Wolves of Haven: Lone (23 page)

Again, Varg snarled; he was still
in disbelief that Akia shot him. He had pictured, in his head, them
reuniting in a different means, one that had less clothing involved
and passion to the likes of nothing he has experienced with any
other female before. The taste of her, the warmth of her body, and
the scent of her skin still haunted his dreams, leaving him
painfully aroused in the morning without an offer of release. The
few women he had entertained for a passing moment, mainly in an
attempt to sate his sexual urges to prevent his wolf from doing it,
could never satisfy that primal need.

Only Akia could, and he wanted that
back.

Seff and Beowulf hurried through
the front door and into the living room.

“Where is Eve?” Seff
demanded.

Louvel sat up taller. “The cellar;
she and Damian have not emerged yet. What is wrong?” he
demanded.

“Did she leave the manor at all?”
he pressed, rubbing his bald head.

Ulrik shook as if trying to shake
out his fur before it fell away all over the area rug then stood,
erecting himself. “No. I sat in the stairwell all night. Her man
spent hours reassuring her that he would help her overcome Eve, and
that Akia is strong enough to control her… Eve is her wolf, right?
Like the Viking asshole named his Adam, hers is Eve?”

Beowulf nodded then he and Seff
went around and closed the interior shutters on all of the windows
on the main level, assuring them as much privacy as
possible.

“Eve is her wolf; the name means
first,” Rafe explained, watching the other two move around as if
ready for war. “Akia means first as well… Father is amusing like
that when it comes to the simplicities in life. She didn’t leave,”
he said, turning to the Alpha. “Her scent isn’t present,
obviously.”

“Not by the backdoor, sunroom, or
any of the windows,” Seff confirmed.

“They haven’t left that icebox in
the basement,” Ulrik said, looking between them confused. “Last I
heard he was unlocking the cell once snoring came from within.
After that I started running around the house to piss off the
grumpy one. What’s going on?”

Beowulf looked around. “Where’s
Fae?” he asked, noticing that one of his sons were
absent.

Rafe smirked. “In the carriage
house,” he said. “After his run he got into the whiskey, danced his
naked ass to the carriage house then passed out in the backseat of
the forty-six Ford.”

Seff growled; he’d have to
detail his precious car once the drunk,
naked
Ginger Bear got
up.

“When did he turn in?” Beowulf
pressed.

“Two hours ago,” Louvel said. “Boy,
go check on your brother again.” Once the young man was gone, he
looked to Beowulf. “My old friend, what is going on?”

Connell entered through the back
door, locking it behind him, then pulled his shirt over his head as
he headed towards the laundry room. “They found another body,” he
called out; the stench of the Stray was all over his clothing from
moving the latest victim, and it was starting to bring out his wolf
in a territorial means. “We knew it was going to happen, the black
moon was too much to withstand, but he struck outside of Haven,
beyond our borders.” He stripped out of the rest of his clothing,
throwing them in a sealed bag, double bagging the clothing to keep
the scent from spreading around the manor then started scrubbing
his hands and arms in the utility sink with soap. “It was a young
man, fifteen years old; blood alcohol level was three times the
legal limit.” He stuck his head under the tap to scrub his hair,
neck, chest and shoulders.

Varg growled, loudly, irritated
that his annoying brother was more concerned with the stench of the
Stray then telling them what had transpired.

When Connell finished cleaning up,
he joined the others, drying his hair with a towel with one hand
and spraying some air neutralizer with the other. Once the house
smelled of imitation cotton and spring rain, he motioned with his
chin for Rafe to light some candles just in case; the risk of Eve
visiting unannounced if she caught the scent wasn’t something he
had time for. “The Stray didn’t play with the latest victim, and
didn’t even attempt to hide it,” he said, mentally exhausted. “A
scent was all over the body, as if he rubbed up on him, every inch
of him and his clothing… He isn’t hiding anymore, and apparently
he’s bored now.”

Varg glared at him. “Why the
concern of Eve’s location?” he demanded.

“
Well,” Connell started, pushing
his hair back from his eyes, trying to push the thought of Akia
doing this from his mind, “cause of death points towards our little
sister’s questionable wolf-side: the heart was removed.”

****

Softly Akia moaned and sluggishly
blinked, trying to clear the haze from her mind. It was freezing in
the basement. It usually was, but she was overly hot from the body
stretched out the length of hers from behind. One of Damian’s arms
was wrapped around her waist, pulling her into him, holding her
protectively to him, while she used his other arm as a pillow. It
had been a long time since she’d woken up from a lunar cycle
feeling rested instead of drained, and only her shoulders and hips
were sore; most likely it was her body that bent the bars outward
so that was to be expected.

What wasn’t expected was
Damian.

For the first time in her life,
when Eve was present, Akia was able to catch glimpses of what was
happening. It shouldn’t have been possible, but considering Damian
was involved it made sense. There was no mistaking that Eve didn’t
like him in the least, and when he refused to play her game and
kept a level head, soft tone and showed saint-like patience, it
caused Eve’s hold to wavier, and Akia caught a glimpse through her
eyes. Each softly spoken, reassuring word that left his sexy mouth
caused more of Akia to surface, and for the first time in her life,
she believed that she might indeed be stronger than the
wolf.

Contently she sighed and snuggled
back into his strong form even more and smiled when his
instantaneous arousal stabbed into her backside. The black moon,
the extra new moon in the month, fell on the peak of her estrous
cycle, which she thought was a bad omen, one that Damian rolled his
eyes about when she pouted about the approaching lunar event. It
was as if he knew what her qualm was, as usual, and was trying to
reassure her that everything would be okay.

Damian Nikas was the extremely
annoyingly reassuring type.

The primal urge to consummate in a
raw, sexually charged mating every cycle, every seven months like
clockwork thanks to the medication cocktail that Connell had
perfected, nearly made it impossible for Akia to think of anything
else when it peaked. It was an inconvenience in Akia’s life, but
one that Damian made tolerable with his ability to seemingly sense
when her cycle was at its pinnacle and selflessly offered her an
outlet for a sexual release. As much as she hated that, she needed
someone, especially for something so extremely private and primal
that she had no control over. She loved that it was Damian who
seemingly answered her body’s silent call, and she could never
thank him enough for it…

Now she just needed the words to
leave her lips.

After Akia’s first cycle, she never
thought she’d be able to handle that type of compromising situation
again, but Damian made it a mind blowing, physical mating between
two strong, independent creatures. The first night they met, she
was trying to drink away the urge to have aggressive, animalistic
sex with the first man that caught her eye—it had worked before in
the past—but when Damian walked into the bar, a scowl on his face
and hair matted to his head from walking in the rain while trying
to clear his head, the primal side took control, and she wanted him
more than she had ever wanted anyone before. When another female
whispered to her drunken friends that he would be coming home with
her tonight, he just didn’t know it yet, possessiveness flared in
Akia, nearly bringing Eve to the surface. She followed the skanky
blonde to the bathroom when she went to freshen up before pouncing
on her unknowing target. Akia slammed her head into the tile wall
then hid her unconscious body in the electrical closet.

Nervous, scared, and not
entirely sure what to do, and terrified that he wouldn’t stop if he
agreed to be that outlet, Akia lost the battle of fear over need
and joined him at the bar. Without a word, she motioned for another
round for him and one of whatever he was drinking for her, then to
leave the bottle. They sat in silence, well after last call,
neither saying anything or looking at the other, but her wolf was
hyperaware of the man next to her. On a subconscious level she had
to have known that Damian was a werewolf and had an insatiable wolf
inside just as she did, but her rational minded side refused to
entertain the childish hope and dangerous notion. When the bottle
was empty, she tossed some money on the bar then stood.
‘You’re coming home with me tonight, so get your
jacket,’
Akia heard herself saying before
she realized it, and to her surprise, he nodded and joined her, and
the rest was history.

A deep moan of satisfaction
vibrated Akia’s throat, and an intense heat of arousal pooled
between her legs.

Damian softly growled under his
breath before nuzzling against the side of her neck. “Are you
actually awake or are you simply torturing me in your sleep again?”
he grumbled, sleepily.

“If I say yes will I get a
spanking?” she whispered with a giggle.

“No need to lie for a spanking,” he
reminded her before kissing behind her ear. “How are you feeling?
Does your wolf still speak to you or is she contained?”

She made a face, even though he
couldn’t see it. “She’s caged, more so than the one we’re in. I
know there was another body.”

He nodded. “Most likely, and you
are well aware that there was nothing we could have done to prevent
it. The territory is too vast and his scent has been too scarce on
the bodies for even our noses to pick up.”

“I’m well aware of that, but it
doesn’t make it easier to accept… Thank you for staying with me
last night,” she said. “I wish you wouldn’t have. I never wanted
you to see that side of me, regardless of you being a werewolf as
well, but I appreciate it.”

Damian rolled Akia over to
her back then slid up on top of her, splitting her knees then
positioned himself between them. Tenderly he caressed her head, his
eyes moving over her face many times. “You are a very complicated
creature, Latria Mou,” he eventually said. “The things you are hell
bent on struggling with alone is infuriating as your, I believe you
called it,
mate
.”

Akia groaned. “Shut up. That was a
slip of the tongue.”

“But it was a slip because you feel
that way,” he said, hoping it was true.

She sighed. “Yes, I suppose it
was,” she admitted, and he smiled wide. “Don’t go getting a big
head over it.”

He leaned down and caressed her
lips with his. “It isn’t a revelation,” he whispered, pulling back
when she tried to deepen the kiss. “I’ve always known how you feel.
Those beautiful lips of yours don’t need to speak the words in
order for me to hear them. I always hear you, Latria Mou, even when
you don’t make a sound.”

Akia nodded, trying to keep the
tears flooding her eyes from falling; that admittance meant much
more to her than he would ever know, and caused what was left of
her stubborn will to crumble. She rolled them over, pinning his
arms above his head then aggressively attacked his mouth with hers.
She slid down his strong, muscular body until his cock brushed
against the dampness between her legs.

“Look at me,” Damian
demanded.

When their eyes met she smirked; he
liked to look at her when they made love.

“May I have the honor and
privilege?” he asked.

Instead of answering, she slammed
her hips down and he entered her fully, his hips rising to meet her
with a driving thrust. A shiver raced across her skin as her moist
sheath tightened around his cock, causing him to hiss. A content
moan rolled from the base of her throat when Damian continued to
lift his hips to meet her, sinking himself into her, again and
again, setting a tempo that might break him, but he couldn’t
imagine a better way to go.

****

Those gathered in the living room
turned to regard the sound coming from the barred cellar door
tucked away behind the staircase.

Varg snarled before storming out of
the room, the back screen door smashing against the house so hard
that it splintered and broke free from the hinges in the
process.

“Are they doing what I think
they’re doing?” Ulrik asked, vacuuming up the blue and black hair
he had gotten all over the Oriental rug.

Connell nodded and returned his
attention to the preliminary report on the sixth victim in his
hands. “She’s in heat. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

He gave him a look, turning the
vacuum off. “Ew, that’s nasty. Why would I want to know if she’s on
the rag or not?”