Pack and Coven (19 page)

She cupped them, watching him. Rubbed her own nipples. It wasn't as seductive as his touch, but she liked his reaction. His penis twitched against her backside.

Harry licked his lips. She rubbed his muscular chest. “Now I want…” But she couldn't decide.

He smirked and began to move his hand, her juices oiling her flesh. His palm worked her, his fingers inside. Delicious sensations began to tweak her center. She reached behind her and captured his penis.

Slowly she rose, and his penis slid until the head was nestled near her entrance. She pressed it against her. He continued to massage her and something inside her pulsed. Needed.

“Take your hand out of me and touch yourself.”

He did, and his dripping fingers stroked himself all the way to the end. He
hmm'd
deep in his chest. She supposed that didn't count as talking. He maneuvered the tip through her folds and began to ply her with it even though she hadn't told him to. His other hand parted her rear, squeezing and releasing. Jiggling the flesh. He worked his fingers into…

She needed. Needed more.

The silver condom packet lay by his head. She ripped it open and smoothed it over him, her hands trembling. She poised above him, her insides aching to be joined.

She meant to be slow about it and savor every second, but as soon as the tip slid inside her, he yanked her down. Her inner flesh stretched and burned.

“Harry,” she chided, yet secretly thrilled. “I didn't tell you to.”

He caressed her legs as she seated herself. “I slipped. Won't happen again.”

She wriggled, adjusting. She'd liked being on top. Harry as the man beneath her only made it better. His organ was sizeable but not painful; his body hairy but not coarse. His long fingers stroked her skin.

Her hands on the mattress, she began to slide up and down, rolling her pelvis. He glided in and out. Up and down. His fingers dug into her, snaking around to her bottom. His eyelids half-closed as his gaze shifted from her face to their intimate joining.

She changed position slightly so she could touch herself. Harry's eyebrows arched. So much moisture drenched her folds that her fingers grew slippery. She plucked herself and watched his face.

His organ swelled. He smoothed his hands to her breasts, pinching the tips.

She allowed it for a moment before she grabbed his wrists. “I didn't tell you to.” She let her newly discovered alpha side flare. “Put your hands behind your head.”

This time when Harry balked she didn't think he was going to do it.

She pushed. He caved. He locked his fingers behind his head and smiled up at her, daring her to try anything else. Promising that this was as far as he'd let her go.

She wasn't sure if she'd swayed him or if he'd just decided to cooperate, but either way, triumph spiraled through her like a small climax.

She shoved herself down on him, rubbed her clit fast, and it
was
a small climax. She trembled, tight and eager, and couldn't hide a sigh. He inhaled deeply, his eyes narrowing.

“Having fun?”

“No talking.” She placed the finger she'd used to give herself the orgasm over his lips. “You're not in charge here.”

He sucked her finger into his mouth. Without permission. Exactly as she'd hoped he would. Her insides clenched with desire, and she knew he felt it.

“You're forgetting something.” His eyes gleamed. “My alpha's bigger than your alpha.”

“This again?” June dragged herself off him and tugged her arm, but his grip was like a velvet band. Delicious excitement flickered through her. “Is that a threat?”

“It's a statement of fact. Like this one.” Harry stretched lazily, even though she could sense the wolf in him poised to strike. “In the next twenty minutes, I'm going to make you scream.”

She yanked at her wrist, her heartbeat accelerating. “I'm not a screamer.”

Without warning, he flipped her onto her stomach and himself onto her. His shaft prodded her rear. “You will be.”

The shifters who broke down the back door were much more stealthy than the first ones. Harry didn't notice them until it was almost too late.

A shadow darkened the round window over the sink three seconds before the back door rattled in its frame. Harry grabbed June, who was eating scones at the kitchen table, and raced her bodily to the trapdoor.

In the other room he heard the door smash open and Gavin's voice barking orders.

“Down.” Harry and June had propped open the floorboard earlier and stored their overnight bags on a shelf. June swung herself into the cellar, missed the second rung and fell the rest of the way. She cried out as she landed.

No time to worry about that. Why was Gavin here? Were the shifters with him Millington wolves or Roanokers who'd do whatever Gavin wanted?

Probably the latter. Roanoke's press gang had a lot of practice digging out wolves who didn't want to be found.

Harry's gaze locked with Gavin's right before he leaped into the cellar, flipping the door as he jumped. A loud boom echoed through the basement, either from the trapdoor crashing or Gavin trying to catch it. Harry fumbled the latch in place. Wouldn't hold long, but seconds counted.

June limped into the safe room, seizing an orange box off the closest shelf. He grabbed the overnight bags and followed. The thick door had two deadbolts, which he slid home, as well.

“Can they get in?” No way would Gavin miss the safe room when he knew his prey was in the cellar. He'd tear down the shelves, the walls, everything to find what he sought.

Which had to be Harry. No shifter was crazy enough to display this much firepower over a woman. He'd bet anything Gavin was hoping to eliminate him to get his hands on Bianca's pack.

“We'll be okay,” June said. “The concealment spell is reinforced in the safe room. A protection spell inside a protection spell. He'll think we got away.”

She hobbled to the center of the room. The fetid odor of muck emanated from the dirty rags in the corner.

“Even if he finds the door?”

She kicked aside a dirty rag and kneeled, grimacing when she twisted her ankle. Her blue sleep shirt hiked up her thighs. “Maybe he'll assume we made it out of the house and split his forces.”

It wouldn't help. Half of the intruders would be more than enough to take them. In the cellar, wood splintered as the shifters burst through the trapdoor.

“Down the chute?” Harry asked. Their talc spells were gone, so he would be easy to find. Maybe June too. She hadn't thought they needed them inside the house, and she'd wanted to save her power for something stronger. Once outside the house, they'd be sitting ducks.

If Gavin didn't catch them, Bianca would. Right now he'd pick Bianca. He concentrated on the voices in the cellar.

“I know that mongrel's in here somewhere. I can sense him,” Gavin said, followed by crashes and rips.

“I don't understand.” June rifled through her carton of herbs and roots. “The spell worked. I felt the magic leave me. How can he detect you in here?”

“No idea.” Harry had been wrong to put his trust in hoodoo. He'd heard Gavin's threats, the violence in his words. He and June should have made a run for it, and now they were screwed.

June babbled as she dumped the hatbox on the concrete. “We should have been safe. We covered our tracks. Why are they back? This could draw attention to all of us. How stupid is that guy?”

“Very stupid. The packs won't like covering this up either.” Maybe they'd finally see Gavin for the loose cannon he was. Harry inspected the door to the cellar. Metal—but the walls seemed less sturdy. The wolf inside him paced, longing to be free—so he could run, run, run. He was one fast motherfucker in his wolf form.

“Do you think Bianca sent him?”

“If Bianca thought I was here, she'd have come herself. She's got to realize Gavin's been chasing off candidates by now.”

“You told that boy we were leaving town. Gavin has no reason to be here.” Crashes sounded from the cellar. Ripping. Tearing. Harry wasn't sure how much June could hear, but there was mass destruction in the next room.

“It doesn't matter why. It just matters that we get away.” He opened the door to the tunnel, his nose curling. The caved-in area meant the skateboard things were useless.

Gavin's voice rose above the chaos.

“Can you hear me, Smith? I don't know why we didn't recognize you last night, but we do now.” Wood splintered, and dust puffed around the safe room door. “You've been broadcasting signals this morning even a loser like you could pick up. Been banging your girlfriend? Way to get distracted, moron.”

He had been having sex—crazy, powerful, alpha sex—but according to June they should have been protected.

“That can't be right.” She threw twigs and roots in every direction. “The spell worked. It worked! There's no way they should be able to read you then or now.”

But they could read him. June's spell had been a dud.

“I know you haven't run yet, Smith. In fact, I think you're right—” one last giant crash and the door between the safe room and the cellar jiggled, “—here. By God, there's a door. Looks like the old bat from the tea room has some secrets.”

“He has no idea.” June's hands trembled as she chucked herbs into a white bowl. She pounded a gray rock on the floor, creating a powder, and added it. “I must have screwed up the spell. Sludge was all over me.”

“But you have some secrets too, don't you, Smith?” Gavin shouted between thumps. “Or should I call you John Lapin?”

Harry's blood ran cold. June paused to stare up at him. “What's he talking about?”

“Not now,” he growled, his teeth so sharp he nearly cut his lip. Gavin had Harry's true scent…and the memories he had never wanted to revisit.

“I can't wait to tell Mom and Pop.” Gavin whaled on the wall between sentences. “Little John Lapin is notorious pack hater Harry Smith. Good trick, you useless bastard. I don't suppose your mother's still around? I'd love to fuck her again, once I finally kill her mongrel brat. She should never have tried to run, little Johnny. Now you're going to pay.”

June watched him with wide, frightened eyes. “Harry?”

He had a sudden, blinding understanding of why wolves went feral.

“Nah, I bet she's dead,” Gavin continued, as if the conversation were sociable. “She'd never have survived severance. Which means the only thing I don't know is how sweet, tasty June can still be a juvie. She smells good to me, Lapin. Real good.”

Harry growled.

Outside the door, Gavin paused to laugh. “You don't like that, do ya? She must be a moron like you, too stupid to shift. Too stupid to run.”

“Hurry up, Gav,” another voice urged. The door rattled again. “Bianca's going to sense him too and send somebody over here.”

“She can go screw herself. I'll be alpha soon.” More voices, Gavin's rising above them. “Love and war, baby.”

“This can't be happening. Dial the cops. Pete will get us help.” June fumbled a glass vial on the concrete and it shattered, exploding red powder all over the floor. “Criminy.”

Harry indicated his clothing—underwear and nothing else. “My phone is on your bedside table.”

“Well, hell. What else is going to go wrong?”

It was the first time he'd ever heard her curse. She didn't even realize how wrong things had gone. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No.” She began scraping up red powder, cutting her hands on the glass, and sprinkled the powder into the bowl.

Harry couldn't stand it any longer. Her magic had failed once already. Gavin knew who he was and had double the reason to kill him now, because Harry knew how he'd gotten that scar—and why. Gavin wouldn't take any chances Harry might enlighten the Roanoke pack about what had happened to Christine Lapin. “June, we can't stay here.”

She plucked out a few pieces of glass, her hands unsteady. “It's a strong door. We have a few minutes.”

“Not strong enough. We need to run.”

She glanced at him, anguish twisting her pretty features. Blisters began to form on her fingers. “We don't. You do.”

Harry glared at her. “We're both going to run.”

“I'll survive what he wants to do to me. You won't. You'll die, Harry, and I won't allow it.” Her voice cracked. “After I disguise you and your wolf, you're going alone.”

“No. Disguise us both.”

“I can't.”

“Then we run.”

She ignored him, pounding a pestle into the bowl, the
tink-tink
a counterpoint to the werewolves trying to get into the safe room. Blood streaked the handle of the pestle, the sides of the bowl. “If I never improvise a spell again, it will be too soon.”

She inhaled a deep breath, throwing back her head so her yellow curls tumbled down her back. She dumped the powdery mess into one hand, closed her eyes, made a double fist, and…nothing.

Until a pressure began to build in the air, a pressure Harry now recognized as magic. It popped almost audibly and she fell forward, catching herself on the concrete with one blistered hand. The other clutched her powder.

“What did you do?” He dragged her to her feet. She swayed, eyelids fluttering in semi-unconsciousness.

“Some spells take a lot out of me,” she whispered. Then she wrapped an arm around his neck and kissed him.

Harry kissed her for a second and pulled away. The coppery scent of her blood hit him at the same time. “I'm not leaving you.”

“You are.” She smeared powder across his neck. Glass cut his skin but it was nothing compared to the slow, mounting burn that followed.

He clapped his hand over the area. “Cast a spell on yourself too.”

“Not enough power. Shift so I can mask the wolf.”

“No.”

She stared him straight in the eyes. “I love you, Harry.” Then she slapped him full across the mouth. “Now do it.”

Her alpha flared up as if she were as pack as Bianca. He stepped back, his shoulders instinctively drooping, before growling at her.

“No.” His own alpha responded in kind. “I stay. You go.”

“Good grief, Harry, why do you make things so hard? I have a plan.” She snatched a purplish twig from the floor and grabbed his arm.

Pressure. Pop. Calm washed over him along with the scent of lavender. Pandemonium around him, but his path was clear.

Protect his woman with every fiber of his being.

She lurched forward, clutching her stomach, her skin pasty. Her eyes burned a hole through him, their blue shade the most intense color in the chill room. Her pupils shrank to barely visible dots.

“Shift,” she ordered again, her voice low and dangerous.

Harry felt the command's strength. Found it reasonable. The change fluttered over him, tingling through his extremities. The surface pain at his neck melted as his animal took control. He could do more damage in this form. He could hold the pack off while June got away.

The thunderous attack on the door halted. “What's going on in there? What do I smell?” Gavin asked. “Is June an alpha? My lucky day. I need a new alpha bitch in my pack.”

Harry nuzzled June's crotch. She smelled of his body, of hers, layered with a pure thread of alpha. She fell onto her hands and knees.

Was she changing? Now?

She shook her head like a wet dog. He whined anxiously, unable to express his concerns any other way.

“Come here,” she croaked. She extended her arm around his neck, rubbed down his spine. A few flecks of cayenne twitched like fire against his skin.

Pressure. Pop. June groaned and crumpled to the floor.

Harry nuzzled her and considered shifting back, but two quick transformations before a fight would weaken him way too much.

The door rattled. Dust fell from the jamb as the metal fixtures began to loosen.

“Get help,” she whispered. Her last words to him, before she passed out, were, “You big dummy.”

The door thundered. A crack appeared in the jamb.

Harry could stay. Fight. Lose.

Die.

Or he could go. Run. Get help.

If Gavin laid one hand on June, if the pack did anything to hurt her, Harry would find a way. He might be a man who'd never wanted much beyond good food, a pretty woman and the freedom to roam. He might be a man who'd comforted himself with the knowledge that the best revenge was a life well lived. But the past twenty-four hours had seared off his soft edges.

Forged him anew.

He would find a way to make them all pay.

Liquid splashed her face. June shivered awake, gasping.

“Get up.” A tall figure loomed over her, an empty cup in his hand. “I've got questions for you.”

Her vision blurred as beer stung her eyes. She tried to wipe her face but found her wrists secured behind her back. She blinked rapidly. The hazy shape took form—Gavin.

He stood with his legs spread, glowering at her. “Where did he go?”

“Who?” She was sprawled in the back of a pickup. Trees above, voices nearby, mostly male. The tailgate was down. A breeze puffed across her legs, exposed by the sleep shirt.

Gavin leaned over and captured her chin. “Where did John Lapin go? He was there and then he wasn't.”

Snippets of memory filtered back to her. The door to the cellar bursting in, rough hands, her body given the potato-sack treatment. Harry must have gotten away.

Thank the Goddess he hadn't stayed in some futile effort to fight Gavin. Thank the Goddess twice her adlibbed masking spell had worked. Her head ached and her mouth tasted like a dirty sock.

How dumb should she play? She couldn't pretend to be human, but she could pretend to be uninformed. For example, she'd had no idea Harry had an alias until today.

She widened her eyes in feigned confusion. “I don't know a John Lapin.”