Authors: Lora Leigh
“Baby.” He rose over her as he filled her, his arms catching his weight, his lips going to her neck.
Sensation tore through her as his lips found the mating mark, caressed it. The sensitivity there was almost too much to bear. He laved it with his tongue, sucked at it and slowly began thrusting, fucking inside her rear with deep, slow thrusts.
She hated slow. She bunched the blankets in her fists and screamed out at the need.
“Faster,” she cried out. “Harder.”
She needed faster and harder. Oh God, she needed to come. She was going to come, if he would just
move.
“Anya, baby.” He kissed the mark as she stared back at his tightly clenched expression. “God.
I’m trying here. Stay still, sweetheart.”
Stay still? Was he kidding?
Her hips writhed beneath him. It was agony, it was pleasure. It was so many sensations she wasn’t certain she would survive it.
“Now, dammit,” she cried. “Please, Del-Rey. Now. All of you, now.”
He pulled back. He meant to go slow. Del-Rey commanded himself to go slow. Slow and easy.
But she was killing him. Clenching on him.
He clamped his lips on the mark, licked and sucked at it as he began to move. He could feel the spurts of pre-cum, the mating fluid that normally eased her snug, hot little pussy but was now spilling into her rear, easing her there. She was burning tight around his dick, milking him, destroying him. One hand gripped her hip, the other found her hand.
Holding on to her, he fucked her. Deep, powerful thrusts that sent an agony of pleasure sizzling up his spine. He wouldn’t last long. He was going to take her until she found her release. Only until then. He wasn’t going to find his own release here. The swelling mating knot was thick, hard. He wasn’t going to hurt her. Never again. His mate would never hurt again.
He worked inside her, fighting to push her over the edge as he teetered on it himself. His hips thrust, driving his cock inside the snug channel, feeling her tighten, her throaty cries growing deeper. She was clenching, convulsing; she was screaming in orgasm, tightening on him as he fought to draw back.
Too close. Too close.
“Ah fuck!”
His teeth pierced her neck. He slammed in hard and felt his cum spilling, that additional swelling locking him inside her, spreading her farther until he swore he filled not just her rear, but that tight little pussy as well.
Anya lost awareness. She felt him spurting inside her, her release catching her off guard. She felt him swell, lock into her, and amazingly, incredibly, she felt that swelling press against the thin tissue between her rear and her vagina. She felt stuffed with him. Filled from one end to the other as another explosion tore through her, shattering her mind as every nerve ending in her body pulsed in response.
She tried to scream his name, but she could only manage strangled cries. Her fingers locked with his, her teeth bit into his forearm, and another explosion rocked her.
She was lost within this pleasure, lost where she needed to be, surrounded by him, held and anchored by him as she flew, free as the wind, and shattered into an exhausted heap beneath him.
“My love,” he whispered.
“Hm. My love.” She kissed his arm, turned her head for the gentlest kiss he had ever bestowed upon her and grinned back at him drowsily. “Dare you to do it again later.”
He chuckled roughly. “We’re going to start limiting your dares,” he warned her. “You get your way too often.”
She had dared him to buy the beds and quilts for the new Coyotes who had arrived. They watched her like the sun and the moon set on her. She dared him to find a decent cook that he could tolerate. He ended up with a full kitchen staff. Humans. He would have shuddered at the thought, but they were damned good cooks and he never had to worry about finding his coya stacking the damned dishwasher.
She did nothing more strenuous than carry her PDA or e-pad. The girls made certain of it. If she tried to do more, they called him.
She distracted his thoughts as she stretched beneath him, causing a groan to tear from him at the pleasure in the heat still wrapped around him.
Finally, long minutes later, he eased back.
“I’ll move later,” she murmured. “After I sleep.”
He smiled. She made him smile. She made him warm. She made him happy and made him look forward to each day and the surprises she had in store for him.
Shaking his head, he moved to the bathroom, washed up, then carried a damp cloth and towel to the bedroom. Despite her grumbling, he cleaned his seed from her, kissed a pale buttock, then patted her rear gently before crawling into the bed beside her.
Immediately, she was curling into him. They shifted and tussled for position for long minutes, until finally he was curled around her, her head pillowed on his arm, his cheek against her hair.
Sleep came easily. It came with a sense of security. It came with warmth.
“I love you, Del-Rey,” she whispered sleepily. “With all my soul.”
“I love you, Anya,” he said. “You are my soul.”
EPILOGUE
The bride wore a long gown of white lace and satin with the traditional one hundred pearl buttons running down the back. She looked like a fairy-tale princess as she walked up the rose-strewn aisle.
The groom was dressed in black. It suited him.
The bride’s father, tall, proud, still broad and strong at forty-two, wore black as well, a good contrast to his dark red, nearly auburn hair.
A spring snowstorm couldn’t cancel this ceremony; weather-equipped heli-jets were parked for miles outside Haven, and the underground sports facility at Haven was packed to capacity with Breeds and humans alike who were there to witness the joining of the Coyote alpha, Del-Rey Delgado, and his mate, Anya Kobrin.
Vows were spoken. Those were important. Rings were exchanged. It was said that the groom, or alpha, had had the rings specially made by a master jeweler in Russia. It was said that there was an inscription inside each:
Let the past not be forgotten. Let the lessons not be in vain.
It was the wedding of the year. Journalists from around the world were in attendance, and when it came time for the bride to go to her knees and swear her loyalty to the alpha of the pack she had just married into, the alpha shocked them all.
He went to his knees. His hands clasped hers.
“You proved your loyalty, countless times over. As a child fighting for your friends’ freedom. As a woman fighting for her mate’s heart. As coya fighting for the peace we all dream of. I pledge myself, Alpha Del-Rey Delgado, to my mate, my wife, my coya, Anya Kobrin Delgado. May our future be filled with promise and may your smile always light my way.”
There wasn’t a dry eye in the house, as a reporter, Cassa Hawkins, even checked to be sure. Well, maybe there was one dry eye in the house, besides hers. The large Breed that stood in the shadows across the room. His eyes were, like hers, scanning the crowd, watching, as though he were waiting, hunting.
What, my beautiful Bengal, are you hunting?
Unfortunately, despite her wicked, wicked fantasies, she had a feeling he wasn’t hunting her. Too bad. She heard he was a wild man in bed; she’d never had a wild man in her bed.
She almost snorted at that thought. It had been a long damned time since she had had any man in her bed.
Her attention was drawn back to the ceremony as howls and roars, cheers of goodwill and laughter echoed through the cavernous underground arena.
Del-Rey and Anya had turned, hands clasped, to face the crowd watching them while the priest that officiated over the ceremony pronounced them man and wife.
It really was a beautiful affair.
What made Cassa’s heart clench, though, was when Del-Rey turned his bride back to him, lowered his head and took her lips in a kiss that looked more like a promise.
As Anya Delgado arched in his arms, Cassa’s brows lifted at the small, rounded mound of her tummy as it became visible. Was it possible? Was this mate actually pregnant? She looked closer.
“You don’t want to put that in your little article.”
She jerked, her eyes widening at the voice in her ear. Her head swung to the side. Oddly striped gold and black hair met her cheek. It grew long around his face, silken, tempting to touch. His eyes were green, jungle green and flecked with gold. His scent wrapped around her, spicy and male, and tempted her to lick her lips.
“Meaning?” she drawled as she felt his hand touch her hip, his head move closer until his lips were at her ear.
“The suspicion I see in those pretty gray eyes,” he murmured. “Any additional announcement will come when the time is right. You can be a part of the group allowed into that announcement, or you can be strangely uninvited to that one as well as many others.”
She sighed. Okay, no telling about that intriguing little bulge.
“I want an exclusive,” she demanded. “Someone else will beat me to the punch. You’ll owe me.”
His chuckle stroked over her senses. “You might get more than you bargained for.”
Her lips twitched. “And you might be biting off more than you can chew.”
The newly wedded couple turned, clasped hands, but stared into each other’s eyes. Black eyes met perfect blue, and Del-Rey knew that in this woman he had found peace.
Now, if only peace could be assured in the world they were fighting to belong within.
Turn the page for an exclusive look at
the next title in the Feline Breeds series
by Lora Leigh
BENGAL’S HEART
Coming soon from Berkley Sensation!
WOLF MOUNTAIN , COLORADO WOLF BREED BASE, HAVEN
Cassa Hawkins slipped silently through the shadows of Haven as she tried to ignore the misty rain falling and her own feelings of anticipation. She felt like a ghost, like a shadow, unseen, unheard. It was a heady sensation as she slipped past Breed after Breed, undetected.
The chill night air wrapped around her and penetrated the black clothing she wore. Even the snug black cap that covered her hair did little to keep out the cold or the dampness. It added to the thrill, to the sense of danger. She was insane, creeping around like this, and she knew it. She couldn’t get far. It wasn’t possible that a drug had actually been created that could fool the Breed senses and allow her to sneak past the sentries posted throughout Haven.
Someone was playing with her, allowing her to get only so far. That was the only explanation for the distance she had gained between the cabin where she was staying and the main offices of the compound without being caught. The Breed guards had an incredible sense of smell. They were chosen for their positions simply because they were impossible to pass.
It wasn’t possible that such a drug could have been created—was it?
According the anonymous emails she had received and the small bottle of round white pills that had arrived at her apartment the week before, it was definitely possible. And she had been crazy enough tonight to actually take one. To slip it onto her tongue, to allow it to dissolve and enter her system before she left her cabin.
Her own recklessness had concerned her, but only for a moment. As many of her fellow reporters knew, Cassa had often been known to dare death. It was one of her faults, many said. She considered it one of her strengths. After all, her days were numbered and she knew it. She may as well get away with as much as possible until the day of reckoning arrived.
In this case, intuition had spurred her on though. The pictures of bloody bodies, the emails that had warned her that a rogue Breed was taking vengeance for some unknown crimes, and the pills that arrived with a message stating that the past always returned and wouldn’t she like to know the truth before it knocked on her door had pushed her into this choice.
The past was always hovering at her shoulder and now she had a feeling that someone might possibly know the secret she had fought to hide for so long.
The truth. The truth was, Cassa had spilled blood herself. The truth was, once her secrets were revealed, she would die. The Breeds would never allow her to live once they knew the truth.
She slipped past yet another Breed guard. Mordecai. One of their best trackers, rumored to be one of their most merciless Coyote Breeds. On silent feet she moved slowly through the shadows, along the wet ground, heart racing, mouth dry until she was a safe distance from him.
The chilly winter air gave no hint that spring was just around the corner. The cold penetrated flesh and bone, but nothing could still the excitement racing through her now. It was working.
They hadn’t scented her; they hadn’t
scented
her.
God, this couldn’t be possible.
Pressing her back tight to the thick trunk of a pine, she stared up at the moonless sky and whispered a silent prayer that at least one of the Breeds patrolling the area would scent her.
A drug like this could be deadly, just as her source had warned her it was.
Pushing away from the tree, Cassa skirted around several maples bare of leaves and dripping a chilly rain as she slid through the night.
There was a whisper of voices ahead, the sound of soft footfalls coming nearer. Ducking behind the evergreen shrubs that grew around an enclosed picnic area, she waited for them to pass.
“Are you certain of your information?” Jonas Wyatt’s voice came through the night clearly as the pair grew closer.
“Five dead, Jonas, that’s hard to mistake. Each one was rumored to be part of a twelve man hunting party that came together several times a year to hunt down escaped Breeds. Each one was killed in the same manner, using the same pattern. There’s no mistake.”
The voice that answered had Cassa’s heart tripping, then speeding up in awareness. She fought back the response, bit her lip and prayed that little miracle pill would cover the scent of arousal as well.
Cabal St. Laurents had a voice that made women want to melt to the floor in a puddle of orgasmic bliss. It rasped over the senses with a velvet cadence Cassa had never been able to ignore.
“Hell.” Jonas paused, no more than four feet from where she crouched.