Healer's Choice (43 page)

Waves of lust forced the air from Aryck’s lungs with each slick glide of her tongue over his cock, leaving him panting, nearly mindless with the urge to push through kiss-swollen lips and into the hot cavern of her mouth.

White-hot need defined him. Much more of her torment and he would be the one on his knees, begging her to take him. Suck him.
Please.

Already the word trembled on his lips. He said her name instead, putting an edge of threat into it, a promise of retribution.

She took more of him. Because
she needed
,
she wanted
, and not because he’d commanded it.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t diminish the roar of pleasure rushing from his cock to his head. It didn’t slow the quick, shallow thrusting of his hips.

On a moan he gave himself over to her ministrations, lost himself in a release he couldn’t hold back.

As he’d thought would happen, she brought him to his knees. Only rather than making him beg, she pushed him over to lie in the water, muscles lax and heart thundering, a smile on his face and a contented purr rumbling though him.

Aryck welcomed her when she settled on top of him, a sensual, feminine blanket that covered him nicely. He trailed a finger down her spine, looked deeply into her eyes.

She was aroused. As needy as he’d been.

Her nipples were pebbled points pressed to his chest. Her vulva swollen and hot against his cock, her thighs splayed and resting on either side of his in unconscious pleading for him.

A human male couldn’t have answered her silent call, but for a Jaguar—especially one who’d nearly lost the female he wanted as a mate—it was easy. He hardened at smelling himself on her, at brushing his lips across hers and tasting himself there.

It was darkly carnal—to want to imprint himself on every one of her senses—but all aspects of his soul demanded it.

He rolled so she was underneath him, hands supporting her upper body so she was only partially in the water. He cut off her surprised laugh and turned it into a sigh of pleasure by filling her with his cock.

“That feels so good,” Rebekka said, the throbbing ache between her thighs soothed by having him inside her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, touched her lips to his.

Each of his thrusts sent her spiraling upward. And with every rub of her nipples and clit against his wet skin, she surrendered to sensation—and ultimately to an ecstasy that sent her soul flying as his penis pulsed in long, hot surges of release.

Only reluctantly did she let her arms and legs fall away so he could move to his side. She sat, content to stay in the warm water rather than sit naked on the ground out of it.

He sat as well, pulling her onto his lap. “You’ve proven yourself to the pack and to the ancestors. The Were owe you a debt they can’t repay. Stay with me. Be my mate. If my father still insists you go through the Rite of Trial, then I’ll leave his pack and form my own.”

He pressed a kiss to the place where her neck and shoulder met, sucked on the mark he’d left there. “I wouldn’t have considered it possible, or even wise before, but with you as my mate, Lions, Wolves, even Hyenas might be drawn into the same pack. We could include them, furthering the idea of alliance and cooperation.”

Rebekka’s chest expanded with hope. Her lips trembled, and the words, when she could speak them, were barely more than a whisper. “And the outcasts trapped in the brothels, those not condemned by pack law?”

The instant tension in his body and tightening of his arms around her answered before he did. “If they are willing to go through the rite, they will be allowed onto our lands. Those the ancestors judge as worthy will have a home with us and be protected against recapture or retribution as a result of their life among humans.”

Her heart slowed to a painful throb. “Very few survive the rite.”
And Levi wouldn’t be one of them.

“They could be given time before the rite, instruction, a chance to do things that would gain favor in the eyes of the ancestors.”

A breeze picked up, coming from the direction of the encampment, and as if speaking about the ancestors drew their attention, Rebekka thought she heard the beat of drums.

Aryck nuzzled her ear. “You hear them?”

“Yes.”

“Those belong to the shamans. There are six of them. If the elders possess stories of hearing so many shamans representing different Were groups calling upon the ancestors as one, they’ve never shared them with the pack. This is a time of great change, perhaps with the possibility of redemption for the outcasts you care so much about.”

He kissed her shoulder. “If you’re one of us, an alpha’s mate and a pack’s healer, a human whose presence in Were lands has already spawned a legend to be passed down for generations to come, then surely you are also fated to help the outcasts find a way to come home.”

Annalise Wainwright’s words whispered into Rebekka’s mind, speaking of war and alliances being forged, of healers who would emerge so those Weres trapped in an abomination of form would be made whole.

Hope returned in a crawl, too tentative to give voice to. Desire followed as Aryck’s tongue traced the shell of her ear and he murmured, “We’ll talk again about our future after the encampment is gone. Until we return to witness the departure of the humans, I intend to show you what it means to be claimed by a male Jaguar.”

 

AT dawn a plume of dust marked the convoy of trucks on their way to Oakland. Only two jeeps remained, positioned well away from the encampment, their drivers waiting for the command to leave.

Captain Orst leaned against the back of one vehicle. Captain Nagy stood several steps away from the other.

As Rebekka watched, a man wearing the Ivanov uniform exited the encampment. Two others came afterward, followed by a fourth and a fifth.

The last of them to leave stopped in front of the militia captain for a conversation. Captain Nagy gave a brief shake of his head, accompanying it with a gesture toward the jeep closest to them.

The man walked over to it, spending a minute doing something Rebekka couldn’t see. When he turned back toward the site, she guessed he must have a control unit in his hand, given the antenna jutting from it.

He seemed to do a count of the men gathered around the vehicles. Then satisfied, he looked forward, at the site, and yelled, “Clear!”

The word rang through the abandoned valley and was followed seconds later by the thunder of explosives. Concrete shattered and dirt erupted, reaching skyward as if a volcano spewed its unheated contents in one mighty heave.

Clouds of debris billowed outward for a short distance. And from the swirling mass, a figure emerged, an urchin dressed in gray rags with a rat sitting on his shoulder.

Fear tore through Rebekka at the sight of him, and, sensing it, Aryck’s arms tightened around her. He nuzzled her ear, murmured, “We’ll face my father and Nahuatl together.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw movement, guessed the alpha and shaman were approaching, and knew by Aryck’s reassurance that he didn’t see the apparition standing amidst the destruction.

The urchin reached up and stroked the rat. “Game over,” he said, his image blurring into the dust created by a second explosion. “For now, Healer.”

LIGHT coalesced in front of where the urchin stood with debris billowing through his noncorporeal form. It bent and twisted into a human shape silhouetted by glorious white wings. Gained presence without becoming flesh by drawing color through it while remaining diffuse, transparent to eyes seeing only what had a physical reality.

You always did have a touch for the dramatic, Caphriel
, Addai said, the words spoken on a plane unheard by the mortal.

The grubby child with the rat perched on his shoulder transformed into a man astride a horse. He spread his arms wide and lifted his face to the sky.
And death sat upon a pale horse, given power to kill with sword and plague and pestilence and disease, and with the wild beasts of the earth.

Addai shook his head.
The quote grows tiresome. As does this often-repeated conversation. But I’ll say my lines so we can move beyond them. You won’t go unchallenged. You won’t succeed in the task assigned you.

Caphriel morphed again, from a horseman of the Apocalypse to an angel whose resemblance to Tir was unmistakable.
Ah, brother, even if I’ve yet to discover the source of your motivation, I’m glad you continue to cling to your delusions. You and those you call allies won’t wrest this world away from our father, but the game between us helps pass the time.

He looked at the place where Rebekka and Aryck stood, the alpha and shaman approaching them.
I concede. This victory is yours, Addai. But there are other cities and other game pieces. In the end your efforts will come to nothing. Those living here will be gathered and judged, and I will finally be free of this world.

A stretching of black wings and Caphriel was gone, leaving parting words whispering through Addai’s mind. Echoing Addai’s own.

REBEKKA remained in Aryck’s arms when Nahuatl and Koren reached them. His openness about their relationship chased away some of the chill caused by the urchin.

“We heard the drums last night,” Aryck said.

For the first time Rebekka saw acceptance in Koren’s expression when he looked at her. “There is no need for you to stand before the ancestors and be judged. They have heard of your deeds and spoken. Jaguar. Wolf. Lion. Coyote. Hyena. Bear. You may move freely in those territories as one who belongs there.”

She wet her lips, preparing to ask the same question she’d put to Aryck when he spoke of forming his own pack. Aryck beat her to it. “I told Rebekka if she would agree to be my mate, I would see to it those outcasts not condemned by pack law would be allowed to enter our lands. I promised they would be given time and instruction before undergoing the Rite of Trial, a chance to redeem themselves so they would face the ancestors and hope to survive it.”

“The ancestors spoke on this,” Nahuatl said. “As well as on the subject of the healer becoming your mate.”

Against her back Rebekka could feel Aryck’s heart speed up to match the quick race of hers. Hope curled in her belly, warm and sweet with the possibility her dream of a husband and children could become a reality. But as Nahuatl’s dark eyes met hers, a chilly tendril of foreboding wound its way through the hope, arriving with the knowledge that nothing came without price.

“What Aryck has promised you is acceptable to the ancestors,” the shaman said, “as is your becoming his mate. If you remain on Were lands. To return to the human world is to risk the corruption of your soul.”

Nahuatl turned and walked away. Koren hesitated, as if he would say something; then he too left without a word.

Aryck’s lips touched Rebekka’s neck, brushed over her ear. “Stay. Be my mate.”

She squeezed her eyes shut against tears. The fast race of her heart only a moment ago now a slow, painful beat, bringing with it images from her life in Oakland.

The heavy weight of choice settled on her shoulders. She could have a mate, children, friendships extending beyond a single group of Weres. Safety unlike anything she’d ever known and a life full of love and happiness. But at a cost.

With the threat posed by the encampment gone, there would be little need of her gift among the pure Were. Most of their injuries could be cured by a shift in form. What little sickness befell them naturally could be treated with remedies.

To accept this life was to be defined as mate and mother instead of healer. Her heart craved it, yet at the same time, it seemed wrong to abandon those in need, and care only about her own happiness.