CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
It took Misty a few heartbeats to realize the whirlwind who’d rushed by her was Graham. Graham enraged, his Collar throwing off arcs of electricity. His eyes were white with fury, his hands turning to claws that gripped Xav’s neck.
Xavier, face red, brought out a black device. “I’ll tase you, McNeil. Tasers and Collars, not a pretty combination.” He had to force out the words.
Misty rushed to Graham and tried to pull his hands from Xav, but Graham’s arms were like steel bars. “Stop it, Graham. It’s not what you think.”
“You touched my mate,” Graham said savagely to Xav. “You want me to kill you now? Or do you want to Challenge me, and I’ll kill you later?”
“F*ck you,” Xav said. He brought up the Taser, electricity crackling.
“No!” Misty cried. “Graham, let him go! I was talking to him as a friend. He was comforting me, as a friend. Three guesses as to who he was comforting me about.”
Graham wasn’t listening. “You never, ever touch a Shifter’s mate. You’ll be dead before you hit the ground.” Graham’s Collar was still sparking, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Let him go,” Misty shouted at him. “I haven’t agreed to be your mate.”
Graham swung his head around, pinning Misty with his white gray stare. “I mate-claimed you. You didn’t refuse. You had all that sex with me; you made me think—” He broke off, pain momentarily flickering through his eyes. “You are my mate.”
The DX Security man who’d been fixing the door had come in, his Taser also at the ready. Misty held up her hand to stop him but looked Graham in the eye.
“You are insufferable. Because we had sex, now I belong to you? I don’t even know what to say to that.” Misty didn’t know much what to do either. She settled for making an exasperated noise and storming out into the yard.
Behind her she heard Xav coughing. “Welcome to women in the twenty-first century,” Xav said, and laughed. Hoarsely.
Misty’s backyard usually comforted her. She’d planted it so something would be in bloom every season, whether they were in the hottest triple-digit temps of the summer or the forties in the winter. Moonlight now shone on four-o’clocks that bloomed in darkness and the ghostly white blossoms of the oleanders.
Misty hadn’t stood more than five seconds trying to find calm, before Graham barreled out the door after her. She hoped he hadn’t broken that one too.
Graham had always been gentle with Misty, pulling back his strength for her. Now he grabbed her by the shoulders, hands biting down hard, and yanked her around to face him. The silver white glow of his eyes was even more pronounced in the moonlight, the anger in them plain.
“Let go of me,” Misty snapped. “And stop trying to kill my friends. You don’t own me.”
Graham didn’t release her. “I scent-marked you. I mate-claimed you. Yes, I do.”
“You know, every time I realize I love you, you start to be an a*shole. You break my house, you threaten people, you even get hurt yourself. What is wrong with you?”
Graham’s grip on her arm abruptly softened. His Collar had stopped sparking, but Misty saw the dark marks it had left on his neck.
“What do you mean, every time you realize you love me?” he demanded.
“I mean, whenever I acknowledge I care about you, you do something that makes me wonder why I do.”
“No.” Graham let her go. “You said love.”
“I know I did.” Misty rubbed her arms. “And don’t give me any crap about Shifters not loving like humans do, or me not understanding what I feel, or—”
“Goddess. Misty.” Graham’s eyes filled with wells of pain that matched his rage. He stared at her for a long moment, moonlight playing on his hard face, the flame tattoos, the dark buzz of his hair. “I want you with every breath.”
His eyes had darkened to their normal gray, which still held a hint of silver. He reached for her again, his hands landing on her shoulders, this time without the hard pressure. Graham caressed her, thumbs moving on her bare skin under her tank top.
“I need you,” he said. “Now more than ever.”
His voice was thick, gravelly, with dryness and emotion. He stepped against her, the tall warmth of him covering her, before he leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss was slow, almost tender, but it held Graham’s strength. His lips were shaking, as though he wanted to take everything but stopped himself.
When he eased back, his grip tightened on her shoulders. He looked down at her but shook his head, as though he debated something inside himself.
“Aw, screw it,” he whispered.
Misty’s heart fluttered as Graham turned her around and transferred his grip to her arm. He walked her ahead of him, across her yard and over the little bridge, lifting her in both hands as they got to the other side. He set her on her feet on the grass beyond, where they’d done the spell, and turned her to him, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her, again with tenderness. Then he slid his hands down her shirt and skimmed it up and off over her head.
Misty automatically tried to cover herself, but Graham pulled her arms apart and gazed down on her.
“Moon kissed,” he said. “Touched by the Goddess. Beautiful.”
Graham gently tugged her nipples between his fingers, kissing her again, his tongue a slow caress in her mouth. Misty moved her hands to Graham’s waist, popped open the button of his jeans, and slid her hand inside.
She found Graham’s cock, hard and tight, hot against her hand. She squeezed, and Graham made a noise of pleasure in the kiss. He let go of Misty to unzip the jeans and drop them all the way, letting the denim pool around his ankles.
“You are the sweetest thing,” he said.
She slid her hand along his cock, his tip firm against her palm. Misty loved looking at him like this, a strong man bared for her, his head going back as he enjoyed her touch.
Graham had never made any pretense of not wanting her. He’d looked at Misty the first night as though he wondered what she’d be like in bed. If her friends hadn’t pulled her away, Misty might have found out what he was like. Once they’d started seeing each other, Graham had held back, for many reasons, one of which, Misty had come to understand, was not to hurt her.
Now, he was giving her everything.
Graham smiled as he pulled her into his arms, she still holding on to his cock. As he kissed her, he unbuttoned her skirt and let it and her underwear drop to the grass.
He pulled her closer, his fingers warm on her buttocks. “Stay away from that damned human.”
“I told you,” Misty said, kissing his shoulder, “he was talking to me as a friend.”
“Friend, my ass,” Graham rumbled.
“No, this is your ass.” Misty pinched it.
“Little shit. Just for that . . .”
Graham wrapped one leg around Misty’s, gently pulling her feet out from under her. Misty squeaked once and landed on her hands and knees. She had no idea what he meant to do, until he slid his arm around her from behind.
Graham’s shirt landed next to her on the grass. He settled in behind her, covering her back with his large, hot body. He positioned himself at her opening, his tip touching her.
“I’m not sure I can,” she said, sucking in a breath. “You’re . . . big.”
“Yes,” Graham stroked her hair, his body warming hers. “But you can.”
“I’m not a Shifter.”
“I know. I love that about you.” Graham laughed softly, as though to himself, and then he was pushing inside her.
Misty gulped air, all her muscles tightening. No, he couldn’t. She couldn’t. Another breath, and Graham slid in another inch.
He stroked her hair, then her back, making soothing noises. “Take me, Misty. Be mine.”
Misty took another deep breath, and then she relaxed. Her body opened, and Graham slid straight into her heat.
“That’s it,” Graham’s voice went quiet, the gravel turning to velvet. “Goddess, you’re good. Tight. Yes.”
Misty closed her eyes and groaned as he started to thrust. In this position, she felt only him, and all thought dissolved. Nothing existed but Graham, thick and hard inside her, the night, the grass prickling her hands and knees.
He went faster, hands on her back, beautiful friction. His legs were strong against hers, his rhythm even, unceasing.
Misty heard cries coming out of her mouth, floating to the sky to echo against the moon. Dimly she realized others would hear, but she couldn’t stop. What Graham did was so intense, so right, and her mouth wanted to let the world know her pleasure.
She grabbed his shirt from the ground and pressed it to her mouth, letting the cloth muffle the sounds. It didn’t dampen all the noise Misty was making, and Graham laughed at her.
“Sweet, sweet woman. We’ll go up into the woods and do this all night, and you’ll scream as much as you want to.”
Yes. Misty pressed back to him, wanting more. Graham kept up his thrusts, harder and faster. He held her, covering her with his warmth, his rumbling voice soothing.
Misty had no idea what he said, but she loved his voice, clung to the sound. It rolled over her like a warm wave, lifting her into the greatest pleasure.
More waves caught her, these of her coming apart. She dropped the shirt, bunching it in her fist on the ground as she supported herself against his onslaught. She heard her own voice, low and needy, Oh, yes, Graham. Please. I love it. I love you.
“You’re beautiful, Misty,” Graham whispered. “So f*cking beautiful. Damn it.” His words wound into a tight groan, and he hung on, his fingers hard on her soft flesh.
He kept thrusting as Misty held herself up, gasping, laughing, groaning. Everything was slippery and hot, wild and bright.
“Goddess.” Graham rocked back, fists light on Misty’s back, coming into her one last time.
Misty wriggled back on him, loving the tight fit, the heat, the crazy feeling. Then Graham fell onto her, bracing himself to keep from crushing her. He took her down onto the grass, and gathered her back into him, still joined with her.
Graham kissed her face, her lips, her hair, arms wrapping around her. “Damn,” he said, and laughed. “That was f*cking wonderful.”
“Yes,” Misty said, snuggling happily back into him. “Wonderful.”
A lovely feeling. Misty hugged it to her as she held on to Graham, letting herself bask in the moment. Graham and the moonlight shining on her, on her garden, on the flowers around them. Misty snuggled back into him, bringing his hard hand up to her mouth to kiss it.
She’d been made for this night, she decided. And Misty was going to enjoy every last second of it.
? ? ?
Graham gazed down at Misty lying in her bed, exhausted after another round of lovemaking. He’d carried her in here, she already half-asleep. Xavier had decided to be discreet and guard the front, so Misty hadn’t been embarrassed to be carried through the house, their clothes piled in a little heap on top of her.
She’d drifted off after their last time, but Graham didn’t sleep.
He’d gone for days without sleeping before, but this was the longest time he’d lasted without true rest. Shifter wolves could lie in the sun and soak up warmth, relaxing to the point of sleep, but still being alert.
Now Graham was afraid even to doze. He knew with every dream, Oison grew closer, and he couldn’t afford to let him win.
He’d make sure Misty was safe—even if Xavier, the traitor, had to guard her—then he’d get with Reid and Eric and figure out a way to find Oison and take him down. They couldn’t wait much longer—Oison might even now be preparing with his Fae friends to round up Shifters and start controlling them. Jace could help Shifters remove Collars, but it was problematic, and Graham liked the direct approach, and he knew Eric did too.
For now, he’d enjoy his moment with Misty. Graham nestled down into her warmth. He loved her with his entire body, the mate bond snaking around his heart.
He’d suspected the mate bond had been growing for months now, but he hadn’t let himself acknowledge it. He’d known it for certain when he’d helped Andrea cure Misty with the herbal poultice Andrea’s Fae father had sent with her. Graham had felt the warmth in his heart, the burn that had touched him at the same moment Misty had clutched her chest as though something burned her too.
Graham reveled in it now, closing his eyes and drawing in Misty’s scent.
Come to me . . .
Graham jerked awake. At least, he hoped to the Goddess he was awake.
Moonlight filled Misty’s room, the moon at the full. Moonlight was magical. Even Shifters, who didn’t much like magic, acknowledged that on the full moon, when the Mother Goddess was at her height, mystical things could happen.
Fae worshipped the Goddess too, just a weird aspect of her. Instead of the comforting mother figure, they liked the crone-like goddess who wove dark magics.
Shifter. You are mine . . .
Son of a bitch. Graham scrambled up from the bed. Everything in him wanted to go find the voice, to do as it commanded. He broke into a sweat as he fought the compulsion.
Was this what would happen to all Shifters? The Fae made a connection with the Shifter somehow—as Oison had with the water spell—then used the further connection between sword and Collar to make the Shifter come to him. To obey him without question.
Graham couldn’t. He needed to fight with everything he had. If Graham, one of the strongest Shifters alive, could be gotten at this way, what chance did the rest of them have? He thought about Dougal, and went cold.
Well, if Fae had magic, so did Shifters, of a sort. They had mates. The touch of a true mate could heal, and the mate bond could protect against many things.
“Misty,” Graham touched her shoulder.
Misty didn’t respond. Her breathing was deep but so soft Graham had to lean over her to catch it.
“Misty. Sweetheart.”
She didn’t wake. Graham shook her. Misty’s body moved, rubbery, and her skin was cool.
Fear lacing him, Graham shook her again, and again. She was alive, but slumbering deeply. Graham patted her cheeks then harder, but she never woke.
Oison must have done this—maybe the Fae’s connection to Misty through the water spell or the sword cut hadn’t been completely severed. Graham stopped shaking her and smoothed her hair, his hand unsteady.
“He can do whatever he wants to me,” Graham said in a hard voice, “but he’s not having you.”
He leaned down and kissed her, and the mate bond tightened in his heart. Graham kissed Misty’s forehead then her lips again, then he rested his fingers on her abdomen. If what they’d done this night and last had born fruit, Graham would at least have that.
Come to me . . .
The voice in his head was louder, more insistent, and Graham’s body jerked. The words were in Fae, but Graham understood them.
Moonlight beamed brightly through the window, bathing Misty and Graham in white. “Goddess go with them,” Graham whispered. He touched Misty’s face then her abdomen again, and left the room.
In the hall, he called Reid but got his voice mail. Graham growled a message at him and flipped his phone closed. He entered Misty’s room again, placed his phone on top of her dresser, then moved to her window and slid through it with Shifter stealth.
The pain inside him lessened as he left the house, the compulsion spell happy that Graham was moving in the right direction.
Graham took Dougal’s bike from the end of the driveway and pushed it into the street. The DX Security man stationed here nodded at him, seeing nothing wrong in Graham leaving when he pleased.
Graham pushed the motorcycle quietly around the corner before he mounted and started it, its throbbing loud in the stillness.
Come to me!
“All right, all right, I’m coming,” Graham said out loud. “Shut the f*ck up already.”