He sat up straighter and brought one hand down to cover hers. He didn’t guide her in any way, simply followed her every move.
He cupped the back of her nape with his other hand and rested his forehead against hers. His breathing came in erratic pants, and he stared into her eyes. The glow in the infinite silver pools was unmistakable now, but she found them beautiful instead of strange.
“That’s it, angel. You have no idea what your touch does to me.” He rolled his hips in rhythm to her hand pumping over him.
“I’m pretty sure I do.” She sat up on her knees and guided him to her slick folds, where she rubbed against him as she stroked him with her hand.
“Myka!” he roared as his head shot back, and the veins in the thick column of his throat pulsed. His hot release coated her hand, and he bucked against her until every last drop was spent.
Chapter Eight
Galen had nearly lost it when Myka rubbed herself against his cock as she fucked him with her hand. He thought his balls would explode with the effort it took to keep from thrusting up into her hot, wet channel, where he belonged. He still wasn’t sure how he’d kept from claiming her.
She lay snuggled against his chest with his shirt covering her lower half. He would have preferred to keep her naked, but it was cool, and he didn’t want her to get chilled. He’d never been more at odds with himself than now. Part of him was happy, content. Another part was angry, and confused. He wanted to stay here with her. She was his mate, and he was going to have to leave her at least long enough to clear up the little misunderstanding that had plagued him for the last several months.
He would have to tell her who and what he was before he left. There was no way around it. He needed to make sure she could protect herself while he was gone, and if she had no idea what she was up against, she didn’t stand a chance.
“Myka, I need to tell you something,” he said quietly.
This wouldn’t go well. It never did when a human found out lycans existed.
“What’s that?” she said groggily against his chest.
Before he could say another word, a scent hit him. Another lycan. He sat up straight and sniffed at the air. Nothing. It had been faint, nearly undetectable, which meant the other lycan was far away and a stray breeze had carried the scent farther than normal. Or he was good at covering his tracks. Whichever, Galen was certain the other lycan was not close enough at the moment to be a threat. However, the fact that the scent reached him at all set him on edge.
“What did you want to tell me?” Myka said again.
She sat up and looked at him, and he smiled down at her.
“It was nothing. You look exhausted. It can wait until tomorrow. Why don’t you get dressed and go inside to your nice warm bed, angel?”
“I’d rather stay here with you,” she said sleepily.
“I’d rather you did as well, but I don’t think that would be a good idea with Patrick.”
“No. You are right.”
She felt around for her jeans and wiggled into them minus her panties, which she balled up and stuck in her pocket.
“Tomorrow night I would love to sleep with you in my arms all night,” he said before brushing her dark hair off her face.
She smiled up at him, and the brightness of that smile lightened his soul. She handed him his T-shirt, and he pulled it over his head and down to his waist. After he stood, he righted his jeans and held his hand out to help her up.
“I’d like that as well, Galen.”
He kissed her on the cheek, afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop if he took her sweet mouth again.
“I’ll walk you to the house.”
She nodded and held his hand all the way to her front door, where he kissed her again on the cheek before she disappeared inside. He waited until her bedroom light came on and went back out a few minutes later before hurrying to the edge of the woods.
As he stripped off his clothes, folded them, and laid them in the notch of a tree, he called to his wolf. It readily leapt to the surface, and he sprinted off into the darkness. He ran for what seemed like miles before he caught a faint scent of the lycan once again. Slowing his pace, he lowered his head and proceeded cautiously. He stopped and sniffed at the air every few feet, but couldn’t detect the scent again.
If not for the fact that the scent had come from the east, he would have been more apt to dismiss it as no more than a stray lycan passing through. However, the ones who had been chasing him would come from the east, yet the scent wasn’t familiar to him. He’d immediately recognize the scent of any of his pursuers. Maybe they had sent in fresh blood for the hunt. But knowing his kind, that was not likely the case. Wolves were relentless once on the hunt. They didn’t give up the trail to others easily.
He was more than fifteen miles out from Myka’s house, and planned to go out even farther before scouting the perimeter and heading back. If he didn’t pick up the scent again, he’d hunker down and keep an even closer watch. If he did catch the scent again, he’d have to assume whoever it was was looking for him. In that case, he’d get his belongings and lead them away from Myka and Patrick. Anger tore through him, and the urge to howl his sorrow into the endless depth of the black sky beat at him.
He didn’t dare do so. One lone howl would be like sending into the sky a big, glowing red arrow pointing down at his exact location.
Hours later, he sat on the edge of the bed in his room. One of the packages he’d bought the day before at Susie’s sat at the end of the mattress unopened. He rubbed his hands over his face. He was tired from roaming the forest all night, but he refused to sleep until he was sure doing so wouldn’t put Myka or Patrick in potential danger. That meant he’d be catching an hour or two later when Myka drove Patrick into town.
After showering and putting on a new pair of jeans and T-shirt, he went to feed the horses. He’d have to do a load of laundry later as well. Myka had given him permission to use her washer and dryer whenever he needed.
He stretched his arms over his head after throwing the last horse some hay. When he went to the front of the barn and stood at the double doors, the soft glow of the rising sun was sending streaks of pink across the sky. He sniffed the crisp, cool air, and sighed in relief when he didn’t detect any threat. He hoped like hell that the scent he’d caught last night had been nothing but a strange, off-chance anomaly—a passing lycan in the distance.
Although it would not be an uncommon occurrence for a lone lycan to pass through, given the dense forest that surrounded them for miles, he was skeptical due to the underlying circumstances. He should have left when he’d planned, but he hadn’t been able to walk out on Myka when Patrick had been sick.
Then why didn’t you leave last night? That was the million-dollar fucking question. Except he knew the answer, and it wasn’t a good one. His own selfish needs could have put her and Patrick in danger. Tonight would be his last night with her. He would spend a few hours with her after Patrick left, then slip away into the darkness.
“And I’ll remedy my current predicament and come back and claim my mate,” he forced through clenched teeth.
“He almost caught on to us last night,” Terrance said.
“There was no almost about it,” Brent answered. “If we’d been any closer, he’d have known it was us. If we hadn’t brought the other scent with us to throw him off, we would have been made. He’s good. Really good. We’re miles away, and yet he honed right in on us.”