Page 16 of Riding with the Shifter

I’m reaching for my keys, ready to track down my mate and beg her to end my torment, when I hear it. The rumble of an engine, the slam of a car door. The quick, agitated sound of a heartbeat I’d know anywhere.

She’s here, in my driveway. And she’s not happy. Uh-oh.

I’m moving before I can think, my body obeying the call of my mate’s distress. I’m down the stairs and throwing open the door just as she reaches the porch, her fist raised to knock.

“Zara,” I say, my voice rough with the effort of holding back my wolf. “What’s wrong, baby?”

She blinks up at me, startled by my sudden appearance. But then her expression hardens, her jaw setting with determination.

“We need to talk, Ryder.”

Oh shit. Those are never good words to hear from your female, supernatural mate or not.

I step back, letting her brush past me into the house. I follow her to the living room, watching carefully as she paces in front of the couch, her arms crossed and her scent sharp with agitation.

“Okay,” I say slowly, bracing for impact. “I’m listening.”

She whirls to face me, her eyes flashing with fire. “What’s on my mind? Oh, I don’t know, how about the fact that my supposed boyfriend has been avoiding me like the plague for the past week? Or the fact that every time I try to get close to you, you find some excuse to bail on me? What’s going on, Ryder? Do you… do you not want this anymore?”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and the pain in it cuts me to the heart. Fuck. I’ve been so focused on controlling my own urges, on not pressuring her, that I didn’t even realize how it must have looked from her perspective.

“Zara, no,” I rasp, stepping toward her with my hands outstretched. “Baby, that’s not it at all. You’re everything to me, don’t you know that? You’re my whole fucking world.”

She flinches back, hurt and anger warring in her eyes. “Then why are you pushing me away? Why won’t you touch me, kiss me, claim me like you promised?”

My wolf howls at the challenge in her words, the invitation. I clench my teeth, fighting for control as I meet her gaze head-on.

“Because I’m trying to be good, damn it. I’m trying not to rush you, not to pressure you into something you’re not ready for. I’m a fucking werewolf, Zara. When I claim you, it won’t be gentle. It won’t be tame. It will be raw and rough… fucking primal. And I don’t want to scare you, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Her eyes go wide, her breath catching in her throat. But it’s not fear I smell on her now. It’s arousal, thick, heady, and so fucking sweet it makes my head spin.

“Ryder,” she whispers, her voice low and throaty with need. “I’m not scared of you. I could never be scared of you. I want this, want you, in all your wild, untamed glory. I want you to claim me, mark me, make me yours in every way.”

My control shatters like spun glass. With a growl that resonates around us, I lunge for her, crushing her small, soft body against mine as I claim her mouth in a kiss that is pure, feral possession.

She moans into the kiss, her arms winding around my neck as she opens for me like a flower. I plunder her mouth with my tongue, tasting her, devouring her, branding her with my hunger.

‘Mine’, my wolf snarls in savage triumph. ‘Mate. Mine. Ours.’

Yes, I think hazily as I lift her into my arms, never breaking the kiss as I carry her up the stairs to my bed. Ours. Forever and always.

I lay her down on the rumpled sheets, following her down to cover her body with mine. She arches up to meet me, her hands clawing at my shirt, my jeans, desperate to feel my skin against hers.

I oblige her, stripping us both with quick movements until we’re bare and panting, flush against each other from chest to thigh. I groan at the feel of her, soft, hot and perfect against my aching flesh.

“Zara,” I rasp, tracing the curves of her face with trembling fingers. “My Zara. My mate. I love you so fucking much.”

She smiles up at me, radiant, wild and utterly fearless. “I love you too, Ryder. My wolf, my heart, my everything. Now shut up and claim me already.”

With a growl of pure, primal joy, I surge forward, sealing my mouth over hers. I kiss her long, wet, and deep. Our tongues tangling, our hands exploring each other’s bodies. Zara traces the lines of my tattoos. I cup her full tits, squeezing them, pinching her hard nipples. And when she’s breathing hard, moaning, I lean and take one in my mouth. Licking, sucking and grazing at her flesh. I slide a hand down her body, over her quivering stomach, part her wet folds and thrust inside her hot, tight wetness.

She cries out, her hips bucking against my hand, her nails digging into my back.

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” I murmur against her lips. “So tight, hot and ready.”

“For you,” she gasps, arching against me. “Only for you.”

I groan, rubbing my thumb over her sensitive bud, teasing her, taunting her, driving her higher and higher. She’s trembling now, her thighs clenching, her head thrown back.

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