Jessamine
This is awful.
When Kier had mentioned the trip and blowing off steam, I had a certain image in mind. I had anticipated…something, had clenched every time the horse galloped, nearly betraying my thoughts to my seemingly gloomy companions, and now, I can swear Kier is trying to torture me. He’s trying to starve me.
“Shift,” he hisses for the fifth time.
I merely pick the dirt from out of my nails and move onto the next. Darrock snickers nearby, not bothering to hide his delight at Kier’s frustration. “She will, when the time is right. Not everything must be resolved with brute force—”
“Did I fucking ask your opinion?!” Kier scowls at Darrock, and before the latter can decide he wants to fight back, Randale lifts his blade to Darrock’s throat. “Watch it, mate.” Darrock’s eyes flash, but he says nothing in response, staring at the fire.
Guilt stabs my chest. We haven’t spoken and so far, all we’ve done is avoid each other’s paths and avert our gazes from meeting. It doesn’t matter how long we put this off, we’ll need to have this conversation soon. The last time we spoke, things weren’t exactly left fine, and I don’t expect it to be fine, because I’m the one who…cheated, but…frankly, I don’t know how to feel. Guilty? He hoes whenever he gets the chance. I have no doubt he had his fill of human women across the oceans. Still, he looks at me like I have betrayed him.
What’s worse is that I feel that way. Like I’ve betrayed him and myself. So many promises of not letting Kier get under my skin again, all gone to smoke. Here I sit on a rock, angry that he isn’t shoving me against a tree and pulling down my pants.
Gods. I need help.
“Shifting doesn’t usually happen at will, not until you’ve mastered it, and even the best of us still struggle to keep our wolves under control, making them obey.” Kier crouches low before me, drawing images on the thawing snow, explaining things I’ve already been taught by the best tutors in the castle. “Being cuddled isn’t going to help force your wolf’s hand,” he says finally, tossing the stick aside when he realizes I’m not listen and have absolutely no interest in what he’s saying.
“Cuddled?” I repeat, hating the feel of the word on my tongue. “You think I haven’t already tried?!”
He points at where I sit. “Picking at the non-existent dirt under your nails isn’t trying! Fuck it, we’ve been at it for more than an hour, and not once have you even put in effort! How the hell are you going to fight against wolves triple your size if you can’t shift?!”
Heat attacks both my cheeks and I stand abruptly. “I can handle weapons just fine! They’re faster—”
Kier snorts harshly, nodding toward the sword dangling off my belt. “Go on, draw it. If you can strike faster than it takes my fingers to reach your heart, landing even one hit, anywhere, I’ll quit this—”
My fingers close around the hilt in the same time my feet hit the snow a few inches away from him. I swing, aiming for his head, and for a split second, fear creeps into my heart that I might hurt him. But he sidesteps, too fast for me to follow, and my wrist snaps back painfully as he twists and slams it down. My sword falls from my grasp, and I duck under his arm in hopes to dislodge his hold on me. I edge my arm, aiming my elbow for his throat, only to meet air.
Kier’s arms circle around my middle and my back slams into the ground as he unceremoniously tosses me. Tears spring to my eyes, my breaths cut short as I gasp for air. Kier’s head pops into my vision and he extends a hand to help me up. “To think I went easy on you. Atticus’s men won’t be as gentle, and you know that.”
I don’t take his hand. I force myself to my feet, wiping sand and melted snow off my clothes. My throat burns with the tears I’m trying to hold off and I turn on my heel, stomping in the direction of the horses. “I’m going home. You, as well as your stupid training can rot.”
I have no idea where I'm going, but I don't care. I don't stop walking until I've exhausted my anger and energy, and once in a while, Kier tells me to stop and I'm going too far in unguarded territory. I'm too riled up to stop, and when it becomes clear I won't, he goes quiet and follows me. A gnarled root, hidden beneath the fallen leaves snags my foot. The world tilts, and I gasp as I topple forward into the unforgiving earth.
Kier cusses, his arms curving under my shoulders to lift me out of the dirt. "We need to work on controlling your emotions, Jessamine." He sets me down against a tree and kneels, his eyes filled with concern. "I was only trying to make a point."
"That you're stronger than me? Yeah, I know that," I snap, wincing as he takes my aching foot and pulls off my boot. Had he not bothered to make sure I'd changed into more comfortable clothes, I might have broken my leg.
"No." His fingers skim over my feet, prodding lightly around my ankle. It doesn't hurt too bad. "I was trying to say you could be stronger. Being able to communicate with your wolf is the barest minimum. Shifting unlocks a deeper connection to your instincts, your senses, your wolf. Did you know," he muses, lifting my feet and his lips brush along the arch of it. It's a struggle to listen to what he's saying. "Alpha-bloods can communicate with every wolf, within and outside their packs?"
I blink. "I thought..." My voice catches. "I thought only Alphas could do that. With their packs."
"It's not common practice," Kier murmurs, dragging a finger across my foot and a movement as simple as that makes me shudder. "A dangerous skill, for it leaves your mind open to every wolf out there. Their pain, their pleasure, their vile thoughts. You could go mad if you had the weight of so many on your mind. Not many speak of it, deeming it more harmful than helpful."
"So, it's not a good thing...?" My voice trails when he sets my foot on his knee and reaches between us, deftly undoing the buttons of my shirt.
"I. Never. Did. Say. That." Each word is punctuated by the unfastening of one button. "We've been taught to end it before it gets disastrous. That, we like to call, deep-listening. With that, we're limited to hearing touch, and feeling sounds."
"That...makes no sense."
He smirks but his eyes are glued to the lacy underwear beneath my shirt. "Think about it for long enough, and it will. Your desire and hunger are loud as fuck."
My mouth dries. "Here? Randale and Darrock are--"
"Then you'll have to moan quietly." He pushes my shirt back and stares at my cleavage hungrily. "Sometimes, I wonder if this is real."
"My breasts?" I whisper when he reaches for one and squeezes, dragging his fingers out until my nipple is caught between them.
He shakes his head, letting his hand drop. "No, getting to have this with you. I didn't think I ever would. I didn't think it possible. I dreamed and wished and I didn't think it'd ever be enough." His eyes lift from my chest, slowly, and his eyes are different. He stares at me with a reverence that takes my breath away, making me feel like the most precious thing in the world. "I..." He swallows, and the shakes his head laughing.
"What?"
He leans forward, cupping my cheeks and he kisses me soundly. "I love you. Forgive me." Before I can respond to that, his tongue slides beside mine, stroking softly, placatingly. "Thank you, for holding on for us both. Thank you for being the love that never left." He abandons my mouth and kisses my chin. "I could never deserve you." He drags his teeth over my neck. "But I'll never stop trying to."
Before today, I won't have considered making out in the wilds romantic, but well, my heartstrings are being pulled, and how does one say no to something like this?
Our lips collide again fiercely, and Kier laughs around the kiss when I abandon his shirt and head straight for his pants. I palm his cock in my hand, pulling it out and desire flares in the pit of my stomach. "I'm afraid this rock won't do." His voice his husky. "And the tree would bruise your back."
"Then, I suggest you hold me gently," I chide, helping him pry my pants off. I bite my bottom lip nervously, eyes rising to the trees behind him. This is crazy. What if Darrock comes looking for us? What if he finds me naked with Kier? That'd be cruel. This is cruel. I bet he knows what we're up to.
As if hearing my thoughts, Kier reaches for my calf and wraps it around his hip. "You think and speak of him too much. Here's to reminding you of whose name should be on your tongue and what your head should be otherwise occupied with."
My spine is knocked into the tree, and I bite my lip to stifle a gasp from escaping as Kier's tip brushes against my entrance. So much for holding me gently. His grip is viselike against the back of my head, tangling in my hair, and his mouth is hot as he sucks one nipple and then the other, showering them with an attention I find damning.
I reach up, gripping a firm branch and my other hand gets lost in his hair as he pushes into me.
He growls, a sound that's a mix between pain and lust. "Perfect," he breathes.
Wanting him is visceral. Essential to every fiber of my being. Undeniable. I want to take in more of him, but he's too big and I'm too sensitive. I squirm, trying to fit around him, but he slips out instead and his snarl travels down my spine, causing shockwaves in my core.
"Jessamine," he rasps. "Please stay still. Your squirming and squeezing is distracting and driving me mad."
He drives into me and a biting my lip doesn't stop the scream of pain and pleasure that rips from me. My hand slips from the branch and my head falls back against the bark as he thrusts in with a wildness that makes me clench. The feel of him, somehow familiar and new, becomes the centre of my world. My universe. When he's inside me, the world ceases to exist. Not Randale. Not Darrock. Not Moira. Not Lloyd or Atticus or the war.
Kier gives me all of him, and I take, and take. And it's not nearly enough. My need is bottomless, and I want to stay like this forever, feeling thrust after thrusts, hearing his grunt, his growl, his moan. The latter forces climax from me, but the heat doesn't ebb.
I lift my hands and ride against him, moaning as he scores a spot that makes me frantic. He cusses, gripping the tree behind him to quicken his pace. He tells me there'll never be anyone like me. I tell him I'm well aware of it. He tells me he loves me. I tell him he'd better. When he comes, his warmth spilling in and out of me, his head falls forward against my chest, his fingers stroking the back of my thigh as he holds me in place
Wedged between the caving tree and Kier's rock-hard body, I feel magnificent.
He's growing harder again, rolling his hips, and I'm all for it. "You're more compliant in--" Kier stills, his head snapping in the opposite direction. "Do you hear that?"
I listen for sounds, but it takes me too long to pick up on it; footsteps. Kier kisses my cheek, apologizing for Goddess knows what, and he pulls back, handing me my pants and sword. I hastily put on my clothes and shoes, not bothering to right them or my hair as I follow behind him. He runs, and I feel his fear trickle down the bond, driving my feet to move even faster.
A pained cry cuts through the air, and fear fills my voice at the familiarity of that voice. Darrock’s. Kier cusses, sparing me a glance. I see it in his eyes. There’s danger ahead and he doesn’t want me to be there. “Jess—”
“I can fight too,” I tell him defiantly. “Don’t ask me to run. I won’t leave you. And besides, I keep telling you I’m pretty good with—”
“Not when we’re outnumbered,” he says, eyes flashing gold. “On my signal, you get the fuck out of there with Randale and Darrock, and you do not hesitate.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be fine. Being king comes with perks,” he jokes, but the tightening of his muscles betray his tension. He doesn’t truly believe that, and there’s no way I’m running and leaving him behind. I don’t tell him that, though. I nod convincingly. “What’s the signal?”
“You’ll know.”
When we reach the clearing, I do realize we are grossly outnumbered. Darrock and Randale, like cornered animals, stand back-to-back, surrounded by a lose circle of men whose swords are pointed in both their direction and ours. I don’t miss Darrock’s bleeding arm and the anger tightening his face, as well as the dead men lying in the corner. Four of them.
And that does nothing to dwarf the enemy dressed in black and masks. There’s no leader, none that I can see, and from the way they watch us with empty gazes, movements almost mechanical, it dawns on me that this isn’t some abduct and talk later scenario. They mean to kill us all.