Wild Hunger

  Outside, the rain drummed at the roof of the small building and pounded the ground. He could smell the fresh scent of rain and ozone. More, he could smell her need, and the sweet and spicy scent drove him out of his mind.

  Sensing she wouldn’t last much longer, he spoke into her ear. “I want you to come on my hand. Come on, give it to me, Frankie.” He picked up the pace, thrusting hard, stroking her sweet spot. Her head fell back as her release hit and she let out a raspy, choked moan that was like a fist around his cock.

  Frankie was still recovering from her orgasm when he yanked her forward and twirled her to face the SUV. She swayed, taken off guard. His hands snaked around to cup her breasts, squeezing roughly and tugging on her nipples. She relaxed against him, her pussy throbbing, needing him. “Trick—”

  “Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you,” he rumbled into her ear.

  Part of her balked at admitting it, but she knew he’d wait all damn day for her to answer. “I need it.”

  “You need it?” Trick raked his teeth over her shoulder. “Well then, I’d best give my baby what she needs. Bend over.” No sooner had she leaned forward and placed her palms on the hood than he slammed home, burying himself balls deep. Her pussy clamped around him so tight he had to grit his teeth against the urge to come. Trick let his arms fall to his sides. “Fuck me.”

  Frankie braced her hands on the SUV as she slammed herself on his cock over and over. God, he was so thick inside her. Stretched her just a little too much. But she didn’t mind the bite of pain. Right then, she even welcomed it.

  “Harder, Frankie. Yeah, that’s it.”

  She fucked herself on him like she was caught in a frenzy, wanting him as deep as he could possibly go. She needed to feel his cock possessing her, filling every inch of her pussy. Her world had gone tits up and her mind was a whirl of chaos. Trick was the one solid thing in her life.

  Everybody seemed to want something from her. The Newmans wanted her complete obedience; the pack wanted her in their life, Newmans be damned; Trick wanted her body, heart, and soul. Compared to the others, he wanted a hell of a lot more from her—and rightfully so, given that they were true mates. But he was the only person who wasn’t demanding anything of her when he was probably the one person who had the right to do so.

  He wasn’t pressuring her. Wasn’t becoming impatient with her. He was allowing things to move at her pace, and, as he’d promised, he was on her side. For that alone she fucking adored him.

  Feeling his release creeping up on him, Trick gripped her shoulders and took over. He pounded into her, slamming so deep that he hit her cervix with every brutal thrust. She didn’t wince, didn’t ask him to stop. Instead she threw her hips back harder, as if needing that little bit of pain.

  Her pussy began to flutter around him, becoming hotter and tighter. “Wait for me.”

  “I can’t,” she rasped.

  “You want to give me what I want, don’t you? So wait for me.” He powered into her, eyes locked on a spot on her shoulder. He itched to bite her there, to brand her flesh once more.

  “Trick, I—”

  “Wait.” Gripping her hips, he leaned over her and licked the little spot he’d chosen. “Come.” He sank his teeth down hard, growling as her pussy contracted around him and she exploded with a throaty scream. Trick’s cock swelled inside her, and he rammed himself deep as his release tore through him and he growled out her name.

  As they both quivered with aftershocks, he lapped at the new mark. His wolf loved the sight of his brand on her skin. Wanted to leave another. And another. And another.

  Once his cock slipped out of her, Trick curled an arm around her waist and straightened so they were both upright. Nuzzling her, he pressed a kiss to her neck. She was like melted wax in his arms. “You okay?”

  “Better than okay.” She glanced around. “What is this place?”

  “A garage. We keep some vehicles here in case we need to use the concealed exit nearby.”

  “Ah. Gotcha.”

  He turned her to face him and shoved back the hair that was stuck to her forehead. “Sounds like the rain has eased off.”

  “Then I say we head back and take a hot shower.”

  He gave her a soft, lazy kiss. “Sounds like a plan.”

  Once again in their animal forms, they trotted through the forest to the spot where they’d left their clothes. They shifted shape and wrapped up the rest of their clothes in their T-shirts so that their wolves could easily carry the bundles inside the caves.

  They didn’t shift back into their human forms until they were in Trick’s room. While they showered, he fucked her again against the cold tiles, leaving yet more marks on her body. She didn’t complain. Never did, unless it was to playfully tease him, as if she sensed that he needed to mark her so thoroughly while the urge to claim what belonged to him hounded him day and night.

  Later, when it was time for dinner, they made their way through the tunnels toward the kitchen. Hearing his cell beep, Trick fished it out of his pocket. It was a text message from his Alpha. “Trey wants to see me in his office,” Trick told her. “You remember the way to the kitchen, right?” At her nod, he said, “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

  Frankie watched him go and then headed down the tunnel that she was pretty sure would take her to the kitchen, but she couldn’t be absolutely certain. Soon the scents of food drifted to her, and she knew she’d taken the right route.

  She heard footsteps approaching just before a male wolf rounded the corner. Marcus. Her wolf stilled, watching him. Knowing he had history with Trick made Frankie feel a little awkward. And slightly jealous, yeah, even though she knew it was ridiculous. Something in her expression must have given her away, because realization dawned on his face and he halted.

  Marcus scratched his chin. “Trick told you, huh?”

  Slowing to a stop, she nodded and then gave a slight shrug, going for nonchalant. She didn’t want him to see that the whole thing bothered her on any level, particularly since she knew it was senseless. “He didn’t want Greta to blindside me with it.”

  “I think Roni found it a little weird at first. Maybe even felt a little threatened by it, like Trick would be competition. She couldn’t have been more wrong.” Marcus rubbed his jaw. “He’s probably already told you this, but maybe it will help if you hear the same from me. Trick and I were never a couple. Never wanted to be. We were close friends and trusted each other, so that made it . . . comfortable, I guess you could say, to indulge in random one-night stands. Uncomplicated and undemanding. There was nothing more than that between us.”

  Not really comfortable with the conversation, she simply said, “Okay.” She hoped he’d end it there. He didn’t.

  “Even if I had wanted more—which I hadn’t—he wouldn’t have given it to me. He’s always been so very sure that he’ll recognize his mate on sight that he held his sexual partners at a distance, reasoning that letting them close could lead them into thinking he wanted more. He did it out of loyalty to a mate he hadn’t yet found—or, as it turns out, who he hadn’t consciously known he’d found. For Trick, there’s only ever been you. No one else counted.”

  Warmed a little by his seeming determination to reassure her, she nodded. “Thank you for telling me that.”

  “You’re good for him. For a long time, Trick has made a point of taunting the fuck out of others. But it’s been at least four months since he last teased anyone. I knew something was wrong, wondered if maybe he and his wolf were becoming restless and sour by watching others find their mates while he remained alone. He wouldn’t talk about it. Wouldn’t even admit that he was losing hope of finding you. See, Trick comes across as someone who’s easy to read, but he’s not. A lot of stuff goes on in his head; he just keeps it to himself. He does that for the same reason that he pushes—or did push—people’s hot buttons and deliberately stirs things up.”

  “To keep a part of himself separate from others.” She tilted her head
as something occurred to her. “Is it because of Jana?”

  Marcus rocked back on his heels. “He told you about her? Good. It shows he’s holding nothing back from you.”

  He did seem to be genuinely pleased by it. This wasn’t someone who was at all jealous or even slightly discomfited by her connection to Trick, she mused. The tension that had stilled her muscles began to ebb. Even her wolf began to relax a little.

  “To answer your question, yes, I think it is because of Jana. No one’s going to crush hard on a person who goads them, taunts them, and deliberately makes them feel uncomfortable—even though he’s not malicious about it. He wasn’t like that until the Jana incident.”

  “What was he like?” she asked, curious.

  “More empathetic, sensitive, and unguarded. Oh, he still teased people, but he did it in a lighthearted way. He did it to lift the mood or make them laugh, not to piss them off. I’ve seen him act that way with you. I wondered if there was anything of the old Trick left in him. It’s good to know that there is; it’s good to watch it resurface. I’m glad he has you back.”

  Frankie felt a smile curve her mouth. This wolf was easy to like. “I can’t really blame him for scratching your itches.” Especially since Marcus was hot.

  Marcus laughed. “Thanks. So things aren’t going to be weird between you and me? Because I really don’t want that.”

  “Things aren’t going to be weird,” she assured him truthfully.

  “Good. See you at dinner after I go see what Trey’s called a meeting for.”

  They parted ways, and Frankie soon arrived at the kitchen. It was kind of odd walking inside on her own. Sure, this was technically her pack, but she still felt like a visitor at times. Grief marred the air, but there was an unexpected hint of warmth there too.

  Jaime smiled the moment she spotted her. “Hey, Frankie.” She patted the chair beside her in invitation. “Lydia was just telling us about all the crazy shit that Iris did whenever she was drunk. Lydia, tell her about the time your mom wrote the poem for a badger.”

  Lydia did, and Frankie couldn’t help but chuckle. As she listened to each of Iris’s drunken incidents, she felt the grief’s tight grip loosen.

  Sniffling, Greta rubbed at her nose with a tissue. “I’ll miss Iris. She was a lovely woman.”

  Riley’s brows drew together. “You called her fit to burn a week ago.”

  “I did not,” stated Greta, affronted.

  Behind the old woman, Grace mouthed “She totally did,” and then placed another platter of food on the table.

  “I had a lot of respect for her,” Greta claimed. “She was like me. Family oriented. Fair. Supportive. A survivor. She’d been through a lot, but she didn’t let any of it beat her. No.”

  Taryn shook her head in what looked like amazement. “You have a glossy opinion of yourself that is massively undeserved.”

  Makenna nodded in agreement. “Some find ignorance to be bliss, I suppose.”

  “My boys are the ones living in ignorance,” sniped Greta. “For some reason, they don’t see their mates as unworthy of them. Marcus did me proud finding Roni. But the rest of them . . .” Greta grimaced. “They let me down, and they let themselves down.” Her eyes slid to Frankie. “I had high hopes for Trick and Dominic, but there you sit with my Trick’s mark on your neck—bold as brass, like the hussy you are. That wouldn’t have happened back in my day. Nooooo. I never let anyone but my Arthur leave a brand on me.”

  Frankie snickered. “You also took your driver’s test on a dinosaur.”

  Clapping, Riley threw back her head and laughed. The kids didn’t seem to have any clue what she found so funny, but they started clapping along.

  Jaime bumped Frankie’s shoulder with her own. “Iris would have loved that one.”

  At that moment Trey, Dante, Tao, and the enforcers filed into the room. Trick sank into the seat beside Frankie and kissed her temple. “What’s so funny that has Riley doubled over with laughter?”

  Frankie just shook her head. “Is everything okay? Did the meeting have anything to do with Drake?”

  Piling food on his plate, Trick explained, “Trey wanted to let me know that Morelli called him with a warning.”

  She frowned. “What kind of warning?”

  “Drake’s gone missing. Or, more likely, he’s gone AWOL.”

  “Meaning he could come after you again.” Her wolf’s upper lip curled. “I’d say it was good of Morelli to warn you, but he’s probably done it so he can deny blame for whatever Drake does or doesn’t do next.”

  “That was my thought. We’ll find out soon enough. For now, let’s eat.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Frankie had never been to a shifter funeral before. It wasn’t much different from those held for humans, except that there were no clergy members reading out scriptures. Instead the Bjorn Alpha, Josh—who was also one of Dante’s older brothers—had spoken of what a warm, supportive pack member Iris had been and then voiced his wishes that she rested well. After that, other Bjorn wolves and relatives began to take turns speaking, sharing funny or touching stories.

  Frankie listened intently to the stories, eager to hear more about her grandmother. Focusing on them also helped her ignore the curious glances and whispers coming from the Bjorn wolves.

  People sniffled and sobbed, even as they chuckled at the anecdotes. One thing was clear—Iris had been well loved by these people. It wasn’t surprising; the woman had won Frankie’s affection quickly. Right then her heart felt heavy, and there was a huge lump in her throat. Yeah, the tears were building. Hoping to ward them off, she took a deep breath and drew in Trick’s scent and the smells of earth, fresh flowers, and sun-warmed stone.

  Right then, his warm hand supportively engulfed hers. He never strayed far from her side. He was always touching, kissing, and soothing her. When he wasn’t holding her hand, he was massaging her nape, cupping her elbow, splaying his hand on her back, or resting it on her shoulder. Frankie soaked in his support, needing his strength.

  His presence also reassured her wolf, who didn’t like being on Bjorn territory, which surprised Frankie. She had been born there. She’d spent the first three years of her life there. But her wolf wasn’t moved by that. Nor was she comforted by some of the scents that she vaguely recognized. Then again, graveyards weren’t exactly comforting places.

  All in all, this particular graveyard seemed to be pretty well maintained. There were several rows of carved headstones, some granite, some marble, some concrete. Most were well kept and had decorative flower beds and framed portraits. Others were cracked and discolored, with patches of overgrown grass and dead wreaths. She wondered if the neglect signified that the people buried there hadn’t been well liked by the other members.

  Frankie hadn’t failed to notice the marble headstone beside Iris’s: “CHRISTOPHER BROOKS, BELOVED SON AND BROTHER.” His grave showed no signs of neglect and wasn’t covered in graffiti, as she might have expected. He’d killed his mate and himself, after all. Maybe the headstone had been left alone out of respect for Iris, Alfie, and Lydia.

  Speaking of Lydia . . . Frankie briefly glanced at her. The female was leaning into Cam, shoulders bowed, eyes raw, silent tears coursing down her face. She’d insisted that Frankie stand at the front of the mourners, among the other people who’d been close to Iris. Honestly, it made Frankie feel like a gawker, since she hadn’t known Iris well enough to grieve as deeply as they were, but Lydia had refused to budge on it.

  Considering the two packs had once been one and there was some serious history there, Frankie would have thought that there would be some glaring or posturing going on. Instead everybody was reasonably civil. For the most part, though, the packs remained divided even at the graveside. The Phoenix wolves stood on the left, and the Bjorn wolves stood on the right. Only a few wolves had breached that invisible line and—

  The whispering of her name snapped Frankie out of her thoughts. She didn’t look to see who was murmuring
about her now. Instead she stared straight ahead and squeezed Trick’s hand. His thumb brushed over her knuckles. She wanted to force a cough to clear the thick lump in her throat, but she didn’t want to make any noise or draw more attention her way.

  When the service finally reached its end, Lydia tossed some dirt on top of the smooth casket. Uttering something under her breath, she gave a quick, watery smile. Then she walked into her mate’s open arms. Others followed suit, throwing soil on the casket and whispering things. Frankie . . . well, she kind of just stood there, feeling lost.

  As if sensing that, Trick pulled her to him, carefully brushing her hair out of her face. “Let’s go wait for the others in the SUV so you can privately let go of that sob that’s stuck in your throat.”

  God, he read her so well it was frightening at times. “I’m okay.” Hell, her voice cracked. He kissed her; it was a mere brush of lips, but that gentleness made her feel treasured.

  “No one expects you to be okay, least of all me.” Placing one hand on her back, he began to guide her toward the SUV, but they both halted at the sound of someone calling her name.

  Frankie turned to see Clara fast approaching, dabbing her eyes with a crumpled tissue. “Frankie, I’m so glad you came.” The woman enfolded her in a massive hug. Pulling back, she said, “I shouldn’t be such a mess. Iris is with Alfie now, and that was what she wanted. But I’ll miss her. This is my mate, Cesar.”

  The white-haired, jowly male behind Clara gave Frankie a gentle smile and shook Trick’s hand. “It’s good to see you both, but I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

  “Do you think Iris would have liked the service?” Clara asked her.

  Frankie nodded. “I think she would have liked that people told funny stories.”

  “Yes. She wouldn’t have wanted everyone to be in a dark mood. Oh, Josh is signaling me. I’ll see you at the reception,” she added as she and Cesar walked away.