Layne

The Pit is a warehouse made of cinderblocks in a mostly abandoned industrial area of San Diego.

Declan and Laurie enter first, the taller man having to duck to get through the door. There are no windows, nothing but a dark doorway, and a strong earthy smell. Smells like fur, and animals. My footsteps slow.

Before we go in, Sam tugs my hand and pulls me to the side. “This might be dangerous.”

“More dangerous than getting shot at?”

“Yeah.” He licks his lips. “Listen, Layne, I wouldn’t bring you in here, except I’m afraid to leave you anywhere unprotected and I don’t have resources here in California.”

“No, I’m glad. What Data-X is doing, it’s evil.” I think of Laurie’s twitching and Declan’s wild eyed response to finding out I worked there. Sam’s scars. “If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m in.”

“All right. Stay close to me. Do what I say, no questions asked.”

A few big guys lumber into the building, looking me up and down, and I step closer to Sam. “Fine.” I might take exception to his authoritative tone, only the memory of that morning’s spanking comes flooding back.

In a wolves’ world, disobedience is met with punishment.

Almost makes me want to disobey. But now is no time to mess around.

He offers his hand and I take it. Together we enter the Pit.

The animal smell is thicker. Smoky light filters through the large room. When my eyes adjust, I see it’s a bar, with tables surrounded by the big hulking guys I saw enter earlier.

From one table, Laurie gives us a wave. I ignore the stares I’m getting and hang onto Sam as we go to the tall, nervous man.

“Here ya are, mates,” Declan sets down four pints.

I pick up a pint and squint at the golden liquid. Sam catches my eye and shakes his head, not that I need any encouragement to put the glass back down.

Declan downs his, smacking his lips. “Ya gonna drink that?” he asks me, and I push the glass to him. “Is this the Pit?” I look around the dimly lit room. “Looks like a bar.”

“There’s more here than meets the eye.” Declan winks at me, and turns as one of the big guys comes over to loom at his shoulder. “You the numbers man?” the guy grunts.

“I am,” Declan declares. “Off duty tonight.”

The guy holds up a wad of cash. “My pack’s got twenty large to put down on Nash.”

“I could open for a few. Back in a mo’.” Declan and the guy head over to the corner where they put their heads together.

Laurie pulls off his glasses and polishes them. The lenses are super thick. No wonder he looks bug-eyed.

“Are those prescription?” I ask him.

“My own design,” he says. “The experiments left me almost blind in bright daylight. I still have perfect night vision, though.”

I’m about to ask him another question, when Declan returns. Pushing up on tiptoe, he whispers something into the tall man’s ear. Laurie nods, and pulls out a battered notebook, marking something down.

Sam pretends to ignore them both, so I do the same. More people come into the bar, but the room never gets more crowded.

Declan keeps getting pulled away. Every time he returns, he and Laurie hold a whispered meeting, ending with Laurie marking something down in his book.

“Good night for you,” Sam says to Laurie after Declan is pulled away again.

“It always is, when Nash fights,” Laurie replies.

“Do people know you’re the real numbers man?”

Laurie shakes his head. “Declan wants it that way. He can defend himself.”

“You’re a predator, too,” Sam points out.

“Not like you. I-I mean, I’m better at quick getaways.”

I half listen, wondering what they’re talking about while I keep an eye on a new group of big, burly biker-types who are arguing near our table. They all wear a single earring—a white bone of some kind. Their jackets have a roaring big cat and script that declares them The Fangs. Two of them get into a fight, pushing at each other. Declan dodges one as the dirty blond biker almost lands in his path.

“Fecking cats,” he says when he’s with us again. “Ya ready?”

Sam nods. Laurie leads the way, followed by Sam, who keeps an arm around me.

“Remember what I told you,” he murmurs into my ear.

We head to the back of the bar, where Laurie pulls open a side door. A blast of noise and warmth makes me pause. A set of stairs leads down into darkness. The animal smell is stronger here.

“Rough crowd tonight,” Declan says. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ye.” I glance back, and the dark-haired Irishman winks at me. It does nothing to steady my nerves as Sam escorts me down into the pit of the Pit.

My eyes adjust to the even dimmer light. Bodies are packed in the cavernous room deep underground, both in the stands and pressed against the chain links of a giant fence. As Declan pushes forward, Sam keeps an arm around my waist.

I’ve never had a boyfriend, so the gesture should be foreign, yet it feels easy and right. It’s like Sam has always been here at my side, intense and protective. On his mission to exact justice and keep me safe at the same time.

“Stay close to me,” he mutters in my ear, and I have no problem remaining pressed against his lean, hard body. Being so close to him makes me feel alive and feminine. My nipples pebble up and scrape against my bra when I think of the raw power moving beside me.

As we get closer, people seem to recognize Declan and make way. Two fighters spar in the fenced square, sweaty bodies gleaming in the spotlights.

“The Cage,” Declan says, and Sam tightens his grip on me.

A few spectators shout and pound on the metal links, but for the most part the audience is milling about, talking, arguing, finding seats. Declan soon gets pulled away for more bets.

One of fighters, a lumbering hulk with a scar slashed across his face, darts forward and slams his fist in his opponent’s face. The second fighter staggers back in a shower of red spray, pawing the air.

I wince, sickened.

“First blood,” someone calls in a bored voice. A few people turn to watch the fighters lumber around each other. A few feints, and they dive in, smashing at each other with brutal blows.

“Sloppy.” A silver-haired man standing between us and the bars shakes his head. He turns away from the cage fight, and I do a double take, because he’s a young guy to have grey hair, thick as it is.

“Parker,” Declan appears at our side again. “I have some people for ya to meet. Sam and Layne.”

Sam offers his hand, keeping his arm around me as they shake.

Parker narrows his eyes at me. “She doesn’t belong here.”

Sam tightens his hold on me. “She’s my responsibility.”

“They want to speak to Nash,” Declan says.

“About what?”

“Data-X,” Sam says. Suddenly, we’re the center of a few hostile stares. Those around us edge away, nervous mutters spreading through the crowd.

Parker throws back his grey head and laughs, a raucous sound with a slightly hysterical edge. He sounds like a hyena. “Not gonna happen.”

“It’s important.” Sam shifts. I put my hand on his chest, not that I can physically stop him from leaping on Parker. My touch seems to calm Sam.

“There’s no reason to be a dick about it,” I say to Parker, who blinks at me with new respect.

Parker shrugs. “Nash talks to no one. I set up his fights, and he barely speaks to me.”

A roar sounds behind us, and we turn. I gasp. Instead of the first fighter, a huge silverback gorilla with a scar slashed across its face is in the ring, hanging on the metal fence. The crowd shouts approval as the animal leaps on the remaining fighter still in human form.

“Rookie,” Declan scoffs.

“Mmm,” Parker agrees. “Letting your animal out is an instant disqualification,” he explains to me and Sam. My mouth hangs open as the gorilla chases the fighter around the ring.

Gorilla’s fists beat human flesh, and I wince, half turning away.

“You all right?” Sam asks, tucking me into his side and brushing my hair back.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Never seen a shifter fight before?” Parker asks. His eyes glitter silver.

I swallow. “No.”

“You’re in for a treat,” Declan rubs his hands together. “Nash is the best.”

“He is,” Parker says. “Excuse me.” He heads to the cage, signaling two beefy guys holding cattle prods to follow him. They enter the cage, the two enforcers crowding the gorilla while Parker lifts the bloody man’s arm, proclaiming him the winner.

“He’s the winner?” I ask in disbelief as Parker helps the fighter limp off the stage. “He could’ve died!”

Declan shrugs. “That’s the part of the entertainment.”

The enforcers get the gorilla out of the cage, and the spotlights cut off. Neon lights sweep the crowd, accompanied by a primal drum beat.

“Almost time,” Laurie tells us. “They just have to get the blood off the floor.”

A trio of curvy, barely clad women in leopard print bikinis step into the cage, holding buckets. We all step back as they toss the soapy contents around, and start mock wrestling in the suds. Meanwhile, a few nondescript workers in jumpsuits enter with mops and actually clean the floor.

“Classy,” I roll my eyes.

Laurie and Declan are transfixed. Sam takes it all in with the same stone face he always wears.

“We’ll leave as soon as I can talk to Nash,” Sam assures me.

“I’m all right.” I frown as someone jostles me. “Just getting a little claustrophobic.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Sam promises.

We find seats in the stands, squeezing next to more big guys making bets. As the minutes pass and the place fills up, I’m practically in Sam’s lap.

The cage is empty when the lights come back up.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Parker’s voice booms around the place. Immediately, people quiet. “The fight you’ve been waiting for. Tonight’s contender is a visitor from the north. The Bruiser.”

A giant pushes into the cage and raises his massive arms to accept the cheers and boos.

“Bear shifter,” Laurie tells us.

“He’ll be facing the reigning alpha of this ring, here to defend his pride: The King of the Beasts.”

The place erupts. The air vibrates as if the whole building is shaking. I cringe against Sam as the men on the benches around us howl, stamping their feet. The chain-link fence shakes as people beat at it, and a few fans start climbing it. Enforcers snap cattle prods at them until they fall back into the crowd.

The spotlight whizzes to the fighter’s entrance.

“That’s him.” Laurie points, but at first I miss Nash’s entrance. Sam and I push up, standing on our bleachers to see.

Nash is wearing military fatigues, powerful bare chest, tattooed and scarred. Square jaw, short cropped light hair, he could be an All-American soldier but for the yellow light in his eyes.

“He was military, special forces,” Sam explains, as the crowds part to let Nash through, chanting his name. Someone tries to put a crown and purple cape on him, but he waves them off, ignoring everything as he walks towards the fighting ring.

“No one fights like Nash,” Declan breaths. “No one.”

“He was a hero before he ended up at Data-X,” Laurie says. “Now his lion is crazy.”

Nash isn’t as emaciated as he was in the last video I saw of him, but the memory of pain is clear in his fixed gaze. Whatever Data-X did to him, his body and soul will forever bear the scars.

I clutch at Sam, my heart suddenly aching.

“Layne?” Sam’s voice finds my ear.

I press my cheek against his, gripping his shirt. “I’m going to help you take them down,” I say in his ear, and pull back so he sees the serious look on my face. He studies me, but doesn’t ask who ‘they’ are. He doesn’t have to. “I want them to pay.”

A pause, and he nods. His eyes glitter with an unnatural light.

I lay my hand against his cheek before turning to watch the fight begin.

As Nash approaches, the bruin hunches his back and growls. Nash doesn’t blink, nodding at Parker before entering the ring.

“You know the rules. No animals. As long as you’re on your feet, you fight,” Parker announces.

The bruin and the soldier face off, circling each other. Compared to his opponent, Nash is lithe and lean, tall but not towering. The bruin dances forward, fists snapping out, and Nash dodges them easily, moving just as much as he has to and not an inch more. His golden gaze never leaves his opponent’s face.

“He’s never lost a fight. Never goes more than three rounds, and never lets the lion out,” Declan breathes without taking his eyes from the fight. “Perfect control.”

“No,” Laurie twitches. “He’s holding on as long as he can. When his lion does get out, everyone around him will die.”

I shiver and press closer to Sam.

The bruin gets tired of circling and blusters forward, fists swinging. Nash steps out of the way, but as the bruin turns to charge again, the soldier plants his feet and drives his fist into the bruin’s scarred face. The bruin staggers back. The crowd surges to its feet, screaming.

The bear shifter staggers to the edge of the ring, shaking his head. Facing Nash, he roars, showing long, yellow teeth.

“Oh my God,” I gasp as the bruin bowls forward again, driving Nash back. “He’s shifting.”

Sam’s arms squeeze me tighter. “Not yet.”

Nash dodges all the bruin’s swings, his face blank in contrast to Bruiser’s contorted snarl. The bear shifter’s punches go wide, sloppy, and Nash steps forward, planting his feet, and hits him with a haymaker that drives the bruin half across the ring.

“Yeah!” Declan cheers.

My heart pounds as Nash goes on the offensive, raining blow after blow on the bruin. His opponent gets a few hits in and Nash absorbs them like he’s made of concrete. Around the ring, the faces in the audience contort, shouts turning to snarls. Inside the ring, blood flows. The bruin slips on the red-slicked floor.

The two fighters fall back from each other. Nash has taken a hit—a bit of bruising and a trickle of red on his face. Meanwhile, the bruin is hunched over and breathing hard.

“All hail the King of the Beasts,” someone shrieks. The sound is high pitched, female. Nash turns his head.

The bruin strikes, plowing forward. One arm extends, half covered in fur. Nash snaps back and hits him in the face. A bear bursts out of Bruiser, a massive grizzly with paws the size of my head. Its four legs hit the ground and shake the ring.

“No,” I cry, jerking up. Sam holds me tight.

“Forfeit, forfeit,” Parker shouts, but the announcement is drowned out by the shouting crowd. Nash faces the giant animal, his strong body impossibly dwarfed by the bruin.

I bite back a scream. The bruin charges. Nash stands his ground, whipping aside at the last minute, grabbing the arm of the grizzly as it goes by. The limb breaks with a sickening crunch. The bruin ends up on its back where Nash smashes its head into the concrete floor.

It happens so fast I could’ve blinked and missed it. The fight’s over. The bruin lies limp. The crowd screams, stomps, hoots. Parker cries victory into the microphone. Declan is beside himself. Even Laurie claps.

Nash props one foot on the bruin’s chest, throws back his head, and roars. The sound swells, filling the space. Every hair on my body stands up. People are standing, pulling up the bleachers and smashing them. Suddenly, Sam jerks. “Hold her,” he orders Laurie, and thrusts me into the tall man’s arms. He heads for Parker, who is mobbed, trying to shout announcements into a megaphone that the crowd can’t hear.

Sam grips Parker and swings him around. “Nash! I need to talk to Nash.”

The ring is empty but the unconscious bruin. Nash is already gone, pushing through the wild crowd towards the back door.

“Wait,” Sam shouts, trying to follow, but Nash is long gone.

I try to reach Sam and a body hits me, making me stagger into a group of leather jacket clad bikers.

“Sorry—”

“Human,” the blond guy in front of me snarls, his eyes lighting up an eerie green.

“I didn’t mean to—” I jump back as the guy growls at me, showing long canines.

Out of nowhere, Sam reappears, and his fingers snap around the blond guy’s throat. There’s a scuffle almost too fast for me to track and the guy’s up against the wall, Sam shoving his body weight into him.

Arms close around me and I shriek.

“Easy, lass, ‘tis only me.” Declan steadies me as he draws me back. Another giant guy bowls into the bikers and a second fight breaks out.

“We gotta get out of here,” Declan mutters, hauling me to the door.

“Not without Sam.”

“Laurie will grab him. Let me give the signal.”

“The signal?”

“They’re after me lucky charms!” Declan shouts, and drags me past brawling shifters to the wall, where he kicks open a hidden door and tosses me into the sunlight.

Sam

As soon as I see Layne is safely out, I dodge a punch and release the asshole who snarled at her. I’m not an alpha—not like Jackson or Garrett, but fuck if my wolf isn’t game to take down any animal who threatens my mate. But now that I know she’s safe, the urgency to catch Nash returns. I run for the door I saw him disappear through, where I find Parker, counting his money.

“I needed to speak to him.”

Parker shrugs.

“Sam, we have to go,” Laurie appears at my elbow.

“Is Layne safe?”

“Yeah. She’s with Declan. Come on,” Laurie urges.

I grab Parker’s arm.

“Watch it, wolf,” he snarls at me, and I ignore the threat.

“I challenge Nash to a fight.”

“You?” Parker stares as if I’ve sprouted a second head. I get it. I’m not even beta wolf material. The testing and constant weakening of my system through puberty, not to mention my months in the wild left me scrawny for a shifter. Most of the guys in this place have at least fifty pounds on me, if not more.

So yeah, maybe I’m nuts. My rational brain would never come up with a scheme like this.

“I’ll fight him, but if I win, he has to agree to talk to me.”

“You’re mad,” Parker says.

“If I win,” I repeat, and he nods.

“I’ll see if I can set it up.”

I write my phone number on one of his twenty dollar bills. “Let me know.”

More shifters brawl in the dirt parking lot outside. A white Camaro screams up to us, Declan behind the wheel, Layne buckled in beside him. I growl, even though I know he just protected Layne for me.

Declan grins, a happy-wild look in his eye. He’s as fucked up crazy as I am. So is Laurie in his own way. “I’m not stealing yer lass, boy.” He lifts his chin at Laurie. “I’ll trade ya for this one.”

Layne unbuckles her seatbelt as Laurie walks around to take her place. “Wh-where are you s-s-s-staying?” Laurie asks.

I shrug. “I have a safe house up in the mountains, but it’s a good ninety minutes from here.”

“You can s-s-s-stay with me,” he offers. “I have a guest house.”

I remember seeing the tiny, garage-like structure behind his cottage. In California, any structure becomes living space. I’m surprised by the offer. Not that I didn’t hope for help from Laurie and Declan, but taking us in, especially considering how much heat we could bring on them, is going above and beyond. I start to shake my head, but then stop. If I hadn’t had Declan’s help tonight, something might have happened to Layne. I can’t chase Smyth and provide constant protection to her, no matter how much I wish I can. Having her secure with other shifters would help me focus on eliminating Smyth. Once he’s gone, I can provide her protection until we know it’s safe for her to return home.

Except the brick in the pit of my stomach tells me there won’t be any going home. Not for Layne. Not for me. If the government is tied into Project Alpha, they won’t rest until we’re all dead.

Fuck.

I give a single nod. “Yeah, thanks. We’ll meet you there.”

Laurie bobs his head and climbs into the Camaro and Declan screeches off before the door is even shut.

Layne walks swiftly to the van. I can’t tell if she’s pissed or scared. Probably a bit of both.

I get in and start the van up. “I’m really sorry I left you unprotected in there,” I say.

She shakes her head. She’s staring straight out the windshield like she’s shell-shocked.

I put the van in gear. We pass a literal cat fight on the way out—two leopards knocking over motorcycles as they tear each other with their claws and teeth.

“That was probably more violence than you’re used to seeing.”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

I reach over and grab her hand and I’m shocked to find how much it’s shaking. “Layne.”

“Sam, I need to get my meds,” she blurts.

Cold blasts through me, wedges tight up between my ribs. She’s not looking for birth control meds. It’s something serious. Unable to breathe or speak, I settle for stepping on the gas, peeling out the way Declan had and racing for the main road.

It’s ten, twenty seconds before I can force back the metallic drumming in my ears. “Tell me,” I grate.

“It’s a degenerative nerve disease. Barrington’s. The one mom died of.”

I’m unable to breathe. My female. Dying. This can’t be fucking happening.

“Sam!” Layne screams when the van starts to run off the road.

I correct the course, my mind racing. “That’s why you’re so obsessed with the research. You’re looking for a cure.”

Layne’s eyes rest on her hands. “No. It’s too late for me. But I might be able to help other people.”

“No.” I slam my fist down on the dash, cracking the plastic.

Only Layne’s frightened gaze makes me pull back the rage storming inside me.

“There has to be a cure,” I grit out.

“Sam.” Her voice is pleading, and I hear the tears behind it. “I’ve made my peace with this. Don’t make it worse.”

A storm of emotions run through me, one after the other. I want to cry for her. Smash things. Barrels and barrels of regret unload on me. Pour over my head, down my throat. I wish I’d known sooner.

But what different would it have made?

I pull up in front of Laurie’s but don’t open the door. “Layne.” My voice sounds cracked and raw, as if I’ve been shouting for hours. “I’m not judging your choices, but it fucking burns me up that you’ve spent your life locked up in research when you could’ve been... living.”

Fates, I feel like I’m dying. Right here, right now. Bleeding out behind the wheel because Layne, my unclaimed mate, will have her life cut short. I must’ve harbored some shred of hope I’d survive my revenge mission and have something to offer to her.

“Fuck you,” Layne spits and throws herself out of the van. Her words shock me out of my pity party.

I launch out of the van after her. I catch her on the sidewalk, looping an arm around her waist and hauling her back against my body. “Layne, wait. I’m so sorry. That came out all wrong.” I bury my face in her silky black hair and breathe in her scent. I can’t think of anything else to say, not that I’ve ever been good with words. I just hold her soft body against mine, synchronizing my breath with hers.

“I’ll get your meds,” I promise. “I’ll go right now, if you want. But I go alone. I don’t want to risk your safety.”

“I can wait until tomorrow.” Her voice is reedy.

“Are you sure?”

Fuck. I’m an asshole. I need to offer her something more than retrieving the meds she’s been trying to get all day. My gut says I should be able fix this for her and goddammit, it’s unfixable.

I want to curse and howl. To shift and run back to the mountains where I almost lost myself once before.

“If there was no Barrington’s, if your mom was still alive and the world didn’t need saving, what would you do, instead?” My lips are right beside her ear. She’s trembling. Tears drying on her cheeks.

“I don’t know.” Her voice breaks. “What would you do if you weren’t bent on revenge?”

“I’d figure out a way to be with you.” I answer immediately, possibly surprising myself as much as her.

She turns in my arms, her dark eyes wide. “Sam.” My name seems to carry so much meaning, yet I can’t decipher her thoughts.

I run my thumb along her cheek. “I’m so drawn to you, Layne. I don’t know what it’s like for a human, but for shifters, sometimes our animal chooses for us. My wolf wants you. Even though I can’t have you. Even though these are the worst of circumstances. So yeah, if I were free right now—if my future were wide open—I’d set my sights on you. I’d figure out what this thing is between us and where we could go with it.” Suddenly self-conscious, I pull my arms away from her and shove my hands in my pockets. “I know I have no game, but—”

“I’d like that.”

I go still.

She lays her palms flat on my chest. Tips her face up to mine, like she wants a kiss.

My wolf, previously subdued by her tears, roars to life within me. I take her mouth at the same time I hook my forearm under her ass. She wraps her legs around me, returning the kiss with a fervor I don’t expect.

“Layne.” I need her naked. Now.

Without breaking the kiss, I hoof it past Laurie’s cottage, straight to the shack behind it. Laurie’s standing there, key in hand, eyes wide at the spectacle of our Olympic-worthy lip wrestling. He shoves the door open and steps back to let me pass without a word. The door closes softly behind us, but I barely register it.

The structure is a tiny studio, with a bed in the middle of the room. I drop her onto it and reach behind my neck to yank off my t-shirt with one hand, never looking away from my beautiful, fragile female.

Layne sits up, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks.

I’m on her again in a flash, melding our lips as I tear her clothes off. I need her to feel all the emotion inside me. Everything I don’t know how to express. The chaos storming about her illness, my intense desire to change her fate, to change our fates.

Layne

Sam’s kisses top the list of things I’m glad I’ve experienced before I die. There’s so much passion behind them. So much command.

For a guy who claims he has no game with women, he sure knows what he’s doing. His tongue sweeps between my lips, demands my surrender. I melt beneath him, offer myself up as he wrestles my shirt off over my head. Because what else do we have?

Neither of us has anything to give the other. Except this. Our passion. The incredible music our bodies make together.

And no, I’m not afraid of his wolf. If I know anything by now, it’s that Sam won’t hurt me.

He snaps his hips in the cradle of my legs, drags his open mouth down my neck. His hands work the clasp of my bra at the same time he nips my breast. The bra disappears to the same place my shirt went and his lips are on my nipple, his tongue swirling around the hard tip.

I gasp and arch into him. The insistent thrum of need between my legs has me wriggling to shove down my leggings and panties. He releases my nipple and licks down the plane of my belly.

Need.

More.

Now.

“Sam,” I pant, kicking off the fabric still tangled around my ankle.

He hooks his hands under my knees and pushes them up, spreading me wide. My belly flutters with excitement. He growls just before he licks into me, using his tongue generously. Cleverly.

My inner thighs tighten to clamp around his ears, but he pushes me back open, holds my hips down as he tortures me with firm licks of my clit.

I grab his blond hair, tug it as I rub shamelessly over his face. But I don’t want to just receive pleasure from him again. I want to give it. “Let me up,” I croak. “Let me up.” I shove at his shoulders when he doesn’t respond.

He lifts his head, startled eyes glowing yellow, lips glossy with my juices. I scramble out from under him and pull him up on the bed. He falls back on his forearm, a bewildered expression on his face.

“My turn.” I reach for the button on his jeans.

He lets out a choked sound. “Tie me up,” he says hoarsely.

“What?”

“You’d better tie me up or I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll be pounding between those sweet thighs until morning comes.”

A shocked laugh escapes my lips. His words flame my desire even hotter. My nipples throb in time with my clit. His eyelids droop, gaze traveling up and down my body like a starved man. I rub my lips together. “Do you have a condom?”

Sam stares at me for a moment in disbelief, then his hand flies to his pocket. He pulls out his wallet and rifles through it with shaking fingers until he produces the small square foil packet. “Yes.” He holds it up like he’s got the winning lottery ticket.

Then doubt clouds his expression. He jerks back off the bed and rubs a hand across his jaw. “Layne, we can’t.”

I crawl forward on the bed, loving the flare of panic on Sam’s face, the way he closes his fist around the condom packet. His irises change from blue to yellow and back to blue again. “I’m not afraid of your wolf,” I whisper. “I won’t scream this time.”

He takes a step back and shakes his head. “I-I can’t. Don’t have control.”

I follow, stepping off the bed and reaching for his waist. Grasping the two sides of his open jeans, I free his erection and drop to my knees at his feet. With my gaze lifted to his face, I open my lips and take the thick head of his cock into my mouth.

He surges forward, growing even longer. The groan that leaves him has an animal timbre to it. His fingers burrow into my hair. “Layne… you’re so beautiful.”

I’ve never felt so feminine, so attractive. I want to make him feel like a king. I’m no expert, but I know fellatio isn’t rocket science. I take his cock as deep as I can before I pull back.

He whimpers as I retreat, fingers tightening in my hair. Mm hmm. Preliminary test results suggest he enjoys having my mouth on him. I grip the base of his cock for aim and another shudder goes through him.

Aha. Evidence also suggests squeezing pleases my man. I move my mouth and hand in concert with one another, tasting a drop of his salty essence.

His thighs tremble, the rumble in his chest grows louder. I love the sound of his ragged breath laboring above me. Before I can finish him off, he knocks me backward. His arms and a soft rug cushion my fall.

“Need you.” His guttural tone is almost unrecognizable. I hear the crinkle of foil and he rolls the condom over his stiff member.

“I need you, too,” I murmur, reaching to pull his face down to mine.

He enters me in a single thrust at the same moment our mouths mate.

I cry out, not because it hurts, only from the shock of pleasure that pierces my very being. Every nerve ending electrifies, every pleasure center blooms. I become as desperate as he, scratching and scrambling to take him deeper, to bring our bodies closer. I snap my hips, rubbing my clit along the base of his shaft with each of his thrusts. He fills me and pulls back.

My breath catches and then I emit a keening, needy sound.

“More,” he growls, his eyes utterly golden. He pumps harder, faster.

As if I’m the beast, not he, I nip his shoulder, lick his ear. My nails score his ass as I pull him down into the cradle of my hips.

“So. Good.” His words sound through clenched teeth.

My eyes roll back in my head.

“Can’t stop. Can’t stop. Oh God, Layne, I can’t—” Sam lets out a completely animalistic snarl and buries himself deep.

My arms shoot up around his neck and I meld my body to his as my climax hits at the same time. Fireworks explode behind my lids. Every muscle in my body quakes as my core tightens and releases around his shaft.

Sam bites me, too hard.

I gasp, but the sensation brings on a second round of earthquake level tremors through my body. The pain is eclipsed by pure pleasure.

Sam tries to lift his weight from my body, but I cling to him, so he lifts me too.

“Don’t ever let me go,” I beg, before I realize how pathetic it sounds.

He licks the place he bit me. “I won’t.” His voice is still rough and deep.

He stands with me still attached to his body and settles us on the bed, where he nuzzles my hair and kisses all along the side of my face and neck. When I finally release my stranglehold on him, he pulls away and surveys the bite mark on my neck.

I bring my fingers to the place, surprised to find the skin broken.

“I marked you.”

“Yes.”

“It’s the way a wolf mates. I didn’t mean to, but one of my fangs grazed your skin when you were orgasming.”

I push up on my elbows, my post-orgasmic fog parting as my brain comes back online. I can’t figure out how to interpret the data Sam just provided. “You mean, mates, like... marries?”

He nods and scrubs his hand across his jaw in the way I’ve already come to love. “I’m… fuck, I’m not sorry. I’d like to apologize, but—” A smile tugs at his lips, as if he can’t hold it back.

I can’t help but return it. “You’re not sorry?” I blush at the hopeful lift in my voice.

He shrugs. “My wolf got what he wanted.” He flicks his brows at me. “You.”

“Okay.” I can’t figure out what else to say. I’m not sorry, either, even though I don’t know what it all means.

Sam’s wolf mated me.

He knows I’m living on borrowed time and he doesn’t seem to mind, so why should I argue?

He licks the wound again. “Does it hurt, sweetheart?”

“No.”

He settles beside me and pulls me snugly against him. “Good. It’s not too deep. It might not leave a scar.” He’s grinning again. “You’re officially my mate. Hope you don’t mind.”

I snuggle into his warm arms. “I don’t know what it entails, but it sounds okay to me.”

He kisses my forehead. “I know neither of us wanted a relationship. You’re sick and I... might not live long, either.”

My heart squeezes, but I push away the fear. I want to enjoy this. Just for this moment.

“But meeting you, marking you, feels like the only right turn my life has ever taken. Does that sound crazy?”

“Yes,” I murmur. “Wonderfully crazy. Like you.”