Chapter 39

With a heavy wool coat wrapped tight around me, I sat on a bench. Other than the last fading remnants of a gray-shrouded sun, it was dark. And a chilly Canadian wind whistled through the trees scattered across a broad city park. After sundown, any summer weather faded faster up there.

Hands shoved deep into the pockets, I scanned the glittering lights of the surrounding high-rises. And my mind wandered. To Mandy, of course. Not the sad expression she’d worn when I’d told her I had to travel. But that I’d lied.

No way to explain I was about to meet with a werewolf pack leader. Or more importantly, own his wife while discussing their future. Lisandra. Always destined to be the other woman. And since she was married to Luka, I’d always be the other man. Or whatever I was.

So I’d told Mandy it was business. A powerful gust sent the collar flapping against my cheek.

“Not a complete lie,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

But there was more. As always between Lisandra and me. Again, fear grew within me. Was it an unnatural attraction? No. I shook my head, then braced as another breeze drove skittering leaves along the jogging trail before me.

It was, if anything, hyper-natural. Pure, primal desire linked us. Cursed or gifted, take your pick, but I was an alpha. In any world. She’d recognized that. As had her husband.

Before I could ruminate further, a pair of shadowy figures appeared from the darkness. Luka strode towards me. Tall, his long face, normally swarthy, was pale in the reflected light of lampposts that had just flicked on. In a sudden gust, wavy shocks of dark hair flailed along his skull. His beady eyes were like lasers, locked on my reclining form.

Behind him, a thick sable cloak flowing around her ankles, Lisandra. With her hands clutching the sumptuous glossy fur, her black tresses swirled in the wind. She also had found me. But as she approached, her dark pools glittered ever brighter.

“Hello, Luka,” I said once they’d halted.

While flashing him a grin I never felt, I held out my hand. Not for him to shake. At the curt twirl of my fingers, his entire body quivered. And those tangled brows tightened as his upper lip curled.

Ah, rituals.

“Do it,” I muttered.

And just as quick as the tension had risen, his mouth relaxed and shoulders lowered. He was worthy of my attention. But we both knew I’d best him again. Only once had he tried, and I’d tossed him from a three-story window. Paris, 1898. When I stood, tugging a coiled leather rope from my pocket, he gulped but didn’t move.

“Your wife,” I commanded.

With a curt nod, he turned and gripped the middle of the thick sable fur cape. Her hands fell away. As he inhaled, she lifted her chest. And a smile slid onto my face. Even as another frigid blast sent leaves flapping past us, he opened the cloak to reveal her olive-skinned body. Unclothed, but for the glossy black high-heels strapped to her ankles and the thin band tight to her throat, she was as amazing as I remembered.

Thick dark nipples begged for me as much as her bright eyes. With the breeze, I couldn’t smell her need, but even from there I could spot her clit. Angry and prominent atop glistening flushed petals. After a quick nod at him, Luka let the cloak fall shut. But she made no move to grasp it again, and it flapped at every gust, offering tantalizing views of my prize, as I stepped closer to her.

“I accept,” I said while glancing at him and raising the hand with the rope.

When I leaned forward, lifting the leash to loop around her neck, she gathered her hair and bowed her head. At the leather on her skin, she shuddered and flicked her gaze between me and her husband. But he only took another backward step. Over the centuries, we’d performed the ceremony time after time.

“Unharmed,” I declared while tugging on the slender leash. It was more for show than use. When her soft clicking footfalls moved behind me, I smiled at Luka. “As is custom.”

“As is custom, Iakovos,” he intoned, while lowering his eyes.

And just like that, I’d regained my queen.

As we left the bench, her heels scratched the pathway’s asphalt. When she cleared her throat, I gritted my teeth.

“Are you not going to take me now, Iakovos?” she said as the leash pulled taut. “It’s tradition.”

“No,” I grumbled.

Without slowing, I tugged on the lead. And she clicked faster behind me. She was right. It was the ritual. Fuck her hard in front of her husband. Make a point. But as I’ve said, we’d done this so many times. What was the point anymore?

“Do you no longer desire me, Iakovos?” she asked as I pulled her across an empty street.

Rather than reply, I headed towards one of the gleaming steel and glass towers. And she followed. Because she had to. Ritual. Tradition. Magnetism?

“Do you desire me, Lisandra?”

“Yes,” flew from her.

Why’d I even bothered to ask? Kali? Again, I questioned. And that brought a slim smile to my face. If I was concerned, I was definitely no monster.

After leading her across the lobby of an upscale hotel, I halted before golden elevator doors. That late and in the middle of the week, the place was deserted. And while turning to her, I slipped a hand beneath the sturdy sable fur. At the touch of my chilly fingers on her warm silken skin, she yipped, then moaned, pressing her hip into my palm.

“Yes, I still desire you, Lisandra of the Dusk Pride.”

Although I’d spoken in an even tone, her entire body vibrated. Inside the hotel and away from the icy wind, the syrupy sweetness of her need flooded my nostrils. And as she swept aside errant strands of shiny black, a grin appeared on her slender, red-cheeked face.

Once in the well-appointed suite, I dragged her through towering bedroom doors, towards a massive bed. But she rushed past me, the cape dropping to the plush red carpet in her wake. And even as I slackened the leash, she hopped onto the mattress on all fours. The lengthy chestnut leather hung from her, snaking across the white covers.

With her scent driving my pulse higher, I tore away my clothes. As I clambered up after her, she swirled her dark hair to gaze at me over her shoulder. When she found my wavering steely-hard mast, her breathing hitched. But as a low growl issued from her curling lips, her shaking knees slid wider.

“Such a good bitch,” rumbled from me as I clasped a hip.

Rather than speak, she only nodded and raised her gleaming rear. One quick jab and I was inside her. And that ripped the first scream from her as she twisted in my grip. Yes, she desired me. More followed as I thrust my hips forward, taking her slippery tightness in a single swift plunge of my cock.

With her moaning or crying out and me grunting, no more words passed between us. None were needed. As her sleek, olive-skinned body shoved back into me, I was soon ramming into her ever faster. And the slaps of our bodies colliding grew louder. As did her screams.

It was brutal. Feral. And time slowed as we mated. And make no mistake, that was exactly what was happening atop that thumping bed. I was taking the pack leader’s mate. Making her my own. Once again.

And when muscles pulsated across my body, I thrust deep and mashed her writhing sleek frame flat to the mattress. Even as she cried out, face buried in snowy white pillows, a clawed hand rose to sweep the hair from her neck.

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The Immortal, Volume 1

INtrinSicliValud

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