Page 64 of Peacock Me Like a Hurricane

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and I growl low.

Someone’s here. Who?

I thought this was just going to be some amateur witchcraft role play in the woods, not a genuine supernatural occurrence. I never believed magic was real, but now I’m doubting everything I thought I knew, and it’s frustrating. I should have been more skeptical about the cat, especially when she grew claws and seemed to heal impossibly quickly after rough play. I had assumed she and her partner were just skilled with special effects makeup and didn’t question it further.

Trusting. Arrogant. Foolish.

Something isn’t right here, and everything around us isn’t necessarily real. I feel my canines drop—part of my early warning system—then I scent the air. His aroma hits me as he slips up behind me, wrapping around my crouched form like it’s an everyday thing to find me naked in the woods snarling. His purr vibrates from his chest to mine, and though I haven’t seen him for a few weeks, I feel a triumphant sense of possession.

Rhea may have left him broken, but he’s still mine. She doesn’t get to win.

His body is taut, as if he’s been cooped up for weeks. I can sense the unease radiating from him, and a part of me wonders if he even had a choice in leaving his house. The thought only fuels my frustration, and I growl louder. My muscles tighten as all the pent-up tension finally snaps. A surge of anger rushes through me at the idea that he may have only come to me because of some powerful magic or force beyond our control.

With a swift, fluid movement, he’s suddenly on my back and I’m pinned to the grass with his sharp teeth hovering dangerously close to my throat. The wild spirit of the coyote courses through him, moving without any regard for my consent or control. A twinge of guilt pricks at me for allowing this outburst of aggression, but I push it aside. It’s necessary for him to remember who he belongs to, to remind him that I am the leader here. And perhaps this display will also put the cat in their place, causing them to fall back into line and respect my authority. As I lay there under his weight, I can feel the tension between us slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of dominance and ownership.

He’s not even fazed. All he does is look up at me, submissive. “Nice one.”

That’s good. I like submissiveness. It’s where he belongs.

I hold onto my teeth, refusing to remove them even as I look at him. Teeth are his favorite thing in the world, much like his mate, and he revels in sessions where I work him over with them. The sound of his moans and groans always echoes in my ears, a constant reminder that I have power over him. I’ve never felt the need to ask if he likes it or not; his enjoyment is palpable. He craves biting and this is just an amped up version of it. It solidifies our bond and proves that he belongs to me.

As I sniff the air, searching for the familiar scent of his arousal, I come up empty. Crouching down at his side, I take in the beating drums of the chanting circle, the smoky smells of the fire crackling nearby, and the pulsing energy of magick shimmering all around us. The human side of me wants to ask questions, but the wild coyote within yearns to rip and tear. It’s a delicate balance that I must maintain, so I pacify both sides by staying still and present in the moment.

“Why are you here?” The growl that accompanies my question is unintended, but Rafe rolls over on his belly and gives me a quirk of a smile. That tells me nothing. He smiled that way when being worked over by my mate at the line between actual pain and pleasure. My mate has an amazing poker face.

He loves me all growly and fangy—he’s said so from the beginning. I briefly wonder how much control this affair is going to afford me. It could get bad if I don’t have any, but I don’t believe it will be any worse than he’s had before. I don’t comprehend what’s going on and I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expecthim, and I don’t know what to do with it because he’sstillnot bloody answering me.

“Shiva, I suppose.” He gives me that smile again as his long locks fan over his back. His calm is almost resigned, and this display isn’t fazing him. He’s more used to shit than I knew and he doesn’t fight it— or he doesn’t have the will to. Either could be true, given his depression over the other family. I think his problems lie with the brother, not the woman. However, Rafe’s never said a word about his other mates before and he won’t start now.

“Shiva.” I crawl over to him, straddling his waist. He’s hot, beautiful, submissive, and mine. Why should I care about the reasons why? I’m being a fool.

Stowing my concerns, I look into his eyes, intent on regaining the power in this situation. His ability to disarm me hasalways felt like a weak point; I know Wilde feels the same way. Rafe’s ease, his charm, his willingness to give the ones he loves anything they desire makes you vulnerable. It might be why Wilde is harder on him than the cat; her primary is more dangerous in subtle ways.

Shiva was that way—destroyer of worlds only to recreate them, tamer of rivers to benefit mankind, and drinker of poison to prevent the destruction of the gods and humans alike. Born of an argument between two gods over who was most powerful, Shiva emerged in a blaze of glory that forced Brahma and Vishnu to accept him as the third ruler of the world.

Rafe always zips past the turrets of my defenses and gets to the heart of me without setting off the warning signals. Like Shiva springing from nowhere and extending his reach into the earth and sky, he’s wormed his way into the dyad that Wilde and I formed, making himself indispensable.

At least, he is for figuring out how to control our very own Kali in the form of the kitty. Ironic that that goddess was MY choice—not hers—but it also makes sense. No matter what face she’s wearing for Talia and Taurus, she’s no killer. The cat isn’t evil to the core when necessary as my mate and I are. We are better matches for those two than she is for Taurus. We could truly challenge their world.

She is a pretender.

Returning to the clone in front of me, I can’t help but wonder if this situation will provide some much-needed clarity for me. The thought of the gods and goddesses actually appearing is thrilling, Kali’s presence alone could give me ideas for restoring order to my world and vanquishing our enemies. With a wicked grin, I lean down and lick his lips, feeling his hands gripping my waist tightly. He’s given me control and I relish in it, showing him who’s really in charge. My teeth graze his neck, eliciting a satisfying shudder from him as he grinds against my heat,eagerly waiting for my next move. Rafe is practically pleading with me to claim him and make him mine - all mine - right now.

Even if it’s just for this moment, I am willing to fight through the nine levels of hell to keep him by my side. My mate may have other playmates, but none who elicit such a response from me. There may be consequences for taking what rightfully belongs to him, but I am willing to face them all for the chance to have Rafe as my own.

“Mine,” I command him as I strip away his shirt. I pant up a storm and I know that means the shift is coming. Once it does, I can’t stand it anymore—it’s allwantandhave. My eyes flash yellow, which means I won’t be here for long. At least, the human part of me won’t.

“Yours,” he answers automatically. He’s docile tonight. Rafe knows I like when he fights back before he lets me have my way.

Tonight, it’s all me and I like it.

I fumble with his loose clothes, getting him out of the trademark track pants as quickly as possible. I touch and nip everywhere until he pants and curses and makes the best sounds for me. “Get up here.” He’s pleading and I’m smirking. He doesn’t want to make it last tonight? Needs me now?

I can do that.

With his chiseled features and sculpted body, Rafe is a sight to behold. Even for someone like me who doesn’t buy into the whole romance thing, my heart can’t help but skip a beat at the mere sight of him. Despite his reputation for being stationary, he radiates a powerful energy that practically crackles in the air around him. And while he may have a soft heart buried beneath all that muscle, there’s no denying his undeniable sex appeal. It’s almost as if he was carved from the same block of perfection as his mate, yet their personalities are so different that it’s hard to imagine how they connect on such a deep level without words.

And I’m not just talking about telepathy here. They literally don’t need words to communicate, and it’s both fascinating and frustrating to watch them interact as if they were two halves of the same whole. Wilde is livid with envy that he can’t achieve that kind of unbreakable bond with either of them - it’s almost like some twisted form of twin-cest. If anyone ever needed an example of soul mates, you could simply point to Rafe and his feline companion. They make every other pair of mates look inferior in comparison.

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