Where Wild Things Roam

Mistakes

Darby    

I don’t know where this were gets the boundless energy that he has.

Really.

I know he hasn’t slept more than I have and I’m running on nothing but fumes. The sun is warm through the window, beating down on my skin when Ian wakes me again. He’s sitting on the side of the bed, tickling the seam between my lips with one wet finger he’s dipped in peach nectar.

Desperate for sustenance and the moisture, I suck his finger into my mouth and can’t help but sigh when the sweet liquid spreads across my tongue. “Mmmmm.”

When I open my eyes to ask for more, Ian’s are boring into my face watching my lips pulling greedily on his finger.

Oh, sweet goddess, no. He can’t possibly mean to have more s*x. We’ve been at this for hours. The man is literally a f*****g machine.

“Open.”

His command comes in that low, silky-sinister wolf voice I find so irresistible and I obey immediately, releasing his finger.

“Leave it open.”

Without taking his eyes off my mouth, Ian dips his finger in the nectar again and carefully brings another precariously trembling drop back over my awaiting tongue.

“All the way to the back of your throat this time.”

There’s an insane thrill to the power of this, knowing that just the sight and the feel of my mouth has this ferocious alpha were feeding me off his fingers also eating out of my hand. I do as he says though it’s no small task. His fingers are easily seven or eight inches from palm to fingertip, depending on which one he’s using, and about the girth of a cucumber or zucchini squash. He’s deep in the back and smiles lustfully when I swallow and the muscles of my throat constrict around his finger.

“Someday,” he says, and green and yellow flecks appear in his deep blue eyes, “I’m going to watch those juicy pixie lips of yours do this to my c**k and you’ll swallow me down the same way, my love.”

Now that is a daunting thought. That monster between his legs is easily three, perhaps four, inches longer than his longest finger and at least double the girth. But I’ve no desire to arouse the wolf beast again until I’ve had some time to heal and learn more about how best to handle him. I choose my words carefully, move my head to get his finger out of my mouth. “While I would certainly love to, that generous of a helping might be a bit out of my range.”

“Not at all, my love. We’re mates. You’re made to take every part of me for your pleasure in the same way I’m made to give it. I’ll fit. All of me.”

This has gotten treacherous. Ian-wolf clearly has his own plans and I’m not betting I’ll get a say in them. “Ian.” I whisper the same way I did last time, calling the man from the wolf and praying it works again.

He leans forward and kisses my lips gently.

“You’re alright, baby. He doesn’t get to be alone with you again until we both trust him.”

Oh, now that’s reassuring. I’m positive the wolf half didn’t give either of us a choice last time he took control. As if he can read my thoughts, Ian smiles and his eyes have gone all blue again.

“Darby, I promise you you’re safe. I love you with all of my being, including the wolf half. I won’t hurt you again. Sit up now. I’ve brought you something to eat.”

I draw myself up against the headboard and Ian sets a heaping plate of my favorite foods in front of me, then climbs in and stretches out alongside, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Ian, there’s no way I can eat all of this.”

“Eat. As much as you want. And drink the nectar. Although you’ll have to drink it out of the pitcher because I forgot a glass.”

His words make me giggle, and I tuck my hair behind my ear as I try to decide where to start. I freeze, give my long tresses a couple squeezes and look at Ian. “My hair is damp.”

“I gave you a bath.”

“You gave me a bath.”

“Yes, I just said that,” he chuckles.

“And you brought me food. How long was I out?”

“Couple hours at most.”

“How long did you sleep?”

He shrugs. “About half that.” A line forms between his brows. “Maybe I should have given you a cold shower to clear your head instead of trying to relax your body.”

I set the plate aside and turn towards Ian, my legs curled around me. “Are you trying to kill us both? Or just me? I’m sorry to be a disappointment to you, Ian. I’m afraid I’m not exactly at my best when I’ve been battling vampires and then spent several hours trying to heal the kind of wound your friend had. It takes a lot out of me.”

Ian laughs, taking the pitcher from the bedside table and handing it to me. “Drink. I’m not trying to kill either of us. Only making certain you’re comfortable and get what you need during your heat. What do you mean, the kind of wound my friend had? What kind of wound was that?”

I’m taking a deep drought from the pitcher when he so casually mentions the word ‘heat’ and I nearly spew peach nectar all over him. Coughing, I look at him again. “I beg your pardon. Did you refer to heat in the same sentence with me?”

“Yes, baby. You’re in heat—ovulating. I could smell it from the ridge when we came upon the valley yesterday. I’m making sure you get what you need going through it.”

“You could smell my ovulation?”

He’s entirely too amused by this conversation that completely appalls me. “I’ve been trying to tell you—I have a wolf’s sense of smell. Plus you’re my mate. But we all could smell you. Even Ivan in the state he was in.”

“Oh, sweet goddess. No wonder you’ve given me two baths.” Feeling nauseous, I search for a place to set the pitcher, grateful when Ian takes it from me.

“You smell nice, Darby. Enticing.”

He nuzzles my neck as he says it, and I feel faint and hot and the ache starts again in my womb. Ian’s been here less than a day and he knows my body better than I do.

“Try to eat.” He rights himself. “And tell me what kind of wound Ivan had. I know the arrow was silver tipped—all vamp arrows are when they’re messing with weres. And I remember you said it was yew. What’s yew?”

Selecting an apple from the pile of food on the plate, I take a bite, chew slowly and enjoy it with my eyes closed. When I open my eyes again, Ian’s looking at me like I’m his next meal, and I think I’d best get distracting him. “Yew is a shrub. In some parts of the world, it grows into a tree. All parts of it are poisonous, including the wood used for the arrow shaft. Is there something you’re not telling me about Ivan?”

Ian shrugs, with a little shake of his head. “He’s my Second. One of my best friends. Why?”

“That arrow was triple poison for a were. Yew shaft, silver tip, and it had a hex on it specific for weres.”

“A hex?” His brow furrows. “You’re sure?”

I arch a brow. “I do have a bit of skill with magic, Ian. In case it escaped you.”

“No. But specific for weres?”

I finish my apple and set the core aside. “Your species is not exactly my area of expertise, but I’m familiar enough to know that both the silver and the yew were intended to weaken you. That hex was to allow them to capture whoever it hit. So either there’s something special about Ivan. Or that arrow wasn’t intended for him, Alpha.”

**

Jack    

I get about three more hours of decent sleep before Ian gets back to work upstairs and it starts to get loud. I understand though. Men like feedback, and the kind she’s giving is the kind makes a man work to get more of. Plus I’m sure he’s got plenty of pent-up s****l energy since he’s been searching for her for so long.

I haven’t spent enough time with her to know what kind of Luna she’ll be, but the kind of racket she’s making is assurance enough that she’ll keep Ian happy. If she can do that, she’s earned her place as far as I’m concerned.

Plus, the rooms in the packhouse are all soundproofed. So once we’re home, she can scream herself hoarse.

 I tell Tessa after we finish breakfast.

There’s a little bit of sadness in the way that she says it and I realize, at her age and with arthritic joints, her rabbit chasing days are long over. It’s a shame you’re not a were, Tessa.

Tessa’s a domesticated dog, closer genetically to weres than the human mates some have turned.

Tessa tips her head to one side considering. It’s ridiculously cute and I want to cuddle her all over. She’s the kind of dog that makes me understand why humans have pets.

I clap my hands then rub them together. All right. Let’s do this. How about we head out to the orchard so we can catch rabbits as soon as we’re done?>

Tessa hobbles towards the door.

I can’t help but laugh. Now she’s cute and feisty. 

I open the door and we make our way slowly across the lawn to the orchard gate. 

 Tessa retorts.

When we get to the orchard, Tessa decides my were form is a bit intimidating. Which I can see. I wind up giving her the were catalyst with my human form. I’m still picking dog hair out of my teeth while her transformation takes place, but I don’t think it takes ten minutes for her eyes to clear. Then her coat thickens. And pretty soon she’s got the zoomies all over the orchard like a pup, her ears back and her tongue lolling happily.

The two of us are laying on the garden grass enjoying the sun when Darby tries to make her way downstairs and I hear Ian object.

Vehemently.

“Ivan doesn’t need anything, Darby. Jack or Tessa would have let us know if he did. Come back to bed.”

“He’s not Jack or Tessa’s patient. He’s mine, and I’m going to check on him.”

And just like that, I lose the bet. Because, in the end, Tessa may be younger than me in human years, but in dog years, she’s ancient and wise.

I leap to my feet and reach the kitchen the same time they do. I’m still naked of course and even though I’m one hundred percent sure she’s seen a whole lot of naked man in the last twenty-four hours, Darby huffs and covers her eyes with a hand. She faces Ian, realizes he’s followed her downstairs naked and huffs again.

“Why didn’t the two of you put on some clothes?”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m 6’4 and Ian’s 6’6. The only clothes you have in the house are for toddlers,” I retort.

“They are not.” Darby stomps towards the stairs, stopping on the bottom step. “They’re spinner beetle silk. They size to the wearer.” Throwing a glare over her shoulder at Ian, she points at him and says determinedly, “You. Stay. Here,” then starts up the stairs.

“What’s a spinner beetle?” I ask and Ian just shrugs, a perplexed expression on his face.

A moment later four of the toddler boots clatter down the steps. Ian waits patiently, catching the rest of the clothes Darby throws down to him.

“Put those on.”

“Darby, baby, you have got to be kidding. There is no way in hell this is going to fit—.” As Ian’s debating her, he sticks one of his huge hands inside a shirt to demonstrate his point and sure as s**t happens, it expands.

I burst out laughing and Ian throws me a glare, tossing a miniature

shirt and pair of pants at me.

“You thought they were kids’ clothes too.”

“I didn’t deny it.” I stoop, putting one foot into the pair of pants, amazed again when they expand. “There’s some freaky f*****g s**t in this faery house,” I mumble under my breath.

“Are you dressed yet?” Darby calls from upstairs.

I eyeball Ian as Darby starts down the stairs. “She seriously doesn’t have anything else? We look like we’re part of a Russian ballet troupe. This s**t went out of style with Robin Hood.”

Then I see Darby’s face when she reaches the bottom stair and spies Ian. That come-hither look and smile she flashes him assures at least these pants get a permanent place in my barhopping wardrobe.

That same second, Tessa streaks in from the lawn, weaving and wagging among our legs. Darby kneels, tears standing in her eyes and pets her happy wiggling dog. “Look at you! You’re young! How did this happen?”

Tessa races back and forth across the short distance between me and Darby.

“How did you do that?”

I lean down to rub Tessa’s side. “I gave her were catalyst. She did great.”

“How did you know to do that?”

“I didn’t. We’re similar species. Made sense it would work.”

“You experimented on my dog? You could have killed her!” She turns on Ian. “He could have killed her!”

“Look who’s the whiny one.” I shrug, straightening to my full height over Darby. “She’s still alive.”

About ten seconds later than I should have shut my trap, that’s when s**t gets unreal.

White hot  and glowing with Darby’s anger, a double pair of dragonfly lace actual wings erupt from her shoulders with a static snap. She’s not even moving them and convection is lifting her feet of the floor, her long loose hair standing out and writhing about her head with heat and static. The wind is swirling around in the kitchen, so hard lighter things are crashing to the floor, or floating around in it and the house feels like it’s shaking. Something vast and violent is uncoiling vengefully around us, filling up the empty spaces of small house.

Correction—not something. Someone. Darby’s rage is more than a simple emotion. It’s living—a presence, with consciousness, looking out through her almost glowing green eyes.

And locked on target.

Me.

My mouth falls open in shock. “Oh, fuck.”

Tessa backs away quickly. 

Before I can launch myself out the door, Ian steps between us so fast he’s a blur even to my eyes. His huge hands close around her upper arms and he shakes her, once, hard. “Darby! Stop that! He didn’t know, but he didn’t mean her harm.”

Her murderous firefly attention snaps up to his face almost mechanically. Ian’s eyes have gone deep purple, his concentration on her is so intense, but I doubt that’s going to be enough to stop her from frying me where I stand.

When she puts her hands against his chest to push him away, his two-hundred forty pounds slides back as easily as you’d push a piece of paper.

As if realizing there’s real danger, with were speed, Ian darts forward, wrapping his arms about her and crushing her against him, his mouth closing cruelly over hers.

**