After the Storm

CONNOR

The moon arched toward the horizon, silver and watching. The sun would rise soon, but we needed rest, a few hours of shuteye before we faced whatever was thrown at us next.

Before I could, though, I had to send out a mind-link to the pack.

“~The humans failed to get Willow, which means they’ll send more, and soon. We have forty-eight hours, tops, to prepare. Begin stocking the underground bunkers at first light. We’ll move the vulnerable into them as soon as they’re fully supplied.~”

“~In the meantime, keep them guarded, and when the humans come back, if you don’t want to fight for Willow, go to the bunkers too—no judgment, no shame, no punishment.~”

I waited for responses of hesitation, fear, or doubts, but none came. The silence that followed was full of resolve, something I hadn’t expected. My pack—our pack now, if I let myself think it—was ready to bleed beside her.

The link faded, and I pushed open the door to my bedroom. My heart lifted when I spotted Willow curled up on her side and facing the window. She was still here, she hadn’t changed out of her oversized T-shirt, and her hair was a mess.

When she turned to face me, her expression softened. “You told them to get ready?”

Nodding, I dropped onto the bed beside her.

She came over to me immediately and pressed her forehead to my chest. A sigh seemed to ripple through her body as she relaxed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

My fingers brushed her spine. “For what?”

“You were right about me all along. I ~am~ bringing down your pack from within.”

I scoffed. “That’s bullshit.”

She pulled back enough to look up at me. “But they got in.”

“And we lost none of ours. Not one.”

That made her brow furrow. “Wait. ~None~?” She sat up, confusion etched across her face.

“Not a single wolf dead. You didn’t notice?”

She frowned. “I mean, yeah, but that’s odd, isn’t it?”

“Odd how?”

“They didn’t fight like people who knew what they were walking into.” Willow stared past me, thoughtful. “They moved like they had a map, sure, but not intel. They breached the defenses, but they didn’t seem to know what they were breaching.”

Her eyes snapped back to mine, sharp and wide. “They didn’t even know they were going to be fighting wolves!”

“You’re right.” I sat up too. My chest tightened. “I saw it in some of their eyes—terror. If they’d known what they were going to be facing, if they’d had prior knowledge of werewolves, they wouldn’t have been so afraid.”

“Also, if they’d known, they would’ve brought better weapons. Specialized ones.” Her momentum faltered, and she swallowed. “The ones they tested on me.”

Having nothing to say to that, I waited for her to continue.

“Next time,” she said, “they’ll be better informed. And they’ll bring weapons designed to end wolves.” In a flash of movement, she swung her legs off the bed and stood. “I gotta go. You were right. I’m a threat. I can’t be the downfall of this pack. I ~won’t~ be.”

“No.” I moved fast, reaching her in two strides.

She pressed her palms against my chest, but I pulled her into me anyway. And when I did, something in her seemed to shift. The moment we pressed together, her whole body stilled. Like I’d flipped a breaker. “Wow,” she said.

“What?”

“That’s… amazing.”

“What is?” I pulled back.

She looked up at me, blinking in surprise. “How your touch affects me.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. “Oh, yeah? Like this?” I trailed my fingers up her arm.

“Stop trying to distract me from leaving.” She batted my hand away, half smiling.

“Can you blame me?”

Exhaling sharply, she said, “You know it’s best for me to go. As long as I’m here, your pack will never be safe. They’re going to wipe you out.”

“Not gonna happen.”

She tilted her head. “And how can you be so sure?”

I shrugged. “Faith.”

“In the Moon Goddess?”

“Sure,” I said. “But mostly in Josh.”

That got a laugh out of her. “Josh?”

“The kid has barely slept since you arrived. That kind of obsession finds cracks where no one else looks. He’ll find something. Any minute now. A name. An address. A chink in their armor. Then we’ll bring the fight to them. They won’t get the chance to return.”

She stared at me for a long second before, finally, nodding. The tension left her shoulders as she leaned into me.

My hand found her arm again. “So,” I said, my voice dipping lower, “what was that you were saying about how my touch affects you?”

Her breath hitched. “Connor…”

I trailed my fingers up her arm, down her back, and along the curve of her hip. She shivered when I reached the hem of her shirt, but I paused to ask, “Can I take this off?”

WILLOW

I couldn’t move.

His fingers rested at the hem of my shirt, warm against my skin. His eyes locked onto mine, searching and waiting.

Deciding to do it myself, I lifted the shirt slowly and pulled it over my head.

Connor’s breath hitched, an expression flickered across his face, and his lips parted. He stepped back to see all of me.

I quickly realized his eyes didn’t move over me with lust and appreciation. They moved with pity. I followed his gaze to my scars.

Recalling Lisa’s similar reaction, I decided that, instead of feeling self-conscious about them, I’d take pride in them. Pride in what I’d survived. Standing taller, I took in my victories.

There were the thin ones across my ribs from blade tests. The puckered line down my sternum from regeneration studies. The jagged one from breast to waist that I couldn’t even remember getting but always felt. Then there were the new ones.

Travis’s legacy.

As I stood there, my chest bare and arms stiff at my sides, Connor said nothing—unmoving and unblinking. The silence eventually stretched long enough to bother me. Despite my resolve, hurt crept in, and I started to turn away.

But Connor moved faster. “No,” he said, dropping to his knees in front of me. His hands went to my hips, anchoring me to the floor. His fingers moved slowly, brushing over a long scar between my breasts before lowering to the twisted tissue across my stomach.

And farther down.

His thumb paused on a mark above my navel. He looked up. “Can I?”

I nodded, unsure what permission he wanted but unable to speak.

He leaned in and kissed the scar there. Another, and another. Every one—tender and reverent—a prayer, a promise. It took my breath away.

Heat pooled inside me that I didn’t understand. Fire licked its way through my veins, twisting low in my belly and settling somewhere deeper. Somewhere I didn’t know could feel this way.

His lips roamed lower, over the curve of my stomach, and that was when I felt it.

Between my legs, a pressure built, turning into a throbbing need. It was animalistic and raw and utterly foreign. It coiled low, sharp and hot, lightning under my skin.

~What the hell is that?~ I gasped and stepped back, dizzy.

Connor looked up and immediately froze. His eyes went black—pitch, endless black. Like he had lost control of a monster that had surfaced right under his skin. He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.

What I’d been taught about anatomy came rushing back: pheromones. He was smelling my arousal.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I didn’t even know what to say.

He stood slowly, his gaze never leaving mine, and reached for the waistband of my underwear. But he didn’t slide them down. He held them, his fingers firm and still. That same question burned behind his sapphire orbs: He was waiting for permission.

The air between us crackled with tension. My heart was a war drum in my chest. My mind raced as I considered the implications of saying yes to him. Would I be agreeing to be his mate?

No, that would be a whole other conversation, wouldn’t it?

~Relax~, came a voice from deep inside. Suddenly, like a switch had been flipped, I did. I didn’t know what would come next, but I suspected I might enjoy it.

So, I took a breath, swallowed, and nodded.

And Connor pulled down my panties.