CHAPTER 17
RueCaylix parks on the curb outside a row of shops in a small downtown area. Admittedly, it’s been extremely hard to pay attention to my surroundings, much less where we’re going. Sitting between the two enticing shifters is rough. My panties are soaked, my thighs have shifted so many times I’m surprised they’re not raw, and I’m sure they smell it.
Even though I know they can, they haven’t mentioned it. Which I’m grateful for. The small amount of relief Slade gave me last night is gone, and a raging bonfire has replaced it, the intensity almost as strong as before.
My body is reacting in ways I’ve never truly felt before. I mean, I’m no blushing virgin, but the chemistry between us is off the hexin’ charts and far beyond anything I’ve experienced.
The only other person I’ve felt the same pull toward is Slade and I’m not going there. The memory of my core sliding across his knee while I drank his blood, of his fingers pumping inside me, stroking me to climax is enough to have my body temp spiking ten degrees. Thanks, Kathan, for reminding me of that. Prick.
I swear it’s his fault the lust in the car amped up after his little outburst. It’s like we all sat there thinking of everything which caused a chain reaction of desire.
Rhys coughs and proceeds to slide out the door, taking a deep breath before holding his hand out for me to grab. I latch on and allow him to help me from the SUV, my skin tingling where it meets his. On the other side, Kathan slams his door shut and takes off up the street without a backward glance. I ignore his attitude and focus on my surroundings.
The street we’re on is so similar to the French Quarter, it’s uncanny. With the sprawling metalwork outside each building and the colonial-era architecture that’s familiar to me, but it’s like we’re in a whole new world here. There are wolves casually walking down the street, bare-chested men—presumably shifters since we’re in pack territory—everywhere in sight, music and chatter coming from every possible direction.
There’s the usual hustle and bustle, but something is different here—more welcoming and homier. The atmosphere is hypnotizing. Every passerby is lively. It’s completely different than in the heart of New Orleans.
Caylix places a hand on my lower back, snapping me out of my perusal, and maneuvers me in the direction Kathan took off in. “The clothing store is this way.”
We pass by several different shops, including a small cafe that smells divine and a bookstore. There’s a sign in the window that says, “We sell smut,” and a row of books on display, one with stalker vibes, and another with a golden retriever on the cover. If Caylix wasn’t steering me forward, I would’ve bolted inside and found out exactly what kind of smut they sell and who those authors are. A few shifters give me a wary glance, but most ignore me, my witchy scent getting lost in the breeze and bustle of the crowd.
Before I know it, we’re entering a shop filled with racks upon racks of clothes. And to my surprise, Kathan is already inside with an arm full. My eyebrows hit my hairline. Is he… shopping for me?
I march over to him and plant my hands on my hips. He ignores me as he picks out another top, that I surprisingly don’t hate, and sets it on top of the others. “Uh, Kathan? Did you get body snatched?” I ask, glancing around the store like little green aliens are about to appear out of nowhere.
“No,” he replies gruffly. He yanks a pair of shorts off the rack that match the top and then thrusts the clothes into my arms. “Here, go try this shit on so we can finish up.”
“Sheesh, what’s the rush?”
“Less time for you to spy.”
The casual way he says it makes my eye twitch. “Goddess Divine, I’m not a hexin’ spyyyy—” At the last second, I realize my voice is way too loud. For some reason, I quietly draw out the last syllable as I shoot a sheepish smile to the several patrons staring in our direction.
“Yeah, and I don’t have chest hair,” Kathan retorts under his breath, which we both know is a lie. He totally does. He puts both of his giant hands on my shoulders, twirling me around and gives me a slight nudge in the direction of the changing rooms on the far wall. I swear I feel the phantom caress of his gaze on my ass the whole way.
“Then what do you call the stuff on your chest? Boobs?”
His mouth pops open in shock. Oh, no. Now I’ve really done it. I’ve managed to shock the big grumpy alpha. “They’re called pecks,” he all but growls at me. His words are rumbly, but his green eyes are dancing in amusement.
“Mhm, that’s what I’d say too,” I call back, but other than a puff of air, there’s no response. “Alphas,” I mutter as I shut the curtain behind me and dump what said alpha picked out on the bench. Truthfully, he did well. There’s a pair of jeans, shorts, and tops to match everything. If it wouldn’t chuff him the wrong way, I’d tell him job well done.
Now for the part I’m dreading, because let me tell you, trying to pry yourself out of leather pants is no easy feat. Getting them halfway down my thighs is a chore and I’m out of breath. Not to mention the person in the next cubicle is probably questioning the curse words coming out of me.
“Rue?” Rhys calls out after a few minutes, his tone concerned. “Are you doing okay in there?”
“No, these pants have molded themselves around my legs,” I snap, and instantly feel guilty because it’s not his fault. “Sorry! Just give me a minute. I’m having difficulties—”
He pops his head inside the curtain and gets an eye full of my lacey thong as I dance around, trying to shimmy the pants down my legs. Thankfully they were dry from when I washed them in the sink yesterday because there was no way I was going commando in leather pants.
Rhys’ eyes darken instantly, tracing every inch of me as he slips inside and motions for me to sit on the bench. “Looks like you need a little help,” he murmurs, his voice deeper and gruffer than before.
“A little,” I admit. “Everyone always talks about how rough it is getting these on but getting them off is just as bad.”
Rhys drops to his knees and runs his hand up my leg, trying to figure out the best way to help me. Eventually, he hooks his fingers through the top and pulls, effectively yanking my pussy straight into his face. He inhales and a groan escapes him as he backs away and tugs the leather pants the rest of the way down my legs.
“Damn, that was hard work. Why do women wear these if they’re so difficult to get in and out of?” he asks, his head tilted to the side like he’s genuinely curious.
I blow out a breath, having never really thought about it before. “Good question. I guess because we look hexin’ hot in them?”
He chuckles, his eyes dipping to my lips. “That you do, vixen. That you do.” He slides his hands up my thighs and the simple touch sparks something inside me.
The tension between us seems to sizzle to a peak, threatening to bubble over. He moves at the same time I do. We both laugh at our eagerness, but I still don’t fully trust him, and he seems to sense it, sitting back on his heels. “Can I taste you, vixen?” he rasps.
Can he? Tis the question. My cunt is practically calling out for him already, seeking a release because the car ride over was pure torture. “Taste and nothing more?” I question, the desire in my chest building with every breath between us. Holy witches’ tits, this connection between us is something else.
“Taste and nothing more,” he promises as he settles between my legs, staring up at me with an honest gleam in his eyes. “I can’t bear to sit through another car ride with your sweet scent driving me fucking mad and not relieve you,” he admits.
I lift my hips to help him tug my panties down my legs, which he tucks into his jeans pocket, before lowering his head to my center. I don’t have time to question it because his breath feathers across my skin and it takes everything in me not to push his head exactly where I want it. Rhys taps my knee. “Spread ‘em for me, vixen.” I dig my fingers into the bench and widen my legs, giving Rhys a front row seat to my glistening pussy.
“Like this?” I ask, way too breathless, and not only from my struggle earlier. No, desire is what’s making my breasts heave with every sharp intake of breath, something Rhys notices as well. But it also reminds me of last night with Slade, but I tuck that away for later, wanting to fully focus on this moment with Rhys.
“Perfect. Absolute perfection. Do you want me to feast on you?” he growls, his mouth inches from my slit, molten eyes upturned and a wolfish grin on his lips. He’s every bit the predator about to feast on his prey.
Me, I’m his prey. And I’m so damned turned on I’m almost to the point of begging for it. His dirty, dirty words have the exact effect he wants on me, if his salacious grin is any indication. Howling shifters, who knew he could appear so innocent on the outside, but have such a filthy mouth?
“At this point, taste me, feast on me, hell, devour me, Rhys. I don’t care, but please, do something.” Okay, maybe I’m not above begging, but in my defense, I’ve been wound up since I met them. The car ride only served to heighten everything.
Sweet release sounds like fucking bliss, though something tells me I’ll never be able to get enough once I get a taste of these men. And strangely, I’m okay with that.
“Your wish”—he props my ankles on his shoulders—“is my command,” he finishes before licking a long line up my center.
The gasp that escapes me… “Shit, Rhys.”
“Shh. We don’t want to get kicked out, do we? Shifters have impeccable hearing. You have to be quiet for me, Rue.” I bite my lip and nod. He dives in again and his mouth immediately finds my clit. He teases it with a flick of his tongue and a scrape of his teeth.
One hand stays gripped on the bench to steady myself, but the other threads through Rhys’ soft blond hair. I tug on the strands, trying to hold in all my noises, causing him to grunt. Talk about getting licked by a shifter…
“Rhys?” Caylix inquires. “Are you two doing all right in there?”
“Who’s making noise now?” I tease.
He peers up at me, eyes sparkling deviously. “Not sorry, vixen. I can’t seem to stay quiet with you. Hold on, I don’t plan on letting you out of this dressing room unsatisfied and we’re probably about to get caught.”
His mouth descends on me where he delivers on his promise to feast on me, fucking me, savoring me with his tongue, his fingers. He slips one inside and then another. To keep myself as quiet as possible, I tug on his hair tighter, but it’s not enough. He’s invoking too many sensations out of me.
“What—” A whimper escapes me unbidden as Caylix pokes his head in the curtain. My head whips up, eyes finding him. Whatever he was about to say dies on his lips as he takes in the scene. His hazel eyes lock on mine and widen then darken. He bites his lip, watching Rhys devour my pussy, staring at me like he wants to join and make me scream into oblivion. It’s scary how easily I can read these men. Like some of their feelings shoot out of their chests into mine. My eyes want to roll back in pleasure, but I can’t seem to look away from Caylix.
The sensations are too much. Rhys’ skillful tongue sends me hurtling into an orgasm of epic proportions that, I daresay, rivals the one Slade gave me. He draws it out with nibbles and licks, while Caylix guards the entrance, staring with hooded eyes that seem to say he’ll be the one making me come next time. Fuck.
When my legs are like jelly and I’m finally somewhat sated, Caylix clears his throat. “I’ll, uh, I’ll keep Kathan occupied while you get cleaned up and try your stuff on.” With a fiery promise in his eyes, he gives me a nod before making sure the curtain is fixed as he goes.
Rhys grins, my juices glistening on his chin. “Feeling any better, vixen?”
“Much,” I pant. Divines help me. I’ll become addicted to orgasms at this rate.
He stands, wiping his chin and licking me off his fingers. Another pang of lust shoots through me but I bat it away before I yank his clothes off and get us kicked out of this store.
“I’ll let you try on your outfits,” he says before slipping past the curtain.
Right. Yeah, I should probably do that instead of ogling the man candy around me.
[image file=image_rsrc44S.jpg] All the clothes fit and rather well, which makes me question how Kathan guessed my sizes so easily. Could this be why he stares at me so broodily? Maybe he’s analyzing my body type?
Why do I find that oddly... nice? Definitely out of character, but thoughtful of him.
Caylix greets me as I walk out of the changing room, giving my new outfit a slow once over. “You look great,” he comments and motions toward the intimate’s section. “Do you, uh, need anything from over here?”
I quirk a brow. “You’re not getting squeamish on me, are you, Caylix? They’re called panties and bras, and yes, I could use new ones. Especially since Rhys stole mine and I’m going commando at the moment.”
He practically chokes on air, and I don’t miss the way he has to subtly adjust himself. “Sorry, I’ve never had to buy this kind of stuff for a woman before. Not that I’m complaining but—” I stop his rambling by putting my hand on his arm, my heart swelling at how sweet he’s being. Why are these men making it impossible not to forgive them?
My response to Caylix is cut off when Kathan dumps a pile of underwear in my arms with his nostrils flaring as he scents exactly what me and his packmate were up to in the changing room. If my jaw wasn’t open before, it’s hanging to the ground now. “What are you doing—why are you—” All of my words come out in a jumble as my brain short circuits and I splutter, eyeing the pile warily. He stares at the pile too, but the gleam in his eyes almost gives me the impression he’s imagining what the garments would look like on me.
He’s managed to get a combination of regular panties with a few sexier ones strewn in, complete with matching bras. Once again exactly my size. My brow creases as I stare at him in confusion.
“Y–you picked out unmentionables for me?” I sputter.
Caylix chuckles. “Cat got your tongue too, huh?”
“It’s–I, wow. Thank you, Kathan. These are,” I pause, picking up a barely there peek-a-boo set with hearts and moons woven into the lace. There’s no denying the heat in their stares as they imagine me in the undergarments. “Perfect.”
“Don’t mention it,” he replies and heads toward the register. “Seriously, don’t,” he calls over his shoulder like he has Spidey-senses and can picture me about to thank him again.
Caylix lowers my arm, shooting a dark look in the direction of a shifter staring at us, namely me and my sexy lingerie. A growl rumbles from his chest, the possessiveness threatening to send another spike of lust through me. I’m ushered toward the cashier before things can escalate and they tear the guy’s eyes out for imagining me in lingerie.
As the nice woman is ringing up my stuff, I realize I don’t have my wallet or my car keys. I’m pretty sure I might’ve dropped them during the attack, so they’re probably on the ground outside the motel—that is if no one has stolen them yet. Oh my goddess divine, what if someone has stolen my car? Or worse, my identity?
“Rue?” Caylix asks when he notices me frozen. “What’s wrong?” He turns to me fully, taking in the panic in my eyes.
“I–I don’t have my wallet,” I tell him. “I don’t have anything. I can’t pay for any of this.” I’ve been so distracted I didn’t even think about these things… Although maybe if they saved my phone, they found my other stuff too.
He chuckles and it makes me want to smack him. “This is serious! Kathan’s practically thrown half the store my way and I don’t have a dime on me.”
“You didn’t actually think we’d let you pay for this, did you?” That’s when I notice Kathan is already handing the woman his sleek credit card. The total makes my stomach flip, and I open my mouth to object. “Don’t even try it, Rue. We owe you this much and more. Let us take care of you.”
Once again words escape me and the only thing I can think to say is thank you as Kathan grabs the bags and Caylix shuffles me out of the store. The grumpy shifter shoots me a look that reads, stop fucking thanking me.
Duly noted, big guy.