He rips the seam on the side of my new panties and yanks them off me. “You heard me.” There’s challenge in his voice, which I love.
I use my legs around his back to yank him closer, rubbing my bare pussy over the crotch of his jeans.
He lets out a harsh curse and unbuttons them. His cock springs out, large and glorious. I’m grateful he has the presence of mind to produce a condom, because the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind. He rolls it on and slams into me with one brutal thrust.
My entire back presses against the door. I’m suspended by Nash’s body, by pelvis lifted by his, which gives my wrists relief.
Nash bites my neck, pulling back and slamming in again. “I have you exactly the way I want you, baby.”
“Yes,” I gasp. He fills me, satisfying me in the way I never knew I needed. Each thrust is a pact, a promise. He needs me. I need him. The mating bond is unbreakable. Our animals have chosen. “God, yes.”
Nash holds my thighs and drills into me, rattling the door on its hinges with each thump, thump, thump of our bodies slamming against it.
We move as one, in perfect communion, perfect rhythm. I yield to his claiming as I yielded that first night and suddenly it becomes clear.
I wasn’t forced.
Data-X may have demanded we breed, but our animals chose each other, regardless. Nash mate-marked me because we’re mates, not because he lost control under duress. In fact, Data-X did us a favor by helping us find each other.
I nearly weep with the significance of my discovery just as Nash starts to lose control. His movements grow jerky, thighs shaking as he plows into me.
“You ready to come, baby?”
“You going to let me?” I purr.
He loses it. His thrusts become frantic. “Fuck, yeah. Come, for me, beautiful lioness.”
I surrender completely, let him fill and empty me, sawing in and out until my desire passes the breaking point.
I yank my wrists against the belt, squeeze my thighs around his waist, yanking him deeper. He swallows my scream with a kiss and we both come to a simultaneous finish, my pussy squeezing around his pulsing cock.
“You’re mine,” I chant. “You’re mine, you’re mine.”
Nash lets out a shaky laugh and cups my face. “Am I?” He hooks his forearm under my ass to lift me and releases the belt from over the door. I pull my wrists out as he carries me to the bed. He lays me down and kisses the red marks on my skin where the belt dug in.
“You really gonna claim me, baby?” Nash rumbles.
“Yes.” I reach for him and run my fingers through his hair. I mean it, too. Nash is my mate. Our animals have chosen. The rest, we’ll figure out.
Denali
THE PIT IS on the wasted edge of an industrial area. I park my beat-up car near the edge of a lot filled with trucks and motorcycles. The air is heavy with the smell of animals. One tang slips through-Nash’s scent. I draw in a deep breath and march to the door, striding in leather ankle boots and a black miniskirt that shows off the length of my legs. A black tube top hugs my torso. Kohl around my eyes and thin gold hoops in my ears, my hair in a soft ‘fro, and my natural scent screams what I am: a lioness on the prowl.
I get plenty of pointed looks from a few tatted dudes smoking joints by their bikes. More shifters turn as I enter the dark building. A few wolves lounge by the door, leather cuts marking them as the “Timberland pack.” They’re a motley crew of mohawks and bad tattoos. They straighten as I pass, hooting in my direction. I give them a look and bare my teeth. Their eyes light up shifter bright before they all duck their heads and turn away from my more dominant animal.
My lioness smirks a little. They must not be used to lady cats here. Wrinkling my nose at the stench of beer and urine, I understand why. I prefer classier bars.
I get as far as the bar before I hesitate. I know there’s a fight here somewhere, but I don’t want to ask.
A tall man launches himself from the corner. “Denali.” Laurie blinks at me from behind his Coke bottle glasses. “You’re here. Does Nash-”
“No. I wanted to come. I wanted to see.” If Nash is going to be in my life, in Nolan’s life, I want to know everything about him. Good, bad, and ugly.
Besides, I’ve always wanted to see a fight.
His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “Are you sure-”
“I’m sure,” I infuse my voice with dominance. “Take me to him, Laurie.”
The smell of animals grows thicker as we descend a long staircase, a miasma of fur and blood. My lioness pushes to the fore, until the gloom lifts under my own eyes’ light. I realize the noise I’ve been hearing is a dull roar coming from the seething sea of shifters. The floor seems to move, the boom of voices gives this place its own heartbeat.
“Full house tonight.” I lick my lips. My skin buzzes, my heart pounds from proximity to so many other shifters. My lioness is excited, straining to take it all in. I feel… alive.
“It’s always full when Nash fights.” Laurie points to the center of the room, and I catch my breath. A huge, scar-faced shifter stands bare-chested in the middle of a fighting cage. His head and shoulders are so big he looks like he has no neck. He beats his chest and roars. The shouting crowd echoes his violent lust, beating on the metal links as the challenging fighter slips into the ring. The newcomer has a crew cut and an American flag on his shoulders.
Nash.
My foot wobbles on the stair. Nash surveys the crowd with blind eyes, ignoring his growling opponent. At one point, his head snaps toward the stairs. I duck, slinking behind some cheetahs with MC patches, willing my cat scent to blend with theirs.