Where Wild Things Roam

Assaults

Sean    

I’m hovering at the cusp of sleep when I feel the subtle nudge against my charm. Instantly awake, I sit up, eyes wide, and focus on the sensation. There’s no mistaking the slight tug of the magic and as if I needed the extra push, a spectral smokey blue light winks to life near my bedroom door with a high-pitched, whispering whoosh.

Flipping the covers off me, I snatch a pair of sleep pants from the bench at the foot of the bed and tug them on, then pad across the room towards the ghostly light. Another whoosh, and the light disappears, but when I crack the bedroom door, peering into the darkened hallway beyond, the next waits for me to follow.

I grin, stealing towards the French doors leading to the courtyard and watch as the ethereal glow vanishes, then reappears on the other side of it, leading me on to where she waits for me.

Beyond the courtyard’s ornately carved wooden gate, the pine needles are soft beneath my feet, muffling my advance through the trees. The autumn air is crisp and I can’t decide if it’s the cold, or the excited heat that causes my exposed n*****s to harden. Not that I care.

The one thing I desire right now is the woman at the end of the will o’ the wisps.

I’m well into the forest now, the scent and sound of the river growing stronger with each step. I no longer need the phantom lights—I know where she’s leading me. I hasten towards it eagerly.

Moonlight glints off the water, highlighting the soft swell of her breasts and shimmering her fine skin into a luminous porcelain I can’t wait to touch.

She’s waist deep in the water, so I can’t see all that I’d like of her, but it’s enough. My eyes sweep along with her every movement, my body echoing my mental absorption. My baggy sleep pants feel suddenly tight and tented, watching her delicate hands slip over her shoulders and down her arms, over the swell of her breasts and along the flat of her stomach before they disappear below the river’s murky surface, rising again with more jewel-like droplets to trickle and smooth over her skin.

She doesn’t speak, but her head turns, angling one ear over her shoulder when she hears me. It’s all the invitation I need. I abandon my sleep pants near her clothes on the shore and in the next motion, wade into the water behind her, pulling her back against my front, my willing member straining between us.

The difference in our heights gives me the advantage, and I watch the movement of my own hands over her shoulder, aroused even more as I cup one heavy breast from beneath, my thumb teasing the tightening tip. A low gasp hitches in her throat, her head falling back against my chest and instinctively, my hand at her waist presses firmly, the soft curve of her bottom yielding against my hardness.

Reflexively, I grind my erection against her, groaning with pleasure and dipping my head to nibble the tender flesh at the crook of her neck and shoulder. “You cut your hair,” I whisper, brushing my lips over the soft prickles of her pixie cut at her nape, working my way towards her other shoulder.

She answers with a breathy moan and my c**k twitches, demanding more than the minute jerks of my hips can give, aching for the sweet, pulsing heat inside her. My hand at her waist dips lower, and I groan my approval feeling her legs spread incrementally wider, accepting my seeking fingers.

Even the slow current moving past us doesn’t wash away her welcoming slickness and using it, I edge her hooded bud, tormenting her with lazy circles. “Tell me what you want, Darby. Say it and it’s yours.”

She whimpers, tipping her hips and pressing her mound into my palm, and I curse, my c**k leaping between us. My fingers follow the curve of her body, her silky petals yielding as I seek her hidden core inside their folds. Writhing and rolling her slippery hips against me, she directs my fingertips to her hot entrance, and attempts to push herself onto them.

We both groan and she shudders deliciously when she succeeds, her tight walls surrendering to the press of my first two fingers. She jerks hard when I glide over the spongy bundle of nerves and her moan in response shoots directly into my c**k. I’m painfully stiff now, almost past the point of caring what she wants—she’ll get what she needs, of that I’m sure.

“Do you want to come, little girl?” I stroke my fingertips over her g-spot, senses keen for her response. Sweet goddess, how I want her response. “Tell me.”

She whispers incoherent words against my ear, so softly I can barely hear them over the quiet rushing of the river around us, her voice strained and strangely unlike her. But it’s enough. I work my fingers in and out of her faster and faster, gliding over her g-spot and pressing her c**t gently with the ball of my thumb. Around my fingers, she’s grown tight, convulsing in rhythmic squeezes, and I have to release her breast and clutch her against me to keep her upright, her legs are shaking so badly.

“Give it to me, little girl. Come for me.”

My body’s on fire, my c**k raging to get inside her silky walls, but I keep pumping into her with my fingers, pushing her ecstasy higher. Against my body, she gives a sudden lurch, her p***y constricting around my fingers snugly. Her nails dig into my forearms and I growl in her ear at the pleasure-pain, driving my fingers into her over and over. “Come again for me,” I urge. “Come again, sweet little girl.”

There won’t be a third orgasm on my fingers. My c**k is so hard, it’s ready to burst, and there’s no way I’m taking her to the shore and giving up the delicious feeling of her sliding over me in the water, no matter how much I crave the honey taste of her s*x. She’s peaking again within seconds, shuddering so hard I can barely keep hold of her, and hot, wet slickness oozes out around my fingers, arousing me to a fever pitch.

With wolf reflexes, I release her, catching her shoulders before she can slump beneath the water. I turn her to me, dragging her close then hitching her limp arms over my shoulders and hiking her legs around my waist. The head of my c**k presses eagerly against her hot entrance.

My vision whites out as the hot pleasure envelopes me, the warm wet of my dream spurting over me, soaking into the sheets. Hypersensitive to my own touch, I stroke the last of my tension away, collapsing into the wet sheets as the last hot jets explode.

Fuck, I pant, my heart rate slowing to normal with each breath. It’s always like that, every time I have these dreams. I know it’s her, but it’s not her and as much as I wish she would, Darby isn’t going to summon me with magic. I groan into the darkness, feeling the wet spot grow cold.

Uncomfortable now, I fling the covers off and roll onto my feet. Grabbing at the corners, I strip the bed, tossing the soiled linens into a pile on the floor and padding into the closet for the spares.

It’s as I’m pulling the last corner of the fitted sheet that I feel it, the whispering tingle of magic against my charm. Intending to concentrate on it, I lift my eyes in the darkness and swallow a gasp.

My room is full of waltzing motes of flickering golden faery fire, swirling like dust in a beam of sunlight.

For real I snatch my sleep pants off the bench at the foot of the bed, nearly crashing to the floor as I hop trying to pull them on, first one leg then the other, and get to the bedroom door at the same time. When I open it, the hallway is filled too.

It takes only a few seconds to recognize the singsong rise and fall of the Old Tongue and I follow the barely audible sound into the nursery, creeping up behind Darby. She’s draped in her silvery robe—a bridal gift from Ellie—and it pools at her feet like a queen’s train, her dark hair loose and spilling over her shoulders and down her back like a stain.

She’s so focused on the magic she’s working, she doesn’t notice I’m there, even when I inhale deeply, the enthralling scent of honey-drizzled peaches overpowering the superbloom. The fact that it’s the medication is irrelevant to my body, my c**k stirs to new life, hungry for another chance—a real chance.

Fine nets of white magic billow about Darby’s dainty hand where it’s cupped over Thomas’ head. They drift in wisps out over the baby’s tiny body, surrounding him in a gauzy, silvery shield. Beneath it, Thomas twitches, giving a little grunt, then stills into a warm, baby powder scented lump.

Her words are soft, not quite a whisper but more than a breath, and flow smoothly as a lullaby in the Old Tongue she speaks fluently. It’s almost a sound, a weak infrasound maybe. A wave of dizziness washes over me and the hair prickles on the back of my neck. The magic she’s calling coils and coalesces around her, growing and filling the room like a living thing, shimmering with wispy, diaphanous tendrils.

“May love and generosity fill your heart. May hope and curiosity fill your mind. May your hands create good works as you learn and grow. May your eyes always find the beauty around you. May your ears always hear truth and authenticity. May your words inspire goodness in yourself and in others. May your feet walk a secure and abundant path. May your light shine and never be put out. May you find kindness in all who you meet, all the rest of your days.”

As suddenly as it appeared, the magic is gone, sinking into the baby’s body. Its heavy presence fades, leaving me alone in the nursery standing silently behind the unsuspecting woman I desire most ardently.

Darby sighs deeply, as if what she’s done is a relief. Turning, she crashes into my chest with a startled squeak. My hands shoot out, catching her against me to keep her from falling against Thomas’ crib.

“Was that a charm you bestowed?”

The words are a deep growl in wolf voice and she cringes hearing them. Pushing ineffectually at my chest first, she looks up, a gasp catching in her delicate throat at my expression. She closes her eyes, swallowing hard and fascinated, my eyes track the tiny movement, stopping at the hollow in the base of her neck between her collarbones.

The place for my mark.

Aware now of how perilous her situation is, she shakes her head, then finally stutters her answer. “I can’t bestow a charm with my magic. They’re only blessings.”

Under the intensity of my ravenous gaze, she squirms, and I tighten my grip, suppressing her movements, subduing her with entirely too much relish. “Why?”

Against me, Darby’s temper flares.  Still defensive, she eyes me pointedly. “That’s none of your affair.”

When she shoves hard against my chest, freeing herself and attempting to leave, my wolf half, feral and starving, snaps and I grab her, pushing her roughly against the wall.

“You’re mine now,” I snarl.

The movement displaces Darby’s robe off one shoulder and opens a thin space between the sides down the length of her body. Her breasts heave with each rushed breath and her heart pounds like a rabbit’s against my chest. I’m more aroused than I think I’ve ever been.

With the advantage mine, I bend my knees, tucking my hips under and my rigid length slides between her slim thighs, only the thin cotton sleep pants between me and my dark desire. My eyes wander the bared flesh from her pale shoulder to her exposed breast, my fingers tracing the same path and lingering to stroke circles around her rosy areola. Her perfect n****e pebbles at the touch and I groan, my c**k twitching, demanding to sate itself inside her.

Leaning closer, I lower my mouth towards her hardened n****e. Even I can feel the heat coming off me in waves in anticipation of finally having the perfect bud under my tongue. Darby’s weak struggles against me only heighten my enjoyment.

“You should watch.” The words are whispers brushed against her skin when she turns her head away. “The more senses you involve, the more powerful the enjoyment.”

With a sudden burst of energy, Darby squirms against me. My body jerks away from her like a parachute’s been deployed, and I crash to the floor on the other side of the nursery.

Magic.

Of course she’d use magic.

Above me, Darby collapses, bracing herself against the wall and wipes her lips on the back of her hand. “Don’t you dare do that again.” Pushing herself up, she darts out of the room and the supernatural force pinning me to the floor lifts.

Leaping to my feet, I rush after her, but by the time I reach the nursery door, she’s slipping into the safety of the bedroom she shares with Ian.

Oh, f**k. What have I done?

**

Ian    

I’m in between meetings when Darby drops by on her walk back from the homestead with Tessa.

“Move another tree?” Tucking my mate onto my lap, I nuzzle her neck, slipping one hand between her thighs. Her pretty pink p***y is constantly damp and warmer even than usual from the medication, and it’s irresistible. I can’t keep my hands off her the instant she’s around. Not that that’s much different than before.

“Yes, and I’m exhausted,” she grumbles. Darby’s head tips back, resting against my shoulder, exposing her throat to my ministrations and she moans, relaxing into my arms. “For the sake of honesty, I only stopped in to use you for your body.”

“I’m okay with that,” I murmur with a smile. It’s marginally amusing that the only thing that alleviates the medication headaches is the body heat she siphons from me like a heat sink in any way that she can. I think this medication of hers had to be synthesized by a man—and probably a were—since not only does it make the female more fertile, it makes her crave male metabolism as a heat source and a remedy for its side effects. “I don’t know what man you thinks would complain of a beautiful woman using him for his body. baby. We’re pretty much all shallow that way.”

Her scent has changed slightly since she started taking the fertility medication, grown more nuanced, the sweet lilac and sugary shortbread richer now with hints of caramel and chocolate. I’m not the only one who can smell it, but only Anna, with her pregnancy-enhanced nose and utter lack of filter is brutally honest enough to admit it, even if only to me.

That doesn’t stop me from knowing Sean’s going mad with it too, or that he’s discretely hovering just out of sight beyond my door, here at my office a few minutes early for our next meeting. If I hadn’t grown to like him since the alliance exchange with Desert pack and didn’t have a begrudging respect for his intelligence gathering, I might be annoyed.

“How many is this?” My fingers tease the space between her nether lips through the soft cotton fabric of her yoga pants, doubtless arousing me more than her.

“Nineteen,” she sighs. “The inner ring is done, so hopefully with a full circle here it’ll be easier to move the rest of the trees now. When I have some energy back of course.”

“What are you doing out here?” Jack asks, striding into the room then making an abrupt about-face when he sees Darby on my lap behind my desk. “Oops. Sorry. You guys ought to close the door, you know.”

If she weren’t so exhausted, that kind of comment would have made Darby blush, but she scarcely moves. I turn the chair so my hand between her thighs isn’t visible, entirely out of respect for her modesty—everyone at the packhouse knows I have none. “You can come in. There’s nothing untoward going on, despite Jack’s dramatic commentary.”

Wandering back in, Jack flops onto the sofa at the back of my office, leaving the chairs by the desk open. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. If there was something going on, we’d be able to hear it from about sixty miles away.”

At that, Darby flicks him a withering glare. “Don’t push it, Jack.”

“Ah, right on time to find Jack pissing the Luna off.” Sean swats Jack’s feet off the sofa, then takes a seat.

As he does, there’s a buzz from the front office telling me Mattie has arrived. Standing, I deposit Darby in my chair and step around my desk into the hall, watching as the elevator doors open in the lobby area between the offices for Sean and me. “Come in, Mattie.”

My best guess is that Mattie is in her early sixties, with long straight white hair she keeps pulled back in a simple braid, much like Darby does. She’s rail thin and severe looking in the way of a disapproving librarian or Catholic school teacher, and several orders of magnitude more deadly to tangle with. As she rounds the corner of my office, I see her eyes dart quickly around the room before she takes the seat I hold out for her.

“Alpha. Triumvir,” Mattie says politely, in a hushed and cultured voice, but regards Sean suspiciously. “To what do I owe the honor of this invitation?”

“My apologies, Mattie.” I step around my desk again and Darby rises, giving up my chair. “You haven’t met Sean—he’s the new Second triumvir of Candlewood pack.”

“Pleasure.” There’s a hint of menace in the way he says it. Sean extends his hand, shaking Mattie’s, but the two look for all intents and purposes like two wild goats squaring off. Doubtless they’ll butt heads the same way too.

“You seem familiar Sean. Have I seen you here before?”

“No. I came from Desert pack and I don’t make a habit of fraternizing with witches.”

“That’s enough Sean.” My tone brooks no refusal as I take a seat, drawing Darby onto my lap again.

Wary still, Mattie’s eyes leave Sean slowly, then go wide with shock and disbelief. “I had heard whispers the Luna of your pack was fae. I didn’t believe any of your kind still existed in this realm anymore.”

“This is my mate, Mattie. Darby. Darby, this is Matilda Linden. She’s the leader of the River Run coven.”

“Nice to meet you, Matilda.”

“Please, call me Mattie. If, it might be permitted,” she glances at me for permission, “I would relish the opportunity to speak to you more, Luna.”

“Perhaps. Later. We have other business to discuss first. Sean.” As Sean hands Mattie the enhanced photo of the witch from the video, I open the box containing the cursed arrow Darby removed from Ivan and push it towards her. “What can you tell us about these?”

Mattie leans forward in her chair to glance into the box but doesn’t take long to recognize what it is. “That’s a vampire arrow, but I don’t think I need to tell you that.”

“You’re right. I’d like you to tell me why hundreds of vampires, cloaked in dark magic, were in my territory and attacked me, Ivan and Jack. With arrows like that. Why randomly, they continue to pop in here at Candlewood.”

Mattie shakes her head, clearly denying any culpability. “We have a treaty, Alpha. It hasn’t been broken on our part. It costs my coven a great deal of lost wealth for the security of a place in Candlewood territory and you know it. Besides, vampires aren’t our allies any more than they are yours.” She pauses, glancing down at the image Sean gave her. Her brows draw together and she leans forward, holding a spidery-fingered hand over the arrow. “I see you’ve found Jessica though. She disappeared since the pact was signed between my coven and your pack. If you didn’t know already, she’s the one responsible for the residual curse on this arrow.”

Jack sits up straighter on the sofa, leaning in toward Mattie with his elbows on his knees. “Disappeared? She’s rogue? Or something else happened?”

“We don’t know, Triumvir. She was always flaky, but I think it’s unlikely she can do much as a rogue.” Mattie sets the photo on top of the arrow’s storage box. “Jess came to us a weak green witch. A lot of ambition, but no work ethic. On again off again, she’d disappear in tantrums then return. She wanted power spoon fed to her. That’s not our way. We tried to teach her, but the last time she left, she didn’t come back.”

Jack and I exchange a meaningful glance. “Do you know where she is now?”

“No. But for a price, we could try to divine her location.”

“Who’s we?” Sean demands.

“I’d need two of my sisters,” Mattie says flatly. “And the arrow.”

“You’re not taking our evidence against you,” Sean snaps.

Though she’s elderly and nowhere near as robust as Sean, Mattie’s eyes flash defiance. “There is no evidence against me, or any of my coven, Triumvir.” The title is practically a sneer. “Watch yourself, son of Shea MacOmb. Your behavior puts more than just this pack at risk.”

“Sean.” The warning is back in my tone, but my Second ignores it, his eyes glued to Mattie.

His brows pull together fiercely. “Are you threatening this or the Desert pack, witch?” he snarls.

“Sean!” The alpha command draws him under my control.

“There’s no need, Alpha. He can’t harm me. I make no threats to either pack, Sean MacOmb,” Mattie says coolly. “I’m merely enlightening you. Candlewood’s alpha is not the only one who signed a treaty with me.”

Sean shakes his head vehemently. “I would never have signed an agreement like that, and neither would Silas.”

“You didn’t have to. Your father did. Who do you think gave you the charm you both carry, hmmm?” She stares at him with arched brows. “It’s fine work, isn’t it? But if you don’t believe me, try to raise your hand against me.”

There’s absolutely no way Sean would dare in my presence, but that doesn’t stop him from staring daggers into Mattie. I can only assume when his chin lifts and he relaxes slightly into the sofa that there must be some component of the charm that allows him to discern the truth of her words, and I remember not long ago Darby telling me he could. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Why did you do it? Why would you help an enemy?”

“Wolves and witches aren’t natural enemies. We run afoul of one another to come to such terms, just like anyone else. Your father paid me to remove the curse he carried.” Mattie shakes her head. “Only it couldn’t be lifted. I don’t have that kind of magic. As a counterbalance, to fulfill my part of the exchange, he agreed to the charm you now carry. It will pass from the Desert alpha to each son for as long as your bloodline lives.”

“I’m not an alpha anymore.”

“You are by blood, Sean MacOmb.” Mattie relaxes into her chair now that Sean has. “You can’t harm me, and I can’t harm you or your pack. That is the nature of your charm.”

“Are your issues resolved now, Sean?” I ask rhetorically. They damn well better be. “Mattie, what price to find the rogue witch, Jessica?”

The woman’s steely gaze locks with mine, then drifts again in amazement to Darby. “I would gratefully do it for a nice cup of tea and some conversation between my sisters and you, Luna.”

Smiling politely, Darby nods her head at me. “It’s fine with me.”

Before I can reply, she goes stiff in my arms with a pained cry, her filigree wings snapping to rigid attention behind her.

“Darby!” I stand quickly, gripping her by the shoulders, half to support her and half to direct whatever is happening into me and away from anyone else.

“f**k! Get back!” Jack shouts over Tessa’s mad barking, grabbing Mattie and pulling her into a corner, shielding her with his body.

In my arms, Darby gasps, her back arching. With an agonized grimace, her eyes go blank and green with writhing tendrils of turbulent magic, her face contorting from the pain of holding it in. Her mouth opens, wide and round, unexpectedly releasing an ear-shattering shriek. Against the sonic pain, I cringe and cover my ears.

Everything made of glass in the room splinters into murderous slivers that fly in every direction, along with people and the furniture, all forced against the walls. When I look up again, green magic dances around Darby, lifting her off the floor, but there’s no mistaking the dark magic flames cutting into it.

“Darby!” I reach for her again.

It’s Mattie’s scream that draws me up short. “No! She’s under attack!” Forcing her way out from behind Jack, she points to Darby, mumbling words we can’t understand. An instant after the words stop, a translucent white shield like a bubble closes around Darby and she collapses in a heap to the floor.

I scramble to her, clutching her to my chest. “Darby! Darby! Can you hear me?”

Her voice is weak, but strong enough we all hear it. “Ian. Valley. My grove. Burning.”

“f**k! Anna’s there!” In seconds, Jack shifts, his clothes shredding. Leaping through the shattered window, he races across the plaza towards pack house and the fold stone.

I climb to my feet, gently relinquishing Darby to Sean. “Stay with her,” I order, not meaning Darby, because I know he’d never leave my mate alone. “Mattie, get your sisters here. Now. I’m going to help Jack.”