33. Lycan
Lycan
“Lycan, put me down!” Ava shouted as I fireman-carried her over the threshold to our cabin. She kicked her feet and shoved at my lower back, but I laughed and smacked her tight little ass.
“I didn’t get a chance to do this the first time we got married,” I told her. “So shut up and let me do it properly.”
Poe chuckled and closed the door behind us, following me down the hallway to our bedroom.
He had his hands in his pockets, the swirling designs of our ancestors still white and pronounced on his chest. I wanted to lick them off.
I wanted to smear my cum on them until he couldn’t breathe without smelling how much I loved him.
I put Ava down in front of the bed, biting back a grin at the flush on her cheeks and the wild wisps of hair around her head. She looked like a furious angel, like a tumultuous fairy sent to torture me for eternity.
“You’re a brute.” She huffed and glanced at Poe. “Why doesn’t he get carried over the threshold, too?”
“Such a mouth on you for being pampered all day,” I teased, stepping toward her. She tilted her chin up in defiance, glaring at me. Gods, I loved it when she got flustered.
“Because I wanted to see you ass up over his shoulder, and it’s my mating day, too,” Poe said. The bond vibrated with his enthusiasm, and his arousal coated my tongue, sliding down the back of my throat.
I’d been planning this day since Kodiak gave us his approval, and I wanted everything to be perfect.
So far, it had. The ritual and the ceremony and the way both of them lit up when they agreed to be mine for the rest of our lives.
It was an amazing day on top of an already amazing few months.
And now we had forever to make the best of it.
Ava pursed her lips, and I slung my arm over Poe’s shoulders, hugging him in close.
“Do you want your present now?” I whispered loud enough for Ava to hear.
She preened at the reminder, biting her bottom lip between her teeth. Oh, the plans I had for that mouth. I’d see it swollen and sloppy by the end of the night.
“Hmm.” Poe tilted his head back and raked his ravenous gaze over our little submissive. “I think I’ve been patient enough.”
“What do you think, Trouble?” I looked at Ava. “Has he been patient?”
“He tried to get me to spill the beans halfway through the reception,” Ava confessed.
I faked a gasp and looked at Poe. “Did you? You little sneak.”
“She wouldn’t tell me,” he admitted. “No harm, no foul.”
“No foul?” I tutted and shook my head. “Such a greedy thing. Couldn’t even wait for us to get back to our home before you tore off the wrapping paper, huh?”
Something in those words struck me hard between the ribs.
Our home.
Ours. Forever. Home. Forever. Yes, the homestead had always been the place I’d lived, but despite growing up here, my wolf was unsettled and restless.
I wandered from bed to bed, partner to partner, searching.
Seeking. Looking for something to ground me, to keep me in one place.
I thought I’d had that with Poe, but even then, it wasn’t the perfect fit.
He was right to call it off with me then.
I wasn’t in a place to give him what he wanted.
But now…now, the three of us had created something magical, something that came to us at the right time in the right way.
“Enough teasing, sir,” Ava said, tugging the straps on her dress so they fell down her upper arms. “He’s earned it.”
I hummed and pretended to consider denying him.
Poe normally liked to fight me for it, and I loved dominating him.
There was nothing like wrestling him into defeat, exerting my dominance until he wilted and sobbed and gave in.
But tonight was special. He’d wanted to mate me for years, and it took my idiot ass long enough to come to terms with it, to accept it was what I wanted, too.
I planned to be gentle with them both tonight, to bring them both to the brink of euphoria until they begged me to stop.
“Alright,” I said, nodding to her. “Go on. Show him.”
Ava walked to Poe with a mischievous twist in her lips, excitement bubbling over our connection, and turned her back to him, pulling her hair over one shoulder.
“Unzip me, please,” she said.
Poe yanked the tab down with shaking hands, revealing the expanse of her gorgeous spine. I’d take my time devouring every inch of that skin later, and she’d let me.
All those months ago, I’d known someone who hid on a balcony, smoking cigarettes while she tried to stave off a panic attack about so much riding on her success.
She’d give and give and give until she had nothing left.
Now, she stood resplendent in front of me and our mate, a powerhouse comfortable in her own skin, confident in her desires.
I had tried so hard to keep my hands off her, to keep things professional, but I should have known then it was a fruitless effort.
How could I ever have denied her anything?
I’d called her trouble, and I meant it. But she was the best type, the kind that broke down every barrier I thought I had, that shattered my resolve and forced me to admit my own bullshit.
Ava turned back to face us and dropped her dress to the ground, revealing the delicate lace lingerie I’d bought for her.
My mouth had watered when I first found it, desperate to see it on her tantalizing body.
Her breasts spilled over the cups, the lace dripping over her skin to the tiny scrap of fabric between her thighs.
But underneath the fabric, barely visible, were dark words written in ink.
My instructions.
“Oh, pet,” I said, walking beside her. “You’ve done so well.”
“I don’t know if he’ll like it,” she said in my mind. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”
“He’ll love it,” I replied.
Poe narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”
“Keep unwrapping,” I told him.
He took his time undoing the eyelets in the center of her corset, exposing her breasts first, then her stomach.
She pulled in a breath, held it. Finally, he pushed the lace off her skin and stepped back.
I moved in next to him so that I could read it, too.
The poem sprawled against her skin, filthy and incandescent.
I’m no good at this, but I am a good girl.
So take me together. Eat me whole.
Fill me. Own me. Ruin me raw.
My cunt. My heart. My breath. My soul.
It went on, cascading down her stomach and onto her legs, but I looked at Poe, whose eyes tracked over every word, every line, opening his mouth in awe.
No, Ava wasn’t a poet, but it wasn’t meant to be worthy of Rumi.
It was her heart on her skin, her devotion to him, to me, to us.
The handwriting was messy. She clearly must have written while facing the mirror, but that didn’t matter.
Her cheeks flushed as he studied her work, her fingers balling into fists. Boiling mortification rolled through the bond, followed closely by the most precious bashfulness. This was a vulnerable thing for her to show us, and Poe hadn’t said anything since he’d stripped her down.
“You hate it,” she said, raising her arms to cross them over her chest.
I interrupted her with a quick, “Uh, uh, uh. Don’t you dare. Let him finish.”
“Baby, this is…” Poe cleared his throat and stepped closer, cupping her jaw so he could press his forehead to hers. “This is beautiful. Thank you.”
“I’m not as good as you,” she said. “I tried.”
“You’re amazing,” he said and kissed her. “I love it. I love you.”
Warmth beamed from my chest and shimmied into my fingertips and toes.
Watching them together, knowing she’d done this for him because I asked her to, brought me an innate sense of peace.
I wanted them to be happy. I wanted us to be happy.
And possessive, sentimental shit that I was, I’d do anything to get it.
“You told her to do this?” Poe asked, glancing at me with big eyes the color of stained wood.
“I know you think she and I have something singular because we’re married,” I said. “I wanted you to have something on your mating night just for you.”
“I belong to both of you,” Ava said. “You both belong to me.”
Poe grabbed the back of my neck and crashed my lips to his, biting and claiming, sending devotion down the bond. It landed in my gut and nearly buckled me with its sincerity.
“Now,” I said, pulling back. “I believe our mate gave you instructions.” I nodded toward the naked woman in front of the bed. “Better get to it.”
I looked around at the brothers in the meeting room, all in various states of frustration and anger, as I recounted what happened after Evelyn took me to her House of Horrors. Some growled and raised their hackles. Some sat stoic, letting their frustration fester under the surface.
The officers were at the rectangular table: Serpent to my left, Moose to my right. Ruby, the second pack enforcer, sat across from me, on Orion’s other side. Next to her was Ren, followed by our treasurer, Talon. Kodiak sat at the head, the epicenter of our cosmos.
“She had the witch pry into my mind,” I explained, rubbing my tongue over my canine. “She searched the pack bonds. I tried to keep her out, but I was too fucked up. She found Poe before I could stop her.”
“Bridge?” Kodiak turned to the witch.
She stood at the edge of the Bastards, her warrior on her left, a pinched confusion between her brows.
“I don’t know,” she said. “If she had a witch searching the pack bonds to make sure the sacrifice would still work, it leads me to believe the mating bond must have been important. We know the witch at the royal reception mentioned a half-formed bond, but I didn’t put the two together.”
“Sol wasn’t mated when Marx abducted her,” Orion said from his spot next to Kodiak.
“Neither was Maeve,” Mill added.
“But Ava was,” Poe said. “At that point, Ava and I had already marked each other.”
“Theoretically, that’s true,” Bridge continued. “But then Lycan marked you and opened up a whole shitstorm of possibilities.”
“Explain,” Kodiak said.