Till Abandon (7 page)

"The PSC has an unsanctioned killer on the loose, and he's targeting my mate's pack."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stay the fuck out of my way.” Voltaire hung up.

Mouth set in a grim line, she headed to the kitchen—she couldn't brainstorm about setting a trap for a killer on an empty stomach.

Half an hour later, she'd devoured a plate of bacon, eggs and toast, and still had no plan of attack. She sprawled out in the middle of Blake's bed and tried to think of all the PSC agents she'd come into contact with over time. Nobody stuck out in her mind. But then again, it was those fuckers’ job to blend in. The only person who didn't blend in was her.

A warm tingle heated the nape of her neck. Blake was home. A smile played on her lips as she listened to his steady footsteps ascending the stairs.
God.
In such a short amount of time she'd come to care for and admire her mate so much more than she had before they met.

He came into view, her black duffel in tow, and stood framed in the bedroom doorway. The wolf let out a contented rumble.

Hmm, he'd missed her.

"Hey.” She smiled at him.

He returned her smile. “Hey."

Voltaire opened her arms wide and bade him, “Come to me."

He dropped the duffel and was at her side in two strides. Dropping to his knees beside the bed, he met her lips with his. She opened her mouth, let him inside and sighed when their tongues touched. Growls echoed in his chest. Voltaire cupped his cheek, deepening the kiss. He tasted of wildness, heat and crisp winter. Her pussy grew wet as Blake sucked on her tongue. A few more seconds of indulgence, then she broke the kiss.

Blake pressed his forehead to hers. His chest rose and fell rapidly as she smoothed her hands down his front.

"Thanks for the clothes,” she said. “How did it go with Marcus’ mom?"

He heaved a heavy sigh and squeezed his eyes shut. “I think it was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, telling Mrs van Treble her only son was dead."

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Blake.” Once again, she was reminded that her arrival in his pack had started the whole thing in motion. Voltaire closed her eyes under the guilt's heavy weight.

He caressed her cheek with rough fingers. “I promised her we'd find out who's responsible."

Her lashes flew open and she met his heavy gaze. “We will,” she vowed. “We will find them."

Blake leant forward, pressing kisses to her forehead, eyelids, and nose. “I have no doubt about that. I have you."

Damn.
Tears welled up in her eyes and clogged her throat. “It's my fault it happened, so I have to fix it."

He reared back. “What are you talking about? How is it your fault?"

Voltaire couldn't look at him—she fixed her gaze somewhere over his shoulder. “There's a rogue PSC agent out there, gunning for your pack. I brought him here. If I hadn't come... If only I'd stayed away..."

"Then I wouldn't have you. I wouldn't have my mate.” He tightened his fingers on her chin. “I don't regret your being here, because you're my mate. My other half.” He brushed her lips with his. “My sanity. You're the only thing keeping me breathing right now, keeping me looking forward to another day.” His voice trembled.

Tears spilled over and slid down her cheeks. He brushed them away with rough fingers. Voltaire sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. She leaned in to him as he shifted between her parted thighs, dropping kisses on his neck and shoulders. Blake held her tight and close, those strong arms keeping her right where she wanted to be. She slid her hands under his shirt, smoothed her palms over the corded muscles in his back, then grabbed his ass. Squeezed through the rough material of his jeans.

The wolf growled. Blake moaned and she smiled. Purposely, she stayed out of his head, choosing to only feel and listen to what his body wanted to say. Right now, the man bucking and grinding his hard cock against her leg needed her as much as she needed him. Reaching around to his front, she undid his jeans and pushed the faded denim off his hips.

Blake grabbed her legs and brought them to his waist. She hooked her ankles around him and slid off the bed. He moved with her and they remained locked in position with him on his knees, her anchored to his waist and him rubbing his hard-on into her softness.

Voltaire licked a wet trail from Blake's ear to his shoulder, nipping the veins bulging there. Groans rumbled in his chest—the wolf roared.

"Voltaire.” He sank his canines into her neck.

Heat sparked in her core.
What the fuck?
The fingers she'd laid on his chest curled, digging in to his skin. He hissed, the tight grip he had on her loosening. Tremors rocked her body so hard, her knees shook and her body folded backwards. She crumpled to the floor with a moan.

Blake grabbed her hand. “What's happening? Are you—” He sniffed the air, growling. “You're coming!"

Contractions rolled through her. Voltaire writhed on the floor, clawing at the T-shirt, fighting to pull it off. What the hell was happening to her? Blake yanked off her T-shirt and she dropped a hand between her legs, rubbed her clit.

"Ugh, fuck.” Legs spread wide, she rocked her hips. Juices poured from her, dripped down her ass. Blake stared at her, eyes and nostrils wide. “Don't just watch me,” she cried. “Do something!"

With a grin, he dipped his head and lapped at her sopping cunt. Her body arched, legs lifted to wrap around his neck.

"Motherfuck,” she sobbed. “I can't believe you made me come just like that."

Blake chuckled as he tongued her sensitive folds. He licked first one side, then the other. He pushed his fingers into her pussy. Her walls contracted, pulled them deeper.

Voltaire placed both hands flat on the floor and used it for leverage to lift up and lower herself onto his face. He worked with his tongue and fingers on her hungry core. Another orgasm bubbled up and she struck out, using invisible hands to push Blake's face closer into her wetness.

Deeper, harder,
she chanted. His thrusting fingers sped up, probed deep as he stiffened his tongue and flicked it over her clit. She bucked, cried out as the climax overtook her, dragging her down. Blake slurped her juices until they were all gone and her body's shudders subsided, then he lay on his back beside her, breath ragged.

She climbed onto his stomach and settled her moist cleft over his enormous cock where it lay across his stomach. The thick, veined organ was curved just so, made for seeking out all her hidden spots. The red, mushroomed head glistened with the slick mixture of his and her juices. Bending over him, she kissed his lips and tasted herself. Blake rose to a sitting position, taking her with him. She curled her legs around his back again and locked her ankles.

Bite me again.
The feeling was indescribable. “I want your bite all over me until everyone knows I'm yours.” She brushed the hair away from her neck, exposing the right side to him.
Do it.

He pulled her close, rubbed both hands up and down her back as he licked her neck, nibbled. She rolled her hips over his length. She reached between them and palmed his straining cock, brushing the soft head against her dripping pussy. Blake groaned against her skin. His sharp teeth scraped her once, twice, then sank deep.

"Mother. Fuck!” Fire heated her blood. Her pussy quivered, begged to be filled. In her palm, his cock pulsed, swelled. Blake sucked the bite, sending wicked need shooting straight to her cunt. His hips jerked, thrust up.

Voltaire swiped the head of his cock with her thumb, spreading the pre-cum around. She waited until the climax coursing through both of them was imminent, then lifted off his thighs. Blake canted his hips. She bore down and impaled herself on him.

Pleasure-pain stole her breath, froze her heartbeat and stilled her movements. Blake was far gone, thrusting into her like a man possessed. The wolf growled its approval. Voltaire rode him with her eyes closed, head thrown back, fingers digging into his shoulder. She tugged off his T-shirt and threw it aside. Her nipples grazed his chest as she flattened her front to his.

Blake gripped her hips, driving up into her with savage grunts. His climax triggered hers. She moaned. This was what she had stayed away from for so long, what she'd feared. This feeling of contentment, belonging. He pressed his forehead to hers, took her lips.

"You're mine,” he growled into her mouth.

Voltaire chuckled.
And you're mine.

Tightening his arms around her, he rubbed his cheek over her face and chest. Voltaire pressed closer, rubbed her tits over his chest, then proceeded to bite the shit out of his neck.

"Ow."

She licked the spot, then leaned away to meet his eyes. “So what you're saying is you're the only one allowed to bite?"

He laughed. “No, you can bite me all you want."

"I'll hold you to that.” Voltaire jerked her chin forward.

"What?"

"We have a visitor, and she's still wearing your scent."

What the hell was Aimee doing here? Blake had broken things off with her weeks ago.
Damn. Not good.

You're fucking right it's not good.
Voltaire scrambled off his lap, his cum running down her thighs. He watched as she fumbled around in the duffel bag and pulled out some clothes.

His mate.
He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

And you won't unless you deal with the bitch creaming for you downstairs.
She wiped herself off, then dressed in a pair of dark jeans and sat on the bed to put on her shoes.

Blake got to his feet with a curve to his lips. He'd never get used to having her in his head, but he liked her territorial attitude. Fuck, he'd snagged himself a mate.

Whenever you're finished feeling proud of yourself, I'm ready.
She stood by the door, arms folded, clothes perfectly in place. The hair gave her away. Her white tresses were a mess—it looked like someone had been combing through it with their fingers.

He pulled on a fresh pair of sweat pants and slipped on the same T-shirt. At the door, Voltaire wrinkled her nose.

Men.
She walked out of the room with quick strides and Blake hastened after her. She descended the stairs first, with him right at her heels. All the noise from the handful of patrons in the room ceased when she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Blake met the eyes of one of the men seated at the bar. “Where's—"

"Bitch.” Aimee was a blur of red hair as she sprang forward and slapped Voltaire in the face. His mate's whole being froze.

"The fuck?” Voltaire touched a hand to her cheek. “Did this...
person
just hit me?"

Aimee didn't appear to have a self-preserving bone in her body. She stood in front of Voltaire with her hands on her hips, green eyes flashing. “Yes. He's mine, bitch."

Voltaire grinned. “Aw, hell, no."

Aimee went flying through the air and landed on top of the bar. Blake opened his mouth to warn Voltaire not to hurt her too badly, but changed his mind. Aimee deserved whatever his mate decided to dish out.

Whatever Voltaire had done to Aimee, it prevented her from moving. The female shifter lay half on, half off the bar in mid-shift—her claws and fur were visible on her upper body—with a very sharp blade stuck in the air inches from her throat.

Blake strode to the centre of the room. Clapping his hands, he brought everyone's attention to him. Not an easy thing—all eyes were riveted on Voltaire. “Allow me to introduce my mate, so mistakes like this don't happen in the future."

Voltaire flipped her hair over her shoulder.

"This is Voltaire.” He caressed her face with his gaze and she reciprocated with a twitch of her lips. His wolf stretched. That woman brought contentment. Hell of a thing. “I'm choosing to do so to erase any doubt of who she is to me and what she can do."

He broke their gaze, directing the last part to the room at large. “Some of you may have already heard of her. If you haven't, this is your lucky day. She's known as the Death Bringer."

Gasps and growls rang out. He heard the questions swirling around in their heads—
The most feared woman, the deadliest Para out there was his mate? How had that happened

Voltaire blew him a kiss and walked over to where she'd flung Aimee. Plucking the knife out of the air, Voltaire spoke to the female wolf. “Now, you. This isn't about Blake, because he was never yours. He's always been mine, even when he was throwing his cock your way.” She traced the curve of Aimee's cheek with the tip of the blade. “You can't slap your Alpha's mate and get away with it, so you tell me what your punishment should be. Stop your heart with a look? Carve B hearts V into your cheek?"

Aimee whimpered, her entire body trembled, but she didn't move.

"V, let her go.” Blake put a hand on her shoulder. “I think she gets the point."

Yeah? You think she won't come back the first chance she gets to prove something? Then I'd have to slit the simple little fucker's throat, and where would that leave us?

"We'll be fine. Always,” he reassured her. She leaned in to him, looked into his eyes, and smiled.

Aimee moved her legs, heaved a shaky sigh and leapt off the bar. Her fur disappeared, claws retracted. “Um—I'm sorry for—um—hitting you."

Voltaire waved her away. “Save that for someone who gives a flying fuck. Now raise up outta here before I forget my man wants you breathing and slit your throat."

Aimee ran out of the door. Blake pulled Voltaire into his arms and kissed her deeply.

Can you believe that bitch had the fucking nerve to hit me?

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Voltaire sat at the bar, legs crossed, staring off into space. After the interlude with Aimee, Blake had cleared the place and locked up. Now, he sat next to her in silence. She heard his mind working overtime, trying to find an explanation for her sudden quiet. Since he'd chased everyone off, she hadn't said a word.

Marcus's killer could very well have been under their noses the whole time. Why hadn't she thought to consider Czion? He'd been in the same training sessions as her—although he hadn't completed the programme. After whatever happened between him and Remi, he'd left. But he still knew the basics, he could perform the
mind
death
. He'd been in Aimee's mind and hadn't even bothered to cover his tracks—Voltaire had followed the haphazard trail to see that the jaguar shifter had been whispering in the female wolf's ear, subtly pushing her to confront Blake and Voltaire when Aimee didn't want to.