39. Run, Seven! Run Fast
THIRTY-NINE
RUN, SEVEN! RUN FAST
Seven
T he beat of the music mirrored the pulse of my heated blood. The fabric between my legs—the cursed thong—rubbed against sensitive flesh, and the tightness of the jeans trousers only heightened the sensations. My nipples rubbed against the fabric on my chest. Had I once thought this fabric soft? It felt almost coarse now against over-sensitized nerves.
The clearing was crowded with Shifters, but the only one I wanted to see … and also dreaded seeing in this current state of almost unbearable arousal … I couldn’t catch a glimpse of.
But I knew he was here. I could feel him in my blood. Calling out to me.
There were so many Shifters. Shadows against the tall flames of the bonfire. And above us, in the clear night sky … a round, yellow moon.
Mocking us.
Was it possible to be overwhelmed by too much space and too many people, all at once? My heart shuddered.
Warmth radiated over me, and my worries melted into something … else. He was watching me. I didn’t try to find him in the crowd, instead closing my eyes, letting the rhythm of the music wash over me. I swayed to the beat. Every snap of my hips had that fabric between my legs creating more friction … more need.
More want.
I raked my fingers through my hair, moving sinuously with the music. I could feel the attention of other Shifters on me, but I ignored it for the scalding heat of knowing he was watching. He was getting closer.
What was I doing? Tempting his monster when we couldn’t … we shouldn’t …
Oh, but the want was more than I could bear.
Draw him in, let him pounce , the whisper urged.
The press of a palm on my bare waist.
Mine!
The roar of his monster in my mind. Except the voice was different. Like two voices speaking in unison.
He’s merged.
I snapped my eyes open, staggering back as Clay flew past me, landing in a heap on top of a dark-haired young male. And behind that commotion, his shoulders heaving, his eyes glowing gold, his teeth long, and sharp, and dripping … Jack.
My ears rang. My breath sawed in and out of my chest. His rage had swollen his muscles until he was almost ripping out of the dark green shirt.
I locked my body into place, fighting the desperate, utterly insane urge to tear myself out of my clothes. To remove every scrap that separated my body from him. To go to my hands and knees, to spread myself out for him.
Do it , the whisper hissed.
I must not , I grated.
Clay was speaking to him, but all I could hear was buzzing. And all I could see was those teeth. And the enormous bulge in his pants.
And all I could think was how I wanted those parts of him inside me.
He stepped closer. Had he spoken? I stared at him, still frozen in place, off-kilter.
“Run, Seven!” he snarled in that voice that was him and his monster. “Run fast. Because if I catch you, I won’t be stopping.”
I did.
I exploded into the forest, adrenaline pulsing, my speed supernatural. I’d foregone my boots that day, some primal need to feel the earth between my toes overtaking common sense.
Branches scratched my arms, fallen pine needles pricked my feet. I sucked in air and pushed myself onwards.
His footfalls thudded in the distance.
My core pulsed. My heart raced. My blood sang.
This is how it is meant to be , the whisper said. The chase, the pursuit … the foreplay .
I stumbled but quickly righted myself, not bothering to brush the mud from my pants. He was gaining on me. His thudding gait closed in.
I picked up my pace, my stomach swooping at the thrill of it. Of being chased.
Of what was coming when he caught me.
Because he was going to catch me.
I wanted him to catch me.
But I wanted him to work for it, first.
I darted around trees, over fallen logs, my body flying with the high of the night. Of the wild, primitive urges that overtook me under the filtered glow of that moon.
Water gurgled ahead, and I splashed into it. A stream. I turned, following the meandering course of it through the forest. The water was icy. Just another sensation to add to the overwhelm I was feeling.
A loud splash behind me. A growl.
I hated these trousers. The way they rubbed against the most sensitive parts of me was too much. It was blurring my vision, slowing me down. And now they were wet, clinging, and uncomfortable. As I ran, I fumbled with the button and the zip, tugging them down and tripping along as I kicked them off.
Tell yourself they’re slowing you down all you like, but we both know you’re preparing yourself for him , the whisper cackled.
I kept running, but the ache in my core intensified at the thought of preparing … of being ready for him.
He was getting closer. The huffs of his breaths were harsh in my ears.
Heart hammering, I picked up speed. Water splashed up my legs, cooling my overheated skin.
“I can smell how slick your pussy is for me, Blossom,” he snarled. Not close enough to grab me, but close enough that every nerve ending in my body electrified, and the heat of the chase converged between my legs.
I turned, flashing him a feral grin. He was close enough that I saw the way his eyes darkened. A tiny jolt of fear sparked in my belly, and I faced forward, galloping away.
We can’t Join! I told the whisper. We can’t …
We can’t stop it now. We want it … need it too much.
I should have run that morning. Should have put the distance between us when we still had a chance.
Too late now , the whisper crooned, self-satisfaction leeching from every syllable.
We’re going to regret this , I thought frantically, but even my anxiety only fueled my arousal.
A big, warm palm snaked around me, tugging me backward and into his arms.
Desire exploded out from my center, even as I gasped, and screeched, and scratched at his arms as he hauled me back against his solid body.
“Struggling just makes me harder, Blossom,” he murmured against the side of my face, gripping my hip and grinding his erection into my almost naked backside. “You made me chase this bouncy ass, and now I’ll have what’s Mine.”
He palmed my backside, squeezing roughly, then I squealed as a sharp slap stung me there.
My claws shot out, digging into his arms, piercing the skin. The smell of his blood hit my nostrils. I moaned like the animal I was. His cock pulsed against my backside.
“This is your last chance, Seven,” he grated as if every word cost him something dear. “I’m … holding back by a thread. You can still stop this … knock me out and run. Because if you don’t …”
He palmed me between my legs, groaning. “Fucking soaked for me. Break my fucking skull now, Seven, or I’m going to fuck this hot, tight little pussy, and I’m going to sink my teeth into your perfect, golden skin, drink my fill of your delicious fucking blood.”
I swallowed hard.
And arched my back, grinding my body against his cock.
“Fuck!” he roared, his fingers pushing aside the tiny scrap of fabric between my legs, sinking into the heat and wetness of me. I moaned, spreading my legs to give him more room.
He pulled his fingers from me, pushing me down. My knees hit the cold water, my palms smacking against the stream bed. The tips of my breasts skimmed the surface of the water, and I gasped at the icy sensation.
His mouth was suddenly there, hot and desperate, between my legs.
“This fucking thong, all day, I’ve been hard as steel thinking about tearing it off and feeding my cock into you,” he mumbled against my aching, desperate flesh. I pressed back against him, wanting more.
He pulled back, his finger returning, circling my entrance. I mewled at the contact. It wasn’t enough. I needed him, all of him, inside me.
“Do it,” I growled. “Take what’s yours.”
A tug. A tear. The thong was gone.
I looked back over my shoulder. He knelt behind me. His golden hair was wet, tendrils hanging over his forehead. His eyes were so gold they were almost reflective. He ripped his jeans down his legs, his cock springing free. God he was so beautiful there.
“Your needy little pussy is throbbing for me,” he murmured, palming my backside and spreading me wide. A feral moan ripped out of me when his thumb slipped through my wetness, breaching me, then disappearing.
“More,” I huffed, wriggling desperately. “Please, Jack!”
I sucked in a breath when the tip of him circled my entrance. I pressed back against him, feeling the first breach of it. I wanted him to slam into me. To claim me. To brand me, inside and out. To wash away the memories of every other time and every other male.
Except he’s going to take you the same way every other male did , the whisper muttered, a tinge of displeasure in her tone.
The pressure of him disappeared. I cried out, thwarted.
Warm hands around my hips, tugging me up and backward. My back hit his chest, his palms sliding around me, spreading my legs. Settling me with my knees on either side of his thighs. His cock throbbed between us.
“You’re in charge, Blossom,” he grunted against the side of my face. “Take me how you want me.”
Mine! the whisper roared with such force my vision blurred. Panting, I reached between my legs, finding his cock, hot and thick and throbbing. Gripping him, I lined him up with my dripping entrance.
“You are so fucking perfect,” he rumbled, then a low, hungry snarl erupted from him as I slowly lowered myself onto him. His fingers dug into my waist, slid up under my T-shirt, and cupped my breasts. “And … fuck, so fucking tight.”
I tilted my hips, finding the best angle to accommodate his size, relishing the way he stretched me. I was starved for this. I was almost sobbing with the need to ride him hard, to lose everything to these feelings.
“Do it, Blossom. Fuck me until we both lose our fucking minds,” he growled, pinching my nipples so hard I cried out, grazing his teeth along the column of my neck.
He was going to bite me. Any moment, his teeth would be inside me.
I sank all the way down on him, taking him to the hilt, moaning at the perfect ache of his cock deep in me.
With a guttural groan and a sharp, delightful pinch, he bit into my neck, his hand slipping between my legs, finding my bud, rolling it between his fingers as he drank greedily from me.
“Oh, fuck!” I screamed, rocking frantically on him, the intensity of my climax raging through me like lightning. Burning away everything but the need for this. For more of him. For the way his cock filled me, hitting parts of me that I’d never known could enjoy this. For the intense overwhelm of him fucking me, and massaging me, and taking long, gulping sucks of my blood.
“Gonna come deep in you, with my teeth still in your neck, Blossom,” he snarled around my skin. He gripped my hips, pumping himself up into me. The stream water sloshed around us, our bodies slapped together in wild, desperate abandon.
With a muffled roar, he thrust one, two, three times into me, the heat of him overflowing inside me. My head fell back against his shoulder, stars bursting behind my eyelids as he rocked himself through his climax, his teeth still firmly planted in my skin.
The thick, ridged vein in his neck pulsated against the back of my head, his blood a feral, thrumming beat, calling to me.
His teeth slipped free of my skin, and he lapped at the marks he’d left behind.
“Mine now, Blossom,” he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. I nuzzled my face under his jaw, my core fluttering around him as he continued to lick at my wound, lapping up every last drop of blood as my skin sealed over.
But he wasn’t Mine yet. And the vein in his neck, that thick vein throbbing against my cheek, was all I could think about.
So, with his cock inside me, still pulsing in time with that vein, I reached up, gripped his hair and tilted his head to the side, and sank my teeth deep into his skin.
He groaned, his cock shooting hard as stone again, and a garbled cry burst from me as his blood hit my tongue. I drank like a starved beast, almost choking on the volume of it pouring down my throat. But I wanted more. I needed more.
“Tastes so fucking good straight from the vein, doesn’t it?” he grated, dragging his fingertips up and down my inner thighs until all I could feel was tingling everywhere and the need for him to fuck me again. And again. And again.
“Drink your fill, Blossom, and then we can play … nice and slow next time,” he murmured, his fingers getting closer and closer to my center with every pass along my thighs. “I’m going to see what blood tastes like when I sample it from here.” He swirled the pad of one finger around my clit.
My eyes rolled back in my head, and I guzzled his delicious, life-affirming blood.
We could never regret this, the whisper murmured reassuringly. But I was too busy enjoying the best meal of my life to comprehend what on earth there would be to regret about it.