Chapter Five
This time, when Bron approached her in the darkness, eyes burning like coals, she didn't resist when he grabbed her roughly, growling in a possessive way as he pulled her close. She didn't resist as he tore at her clothes, shredding them within moments, even breaking the metal clasp on her bra so that it pinged and bounced off the wall in the dim room.
He shoved her onto the bedcovers, and ripped into her panties, before fighting to be rid of his boxers, his huge erection springing free. Ordri examined it with a shudder of anticipation, positioning herself so that her legs spread wider for him, waiting to take him in.
Roughly, his teeth bared, he seized a portion of her hair and forced himself inside her, sliding into her impossible wetness, groaning as she accepted him fully. He closed his eyes, nostrils flaring, as he began thrusting in her. His hands moved around her neck and squeezed, before raking along her back, and clutching hard at her rear as he pounded inside her, taking her with delicious roughness. He claimed her as his, sought to keep her close and grunted his desire, his need and longing for her, pounding deeper and harder, hitting her g-spot perfectly each time.
Ordri dissolved under his relentless movement, whimpering as he dove into her again and again, bringing her to climax. This wasn't enough for him, however. He turned her around, even as she shivered through her first climax, and now fell on top of her naked body, staring into her face with intense eyes, groaning as he thrust in her, his hips colliding with hers again and again.
“Bron...” she hissed, reaching up to kiss his lips, taste the salt on them, feel the stubble on his cheek and the closeness of his heat against hers.
“Mine,” he growled, thrusting harder into her, sweat accumulating on his face, dripping over his eyes like tears as he lost himself in her body, consumed himself in her softness.
With a jolt of surprise, she felt herself come again, but he still wasn't done. It took him another minute to come, and a third orgasm rippled out of Ordri like a small wave, numbing her lips in shock from the fact that she had not only come once, but three times.
Holy shit. She didn't even think her body was capable of that. At all.
She lay on the covers, boneless from his efforts. She watched the strong, muscular werewolf disengage from her and position himself on her left side, breath heaving fast. They stared into each other's faces for quite some time without words. Words. They seemed rather meaningless right now, with everything that had happened.
The war might be won. Not without cost. Never without cost. And as long as there were werewolves, conflict existed a stone's throw away.
Werewolves were never meant to sit quietly and live without stirring the waters, without announcing their presence somewhere. They fought, killed, murdered and loved the same as any human. Perhaps more so, since their emotions could be rather concentrated, making them boiling cesspits of passion.
Ordri shivered as she examined her mate, still torn between the conflict of whether he happened to be the best thing that had ever happened in her life, or the worst.
She did know, somewhere down the line, that losing him might hurt more than expected. Certainly more than when her former husband had his throat torn out.
Just when she thought she didn't know how to feel, that she was callous and lacked something fundamental that everyone else possessed – Bron showed her otherwise. He taught her that she did feel. She did love.
There might have been a strong sense of relief with the act as well.
Everyone had survived the conflict of the old Vladomir house, though the worse wounded needed several weeks to heal from the vanadium bullets that poisoned their systems. Sebastian and Kostya fought side by side, and went down together, kicking and yelling. Filip bore one extra scar in his impressive collection. Yanus had one shattered leg, and Elinor two broken ribs. Ordri suffered the least injuries, aside from bruises that healed within a day.
The hold out from Yanus and Elinor did massive psychological damage to the invaders, though they might have succeeded once the bullets ran out, just by piling with better organization into the tunnel. The tight confines still gave beasts like Bron leeway to scrap, but the numbers would push him back.
Bron. What a magnificent hunk of werewolf specimen he was. Any woman would feel secure under his protection, once you got past the whole confusion and misunderstandings.
He wanted a home, and Ordri wanted to be loved. He wanted a name, and Ordri could give him hers. Of course, maybe celebrations might have to hold off until the threat was removed from the Bulgarian mountains once and for all – but Elinor Spirova felt positive, enlightened by the idea that the Vladomir house had inflicted fatal damage to the Russian movement.
“We lost a total of zero people,” Elinor had said. “Zero, and they lost twenty-one. That's one hell of a humiliating defeat. I'd be hanging my tail in shame. They can't have much left to their invasion force.”
“Lucky we had that secret passage, really,” Ordri said. “I doubt we would have been as lucky in the open confines of the house.”
“Lucky,” Elinor agreed, wincing as she clutched her sides, where the ribs healed and itched. “Still could have gone fucking wrong.” She groaned. “Can't wait til I get back to my husband. He's sick out of his mind with constant worry that one of my excursions will be my last.”
Ordri smiled, thinking of Elinor's crippled, wheelchair-bound husband, who quietly managed affairs at the Spirova fortress.
She thought of how things had been. The five of them, Markus, Danniven, Arina, Luelle and her, friends with the humans in the mountains. Their friendship had been one catalyst towards the overthrowing of the flesh eaters, the clans who insisted on the ancient ways. The death of Arina's family and her escape eventually led to Ricten's death years later, and a new world for them to go to in North Dakota.
Then there were the Russians who ran that hotel in Sapareva Banya, Frey and Evo, who between them managed to turn their little hotel into a moot point of resistance, taking in the wounded and helping to bring one major victory against the invaders – who came because of Luelle's escape.
Strange, to see how things wrapped together, and worked out in the end. Strange to think how much their world had changed in the past thirty years.
Strange to see the white wanderer turn up at their gate, to help them cinch one more victory in the face of potential destruction. His presence might have dragged them into the face of danger, isolating the leaders in unexpected circumstances – a bad oversight by their side, really.
Yet, it had actually turned out to be the one thing that might have solidified their advantage, bolstered their defense.
I still don't know who you are, really, Bron, Ordri thought, staring at his slumbering form, which looked peaceful and happy. And I feel like we might have a long way to go yet. Because you're hella awkward at times.
He was, she thought in amusement, her white knight.
“I know you're staring at me,” he said then, directly referring back to his creepy staring a few weeks back.
“Shh. Let me examine your pretty face for a moment longer without any interruptions. I was just on that freckle behind your ear.”
“Hmpf.” Bron opened dark pink eyes to give her a fond, languid smile. Again, the stark contrast of his features almost took her breath away. And to think, this person really had dropped out of nowhere and chosen her to be his mate?
We shall have strong and beautiful children, Ordri contemplated, imagining the sentence tolled out in her head in a serious tone. She held a straight face for a moment, before the absurdity of her thought made her laugh.
“What did I do wrong, now?” Bron said, confused, his brows knitting together as he tried to work out what his next fault was.
“Nothing. Nothing at all.” Ordri Gregorovitch stroked her new mate's rough cheek, imagining the future panning ahead of them, and all the possibilities it offered.
To think she would have stagnated here, too afraid to take the next step, to admit that change needed to happen.
Sometimes, change came and bitch-slapped you in the face, whether you expected it or not.
A change in life, in love, and attitude. “I think I can grow to love you,” she said to him at last, and his eyes widened.
“You 'think'? Ordri, I already love you. You're playing catch up at this point,” he said, with a playful grin.
Oh. Wow.
That was slightly unexpected.
“It's not so fast and easy for me, Bron. I just need time. To accept that this happiness is real, you know. That it's not gonna run away.”
“I understand,” he said, his pale lips spreading and curving upwards. “I'm still coming to terms with things as well. And being proven wrong at every turn, apparently.”
“Your fault, for trying to steal a Gregorovitch woman.”
“Uh, 'trying’? I succeeded. Unless the person lying next to me in bed is just a figment of my imagination.”
“Unfortunately, I'm not,” she said, which prompted Bron to tackle her in bed, mock indignation upon his features.
There was definitely no figment of imagination bullshit going on here. This was real.
Her heart beat, and remembered how to love again. Her body reacted to his touch like a swimmer breaking the surface of water, taking in a great lungful of air, glad to be alive.
On top of all this, it seemed the Bulgarian clans would finally be at peace.
No more shitty conflict, at least for a good few years. Ordri intended to take full advantage of that peacetime.
The End