Pawn Among Wolves Ch. 07

"But now you - my mate, you have just taunted, aroused, and hurt the eight wolves within scent of the beech. They don't understand that you are unaware of their rutdoft - they are so damn aware of yours. They are confused, angry, upset, unsettled, and therefore dangerous." His brow was furrowed in concern.

"But they are still waiting to see what I will do before they decide how to act. It's my job, both as mate and Alpha, to sort this out so that they understand. And so that they will remain allies to us, to me, and to my wolves."

Gemma blinked. Oh. Damn. She looked up into his eyes, watching the green filtering back into the angry black, warming her slightly through the shiver of shame that was building. She hated that she'd been a tease. Accidentally. Hated putting him in this position, with that furrow of concern creasing his forehead. There must be some way out of this?

"But wolves must make mistakes sometimes? Apologise?" she pleaded softly.

"Uh - yes," he admitted slowly, "But I don't think you would like our way of apologising, Gem."

Her chin lifted slightly.

"Try me."

A glimmer of humour lightened the eerie glow in his eyes, an anticipatory challenge gleaming in their depths while he straightened his head and lifted one eyebrow.

"You just saw me punish a wolf for the mistake of injuring my mate, Gemma. If you were a wolf, I would punish you, you would acknowledge and apologise for the mistake, as he did, and all would be forgotten." His mouth twisted. "But humans hold grudges, are not good at healing, and I can't think of a single person I know less likely to acknowledge a mistake and apologise freely like that."

Hah. I can do anything. And there was a time and a place for everything. Although the comment about healing made her insides tremble. However, if it would remove the faint glimmer of sad distance from the back of his gaze, she would do what it took, Gemma decided.

She looked back, straight into his eyes, meeting that challenging sparkle with a straight, serious look of her own, feeling her insides melting with hope, a quiver of trepidation, and some weird, arousing anticipation. "I do acknowledge my mistake, Mac," she responded, low. "I know I shouldn't have teased them, now that you've explained. If you can sort this out, then I will accept whatever method you - um - think best to settle it. Please?"

There was a humming pause, and her words seemed to hang in the air between them.

Shit. Shit. Shit. She really wasn't sure she wanted to know what that gleam in his eyes meant. She could also still see the doubt in their depths. Well, she'd now seen two wolves do this, and if she really wanted that joyous harmony of the last few days back, then she could do it too. And yes, she was sorry if her unthinking teasing of Mac had flared into that agonising ache for the wolves around here - idiots, whispered a small internal voice - when she had never had any intention of following through.

On that thought, Gemma forced down the mutinous dregs of pride and dropped to roll onto her back at Mac's feet, tilting her chin back to expose her throat. Damned if she would do this for anybody else. Ever. Or for him even, ever again, for any reason less than a first degree separation order.

As their eyes met, Gemma's blood pulsed in screaming excitement, shocking her with the level of delight that shivered through her.

Mac's gaze softened as he stood looking down at her, and she caught a faint tinge of surprise - respect? - cross his face. After a moment of silent appraisal, he lifted his head and let out a kind of lilting croon towards the trees outside his circle. A cacophony of hacking barks, snorts and growls answered almost instantly, and Gemma was suddenly in the air, draped over his shoulder with one buttock smarting from a hard slap while Mac sauntered off with her back toward the beech bordering their haven, his marking of the edge of the rue-circle-thingy.

God, she let him get away with murder. What was he going to do?

Her insides squirmed in anticipation, liquid heat beginning to pool at the junction of her thighs.

Mac abruptly set her back on her feet, grinning down at her, on the very edge of the clearing. She hovered uncertainly just beside her pile of discarded firewood, looking doubtfully back up at her mate.

"Now that that's over with, it's time I fed you, picchu. Wait here while I get my kill."

That was it?!

She stared incredulously after the white ghost wolf who had just melted into the trees beyond the circle, feeling absurdly cheated.

Was it really over with?

Was he teasing her now?

She didn't want it to be over with. Yes she did. No, she didn't. Oooh. She could scent her own arousal, it was strengthening into a hot, taut coil in her belly.

Damn.

She hovered from one foot to another uncertainly, waiting, quivering in tension as her eyes scanned the trees. But she heard his breath beside her before she saw anything, and felt his hand engulf hers to tug her back toward the campsite before she'd even had a chance to turn toward him. She glimpsed the dead goose hanging over his opposite shoulder when she turned to walk with him. She'd gotten used to the reality of life with a wolf in the forest. And after all, she loved roast goose, as he knew.

His nostrils flared lightly, and ears twitched in excitement at the melting lust in her scent. He pretended to sigh.

"It seems like food will have to wait - you seem to be in need of a little exercise before we eat, picchu."

Yes! Yes! Yes!

"Complain, complain." Damn. However casual and steady she tried to hold it, her voice had accelerated to breathless instantly. "Is my poor ickle mate tired? Is that why we're walking this slowly?"

A happy little laugh escaped her when suddenly she was scooped up to sit on his free arm, her fingers curling tightly into his shoulder fur while he streaked through the trees toward her bed.

Yippee!!

The excitement of his musk caught her, and It was impossible to stop her lightly tingling fingers from stroking softly, deeper into his fur, tracing the hard muscles pulling and stretching easily as he sprinted, the light ridges of old scars hidden under the pelt.

His blood was racing under his skin, and it had nothing to do with the speed he was running at.

Gemma's fingers dove into the thick fur of his shoulders, caressing joyously through the healthy, soft, warm, delicious glide of it over her skin, mesmirised while he slid her around to his chest and bent his head to kiss her fiercely, dissolving her ability to think. A brief sanity flickered - what if they ran into a tree? - then her toes brushed in the warmth of her rug when he lowered her gently, his lips never leaving hers, and she realised that they were already standing on her bed.

She sank again into his kiss, fingers delightedly gliding along the hard muscles of his upper arm, until he winced lightly when they were halted by a glazed patch where the fur was stiffened with a hard, smooth varnish of - what? She twisted aside from his expert mouth and tongue, leaning her head away, trying to pull her wits back together. Dried blood? What on earth? Her fingers were lightly tracing the almost healed scab underneath when she looked back up, startled, worried, into Mac's face.

He bent forward and kissed her again hard, smiling a little smugly against her lips before he wrapped his arms more tightly around her and fell onto his back on the bed, cushioning her with his arms then spreading her on top of him. "Don't worry, my picchu."

Don't worry about what? Dammit, why did she always lose the power to speak when he kissed her like that? And he knew it. Mac was smirking again at the little squeak that was all she had managed to emit in place of the question. Her pussy was throbbing pleadingly - who cared why he had had blood on his shoulder? He was in pretty fine shape all in all.

Mac inhaled deeply, a satisfied, slightly predatory gleam lighting his eyes when the scent of her arousal intensified, and he rolled them back so he could slide himself up over her, cuddling her into him, sliding a thigh between hers while he nibbled small, savouring bites on her neck.

Hah, he wasn't going to distract her this time. And neck nibbling was less devastating to her vocal chords. Slightly.

"Worry about what?"

No idea whose was that faint, breathless bimbo voice.

Her mate sighed exasperatedly into her skin, raising a chain of goosebumps, and without thought, Gemma responded by lifting her chin and rubbing her cheek contentedly against his, melting further under the weight of him.

"One of idiots challenging me for you earlier was just an overgrown puppy." His nibbled kiss on her collarbone prevented Gemma from speaking the question that formed in her head at that statement. Dammit.

"He was a danger to himself." Another kiss, slightly nipping her flesh while his hands angled her neck for access, and his thighs ground her lightly into the ground. Gemma lost the thread of his words for a moment, pressed back up, aching, squirming against his pleasing, flattening bulk.

"I had to let him bite me." Um? Uh? The nibbled kisses were working lower, and the words soaked through Gemma's brain, finally making sense about two minutes after her mate had murmured them into her skin.

"He was falling over the edge of a drop." Who? Ung. Oh, the challenger. God, Mac, please. Ooh.

"I could smell the hornets at the bottom." His mouth was now teasing oh-so-softly over the very sensitive area on her neck where he had bitten her during their first mating, and her blood was pounding, pleading under the light touch of his aroused breaths, alight to his hot, hot musk.

"I didn't think he'd survive landing on their nest, it was too far back to the river."

The silence echoed when he finished the last sentence, and it took a long while for Gemma to realise that her mate had stopped talking and was now intent on other things. He was skimming light little kisses further down her neck, rubbing his engorged cock gently in the crease of her thighs. Gemma was trying to think, to respond to his explanation, but was distracted by his thigh nudging her knees further apart. She helped.

But damn if he wasn't evading her questions again.

"Werewolves can be killed by hornets?" She was quite proud of how intelligible that high-pitched sentence was, considering.

Mac growled back, low, as he slid his nose back up her achingly sensitive skin, snuffling into her neck and making her shiver, liquid pleasure pulsing between her thighs, "Wolves, Gem. And yes, there are a few natural hazards we find difficult to heal - most of them poisonous." His lips were moving back along her collar bone, each word breathing more heat into her quivering flesh, stoking the trail of fire in their wake. "Hornets are not as dangerous to us as to humans, but a large swarm like that would probably kill a cub or an askele - an aged wolf - and enough stings can take down even a wolf in his prime."

Then he abruptly rolled her above him, suspended by his arms, and lifted her forward so that he could reach his proud head up to gently suckle and nibble around her breasts, circling toward the aching peaks of her nipples. Oh. Oh. Oh. Wow.

She knew he wanted her to stop asking questions. So she stubbornly forced another one out.

"You can smell hornets?" Squeaky, squeaky. There must be a lot of helium in the air around here.

"I can smell all other living creatures, outside water." His breath on the wet skin of her peaked nipple while the tip of his tongue circled gently around the aching bud- oooh.

Really, really breathless. "Uh. Right - so you weren't. Uh. Surprised. At all." She could manage this in little words. "When I pow - oh. Oh. Pounced on. You. From that tree two nights ago?"

He had already lifted her, was positioning her for his cock, and her blood had started to pulse through her body like a tide - advancing, receding, advancing while his eloquent tongue circled softly over her aching nipples where he held her so that they were suspended above his face. He growled low in satisfaction while he delicately scraped the tight, tender flesh with the very tips of his teeth, and she cried out and arched urgently against him, writhing, a breathless, wordless plea.

"Do you really think I wanted to stop you, picchu?"

Damn smug wolf.

She moaned as she tugged his head closer, spreading her thighs wide while he lowered her gently, carefully, over his throbbing erection, and his mouth engulfed one breast to suck furiously hard on the burning, aching peak of her nipple.

Gemma lost all desire to speak, and just sank into sensation, sank onto him. Wow. The burn of him breaching her. Perfect. Always.

She braced her own palms against his shoulders, skin trembling from the twin, exquisite sensations, and he smiled up at her, sparkling black eyes, still sucking hard while he gently slid his hands down to cradle her hips when she came to rest with his organ fully embedded in her tight pussy. The stretch. Oh. She groaned as he let go with his lips, then after a broken pause bent sideways, breathless, and lowered the other breast into his reaching mouth, moaning when he captured the neglected peak and began to suckle hard, trying to pull the whole mound in. The hands on her hips tightened, and he began to thrust upwards, holding her at just that angle where the invasion of his cock stroked oh so deeply, penetrating the heart of her.

Oh. Wow. Oh. So deep, so hard, so luscious. He was being tender with her, forceful, but careful with each long, slow thrust, and the burn of him forcing her pussy walls to stretch was writhing through her blood, tightening, tightening the aching demand in her belly.

"Please," Gemma breathed, eyes closed, head back, as she arched over him. Possessed. His warm, large hands slid down to cup over the smooth globes of her buttocks and he squeezed gently while he pulled her even deeper over his cock.

"Please, Mac. Faster." Her breathless gasp was fuelled by the burning need in her pussy, fire stoked mercilessly with each long, deep thrust up into her. The suckling mouth clamped around her breast tightened, the suction almost painful as his fingers dug into her bottom and he obligingly began to rock himself harder within her.

Oh god he was so deep like this. His cock was pistoning up through her belly, the relentless, steady build of this mating implacable, unstoppable. She sometimes thought she couldn't bear to come like this, it was so intense, almost painful, but she couldn't help it, the knot in her stomach just tightened and tightened and tightened with the accelerating, stabbing thrusts. Closer, closer.

Then he released her breast with his mouth and pushed a palm against her chest between them, pushing her back almost upright above him His hands captured her wrists in a blink and pulled them around to press her palms against her own buttocks, using them to curve her torso above him while he held her for his thrusts. She knew he loved this position, could feel his cock swelling harder within her as his eyes fastened fiercely on the swinging globes of her breasts displayed pleasingly above him, and his pounding began to increase in urgency, Gemma arched her spine further, pulling against his grip on her wrists, and forced her breasts out to the deepest curve, enjoying the intently fierce pleasure in his eyes even while they began to bounce almost painfully to the time of his harsh breathing and accelerated surging into her cunt.

Oh god, no. Yes. This. Was. Oh. The building intensity was slower, but deeper, and the approaching pleasure was drawing inexorably through her, melding all of her, every particle, forcing her together, to tighten, intensify, coming, coming closer, she couldn't - arg. No. No. No. The fire in her spine was burning harshly, almost painful in the intensity, muscles quivering, and she couldn't think, heaved by his urgent thrusts, tightening, tightening. Almost. No. Please. Yes. Wow.

Gemma whited out, exploding into orgasm, shuddering on a yelping cry above him as she felt the swell of Mac's cock bursting within her. The wolf yowled softly in harmony, arching his own back and grinding his cock up into her, his hands squeezing her palms into her own buttocks while he corkscrewed his hips urgently against her, forcing the shattering waves of pleasure to surge through her again and again as he spurted.

Shuddering.

Wow.

Oh.

Oh.

Long, motionless moments later, Gemma still couldn't see.

Wow, this was getting more intense.

She wasn't really sure whether her eyes were open or not - there seemed to be a glow like sun-blindness dancing in front of her, through her, and she was unable to do more than just lie here and bask, waiting, blood shimmering, waiting for Mac to kiss his way back to hardness. He didn't have far to go, even after all that seed he'd just spurted inside her.

Then she felt it, devastatingly, bewilderingly, when her mate withdraw his semi-hard cock, placed her gently on her rug, and rolled away from where he had just tucked her in her bower.

"Mm?" she managed to squeak a grunt of protest, still unable to open her eyes - or, if they were open, to see. She felt Mac lean back, felt the swift brush of his lips over hers.

"Cooking, picchu. It won't take me a second - don't worry, I'm not finished with you yet."

Her pussy cramped around a delighted rush of liquid. Never satisfied.

After another long moment she managed to flop inelegantly onto her side and slit open an eye, pulling the rug tighter around her as the sweat on her skin cooled. She watched, faintly revolted, fascinated as ever, while Mac casually extended and retracted his claws as if it was the most natural thing in the world, swiftly and expertly plucking, skinning, cleaning, and cutting up his latest kill, rolling the chunks in a little tin-foil packet of seasoning. A small smile curled at the corner of her mouth and she shut her eyes again, snuggling further into the fake fur. Those retractable claws. Boy, had she gotten into trouble for likening him a pussycat that time.

She squeaked a yelp when suddenly she was engulfed in wolf again, Mac swiping the wet fur of his cold river-washed fingers teasingly across her exposed belly, grinning when she tried to squirm out of his embrace and pull the rug closed again.

"Did you miss me, little mate?"

Her blood seethed with lust even as she growled grumpily, "No" Then she was proved a liar when her nipples tightened to a burning ache and moist welcome pooled anew between her thighs. Mac's nose twitched and he grinned again, dropping his head to burn her lips with a deep, fierce kiss.

Here we go again.

Yippee!

Gemma awoke next with a jerk, disorientated and shaken. Physically shaken - her heart was leaping into her throat while her body was tossed around in an unsteady, swaying motion. Her spine unhinged at the vicious challenge of the scalp-curling snarl lingering in the air underneath her. Where? What?

She was wrapped snugly in her rug, the hammock ends fastened securely, face buried against the fur. The sturdy tree that held the hammock was shaking, still reverberating against the shock of the weight that had been thrown against it. Echoing, bitter wolf voices were whirling around the ground beneath her, snarl answering snarl as the sounds of a furious fight battered around the nearby trees.

Gemma rolled, struggling to unwrap herself from the cocooning fabric and poke her head out into the warm evening slant of sunlight, blood pounding. Who had got this close? She peered down over the edge of her rug just in time to see a huge platinum blond lycan smash Mac back against the trunk of a neighbouring tree on the edge of the fire-break.