Chapter 35
Entering their suite’s bathroom, Dakota immediately understood why Kieran told them no hanky-panky—if ever there was a shower built for it, he was staring at it. “Babe,” he called to his mate, “you have to see this.”
“Holy fuck!” Slate exclaimed, after joining his mate in the bathroom. “Thirty minutes will be cutting it close, but babe, there isn’t any way we won’t be doing hanky-panky in there.”
Giggling, Dakota stripped in record time, turned on the multiple jets and shower heads and then stepped into a glass shower big enough for an orgy.
Slate stood there, naked, tugging his hard dick, lusting for his mate’s body as rivers of water gushed over it from all directions, ending in a cascade flowing down Dakota’s legs.
“We can’t do any hanky-panky if you stay out there,” Dakota teased, rubbing shower gel over his muscles.
Growling, Slate joined his mate in the shower and immediately grabbed Dakota’s cock, stroking it until it was hard and leaking. Then he knelt before it and, looking up into Dakota’s eyes, parted his lips and playfully tongued his mate’s cock tip.
The sexual heat Dakota saw in Slate’s eyes fanned the fire within him, causing his legs to shake and forcing him to brace himself against his mate’s shoulders.
Glancing down at his cock, he whimpered at the sight of Slate’s tongue teasing it as his mate continued the slow torture.
Moaning when he felt his cock sucked into Slate’s mouth, Dakota felt his need build until he was on the edge, but dammit, his mate wasn’t going to push him over yet, he was sure of it because Slate loved to tease.
Each time he was on the point of coming, Slate varied his tactics, making Dakota start over again.
His mate was a master at edging—perfect for Dakota who loved the build-up and denial.
By listening to the intensity of Dakota’s moans and cries, Slate knew exactly when he was at his peak of need.
He lowered his head over Dakota’s cock, nestling his nose in the hair at its base.
Fondling his mate’s balls while bobbing faster and faster, Slate tightened his lips, giving Dakota’s cock the delicious friction it craved.
Reaching back with one of the fingers caressing his mate’s nuts, he pressed it against Dakota’s taint, finally igniting his mate’s orgasm.
Shot after shot of cum filled Slate’s mouth as Dakota fell over the edge, savoring the most delicious orgasm he ever had.
When his balls were drained, Dakota felt his legs give out and he started to crumple to the shower floor, only to be caught by his mate’s muscled arms, pulling him against Slate’s chest, where he fainted.
Grinning when he realized what happened, Slate lifted Dakota onto the counter, toweling him dry before carrying him to the bedroom where he sat him at the foot of the bed.
Wrapping a blanket around them, Slate hugged Dakota, realizing how lucky he was to be given someone who was perfect for him in every way.
Not only did his mate relish edging, but easily surrendered and trusted Slate to know when he’d reached his limit.
Smiling tenderly at Dakota, Slate loved his mate with a depth he never knew existed and vowed to always treasure what the Fates had bestowed on him.
~/~/~/~/~
By the time Slate and Dakota made it back to Logan’s suite, the food was cold, just as Kieran predicted. Red cheeks graced Dakota’s face as he saw the smirks and smiles on everyone’s face. Grateful when Kieran said nothing, but just ordered more food for them, he smiled and thanked him softly.
Luckily for Slate, everyone had calmed down, so he could actually follow what was being said.
As he listened to Theo tell Dakota about different foods he’d tried in Scotland, Slate noticed a difference in both him and Norman from a month ago.
Both had put on weight, filling in the gauntness he’d seen in their faces when they were rescued, and frequent laughter expressed their happiness.
Love between the two had also blossomed—Norman was ever so protective of Theo, always standing near him and shifting positions to keep him guarded.
If he thought Theo and Norman had recovered, Kieran was otherworldly—with brilliance that eclipsed the sun; what really struck him, though, was the power he felt radiating from him.
This wasn’t any ordinary power and he wondered if it had been given to Kieran when he mated Logan, since he didn’t have it in Tajikistan.
That seemed a valid conclusion; Steel never mentioned it to him and if Slate was right about the source of Kieran’s power, Jackson was in for a big surprise when his brother and mate came home.
Then his attention turned to Fionn, an underage dragon that had the saddest eyes he’d ever seen, set in a pale thin face, showing months if not years of malnutrition.
Even though Kieran always included him in conversations—even if it was just asking his opinion—Slate could see the loneliness wrapped around him like a cloak, protecting him from the dark side of life.
But there was also mental strength to him that belied his fragile appearance, making Fionn no push-over as his father found out.
During a lull in the conversation, Slate said, “Colton, I haven’t offered my congratulations to you and Ian. The last time I saw you in Mexico, both of you seemed a little pre-occupied. My mate said you have a pup on the way so congratulations on that too.”
“Thanks. Jackson is laughing his ass off at me because I seem to have a bad case of worry-itis. Ian tells me it’ll disappear in about five months,” said Colton.
“Hey, Logan,” Dakota called out, “Congratulations to you and Kieran on your pregnancy.”
“Thanks,” Kieran said, as Logan pulled him over to sit on his lap. “My mate said I could design the nursery for our squirt so I’ve been buying all kinds of stuff I plan on using in there.”
“A lot of pink stuff like a pink bear, a pink wolf and a pink dragon,” Theo said, “I didn’t even know they came in that color.”
“Of course they come in pink, everything comes in pink!” exclaimed Kieran, rolling his eyes.
“Why pink? Are you having a girl?” asked Slate.
“Nope, we’re having a little Kieran,” Logan said, hugging his mate, “lots and lots of little Kierans!”
Noticing Slate’s confusion, Dakota said, “Pink is Kieran’s favorite color.”
Theo explained, “Everything he owns is pink, lots and lots of different shades of pink.”
“Yeah,” said Fionn, “be careful if he offers to help you shop for clothes because I guarantee you’ll end up with pink underwear.”
Giggling, Kieran looked at his friend. “But you look so sexy in pink briefs.”
Logan growled, “How do you know what he looks like in his underwear?”
“Oh, macushla, your growls send shivers all over my body but they especially make my co…”
Logan’s quick hand covering Kieran’s mouth had everyone laughing including Fionn, who said, “Kieran hasn’t seen me in the pink underwear he bought me because I haven’t worn it yet.”
“Is that right, mo anan cara?” asked Logan.
Removing his mate’s hand from his mouth, Kieran said, “It’s true, I was just imagining what Fionn would look like in them.
Do you have pink underwear, Slate? You know it can spice up your sex life with Dakota, oh wait, obviously you don’t need any spicing right now but when you do, a pink thong will highlight your co… ”
Clamping Kieran’s mouth shut again, Logan said, “Babe, why don’t you let them figure out that part of their lives by themselves?”
Nodding his head, Kieran grinned as his mate removed his hand.
Then he said, “Whenever my mate does that, I lick his hand because it reminds him of what I like him doing.” Grabbing the hand that was about to land over his mouth again, Kieran giggled.
“Don’t worry macushla, I wasn’t going to say what I like. ”
Slate saw Dakota trying to hide a yawn, prompting him to announce, “If everyone will excuse us, we’re going back to our room to take a nap. Jet lag is kicking in.” Standing, he held out a hand to Dakota and pulled him up, putting his arm around his mate’s waist. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“You aren’t joining us for dinner?” asked Logan.
“No, we made other plans, so go ahead and have dinner when you want to,” answered Slate, shepherding his sleepy mate out of the suite.
~/~/~/~/~
Slate sat at the desk in his suite, trying to answer as many business emails as he could before Dakota finished his shower.
With the sound of the running water in the background and his attention focused on finding a document to send back to his director of development, it took a moment before he heard the knocking at the door.
Getting up, he looked through the peephole and saw Logan standing there.
“Is there a problem?” Slate asked, after opening the door, wondering if there was new information about the mercenaries.
“Groose told me you and my brother were going out for the evening. Do you think it’s wise?” Logan asked.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Because of everything going on with Fionn right now.”
“I’m missing something here. Fionn is safe as long as he remains on this floor because he has a small army protecting him.
I’m not needed nor is my mate. Instead of sitting here all night, I’m taking advantage of our one night in Edinburgh to take Dakota out to a special dinner. What’s the problem with that?”
“None, and I know my brother will enjoy it. I guess I have a case of nerves. Forget I said anything…and have a good time,” Logan said.
“Thanks, if you need me, call or text me. I’ll keep my phone on all night,” said Slate.
“Great,” Logan said before leaving.
Closing the door, he heard the shower shut off. Grinning at the thought of his wet, naked mate, Slate shed his clothes as he walked into the bathroom, ready for his visual feast.
~/~/~/~/~
Dakota snuggled against Slate’s side, watching the lights of the city fly by as their driver headed for the Wolf Pack Pub where he was finally going to try dishes made especially for shifters—something his restaurant would have featured.
But now he had a different focus that would still involve shifters’ traditional dishes and was looking forward to using that knowledge to take care of Cody’s boys.
When the car stopped, Dakota opened his door and got out, staring at the carved wolf head sign hanging over the door. He grinned and said, “I love the sign, it reminds me of old pubs in England that I’ve seen in pictures.”
Slate slid out and joined his mate. “It’s original…dating back to when the pub first opened.”
“I can believe it…look at the detail! Holy shit! Did you see that? The eye glowed.”
“The sign is bewitched so every time it senses a shifter, the eye glows in welcome.”
“Do humans come here also?”
“Yes, but usually during the day and then it’s mostly tourists who’re doing a pub tour. Humans stay away from here after dark, not because of the shifters; they just don’t like being surrounded by a lot of tall, muscled men.”
“What do they think about the glowing eye?”
“Nothing. Only shifters can see it.”
“Cool.”
“Ready to go in?”
“I’m so ready for this, best mate ever.”
Chuckling, Slate opened the pub door and Dakota stepped inside.
They were greeted by a cat shifter—so Dakota surmised—though he couldn’t determine just what kind of cat it was.
Checking out the interior, he loved the relaxed vibes he felt; intimate, leather-cushioned booths lined the walls and well-worn, polished oaken tables and chairs were scattered throughout the rest of the pub.
A fireplace blazed at one end; at the other a well-stocked bar beckoned.
The low buzz of conversation stopped for a moment as everyone glanced their way, but soon resumed.
“Table or booth?” the cat shifter asked.
“A booth, please,” Slate answered.
With two menus in hand, the cat shifter led them over to a booth on the back wall, moving aside so Dakota and Slate could slide into it. Handing a menu to each, the cat shifter said, “Enjoy your meal. Your waiter will be here shortly to take your order.”
Dakota looked at the retreating cat shifter, then turned to Slate. “He’s a cat shifter, right?”
“Yeah, a cheetah. Not too many of them left because of their refusal to mate with any other kind of shifter.”
“Even a leopard?”
“Even them. Cat shifters by their nature are solitary individuals, shunning areas that are heavily populated, so it makes finding their Fated Mates very difficult. I attended a seminar a while back where a specialist from the High Council talked about the problems cat shifters had mating because of their need to be alone.”
“What was the conclusion?”
Slate grinned. “The conclusion was cheetah cat shifters had to fuck more if they were going to increase their numbers.”
Dakota rolled his eyes and said, “Jeez, even I know that and I didn’t spend years studying them. What good are specialists if they can’t come up with an answer better than that?”
“Maybe you should get a job with the High Council,” joked Slate, “I swear that was the only conclusion the so-called expert had to offer after boring us a whole fucking day. A total waste of my time.”
“I had classes like that,” recalled Dakota.
“In one of them…history of the diet of shifters…the only thing I learned was how to staple my reports. This instructor wouldn’t allow us to submit them by email.
So, on the first day of class, he held up a paper, I guess from the previous semester, and made a big deal of showing us exactly where the staple should go, you know, like up in the top left corner at a 45-degree angle. No shit!”
Before Dakota could continue, a voice said, “Hi there, I’m your waiter this evening. May I get you something to drink?”
Slate asked, “Babe, what would you like?”
“Whatever you’re having,” answered Dakota.
“What do you have on tap tonight?” Slate asked their waiter.
“Howler Dark Ale.”
“Bring us two glasses and a pitcher of it,” Slate said.
“Wait a minute,” said Dakota. “Considering my condition, I better not. Do you have Lavender Lemonade?” he asked.
“Yes, we do.”
“I’ll have a glass of that.”
“Very good. Are you ready to order or do you need some more time?”
“Not yet, just bring the drinks,” Slate said.
“Sure, take your time. I’ll be right back with them.”
Dakota opened his menu. “I guess I should take a look at what they have. Any recommendations?”