Hard Mated

Spike slid his hand down her back, kneading warmth there. Cradling her, holding on. He pulled her tighter as the wild kiss went on, her body the length of his, the hard planes of his chest pressing every inch of her br**sts.

Myka’s thoughts shut down, tactile senses taking over. There was only warmth, the plying of his mouth, his hands holding her, his body against hers.

For Spike’s part, everything feral in him roared to the surface. Myka’s scent, the feel of her body, her taste, the soft sound she made in her throat—awakened the beast. He wanted her, he needed her soft flesh against his in the night.

Her mouth was small and lush, lips forming to his. She dug at his shoulders with hard fingers, wanting to pull him into her, and Spike was happy to go. He slid his hand to her bu**ocks, scooping her up, need tearing at him like a crazed thing.

He tasted the pain in her and wanted to make it all better. He’d sweep her up and shut out the world, sink into the goodness of her. The curve of her bu**ocks under his hand beckoned his tongue, her hair warmed his fingers, and she smelled like honey and sugar. If he licked her all over, would she taste as sweet?

The floor creaked upstairs again. Myka jumped in his arms, hands sliding from his shoulders to his chest, trying to push him away.

Spike jerked her closer, hand firming on her ass. Who cared if his grandmother came down and caught them? She was Shifter; she’d understand. She knew what loneliness was.

Lonely. So lonely. Stay with me.

Myka gasped, and Spike broke the kiss.

She was breathing hard, her pupils spreading but her body shaking. His instincts screamed at him to take Myka upstairs, lock her into his room with him, and not let her go until they’d made a couple more cubs to go with Jordan. Nature wanted him to do this, and Spike’s mind wasn’t fighting nature too much. But there was more at stake right now.

Spike had the hardest time asking for anything, let alone pleading for it. Warrior Shifters didn’t plead. They killed, they gloated over their enemy’s body, they sated themselves on the first woman they saw after that, then they got up the next morning and did it all over again.

Spike caressed Myka’s hand between both of his and met her eyes over it. “I need you to help me.” He dredged up the word inside him. “Please.”

Myka hesitated. She’d say no, she’d walk out, get into her pickup and drive away, leaving him watching after her, bereft. Warrior Shifters were never bereft . . . which was a big, fat lie.

Myka let out her breath. It whooshed over his fingertips, sending a tingle through his veins that went straight to his cock.

“All right,” she said. “I’ll stay. Jordan needs looking after. For a little while.”

Spike kissed her mouth again, tongue gliding over her parted lips.

A little while was fine. Gave him plenty of time.

*** *** ***

Ella came hurrying down the stairs as Myka held on to Spike’s hand and wondered what she’d gotten herself into.

“Liam’s coming,” Ella said. “I saw him from the window. Spike, what did you do?”

“Who’s Liam?”

Ella’s brow furrowed, her eyes flicking to Shifter. Spike tensed again, the ease Myka had felt in him when she’d promised to stay a while vanishing. He strode to the door and opened it.

“Who’s Liam?” Myka repeated.

“The Shiftertown leader,” Ella said. “He’d never come here, to our territory, uninvited, if there wasn’t a problem.”

Myka went to Spike’s side at the open door. He moved to put himself in front of her, guarding her, she realized. She peered around his large body, expecting a monster to come running up the steps, snarling and ready to kill.

What she saw was a tall man in jeans and T-shirt strolling up the sidewalk, his long body as graceful in movement as Spike’s. Sunshine gleamed on his black hair, the sunglasses he wore against the bright afternoon, and the black and silver Collar around his neck.

He stopped at the base of porch steps, took off the sunglasses, and looked up at Spike with very blue eyes.

“Spike, lad, can I talk to you?”

The man asked, but his body language told Myka he expected Spike to agree. Spike’s body language said that he wanted to do anything but. Her work with horses had taught her that animals didn’t need words to speak volumes, and Myka saw forcefully that these two men were more animal than human.

Spike made a conceding gesture, and Liam came up the steps, in no hurry. He stopped in the middle of the porch, then his gaze moved around Spike to Myka and stayed there.

The man looking out of the very blue eyes had seen many things and suffered hardships, the scars of them evident in the weight of his stare.

“Who’s this?” he asked, an Irish lilt to his voice.

“Her name’s Myka,” Spike said. “She’s under my protection.”

Liam’s gaze shot to Spike again, leaving Myka alone. “Oh, aye?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Liam looked back at Myka and drew a sharp breath through his nostrils, then he frowned. “Not mate-claimed.”

“Not yet,” Spike said.

“Hmm.”

Spike stepped out onto the porch. He folded his arms and stood in front of Liam, effectively blocking Liam’s way into the house, not that Liam made any indication he wanted to enter. But Spike was positioned so that if Liam tried to go for Myka or Ella, he’d have to first get past Spike.

“And your cub?” Liam asked. “He’s all right?”