Treeland Pack Tales 3: A Trace of Ivy (22 page)

He growled around the loose skin and fur locked between his
powerful jaws and thrust his big cock into her swollen cunt.

The connection was utterly complete—perfect. Ivy melded more
fully with her wolf, sharing a sigh of bliss at his masterful possession.

The big male flexed his rear, driving and retreating in
long, hard strokes. Each tunnel into her willing heat scraped sensitized
nerves, making multiple sets of nipples tingle, and pulling her closer to a
bottomless chasm of ecstasy.

The rest of the world vanished, lost in the magic and heat
of coupling. His seed shot even hotter in fur, pelting her tender tissues with
pleasure. Her inner walls clamped around his swollen shaft as they tumbled
together into the void.

Doubts and questions didn’t exist when they wore fur. She
belonged to him and he belonged to her. The mating bond was a tangible, solid
connection between her tawny Beta bitch and his gray Alpha dog.

The gray wolf’s weight bore her flat on the bed with him
still locked in her channel. He loosened his grip on her ruff and licked the
bruises his fangs had made. She lay beneath him in totally contented
submission. She let her head loll, exposing her vulnerable throat to him.

He nuzzled her chin and neck appreciatively, rubbing his
scent into her fur.

An amazing rumble—almost a purr—spilled from her lips in
response to his caresses.

After his engorged shaft finally softened, he left her
canal, heaved himself backward, and then used his long silky tongue to lap
tenderly at her slit, healing the slight soreness from his primal possession.

She praised his ministrations with more happy rumbles as
aftershocks of joy rolled through her furry body.

Peter and the Wolf
played on his cell. Ivy recognized Daniel’s ringtone and cocked a questioning
ear at Chet. The real world intruded and shattered their intimate moment.

He snarled, shifted back into skin, and rummaged for the
phone.

CHET WORRIED ABOUT Ivy shifting back to skin, because mixed-bloods
suffered traumatic changes. She made the transition with the unconscious ease
of a born wolf. Perhaps her parents’ species were different than she’d been led
to believe. The purity of her werewolf heritage wasn’t an issue for him. Hell,
he didn’t care if she was fae. He shut off the useless speculation, answered
the pack leader’s call, and put him on speaker. “Did you find the bastards?”

“They’d moved on before we got there. Track ended with a
vehicle exhaust trail.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m right with you, GQ. Their leader’s wounded, and the
pack’s second dead. They’re gonna stay close until they’re back up to speed.
We’ve spent hours combing the neighborhood trying to pick up a fresh track. No
luck.”

“They could be anywhere by now.” Not wanting to scare Ivy,
Chet locked his jaw to keep in the howl of frustration.

“True. My gut says they’re close though. There’s a little
good news. We found recent trace markers from two different Betas in the house
where the rogues had been squatting.”

“Then Kat and Tess are all right.” Ivy’s eyes lit with joy.

“Far as we know.” Caution edged Daniel’s words.

The light in her gaze dimmed. Obviously she picked up the
same wariness Chet heard. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Nothing definite, signs of an infection in one female’s scent.
A small blood trail…”

She blinked hard and bit her bottom lip.

Chet wrapped his arms around her. “Thanks for letting us
know, boss.”

“Don’t hang up, please. I want to help.” Ivy struggled
against his hold. He released her immediately, but hovered as anxious as a
bitch with one pup.

“Appreciate the offer.” Daniel paused. “Waiting’s tough for
everyone, Ivy.”

“Especially for Kat and Tess.” She straightened her spine.
“The rogues’ leader wants me. Please let me draw them out of hiding while
they’re still weak.”

The thought of Ivy anywhere near those insane fuckers made
Chet’s package shrivel and shrink into his pelvis. Thank the goddess Daniel had
enough good sense to refuse her offer.

“Might be worth a try,” his suddenly stupid boss said.

“Hell, no.” Chet ended the call.

Ivy whirled on him. “You can’t hang up on your pack leader.”

“I just did.” He glared back at her, crossing his arms for
good measure. She could rail at him all she wanted. No fucking way was he
losing his mate to the same rogues who’d already tried to kill her. Daniel was
a mated male. He would understand Chet’s lack of courtesy. He cleared as much
of the asshole Alpha out of his throat as possible before attempting the voice
of reason. “You can’t help your friends if you’re captured.”

“You would rescue me.” She looked at him with such trust he
was humbled and in serious danger of sapping out. Again.

What if I’m too late?
“I’d try my damnedest. But rogues are sneaky, strong, and ruthless. If hunting
them was simple, all the dormant females would be safe.”

“I haven’t forgotten for a minute what those monsters are
like. Don’t you understand? Every horrible thing I survived is still happening
to Kat and Tess. Without their help, I would have never escaped. I have to do
everything I possibly can to save them. Besides, I gave my word.” Her big green
eyes pled her case.

Unhappily aware he was the one mated for life, like the
sappy bonded male he was, he had trouble denying her anything. He wavered.

She blinked away unshed tears, and he was a goner. Although
letting her walk into the rogues’ hunting grounds went against every instinct,
and deliberately endangering Ivy cracked his old wolf heart into a million
pieces. “I’m going with you.”

She dazzled him with a brave smile. “I’m counting on it.”

Chet picked up the phone, dialed, and waited for Daniel to
answer.

“What’s up, GQ?”

He growled, “We’re in.”

* * * *

An hour after dusk, Chet parked behind Gun’s SUV. Moonrise
had already happened. Not even the bright half-moon improved the neighborhood. Weeds
were the only thing thriving for as far he could see, and his night vision was
excellent. Single-family tract housing circa World War II with
handkerchief-sized yards growing meadow-high grass lined both sides of the
narrow street. Parking wasn’t a problem. Cars, aside from a few rusty shells
missing wheels and motors, were as rare as lighting. Sheets of plywood covered
most windows. A lone streetlight flickered from the next block away. Thousands
of normal urban odors blurred in his nostrils. He automatically filtered
through them without finding an immediate threat.

He zipped around his rig and opened the passenger side.
After he’d helped Ivy down and shut the door, only the rustle of wind in the
long grass disturbed the quiet. He steered her toward the waiting group of
enforcers.

A cold breeze from the west blew her hair back from her
face. She hunched her shoulders and shoved her hands into the down jacket’s
pockets.

Daniel took one whiff of him and shook his head. “Sure
you’re up for this, GQ?”

Hell no, but I can’t
let Ivy down
. So he lied to his boss. “I’m good.”

Naturally the pack leader and the other enforcers smelled
his lie. Lucky for him, no one called him on the steaming pile of moose shit.
Daniel dipped his chin in assent and angled to include the rest of the elite
hunters. “Everyone knows Ivy, right?”

She fluttered her fingers at the horny dogs. “Hi.”

Chet clamped his jaw to avoid snarling.

“We’ve cleared the blocks between the rogues’ abandoned
hovel and this block.” Daniel indicated the area to the east of where he stood.
“We’ll continue the house-to-house search.” He spoke to each pair of enforcers.
“Joe and Ben cover the north side of the street. Gun and Sin handle the south
end. Chet, Ivy, and I’ll drive a couple of blocks west. Then she’ll take a
stroll while we shadow her. We aren’t letting her out of our sight. We all on
the same page?”

Joe spoke first, “Got it, boss.”

“Not a problem.” Sin nodded.

“Sure, boss.” Ben glanced at Chet. “We won’t let anything
bad happen to your lady.”

Gun shrugged. “Whatever.”

“A Beta, especially one that’s been captured, would not
sashay through these streets alone. The rogues will smell a trap. How about I
walk with her?” Chet stared at Daniel, praying for a yes.

“Good plan, GQ.” The boss agreed. “Move out, dogs. Let’s
flush out some rogues.”

Ivy tucked her arm through the elbow Chet chicken winged for
her. “Thank you.”

They walked east with her on his left. Daniel ghosted into
the shadows behind them.

An UZI cocked on Chet’s right hip would have made the stroll
much more enjoyable. Even with keeping his weapons tucked out of sight, after
five minutes and the first block passed without incident, his tension level
lowered a notch. Readiness stayed on max.

Ivy looked up at him adoringly and pitched her words for
only his ears. “You’re too intimidating. Smile a little and act as if you’ve
had too much to drink.”

He kept his voice equally low. “Werewolves metabolize
alcohol too fast to get inebriated.”

“Try to look a bit more harmless, then.” Her smile still
dazzled, but her tone sharpened. Her nerves were on edge too.

Damn, she was so small and delicate she had no business
anywhere near the insane bastards. His muscles bunched and quivered from an
urgent need to sweep her into his arms and carry her to safety.

“You can’t kill the monsters living in my head. This is
something I have to do for Kat and for Tess and for me.”

Ivy read him much too well. “I’m trying like hell to support
you, sweet torment.”

She squeezed his forearm, infusing him with new
determination to make this harebrained strategy succeed.

Whack. The spike of noise hit his ears the same time
something smashed the back of his head. He grunted from the impact. The blow
came as a surprise. It shouldn’t have. He knew damn well rogues didn’t play
fair. Lucky for him his skull was too thick to dent. He whirled, palming his
Glock and putting Ivy safely behind him.

From the edge of his vision he glimpsed Daniel in half-shift
as he fought a mismatched pair of wolves. The brown had circled behind his boss
while the gray harried his front. Chet wasn’t worried about the two-on-one
odds. A lethal fighter, Daniel preferred claws over modern weapons. He would
punch the rogues’ tickets without panting.

The bastard who had clocked Chet crouched like a batter and tightened
his grip on a four-by-four length fence post, ready to swing again. “Give me
the bitch, and you can go.”

So not happening,
fucker
. Chet didn’t bother to keep up his end of the conversation. He liked
efficiency over getting his paws dirty, especially with a mate to protect. He
let the Glock do his talking. Three shots stitched three black holes from the
bastard’s hairline to his ugly nose. The board fell, followed by the dead
rogue.

Not willing to take any chances, he crossed to the stinking
pile of flesh and checked for a pulse. There was none. He was already thinking
a bonfire would make a great cleanup plan. In this neighborhood, no one would
call the fire department.

He straightened, caught a whiff of rotting meat, and
swiveled to check on Ivy.

One of the fuckers had her by the hair, using her as a
shield. Chet’s heart stuttered, and an icy fist squeezed his gut. For a second
he froze.

Lucky for him, Ivy stayed cool. She reached for her weapon
and must have pulled the trigger the moment her firearm cleared the holster.
The beast gave a shrill yip as the silver penetrated his torso, but he didn’t
loosen his hold. Ivy shot again.

Chet’s reflexes finally came back online, and he took aim at
the visible crescent of the enemy’s mug behind Ivy’s gorgeous head. He held his
breath and squeezed the trigger. His bullet nailed the bastard’s left eye,
right through the pupil. The rogue kept his grip on Ivy’s hair as his brain
shorted out and his body convulsed.

Silent tears ran down Ivy’s cheeks while she tried to pry
the beast’s fingers loose to free herself, but the dying fucker’s thrashing
tossed her too violently for her to lever his hold apart.

“Cover your ears and hold on,” Chet snarled.

She obeyed.

He shot the rogue point-blank through his rotting heart. The
wild convulsions finally slowed. Chet broke a few of the bastard’s fingers and
released Ivy’s tresses. He lifted her to her feet, and dug out a clean
handkerchief. Steadying her with one arm around her hips, he dried her tears.
Her eyes were wide, and her face several shades paler than usual.

She framed his face with both soft hands. “Are you all
right?”

A big black werewolf loped toward her back. Chet moved in
front of Ivy, already aiming at the rogue.

Ivy backed into his side. “Behind you.”

The weapon’s report was so loud she must have fired.

“Damn.” She pulled the trigger again, hurting his sensitive
ears.

He shot the black wolf through the heart. Before the bastard
hit the ground, Chet had whirled to assess the rear action. A massive red
wolf’s slavering jaw snapped at Ivy’s gun hand. The beast bit air.

She dropped, rolled, fired, and missed without a whimper. If
he had been less terrified he would have admired the hell out of her.

The beast’s powerful rear haunches bunched, launching for
Ivy.

Chet’s heart lodged in his throat. There was no time to aim.
He prayed and shot.

The rogue’s chest exploded.

Gun prowled over to the corpse and nudged it with his boot,
holstering his .357. “You oughta think about upgrading your firepower, GQ.”

“I’ll do that. Thanks, Gun.” Chet angled his neck in respect
for saving Ivy’s life. When he looked up, the male had already vanished back
into the shadows.