The Beast in Him

CHAPTER 29

Smitty stood in front of the Kingston Arms. He couldn’t seem to track his little wild dog down, and she wasn’t answering her cell phone. He had to find her. He’d make her take his apology, although he still wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong. And once he had all that settled, he’d take her to the Ritz-Carlton tonight. Get her the best room his credit card could afford and he’d make her his. He’d do this right. She’d never regret being his.

“She’s gone.”

Turning around, Smitty stared at Johnny DeSerio.

“What do you mean she’s gone?”

“She left.”

“Went back to the den? Or the Long Island house?”

“Neither. The Pack has this little house in Jersey. The adults’ little love shack when they need some away time from the pups.”

“Where is it?”

The boy shrugged.

“You don’t know?”

“Oh, I know. I’m just not telling you.”

Smitty had his hand around the boy’s throat and had him slammed against the wall in less time than it took to say “Ow.”

“Listen up close, boy, ’cause I’ll only say this once. These dogs may protect you, but I’m wolf. Just like you. And we both know I’ll rip the flesh from your bones if you don’t tell me what I wanna know.”

A delicate throat clearing had Smitty looking over his shoulder even as he tightened his grip a bit more on the boy’s throat.

Kristan smiled up at him. “Take your hand off his throat,” she said softly.

If this had been one of the adults, he would have ignored them, but sweet little Kristan... well, he simply didn’t have the heart. So, grudgingly, he let the boy go.

“Here.” She took hold of his hand and wrote on his palm with a pink felt-tip pen that had a fluffy kitty on the top. “This is where Jess went if it’s the place in Jersey. But you didn’t get it from me because the pups aren’t supposed to know about it.”

Smitty stared at the address. “How do you know she’ll be here?”

“I heard her talking to my mom and Sabina.”

“Can you tell me why she left?”

“She said she needed some time to think, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Thinking’s good.”

Not in his case. In that moment, Smitty realized this would be his last chance to get Jessie Ann. If he didn’t make her his now, he’d lose her to the Sherman Landrys of the world. “Thanks, Kristan.”

He walked toward the valets in order to get his truck when Kristan called to him. He looked at her and she held up both thumbs. “Good luck!”

Smitty smiled. Johnny DeSerio didn’t stand a chance with this one. “Thanks, darlin’.”

Hands on hips, Kristan turned around and glared at Johnny, one foot tapping. She could see the bruises on the idiot’s throat, and she knew he’d be wearing them proudly for as long as they lasted. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Johnny smirked, embarrassed, and said, “Well, it kind of made me feel like, ya know... a wolf. It was cool.”

Kristan rolled her eyes and, walking away, sighed out, “You’re an idiot.”

Jess paused her game and pulled off her headphones. Someone was knocking.

She yawned and dropped the headphones on the desk, pushing her seat back by bracing her hands against it and shoving. The chair rolled back and then spun around. She stood and headed toward the front door.

Assuming the groceries she’d ordered had arrived, Jess pulled open the door and stared.

“Afternoon, Jessie Ann.”

Wow. Apparently his mother had been right. Especially with that barely controlled anger on his face. He even had a whole ticking jaw thing going on. She’d seen Smitty annoyed, exasperated, frustrated—but never pissed. Not like this.

Smitty didn’t even wait for her response, he simply walked in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to see you.” He looked around the hallway and whistled. “Y’all have the nicest homes.”

Jess closed the door. “You weren’t invited.”

“Wolves rarely are, darlin’.”

He turned and faced her. “You look real casual.”

Her sweatpants had holes, as did her nearly twenty-year-old Raiders of the Lost Ark T-shirt. She wore heavy socks to keep her feet warm and, for some unknown reason, had put her hair in two pigtails.

“I wasn’t expecting company.” This soon.

“Then you shouldn’t have opened the door without asking who it was.”

Jess bit back her retort and watched Smitty wander off down the hall and into the kitchen. She followed and found him staring into her refrigerator.

“You sure don’t have much,” he chastised. “And there’s a storm coming.”

“I know. I’m waiting on a grocery delivery. And I know there’s a storm coming. That’s why you should get back to the city before you get trapped out on the road. ’Cause you’re not staying here.”

Smitty sighed, loudly, and slammed the refrigerator door shut. “I have to say, Jessie Ann, I am running out of patience.”

Jess laughed. “Really? Are you?”

“I’m not leaving, Jessie Ann. Not until we talk this out. Nice and proper.”

“Nice and proper? Uh-huh.” She turned and headed back up the hall.

“Where are you going?” he demanded from behind her.

“If you won’t leave—I will.”

She found her discarded sneakers by the couch and reached down to grab them, but big fingers wrapped around her bicep and yanked her up.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

“I’m not?” Jess pushed up against him. “And how are you going to stop me?”

He let her go so abruptly, she stumbled back a bit.

“No, we’re not doin’ this. When you’ve calmed down, we’ll talk.”

She followed him to the front door. He snatched it open and marched outside.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said with a glibness she didn’t feel. Not when the only man she’d ever love was walking out of her life. Maybe forever. “Go on and run.”

She watched him walk down the stairs and toward his truck. “I guess your daddy was right all those years ago—you are afraid to take what’s yours.”

He froze beside his truck, his body one rigid line of rippling muscles. And in that instant she knew she’d said the one thing that might push her wolf over the edge.

Slowly, as if he had all the time in the world, Smitty opened the passenger side of the truck. He took off his baseball cap and tossed it inside. Then he did the same with his heavy winter coat, shrugging it off his big shoulders. He carefully closed the door shut and turned to face her. All Jess saw were cold wolf eyes and fangs.

That’s when she made a run for it.

He never expected her to shift, but it didn’t stop him. He simply shifted to wolf and went after her. Wild dogs and wolves were equally fast, but wild dogs could run for hours before running out of steam. Wolves could run for miles and lope for hours. But the weather worked in his favor. Wolves could maneuver in the snow easily; wild dogs not so much. They’d been built for hunting in grasslands, not the uneven terrain of North America. He’d take advantage of that weakness. Because nothing would stop him now. Nothing would hold him back.

Smitty looped around and came at her from the front. She spotted him and made a fast change, her small paws slipping slightly on the snowy ground, losing momentum.

He quickly backtracked and looped around again, cutting her off from the new angle. She dashed off in another direction and he stayed right behind her, pushing her through the woods.

For a moment, he thought he had her. His front paws slamming against her hips. But she easily spun and slapped him with her paw, ripping into one side of his muzzle.

Jessie didn’t even stop, merely ran off in a different direction. Smitty turned and followed. Again pushing her where he wanted her. This time toward snow-covered rocks.

She leaped up but couldn’t keep her footing and slid across, then off the big stones. She quickly scrambled to her feet, but she’d lost precious time. Smitty tackled her from behind, shoving her hard to the ground. She kept fighting him, though. Her paws slashing at him as she tried to get out from under him, her jaw snapping at his. Not a fake fight. Not a show of a struggle. She fought him like her life depended on it—because it did. Her future life. Their lives together. Which was why he didn’t give up. He’d never give up where Jessie Ann was concerned.

It took some doing and a lot of slashes to his chest and side, but he finally forced her onto her back. He immediately wrapped his maw around her throat, the additional fur protecting her throat tickling his nose. He bit down hard and shook her.

Jess wiggled, trying to get out of his grasp, but he growled and bit down harder, shaking her one more time. Making his intentions, his demands, very clear.

Jessie Ann stopped moving, stopped fighting. She panted. She waited.

He held on a little longer. Long enough to make sure she wouldn’t run again. Not merely at this moment, but ever.

She let out a sigh and her body relaxed beneath his. That’s when he knew.

Smitty unhinged his jaw and nuzzled her neck, licking the blood off where he’d buried his fangs.

At the same moment, they shifted back to human. She had faint bite marks in her throat and blood on her cheek where it had dripped from his face. Her claws had ripped a rather healthy chunk out of his flesh. He dragged his hand across his cheek, wiping off the blood. He ignored the rips in his chest—they weren’t that deep.

It hurt, what she did to him. Physically, it hurt like a bitch. But emotionally, it only proved what he’d already known. Only Jessie Ann could push him like this. Only Jessie Ann could bring out the wolf inside him and face it head-on. He’d been fighting it so hard, for years. Afraid that by letting out the wolf, he’d be letting out the Smith. But he wasn’t his daddy. He wasn’t his brothers. He was Bobby Ray, and he’d be damned if he didn’t take the woman he wanted, who loved him more than anything, and make her his the only way predators could.

No wonder she’d been so mad. A Smith courting must have seemed an insult to her when she’d known damn good and well how Smiths took their mates. They didn’t call it a Smith mate-maul jokingly.

But that’s what she’d deserved. Because no one else matched him as perfectly as Jessie Ann. As different as they were, they still belonged together. She’d challenge him again, and next time... hell, next time she’d probably win.

Jess forced herself not to wince when she saw how badly she’d fucked up his face. Thank God the Smith wolves weren’t so much pretty as hot. The scar that would leave might make some guys look less attractive. Not Smitty. It would make him look even hotter.

As he flashed his fangs at her, Jess felt no fear. No regret. Nothing but a need to be fucked and marked by her mate that went deeper than anything inside her had before.

He turned her over roughly, forcing her onto all fours. Nope. There’d be no going back to the bed for this coupling. There’d be no romance, soft lights, jazz music, and high threadcount sheets. There’d be no condoms.

She wasn’t in heat and she was on the pill. Chances were low to nonexistent she’d get pregnant. But that didn’t matter. Not to the Smith males. When they claimed a female, they claimed a female. And like the canines they were, they’d do it out here. In nature. Something both of them were elementally a part of.

Smitty leaned over her, his lips dragging across her back, his tongue licking her spine. One hand slid beneath her and rested against her stomach, holding her in place; the other hand braced Smitty above her. Like most things when it came to Smitty, he didn’t rush this. Her wolf took his time. Brushing his head against her shoulders, his nose against the back of her neck. Strong, powerful thighs pressed against the back of hers and she could feel his hard cock resting against her ass.

He kissed her neck, moving down until he reached her shoulder. He licked a spot there. Once, twice. Then his mouth opened and wrapped around the muscle. She closed her eyes, preparing for the pain.

And it hurt. God, it hurt! This wasn’t soft and gentle and sweet. Fangs brutally tore through flesh and muscle, digging against bone. Her yelp of pain didn’t stop him. She didn’t expect it to.

Jess gasped and whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but the more she struggled the harder Smitty held on. His arms wrapped around her, keeping her tight against him, trying to keep her still. Then his cock pushed against her, demanding entrance inside her pussy. Demanding and receiving.

It wasn’t until he pushed home that she realized how wet she was. How ready for him. So ready that as soon as he slammed inside her, the first orgasm washed over her without his having to do much of anything. He held on to her as her body shook and she cried out, the sound echoing off the leafless trees.

Smitty waited until she shook and groaned through that first one, until the panting slowed down. He waited until she realized it wasn’t over. Then he used his body to force the top half of her close to the ground while pushing her ass up higher. He readjusted his grip on her shoulder, dragging another cry of pain from her when he settled his fangs back inside her flesh; then he drove into her body without pity, without mercy. A Smith wolf claiming his mate in absolutely no uncertain terms.

And with each vicious, nearly cruel thrust, she felt how much he loved her. It was weird. Something a full-human would never understand. Yet Jess knew. Knew that as surely as he’d always call her Jessie Ann—no matter how much she hated it—he would always love her. He’d die for her. Protect their pups. Protect her Pack while protecting his own. He’d do whatever he could to make her happy.

One of the arms gripping her tight loosened and the fingers slid down her belly, between her legs. He stroked her clit several times until he gripped it and squeezed. Jess broke again, this time her gasps turning into sobs. Sobs of release. Sobs of triumph. She’d finally gotten him. She’d gotten her wolf.

Yet even as she knew they were perfect for each other, she also knew that she’d always drive him crazy. She’d always confuse him. Confound him. Make him wonder, “What the hell is she going on about now?” She’d never give him a moment’s peace. And he’d always annoy her, talk as slowly as humanly possible, if he said anything at all. He’d always think she was weird. And he’d laugh at her more often than not. Their pups would grow up to be crazed wolfdogs. Part of a group of hybrids so dangerously unstable, Prides and wolf Packs all over the country went out of their way to keep them out of the shifter-only towns and resorts.

But they’d be theirs. Ward-Smith “freaky little bastards,” as Sabina often called her own children. They’d be theirs and no other pups would ever be as loved or as confused as they.

Jess braced her forearms against the freezing cold ground, balancing her body so Smitty could drive inside her harder, faster. So he could make her come again.

And he did.

She screamed out, the sounds of her release echoing off the snow-covered trees as her body pushed back into his every thrust. Meeting him, stroke for stroke. Squeezing his cock until he thought both his heads would explode.

Then she spoke the words. The words he’d been waiting for her to say without anger. And, most important, without regret. What he would have continued fucking her in the cold for until he heard them.

“I love you, Smitty. God, I love you so much!”

That’s what he’d needed to hear. What he expected to keep hearing until the Lord called them both home.

Again, Smitty unhinged his jaw where he’d marked her as his for eternity. He grabbed tight hold of her hips and yanked her back as he drove into her. Taking what was his, giving her everything he had. Because as much as she belonged to him, he belonged to her. He always would. His soul, their lives, all wound together in a wonderfully messy knot. Nothing in their lives would ever be normal or quiet, and that made him happier than he ever thought possible.

He dug in deeper, gripped her hips tighter, and pounded into her harder, until he threw his head back and roared his release, rivaling any lion he knew.

Her pussy spasmed around his cock, milking him dry as she whimpered out another orgasm, her body shaking as badly as his.

Smitty came deep inside her, making sure she took all of it, all of him before collapsing against her back and the two of them landed on the hard ground.

Fighting for breath, Smitty looked up at the overcast sky. The storm had come and it suddenly occurred to him they were completely covered in snow. Then he glanced down at Jessie... and that’s when he saw it. As clear as he could see Jessie Ann’s trembling form, he could see this. There’d be no Smith sons for him and Jessie. No males he’d have to spend his whole life watching his back over. No males to try to maul him during family hunts.

No, there’d be no Smith males for Smitty and Jessie Ann—there’d be daughters.

A lot of them. Practically their own Pack. All of them like their mother in varying degrees... except for one. One would be just like him. They’d all mean the world to him, but that one would hold a special place in his heart.

But with Smith females came a whole new crop of problems. The majority of those problems involving other males.

Smiling, already longing for and dreading the day those daughters of theirs started growing up and torturing them as only Smith females could, he forced himself to sit up. He slipped his arms under Jessie and lifted her until she rested against his chest.

He stood on shaky legs, thankful for her smaller wild-dog size, and carried her back to the house.