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  Bray’s boots hit the water, and midway across, the icy current flows around his boots, soaking his shit.

  Nice.

  But since Were run so hot, he’ll withstand this bit of fuckery to cross the river and be done.

  Bray licks his lips. The closer he gets, the better she smells.

  She looks pretty good too. Another bennie of being a Were is that the senses are so much more.

  His eyes easily take in the braided coal-black hair, tight, plump ass, and her flat stomach. She’s built. Her lightish-brown eyes and sharp features look vaguely Native American.

  Bray’s attention reluctantly shifts to the male. He looks like he got pistol-whipped by the sun. A Ken doll with a sunburn. Weird.

  He reaches the shore, feet soaked and balls frozen. They start thawing at the sight of her, though.

  She’s even hotter up close. Shorter than Bray’s own six foot two, she’s tall for a bitch—and muscle bound. Nice, I like a lot of fight.

  The male is fucking red up close.

  That’s no sunburn, Bray has time to think before having to throw some of his group under the bus when the fucking whack job attacks.

  Tessa

  Moon dammit.

  The Were are too close for them to make a run for it. “Can’t run.”

  Laz gives an absent nod. “I could.”

  Tessa throws out a hip, crossing her arms and glaring at her mate. “Ah-huh. Thanks for that affirmation, Laz.”

  Laz frowns, his perfectly red skin furrowing into a ripple of flesh between his eyes. “I mean no disrespect. I am a male high demon. We are bred to be fast and perfectly fashioned.”

  Tessa sighs. “Well, I get that, but I’m just a little fucking testy because I know this won’t end well, and there’s just two of us and six of them.”

  Laz turns to face the oncoming tide of rogue Were. “What do they want?” he asks in his deliberate way.

  “They most likely want to rape me, because I’m in heat and could get with whelp, and you’ll be in the way, so they’ll kill you. They might not know what you are, but if one of them has a good sniffer, they’ll make you as not being human at least.”

  Laz’s frown degrades to a scowl. “They shall not harm you.” His face turns feral. “Especially in that way.”

  Laz. “Pretty to think so,” Tessa says. “This wouldn’t be an issue if they were a legit pack. But they’re not. Looks like… a bunch of turned rogues got together to cause whatever trouble they can manage.”

  “I have other skills besides my obvious physical attributes.”

  Tessa restrains an eyeroll. Sometimes Laz is terribly naive. It grieves her that he has to learn lessons in this realm. From what he tells her, his life was a horror of simplicity Below.

  Now there’s all these shades of gray.

  In hell, he just had torture or be tortured. It’s like Tessa caused a big complication in his life.

  “What non-physical attributes do you have?” Tessa asks without turning to look at him.

  Her eyes remain on the advancing Were, who are nearly to this side of the bank of the Dosewallips.

  “If they are not pure of heart, I can manipulate much.”

  Okay, so maybe there’s something more in their arsenal.

  The taller male leaves the water, walking up the bank toward them. The five other Were follow.

  All are fairly recently turned.

  Not born, like she’d assumed, rightly.

  Tessa goes to quarter change, which is all she dares because of what she suspects is going on with her body.

  She takes in the group; one of them looks much less rough than the others.

  Laz shifts casually, putting himself infinitesimally in front of her.

  “Hello,” Tessa says neutrally.

  The lead Were swings his sweaty hair off his forehead, sweeping a hand over the mess and pressing it down.

  She holds back a shudder of revulsion. Tessa really can’t cast stones. She and Laz mated within minutes of a mutual kill and gorge. But somehow, their coital finale after the kill seemed natural, not filthy.

  This group is road-weary… and gross.

  They smell like showers are a distant memory and they’ve been living on road kill. That tells Tessa they’re too lazy to hunt. Or because they’re rogue, they simply don’t have the skills.

  Besides, with the exception of that Neil fuck from the Lanarre pack, males don’t threaten female Weres. It’s not done.

  “Hi,” the main guy replies. A few inches taller than Tessa, he has a lanky build. That tells her a few things—he’s fast and wiry in a fight.

  The pockmarks that litter his skin like the aftermath of a disease can only belong to a Were who uses human drugs.

  Shoots himself up?

  Tessa frowns.

  This keeps getting stranger and stranger. He must have been a junky when he was a human. Good luck with keeping up that habit with how fast Were bodies metabolize all consumables.

  Can’t get drunk. Can’t get high. And why the hell would a self-respecting Were want to? Clearly, there’s not a lot of self-respect being tossed around this group, though.

  “Saw ya from across the river. Thought we’d say ʽhey.ʼ”

  “Okay, I’m Tessa,” she says slowly. Barely turning, she indicates Laz towering beside her. “This is my mate, Lazarus.”

  The clean-cut guy frowns. “Like the fallen angel?”

  Laz nods, the ghost of a smile hovering above his lips for a fraction of a second before disappearing. “Exactly like.”

  The lead Were kicks back his head, hiking his chin. “Name’s Bray. And now that the intros are over, I just wanna say that I’m not smelling this male as your mate.”

  And there we are.

  There isn’t a shift or tell from Laz for one second, but somehow, Tessa senses his readiness. “Nevertheless, it doesn’t make the relationship less so because you’re incapable of scenting its authenticity. Tessa is my Redemptive. It’s more than human marriage, a Were mating—it is so much more than all the parallel relationships you could fathom.”

  Silence.

  Tessa interrupts the well of quiet with, “Maybe TMI, Laz.”

  “TM-which?” Puzzlement colors Laz’s voice, though she notes he doesn’t take his eyes off Bray.

  “He’s annoying as fuck,” the albino-looking Were states.

  Tessa licks her lips.

  “Yes, he sure is,” Bray says.

  “Were law states that an unmated female can be fought over,” Tessa states in a slow, clear voice.

  “And a mated female is off-limits.” Bray’s gradual smile elevates him from unknown to asshole in the blink of an eye. “Yeah, I know that shit. Trial and error, ya know.”

  Tessa’s heart begins to pound. At first, she was hoping they could slip through the cracks, that it wouldn’t come to this. Deep down, she knew there was no way she could avoid an altercation while she was in heat—and newly pregnant with Laz’s whelp.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Slash

  S lash sits on the edge of their sleeping platform, legs planted wide, elbows resting on his knees, and head hung low as his hands dangle between his legs.

  Adrianna sleeps peacefully beside him.

  He can’t sleep. He’s too restless to even attempt such a thing as rest. Quill and some of the others seem to be slowly relaxing after the near-coup the week before.

  Slash knows better. They’ll return, and if they don’t, others will come. It is the Lycan way. Conflict and conquer. Not always in that order.

  He’s thankful for much. Not the least being his young mate was protected the entire time. Slash allows a small smile at the memory.

  He’d treed Adrianna.

  As soon as Slash heard the commotion and scented the interlopers, he’d thrown Adrianna over his shoulder in a classic fireman’s hold and scaled a mature-growth maple. The lowest branch was ten feet high. Slash went wolfen to reach it with their combined weight.

  He ha
d no trouble managing. Fear for his mate was a great motivator. As it continues to be.

  When the three who attempted to take Adrianna from him at the eatery up north arrived at the pack’s doorstep, Slash was unsurprised.

  Ready.

  What he wasn’t ready for was their violent assault against the freshly turned female Jenni.

  They lost one of the scouts to the trio of scourge. Dunham was no longer with them, but Brady had survived, barely. At this moment, he and Jenni had adjacent rooms and were being tended by Susan, who was doing everything in her power to nurse them back to health. Unfortunately, every Were heals differently, and neither was out of the woods, so to speak.

  Now Quill was in the awkward stage of convincing an ignorant female of his mating status with her.

  Then there was the issue of the up-and-coming female, Nova, who managed to escape the notice of the rogue males. A true miracle.

  Slash takes a quick mental headcount. Excluding himself, he counts three males: one Alpha and the two males who’ve been on a field mission for females, Howard and Jake.

  So their pack has seven males and three females. He includes Devin, the half-breed female, in this count and excludes both Nova and Susan because they are not breedable age. Susan is pragmatic enough to know her worth and be untroubled by the eight hundred years she’s lived. Though her grandwhelps have grown, mated, and are part of large packs scattered throughout America, she chose to remain at the Northwestern.

  Nova was one of the whelps orphaned when Tony Laurent swept through a couple of years prior and killed the former pack leader along with others.

  Slash frowns. As the new pack leader, he will need to take the whelpling female under his protection. Nova will not be mature for some time, but as Adrianna so clearly illustrated, sometimes a female can mature early.

  A warm flush settles at Slash’s nape. He is still not completely comfortable with their relationship.

  He needs to get beyond those feelings, though. Adrianna is certainly well settled with their mating.

  Slash must divorce himself from his old-school thinking in some areas where it’s no longer relevant.

  Everyone in the pack is thrilled that Adrianna is mated to a mature Were—a Red, no less.

  They will have to meet with the entire pack, talk about what happened, and come up with an offensive plan.

  Not a defensive one.

  Everyone has been collectively waiting until Jenni and Brady fully heal from their injuries. Slash planned to gather everyone together and outline the new pack structure. Word came back that the two Northwestern scouts had acquired one female and would be returning soon.

  All he could consider was how much better it would make their numbers upon their return. Slash would not rest until there were twelve males in the Northwestern. At the end of the day, it usually came down to sheer number of Were. Certainly, there was historical precedent for wars fought in which an extraordinary Were was able to triumph despite terrible odds, but it is rare.

  Slash could count himself among those extraordinary Were. But he bears the scars of his heroics and the chances he took on his face and body.

  Now that he has Adrianna, and a new whelp on the way, to think of, it is not all about him, as the humans would say.

  He cannot so hastily choose to repeat the circumstances that put their marks on him. Slash must think of his family first.

  The simple thought of having a family—of no longer being alone—fills the recesses and fissures of his psyche with stark joy. He never knew that companionship would mean this.

  His union with Adrianna is beautiful, and it’s as frightening as anything he’s ever known. Slash will never reconcile the contrary emotions.

  They will just need to reach an uneasy co-habitation.

  “What is it?” Adrianna’s sleepy voice breaks through his thoughts. She flattens her palm against his back.

  So real, so warm.

  Lust strikes him like a sharp whip, and his cock hardens at that simple touch.

  The power of a female, Slash muses with a rueful smile.

  Adrianna’s throaty laugh reaches his ears. “You didn’t sleep, but you’re still ready.”

  Yes. He speaks truthfully, “I am ever-ready to take you, my mate.”

  Slash hears the thread of tiredness in his own voice, but biology is strong, edging past hunger, circumstance, and exhaustion. His love for Adrianna neatly asserts itself first, and he offers it no resistance.

  Her fingertips run a light path down his bowed spine, and a sigh escapes him. “What is it, Slash?”

  Turning, he captures her small hand in his and draws it against his beating heart.

  Slash’s eyes travel Adrianna’s ripe body. Her belly just beginning to curve with their whelp.

  She is nude to his perusal, something he insisted on.

  Adrianna did not say no.

  Her fair skin flushes pink at his intense examination, and she softly falls backward, still grasping his hand she places it against her sex, moist with her desire for him.

  Slash closes his eyes as lust and love sucker-punch him. He is like a young Were again. In that time, he could go three times in the span of a day with the right female.

  Though he never found her.

  Until now.

  His eyes open to an impish smile breaking the surface of her expressive face, bright hazel eyes flashing an invitation.

  But it’s her legs spreading for his eyes alone that has Slash losing his fine control.

  Burying one hand in her hair, he cinches a fist tightly in all that silkiness and nestles his face against where collarbone meets neck.

  Without a word, Slash bites Adrianna, forcing her stillness as his cock finds her entrance.

  “Slash,” she whispers with every ounce of the potent desire that stands between them.

  Gently, he pushes inside her wet heat, loving the way her tightness accepts him so easily while also cinching him in an erotic stranglehold.

  Slash carefully releases his fangs from her shoulder, lapping the tender flesh with his tongue. Adrianna squeezes him with her sex.

  His body demands release.

  Gritting his teeth, Slash disallows that impulse with supreme effort, beginning to move with sure strokes inside her.

  Slash will see to Adrianna’s pleasure before seeking his own.

  Her hips lift, capturing him deeper, her smile sly.

  Two might play at this, Slash thinks. Slowly and with deliberation, he withdraws until he is almost out of her body, then he sinks in—but only partway. Repeating this, Slash moves shallowly, over and over, until Adrianna is half-crazed with need.

  “Slash, you’re killing me—stop.”

  “No harm shall befall you.” His grin is sudden.

  Adrianna smacks him on his bulging arm as he is suspended above her, giving the shallowest pump possible. She tries to encourage Slash to take her hard, as she likes, instead of teasing her.

  Slash does, moving to kiss the entrance of her womb with a gentle stab of hardened flesh.

  Adrianna cries out, tossing her head back and raking her nails down his flank.

  The gesture brings Slash instantly, and he pours himself within her.

  They still in their mutual ecstasy, Adrianna clinging to him, her legs wound around his waist and his length buried deep inside but softening as they gaze at each other.

  Slowly, so slowly, Slash withdraws. Cupping her upper back and rear, he lifts her onto his thighs as he slips from inside her, spent.

  Tucking her against his body, he strokes her naked back.

  “How I love you, Adrianna.”

  “I love you too, stud.”

  His smile is wide but silent. The reward of his young female mate—great.

  Adi

  Slash is all kinds of nervous.

  Can’t sit still. He grabbed a shower after they made love and has been pacing their tiny house for the last half hour.

  “What’s the issue?” Adi asks, rolli
ng over on her stomach to face him. She crosses her ankles, swinging her legs back and forth as Slash strides the short distance in their small bedroom.

  Slash clearly has to rein in his frustration with her casual attitude, giving her a non-plussed glance at the question.

  Okay, yeah. He’s a Red. A warrior. He’s been through more battles than the number of years she’s lived on earth. But it’s not like she’s never known anything other than a silver spoon. The best example of her life not always being easy was Tony Laurent, the biggest psycho who ever lived. He made history and screwed the Northwestern—changing her life to a challenge in an instant.

  The jerk.

  Slash stops his pacing long enough to mutter, “You do not understand.”

  Bullshit. “Nope,” Adi says, kicking her legs around to the side of the bed. She slides off and does some of her own striding.

  When she comes to stand before him, she forgets how physically imposing he is.

  A male who was making slow love to her a half hour ago now stands like a livewire of six foot five inches of Were muscle compared to her five foot three.

  He can’t keep up any act with her, though. Adi knows she’s probably the only living being who can get under Slash’s skin.

  “Try me, big guy.” Adi crosses her arms, giving him her best I’m-not-impressed face.

  She’s nude and watches him swallow hard. Her presence is a huge distraction.

  Adi loves that.

  He works past that, though. “We don’t have enough males. There’s a gravely injured female, and one of our males, who we desperately need, is too hurt to assist with defense.”

  Before he can say more, Adi interjects, “And dickhead Bray got away.”

  Slash spreads his heavy arms away from his sides as if to say, “You’re making my point for me.”

  “And you’re going to be the boss of all of us.”

  Slash nods, his exhale raw. “Yes.”

  Adi uncrosses her arms and steps into his body, sliding her arms around his taut waist. She lays the side of her face in the center of his muscular chest. “I believe in you, Slash.”