Mated for Keeps Boxed Set: a BBW Werewolf Shifter Romance (The Lost River Pack) (18 page)

He didn’t challenge to submission.

Fear clamped around her heart. “Wait—”

Nico’s hand tightened in hers. “I meet your challenge.”

At her right, Jackson shifted, his fingers equally as tight around her right hand. “Nico—”

“So be it,” Victor barked, cutting Jackson off entirely. “My second’ll meet with yours. Let’s fucking get this over with.”

The sound in Jackson’s chest barely qualified as human, but she could feel how much effort it took him to lock it down.

Victor was already turning and following his retinue back across the clearing. He didn’t bother looking back at Natalie, or even at the second he’d referenced.

She tried to take a step forward, to force Victor to look at her, but Nico tugged her hard against him, forced her to fall into his chest. He caught her face in both hands, held her gaze still when she tried wildly to look back at the retreating pack. “Stop,” Nico said, low and soft. “Natalie, look at me.”

Fear threatened to swallow her—swamp her whole world. “You can’t,” she gasped. “Nico, please, you can’t fight him, I’ve seen—”

His thumbs pressed over her mouth, sealing her protests.

At her back, Jackson’s hand curved over her nape. Held her still for Nico to hold.

She shook violently. Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t… She couldn’t lose them. Not now. Not to
this.

Not for her.

Nico pressed his lips to her forehead. “Enough.” A gentle order. “I stand for pack, Natalie. That means you.”

“That means all of us,” Damien added. He crouched on the other side of Ben, watching the other pack vanish back the way they’d come. “It’s what our alpha does.”

“It’s what we need him to do,” Alek added in quieter certainty.

Jackson and Ben said nothing, but she was very much aware of them in silent support. This was pack business.

This was what it was to be werewolves.

Everything rested on a single challenge.

If she cried, if she protested too much, it would be the same as telling Nico she didn’t think he could hack it.

She had to believe.

But one wrong move, one bad call,
one
mistake, and it would cost her—cost them—
everything
.

“
Y
ou
know
by rights I should be out there,” Jackson snarled, punching his palm with savage fury. The wind wailed around the cabin, flapping Jackson’s shirt and pushing Nico’s hair back into wild tangles.

Both wolves ignored it, and the others flanking them. Nico caught a fist full of the fabric at Jackson’s shoulder and hauled him firmly upright. “Calm down,” he ordered flatly. Gone was the soft spoken man, and in its place, an alpha laid down an order Jackson couldn’t ignore.

Jackson’s wolf all but seethed in his skin. He locked his jaw, fists tight at his sides as Nico stared into his eyes with icy calm.

Once he was sure Jackson wouldn’t lash out again, once Jackson locked the beast—his anger—down, Nico’s grip loosened. “You’re the closest to mating her, but you’re not mated yet. I’ll answer the challenge for all of us.”

“But—”

“Jackson,” Ben rumbled.

Nico shot him a quelling look before turning his grip into a bolstering clap on Jackson’s shoulder. “I’ll be damned,” he said simply, “if I leave her in any hands but yours.”

It meant more than Jackson knew was being said. So much more than trust.

“She would want to see this, though,” Damien volunteered.

“Maybe.” Nico squeezed Jackson’s shoulder, then turned to gesture at the others. “But that doesn’t mean she should.”

Alek nodded at this, his expression twisted into a half-frown.

As Ben passed, his big hand covered Jackson’s other shoulder in brief sympathy. “We’ll stand with him. You stand with her.”

As if any of them would have it any other way.

Jackson watched them fade into the forest edge with a knot the size of a boulder in his gut. It offended him on every level, tore at his every instinct to let his pack go without him. This was a challenge for blood—for rights, for pack. For Natalie.

By all rights, she
should
be there.

But Ben had cautioned against it.

They all sensed it. Trust wasn’t something they could afford to give. If they brought Natalie to the scene of the challenge, there was no telling what would wait for them. For her.

If Nico lost…

No.
Jackson shook his head hard, scraping a callused hand over his hair as the wind rifled through it with frigid fingers. He wouldn’t think like that.

Nico was strong. Much stronger than any of them.

The life of an alpha was always fraught with risk.

He turned and made his way back inside, ignoring the itch on his skin that demanded he turn and follow his pack. He hated that he’d have to wait, but whatever he felt—whatever anger and uncertainty—he knew Natalie felt that and more.

She wasn’t in the kitchen when he stepped inside. Wasn’t in the large living room that still smelled like all of them. The wide window let the sunlight pour in, warming the ambient air—thickening the tangled fragrance until he couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began.

The smell of it, the richness, helped settle the knot in his nerves. This was what pack smelled like. Distinct but together. Interchangeable, interwoven. A palette of colors.

But as he crossed the room, one scent in particular stood out to his senses. Brighter. Warmer. It called sweetly to his wolf.

He followed it back down the hall.

Jackson found her in the study, huddled into herself by one of the large windows. She stared out over the sun-dappled woods with her lip caught between her teeth, worry clear in every sexy, lush line of her body.

The sunlight gilded her silhouette with an angelic halo. Warmed her hair and caressed her features with a sweetness he almost couldn’t bear looking at.

Natalie Baker was too good for any of them.

And maybe that’s why her wolf wouldn’t settle. Maybe that was why she stood by that window and tried so hard not to crumple under the weight of the burdens she thought she had to carry.

His heart ached in his chest, thudding slowly in a tangled mess of lust and possession and something more savage, something more feral, than even he knew how to handle.

“Natalie.”

She didn’t stir at his voice. She’d probably heard him, smelled him. Her shoulder moved a fraction—a kind of shrug but distracted. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

His eyebrows knotted. “No.” He crossed the study, rounding the sofa, and caught her around the hips before she could say anything else. She stiffened briefly, but then melted into his arms as if she couldn’t fight how well they fit.

Like she knew it, too.

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, his nose buried in her sun-warmed hair. “This isn’t your fault,” he murmured.

“But it is.” Her voice hovered on the edge of ragged. Her pulse hammered under his hands, her fingers sank into his arms as she held him tight around her. “If only I could mate. If only I knew what my wolf
wanted
, this could— Nico wouldn’t…”

“Shhh.” It took everything Jackson had to soften the visceral wrench her sorrow, her doubt, caused him. “No, sweetheart. You don’t need to settle. Whatever you want, whatever your instinct is searching for, it’s right.”

She trembled faintly. It hurt him to think that she blamed herself. Doubted herself.

That reassuring her meant denying himself.

But he was man enough to understand the rules. The reality. What she wanted, he wanted to give her. Full stop.

“What if,” she began, her nails biting into his bare arm. “What if I never find a mate?”

“You will.”

She turned her head, craning her neck to meet his eyes, even as her fingers clamped around his forearms. “How do you know?” she asked. “All I want is
you
, and I— and I can’t…” The fear he heard in her voice—the grief already blooming in her beautiful eyes—undid him.

He slipped one hand over the curve of her cheek, cradled her jaw. “You will,” he repeated firmly. “I
want
to be your mate, Natalie. I want to be that alpha for you, but if it’s not me—”

She took a trembling breath.

His thumb eased over her lower lip. “If it’s not me,” he said again, gentler, “I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re happy. Even if that means I have to step aside.”

A tear spilled over her lashes. He wiped it away, bent to press his lips to her cheek. Again at the corner of her mouth.

Her skin was warm, her breath hot as it fluttered out between trembling lips.

He was strong, but he wasn’t made of stone.

Maybe he wasn’t her mate now. Maybe he wasn’t meant to be. That wouldn’t stop him from indulging every moment he had left.

Jackson’s lips brushed hers. Lingered. Her mouth was soft underneath his, lips pliant. So sweet. The taste of her, the scent of her, filled his chest, his heart, until he couldn’t breathe without shuddering from the ache of it in his skin.

But this wasn’t about him.

Not completely.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, tugged her back more firmly against his chest as he deepened the kiss. Her lips opened under his, a soft sound caught in her throat. Color flooded her cheeks as his tongue swept inside her mouth.

Warm. Wet. Hot. An echo of the way he knew her body would feel around his fingers. His dick.

God. Just the thought of it was enough to bring him to a raging hard-on.

But it
wasn’t
about him.

He lifted his head, a thrill of pure masculine pleasure rolling through him as her breath shuddered. Her eyes shone, brilliant and heavy-lidded, the sorrow she’d projected eased by the sheer overwhelming scent of lust on the air between them.

He wrapped one hand loosely around her throat, a claim he couldn’t resist making. Her pulse hammered against his palm. “Jackson,” she breathed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said against her temple. Easing his other hand around one soft, heavy breast, he kneaded her flesh until she moaned and leaned back against his chest. The sun slid over her like a caress, highlighting every expression, every breath. Every beautiful strand of her sable hair as it tumbled over her shoulder.

She was beautiful.

And he wanted to show her that.

Jackson plucked at her nipple beneath her sweater. It was already hard, beaded into a tight little nub he couldn’t help but roll between his fingers. Her back arched, thrusting her breast into his hand. “Jackson,” she said again, a desperate note already turning it ragged.

The desperation of heat probably already filled her. He could smell the mingled fragrance of his pack on her skin, and the sheer memory of her body writhing under them all was enough to strain the control he forced on himself. Just that, her scent, the lush feel of her pressed against him.

Just everything.

“God, you are perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot and damp against her ear. She shuddered. He didn’t lift her sweater, didn’t obey the sweet little sounds she made.

Okay, this was maybe a
little
about him. About his desperate hunger to feel her clench around his fingers. To feel her drench his palm.

His free hand slipped into the waistband of her jeans. Unsnapped it with a flick, and eased the zipper down.

Natalie trembled.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

He’d have to be made of stone not to smell the sudden pitch of her arousal as it spiked. Her pulse slammed hard in her throat as color swept all the way past her jaw. Into her neck.

She’d blush all the way to her sweet nipples.

His hand flattened at the smooth, soft flesh of her abdomen. “Say it, Natalie. Say you want to ride my fingers.” Her head fell back on his shoulder, her hands clenched into his thighs behind her. “Say you want me to pleasure you. That you want to come.”

“Oh, God,” she gasped.

“Say it,” he whispered, and flicked his tongue over the shell of her ear.

She jumped. “Please.” Another gasp. “Please t-touch me. It aches so much.”

Yeah. He knew the feeling.

Jackson’s hand slipped deeper into her open pants, eased into the curls already made damp by her arousal. She didn’t bother with underwear. He appreciated that.

“Like this,” he growled, one finger sliding between the swollen folds of her pussy. She parted for him like a dream, eased back against him with such trust that it took his breath away. She was every bit as hot as he’d expected, every bit as wet.

So much more intense.

“Y-yes,” she whispered. “Like…like that.”

He slipped the very tip of his finger into her, crooked it just enough that the trembling flesh tightened around him. She sagged against his chest, until all that kept her upright was his arm.

A second finger forced a moan from her lips.

Jackson shuddered. “So perfect,” he whispered, easing both fingers deeper inside her flesh. Slick and soft, it clamped tightly around him with velvet force.

“J-Jackson, please—”

He crooked his fingers. Dragged the tips against her G-spot until she jerked, grasped his wrist and held him there. She cried out when he added a third.

“Ride me,” he rasped. “Move your hips—yes,” he hissed as she obeyed. Her body arched, head falling back against his shoulder as she rode his fingers, ground herself into his hand with small, panting gasps.

“Good girl.” He held her steady, supported her upright while watching her lose her senses to the pleasure he plucked inside her. His thumb skated over her clit, and she snapped her teeth closed on a sudden cry.

Not yet. She wasn’t there yet. Her muscles clamped on his fingers, her body dripped into his hand, and he thought he’d explode if he didn’t bury himself balls deep inside her
right fucking now
, but he didn’t.

Not yet.

First, her pleasure.

She tipped her face up, pressed her lips against his jaw and then nipped the skin. “More,” she groaned. “Jackson, please, I want—”

Crash!
Glass shattered, cracking through the sublime heat of her surrender with the force of icy water. Natalie jerked. Jackson swore, slipping his hand from her pants. Without thinking, he hauled her one-armed behind him. Held her steady when she wobbled.

The dull thud of something heavy hitting the floor vibrated through the soles of his shoes.

Jackson’s guts clenched. The primal need to mate shifted abruptly to the visceral need to protect, and his throat expanded on a growl that leaked from between his clenched teeth.

Behind him, Natalie’s hands clenched in his shirt. Her sharply drawn breath ended on a whispered note of fear. “Victor.”

Yeah. He smelled the bastard, too. Every fucking nerve in his skin sizzled to violent fury. Tear, hunt,
kill
. The instinct welled up in him, until the seams of his shirt stretched across his swelling skin.

Natalie’s palms flattened against his back, the sound of her heartbeat rapid and afraid in his sensitive ears.

With impatient hands, Jackson stripped off his shirt. Tore the jeans he struggled out of, even as his limbs fought his control and began to shift.

Footsteps—padded and clawed—pounded down the hall. The scent of Victor’s trespass flooded Jackson’s nose. His lungs.

His rage.

They’d been betrayed. And there was nobody else here to protect Natalie but Jackson.