Page 91 of Fated Exile

"That's it, my beautiful mate," he murmurs, dipping his mouth to my neck and sucking hard enough to leave bruises that will whisper for a moment before my werewolf healing wipes them away. "Come on me, just like you want to, just like you've dreamed. Here—let me help you come again."

Lance moves his mouth up to my cheek and licks my salty tears away as he brings his fingers down to my clit and brutally works it. I gasp, my whole lower body tightening, my mind resisting too late. He doesn't let up, doesn't pull back, his free hand pushing me down onto the canvas as his strong hips roll in and out of me, deep and slow.

The sound in the air is my own breathless scream as I feel a kind of orgasm I've never felt before. It comes from deep inside me, from a place that doesn't clench or tighten but just lets go. There's wetness between us as Lance works himself in and out of me, his thick, large length finding no resistance from my body, no matter how deep or fast he goes. I tremble and press my hips up against him, my wrists aching as he pushes me down onto the ground.

Then he's moving faster and harder, his chest full of wild growls, his eyes staring down at me. He snaps his hips forward and rolls them up in a scooping motion that makes me whimper. I'm breathing fast and hard now, each breath out a gasp, barely able to do anything but tremble and let him fuck me. My mind is full of nothing, endless nothingness and pleasure.

When he buries himself in me, snarls, and grabs my waisthard,I can sense that he's coming. I feel it through our mate bond, which is wide-open and raw. Unable to draw back from the sensations of his orgasm, I spasm and gasp as it turns into my own, my clit twitching and my body clenching around him as he thrusts deep inside me and comes.

As we both finish together, he draws his mouth down on me and kisses me, sweet and shallow in a way that the sex was hard and deep. Then he reaches beneath me, unties the rope around my wrists, and frees my hands. I wrap my arms and legs around him, holding him close for a moment and enjoying the heat of his skin.

It feels like several minutes later before I find my voice well enough to say, "That... was amazing. And messy."

The paint is like a mad swirl around us and on our skin, turning to purple in places where the red and blue meet. And I feel like an entirely new woman, unable to think of anything but the sensations echoing through my pleased, worn-out body.

Lance smugly responds, "Just wait until we're in the shower, and I show you something new."

* * *

Long after we've showered, toweled dry, and fallen asleep in Lance's bed, which is large with a firm mattress, my phone buzzes. I pull it to me and blink until my eyes adjust to the screen, then slowly read and respond to the text. It's just Cat, wanting to make sure I am where she thinks I am—with a winky face, of course.

Once I'm done typing a reassuring message and sending it off, I pause, stretching, and slide out of bed. There's a kink in my back—no surprise, given the positions I've been twisted into tonight—and the view through Lance's windows is catching my eye. It's so rare to find a tall building here in Juniper, that even a condo like this seems luxurious, when we have nothing close to skyscrapers.

Stepping out into the balcony off his bedroom, I tighten my borrowed robe around my body and look down at my sleeping pack.

Tiny houses. Sprawling land. Little businesses in the square. Nearby, a half-abandoned shopping center, and other, shorter apartment buildings, including one with a rooftop pool that I can spot from here.

A breeze drifts by my nose, and I snap to attention suddenly, pulse racing.

I can smell her.

Delphine.

And with her, the distinctive scent of blood.

Thirty-Four

Delilah

Ipush my muzzle into the ground, searching for a scent that eludes me long after I first caught it on Lance's balcony. It's the smell of ozone gathering on a sunny, cloudless day. The cloud of death hanging over a young child. A scent like rot in the foundation of a newly built house, of things that don't belong.

The scent of Delphine. A smell I swear I've caught on the edge of a breeze the past few days, or picked up as my paws dug into the ground, only to miss it again. She teases me, crowding in close to the territory, feinting at us then melting away into the darkness.

I've looked for her ever since I caught her scent on the breeze, along with the smell of blood. I'm determined to bring the fight to her.

I've gained nothing as a result.

For the past five days, I've been leading the early morning warrior patrol, studying and researching with Kerry, spending my time with my mates, then going on patrol again. I've been so wrapped up in every task that I've barely had time to sleep, much less to enjoy myself with the men I've bonded to. The last encounter with Lance is all that's gotten me through long days and tired nights, and I can feel tension mounting in the group because of it, long stares turning to hard glares and moments of friction into snapping jaws.

We need to have some time with each other. Time with ourselves, to rest, recharge, and forge this tenuous bond. Instead of spending it with them, I've been wasting it on longer patrols, taking them out to search the land beyond the mountains and twists of its caves for signs of Delphine's lair. Instead I've found nothing, and the resentment has grown, along with tension and fear.

It doesn't help that Roarke, Niall and I have only been able to find a few possible leads on new pack recruits. I've gone from young mateless wolf to old, drawing out tension, easing the pain of a broken bond, and looking for threads to restore, but there aren't enough females for the males who want them. And though the curse no longer rots our land or threatens our Mating Circle, the two young pack females with chips are wary to take them out, and the parents of teenage girls ready to mate are frightened what will happen if they do.

As each hour stretches on without our enemies found and destroyed, the pack loses confidence in me, and in each other. My mates brim over with tense energy, and though I promise myself that I'll make time for them, the evenings of roaming the darkness for Delphine turn into late nights and early mornings, until I find I've done anything but.

We should turn back.Finn's voice is low and gentle in my mind. He thrusts his muzzle towards my neck and gently nips at my ruff, shoving his shoulder against mine.We're miles outside Glass Pack Territory, and the scent we caught is long gone. There's no reason to stay out—it's been hours since sunset.

I sigh, shaking the unease out of my white fur.I have to bring the fight to her. Whether I'm ready or not—I can't just stand around waiting. It's killing me.

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