She cried out brokenly as he caressed her in knowing circular patterns, applying just enough pressure as he timed his thrusts to accommodate the motions. Heat spread through her belly, expanding outward through her legs, chest, shoulders, and arms. Her body quickened, that telling flush enveloping her in a suffocating fire as she neared the climax Marshall pushed her toward.

  There were no words to describe the sensation that started in her stomach and moved through her, like the lethal second wave following a bomb blast. It was an orgasm yet far more, something so powerful she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, and couldn’t think about anything aside from the bliss shrouding her from head to toe. She was aware that, as her sex squeezed and clenched Marshall, he was caught in the throes of the same thing.

  He brought his hands to her hips, the sharp claws extending from his fingers piercing the plush skin protecting her fragile bones. The plunges he made into her weeping and sensitive flesh were no longer intentional. He moved against her in a primal manner, his beast fully unleashed. She watched him bite his lip as he moved faster, then faster. He roared as he came, the muscles in his arms, chest, and shoulders cording. She felt his hot semen jet inside of her, flooding her womb with his essence as the energy around them suddenly lifted and there was no longer the heavy air tickling the surface of her skin.

  His features became lax as his eyes shifted from bright green, to bumblebee yellow, and finally reverted to the dark, comforting hunter green she remembered so well. He relaxed against her but kept his weight on his elbows, their heartbeats slowing down until she could feel that they were harmonizing, synching into a rhythm with each other.

  For the first time in her life, she was aware of her magic, could feel the hum under her skin. As her talent allowed her to locate people using runes, maps, and a mental inclination, she wasn’t sure of how strong it would now become. She could feel the difference, her ability suddenly magnified by the power she shared through Marshall. Without thinking of the ramifications, she sought the location of one of the dancers she spoke to from time to time and reeled as the world spun, the bedroom vanished, and she was able to get a clear visual of Trina. She was on the center stage, shaking her goodies for all she was worth. “Mira?” Marshall’s concerned voice disrupted the vision, and she blinked several times until the smoky, spotlighted room became the bedroom. She realized he was cradling her head in his left hand, smoothing away random strands of hair with his right. “Are you all right? You spaced out on me.”

  “I-I’m fine,” she stammered and met his worried gaze. Her heart spasmed and her stomach knotted as she considered something she should have from the start.

  Marshall was a shifter and apparently worked for someone who was aware of the eccentricities of varying races, but was it possible that he didn’t understand the full ramifications of their joining aside from making her his mate?

  She struggled for words, afraid to ask. “Marshall . . . you knew everything that would happen when we made love, right? You are aware of what happens when a witch accepts a bond with a shifter?”

  “If you’re asking if I knew I’d become your familiar”—he brushed his thumb across her lower lip, drawing out his answer until she swatted at his hand—“then yes, I did.”

  Relieved, she released the breath she wasn’t aware she was holding. A familiar bond was extremely dangerous to a shifter. If a witch wasn’t careful, she could sap the life from her bonded animal entirely.

  “It doesn’t frighten you?”

  Smiling wistfully, he shook his head. “You don’t get it, but you will.”

  Curious, she asked, “I don’t get what?”

  He became serious, and his eyes changed, green becoming peridot. Taking a deep breath, he grasped her left hand and placed it over his heart. “I am nothing without you. The moment we met, my life became yours. You hold everything I am in your hands, Mira. No other can, or will, yield the power over me that you do.”

  Until that moment, she didn’t think it was possible for a person to feel as if they’d pooled into a boneless mass. She’d been on the receiving end of a spell when she was a child that was intended to relay the sensation, but it was nothing in comparison. While her body felt light and airy, her thoughts were chaotic and her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that it drowned out all other sounds.

  Stunned and unable to find anything to say, she continued staring at him in awe, unable to believe that the gorgeous man staring down at her viewed her importance in his life so clearly, without restraint or reservation.

  Marshall shifted his hips, bringing attention to the fact that, although he had achieved climax, he was hard and ready to go again. His fangs were gone, his face relaxed as he tucked her into his chest and rolled, until he was on his back and she was sitting astride him. She moaned as he moved to the headboard, remaining upright as she placed her hands on his chest.

  “You don’t have to say anything. We have all the time in the world for words.” He waited until she looked at him to continue. “Right now, I just need you to show me, darlin’. You know what’s in my heart. Give it back to me.”

  She lifted herself slowly, pulling away from the velveteen flesh inside her, and dug the tips of her nails into his skin. His lids lowered, his breathing became ragged, and he clutched her hips in a forceful grip when she was on her knees, with only the crown lodged at her entrance. For a moment, she basked in the emptiness, recognizing it as something that she never wanted to experience again. Marshall wasn’t the man she once believed. He was someone who cared for her enough to remove any danger to her, come searching for her in the aftermath, and love her with such devotion that he willingly placed his life and well-being into her hands.

  “Mira.” He groaned, and she felt the tremor that shot through his body as his hands spasmed and the bite of his fingers into her skin intensified.

  “Shh.” She lowered her body, leaned forward, and silenced him with a tender kiss.

  When he relaxed, she began to move—up and down, slow and steady. As she lifted away, she took the image in, creating a mental snapshot she could always cherish. His shoulders were cushioned in the pillows, his hair was unkempt, and the look on his face revealed his adoration, his possessiveness—his love. In that moment, she knew exactly how she was going to show Marshall how she felt. She would draw out his pleasure, bring him to the brink, and just as he fell over the edge, she would caress him, whisper sweet nothings to him, and hold him in the cradle of her arms until he asked her to do it all over again.

  Their gazes merged and remained locked together as she rode him. Right then nothing else mattered. There was only the two of them, carving an uncertain, yet undeniable, future together.

  Epilogue

  New York, six months later

  “Where are you?”

  Marshall glanced around as he whispered into the cell phone, “The first floor.”

  “Go all the way to the top,” Mira instructed tersely. “You’ll find your target in the penthouse.”

  Shit. She was still mad. Not that he blamed her.

  Longing and the unshakable need for his mate made his voice husky. “Thanks, darlin’. I’ll call you after I wrap things up.”

  “You’d better,” she retorted before the line went dead.

  Closing the phone and sliding it into his jacket, he studied the elevator for a split second before he decided to take the stairs. There were a few people in the lobby of the upscale hotel, and witnesses were never a good thing. Although his boots usually made a lot of noise, he moved quietly on the pads of his feet as he took the stairs two at a time, eager to burn some excess energy.

  The last month had been absolute hell. Wolfe had so many cases that required Marshall’s attention that he hadn’t seen Mira in over two weeks—making it the longest time they’d ever spent apart. Each night when he called her, Marshall knew she was growing impatient. Part of it stemmed from their desire for each other, but he knew the true reason she was edgy and curt.

  After arriving at the top floor, he paused for a moment to check his sidearm and attempt to get his head on straight. Now wasn’t the time to think about Mira, their mating, or the meeting with his family that had gone to hell in a handbasket. There was plenty of time for him to patch things up, make things right, and mark her properly in order to cement their union once and for all. One more job and he could go home to their ranch in Texas, take Mira to bed, and keep her there until there was no question of who and what she was to him. To his shock, the stairwell door opened without protest—no need for muscle or the assistance of the tool kit in his pocket. As he stepped into the hallway, he glanced from left to right. There was no one around, the lone double doors of the Penthouse Suite the only ones on the floor. Long-honed instincts in the field told him something was off. Although the hotel wasn’t the best in town, he didn’t expect this job to be quite so easy. Not to mention the information packet—instructing him to contact his mate to procure the location of the target and hold him inside the room until further instruction—was completely out of the norm.

  Unexpectedly, the double red doors swung inward, revealing the room in the distance. He could see the living area just beyond, the black leather couch, recliner, and coffee table clearly visible. “Fuck,” he muttered and unlatched the safety on the gun. Unless his target had died and become a poltergeist, something was definitely off.

  Prowling down the hall until he came to the threshold, he glanced from left to right. His impeccable sense of smell told him there was no one in the apartment. The only scents he could distinguish were those from the hallway. Doubt resurfaced, a heavy weight bearing down on his neck. A nagging inner alarm told him not to step inside and remain on the other side of the doors.

  Battling with his instincts and the knowledge he had to investigate, he was shocked when something nudged him from behind and he was thrust forward. The moment he fell to the floor, the doors slammed closed behind him, and he heard an eerie pop, as if the air had been sucked from the room.

  Damn it. Magic.

  Rolling to the side, he went into a crouch, calling on the cat within as he growled a warning. His gun was still steady in his hand, his finger resting on the trigger.

  “You don’t need that, lover,” a familiar voice purred just before the gun flew from his fingertips, soared across the room, and landed on the couch.

  Marshall watched—eyes wide and mouth gaping—as Mira strode from the bedroom. Seeing his mate at the scene of a mission was shocking, but it was her clothing and the sway to her walk that caused his breath to catch. She was dressed in a skimpy fire-engine red corset, matching fuck-me high heels, and white thigh-highs he wanted to shred with his teeth. Her thong was so transparent he could see every nook and cranny between her legs, the lips of her sex easily identifiable.

  When she met his eyes, he saw she’d accented her lids with shades of green and black, her glossy red lips matching the stain on her cheeks. Her hair was pulled up and away from her face, the bouncy strands falling around her temples in a river of scarlet curls.

  “Mira?”

  Lifting a finger to her lips, she shook her head and stopped when she was almost within reach. Slowly, she lifted her hands, until her fingers rested on the snaps at the top of her breasts.

  “Do you remember what I told you, Marshall?” She unclasped the first buckle, revealing a hint of pink nipple on each mound.

  It was impossible to think coherently with the sight before him, having been starved for this very thing for so long, so he shook his head dumbly, mesmerized as her delicate fingers hovered over the next closure.

  “I said . . .” Unhooking the next button, she caused the pale circular swells to bulge. “If you kept me waiting much longer, I was going to take matters into my own hands.”

  He heard what she said, understood the words, but was unable to tear his eyes away from her clever fingers and respond. Only four buttons remained, and as she slid her fingers down, he licked his lips, eager to see more of her fair skin and delectable curves.

  “Marshall.” The intensity in her voice was the only thing strong enough to rip his gaze from the temptation, and what he saw on her face iced his desire. Rising to his feet, he started to step forward to erase the sadness in her expression when she stopped him by extending her free hand.

  “Don’t touch me, not yet,” she whispered, and he noted that her fingers were trembling. “We’re going to come to an understanding right here, right now, and if I feel your hands on my body, I won’t have the willpower to do this.” Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly. “You’ve sacrificed everything for me, and I still don’t carry your mark—”

  “Mira—”

  She narrowed her eyes, wordlessly ordering him to remain silent, and he hoped like hell that he could mask his appreciation of her fire, her determination. Even now, shaken and nervous, she refused to back down.

  “Your family was right. This isn’t a dalliance or casual encounter. We’ve been living together for months as a couple, but we’ve yet to come out to the world or our kind officially. That’s unacceptable. After all we’ve been through, it’s time to go all in. It’s all or nothing.” Bringing her hand back to her corset, she ran her fingers along the satin, grasped the opened edges in each hand, and ripped it from her body. Her breasts spilled free, the nipples erect, the rounded borders pebbled. “I’m ready to become your mate in all ways.”

  Liquid fire coursed through his veins, heating him from the inside out, as he comprehended just how far Mira had gone to ensure they met at this time, in this place.“You planned this, didn’t you? You sent the packet and guided me here. I couldn’t pick up your scent in the building because you masked it from me.”

  “Yes,” she answered, remaining motionless, so still he could see the fluttering of her heart through the slight quiver of her breast.

  The reality of the situation allowed him to breathe easy even as his chest constricted. The time had finally arrived. His mate was here, willing and ready to take his mark—his bite.

  “Come here,” he ordered softly and embraced her when she flew into his arms. She sagged into his chest, her slight form trembling in the cradle of his body.

  “You didn’t have to go through all of this, you know,” he chastised against the top of her head before pressing a kiss to it. “Had I known how strongly you felt, I would have dropped everything and come home.”

  She snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.” Cupping her chin, he pulled back and peered down at her. Her eyes were closed, long black lashes lush against her fair cheeks. His gaze drifted, until he came to her mouth. Her lips were lush and full, glossy and red, and he couldn’t help but envision them wrapping around his cock. Her lids fluttered open, and the moment their gazes locked, her eyes went cloudy, the hazel portion of her irises vanishing as her pupils dilated.

  “Do you want me, Mira?”

  “More than anything.” There was heat in her voice, but it was the sincerity that humbled him as nothing else could.

  “You’re sure? Be sure.”

  She brought her hands up, until they rested on the taut muscles of his chest. “I’ve had weeks to think it over.” Meeting his gaze, she said, “I’m sure.”

  He let go of her, removed his Stetson, and tossed it to the floor. “Then take me, darlin’.”

  She dropped to her knees and began working at his belt buckle and jeans as he removed his coat and shoulder holster, then began taking off his shirt. He didn’t have time to focus on the cool draft that caressed his rigid and straining flesh, silenced by the pleasure of Mira’s hand wrapping around the base of his cock. He watched, struggling to keep the cat contained beneath his skin, as the bulbous head vanished between her lips.

  Within seconds he realized it was a battle he couldn’t win. Spending two weeks away from his mate had only increased the need to stake his claim, to warn any and all males away from his female once and for all. His canines were elongating, his fingers were throbbing where his claws were breaching the skin, and the jaguar let him know the time of waiting had come to an end.

  “I can’t wait. Not with you here, asking for…” He moved away from the ecstasy of her hot, suckling mouth. “It has to happen now.”

  She rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around his neck, physically expressing her acceptance of his will, and buried her face into his chest as he scooped her into his arms and strode to the bedroom. The moment he placed her on the mattress, he ripped the remainder of his clothing free. When he stood naked before her—skin tingling and vision shifting as the jaguar assumed control—she rested against the pillows and extended her arms.

  There was no gentleness in him, no tender response. It was as if he was witnessing the moment from the eyes of a spectator instead of a participant. As Marshall advanced, on hands and knees, he lowered his head, nipped at her stockings, and when he reached her flimsy thong, destroyed it with two flicks of his claws.

  She cried out when he lapped at her slit, licking from top to bottom, over and over again, until he felt her quicken and he fastened his lips over her clit. She erupted in tremors, crying out as she came, and he released her to bring them chest to chest, hip to hip, and drove into her in one firm thrust.

  She arched her back, causing him to sink deeper into her, and he felt the piercing sting of her nails at his sides, her fingers clenching tightly as he began plunging into her, faster and then faster.

  When he dipped his head to her shoulder, she pressed the side of her face into the pillow, baring her neck. The cat within growled in approval, and Marshall lapped at the skin just over the spot that would carry the scar that would identify her as his, proclaiming her mated in the eyes of their pard.

  From this moment they would share everything as man, woman, and beast.

  “I love you,” he rasped, words barely understandable.

  “I love you too.” She didn’t move, compliant and soft beneath him, though he could feel and hear the adoration in her voice.

 

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