Chapter 8
With Willow finally tending to Amory, Darcy took a step closer to Jack, wanting to collapse against him in exhaustion as soon as he shifted back to human form.
She moved softly to the front of the room, around the couch until she stood in the left corner, a good ten feet from where Roug Jack had Roug Lela pinned in front of the TV with the dim spotlight shining down on them.
Lela had stopped fighting him, her strength sapped, and her face, even shifted as she was, defeated as she hung limply against the cracked flat screen, still pinned by the throat.
Jack growled and groaned more and more gently, holding Lela’s eyes until she looked down at her feet in submission.
Julien was at his shoulder now, and Jack slowly loosed his grip on Lela’s neck, the claws of his left hand still raised as he slowly backed away from her, toward Darcy, making room for Julien.
Roug Jack stood between Darcy and Roug Lela, but she peeked around his body to see what happened next.
Jack flexed his fingers lightly at his side, his bone-like claws brushing together, a sound like wooden wind chimes catching a breeze, clack clack clack, a reminder that he was ready if Lela should threaten Darcy again.
He kept his back to her, facing his brother and sister.
Roug Julien stood naked in front of naked Roug Lela.
With the fur-covered back of his hand, careful not to touch her with his claws, he gently tilted her chin up.
Julien grunted softly, and Lela growled softly back.
Suddenly, before Darcy’s eyes, just as Jack had downshifted last Thursday, she watched as their claws slowly retracted, and the hair covering their bodies seemed to shrink back into their skin.
Looking immediately before her, she saw Jack’s body doing the same.
The long claws weren’t visible at his sides now, and his back was flesh again, dirty but smooth.
She reached out a hand to tentatively touch him, and he whipped around, crushing her into his arms, pulling her against his naked body, and burying his face in her hair.
The hard lines of his body pressed into her as the iron grip of his arms encircled her.
She leaned up to kiss him and felt him tremble.
“Darcy. You saw me…” His voice was tortured, despairing.
“I did,” she whispered, holding his shaggy face in her hands, finding his eyes in the dim light.
I’ve seen you shifted and…
He dropped her eyes, looking down. She lifted his face, forcing him to look at her, seizing his eyes with hers again.
I’ve seen you shifted, and you still belong to me. I still want you. I still choose you. I still love you, Jack. I love you, I love you, I love you.
He shuddered from the impact of her words, his eyes closing as he pulled her back against his chest, his voice low and thick with emotion near her ear.
“My god, Darcy, if you hadn’t pulled me inside…”
“You got here in time. You saved me.”
“I love you,” he murmured against her ear. “You’re my life. If I had lost you—”
“Don’t say it.” She leaned back. “You didn’t. I’m here. I’m yours.”
He nodded, and the strength of his emotions, or the sheer exhaustion of his body, seemed to finally hit him. He pulled her to him, sighing raggedly as his arms wrapped around her like he would never, ever let her go.
From the safety of his embrace, Darcy turned her head slightly, looking at Julien and Lela.
Julien’s skin was dirty from running in the woods, but Lela’s was somehow smooth and tan, supple and perfect, bathed in the moonlight filtering in from the window.
Her breasts pressed against the hair on Julien’s chest as she turned her neck and looked, with mournful, defeated eyes, upon Jack and Darcy’s reunion.
Julien’s quiet voice demanded her attention.
“Lela Beauloup, fille de Lynette Reynard et Dubois Beauloup, je veux que tu sois ma compagne.”
“They’re speaking too fast for me. What did he say?” whispered Darcy.
Jack whispered back, his breath hot on her ear. “He wants her to be his mate.”
Lela’s neck had a bright red mark where Jack had held her, and her shoulders were still slumped in surrender, but her eyes sparked and glowed in indignation under long, black lashes.
She was fiercely beautiful, but almost feral, her black hair tumbling in wild waves around her shoulders, curling just over the tops of her breasts.
She glanced at Jack again and winced before facing Julien.
“Je ne vous aime pas, Julien,” she said softly, like she was sorry.
“Now what?” Darcy whispered.
“She doesn’t love him.”
“Voulez-vous essayer, Lela? Puis-je vous embrasser?” asked Julien gently.
“He asked her to try. He asked permission to kiss her,” breathed Jack, and Darcy’s heart leaped at the touch of his lips grazing her ear as he spoke.
“Je m’en fiche. Je veux mourir,” Lela breathed, looking back toward Jack.
“I don’t care. I want to die,” echoed Jack, low and soft, translating.
“S’il vous pla?t, Lela. S’il vous pla?t, faites-moi confiance.”
“Please, Lela. Please trust me.”
“D’accord,” said Lela softly, her voice tired and beaten. “Je n’ai rien à perdre.”
“She gave permission. She has nothing left to lose.” Jack paused before continuing, “If the binding is true, we’ll feel it. You and me. Bound couples share the energy of a true binding.”
Lela finally looked away from Jack and raised her head to look at Julien. Darcy held her breath as Julien placed his hands on Lela’s face, gazing at her with such poignant tenderness it made Darcy’s belly leap with hope for him, and bent to kiss her.
As his lips pressed against hers, his fingers curled, one by one, until he held her face softly with his knuckles.
His lips drew back from hers, his breathing audibly ragged, before capturing her lips again with a deep groan, his hands uncurling, splaying over Lela’s face with building passion, the bones in his hands stark and white as he flexed them rigidly with the force of his emotions.
Lela moaned, coming to life, raising her arms, her hands running over the contours of Julien’s muscular back, her back arching to push her breasts up against his chest.
Darcy gasped as her whole body started vibrating like a violin string strung too tight and plucked too hard.
Dizzying waves of orgasmic-like pleasure pooled in her belly, fanning out to the entirety of her body, making her turn away from the newly bound couple to capture Jack’s eyes.
He was waiting for her, his body humming in tune with hers.
Can you feel it? he asked.
I feel it. I feel you.
He dipped his head and captured her lips with his, tasting her mouth, stroking her tongue, growling softly to let her know how much he loved her, how close he came to losing her.
She felt it all in the heavenly vibrations that ended as abruptly as they began.
She drew back, disappointed they were gone too soon, left wanting so much more than the kiss they’d shared.
It was like her own binding to Jack was re-validated, strengthened, gloriously reconfirmed through watching another couple find their way.
Nice, huh? He grinned at her, his face loving and tender.
Can we attend another binding sometime soon?
His face registered a chuckle, but it was soundless.
Her body felt hot and taut and made to love. Now. She barely trusted her legs to keep her upright. All she wanted was to take his hand, pull Jack down the stairs, lock his bedroom door, and impale herself on his waiting hardness.
He read this in her eyes, his eyes burning for her, but he showed extreme self-control, shaking his head at her, looking over her shoulder at the happy new couple. Darcy turned, following his gaze.
Absurdly, it occurred to Darcy, yet again, that Julien and Lela were both naked, pressed passionately up against each other, and with increasing sounds of pleasure, there was no indication they planned to stop what they were doing.
Darcy turned back to Jack, her body a mess of sensations.
Aroused from his shifting to save her, aroused from the binding tremors, aroused from watching Julien and Lela on the verge of consummating their binding.
Wet and slick and wanting and knowing of only one way to relieve the pressure of her arousal. “Jack.”
He cupped her face and kissed her lips gently. “Soon, baby.”
She sighed, frustrated, turning back to Julien and Lela. “Um, are they going to…”
“It’s highly likely. Maybe we should go.”
But Darcy continued to stare at them, drawn and fascinated, until he tugged her hand, leading her around the couch toward the stairs.
“Ours was nothing like that,” she murmured, considering their relatively chaste kiss in the darkness of a high school stage.
“We were just kids. It was perfect.”
“Humph,” she grumbled, wanting nothing more than to get in Jack’s bed for a long night of exactly what Julien and Lela were about to do.
They had just reached the stairs when Darcy heard a sob and looked down to see Willow leaning over Amory.
Oh my god! Amory! With the distraction of the binding, she’d forgotten about her brother. Seeing him lying there was as good as being doused with a pail of cold water.
Willow turned over her hands, covered in blood, and looked up at Jack with watery eyes.
“I stopped the bleeding, and the cut’s not actually that deep, but he’s burning up. I need to get him to a hospital, but my cell phone doesn’t have a recep—”
“Lela!” yelled Jack, looking down at Amory. “What did you do?”
When he got no answer, he bellowed her name again, turning toward the passionately kissing couple. “Lela!”
Darcy looked back at the wall where Julien still had a now willing Lela pinned with his hard body. They broke apart with a shared groan of regret, and Lela peeked at Jack from over her mate’s shoulder.
“Did you—” Jack growled.
“No!” she answered. “No! Not that! It’s just a scratch.”
Then she grabbed Julien’s head and pulled it back down to hers.