Mystic's Run

Christian loosened his grip on Mystic's hand though she could sense his reluctance to let go of her. His focus remained absolute as he slid from the car and immediately went around to her side.

When he opened the door and took her arm she muttered, "I'm not going to run."

He smiled, a wolf's feral show of teeth. "Good. It wouldn't be a very smart thing to do. I don't want you to look back on our first mating as a rape."

Mystic shivered. She heard the seriousness of his warning along with his firm resolve to couple with her. But she also sensed his desire to get off to a good start despite the wolf's urges and the potent Angelini magic.

She let him lead her into the house. She tried to focus on her surroundings but found it impossible to notice more than the huge TV, the couch and the bare walls.

"It's a rental," Christian growled. "I haven't been in Vegas long and I wasn't sure I was going to stay here."

He didn't release her arm until they were in his bedroom and the door was firmly closed behind her. Lust coursed through her but also a hint of nervousness. "Don't you think we should get to know each other a little better first? Maybe go out to eat and then hit the casinos for a while?"

Christian laughed though his face softened and his hand cupped her cheek. The roughness of his palm and the gentle way it rubbed against her skin were a startling contrast. "And start an orgy with the pheromones pouring off you?"

Her eyes widened. "Me! If someone could bottle you they'd make a fortune!"

He laughed again and used the hand cupping her cheek to pull her closer. His other hand went to her side, gliding up and down under her shirt.

Desire glittered in his eyes. Yet his gentleness told her he wanted their first time together to be more than a frenzied coupling.

Heat raced through Mystic, need. She'd thought he'd pounce on her as soon as he got her to his house. But now she could read his intent to try to slow things down, to respect her wishes to get to know one another a little bit better before fucking.

They wouldn't have much time before more primitive forces prevailed. The Angelini magic had ensured that her body craved his. Need already pooled in her belly, her breasts, her vulva. She'd been curious about sex for so long, anxious to try it-though without the complication of a permanent bond! But now it was his restraint that made the first inroad to her heart.

Her hands went to the front of his polo shirt. She pulled it from his pants and pushed it upward so she could touch his skin. Her fingers explored him, confirmed what she suspected. He didn't belong to a pack, or if he did, he wore the brand on his inner thigh instead of the more common place above his pubic hair.

The muscles of his rock-hard abdomen tightened even further at her touch. Feminine pride filled her when she looked up at his face and saw the struggle for control taking place there. A shiver of worry followed as the fear of disappointing him suddenly crowded in.

"Both of my fathers are vampires," she said, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Very, very old-fashioned ones." The blush deepened at the way her voice sounded squeaky and uncertain. "I know a lot, but I don't have much actual experience."

Christian's eyes widened slightly then slowly filled with masculine satisfaction and anticipation. He leaned down. His lips claimed hers in a soft, lingering kiss. "I'll take care of you, Mystic. Always."

His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her tight against him as his mouth once again covered hers. But where his first kiss had been meant to convey reassurance, this one was meant to convey so much more.

Mystic moaned as his mouth devoured hers, as his tongue thrust against hers. The feel of his erection against her belly had her encircling his neck with her arms and standing on her toes so she could rub her pelvis against the hard ridge of his penis. There was nothing on her mind but the thought of getting naked so skin touched skin and they could explore each other's bodies.

Christian's lips moved to her neck, her ears. His fingers made short work of the buttons on her shirt, parting it and freeing her breasts at the same time. He pushed both shirt and bra off her shoulders, forcing her arms down and momentarily trapping her in the tangle of her own clothing.

Mystic arched into his mouth when he finally lowered his face and laved over her nipple then held it tightly between his teeth. The possessive grip sent a pulse of need right to her clit.

"Christian," she whispered. He bit down harder and she discovered that pain and pleasure were closer together than she'd ever thought possible. She arched, tried to entice him to start suckling even as she begged with words. "Please, Christian."

He growled, a low, possessive, dominant sound that caused something deep inside Mystic to stir. For a fleeting second it made her think of a wolf awakening and rejoicing in the sound of its mate. She shivered, and then began writhing as his mouth tortured her with pleasure. He ate and sucked at first one breast and then the other. With his lips and tongue and teeth he turned her into a creature of pure sensation.

She was panting, desperate for release when one of his legs forced hers open. His hands moved to her hips, holding her as she rode his thigh. His mouth only lifted from her breasts when she cried out in orgasm and became pliant.

Tenderness filled Christian as he looked at Mystic's face. It was flushed with pleasure and perhaps a hint of embarrassment at having humped his leg. He nuzzled her neck. He licked over her lips in a wolf's greeting before telling her once again, "I'll take care of you, Mystic. Always."

She didn't protest when he stripped her clothing off and gently placed her on the bed before removing his own and joining her. He straddled her on his hands and knees.

Pride filled him as her eyes roamed over his body, appreciative and unafraid. When she licked her lips, his cock pulsed and stretched against his abdomen. The tip glistened with arousal as his balls grew heavy with seed.

He growled with need and pleasure when her hands went to his chest and her palms glided over the tiny points of his nipples before moving downward. He stilled when she stroked his smooth abdomen. A hint of anxiety curled in his belly and he watched her face intently for an expression of disgust or distrust when she saw he had no brand, no pack affiliation. Bitter experience had taught him that among werewolves, to be without a pack was the same as being a leper in ancient times.

The anxiety uncoiled and faded when her face showed nothing except appreciation of her mate's body. His cock grew more engorged. His balls tightened. The tip of his penis beaded with arousal and his chest swelled in a wolf's proud display for its female.

Mystic laughed, a husky enticing sound that had him dropping his head, nuzzling her breasts, her neck, her ears, before capturing her lips. She met the thrusts of his tongue with hers. She stroked his buttocks, his thighs with her hands. She teased him just as he'd teased her earlier, by not touching the part of him that needed it the most.

Christian growled and lowered his body. He trapped her legs so they remained closed while his balls rolled against her mound and his cock smoothed over her soft belly. He reveled in the way she jerked and gasped underneath him, her nails clawing at his back.

Mystic had wanted to talk, to get to know him better. But she knew it was too late for that as soon as she felt the Angelini magic claim her. It made its own demands. It insisted that she yield to it, that she yield to her destiny and take this man, this Were, as one of her mates.

The magic clawed at her just as she clawed at Christian's back. It raked against her insides as she scratched his skin. It needed a certain amount of violence, a certain amount of blood. It required a show of dominance and submissiveness, of wild lust and caring so balance would be achieved.

As if sensing what was happening to her, Christian responded. He drove her higher and higher, adjusted their positions so he could ruthlessly strike her clit with his shaft and balls.

He plundered her mouth and claimed her cries. His tongue thrust aggressively in a promise of what his penis would soon do to her cunt.

Mystic writhed against him. She tried to get her legs open so his cock could plunge into her channel. Arousal coated the inside of her thighs.

Christian didn't yield. He held her in the position of his choosing. He told her without words that her pleasure was his to command, his to control.

Her movements became more frenzied. Her whimpers became more submissive.

Christian growled deep in his throat in approval. He lay more heavily on her. His hips shifted, changed the angle of his assault so she cried out in a release that went on and on as his cock glided back and forth over the unprotected head of her clit. When her shudders finally stopped, she lay limp beneath him, submissive though her cunt burned for him to take her, to claim her.

Satisfaction surged through Christian along with fierce possessiveness. He didn't know as much about the Angelini as someone who'd been raised among supernaturals, but he did know the balance would soon shift in her favor. Once she sheathed his cock in her hot channel, once she locked the head of his penis deep inside her-in a hidden place no human or Were female possessed-then he would forever crave her. He would need to mate with her often in order to find any semblance of sanity.

Once the bond between them was in place, she'd be able to touch his thoughts and he would be able to touch hers. There would never be any secrets between them.

It should terrify him but instead desire surged through him. His cock jerked with the need to finish what they'd started. But he fought the urge to spread her thighs and thrust. He wanted to linger, to bask in the moments before frenzied need and Angelini lust controlled them both.

A mate. He'd never thought to actually possess one. He'd never allowed himself to dream about being with a woman like Mystic. He was the son of a human female. His father an unknown, though probably like him, an outcast, a man without a pack.

Christian shuddered as he breathed deeply of Mystic's lush scent and wallowed in the feel of her hot skin. She was already a part of him. She called to his soul and welcomed it home. Her presence in his life was an invitation to live fully in the supernatural world he'd hovered around the edges of for most of his life.

A mate. A mate beyond compare. An Angelini female.

He covered her lips with his and the magic rose and flowed between them. He thrilled in how she opened for him, submitted to him, welcomed and accepted his demands.

An instinct not his own drew his mouth to her neck. His teeth clamped down, this time drawing blood.

He trailed hot, hungry kisses over her breast. A growl escaped as he recaptured her nipple. He bit. He suckled. His balls filled with more seed when images of Mystic one day nursing his children filled his mind.

She panted underneath him, writhed. A sheen of sweat coated her skin as she urged him to mate with her.

Ice-hot need spiked through his penis. His mouth found the place over her heart. He could feel its wild beat against his lips, and once again, driven by the magic governing Mystic, he bit her, marked her.

Christian moved lower. The scent of her arousal swamped him.

He couldn't resist the command of her body to bury his face between her thighs. He licked and sucked. He coated himself in her arousal as he rubbed against her wet pussy before plunging his tongue into her slit, relishing the way her inner muscles spasmed, grabbed at him and tried to hold him inside her.

His growls were constant. His cock was soaked, the foreskin pulled back, the tip engorged, leaking, anxious to pierce her. But he couldn't leave her cunt until he heard her scream in release one more time.

He attacked her clit, her swollen cunt lips, her channel. He used his tongue and his teeth and the suction of his mouth while he held her wrists to the bed and made her accept all he had to offer.

She fought to get away from him. She fought to take more of him. She screamed and pleaded. She cried and shrieked until finally her body arched upward in release.

He ate it up. He ate her up. He would have stayed for hours with his face buried between her thighs except for the white-hot pain in his cock and the tightening in his balls that warned his seed would soon be wasted on the sheets.

Christian turned his head slightly. He bit her inner thigh, gave her the third mark required in an Angelini mating before rising above her and offering his neck. He groaned when she bit him, shuddered in pleasure as her lips trailed over his chest and her teeth settled on the place above his heart, marking him there too.

"Mystic," he growled when her mouth neared his cock. He buried his fingers in her hair in order to prevent her from doing anything more than leave her mark on his inner thigh.

When it was done he flipped her to her hands and knees. He wanted to howl at the way she immediately lowered her chest and spread her legs to present him with her swollen vulva. In deference to the wolf he rubbed his face against her slick folds. He licked her before covering her body with his and driving into her.

She was so tight, so small. Ecstasy rippled along his spine as he fought through the resistance of her virgin channel. His breath was shuddering in and out of his chest by the time he was all the way in. He moaned in delirious pleasure at the feel of being surrounded by the tight fist of her feminine flesh, at being buried to the hilt in his mate.

His mate.

The words rippled through Christian and his hips jerked. Lust and need and overwhelming emotion filled him.

He gave in to the urge to claim her completely. He pumped in and out of her, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, harder and harder. His violent thrusts and the weight of his body demanded that she open the part of her reserved only for the males who claimed her and were claimed by her.

Mystic answered his demand by spreading her thighs and canting her hips, by softening. But she did not fully yield until his teeth settled on her shoulder in a wolf's demand for the complete submission of its mate.

Christian felt the change in her immediately. He felt the magic rush through him as she softened further, offered more of herself and allowed him to plunge deeper, into a place reserved for mates. He growled as she trapped the tip of his cock inside her with a ring of muscles possessed only by Angelini females.

His hips jerked in response as instinctively he tried to escape the sweet trap. A wash of seed roared through his cock. She keened in release and her orgasm caused him to jerk again, to fill her with more seed.

The cycle of pleasure repeated itself again and again, until they collapsed on the passion-scented sheets. For long moments they remained joined together, weak, sated, his cock still deep in her channel though he was no longer trapped there, both of them content in a way neither had experienced before.

Christian nuzzled her neck and she nestled deeper into him. Tenderness filled him at the way her gesture communicated a trust that he would see to her safety. He couldn't stop himself from cupping her breast, from toying with her nipple. Once again he imagined what it would be like to see her nursing his son.

A frown formed along with a question. He'd assumed any male child of his would be able to shift form but she'd said both her fathers were vampires and he knew very little about Angelini reproduction.

"What are your mother's parents," he asked. It was too soon to think about breeding her but the wolf demanded an answer, it was more driven by the thought of offspring than the man.

She tensed against him, just enough to warn he needed to proceed with care. "My grandfathers are both wolves. My grandmother is the Angelini."

Christian smoothed kisses over her shoulder and neck until she relaxed against him. Then it was his turn to tense when she said, "You don't have a pack brand."

"No." He sensed he could drop the matter but he also knew it would come up again.

They hadn't spoken mind to mind. They hadn't intruded on each other's thoughts and memories, but he could feel the link forged by the mating and the sharing of blood, by the Angelini magic.

"My mother was a small-town cop. My father was a man she met when she went to Miami for some kind of law-enforcement conference. She was on the Pill. He used a rubber." Christian shrugged, smiling despite the pain thinking of his mother brought to him. "Hard to keep those Were genes down. I don't know whether he had a pack brand or not. By the time I knew there was such a thing it was too late to ask her."

He growled when Mystic pulled away and his cock slid free of her tight sheath. But he was mollified when she turned to face him and he glimpsed the caring in her expression. "She's gone?"

Christian closed his eyes. "When I was a kid I used to be scared every time she left for work that some burglar or some lunatic she pulled over for speeding would grab a weapon and kill her. But she died in the hospital under a surgeon's knife. From cancer."

Mystic nuzzled into him. Her hand stroked his back. "Did she know what you were?"

Christian rubbed his cheek against her soft hair. "No. I could never tell her."

The link between them opened and he shared some of his memories with Mystic. They were treasured images of his mother laughing and smiling, of approval and love shining in her eyes as she'd watched and teased and encouraged him as he grew up.

"We were close. It was just the two of us. Despite the fact she was a cop, she wasn't rigid in her thinking. She wasn't someone who only believed in the things she could see with her eyes."

Christian tensed and rolled to his back. He pulled Mystic on top of him, nudged her thighs apart and lodged his cock inside her. He needed to anchor himself with the hot feel of her, in the reality of having a mate, before he delved further into the past.

"There was a redneck who wouldn't leave my mother alone. A guy named Jimmy. He was total scum. One of those guys who thought anyone who wasn't one hundred percent white meat was fair game for whatever fun he had in mind. He harassed Mom every chance he got. He came close to stalking her but not close enough to get arrested for it. There were a couple of rapes in nearby towns-mixed-race women like my mother was. No one could pin them on him though I think plenty of people guessed it was him. A couple of times I found beer bottles and cigarettes in the woods near our house, like he'd been camped out there, watching us, watching her."

Christian's grip tightened on Mystic. She was afraid of what was coming but she didn't shy away from it. She didn't flinch. If it's easier, you can show me rather than tell me.

He laughed but it wasn't a happy sound. "The words are less terrible." He hugged her tightly, as if he wanted to pull her inside himself.

"I was thirteen when I changed the first time. Thirteen and completely clueless. Unprepared and scared shitless." He took a deep breath. "I was like a top with razor-sharp edges that someone wound up and then let go. If I'd been sixteen, even eighteen or twenty, like most mixes are when they change for the first time, maybe I could have...controlled the situation. Maybe I could have changed the outcome. I didn't stand a chance."

Christian's lips sought Mystic's. He needed to lose himself in her warmth and softness for a while before he could continue.

"Jimmy's scent was around our house. His piss and semen. Like he'd marked his territory and jerked off in the woods while he watched my mother. I hunted him down and ripped him to shreds. I don't remember doing it but I know I did. I woke up covered in his blood and vomiting out the parts of him I'd swallowed.

"I washed in a creek and went back to the house but not before I saw the dog prints and a few strands of long black hair, longer than I've ever had. I took the hair and made sure I didn't leave any human tracks. Somebody found him later that day. Nobody was particularly sorry about his death.

"For the next week hunters crashed through the woods, drinking and shooting at anything that moved. All of them were looking for either a wolf or a huge dog."

"My mother didn't say she was glad he was dead but she was relieved. I couldn't tell her what I'd done, why I'd done it, how I'd done it. And even if I had, even if she'd somehow managed to accept and adjust to what I was, she was still a cop who took her job seriously."

Mystic leaned down and kissed him. His confession widened the road his earlier actions had carved to her heart. The bond forged by the Angelini magic, the need to touch and mate, to be with one another was already strong. She could sense his desire-or the wolf's-to have children, to form a pack. But where earlier it would have terrified her and made her instinctively fight or flee, now it somehow felt...right, natural.

She hadn't wanted a Were mate. She had dreaded the possibility of being immersed in pack politics and a pack lifestyle which would be overwhelming and confining after the upbringing she'd had. Now, touching her mind to his, her heart to his, seeing his memories of his mother and knowing that his choice of work, being a cop, was because of her, Mystic could only agree with the mate thrust on her by the Angelini magic. He was acceptable to her. Very, very acceptable.

Christian laughed and rolled so Mystic was underneath him with his cock still in her channel. "And my mate is very, very acceptable to me," he said before his mouth covered hers and his tongue twined and rubbed against hers.

Mystic wrapped her legs around his waist in response. Her arms went around his neck. She held him tight as his thrusts became more urgent, more demanding, as his body imprinted itself fully on hers.

His scent and taste filled her, invaded her as thoroughly as his cock. She moaned as he claimed her as completely as she'd claimed him. Only this time their joining was driven by human emotion instead of Angelini magic or animal urges.