TWENTY-TWO
“I think this calls for a drink,” Nic said as they sat on the steps outside the cabin. After the attack, they’d simply sat down, content to breathe for a moment without the threat of death. When had life become so chaotic?
“I have a few bottles of whiskey in the cupboard,” Jo replied, pushing her hair back away from her face. “We can crack open a few.”
It would take an entire bottle each to feel the effects, but Nic never turned down whiskey, especially from his beautiful mate.
“I’ll go grab it.” Nic stood and went inside, realizing once he was there that he didn’t know which cabinet the whiskey was stored in. There were so many doors. Without asking Jo and seeming like an idiot, he simply began to pop open each cabinet door to peer inside, searching for the elusive whiskey.
“Second door from the right,” Jo called inside, clearly hearing him searching and taking mercy on him.
Following her directions, Nic moved over to the door she’d specified and popped it open, the whiskey bottles beckoning him from the top shelf. With a grin, he reached up and plucked out two of the five bottles there and studied the labels. He raised his brow.
“You drink hundred-year-old whiskey?” he asked, reaching back up to grab a few glasses. Before he could turn away completely, something else in the back of the cupboard caught his attention.
A newspaper.
A pack newspaper.
Setting the bottles on the counter, Nic gingerly picked up the newspaper and pulled it down, his eyes widening in shock. It wasn’t just any newspaper. This one was from his pack a few years ago. He recognized it because his own father had the same newspaper framed on his wall, Nic’s own face beaming from the front of it while his dad had his arm thrown around his shoulders. The headline read, “Prodigy Son Set To Take Over the Mantle as Beta.” He’d passed that day, deemed worthy of taking the position when his father decided he was going to retire. His dad had been so proud.
But what was Jo doing with it in her cabinet?
“How long does it take to grab a couple of bottles of whiskey?” Jo grunted as she stepped inside. Her eyes immediately went to the newspaper in Nic’s hand, realizing what he was holding. “What are you doing?”
Nic held it up. “You kept tabs on me?”
“No,” she answered, too quick. Seemingly realizing what she’d done, she shook her head. “I was walking past the newspaper box, saw a familiar face, and picked it up. That’s all.”
“This is from three years ago,” Nic pointed out.
She shrugged. “So?”
Staring at her, Nic raised his brows. “So, you kept it for three years.”
Jo moved toward him and grabbed the newspaper, looking down at it. “I just forgot it was up there is all. No big deal.”
Any person who meant those words would have immediately tossed it in the trash. Nic knew that, expected it almost for Jo to keep up the illusion, but instead, Jo set the newspaper purposely back on the counter, not in the trash, but there, safe. Without commenting on it again, she grabbed one of the bottles and popped it open, intent on the alcohol, but Nic could only watch her as she went through the motions, as she dismissed something incredibly important to him.
She’d been keeping tabs on him, just as he had her.
“Here, let me grab all that,” Nic said suddenly, snapping out of the dawning glee to reach forward and grab the other stuff. “We can sit out on the porch. The night is nice.”
Jo glanced at him, her brows furrowed. “Yeah, sure. I just need a drink after everything that has happened.” She sighed. “Before, I only had to worry about an algorithm. Now, there’re assassins, angry, corrupt gods, and a race that could quite possibly kill us.” She toasted her glass in the air. “Here’s to a night free of drama.”
She threw back the whiskey, and the column of her throat drew Nic’s eyes. The tendons there flexed with her swallow, and he suddenly wanted to run his teeth along the lines there, the temptation so strong, he had to busy himself with pouring his own drink to keep from acting on it. Despite their progress, Nic doubted Jo would be okay with him suddenly threading his fingers through her hair and kissing her senseless.
Holding everything in his arms, Nic led the way back out to the porch where he settled the bottles, glasses, and snacks he’d grabbed on the small table there. Only then did he drink his own glass, throwing it back just the same as Jo had. When Jo stepped out behind him, her own eyes dipped to his throat and away, as if she were having the same struggle.
It made Nic feel better.
Without a word, they began pouring glass after glass of whiskey, Nic taking the time to top up Jo’s glass only for her to turn around and do the same to his. The whiskey was smooth, a top shelf variety that Nic knew he couldn’t ever go without again. Jo had excellent taste and he knew it was a flavor that his own father would enjoy, so he made a mental note to purchase some of his own and store it for the times Jo might be around.
If she ever came around at all.
When there wasn’t but a fifth of whiskey left in the bottles, Nic settled back into his seat a little deeper, finally feeling the buzz of the alcohol to the point where he might be unsteady on his feet. As werewolves, to get drunk off of normal alcohol, they needed something strong and to drink it fast. It only took them a mere ten minutes to drink the bottles so when Nic stood suddenly, he wasn’t surprised that the world spun for just a single moment before righting itself. His blinks felt slower than before, but not because he was tired.
“Where are you going?” Jo asked, staring up at him with those beautiful eyes. Everything about Jo was beautiful, from her strong jaw to her broad shoulders, to the way she carried herself. She was a glorious goddess blessed by Luna. She had to be. No other woman was as magnificent as she was.
“Let’s go for a run,” Nic answered, tugging his shirt over his head. Jo’s eyes immediately dropped to his abdomen, her gaze tracing his body in a way that had him flexing them in show. He wanted her to keep looking at him just like that.
“Right now?”
“Right now.” Nic went to the button on his jeans and Jo’s eyes widened.
“Hold on,” she said, reaching for the bottle and tipping it up, draining the final fifth. Only then did she stand up, slightly unsteady in a way that made her giggle, before she tugged her own shirt over her head, revealing the lacy bra she’d been wearing.
Fuck, Nic thought, using every ounce of willpower in him to turn away and give her privacy. He grabbed the last of his own bottle and tipped it up, a distraction. The entire time, he could hear her clothing being shed and dropping to the wood beneath their feet. He wanted to turn and look but gave her what she needed. When she bounced off the porch in her mahogany wolf form, he set the now empty bottle aside and shifted, bursting through his jeans instead of revealing just how turned on he was. Luna, Jo was going to be the death of him.
Wanna race?Jo’s voice echoed in his mind, a challenge, a tease.
Nic grinned with a wolfy smile at her, his tongue hanging out like a dog, and the amusement shone in Jo’s eyes.
Get ready to lose, Nic teased back.
And then they both took off.
Running as a human could be relaxing, a moment in time where the world could pause as the breath saws in and out of your lungs. But running as a wolf? It was otherworldly. The pulse of the earth beneath your paws filled your veins. The sounds of the world around you made a symphony that morphed together and urged you on. That was how Nic always felt as he ran, and the way that Jo pushed herself, he knew she felt the same. There was just something about a good run that could really make you taste freedom.
Nic wasn’t sure how long they’d run— his sense of time passing was always skewed with alcohol in his blood— but by the time they reached a clearing filled with lush grass, the moon was high in the sky. The entire day had passed, but he didn’t mind.
Not when the glorious wolf beside him threw back her head and howled at the moon, calling to Luna, singing her a song.
Nic joined in, two wolves in the forest, a beautiful call of success and longing that neither seemed to realize was there.
And then Jo shifted, her human skin returning, her eyes bright with challenge.
“I win,” she said with a grin. “I didn’t realize you were so slow.”
But Nic couldn’t say a word, because Jo was suddenly standing there, right in front of him, naked as a jaybird. His eyes dropped automatically before he realized what he was doing and jerked his eyes up over Jo’s head, determined not to be disrespectful. He probably looked silly, wearing his fur, and looking away. So he shifted himself, and Jo’s own eyes widened.
They’d forgotten their clothing.
Hell, Nic had shredded his jeans anyway.
They had to be miles from the cabin. Walking back naked probably wasn’t the way to go.
Jo studied him, her eyes still glassy with the sheen of alcohol. Despite having that effect, she was still completely alert, steady, the whiskey leaving just a buzz rather than them getting black out drunk.
“I assumed you’d have tattoos,” Jo said, raising a brow.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. Like some tribal thing or something. Maybe one you got when losing a bet. Something silly like a juice box.”
Nic snorted. “A juice box?”
Jo grinned and turned around, Nic’s eyes dropping to her ass for a moment before he focused on the tattoo there. It was small, barely larger than a tennis ball, but above the dimple on her back was a permanent. . .
“Is that an avocado?” Nic laughed. “Why do you have an avocado?”
“I use the term ‘Holy Guacamole’ way too much and Iliad dared me to do it. We made a bet that I couldn’t go a week without coffee. I lost, but we both ended up getting tattoos. I have an avocado. Iliad has a tiny Princess Leia.”
Laughing, Nic asked, “Why Princess Leia?”
Jo grinned. “Because he’s a star princess.”
The laughter tumbled from his lips in a way it hadn’t in a long time. “So why would I have a juice box?”
Jo shrugged. “I don’t know. It was the first silly thing that popped into my mind.”
They smiled at each other, at the way things were, at this comfortable air between them that hadn’t been there before, and Nic knew without a doubt he wanted to spend the rest of his life with this woman. She was here, standing in front of him, so beautiful it hurt, and all he could think about doing was getting on his knees and begging her for another chance.
“Do you think. . .” Nic began and when he trailed off, Jo tilted her head. Suddenly afraid to ask the question he was dying for an answer for, he changed direction. “Now I need a juice box tattoo,” he teased.
She reached forward and pushed him gently, a tease and laughter, but the moment her fingers touched his flesh, he froze. Werewolves weren’t modest creatures by a long shot, but here, standing in front of his fated mate, Nic was suddenly having a hard time breathing.
When he froze, Jo froze, too, her eyes wide and looking up at him, the sheen from whiskey in his eyes reflected back at him. If he were a respectful wolf, he would turn around, encourage her to run back to the cabin and get ready for the race games in a few days. But the sudden need in him, the same need he saw in her own eyes, was too strong.
“Jo,” he whispered, staring into her eyes, wanting to ask permission, but afraid to ask.
Jo tilted her head, and then she did something he never thought she would do.
Johanna Adalwolf stepped closer and looped her arms around his neck.
His hands went to her hips automatically. “What are you doing?”
“Shh,” she murmured, and then pressed her lips to his.
At first, Nic didn’t know how to react. He stood there, his mate’s lips on his, dumbstruck for all of three seconds. The moment his body realized what was happening, he took control, jerking Jo closer and returning the kiss with the fervor that had built up for the last ten years. He’d dreamed of this moment, of when Jo would look at him as if he weren’t a monster at all, as if maybe she forgave him.
The moment he began to kiss her back, Jo moaned against his lips and the sound drove him wild, tunneling beneath his skin and into his bones. Suddenly, there wasn’t enough time. There wasn’t enough skin. Nic needed her closer, needed to feel everything. He needed it all.
Jo wrapped herself around Nic and dug her own hands into his hair, gripping him tightly, begging for more. There was no questioning, no worrying about if this was the right decision. Instinct took over and Jo wanted nothing more than to claim her mate and be claimed in return. She needed him, wanted him, yearned to feel him inside her.
The whiskey told her it was a good idea. The fear was mute enough not to reveal her anxiety.
In a frenzy, they moved. There was no extended foreplay, no warmup. Jo was already wet at the thought of Nic taking her. When he hiked her leg around his hip and nudged at her entrance, she didn’t try to stop him. Instead, she trusted him to hold her up and wrapped her other hip around him, opening herself up to him fully before he pressed her back against the nearest tree. The bark dug into her back, along her spine, but she didn’t care. Fuck, she needed him just as badly as he seemed to need her.
It was natural. It felt right.
No words were exchanged as he pressed inside her, easing in gently, rather than claiming her with one full thrust. Nic was always a gentleman, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to be so rough, but Jo needed more. She needed him to lose control just as he made her lose it.
Thrusting her hips toward him, Jo clawed at his shoulders, desperate for him to claim her. Air whistled through his teeth at the movement as he tried to hold back his feral nature.
“Stop trying to coddle me,” Jo growled, digging in her claws.
Nic jerked against her, his cock jumping at the feeling of her claws at his shoulders. “I’ve dreamed of this moment for ten years,” he argued. “I’m going to savor it.”
“Savor it later.” Jo thrust her hips again and Nic growled. “Fuck me now.”
“Jo—”
“Nic,” she threatened. “I need you.”
He paused at her words, but then he gave her what she wanted. Nic drew out and slammed back in, making her cry out at the sudden slapping of skin. He repeated the action, again and again, taking her, making her head draw back in ecstasy even as her claws dug into his skin, marking him.
She knew he’d wear every mark with pride.
Snapping forward, Nic dug his teeth into Jo’s shoulder, leaving his own mark for all to see. It only drove her wilder, a desperation to get closer pulling at her heartstrings, a frenzy of movement beneath the moonlight.
In the middle of a forest, they consummated a mating that had appeared ten years prior. It had been a long time coming, didn’t mean all their problems were fixed, but hope flared in Nic’s chest. Jo was here, in his arms, crying out his name as he claimed her.
“Fuck,” Nic grunted, pumping inside her wet heat. She felt amazing, her lithe body wrapped around him tightly, everything in him wanting to make her scream her pleasure. “You’re beautiful.”
Jo cried out as he pistoned inside her, as her core tightened around his length. This was what she’d feared for so long, this claiming, but right now, it felt natural, easy, perfect. They fit together like puzzle pieces, as if this moment was always meant to be. Perhaps it was. Luna worked in mysterious ways and fated mates were her blessing. Still, the whiskey kept the uncertainty away as her pleasure rose higher and higher, climbing to heights she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Need made her vicious.
Drawing blood when her claws dug in, Jo snapped forward and bit down on his neck, leaving her own teeth there beside the claw marks, claiming him. She exploded as the feeling coursed through her, as the blessing spread outward and connected them fully. Her orgasm was an explosion of ecstasy that dragged Nic right along with her. He pumped inside her, his seed spilling and making her own release drag on at the feeling of his warmth.
Reality crept in.
Panting, Nic gently set her on her feet, keeping her against the tree just in case she couldn’t stand fully on her feet yet. His breath fanned across her neck, where he pressed a kiss against her pulse there.
Reality crashed in harder.
“Don’t,” Nic murmured.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t panic.”
But Jo was already panicking. What did this mean? Had she been ready for this? The race was in two days. They were about to enter a race where one or both of them could die. What had she been thinking?
“I can hear your thoughts,” Nic murmured. “I don’t want to pressure you. It’s okay to be nervous—”
“We should talk about it after the games,” she interrupted. “We should focus on that for now.”
“Jo—”
“Please,” she begged. “We can talk after the race.”
Nic pulled back enough to study her eyes, and it hurt to see sadness reflected there. She could tell he didn’t believe her, that he thought she was just trying to get away. She was, but she just needed time to process everything. This was a lot, so much, and her fear hadn’t been addressed. Nic had clearly grown since then, but she couldn’t help her own panic and insecurities coming in.
Nodding, Nic backed up and shifted.
We should head back, he spoke into her mind. We have an early day tomorrow.
He waited for her to shift and then they walked back to the cabin together, a slow cadence that made barely any sound.
The silence was deafening. . .