha houses, our passion igniting the very air around us. From my desk at work to the secluded depths of the woods, we’ve claimed every space as our own, our love leaving its mark on every surface.

The acceptance of the other mates has allowed me to draw closer to her, to immerse myself in her presence in ways I never thought possible. And in doing so, we’ve healed the fractures in our bond, forging a connection that transcends the physical, binding us together in a love that knows no bounds.

My senses are overwhelmed as I drive my knot deep into my mate. Every nerve in my body is alive with sensation, from the tightness in my balls to the pulsing release of my seed into her. I’m locked in place, lost in the primal ecstasy of our connection, feeling the rhythm of our bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

As I curl myself over her, my mouth finds her mate mark, and I taste the salty sweetness of her skin, my lips imprinting my claim on her. We writhe and jerk together, chasing the euphoria that washes over us in waves, leaving us breathless and spent.

We fall to the side, tangled in a mess of limbs, and I wrap my arms around her, holding her close to me. “I love you,” I whisper against her ear, the words carrying the weight of all my emotions.

I feel her response in the way her body relaxes against mine, her breath coming in ragged pants as she nuzzles into my hand. “I love you too,” Grace pants out, her voice filled with warmth and affection.

“Feel better?” I ask softly, my lips trailing playful nips along her neck, savoring the taste of her skin against my tongue.

“Much,” she replies, her hands running soothingly over my arms, sending shivers down my spine.

Sensing my knot slowly deflating, I gently let it slip free from her body, our connection still tingling between us. “What do you say we go home and have some lunch?” I suggest, pressing a kiss to her cheek and rubbing her ribs affectionately, eager to prolong our intimate moment in the quiet sanctuary of the open meadow.

I help Grace stand up, feeling the warmth of her hand in mine as she steadies herself. As I find her clothing, offering it back to her, our playful banter resumes, punctuated by pokes and tickles. It’s our little game, this race to see who can get dressed first. The loser, of course, is stuck with the dinner dishes.

Dressed and still giggling, we walk back to the house hand in hand, the soft crunch of gravel beneath our feet echoing in the quiet evening air. The warmth of Grace’s hand in mine is comforting, a tangible reminder of our renewed bond.

As we approach the house, I decide to share the news weighing on my mind. “I received news that my pack has found the arsonists,” I say, raising an eyebrow as I glance at my mate, searching for her reaction.

“Rogues?” Grace’s voice carries a note of concern, and I shake my head in response.

“No, it was four anarchists from Wolverton. There’s a small faction that’s defected from the main pack. They haven’t aligned with the rogues, but they aren’t aligned with us either,” I explain, watching as Grace’s steps falter. A pang of guilt hits me. She didn’t know about this, and I can see the weight of the news settling on her shoulders. Fuck... I should have prepared her for this.

Grace is frozen in place as she stares at me, her eyes seeming to pulsate with emotion. When she finally speaks, her voice is hollow, detached, as if she’s detached from her own words. “Are they dead?” she asks, her lips forming a firm line.

I can feel the weight of her gaze as she studies me, her eyes moving over my face with a scrutiny that makes me shift uncomfortably. “Yes, they died a horrible slow death, being torn apart by my betas,” I reply, trying to gauge her reaction.

Grace lifts an eyebrow, her expression unreadable, and I feel a pang of unease gnawing at me. Her hand reaches out, gripping my arm gently, and I can sense the conflict raging within her. “Good. Let’s go home,” she says, her voice betraying none of the turmoil I know she must be feeling. But her eyes... her eyes tell a different story.

As we walk, her hand still resting on my arm, I can’t help but notice the tension in her muscles, the stiffness in her stance. Despite her words, she’s not okay, and it’s written all over her, plain as day. Between the recent death of her grandmother and the addition of another mate, her world has been flipped upside down, and she’s struggling to find her footing.

Though I disagree with the idea of pretending everything is alright, for now, if it brings Grace even a shred of peace, I’ll go along with it. We walk in silence, my hand resting lightly on her lower back, a silent gesture of support during her turmoil. But despite the physical contact, I can’t shake the feeling that she’s a world away, her true emotions hidden behind a facade of false composure.