Wild Wolf Claiming. Rhyannon Byrd
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windpipe, making him choke.
Son of a bitch! Here he was, a powerful, deadly Lycan who had survived harrowing situations, and he was choking in the middle of some god-awful diner, right in front of the woman nature had chosen as his perfect match. It was like some twisted cosmic joke. After everything he’d survived, he was going down because of some stupid salted nuts!
With his beast howling in his ears and his lungs burning, Elliot was about to hurl himself against the table, hoping to expel the little demons, when someone suddenly whacked him hard on the back. He coughed so violently the peanuts shot from his throat, clear across the table, where they pinged against the opposite padded seat and scattered over the floor.
Heart pounding, Elliot sucked in a much-needed breath of air, and turned his head to thank whoever had helped him.
Then he wished he’d just choked on the damn nuts.
It was Skye. She was the one who’d hit him on the back—saving him when he was there to fucking save her—and he felt the heat rise in his face. Christ, he was blushing like some gangly teenager!
“Hey, are you okay?” she asked in the sweetest, huskiest voice he’d ever heard, before giving him a shy smile.
Elliot opened his mouth, ready to say a million things at once. But nothing would come out. Despite his embarrassment over looking like an idiot, he was stuck on one short, simple phrase that kept looping its way through his head, like something set on continual repeat. Something as shocking as it was... Hell, he couldn’t even think of any other way to describe it.
All he knew was that his world, and hers, had just been hit by a supernatural lightning bolt. One that was going to change them both. Change their lives. Their future. A shocking, cataclysmic event that was going to alter every goddamn thing they’d ever known about hunger. About desire and craving and lust...
And what it was like to need another person so badly you’d not only die for them, but they were the very reason you lived.
When Elliot failed to give a verbal response to Skye’s question—just sat there staring back at her with what was no doubt a poleaxed expression on his face, his head jerking in a stiff nod—she gave him another one of those sweet, shy smiles. Then she turned and hurried back over to the kitchen window, where another one of her orders was waiting. He watched her carry the heavy tray over to one of the nearby tables, and tried to get his damn head on straight.
He’d always wondered how his life-mate’s scent would hit him, when he finally found her. If he ever found her. Had always wondered what it would feel like, when it hit him.
And now he knew.
It felt fucking incredible. Unbelievable, yeah, but so good it was about to kill him. His pulse raced, heart hammering in his chest like a drum, beating double time...triple time. Beating loud enough he wouldn’t have been surprised if the entire diner could hear it.
In that moment, he wanted so many things from her...with her. He wanted to taste her full, pink lips. Wanted to bury his face against the tender side of her throat and breathe that heady scent deeper into his lungs, getting drunk on it. Feel her plush, soft curves pressed tight against the hardness of his body.
Was it wrong that Mine, mine, mine, was still playing over and over in his head, like those goofy seagulls in Finding Nemo? It was one of Katie Dillinger’s favorites, and since the little girl was like a sister to him, he’d done his duty and watched the animated movie with her more times than he could count. The other guys ribbed him like hell about it, but he didn’t care. If Mason and Torrance trusted him to watch their son and baby daughter—an adorable little moppet who seemed to think Elliot was the best thing in the world—then he was going to enjoy every moment of it. He owed those two everything, and the fact that they treated him like an important part of their family had always been the best thing in his world.
Until now.
Until the moment he’d realized Skye Hewitt was his.
Maybe another male—a better male—would have felt bad for the girl, given how twisted his past was. But Elliot was simply too grateful to have any doubts that he could hold it together. Because he would be good for her...and with her. Jesus, this was his life-mate. He’d chew off his own goddamn arm before he hurt her.
But there is someone out there who wants to harm our woman, his wolf snarled, and he slowly curled his hands into fists under the table. Christ, he couldn’t even think of a word to describe how furious that made him. Deep inside, he was burning with it, and he knew that when the time came, and he had the bastard responsible for this shit under his claws, he would be ready for blood.
With all her other orders delivered, she’d finally worked up the courage to approach him, and he didn’t miss the way the pencil in her hand was shaking with a slight tremor. Her breathing was accelerated, as was her heart rate, the dark of her eyes dilated with desire. Something about the situation had her rattled, but she was attracted to him. As a human, she wouldn’t feel the pull of the life-mate connection in the same ways as Elliot, but there would definitely be a pull. An instinct that told her to get close to him, because that was where she belonged. And if she desired him, then that instinctive need to be with him would be even stronger—Thank God.
“Um, hi,” she whispered, the huskiness of her voice sliding over his skin like a sensual touch.
“Hi,” he rasped, still clenching his fists to keep himself from grabbing her and pulling her closer.
“I’m sorry about the wait,” she said in a rush, all breathless and beautifully flushed. “It’s, um, kinda crazy in here tonight. What c-can I get you to drink?”
You, he thought, rubbing his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He’d never done it before, but he wanted to sip from Skye Hewitt’s beautiful body. Wanted to lay her down, push her legs wide and lick his way inside her. Penetrate her pink, drenched sex with his tongue, fucking her with it until she came against his face in a hot, sweet rush. And then he wanted to drink from her, savoring her orgasm as he swallowed her down, drop by decadent drop.
As if she could read his carnal thoughts on his face, she blushed a deeper shade of pink, and he had to fight back the low, excited growl that was rumbling deep inside him. They were both eating the other up with quick, heated glances. An appreciative visual sweep over her thick-lashed eyes, while she took in the corded length of his throat, his Adam’s apple moving beneath his skin as he gave a hard swallow. The sounds of the busy diner faded away as she took in the bold shape of his nose and the angle of his stubble-covered jaw, his own gaze hungrily locked on her pink, bee-stung lips. She had the kind of mouth that women paid crazy amounts of money to try to replicate, but never actually looked real unless it was.
It all took less than a handful of seconds, and yet, each moment in time felt like a piece of sun-warmed taffy being stretched out as long as it’d go.
It was maddening to think that if she hadn’t been noticed by some evil asshole intent on making her a part of his unwilling harem, Elliot might have never found her. The idea of never coming face-to-face with her made his insides churn with dread, and yet...wasn’t that wrong, seeing as how he was here because she was in danger?
Unless... Was she meant to catch the kidnapper’s eye all along, just so Elliot could walk into this greasy diner and find her? Was that how fate worked—one shitty circumstance for an amazing one? It seemed twisted and wrong to him, and he hated that her entire world was about to be turned upside down. But part of living with his past was to always be brutally honest with himself, and he knew there wasn’t a chance in hell that he would change the connection between them. Even if he had to give his life to get her out of this situation, he would take the deal, just for this opportunity to meet her. To be close to her.
But, God, he hoped it didn’t play out like that. He