CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

So this was how she’d die. Death by orgasm. What a way to fucking go.

Seriously, Quinley wasn’t sure she’d survive the insanely electric pleasure building in her belly. It was his fault. He’d repeatedly pushed her to the edge but then backed off, knowing it would make her eventual implosion so much more intense.

She’d been rinsing bits of toothpaste from her brush when a naked Isaiah came up behind her. He’d roughly kicked her legs apart, startling her into dropping the objects she’d held, and shoved up her long tee. After treating her to a minimal amount of finger-fucking, he’d plopped her butt on the vanity, gripped her hips tight, and then crammed every inch of his cock in her pussy—with not one word spoken.

And now he was powering into her, grunting against her neck. There was no sensual finesse, no caressing or sweet words. This was fucking. Savage and basic and aggressive.

Her cat reveled in it.

Quinley clung to him with every limb, her eyes closed in pure euphoria. Her body was in full-swing—chemicals racing, hormones dancing, nerve-endings blazing.

Orgasm approaching.

A drawn-out snarl vibrated against her neck. “Hold it,” he ordered, sheer assertiveness buried in his words.

She’d just known he was going to say that. “Not fair,” she whined, opening her eyes. “Don’t wanna.”

Slowing his pace, he lifted his head to look down at her, the sheen of such need in his gaze. “I didn’t ask you what you want, did I?”

“Dick.”

“Hold. It.”

Whimpering, she bit down on her bottom lip.

“That’s it,” Isaiah praised, sensing her beat back her release. “My perfect little fuck doll.”

He went back to plowing into her, his grip on her thighs bruising. Damn if he wasn’t addicted to this woman. Her taste, heat, scent, softness—it all called to him. Everything about her did.

His cat pushed at him to fuck her harder, knowing she could take it. Isaiah upped his pace, wishing he’d whipped off her tee so he had a view of all the brands he’d left on her. He had a map of her body memorized in his head; knew the location of every brand, dip, freckle, hollow, scar.

There was no part of her he hadn’t touched or tasted. No part he hadn’t made his.

Echoes of everything she was feeling—bliss, frustration, a winding tension—skittered along their bond. It all fed the coiling force inside him that pushed him toward his own release.

“Let me come,” she rasped, tipping her head to the side, offering him her throat; anticipating what he’d ask of her.

Isaiah latched onto her neck with his teeth and jutted his hips harder and faster, slamming deep each time. He slipped a hand between them, rolled her clit with his thumb, and rumbled, “Come.”

He felt an echo of a white-hot onslaught of pleasure raid her body, surging and crackling through her. The sensation gripped his balls and triggered his own release, making him explode inside her with a hoarse groan.

She sagged forward, resting her cheek on his shoulder, her breaths coming as fast and heavy as his. “Well. Though my butt isn’t keen on this cold marble, I thoroughly enjoyed that.”

A smile warmed his chest. “You said it was sore after last night,” he pointed out, going for innocent.

She raised her head, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, so you were just benevolently attempting to soothe it?” A mocking question.

He shrugged. “I couldn’t just ignore that your ass is tender, could I?”

She snorted. “You could stop making it tender.”

“Why would I do that when you like having my cock up there just as much as I do?”

“It was just a thought.”

“It’ll have to remain a thought.” Nuzzling her temple, he curled his arms around her. “Now kiss me.”

She delved her fingers into the back of his hair as she touched her mouth to his. The kiss was soft and lazy and drugging. “Don’t rev my engines again—we have a full schedule today, and we’re already a little behind since we slept in.”

“Are you looking forward to the party later?”

“I am.” She doodled a circle over the claiming brand on his shoulder. “I’m also looking forward to seeing Raya and Lori. And the rest of my family, obviously. But I need to know my sis and her mate are okay after what happened.”

Her whole family were coming to visit in an hour or so—something she and Raya had arranged last night. As he’d predicted, neither Quinley’s sister nor her mate whatsoever blamed anyone for their kidnapping other than the Vercetti Pack. In fact, her relatives considered the Olympus shifters “their heroes.”

“I haven’t told them yet that we’re fully imprinted,” she said. “I want them to have the surprise.”

He personally didn’t think they’d be all that surprised. None of his pride mates were—and yes, they’d all heard about it. They’d apparently all anticipated that the imprinting process would happen fast for him and Quinley. His parents were on cloud nine.

He brushed a kiss over her forehead. “I like feeling you through our bond. I particularly like feeling you come.”

She hummed, linking her fingers behind his nape. “It sure does enhance the sex stuff. But when I’m having a casual conversation with your mom and suddenly feel a buzz of arousal spurt down our bond? That gets awkward. She wants to know why I look all flushed. And you oh so innocently sit there acting clueless.”

He felt his lips tip up. “Would you prefer I tell my mother I’m imagining doing seriously wicked things to you?”

“No, it would just be best if you didn’t have such imaginings unless we’re alone.”

“I’m not that well-behaved.”

“Don’t I know it,” she mumbled.

His softening cock slipping out of her, he kissed her little pout. “Told you we wouldn’t be one of those couples who has to wait a long time before they fully imprint.”

One unimpressed brow inched up. “You’re really going to gloat?”

“Yup.”

“No one likes a smug bastard.”

“I got a lot of reasons to be smug, baby,” he said, drifting his fingers through her hair. “It’s been that way since I first found you.”

Her face went all soft. “Dude, you can be super sweet sometimes.”

“Seems stupid for me to hold in the words when you know how I feel.” Their bond was as emotionally invasive as expected, but he found he didn’t mind. It meant she’d never have any doubts about what he felt for her, and it meant he could keep a mental eye on her emotional wellbeing.

She planted a kiss on his throat. “Me and my cat are pretty smug, too, if I’m honest. We can’t imagine that anyone would have suited us better than you.”

His father had once said the same of his mother, but Isaiah hadn’t seen how that could really be possible. Now, he got it. Strong connections could form with or without a true mate bond. It was about the couple, about how they fit, not if they were predestined.

Quinley felt like she was meant for him. What he felt for her was just that deep and true, and he couldn’t envision himself ever feeling that way for anybody else. She meant more to him than he’d ever imagined that anyone could.

“Sorry to ruin the moment, but I’m about to start leaking, so …”

He chuckled. “Then I’d better get you in the shower and clean you up, hadn’t I?”

“It would be best.”

He peeled off her tee, scooped her up, and carried her into the shower stall.

“Are you going to sulk all night?” Quinley asked, raising her voice to be heard over the chatter bouncing off the Tavern walls.

Slanting her a frown, Alex asserted, “I’m not sulking.”

“Brooding, then.”

“I’m not brooding either.”

“Of course you’re not,” Bree cut in from beside his chair, gently patting his shoulder. She sliced her gaze to Quinley and mouthed, “He’s totally brooding.”

“I heard that, Bree,” he said without even looking at her.

Quinley silently chuckled. She hadn’t thought he was serious about having another hamburger eat-off at the New Year’s Eve party, but at one point the music had cut off and Valentina had bid the contestants to come forward.

Quinley had merely shrugged at Isaiah and then made her way to the chairs that were placed on the stage, along with a table. Patty towers identical to those that she and Alex had eaten last week were brought out and, yeah, she’d won again. Her cat didn’t understand why he was so surprised. Or why Valentina—once more “speechless” but not really—had strode off.

Isaiah took her hand and gently pulled her out of the chair. “Well done. Not that I doubted you for a second.”

Alex rose to his feet. “We’re having another rematch,” he told her.

She pursed her lips, lifting her shoulders. “Hey, if you want me to keep publicly humiliating you, that’s fine. I don’t mind. But I would have thought you’d be—”

“How could you, Aleksandr?” demanded Isaak, clambering onto the stage with his brothers.

Alex sighed. “Don’t.”

“Wolverines never pretend to lose,” Isaak clipped. “Never. Always we win.”

Quinley felt her brow crease, her cat bristling. “Hey, I won fair and square.”

Sergei gave her a pitying look. “That is what Aleksandr wants you to think. Not true. He lost on purpose.”

Alex shook his head. “Much as I hate to say it, she won.”

Dimitri glowered at him. “Why you lie to protect her feelings? It is good for people to lose sometimes. Builds character.”

“If she cries, she cries,” said Isaak dispassionately. “But she will learn from mistakes. You do her no favors by letting her win.”

Dimitri gave a hard nod. “People need to learn to lose.”

Quinley offered the three brothers a meaningful look as she said, “Yes, they do.”

Isaak spoke to Alex as he flapped a hand her way. “See, even she agrees.”

So that comment had seemingly gone right over their heads.

Sidling up to Bree with baby Aurora in his arms, James rolled his eyes. “Will you just accept that she won? It isn’t a huge deal.”

Isaak tensed, his brows flicking together. “No one asked for your opinion, dumb cat. Give us our Galina. You should not be touching her.”

James held the infant tighter. “Stop calling her that. Instead of trying to hog Aurora, why don’t you instead go gatecrash someone else’s party?”

Dimitri bristled. “We were invited.”

James arched a dubious brow. “Yeah? By who?”

Dimitri hesitated. “I owe you no explanations.”

“Ignore him,” Sergei advised his brother. “He is not worth energy. Why our Valentina does not see that I have no idea.”

“You know,” began James, glancing at all three wolverines, “most shifters in your shoes would have just accepted by now that I’m not going anywhere. They wouldn’t persist in being assholes, hoping it would scare me off. They wouldn’t keep trying to talk their sister into leaving me. They would also stop making attempts on my life and just—”

“So much unnecessary information.” Isaak sniffed. “I do not care.”

Amused despite herself, Quinley turned to Isaiah, stepping into his arms. “Aren’t you glad my family likes you?”

Isaiah hummed and curved his arms around her. “I am. Much as I’m glad my parents adore you the way they do. You’re easy to love, so it’s not surprising.” He gave her a quick kiss and then guided her off the stage as their pride mates began to move the chairs and table.

The Tavern was as packed tonight as it had been for their own party. Similar decorations were hung around. Plenty of food was spread over the buffet table. Drinks were flowing at the free bar. There was singing and laughter and dancing and lots of photos being snapped.

It wasn’t really just the coming of the new year that the pride was celebrating, it was the demise of the Vercetti Pack. News of it had spread far and wide. The Olympus Pride was now incredibly popular among shifters everywhere, so the Alphas had received a lot of gift food-baskets.

Quinley had charitably offered to take some off their hands, of course—as had the wolverines, including the three uncles.

Their pride’s newly retired police officer, River, had managed to uncover exactly which anti-shifter extremist owned the compound that the Vercetti Pack had used to hide. Quinley wouldn’t be surprised if the wolverines paid said extremist a visit.

“I’d ask if you need to vomit those patties back up,” began Isaiah, “but that would be a silly question, wouldn’t it?”

“Of course.”

His lips twitched. “You having fun?”

Music started to blast, and then one of their pride members was singing on the karaoke completely out of tune.

“Well, I was.”

Isaiah guided her away from the speaker but, yeah, there was no sparing her the horror. His cat pricked his ears, backing away from the noise.

Their mate smiled, saying, “I love knowing my family will be here next year.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “And every year after that.”

When she’d earlier invited them to attend the party, they hadn’t turned it down for a bad reason. It was that they wanted to attend what they planned to be their last party on Crimson Pride territory. It would also serve as a goodbye-event for them.

They hadn’t mentioned it to Quinley until this morning but, now certain she wouldn’t be leaving the Olympus Pride, they’d enquired about a transfer. They wanted to live near their baby sister, and they liked how differently those without status were treated here.

Though Havana and Tate had told them they’d be welcome to join, Adaline and Raya had held off on telling Quinley, meaning for it to be a sort of “Happy New Year!” surprise. But Lori had accidentally spilled the beans. Quinley had let out a low squeal of delight on hearing the news.

Isaiah was happy for her, knowing how close she and her sisters were bonded. What had initially made the black-foots hesitate to transfer was that they’d no longer be permitted to work at Blue Harbor. But, as Isaiah had pointed out, there was no reason they couldn’t open their own version of such a beauty salon.

When Quinley mentioned the prospect to Havana a few hours ago, the devil shifter had confirmed that it would be doable. She and Tate had apparently already talked about it, anticipating Quinley would make such a request, and there was a vacant premise near the pride’s coffeehouse that could be turned into a salon.

Isaiah liked that idea, preferring that she wouldn’t have to travel far for work. It would give both him and his cat some peace of mind to know that she’d be surrounded by pride mates. The Vercetti Pack were no longer an issue, but the world of shifters was rarely without danger.

Since he no longer needed to act as her guard, Isaiah had gone back to acting as Tate’s bodyguard as well as an enforcer. Though it wasn’t as hard to be physically apart from her now, he still wasn’t a fan of it. He’d worried at first that his change in hours might upset her, but she’d made it clear that those worries were senseless. Quinley was completely fine with being left to her own devices.

Not that she was left alone. He often returned home to find that she had visitors. Sometimes it was Elle, sometimes it was the unholy trinity, sometimes it was his mother or even Valentina. People just liked to be around Quinley.

Brushing past a cluster of their pride mates, he heard Aspen whine, “Get a room.”

He looked to see Bailey pull back from making out with Deke, who she’d all but melted into.

“A room for what?” the mamba asked Aspen.

The bearcat’s lips thinned. “The rest of us would rather not see you sticking your tongue down Deke’s throat and feeling him up.”

“Then they need not watch,” snarked Bailey.

“I’m just asking that you have some sense of decorum.”

“Why? So that I’ll argue with you? Are you bored? Well, now you know how Camden feels every day.”

Deke closed his eyes, muttering something too low to be heard.

Before Aspen could advance on the mamba, Camden stepped between them and said, “We’re not going to do this here and now. It’s New Year’s Eve. The countdown will begin soon. I’d rather you weren’t starting the new year covered in cuts and bruises from an unnecessary fight,” he told Aspen.

Sighing, Deke took his mate’s arm. “Come on, trouble, we’re gonna go stand over there.”

“Why?” asked Bailey, sounding genuinely baffled as she allowed him to lead her away.

Quinley leaned into Isaiah as they kept walking, her mouth quirking. “Raya and Lori think Bailey is hilarious. I happen to agree.”

The main reason the two female black-foots adoredthe snake shifter was that she’d effortlessly picked the locks that held them captive—something they’d told Quinley and Isaiah all about when they visited earlier that day.

As expected, Zaire and Nazra had been furious that they weren’t given the chance to be involved after Raya and Lori were kidnapped—something they’d expressed to Tate and Havana by phone. The Olympus Alphas had given the pair some spiel about how it had been necessary to move quickly and that they hadn’t been so sure Nazra and Zaire would care all that much about two unranked members anyway. The Crimson Alphas eventually dropped it.

Zaire had apparently quizzed Raya later, though, wanting every detail. Isaiah had not been happy on hearing that the male black-foot made a point of asking if Quinley was okay and if she’d been touched by the pack at all. Just the same, his cat didn’t like that the Alpha still showed an interest in Quinley.

Neither Raya nor Lori had informed him of what happened to her, claiming ignorance and suggesting he contact Tate if he had questions.

Zaire hadn’t.

Nor had he returned to the cul-de-sac or showed at any of the pride’s stores, which was good. Considering the Crimson Alpha pair were still together, they were presumably working on their issues. Isaiah couldn’t give a shit so long as they kept their distance from his mate.

“How cute is that?” said Quinley, gesturing at his parents, who were dancing all slow and graceful despite that the song playing was upbeat. “They’re so adorable.”

Isaiah squeezed her hip. “Just so you know, I’m not good at slow dancing.”

“Oh, thank God.”

“What?”

“You’re just so amazing at everything that I was beginning to get a complex. It’s good to know there’s at least one thing you’re not great at.”

“Glad it pleases you,” he deadpanned.

Quinley couldn’t help but chuckle. She wasn’t joking, though. He was just so competent and capable it was kind of intimidating.

Two enforcers materialized and were quick to congratulate them on fully imprinting. It had happened several times throughout the night. She didn’t bother playing down just how delighted she was.

Catching something in her peripheral vision, she looked to see Elle huddled in a corner. As Isaiah and the enforcers fell into conversation, she detached herself from him—laughing at his frown of complaint—and crossed to the redhead. “Are you … are you hiding?”

“No,” Elle denied, folding her arms.

“Oh. Okay.”

The redhead exhaled heavily, clearly annoyed. “You’re not being pushy.”

Quinley stifled a smile. “Elle, you’re definitely hiding. Tell me why.”

“All right, all right—don’t get hysterical. I’m avoiding Joaquin. I mean, not completely. Just taking breaks here and there.”

Ah. “It can’t be nice that he expects you two to carry on like you never crossed the friends line.”

“That’s exactly it,” said Elle. “We promised we wouldn’t let the fling ruin our friendship—I’m all for that. But I don’t know how to act like it never happened. Especially when I want things he doesn’t.”

“Have you suggested maybe having a little space?”

“No, because it’d be like passive-aggressively striking out at him for what he doesn’t feel for me.”

Quinley hadn’t thought of it that way before. “Ah, yeah, I get that. It wouldn’t be unreasonable of you to want a little distance, though. I mean, it’s not like he doesn’t know that you want more. He’s expecting you to both go on as if that’s not the case. Life isn’t that simple.”

Elle smiled. “I like having you around, Quinley. You have this thing where you say stuff that’s very validating.”

“I’m here for you.” Quinley hugged her tight, sensing she needed it.

Elle growled. “Goddamn submissives.”

This time, Quinley didn’t fight her smile, knowing the redhead secretly lapped up the comfort. “Suck it up and deal.”

“Fine. But I’m allowing this under protest.”

“Noted.”

Isaiah joined them, his brow pinched. “Everything okay?”

“She’s forcing a hug on me,” Elle complained. “I don’t know how to detach her from me without hurting her feelings.”

His mouth tilted up. “I see.”

Quinley lifted her head from Elle’s shoulder as she noticed something. “Joaquin’s spotted you, and he’s on his way over. Not sure if you wanna—”

That fast, Elle was gone. Like magic.

Isaiah sighed. “She’s still struggling with the Joaquin thing, I’m guessing.”

“It has to be hard for someone you have non-platonic feelings for to want to spend a lot of time with you ‘as friends.’ If you were angling for that, well, I’d want you in my life. But I’d also want to punch you in the throat on occasion if you weren’t giving me space when I needed it.”

Draping an arm around her shoulders, Isaiah drew her out of the corner. “You’re my best friend for sure, but what I feel for you is far from platonic.”

Aw, he said the best stuff. “If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be this happy in just four weeks’ time, well, I wouldn’t have believed them. Which is sad. But here we are.”

“It seems crazy that I didn’t know you existed last month. It feels like you’ve been around for years. You’re so much a part of me that it’s weird to think of when we weren’t bonded.”

She knew exactly what he meant, because she felt the same way. Part of it was the imprint bond, but part of it was just how seamlessly they’d clicked. Sometimes, you could meet a person, slot into their lives, and feel like you’d known them for years. It had been that way with them. “When are we having our mating ceremony?”

“Whenever you want, providing I don’t have to wait long.”

“Maybe next weekend, then.”

“Works for me.”

They halted as Aspen stumbled their way with Bailey on her back. The mamba had her arm curved around the bearcat’s throat, trying to choke her out.

Deke swore long and hard as he and Camden caught up with them. “What is wrong with you two?”

“She needs sleep, that’s all,” Bailey told him. “Say ’night, ’night, Aspen.”

Deke plucked the mamba from Aspen’s back.

Camden hauled his coughing mate to him. “I turn my back for thirty fucking seconds …”

“Let’s just keep them apart for the rest of the night,” Deke proposed.

“The rest of their lives sounds better.” Camden guided Aspen away, rolling his eyes as she began hurling insults at Bailey—who only laughed.

Right then, the music cut off and the DJ announced that the countdown would start very soon.

“I don’t know how Deke and Camden cope with those two,” said Isaiah, “I really don’t.”

“They’re a riot,” said Quinley.

“Yeah, but I could never have someone like that as a mate. Someone who I’d worry would destroy the world if I didn’t have my eye on them twenty-four/seven.”

“You need someone more low-maintenance,” she agreed.

He turned her to face him. “I need you.”

She went pliant against him. “You have me.”

“I know. And I’m never letting you go.”

“I’ll never want you to.” She planted her hands on his chest. “And if you try getting rid of me, you’re gonna find all sorts of wonderful delights on your pillow every day.” She wasn’t joking. He’d pay for it until the end of time.

“Won’t happen,” he stated. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She smiled. “I can think of worse things.”

The DJ cleared his throat. “And now it starts. Ten, nine, eight, seven …”

Isaiah pulled her closer and brushed his nose against hers. “Love you, Quin.”

“Love you, too. God, we can be so soppy, can’t we?”

“I can live with that.”

“Same here.”

Cheers rang out and party poppers went off.

His mouth curved. “Happy New Year, baby.”

She kissed him hard. “Happy New Year.”