Chapter Two
One year later…
Abby Valiant looked out the picture window, nerves frayed and body exhausted. The dim yellow of the porch light barely penetrated the darkness, but with her werecougar vision she saw the still falling flakes continue to build the hip-deep snow.
The cabin was isolated, one of several rentals near the lake. She couldn’t remember the name of the town or the highway—or hell, even which state she’d been driving across. Earlier in the day, she’d white-knuckled driving in the blizzard, but still managed to see the sign for the cabin rentals. The woman manning the single desk in the tiny office was chatty, friendly. She said only one other cabin had been reserved. She happily relayed that Abby’s closest neighbors were an elderly couple celebrating their fiftieth anniversary by staying in the same cabin where they’d honeymooned.
Fifty years. What she wouldn’t give to have five whole decades with Reese. Had they been a normal couple, she could’ve looked forward to another hundred years with him. Shifters were long-lived.
Usually.
Her gaze drifted through the tall pines and to the iced-over lake. It looked like a ghost floating in the velvet night. Nothing stirred. Nothing natural, but she knew the Hunter would be out there. The memory of the day Reese chose her to be his mate surfaced. He’d enjoyed riling her ever since—to bring out that feisty spirit, he would say. But that moment, when she’d questioned his sanity he said: That was the moment I fell in love with you. My heart was yours.
And she believed him. Because after that look, that smile, that night in the cave—her heart was his, too.
Regret clawed at Abby. She stifled a sob and swept her gaze over the cabin. The place was basically one large room. The front door opened into the living area, which consisted of an overstuffed brown couch and one end table. A single brass lamp with its tan shade looked ready for a garage sale. The couch faced a large, stone fireplace. A cheery fire burned inside the hearth. She didn’t want the fire’s cheer or its warmth, but survival instincts could be strong—even for a woman who had every intention of sacrificing herself.
Abby walked into the kitchenette with its small stove, narrow refrigerator, and tiny metal sink. There was a little table and two chairs parked to the right.
The fridge held bottled water and a few condiments. The rental fees had included stocked dry goods as well as dishes, glasses, silverware, and cookware. A thick patchwork quilt covered the king-sized bed. The four blue-checkered pillows were propped against the headboard. It looked welcoming, but she didn’t want the bed’s comfort. She wanted Reese, but that wasn’t possible. Not anymore.
The door to the left of the bed led to the bathroom. Like everything else in the cabin, it was small. Almost too small for the sink, toilet, and shower crammed into the space.
Her gaze lingered on the bed. Abby couldn’t curl up in that cozy space… not without thinking about the last time she’d seen Reese.
Reese. Now that she’d had time to process what had happened, what she’d done in reaction to her infertility, she was scared. Not that she thought she’d made the wrong choice—she’d done the only thing she could do. If she hadn’t traded places, the Hunter would’ve come for her husband.
In the Valiant colony, there was one belief held by all: The colony was protected by one of its first ancestors. The Hunter. Every year while most of the world celebrated All Hallow’s Eve, the werecougars of Valiant called upon the Hunter. To show homage. To give thanks. To renew shifter strength.
And that’s when the Shaman pulled her aside and told her the bad news: the Hunter was displeased with the alpha’s inability to have an heir. That hadn’t been Reese’s fault.
It was hers.
Abby rubbed her arms, chilled despite the heat emanating from the crackling fire. The waiting was killing her. After the Shaman had performed the spell needed to trade Abby’s life for Reese’s, she’d left Texas quickly. She hadn’t wanted her death to be in the colony’s territory. At least that’s what she told herself. Some small, cowardly part wanted Reese to find her. To save her.
Which was pointless. Because he was determined to keep her as his mate. The water splashed Abby’s hand, and she looked down. When had she started to fill the teakettle? She shut off the water then put the kettle onto the burner and turned it on. Next, she opened the cabinet looking for a snack she didn’t really want. But such mundane tasks couldn’t take her mind off Reese.
The night of the argument, in their bedroom, the ghosts of their grief hadn’t tempered their lovemaking. Certainly they’d both been haunted by all the visits to various doctors, obstetricians, and fertility specialists, but it hadn’t stopped Reese from taking control.
She closed her eyes and remembered their last time together. The last time she lay with him in their marriage bed.
* * *
Three weeks earlier...
“No, Abby. I will not divorce you,” Reese said as he stood in their kitchen. “I will not choose another mate.”
“You’re stubborn!” she cried.
He calmly prepared tea, ignoring her vibrating anger. The way he moved, graceful and deliberate, simply ratcheted up the anguish clawing her throat.
“Every alpha has been born from your family. Your bloodline… it’s sacred. Important.”
“It’s not more important than you.”
“Yes, it is.”
He stopped pouring the water and turned toward her. In that moment, she’d seen the truth flash in his eyes. His own heartbreak. The knowledge that the wife he loved could not bear him the heir he needed.
Her grief washed over her again. She had failed him. Her body had failed him. She couldn’t have his children. He had chosen the wrong female, because the stupid fool listened to his heart.
He strode forward and gathered her into his arms. He held her tightly until she relented and accepted his comfort. She wrapped her arms around his waist and wept. His grasp tightened, and his chest heaved as he leaned down to press his face against her hair. Together, they grieved for the family they would never have.
Abby taken by the moment, and still fully clothed, sank to her knees. Reese, needing to control and uncontrollable situation, warned her to not make eye contact unless he gave her permission. He removed a pillowcase and rolled it lengthwise and used it to bind her hands behind her back.
He undressed, removing each piece of clothing casually, as if he had all the time in the world. He ignored her, neither looking at her nor coming near her. His blatant dismissal had been designed to thin her patience while it increased the desperate wanting that pulsed through her.
By the time Reese stood naked before Abby, she hungered for the slightest look of approval or the merest whisper of recognition. Aching need curled through her, conquering her despair.
Reese stepped so close his toes brushed the tips of her knees. Then he demanded, “Suck me. I want to feel your mouth on my cock.”
Giving a blowjob on her knees without the help of her hands was awkward at first. But she got him hard and made him tremble under the onslaught of her tongue, teeth, and lips.
He pulled away from her, his thighs shaking. However, his expression was placid. He moved behind her and grasped the pillowcase binding her. He led her to their massive dresser and untied her. “Bend over and put your palms flat against the top.”
Without question, she pressed her hands against the solid, beautifully carved wood. He pulled down her jeans and her silk panties. His fingers, slightly trembling as he controlled his lusts, grazed her hips.
He rested the tip of his length at her slick opening for no more than a breath before he slid his thick shaft into her wet heat. She thought the rocketing sensation might kill her.
He fucked her without mercy, telling her unequivocally that she was not allowed to come. Being told not to find pleasure had the opposite effect. Bliss coiled tight and hard, threatening to send her over the edge with every rough stroke of his cock.
Reese came, his fingertips biting into her hips as his cries of completion filled her ears. For a long moment, there was nothing but the harsh sounds of his panting and her own low, needy whimpers she couldn’t silence.
“Stand up.”
She did as he demanded. She was overwhelmed by the need he inspired. She loved him so much. So. Much. Her body was damp with sweat and quivering with desire. His hands coasted over her belly, down her thighs, and around her ass.
But he denied his touch where she wanted it the most. Her swollen, drenched pussy.
“You are so beautiful, so responsive,” he whispered. “You are my wife, Abby. I will not lose you.”
His thumb brushed her clit and pleasure jackknifed. Two fingers danced along her tender folds then dipped inside her. She felt the erotic press of those digits on her G-spot.
Reese pushed her to the brink. He was ruthless. His thumb stroked her tortured sex while he worked two fingers inside her. She bit her lower lip, begging her own body not to give in. Not until he told her.
“Come for me, Abby.”
Her orgasm was instantaneous, the pleasure so intense she lost her ability to breathe, to think. Her legs collapsed. Only his arm wound around her waist kept her upright as her body convulsed. His lips pressed against her neck and his hard body cradled hers as she rode the wave to fulfillment.
* * *
The whistle of the kettle startled Abby out of the delicious and painful memory. She got out a mug and a tea bag then turned off the burner and poured the hot water.
Shifters were not like humans. They didn’t just worry about themselves as individuals. She and Reese were not an ordinary couple who, faced with infertility, might choose to adopt. Other shifters had different methods for breeding, but in the Valiant colony, bloodlines were important. For genetics, yes, but also to continue an alpha’s line, which was sacrosanct. For all her thumbing her nose at traditions and the archaic beliefs of her community, especially in the modern world, she wanted the honor, the duty of carrying the alpha’s child. But beyond that, she wanted to have Reese’s baby.
And she could not. And that flaw had endangered the man she loved. There was no turning back now. Prayers were for the dying. The living were expected to handle their own problems.
The shame of not being able to produce children would undermine Reese as the alpha. Her barrenness would dishonor her family, too. At the very least, they would be ridiculed, and at the worst, they would endure abuse, maybe even expulsion. Not even Reese would be able to shield her family. No one would listen to him if they found out he’d put his love for her over the needs of the colony. Her mate would lose everything, because he was too stubborn to do the right thing.
The ache in her chest weighed so heavy on her that she slumped onto the couch. She had no destination when she left. She’d just drove—randomly taking roads without purpose or direction. She only stopped for gas when the tank was empty, for sleep when exhaustion overwhelmed her, and to eat when her stomach became so gnarled with hunger she felt lightheaded and nauseous. She had wandered a confusing path so that finding her would be difficult if not impossible for Reese. But the Hunter would find her. Of that, Abby had no doubt.
And tonight, she’d finally stopped running.
The Hunter would come soon, and she almost preferred facing the ancestral spirit rather than her furious, worried spouse.
Almost.